#work has been done i have a new haircut time to take over your dashboards once again <3

[siliconforbrains]

Good evening beauties and gentlebeauties have a fresh meme as we enter our daily dose of "max plays isat and proceeds to lose their mind" content

[maryellencarter]

So for about ten days now I've been playing around with the budgeting app Mint (along with a Google Sheets yearly budget template and a lot of manual work with a calculator, a calendar, and a succession of blank Google Docs because that's just the kind of person I am), and so obviously I have some Thoughts.

* I picked Mint because it's the budgeting app all the financial reviewers talk about, because it's run by Intuit who also own TurboTax so I knew their security and interface would be good, and because it does not come with built-in shaming over any of your ~unnecessary~ purchases.

* Mint is a free app which makes its money by offering you sponsored ads for financial products it thinks you might like, and getting paid by the advertisers when you accept one of the ads. The most intrusive location for these ads is on your dashboard, feed, whatever you want to call it, where the ad tile is required to be the third tile down and cannot be shuffled to the bottom or turned off.

* (There is also a desktop browser version, Mint.com. I have poked it very slightly but couldn't get it to do anything useful. More on that later. I don't remember noticing how the ads are arranged there.)

* The app's general design is very sleek and intuitive, what I'd expect from the parent company of QuickBooks and TurboTax. Other than the intrusive ad tile, it lets you rearrange everything however you want.

* Mint is designed around importing transactions from your bank account for you to do budgetary stuff at, so obviously security is really important, which gives Intuit an edge up on the competition because I'm already used to trusting them with my tax returns. It only seems to sync new transactions during banking hours, which for someone like me who does most of their shopping on Sunday is kind of frustrating. It also won't let you edit or recategorize a transaction till it's finished "processing" a day or two down the line. I don't know if these pitfalls are common to all budget apps but it would probably make sense if they are.

* One thing Mint does that's incredibly handy for me is it lets you put all your recurring bills in one place and even sync them with your phone calendar. I actually had to turn off the phone calendar sync because it was alerting me constantly on the day before payday when I couldn't do anything about the bill that was due on payday, but if you can find the setting to change the alert frequency it might be useful. And having a nice chronological list of what the fuck is due when, is extremely helpful to my brain, because previously I was trying to remember everything in my head and I kept losing bills.

* Going down my tiles as I have them sorted in the app, I don't have much to say about that list of transactions itself, except that you can recategorize them and split them into different categories -- which is handy if the rent included $105 late fees which you don't want befuckening your future averages, or if you bought groceries and also a barbecue lighter at Walmart, to take two recent examples.

* You cannot, unfortunately, rename or edit categories. On desktop only, you can supposedly add categories, but you cannot then use those categories in any of Mint's other functions, which really defeats the purpose. And their ideas of what categories you might need are pretty... idiosyncratic, not to say WASPy, so e.g. I'm currently categorizing Patreon income under "Reimbursement" because the other options were things like "Investment Income" and "Returned Purchase". And transfers to my savings account can either be "Credit Card Payment" or "Transfer for Cash Spending".

* (I suppose I could put my savings under "Investment: Deposit" or something similarly grandiose, but that seems like... a lot for the 31 cents rounded up from getting a pizza at Little Caesars.)

* Anyways. So then, after the obligatory ad tile, comes a nice colorful pie chart of my spending for the month, which I can open up and tab through to look at all the categories. I saw one finance blogger saying you should use the Miscellaneous category for some things rather than getting too granular, but I like seeing the little individual entries for my haircut and my cloth mask and my pharmacy copay. (That last one's going to be a more substantial pie slice now that I can actually afford to start taking most of my meds again. Turns out my prescription for diabetic test strips expired, though, so I have to get ahold of my doctor and get a new one sent over, and I'm looking skeptically at the copays. :P I've been ignoring my diabetes since January, it can wait a little longer till I'm financially caught up from COVID.)

* I can see list-style breakdowns by category and merchant, too. This is one of the few places in the mobile app that my income shows up, other than the actual paycheck transactions. The desktop version has some more places to budget projected income, but the handling is clunky as hell.

* Next up is the tile where I've been spending a lot of my time, Budgets. This is your basic "envelope method" where you create, say, a budget for haircuts and another one for groceries. Each budget has to be for one of Mint's pre-created categories, and when you have a spending transaction in that category, it puts the expense against that Budget. The desktop version has you also creating a line item for expected income in Budgets, and then becoming stroppy when you attempt to adjust parts in the wrong order, so I prefer the app which simply tells you e.g. that you have spent $900 of an allocated $1000 with an airy unconcern for whether the $1000 has arrived in your bank account yet.

* My single biggest frustration with Mint is that you cannot create Budgets based on user-created categories, nor can you delete, rename, or even collapse categories in the list. So if I go to create a new Budget for, say, "Housewares" to account for the $1 barbecue lighter I finally bought (I have large hands and a tall jar candle that has burned down farther than I can reach, okay, it was a necessity), then I'm stuck scrolling all the way up and down past "Investment: Capital Gains" and "Kids: Child Support" before finally settling on "Home Supplies" because it doesn't really seem like a "Home Furnishings".

* After Budgets comes Accounts, which just shows me my current net worth across all my accounts. I actually unlinked my savings account because it was confusing the hell out of me to see a 31-cent transfer out of checking paired with the same 31-cent transfer into savings, so this doesn't show me anything I can't get through my bank app, but if I had current credit card debt or non-retirement investment accounts it might be more useful.

* (I have not linked my 401(k) to Mint. I haven't even figured out how to get into my 401(k), either before or after it transferred to a different handler a couple months back. I feel like those are problems for a later time than "okay how much groceries can I buy and still pay the rent".)

* On the desktop version of Mint, you can also put things like your car in under your net worth as Property. I tried that, found that I both did not believe their Kelly Blue Book valuation at all (it didn't have any option to take into account "was totaled two years ago and looks it but still mostly runs") and that I find it extremely stressful to have non-liquid property listed as part of my net worth. Interesting to know. You learn all sorts of shit about yourself when you try to manage money.

* Next there's a tile that attempts to break down my "cash flow" by month. It doesn't seem to have noticed the Paypal transfers on which I was largely subsisting for the three months it was able to pull from my bank account, even though they show up fine in Transactions, so it's deeply confused about whether my cash flow is Healthy or Unhealthy. For now, with my acquisition of a second paycheck for August, it seems to have settled on Healthy. I might turn that tile off though. It doesn't really... offer much, I guess?

* I have turned off the tile that shows me my free credit score. That's a problem for a much later me. Right now I have more urgent problems, like catching up on my deferred car insurance and my deferred cell phone bill and my deferred healthcare deductions.

* You also can't turn off the tile for the Mint "Life Blog" or the one asking you to rate the app, but at least they sit at the bottom of the app as you scroll down.

* The desktop version also has an entire segment not found in the app, for "Goals", where you can supposedly put in your outstanding debts and figure out payment schedules for them. It sounds really good in principle, but I found that section of the site unworkably glitchy, on both laptop and iPad; I couldn't even get past the screen where you try to first enter one of your debts, as it required me to choose answers from two dropdowns neither of which would actually do anything. I was able to get an estimate from the "saving for a rainy day" goal, anyway, by putting in the amount of a debt and telling it I'd like to save up that much money in a year, but that's nothing I couldn't have done with a calculator and a bit of mental effort.

* Jumping back up to the top of the app, one other thing that does intermittently drive me bananas about the app is, when you put in a bill you get a dropdown where you select how often it should recur, but then it... doesn't recur. You have to manually put in the next occurrence. It's still a handy list of upcoming bills, but I actually had to resort to my phone calendar (which properly handles recurring events) to get a good visual on future months' bills.

* And because there is nowhere to put in your projected income and get a nice projection of "On X date you will have $XX in your bank account", or even better a daily graph of your expected cash flow so that you can see "yeah don't put that $300 in savings you'll need it for rent in two weeks", I've been reduced to, as mentioned above, manual daily projections through the end of the year using my phone calculator, phone calendar, Google Docs, and eventually my damn iPad drawing app (came with a Bluetooth stylus I never got working) because I couldn't find any physical graph paper.

* So. Um. Summary. I guess it's a good app? It's very sleek, it has nice charts and graphs and a good interface. But it thinks you can do a lot more with it than you can actually do. Its main uses for me are probably going to boil down to "stop forgetting bills" (the rolling list format works a lot better for my brain than the phone calendar format, even if I do have to re-enter data every time I mark a bill paid) and "finally figure out how much I spend on food really".

[frozs]

Kakuzu is a doctor and Hidan is a massive massive scab

Here’s 5, 400 words of Kakuzu being a doctor and Hidan being a massive massive scab. Set 3 years before Kakuzu is a Commbank manager and Hidan is on Centrelink 

Warning: Extremely Australian

@syndellwins​ @reapersperdition​ @ayyyez​ 

So it turned out that Kakuzu’s book dealer had been giving him the wrong books for almost a decade now. After a few quick calculations, it seemed that Shikaku Nara had cost Kakuzu hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Kakuzu worked ninety-hour weeks. He didn’t want to put up with the bullshit drama that Nara had gotten him into. Slowly, he cut his work hours down to forty, which didn’t matter anyway at his workplace because that didn’t mean anything to them. They were like, Kakuzu you need to do this, Kakuzu, you need to do that - he was finally getting to the age where retirement was an option for him, but he decided he wanted to work in a bank instead. Money was something that had never failed him. He was a stingy motherfucker who never splurged except on buying the most rare and valuable books to sell again in several years time.

That bastard book dealer Nara had cost him exactly $400,400.76. When he’d found out, he was pretty livid. They weren’t on particularly friendly terms, as the Naras kept to themselves. The money he’d been scammed out of was enough to buy a one bedroom unit on the outskirts of the CBD. It was to be added for his superannuation.

Unfortunately for Nara, he didn’t know Kakuzu that well even though he knew Kakuzu had an eye for rare and valuable books. Because instead of filing a lawsuit, Kakuzu figured it was easier to kill him instead.

This was why Kakuzu was out at three o’clock in the morning pushing a large striped red-white-blue bag in a Woolworths shopping trolley he’d “forgot to take back to the shop” - to the local cemetery. In the bag was Shikaku Nara, aka #1 piece of shit, crumpled up after being smacked with the sharp side of an axe and strangled with Kakuzu’s bare hands.  

The cemetery was a large one in out in the suburbs. It had gotten bigger over the years and several houses in the area had been torn down to make way for new graves. There was a large dirt patch that had just been cleared and Kakuzu had been one of the first to put his name down for a grave reservation for when he died.

Actually, Kakuzu had decided to kill Nara, then picked the grave he wanted just to deposit this fucker into it. Not that he deserved to be in one - but it was fire season so he couldn’t set him on fire like he had originally fantasised. He steered the trolley under a gum tree to push into a nearby creek later and heaved Nara out. The magpies were slowly warming up to being awake now, and were singing and probably staring at him with their red eyes, wondering what he was doing. However, Kakuzu wasn’t paying attention to that.

There was someone at his grave. What the fuck?

He could hear the crumpling of a bag, and Kakuzu squinted, trying to see what was going on in the dark. He couldn’t make out what was going on until he heard a thump. Someone was depositing a body - it seemed - in his grave. He’d spent all that time digging it himself only to have some fucker come along and take it?

No. Now Kakuzu was pissed. Even though he had a big nylon bag resting on his shoulder full of dead Nara, which crinkled loudly, he made his way to his grave. He could see a man on his knees slowly pushing a blue and yellow Ikea bag into the hole. It made a loud crunching sound as it fell a metre in, and that’s when Kakuzu decided to make his move.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Kakuzu walked (stomped) straight up to him and shoved the man into the grave in a flurry of dust. The man squawked and he fell in on top of the Ikea bag.

“What the fuck, man!?” He rubbed his head and looked up, looking a bit pissed off. Kakuzu was surprised to see a young guy there.

“That’s my grave.”

“You’re not dead? You aren’t using it…?” said the man. Definitely young, Kakuzu could see. Clean shaven, pale, and wearing a blue wifebeater. That was all he could see, as it was dark.

“That’s my grave,” he repeated, throwing the body bag containing the book dealer down on the ground with all his strength. “I reserved it for when I die, you moron.”

“That’s like, genius.” the guy said, now covered in dirt and pulling himself up. “I need to do that. If I die. Unfortunately, whatever you name is, you’re going to go to your own grave now.”

Kakuzu was used to fuckheads, where he worked. But the guy pulled himself out of the grave with astonishing speed, and Kakuzu didn’t even notice the swiss army knife he took from his back pocket. There was a flash of pain, and suddenly his mouth filled with blood and he leapt back. The man - he could barely see in the dark as the moon wasn’t out tonight - tried to go for him again, so Kakuzu picked up the bag of Nara with almighty strength and threw it on top of him. Crushed by eighty kilos of dead weight, the man fell back into the grave, and screeched like a fucked up galah that had just been run over by a semi.

“Hey!”

Now the man was covered in dirt and wriggled away. “I’m stuck between two dead things, gross.”

At least that confirmed that this guy was also trying to get away with murder.

“Who are you burying?” Kakuzu put his hands over his mouth; he felt blood dripping down his palms and onto his long sleeved hoodie.

“Oh, just burying a pig,” said the man, sounding totally unconcerned that he had murdered someone. “For God.”

“Why can’t you just… why would you slaughter a pig? What the hell…” Kakuzu said thickly. He couldn’t believe what was going on. He clamped his mouth shut, and ripped a piece of cloth off hoodie sleeve to cover his mouth.

“Ooh. No, not like, pig pig. Like, police pig. His name’s Shikamaru Nara-

“You killed a Nara!?”

The man shrugged. “So? He’s a dickhead. He’s this police officer - sorry, piece of shit officer - who thinks he’s top shit and won’t do anything to help anyone. He thought he could outsmart me, and God, but oh no…” He wormed his way out of the Nara sandwich to sit on the side of the grave, feet swinging as if he was on a playground swing. He looked up at Kakuzu and smirked.

Kakuzu glowered at him. His face was pulsing with pain now, and he didn’t want to get any blood on the dirt in case something happened and the police came and declared it a crime scene. Although it was supposed to rain in the next few hours, which was why Kakuzu had decided to throw Shikaku in tonight, and fill in the dirt before he had to go back to his workplace to receive a few more forms before he was finally out of this mess for good. He didn’t want to talk as it would exacerbate the wound, so he managed to explain in as few words as possible that the guy in the blue-red-white nylon bag was Shikamaru’s father.

The man, who was still swinging his legs over the nylon bag, was dumbfounded. “We chose to dump bodies in the same place… from the same family…? What the fuck…? Are we soulmates?”

“No.” said Kakuzu, grinding his teeth. “You fucking, fucking idiot. Talk later, because you need to take me to the hospital, now.”

“Haha, you look like you got gills-” the man started to laugh, but then stopped when Kakuzu pushed his knife in front of his face, barely a centimetre away from one of his eyeballs. He gulped. Bemused, the stranger felt the back of his jeans and found that Kakuzu had managed to get the knife off him when he slashed his face.

“God will never let me be hurt,” he said quietly. “Fine. I’ll take you to the fucking hospital.” He put his hands up as though surrendering, and slowly got up and shook the dirt out of his clothes and hair.

“Once you are done, you go back here and put the dirt back in, you understand?”

“Yeah, nah - fine-” Kakuzu jabbed him in the back with the knife.

“Move.”

“Okay, okay! Lord Jashin won’t appreciate any of this shit, I tell ya… jeez…”  

--

“Here’s my car.”

The kid probably killed his parents to get this car. It was a very nice car - not one your stereotypical killer would be in (a white van) but a Commodore instead.

There was a pause as the guy opened the driver’s side and turned the ignition on, and then started chucking things into the back seat so Kakuzu could get in the passenger side.

“Just to clarify, it’s not my car,” he pointed out, shoving a box of Chicken Crimpies in the glovebox. He put the light on in the car so Kakuzu could take a good look at him. He looked young, though he had silver hair which was gelled back tightly. He definitely needed a haircut. Kakuzu digged him to be a blue collar worker, but wasn’t quite sure. Squinting at Kakuzu’s face, he got out the car to open the boot.

“Whose car is it?”

“Dunno,” the guy tapped the car registration plate, and he opened the boot to get some cloth out for Kakuzu’s face. “I’ve had it a for year and never been picked up for it.” He had made the ‘5’ on the plate into an ‘S’ using a sharpie, Kakuzu observed.

The car was very clean, with a southern cross decal over the back of it. The guy tapped a strange sort of rosary with a triangle inside a circle that was hanging off the rear view mirror before reversing out the cemetery car park.

The man barely looked up as he drove. He was too busy on his phone, talking to someone called Stupid Fucking Housemate, saying he’d been out all night sacrificing lambs for God and accidentally slashed a guy in the face so he was taking him to hospital. It turned out the nutcase kid had written also all over the dashboard in white texta, weird shit like For the Promised Ones, There Will be the Peace of the Most Devout for Our Lord Jashin, which is our belief…

“Don’t get fucking blood in my car.” The guy reminded him before he was back on his phone again.

And in war the scarlet liquid to be raised, the hell they came to and the hell that has sent us back…

“What is this?” Kakuzu asked.

The guy hung up instantly and gave Kakuzu the biggest, creepiest smile he had ever seen.

It was now that Kakuzu realised this guy really was a nutter about some crazy religion which included the occasional human sacrifice. And so for next time, he decided to shut up before asking questions...

--

Kakuzu groaned when he saw what hospital the guy had taken him to.

“You can leave now,” he pointed out when the man parked in the drop-off bay.

The guy of course didn’t comply and so Kakuzu grudgingly walked into the emergency room, where it was empty at a quarter to four on a thursday morning.

“Dr Kakuzu,” said the nurse cheerily, getting up from her desk, “Have you come to fill the rest of your forms in - oh my god, what happened to you!?”

“Doctor - Doc-fucking-tor? You’re a DOCTOR?” the man couldn’t believe his luck. “What the flying fuck - you actually smart!?”

The triage nurse took a weird look at the strange man. “Did he do something to you, Dr Kakuzu?” She sounded concerned and picked the phone up to call triple zero.

“I didn’t do jack shit, I found him like this!” the man protested.

‘,...That is true.” Kakuzu agreed.  

“It was a true sign from God that I found him like this. My God, not your shitty white-man Jesus guy, but Lord Jashin,” he informed the lady matter-of-factly. She looked a little offended and held the cross necklace on her chest. Kakuzu was handed a sheet and he ignored the guy’s evangelising. “This guy here, Doctor Kakuzu, is a good friend of mine, I will-”

“What’s your name?” Kakuzu interrupted him, and handed him a form to fill out.

The man stopped preaching. “Oh. Yeah, it’s Hidan.”

--

It was daylight when Kakuzu left his office, with his last remaining folder of paperwork he had to fill out. There was a half-assed We’ll Miss You! Card that had been passed around the nurses in his hand. In the other he was holding a bunch of flowers which had a reduced sticker on from the petrol station. He’d gone to the newsagent’s before coming out of the hospital, picking out the plainest scarf he could find which wasn’t crocheted or covered in charity logos. “Cash, Cheque, Savings, Credit or Paywave?” said the tired cashier when Kakuzu handed over what he wanted. He also handed over his bus pass so he could put a few days on it, as well.

“Keycard.” Kakuzu handed over his yellow bank card.

“You are now the proud owner of a new scarf,” said the newsagent man, yawning. “Good look in your recovery.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes and made his way out.

He almost made it to the bus stop when he saw Hidan standing across the road holding a Bunnings shovel. It was obvious he was waiting for him, even though Kakuzu wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

“Thanks for lying for me.” Hidan didn’t sound very thankful at all. Kakuzu glared, though this looked pretty funny to Hidan because he’d had several injections and his face looked like a balloon from all the swelling. He now had several large stitches in his face. He pulled the scarf further over his nose and now looked like he owned a Harley Davidson. “I’ve put the dirt back in, and the trolley is in the creek. I’ll drop you off at yours. I’m guessing as you’re a doctor, you live in some mansion somewhere.”

“I’m taking a bus home.”

Hidan stared. “But I paid for parking and everything!”

“Why are you being nice?”

“Because I thought we could be brilliant, unstoppable killers together. And I want to know what you were doing with the body bag ‘cause I checked, that’s definitely Shikamaru’s dad. Are you a necrophiliac, Dr Kakuzu? That’s just gross.”

“No. Shikaku Nara scammed me out of thousands of dollars and it was easier to kill him than sue him,” said Kakuzu. “And it was a one-off. I’m taking the bus. Goodbye.”

Hidan stepped in front of him, his strange red eyes suddenly serious. “If you take the bus, I’ll call the cops on you for killing Shikamaru’s father.”

“If you drive me, I’ll call the police about you killing Shikaku’s kid.”

“How about I give you a ride home for free?:”

--

Watching Hidan deposit nothing but 5 cent coins into the pay and display machine was amusing. Kakuzu didn’t know why this young piece of shit had decided to help him. Hidan thought that they could make a good partnership. Except Kakuzu wasn’t really interested in ‘partnerships’. He had no emotions, nothing he cared about. Except money, which, on the other hand, gave him a small flicker of hope that there was an emotion or two inside of him.

He looked at Hidan.

So far, Kakuzu had figured out that Hidan followed a religion which nobody had ever heard of which included human sacrifices even though he had told ‘Stupid Fucking Housemate’ that he had gone out sacrificing lambs at a farm all night. It started to rain, and by now the tracks both of them had left early this morning would have completely disappeared..

--

Kakuzu noticed Hidan must live within a short walking distance from him. He’d never been through the streets that Hidan was driving around in, but he had driven through the particular suburb. Hidan wasn’t a very good driver, and occasionally cut corners and scraped the kerb. Kakuzu lived on the other side of the main road in a middle class suburb that was the total opposite of this shithole. Here, the gardens were mostly just dirt with broken pavers and ants nests and the houses were far away from the street.

“Yeah, I know where we are.” Hidan said, putting the window wipers on faster as it poured. “I’m guessing you live on the other side of the main road.”

“You can stop here.”

“Why? I live right right there.” And with that, Hidan went over the roundabout instead of around it and parked on the corner house, scraping the street sign and going under a large jacaranda. “I’ll like, make you food and shit.”

“I want to go home.” Kakuzu would have started to walk, but it was raining, and he did not want to get the dressing on his face wet. It was a small unit Hidan lived in, with a pale blue bike out the front under the porch. There were large NO DOOR KNOCKERS PLEASE YOU CUNTS stickers plastered all over the door, as if they didn’t get the hint already. There was rock music coming from inside.

Hidan rattled the flyscreen and shouted as loud as he could. “Stupid Fucking Housemate, are you awake?”

The music was turned up louder in response.

Hidan unlocked the door and Kakuzu noticed a large amount of debt collector hangers dangling from the door lever.

“My humble abode, where Stupid Fucking Housemate has started up a fireworks urn business,” Hidan said over the sound of music and pouring rain.

“What?”

There was an almighty bang outside.

Because Kakuzu lived not too far away, he was used to the occasional firework going off. However he had never noticed it had come from the same house each time. Hidan and Stupid Fucking Housemate lived in a cramped ground floor unit, with several framed art prints and Zoo posters on one side of the lounge wall, and a futon underneath which looked like it had never been put back into the lounge position. A large poster of the same symbol as the pendant hanging from Hidan’s rear view mirror was on the opposite wall from the disgusting Zoo pictures. It seemed like Hidan had printed it off from somewhere, as it was on ordinary paper, with the edges starting to peel away from the Blu-Tack. A bookshelf was full of second hand books - half seemed to be about chemistry, and the other half was on world religions. Kakuzu was surprised Hidan was capable of reading.

“Come meet Stupid Fucking Housemate.”

Stupid Fucking Housemate’s real name was Deidara. His was busy rolling up durries when Kakuzu and Hidan approached. He had been out the back, underneath the verandah, which you had to go through the tiny laundry to get to. The backyard was big, though. He’d been staring out into the rain when Hidan banged the flyscreen door open with a screech.

“Who’s this fucker, yeah?” Deidara licked the white tab and with miniscule movements, sealed the tobacco inside the paper.

“He’s Kakuzu. Doctor Kakuzu. I may have attacked him with my knife, hence the, uh, stitching. And the gay scarf.” He added as an afterthought.

Deidara stared. “So why is he here and you’re not in a cell, yeah?” He pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette; Kakuzu could smell both tobacco and marijuana.

“He’s come to sort out the brain damage you’ve got.” Then, Hidan added in a whisper to Kakuzu, “Stupid Fucking Housemate once touched a ghost dog named Shovel and now he has to end all his sentences with ‘Yeah’.”

Deidara glowered. “Yeah nah, you only think that because you watch too much Round the Twist, Hidan, yeah?”

“YoU oNlY tHiNk ThAt bEcAuSe yOu WaTcH tOo MuCh RoUnD tHe TwIsT, yeah?” Hidan mocked him, hands on hips.

“Is he usually like this?” Kakuzu asked Deidara. “No, thank you,” he said, when he was offered a puff.

“Usually worse, yeah.” Deidara took another drag of the cigarette. He looked younger than his housemate, though he looked tired, as if he’d been working all night. A piece of ash dropped onto the inside of his elbow and he flicked it onto the wet cement. He was wearing a Year 12 jumper with the sleeves rolled up, and on the front it indicated he had only finished school last year. “Why are you hanging around with him, yeah? Hidan doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but his God, you know.”

It took Kakuzu a while to reply. “He owes me money.”

Deidara burst out laughing. “He owes everyone money, yeah.”

Kakuzu figured that if he had to pay a small cost for stitches, which he would get the bill for later, then Hidan would have to pay. But how to get money out of him? No idea. Mentally, looking around the backyard, he couldn’t see anything that was of value that Hidan could sell at Cash Converters.

“You can make me coffee,” said Kakuzu to Hidan. “Because we have to talk.”

Deidara smirked. “Good luck.”

Hidan grumbled. “Fucking fine. Then we’ll talk about how we went on a murdering rampage.”

“Are you a Jashinist as well, yeah?” Deidara asked with interest.

--

The unit wasn’t a borderline hoarding case, but it was messy. There was just a lot of unnecessary crap everywhere. Hidan opened the cupboard and all Kakuzu could see were supermarket bags in more bags, which showed at least him or Deidara had some organisation skills. “Where the frick-frack is the fucking kettle-” There was now a pile of Coles and Woolworths bags on the floor, before Hidan found the kettle. He didn’t bother to put the bags away. “What are you glaring at me for now?”

“You stupid fucking teenager,” Kakuzu started to say, about to lecture him on talking about murder in front of Deidara, now that Deidara was out of earshot.

“Twenty is not a teenager. Nineteen in fact, is a teenager-”  

“Anyone under the age of twenty-five is in my eyes a stupid fucking teenager.”

“You’re like what… 90? So I don’t fucking care about your shitty opinion. You probably killed Harold Holt’s sorry arse. You’re so old you saw probably killed all those poor schoolgirls at Hanging Rock and still survive to this day munching on their bones. In fact, at least I don’t look like I’m a white walker that just fucked an old avocado because that’s what you look like right fucking now.”

“...Picnic at Hanging Rock is a story, you idiot. And no, I did not kill Harold Holt… and no, I don’t eat…” Kakuzu couldn’t believe the crap that was coming out of this kids mouth. Was he really that insane? “I want a coffee and we can talk about the Naras, like civil people.” Not that either of them were very civil, to be honest.

Looking a bit fed up, Hidan found a small Nescafé jar at the top of a shelf. Both were nearly empty. Kakuzu sat down at the table, looking through his phone.

“How old are you, by the way? You aren’t probably as old as you look, you wrinkled banknote.”

I’m 51,” Kakuzu interrupted, looking up from figuring out how to get back to his house on Google Maps. “I have no hobbies, and I’m currently transferring careers to become a bank manager. I like money, before you ask.”

“Win the fucking lotto then.”

“No, I’m winning the lotto by not participating in the lottery.”

Hidan opened his mouth to answer. Then shut it. “You’re right.” He handed Kakuzu a poorly-made coffee which tasted like terrible hospitality. “And how much is the bill for your, uh, zombie makeup?”

“It’ll be $483.45.”

Hidan shifted a little, drinking directly from the milk bottle he got out the fridge. “Yeah, I don’t have that kinda money.”

“He’s not unemployed, Hidan does actually have a job,” said Deidara, coming inside and kicking his boots off. “He’s on his last warning, yeah. He whacked a street preacher.”

“It was an accident, you fuckhead.”

“You say everything is an accident when you know full well it’s not, yeah.” Deidara took the milk bottle away from Hidan and drank from it too. Both immature little shits with milk moustaches looked at Kakuzu.

“Good luck getting money out of Hidan, he sold his Xbox on Gumtree to get me out of jail, yeah.”

“So why were you in jail?”

“It’s fire season and I’m not supposed to set fireworks off without a proper permit, so the police came and confiscated them, yeah. So when they left I blew the rest of my supply up.”

Hidan snorted. “It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. They got a hundred metres down the road and they did the quickest u-ey and holy fuck, Deidara was arrested and it was glorious.”

Hidan had even framed the Facebook post that the police made about the incident, which he showed Kakuzu with pride. Kakuzu didn’t quite understand the humour, as he was 51 and didn’t know why he was still hanging around with a Year 12 graduate and a twenty-year-old nutter.

At length, Deidara wandered off to bed, having had a busy night before doing nothing but setting off fireworks and handling noise complaints from the police. Kakuzu turned to Hidan.

“So when are you going to pay up?”

“When I get money.”

“When will that be?”

“Dunno.”

“Right. What are we going to do about the Naras?”

Hidan shrugged. “Nothing. Shikamaru’s a dead dickhead. Shikaku’s… yeah, also a… dead dickhead. Never liked him either. Anyway, according to Deidara I was out sacrificing lambs. I have an alibi…”

--

Kakuzu managed to leave Hidan and Deidara’s when it stopped raining, near lunchtime. He was pretty tired. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time he would see Hidan again.

--

Several days later

Kakuzu had just been photographing books to sell on eBay when there was a loud bang on his door.

“Hey, gay,” announced Hidan, wearing a Stop the GOATS singlet from some bogan-wear shop, Target shorts and unsurprisingly, Target thongs. “Can I borrow some money?”

“No.” Kakuzu went to shut the door but Hidan inserted his elbow between the door and the frame, stopping him. “How did you find out where I lived?”

Hidan managed to squirm around and then pointed at the letterbox. “Checked your litterbox - sorry, letterbox. Letters have got your name on it.” Kakuzu snatched his Union Magazine and Telstra bill from his hand.

“Hey, don’t snatch! I had to follow the postman on his little red bicycle going from house to house.” Hidan wriggled through and just managed to dodge as Kakuzu took a swipe at him and banged the door shut. He peered into the lounge where News 24 was reporting on the Nara disappearances…

“Shikamaru Nara, aged twenty, newly graduated police officer with a newborn son and wife…”  Kakuzu switched off the uninterested reporter. Hidan shrugged.

“What do you want? You still owe me $480.” Hidan had scabbed around looking for spare change in his unit, and had given Kakuzu $3.45 towards his I Will Pay For Your Hospital Bill fund.

“I have no food, and I know God doesn’t want me to die just yet.”

“Just remember this, if you cannot pay it back, I will kill you.”

“Sure,” Hidan didn’t sound like he cared enough. Kakuzu handed him $25 very, very grudgingly.

Two hours later

“Dr Kakuzu speaking.”

“Hey. Do you like dogs?” It was Hidan on the other end. He must have googled Kakuzu to find his hospital portfolio, which had his mobile number displayed on the website.

“No.”

“Cool,” said Hidan. “I’ll be around in just a bit.”

Twenty minutes later Hidan turned up with a black labradoodle.

Kakuzu stared.

“I got him for twenty bucks off Gumtree. I was tryna get a Skyrim boxset but I stole his dog instead. There’s no stamp on his ear so I don’t think he’s microchipped.”

“Why have you got him? I thought you needed that money for food.”

“I know, but there are such things as food banks, y’know? Anyway, I checked the rental agreement and we’re not allowed pets. Not even fish.”

“Get a pet rock then.” Kakuzu went to close the door.

Again, Hidan put his body through the gap. “Hey! Take a good look at this dog. He’s all bones and shit.”

Kakuzu looked again.

The poor thing looked like he was starving. It quivered as it looked at Kakuzu was large soulful eyes.

With a grunt, he let them both in.

“Got any bits of Nara in the fridge for him to eat?” Hidan opened the fridge, and took out the stir fry Kakuzu had made the day before. He fed a piece of chicken to the dog who eagerly accepted it.

“No. Don’t you ever work? You know the owner will call the police? How have you never been in jail for anything?”

Hidan, it seemed, had no self-preservation qualities about him. Walking in front of moving traffic? Yep. Kakuzu had seen that. Easy. Texting while driving? Yep. Done that.

“That reason why I don’t get caught is because of God.” Kakuzu wanted to bang his head against the wall, but didn’t want to pay for the damage because of this utter idiot who truly believed he could get away with anything. “And I do work, thank you very much. I work in the city at the shops. Anyway, I’ll pay you back for being a scab. But,” he pointed a single finger at Kakuzu’s nose. “I have decided on your fate, Dr Kakuzu.”

“Really.’ Kakuzu was not interested at all in his ‘fate’.

“Yes,” Hidan nodded.  “One day you will be my sacrifice, and it will be the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

He was being serious.

Kakuzu sighed. Fucking lunatic.

Hidan left, without the dog. “See you next Tuesday.” He walked away with a loaf of sourdough rye, the stir fry and a packet of strawberry lamingtons from Kakuzu’s pantry.

The dog looked at him, and Kakuzu got him a tin of tuna, before he realised that Hidan had just called him a cunt.

----

Kakuzu hoped that was the last time he ever, ever, ever saw Hidan again.

He was supposed to start at the bank last Thursday, but because he was still healing from the knife injuries, he was asked to come in on Tuesday morning instead. He left the dog with the neighbour and took the bus into the CBD.

“Mr Kakuzu?” the pink haired teller girl asked uncertainly, and Kakuzu looked at her name tag. Sakura. She shifted a little, because it looked like Kakuzu had just stared at her chest. Also, Kakuzu was pretty fucking scary looking. “We’ve got a difficult customer here...”

There was a man arguing about the state of his finances. He was swearing enough to sound like Hidan on a good day. “I’m fucking telling you, that Nara fucker has left me in so much debt!” he roared, and the other teller, Hinata, looked like she was about to cry.

“I really don’t want to see Hinata crying…” said Sakura uncertainly. “So… well…”

“Call security and get him removed.” Kakuzu wasn’t going to put up with this shit on his first day in his new career. Sakura went off to get the phone.

The security guards, one of them vaguely familiar, marched in to grab hold of the irate man and put him in a hold so he wouldn’t move. Kakuzu wasn’t paying any attention to the commotion, until one of them bumped him on the shoulder as they moved the angry customer out of the bank.

“Hey fuckface. I said I’d see you next Tuesday.”

“Get out.”

And that’s how Hidan lost his job as a security guard.

The fucking end

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Roses are Red- Solangelo

Disclaimer: This story will revolve around abuse in future chapters. 

I come from an abusive household. I lived through domestic abuse for eight years, and its impact continues to affect me a little over a decade later. I felt the necessity to give a voice to the people trapped in an abusive relationship, to show what it entails and what it does to a person. As a writer, I always vowed to myself that I would write so in a way so raw and honest, it would list my novels under banned books. I would write the reality people are afraid to write. I would write the voices that have been silenced. So that's what this story is. It will show the development and the struggle of an abusive relationship so that everyone can understand the fear, the hurt, the pain. So people will stop asking, "Why didn't you just leave them?" or "What did you do to provoke them?" and start standing up for the victims instead. This story will contain violence and sexual abuse in addition to emotional abuse. I don't write this because I find pleasure in it, but because I believe it's important for people to understand what this is like.

After a poll on Tumblr, this story has been molded to star Will and Nico from the Percy Jackson series. In reality, you can put any faces you want on these characters. It's the story that matters.

I also decided making this an LGBT novel because LGBT people are silenced further when it comes to abuse. Not only because of the previously mentioned questions but because many don't believe women are abusive nor are men abusive to each other. It's just a matter of fighting back. That is not true.

If you or someone you know need help in regards to domestic abuse, call National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 with more than 200 languages. All calls are free and confidential. Online chat is also available on their website between 7am-2am central time at www.thehotline.org

(Click OP if read more link doesn’t show.)

Feedback is appreciated!!!

It’s funny how time works. How every precise second is a factor in your life. A moment earlier, a moment later, and your life can change completely without you realizing it. It seemed like time was constantly the reason behind everything. This fabricated illusion created by humans to measure their uneventful lives to the point of panic or stress had managed to be the molder of lives.

That was all Nico could really think. That single second that had sent him barreling through the classroom door his first day of college until he was toppled over another student with bright eyes and clusters of freckles. That minute it took him to gather his things and leave the coffee shop on campus resulting in Nico running into the same student- though not literally this time- as he walked in at the same time Nico was going to walk out. That single half-second glance that resulted in running a red light, slamming the brakes too hard, and going to a hospital because a single second later another car had swerved into them.

The minute of traffic that had caused them to get to the club past the hour that 21 and under were allowed. The moment of frustrated hesitation that led to someone offering help, sneaking them through the back. The three minutes in which Nico left to get a drink, the single second it took for him to turn and find Will in the crowd, talking to someone.

Life had changed for the better and for the worse by mere seconds. Moments which, had they happened a little earlier or later, would have led their lives down completely different paths.

Nico hated time.

***

There was an incessant tug at his arm. “Nico, come on, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have driven there for nothing,” Will sighed. “We have to go.

“Give me two seconds, man I’m almost done,” he said, peeking up at the mirror, his hands running through his hair, trying to spread the gel just right. Will rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, watching Nico through the window. His eyes flickered over to him, suddenly uncomfortable. “Dude. Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking maybe if I intimidate you enough, we can leave already.” Nico rolled his eyes and turned to him.

“Ever heard the expression ‘a watched teapot never whistles?’”

“You’re not a teapot,” he pointed out, smirking, raising an eyebrow. Nico snorted and shoved him playfully. “Finally,” he breathed as Nico left the bathroom.

Together, they left Nico’s on campus apartment and started for Will’s car. Since Nico crashed his, he hasn’t been able to fix it, rendering it useless. He glanced momentarily at Will knowing that on his right side, there were twenty stitches. Will was rocking the side shaved look, but knowing it was Nico’s fault made it painful to look at him sometimes. The hair had grown out enough, the stitches healed so that there was only a faded, jagged, light scar obscured by dirty blond hair.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy, Neeks. It’s been four months.” Will always knew when Nico was thinking about the accident. “I’m perfectly fine. Look at me, ready to get hammered and grind on strangers at a club! Plus, this haircut makes me look edgy. Very attractive.”

Nico offered a smile, but his chest still constricted with guilt. It was his fault. And though Will kept saying anyone could’ve run a red light, Nico knew it was more.

It wasn’t just the mistake of running a red light, and slamming the brake when he probably should’ve sped up to get across before cars drove into them. It was the fact that he had been driving and he had let himself get distracted by Will, blond hair flying back in short waves since the window was down, singing happily along with the radio, lips curled into a smile, hands drumming against the dashboard because Will swore he could figure out the drum beat.

He had been selfish, trying to soak up his presence, completely forgetting the road until Will shouted that there was a red light.

Nico hit the brakes without thinking. A jolt hit the front right side, another the back left, the impact shaking his bones, an icy feeling spreading through him as it registered that he’d just crashed. Will’s airbag had burst out, the window shattered, and Will was groaning lifting his head, the right side of his face smear with blood. And Nico’s head had hit the steering wheel hard enough to give him a headache, but he was fine and that wasn’t fair because he was the one driving, it had been his fault, so why had it been Will who got hurt so badly?

Suddenly an arm draped around his shoulders, and he pulled into the scent of Will; cotton and vanilla shampoo and minty toothpaste and Old Spice cologne. “It’s okay, Nico. Stop beating yourself up about this.” Vaguely, Nico wondered if it was possible to be in love with someone he never even dated. “We’re going to dance, we’re going to drink, and we’re going to have some fucking fun.” He shook Nico’s shoulders gently. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Nico said. He smiled and remained under Will’s arm until they reached his car.

Of course, the traffic was bad. It was a Friday night, and everyone was dying to go out into the city and get stupid drunk only to regret it the next morning and do it all over again by the time the sun set.

They had just barely reached the club in time before they refused anyone under 21, and stood in line, pulling out ten bucks each and their IDs. When they reached the bouncer, he checked the IDs and shook his head. “Sorry dudes. No more under 21.”

Will gaped and scoffed. “We’ve been in line for like five minutes. It’s like two minutes past the hour, come on.”

The guy rolled his eyes and gave their IDs back. “Get here earlier next time then.” Nico winced at that, guilty again because he knew his getting ready had made them later.

“What a dick,” Will mumbled under his breath, turning away with Nico. “That’s ridiculous. It’s just fucking ridiculous! We have our money, we’ve been in line, and it’s not like we could get drinks anyway with the exaggerated exes they put on our hands. That shit takes days to wash off, dude.”

“Well, Thursdays are always 21 and under. We could come next week. Why don’t we get a pizza or something and watch a movie at my place?” he suggested. “I’ll buy,” he added, knowing this was all his fault.

Will let his head fall to the side, kicking at the ground. “That does sound tempting,” he said with a smile. Nico smiled back, but before they could turn away, someone walked up to them.

“Hey. I heard you guys were struggling with the bouncer.” Nico looked at the guy uneasily. Never trust anyone you don’t know this late in the heart of the city.

The guy had a lazy posture, tufts of brown hair in tousled waves, and he was rolling a large M&M in his mouth, looking at them with a cocked eyebrow, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Will answered, glancing at Nico. “We’re under 21, but we were in line for a while. He didn’t want to let us in.” He shrugged.

The guy tilted his head back upright, biting down on his chocolate as he looked at Will and smirked. “I could get you guys in. There’s a back door, my friend’s the bartender. He has access to the door.” He gestured over. “Come on.” Will looked at Nico with an excitement Nico couldn’t bring himself to quell.

They walked over, Will walking with ease and Nico with enough tension for both of them. They stood by a door, the ground reeking of piss, trash, and who knows what else for a few moments before the door opened, revealing a guy with a ponytail and wide gages in his earlobes. “Yo, Sebastian. Who’re they?”

“New friends,” he answered. “They’re with me.” They guy nodded and let them in.

The club was packed, and that was an understatement. Bodies could hardly move, but that didn’t stop couples from grinding against each other slowly to the booming beat of the bass or the drunks from shoving past people like the dancefloor was theirs, their drinks spilling onto people or themselves. The song was good, Nico had heard it on the radio, but it was nearly drowned out by the constant club-beat of the bass they’d remixed it into. The song changed, along with a video on the small screens hanging from the ceilings. The beat remained the same, only the lyrics changing.

Nico saw different hair colors, heard shrieks of laughter and people singing along. He saw girls and guys with their hair matted down with sweat against their foreheads as they rocked their hips together, hips swaying sensually, not matching with the beat, but that obviously didn’t matter. “Come on,” he heard a faint shout. He looked over and Sebastian was leading them over to a smoke area where people could sit and take a break.

Will looked absolutely elated. Nico wished he could match his enthusiasm instead of dragging along like dead weight. “I’m Sebastian,” the guy shouted, though this time Nico heard him better.

“I’m Will. This is Nico. Thanks for getting us in!” He flashed a sincere, open smile. God, Nico loved that smile. It held all the warmth in the universe, and it was always honest and it was always special even though he always smiled. Anyone who received a smile from him was blessed for the rest of the day.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “So, you two together?”

Nico’s eyes went wide, his heart stuttered. It wasn’t the first time they’d been asked. People always assumed they were a couple. But each time always made Nico’s heart flutter with fear and hope.

Will laughed good-naturedly and wrapped an arm around Nico. “No, he’s my best friend. We’re both single.” The answer made Nico’s stomach twist, even though he knew it was true. But something changed in Sebastian’s expression. His smile widened slightly, his eyes focused on Will, and Nico had the absurd urge to pull him away and leave the club. Leave the grinding bodies, the boring bass, the messy flashing lights.

Sebastian looked over at Nico and smiled. “You guys want some drinks? Jack won’t ask your ID he knows you came in with me.” Nico looked at him suspiciously, and Sebastian seemed to understand because he laughed. He pulled out some money and handed it over. “You can get them. I know the number one rule of a club is not to take a drink from someone else.”

Nico relaxed and looked at Will. “Can you bring me a Jack and Coke on the rocks?” Nico nodded and pleaded with his eyes for him to stay in the same spot. He didn’t want this guy whisking him away.

While Nico left to get Will’s drink and a beer for himself, he couldn’t help but scan the crowds. It was getting more and more crowded. His eyes flitted over to where Will and Sebastian were waiting.

His stomach dropped.

Sebastian was close, about the same height as Will. His hand was in his hair, on the shaved side. Nico knew he was touching the scar. He knew it, and his stomach churned at the idea. But Will seemed completely at ease. His eyes were lidded, his sweet smile morphed into a sensual smirk, head tilted nearly brushing Sebastian’s nose with his own.

Nico was rushing back, spilling most of his beer, eyes set on the two of them. When he reached them, Will looked his way, but remained close, shoulder brushing Sebastian’s. Nico gave him his drink and Will thanked him. Sebastian whispered something in his ear and Nico fought the urge to hit him.

Then Will leaned over, his whiskey-tinted breath warm in Nico’s ear. “You mind if I go dance?”

His heart dropped to his stomach. “No, go ahead,” he answered lightly.

Will smiled and nudged him. “You should dance too. It’s a club, go meet someone.”

But the only person I want is you, he thought to himself. But he just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, totally will if I grow enough balls.” Will laughed and punched his shoulder lightly before walking away with Sebastian. Nico noticed with a nauseating lurch that his hand was intertwined in Sebastian’s.

Staying in the smoke area, Nico watched with a twisting heart as Will wrapped his hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck and curled closer to him, careful not to spill his drink. Sebastian’s hands didn't hesitate to roam up and down Will’s torso, fingers searching greedily. Nico dared him to go too far. Too slip his hands too low, to push into him too hard, to do anything that would make Will push him away and turn back to Nico. But he didn't.

Three songs later, he was still painfully watching Will twist in Sebastian’s arms and press against him, head tilted back in a joyous smile as Sebastian tentatively leaned down, encouraged by Will exposing his neck further, and licked the skin there.

It was something Nico had been dying to do, and very nearly did a few times when he was too drunk. And watching Will melt against him, reveling in this stranger's lips at his throat, Nico felt something cold clench his heart until it was too painful. He looked away and wished he had had the gall to tell Will what he felt. Even if Will didn't like him back, at least he wouldn't torture Nico by blatantly flirting and feeling up strangers in front of him. Will would never do that.

Instead he remained seated, sipping lukewarm beer, and wishing more than anything that they’d started walking away a few seconds earlier. Then they wouldn’t have met Sebastian, and they’d be in Nico’s living room watching a movie and throwing pepperoni at each other.

Nico was getting cranky. He was sleepy, hurt, and he felt invisible in the seating area watching couples grope each other. He wondered how many of these people had just met. How many of these were just doing what Will and Sebastian were doing?

His eyes returned to Will and Nico felt the earth shatter beneath him as everything fell away. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, a pain in his heart so strong it became physical.

They were kissing. They were pressed as close as they possibly could be, kissing almost viciously. Even from a distance, Nico could see their tongues probing into each other’s mouths, teeth biting at lips, fingers tangled into locks of hair. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to, God he wanted to. He didn’t want to torture himself like this, watching someone adore the person he loved the way he’d always wanted to.

But no.

If Nico had the chance, the kiss wouldn’t be so primal. He would kiss him softly. He would kiss him slowly. He would admire and bask in every sensation, from the warmth of his lips to the way his lips would part slightly to the texture of his tongue pressed against Nico’s own. He would relish the kiss, live in it, cherish it with everything in him.

Knowing that he never would while watching the scene unfold in front of him, the two of them stumbling between dancing people until they were near a wall, pressing into it like they wanted to mold into it, Nico finally had to tear himself away.

The look of pure ecstasy on his face was unfair. Knowing that Will enjoyed what he was doing hurt Nico further. It reiterated that he never stood a chance.

He staggered to the bathroom taking ragged breaths. He splashed his face with water, trying to calm down, trying to quell the hurt, the agony that was trying to bubble and burst through his chest.

He just wanted to go home.

He wasn’t sure how long he took refuge in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone until it was down to 10% if only to ignore the memory pawing at his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the time. But it was nearly three in the morning when his phone rang with Will’s face, contorted by a Snapchat filter, and Nico yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He answered and stuttered out a, “Hello?”

“Don’t hello? me!” he snapped. “Where the hell are you? I’ve gone all over this place looking for you! I came outside and I can’t go back in. Baz’s friend is off his shift. Are you still in there?”

“Looking for me?” he questioned. He blinked and shook his head. “Um, sorry.”

“Are you drunk right now? Where are you? Are you okay?” Nico’s brain was struggling to catch up, but it was more due to the emotional overflow and mind numbing scrolling he’d been doing while inhaling the disgusting scent of the bathroom. “Nico?”

“I’m okay, sorry. I’m-” Suddenly there was no static on the line. He looked at his screen and cursed when he saw it was completely black. It died.

He cursed under his breath and left the bathroom, then the club. It was still relatively full, but not as asphyxiatingly packed as before. There were several people on the sidewalk, waiting on Ubers or friends or trying to maintain their balance long enough to stay upright for two seconds.

He wasn’t sure where Will was, but if he could just go to where they’d parked, he would be fine.

He started walking, and that’s when he heard a relieved cry in the form of his name. He turned and saw Will barreling into him, his arms wrapping around him. Nico yelped and awkwardly hugged him back.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked, pulling away.

Nico tried and failed to ignore the purple marks along his neck and the plump swell on his nearly red lips. “I was in the bathroom,” he grumbled.

“The whole time?” he asked incredulously.

Nico felt his face flush and shrugged his hands away. “Yeah. I think the beer might’ve made me a little sick or something. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to force you to go home, so…. I just hung out in the bathroom. I’m sorry I forgot to text you.”

“Nico,” he breath exasperatedly. But before he finished, Sebastian was beside him, an arm snaking around Will’s waist.

He had marks on his neck too. But he had a few bite marks too.

“You found him,” he said. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, just feel a little sick,” Nico said, forcing a smile.

“I’m going to take him home,” Will whispered. “Get in, Neeks.” He opened the door for Nico get in, and he did so awkwardly. He could hear the muted murmurs just outside his window. “Thanks for helping me look for him.” Something unintelligible. “I had fun tonight. Text me?”

“As soon as you get in the car.” Nico could see through the side mirror as Sebastian neared Will, his arms wrapping around him. It wasn’t greedy this time. It was soft. Gentle. “Promise I’ll see you again.”

Will’s face tilted toward him, and Nico knew they were kissing again. He furrowed his eyebrows and curled into his seat shutting his eyes. A few excruciatingly long moments later, Will opened the door to the car and got it, starting the engine. “Nico?” Nico didn’t respond. He kept his eyes closed. He could pretend to be happy for him. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. “Neeks?” His hand rested on his arm. “Hm. Maybe you did get sick.” He heard him fumble with something and Nico noticed the air vents weren’t blasting in his face anymore. It was subtler and the air blew gently against him, enough to keep him from sweating, but not so much to make him freeze. The radio switched between stations for a while before Will settled on an Indie station and left it at a low volume.

Will hated Indie. He put it for Nico. So he could unconsciously listen in his sleep. It made Nico want to burst into tears and confession.

Instead, he kept his eyes shut and pretended to sleep the entire way back to campus.

Click Here for Ch. 2

[vsplusonline]

People around the globe have turned to DIY hairstyling while in lockdown

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/people-around-the-globe-have-turned-to-diy-hairstyling-while-in-lockdown/

People around the globe have turned to DIY hairstyling while in lockdown

The long and short of the lockdown to contain the spread of COVID-19, is all over social media. If a video of Georgina Rodriguez giving partner Cristiano Ronaldo a stylish haircut while self-isolating in Madeira went viral on social media, in India, actor Anushka Sharma giving her spouse, Virat Kohli, a haircut with a pair of kitchen scissors also inspired a legion of stay-at-home stylists.

With hairstylists, barbers and beauticians closing shop to adhere to the lockdown, men and women are finding inventive ways to stay reasonably well groomed. Malayalam actor Indrajith decided the easiest way was to tonsure his head. He recently posted a photo of his new look on his Facebook page and Instagram handle and called it ‘Quarantino’. While more than 27k fans welcomed his new look on Facebook, 1,44,384 reacted to it on Instagram, including stars like Vijay Yesudas and film director Aashiq Abu. “With no shooting for some time, I thought this was the easiest way to deal with the situation and beat the heat,” he says. His stylists were his daughters 15-year-old Prarthana and 10-year-old Nakshatra.

Actor and YouTuber Archana Kavi also decided to give her father Jose Kavi a haircut and posted it on her Instagram handle. “I looked up YouTube videos to learn how to do it. Then I practised on my cocker spaniel and finally garnered the courage to give my father a haircut. I guess they did not have a choice. Well, I did not nick their ears,” laughs Archana, who is in Delhi with her parents. She was visiting them when the lockdown was announced.

Celebrity hairstylist, Ambika Pillai, says a lot of her clients are also experimenting with cutting their own hair during the lockdown. “These days, everyone is turning to YouTube to pick up new skills. And there are a number of experts and professionals on YouTube who are showing you how to style your hair. I myself have demonstrated some simple ways to give yourself a haircut and take care of your hair,” she says.

Tips and tricks

For instance, she says that if you are using a trimmer, it’s best not to start at the lowest level but to “go slow and easy. If one is not careful, it is easy to take off the hair in patches. So begin at a higher level till you get the hang of it. I am posting tutorials on my Facebook page and Insta handles about simple ways to take care of your skin and hair. Looking at the situation, I am not sure when salons and parlours will open. So it is best to learn how to give yourself an easy haircut. A good pair of scissors and a comb will do. If you have a buzzer or trimmer, make sure you learn how to use it,” she explains.

In Chennai, 12-year-old Yohana Rajaratnam gathered tips from tutorials on YouTube and turned hairstylist for her grandmother Hansa Pandit   | Photo Credit: special arrangement

Mimi Chiu, a hair stylist in Chennai, says that those who feel the need for a haircut should best go for front bangs, even or uneven. “Or even a soft-layered style is easy if you plan to cut your hair yourself. Just tie your hair in a pony and turn it over and trim the ends. When you put back your hair, you will have a soft-layered look. If you have a friend or someone to help, then you can go for a simple, straight trim. Men can use a trimmer at the highest level. Whether it is men or women, if you are cutting your hair yourself for the first time, it is easier if you decide not to shorten your hair too much. That is when mistakes show up. Moreover, even if there is a problem, your hair stylist will find it easier to correct it if you have not attempted something complicated,” she says.

And that is what Mumbai-based teenager Aarya Menon did by styling her bangs herself. “The heat and boredom got to me and I wanted to do something to change my hairstyle. So I went in for bangs. I viewed a couple of videos before chopping off my hair,” she says, sounding pleased with her decision.

In Chennai, 12-year-old Yohana Rajaratnam gathered tips from tutorials on YouTube and turned hairstylist for her grandmother Hansa Pandit. “The two-hour haircut was filled with many arguments till my mother started seeing the results,” laughs Yohana’s mother Durva Rajaratnam.

Not to be left behind are parents of young children. While teenagers might decide to play Samson for a while, kids don’t stand a chance once their parents decide it is time for a haircut. That is why 10-year-old Siddarth agreed to be styled by his mother, Archana Gopinathan. “I used his dad’s trimmer to give him a really snazzy cut,” says Archana. And Sid approves. “I love the way she has done my hair ,” says Sid.

Chennai-based Anisha Menezes says her husband, Vivek, was always the hairstylist for her two sons when they were in the US. “He used to cut his hair since college. This week, he is planning to give them a trim.

In the meantime, senior citizens recall a time in the distant past when barbers would come home to give the men their monthly haircuts. Mohan Sivanand, former editor of Reader’s Digest, posts on his Facebook page that he was “dying for a haircut. That’s when I remembered something I learnt when I was five. We had a barber in our Kerala village come home to do the job for all the men in the house, right down from my grandpa, my uncle, dad… to us the boys. He worked in the backyard. And ha, since I wouldn’t sit still or keep quiet, the big barber managed to lock my head between his knees at times. One day, while my hair was being cut, I mustered the courage to ask him, “Who cuts your hair?”

‘I cut my hair myself,’ he replied. ‘I use two mirrors for that.’”

So Mohan decided to emulate the barber. Using the wall and cabinet mirrors in the bathroom, he took a comb and a pair of scissors and trimmed his own hair. “It feels like a load off my head… It was a piece of cake too. No waiting my turn, no reading Filmfare while I waited, no paying, no tipping,” he states, adding “I may never go to a barber again…”

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