Watching old OlgaKay vlogs and I noticed…
Toby was sitting between Justine and Olga!
My two cents on the Olga-Toby thing.
By now it is quite sure that without a doubt, they are dating.
I’ve been a fan of both of them for quite some time and to tell the truth… I just can’t seem to like them together. I’ve tried, believe me.
I recently started watching Olga’s vlogs again after stopping for a short period because they were getting so long (up to 20 mins) that it was ridiculous and I couldn’t sit through the entire thing. It definitely seems like things have changed.
Anyway, I’m getting off topic. I feel really embarrassed when I see people complaining about Olga because they feel like Toby is theirs. It’s kind of sad, really. I have my own reasons for not shipping Olga and Toby. One of them is that they seem like a weird couple since Olga always talks about sex and Toby never even mentions it… or at least, that’s the idea he gives off on camera.
Another reason, and probably no one’s going to agree with me, is that I find it annoying how they don’t admit it. Everyone knows by now… If they were more open about it, I believe I wouldn’t mind it so much, in fact, I’d be happy for them. Sure, I know what you all are thinking: “It’s their personal life and they have the right to not tell anyone if they don’t want to, it’d ruin their YouTube careers if they broke up, blahblahblah”, and once again, this is just my opinion, you don’t have to agree with it.
Peace off.
Just a tiny observation…
Okay, it is now that people don’t care about iJobuscus anymore more than ever, but I was watching a video on iJustine’s vlog channel called “GUAYAKI OVERLOAD!!!” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3L2gk5dAtHA&feature=relmfu) and I noticed something when she went to put on her shoes.
If you go to 1:14, you can see Toby’s shoes for a split second. Now, why were they at her house? ;)
A belated iJobuscus fan fiction.
Note from the writer:
Okay, I know “iJobuscus” is pretty much dead, and everybody’s sick of it, but after reading a few other iJobuscus fan fictions, I was really inspired to do my take on it. I don’t even know if anyone’s going to read this, but anyway. It’s a fun project for myself. Hopefully there’ll be more on the way. For this chapter, I’m just focusing on description rather than dialogue.
***
Prologue
It was about 7 o’clock in the morning.
The bright sunlight peered through the shutters, which made the dust particles visible in the air. The floor was filled with all sorts of clothing articles; shirts, jeans, lingerie… Justine, lying face up on the right side of the bed and wrapped in sheets, with her left hand on her chest and the other one hanging outside the perimeter of the bed, slowly opened her eyes. She covered the light that was coming through on the sides of her eyes with her right hand, itched her forehead, and took a small look around.
She sluggishly turned her head to the left, only to notice Toby, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He was also wrapped in bed covers. His mouth was a little open, and his face had an expression of profound thought. He must’ve sensed that Justine was looking at him, for he turned to look at her.
Justine suddenly remembered what had happened. Her eyes grew wide. She turned away from Toby, and gazed at the ceiling. A moment of silence proceeded.
-“This, uh… this… shouldn’t have-uh, happened…”, Justine stuttered awkwardly, trying to cover her body with the bed sheets.
-“Yes…”, Toby mumbled, pretending to be looking at the clock on his nightstand to overcome the awkwardness.
Silence again.
No one knew what to do, especially Toby. This was his house after all, he couldn’t just stand up and say he had to go. He was trying to make up his mind; he didn’t know if he wanted to tell Justine he wanted her to go, or just stay like that and say nothing. Her presence was weird, but sweet at the same time.
-“I should probably go, I mean… yes…”, Justine stammered. She rolled out of bed, trying to hide as much of her body as possible. She pulled a sheet and loosely wrapped it around her. She bent down, picked up her clothes, and hurriedly got dressed. “This has been…”, Justine uttered. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but was making an effort to break the awkwardness.
-“Um… do you want breakfast?”, was all Toby managed to say.
-“No, it’s fine, I mean, I really have to go. They’re expecting me, anyway and I… I’ll just use the bathroom, if it’s okay with you…”, Justine said, rummaging through her purse for her phone.
-“Yeah, sure.”, Toby muttered. Throughout this whole… let’s call it, “conversation”, neither of them had turned to look at the other. They didn’t know how to react.
Justine tiptoed to the bathroom and closed the door. She reclined on the wall and tried to set things straight. No, no, no… she thought. She leaned towards the sink and splashed her face with cold water. She examined her face in the mirror, trying to fix her hair as much one could without the help of a hairbrush.
Meanwhile, Toby was running his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of everything. He still didn’t know what to do, so he just slid up and sat against the bed’s frame and looked down upon the floor.
The doors opens. Toby jerked his head up. Justine rushed to “her” side of the room and grabbed her winter boots. She waved, whispered a “Morning” to Toby and took off. Toby heard the front door slam. Everything happened so fast, he barely had time to react.
He immediately stood up and snatched his pair of boxers from the floor. After hastily putting them on, Toby walked in a circle; he was apoplectic. He stopped, grabbed one of his shoes from the floor, and flung it against the wall like a bat out of hell.
And now, enough time has passed for the both of them, and even everyone else, to look back on the events that led up to this misfortune… So here is Toby now, standing still in the middle of the room, recalling everything that helped create this god-awful situation…
***
So that’s that for now. Hope you guys (If anyone’s reading, lol.) enjoyed. Even if no one ever sees this, I’ll continue writing. I had a blast coming up with this.
“Mike Branigan, Cole Phelps.”
“It’s okay, Branigan.”
“His name may be dogshit, but there’s none on his hand.”
You hungry or something, Phelps?
