#it’s super fun and much easier to cheat in there than in chess. love how easy it can be to trick your opponent if they’re too focused

[simcardiac-arrested]

i am going to give asks every day for a unskippable cutscene i think until i either forget or you no longer want them. the long rambles are very fun to read.

im glad you like my rambles man it’s fun to just spew thoughts!! but anyway since i already mentioned chess in some earlier asks i might as well ramble about it. it is THEE game of all time to me. like … i don’t know. it’s SOOO good they made a game that is actually perfect. i might be saying that because i’m biased and it’s like the game of my childhood cuz i’ve played it since i was veryyy young. but oh my god i dont know. I sound like a snob but it is perfect intellectual stimulation. i love Thinking. i fucking love imagining how the game will go. i love predicting my opponent’s moves it’s sooo fun. sometimes i get it just right and my opponent falls for my bait and right into my mischievously set up trap and i obliterate them. soemtimes though my opponent sees through it and surprises me and i have to be like !!!!!!!! I HAVE TO THINK HARDER NOW HOLY SHIDT !!!!! sometimes chess will have you in SUCH a stump. you will be sooo stuck and unsure of what to do. it will look like a dead end. and that’s so fun to me too … there is Always some sort of way out if you try hard enough. sometimes you have to sacrifice some pieces abd you have to think whether a rook or a horse is more important to you. i love how sometimes chess games can be casual and take like 15 minutes but sometimes it’s like, the most thought consuming thing in your life and it takes hourssss. but it’s so worth it either way bc it’s either like, the satisfaction of a hard earned win or the friendly loss of a big challenge. idgaf about winning or losing i just love playing chess. and yet i do not know shit about it!! obviously i know the pieces and how they move and shit, and i’ve worked out some strategies that i tend to open with. but i’ve never watched tournaments. i don’t know the ‘pro chess moves’. my dad never bothered to teach me and i never bothered to learn. i play like a pro but i have the unpredictability of a newbie because i seriously don’tttttt know what the fuck a fork or a queen’s gambit or a Whatever is. Like you’re just making shit up at me. chess is not about strategies or pro gamer tactics it’s about pretending to be smart and becoming dr strange imagining every possible outcome of your opponent’s next move

[ghostinthegallery]

Hey there!! I really enjoyed your insight the other day about how writing a serial differs from a plotted-out-and-written-in-advance novel! As someone who's just dipping my toes into posting as I write, any chance you could give some advice or tips you've learned about that style of writing specifically? 💚

(from @inquisitor-gayfax)

Why yes! I'd love to (thank you for giving me the excuse XD)

The main thing I have realized is that experience with traditional, "complete on arrival" novels is actually super helpful for serial writing. The principles of character writing, world building, and all that still apply, but even more importantly the beats you want your story to hit are all pretty much the same. You want that into, the inciting incident, the midpoint turn, etc. Those are all vital to keeping your story on track. Especially as serials are prone to meandering. It is so easy to get lost and lose sight of the forest for the trees. For me, always checking with myself that I am hitting or actively working towards those major beats helps to keep me on track.

Also note that one big thing will be different is the length. Serials tend to get much longer and thus the beats are stretched out. The length is because each chapter essentially functions as a short story in and of itself. It has to be a satisfying reading experience on its own as well as in the context of the larger work. This oftentimes means fleshing things out more than you otherwise would and bam, longer work. (not necessarily as long as I often go! but the tendency is there). FWIW, I find editing these chapters as I got to be much easier than editing a whole novel. I do miss being able to move big chunks and scenes around (cut and paste, my beloved), but it is worth the tradeoff to me.

The nature of the chapters functioning as short stories (minus a definitive ending of course) is probably going to be the biggest difference if you are someone who writes the entire thing ahead of time and then posts chapter by chapter, as opposed to posting as you write or posting with a backlog but not a finished novel.

Now, the other biggest difference if you are posting as you go is that you will not have the chance to revise the entire story the way you do with a traditional novel. You cannot go back and change things, add foreshadowing or a character beat or anything. Once you publish that chapter, the events are set in stone.

I actually enjoy this! It is a fun challenge to work with what I have established. But...I also cheat. I have a tendency to drop little things here and there that could be hints at larger plot points or things that are setting up things later on, but they are vague enough that I am not fully locked into anything.

The secret is that your readers are unlikely to remember a small detail in chapter 3 that didn't really go anywhere. But they will remember that detail in chapter 4 that got paid off in chapter 35 and you will look like a super genius (I am 99% sure Eiichiro Oda, possibly the greatest serial fantasy writer/artist of all time has done this writing One Piece, alongside his legit 5-D chess long game reveals)

To call myself out, here is an interaction from chapter 5 of The Silence & the Storm (poster child of fics that got too long)

Before he turned to go, he placed a hand on Anrakyr’s shoulder. Anrakyr tried to shake him off, but his grip was as strong as his bulky build would imply. Through an interstitial message he said, “If you ever wish to hear of Pyrrhia, you need only ask. Perhaps you still have friends there? Perhaps not. But would you not like to know?” “What are you—” Zultanekh broke the connection. He started back down the corridor, and Anrakyr had to choose whether to chase him, or remain with this stranger.

I had no idea what had actually happened on Pyrrhia when I wrote that. I just knew I wanted to address Anrakyr's backstory and why he left his home planet, so I left myself that set up figuring I would pay it off later. And then in chapter 48 we got this:

“Do you remember back when the mot was called,” Anrakyr said. “You told me that if I wished to know about Pyrrhia I need only ask. That I might still have friends there. Was that true?” “Would I lie about such a thing? Never,” Zultanekh replied, surprisingly softly. “Did my own wanderings take me to Pyrrhia? Yes, they did. An unlucky clash with some orks left this ship in need of repairs—although make no mistake the orks were far worse off! Space debris after we were done with them.” Anrakyr flashed a glyph of impatience.  “In any case,” Zultanekh continued. “We landed, declaring our intentions to repair and leave. Had we heard rumors of lost Pyrrhia? We had, however the planet itself was quite…orderly. Calm.”

The conversation goes on as Zultanekh describes more of what he saw because 33 chapters later I, the author, now know what happened and can start giving that pay off. Sometimes I will get really lucky and find something I didn't intend as foreshadowing but that happens to work! Those are good days.

Now this is a risky strategy. You can limit your options when you do this, and you have to make the pay off make sense given whatever you set up. I've definitely wished for the power to go back and edit some of my vague hints in the past. But that is the challenge! True you could actually be good at planning and meticulously plant all your little seeds and reveals. Or you can be me, a creature of vibes and chaos.

Speaking of vibes, I think it is important to talk about the audience. And how they will influence you. When you present a finished story, that is it. It is done. The audience can talk about the story all they want, but it cannot retroactively influence how you wrote the book. With serial writing 99% of the time readers will be able to comment. And I think we writers have to be very careful about how we let that affect our writing.

The Game of Thrones writing team apparently at some point decided that "fooling the audience" and being unpredictable was more important than telling a good story, so they changed plot points when too many audience members predicted certain outcomes. This is bad. However, sometimes audience feedback is good! I personally unlocked a whole subplot because a commenter asked about a character I had included totally at random. It was a filler name! I did not realize this character was in a game, but realizing that gave me incredible stuff to work with. I'm glad I listened to them! Not to mention the incredible kindness and support that has kept me going through some rough patches in my life. By that same token, negative comments can feel awful. I have not found that to be an issue in my corner of the 40k fandom, but it is absolutely a consideration in other spaces (especially outside of fanfic) so just be aware.

I hope that answered your question! Probably too much, but as we have firmly established, I am verbose ☺️

[veliseraptor]

Can I request both your Lymond fics for WIP meme?

you sure can!!! i mean, you know the one, et ipsi sunt jacula is the not h/c h/c aka the one where an exhausted and overtaxed lymond collapses during the disorderly knights and gabriel is like. let me :) help you :) and. you know. is obviously very helpful and solicitous and just interested in helping lymond feel better! psych.

it's slow-going as all of my lymond fic is, because i get distracted by things that are easier to write and then go back and read what i have and go "oh but this is fun though and also i do enjoy the research bits and the footnotes" so I'll write another 100 words in it and then get distracted again. this ask is nudging me to get back to it and continue that cycle. part of my problem (you may be noticing a theme) is I don't actually know how I'm going to finish the damn thing. maybe I can cheat and just leave it open.

for the curious, "et ipsi sunt jacula" is a line from the vulgate bible, psalm 54:22 (55:22 in a modern bible): "molliti sunt sermones ejus super oleum; et ipsi sunt jacula." according to the RJPS translation, the line can be translated (from the Hebrew) as "his talk was smoother than butter, yet his mind was on war"; the vulgate latin translates more directly as "their speech was softer than oil, but they themselves are (like) arrows."

“Ah,” Lymond said. “Behold, Ganelon.” “Francis,” Gabriel said, in a tone of gentle reproach. “Where do you think you are going?”  “To Roncevaux, surely,” Lymond said, “that I will mort en conquérant. If you come to fence, I think I will make poor sport.” “I do not come to fence.” Gabriel closed the distance between them in slow strides; Lymond did not flinch back, but looked up at him, an obstinate cast to the line of his jaw for all his pallor and visible weakness.  “But you will make sport nonetheless.” “Sport?” Gabriel shook his head slowly. “No. Why do you assume I am your enemy, Francis?”  “Ta suka suka, ten skaphen de skaphen onomason,” said Lymond, unmoved. No flicker of displeasure disturbed the handsome face of the man watching him as he reached out, laying hands on his shoulders. 

the second one, haec olim meminisse iuvabit, is (meant to be) a post-series richard and lymond fic, specifically one where richard finds out what happened with khaireddin and the chess game, because I am an absolute sucker for brotherly angst and i think it would make sense of some more of lymond's behavior afterwards. this one came out because i realized that richard didn't know and went "ah, but he should!" and then realized that would make for fun post-series drama as the two of them are figuring out how to have a relationship after all the upheaval throughout the series.

also considering if I want to have marthe still alive just because i can and possibly the answer is yes, because, again, i can.

the title on this one comes from the aeneid: "forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit" or, as I translated it in my epigraph, "perhaps someday it will please us to remember even this."

I get to be so pretentious with my lymond titles and I will not stop.

“I assume that Graham Reid Malett is dead.” Richard kept the words short and blunt, but saw no reaction.  “Le roi est mort. I killed him in a chess game.” The words were spoken with exact equanimity; Richard cast his gaze sidelong and narrowed, and stayed silent, waiting. The fine-featured face was a mask, inscrutable and unbreakable.  “To see the way you look at the boy,” Richard said, “one could not believe that you crossed much of the known world for him.” Lymond was quiet. He propelled himself to his feet, turned, and walked a few steps away, long-fingered hands folding behind his back. “Kuzum is not my son. He is Joleta’s. By her brother.”  Richard took a sharp breath. “You are certain?” “Yes.” Lymond’s voice was level, empty of feeling. Richard waited, but he said no more. “Does Philippa know?”  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I haven’t told her. She loves him, and he her.”  Richard stood slowly and approached Lymond. “And what of your son?” he asked quietly, almost against his own will. Lymond was silent for a long while, but Richard did not press him, sensing that to do so would be a grave mistake.“Not oats, but wheat of blood...he died,” Lymond said. “In a chess game.”

[cedricstower]

Hear me out but poly relationship of Cedric x Reader x Greylock?

oh ABSOLUTELY! 

~gender neutral reader~

Poly Relationship between Cedric x Greylock x Reader

how all three of you end up together is beyond me or anyone else in Enchancia 

at first it was just you and Cedric, you guys had been incredibly committed to each other albeit for a short while, but you guys seemed to have something really special between the two of you

the day you meet Greylock is when you two cross paths at a Conjurer’s Conference (if you’re magical, it’s probably your first time going together, but if you’re not, Cedric probably offered to show you around and you’re beyond excited), much to Cedric’s confusion because he thought Greylock would’ve been exiled by now 

“All I had to do was use the ol’ charm on them and I got re-instated in three years time!”

“Of course” Cedric grumbles, annoyed beyond belief

you however are fascinated, taken with this jester-esc wizard. You begin to ask him a multitude of questions, annoying and confusing Cedric even further. 

“So what did you tell the guards?” “What did you do?” “Are you a royal sorcerer too?” 

Greylock was more than happy to answer all your questions, quite endeared by your wide-eyedness 

Cedric’s probably standing there like “what is happening????”

You get distracted by a booth that catches your eye, give Cedric a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll be right back after checking it out while he catches up with his friend

You run off, and a smug looking Greylock walks up beside a still grumpy but slightly softer Cedric

“Well, they’re quite a catch, aren’t they, Cedric old chum?” He says, giving his comrade a wink

“I will fucking stab you” is what Cedric wish he could’ve said, however he settled for crossing his arms and grumbling something incoherent, good call, Ceddy. 

over time the more you and Greylock cross paths, the more you guys get to know and enjoy each others company. Much to Cedric’s distaste. 

You really don’t understand what Cedric doesn’t like about Greylock, but you decide not to push any questions on him for now

every time you two hang out, Greylock dazzles you with magic tricks, humors you with harmless pranks on the villagers, and occasionally attempts to woo you say via conjuring a lovely pink tulip for you.

You always have so much fun with Greylock. He was charming, witty, and smarter than people gave him credit for... sort of like your Ceddy. They didn’t see it, but they have a lot more in common then they both think

it’s not like Cedric stops you from hanging out with Greylock, god forbid he let himself be one of those boyfriends. He’d sooner throw himself back in the dungeon than control any aspect of your life (unless of course you were cheating on him or harming yourself in any way shape or form, stuff like that, but those aren’t relevant here so we’re not gonna unpack all of that)

however he starts getting suspicious when you two act a little more than friendly around him...

you were bidding Greylock goodbye when you gave him a small kiss on his cheek, to which he smiled and told you he’d keep it there forever. 

this made you laugh, he always did

heading back to give Cedric a hug, he continued to stare off in the direction that his “old friend” had taken off to

“what was that about?” he asks

“huh?” 

“Th-that, that kiss you just gave to him.”

You wave your hand. “Aw, hun, don’t worry about it. It was just a friendly little kiss.” You said, gently and playfully pinching his cheek which always caused the blood to rush to his face from embarrassment.

Cedric trusts you, he always has. It’s Greylock he doesn’t trust. They way that man looks at you... he knows what it means because he’s had to give you the exact same look for a whole year before you realized he liked you. However Cedric was much less crude about it. 

he’s not proud to say it’s something he thinks and worries about a lot, his own insecurities of not being good enough slipping in every now and again, not that he’d tell you though

but he’s shockingly unsurprised when you and Greylock, as gently as possible, approach him about a relationship.

“All three of us, together! I think... I think it can really work out.”

“And I concur! Whadaya say, Cedric old chum?”

Immediately Cedric’s first thought was “No. Absolutely not.” No way was he willing to let you go about gallivanting with this jester of a sorcerer in a romantic sense. 

It’s not that he didn’t want you to be happy, he really did, but it was Cedric who wholeheartedly denied he and Greylock could ever get along in a romantic sense, they were barely able to stay cordial for Merlin’s sake!

he’s shaking a little, but gulps down his internal thoughts and sighs. “I’ll think about it.” 

the following week is a bit awkward for you two, every time you touch Cedric’s shoulder, it’s the lightest of feather touches and you speak to him extra carefully and softly, because you know this sort of proposal is telling him one thing

that he isn’t good enough for you 

it comes to a point when you’re both lying in bed, and he’s finally ready to talk about it with you. He takes both your hands in his and locks his hazel eyes onto yours. 

“Y/n, I-I really want you to be happy and... and have a fulfilling relationship but... before I continue, I need you to promise that... that it isn’t me. Is it?”

you know exactly what he means by that. And how could it be him? He was looking at you with wide eyes glossy on the verge of tears, it made your heart shatter and those tiny pieces melt. 

“Oh, Cedric...” you brought a hand to his cheek, softly caressing him. You never used his full name unless you were being completely serious. It was always either ‘Ceddy’ or one of the various sweet pet names you had for him. “Of course it’s not you. You’re perfect.” 

He’s hesitant at first, but he felt the honesty drip from your tone and radiating from your soul. Softening, he smiled. “Well, in that case, I suppose I don’t see the harm in you two having a relationship.” 

You are beyond excited and leap into his arms for a hug, blurting out a thousand ‘thank you’s’ while feverishly kissing him up and down the side of his face, sending Cedric into a giggling mess. 

Goodness gracious you were adorable, if he caught Greylock treating you with even the slightest bit of mistreatment, he’d be sure to cut all ties between you two and that monocle-wearing warlock immediately

as time went on, you and Greylock became inseparable. Prompting you to always convince Cedric to join in on your dates.

at first he’d only come along for you, and any time Greylock attempted to put the moves on him Cedric swerved that bitch.

 but the more those two are forced to spend time together for your sake, the more they actually start to bond

at first, it’s mostly over their adoration for you

“Isn’t y/n just the cutest little crum, Cedric ol’ pal?”

“I suppose I can’t argue with you there, but do be careful with the “cute” word around them, they absolutely hate it.”

“Oh? I bet they’re adorable when they’re mad~”

Cedric rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh on the contrary, they’re horrifying. But... their cheeks do puff up and get red and it’s admittedly endearing.” 

this was the start of a beautiful... romance? friendship? nobody really knows, least of all Cedric and Greylock

you notice how much more Cedric starts to loosen up around Greylock, he actually laughed at one of his jokes for the first time! It made your stomach do flips and your heart squeeze itself in your chest.

it makes you so happy to see your boys getting along <3

and it’s only a matter of time until Greylock had successfully won Cedric over, and he needs to announce it in the most dramatic way possible

he storms into the workshop one day, where you waited for Cedric because he “had a surprise” for you

Greylock kicks down the door with Cedric being carried in his arms (much to his embarrassment, his arms crossed and his face on fire) and loudly proclaims that he had finally “claimed Cedric’s ass”

this causes Cedric to yell out a surprised, “WHAT?” and push Greylocks face away while he stumbles out of his arms. “I did not agree to you saying that!”

too bad, it got you laughing and Cedric blushing, which is all Greylock wanted out of this to be honest

from then on, you three are the most chaotic polyamory in Enchanica

Greylock’s always trying to get you both to laugh, thought it’s easier for you then Cedric

yes, he occasionally resorts to tickling him, and Cedric is extremely ticklish 

they still bicker a lot though, and you’re typically the peace-keeper. Though luckily none of you actually argue.

it’s usually over petty things, like how the bed shouldn't be used as a cracker platter Greylock 

“Well then why is it called a spread sheet, Cedric?”

yeah this is usually how mornings go. 

obviously they’ve calmed down a lot since dating though, knowing if they wanted this relationship to work, they’d have to be more level-headed with each other

dates are always super fun though! You guys alternate between your interests and even have a whole weekly date-night chart (courtesy of Cedric)

Greylock, because he’s a clown at heart, really likes the stereotypical “fun” dates like amusement parks, carnivals, swimming, dancing, bars, ect. 

Cedric is partial staying inside because at heart, he’s an introvert and an old soul, so a day inside the workshop with the two of you, some tea, snacks, and a game of chess is more than enough for him (in a modern AU he’d enjoy movie nights at home and cuddling on the couch, fantasy/fantastical being his favorite genre)

you’re a little more adventurous than Cedric, but not quite as outgoing as Greylock, so you enjoy outdoor dates like festivals, nature walks, concerts, picnics, all that Fun Summer jazz. 

however if you guys literally have no idea what else to do, going out for dinner is your go-to.

Cuddle-piles that turn into naps??? 100%

Cedric clings onto you and Greylock while Greylock has you in his lap, and his arm around Cedric while you three are lying down

Greylock is one for giving you both creative surprise smooches. Once he gave Cedric one of those squirt flowers but instead of spraying him with water a pair of comically puckered lips jumped out and planted one right on Cedric’s mouth. 

Of course what he thought was gonna be a sweet gift turned into a gag, but Greylock made it up by giving him a real peck on the lips after

he tried the same thing on you after, but you were smart and declined, even after Greylock pretending to pout and beg you to take it lest he die from your lack of love, but you weren’t having it and laughed while tapping his nose

“Nice try, hunny bun.”

you know that meme that’s like “What if I put the oven to 40000000 degrees and baked the cookies for 1 second?” and one friend on the line is like “no wtf you’ll burn your house” and the other is like “lmao do it”? Yeah, that’s Greylock, Cedric, and you, in that order. 

[bazwillendinflames]

Norkus Nov, Day 13 - Carl and North 

 AO3

North doesn’t need her uncle’s help to find a boyfriend, but when he pushes his new assistant at her, she can’t bring herself to be so cold hearted.

Carl Manfred was many things - a great painter, a terrible cheat at cards and most distressingly to his nieces: a matchmaker. 

Having only one estranged child of his own (Leo… where did he go wrong?), Carl put most of his attention on his three young nieces. Kara was the oldest, the sweetest and the most optimistic of them. She had known Carl before his car accident and been the first to help her uncle when he was recovering. Kara’s constant positivity had stopped him becoming the kind of bitter old man he feared (even if she locked up his drinks cabinet). 

She never put herself first, so it had been up to Carl to help Kara realise that her perfect match had been right in front of her the whole time. It only took a little subtle nudging before his oldest niece was shyly asking if he would like to meet her new boyfriend, who just so happened to be the same Luther that made his paint deliveries. Kara had taken it well, although admitting about his inferring left his second oldest niece eyeing him suspiciously. 

The youngest of Carl’s nieces, Alice, was painfully shy. She shared the same vivid imagination and artistic flare as his famous uncle and they spent most of the summer painting together. Being too young for traditional matchmaking, Carl had settled for introducing her to some of the neighbourhood kids, hoping some new friends would help Alice get out of her shell a little. It was even more rewarding to hear her babble about her plans with her new playmates. 

Carl’s middle niece was proving to be the biggest challenge. North proved to be just as stubborn as he was, ducking out of ‘chance’ meetings with any potential dates. (“Maybe I’ll set you up one day,” she threatened once.) Still, Carl caught moments when she looked wistfully at how Luther held open doors for Kara or when the couple snuggled together during movies. Carl was determined to find a match so perfect for her that it overcame the infamous Manfred stubbornness. 

And he already knew who. 

   Markus had been Carl’s caretaker for the last three months. His job, by the most basic description, was to make sure he took his morning and night medicine. However, Carl had grown rather fond of him as they shared chess matches and card games (Markus wasn’t afraid to call out his blatant cheating, although Carl always denied it). 

Carl, using only the most subtle methods, had talked his young assassiant into coming to a gallery opening. 

“Are you sure I’m the right person for tonight?” Markus smoothed out his suit self-consciously. “I’m not an artist or…” 

“Who else is going to sneak me a whiskey?”

“Now, now, you know what your doctor said.” A voice drawled. 

“He was just kidding.” Markus pushed the glass behind him. 

North grinned. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” She held up a bottle of her own. 

“North, hi.” Markus smoothed out his jacket again. “You look pretty. I mean your dress is pretty, I wasn’t like objectifying you or anything. I mean…”

“Thanks,” she interrupted. 

Markus had a slight flush on his cheeks and even North’s usual eye roll seemed less sarcastic than usual. Most of their interaction seemed to end with Markus flustered, his crush on Carl’s niece painfully obvious. 

She fixed Carl with a suspicious look. “You didn’t tell me Markus was coming.”

“Old age,” he replied with a shrug. “You do look lovely dear.”

“Kara picked it. Not really my style.” North looked down at her long red dress self-consciously, stealing the tiniest of glances in Markus’ direction. “Too flashy.” 

“I like it,” Markus said. 

Carl smiled to himself, glad his plan was starting to take place. 

   “Markus, come help me carry these drinks.” 

He nodded, eagerly following her to the bar. Carl watched as they walked off, already feeling a little smug. (“Stay out of my love life,” North had told him, “I see you scheming.” But he knew best.) 

“Listen to me,” North whispered, grabbing his arm, “my uncle thinks he knows what’s best for me. This is a set up.”

“Like a prank?” 

“Like a date,” North corrected. “He always does this to us.” 

“Oh.” Markus looked at where her hand still gripped his wrist. “Is that why he told me to wear a nice suit?” 

“You call that a nice suit?” 

“What’s wrong with-” 

The grip on his wrist tightened a little, but Markus couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “If I asked you to-”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t finish.”

“Right, sorry.” Markus felt the usual flush to his cheeks in her presence. “Go on.” 

“We should turn this around. Pretend to be super into each other and just when Carl thinks his meddling worked we-”

“Kiss?”

“Did you just say…”

Now Markus was blushing for another reason. “No.” 

“Just when he thinks it’s another success story, bam!” North hit her other hand on the bar. “I throw my drink over you.” 

“But this suit is new.”

“Trust me,” North said, “I’m doing you a favour. Unless it’s too much. I’ve been told I can be intense.” 

“You are… but I kind of like it.” 

North laughed. “We’re off to a good start. Look, if you help me, I’ll owe you a favour.” 

“Okay. I’m in.” 

North grinned, clinking her glass against his. “It’s a deal then.” 

   Markus peaked over North’s shoulder, catching Carl with a smirk on his face. (He and North made a similar expression when they were up to mischief. But her smirk was cuter.) 

“Does he do this a lot?”

“The matchmaking?” North asked. “Yeah. Kara’s fault really. She’s engaged because of his poking around in her business. And she thanked him! She might as well have signed my life away.” 

“Maybe it’s a sign he has good taste.” 

North hummed in response, but still seemed unconvinced. “Kara’s got a big heart. It’s easier to get her to open it up to someone.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with having a big heart.” 

“Oh no, an optimist.” North laughed at her own joke. “Fine, I’ll admit I’m happy for my sister.” 

“I’ve only met her once. Kara, I mean. But she’s kind.” 

“She was like a Mother to me. I mean I had an actual Mom too, but she was off doing rich people stuff a lot. Kara’s eight years older, so she picked up the slack. She’s good with Alice too.” 

“Sounds like it was hard.” 

She shrugged. “It was what it was. I’m tough now.” She finished her drink off. “No more sad rich girl stuff now. I’m sick of it.” 

“Are you really?”

“Really what?”

“Sad.” Despite the fact it was just an act, Markus let Carl’s eyes on them justify resting his hand on top of her own. “I’ll listen.” 

“I”m not…” She glanced at him and sighed. “Sometimes. Mostly it makes me furious. I guess Carl told you I went a little off the rails when Alice was born, cause my Mom went and did it again.” Carl hadn’t, but Markus didn’t correct her. “And then she died and I was really Motherless. But so was my baby sister, so I had to grow out of smashing windows and getting arrested. You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because,” North began, “you’re so calm and you listen. I just scream.” 

“Sounds like a good match.” 

She laughed, but it was laced with a hint of bitterness. “You sound like Carl. I’ll stop talking about myself now.” 

“I’d listen to you all night.” The words escaped before Markus could really think about them. “I mean…” 

The hand in Markus’ own curled to hold back. “That’s such a line.” 

“I’ll tell you about the time I got arrested, if you tell me yours.” 

North grinned. “Markus, you are full of surprises.” 

   Out of breath, Markus checked around the corner, glad to see they weren’t followed anymore. 

“I- I can’t believe you did that.” 

North scoffed. “You’ve never played the ‘don’t touch the art’ game before? Amatour.” 

“I’ve never been to one of these before.”

“Oh,” she said, “and I’ve totally hijacked your first one and made it all about me.”

“No, no. I’m having fun.”

“But you want to be an artist. You are an artist,” she corrected. “Shit, sorry.” 

“You haven’t ruined anything. I’m not too nice to say no to you.”

“Could have fooled me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being nice.” 

North rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never tried being nice.” 

“I don’t quite believe that.” 

“You are a raging optimist.” 

Markus couldn’t help but smile. “Guilty. But I still think you’re kind, deep down. That’s what matters.” 

“Stop.” North glanced at the main entrance. “All clear.”

“We can’t go back in.”

North pulled her hair into a long ponytail. “There. Power of disguise.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

She spun around. “The best part about a dress like this, is no one is looking at your face.” 

Markus followed her in, not quite brave enough to protest against her. 

   “If your doctor asked, I brought you water.” 

Carl held up his glass. “Cheers to that.” 

Markus nodded. “How’s your night Carl?” 

“Whilst you’ve been running around with my niece, I’ve been admiring something different.” 

“Oh. You noticed that?”

“Don’t look so nervous Markus. I know North can hold her own. I should be more worried about you.” 

“North is stunning. I could listen to her talk forever and never get bored.” Markus seemed a self-conscious. “There’s a room full of beautiful art and I can’t seem to look away from her.” 

Carl was a little stunned himself. He had seen Markus’ crush on his niece from the moment they first met (he dropped a glass as she ruffled her hair; it was like a movie) but he hadn’t expected Markus to fall so hard. 

“You seem smitten.”

The signature blush was back.

“I am. I know she’s hate me asking but do you think I should ask North to dance?” 

   “It was a nice touch,” North said, swaying along with him. “The speech.” 

“You heard?” 

“Yeah. So, I’m stunning and a great conversationalist?” 

He groaned. “Don’t start.” 

“Hey, it’s affectionate teasing. I know it’s just part of the act.” 

“Right, the act.” 

“Besides,” North said, “no one ever talks about girls like that. It’s all ‘she’s hot’ and fist bumping.” 

“Is that really how you think I talk to people?”

“Maybe not you.” North giggled as he spun her around. “I can see my uncle thought you’d be a good boyfriend.” 

Markus felt a hint of hope. “Really?” 

“You’re sweet.” “Does this mean I don’t get a drink on my head?” 

“I was going to throw it on your suit actually.” 

“I’ll never dress myself again.” 

North shook her head. “Maybe that can be my favour. I don’t think you’re the suit-wearing-type. You should go fully artsy and buy a flowing coat.” 

“I have a flowing coat.” 

“You’re kidding!” North said. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” 

“So maybe I can dress myself.” 

“Maybe,” she echoed. “Thank you, for going along with my stupid idea. Truthfully, I get kinda bored at these things. Just not tonight.” 

“I’ll be your partner is crime any time.”

“Deal.”

Markus dipped her back as the song ended. 

“Markus,” North said, delighted, “you really are full of surprises.” 

   “I’ll see you tomorrow Carl,” Markus called, waving with his hand full of keys. “Bye North.” 

“Bye.” 

Carl waited until he had disappeared into the building before turning on her. “Nice boy.” 

“Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart.” 

“You didn’t even drop your drink on him. I owe your sister twenty.” 

“What!” North turned to him. “You knew!” 

“I practically raised you, dear. Of course I knew you’d be scheming. It was the best way to get you to spend the night with Markus.” 

“You’re evil.” 

Carl only smirked the signature Manfred smirk. “You liked him.” 

North dropped her head in her hands. “I know.” 

“Don’t feel bad about it my dear. I’m great at many things: painting, cards and matchmaking.”

“He was just playing along.” 

“That boy,” Carl said softly, “is the best assistant I ever had. But he wears his heart on his sleeve. Be careful with it.” 

Even with her face half-hidden, Carl could make out the smile on her face. 

Another success story. 

[trippydooda]

another snippet of the Tangled AU thing, i’ll post a link for its AO3 page soon

Pairing: Kim Seokjin/Jeon Jungkook

Word Count: 2,291

Rating: T

Yoongi’s pub had quickly become a safe haven for the less than endowed in society, and that’s exactly where Jungkook is sitting at present, grinning wildly at a not grinning Yoongi behind the counter.

“One of these days you’ll rot in a cell forever,” Yoongi tells him, entirely fake intent behind the words.

Jungkook smiles against the rim of his mug and drinks down. “Hasn’t happened yet,” he counters.

“I wait with bated breath for when it does,” Yoongi retorts, swiftly turning on his heel.

Swirling around on his stool, Jungkook watches the pub with a strong familiarity and comfort of home. In one corner someone is playing an aggressive game of chess, in another group of people (including Taehyung, of course) are playing a game of poker. Taehyung cheats, everyone knows, but everyone is also too afraid to say anything about lest they invoke the wrath of Jimin, who when Jungkook looks is sprawled across a chair, no doubt trying to sleep. A wasted effort to be sure.

The only two who were missing was Namjoon and Hoseok, who had been out running errands since their faces weren’t as hated as the Terrible Trio. The two of them had made a silent agreement to wear masks whenever they did business with the Trio, and it would have been a good idea all around if it wasn’t already miserably too late for the other three to even try. Besides, Hoseok took more enjoyment enacting acts of violence against the castle guard and having them not have any clue who was doing it.

Jungkook sits back, resting an elbow on the edge of the bar. He’s smiling, Yoongi makes some rude remark about keeping his bar clean thank you, but Jungkook just laughs under his breath.

This was his home.

                                         — — — — — — — 

Kim Seokjin doesn’t know what home means.

He reads books on it every day, the same ones he has read hundreds of times, and can only conclude where he is trapped is the closest thing to “home”. And that was the reality, Seokjin was trapped in this tower and doesn’t even know what it is to feel the grass between his toes. He has no idea what a breath of fresh air is truly like, and can only imagine it through dreams and hopes of one day being free.

His keeper is Yi Jihu, a younger man but still older than him who had found him as an infant, helpless and alone. Jihu is a nice man, Seokjin thinks, but has told him the horrors of the word below and although he doesn’t want to believe them, he has no point of reference to counter otherwise. It was his hair, he’s always told, people want his hair for intentions laced with malice. Seokjin tugs at his golden shoulder length hair, playing with it in between his fingers, and finds he resents it. 

One night he had tried to cut it, but Jihu had found him and ripped the scissors from his hair and bursting into an anger Seokjin had never seen before. His face turned red and the veins in his eyes popped as he shrieked and screamed at Seokjin, saying he would let him starve if he dared to cut his hair. He hasn’t questioned it since, hasn’t even bothered to try, knowing Jihu watches him constantly under the guise of concern, but Seokjin knows there’s something more sinister hidden underneath. 

It’s magic, Jihu had told him the first night he experienced it. Seokjin had been singing mindlessly, letting tunes flow off his tongue and not even knowing the words he sang. It was in the midst of this his brilliant golden hair had started to glow wildly, emitting flecks of what looked like stardust to him in abundance. Jihu had walked in then, holding it in his hands with the look of what Seokjin thought was like how mother looks at her child. He had brushed his cheek against it and sighed deeply, thanking Seokjin for finally giving him what he was hoping for all these years. Seokjin didn’t get it at the time, still doesn’t as much, but it made Jihu happy so it made Seokjin happy.

Seokjin isn’t happy though. At first he was, always happy to be around his books and his small sugar glider (who he named Cane as a pun to himself), and thought he never needed anything else. Anyone else. He had Jihu, he had food and a home, and there was nothing else he was missing. It was only when he first noticed the stars that he had seen the error in his ways. 

Up in the sky where Seokjin can’t reach, where he can’t even begin to understand the complexity of, sat balls of super heated light that looked down on him. He watches them every night until he falls asleep at the window, watches them while he sings tunes to no one, and watches them like they’re his salvation.

Kim Seokjin doesn’t know what home is, but when he looks at the stars he thinks he’s getting somewhat closer.

                                          — — — — — — — 

“This is the most idiotic thing you’ve ever proposed,” Namjoon says, “And that’s including robbing the brothel that was, if I need to remind you, full of palace soldiers.” 

Jungkook shrugs and grins. “It was funny seeing them realise we had the blackmail power to use against them.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung pipes from the chair.

Sighing, Namjoon runs a hand down his face. The pub had recently closed, and it was just the six of them sitting around trying to figure out how to make some quick cash. Boring breaking and entering had lost its luster, and it never made much money. You always had to do multiple robberies, and that made it easier to be caught and it just wasn’t fun anymore. Jungkook liked to raid, and come back with more than a leather cap and a few gold coins. He wanted bigger, badder, and harder to get. 

Enter his master plan to steal the crown that belonged to the “long lost” prince, if you believed the stories.

“We have Hoseok to lead us around and find the best way in,” Jungkook reasons when Namjoon continues to stare at him.

Hoseok squeaks, “That’s not a lot of pressure though.”

Jungkook shrugs again. “I’m just saying, imagine how rich we would be if we had that thing.” He smirks, showing a toothy smile, “We’d have the kingdom wrapped around our fingers.”

“You seem to be forgetting the part where you could get executed,” Namjoon grits out, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not, I swear,” Jungkook pouts, “Besides it wouldn’t even be on you if I died, it would totally be on Taehyung,” he finishes just as Taehying yells an indignant, “Hey!” And Jungkook is being hit in the shoulder by a blunt butter knife. 

The thing was, Jungkook harbours more than a little animosity towards the king and queen. Ever since he could wrap his head around thoughts beyond he was hungry and pillows were comfy, he had seen his fair share of turmoil surrounding the monarchy. It didn’t care about its citizens really, it only cared about the rich ones. They would try to guilt the citizens by saying the king and queen still mourn their lost son, but if Jungkook can get over his dead parents he thinks the goddamn leaders of a nation can get over their son.

It’s because of this that he wants to steal the crown. He wants to covet it and dangle it above the kingdom’s head, taunting and bribing for them to get it back. He wants to see them suffer like the poor and ill, wants them to know what it’s like to not be born into royalty or the aristocracy. Perhaps it’s a bit childish, perhaps he was just being petty, but it doesn’t change how he feels.

It turns out the best way to get into the castle is through the roof. Jungkook doesn’t pretend to understand, just scales the sides of the castle with a foolish grin and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’s always loved climbing, always climbed trees and hills when he was younger, much to his caretaker’s dismay. 

Jungkook reaches the place where they will quite literally drop in before everyone else, because of course he does. He’s bouncing foot to foot, squeezing his hands into fists only to let them go in rapid succession. The whole gang decided to come this time, even Yoongi. He mentioned something about being bored out of his ever loving mind in the pub and was keen to see them all fuck up. It was an empty insult, because everyone knows he came because he was worried about Hoseok getting hurt again. Jungkook wishes they would just fuck already and get rid of the sexual tension he can practically smell every time they’re near each other. It literally makes him nauseated, and even more so when he sees them eye fucking each other. Absolutely ridiculous.

“I don’t like heights,” Taehyung idly comments, staring down into the throne room. It’s where the king and queen keep the crown, moping about it every time they held council. 

“I’ll go in then,” Jungkook says, already reaching for the rope Jimin is holding. 

Jimin keeps it taut against his hip, resisting Jungkook’s grip. “Shouldn’t I be the one to go? I’m the smallest,” he says, gnawing at the bottom of his lip.

The thing is, everyone else is always slightly wary about doing big heists. They’re always quiet as they prepare, quiet as they start, always hesitant. Jungkook, by contrast, welcomes the chaos that no doubt descends upon them. He relishes the fact that he’s in danger, that he could be thrown in prison forever, or even worse he could die. It was exhilarating, knowing he had control over what he could do. And that was the thing, it was all about control. All about the thrill.

So Jungkook forcefully yanks the rope from Jimin saying, “We can’t have anyone be scared or unsure about this, or we’re all fucked.” To that, everyone slowly nods. He’s right, he knows, and he knows everyone else sees it as well. It’s why, despite being the youngest, Jungkook is the leader. 

“Ah, bravery,” Yoongi muses with a chuckle, “A far better term for stupidity, is it not?”

Jungkook shoots him a look, lips thinning. “No one needs your poetry bullshit right now,” he retorts, but there’s no venom in it, not when he grins wildly right after. Yoongi grins right back, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Don’t die,” is what he says next, and it’s the best evidence of concern Jungkook is going to get out of him.

Jungkook is let down slowly, needing both Namjoon and Taehyung to hold him steady. “You’re all muscle what the fuck,” is what Taehyung had muttered as they first dropped him through the glass ceiling. He dangles more or less stably as he’s brought closer to the crown perfectly sitting on a silk pillow, atop a pedestal adorned with so many jewels it makes Jungkook’s mouth water. If he could, he’d rip the damn thing out and keep it for himself it was so pretty. It’d be like a trophy, since he really has no plan on what to actually do with the crown once he gets it. He’ll figure it out.

A sweat has built up on the nape of his neck when he first grabs the rim of the crown in front of him. He holds it close to his chest, looking up at where Jimin is peering down at him and grins. He motions to be let up when one of the guards sneezes, turning his attention back down.

“Hay fever?” He casually asks, and can feel the grip on the rope stiffening. 

“Like a bitch,” the guard says, and Jungkook can tell he’s wiping his nose from where he stares at his back. It takes a moment for the guard to realise where the comment came from, and turns to Jungkook with eyes blown wide. “What the fu—”

“Sorry, got to go,” Jungkook interrupts with the most shit eating grin. He can feel himself be pulled up only slightly, and he’s pretty sure the assholes are considering letting him go altogether. 

As he’s being hoisted up there is nothing short of chaos that erupts. He can’t tell if he’s hearing his friends curse or the plethora of guards below him, but it doesn’t matter when he feels an arrows slice his cheek. Still clutching the crown with one arm, he instinctively jolts a hand to where he’s no doubt bleeding, sending an incredulous glare at the trembling guard who no doubt tried to kill him. So rude.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” is what Jungkook is greeted with when he finally clambers onto the roof. “Can you not be a cocky bastard for one minute of your life?” It’s Yoongi snarling at him, but it’s clear he’s afraid. Poor bugger shouldn’t have come along.

“I have to agree,” Taehyung adds, dropping the rope right as Jungkook stands. He points an accusatory finger at him, “If we all die I am so haunting you in the afterlife.”

Wriggling out of the rope tied around his waist, Jungkook grins. “Fair enough.”

                                               — — — — — — — 

He finishes singing for Jihu as the sun starts to set. 

“Beautiful, as always,” Jihu says to Seokjin, sliding an affectionate thumb across his cheek.

Seokjin smiles, though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Cane wriggles in his lap, and he softly pets his head. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Jihu kisses the top of his head as he stands, brushing off his knees. He had been kneeling in front of Seokjin as he sang atop of a terribly worn down wooden stool. It had been like this ever since Seokjin can remember, singing for Jihu before bed. He’s always thought the dynamic was supposed to be the other way around, but it always made Jihu happy so he never questioned it. It got old after maybe twenty years when Seokjin realised he doesn’t get much in return. Sometimes a nice muffin, but he hardly considers it compensation.

It started to get old when Seokjin’s back hurt from sitting too long, his hair sometimes not wanting to glow how Jihu wanted it to. 

It started to get old when Jihu would strike him for not wanting to do it, and then immediately cradle him and telling him he was sorry.

It started to get old when Seokjin realised he was alone.

He always has Cane, who scurries up his arm to rest in the crook of his neck, but sometimes he wasn’t enough. It wasn’t Cane’s fault of course, and he usually was enough to keep Seokjin sane. But the thing was, Jihu would be gone sometimes for weeks at a time, and instead of welcoming Seokjin into his arms when he returned, he would always drag him to the wooden stool and practically beg Seokjin to sing for him, bags latent and obvious under his eyes.

Seokjin has never denied him in those times either. The pain on Jihu’s face made his heart hurt, and he would stop whatever he was doing to help. Perhaps he was chasing a feeling that maybe Jihu would show him true love, and not just something he has to covet. Seokjin frowns at the familiar sentiment that crawls upon behind him. It’s been getting harder to ignore as of late, and when he tries to be more affectionate with Jihu, he’s pushed away. Seokjin only matters when he sings.

Sometimes he wishes he would fall ill and lose his voice forever. What was the point of being able to sing if he could never share it with the world? He’s always told how cold and unforgiving the outside world is, but when he looks out his window into the endless woods with its singing birds and beautiful elk, he thinks maybe Jihu is wrong. He thinks maybe if he was just given the chance he would be able to think for his own.

He thinks many things, but never voices them.

He belatedly realises Jihu is trying to talk to him when he blinks up to an impatient face. “Sorry?” He asks.

“I said,” Jihu says, “It’s time for you to sleep now. I have to leave early tomorrow and I need to know you’re safe in your bed before I sleep.”

Seokjin rubs his lips together. He has grown accustomed to Jihu treating him like a child despite his age, but there are moments where it infuriates him. Surely they should be equals now. Surely Seokjin isn’t the stumbling infant he once was. In any case, he nods. “Of course,” he replies, standing delicately. 

Jihu watches him, a shadowed figure as Seokjin crawls into bed and holds his blankets close to his face. He hides it enough to know when Jihu leaves, obviously convinced he’s asleep already. The sigh that Jihu always lets out as he leaves has not made Seokjin find comfort since he was a small child, and so when he hears Jihu’s bedroom door close, he promptly sits up. Cane comes over to sit atop his head as he does what he’s done as a ritual for years now. 

He props himself up, crawls into the expansive window sill he has, and stares at the stars. He stares at the stars and definitely doesn’t cry. 

[supersimmer2018]

Desire Part One

           This is something new that I wanted to do. I had this story in my head and wanted to make it into a mini series I hope that you all like it. Happy reading and stay Super!

                                            ~Nanako's p.o.v~    This was just what both Oliver and I needed, we just needed to get away from life, from everything. But that wasn't possible, because the very thing that we were trying to get away from had came with us.  Well that wasn't exactly true I had invited them to tag along with me and Oliver.   Ever since we were kids I've had a crush on my best friend Ryo. Though I kept it to myself and drowned in my feelings. However when I was going to tell Ryo how I felt I was stopped because something was going on with my other bestie, Oliver. I could never forget that day that Oliver came into my room tears streaming down his face, and falling to his knees with his hands covering his face.   Come to find out that he had came out to his parents and they didn't take well to the news about their one and only son being gay.  So I put my own life on hold for about two years to make sure that Oliver would be okay. It took him a long while to accept himself for who he was. He thought that there had been something wrong with him, I had told him that there wasn't but it took him a while to believe in what I was saying. From then on we never left each others side.

That's us relaxing in the sun in the back yard of my families vacation home in Mt.Komorebi. We were trying to keep ourselves distracted from the distractions that were in the house behind us. Oliver: Why is love so complicated? Better yet why is life so complicated?  He said calmly while looking at the pond in front of us. Nanako: It's just the way life is... I'm sorry that it's not just the two of us. Oliver: No, it's okay. Actually I'm kind of glad you did, it's about time you tell Ryo how you feel about him before you lose him forever. Nanako: Easier said than done. Kind of hard when Andy tagged along. Oliver: Speaking of Andy is he... Well you know?..  He asked while never making eye contact. If it was one thing that Oliver wasn't and that was subtle. He may try to be subtle but he wasn't good at it.

Nanako: You like him don't you?! Oliver: Shh, they'll hear you! And yes I may have a slight crush on the guy. Though it'll never work because he's straight.   Being friends with him as long as I have, I was able to pick up on these kinds of things. He was the same way with me. That's why we got along so well.   I felt bad for Oliver, as hard as he tried to find love nothing ever seemed to workout for him. There was this one guy that he was talking to that seemed sweet and caring. But he only wanted nothing but a quick hook-up and nothing more. It crushed Oliver to think that no one wanted to be with him, if only to be with him for a one night stand. Nanako: I don't know he's, oh what's the word I'm looking for. Oliver: Well dressed? Nanako: No, but let's just go with that. Why don't you just talk to him, you never will know if you don't get to know him. Oliver: Is the one that is avoiding Ryo and her feelings for him, giving me advice? Girl if I was you I'd be all over that in a heart beat.    We both looked at each other and laughed at nothing. This was what I loved about our friendship, we could sit and talk about anything and everything. There was never a single secret between us.

Oliver: You know what we need to do? Nanako: No... What?   I asked nervously, unsure of what he was about to suggest. Oliver: The four of us should go out and get some drinks. I mean we can't just spend this whole get away doing things apart. Nanako: I don't know... I'm not the drinking type, besides drinking doesn't seem to be such a good idea. What if one of us does something that we'll later regret.    I was more worried about Oliver saying or doing something that he would regret. That was the last thing that he needed. Oliver: You know Nanako, you've put you're life on hold because of my problems. It's time that you get out and start living for yourself. Nanako: You say that as if you're holding me back. Olive: I am holding you back, no matter how much you try to say that I'm not, I am.   Maybe he had a point, not the part about him being the reason for holding I've put my life on hold. But right about getting out of my shell and living my life.    I agreed with him and we both decided to go out to a bar and have a few drinks. Maybe that was just the thing that I needed to get out there and make my move on Ryo.

                                                ~The Boy's~  Both Ryo and Andy were sitting in the house playing a game of chess. Andy was trying his best to beat the pants off of Ryo, but Ryo was unbeatable at any game. He was just that good.    Andy tried to distract him by keeping him engaged in a deep conversation, but that didn't seem like it was going to be enough to win this game of chess.

Ryo: Is that all you've got? Andy: What?! You can't make that move!  He yelled as looked at the chess board. Then again he knew that he knew very little about the game to be saying things like that. Ryo: Actually I can and I did. So, how are things with Kate? You two finally getting, well you know.. Andy: I'd rather not talk about it.. But since you asked, no we haven't taken that next step. Though you really should stop living vicariously through me and find a girlfriend of you own.  He said as he made his next move on the board. No one really knew why Ryo never had shown any interest in any girl. It wasn't like he wasn't good looking. Because he was. Ryo: I don't have any interest in relationships. It would just get in the way of my school work. I need to focus more on college then girls.

Andy: Since when are you worried about getting good grades? Ryo: Since my dad started pushing me to become a doctor. So med school come's first.  It was true, Ryo's father was uptight when it came to him getting good grades. There was a time when in his fist year of high school that Ryo had failed his first math test that his father grounded him for months, making him study.    Like his father and his father's father, it was something in the family that expected each generation to become a doctor. Though Ryo would be just fine living his own life, going to parties and dating girls. Andy: I don't see how you can live like that. I would go completely nuts. But I suppose it would be better than being in a relationship. Relationship's are over rated. Ryo: Is there something going on between you two? Andy: I'd rather not get into that. It's nothing, we're just going through a rough patch. Ryo: Did she cheat on you? Also that's check mate!

 Andy quickly looked down at the chess board. He couldn't believe that he had lost, well he knew that he would lose but he thought that he would have had a better chance this time around at beating him.   He threw his hands up in the air and shrugged his shoulders. Andy: I suppose that's the match. How are you so good at this game? Ryo: Talk to my father and get back to me. Andy: Hey, I have a question for you. I know that you're way into you're studies. But have you ever noticed that Nanako seems to be into you? Ryo: She's just a friend and nothing more. Besides I think she's more into Oliver then she is me. Those two are always together.   If only Ryo knew that Nanako was totally into him, he was just to oblivious to realize it. Before they could continue talking about weather or not Nanako was into him or not she and Oliver walked into the room. Nanako: Hey you two, so Oliver and I were talking and we thought that we should all go out for a drink. Oliver: Well it was my idea, but how about it guys? Andy: That actually sounds better than sitting here trying to beat Ryo here at a game of chess. Oliver: Well, how about you Ryo?   Ryo took a moment before he answered Oliver's question. With a small sigh he finally agreed to tag along. He actually had never drank before, so he thought that this would be as good of time as any. Besides he was on vacation, there was no harm in having a little fun. Ryo: Okay, I'm in!   The four of them went to their rooms and got ready to go out and see the town of Mt. Komorebi. Once everyone was ready they locked the door and off to the bar they went.               ~To Be Continued...~

[himbowelsh]

BoB + Pacific boys and their secret hobby / guilty pleasure?

Richard Winters: He enjoys knitting. It’s something he keeps to himself for a long time, but it’s a great form of stress relief for him. He gives his friends and family, scarves, hats, and even sweaters; for the longest time he claimed he bought them, but Nix is the one who finally catches Dick knitting and figures out his secret.Lewis Nixon: He freaking loves mini-golf, okay? Real golf is pretty lame, but golf with obstacle courses, flashing lights, and swimming pools? Hole in one, baby. He's a pro. He especially loves really detailed little courses -- he gets to outsmart them and they're so much fun. He's basically a big kid on the mini golf course.

Carwood Lipton: Sometimes when he doesn't have anything better to do he'll stop in on the nearest open house. He's not looking to buy anything. He just is fascinated by walking through other people's homes, seeing how they live. There's something intensely intimate about it. (He never thinks of it as creepy until the day he takes Ron with him, and Ron tries to steal whatever isn't nailed down. After that, Lip reconsiders his hobby.)

Ron Speirs: Couponing. Why is he so into it? Why is he so aggressive about it? No one knows. Ron belongs on Extreme Couponing. He’ll steal piles of newspapers, just for the coupons. He keeps books. He’s only had one coupon expire on him in his life, and set it on fire right there in the store.Harry Welsh: He’s a stress-eater, but he’s such a midnight snacker that it’s ridiculous. Sometimes he wakes up and can’t sleep, so his go-to is just cookies and milk from the fridge. (Kitty will come downstairs at two in the morning to find him hunched over the kitchen table, three cookies stuffed in his mouth, and give him a long, disappointed look.)Herbert Sobel: He has a passion for opera music. Anytime he needs to unwind he just puts on some opera, kicks his feet up, and loses himself in the music. (He never tries to sing along, of course -- he values his own eardrums.)Eugene Roe: Cooking! This isn't so much a "guilty" talent, but cooking is such stress relief for him. He knows his way around a kitchen, and is damn good at preparing anything, from his grandmother's gumbo to spaghetti that would make Perconte shed tears of joy.George Luz: Erotica novels. He doesn’t like them, and he certainly doesn’t find them sexy -- he thinks they’re damn hilarious. His favorite would have to be But... You’re A Horse.Joe Toye: He’s a compulsive cleaner. Like, if he’s in someone else’s kitchen and they’ve left used paper towels lying around, he’ll clean them up. He’ll do other peoples’ dishes for them, fold their laundy... he doesn’t know why he does it, but it’s kind of stress relief to him.Bill Guarnere: Both Babe and Fran (his best friends in the world) are in love with certain shows, and while Bill pretends not to care, it's... tough not to get sucked in. These shows range from Shondaland to Gossip Girl to daytime soap operas. (Bill is very passionate about Grey's Anatomy, okay.) He and Fran will also watch telanovelas, and get really into it.Babe Heffron: Bubble baths. If he can, he will. He'll use up all the hot water and feel not one ounce of shame.Don Malarkey: Smoothies. They're just really... really good, okay? He loves the fruity ones, but he's not above trying something with carrots or other vegetables in it. The local health food bar loves him.Skip Muck: ALIENS ARE REAL, YOU GUYS. He’s fascinated by UFOs and cases of alien sightings. His interest extends into other supernatural occurrences and cryptids too (when he visited Oregon with Don, the first thing he did was go on a hunt for Bigfoot).Joseph Liebgott: Fashion. Look, Liebgott isn’t going to go and become a male model, but he could. He doesn’t even restrict himself to men’s fashion -- he thinks some of the modern fashions are super cool. He doesn’t apply what he knows to his own wardrobe, but he’s always up to flipping through a fashion magazine if there’s nothing else around. (He secretly loves Project Runway.)Frank Perconte: Look, sometimes you just need a nap, okay? Perconte loves his naps. If the opportunity is there, he’ll seize it -- he can get comfortable any time, any where. He insists that he needs his beauty sleep because “a face like this doesn’t happen on its own!”David Webster: He's goddamn nosy. This isn't even a guilty pleasure, he just is. He loves listening in on conversations and will butt into peoples' business just because he's interested. No one wants him there, no ones sure why he's there, but good luck getting rid of him.Bull Randleman: He loves baking. Bull can make a cake that will blow your mind, and his cookies are out of this world, but his specialty is cranberry tarts. You haven't lived until you've tried one.Johnny Martin: He loves 80s work out videos. He gets really, really into them. He’s got the shorts, the sweatband, everything.Buck Compton: He’s so good at chess?? Like, it’s scary how smart he is with this game. He can outwit any opponent, and he’ll coerce people into playing against him for fun. It’s never fun -- the only one who has fun is Buck.Shifty Powers: He loves listening to scary stories. He knows how bad it is, because he'll wind up freaking himself out later, but he just LOVES them. He's especially fond of ghosts and supernatural tales. He's subscribed to all the Read-Aloud horror channels on YouTube and can spend hours listening or reading through spine-chilling tales.Floyd Talbert: He writes poetry. Like not -- not good poetry, okay. Don't think for a second it's good. He knows how awful he is, and he can't rhyme to save his life, but he likes just rambling about his thoughts on paper. Poetry is easier than keeping a diary, and he feels more artistic, even if he's super embarrassed of the poems himself. (He left one lying around once. Webster found it and it almost made him cry.)Chuck Grant: He loves watching documentaries on YouTube. It’s pretty dorky, and a little boring at first glance, but Chuck is fascinated. He’ll go from watching a show about building the pyramids to one about the possibility of life on Mars. As a result, his YouTube history is hella weird, and he knows random facts about various things.Albert Blithe: When he was a kid, his mother forced him to take tapdancing lessons. He can still tap it out like a pro. He’s got the shoes in the back of his closet and everything.

The Pacific

John Basilone: He’ll eat weird shit and enjoy it. He’ll put peanut butter on carrot sticks, ice cream on french fries, ketchup on toast. His family used to make a game out of seeing what he would eat when he was a kid. It made him sick more than a few times, but he was always willing to try it. It became a matter of pride to him not to turn a dare down. Now his mother has banned the game in their house, because she’s honestly terrified someone will dare him to eat something like rocks or spoiled food and he’ll do it.Robert Leckie: Okay, look, he’s got high standards for literature, okay? He holds his own writing to high standards. He believes that you shouldn’t publish something unless it’s good... which is why his library contains a full collection of Stephanie Meyer books, and the Fifty Shades series. He doesn’t enjoy them, but he’ll read them, because he finds them fascinating. This is actually something that got published? It makes him feel better about himself. (He refuses to claim either Team Edward or Team Jacob, but his favorite character is Rosalie.)Eugene Sledge: He really enjoys music, but he loves church hymns. It's kind of corny, he knows, but there's something so classic and beautiful about them. While he's working he'll often hum or sing to himself, and he's made a point of learning a lot of the songs he hears every Sunday morning in church.Chuckler Juergens: He loves magic tricks. He’s really, really bad at them, but he’s thrilled anytime he sees one. He can never figure them out, so he’s made it his mission to learn as much as he can. (”Is... this your card?” “No. It’s not. We’ve gone through half the deck already, none of these are my card.” “It’s got to be in here somewhere!”)Runner Conley: So, he’s a track runner, but that’s not his only workout. He loves Zumba. Zumba is his jam, okay? He gets down. He’s the only guy in his entire Zumba class, and he’s convinced that he’s the best one there. Hoosier Smith: He cheats at games. It doesn’t matter what they’re playing. Maybe it’s cards, maybe it’s board games, maybe checkers -- maybe it’s freaking Jenga. Hoosier will find a way to cheat, he will have no shame about it, and he’ll be thrilled with himself.Sid Phillips: Will try to imitate any dancing scene he sees on television. If it looks cool, he’ll try his darndest. This ranges from Gene Kelly to Patrick Swayze. He doesn’t quite have the moves, but he’ll do his best. (He tries to convince his sisters to partner up with him, but they’ve gotten good at saying no to his puppy eyes; Sledge is a different story. Sid has conned him into being the Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire more than once.)RV Burgin: He loves gossip. He won’t partake himself, because he is a good dude, but he knows how to listen. He’s fascinated by juicy tales, true or not. Burgie has dirt on everyone.Jay De L'eau: Broadway soundtracks. Just musicals in general. A part of him is adamant that this is nothing to be ashamed about, but he’s sure not about to tell his friends about it.Bill Leyden: He genuinely loves kids?? One of his favorite things to do is babysit his little nieces and nephews. He cusses when he has to change diapers or when he loses the kid (which has happened more times than he wants to admit) but nothing makes Bill happier than playing peek-a-boo with his sister's baby or seeing his niece giggle as he tickles her.Snafu Shelton: Non-ironically enjoys gardening. He sucks at it, and has a black thumb that could kill any living thing it touches, but he does his best. The only thing he's managed to grow successfully is a cherry tree in his backyard, along with a ton of weeds. He still brags about having "the best damn garden you ever seen".Andy Haldane: He loves extreme sports. It scares the hell out of all his friends (Eddie insists he has a death wish) but Andy has been parasailing, skydiving, and bungee jumping. His favorite thing is jet-skiing, which is less-extreme enough that he’s convinced Eddie to come with him once or twice. He’ll admit he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.Hillbilly Jones: He likes legos. Correction -- he loves legos. He can make AMAZING things out of legos, and spends hours working on them. It’s literally the skeleton in his basement. He doesn’t want anyone else to know, and he’s pretty sure he’d die if his friends found out (or, god forbid, Andy) but he’s very proud of everything he’s created.Manny Rodriguez: Celine Dion. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. My Heart Will Go On does things to him, okay? He’s a fanboy.JP Morgan: He loves toy trains. He still keeps the ones he used to have as a kid, and while he doesn’t play with them anymore (really... he doesn’t) he keeps them in perfect condition and is always looking to add to his collection.

[writing-crocodiles]

Oatmeal Cookies- Chapter 1

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Rating: T

Summary:  The boys all think that they are the catch of the century and the girls all think that there are no good men left on the planet. What's left to do? Bet on it, of course.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Thoughts on Magic Alright, the fact of the matter is that time travel completely possible; but it’s an absolute nightmare to do. If you take the baby from the equation it gets easier, but only marginally. Is time travel something that should be made easier, though? Honestly, you don’t want every loony with magic to be able to travel back. Everything would get messed up. I’ll have to research it more before next Saturday. Not that we’re going to look at it then, but I can’t ask Dad about it at the dinner table, now can I. Dad says next week we’re going to look further into animal communication, as per Rosie’s request.

Thoughts in General Mom still thinks when Dad and Rosie and I go to the cabin we’re playing board games or another type of father-daughter-son bonding. Well, she isn’t wrong, technically, but you would think she would have caught on by now that he’s teaching us magic. I mean, Rosie and I have been doing magic in the house. It’s so weird. Maybe she notices and doesn’t care? Probably not with the way she railed against Dad’s magic, but who knows.

______ Gideon’s eyes narrowed and he flipped the sword over in his hands, realizing how much of an improvement cowhide gloves were to bare skin. He planted his feet, which were unfortunately still in sneakers since he left his boots at home, and squared off.

Neal stood across the clearing dressed fully in leather. Seeing Gideon was ready he raised his sword. The tip shone in the sunlight that was able to make it through the trees. They stood in this position an odd amount of time, but both secretly knew the other was envisioning some sort of video-game-style fight intro.

Camera panning around them, zooming in on each of their faces respectively, showing their weapons, and finally zooming out to show where they stood relatively to each other.

Neal’s intro was apparently shorter than Gideon’s because he lunged before the latter had finished. He stepped out of the prince’s way, recovering brilliantly. Neal was unable to stop himself and plowed into a tree; the sword lodged in the tough wood.

Neal swore and put a foot next to where the sword met the pine. He tugged on the hilt with more force than necessary and he flew back, landing in the dirt.

There was laughter from a log on the edge of the clearing. Thereupon sat Rose, Gideon’s sister, and Patton Herman. They were playing a game of chess and only half watching the duel, but Neal took the fact she was laughing at him as a personal insult. He stood, red faced, and turned to his opponent again.

Gideon extended his hand and flicked his wrist. The sword slipped from his friend’s hands and soared up into the branches of the tree. It sunk into a particularly thick appendage and Neal scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Roooooose!” He whined, “Isn’t that cheating? Didn’t we agree ‘no magic’?”

Rose looked up from her game. She and Patton shared a look over the board and then she went back to contemplating her next move as she spoke.

“Actually,” she picked up her rook, “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about the possibility of magic during duels.” She smiled and placed her chess piece, “Checkmate.”

Patton muttered something about chess being a “stupid game, anyway” and swung his leg over the log to stand, pulling out his cell phone as he walked off into the forest.

Neal, still peeved what he considered cheating, went into a deep knee bend before excellently launching upward. He managed to grab the lowest branch and drag himself up, starting a journey to retrieve his sword.

“Hey, guys!”

The two Golds, who were the only ones left in the clearing, turned half-heartedly to see Evan Jones, as smiley as always, run in. The blond slung his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it at his feet, crouching down and unzipping it. The contents, perked Rose’s attention, included several brown paper sacks bearing Granny’s logo.

“Hey, Evan,” Gideon said, pulling off his gloves. His sister echoed the greeting and waved her hand over the chess board, making it disappear.

“Okay,” Evan said, picking out one of the bags of food, “I’ve got a hamburger- no onions, no pickles, mustard, ketchup,” he wrinkled his nose, “mayonnaise.” His reaction earned him a laugh from Gideon, “But seriously, who puts mayonnaise on a burger?”

Patton came back from his phone call in time to hear the last part, “I do, stupid.”

“Right….” Evan said slowly, he held out the bag and Patton ran over to collect his order. “Next is a cheeseburger with pickles.”

“Mine,” Gideon said, jogging forward.

“Bro, could you get me the cheeseburger with ketchup and lettuce?” Rose said from the log. She had laid down and put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

Gideon looked to Evan and he fished through the backpack to find the second sack of food before handing them both to the older boy.

“Okay, then I’ve got a grilled cheese from me and another one for Neal. Then a thing of lasagna for Gilbert.” Evan said, standing up with the three bags and looking around the clearing, “Where are they anyway?”

Gideon put his sister’s food next to her log and unwrapped his own food, “Well, Neal’s currently in a tree.”

On cue, Neal dropped down from the branches, sword back in the sheath at his side, “Gil’s on a date,” he said, going to Evan to take his order.

“No way,” Rose said, sitting up and taking an interest, “With who?”

“I think with Brenna, if I remember our conversation correctly,” Neal said, plopping onto the forest floor.

“You’re kidding,” Rose said, grinning at Evan.

Evan spat a curse and zeroed in on Neal, “Brenna as in Brenna Jones as in my sister Brenna?”

“Yes?” Neal answered, unsure where this was going. Digging in his pocket, Evan glared at Rose’s grin. He pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill and threw it at her. She stretched it out, folded it nicely, then transferred it to her own pocket.

“It was so weird when he told me, too,” Neal said, biting into his sandwich, he then continued with his mouth full, “I’m the one who is the catch of the group.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gideon said, stifling a laugh, “That’s not what Alex said.”

Patton took notice at the mention of his sister, “Why, what did Alex say?”

“Yeah,” Neal swallowed, “What did she say?”

“She said that Evan is the nicest and therefore most likely to be the first ‘to get laid’ out of this group,” Rose piped up, on a surprised look from Evan she shrugged, “I was there. That’s how she said it.”

“Unfair!” Neal roared suddenly, jumping to his feet, “Why doesn’t she think it would be me? I’m the obvious choice. I’m a prince!”

Gideon snorted, “Oh, yeah, and when was the last time you had a date, your highness?”

Neal paled as he thought about it and he sunk back to the ground, “I’m going to be alone forever.”

Laughter erupted from the group and as Neal tried to refute his statement, they only found it funnier. ______________________________ MEANWHILE, Robin Mills lay on the floor of her room with an assortment of other Storybrooke girls. They had fallen into a lull, all of them quietly staring at the ceiling. They were waiting from their friend Brenna to get back from a date they had all advised against, especially Brenna’s younger sister Keely.

For the third time in the hour that Brenna had been gone Robin slammed her fists on the carpet at her sides with a frustrated sigh.

“Why are there no good men in this town?”

Alexandra Herman, who honestly preferred Alex, gave the same answer she did anytime someone asked that poignant question, “I. Don’t. Know.”

Now, this exchange had already happened, and the other two times the four friends just let the room settle back into silence.

However, third times are a charm and all that, and this time Keely Jones, who was stationed on the bed, rolled over to sit up.

“What about Gideon Gold?” She said innocently, “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

Robin gave a disbelieving squeak of laughter and Alex found a pillow that had made its way to the floor to chuck at her friend’s head. Keely caught it.

“I’m serious,” she said, “Gideon’s, like, hot.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Alex said, “you do realize your dad would kill you if you got with a Gold, right?”

“I know….” Keely said, a girlish smile still in her eyes. She then turned to Akilah David, who had taken up in the windowsill. She didn’t seem to be paying attention and so Keely threw the pillow at her.

It was a good throw and nailed Akilah right in the back of the head. “Ow! What the hell, Keely?”

“What do you think?” Keely asked.

The girl in the windowsill blinked at the three pairs of eyes trained on her, “What do I think about what?”

Now Alex was curious, “What do you think about Gideon? As in a love interest type way.”

“Gideon? Emotionally thick. As dumb as a concrete wall,” Akilah said. Robin raised her eyebrows at her and she amended, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s very intelligent, but the poor guy is so stiff he wouldn’t know you were flirting with him even if you flat out told him that you were.”

Robin, Alex, and Keely shared a three-way look and Akilah caught it.

“What?” She snapped, “It’s true.”

“Are you willing to bet on it?” Robin asked.

Akilah scoffed, “Bet on what exactly?”

“We each try to get Gideon. The one who can earns twenty dollars a piece from the other three.”

“Robin, are you nuts?”

“Fifty.”

“Look, that doesn’t help,” Akilah said, amazed that Keely and Alex hadn’t protested yet.

“I’ll make that bet,” Keely said, “This will be super fun.”

So much for having friends back up her opinion, “This is ridiculous,” Akilah said, “this is a human being’s feelings we’re talking about.”

Robin pounced again, “One hundred dollars.”

“I’m in,” Alex said suddenly. All eyes were back on Akilah to make her decision.

She sighed and looked out the window, “Look, Robin, there has to be a time limit; if we go past… a month. If we go past a month then the bet is off.”

There was another three-way look.

“Deal,” Robin’s eyes were sparkling at the idea of this game.

Akilah took a second more to think and then, “And what does ‘get’ mean, exactly?”

“Let’s just say whoever he kisses first,” Keely said, “Just to make, like, a clear line.”

“Fair,” Alex said.

Another half a minute passed before Akilah caved.

“Fine. Deal.”

[freshgardencollector-univer-blog]

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