A Book Of One shots Oh Boy

Hobbies

Sometimes, Ollie wrote stuff.

It wasn't a thing he did on a regular basis, nor did he expect it to be a full time hobby of his. It was simply something he did to pass the time, or sometimes, for pure fun. The things he wrote ranged from different genres; poems, short stories, journal entries, lyrics (although, he always ripped those out and teared them to pieces because he found them stupid.), and opinions.

He ripped a lot of pages out, he realized when looking through the black-covered book one day in private. He could never turn a single page without finding ragged edges of paper in between. Shredded bits of eraser was left in every crease. The paper, he could simply work out, but he had no clue how to take care of the eraser thing. Sure, he could easily write in pen instead of pencil, but that sounds like it would be more of a hassle than a solution. What if he made a mistake? What if the pen decided to put itself out of its misery and explode? As pretty the colors they came in were, pencils would have to be his go-to writing tool...

Well, not go-to. He didn't do this everyday, that would make him nerdy.

There were some pieces of work that he was genuinely proud of; one entry, for instance, was about a young, Japanese girl that was unwillingly pulled into an assassin's organization. He didn't get much further than that point since he ran out of ideas after she left the organization, but it was something he'd probably give another try when he was older.

Pyper read some of his stuff, being as sneaky as she was. She even had the guts to straight up write small notes in them - in pencil, lucky for his sanity - when she knew it would annoy him. Or rather, she had hopes that it would. The fact that she most likely made a copy of the key to his journal bothered him at first, but after a while? He was fine with his sister looking at it because, well, this was his sister. Besides, didn't people write to share with others? If his memory served him right, they shared to get feedback, to improve theirselves...

But then again, that's why he only shared it with Pyper. Letting his friends read it would not only embarrass him, but it would imply that he wanted feedback, he wanted to improve himself, and he wanted to write everyday. All of which were complete lies.

Her notes were always positive, mostly asking what some of the endings met or if he would finish a story. And, for some strange reason, she only read the stories and poems. Never the journal entries or songs that he forgot to rip out. At least she was nice enough to respect his butchered privacy.

Ollie didn't have a favorite genre of crap that he liked to write, because if he did, that meant he was passionate about what he was doing. However, if he did, it would either be comedy, fantasy, or action, maybe a mix of the three if he went crazy. He didn't make much attempts to fully exploit those genres in his own style, fearing that they would turn out horrendous, but that would change over time.

Wait, no it wouldn't. He didn't like to write, it was just a stupid pastime.

His notebook was almost full...was it pathetic that a boy who dealt with monsters everyday had that much time on his hands? How often was he bored, and why didn't he cure that boredom doing something productive? Playing video games, eating pizza, sleeping, all of that was better than writing little novels and poems. That was something Turner would do, being the Gary-Sue that he is.

He had to admit... for a nerdy activity, it was sort of fun. He could be a total square and assert logic into his writing, yeah, but why do that when you can easily place anything he could imagine in there? He wrote about two girls who turned common, household items into weapons in order to defeat a villain who was determined to steal all the ice cream in the world. (As childish as that sounded, it was enjoyable to write, okay?) He wrote about small family of pencils, jagged, worn out, and dull, being forced to-

On second thought, going into detail on that one wasn't a good idea. Bottom line is that it's fun.

He often wondered how much money writers made. Hundreds? Thousands? Millions, billions, maybe? Must depends on how successful the book is, he supposed. The woman who wrote all those books about the young wizard must be a freaking billionaire, possibly even more. Was it possible to have more than billions of dollars? Like a trillion? He could buy fifty mansions with that money.

Or not. He still had college fees, apartment mortgages, bills, food, and taxes, not to mention the trouble the pack would bring. Thinking about the future was depressing. Hell, thinking about exploring this career was depressing; he didn't want to do this crap for the rest of his life. He didn't have much interest in getting paid for actual talent when he saw people get paid for lip-syncing lines from a cheesy sitcom on the internet... not like he would ever do that, he wasn't stupid! He planned to record himself throwing something out a window, that should probably get him his own show. Besides, if Fred could do it, so can he.

Drawing comics weren't that bad. Bernie seemed to enjoy doing so, he was proud of his work, and he had every right to be. Everything that he transfered from his mind and onto paper was absolutely captivating. Ollie would give it a try, but drawing took a lot of patience; draw a line, find out it's not straight, erase it, draw it again only to find out that it's too dark, erase it, on and on again until you get the perfect image. At least with writing, you don't have to rework your mistakes every few seconds.

Cleo liked to work on cars. Ollie didn't, which was strange since he was a boy. Weren't boys supposed to have full on strokes whenever they saw a car, even if it was the crappiest thing on Earth? There was something about working on a huge, metallic thing that could explode if you touched the wrong thing that didn't sit right with him. The bluenette also liked to build stuff, and that was cool too. It wasn't everyday you get to see a teenage girl build an entire robot suit.

Pyper did a lot of things - gymnastics, karate, some other things that he forgot about, you name it. As agile as the boy was, he could never see himself being in her shoes. First of all, he could do a split, and second of all, punching people in the stomach and flipping them over was mean. It was the perfect hobby for his little sister.

Wowski did Wowski things, nobody wants to get into his hobbies, nevermind ask about them.

From another person's point of view, it seemed as if everybody had a hobby except Ollie. He was into things other than writing - percussion instruments, watching movies, playing the flute, learning French, and... drawing. He never drew big stuff though, mostly stupid things that came in his mind. Out of all of those things, the only hobby he fully invested his time into was writing. It made no sense, honestly. If he didn't care much for writing, then how come he kept coming back to it?

Let's say that... hypothetically...he did like to write. That wouldn't make him a geeky nerd, would it? Fine, he was already a nerd, he was aware of that, but literature couldn't make him nerdier, right? He was supposed to be the awesome chosen one in the group, not a nerd. That was Bernie. But yeah, writing wasn't bad. He hoped not.

Then again, he was being HYPOTHETICAL. Of course he didn't like to write!

That was clear... wasn't it?