I'm sorry about the weekend. The sad fact of the matter is, we're nearing the 20,000-word mark on this particular project, and while ideas for the project aren't running scarce, per se, I am finding it more difficult to work out each scene. It's taking more and more time to figure out what to write.

It would be immensely helpful if you guys could let me know what you want to see. What characters, what sorts of scenarios, anything in the main story of Good Intentions upon which you'd like me to elaborate.

Again, I'm sorry; I'm aware that this sounds like an excuse.

Of course, a big part of it is probably that I've been working rather extensively on another project lately. I'll speak to my creative partner, and see if she has any ideas to help refresh the process. In the meantime, though, do please think about what you'd like to see. It would help immensely and, if I do my job right, it'll be more entertaining for you.

That said, I hope this long chapter makes up for the lack of weekend-ness, at least partially.


He didn't think that Mokuba was strictly conscious of the reason why Connor Brinkley was one of the first friends he'd ever made in his own age range, but Seto had made a living out of over-analyzing people, and that included his brother.

This particular case was made easier by the fact that it was the same phenomenon that explained his relationships—such as they were—with Yugi Mutou, Joey Wheeler, and Rebecca Hawkins: they weren't interested in money. It seemed simple, and somewhat of a cliché, but just because it was simple didn't mean it wasn't true.

Being "the rich kid" brought any number of would-be pals to the forefront, and it had only been exacerbated once Mokuba had begun appearing on television alongside his brother. There hadn't been a week that went by during his fifth-grade year when Mokuba hadn't had to fight off a new candidate for Bestest Buddy in the Whole Wide World. "They just wanna play your games, and see your house, and ride in your car, and act like bigshots," Mokuba had told Seto one particularly draining day, and it was the first time Seto could recall the younger Kaiba ever looking and sounding resentful of the fact that his Niisama was famous.

After Siegfried von Schroeder, Seto had had to face the very real fear that Mokuba was no longer interested in other people. He had his contained little bubble of a social circle, and that was all he'd been interested in keeping. He'd had faith in people. He'd had faith in humanity. He'd had faith in the von Schroeder family in spite of all they'd done…and how had humanity repaid him? How had the world repaid him? It had shoved a gun barrel into his mouth.

Seto still remembered one thing, paramount to anything, from those first days: Joey Wheeler, the loser; Joey Wheeler, the luck-fevered idiot; Joey Wheeler, the street brawler with a G.E.D., calling the house of a man he hated, every weekend like clockwork, to check on a boy he barely knew.

"Why do you keep calling this house?" Seto had asked once.

He remembered a day when the blond would have told him to fuck off; wasn't none o' his business, and why should he care if he wanted to check on the kid, was he that muchuva prick? But Joey didn't say that. He said, "Look, Kaiba. I know better'n I used to that all he needs is you. You done right by that kid, 'n I'm not gonna knock that anymore. But whether he talks to us or not, whether he needs us or not, we want him to know we're still here. We ain't goin' nowhere. He reached out t' us, and we don't forget that. That goes for me, Tristan, Yugi, and I'm sure if Téa was here it'd go for her, too. We take care of our own."

Something, some part long forgotten in Seto Kaiba's mind, something largely subconscious that he wouldn't truly understand until much later, clicked back into place. A smile actually curved his lips, and he'd said, "…I understand."

After a month, Seto had ceased working from home. He hadn't wanted to leave his brother alone, he still didn't, but he knew that if he never reclaimed his life, Mokuba would never reclaim his. So he'd gone, he'd stepped out into the open world again with the same attitude that had taken him to the top, the same attitude that had overthrown Kaiba Gozaburo, the most infamous corporate overlord of the century: I refuse.

Refuse to give up. Refuse to back out. Refuse to take no for an answer and refuse to let others take control. Not long after he'd taken back his empire, Seto had been immensely pleased to see his brother follow. Mokuba went back to school, and he went back to smiling. He went back to socializing, to going over to the Turtle Game Shop on weekends to play Magic & Wizards and Dungeons & Dragons and anything else that happened to strike his fancy, with his friends. The people who accepted him. The people who stood by him.

It hadn't been until Hawkins that he'd bothered talking to children his own age.

Seto remembered with some amount of chagrin when he'd actually spoken to the girl's grandfather, on the day before their planned vacation to Egypt. "Understand one thing, Professor," he had said, with a completely straight face and a surprisingly earnest voice. "If she intends to take this trip as an excuse to abandon him…I don't want either of you in my city."

It was not an empty threat. He remembered how much Mokuba had clung to Rebecca Hawkins, what it had done for him to have her companionship, and there was nothing Seto could do to pay a fraction of it back. To leave after that, to force him into isolation after that…if that was what she intended to do—and the part of Seto that remembered his childhood would always believe the worst in peopl,e and expect it at every turn—then he would stop at nothing to crush her, and her family, into the dirt.

Professor Hawkins hadn't responded to the threat, not with words or with a change of expression. It had been Rebecca, striding up to them with all the confidence of a corporate executive, who had said: "If I didn't know you, and how little reason you have to trust people, I'd be insulted." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't do that to Mokuba. I like him. And besides, if you threaten everybody who wants to be around him, doesn't that kind of defeat the whole purpose?"

Seto had stared at her for a long moment. "…Well put," he admitted. "Rational thought seems to have abandoned me." He had bowed his head, the closest to an apology that he could muster, and left them alone.

He also remembered when Mokuba had first met Connor Brinkley, how worried he had been because Connor was frightened of him. Mokuba had never really run into a situation like that before. Seto was used to the effects and even the advantages of fear. Mokuba wasn't.

It hadn't taken too long for the young Kaiba to win over the entire Brinkley family. Seto wasn't surprised at that; his kid brother was immensely gifted when it came to making the right impression on people. Seto knew that the main reason they had hit it off so quickly was because Connor hadn't even been aware of the Kaibas' reputations; not really. But that had only made the stress of the situation worse for Mokuba, who agonized over what would happen once Connor knew about it. Once he realized how famous, and how wealthy, his new friend was.

Eventually, it had happened. Someone had mentioned how much they had enjoyed Mokuba's last interview. Connor, too curious to hold himself in anymore, asked how mnay times Mokuba had been on TV, and what people interviewed him about. Mokuba told him that he was often the mouthpiece for the company's projects.

He, and Seto himself, had expected Connor to ask about the games. Maybe if he could play them. It was a logical request, and one that Mokuba would have been happy to oblige; but Connor hadn't asked about the games. He hadn't asked to play, or to get any sort of inside information.

He had simply asked, "Do you have the interviews and stuff recorded somewhere? Can I see?"


The details of how Mokuba and Connor met will be covered in the main story of Good Intentions, once the current story arc is finished. I have a variety of things going on for the rest of this week, but I intend to work extensively on that chapter over the weekend. My partner and I will get that worked out and up for you all.

I promise, it will be worth the wait.

I'll see you all next time.

Take care.