#actually wanted to make this a oneshot

[shinescape]

imagine boyfriends wonwoo and san...

and they're both cancers *sigh*

oh gamers too *another long sigh*

they will either suffocate you with affection or priorities their games. nothing in between

you'd come down to the living room and see them engrossed in their games and went to squeeze yourself in the middle.

normal boyfriends would 'tsk', groans or complain when the tv is blocked by an incoming figure while they're shooting zombies or fighting at a boss level

but not these two. they will quitely continue on as if you showing up was like a passing wind. you'd get a bit offended by their lack of reaction from your presence but that feeling disappear as soon as you made yourself comfortable in between the two

they will move aside to make space for you without losing focus from the game. you'd come to realise that's the only time they are able to multitask in the house

your head on wonwoo's thigh and your legs laid perfectly on san's lap. you watch as they combat virtually and always wondered how none of them made a sound at all.

they made sure not to accidentally hit you when it gets intense and you wouldn't mind because their focused expressions would be too distracting

oh they're in white cotton shirts (with pockets that has embroidered cat peeking out from it) that you just bought just because but didn't expect both to wear on the same day like this.

as the loading scene appears, wonwoo would catch your eye as he played with your hair with a soft smile and that round glasses he's worn forever, leaning down to catch your lips briefly

san would not want to be left out so he placed the controller on your front as he pulled your legs closer to his chest for no reason. lightly massaging your calf and smirked when you finally looked at him

"san take your controller off me" "give me a kiss first" wonu would roll his eyes but honestly didn't mind. he's used to san being like that

"it's vibrating on my stomach!" "san, do you want to continue this game or not?"

as both you and wonwoo stared at him waiting for an answer. san took the controller and pressed the home button.

"i feel like playing something else now. anyone up for it?" he said with the utmost innocent smile but you clearly know he meant something entirely different

[suntails]

hijo de la luna

[johnslittlespoon]

i just finished the prologue of the mota book and i don't know how i haven't seen a single post talking about how after john and gale's stalag reunion, they were then separated for another four months.

my heart is aching so bad. imagine being reunited (after almost three weeks, oct 8–26th) and having that tiny feeling of 'everything is going to be okay' and then being ripped apart again for four fucking months. 120 more days of not being able to be at each other's sides.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Too Late~ Dazai Osamu

featuring:- PM!Dazai Osamu, gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned), Chuuya (briefly) warnings:- angst, hurt/no comfort, being hostage, mentions of torture in captivity, graphic mentions of blood and violence, major character death, lmk if i missed anything a/n:- im already sighing on looking at the warnings... it IS bsd i suppose.. well here's what im best at again, in a new fandom, so have some angst that is VERY late set some time before Odasaku's death

wc:- 2.5k || masterlist

Not many people knew what it was like to have known Dazai before he joined the Port Mafia. To be one of the few people who had been trusted by him. Keyword being ‘had’- for some, some unfathomable reason, he’d drifted away, leaving you behind, alone. Making you wonder if for some reason he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

It hurt. It hurt that you could lose him so easily, despite having been with him throughout the years, making sure he knew that you would always be there for him, silently tending to him after yet another attempt. It hurt because you had no idea what you did wrong to push him away. It hurt because he didn’t care anymore, for you, for them, for your shared childhood. 

A fool could have probably known that you shouldn’t have gotten so close to the brunette, that he leaves nothing but a trail of suffering and sorrow in the wake of the people who dared to care for him. You, however, argued that he wasn’t like this before. At all. Again, a fool’s excuse.

Perhaps the Port Mafia had changed him, so much more than it changed you. Because now, he was completely unrecognisable, almost like he was a different person altogether. And you can’t help but dully wonder where the man you once knew almost inside out went, the man who once did his best to stay with you no matter what, when he abandoned you yet again during a joint mission ordered by Mori, citing some logical reasons of why it was better for you to not be with him during a mission. (Like always.) Not even bothering to get your opinion or response, something he never did before joining the Mafia.

You watch silently as the brunette slowly disappears into the horizon, leaving you behind. Again.

That night, as you return to your apartment alone once again, (Bittersweet memories surface in your mind- young Dazai cheerily walking you back home, laughing.), you get the distinct feeling that something is off. You are a mafioso after all, you need to have a keen sense for danger to be alive in this industry. You’re instantly on high alert, even though you look calm as always, with your hands in your coat pockets, ready to pull out your knives in a moment. But you still can’t sense anyone following you. Just to be sure, you take a detour home. 

You take a deep breath at the threshold of your door, relieved to be back here. That sense of danger wasn’t as prominent anymore, and you were dying to get some sleep in an attempt to get a certain brunette out of your mind. You’d deal with whatever the problem was tomorrow- you’d had enough today. You can’t help but smile forlornly as you walk into your dimly lit home-

-And then suddenly you’re falling, falling, into a void of darkness, surrounded by the people you care, by him, hurling words at you that stab you like a thousand knives in a nightmare, and dumbly you realise that you walked right into an ability user’s trap, before the unknown ability takes your consciousness, bringing a silent darkness and pain. 

*********

Mimic. A foreign organisation, a group of extremely skilled soldiers who sought the Port Mafia for unknown reasons. People who are willing to go to extreme lengths to get what they wanted- much like your own boss, really. And the ones who are your captors.

You can’t move, you’ve been chained. You assume that they want someone valuable to the Mafia as a hostage, and apparently you serve the purpose well. And dammit, you’ve been completely disarmed while unconscious, you can’t feel a single weapon on you. You’re alone, too, but there’s definite signs that someone’s been here, multiple times. There’s also an assortment of sharp weapons some distance away from you, and you think its cruel to leave them in your sight but out of reach. There’s no windows or openings either.

Footsteps echo outside the door of the room you’ve been kept in, breaking your survey of the room and your thoughts of escape routes. Two men walk in, dignified. It’s clear that they are war-trained soldiers. One of them stops talking with a grin, as he notices you awake.

**********

They want an individual from the Mafia on orders of their boss. They claim that Mori has been taking too long in making a decision, and they apparently hope their decision to take you captive will either force Mori to choose, or force you to give up the individual’s identity yourself in exchange for your freedom under pressure. But you can’t, won’t do the latter.

Because the individual they want is Oda Sakunosuke, Dazai’s new best friend, and you know damn well that he would utterly despise you if you gave up his identity, if you took away the one who gave him his reason to smile these days. Bitter thoughts cloud your mind, of how he abandoned you completely over some new friends, and you wonder if it would be better to just tell them. But then, your mafia sense kicks in, reasoning that if Mori doesn’t want his identity to be revealed yet, then you're probably as good as dead if you choose for him instead and return alive. (You would later realise that this thinking, too, was planned out by Mori, that bastard.) Your captors let hints slide that they’ll let your absence build up for a while, then let the Mafia know of your being their captive. Hopefully they do something. 

You’ll just have to do your best to get out of those damn bonds by then, or survive till then. This was a very convenient time to wish that Dazai had taught you his little trick on how to unlock handcuffs, you think wistfully.

*********

As it turns out, surviving is an extremely hard thing to do after a few days have passed since Mori was apparently informed about the news of your captivity. Mori still hadn’t responded with his decision. Proof being the various cuts and bruises littering your skin already, a few small bloodstains already on the wall and floor. Not too much. Yet. They were intent on forcing your answer out of you, and clearly wouldn’t mind going to extremes for it.

You did your utmost to not make a single reaction when the knife pierced through your skin again, despite the pain that shot through your body for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, you were well trained on how to not divulge information in captivity- after all, the Port Mafia really couldn’t risk their insider secrets getting out. 

You were still intent on escaping, on getting out. You still had a flicker of hope in you, that someone would come for you, that he might come for you, despite the past few days proving fruitless. You refused to give up yet. You still believed in him, in them, that you wouldn’t be abandoned so easily by your kin.

‘Such a naive belief’, you would dully think some days later.

********

Hope seemed like such a foolish thing now. You had lost track of time in the room without windows. No idea of how many days or weeks had passed. They weren’t coming for you. Of course they weren’t. You weren’t that important anyways, easily replaceable. Casualties happened often, what did it matter if someone died by being taken hostage? You truly attempted to free yourself, many times. You never succeeded, and each time you only received more wounds as punishment. Your captors were merciless, to say the least.

Wounds. That seemed like a small word to use at this point, with how battered and bruised you were. Your clothes were bloodsoaked, and you’d lost count of the number of scars and cuts you’d gained from your captors a long while ago. You could sense they were getting extremely frustrated by the lack of response. You didn’t mind, you didn’t care. You’d even stopped screaming when they cut you particularly deep- you just didn’t have any strength left in you at all. You passed out a few times from extreme blood loss. You could almost hear Mori in your mind, scolding you to get up already. 

Mori. Of course, everything was probably a part of his heartless plans, fully willing to use any number of pawns for their execution.

At this point, you just wanted to be put out of your misery.

Your wish was granted some time- days?- later.

*******

Dazai was initially relieved when you didn’t show up to your next joint mission. He wouldn’t have to ensure your safety and hide his feelings again. But he’d quickly figured out that something was wrong when you didn’t show up again, and again, and you were nowhere to be seen around the Port Mafia buildings either. He’d gathered up the courage to go to your apartment, but had immediately sensed the ability at the entrance and deactivated it. That was what confirmed it for him, and finally, he allowed himself to feel fear for his childhood best friend. For you.

He was well aware that he didn’t deserve to, after how terribly he treated you in an attempt to protect himself from his emotions. His only defence was that he was afraid of hurting you- he knew his reputation well. But that didn’t matter right now- he had to find you. Except not a single person had a clue of your whereabouts. The only person he hadn’t questioned yet was Mori. 

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the doors of Mori’s office. He was scared. Scared of what he’d find.

Again, that would prove to be one of his biggest mistakes, when Kouyou grimly approached him, having accidentally obtained information about you that she wasn’t even supposed to know in Mori’s office. Kouyou cared for you enough to let Dazai know of your situation.

Dazai felt sick to the core when he saw the single picture attached in the message Kouyou sent him, along with a decision to choose between you and the future-seeing ability user- Odasaku. His heart dropped into his stomach even more when he saw that the last message was a few days ago. What if-?

No. Dazai refused to think of that possibility. He’d track down the source of that picture, he’d hunt them down, make them regret their decision, and he’d get you back. He’d make sure of it. He had too many apologies he owed to you after all, even if they would never make up for all that he’d done. He would.

*******

You were surprised that their boss hadn’t shown up to interrogate you yet. You simply stared hollowly at the walls as the door slammed open and the highest-ranked individual in the facility walked in, knife in hand. 

Not a single piece of information slipped past your mouth, as he went through the routine torture process. 

Time passes, and you can see that he’s grown extremely frustrated with your lack of response. One of the others standing at the door, watching your misery, suggested that he simply kill you and get it over with. It was pointless to keep you around anymore.

‘Finally’ you think darkly. You didn’t think you could hold out for much longer. 

You close your eyes, not wanting to see your killer. Instead, you remember the people you care for, silently apologising to them for giving up. Somewhere, in the background, you hear the distant noises of shouting. Probably some of the other soldiers playing cards or something again.

Despite you willing yourself to not make a sound, a shattering scream tears itself out of your throat when you feel the knife harshly stabbed straight into your heart. Your killer twisted it roughly- another scream, your last- and then pulled the knife out. 

You feel yourself fall forward, double in on yourself, wrists held back to the wall. The agony is excruciating, but hopefully it won’t last long. To you, it feels as if your screams are echoing in the room, or maybe in your mind, and your vision has gone blurry in pain. But then, you realise through your numb haze that your screams do not sound like that- you’ve heard the sound enough.You realize that maybe someone has attacked your captors.

There’s a terrified shout mixed in all the clamor, and its a voice that you would recognise anywhere. ‘But there’s no way’, you think hollowly. No one cared enough to come for you.

Then you feel yourself falling forward suddenly, blood gushing out from your chest, into someone’s familiar arms as your eyes close. The handcuffs are gone. Faintly, you hear a voice- his voice- through the ringing in your ears, saying something unintelligible to you. You can’t understand what's being said, but you struggle to open your eyes one last time to see.

And somehow, Dazai is there, holding you tightly, eyes full of panic and terror, everyone else in the room crushed to the ground. He’s saying something worriedly to someone behind him- Chuuya. You briefly wonder if you’re hallucinating, but decide against it- this all feels too real. This must have been the shouts in the distance.

They came for you. In the end, they came, albeit a bit too late. You feel yourself being lifted, and then Dazai is running out, holding you carefully as if you could break any moment- you’re already broken though. You feel the cool night breeze for the first time in ages, see the beautiful moon again. A small smile rests on your lips as you feel yourself finally fall limp in his arms. ‘He still looks as pretty as before, and maybe, just maybe, he still cares for you’, is what you think.

You shut your eyes again, surrendering yourself to the darkness beyond the agony.

********

Horrified is much too mild a word to use, when he sees your condition. When he sees you being stabbed in front of his eyes, when you fall limp in his arms. The next moments are a panicked blur, Chuuya saying something to take you somewhere, that he’ll handle this place. He runs straight out, towards the Mafia building, towards the doctors, towards the hospital, anywhere, anywhere you can be saved. 

But its already too late, he knows it when you don’t move in his arms anymore, when your bleeding chest doesn’t rise and fall again, and he doesn’t know what else to do apart from screaming in sorrow and fear, because he’s just lost the one person who understood him like no one else, who cared for him like no one else, who he stupidly pushed away, and its all because of him. He falls to his knees, still clutching your lifeless, bleeding body. Your face had a hint of a smile in your last few moments, and that is what finally breaks him. All he can do is cry out apologies continuously, tears freely streaming down his face, for everything he’s done wrong, for how he’s treated you, for being too late to save you.

finallyyy, and as usual, votes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated also lmk if you guys want a happy ending :D

[malwarechips]

nothing will ever convince me to learn how to draw human faces . get animal'd

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #44: Zuko and Katara meet Hotaru

This time around, my Patrons chose these two scenes from the prompt I offered them... and that prompt was "Hotaru", our tiny firefly herself <3 drawing her continues to be a challenge pertaining how to ever make babies look cute, but I hope she looks alright this time!

These two moments take place not too far from the other, but it's worth noting that Katara and Zuko don't get to see Hotaru at the exact same time. Thus, I figured I'd take advantage of the opportunity... and draw Sokka and Azula introducing their little one to their respective siblings. This will be an emotional chapter (lots of those coming up), but I do hope that these moments of happiness will be a good way to soothe the pains caused by our very intense angst from the current chapters... to be specific, this is chapter 378, so we're not that far away!! Just gotta wait a bit longer!

A part of me took joy in this specific prompt... the fandom has an abundance of "uncle Sokka" and "aunt Azula" content, be it with them together or not, while Zuko and Katara (also while together or not) happen to be the ones who become parents first. This often relegates their siblings to a secondary role, and too often there's either implications or outright accusations that these two just aren't fit for parenting. I don't really remember seeing much, if any, content where Zuko and Katara are the uncle and aunt instead... thus, I figured this would be a fun switch-up that, ultimately, doesn't mean any of these four aren't fit for parenting (Zuko's already a dad, Katara will be a mother someday in the future!)! It just means that Zuko and Katara get to bond with little Hotaru and be supportive siblings! And everyone's happy and wholesome in the process!

At any rate! I hope you guys like it, and as ever, if you'd like to be part of the creative process behind these pieces, a $1 pledge makes you eligible for suggesting art prompts and voting for the winner, as well as reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before the next chapter releases!

[puhpandas]

Decennial

(2,396 words)

Evan and Gregory, now age twenty-two, celebrate the tenth anniversary of their meeting in the comfort of their shared apartment.

Its already the afternoon when Evan meets Gregory at the couch in their shared apartment, smartphone in hand. Gregory glances up from whatever he was watching on TV, quickly grabbing the remote to pause the channel.

He doesn't even have a chance to greet him before he notices Evan's face. Worry quickly creases his brows, and he moves to get off of the couch. "Evan? Hey, what's wron--"

Evan tries to convey that everything's fine with no words. Because it's true. He just can't muster any up right now. When Gregory seems to understand enough, that's when Evan thrusts his phone into Gregory's line of sight.

Gregory shifts on the couch, taking the phone and studying the screen to no avail. Hes pulled up the calendar on his phone, the date reading March 4th, 2045. Gregorys brows furrow, then, "Uh. I dont understand."

Evan would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so emotional right now. He scoffs, tapping the screen and mumbling "The date. Look at the date."

It only takes another moment for Gregory to understand. Evan can almost see the gears turning in his friends head in the moments before he gasps sharply. "Oh!"

Gregory doesn't look away immediately, just taking it in as if it surpises him. "Its ten years since we met today."

Evan nods at that. A small smile stretching on his face when Gregory finally turns to look at him.

But he should know by now -really, it's been ten years after all- that Gregory knows him. Probably better than Evan himself.

"What's with that look?" Gregory questions, seemingly noticing how Evans smile doesnt quite reach his eyes. "You look sad."

Evan shakes his head immediately. "No-- that's not it." He replies, feeling a bit more fit to speak. "Its just..."

"Ten years?" Gregory prompts, and Evan nods. Gregory seems to get it. He sighs a bit, and Evan can tell hes not alone in reminiscing. "Jeez. Thats..."

"...A long time ago." "A big number." They say at the same time.

Evan joins Gregory on the couch, taking his phone back. Ten years. Ten years since he met Gregory. Ten years since Evan had been that little ball of anxiety. Ten years since the best thing that ever happened to him.

Nine years since their first holidays together. Eight years since they started high school. Four since they graduated. Three since they started college.

One year since they got their first apartment together.

Evan chuckles all of the sudden, loud as a jet engine in the seemingly silent room. "Do you remember what we always wanted to do as kids?"

Gregory only has to think for a moment. "You mean what we made a reality?"

"Yeah." Evan replies. "We got that apartment. Not exactly the college dorm we imagined, though."

"Psh. Are you kidding? Our apartment is way better than any dorm we could have gotten." Gregory scoffs. "We would have like. One room to our name, and we would have to share."

Its Evan's turn to scoff, this time. He smiles, the memories coming back easily. "You're acting like we didnt basically share your room when we were thirteen."

"You were always there." Gregory agrees, but Evan knows by now that Gregory doesn't mean it in a bad way. Never. That's one of the things that have changed since they met. Evan doesnt assume the worst first, and ask questions later anymore. "You got that right."

"Thank god we had Vanessa to tell us what to do." Evan says. "We would be lost without her."

Gregory snorts, shuffling on the couch. Evan glances over, and strangely, being here, in this moment, even though its nothing differnet from what he and Gregory do every day, reminds him so much of when he and Gregory would just hang out together on his bed. Drawing, watching videos, talking and laughing... all of it.

"Its a good thing she told us to get an apartment while we still could." Gregory says. "We would have burned down the entire dorm."

Evan giggles at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time he and Gregory would make a mess in the kitchen. He still remembers how scared he was as a fourteen year old, when he had burned some of the food meant for Vanessa's 'Welcome Home' dinner Gregory insisted they make. The Fazbears house had stunk of char and smoke for days afterwards.

He was terrified at the time. If he had ever done anything like that at his old house...

He shakes that thought away. He does that often. Thinking back to his time alone with his father and brother. His biological ones. It's been a challenge, shutting down his brain when it tries to recall the memories.

Its another thing that's changed. As a kid, he knew nothing about helping himself and his anxiety. He didnt want to. He never saw himself as worthy of deserving relief, and it was so subconscious, little Evan never even realized it.

Now, it couldn't be more different. Hes never been healthier.

Who knew all it took was a best friend for life?

He looks over at Gregory. Who's still recounting some of their old childhood memories. Evan doesnt talk to Michael anymore. The damage he caused is too much to ignore. Evan... Evan doesnt want to see him anymore. Despite Michaels wake up call, it had been all too late. The damage had been done.

Michael missed his chance. Evan had decided that a long time ago. Maybe he should have had his change if heart earlier if he didnt want Evan to find the brother he always wanted in someone else.

Because that's what Gregory is. Its nothing new, they were having these revelations when they were only teenagers. Probably even earlier for Evan. But Evan never stops thinking about how much Gregory truly is his family.

That suprise and shock of the kindness hed received from Gregory from little Evan ten years ago is hard to shake when all hed been taught his whole life is how to hate himself. How he deserved to be treated badly, because if he hadn't been the way he was, he could have made himself worthy. A respectable man. Tough. An immovable rock. Real men dont show their emotions, or even experience them. Real men can defend themselves. Real men start to toughen up at the ripe age of twelve.

Evan is twenty two, now. So is Gregory. This life they'd built for themselves, with such a bright future... little Evan never would have even dreamed of. Little Evan had thought there was nothing there for him. Little Evan had thought there was no light at the end of the tunnel. That he had been doomed from the start. That his nature nipped his figure at the bud before it could begin.

This life theyve built for themselves. When Evan had ran to the Fazbears as soon as he'd turned eighteen with only a bag of clothes, a binder full of drawings, and yellow bear to his name. When he'd shared the room that felt like his own as well growing up with Gregory. When they'd spent those few months together until getting into the same college and choosing an apartment.

This life theyve built for themselves. That Evan would have only seen as a fantasy when he was eleven.

Theyve changed so much. It always shocks Evan every time he sees an old photo, or really remembers what it had been like pre-Gregory. Evan is growing out his hair, now. Before, all hed ever had was a months overgrown generic slickback. But he gets to choose now. Like how he paints his nails. Gregory has never really cared about his appearance, but he saw a photo of his Dad as a college student and immediately went to go replicate the blue streaks in his hair when it was time for himself to go off to college.

Evan almost laughs sometimes when he thinks about how much Gregory really is just an older version of who he was when he was twelve. He's different, like Evan is, but he's the same as well. A constant.

He knows hes the same, as well. Just with longer hair, bolder clothes, and the power of experimentation. Gregory has never been one to care much about his clothes, but to Evan, its everything. To be able to wear what he always wanted as a kid. To not be confined to whatever annual clothes his Father would buy him from the back to school section. Its freeing.

It's in that moment that he thinks back, really thinks back to his life pre-Gregory, and the contrast of the before and after.

It's all too much, in that moment. The memories and the sentiments and the nostalgia. In true Evan fashion, he cries about it.

Gregory has long since learned how to differentiate Evan's tears between his emotionality and a genuine issue. So when Evan begins wiping silent tears away, he just smiles one of those smiles he does, and pats him on the shoulder, pulling him in for a side hug.

Its digging a hole in Evan's chest, this feeling. It's not bad. But it's not exactly good either. It's some kind of a loss, but a hope as well. Remembering how much he loved back then. As much as he loves right now.

"I--" Evan stutters, sniffling. Gregory hands him one of the many boxes of tissues they always have on hand in their apartment. "It... It feels like we need to celebrate, somehow. I mean... ten years is big."

Evans mind floats to a cake. Or a two person party. Or a collaborated drawing. Evan's mind floats to many things. Many options. Ten years is big, right? Something that big needs a big party. Something big to commemorate it.

But Gregory just hums, and lays eyes on the thick shelf of DVDs they have tucked by the wall right by their TV. "How about a movie night?"

Evan's about to interrupt, say something about the milestone, but Gregory continues. "Do you remember all our favorites as a kid?"

Evan stops himself short, almost scoffing, because of couse he does. How could he not, when he and Gregory had stayed up so many times to watch them together, alongside stifled giggles and ice cream straight out of the carton? "Of course I do."

Gregory gets off the couch, crouching by the bookshelf and picking out a select few movies. Evan catches the titles on the packaging from all the way were hes sitting. Every single one of them is special to him.

Gregory deposits the movies on their coffee table, three DVDs spilling out onto the glass surface. "Then I can't think of a better way to spend the night."

Despite Evan's attempts, he cant either. Despite watching these movies almost regularly with Gregory even now, opening the casing feels different in this moment. It feels special. Evan feels like hes thirteen again.

Before starting their marathon, they make a huge bowl of popcorn, pouring caramel on it just how they liked it as kids. As they continue to now. Evan gets the carton of ice cream out of the fridge, handing Gregory his spoon and taking his own.

All they need is a throw blanket and they're ready. It's the exact setup they've done for years. Starting ten years ago today. This tradition has lasted this long, and it will outlive the milestone.

It feels so familiar, Evan cant stop thinking. His emotions are dialed up to eleven tonight. It only increases when the sky darkens outside their windows. He remembers coming home from school with Gregory and just. Immediately piling onto his bed with snacks and pillows and turning the lights off before they'd dive into another movie. Only going to bed when Freddy forced them to.

Because that's what it was. Thats what it still is. Home. All Evan feels right now is home.

They laugh at all the same parts. They cry as well. They cheer. They point out the same things. Nothing has changed.

Sure, ten years is big. But Evan can't think of a better way of spending the anniversary than continuing to do what hes loved to do with Gregory throughout the years. This doesnt mark the end of an era, or a big change. It marks how long hes had the gift of his brother. His family. His real family. The fifteenth mark will, as well. So will the twentieth.

All the tenth mark says is hes had ten years worth of joy and growth. and He'll continue to do just that.

After the third movie, Evan takes a quick look at his phone. The numbers 12:03 look back at him from his lockscreen, a picture of him and Gregory. The date has switched to the 5th.

"You're my brother." Evan says suddenly to Gregory at the beginning of the fourth movie. Gregory pauses in stuffing his face with popcorn to look over at Evan's earnest face. "You know that?"

Gregory chuckles wetly. It seems Evan isn't alone in the sentimentality tonight. "Only since we were preteens."

Gregory pulls him into that same side hug he always does. "You're my family." Gregory tells him sincerely. "You always will be, too. Hell would freeze over before our family would ever say you aren't one of theirs."

Evan chuckles, eyes misty, because he knows its true. He can imagine his family's reactions so vividly. "I know."

They only sink further into the hug after that, the movie continuing on. Theyve long since stopped with the thank yous. Not since they got it through Evan's thick skull that they arent doing him a favor. They just love him.

It's in that moment that Evan realizes that tomorrow is another day. And there are more after that and after that. Theres more milestones to reach, more years to spend with his brother and their family, and he cant wait to experience them.

But right now, he's content continuing a ten year long tradition as a mundane celebration for a non-mundane achievement.

It's not mundane to him at all, anyway. It means the world to him.

Besides, he can't imagine a world where his family doesn't throw a suprise party for him when he and Gregory visit them tomorrow.

ao3 link

[some-pers0n]

Every once in a while I think about the ship I've been obsessed over for close to two years now and feel like I'm ascending to another plane of reality. Like sometimes you just encounter a ship that hits every single mark and is perfect in every regard and you're left stunned how something like that can even exist

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[oceandiagonale]

hey all it's been a busy semester but a good one btw do you think volo's hat does that deerstalker hat thin g with the flaps and the snappy top

[midnightclover]

puts bocchi under ur pillow

What's that I see?

My, my. How did such a cute little thing get in here?

[schemelin]

every now and then i experience brief moments of self-awareness telling me to make major changes to the fusionsprunt story

[morrigan-sims]

Satora "Tora" Amaris

she/her | eladrin | wizard (bladesinger)

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Criminal; PG

You know when you're trying to rob a museum and then someone else fucks it up

Jonghyun doesn't need to be told twice. He's off, back to following the map in his head with every one of his nerves alight now.  Which means that he jumps about a mile when he walks into the diorama room and an alarm goes off.

Jonghyun has never really been one for fancy old paintings, but he has to admit, these little guys are pretty cute. He's actually smiling a little as he carefully takes each one off of the wall, whole entire paintings small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and taking in their little subjects of humans and little houses and landscapes with interest. Maybe this is what he's been missing the whole time. Maybe all he needed for him to appreciate paintings from people that died 400 years ago was for them to be tiny and cute.

Maybe he still doesn't really care that much and is just glad to have something cute to look at for once during a heist. When he's done with this and out of here, he thinks he'll keep one for himself. He's taking, like, 30 of them, anyway. One less won't hurt the profit they'll get from trading them. Jinki won't mind, and if he does, then Jonghyun will just suck his dick or something until he doesn't anymore. 

He takes the final one off of the wall and slots it very gently into his backpack, then zips it up and pulls it over his shoulders. Glancing around the dark room, at the security cameras in the corners, he puts his back to the wall and says, "Key, are we good?" 

"Path out is clear," is Key's reply, coming into his ear piece just a little bit crackly. "And your tag is sticking out of your sweater."

"Fuck," Jonghyun mumbles, blushing at the smirk in Key's voice as he starts to leave the room and reach behind himself at the same time. He cannot believe that Key waited that long to tell him. Friendship is fake. 

He slips through the halls of the museum, taking his pre-planned path, making sure to stop by the fountain to let the security guard pass, to be careful clambering over the squeaky metal grate to the naked people statue room, stop once he leaves there and wait for the–

"Uh-oh," he says, stopping short, eyes wide as he looks at the security guard on the floor. Sprawled on their back, walkie-talkie broken a few feet away, flashlight on in their hand. "Guys, we have a problem," he breathes.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Key asks. Jonghyun ignores him for a minute in favor of heading towards the security guard and crouching over them. A nasty bruise building on their temple, but a hand over their mouth tells him that they're still breathing; just knocked out. Well, not as bad as it could be, but, still. "Oh, shit," Key says then. Jonghyun guesses he's found the right camera and can see what the problem is now. 

"What is it?" Jinki asks. 

"A guard is out," Jonghyun says, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up. He's wary now in a way that he wasn't before. Someone else that shouldn't be here is in this museum too. "Key, can't you find them?" he asks. "Like, rewind the cameras or something." 

"Not unless I want the main security guy to notice," Key snaps. 

"I mean, do you think he's even conscious to notice if he didn't notice this?" Jonghyun says back. If whoever else is in here didn't have a problem taking out one security guard, he doesn't see why they would have a problem taking out the main guy. They need someone to go check. "Blaze–"

"On it," Minho replies before Jonghyun can even ask the question. The next thing he hears is Minho’s heavy security boots clunking on the tile floor towards the security office. "You keep heading out."

Jonghyun doesn't need to be told twice. He's off, back to following the map in his head with every one of his nerves alight now.

 Which means that he jumps about a mile when he walks into the diorama room and an alarm goes off.

Heart pumping, convinced it was him that caused it, he jumps again when both Key and Minho start speaking at the same time: "I don't know what that is, I haven't even gotten to the office yet," and "quick, Bling, I can't tell where they're heading yet but some of them are going to pass you, to your right, there's a janitor closet, get in there." 

Whoever the fuck is botching their own heist so badly better at least be trying to get something fucking valuable. Jonghyun pivots and runs to the closet on his right, pulling his lockpicks from his pocket as he does so. As frazzled as he is, picking the lock is quick work and he's closing the door behind him far before he hears running footsteps.

Key and Minho are talking rapid fire back and forth trying to figure out what's going on, Jinki offering as much input as he can from the driver's seat. Jonghyun, for his part, stays quiet, listening to what's going on behind his door. Footsteps, footsteps footsteps and then some shouting, orders, more footsteps. Then, quiet, for long enough that Jonghyun thinks that maybe things have calmed down at least in this part of the museum until all at once, there's one pair of footsteps rushing straight at his door.

They're so fast that he barely has time to step back and put his hands up before the door is crashing open, but it's not museum security that tumbles into the room with him.

It's someone dressed very similar to him; dark clothes, gloves, a beanie, and, if Jonghyun is seeing right in the darkness, a face mask with the  Team Rocket logo printed on it. They slam the door behind themself and then lean on it, pulling their mask down, panting hard, putting their face in their hands. They don't even acknowledge Jonghyun as another human being in the room with them. 

The other three are still talking in his ear piece. Putting his hands down, getting his flashlight on, Jonghyun says quietly,  "Guys, shut up. I found them." 

And if Jonghyun jumped a mile earlier, this other thief jumps three when he speaks, eyes wide as saucers as they finally notice Jonghyun in the room with them. Jonghyun can see their mouth open wide to shout something and quickly puts his finger to his lips, shaking his head. They take a moment, breathing hard, and then, in a whisper that's basically speaking anyway, ask, "who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?" 

"What am I doing?" Jonghyun hisses, incredulous. "What are you doing? I'm doing an honest heist, you're the one fucking knocking out people and tripping alarms. What the fuck were you thinking, just leaving that guard on the floor? Why would you go to the trouble of knocking someone out and then trip the alarm anyway? Is this your first job or what?" He doesn't mean to hound them like this, but he's stressed and once he starts he gets himself on a roll and has trouble stopping. It's keeping them quiet, at least, and it actually looks like it's cowing them, because they look down and rub their cheek sheepishly.

"I mean," they say, "maybe."

"Christ," Key mutters. 

"Did I mess up your heist?" they ask, and oh no, Jonghyun thinks, because their eyes are round and their lips are plumped up into a pout and their distressed voice is, distressingly, adorable. "I'm sorry, I didn't–I just needed to–I thought I had disarmed the alarm, but–I'm sorry–my name is Taemin and–no, wait, fuck that's not–forget I said that. My name is Ace." 

"It really is their first heist," Jinki sighs.

"What were you trying to steal?" Taemin asks. Jonghyun almost answers them on reflex before he stops and squints. Nosy. 

"Mind your own business," he says, "and shut up. I'm trying to listen." Which is true; he holds his finger to his ear piece to press it closer to his eardrum so he can hear the conversation better, but he's not really sure that it's worth listening to in the first place.

"What are the fucking chances someone else would pick the same day we did," Key is saying, and then Jinki responds with, "0.27%. It's easy, you just divide the number of days in a year by–" and then Key cutting him off with "shut up, nerd," and then the sound of a slap on a shoulder, and then the sound of a much louder slap as Key hits Jinki twice as hard back, all mingling with the conversation Minho is having with a real security guard. 

 "Guys," Jonghyun hisses. None of this is helping him. "Can I get out of here or what?" 

"Yeah," Key says like none of the previous conversation happened. "They're all swarmed around the alarm. Get out of the closet and go back the way you came, I'll lead you once you hit the fountain." 

"Okay," Jonghyun says. He pushes around Taemin, then tugs on his wrist, other hand on the doorknob. "Come on," he whispers.

"No come on," Jinki says, indignant. "You're not bringing them with you."

"Yes I am," Jonghyun snaps, leaning on the door instead of opening it and putting a hand on Taemin's chest to stop them from walking into him. "You know they're just going to follow me anyway. And I don't want them to get caught on their first heist. They deserve a chance. Besides, they're–"

"He," Taemin supplies helpfully, and Jonghyun cannot stop the smile even though he knows it'll show in the rounding of his cheeks over his mask. Taemin is pulling up his own mask, eyes bright in an excited kind of way now, and Jonghyun is definitely fond as he says, "besides, he's cute." 

"Bling, you are so fucking soft,” Key sighs. "And I don't mean that as a compliment," he adds before Jonghyun can thank him. 

Jonghyun says thanks anyway before he pushes open the door and tugs Taemin to follow him.

They slink through the museum, Jonghyun glancing over his shoulder so often to make sure that Taemin is still with him that before they even hit the fountain Taemin just grabs onto one of his backpack straps and holds on. Jonghyun appreciates it. Once he's sure that Taemin isn't lagging behind or sneaking off, he can focus more on Key's instructions. 

It's an entirely different path out then the one they planned, half improvised by Key and half monitored by Minho redirecting what guards he can away from it. For the rest of the guards they sink into a corner or behind a wall and wait. And for one, after a silent but fierce argument, Jonghyun winces when the heel of Taemin's boot clips the guard’s temple and they drop like a stone. Jonghyun makes a point to at least drag them into a corner where they won't be found as easily, but doesn't bother arguing with Taemin more about it. He just grabs his wrist and hurries along where Key tells him to.

The entire time, Jonghyun doesn't realize that his heart is beating as fast as it is until they reach a side exit and the sight of Minho standing guard around it sends a wave of relief through him. Taemin stops in his tracks, trying to scuttle out of sight, but Jonghyun shakes his head and drags him forward. 

"He's with me," he mutters, reaching out to hold Minho’s hand for a moment as they pass him and push outside. He can tell from the pull on his backpack that Taemin is watching Minho over his shoulder until the door closes behind him. 

"You have to stop falling for twinks with fat cheeks," Minho says into his earpiece.

"Fuck off,"Jonghyun says back, and then very pointedly does not look at Taemin's round cheeks even though he's turning to him with a confused noise. Instead, he looks around to get his bearings. Instead of being in the gardens with the car parked on the street over the fence like their original plan was, they've been unceremoniously spat out into an alleyway between the museum and the tourist center right next to it. The red and blue of police lights flash down one way, so Jonghyun heads the other way with Taemin and his pinchable cheeks in tow. 

Jinki says that they’ll meet up at the burger place down the street, so when they reach the end of the alley, Jonghyun stops and relays the news. He does so while taking off his beanie, his gloves, and his mask, ruffling out his hair, and after a pointed look Taemin does the same.

"Why would we–"

"You think ordering nuggies in full burglar gear would be less suspicious?" Jonghyun asks, eyebrows raised. Taemin mumbles, but he doesn't disagree, and when Jonghyun takes off his backpack to stuff his things inside, holds his own stuff out with an asking noise. Jonghyun lets him, then takes off his dark hoodie so he's just wearing a blue t-shirt underneath and rips off the dark covering on the pack itself to reveal its regular hello kitty design.

"Oh, cute," Taemin smiles. Jonghyun smiles back up at him as he straightens up and pulls the backpack on again.

"Thanks," he replies. Then he grabs Taemin's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. "Now come on," he says. "Boyfriends." And he slips his hand into Taemin's butt pocket and leads him out onto the street, pleasantly ignoring the other three groaning into his earpiece. Taemin is even cuter in the street light and the giddy blush that colors Jonghyun cheeks when Taemin pulls him closer isn't as much of an act as it should be.

[margindoodles2407]

BEHOLD

IT IS POSTED

@whyoneartheven FINAL PUBLISHED DRAFT TIME LET'S GO

[torchickentacos]

nobody understands feta cheese like i do