#oceans 11 au

[rd-eternity]

number 3 for the wip game >:)

Raeken's 11, aka the Teen Wolf version of Ocean's 11, featuring the pack as heist members; Theo as Danny Ocean, Isaac as Rusty, and more. The $160 million is just an added bonus on top of proving himself to Liam and winning back the love of his life.

Isaac whirls on Theo the instant the door slams, and he prepares himself to get ruthlessly shouted at.  If only Nolan knew to keep his mouth shut about Liam, and keep the little tidbit about him and Peter meeting to himself.  That way, he wouldn’t have a completely pissed off Isaac pacing around the room.

“Let me explain.”

He stops moving.  “Oh you have an explanation for this?  I’d love to hear how coincidental it is that the casinos you chose to hit are all owned by the man using the ex you’ll never get over.”  His gaze drops to where Theo is unconsciously twisting the ring around his finger, freezing when Isaac notices.  “We can’t take down Peter Hale if you have a personal stake in his destruction.”

“It won’t get in the way,” he answers tightly.  He might’ve picked the targets for that reason - because of Liam - but that doesn’t mean they can’t still clear out the Bellagio’s vault and walk out richer than every single person who’s made Theo’s life hell.

Isaac sighs.  “Liam called off the wedding because he couldn’t share his life with a man who spends his nights stealing and conning his way into what he wants.  Do you really think you’ll win him back by robbing the person who funds his entire museum program?  You're not that stupid.”

“I don’t need to win him back, I just want to keep Peter far away from him.”

They’ve known each other for long enough for Isaac to know that he’s not lying, just not accepting what he wants, what he lost.  

“Nolan knows every step of the plan, I’ve already instructed him to take your place.”  

Theo splutters his protest, but shuts up the second his right-hand approaches.  Isaac plants a hand on his chest and pushes until his back hits the counter.  The hard line of the expensive marble reminds him of what they’ve already spent for this, and how much they can’t afford to fail.

“Did the rest of the crew agree on that?”

“That and-” he bites back a smirk, “-if you don’t manage to ruin this, the rest of us get to ruin you.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks and down his torso, prickling where Isaac’s palm is still pressed.  “Promise?”

“As long as we get a hundred and sixty million dollars, you can bet on it.”

[toystoryfan]

Happy Holidays, this isn’t a Christmas fic as it was originially made for Byler Week (last... month... oops.) But it’s done and I’ve posted it.

[Byler one-shot, rated-T, 9.8k, Thief Will x FBI Agent Mike]

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Three Card Monte by enjambament Pairing: Remus/Sirius Rating: T Word Count: 13k In which you can’t cheat an honest man, or, in which Remus and Sirius steal a piano.

[emmerrr]

Ummmmm Ocean’s 11 au???? 👁 👄 👁 I love a heist….

ohhh the ocean's 11 au, how i would love to finish it one day! i've posted a few snippets of this one before, i even have a tag for it here.

this one actually does have a fairly solid start, and i more or less know the direction i want it to take, but i need to figure out a lot of details and heists are really hard to write about, i don't know how to do it :(((

but anyway, here's a snippet of it i don't think i've shared before:

His mind was still reeling, and with Henry now gone and the work finished, there was nothing to distract Adam from the fact that Ronan was out of prison.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. He knew what he wanted to do; jump in the car, drive to the Lynch farm, throw his arms around Ronan and beg for his forgiveness.

The problem was that it wasn’t that simple because there’d been nothing but radio silence between Adam and Ronan for five years. Ronan had been incarcerated. Adam had not. All he had to show for the years they’d been apart was a box full of letters under his bed.

But they didn’t count, because Adam had never sent them.

In the end, he followed Henry’s advice; he ate, he watched mindless television for an hour and a half, and then he went to bed.

He couldn’t have been asleep for long when his phone started to ring. Adam grabbed for it and stared bleary-eyed at the screen.

It wasn’t a number he recognised, so he didn’t answer. He watched it ring out instead, and soon after that his phone beeped to let him know he had a new voicemail waiting.

Warily, Adam pressed play.

“Hello, Parrish. Did you miss me?”

this fic involves adam and henry being besties which is super fun to write, i really wanna try and get back to it at some point!

[viktuurishipper96]

Oceanic love 🌺🌊🏝🐬🪸🐚

A Douglas x Oliver fanart but it was completely done via copic makers and watercolor. Douglas is wearing his blue opera dress and Oliver is wearing a blue waist coat that represents the ocean along with jellyfishes, clouds , music notes and bubbles. hope you’ll like it.

Ref below

[distractedducky]

OK... legit questions. how is there not an Ocean's 11 Teen Wolf AU.

Like what the hell!! it writes itself...

The way I see it

Stiles - Ocean

Scott - Rusty

Liam- Linus

Issac - Frank

Erica or Allison depending on how you want to play it - Yen

Danny - Livingston

Lidia - basher

Peter Hale - Ruben

Deaton or the sheriff - Saul

Jackson and Milia/Allison/kira (however you want that energy to fly) - the brothers or in this case brother and sister

Get Bobby in there as the bruiser

and you got yourself a party

If you are wondering who we are robing, oh it's the Agrgent's baby

with Derek as our Julia Roberts and former husband of one Stiles.

you could mix it up a bit if you want to make it a Scott Allison fic or Kira fic but we all know Scott and Stiles are the big two.

I can't write a heist but i will straight up pay someone for this!!

[saturn-sends-hugs]

it’s actually devastating how hard it is to write a fun little montage. movies get to have fun little switching between character montages with music and everything but how do i put that in fanfic terms??? how????

[sunglasses-hide-hungry-eyes]

Sandman Ocean's 11 AU

Okay, so far for this AU we have the following:

Hob Gadling as Danny Ocean

Dream as Tess Ocean

The Corinthian as Rusty Ryan

Gilbert (Fiddler's Green) as Saul

Matthew the Raven as Linus

Cain and Abel as The Mormon Twins

Roles I haven't filled yet:

Yen (contortionist)

Basher (munitions)

Reuben (Financier)

Frank (Casino worker insider)

Livingston (tech & surveillance)

Additionally, haven't quite decided who Dream has left them for. If we say he's "with" Roderick Burgess now, that implies a level of coercion that the original Ocean's Eleven didn't have, and the con turns from a "screw my wife's new boyfriend and hopefully win her back" into a "rescue my husband and absolutely devastate Burgess" mission. Which. I'm not necessarily opposed to that, but that kind of skirts too close to a bog standard "rescue Dream from the fishbowl" fic, which is not what I'm trying to write here either.

I suppose I could go back and reread the comics so that I could pick out one of Dream's other love interests, but it's been a while. :P

[buckets-and-trees]

Good Luck

Collection: Buck's Eleven Characters/Pairings: Steve and the team Word Count: 620  Summary: The team gets a double dose of news with less than an hour to go before the big heist.

Logistical Notes: All you need to know is Bucky and Steve put together a team to knock over a casino New Year's Eve 1960. None of the pieces in Buck's Eleven have to be read in order, though they do tie together. You will see some familiar dialogue in here borrowed from Avengers Endgame.

COLLECTION: Buck's Eleven | Bookings and Rings

↠ Aspen's Ask Box | Masterlist | Field Guide to the Forest

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

Everyone in the room turns to look at Peter.

“Bucky’s been arrested?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds.

“And you don’t find this concerning?”

“No, why would it be concerning?”

“We’re 45 minutes from call time and you don’t find this concerning?”

The truth is Peter is not the only one who’s got concerns, but the others were split on various levels between alarm and trusting Steve’s calm, and it’s just that Peter was the only one to voice it in the group.

“No. We’re a group of highly competent professionals. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“O…kay.”

“Maybe we should discuss some realignment though,” Sam says.

“Sure, but you’re still with the kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Peter scoffs. “I’m twenty-five.”

“And it’s real cute,” Fury offers from a few feet behind him.

Peter jumps, not knowing the older man had been standing directly behind him. “Torres is only eighteen months older than me.”

Joaquin flashes him an apologetic grin and can only shrug.

“Right,” Steve turns to Joaquin. “You think you can cover Buck’s role?”

He blinks for just one second, then answers, “Sure. Absolutely.”

“And look, Pete,” Steve turns back to their grease man. “I want you to know I appreciate you voicing your concern. It shows a genuine commitment to open communication, and that’s a highly undervalued currency.”

The door to the suite bursts open with Scott tumbling in, a briefcase in his left hand. “I don’t know if you’re going to like this news, but the Prince of Wakanda just touched down at the airport with car service requested for The Riviera.”

“Seems His Royal Highness must be a fan of boxing.”

“Okay, I don’t love Buck arrested, but royalty in town and at The Riv? That puts an additional twenty armed security on the ground, easily,” Clint chimes in.

“Not including his personal guard detail of likely four Dora Milaje,” Tony adds, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks up at Steve from where he’s preparing a martini at the bar cart.

Steve looks from Tony to Nat, who shrugs an easy shoulder, completely unconcerned.  

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve counters. He waits for another moment, his eyes make a concentrated sweep across the room, studying the faces of each of the other nine.

No one says a word.

“Right then, this is it. We have a chance to take down the house. You know your teams, you know your missions. No mistakes, no do-overs. Most of us are going places we know, doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the job of our lives, and we’re gonna win, whatever it takes.” Steve let’s half a second sit comfortably in the air. “Good luck.”

With that, the team disburses - all except Fury, who’s looking at Steve, cigar perched in his left hand, looking at Steve.

Steve sighs and puts his hands on his hips, leaning his weight to his left leg, and cocks his head slightly. “Well?”

“Don’t look at me, you and Buck put this operation together this time, this is your team, I’m just here to play my little part and pay the bills.”

Steve nods. “It’ll work.”

“Course it will. And if it doesn’t, we’ll be surrounded by friends in the state pen.”

Steve cracks a wry smile. “As if you’d stay more than a night.”

“I can’t help that I’m very well connected and richer than the rest of you.”

Steve’s smile turns to a smirk. “But you haven’t got any other friends.”

“Which is why I’d get all of you knuckleheads out pretty quickly. Now let’s go take all of Pierce’s money and put a black mark on his reputation.”

COLLECTION: Buck's Eleven | Bookings and Rings

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[kjack89]

Oceans Apart

Watched Ocean's 11 last night for the umpteenth time and this popped into my head as I watched the scene where Danny and Tess reunite.

Should probably be part of something larger but like. Context? What context? I don't know her.

Modern AU, E/R, post-breakup. Angst because it's been too fucking long.

Enjolras peered through the windows of the tiny, nondescript restaurant, his heart doing double time in his chest as he saw the back of the man he was looking for. He’d know the hunch of those shoulders anywhere, the way the man’s shirt stretched across a deceptively well-muscled back. Once upon a time, he’d known every inch of the skin beneath that shirt.

But that was years ago. Now…

Now, he straightened, pushed the door to the restaurant open and walked inside like he was supposed to be there, skirting the hostess stand and making a beeline to the man in question, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to lightly rest a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Grantaire froze before slowly reaching up to cover Enjolras’s hand with his own, and then—

“Fuck,” Enjolras swore, as Grantaire gripped and then twisted his fingers.

Violently.

Grantaire let go without doing any lasting damage, and Enjolras cradled his hand against his chest for a moment, his pride far more wounded than the hand. “Hello to you, too,” he grumbled, even as he drank Grantaire in with eager eyes.

It had been far, far too long.

But Grantaire wasn’t amused. “What are you doing here?” he said, in lieu of a greeting.

Enjolras jerked a shrug, flexing his fingers to make sure they all still worked before dropping his hand to his side. “I got out.”

“You got out,” Grantaire repeated, something incredulous in the three words.

“Of prison,” Enjolras supplied helpfully. “You remember, the day I went for beer and never came back. You must have noticed.”

“You don’t drink,” Grantaire said shortly, followed by an exasperated, “Don’t sit—”

But it was too late, as Enjolras sat down across from him. Almost as if on cue, a waiter appeared at the tableside, looking at them expectantly. “Can I get anything for your…”

He trailed off. “Husband,” Enjolras supplied.

“Ex,” Grantaire corrected. “Or didn’t you get the papers?”

The waiter glanced between them, eyes wide. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, and Enjolras gave Grantaire a long, measured look. Despite everything, despite, especially, the acrimony that was rolling off of Grantaire in waves, it really was good to see him.

Even if the feeling was, seemingly, not mutual.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire repeated.

Enjolras sighed and leaned forward. “They say I paid my debt to society,” he started, but Grantaire snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Funny, I never got a check.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “But I felt I owed you a little bit more than just time served,” he continued, and Grantaire scoffed and looked away. “Hence the drop by.”

Grantaire didn’t quite meet his eyes as he reached out to trace a finger through the condensation on his water glass. “How’d you even get parole anyway?” he asked, deliberately casual. “I’d’ve thought domestic terrorism would be an automatic life sentence.”

“I wasn’t convicted for domestic terrorism,” Enjolras said.

“Right, just indicted.”

Grantaire gave him a sharp sort of smile that didn’t remotely reach his eyes, and it was Enjolras’s turn to look away. “So you did keep up with my case,” he said, aiming for levity and missing by a mile. “I wasn’t sure, considering…”

Grantaire jerked a shrug, his smile disappearing. “Well, I did try to visit you once. Turns out I wasn’t included on your approved visitors list.” Enjolras winced, but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “You know, I always told you that you needed to work on your communication in our marriage, but that one I heard loud and clear.”

“That wasn’t—” Enjolras broke off, not sure where to even start explaining why he hadn’t wanted Grantaire to visit him without explaining the rest. He huffed a dry chuckle, running a hand across his mouth before telling Grantaire, a little wryly, “You don't know how many times I played this conversation out in my head the last five years.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Did it always go this poorly?” he asked coolly.

“Yes.”

That sharp smile was back, twitching at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “Sounds frustrating.”

“You were never easy,” Enjolras told him, honestly. “You were always worth it.” Again Grantaire’s smile disappeared, and for just a moment, he looked—

He looked as heartbroken as Enjolras had never in a million years wanted him to be.

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away. “Okay, I’ll make this quick,” he said, trying to steer back on subject, if only to try to alleviate the pain in his chest when he saw Grantaire looking like that. “I came here because I wanted to explain.”

His attempt working perhaps too well, as Grantaire’s expression instantly hardened. “What explanation could you possibly have that will matter one iota?”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling him, his voice low, “You may not believe me, and given everything, I don’t blame you for that, but I swear, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “Well, for someone who wasn’t trying, you sure as shit pulled it off with aplomb.” He leaned in, his eyes dark. “So by all means, Apollo, tell me, what were you trying to do?”

Enjolras met his glare evenly. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

Enjolras shook his head. “It’s not. I didn’t want—”

“And did you ever stop to think about what I wanted?” Grantaire interrupted, his eyes flashing. “Because I didn’t want to be protected, not if that’s what you’re calling the last five years of my life. I wanted us to be together.”

“Pretty hard to be together from a jail cell,” Enjolras said flatly. “As the divorce papers you sent pretty clearly demonstrated.”

Grantaire shook his head. “We could’ve figured something out if you had just, I don’t know, involved me literally once—”

“Involving you would have implicated you,” Enjolras said, his voice tense, “and I couldn’t let that—”

Grantaire barked a laugh, scrubbing his hand across his face. “You think I wasn’t already implicated?” he asked, incredulous. “Tell me, do you think I’m stupid? Or naïve? That I didn’t know what you were doing all that time?”

“I—”

“Because the FBI agents who interrogated me after you were arrested didn’t seem to think so.” Grantaire let that statement sit for a moment before continuing, “We were married. We were living in the same house. Just because I don’t believe in the same Causes you do doesn’t mean I’m a complete moron.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I never said you were,” he said quietly.

Grantaire’s lip curled. “No, you just decided to cut me out of everything.” He laughed again, dry, humorless. “I mean, hell, I wasn’t even your one phone call when you were arrested.”

He hadn’t been, but it wasn’t because Enjolras hadn’t wanted to call him. But there were multiple moving pieces that needed to fall into place, and— “I didn’t have a choice,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “You did have a choice, Enjolras. You had a choice, you made it.”

“Fine,” Enjolras snapped, “I made a choice, and I didn’t pick you, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t mean—”

“It was never about picking me!” Grantaire burst. “Three years of marriage before your arrest and you don’t think I had already figured out where I ranked?”

Enjolras had the sudden realization that everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, so he leaned forward and lowered his voice as he told Grantaire, with every ounce of sincerity he possessed, “And you don’t think I know that if I was in trouble, or in danger, you’d firebomb the fucking Hague to keep me safe?” Grantaire met his eyes evenly, and didn’t bother trying to deny it. “I didn’t want that for you.”

“And all I wanted was to be part of the decision,” Grantaire said tiredly, all of the fight leaving him in an instant, his shoulders slumping in what Enjolras recognized all too well as defeat. “Even if there wasn’t a thing I could say or do to change your mind, I just wanted you to care about me enough to ask.”

With that, he stood, and Enjolras stared up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” Grantaire said shortly, grabbing his coat. “You did it, you should recognize the gesture.”

Enjolras scrambled to follow, trailing after him out of the restaurant. “Grantaire, please, I—”

“You what?” Grantaire asked, stopping so suddenly that Enjolras almost ran into him.

“I still love you,” Enjolras said. He said it simply, starkly, hoping the quiet declaration would reinforce that he meant it. It had been all he had come to say tonight, after all, and even if Grantaire didn’t believe anything else, didn’t believe in anything else, Enjolras needed him to believe this. “You think my choice was about me not caring enough to involve you, but how could I possibly involve you? How could I possibly tell you what was going on knowing that you would immediately put yourself at risk, and all because of me?”

Grantaire shook his head, but Enjolras didn’t let him interrupt. “The only way that I could do what I did was by knowing that you were sage. So even if you never forgive me for it, I did what I had to do to protect you.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just stared at him, and Enjolras held his breath, hoping against hope that maybe, somehow, Grantaire might find a way to forgive him, even just a little. But then Grantaire shook his head, reaching up to wipe the tear from his cheek with the heel of his palm. “Yeah. Well. Right back atcha,” he said his voice hoarse. “Goodbye, Enjolras.”

Watching Grantaire walk away from him hurt more than Enjolras could possibly have anticipated, all the more so when he saw Grantaire meet up with a dark-haired man halfway down the block, grabbing his arm and tugging him in the opposite direction.

Enjolras wasn’t sure he’d ever fully understood what heartbreak felt like before that moment.

He was staring so intently that he didn’t even notice as Combeferre joined him, squinting after Grantaire. “Why is Grantaire with him?” he asked.

Enjolras shook his head. “Pretty sure that’s who he’s seeing now,” he said dully.

“No, I get that,” Combeferre said, glancing sideways at him. “I told you this was a fool’s errand from the get, after all. But why is Grantaire with a Serbian arms dealer?”

Enjolras stared at him. “He—” Grantaire’s parting words replayed in his head, and for the first time all evening, for the first time, if he was being entirely honest, since he’d gotten the divorce papers mailed to his jail cell without so much as a note, he felt a spark of something flicker in his chest: hope.

“He’s doing what he has to do to protect me.”

[cjskribblez]

But tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, and head back to the milky way

Tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find

And did you miss me while you were

Looking for yourself out there?

----

Go read this fic by @slashmagpie and while you're at it play drops of Jupiter on chapter 11 and cry like a baby (like me)

[mintcaramelhazel]

I’ve watched again the ocean’s eleven saga what means a top gun au and spoilers for oceans twelve specifically

Bc I’m dying imagining Danny bein ice and his wife being mav and the scene in the hotel w Bruce Willis, except that mav is being Tom Cruise and Bruce willis is Val Kilmer lol

Goose and Carole are alive and divorced. Bc goose is still a criminal and Bradley has followed his steps (yeah, Bradley is Linus), and also, Carole is an important chief at the FBI and it doesn’t look good if she is married to one of the best art thieves ever

She remarried Slider, that isn’t better but at least Slider hasn’t got any pending warrant with his name lol

(Also, slider x goose x Carole all the way)

Carole bailing them from jail in Italy and she scolding Bradley in the car *chef kiss*

But also I want icemav to be Danny and Rusty bc those two give off so many ~vibes~

But also, if Jake is Isabel? And Bradley tempting him as Rusty??

am I the only one seeing the possibilities and all the different scenarios??

Oceans 11 when mav (Danny) wants to rob cyclone (terry) bc he stole his wife, ice (tess)

Mav recounting Bradley bc he used to deal w his father???

Hangster being Debbie and Lou from oceans eight?? Bc Jake has big cate Blanchett energy and you cant deny that!

[unfriendlyamazon]

heist au

i don't know why i felt the urge to mess with this today but i've had an idea for a heist au for the ygos f o r e v e r and one day i'll actually write it all out... i've been posting ideas and bits lately so why not one more?

this is the intro i have written which mostly focuses on joey and yugi's relationship, but don't worry, the whole gang will show up soon

Joey Wheeler sighed as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He closed out his voicemail, his landlord’s gruff voice still ringing. Rent was going up in Flatbush. When wasn’t it. Scrounging together the last few dollars he needed was getting harder each week.

He pushed it aside for now. He had other bills to pay, work to worry about, and he needed to stop by his dad’s place, just to make sure he was showering and going to work. Serenity had texted him. He pulled up her name as he jammed the key into the lock, and he paused. The door was pulled back from the frame a fraction of an inch. It stuck like that all the time. You really had to push it to make sure it closed properly. He did it every day when he left. Joey tucked his phone back into his pocket and swung his keys into his fist, shoving the door open.

His box of an apartment wouldn’t look any different for a breakin. This morning’s dishes were still in the sink, the egg and grease caked onto the plate. His shoes were kicked off next to the door in a haphazard pile. A pile of hoodies draped over the patched couch, and his books and DVDs were scattered on the coffee table, alongside week old mugs. The TV and Playstation were untouched, and his laptop, a few generations out of date but still functioning, was exactly where he’d left it his morning.

Joey let out a breath, stepping quietly through the door. Maybe his landlord had come by to see if the place was sellable. He hadn’t given his dad a key, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t drop in if he could manage it. A sound from his bedroom startled him, and he peered through the open door. Diesel Kane might be bold enough to trounce him in his own flat, or maybe it was Trudge hitting him up again. Joey puffed up, fists curling, and he marked forward, ready to bluster and intimidate. A figure appeared there, a head shorter than he’d expected, and his hands reached for their collar, bringing up the face of--

“Yugi!” He gasped and let go. “Sorry, man, I thought--”

Yugi stumbled back, but he was smiling. “It’s my fault, Joey. I should’ve let you know I was dropping by.”

“Yeah, dude.” He slid his hands through this hair, releasing the tension in them. “I didn’t even know you were in the city.”

“I flew in today,” he said. “I thought you’d be home.”

His grin was bright, round eyes warm. He looked like he did in his Instagram photos: vest pulled over his long sleeve shirt, a backpack slung over his shoulders, his usually spiked hair pulled back with the curls of his bleached bangs framing his face. Usually he was standing in front of his grandpa’s shop in Domino, or posing with cool kids in Harajuku. He must’ve just gotten off a thirteen hour flight, looking exactly as cheerful as he always did.

“You shoulda told me.” Joey waved him into the living room, kicking aside the mess. “I’ve gotta shift in like three hours, but we could grab something quick. I know a great burger place--”

“Joey,” Yugi said, still smiling. “I didn’t come to visit.”

He stopped and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got something lined up,” he said. “And I really need your help.”

Excitement jolted in his veins. “A job?”

He nodded.

“How big?” Joey asked.

Yugi grinned. “You have no idea.”

---

The first time Yugi approached Joey about a job, it’d been right after high school graduation. Yugi had been in his first semester at college in Domino, one year before he would drop out, claiming with his grandpa’s health and his poor grades, it didn’t make sense to continue.

Joey was still living with his dad, and things had been going bad. He took work where he could get it to pay the bills, and Diesel had come skulking around again, always with a carrot in his hand and a stick behind his back. Yugi had appeared, staying with another one of his friends who went to NYU. Over dinner, at some sandwich shop over in Park Slope, Yugi had asked for his help. It was important, he claimed, and he could only trust him with it. He asked him to come back to Japan with him. Joey couldn’t say no.

The first time Yugi had laid out his master plan for Joey, he hadn’t known what to make of it. They’d been in his bedroom above his grandpa’s shop, and Yugi showed him a small replica of the art gallery two blocks over, using figurines sold in little plastic bags from the game store. The security had a major flaw in it. He’d pointed it out to Joey, who nodded numbly. He listened to his whole spiel, and then Yugi sat down across from him and asked him what he thought.

The next day they’d stolen five thousand dollars worth of fine art. Joey played his muscle when he and Yugi went to the fence. They split the take even. It didn’t really hit for Joey what they’d done until he was on the flight home, and an excitement thrummed inside his chest.

The jobs got bigger. The payouts were good. It wasn’t like kicking over corner stores for Diesel Kane, or brawling against the kids that were bigger, tougher. The people they stole from were rich, the things weren’t important, and most of all he trusted Yugi. Joey would lay down his life for the guy.

So when he told him there was a job in his own backyard, Joey didn’t even have to think twice.

[moonmoonthecrabking]

i wonder what it would be like if the whole choir miraculously came back. how do you cope from processing and accepting your death to living again?

they meet penny lamb on the 15th of september, each of them recognising the name from a hauntingly vivid dream they shared the night before.

but it wasn’t a dream. it couldn’t be. it was all real. they died. and they’re here again. what the fuck.

constance blackwood runs to her parents after school and hugs them. there’s nothing wrong with loving them, with being nice. sure, there’s so much more to her than that - her anger, her laugh, her pain, every part of her that makes her complicated and beautiful and worthwhile. but there’s nothing wrong with being the nicest girl in town. there’s nothing wrong with her. not for loving uranium, not for being a teenager, not for making mistakes.

penny lamb, upon talking to the five other teenagers, instantly recognises their conversation. she had a dream the night before, even though she wasn’t in uranium. even though she wasn’t a member of the choir. her elbows and neck aches every time she moved them, her head and forearms seemed as though they lacked blood. she was decapitated on the cyclone, once, but she never boarded it. they all knew her as jane doe, a forgotten name. now she was gifted this second chance, she would be remembered. by everyone, anyone. even if penny lamb was only remembered by herself, it would still be a victory. make a mark on people’s hearts, that would be her first goal. her second was don’t die by decapitation this time.

ricky potts is the most confused. he conceded, didn’t he? granted, that was when he believed only one would return. but still. his life was valuable, even though society looked down upon him. he’s still going to fantasise about zolar, sure, but he’s also going to be that zolarian prophet back on earth. he doesn’t know how much time he has left - none of the choir do - but he can always make a difference.

mischa bachinski has unlocked a new side of himself. rage and passion are twoo sides of the same coin, feeling so deeply for another that justice and care for them becomes your responsibility. but now, he allows himself to be selfish. be introspective. and not just to talia. he looks into himself, the boy he is, rather than being the man everyone expects him to become. he asks for help, for comfort, as he always tried to provide to the others in his life before the cyclone crash.

noel gruber realises the dull tragedy of his life. but even a dull tragedy has ecstasy within it. feelings of unrequited love. oppressed by the leading beliefs of his town for an unchanging part of his identity. a small town cliche. it took him a tragic death to realise the interest of his tragic life. he stops waiting. he starts writing, and continues living. and while the depravity and drama of post-war france is his ideal, maybe a bit of light to balance it out isn’t always the complete worst.

ocean o’connell rosenberg is an absolute fucking mess. if she keeps acting as she did with her second chance, what’s the lesson? that even when a person develops she reverts to her normal self in her original environment? that change is impossible? if she keeps building a life, working towards something, it could all come crashing down in a day. again. but if she stops caring, begins to act like her parents, well, that just shows that no one can break past their upbringing and genetics and no one should ever try. but then she looks out at the choir. her career, that’s fine, she can care about that, she can put work into it. effort for effort’s sake is not futile if the experience itself is enjoyable or helpful. that world, however, pales in comparison to the five people in front of her. caring for them, uplifting them rather than standing atop them, that’s what she wants to do. that’s what the world needs.

“i love you guys. i want to keep getting to know you.”

[canadian-pug-cartel]

I hate them get them out of my head

[andrews-jort-loving-pipe-dream]

Andrew: We should do this quietly.

Neil: Agreed.

Also Neil: