#(so...much...writing... =w=)

[shepscapades]

Here's my finished piece for Edition 6 of the @trafficzine, for Wild Life!

I was so excited to draw the Tuff Guys, so I jumped at the chance to be able to draw their shenanigans from Session 1! It was a blast and pleasure to work on this, and I really struggled with a lot of the coloring process, but I'm so proud of how it came out! :D

So many wonderful and inspiring artists and writers participated in this edition, so please go check them out and give the zine a read if you can! <3

Progress and Detail shots below the read more!

[lucabyte]

monologue

[hellamorte]

wade can talk about noble sacrifice and marvel jesusing all he wants but he was ready to die for his friends and for logan, instead of logan, because he wanted him to live. “say hi to my friends for me, peanut”, says the man who wants logan to become a part of the group, a pack, again, to take his place in protecting the people he loves, probably the only one he trusts to do so. and there is so much love in his desire for logan to stay alive and finally experience something good in life

[mister-ancunin]

Imagine holding your f/o after a long, long day.

Imagine how they curl up in your embrace, your arms tightening around their frame as you pull them closer. The way they begin to ease, feeling your gentle kisses pressed into their skin. Do they give a little smile when hearing your murmuring words of comfort?

Imagine slowly rocking them side to side, doing whatever you can to feel them relax. They appreciate how safe and secure you make them, how determined you are to help in any which way.

They know they don’t have to hide anything from you, least of all, their struggles.

[lewkwoodnco]

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

[hyakunana]

"My friend, my partner… my Guardian."

[bigeelwizard]

hc that tubbo is REALLY insecure about his missing eye, so he wears an eyepatch in new l’manberg and absolutely hates it. it’s too big and garish, it rubs up on his wounds all wrong, he hates seeing himself with it. it makes him feel weak. ranboo notices (of course he does) and thinks that tubbo deserves to feel handsome again. they set off after a cabinet meeting to see if ghostbur has any books on prosthetics.

it should be noted that ranboo has no fucking clue what they’re doing. in the weeks after the plans inception, he has amassed over fifty handcrafted glass eyes, of which exactly zero will work. they’re too big, too small, not the right color. he even managed to make one with a rectangular pupil before they thought better of it. it's a shame, too, that was his best one yet. they're tired and frustrated and the eye collection is really starting to creep him out. ranboo considers asking for help.

ranboo remembers the tumultuous political state of new l'manburg.

ranboo thinks this may be a one-man project.

it really shouldn’t be a surprise that tubbo finds out. they've been practically attached at the hip since ranboo joined, and he was never any good at keeping things from tubbo anyway. they're popping over to ranboo's to get supplies for whatever adventure they're going on today, and the little chest labeled SECRET DO NOT OPEN is too full, propped open with dozens of lumpy glass spheres. tubbo notices (of course he does) and gets halfway through a i can't believe you have an eye fetish before he realizes. ranboo thinks it's a bad sign when he goes silent and an even worse one when his eye goes all misty and aw shit he made the president cry.

he's stuttering through an apology when tubbo's one eye meets their two and he asks is this for me? did you make these for me? ranboo nods and tubbo smiles like a kid on christmas, watery and bright. they've missed that smile. before he knows what's happening, tubbo's tackled them into a hug, sending both of them careening to the ground. ranboo vows there and then to give the man anything and everything he desires now and forever, just so he can feel like this again. not a veteran, not a politician, just tubbo, carefree and kind.

yeah, that sounds like a good life.

as quickly as ranboo went down, he's being pulled back up with tubbo insisting that they try every single eye, previous adventure abandoned. they spend the day like that, going through the chest, laughing at some of ranboos earlier attempts, and screaming with excitement when one managed to fit.

he looks beautiful. more confident, brighter, somehow. they burn his eyepatch that night. ranboo had already gotten him a better one anyway.

part 1 | part 2

read on ao3

[seefasterdraws]

from the homumiko mines

[ulteri0rm0tives]

They sooo could've made Johnny romancable if they wanted to.

And I know technicalities were a big part of it, it being Keanu Reeves' face. But honestly I don't even think V and Johnny's romance would've needed a sex scene. I don't think I would've even wanted it. And I also know reception can play a big part of it too, with the fact half the dudebro fan base would've flipped the fuck out if they weren't being catered too, but. I don't know. I just wish the option was there.

The thing about Johnny is, I don't want a romance with him like I have with the other romance options. I'd want it to be something different, not necessarily deeper as I feel that just minimizes the other relationships you can have in the game, but definitely something forged through a connection that is literally quite not possible with the others.

Something just.. knowing. Something that if you choose the right dialogue options and actions, it's a slow natural build up to something unspoken, something that you know they feel for each other by the end of the game and the tragedy of that. Where the only 'physical' affection they can ever show each other is that lingering handshake at the bridge before V gives up the body.

Something to contrast with the other romances. Something that highlights the tragedy of not being able to physically exist with the one you love, the tragedy of knowing one of you won't be able to make it out of this, that one of you will have to leave eventually, always eventually. That one of you will have to sacrifice yourself for the other.

I wanted the lingering looks, the quick turn aways of being caught, the trail offs of meaningful dialogue, the cut offs of almost saying something too revealing. I wanted the subtle snark of jealous dialogue, or even possessiveness, the ones that are played off as jokes and teasing while V is with the other romances. I wanted him sitting on the couch during hangout dates with the others trying his hardest not to look bothered, distracting himself by playing music. I wanted Johnny saying shit with the same vulnerability as him admitting how scared he was for V at the bridge (the closest thing will ever get to a confession I swear).

Something to really, really drive home like a slap across the fucking face how much he changed, how much he learned about himself, how much he learned about how to genuinely care and love for others in ways that weren't just destructive and selfish, but in ways that were literally transformative and life saving, and how fucking sad that is that it comes at a time that's too late. That it's too late for him to do anything about it besides give up his life for V, or betray V, or watch helplessly as they give their life up for him when that isn't what he wanted.

Something. I just wanted something.

Like maybe they didn't add the option because Johnny being a romance option was never something they had in mind, but you cannot tell me Johnny and V's story doesn't play out like a tragic love story. That they weren't starcrossed, doomed from the start. Doomed from the moment they realized they started to care for the other or at least like each other in some capacity.

V would've never given Johnny the keys to the body again after the talk in the oil fields if they didn't start trusting the bastard, caring enough about him to help him find closure or make amends with his friends or reconcile with his past. Johnny would've never entrusted these tasks to V, or open up about them, or open up about how he finally saw how much everyone had hated him yet it seemed like V didn't. He would've never asked V for a second chance if he didn't think V could do right by him, if he didn't care about V. If he didn't trust them. If he didn't want that from them.

And the fact that none of that will matter by the end, how they feel about each other, because there will always be a choice to be had. Which of them will get to live? And which of them will have to leave?

If anything, it'd just make the choice all that much harder. Do you sacrifice yourself for the one you love, or do you sacrifice the one you love for yourself? Do you watch and stand by as the one you love sacrifices themselves for you, or do you try to convince them that it should be you instead? Is this a choice either of you could make?

There could've even been a secret option in Mikoshi if you had achieved a romance with Johnny just like the reaper ending if you had achieved a high enough affinity with him after selecting all the right dialogue. Where if it wasn't a decision either of them could make, or V didn't want to make, which one of them to sacrifice, that V could've convinced Johnny that they could both just leave behind the blackwall, that they both could be homogenized into Alt's code. At least then they could've been together. At least then, in some way, they could still live with and within each other for the rest of their digitally constructed lives. At least then, they could've been something.

(The calls from the others in the end credits could've been much like the ones you get in temperance too. Where it's either assumed V died or offed themselves or ran off, or that even Johnny took the body and ran off. Just a lot of accusations and assumptions and grief that could still come with an ending like this.)

Idk, I just wish we could've had the choice with Johnny is all.

[yourcatras]

Mika quit.

Millin isn't handling it very well.

[isasweetie]

⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader

“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “

cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.

jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.

there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’

“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.

“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.

“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.

“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.

“mhm,”

he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”

“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.

“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.

“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”

“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”

“yeah yeah. maybe later,”

sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.

“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”

“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”

“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”

“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.

his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.

“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.

“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”

“m’not lying!”

the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”

you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”

“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”

“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.

“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.

“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”

so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.

you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.

you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.

“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.

“when did you become responsible?”

“since now.”

you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”

“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”

with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.

[dansemacabre]

i’ve been thinking about “sixer, it would eat you alive” since i read it and. man. every layer you peel back makes it worse. im not a bill apologist but. shit

if you (1) take it at face value, it paints bill as an apologetic murderer in his single (and maybe sole) open moment of regret. he doesn’t let his walls down often- only with ford do we even get to see the remnant of his galaxy, see the “actual remorse” ford describes, get just a hint of his origins. but he does it, because he thinks ford should know.

if you (2) take it from ford’s point of view, as something he committed to journal three, like. wow. imagine being so committed to a being that you’d hunt down and kill the monster that destroyed his home, only to (assumably) figure out later that that being was the monster. the small moments of trust, the “good times”, are so key to manipulation. how long did ford hold onto that one shred of vulnerability? no wonder ford stayed for as long as he did. in his eyes, bill was a survivor. ford wanted to survive too.

(slight tw below for unreality- any time i mention our reality, i mean “our reality” as a narrative device used in the book of bill as a proxy for the idea of bill being in our reality, since he can’t actually be in our reality. all of this is a fictional theory about a show/book with fictional contents!)

but if you (3) remember that “even his lies are lies” and absolutely Nothing bill says should be trusted. Whoo boy. if i read tbob right the book itself is being created in the theraprism (even tho it shows up with the ciphertologists at some point? idk that’s a whole other post). it’s meant to show what the reader wants to see; it manifests in our reality as what the collective fandom wants to see. so if we want to see truth, if we want to see where bill ended up and who he actually is, there’s a non-zero chance that the whole interaction was a complete fabrication.

imagine bill, stuck in the actively harmful, probably earth-illegal theraprism, once again being forced to be “fixed” and molded into something more palatable, being forced to conform no matter how much it hurts. (i know natural uncontrollable mutation ≠ just so much murder and destruction and chaos, but. you can’t ignore the similarities. bill has obviously been thinking about those silly straws.)

he looks back on everything that went wrong, back on his relationship with ford, back through every dimension where he wins. would that one moment, that one truth amid centuries of lies, have saved him from purgatory? if he had just been open? shown his damage? maybe he did think of his parents, or his henchmaniacs (especially the oracle). people who he might have once opened up to. maybe he just wanted to open up to someone again.

so in his own weird way, stuck in a cell, he reshaped reality again. in this reality, for this fleeting moment, he had been someone worth believing. and ford had listened, hell, ford had wanted to help. looking back, knowing how he treated ford, knowing how ford ended up because of it, maybe bill would have said the most honest thing he’d ever told ford: i am the monster, i am not worth your time or belief, and i will eat you alive.

[otrtbs]

saw a post recently describing the marauder’s era fandom as ‘the worst mass delusion since the dancing plague’ and i was wondering what u think of all that? i don’t think we give jkr more traction which is what the post accused us of so i was just wondering your take is. i saw so many ppl agree with it and i was so confused (i realise u prob won’t answer this publicly but i’m too scared to ask off anon and i’m sorry for polluting ur ask box with this sort of negativity) love ahb! it changed my life

hi!! you caught me at a time when i had my computer handy so we're gonna have a little chat. you are NOT polluting my inbox and i think that these are important conversations to be had, so i'm gonna do my best to articulate my thoughts under the cut <3

i haven't seen the post so i can't really get into the thick of what that person was saying, but based on the context you've provided me here, i do wanna hit a few points.

i definitely grapple with the fact that my participation in this fandom can/could/and does lead to more traction (increased relevance/visibility/revenue) for jkr inadvertently. i think that the very nature of being in this fandom, in whatever capacity, but especially for me as a fic writer, means that i cannot sever myself entirely from her views and actions and act as if i am operating in a sphere completely free from her influence and traction.

i can make my stance clear. i can denounce jkr and her views, i can take actions to counteract the harmful rhetoric and real violence she seeks to enact on the trans and other marginalized communities. i can use the power of my dollar to ensure that she never sees a single cent from me. not from merch sales, or theme park visits, or new book editions, or lego sets.

but, at the end of the day, i can't agree with the sentiment that "we don't give jkr more traction" because we do. and i see it happening all the time. people in the marauders fandom still go to the studios, still buy official merch, still give her money. and the part where i struggle a lot....is in the way that fics and fic reading has become more promotional in content w the rise of tiktok fandom spaces. which, inevitably, may (and does) encourage people who once liked harry potter to re-enter the fandom in a new capacity. and i can't control what they do and how they spend their money and where they go etc. all i can do is make my stance clear, and put my money where my mouth is.

but i am always aware of it. that i have a harry potter fic out there and it's an easy read and an au so not hard to get behind if you're new to the fandom. i'm not out here recruiting people into this space, but sometimes, with tweets and tiktok posts that anyone can view, i know that it happens. and if someone stumbles across my fic and gets into the marauders and decides to watch the marauders reboot??? that's not something i can control. but it IS something i think about. a lot. all the little ways that being in this fandom can lead to more jkr traction.

i would love to be like "no! fuck jkr and i wash my hands of it,,, i'm not giving her traction." but i think that would be disingenuous and superficial. just because *I* am not giving her money doesn't mean that the collective *we* aren't. because *we* are. and my fics may help that along in minute but unignorable ways. i do my best to mitigate and counteract the potential harm, i'm starting to add notes in my fics and on my navigation asking ppl to keep comments/thoughts/opinions in my tumblr ask box and ao3 comments only and off twt/tiktok/ect but i also cannot confidently say that my presence in fandom doesn't provide jkr any traction. i was talking to a friend abt similar topics a while ago (s/o rae) and they were like "in an ideal world harry potter fandom would be like a closed practice and die out eventually" and yeah. exactly. but as it stands today, it's not a closed practice, and i think it's important to be mindful always of the impact you're creating. i don't think most if any of us here sit down to "promote" harry potter or the marauders but obviously, with the reboot that's happening, there is some influence happening there.

i love writing in this space, i love writing in this fandom. i love this little corner of the internet that we've carved out, i love the friends i've made in it. the stories that are being created in this space are kinder and more diverse and more reflective than the source material, and the fandom has brought me and many others a lot of really great experiences. but that contradiction (i reject jkr and her politics but i still create fics/art/videos rooted in her works ... or even if you eschew canon and work strictly in au's you're using her characters from the original text) is always there. and there are always going to be ties back to her. and i don't think it negates the value of the stories we're telling, but i also don't think it's something we can just ignore and pretend to be be innocent/ignorant of either.

okay this was so long and rambly but those are my thoughts. i think the topic is messy to grapple w for me <- girl who is horrendous at being articulate but hopefully this lays it out somewhat?? <3 kk love you never feel bad abt sending me asks like this beloved <33

[swordheld]

do the silly thing. if you do not do the silly thing time will pass and it will not be the same silly thing it could have been. it will still be silly, and it will still be yours, but it will not be the same. this is both a blessing and a curse, but so is living; and if you do not do it now when will you? who will? it has to be you, it was always meant for you, waiting for you.

[anatomicaltheatre]

in 2025 NOBODY is going to talk about "consuming media" or worse "content". in 2025 we are STRICTLY ENGAGING WITH ART

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”