#So writing it is instead :D

[droplets-of-the-ocean]

Moon 0

After surviving the whirlpool, it was a surprising that Snowykit can even sleep... but then again, perhaps he's still too young to even comprehend what have just happened. Pigeonkit, on the other hand, cannot sleep at all. The whirlpool have left him too shaken to be able to sleep tonight, so he took the opportunity to look around.

The land that they have stumbled onto is vastly different from their old clan. Sure, it's still a beach, but it's different. Pieces of a giant, broken ship was littered around the sand. Even when broken, the ship was an impressive sight. It was well constructed, and it can probably fit the entirety of OceanClan and more in it.

Pigeonkit shivered at the thought of his old clan. What happened to everyone? Why was the camp filled with fighting last night (or was it a few nights before? Pigeonkit can't remember...)?

Before he can start panicking about his old clan, however, Snowykit started to wake up, and Pigeonkit hurried over to his friend. He will protect Snowykit. He will not let anything happen to the only cat he have to keep him company in this unfamiliar and possibly hostile place.

[Next!]

[sualne]

table troubles (chapter 1 is out btw)

[blackjackkent]

Can we say my Harper responsibilities to maintain balance start *tomorrow*? Hm... no.

Bonus:

/cc @astreamofstars and @springagainafter, my fellow Jaheira-lovers. <3

[otaku553]

Ok so I have been stewing this crossover au in my brain nonstop for the past few days and. I am nothing if not committed to the bit, so. Volume cover redraws :)

Here are the originals:

If you want to read more about my one piece spy x family crossover, keep reading!

So the idea is simple! Crossover reincarnation au where ASL is reborn in Spy x Family. They’re each born separately and none of them are born with the same names as their previous lives, and with no way of finding each other, they each find their own thing to do in the world.

Sabo, too used to the dangers of being a spy, eventually finds a cause to devote himself to again, in preventing war from engulfing the country he was reborn in. Ace, drawn to fire as he was in his previous life, used arson as a means to rob rich people for sustenance and survival, and is eventually scouted and hired by Garden as a fire specialist and assassin. And Luffy, though born in perhaps the poorest condition, grows up happily and takes whatever part time jobs he wants to do.

The thing about Sabo is that, as much as he seems like a young man of good repute and high standing within society, everyone in WISE knows that he is a massive nuisance. Nobody knew in the beginning how a child less than half the age of most of their veteran agents could have the same skills and knowledge in their profession. Sabo was— and still is— hyper competent, and by the time WISE figured out just how much of a menace to society he was, it was too late.

Ace forgot for the first few years of his new life that he wasn’t made of fire, and consequently, received multiple accidental burns. This did not deter him, however, from growing up to be a very skilled arsonist, well-practiced in every which way to start a dumpster fire or house fire. As a teenage he would use this often to draw attention as he robbed rich people blind. When he was caught, he was given an ultimatum by Garden: join them and receive payment for starting fires and causing problems under contract, or face the government and authorities for his crimes. Begrudgingly, he joined Garden, but eventually comes to appreciate that he can make substantial money in his element.

Luffy is Luffy. No telepathy or experimentation, no fancy schools, no gimmicks or secret identities. But he has still lived an extremely colorful life in this world, full of fascinating and kind individuals who have helped him grow up healthy and relatively happy. He goes where he is free, and he takes whatever part time jobs he wants in order to make the minimum he needs to survive.

Ace and Sabo find each other first, in their late teens, and neither of them realize that the other remembers their previous life, but both refuse to separate. (Sabo thinks Ace doesn’t remember, because Ace didn’t recognize him. Ace never saw Sabo grow up past 10, however, so he doesn’t recognize older Sabo immediately. By the time he does realize who exactly Sabo is, Sabo has backtracked and pretends to know Ace from a dream, or from somewhere else.)

Sabo’s attachment to Ace, predictably, causes problems between Sabo and WISE, but by then, Sabo is indispensable to the organization, and they make an exception for Sabo to be able to remain with Ace, so long as Ace never finds out what Sabo’s actual job is. Ace, on the other hand, hides his job because he doesn’t want his brother, who he has just found and who does not know Ace well enough yet, to know that he makes a living from killing people.

And they find Luffy sometime afterwards, prior to the beginning of the Spy x Family canon. Luffy figures out, not long after moving in with his brothers, both of his brothers’ secret occupations and the fact that both of them remember their past memories. He thinks it is common knowledge, however, and so he never brings it up.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

looking around my bedroom like "damn i really did manage to cram books into every spare inch of this space, huh"

[alchemiclee]

I like the idea of phainon being a bit taller than mydei and mydei never forgives him for it. he can't get over it. it's one if his biggest complexes and he randomly gets upset at phainon for it for no reason. phainon doesn't even bring it up or use it to tease him. he knows mydei does that all by himself because he can't ignore that fact, which is even more hilarious to him. he just chuckles in response, which pisses mydei off more. but he usually compliments him on something else to try to make up for it, blatantly flirting at times. and that both flusters and further pisses mydei off.

phainon: *standing next to mydei and looks over at him*

mydei: "stop looking down on me"

p: "ok i'll sit down then-"

m: "DONT YOU PITY ME"

p: *tries to hold it in but chuckles against his will*

m: *scowls and looks like he's about to explode and curses him*

p: "how about I meet your beautiful eyes then ;)" *grabs his chin and bends down slightly to make direct eye contact*

m: *turns red, pushes him off, and stomps away like an angry toddler*

[yeoldenews]

A mother's word for word transcription of the imaginary phone call her four-year-old made to Santa Claus in 1911.

(source: The Harbor Beach Times, December 22, 1911.)

Through some outrageous case of serendipity I found a recording of another phone call this same child made 60 years later. Though I have to say his choice of conversational partner is a definite downgrade from the first call.

[escelia]

DP x DC PROMPT/FIC

Gotham Portal

(If you get the notif for this post like 2 days ago, no you didn't! I wasn't done yet! You were imagining things!)

Where the story takes place in Gotham instead of Amity Park, the Fentons having moved before the construction and testing of the Ghost portal due to the high saturation of ectoplasm in Gotham. So, Danny's accident ALSO happens in Gotham, except he has no support system at all.

Enter the Bats stage left!

Danny couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. His parents had uprooted their whole life to move to Gotham. They said they'd need all the ambient ectoplasm there for when they built their portal. Jazz had been thrilled! After all, Arkham was a shining beacon of mentally ill people, and Jazz was like a psychology moth to a flame; it would be the perfect place for her internship after college.

His parents had wasted no time assembling the portal from their blueprints in the basement of the run-down apartment building they'd bought outright just on the edge of Crime Alley, complete with the Ops Center parked right on top. They'd gutted the place and completely redone it before they moved in. (Danny had no idea when they accomplished that. Maybe they'd been planning it for a while and only thought to tell their children two weeks before moving day.) He was genuinely surprised the local vigilantes hadn't stopped by yet to ask questions.

But anyway, back to how he was royally screwed! He'd just wanted a cool picture for Sam and Tucker now that he'd moved away. His parents weren't home (they'd gone back to the hardware store after their last test), Jazz had stayed after school to try and butter up her new teachers by running a study group, and he'd been alone. He'd even followed all the safety precautions his parents had told him about! He'd put on the hazmat suit and tried not to touch anything. But he'd tripped.

Through the whirling of green and the static buzzing in his ears, he remembered screaming, though he hadn't recognized it as his own. Every nerve in his body was on fire, and he just wanted it to stop. Stop, please stop, why won't someone save me, please!

He woke up to the smell of burning flesh, but he woke up. He was okay! Disoriented, a little disgusted by the smell and throat a little raw, but okay!

At least he'd thought so at first.

He'd begun to... change colors? And float, he floated sometimes, too. But the most irritating of all was that he would go through things. Forks and glasses slipping, quite literally, right through his fingers.

He hadn't told his parents. He'd been fine, after all. A little shaken up, but they'd been so excited he'd gotten the portal to work, who was he to put a damper on the mood when he was fine?

That brought him to now, staring at the mirror in the school bathroom in horror. He'd fought his first real ghost that morning around breakfast. He'd kept it together fairly well, in his opinion. Got through three whole classes before making an excuse to the teacher, slipping off into the blessedly empty restroom.

He'd been getting better and better at controlling his form, and he transformed in front of the mirror, taking stock of his appearance.

Odd colored hair: check.

Bright glowing eyes: check.

Floaty hair: check.

Could walk through walls, disappear, and fly: check.

He raised his finger to his pulse point and felt... nothing.

"I died," he whispered to himself in shock. "I... died," he repeated, this time in despair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian Wayne was not usually one to keep tabs on his classmates. They weren't his friends, therefore he saw no point. However, the new kid, Daniel Fenton, had begun to act strange.

When Daniel Fenton enrolled in Gotham Academy it hadn't been anything special. He'd started the year a little last due to his family moving, but families moved for all sorts of reasons. He hadn't tried to immediately make friends with Damian like so many others had, much to his relief. But he hadn't tried to make friends with anyone else, either. Maybe he liked to be alone? It really wasn't his business.

But then the boy started getting skittish and clumsy. Clumsier than he had been when he started school. He'd developed a miniscule tremor in his left hand, so he'd probably sustained an injury. He began dropping things in Chemistry. So often, in fact, that he'd been banned from doing practical labs and was instead assigned extra book work.

If Damian had been anyone else, if he hadn't been raised by assassins or had his night work as Robin, he wouldn't have noticed. He wouldn't have followed Fenton to the bathroom under the guise of needing to see the school nurse for a headache. Perhaps if he were anyone else, Fenton might have noticed him following.

There was an alarming flash of light as Damian peered carefully around the corner. Fenton had changed forms. Something had happened to him.

"I died," he heard him say. Damian thought he was being dramatic until he watched him raise his fingers to his pulse point. His glowing eyes dilated in panic, and he repeated himself. He watched as his classmate, looking fragile and lost, curled in on himself floating in the air, and sobbed.

Damian didn't confront him that day. He watched, waited, and researched. He found the research of Dr's Fenton on ghosts and ectoplasm, most of which he was skeptical of up until actual ghosts started to torment them during patrols.

Ghosts were real, it appeared.

He also concluded that their findings on ectoplasmic entities being non-sentient and inherently malevolent was incorrect, having met the ghost of a little girl caught up in a rouge attack that killed her and her family.

Damian watched Daniel Fenton for about a week while he ditched class in a poorly hidden effort to fight and contain the ghosts that he and his family were having such a hard time dealing with. His father was even nearly considering contacting John Constantine, which was never his ideal solution. Damian had been rolling an idea around in his head for a while and he decided now would be the time to bring it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner at the manor was more of a full table than Damian had expected. Not everyone was there, Jason's relationship with them was still a bit strained, so he was not in attendance, and neither was Stephanie. But Duke was home, and Dick was actually there early for patrol later. Tim was there, and so was Cass, so almost everyone.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat politely. "Father, I wish to recruit a new member."

The chatter around the room came to a halt, the clatter of silverware ceasing.

"What exactly do you mean, chum?" Bruce asked carefully.

"I have a classmate I believe would be a valuable asset in light of our trouble with ghosts recently. However, he has no training or support, so I'm asking for your assistance."

"Did... demon brat make a friend?" Tim asked bewildered and a little bit terrified.

"Tt. No, I've never even spoken to him." Damian rolled his eyes. "My classmate, Daniel Fenton, transferred to Gotham Academy about a month ago and started acting strange soon after. He came to school with a tremor and a Lichtenberg figure you can just barely see starting on his left hand and traveling up his arm. I believed he'd been in an accident, and my suspicions were proven when I saw him use meta abilities to ditch class and fight a ghost in the courtyard of the school. From my observations, they are newly acquired, but he has decent instincts and an inclination toward heroism. I believe it would be safer for everyone involved if we approached him first."

"What?" Tim muttered. Dick was smiling gently at him, though, as if he were doing something he was proud of.

"Do his parents know?" Duke asked. Damian scoffed.

"I highly doubt it."

"Wait, Fenton as in the ectobiologists?" Bruce asked. The ex-assassin nodded.

"And considering their research is not reflected in our own interactions with ghosts thus far, I do not believe we should tell them."

"Not safe?" Cass signed. Her brother shook his head.

"The abilities I've observed resemble that of a ghost. He even has an alternate ghostly form."

The implication that they'd be endangering him hung heavy in the air. They'd all seen the Fentons' research. It mostly consisted of theoretical analysis and blatant biases with a long list of proposed experiments they'd run if they ever caught one. They'd all agreed that the Fenton ghost hunters were not a viable option for their ghost problem, especially after seeing how they drove, which in itself nearly put them on the Bat's rogue list.

"We've been meaning to investigate the Fentons properly anyways," Dick pointed out.

Bruce attempted to massage a headache out of his temples. The stuff his kids stumbled into, really. But Damian was right. If his classmate was a new meta with no support, it was only a matter of time before the rogues zeroed in on him, and since his family lived there, he couldn't tell the kid to leave.

"I'm not saying yes just yet, but talk to him. Find out any more that you can."

"Of course, Father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny finally felt like he was getting the hang of his ghost powers. He was pleasantly surprised, and also mildly horrified, that his parents' inventions actually worked on the ghosts he was now beginning to fight regularly. His favorite was by far the thermos, which did no ghost mutilating whatsoever.

He discovered he had a ghost sense and enhanced hearing and vision, which was cool and all, but now he could hear all the shitty things his classmates said about him behind his back. Which, rude! He didn't even talk to them, what did they have to be shitty about?

He also noticed that one of them, Damian Wayne, had been watching him. From what Danny had heard, Damian was the richest kid in school, a Wayne. Son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, to be exact. And his attitude reflected that. His standoffish, holier than thou rich guy attitude made Dash and Paulina look like they lived below the poverty line. Apparently, he generally didn't talk to anyone at school unless it pertained to class, so Danny saw no point in introducing himself.

That made it extra weird that Damian was following him.

It was right after lunch when a hiccup had a cold breath tumbling from his lips. He raised his hand and asked his teacher if he could use the restroom. He made his way to the bathroom on the other side of the building this time, hoping it would be too out of the way for Damian to follow. But soft rustling of his classmate's school uniform gave him away, no matter how imperceptible his footsteps were.

When he entered the restroom, he made his way to the sink instead, splashing some cold water on his face as Damian walked in behind him loudly as if announcing his presence.

"I know what you've been doing," he said confidently, crossing his arms and standing in front of the door so Danny couldn't leave.

"Oh, hey! Damian, right? I'm in most of your classes, but I don't think I've ever introduced myself. I'm-"

"Daniel Fenton, I know. You've been fighting ghosts." Damian had to give him at least a little credit; he'd become a great actor over the last week. Though, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he probably didn't feel safe at home anymore.

"My parents are ghost hunters, but I don't think shooting a ghost in the face with a lipstick laser then running for my life counts as 'fighting ghosts'."

"Tt. You are lying."

"Dude, what are-?" Danny cut himself off when his words came with another misty breath. Crap! He'd taken too long!

The ghost of the day, an ugly, mutated, bird looking thing with claws at the ends of its wings and a full set of dangerous, pointed teeth, phased through the door behind Damian, poised to strike.

Without warning, Danny grabbed Damian's wrist and whipped him out of the way, throwing himself between the two. A green shield formed in front of him just as the bird slashed at them with one of its wings.

"Well, that's new," he said startled as the bird geared up for another attack.

Danny groaned at his miserable luck before throwing caution to the wind and transforming. He'd just have to force friendship upon one Damian Wayne in an attempt to keep him from telling anyone about his whole magical girl transformation. He tried to activate his shield again, but when nothing happened, he was flung across the room into the wall. God, this was embarrassing.

The next time the ghost tried to attack him, Damian yanked him aside in a dodge and bolted out of the bathroom with Danny in tow. He was dragged through the winding halls to one of the side exits of the school. In costume or not, Damian's priority was luring the ghost away from the other students.

"Hey, so uh, you won't say anything about this," he gestured wildly to himself, "will you?"

"Tt. Of course not, but I believe you have more important concerns at the moment."

“Right!” Danny patted at the sides of his hazmat suit. “Crap, I left my thermos in my locker!” He dodged another attack and retaliated with an ectoblast, trying to keep the ghost's attention off of Damian as much as possible.

"Your lunch? Really?" Damian shouted. Dang, Danny must have been doing a decent job if Damian had the spare time and attention to be exasperated with him.

"No! It's a containment device! Besides, ghosts are basically soup anyway!"

"Distract it," Damian instructed, "I'll retrieve the device." The boy took off. Danny had to wonder how he even knew where his locker was. The ghost tried to follow him, but Danny shot another blast at it.

"Hey ugly, auditioning to be one of Gotham's Birds? Sorry, but you don't really look the part." He had no idea if the creature could even understand him, but the way it turned to him and lunged again suggested it had done the trick. This time, his shield did work!

Danny could have cried tears of joy at finally having some consistency with it. The next few minutes of the fight felt like an eternity while he dodged and shot ectoblasts at it. The creature wasn't really that strong, and it didn't seem to have super dangerous abilities like some of the other ghosts he'd fought like Skulker or Technus. It ended up being a great opportunity to practice his new shield ability, actually. But he knew the longer he took, the more danger his classmates would be in.

The bird ghost slammed into his shield with a particularly vicious strike, slamming him into the ground and creating a small crater.

"Note to self, remember intangibility," Danny groaned.

In that moment he noticed a door opening on the school building. It was Damian! He was finally back with thermos in hand! Unfortunately, the other ghost noticed too.

"Oh no you don't!" Danny yelled, latching onto one of its feet as it tried to fly toward his classmate. He dug his fingers in hard and sunk into the ground partway to anchor himself.

"Big green button by the lid then the button immediately below it!"

Damian wasted no time popping the lid open and sucking the ghost into the device, the lid closing with a quiet pop. He had to admit, though the design was questionable, it was sturdy, light, and very clearly effective. He wondered if he could get away with sneaking off with this one to have drake examine later.

"That was some incredible timing, thanks." The ghostly form of his classmate floated over to him, taking the thermos from his hand. Damian did not pout.

"We should probably get out of here before the Fenton's show up." He could already hear the screech of tires and his dad's voice over the megaphone tearing through the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry honey, we'll catch that nasty ghost boy next time," Jack Fenton comforted his wife. True to form, the Fenton's had arrived to the scene late, and most of the damage to the school yard had been from their vehicle crashing into things upon their arrival. Parents had been called and classes ended for the day, which was how one Bruce Wayne found himself at Gotham Academy trying to help the teachers talk the two down from storming and searching the school.

His son was standing off to the side with one of his classmates. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, lanky frame; Bruce could have mistaken the child for one of his own, but looking between the hulking man in front of him and the kid standing next to Damian, the resemblance was obvious. That had to be Daniel Fenton, the meta his son had told him about. Which meant he'd been the one to deal with the ghost before anyone else had gotten there. The classmate Damian had suggested they recruit for his safety.

"Danno, did you see where that spook went? When I get my hands on him, I'll rip him apart molecule by molecule for even thinking of attacking your school!" Bruce saw Daniel's breath hitch with fear.

"Sorry, no. I was coming back from the bathroom when I saw him fighting another ghost through the window. I was scared so I hid," he lied, gripping his left wrist while he spoke.

Bruce was impressed. The boy's fear was real, and he used that to his advantage to really sell the lie to his parents. His heart ached for him. He couldn't imagine seeing any of his boys looking at him like that, with such fear and distrust.

"That's okay sweetie, we'll get him next time. We're just happy you're alright. Let's get you home," his mother comforted, though Bruce knew it wasn't very comforting at all.

"Yeah, we'll teach you to use the Fenton Bazooka," well that was horrifying, "that way next time you can just blast him!" Danny wanted literally anything else.

"Actually," Damian interrupted politely. "We were assigned a project in class earlier on the history of Gotham. As Daniel is relatively new to town, I offered to assist him with the assignment. Father, would it be acceptable for him to join us for dinner?"

Bruce would have been incredibly surprised his son was inviting someone over for dinner if he didn't see exactly what he was doing. Daniel wasn't safe at home. And he clearly wasn't comfortable with the way his parents spoke of the 'ghost boy'. If his defeated expression was anything to go by, it hadn't been the first time they'd said something like that, nor would it be the last.

"What do you think, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton? We'd love if Daniel could join us for dinner."

"Please, call us Maddie and Jack. That sounds wonderful Mr..."

"Wayne. Bruce Wayne, I'm Damian's father," he introduced. If the two recognized the name, they didn't show it. It worked out rather well in his favor.

"Mr. Wayne. If its not too much trouble, that would be wonderful. It's about time he made a new friend, he's been sulking since the move. Now, we have a ghost to catch!" Maddie planted a kiss on Danny's forehead, leaning her blaster on her shoulder as her and her husband made their way back to the homemade assault vehicle parked haphazardly on the lawn of the school.

"Be sure to call us if you plan on staying the night! We'll let Jazz know she doesn't have to worry about dinner for you! We love you, have fun sweetie!"

"Are they always like that?" Damian asked after the two had pulled away. How had those two even gotten their driver's license? It was truly abysmal, he dreaded the thought of anyone getting into a vehicle with them. And then there was the speed in which they'd dumped their son into their laps, even suggesting they'd be okay with him not coming home that night.

"They mean well, but yeah," Danny replied, heaving a sad and defeated sigh. "Thank you, by the way. For inviting me over, even if you didn't mean it. They can be a bit much."

"Clearly," Damian mused back.

Bruce watched the two interact and felt pride well up in his chest. Meeting the Fenton parents just once was enough to convince him that their son needed help, maybe even their daughter too. That Damian had taken the initiative to bring this to his attention, that he had stood up for Danny and offered his home as a sanctuary for him, made him so incredibly proud as a father. He wasn't as prickly with Danny the way he was with other people, even his own siblings. That was a very good thing indeed, considering it was looking more and more likely this would end with another adoption.

Maybe Clark was right, he did have an adoption problem.

[sabos-husband]

★ I Love You, I'm Sorry

Portgas D. Ace x Reader ★

Marineford Spoilers!! ~ Pirate Captain!Reader ~ Gender Neutral ~ Angst

Ace promised you he'd be home after he fought Blackbeard. He held your hands in his own, and smiled his bright smile. You never doubted him for a second.

Ace promised you.

He promised.

Home was a group of islands you rotated between to meet every other month, where both your crew and the Whitebeard Pirates would dock to "restock" while you two ran off to spend your day.

It was the last time you met that he told you of what Blackbeard had done. Fratricide, Ace told you, is what he had committed. Blackbeard had murdered a sworn brother—Whitebeard's sworn son—in pursuit of the Dark-Dark fruit. Ace's expression was steely as he spoke of it.

As a pirate, you understood the gravity of Blackbeard's crime. As a lover... you couldn't tell him your fears. And you didn't, in the end. It was too suffocating to put into words.

You spent the rest of the day as you usually would, but his words sat in the back of your mind.

Tucked away in a corner of the forest that reminded Ace of his childhood, you couldn't hide from your thoughts. The steady warmth of his side pressed against yours did little to soothe your fears.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, Ace buried his face against your neck. You lace your fingers with his.

"You know I love you, right?" You ask quietly. He kisses the spot under your ear.

Ace promised you he'd come home, you told yourself, and Ace never breaks his promises. He'd rather die.

~

He did, in the end.

You didn't hesitate to answer Whitebeard's call for allies. You and your crew burst from the sea alongside the rest of Ace's family. You watched as his little brother—Luffy, the little brother he'd go on and on about—struck like a star through the night sky. You stormed the Marine grounds.

You watched Ace's father die, proclaiming every pirate's dream.

You watched your lover die in his little brother's arms.

Now, you can barely remember what happened after.

It comes in bursts, holding you captive during the longest hours of night. You remember standing against waves and waves of heat radiating from lava. You remember hitting with all you got and getting hit with twice as much.

You remember his little brother carried away to a yellow sub, cradled in the arms of another pirate.

You remember a little pink-haired boy, tears running down his face and arms thrown out in front of him, arguing—no, pleading maybe—for marine and pirate lives. You would've admired it if there was any part in your heart free of despair.

You remember the red-haired emperor parting the tide of marines and pirates, the only thing holding the smoldering, sweltering heat from swallowing the battlefield up.

You remember being the one to pick up Ace's body, fleeting heat leaving him colder than you've ever known, and carrying him. Holding him for the last time.

You remember sailing away.

~

After the battle, you go to Ace's grave. A day out of every other month, actually. You've seen almost everyone there is to see.

Marco comes the most frequently—he might have you beat, honestly.

He's made friends with the locals and takes care of them. When he isn't sharing the silence with you, the two of you are swapping stories about either Ace or life on the sea. It's nice.

Garp has come twice.

The first was a few days after Ace's burial, with bruises high on his cheek and blood still on his lip. The second was two months after that. He refused to meet your eye and got up from in front of Ace's grave the moment he felt your presence.

Luffy hasn't visited, but you don't fault him.

For the longest time, you didn't know if he was alive or dead. Now, you've seen all his adventures in the newspapers left under the three tiny, beaten cups meant for sake.

They're left there by a blonde, scarred revolutionary, who doesn't speak much to you but always has time to talk when you ask. He's starved for every minute you have of stories about Ace as a pirate, and he repays you with stories about Ace as a child.

There are more—members of the crew Ace used to be the captain of swing by often, some islands have boatfuls of civilians that come just to say hi—than you could ever count.

He was so, so loved. Every person you see in front of his grave takes your breath away.

One day, just about two years after Ace's death, there's a woman you've never seen before.

An orange-haired woman sits slumped on the grass, strong shoulders bowed in front of Ace's grave. You don't quite recognize her—you asked earlier, but the locals don't really recognize her either—before you spot the thick, red beads strung around her neck. It matches the beads hooked over Ace's grave.

Your grip on the sake almost slips, but you hold strong enough for it not to crash to the ground. You walk quietly, but the woman straightens her back and you know she's heard you.

"Hello, ma'am," you say as you kneel. You're nervous, despite yourself. You bow your head. "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm-... I was- was Ace's l-lover."

She snorts. "You don't need to do that shit with me. I know what you two are—raised the li'l shit."

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly, you realize, this is Dadan. Ace had shown you a beat up photo of her before showing off the necklace he had swiped from her right as he left home at 17.

"I know," you say as you raise your head. She raises an eyebrow.

"Ace talked about me?"

"He talked about all of you in Grey Terminal. Well, after a little while." You let out a dry laugh. "It took a couple dates before he told me about his family."

Dadan looks away. You uncork the sake you brought and offer it to her. She takes it and takes a long drink. "He was a brat."

You laugh, averting your eyes to properly greet your boyfriend. "He mentioned that."

"Mm." Dadan passed back the bottle, to which you took your own sip. She rubs her face. "Raised him an' his brothers." You both don't comment on the waver in her voice. "Garp didn't bother to take me here himself, the bastard. Said marines shouldn't step foot on yonko territory, even if they're dead."

You nod your head, pouring some of the alcohol on the soil. It's his favorite brand. You don't comment on when you'd seen Garp as you pass it back. "Then who did?"

Dadan huffs. "Hopped a few ships. Made me feel young again." She takes another drink and nurses the bottle. Seas, the grief ages her. Mourning's carved deep lines in her face—though, you doubt you look much better. "You?"

You looked away. "Um, I'm a pirate. My crew and I v-visit every now and again."

The older woman nods. She motions to pass it back, but you shake your head. She sets the bottle down next to the tiny sake cups.

The conversation fizzles out, but then again, you didn't expect it to last. You bow your head to Whitebeard's grave. It's one way to meet the parents, you muse bitterly.

Ace had promised to introduce his family to you, someday. He promised you late into the night, some time between the moon's peak and sunrise.

If only he could see you now.

You miss him so, so much.

[pooks]

Ichiji was beyond pissed off at this dumb Davy Back fight.

First off, the shitty raft he, Luffy and Sanji were on broke. He told his captain that it wouldn't hold. Secondly, he's gotten whisked away by Foxy's idiotic pirate crew as their "prize".

He hated the Foxy Pirates. He hated the stupid, fake-cute woman on his crew. He hated the fake as fuck announcer and he hated this pathetic motherfucker to pirate captain Silver fucking Foxy.

And now these idiots wanted him to pledge his loyalty?

Oh ho...oh ho ho ho ho...

They had no idea who they were messing with.

"Give me that." He said and snatched a den-den mushi megaphone. He walked to the front of this "stage" and looked ahead of the massive crowd. Among them, he saw his real crew and he saw Sanji.

No one could make him pledge his loyalty to anyone else than the one he loved most.

"I pledge to..."

Everyone kept their breaths. Scarlet Ichiji, the recently risen pirate with a bounty on 40 million berries and mysterious powers that was not from a devil fruit...what would he say?

Ichiji then gave a wicked grin, like a serial murderer had just caught the scent of blood and found their new victim. "To slice the neck of anyone who says that I should abandon my precious little brother, whom I have bled out for!"

He turned his head around and smirked at Foxy, who had gone pale white and started to cold sweat. "I am Scarlet, Foxy. I am a DEVIL compared to my dear little brother. To forfeit my title as his big brother is to forfeit my life. So I DON'T PLEDGE LOYALTY TO YOU. I shall wait until the end of these games for my execution since I don't accept you as my new captain. Suck a lemon."

He was instantly booed by every single Foxy Pirate.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Sanji stood there, frozen with a widened eye. "AAARGH! SHITTY BROTHER WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!" He screamed angrily. He didn't want to see his older brother forfeit his life and if they lost...if they lost, then he would die!

Luffy laughed and clapped his hands. "That's right, Ichiji! You're my archivist!"

"HE'S GONNA DIE IF WE LOSE THE NEXT TWO GAMES!" Nami shrieked at him. "Ichiji! Don't be stupid! Just go ahead and pledge loyalty for that moron! Don't throw away your life for nothing!"

"It won't be for nothing if it means Sanji lives!" Ichiji shouted at her, pissed off that she still didn't understand a thing about his bond to his little brother. "I

Usopp was tear-eyed and sniffed. "What a model big brother...Ichiji, you're such a man..." He rubbed his eyes. "Damn it, Sanji! You're so lucky!"

'Not so lucky if we lose the next two games.' Zoro thought to himself and glanced at the cook without moving his head. Sanji looked as if he was close to a panic-induced anxiety attack, biting on his nails and looked generally distressed. He couldn't let that happen.

"Ichiji..." Chopper sniffled, hugging Sanji's leg.

'If we lose...' Nami narrowed her eyes.

'The next two games...' Robin thought.

"Sanji/I will see Ichiji being executed!" Everyone's thoughts echoed in union, not that they knew it.

'No regrets.' Ichiji smirked to himself.

There was no way his captain would let that happen.

Perhaps not the most ideal solution, but if it gives some his captain motivation...then he'll do everything he can to take him back before his pending doom.

'Kick his ass, captain.'

[stellewriites]

my silver tongue, your golden eyes

female space pirate!gaz x reader

“let me go and we can forget all about this,” you bargained, voice shakier than you’d have preferred given the situation.

you were cornered down a dark alley and a wild-eyed man blocked the other end, slowly making his way closer, panting and grinning as he too noticed your predicament. trapped.

you’d incorrectly deemed him an easy mark and slipped your hand in his bag before disappearing - or so you’d thought.

the man had given chase quicker than anticipated and was faster than his broad frame indicated he would be, but you were faster, if only because you knew the area well and had the best shortcuts memorised. you’d known what direction you needed to head in to lose him, but the hairs on the back of your neck had raised several times during the escape and sent you in opposite directions instinctively; you must have slipped up when getting turned around and taken a wrong turn at some point leading you to this dead end.

the wall behind you was too high for you to climb but you didn’t back yourself flat against it either even as the threat loomed closer, you left room just in case you became desperate enough to try and scale it and needed the small run up.

“give me what you stole,” the man said, a scottish lilt dragging his words long and low. he held out his hand and curled his fingers in a come hither motion.

“think you’ll remember i gave that back earlier in our little chase back that way,” you nodded over his shoulder. the golden sphere - the map - was heavy and you’d thrown it at his head to try and lose his tail when he’d gotten a hair too close. he’d ducked out of the way, but hesitated chasing you to look back at where it landed, which gave you a leg up in the hunt. he didn’t stop to pick it up, like you’d hoped, but a few seconds was better than nothing.

and losing the star map wasn’t a total loss, it was one of many like it and it hadn’t been what you were after anyway. what went inside and where that could lead you was what made it worth anything.

“aye, almost took mah other eye out,” he said with a huff of a laugh, his fingertips pulled at the thin skin under his left eye to reveal more of the bionic replacement. solid, smooth gold until it flickered to your right for a moment and revealed the edge of the grey steel inner workings.

you took a half step back as he continued to steadily gain ground.

“so you’ll remember i don’t have what you want,” you insisted hotly taking another step.

you froze at the feeling of a blaster press against your ribs; it was a familiar enough feeling that you knew not to continue to run your mouth for a minute. the heat of the muzzle singed your jacket as its power core surged and bubbled - ready to use. it would’ve been burning against your skin, you had the scars to prove it, but was just uncomfortable through your current layers.

a soft, female voice hummed in your ear. “let’s not play dumb now, eh, beautiful?”

you shifted carefully to look over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of dark eyes and a sparkling smile.

“listen, i dont know what you think i took—“

“this-“ she reached over your shoulder and down your loosely tied shirt, her chilly fingers brushing along your cleavage until she pulled out the small vial you’d stored between your breasts as you’d ran. “-is what im after.”

she held the vial over your shoulder so it was in view of all three of you; small, hexagonal and full of what looked like white sand - stardust from the planet you were desperate to get to. she let out a heavy, breathy chuckle against your ear and you shuddered as her warm breath fanned down your neck and over your exposed collarbone. your skin prickled pleasantly and you snarled at the cocky smirk on the man’s face opposite you.

“she’s got quick fingers, gaz,” the man said.

“hm. my type of woman.” gaz pushed the blaster further into your side until you winced. “don’t think i’ve forgiven her yet though. march. follow him.”

“no funny business, lass,” he called out as he led the way out of the dank alleyway, looking both ways as he peeked around the brick before waving you both forward. he continued to talk over his shoulder. “i saw the way ye favour yer right side. don’t even think a’ using that leg canon.”

gaz knocked her ring clad knuckles against your left thigh and grinned when it echoed back a dull clang.

“you don’t have to do this. i can be on my way, you’ll never see me again,” you tried to bargain with lies again as she ducked close to hide the gun plastered to your side and to keep you from slipping out of their grasp between the busy crowds on the way back to the dock.

“s’funny, you seem to be under the impression im asking. that’s my fault,” she tsk’d. “you are coming with us, gorgeous. the only question is are you gonna come easy or am i going to have to carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

you swallowed thickly and didn’t think about that proposition for too long lest it distracted you. her arms were bare, muscles on show given her well worn waistcoat and lack of shirt, so you had no doubt she’d at least attempt to carry you. but you had more pressing matters to think about at that moment.

as you passed the smaller crews and walked up to her docked ship your heels began to dig in, reality setting in like a punch to the gut as you took in the size of it.

these were no run of the mill, petty criminals you’d crossed paths with.

“johnny, go check on the cargo, see how much is left to store,” gaz ordered and the man, johnny, jogged ahead.

no, you thought with growing panic. going by the amount of masts you could count and the dark sails tied to them, the size of the engines rumbling softly to keep the ship stationary, and the busy crew heading up and down the floating ramp, you’d fucked over a pretty important pirate.

you prided yourself on keeping your ear to the ground and knowing the biggest players in the game, and yet this woman matched no description or wanted poster you’d come across.

it worried you. the unknown was trickier to traverse and talk your way out of than even the worst of pirates you’d stumbled into.

“this is yours?” you asked as gaz kicked at your feet, getting you moving quicker again as johnny practically skipped up the ramp, a big grin splitting his face as he bumped shoulders with a behemoth of a man carrying a large crate.

“mm. for the time being,” she said noncommittally as you boarded the ship.

the crew, an amalgamation of all kinds of species, nodded to her as she passed by with you in tow, but you kept your head ducked low to avoid further confrontation.

she sat you down on the steps leading to the helm of the ship and raised an eyebrow at you when you huffed and glared at the rough treatment.

“spit it out then, good looking, how do you know about the map and the key?” she asked, blaster still held loosely in her hand, though hanging by her side and no longer actively aimed at you.

you eyed up the route back to the dock, you could try to sprint it but it wouldn’t be a clean run.

she snapped her fingers in front of your face. flinching your gaze back up to her you sighed through your nose at her unimpressed stare.

“my brother,” you started reluctantly. your eyes drifted without permission, flighty and nervous as your gaze trailed over her form, the ship, the crates and crew, the deep sky opposite the direction of the dock. “he joined a crew that were boasting about it in our home town. said they were looking for new crew members to search for it and share the wealth.”

gaz snorted and you looked down, embarrassed, tensing your jaw.

“it was a long time ago, we were both young. he didn’t know any better, just wanted to give us a better chance,” you whispered defensively. “but he never wrote. and he promised he would.”

“so you’re trying to find him,” gaz finished off for you, nodding along.

“for years i’ve followed the rumours, stories i thought maybe could be him, and they brought me here. i hoped i’d maybe bump into him along the way, hear his name spoken at least.”

“have you?”

“no.” you laughed, an empty and self deprecating sound. “i don’t even know what he looks like anymore.”

gaz looked you up and down, pausing for a moment back on your face as her own expression grew contrite.

“fuck it, it’s what cap would do,” she mumbled to herself. she tucked her blaster back into its holster. “right. you’ve convinced me; i’ll bring you along if you do as your told.”

you shook your head, a frown creasing your forehead.

“i’m fine on my own, i don’t want to owe you anything,” you protested.

“too late for that, handsome, you already stole from me once.” she cupped your chin with a grin and bent at the waist to lean close. “you’ll have to make it up to me to get back in my good graces, yeah?”

you yanked your chin out of her loose hold and shoved at her shoulder with both arms while her centre of gravity was off, tipping her into an unsuspecting crew-mate that was walking by.

in a flash you were up and running across the deck, a fierce grimace on your face as you slipped by the others, too late to realise they needed to stop you.

a hand around your wrist yanked you to a stop mere feet from the ramp and you swung back blindly, instinctively, hitting johnny squarely in the nose and managing to escape his grip.

“fucking— sweet mary and joseph!”

you stumbled back and twisted to get a good running start again, but you’d barely made two steps before you came face to face with the behemoth you’d spotted with johnny earlier.

though face to face wasn’t accurate; carrying a large crate in his arms, he unfolded his second pair from his sides to clothesline you without dropping the crate and sent you sprawling at his feet with a wheezing cough.

you blinked the stars from your eyes and rolled onto your side to try and ease the pain and struggle to pull a breath back into your empty lungs.

“good job, ghost,” you heard gaz say as she strolled up to stand over you. you were tempted to spit at her boots, but you couldn’t suck in the breath necessary to send the spit flying. instead you wheezed in a thin breath and looked up; wishing you hadn’t when she flashed that insufferably bright and smug grin. “i think we’ll have fun, you and me,” she said. “if price were here he’d have liked you too.”

“liked knocking some manners into her maybe,” ghost grunted before heading off to pile the crate with the rest. you didn’t see him stop by johnny’s side first, one hand reaching up to chuck his chin to check the damage or the pleased little smile he gave under the tied handkerchief as you hacked a racking cough as you tried sitting up.

gaz smiled placidly and squatted to your level.

“he’s right. you’re lucky we’ve not found him yet or you’d be dealing with more than a few bruises and the wind knocked out of ya for that.” she tilted her head and smiled a little weakly. “who knows, maybe he’s with your brother right now. seems like the kind of luck i’d have.”

she grabbed you non too gently by the elbow and pulled you up, practically dragging you to the captain’s room as you struggled to gain your footing. she slapped your back once and you sucked in a wet breath, then she rubbed your back soothingly over your jacket and shirt and closed the door to the private room behind you.

through watery eyes you looked at the half used room; the bed a mess of unmade sheets but the clothing drawers and chests seemingly unopened and untouched.

she pushed you down next to the desk while you were distracted and you hissed.

“stop pushing me around,” you huffed. she smirked.

“be good and sit still on that ample arse of yours,” she mumbled and opened a drawer in the desk. she rooted around and when she came up empty she opened a second drawer before finding what she was after with a small, ah hah!

before you could ask her what she wanted, she had cuffed your wrist to the closest leg of the desk.

you rattled the thick iron cuff and squirmed at her feet.

“couldn’t get the comfier set?” you complained, rubbing at the soft skin of your wrist beneath the rusting metal.

johnny and ghost walked in and you glared automatically, embarrassment at your position heating your cheeks. ghost ignored you but johnny, with dark, dried blood smeared under his nose and dribbled down his chin and neck, scowled back at you.

“laser ones cost, lovely,” gaz answered half distractedly as she cleared a space on the desk. “those can’t be so easily cracked open either. can’t imagine you have a lock pick in your boot but i know something in that leg of yours could disrupt weak little laser cuffs. i’ll let you go later, the key’s somewhere in here.” she tapped the desk.

gaz didn’t wait for you to reply and pulled the map key from her own hidden pocket and nodded at ghost to set the metal ball down on the desk. once he’d put it down, he leant over the desk with two hands flat on the wood and the other two on his hips. they ignored you, sat below them, and the angle you’d been chained meant you couldn’t subtly look to see what they were doing.

gaz pushed the hexagonal tube into the aligning hole in the spherical map, watching as it began to turn on its own as it got sucked in deeper to the centre. eventually only the cap was visible and it laid perfectly flat against the rest of the metal, imperceptible as a separate piece.

they waited a moment with baited breath and you watched gaz’s expression to gauge what was happening.

you heard the map click and a flash of blue light flickered over her soft face; you heard johnny swear.

“cursed skies above,” he rumbled with a gasp. “is that—?”

“yeah, i think so.” gaz nodded faintly.

“and you think he got there himself?” ghost asked. “without the key?”

“if price will be anywhere, its there,” gaz said firmly. her hand lifted delicately to pass through the light of the 3D map floating between them. her fingers danced along the plotted stars, the route they’d need to take to find john. “key or not, i know in my bones that’s where we’ll find him.”

ghost nodded and straightened up as johnny continued to stare at the map dancing along gaz’s hand before she dropped it and firmed her shoulders.

“we set off at the next toll of the bell. get the crew ready,” gaz said.

“aye, cap,” the pair of them answered, synchronised. you saw how gaz winced at the title but she nodded nonetheless.

you shut your slack mouth with a clack when she looked down at you.

“ready for an adventure, pretty?”

[shitouttabuck]

throw a bone, i’m finally home

buck/eddie | 17.9k | rated e

for @colonoscopys; i love you like a dog 2: christmas boogaloo

The clothes are still heaped over the duvet messily, but the suitcase, the massive cross-country-move-sized suitcase, is open and in the centre of the room, and Buck is sitting sadly inside it. “Oh, Buck,” Eddie says softly, torn between unbearable fondness and an ache that threatens to crack his breastbone. Buck’s endless legs are pretzeled tight, criss-crossed and tucked under him where he’s squeezed himself into the suitcase. He barely fits—he’s curled himself uncomfortably small and his knees are indented by the zipper teeth on either end. He looks at Eddie, bottom lip pink and chewed to hell as he tries very valiantly to hold in a pout. “Eddie, I—” he starts, and then cuts himself off, looking at the clothes on the bed and chewing his lip some more. “Baby,” Eddie says, “do you wanna come with us?”

or, home for the holidays is a person, not a place, and a puppy can be for christmas and forever

read on ao3

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[brokenheartwithheartbreak]

Fuck It Friday, or whatever the kids are saying these days

"You should get this reissued." Liam says, eventually, when Theo's down to the dregs of his drink, mostly just half melted ice left in the bottom of the cup. Liam's feet are still on the dash and Theo hasn't pushed them down. The beta waves Theo's ID, brandishing it like a flag before tossing it next to his wallet. "Y'know, with your actual birthday."

Theo huffs, "I don't think they issue student cards to drop outs."

Liam twists in his seat, genuine surprise flaring across his face, eyebrows almost in his hairline. Theo blinks back, impassive, trying not to be bothered by this, to make his peace with not being able to have this one, stupid thing. In the grand scheme of everything he is, a graduation hardly seems important, hardly seems like it should matter at all - he only went back to highschool to get close to Scott, to the pack - but it does, it sits under his skin like one of the many poisoned barbs growing in his bones and every time he has to think about what he's missed, what was taken from him with those four months in hell, it wraps a little tighter around his throat.

"You're not coming back to school, after summer?" Liam gawps, seems genuinely confused. Theo pins him with a very patient, very tired kind of a look.

"I disappeared for four months, Liam. Can't exactly tell the office where I was, can I?" And yeah, his voice comes out bitter, words twisted with the sour feeling that sits in his gut whenever he thinks too long about a clammy hand wrapping around his ankle, dragging him down through broken concrete while they stood there and watched, while Deucalion and Gerard and all the others Scott has spared over the years stood over their shoulders and mocked him, foolish little boy, cast out by his creators, betrayed by who he thought was an ally, dismissed as a threat by a flick of a wrist and the glow of a spiritual sword.

"Yeah, well, they've hired like six different teachers who all turned out to be killers or monsters of some kind, a guidance councilor who went all wack and started hunting highschoolers, and I'm pretty sure Lydia's mom abuses her power way more than she lets on." Liam's looking at him like he thinks Theo is a little bit stupid, arms folded loosely over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle where they're propped on the dash. Theo swallows, blinks away the afterimages of Deucalion standing over him in that tunnel, smug and self righteous after breaking a teenager's neck.

"I think we can probably talk them into letting you re-take Senior year."

And that. Yeah, that takes him off guard, punches a short little breath from him, because he hadn't considered that as being even a possibility. He failed, failed his mission and at being a student, both, at the same time. That chapter is over and he's got nothing to show for it. His schooling history is patchy at best, not that the paperwork Beacon Hills has on file says as much, but this feels important, somehow, some shred of normalcy, something so intrinsically normal small town kid it makes his chest ache because he wasn't entirely lying when he told Stiles 'I still need to graduate' and he does his best not to let that show on his face, in the near-whisper that falls from his lips, "Oh."

Liam laughs a little, not in an unkind way, reaches over to take the mostly-empty milkshake cup from Theo's lax fingers and tips a handful of ice straight into his mouth, talks around it a second later. "You really have no idea how the school system works, do you?

Theo leans back into his seat, tries to find his footing again, kind of hates how Liam keeps pulling the damn rug out from under him, has him stumbling blind and drunk down a winding hallway he's a little afraid to find the end of. "It wasn't really a priority in my private curriculum, no."

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

Police sirens.

There was red and blue flashing against the white of the house, the Curtis brothers all stood outside on the grass, holding onto each other as the police asked questions and checked inside the home.

Just a few moments before, Soda had done a full turn-around and grabbed the things he left at the DX meant for Ponyboy. That poor kitten, nearly abandoned and howling just as loud as Ponyboy was on the phone earlier.

Soda wasn't no snitch, of course he didn't tell the fuzz what had happened to his brother. Ponyboy was sick. That's all they needed to worry about. He really wanted to though. God, if only.

Ponyboy's poor hair. Rebleached, and a mess. Darry and Soda had both looked him over a number of times. The kid was in ruins, looking just as bad at the day he came home from that damn church.

It was a different kind of bad. The type where you could tell he didn't lose someone else, but he lost himself. It tore Soda's heart to shreds seeing him like that all over again.

There wasn't a scratch on him. Not physically, at least. But Soda was being driven crazy over the fact Ponyboy probably just had another traumatic 9 hours added onto his life's story and Soda wasn't even there to do anything.

He should've left work earlier.

The cops finished up around the place, leaving the brothers to clean themselves up. Nothing from the house had been taken. Nothing had been moved. There was minimal signs of someone tampering with the window. A spilled drink on the floor—only water, thankfully.

“We're gonna get you inside and fix you right up, okay Ponyboy?” Darry was holding Ponyboy up, clutching him under his arm like a mother bird using a wing to protect her baby.

Ponyboy was still crying and crying, you would think he'd run out of tears by now. He just blubbered out a real tiny "okay."

Soda had been sobbing too. He hadn't even realized until he felt the tears drop onto his clenched fists.

He didn't notice the pain coming from his fingers digging into his palm either until then. “Christ...” He swore under his breath.

For once, Soda felt stuck. He couldn't run away, he couldn't do anything. He had been talking about running away all day, and this seemed like the one time he couldn't.

He should've punched Mark Jennings. He should've talked to Steve. He should've called Ace and Elisabeth.

But he didn't. He felt so stuck because he was right in the middle of the chaos. Like a wreckless dog in a cage. Snipping one second, whining the next. Begging for some kind of attention.

Soda came back to when he felt the pain in his hands again. He had punched a hole into the wall of the bathroom. He stared hard at his hands.

Darry was yelling something at him, the ringing in his ears making it hard to process anything. He just looked at him.

He felt the tears falling down his cheeks again. Seemed like all he could feel tonight was his own tears and blood.

“Darry...” Soda whispered, his voice warbling as he turned to him. He nearly broke his fucking hand. Both of them, apparently.

“Glory, Soda.” Darry whispered back, grabbing his brother's hands and staring at the blood on his knuckles. Bruises already blooming colors, looking like some kind of sea-sick sunset on the back of his hands.

...How many times had he punched the wall?

In a blink, night time had already passed. He could hardly focus when he was angry, and it left him in a new place again.

Ponyboy was sent to their shared room just a couple hours earlier, he was "off duty" for the rest of the week, Darry named it.

Off duty was just a funny phrase for "being called out sick".

The kitten had made it's way to Ponyboy some way, Soda didn't have any memory of giving it to him. But it was on the bed with both of them.

Soda was hardly able to sleep. He blamed it on the cat, knowing fully well it wasn't. The cat was actually making him more tired, ironically enough.

He had too much stuff on his mind. It was going to drive him crazy trying to sleep after the day he's had. He couldn't be surprised, but he wasn't exactly happy about it either.

“Soda?” Ponyboy interrupted his thoughts with a soft voice, leaning in close to Soda so he could talk easier.

Soda hummed a response, his eyebrows flinching up before relaxing again to let Ponyboy know he was listening. “Yeah, Pone?”

It was real quiet again for a moment, before Ponyboy's voice cracked with an “Are you mad at me?”

He hiccuped, Ponyboy was crying again.

Soda opened his eyes and turned to him. “No. Not one bit, Ponyboy.” He put a hand on Pony's cheek, bumping foreheads with him very delicately. He knew Ponyboy was nauseous, he didn't wanna clunk heads with him and make it worse. “Not at all.”

Ponyboy sniffled. He was still out of it, Soda could see it on his face. God, the poor thing.

“...Is Steve mad at you?” It felt inappropriate to ask, but Ponyboy had better things to worry about than making his brother feel awkward.

Soda stared, head still pressed against Pony's. He kind of shrugged, not really knowing how to reply. “I don't think so.”

“Oh... well. I'm mad at Steve.” Ponyboy nodded, before moving away from being under Soda's hand.

Soda dropped his hand in between their faces, letting it sit there idly. “Oh yeah? Why's that?” He smiled a bit.

Ponyboy rubbed his eyes, immediately regretting the motion and pulling away his own hands from his face with a grimace.

“...Because he's stupid.” He was holding his fists out awkwardly, stretching his fingers and then clasping them again. The feeling of... everything. It was weird to Ponyboy whilst he was high.

Soda giggled. “What? Stevie's real smart. Smarter than me.” He was eyeing Ponyboy's motions, frowning slightly as he recognized the discomfort.

Ponyboy mumbled, sighing. “...Well, maybe in some areas.”

“Oh, c'mon– you ain't supposed to agree with me.” Soda laughed, shoving Ponyboy lightly, before immediately apologizing.

Ponyboy groaned and readjusted again, holding his breath for a second to reduce nausea before he exhaled again. He mumbled something to Soda, his voice was so quiet though, even Soda couldn't hear half of what he said.

Soda just nodded, humming. “I can't stop him from doing whatever he wants. It's not like we're– y'know.”

Ponyboy shook his head. “I know, but...” He placed his hand on the kitten, who had crawled it's way around them both and behind Ponyboy. “I think he kind of wants you to.” He put the kitten between them.

Soda just stared at the kitten, ignoring Ponyboy's eye contact. “...Yeah, I figured.” He sighs. He knew. He just didn't want to admit it himself.

Ponyboy had fallen asleep hours before Soda even got a wink in. Four in the morning, he still had to be up in two hours. His brain was still working up a storm. It was pissing him off at this point.

He did not want to go to work today.

Darry wasn't as merciful to Soda as he was to Ponyboy, unfortunately.

Soda was old enough to make decisions on his own, Darry agreed with that plenty. But he still had to boss Soda around for doing dumb stuff. Even for letting his mind chase itself all night... as if he didn't do the same damn thing.

Darry wrapped up Soda's hands at the kitchen table, tying the bandages around nice and tight before tearing and placing a piece of tape down on the loose end. “Don't go trying to punch nothin' else, you hear me?”

Soda scoffed. “I'm hearin'.” He fidgeted with the bandages, before stopping himself to stare up at Darry.

Darry stared back and smiled. “You gonna be okay today? Or uh, y'gonna be... "tired" again?”

Soda shook his head. “As much as I would love to not be "tired", Darry, I am not in the mood to be...” Soda motioned something awkward, rolling his shoulders and bobbling his head. Myself.

Darry rolled his eyes, he wasn't hearing any of it. “Well. Then, if you can't be—” He pulled the same motion, yourself, “—at least go easy on yourself. Don't tire yourself out more.” He teased, before pulling Soda up out of the chair.

“And, I'll... help keep an eye out for Steve for you, alright? I'll be staying around a little later to help Pony, leavin' around noon. Two-Bit can take over babysittin' by then, if he ain't too drunk that is.”

Soda just nodded, smiling at the nudge at Two-Bit. “Alright...” He stared at the bandages on his hands again as he began to walk around, grabbing up his things.

Soda and Darry both left, Darry dropping off Soda, leaving Soda without a vehicle today. He was alright with it. For now, at least.

Only working on an hour of sleep, if less. This'll be an experience. At least now he didn't have to lie about being sleepy.

Ding ding!

Soda picked up a note left by one of his coworkers, a small complaint about how he left suddenly. Nothing serious. They picked up for him, thank God.

He got himself to work immediately, dragging out some supply boxes and restocking some things. He did some extra work here and there, just to make up for his missed hours.

And then he sat his ass down on that stool. Ready for whatever came at him.

Alright. Let's see how this shit show plays out today.

[seaweedstarshine]

“They engineered a psychopath to kill you.” “Totally married her. I'd never have made it here alive without River Song.”

Sources: Let's Kill Hitler, Diary of River Song: My Dinner With Andrew, Closing Time, The Husbands of River Song, Diary of River Song: The Furies, Diary of River Song: Animal Instinct, The Ruby's Curse, Time of the Doctor