#{ ic. } ✗ 「 genkotsu 」

[marinehero]

ლ. " ATTENTION, ATTENTION !! " an absolutely horrible screeching sound followed, " THIS IS GARP SPEAKING, GARP SPEAKING ! "

" IT'S MY GRANDSON'S BIRTHDAY !!! EVERYONE WISH MY GRANDSON A HAPPY BIRTHDAY OR ELSE I'M SENDING YOU TO CLEAN UP DUTY !! THAT'S AN ORDER ! "

[marinehero-a]

" master garp ? " light of waning dusksuns drawing saintly halo 'pon holy commander's head, reminder oh so tragic of divine ichor that never would be erased from its true identity even whilst tainted in human reds, no matter how much he'd try to pass among them unnoticed or how so ardently he'd wish to truly experience all that made joy and anger and sadness as wholefully instead of always observing as if encased in glass, unable to reach forth —but he'd remain behind greatest hero of all marines, hesitating in his own oh so familiar silence that easily would kneel before him at each command, for even former dragon of the heavenly gates could perceive how tense and heavy air itself tethered aghast his own throat, as if ready to destroy every wall. " what are you doing out here by yourself? " ( from roci ofc )

ლ.    “ Trying to stop myself from killing you old man, ”   the reply slipped out with cutting brightness. His face contorted into a sharp grin, dripping with cyanide, though he only spared the other man a glance before returning his glaring gaze towards the sea. White-knuckled grip digging into the stone wall he stood by, deep cracks running in veins throughout it.

     With difficulty, he did his best to steady his breathing. To reign in his temper and cull his rage, lest he found himself tearing down Marineford brick by brick. Or, worse, he crumbled first. For he was the hero, and heroes were not allowed to fall.

     Even if he were to slip, even if he were to allow himself failure, Rocinante was among the last who he’d let see such a loss of control. Not for Sengoku’s sake, may the Sea damn him, but because the brat was one of the few innocent men caught in the upcoming storm. Garp wouldn’t allow him to get burned out of the quarrels he held with others.

“ You might’ve heard that the planning for the execution of Whitebeard’s First Division commander is nearly complete, ”   voice still tight, grin feeling plastered on his face, carefully avoiding Rocinante’s face in favor of staring down at his weathered hands. They were capable of leveling an island, yet he’d never felt them so weary — so weak — before,   “ Fleet Admiral Sengoku, ”   the title spat out in clipped tone with as much respect as one might deign to the barnacles on a ship’s hull,   “ Thought to only give me the news of the whole situation now. ”

     Ace. They had Ace, and worse off, they knew. The Elders knew, and they were willing to go to war with the current king of the sea over it. He still couldn't figure out how the Elders had learned. Had Sengoku told them ?  He couldn’t believe it, not when it’d gone unspoken for years. A silent agreement. A silent promise. But why else would Sengoku keep the damn news of Ace's capture from him until it was far too late to pull any strings ?  No. There had to be something. Something he could do that wouldn't be betrayal. Some kind of loophole, some kind of —

     He bit down on his lip and fought against the waves of rage and panic clogging his chest. Dammit all, he'd never been the one for complicated plans, that had always been Sengoku and Tsuru's role, and now his heart stood against them and he didn't know what to do. His duty, or the ones he loved ?  A glance back towards Rocinante brought a silent huff of laughter fall past his lips, fleeting and distant envy towards the brat knocking him out of his spiral of uncertainty. With another deep breath, he forced himself to let go of the tension in his body with easier laughter.

“ Bwahaha !  But my role's none of your concern, brat, ”   the cheer in his voice lighter now, his smile more sincere. A mask well worn in by age and experience, closer to a second skin than anything false. There’d be time to figure things out later  ( when ? )  when there was no company to see him shout.

“ You ought to be more worried about yourself. I doubt your superior — ”   facade nearly cracking, tremors of bitter betrayal  ( but who betrayed who first ? )  slipping through before he could quite catch it, though he carried on as if he hadn’t noticed,   “ — Will have you anywhere near the upcoming war, if he hasn’t already talked to you about it. Your brother’s going to be there. ”

     The bird bastard would be there, and so Rocinante wouldn't. It was simple. The brat would be safe and fine, at the very least. Rocinante may not be one of his, but he was still part of the damnable family Garp had built and been given over the years. If he ended up failing in protecting Ace  ( he couldn’t  he already had )  than at least there was shallow comfort in the certainty that the blood of some brats his heart held fondly wouldn't stain his hands just yet.

[marinehero]

He point blank refuses to have Shanks as his son in law and if that means he has to kill an Emperor or kidnap the leader of the Revolution then so be it

[marinehero]

ლ. red hair brat, damn kid used to barely reach his knees ! He's supposed to be impressed ? Hah !

[marinehero]

@akagamiko had asked: " 💬 + Shanks <3 <3 <3 "

💬 + a Name and My Muse will Talk About That Person

ლ. " What's there to say ? "   he snorted, a loud and ugly noise from somewhere deep within his chest. Urge to laugh louder staved off only by the way his lips curled in on themselves and downwards into a scowl, marring his face at the mere mention of that name.

" He's a pirate. No good filth, like any other bastard that pollutes these seas, "   words spat out derisively, filled with righteous justice,   " Worse than the other bastards !  He's an emperor and a brat too big for his britches. Enemy to the navy and enemy to the public. "

     Disgust and contempt colored his words, drowning them. Truth distorted by the years and the tides until even he could believe what only rippled on the surface.

     Belief aided by the way he could count on one hand the amount of times his path had crossed the pirate's in recent years. Ever since that day, it was hardly expected for the Hero of the Navy to bother himself with a rookie. Not when there was so much to do, cleaning up the ridiculous mess left by a dead man.

     Of course he couldn't. Wouldn't. At the time curiosity was different from interest. And if questions were asked here and there, regarding a young pirate steadily making a name for himself, sailing the seas with crimson red hair and strawhat donned upon his crown, they were no more important than other question he'd ask regarding the vast array of enemies to Justice. No matter what the tired and knowing eyes of his friends had said.

     He never did learn just how much they knew. They never confronted him. He never offered.

     What did a little bit more secrecy matter in the end ?  When so much was already founded on lies. And he'd never withheld information that was important. Merely abstained from reporting those days, all those years ago, where the sun had shined dappled through the leaves, his coat temporarily set aside in favor of fighting not pirates but laughter; fending himself from a young boy wearing strawhat still bit too big for him.

     Forgotten to, really. Just as he forgot to report of the time even earlier where he'd set sail, careless of imposed bedrest, the battle that'd forever changed the course of his life still burned fresh in his mind and on his flesh, drumming in his veins beneath bruises and various wounds. Forgot to mention that he'd gone out in search of a pirate crew not with intentions to capture them, but to demand answers instead.

     Telling no one of the way all his questions had died in his throat at the sound of an infant crying, safely secured within his enemy's arms. Of the way he had known, how could he not ?  When he was interrogated the moment he'd woken up ? 

     If he tried hard enough, he could almost convince himself that he'd neglected to mention any of it to his superiors, that he'd all but given his blessings for a pirate crew to raise a holy child, because he'd forgotten it all. Because none of it had happened. Because for all he adored and would gladly die for Justice, for all of his devotion, there were some lines he refused to cross.

     He'd been reassured to know that boy, that young boy who sailed with and loved Garp's enemy, was alright. Relieved, no matter how irked he was by the growing list of crimes. Irked and outwardly furious; yet nothing more than a play well practiced for the role he lived, regardless of the distance between them.

     But he'd been honest when he said the boy had been far from a priority, even as the years went by and the proud boy in his mind turned to a man in the bounty posters. Justice demanded far more of his attention for far more imperative threats.

     Until—

" That damn bastard, "   venom dripping, honest and enraged, voice raising as he rose from his chair with clenched fist slamming on his desk,   " He's the one who put Luffy on the path of piracy ! "

     He'd given Shanks a blind eye and he'd been repaid by having his birthland invaded. Taking from the people— his people. Dragging unwanted eyes to the island he loved and called home.

     It wasn't enough to disrespect him, to taint the soil that'd raised him, the red hair bastard had to ruin his family. His very own blood and flesh and for what ?

     Shanks had no choice. Garp knew that. It'd either been the life of a pirate, a cruel man, or death. He'd known there were no other options, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. He'd known, and he'd allowed it.

     But Luffy had a choice, even if it was one Garp had to carve out himself. Luffy had a damn choice, and it didn’t matter how much they both knew his grandson would loathe the constraints of a lawful life, the sea untamed far too deep in his blood for it, because at least Garp could have protected him if the need arised. Because at least it was safe.

     There’d been a choice until he'd eaten that damn fruit that Shanks had brought and left unchecked. Had a choice until Shanks had passed down that damn strawhat and filled his head with fanciful dreams.

     Now Luffy was his enemy. Had an ever growing bounty. His colleagues were all clamoring for his grandson's blood and no matter how fiercely pride burned in his chest, it did little to rival the aching fear that claimed place there as well.

     Luffy had been damned at birth for the blood in his veins, for the sins of a father he never knew, and yet Garp had tried. Only for Shanks to have taken Luffy from him and hammered the final nail in his grandson's coffin.

" And Ace— "   name slipping out without his permission, emotions he couldn't begin to parse twisting within his chest,   " If he'd been there a couple minutes quicker— "

     Resentment unearned, perhaps, but he couldn't help himself. Shanks had been there, been so damn close. The bastard could have been there in time, done what he couldn't. Didn't. Too old and wretched and weak to have done what his heart and yelled for. Shanks could he saved Ace where he'd failed to and Garp wasn't sure if he could ever forgive either of them for it.

     But Shanks had saved Koby. He'd prevented further blood from being spilled, staining his aged hands. Shanks hadn't saved Ace, but he'd saved Koby.

     Grateful for that much. Hated being grateful for it.

     If only Roger could see the two of them now, whispered thought raising head unbidden, failing his fight against thinking about the dead fool.

     If only. Would he laugh ?  It seemed like a thing Roger would do. Laugh at how foolish Garp was acting while wearing that obnoxious smile of his. Laugh at Shanks and hold him, because if there was one thing he knew about Roger, it was that he'd loved the red hair brat as true as his own. Roger would have laughed at them both, and then his grief would've razed the world to the ground and be started anew.

     In another life, Ace and Shanks would have grown up knowing each other, becoming as close as brothers. Garp could have hunted and chased after those children all he'd been commanded to and have known with unwavering certainty that he and nothing else would be able to harm them, protected by Roger's light.

     In another life, Roger would have chosen any other idiot to look after his unborn son. None of it would have ever been his responsibility and Garp could have continued his life as a proud Marine. Shanks would have become a memory and his eyes would have stayed dry during the Summit War. Or maybe the war would have never happened, prevented by a guardian far better.

     In another life, Garp would have been strong enough to have saved Ace himself. Spitting in Shanks's face, yet turning his back from the life he'd built over the decades in the shadow of Justice, running away upon the Red Hair's ship with his grandchildren in his arms. Butting heads and arguing and making peace with the bastard after so many years of hate.

" Red Hair Shanks is a pirate, "   he repeated, bitterness remaining but spoken more carefully, collecting himself and slumping back down onto his chair with a scoff that sounded more like a sigh,   " He's the enemy and a damn bastard. Hated and feared by the public. What else is there to say. "

     If only hate was all he felt towards the brat. If only the Sea hadn't damned him. Damned the both of them. Sigh falling out, hand wearily rubbing at his face. Dammit all. He was getting too old for what if's.

[marinehero]

ლ. " And you ought to check who you're stealing from first, "   gruff voice replied, colored with amusement as the Vice-Admiral turned around with a raised eyebrow, head tilting to the side with grin stretching at the corners of his mouth,   " Else you never know. Might find yourself taking from the wrong person there. "

      An idle threat at worse. His eyes flickering towards his wallet, though making no move to retrieve it. There'd be a decent amount in it, enough for him to have bought at least one more filling meal — by his standards of course — for the rest of his day off   ( collecting information, but who was keeping track of such things, really, ).   Yet there was a forest on the island he could hunt in, and push came to shove, he could always return to his ship for more berries.

" Go ahead. Keep it. "   He decided with a snort, inclining his head towards the pirate with nonchalance. Yet his eyes were sharp, glancing around them. Luffy must be near,    " I lose it all the time anyway, damn flimsy thing it is. "

it's almost too easy. wallet peeking out of a pocket, tempting her to reach out and snag it. and really, who is she to deny herself the pleasure of such an easy score? silently and expertly, she snags her prize, before deciding that there's no fun in a robbery THAT easy . " you should really hold onto this better. " she says, observing the newly acquired wallet.

[marinehero]

“ are you going to kill me? ”

QUESTION PROMPTS

ლ. His hand clamped like an iron vice around Shanks’s arm ( arm. Only one. There was only one arm. What had happened—) careless of anyone beyond the captain of the Red Hair Pirates in his grip as he stormed out of the bar, baring teeth in a snarl to any who might try to stop them. His mind filled with static, waves crashing against cliffs drowning out all else as he dragged them away from gathering crowds.

      It’d been pure chance, running into Shanks. Although, had he been given intel, he knew he would have thrown aside whatever business he’d been assigned to chase after the brat. If that’d been the case, maybe he’d have been more prepared for the drowning fury tightening in his chest. The pressure of it increasing with each step until he couldn't ignore it any longer, stopping them dead in his tracks. Vaguely registering that they were deep in a network of alleyways, covered in trash and moss he couldn’t care less about.

“ Are you going to kill me ? ”

     His hands moved before his brain could catch up to the words, clenching into a tight fist and throwing it hard against the bastard’s jaw. Dull satisfaction doing little to break through the maelstrom within him, staring down with a deep scowl marring his face though he made no more moves to attack.

     A single one of his punches could fell a man worth five hundred million. A single one of his punches could level a village. If he wanted to imprison the bastard for all of his crimes, than Garp would have dragged Shanks back to his ship by the ear, rather than hitting the man hard enough to hurt, but far from bone breaking, from truly damaging. No, his punch had served as an insult.

     Or maybe a promise instead.

" Don’t tempt me, you brat. "   voice cold and tight with fury, void of any laughter or the begrudging fondness that’d once been unshakable. Now, the mere idea of showing an ounce of warmth curdled like rot in his guts,   " I should, for what you’ve done, you damn pirate. "

     Distant part took note that this was the first time he’d ever struck the redhead with intention to hurt, part of him half-expecting Roger to rise from the grave and strike back in vengeance. He pointedly ignored both thoughts in favor of staring down at Shanks. The glare he was giving had sent lesser men fleeing to sea for their lives. His epithet, whispered and spat out in fear and hatred by pirates around the world, as their Devil undeniably well-earned in blood and countless incarcerated.

" You gave his hat away, "    ridiculous words to be spoken with such vehement outrage. Nonsensical to any who didn’t know, but of course he knew. When that hat had been the first thing he’d ever seen of Roger, all those decades ago when they’d both been little more than brats themselves,   " You gave away his damn hat. To Luffy, "   name falling out a hiss, weathered hand seizing the collar of Shanks’s shirt, shaking him.

     Shanks could have brought down hellfire throughout the Seas, could have been every bit of what the world thinks to be a pirate and Garp—  Garp would have gone after the brat. Of course he would have. But there would have still been laughter. He would have still smiled.

     But this. Shanks had crossed the one line Garp hadn't even realized existed, had never thought to prepare himself to one day face.

" He wants to be a pirate now !  You made him want to be a pirate ! "  the fear choking him ever since he’d heard Luffy shouted his claims to the world continued to grasp his lungs, would continue to do so until at least one of them was dead and he hated it,   " My grandson was supposed to be a marine !  He was supposed to— "

     Had Shanks known ?  Had it been on purpose ?  Did the brat think this was some joke ?

" I should. "   Answer repeated and spat out full of venom. He wouldn't. Couldn't. The damage had been done and killing the brat would solve nothing   ( and he already knew that Shanks' blood on his hands would forever haunt him, no matter how much he wished different )  but dammit all if he wasn't still sorely tempted.

[marinehero]

About to have an aneurysm

[marinehero]

❛ i swear it wasn’t me. ❜ - Sabo

200 RANDOM DIALOGUE

ლ. There was a long pause before he said anything, a moment needed to take in the scene before him. Eyes flickering between the utter mess that surrounded them, as though he'd gone through and thrown a fit, and the brat standing in the middle of it all. The corners of Garp's mouth twitched, the noise hissing through his teeth a mangled mix of a sigh and a laugh as he shook his head in exasperation.

     Dismissing Bogard with a slight jerk of his head, glancing at the door behind them, he returned his attention back towards the elephant in the room, or, rather, the damn Revolutionary.

     Dammit all. When he'd picked up a distress signal from a random marine base he'd so happened to be nearby, this had been the last thing he'd been expecting. Hell, if he'd gotten an inkling that the issue was Revolutionary Army related, he would've turned his ship around and set sail the other way. Let some other fool handle issues.

" What do you think you're doing here, brat, "   words falling out with a sigh, rubbing his face wearily, as if the sight before him could be chalked up to a mirage,   " What even— you know what ?  I don't want to know. "

     He did. He very much did want to know how and why this brat was there. If it was of his own violition or, more likely, Dragon's fault. Always wanting to know what in Mother Sea's name his son was thinking, knowing it was nothing good for him to know.

" Just clean up your own damn messes after yourself, brat ! "   he scowled, lips curling and arms crossing over his chest. Bogard would keep them uninterrupted for another while, at the very least. Might as well take advantage of that,   " You're not leaving this room until you do. "

[marinehero-a]

ლ.   “ Bwahaha, anything !  If it's an animal and it moves, it's a goner !  I can sense plenty of game to catch around here, ”   pauses. Squints, suspicious,   “ If you're staying with Koby and not catching any, you better not try to steal them, brat. You can take him to your own damn chef. ”

wait. hold on a minute. hunting. that meant that he was going to get some meat. something that he's been lacking today because of events last night. maybe---just this once he could go along with his grandfather.

"what...what are you hunting?" luffy's mouth as already salivating.

[marinehero]

ლ. @taiixuan — cont.

ლ. For once, the Vice-Admiral stood dead silent. The question that had slipped out in aghast rush had stolen all remaining breath, leaving behind an empty vessel of waning bone and aged flesh. Meager offerings for the gods he did not believe in, if he were able to move his body to demand that he was mistaken. That his eyes were deceiving him. That Rocinante—

     Denial shattering like glass before Garp could even have a chance to entertain the thought, no matter how he already he knew he was too old to believe it. The hesitant resignation in Rocinante's tone was almost enough to put the idea of stopping the other. Almost, but not quite. The need to know crawling beneath his skin.

     But the truth had never been a kind mistress to him.

     Twenty-six years ago. Twenty-six. Rocinante had been barely anything more than a boy then. There was a guilty relief that it wasn't something worse, what he'd feared. Yet even so, reality remained grim. The description sounded familiar, vague impression of confusion whispering at the back of his mind, but he was not Tsuru. Twenty-six years ago. He would've been focused on chasing Roger, investigating rumors of Whitebeard's samurai from Wano joining arms with the to-be Pirate King rather than having his mind on more official buisness. Something unpleasant curled in his guts. No matter what the newspaper embellished, he hadn't spent all of his time going after a single pirate. But he couldn't deny how it could feel that way in hindsight. If he'd spent more time around Headquarters—

     Twenty-six years ago. All this time. Rocinante would have only been fifteen. What the hell was Sengoku thinking, taking a child — his child with him ?

     Did Sengoku know —  of course he did. He had to. Garp wouldn't be surprised if Tsuru knew as well. Why hadn't they —  because he would've been rash ?  Even so, it would have been warranted. They should've—

     His mind raced in his head, disarray turning into a maelstrom of pure fury with each word Rocinante shared. Venomous anger he'd almost forgotten he could feel barely kept contained within the blood in his veins. Hands clenching into tight fists held at his side, flickering metallic sheen, coated in iron inadvertently. Rare display of lost control, animalistic above discipline. Deep rooted instincts within him baring teeth and snarling, demanding for blood as payment because how dare they—

     He was forced to bite down on his tongue, least wild laughter crawled out and escaped free from his throat. Laughter wishing to break free hard enough to hurt, because he'd long taught himself to laugh when all he longed to do was snap and bite. His face contorting into a mangled parody of a smile, far closer to a grimace. Continuing to listen without a word.

     It had always been an open secret just how much he loathed the bastards who gluttoned themselves on the blood of others. The idiotic clowns who deluded themselves as gods and the rest of the world mere playthings who existed for their personal entertainment. Less vocal about his distaste as he'd once been, though not before he lost a son, but disgust still shown as he rejected promotion over promotion time and time again over the course of the decades of his service. No amount of power or gold could have him willing to work directly for any pseudo-god.

     He'd thought that the sum of their sins couldn't bear to hold another tally, the jar overflowing with several ocean's worth of depravities, each second threatening to shatter the glass beyond repair.

     But that damn brand—

     His body let out a shaking breath, as though remembering its need for air even as the inferno of his rage clogged his lungs with smoke and sparks. Rocinante was not his. Not in the same way some were. Similar to them, painfully so on some days, but he was Sengoku's ward first and foremost.

     Yet he had been there and he had witnessed the brat grow from a young boy ( he'd only been a boy ) to the man before him today. He had trained with Rocinante. Had shared meals and laughter. Had known and cared for the brat. Rocinante was not his, but he was still part of his family. His wonderful, foolish, mess of a family. His love for which threatened to drown him time and time again, and had burned him countless times more.

" The only holy thing, "   his voice was near unrecognizable to even his own ears. Venhemant ire painted each word in a sliver of his feelings,   " That could happen to those bastards is if they all choked on their own spit and their bodies tossed to the sea to feed her. You— "

     He took in another deep breath, more even than his last attempt. Controlled. His anger was not stranger to either of them. He had never bothered with hiding his irritation whenever he felt it. There was no use in trying to count the amount of times he'd argued with and yelled at Sengoku over the years. No use in trying to count each and every time his temper sparked for both serious and frivolous reasons.

     Yet this anger. He knew it was different. Dangerous. One Garp had only ever felt few times in his life. God Valley. Roger's execution. Red Hair's influence over Luffy. The Summit War.

     A kind of anger that was entangled around the very foundations of his self. Precarious. Treacherous. Far too tantalizing, far too easy to get lost in it. To want to get lost in it.

     So he forced himself to swallow it down, sea salt burning his throat. Later, when he was alone, or perhaps in confrontation with Sengoku, he'd let some of the pressure out. But for now, for Rocinante, he could ignore it. Striding over towards the other man, he put a withered hand on Rocinante's shoulder. Firm and solid, lacking finesse from calloused hands that knew no gentleness, yet nevertheless held warmth of all the words he didn't know how to say.

" You, will always be thousands times the man that all of them combined could ever hope to be, "   his tone harsh, but not towards him. Hand squeezing down, attempt made to avoid bruising pressure.

I should have been there, he didn't say. I'm sorry, he would say later, when the storm within him gave enough room for him to trust himself to say the words evenly.

     Actions had always come to him easier than words.

Sabaody. Sector Ten.

     Silent huff of revulsion falling out. To think there'd been a time where he'd liked Sabaody. Decades ago, back when he'd been so, so young. His budded adoration in Justice still blind and the Archipelago had reminded him home with its wild nature. But it'd been in Sabaody, when he'd first began to truly understand the extent of corruption. At times, he felt as though he could still taste dirt in his mouth from when Sengoku had grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground, forcing him into a furious imitation of the bow demanded from some bastard wearing a damn fishbowl on his head.

" Do you have any descriptions ? " he asked, stayed standing besides Rocinante with his hand remaining connected, as though he could act as physical shield towards the past and all its cruelties. His voice dead serious in a way it so rarely was. Twenty-six years was a long time, but he knew well those kinds of carrion tended to linger like rot. He wasn't fool enough to believe that he could accomplish much on his own. Even with his position and the immunity it gave him, he knew there were only so many offenses he could get away with.

     And yet, if he left a personal report out in the open, where infiltrating enemies of the World Government he might know to be lingering in the halls could stumble across, then it was nothing more than characteristic carelessness ( Dragon would never let him live it down if he found out, and the bastard would find out, but that'd be an issue he'd leave for his future self ) .

[marinehero]

"are you going to kill me?" / from uta <3

QUESTION PROMPTS

ლ. He laughed, bellowing sound from deep within his lungs, shaking his shoulders as he came to a stop nearby the other, taking seat on nearby ledge.

" Should I ? "   amusment clear in his reply despite the teeth in his grin, eyes leaving her only to dig through his pockets; triumphantly rescuing a bag of senbei from the depths of one of them. Wasting no time in shovelling a handful of them into his mouth before holding out the bag towards Uta.

" Nah, I'm not interested in that. I've been wanting to meet you, Uta. Rice cracker ? "   question only slightly muffled, crumbs falling out, because no matter what some people ( Senny ) liked to claim, he wasn't completely mannerless. He just didn't care about some of them, unbothered with trying to cover his staring.

     Beyond half a head of red hair, there wasn't much resemblance between her and Shanks, he noted. If he were to hedge his bets then adoption. Likely orphaned. Or if her original parents were alive, it wasn't to any of their knowledge or interest. Probably unintentional, rather than sought out kidnapping.

     Garp held back a sigh and resisted the urge to facepalm, because of course. For the love of Mother Sea. Shanks truly was one of Roger's boys. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pull out his hair or laugh.

     But that red hair bastard that wasn't the reason he was there. Nor were the demands for her head, for her to be brought to justice. Hardly mattered to him that he wasn't supposed to be there either, as if anyone could stop him.

" I heard you know Luffy, "   he said, as a statement rather than a question. Unable and uncaring to hide the warmth and fondness in his tone at the name,   " I'd like to learn more about that. "

[marinehero]

❛ rough day today? ❜ ( from roci ;; ♥ baby boy is worried )

200 RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS.

ლ.  Tension drummed through his body, hands tucked behind his back and line in his shoulders poorly hidden by the cloak he donned, fluttering behind him in preach of justice with each stiff step he took. He wasn't sure where he had in mind to go after storming out of his office in a flury of anger, held back from overflowing by decades of practice. The kitchen, most likely. Maybe the training grounds, if enough recruits were eager enough to bare the brunt of his fouler mood.

❛ rough day today? ❜

     His steps slowed to a halt, brow quirking on his face as his eyes flickered towards the familiar face he hadn't noticed earlier, spine straightening just a touch. He hadn't been expecting to see Rocinante. Then again, the other had a habit of lurking silently around, even without that fruit of his. Useful, for their line of work, he supposed, if he ever bothered to stop to think about it.

     The noise Garp gave in reply came more from his chest than throat — caught in between a hum of acknowledgement and a grunt. As though to clear his thoughts, he shook his head in a way imperceptible to any besides those who knew him, shoulders rolling slightly to loosen their stiffness.

" Sengoku put you on nagging duty ? "    he snorted as answer, turning around to face the other man with more characteristically relaxed expression. It was always easier to push away his annoyance in welcomed company.

     It was hardly as if he enjoyed feeling so pissed off. Irritated in a way that ran deep under his skin, clawing at his very core of a person. An unfortunate feeling that he'd come to expect — as though that'd lessen the intensity of it all — whenever he had to talk to anyone higher up than Sengoku. He remained Vice-Admiral for a reason, dammit.

     But those grievances were none he felt like ranting and airing out about to Rocinante. Frankly, the kid was one of the last men he’d want to talk to it about.

" What're you doing out here, brat ? "   blunt words asked; brash, yet not unkind. Head tilting slightly to the side in consideration. Maybe he could drag the other with him to Sengoku's office, enlist him in stealing the snacks he knew Senny kept around in his drawers. Something simplistic as his preference to get his mind off of the cold hearted bastards they had the misfortune to call his superiors.

[marinehero-a]

sengoku chucks those rice crackers back

ლ.    He simply opens his mouth and catches it, swallowing it perfectly.

     But that was rude ! Grabs a handful more crackers and throws it full force back anyway, it's about the Principal of matters—

[marinehero-a]

    He doesn’t need to agree with any other sailor’s definition of Justice to follow his own. He’s been fighting for over fifty years to fight against scum on the seas in order to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. The Government has flaws in ways that would take days for him to describe, but there is still order. The last thing he wants to hear is some premature brat trying to lecture him on duty.

[marinehero-a]

Buggy sputtered out a mouthful of water, hanging limply in the floatie that passed Garp by as the other pulled him up by his hair so he wouldn’t drown in the pool. It wasn’t often that they got a vacation. “Y‘know, maybe you should lay off those,” he coughed from below the mop of his wet hair, pointing weakly towards the drink in the other’s hand. “You‘re getting less observant, jiji.“

{ adventures in margaritaville because nothing bad ever happens in the marine au c: -indomiitas }

@indomiitas

ლ.    “ Bwahaha !  You're being awfully cheeky to someone who could drown you right now, ”   the threat was cheerfully said, and it could have been either sincere or serious coming from him. Either way, he threw his head back and downed the rest of his sake before carelessly dropping the glass onto the poolside—he'd refill it later, when the brat wasn't dying—before dragging Buggy back onto his floatie more firmly.

“ Bah, devil fruits, ”   he grumbled, his nose scrunched up in disgust.He couldn't remember the number of times Kong had tried to convince him to shove one down his own throat, as if he needed anything other than his hands to get work done,   “ One day we'll have to work on your tolerance to water; your kind might not be able to resist it, but you can still fight off the damn strength draining effects from droplets of water or sea stone. ”

     He rubbed his chin in thought, training regimens bastardized from those he'd seen Sengoku and Tsuru go through already forming in his mind.The brat would probably hate it, but it would help. The memory of how this mess began flickered in the back of his mind, bringing a small frown to his face. Yep, the boy could definitely use it. They could get to work immediately—

Ah. Wait. He settled back down into the pool from where he’d started to stand up. Vacation.

     Half the reason for the few bottles lying behind him, really. Not enough to get him unfocused —  whatever the brat might seem to believe  — but just enough to let him indulge a bit. Not that there was much of a difference, unlike his colleagues  ( cough, Sengoku ),  he never really found himself stressed out about his work  ( lie )  and just took a break whenever he felt like he needed one, on duty or not  ( truth ).

     Maybe he'd get in a drunken fight later with the one pirate group he'd noticed harboring in the same resort as they had when Buggy retired for the night later. They probably wouldn't wreck the nice place too much.

     Right. Buggy. The reason he was even on vacation in the first place. He might not care for the nonstop work hours, traveling, and fighting, but the brat had been vocal about it, cries that were quickly  ( and enthusiastically )  supported by the rest of his crew.

     ...Admittedly, it'd been the right call, and he'd let himself feel just a bit guilty for having pushed them all so hard. Not that he'd tell Buggy that, the brat probably already knew if he hadn't already been lauded with thanks by Garp's subordinates. Feh. They all needed to work on their stamina.

“ Oi ! ”   speaking of the brat,   “ Stop drowning ! ”