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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

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The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”

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aroaceleovaldez · 2 years ago

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HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.

The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.

#pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #riordanverse #my second favorite thing related to this is like every time Hazel references someone's age especially in SoN it's just. blatantly incorrect.#she goes into very specific detail about how she's 14. detailing like exactly how many months it had been since her birthday #and when she died and when she was brought back. just like ''okay. im 14 and a half. got that? good.''#''anyways here's Frank. he's 3 years older than me'' like literal next chapter. we are told Frank is not 3 years older than her.#Hazel: Here's my older brother! [Nico is younger than her in literally every way feasible]#ive just decided Hazel is an unreliable narrator who is just really bad at guessing/remembering how old people are #which like. adhd mood. forgetting how old everybody is.#and she has the bonus excuse of saying her sense of time is skewed from being a ghost for so long #but it's just so funny every time she's just. with the upmost confidence. blatantly the wrong answer.#i want a scene of Hazel looking at Percy and just going ''hm. I bet he's like 20.'' and then learns he's 16 #and she's just [surprised pikachu]#also we know it isn't an error that she's 14 cause in TOA she's like ''oh yeah im learning to drive!''#so she's 15 by then #it is however an error that *Nico* is said to be 14 in hoo cause he's 12 in TLO and 14 in TOA #but we know in HoO the reason that error was made was cause Rick hadn't figured out Nico's birthday yet #and he was flipping it between January or March #so he just forgot how old Nico is for a series and then we went back to normal

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gothamite-rambler · 6 days ago

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"I will win the no caffeinated drink bet," Tim said, drifting to sleep. (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

Tim stared blankly at his bowl of cereal, his arms hanging by his sides as he waged a silent battle against the urge to use them to eat.

Tim: Jason, did you know that if you're allergic to chocolate, you might also be allergic to cockroaches? Shit is wild.

Jason glanced up from his phone, checking to see if anyone was around before placing it on the counter.

Jason: Right… right… what?

Tim: Crocodiles can gallop, like horses.

Jason sighed, recognizing the telltale signs that his brother was spiraling into one of those cycles of intrusive thoughts.

Jason (concerned): Tim, you good, bud?

Tim (dazed): Just… shutting down mentally… I’m about to fully power down any minute now.

Pushing his bowl away, Tim rested his forehead on the table and let out a loud yawn.

Jason (snacking on Triscuits): Is today some event for your mom or dad?

Tim (speaking slowly): No… I haven’t had�� coffee in two weeks.

Jason (perplexed): How are you even awake?

Tim (tired): I think I’m staying conscious purely out of determination. Or I’ve finally lost my mind.

Tim fell silent for a moment while Jason looked on, uncertain if he should call for help.

Jason (loud): Tim!

Tim (groggy): I’m awake, I’m awake... just enjoying the table’s comfort on my head. Coffee helps me focus and function. I’m not addicted, but when you stop drinking energy drinks and patrol at night while running a company… definitely affects Tim.

Jason (slightly concerned): You realize you just referred to yourself in the third person?

Tim: Too exhausted to care right now.

Jason: Why aren’t you drinking coffee?

Tim: I made a bet with Konnor… to see how long I can go without coffee. He said if I last a full month, I’ll be the winner.

Jason: And the prize is?

Tim: If I win, I get my old leather jacket back—the one I lent him three years ago when we were hooking up. If I lose, I have to buy him a Wayne Tech laptop.

Jason: Honestly, maybe just lose this one. Our family has a messed-up circadian rhythm; we all need coffee like it’s water.

Tim: No, no... no. I’m going to… win… this…

Before he could finish, Tim let out a loud snore, having fallen asleep after a moment of silently struggling to recall his next word. Jason approached him and hesitated for a second before nudging his shoulder, but Tim remained unresponsive.

Jason: I want to give him coffee, but I don’t want Konnor to win. Ugh, I guess I’m helping him out.

With a sigh, Jason lifted Tim by the shoulders and tossed him over his shoulder, carrying him upstairs to Tim’s old bedroom. He gently laid him down on the bed and quietly closed the door to give him some space.

Pulling out his phone, Jason began texting Dick and Damian to fill them in on Tim’s situation, the ticking clock of the bet, and how they really needed to find better coping mechanisms for him.

If there was one thing the Wayne family was known for, it was never backing down from a challenge... due to being incredibly stubborn.

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youthsbandana · 1 year ago

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Having ADHD is just like:

I'm sorry.

I know it's inconvenient.

I'm sorry.

I know it's annoying.

I'm sorry.

I know it's selfish.

I'm sorry...

I know I shouldn't say sorry because an apology without change is manipulation.

I'm sorry.

I know I can't change my behavior; I've tried.

I'm sorry

#adhd #adhd brain #living with adhd #adhd problems #neurodivergence #adhd post #adhd stuff #actually adhd #This week has been... hard #I was fine and then my brother told me I have the tendency to do things on my time which can be extremely annoying #And he said him and mom try and be understanding #but after it happens again and again #i was thinking about that and how my adhd will never allow me to be non-annoying #and i can't keep saying i'm sorry because I literally can't change my behavior #and medicine can make my punctuality better but it can't make my memory better #and then i lost my wallet for the second time in 24 hours and #i'm just so sick of living with my brain #vent

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fluffywing-e-tarot · 5 months ago

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Garp and his three Godly Grandsons

It had been months since Kolby and Helmepo became his students. They both were exceptional. Koby was ignorant of that mark of Tsuisu left on him.

"Koby, do you know of the ancient gods of the world?" Garp questioned across the Wei Chi boared

"Not all of them, sir." Koby siad "I know there are multiple. But the one I'm fermilar with is Nika."

It was understandable. The kid was trapped for 2 years on a pirateship. Nika was an obvious choice for a situation like his.

Garp thought of his own mark that all three of the little rascals admitted to doing, but some instinct said there could only be one. His bet was that Astrus did it.

"Well, they are more than Myth Koby." Garp fished in his drawer for the gift Sabo left in his quarters. Without saying hello again.

"This is a collection of their mythos it helps to be at least familiar of their stories."

"Thank you, Sir." Acepted the book.

"Don't let anyone else read it." Garp warned

When he finally encountered the runaway Luffy, he saw the moment Koby entered Luffy's sight.

Luffy shouted in the ancient tongue. Garp wouldn't be surprised if it translated to (Tsuitsu you theif )or (bastard ). Luffy wrapped his stretchy limbs around Koby wailing.

Garp sighed. " Luffy yes I know your brother marked him. Now will you just let go." He grabbed Luffy by the scruff.

"But Koby was going to be Mine" Luffy wailed.

"Not another god scuffle," Garp groaned " don't attack your brother for this Luffy. we can't have another Storm like the one you and that other kid had over Shanks."

"Koby!"

Fist of Love!

Luffy stopped crying. Clutching his head but had released his student.

"Old Man what was that for?" Luffy accused.

"Scram before I have to arrest you Brat!"

.~°~.

It was close to a month latter when Astrus appeared on his ship. Feet kicked up on his table. Shackled.

"what's this I hear about Sabo swippeing a mark from Luffy?" Ace said. Unbothered by the chains around him.

"Ace please go back to the Cell. I can't deal with you slipping out."

"Come on Gramps tell me The details "

"How did you come to this information?" Garp said. Knowing that there was no messenger god running around. As far as he knew.

"Jimbe mentioned that the Revolutionary's God was smug about something."

Garp growled hiding his face in his hands. "Promised me you won't get into a fight over this with your brothers."

"Shit, it's That bad."

"Yes, I would rather not experience what two of you can do, with your gathered powers." The event he was talking about was long before he reunited Nika with his elder brothers. It was when Nika and Kanato fought over Shanks and his crew. A giant storm picked up where they were. That was with them confined to the bodies of children and Minor miracles. Garp really didn't want to find out what fully functional Gods could do.

" Fine I promise I won't fight my younger brothers over this." Ace swore holding his followers sign of promise.

"It's my new student. He arrived at his conscription post with Luffy. But at some point before I arrived. Sabo marked him. " Garp said.

"Once someone is marked there's not much to fight over. Unless their multi attuned. Then it's a matter of persuasion to shift the mark from one to their preference." Ace shrugged "Has there been any Gifts delivered?"

"Yes a book on Mythology of you all, and A sun pendant from Nika." Garp said.

Ace grinned wickedly. Producing a small book on star navigation. From nowhere.

" Give that to your student." Then the God of the Stars vanished. Laughter remaining behind.

"Roger you're a Bastard that left me to deal with your consequences" Garp groaned.

Yet he loved his Grandsons. That also happened to be millennia older than him. They were all Gods after all.

First

#my writing #asl god au #asl brothers #portgas d ace #monkey d. luffy #monkey d garp #headcannons #sabo one piece #Ace is getting in on his brother's Mark on Koby because it's funny #brothers being brothers #mentions of Uta #uta one piece #Nika's recovery was delayed because he faught Kanato over marking Shanks #Luffy has ADHD #he forgets to do important things sometimes #garp knows his grandsons are gods #vice admiral garp #Gods are no joke.

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