I Think Zoro And Shanks Could Get On Famously If Only That Wasnt His Father Whore.

I think Zoro and Shanks could get on famously if only that wasn’t his father whore.

And Zoro can move past a lot but he will never be able to move past the knowledge that he only knows this man because he is fucking his dad and Shanks doesn’t even have the decency to be even a little bit ashamed about it.

Finally back on my dressrosa watching shit. And was immediately greeted by thislovely site.

What an unhinged maniac 🥰.

I am god's strongest soldier and this was my reward for fighting his hardest battle (not skipping to whole cake).

Bartolomeo is actually just me if I actually got to see Zoro stunt on a dude, hit a pretty boy smile and pose like he knows he's hot shit while declaring in his smooth baritone that he will be the world's greatest one day.

I would also 100% not know how to act and would also like his autograph.

I think Zoro and Shanks could get on famously if only that wasn’t his father whore.

And Zoro can move past a lot but he will never be able to move past the knowledge that he only knows this man because he is fucking his dad and Shanks doesn’t even have the decency to be even a little bit ashamed about it.

Wip, Shanks & Mihawk having the Conversation, a bit more serious take on their reconciliation, it will have a happy ending, this is old men communicating.

It isn't a problem, not really. 

Except that Shanks can't avoid the rush of crushing dread the moment Mihawk climbs on top of him and glances at his stump. 

It’s not a problem, and honestly, he could do without talking about it. Back in the day they said their piece: he highly doubts he can get his point across any better now.

Staring at the swordsman, he refuses to acknowledge the sheer awkwardness of the whole, trying to have this conversation when they’re both half naked situation, and effectively waits for Mihawk to kill the mood. 

…

The silence in the room is deafening. 

…

He wonders what the other is preparing to say— and tenses up as if brazing himself for a storm. Instantly, he looks back at the last couple of days, but he can’t pinpoint an incident related to his stump that might have made the swordsman uncomfortable, and then feels really stupid for even trying to do so. 

It has been Mihawk’s third visit after— well, everything. He has brought another couple of bounty posters of Luffy and Zoro, as he’s taken to do, and has told him the last bit of gossip. They have danced around the fact that the swordsman was going to spend the night and then acted surprised when the hour had advanced long enough to make the swordsman sailing away a rather uncomfortable option. 

The migraine has crept on him during the next day. 

It hasn't even been that bad, given what he's used to. Just a dull ache in his shoulder, paired with a vague dizziness. Enough discomfort to make him bury his face in what turned out to be Mihawk’s chest when Lucky Roux has called for breakfast, and then bail out of one or two of their plans for the day. 

He’s not afraid of telling Mihawk. He’s mature enough to acknowledge that the swordsman’s entire problem is— well, that. The fact that wielding Yoru is so intrinsicate to his identity that he cannot conceptualize anyone giving up on being a swordsman, which Shanks hasn’t, and if only just listened to what he has to say, he could—  

“What’s going on?”. 

Shanks blinks and— blinks again. Mihawk’s words throw him out of the loop with enough force that for a moment he forgets to be annoyed, which in turn makes the other frown. 

Bright golden eyes fixate on him with a hint of concern. It's kind of ridiculous, really, with that wide brimmed hat of his sitting askew on dark locks. Pitifully, the image pulls at his heartstrings. 

He knows he’s being unfair. The problem is not only the swordsman and his painful refusal to put his feelings into words. It’s not as if he hasn’t also been avoiding this conversation with the vain hope that the issue might resolve on its own. The way Mihawk has waltzed back into his life has been entirely unexpected and, truth be told, he didn't want to ruin it. 

And there he is, again, following patterns he promised himself he was never going back to. Ten years have passed and Mihawk still makes him feel like a heartbroken teenager. 

Gently, but firmly, he pushes the other away until they’re both sitting on the couch. 

“You look—” disappointed, “uncomfortable”, he starts, hesitating for a moment as the other’s frown deepens and then adding in a rush: “Which is fine. I don’t want you to put yourself in any position you don’t want just to, I just want to make sur—”.  

“You don’t make me uncomfortable”, Mihawk cuts him off, baffled and… sad?

It makes his throat clog, for some dumb reason. He already regrets opening his mouth, dreading the moment he knows he's going to lose his cool in the face of Mihawk's unshakable demeanor.