#thank you for reading dudes

[shiorishiorishiori]

6:01 PM

Pairing ⇿ Nanami Kento x OC

Summary ⇿ Nakahari Shiori's life is a balancing act between keeping the Kamo clan off her back and living a semi-normal life as a nurse at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When her stoic co-worker and friend, Nanami Kento, calls for help after a dangerous encounter with a special grade curse spirit, their friendship grows into something outside of their control. As they navigate a life dedicated to protecting humanity, their connection deepens, and the lines of their easy-going friendship blur. Will their newfound feelings survive the dangers that lurk in the shadows?

Tags/Warnings ⇿ Romance, Smut, Canon Divergence AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Soft Nanami Kento, Fluff, Angst, Cursing

Genre ⇿ Friends to Lovers, Nanami x OC, Long Fic

Chapter Two: After Last Night

He settled into an armchair, but the plush leather offered him no comfort. His mind was ablaze with visions of the patchwork curse spirit that marred his flesh just hours before. His jaw clenched as he recalled the adrenaline filled confrontation, the searing pain of their battle still fresh in his memory. 

“Good morning, Nanami,” Yaga rumbled, eyes still glued to the hills of paperwork scattered about his desk. His gruff greeting held the predictable weight of a man burdened by responsibility. “Your punctuality is as commendable as ever.” 

Nanami offered a curt nod. “Thank you for the early audience.”

“We’re just waiting for Gojo,” Yaga sighed, dark sunglasses hiding any hint of concern. “We need his perspective on this mess.”

Nanami sucked in a deep breath, the weight of his role within sorcerer society settling heavily on his shoulders. He was just another cog in the rusty machine, trying to protect the ignorant against unseen threats. 

He recognized the need to consult Gojo Satoru, the unconventional and powerful sorcerer, as the next logical step to advance the mission. Yet, somewhere hidden deep beneath his mask, emerged a hint of doubt. This situation, like so many others they faced, tested the limits of their strength against curse spirits and highlighted the harsh reality of being a jujutsu sorcerer: the line between life and death was precariously thin. 

As if on cue, the office doors swung open with a dramatic flourish to reveal the man in question. Gojo Satoru strolled in, a blinding white smile stretched across his face. “Top of the morning, folks! Sorry I’m late—I just didn’t want to come.” 

Gojo plopped into the chair beside Nanami with a theatrical sigh. “This whole thing could have been an email. I mean, who even wakes up this early? Especially for something so… boring.” 

A beat of silence followed Gojo’s grand entrance, punctuated only by Yaga’s disappointed sigh. Nanami's trademark eye roll was concealed behind his sunglasses, though it would have impressed a chameleon. The pair exchanged knowing glances across the desk, their shared frustration a silent language honed through years of dealing with the albino menace. 

“Alright, focus up,” Yaga advised. “Nanami, your report mentions that not only did the unregistered special grade speak intelligently, it has amassed more of those disfigured human corpses?” 

“It seemed to be in its infancy, but it was very articulate. And yes, the number of cursed corpses its created is concerning… This one seems to be operating on a different level.”

Gojo tilted his head. “A different level, huh? Sounds exciting! Was the conversation worthwhile, at least?” 

Nanami’s eye twitch was barely perceptible, a testament to his years of dealing with Gojo’s brand of chaos. “No, Gojo. It tried to rip out my throat.” 

Gojo sucked in a breath. “Yikes, that’s not good. I’m happy you’re still here with us, buddy.”

Yaga adjusted his dark sunglasses. “And that’s exactly why we need this situation handled quickly. Were there any other important details you noticed, Nanami?” 

Nanami parsed through the night’s encounter, adding color to the facts outlined in his mission report. Yaga, ever-focused, kept the discussion moving, their plan solidifying with every exchanged word. Top priority: locating the curse spirit’s whereabouts and investigating Yoshino Junpei, the potential curse user. 

“Before we head out, Nanami,” Principal Yaga started, concern evident in his voice. “Your report states that you sustained injuries during your mission. How are you holding up? Don’t forget to take a visit to the infirmary for a professional assessment.” 

Nanami’s response remained characteristically composed. “There’s no need. I sought medical attention last night.” 

Yet, beneath his calm exterior, fleeting images danced in his mind: Shiori’s gentle touch tending to his wounds, their laughter at the restaurant… and the sting of leaving her at her doorstep. Thankfully, duty kept those emotions contained. Personal matters had no place in his workday. 

A sly grin tugged at Gojo's lips as he observed the exchange. He knew all about Nanami’s dedication to self-reliance, rarely seeking help unless absolutely unavoidable. It left Gojo’s curiosity piqued, his mind reeling with questions that demanded answers. 

“Sounds good. That's all for today,” Yaga concluded, turning back to his paperwork. “Nanami, if you need anything, even another pair of hands, don't hesitate to ask. Good luck.”

Nanami nodded, rising to leave, already planning his next steps. But before he could exit, his senior's grating voice cut through the silence. He trudged down the echoing hallway, picturing himself mediating in complete silence instead of enduring Gojo’s shadow looming beside him. “Hey, Nanami, hold on!” Gojo’s cheerful voice shattered the peaceful image. 

“Medical attention, huh?” Gojo smirked, draping an arm around his junior’s shoulders. 

His shoulders tensed under the unwanted touch. “I’m fine,” Nanami muttered, desperately summoning any deity willing to banish Gojo as far away as humanly possible. 

Gojo’s grin widened. “Oho, I bet you are fine.” Nanami shrugged off Gojo’s arm and continued down the hallway. “So, who was the lucky sorcerer that patched you up? Shoko just got back in town this morning, so I’m ruling her out.”

Nanami quickened his pace down the polished wood, teeth gritted. He knew where this was going, and it wasn't a scenic route. “Anything not related to the curse spirit is above your pay grade.” 

“Above my pay grade?” Gojo chuckled, his steps keeping pace with Nanami's. “Now, you're just making it interesting. If it wasn’t Shoko, then…”  

“Shut up while you’re ahead. I’m not in the mood for games, Gojo.” Defensiveness slammed between them like a concrete wall, and Nanami instantly regretted his outburst. He knew showing any emotion in Gojo’s presence was akin to waving a red flag in front of a particularly annoying bull.

The corners of Gojo’s mouth rip upwards, his expression second only to the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, Nanamin, you make this too easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you. There’s nothing to discuss.” 

Gojo threw his head back with a theatrical groan. “Come on, there’s clearly a story here! Your work wife rushed to your rescue in the middle of the night—that’s romantic! So, what happened next? Did you finally treat her to a proper date instead of that confusing ‘friends-but-not-really’ thing you two have going on?” 

“Not your concern.” 

“Perfect! Where’d you go? Was it that restaurant she’s been hinting about?” 

Nanami remained silent while his mind raced to the curse spirit still on the loose, endangering innocent lives. He didn’t have time to gossip with Gojo about his nonexistent love life, yet the albino menace shadowed him to the sunlit parking lot. “I have pressing matters to attend to, so I'll be focusing on those. I advise you to do the same.”

Gojo sucked his teeth. “Aw, Nanamim, aren’t we friends? You should spill all the juicy details of your blossoming romance. You know I’m invested!” 

Nanami kept his cards close to his chest. “There’s nothing to tell. She healed me, we ate dinner, I dropped her off…” He wouldn't risk mentioning how close he came to kissing her, or his vivid visions of Shiori riding his face until he asphyxiated between her thick thighs. “That’s it.”

Nanami’s feelings were only safe in the privacy of his own thoughts, not with the walking rumor mill known as Gojo. He was a gentleman after all, not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. Especially before he even worked up the courage to actually do it.

“God, you two are so boring I could die.” His flair for drama was unmistakable.

“Then die,” Nanami retorted, accompanied by his trademark eye roll. “I’m leaving. If you need me while I’m out, don’t.” Nanami slid into his car and pulled away, leaving Gojo to his own devices. Which was never a good thing to do.

*---* 

Shiori’s eyes flickered open, stunned by the harsh intrusion of light seeping through her curtains. With a disgruntled groan, she stretched her tired limbs and fumbled for her phone. She squinted at the screen revealing a litany of missed notifications and the stark glare of 7:45am. 

Shoko 💜

Don’t forget we have a meeting with the new medical intern.

Gojo Satoru 🤡

I’ve been trying to contact you about your car’s extended warranty 👀

Where are you?

Dad 

Good morning, my beautiful daughter. I hope you’ve been well. Give your parents a call sometime, will ya? 

We miss you. Your mother may not say it, but I know she does. 

Don’t tell her I said that haha

The missed notifications stared back at her. Her stomach lurched in revolt, mirroring the throbbing drum solo echoing inside her skull. Last night’s sake marathon with Nanami flashed in her brain, a painful reminder of her poor decisions. The memories flickered: four empty bottles, slurred laughter, and the warmth of his fingertips brushing hers when he refilled her cup. Had they really finished all that?

She was jolted out of her thoughts when Shoko’s name flashed on her phone again. 

Shoko 💜

Don’t be late. I need you here by 8:30.

A pang of regret mixed with the insistent throbbing. Shoko Ieiri, her best friend and superior, rarely pulled out the “need” card. This was serious. Ignoring the ache knocking around her brain, Shiori pulled herself from the warmth of her duvet, the prospect of a Shoko-style reprimand was a greater motivator than any alarm. 

She launched into a frantic morning routine. Brushing teeth, splashing cold water on her face, slapping on moisturizer - every action fueled by the fear of Shoko's wrath. In a whirlwind, she was dressed and out the door within 30 minutes, vowing to never again underestimate the power of four bottles of sake. 

As she navigated through morning traffic, her mind replayed last night on a hazy movie reel. Healing Nanami, the laughter over dinner that blurred into drunken giggles, the way their bodies drifted closer under her porch light… 

His striking brown eyes that flicked between her heavy-lidded eyes and expectant lips seemed to ask the same question her heart did. She hoped this was it—this was the moment he would finally kiss her… but he hesitated. 

Shiori understood the fear of taking the leap. She could have closed the gap herself, taken the initiative, but the weight of what it meant held her back. 

She had enough drama in her life, given their roles as jujutsu sorcerers and the looming threats from the Kamo clan, who sought to strip her of her autonomy. Her mother, ostracized for loving outside the bloodline, fled to Tokyo with her new family, shielding Shiori from the sorcerer world until she encountered her first curse spirit. Her quiet life of math homework, soccer practices, and loving parents was upended in an instant. 

The Kamos, claiming their duty, almost took her away, but her parents fought, securing her freedom with the condition that she attend Tokyo Jujutsu High under their ever present scrutiny. She fiercely rejected their archaic beliefs, choosing her father’s family name, Nakahari, and forging her own path. In the clan’s eyes, she was merely a spare, expected to fulfill the clan's wishes should her young cousin, Kamo Noritoshi, ever stray from the path of succession. Shiori was still trapped by circumstance; the thought that a gaggle of elderly men held the power to determine her fate frustrated her to no end. 

She found solace in her job as the school nurse and teacher assistant for the young talent at Tokyo Jujutsu High. While the work was demanding, it was also deeply fulfilling, especially when she had former classmates turned colleagues like Shoko, Gojo (occasionally), and Nanami by her side. 

Despite her best efforts, her mind couldn't help but drift back to her budding crush on Nanami. Her heart did a little tap-dance just picturing Nanami's lips, sending a jolt of energy through her that rivaled her usual triple-shot espresso routine. A goofy grin stretched across her face, completely at odds with the hangover headache and impending lecture from Shoko.

“Hey, focus,” Shoko's voice cut through the daydream, a clipboard tapping lightly on Shiori's head. “The intern’s arriving soon. We need to get a feel for him.” 

Shiori blinked, the smile fading as reality snapped back. “I’m all ears. I promise.” 

Her tired eyes lazily observed Shiori's demeanor, attempting to gauge her thoughts. “You shouldn’t lie. It’s too obvious.” 

Shiori shrugged. "Well, didn't Yaga hire this guy? I thought he already 'checked him out'."

Shoko folded her arms across her chest, the newfound source of her stress had her craving another cigarette for breakfast. "Yeah, but Yaga's too nice and too desperate for extra help. This new guy could be annoying. I might need some assistance in breaking him in."

“Are you suggesting we haze the new guy to keep him in line?”

“Precisely.” 

As if scripted, the double doors of the morgue swung open, and a slender figure made his entrance. At first glance, he appeared more like a youthful teenager than an adult man, his boyish charm evident in his disheveled, fluffy, black hair that seemed to have a mind of its own as it bobbed and weaved atop his head.

His approach was a tad clumsy, but the pep in his steps mirrored his enthusiasm. He reached the two women, a hint of shyness in his warm, chocolate-brown eyes. With a bashful smile, he introduced himself, "Hello, my name is Tanaka Sho. I'm the new medical intern, and I'm really looking forward to working with you both." He added a swift, awkward bow at the end of his speech. 

The two women exchanged knowing glances and then turned their attention to the young man in front of them, communicating in a telepathic language they had developed over years of friendship. Hazing this kid was going to be hard. 

Shoko, with a calculated air of authority, addressed the young man. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Tanaka. Welcome. I'm Shoko Ieiri, and this is Nakahari Shiori.”  She emphasized her role by stating, “I'll be assigning tasks to you as needed. For starters, do you see that stack of documents piled around the file cabinets?” She noticed the young man's slight squeak of affirmation and continued, “I'd appreciate it if you could organize those reports alphabetically.”

Tanaka, eager to please, nodded enthusiastically when given the task, his wide, innocent eyes shining with a touch of nervous energy. "Of course, Shoko-san, I'll do my best," he said with a soft, endearing smile, his voice carrying a slight hint of uncertainty. As he moved towards the pile of documents, he couldn't help but add, "If I mess up, don't hesitate to let me know. I want to make sure I do a good job."

As Tanaka went to work, Shoko and Shiori tried to maintain their hard-ass facade, but it quickly proved challenging in the face of his infectious enthusiasm and naivety. Shoko cleared her throat, attempting to sound firm, “Don't expect us to go easy on you. We have high standards here. This is just the first of your many, many tasks.”

Tanaka, looking a bit flustered by their stoic stance, responded with a warm, yet somewhat sheepish, "I understand! I'll do my best to meet your standards."

Shiori, still trying to play along, added, "And no slacking off, either."

Tanaka, while juggling papers and clearly trying to please, reassured them, "I won't slack off. I'm here to learn and help people, after all." 

A flicker of hope sparked in Shiori's eyes. If Tanaka's easygoing nature translated to work, it could ease the constant pressure on Shoko, maybe even grant her a moment of rest. Granted, the new intern was still green, but the mere possibility of alleviating Shoko's burden filled Shiori with a warmth that rivaled her morning coffee. Just the thought of it brought a contented sigh to her lips. This, she decided, was something to look forward to.

*---*

Lunchtime rolled around, and Shoko and Shiori decided to ditch the cafeteria for a quiet cafe nearby. Tanaka, bless his polite soul, declined their invitation, leaving the two friends to their own devices. They settled into a cozy corner with their drinks and waited for their food. With a lazy smile, Shoko turned to Shiori and asked, “So, care to share what’s on your mind? You were basically swimming in daydreams earlier.” 

Shiori fiddled with her napkin. "Oh, you know," she mumbled, “just work stuff. Lots of research. And reports. So many reports.” 

Shoko's knowing smile didn't budge an inch. "Work stuff, huh? You could've fooled me," She leaned closer, voice almost conspiratorial. "I was hoping for something more interesting.” 

“Nope! Just boring, old work stuff…” 

“You know you have a tell, right? Usually you're an open book, but the second it's feelings-related, you clam up like a... clam.”

Shiori felt her cheeks burn, wishing she possessed Shoko's emotional poker face. "I don't know what you're talking about…" she squeaked, unconvincingly.

Shoko chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Didn’t I tell you that lying doesn’t suit you? I can see right through it. I know something is up when you got that bashful thing going on.”

Shiori sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, her gaze finally landing on the perpetually tired doctor. “Alright, you got me. I was just trying to dodge the whole 'feelings' conversation.”

"Ah, so the Nanami conundrum continues..."

“God, am I really that transparent?”

"Well, if you have to ask..."

Shiori groaned, theatrically burying her face in her hands. "Talking like this makes me feel like we’re teenagers again, and I’m running to tell you about any guy who even looked in my direction. I’m done with crushes, okay? I’ve evolved beyond all of that.” 

Shoko's laughter boomed through the cafe, drawing curious glances. "Shiori, I hear you, but feelings don’t answer to logic. You’re allowed to be giddy about a crush.” 

"Always the voice of reason, Shoko. I bet you were a monk in your past life.” 

"Yeah, yeah. Now spill the Nanami tea. Stop stalling."

A goofy grin, the one reserved exclusively for thoughts of her blonde sorcerer, bloomed on her face. “Nanami treated me to dinner last night. He had a pretty nasty wound from a special grade, so he called me for help. I patched him up, but my heart nearly fell out of my ass when he called me with that deep, ‘Batman’ voice of his.”

Shoko, ever the laid-back friend, hummed in acknowledgment.

"I've healed him in the past, but this time was different. More...intimate, somehow? Now, I know it was just a thank-you dinner, but it felt like an actual date! I was so convinced that he was going to make a move…” 

"Sounds like you should make the first move."

Shiori rolled her eyes with a light, airy scoff. “And run the risk of making an absolute ass out of myself? Absolutely not. What if all these signals are just my imagination? He's probably just being... well, Nanami. He’s just a really nice guy—”

“Nice?” A derisive scoff escaped Shoko’s lips. “There’s nothing nice about him. Nanami can be polite, sure, but he’s not a nice man,” Shoko leaned back in her chair as she recalled one of her latest run-ins with the stoic sorcerer. “During a mission debrief last month, I suggested an alternative approach for handling a cursed object. He shot it down with the coldest ‘no’ I’ve ever heard. I swear, it was like I suggested we blow up an orphanage.” 

Shiori couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Sounds about right."

Shoko continued, “But after the meeting, he took me aside and explained why my idea wouldn’t work. He said he appreciated my input, but didn’t want to undermine my confidence in front of the others. Nanami is as blunt as that cursed tool of his, but there’s a method to his madness. He’s got his own way of looking out for people.” 

Shiori couldn’t help but smile at the insight into Nanami’s complex personality. “He’s certainly an enigma.” 

“And that’s why I think you have a shot—he’s not nice to anyone.” 

Her body exploded in a scorching blush, betraying the insecurity swirling beneath the surface. Picking at the placemat like it held the answers, she mumbled, “Shoko, please don’t feed into my delusions. Even if there's something there, it wouldn't last. Between our stressful jobs and the Kamo clan breathing down my neck, I barely have time to blink, let alone date."

“Who said anything about commitment? You could have a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Honestly, I’m surprised you two haven’t…” She let the sentence trail off with a sly grin. “... Experimented." The wink that followed packed the punch of a loaded shotgun.

Shiori chewed on the idea, mentally weighing the risks and rewards. Nanami, her loyal friend, her confidant – the thought of adding "benefits" to that equation was both thrilling and terrifying. He was dependable, easy to talk to, and he always kept his word. Yet, lately, she found herself straying beyond their platonic haven, daydreaming about the enticing possibilities that lay outside the bounds. It was hard not to wander, considering that Nanami was an absolute god of a man. 

Nanami was like a walking GQ ad, impeccable in his pressed suits that hinted at the powerful physique beneath. Every tailored line clung to his broad shoulders and strong arms, leaving little to the imagination. Shiori often caught herself (not-so-subtly) gawking at the thick veins running down his muscled arms, trailing all the way into his large, capable hands. His cologne, a fresh mix of citrus and mint, lingered in the air, leaving her senses pleasantly disoriented. He moved with a confident grace that belied his intimidating aura, befitting the most unapproachable man she ever met. 

But it was the tiny things that captivated her the most. Like the way he’d absentmindedly adjust his tie, the rare smile that crinkled his eyes when he found his favorite bread at the store, or those extraordinary, electrifying moments whenever their hands brushed. 

Shiori couldn't deny the way she biblically craved the blonde sorcerer. Sure, the man had an ass that could rival a Greek statue, but let's be honest, that was just the icing on the cake. She craved the whole package: cheesy movie dates where he'd pretend to hate the rom-com but secretly hum the theme song, late-night cuddles on his couch while they debated the best bakeries in the area, and impromptu sleepovers filled with stolen glances and kisses. She wanted to paint their love story in all the cliché colors, because sometimes, clichés were just the best damn things in the world.

She pictured it: Nanami, the man who could probably disarm a cursed spirit with a single raised eyebrow, awkwardly fumbling with a bouquet of oversized sunflowers because they reminded him of her smile.

That stoic mask he wears? Gone, replaced by a flustered mess because he caught her sneaking a peek at his biceps while he adjusted his tie. 

Remember the sorcerer known for his record breaking black flashes? He’s in her kitchen cracking eggs and flipping pancakes. The air smells of burnt butter and syrup, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. 

These were scenes straight out of a rom-com; and maybe Shoko was right—beneath his aloof attitude, maybe he craved a little bit of the cliche, too. With a wistful smile, Shiori finally spoke up. “Nah, I want a real relationship. I’m a sucker for a good romance.” 

Shoko chuckled at her friend’s entanglement. “Tell him that, not me.” 

Before Shiori could offer a rebuttal in defense of her love affairs, the waiter placed their dishes on the table, and they began to enjoy their meal. She took a bite of her food, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

[benevolenterrancy]

Zhuzhi-Lang, sincerely, what the fuck do you think gratitude means? I'm just curious. I just want to talk.

[evidenceof]

Band of Brothers BTS Photos

"The boots of Winters [Damian Lewis] and Nixon [Ron Livingston] burning on the runway. They said they had worn them for a year and wanted revenge!" - P. Christopher, BoB Wardrobe Assistant, also the source of polaroid In the comments, he goes on to say that it was just their boots burning in that pile.

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,��� he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[froggychair05]

So @enden-agolor’s fic has once again made me lose my marbles in the best way

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

hello! I was wondering if you had any thoughts abt how our turtles would be with an s/o that's a bit of a microcelebrity. Think like a streamer or a youtuber someone with a large but niche following

I hope you have a good day/night! :3

Given that MOST of the turtles' human contacts are celebrities or people in power- it wouldn't be that crazy to them.

Micro-Celebrity x Bayverse Turtles

-Your friendship would be unaffected by it. But entering in a romantic relationship with him, the changes and challenges would take you BOTH by surpise.

-First of all, your turtle cares EXTREMLY deeply for you, and he wants very badly, to make you happy and keep you safe. He is constantly proud of you and he is always watching you thinking, 'Jesus, how the hell did I land this. How.'

-I think the biggest fight or difficulty would be that you would go days, even weeks without seeing each other. Between his schedule and how often you are in front of thousands if not millions of people- it would be difficult.

-Your turtle would also be fighting with feelings of inadequacy or paranoia, more so than he ever had with his other human contacts. Constantly on your case about safety.

-He'd feel as if he isn't enough, that you deserve more in a partner. Someone to be proud to show off, to be someone who could show YOU off. God knows he wants to. It would have been like that without your following but now it's even WORSE.

-To be with one of the turtles demands you sacrifice a LOT just out of the gate. And sometimes that's enough for your turtle to call the relationship into question. So you'd have to put a lot of effort in making it work. Even if you DIDN'T have a following.

-A lot of LITERALLY sacrificing and scheduling time weeky and regularly SPECIFICALLY to spend time and connect with him. At times, it's the only time you see him, and he needs that time just as desperately (if not more) than you do.

-Nosey fans or pesky followers or stalkers would be hard to deal with, even if they were nearly asking questions about your love life. Or picking out the extremely small details that hint that you are hiding something or someone from them. It will be exhausting.

-It will be exhausting to him too. Feeling stressed over April's safety, and leaving her safety to her team's during daytime hours is all one thing. You, though??? Even worse.

-Having someone so close him in such an exposing light all the time hurts his heart, and it would help to include him anyway you possibly can when it comes to keeping you safe.

-LET him walk you home. Let him pick you up or follow you around town, or let him help with the computers or house- it will ease his worry. And it kinda feels good no one can touch you.

[bluerasbunny]

hes a material girl YN wouldn't understand

putting this under a read more to spare from my yelling, but holy SHIT! VKTRS is at 500 hits and 71 kudos, dude that is INSANE! especially for a fic with ONE chapter!!

the success was entirely unprecedented and unexpected, i'm honestly still trying to process it all!!

thank you all so much for the continued support!!! it means so much to me as a young author and artist!! <3 /gen

[shepscapades]

Objection!

Your honor, please carefully consider the tags on the stolen horns post. In them, The Shepherd alleges to be standing upon 5 boxes. This seemingly extraneous information would imply that The Shepherd is significantly smaller than DocM, and requires the boxes to take this picture with a level view of both parties. This would further the narrative that The Shepherd's horns are too small to be DocM's missing horns by making the audience mentally adjust the picture to think of The Shepherd as even smaller than shown. However, the cropping of the picture does not show us this at all! We can not see the true size comparison between the two parties, therefore nullifying this image as conclusive proof that The Shepherd's horns are too small to be DocM's missing horns.

However, one only needs to look back at previous posts of The Shepherd's to see the truth! In many of the recent pictures we can see the full bodies of both The Shepherd and DocM in close proximity to one another, and in these images we see that DocM is much smaller than the Shepherd is... !

Taps paper

You see, what we have here is a classic case of perspective fraud! By making both parties seem the same size, and further implying that The Shepherd is smaller than DocM, it would be completely impossible for the horns to be the very same set, given their size discrepancy. However, because DocM is actually smaller than The Shepherd the size of the two sets of horns are actually far more similar than this image may suggest! Please direct your attention to the Stop Torturing Him Doc Arm Guy post, in this you can clearly see that the size of the Shepherd's horns are roughly the same size as DocM's face,

Slams hands on desk

Exactly like DocM's missing horns are!

STOP IT IM ALREADY DEAD THIS IS SO FREAKING FUNNY

[andy-clutterbuck]

✨ HAPPY 50TH BIRTHDAY ANDY ✨

[flashdoesahundredyarddash]

Under blue moon, I saw you 🦇

[cheecats]

To soothe you from your Riverstar's Home trauma, how about you ramble about oneripple?

YOU'RE SO KIND FOR LETTING ME GO OFF ABOUT THIS TY TY 💞💞💞 I'm terrible at structuring logical/coherent rambles, so I'll just dump some thoughts I have (obv these exclude Riverstar's Home and are roughly how I'd like to play with their dynamic [give them to me NOW erins!!])

LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Obviously this is way before the mountain cats arrive. BIG FAN of the idea that River Ripple and his small circle at the time were the ones to help One Eye and baby Star Flower get back on their feet after the two lost the rest of their family to the sickness we see again in TBS (I imagine One Eye had already treated them with the Blazing Star, but the two were still so terribly weak and unwell after that.) The group find the two living inside a rotting hollow and approach them. One Eye is, naturally, EXTREMELY aggressive and reclusive at first — distressed from sickness, grief, and fear of losing his tiny daughter, for he hasn't been strong enough to feed them much. The other cats are nervous around him, unwilling to approach the tom for his sheer size and ferocity, even if he is weakened. But not River Ripple. He understands why he is acting this way, that his aggression is a defense mechanism to mask his fear, and ultimately wishes to convey to One Eye that he is not going to do anything to them without his explicit permission first: and he sticks to that promise! Every day he sits outside the makeshift shelter with food, asking permission to come inside, leaving prey, water and herbs at the entrance if One Eye is asleep or simply says no. He never challenges it, and simply obliges and wishes him and Star Flower well. It is through this gradual process that One Eye begins to somewhat relax around River Ripple, allowing ONLY him to come inside, communicating his and Star Flower's needs and whatnot (Vulnerability moment!!)

Although she was too young to remember, once she began to recover, Star Flower was always excited when River Ripple visited, coming up to him, chasing his tail, and telling him all about her big adventures (all just made up ones, but River Ripple would always listen and ask her questions about them!) One Eye initially doesn't take well to Star Flower going up to the near-stranger, pulling her back or growling at River Ripple to back off. But over time, he sees that the risk is minimal, and the two never leave his sight while interacting. Besides, it stops Star Flower pestering him to entertain her for just a bit (also I just find this funny because adult Star Flower can barely recall this and River Ripple is just looking at her like omg you've gotten so tall now!!! I remember when you used to tell me how you beat up monsters and dogs 🤭💙!!)

SO LIKE skipping the recovery period, and now One Eye and Star Flower are more present outside … One Eye falls first. He initially is bothered by this, still grieving the loss of his mate and their other kits moons ago. But the feeling is nonetheless there. It's complicated, because at first he had every intention of claiming the area for himself and pushing River Ripple & his friends out… but as much as he tried to resent River Ripple's philosophy, there was just something so…. soothing yet powerful in the way he carried himself. He realises he actually enjoys his company, which is also weird for him! One Eye has lived among opportunistic cats his entire life, learning that being aggressive and domineering is the only way to make it, and that the passive and meek were destined to be crushed. But River Ripple is a curious example to him. He is gentle and patient, but completely capable of establishing boundaries and shutting down veins of discussion that belittle or threaten him. He would call out One Eye's bullshit every single time, but in a way that didn't escalate the situation. His heart was soft and his identity was strong in that. Kindness without weakness??? In MY Warrior Cats??? Impossible??? (Erins: yes it's impossible. 🗿)

Anyway, montage of One Eye giving terrible rizz and making a complete fool of himself 90% of the time — getting frustrated and defensive while everyone else is like🧍‍♂️. River Ripple is confused at first, but slowly begins to catch on. He finds it both amusing and sweet… and yeah! He realises he does feel the same way! He always found One Eyes protectiveness of Star Flower warming, found his intelligence to be engaging, and he genuinely believes there is good in the tom's heart (me shaking my head slowly.)

First date? Swimming lesson! One Eye is terrible! He's half drowned, scrabbling onto River Ripple every .2 seconds, and hates how pathetic it makes him look. But River Ripple is patient, assuring him that they can always try again some other time, and that it took him a while to get used to it too <:)

^ I feel like it's important to emphasize that One Eye genuinely feels like he can relax around River Ripple. That this cat doesn't have any ulterior motivation to trick him or take from him. Nor' does River Ripple ever belittle his failures or negative traits. They simply exist, are acknowledged, and pass like water.

But of course there is difficulty in how these two's ideologies clash. Everyone's beliefs are different, but theirs almost completely counter. River Ripple's philosophy is peaceful. To live and let live, and be custodians of the land. One Eye's on the other hand is to conquer. To take, to fight for what you need, and to claim the land. While there is room to accommodate each other, they are both two strong individuals with strong identities. Neither is going to abandon their philosophy, and when they clash so strongly, it can make it impossible for them to see eye to eye on issues. Long term, that would be hard. I believe that is why they'd go their separate ways. It doesn't work out. But that is okay. For that period of time, there was coexistence, there was connection, and there was love.

TL:DR. Very brief romance! A spark of passion that burns then fizzles out when One Eye leaves to be on his own (with Star Flower) once again. River Ripple, of course, says One Eye can return any time if he needs anything. Even for a short visit. He never does. For everywhere the tom goes, there is destruction and disruption, and River Ripple's home is like an oasis to be left untouched in One Eye's head.

Even as One Eye's reputation worsens, they still feel for each other. River Ripple especially. He knows what One Eye is capable of, what he has done, and how downright hideous he can be. But it's hard not to miss the memory of him. (Cue the mountain cats like PLEASE stop talking about this asshole in flowery prose he is trying to kill us!!)

BONUS: Not really relevant here, but their presence in the narratives respectively as the punisher/destroyer vs the voice of reason… ooogh, sun that burns, moon that soothes e.t.c but that deity kind of vibe would be more relevant once they're spirits in the Dark Forest & Starclan!

I could go on forever but that's the meat of it. Ty ty i hope everyone enjoyed and its not terribly incoherent ✌️

[cervideity]

jackpot

The Enemy was published 15 years ago today! Wow! You should go and read it! Check out this scene for yourself! Nothing goes wrong!

[chimerahyperfix]

You’re looking for something— no, someone, too, aren’t you?

(I can’t comprehend how you understand what’s going on, with your lifeless shell. Craft as you are.)

[master-muffinn]

One piece Incorrect quotes

Odd/weird conversations i had in my life but in ‘One piece theme’ (reader is female)

---

Me: *writing to my sister about embarrassing stuff but releasing that it isn't my sister i writing to* Um…who are you? And are you a girl or a boy?

Franky: I’m a unicorn with a penis! 🦄✨

-----

*Sitting and playing cards on a big rock with some friends*

Me: *needed to fart and was able to make it small and soundless* 

Chopper: Ew it stings! 

Usopp: *sniff sniff* Ew it does! Who farted!?

Me: *Having a mentally panic attack*

Luffy: It wasn't me!

Chopper: Not me either!

Usopp: Sure it wasn't! 

Zoro: It was probably Sanji! We all know he smells shit!

Sanji: NO! IT WAS OBVIOUSLY YOU!!

*guys start an argument*

Luffy: Guys maybe it was y/n who farted?

Sanji: NO! Are you sTuPiD? Girls DON’T fart!

Me: *Nodding*

*The guys continued fighting while y/n acting like nothing*

---

Kidd: You have a small penis.

Me: Sorry, a rat stole my penis the day i was born, i haven’t found it since then.

Kidd: Oh…uhh…I didn't expect that response…WELL, if i see a rat with an larger penis than it should have, i’ll let you know! 

Me: It’s ok. I have learnt to live without it, i don’t need it anymore.

---

Sanji: Did you know? You are beautiful in photos! Cuter than a mermaid! 

Me: Are you comparing me to a fish?

---

Usopp: Y/n if all the people in the world were to disappear except you and me-

Luffy: Me too, Usopp!!

Usopp: LUFFY WE ARE BOYS!! WE CAN’T BREED!!

Me: …🤨

---

Nami: What are you working with?

Me: I’m a dairy farmer. I got 19 jersey cows. 

Nami: Oh nice! Are you working tomorrow?

Me: I'm working 365 days a year! 😉 

Me: What were you planning? 😂

Nami: …

Me: But I can make some time. No problem!

[moldypoff]

If I’m not commenting on mouthwashing posts assume I’m dead

[papersnatch]

Does Potemkin like his uniform? What would he wear if he could wear clothes without issues? How does his mutation affect things like clothes or self grooming? Does he like being able to take care of himself? What about what his favorite things to draw? How much food does he eat? Does he have favorite books? What's his guilty pleasure? Does he have a crush on anyone? Tell me.

anon, i see you and i hear you. you are indulging me so bad, and so obviously i will Listen

Potemkin (Guilty Gear) headcanons 2: Electric Boogaloo

Does Potemkin like his uniform?

- He doesn't feel anything real strong about his uniform. It's just a couple of garments he wears for formality's sake, not much else. He appreciates the small pockets though!

- But his helmet? God, Potemkin appreciates his helmet sooooooo much.

- Albeit only slightly, very very slightly, he's got some eyesight issues - but his helmet's got some prescription lenses installed in there that bring his vision back to 20/20.

- Potemkin doesn't really notice the eyesight problems when his helmet's off, but once he looks through those lenses again, it's like seeing a whole new world.... kind of. In reality it doesn't make much of a difference, but Potemkin appreciates it nonetheless!

What would Potemkin wear if he could wear clothes without issues?

- He's already so used to his firm uniform, no matter the issues, so I feel he'd instinctually go for something tight and cozy to emulate that feeling.

- On simple outings, he values comfort over fashion. A simple sleeveless t-shirt and trousers is all he needs. Maybe even a jacket.

- ... yeah, Potemkin's not too big on fashion. Again, he prefers comfort over anything, considering the lack of it that he has in the first place.

- He definitely doesn't mind showing some skin though (NOT IN THAT WAY AUGH). Mostly his arms, since he finds most long-sleeved shirts very uncomfortable.

How does Potemkin's mutation affect things like clothes or self grooming?

- For self grooming, he finds he's often breaking hairbrushes, toothbrushes, hair ties or anything else, completely by accident. His sheer strength makes it hard to use anything without taking extra care to do so gently. It's annoying, but Potemkin makes the most of it.

- Gabriel, the worried mentor that he is, always orders in extra-sturdy replacements for these tools, made just for Potemkin's sake. Potemkin is ever so grateful for it, as you'd expect.

- For clothes, Potemkin has to get them refitted every couple of months or so. Have you seen how skin-tight his Strive outfit is?

- well yeah t's for the sex appeal dude.but that's daisuke's fault not mine

- (In some XX cutscenes, there's images of him clearly wearing clothing that isn't practically glued to his skin. Maybe during Strive, he was simply due for a refitting of his clothes again...?)

- It's a hassle, and quite a costly one at that. but really it's no biggie. Just that all that body proportion measuring does get to him a little....

Does Potemkin like being able to take care of himself?

- Hooh! Ahem. Uhh, well, it's definitely better than not being able to...?

- Yeah, sure, Potemkin says he doesn't mind, and that's true. But on the bad days, when he looks in the mirror to brush his teeth or tie his hair up, he just feels... disgust. He's too big to fit in the doorway, or some low-hanging ceilings, or the mirror itself.

- Potemkin's mutation, the one that's taken hold of his life, opened so many paths and closed all the others... he resents it. Hates it. Wishes he could just be normal, with regular proportions and lacking of his superhuman strength. It's a blessing and a curse. It's-- no. No. There's no reason to dwell on it. It'll only lower his morale.

- Being independent is something Potemkin is glad he's able to do though, despite the difficulty of moving around and the horrible, horrible body dysmorphia. He'll find a way to cope with it. The self care needs to get done either way, he tells himself.

- (He might need some kind of therapist to help him with his self image issues, actually...)

What are Potemkin's favourite things to draw?

- Potemkin claims that he doesn't have a 'favourite' thing to draw, he simply follows along with whatever inspiration struck him in the moment.

- But, one with a keen eye would be able to spot the fact that he seems to adore drawing portraits of his friends and associates. The way their expression lights up when they see their own face, captured in perfect integrity and drawn by Potemkin's own hands, warms his heart.

How much food does Potemkin eat?

- A bit more than the average portion, since Potemkin has to keep up with his more demanding metabolism due to his larger size.

- But usually, he can get away with eating regular portions, so he does just that. It's a lot more convenient for him that way, especially when he's not preparing the food himself.

- He has been prescribed with a dietary plan, but it's become a little irrelevant lately.

Does Potemkin have favourite books?

- Not really. Well, at least he claims he doesnt, but you'll easily find him binging the old old classics, like Shakespeare. He's read all of Shakespeare's literature. Like, all of it.

- What can he say, they're titled as 500 year old classics for a reason! He's moreso surprised that they're still preserved and out there if anything. Such is the wonders of history preservation...

What's Potemkin's guilty pleasure?

- Fanfiction.

- ...

- What else is there to say?

- He finds beauty in the fact that people can take the base of someone's original story and craft their own out of it, using someone else's characters, setting and world to make their own personal piece of art. The storylines, the interpretations of characters, the twisting of the original plot... He holds the poetic value of it quite highly.

-And obviously, considering the fact he does consume some media, he's sometimes starving for more content of the characters he enjoys.

- What? No, I'm not projecting. Who told you that?

Does Potemkin have a crush on anyone?

- So, have you heard of this guy called Faust Guilty Gea(GETS SHOT AND DIES)

- ...okay, seriously, if he'd have a crush on anyone, I think it would be Faust - even if the crush was only for a fleeting moment. He's far too occupied with his job to really consider a romantic relationship, but him and Faust have bonded closer than he thought ever possible.

- Being so tall your back always hurts, being so bulky you struggle to get around, your giant hands getting in the way all the time... Faust gets Potemkin's struggles. Maybe not to the same degree, but he definitely gets it.

- And the fact that, considering their pasts, they're definitely both working to improve on themselves. It'd be so, so helpful to have someone to lean on, someone to share their struggles with, someone to come back home to.

- Yeah, it'd be tricky as hell for Potemkin to juggle his work and a relationship at the same time... but what the hell, maybe he could try anyway, just for the sake of it?

^ I'm not really one for ships, but like. Do you understand. (while actively frothing at the mouth) i think you need to put me down anon

hey if you are my friend and you see this post i give you permission to maul me, anyway Potemkin Guilty Gear.......