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edenesth · 4 months

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TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [1]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Just focus on me, okay? You can hear me, right?" a sweet, gentle female voice called out, followed by a soft touch on his cheek. Mingi forced his eyes open in disbelief—how could a woman be in the war zone? As he cracked his eyes open, he was breathless at the sight of a beautiful angel before him.

You smiled in relief, cupping his face delicately. "That's right. Everything will be okay. I'll make all the pain go away. Just stay with me, soldier. Can you do that?"

He nodded weakly, his once weakening heartbeat now pounding in his chest. "A-anything for you, my lady…"

"Quite a flirt, aren't you?" you teased, reassured that he was still well enough to be playful. He was the most critical soldier on site, and you had been immediately assigned to him as soon as you and a team of medical experts arrived to treat the injured soldiers.

Your breath had hitched when you first saw him, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of the blood caking his body, a huge gash on his abdomen, and countless other cuts. Without wasting a second, you settled beside him and did everything you could to keep him conscious. He was losing too much blood, and if he remained unconscious any longer, you might lose him. For now, you had no choice but to multitask by treating him and keeping him distracted.

Anything to keep him awake.

"N-no, only for you…" he croaked, and you breathed out a laugh, your hands busy cleaning his wounds, unfazed by his bare upper body. Sure, he had a great physique, but so did most soldiers around here and many other patients you'd treated. His clichéd and sweet words were also nothing new to you. Patients delirious from blood loss often behaved this way.

He held onto your hand when the stinging pain became a little too unbearable as you cleaned the open wound that was still bleeding profusely. You placed your other hand gently over his, stroking his skin in an attempt to comfort him. "It's okay, soldier. I know it hurts, but it will be alright."

With care, you slowly moved his hand back to his side before continuing. You could feel his awed gaze fixed on you, but you didn't mind; it meant he was conscious, and that was all you needed. Through a sharp wince, he choked out, "W-when this is all over, will you please allow me the h-honour of courting you, my lady?"

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief at his bold question. No matter how flirty other soldiers could get, none had ever dared to ask to court you. This was a first. With a shrug, you decided perhaps a little white lie wouldn't hurt too much.

"We'll talk about it when you're fully recovered. How's that sound?"

Smiling weakly through his pain, he nodded. "Sounds wonderful."

You continued tending to his wounds, your touch gentle but efficient. Despite the gravity of his injuries, he kept his eyes on you, drawing strength from your presence. The battlefield around you faded as you focused entirely on keeping him alive.

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the worst was over. You had cleaned and dressed his wounds, stopping the bleeding and stabilising him for now. You leaned back, wiping the sweat from your brow, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"There, all done. You just need to rest and let your body heal."

He nodded, exhaustion evident in his eyes, but there was a glimmer of hope as well. "Thank you… for everything."

You patted his shoulder. "Just doing my job. Now, get some rest."

As you stood up to move on to the next patient, you couldn't help but glance back at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that it was just his delirium speaking. No man would want to court a lady simply after taking a single glance at her. He didn't know you well enough to feel that way. He would probably forget all about you by the time he was healed.

The same way you would forget him.

Only you were completely wrong about that. The first thing Mingi thought about when he regained consciousness was you. He lay in bed for weeks afterwards, with different physicians checking on him regularly, but never the angel who had saved him from moving on to the afterlife, the one who had comforted him during the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced.

When he tried to ask for you, he realised he didn't even know your name or designation. He had no information about you other than that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—a description not very helpful for others to identify you.

Just like the wind, you were gone.

He never saw you again, but that was when his search for you began. He remained hopeful even as years passed. He didn't know why he was so fixated on one woman he knew nothing about. But you weren't just another woman. You were the one who saved his life, the first one he had the courage to ask out, and most importantly, you hadn't said no to him yet.

So that had to mean something. He must have a chance; he just needed to find you.

Even when all his friends, family, colleagues, and nearly the whole world called him a fool for being so hung up on someone he had only met once, someone he might never see again, he refused to give up. As a soldier and now a military strategist, he rarely interacted with women, and even when he did, they were often intimidated by his appearance and put off by his dangerous job. They rarely saw him as a marriage prospect.

That was why he couldn't move on from you. Your delicate treatment all those years ago had left an indelible mark on his heart. He could still remember every single touch of your fingertips on his skin, and he longed to have you close again.

His colleagues would laugh, calling him a fool. "You're chasing a ghost," they said. "She might not even be real." But Mingi knew better. He had felt your touch, heard your voice, and seen the kindness in your eyes. You were real, and you were out there somewhere. You had to be.

He devoted every spare moment to finding you, combing through records and speaking to anyone who might have known the medical trainees from that time. His friends often found him lost in thought, staring out into the distance, clearly fixated on a memory that had become his driving force, always looking for 'his one.'

When he finally found you again, he didn't expect it to be again in the war zone, where the conflict with Ruhon had just ended and the injured General Park was absent. He remembered hearing your delicate voice stand out amidst the sea of men blocking your way as you firmly tried to push through, unfazed by the soldiers surrounding you—a quality he greatly admired.

"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," one of the soldiers explained. Mingi recalled pushing through the crowd to hear your response: "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."

I finally found you, my one.

At that moment, seeing you again was all that mattered. You were all he could see and hear. He was so fixated on the fact that you were right in front of him that he hadn't yet processed the implication of you being a royal female physician.

None of that was important as he cleared his throat, his deep voice booming across the space. "Let her through."

"But sir, the general isn't even here—"

The military strategist sighed. "I said let the lady through, soldier."

"Y-yes, sir."

He basked in your appreciative smile as the crowd finally dispersed, allowing you space to breathe and enter the camp after what felt like an eternity of being stranded outside. You had travelled far and long, and the last thing you needed was to be asked to return to the palace without a proper explanation. You had been sent to treat the poisoned military general—how could you explain to His Majesty if you returned empty-handed?

Following the tall man who politely introduced himself as General Officer Song, you immediately knew who he was. He was a renowned military strategist, the only one competent enough to be acknowledged by the great General Park Seonghwa.

"Thank you for intervening," you said, matching his brisk pace.

"Not a problem. It's an honour to have you here," he replied, his voice steady and respectful. "Royal Physician...?"

Your eyes widened in realisation at your lack of self-introduction. "Oh, how rude of me for not introducing myself. Please address me as Royal Physician Ahn."

"It's nice to meet you, Royal Physician Ahn," he said, pausing for a moment to take in your appearance, hoping you might recognise him. His heart sank slightly when you merely returned his smile courteously. "Pleasure to meet you as well, General Officer Song. Now, if you'll just take me to the general."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "He's not here, my lady."

You halted your steps. "Wh-what do you mean he's not here?"

He gestured to the main tent, beckoning for you to follow. "Please, I'll explain everything."

As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort around him, though you couldn't quite place it. Little did you know, the man beside you had been searching for you since that fateful day, driven by a memory that had never faded. And now, with you by his side, he was determined not to let you slip away again.

Except that might not be his choice to make.

"Don't you ever regret becoming a woman of the palace, unnie? I mean, look at that—it must be nice to be in love," Subin, your colleague and childhood friend, said as she nudged your shoulder, nodding toward the second prince and his wife. They were the only royal couple so far to marry out of love and not duty, and the two were taking a stroll in the nearby cherry blossom garden.

You shook your head with a small smile. "We've been over this, Subin-ah. Love is a luxury for people like us. Besides, we now belong to His Majesty, and nothing can change that. Watch your words and don't let anyone catch you saying things like that."

As much as you agreed with her and thought it would be nice to have someone to love and be loved in return, you knew there was no point in dwelling on the impossible. Any chance of that was taken away from the moment you both decided to pursue careers as royal physicians. Not that you had much of a choice—both you and Subin were orphaned at a young age, the only survivors of a plague-ridden village that had claimed your families.

Left with nothing, you had begged the exhausted medical practitioners, who were struggling to treat as many infected people as they could at that time, to take you both in, promising to work in any way you could as payment. Feeling sympathetic and touched by your determination, they agreed, and you grew up as apprentices to these struggling physicians, promising to repay them when you were older. And you did, by signing up to enter the palace. It was the most successful path for any medical practitioner, and with your income, the dingy clinic run by your saviours could finally survive steadily.

However, this success came at a price.

Palace rules dictated that any woman working within belonged to the King. In other words, you were his property. Once you held an official position within the palace, you could never marry or have children unless it was with His Majesty himself, if one was lucky—or unlucky enough—depending on how one viewed it. Most palace women would work until their death and be buried within the palace walls. Only in rare and special cases were some granted the privilege to retire and leave the palace to live out the rest of their lives as they pleased.

You sighed, looking at your friend. "As much as I understand what you're saying, we both know there's no point in dreaming about it. Our path was set the moment we chose this life. Love, marriage, children—those things are not for us."

She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resignation and understanding. "I know, unnie. It's just... sometimes I wonder what it would be like, you know? To have someone who cares about you, who is willing to take care of you, who loves you."

You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We have each other, and we have our duty. That's enough. It has to be."

She smiled weakly. "You're right. We made a choice, and we've helped so many people because of it. We should be proud of that."

"We should," you agreed, squeezing her shoulder gently. "And who knows? Maybe one day, we'll be among the lucky few who get to retire and live out the rest of our lives outside these walls."

Subin chuckled softly, finally moving and continuing the trek back to the royal medical hall. "A girl can dream, right?"

"Indeed, my dearest," you said, returning her smile. "A girl can dream."

Meanwhile, Mingi couldn't stop replaying the events of that day—finally seeing you again. He had sat you down and reassured you that the war with Ruhon had ended and that the general was already home, being taken care of by his own family doctor. Once you calmed down, relieved, Mingi began asking you multiple questions under the guise of courtesy, secretly hoping to see if you recognised him.

"How long have you been a royal physician, my lady?" he asked, his eyes keenly observing your reaction.

"Quite a few years now," you replied, sinking into your seat and relaxing at the pleasant news about the nerve-wracking war and the general's safety. "It's been a challenging but rewarding journey."

He nodded and smiled warmly, happy to ease your worries. "I can imagine. You must have treated many patients over the years."

"Yes, many," you said, your gaze distant for a moment as you recalled the countless faces. "Each one leaves a mark, in a way."

His heart sank slightly at your words, realising that he was likely just one of those many faces. "You must have seen some incredible recoveries," he continued, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Indeed, I have," you agreed, your expression softening. "It's always a blessing to see someone recover, to know you've made a difference."

His disappointment was palpable, though he masked it well. You didn't show any signs of recognising him, but he figured it must be because he was only one of many patients you had treated. But you were here now, and that was all that mattered to him. He resolved to work hard to help you remember him, to gain your trust, and most importantly, to earn your affection.

"You know," he said, his tone light and conversational, "it's rare to find someone as dedicated as you. We're lucky to have you."

You smiled modestly. "Thank you, General Officer Song. It's an honour to serve His Majesty and the people."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes sincere. "The world certainly needs more people like you, Royal Physician Ahn."

"I'm glad you think so," you said, feeling a surprising sense of comfort in his presence.

Mingi couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he recalled how you had eventually allowed him to escort you from the war site back to the palace. You hadn't rejected him, and that must mean something. It must mean he had a chance. It must—

"Look, hyung, I know you're happy you finally found her, but you do realise she's off-limits, right?" said Junghoon, his apprentice and close friend. The younger man shook his head at the military strategist's dreamy expression that had persisted on his face ever since reuniting with his dream girl.

Mingi's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Off-limits...?"

His apprentice raised an eyebrow. "She's a royal physician. You know the rules as well as I do. Don't tell me you forgot palace women are the King's property. They're not allowed to marry or have relationships outside of what His Majesty permits."

Mingi's expression turned more serious, though the light in his eyes didn't diminish. "I know the rules, Junghoon-ah. But I also know that nothing is truly impossible. Exceptions have been made before."

Junghoon sighed, clearly concerned. "You're playing a dangerous game, hyung. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

The military strategist nodded, appreciating his friend's worry. "I understand your concern. But she means more to me than just a fleeting interest. I've been looking for her ever since that day, and now that I've found her, I can't just let her go again."

Junghoon studied his mentor's determined expression for a moment before nodding slowly. "If you say so. Just be careful. You know the palace can be a ruthless place."

Mingi smiled again, more determined than ever. "I will, Junghoon-ah. Thanks for looking out for me, my friend."

The younger man patted him on the shoulder. "Always, hyung. Always."

Officer Song's smile weakened as soon as his apprentice left. Truth be told, the realisation that you were now a royal physician weighed heavily on him. He understood exactly what that meant. Under the reign of any unreasonable king, Mingi would never have dared to continue his pursuit. But he knew His Majesty was one of the kindest rulers Joseon had ever seen. While he wasn't exactly confident that things would go his way, he would be damned if he gave up without giving it his all first.

The reality of you being a woman of the palace was disheartening, but it didn't deter his determination to fight for you. He knew it was foolish, but that was the thing about love—it made people do stupid things. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of you.

His mind wandered back to the moment he first saw you again, the way you had smiled at him, the relief in your eyes when he reassured you. Those memories fueled his resolve. He had spent years searching for you, and now that he had found you, he couldn't let palace rules stand in his way.

As he sat there, the light from the setting sun casting long shadows in his room, he made a silent vow to himself. He would approach His Majesty, present his case with honesty and respect, and hope for the best. The King's kindness gave him a sliver of hope, and he clung to it with all his might.

Mingi knew the risks, knew the odds were against him, but he also knew that love was worth fighting for. He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying into a plan. No matter how impossible it seemed, he was ready to do whatever it took to be with you.

But the challenges were proving more difficult than he had imagined.

"General Officer Song, are you hearing yourself? Do you realise what you are asking of me? What would the people of this nation think if I were to give in to the whims of my men so easily? Rules are established for a reason," His Majesty said strictly.

Mingi lowered his head, sinking to his knees and bowing deeply to express his sincerity. He knew he could have gone to Seonghwa about this, and the general, being the King's favourite, would have easily helped him. But the military strategist didn't want to rely on or exploit his friend's connection. This was his love story, and it was something he needed to accomplish on his own.

He tried to keep his voice steady as he continued speaking. "I know this must be an incredibly outrageous request, Your Majesty. I wouldn't have taken the risk to come here and ask this if my feelings for Royal Physician Ahn were not genuine. I implore you, my King, I am serious about my intentions to court her."

The elderly ruler sighed, leaning back on his throne and rubbing his forehead. "Officer Song, if you think you are the first to come to me with such a request, I assure you, you are not. I'm aware I am considered one of the most benevolent rulers of Joseon, but my kindness is not to be taken advantage of."

Mingi's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. "No, Your Majesty! I would never—"

The King raised a hand to stop him. "Let me finish, Officer Song. I know you believe you are in love, but many others have thought the same. I have granted opportunities to pursue what they call love, only for them to turn out to be mistakes. You are young, and you will meet more women who are available and more well-suited for you. Don't let your temporary feelings misguide your actions. Trust me, you will move on and forget about her before you know it."

However, the elderly ruler was unsurprised to see his words only igniting greater determination in the young man's eyes. Mingi parted his lips, prepared to protest and prove His Majesty wrong, but the elderly man waved him off. "Stubborn as always. Fine, if you are so determined to pursue this, I will allow you the opportunity to realise I am correct. Love is a two-way street and cannot flourish with only one side invested. Go ahead and do your best then. Let's see if Royal Physician Ahn will even reciprocate your feelings. She is one of my most dedicated staff members; we'll see if you can sway her resolve."

Although the King's words were intended to discourage him, Mingi was relieved it wasn't a flat-out rejection. This meant he still had hope, a chance to win your heart and make you his. Bowing deeply, he exclaimed, "Your grace is immeasurable, Your Majesty! I wish you ten thousand years of life and reign!"

In the days that followed his conversation with His Majesty, the military strategist became consumed with thoughts of getting closer to you without appearing too forward. Even during his daily training, his mind wandered, preoccupied with strategies for approaching you subtly. So, when a blunt practice sword collided with his arm, he let out a yelp of pain, jolting back to reality. Though the sword was dull, it still left a small wound and a bruise that was sure to darken over time from the impact.

Junghoon cursed and dropped his weapon, rushing to his mentor's side. "Why didn't you dodge?! You're such an idiot sometimes!"

Mingi winced, cradling his arm. "I was just... thinking of ways to approach her subtly."

Junghoon raised a sceptical eyebrow, shaking his head lightly. "Well, here's the perfect opportunity. You're injured, so go to the medical hall to be treated by her."

"Oh, that's an amazing idea!"

"Yeah, it's not exactly rocket science—"

"You're brilliant, Junghoon-ah! Thanks, dinner's on me!" Mingi exclaimed excitedly, dashing off towards the royal medical hall.

The younger man shrugged, watching his mentor run off with an amused grin. "Huh, I guess I am a genius."

Mingi struggled to calm his racing heart, his mind reeling with all sorts of scenarios that could unfold. He thought about what to say to start a conversation, to get to know you better, to make you remember him—

"Whoa there, watch your step!"

His breath hitched as you appeared right before him, your arms reaching out to steady him by the shoulders. He couldn’t utter a word from the shock and embarrassment. Meanwhile, you were focused on the area of his arm he was clutching, noticing the cloth slowly turning red from the blood seeping through. Your eyes widened.

"Oh my gosh, you're bleeding! Come inside, quickly!" you exclaimed.

The military strategist sighed in relief, realising you were too preoccupied with his injury to notice how foolish he felt. He couldn't take his eyes off you, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

Pull yourself together, you idiot!

All his plans for starting a conversation flew out the window as he fought to maintain his composure throughout his visit. Though he had shared conversations with you while escorting you back to the palace from the war zone, he hadn't been this close to you in a long time. The last time was during your first meeting, and he had been too numb from blood loss to properly register your touch. Now, he was acutely aware of your proximity as he sat on one of the many beds in the hall, with you settled by his side, checking the tray before you and ensuring you had everything you needed.

"Now, it would be great if you could just lift your arm a little," you murmured.

He nodded and complied, too afraid that his voice would tremble like a nervous schoolboy if he spoke. Carefully, you rolled his sleeve up to his shoulder and assessed the small wound already surrounded by a darkening bruise, your touch gentle.

"Don't worry, Officer Song. I'll make sure this doesn't leave a scar," you said reassuringly.

He smiled shyly, nodding appreciatively. If only you knew what your presence was doing to him and his poor little heart. The warmth of your hands on his skin and the soothing tone of your voice made his pulse quicken. He struggled to think of something to say, something that wouldn't reveal just how flustered he felt.

As you cleaned the wound and applied a salve, his thoughts raced. He wanted to find the right words, something that would spark a meaningful conversation. But the words seemed to stick in his throat whenever he opened his mouth. He watched you work, mesmerised by your concentration and the care you put into treating him.

"Thank you, Royal Physician Ahn," he finally managed to say, his voice steady but soft. "For everything."

You looked up and smiled warmly. "It's my duty, Officer Song. But you're welcome."

That smile, he thought, was worth all the awkwardness and nervousness he felt. It gave him hope and determination. He wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever.

Determined to make up for his failed attempt to talk to you, Mingi returned to the medical hall nearly every day for the next week, each time presenting a minor cut or bruise. He knew he wasn't being very subtle, but it didn't matter. He needed you to understand his heart before seeing if you could feel the same, if he stood any chance at all. However, he slowly realised he was getting nowhere if he couldn't openly express his interest and sincerity in courting you.

Sensing his struggles, Royal Secretary Choi could no longer sit by and watch his friend flounder. Truthfully, San had learned about the military strategist's pursuit of one of the palace's most recognised female physicians from His Majesty himself, who had expressed his wish for Mingi to give up. But the royal secretary, being a man in love himself, understood the taller man's feelings better than anyone.

"You know, you can't keep going back to the medical hall, pretending to be sick or injured forever," San said, approaching and sitting down beside Mingi in one of the pavilions in the cherry blossom garden.

Officer Song's head shot up to see his friend before pressing his face into his palms. "How else can I approach her, San? There's only so much I can do. She's a palace woman, and I can't possibly make my intentions clear without His Majesty's permission."

San sighed and placed a hand on Mingi's shoulder. "Actually… you might have his permission, but you didn't hear it from me." The taller man's eyes widened, prompting his friend to elaborate.

The royal secretary continued, "His Majesty has a soft heart, as you know. While he discouraged you, deep down, he just doesn't want you to get hurt. He secretly hopes it all goes your way but wouldn't admit it. Listen, there's a banquet happening soon to celebrate our unity with Ruhon. Perhaps you could ask her to attend with you."

Mingi straightened up, eyes shining with hope. "I can do that...?"

San nodded slowly. "Technically, important figures like you and Royal Physician Ahn are encouraged to attend and show support. There's nothing wrong with a little networking, right? Besides, His Majesty is already aware of your intentions. If she agrees to go with you, this would be a huge step in your pursuit. Wouldn't you agree?"

Hell yeah, I do.

"You wanna bet he's gonna show up again soon?" Subin teased, smirking as you rolled your eyes and playfully smacked her on the arm. "Don't jinx it, just shut up and go on your lunch break already."

It had been a particularly hectic day with the arrival of envoys from Ruhon for the upcoming celebration. The influx of visitors sought remedies for their seasickness after enduring the boat journey, keeping all the royal physicians busy stocking up on medicine and treating the sudden rush of patients suffering from nausea. The last thing you needed was for Song Mingi to appear with another one of his tiny scratches, requesting attention.

You were silently hoping he wouldn't show up today, relishing in a moment of tranquillity as the lunch hour approached and most of the patients had been taken care of. The first batch of physicians, including Subin, would go to lunch while you and the second batch would stay back until they returned.

But alas, the peace was short-lived.

"Ooh, guess who's here again," your colleague remarked, nodding toward the entrance of the royal medical hall where a certain tall, handsome military strategist strode in for what felt like the thousandth time this week. You sighed, refusing to look up from your book. "Please tell me it's not him."

She gulped, watching him approach. "Hate to break it to you, but it is your not-so-secret admirer, General Officer Song."

"Good afternoon, ladies. I, uh… I'm here today because—" his familiar deep voice rang out as he paused at a respectful distance.

Clearing your throat, you finally closed your book and turned to face him with a courteous smile, finishing his sentence for him, "Good afternoon to you too, Officer Song. Let me guess, you're here because you got hurt during training again?"

Instead of the usual sheepish nod, he shook his head and nervously fiddled with his fingers. "No, actually… I came to ask if… i-if you would like to accompany me to the royal banquet celebrating Joseon's unity with Ruhon tonight, Royal Physician Ahn?"

You froze at his question, and your colleague mirrored your reaction. The two of you exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process the fact that this fool was openly pursuing you, a woman working in the palace, someone who belonged to the King.

Does he realise what he's doing?

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Is that her? Your 'one'?" the general teased, nudging Mingi on the shoulder as they observed the royal physician conversing with Lady Park, who was now about five months into her pregnancy.

The military strategist blushed furiously, nodding. "Yes, that's her."

"Has His Majesty granted you permission to court her?" Seonghwa asked, and the younger man winced, shaking his head. "No, he hasn't. In fact, he told me to give up on my pursuit, convinced me it was merely infatuation and that it would eventually pass."

General Park frowned. "That can't be right. You've been searching for her for years. How is it that you've found your soulmate years before me yet still haven't won her over, while I'm already expecting a child with mine, Mingi-yah? Do you want me to speak with the King? I'm sure he'll understand."

Officer Song's response caught Seonghwa off guard as he shook his head. "It's okay, hyung-nim. I appreciate your offer to speak to His Majesty, but I want to handle this on my own. I don't want her to feel pressured to accept me. I want her to see my sincerity and decide for herself if she shares the same feelings. Then, I can show the King that this is worth pursuing, that she's worth it."

"Are you sure, my friend?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

You're probably shocked I'm posting on a Monday HAHA but it's another public holiday in Malaysia, yippee!

ASDFGHJKL 1.9k+ followers?! I'm not dreaming now, am I?😭 I love y'all so much, istg! Sorry, this first part took so long but I've been real busy the past week. I know a lot of y'all have been waiting for this, I sincerely hope this was decent!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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goldfades · 5 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄; 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "heyy, i saw you were wanting requests for blurbs so like i was thinking maybe paige x fem!reader where they had lost the game they were playing and she was just in such a bad mood so when they got home reader took it upon herself to help paige relax but instead of paige being top, shes a bottom because she just wants to clear her mind yk?"

─ word count | 1.3k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! smut with lots of plot, hurt to comfort, mention of paige being a perfectionist, description of self-criticism, paige being sad:(, not really much of a power dynamic but reader taking care of paige, just oral!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry @paigeszn @brynsreads @delicateray and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

THE ENTIRE GAME had been bad.

Bad was really an understatement, it went terrible. The other team kept talking shit and fouling you but the ref didn't call it half the time. The team was being pushed to their limits, both physically and mentally. Every foul, every uncalled play, it was like adding fuel to a raging fire. The air in the gym felt heavy with and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface for every player on your team.

Coach Geno's voice echoed across the court, urging the team on, but even his unwavering support couldn't erase the tension that gripped the team.

The entire team was quiet in the locker-room, it was a horrifying loss ─ probably (hopefully) the worst of the season. You and Paige drove home in silence and you could feel the tension come off her body, her muscles tense as she drove.

Paige's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with tension as she navigated the streets. You stole a glance at her from the corner of your eye, noting the furrow in her brow and the tight line of her lips. It was clear that she was taking the loss hard, just as you were. But beneath the disappointment, there was something else brewing, something unspoken that lingered between you.

Paige always took everything too personal ─ every loss felt like a personal failure rather than a team failure. She repeats every missed shot, every botched play and every uncalled foul in her head over and over again until she went crazy and you hated seeing her like this. It wasn't just about the loss on the scoreboard; it was about her own high standards, the relentless self-criticism that always threatened to consume her.

As the car rolled to a stop at a red light, you reached out and gently took Paige's cold hand in yours, interlocking your fingers with hers. She glanced over at you, exhaustion evident in her expression.

You wanted to ask if she was okay or at least prompt her to talk but she would talk when she needed to, she didn't like it when anyone pushed her to. She needed time to herself, to recollect her thoughts and come back stronger than ever.

The sight of your apartment building came into view, and Paige pulled into the parking lot with a sigh of relief. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, the cool evening air washing over the her. You followed suit, locking the car behind you as you made your way up to your apartment.

Inside, the familiar warmth enveloped you, a welcome contrast to the chill of the night air. You turned around and took off your shoes and as you looked up, you saw Paige's gaze linger on you. Before you could process anything, she was pulling you into a tight embrace as her head fell on your shoulder.

You were slightly taken aback but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instinctively, pulling her close as you felt the weight of her exhaustion and disappointment pressing against you. Paige's embrace was tight, as if she were clinging to you for dear life, seeking comfort in your touch.

She usually wanted to either be alone or take out her anger in other ways but she felt different this time. This loss felt different, there was something distinctly vulnerable about her, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings.

"I'm sorry," Paige mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled but filled with sincerity. You pulled away and held her face in your hands as you met her eyes, hurt evident deep in them.

You frowned. "Why are you sorry, baby? This isn't on you, we weren't prepared for their aggressiveness and we didn't plan for them to come out that way. We were blindsided, we couldn't have seen it coming."

Paige didn't respond as she mirrored your frown. You suddenly realized that Paige probably didn't need a lecture (you both got enough from Geno tonight), she just wanted some comfort and reassurance. You released her face from your hands and pulled her back into a warm embrace, holding her close as you let the silence envelop you both.

She pulled away as she sniffled, letting you hold her as you pressed your forehead against hers.

With a gentle smile, you brushed your thumb across Paige's cheek, wiping away the stray tears that lingered there. "It's okay, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring. "Let's get in bed, okay? I'm gonna make you feel better,"

Paige nodded slightly, her lashes still wet with unshed tears. She leaned into your touch, finding solace in your warmth. With a deep breath, she allowed herself to be guided by you, trusting in your comforting presence.

You gently led her towards the bedroom, your arms wrapped protectively around her. . Once inside, she settled onto the bed as you sat next to her. She immediately pulled your lips against hers, her hands finding yours and gripping them tightly. The tension in her body gradually melting away as she closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in your touch.

She hummed against your lips, her touch a mixture of longing and desperation, seeking comfort in your body. You deepened the kiss slightly as she leaned back on the bed, letting you take control.

You pulled away slowly as you both caught your breaths, your hand moving to brush her hair out of her face. "Can I take care of you?"

She responded with a slow nod of her head as you sighed, pulling her lips in for a short kiss before you moved in between her legs. You slid off her shorts slowly as her breath hitched, her gaze remaining on your face. Your fingers ran against her cunt as her head fell back, letting herself get lost in your touch.

You watched her carefully as your tongue gilded against her wetness, taking in her every reaction. You couldn't believe she was letting you do this, she never liked giving up her control in any aspects of her life, especially in your relationship. But right now, she just wanted to be taken care of and she knew you could do it.

She looked breathtaking, the way her mouth was slightly hanging open and the way her breath hitched every time you touched her ─ god, you were so in love with her. After a few moments of teasing her slightly, you began focusing your tongue on her clit.

That was when she let out a whine that echoed through the walls of your bedroom, making your own core begin to pulsate. You closed your eyes, relishing in her taste and the way her legs wrapped around your head. Her hand gripped your hair (of course she still found a way to be control, someway) and began grinding against your face, as you continued your attack on her clit.

You didn't even need to use your fingers and Paige was already cumming on your face as she let out the sweetest moans you'd ever heard. You let her ride her orgasm on your face, moaning against her cunt as she came.

"Oh fuck," she cried out as she gripped your head before letting go. Paige caught her breath as she moved her legs from your shoulders, letting them fall on the bed.

Paige sat up, pulling your lips into a sloppy kiss as her hand found yours. She pulled you into her lap, her touch gentle yet firm as she guided you onto her lap, your bodies fitting together seamlessly.

With her hand still entwined with yours, Paige pressed closer, her lips moving against yours with a sense of urgency. She pulled away as she gazed into your eyes, a small smile beginning to play on her bruised lips.

"I love you, so much." Paige whispered as she lovingly gazed into your eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath but filled with the depth of your feelings.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaaw #ncaa wbb #ncaa women’s basketball #wcbb #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic

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virgoilluminati · 2 months

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Heyyyyyy,

Can I request a Jude imagine where you attend the match where he does his bicycle kick and you’re just so proud of him ? Established relationship

Thank You

The Final Frame

A/N: i remember watching jude scouring that against slovakia and screaming so loud in the pub it was sooo embarrassing 🙈 ✨Apologies this isn't my longest fic, but i lowkey really love it.

Inspo: You and Jude have been together for two years after you helped treat one of his teammates, as the local surgeon. Despite this, you have never been to a single one of his games, as you barely get time off. One day you decide to surprise him with tickets to the semi finals of the champions league and scores the best goal of his career.

The stadium was a cauldron of noise, filled with tens of thousands of passionate fans. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jude's team prepared for their critical Champions League match. The match had been marked on calendars across Europe, but it held a special place in the heart of one particular spectator.

As a surgeon, you had spent countless nights in the operating room, your hands saving lives and mending broken bodies. Your demanding career often kept you from attending Jude's matches, despite the years you'd spent together. But tonight was different. You had managed to clear your schedule, and for the first time, you found yourself in the stands, eager to witness your partner in his element.

You had kept your visit a secret, not wanting to add any pressure on Jude. His focus needed to be entirely on the game, not on the fact that his significant other was watching from the stands for the very first time. As the crowd roared and the players took their positions, you scanned the field, your eyes locking on Jude. His presence was commanding, his focus unwavering. This was where he belonged.

The stadium was a sea of colors, the team’s vibrant jerseys blending with the scarves and flags of the fans. The air was electric, charged with the energy of thousands of voices chanting and cheering. You took a deep breath, the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint tang of sweat filling your senses. This was a world so different from the sterile, controlled environment of the hospital. Here, everything was raw and alive.

The game began with a blistering pace. You watched in awe as Jude moved across the field with grace and precision. Every pass he made was calculated, every movement purposeful. He was a maestro, orchestrating the flow of the game with a skill that left you breathless. It was one thing to hear about his prowess on the field, but to see it in person was something else entirely.

It was two years ago when you first met Jude. You had just finished a grueling 14-hour surgery and were grabbing a quick coffee in the hospital cafeteria. The cafeteria was nearly empty, the only sounds the hum of the vending machines and the distant chatter of nurses finishing their shifts. You were exhausted, your mind still buzzing from the intensity of the operation. You had just saved a life, but the weight of the responsibility always left you drained.

Jude had been there visiting a teammate who had injured himself during a match. He was sitting a few tables away, and you noticed his easy smile and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football with his friend. Despite your weariness, you couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to brighten the room.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" he had asked, holding his coffee.

"Sure," you replied, too exhausted to care about small talk.

He sat down, and for a moment, there was silence. Then he started talking, and you found yourself drawn into his world. He spoke about his passion for the game, his dreams, and his fears. You listened, fascinated by his dedication and drive.

"You must have a really interesting job," he said, glancing at your scrubs.

You smiled wryly. "It's definitely not boring. I'm a surgeon."

His eyes widened with genuine interest. "Wow, that's incredible. It must be so rewarding, saving lives every day."

You shrugged, a modest smile on your face. "It has its moments."

You exchanged numbers that day, thinking it would be nice to have a friend outside the hospital. What started as casual conversations soon blossomed into something more. Late-night phone calls, stolen moments of time together, and shared dreams brought you closer together.

Your heart raced with every near miss, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. The tension was palpable, each moment hanging in the balance. Jude was everywhere, intercepting passes, setting up plays, and directing his teammates. His passion and determination were evident in every stride he took.

As the match wore on, the score remained deadlocked. The stakes were sky-high, with both teams desperate to secure their place in the next round. Your nerves were frayed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the field. In the final minute, with the game seemingly destined for a draw, Jude made his move.

You remembered the night before your biggest surgery yet. You had been a bundle of nerves, unable to sleep. The surgery was a complex procedure that would test every bit of your skill and knowledge. The clock read 2:00 AM, and despite the late hour, Jude had stayed up with you, talking through your fears and offering words of encouragement.

"You're going to be amazing," he had said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You always are."

"What if something goes wrong?" you had whispered, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

He had taken your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. "Then you'll handle it, just like you always do," he had replied. "You're one of the best surgeons in the country. You've got this."

He had then shared a story from his own life, a time when he had been under immense pressure. "It was my first big match with the national team," he said, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "I was so nervous I could barely think straight. But my coach pulled me aside and told me something that I've never forgotten. He said, 'Nerves are just a sign that you care. Use them to fuel your performance.' And I did. We won that match, and it was one of the best games of my career."

Those words had given you the strength you needed, the reminder that you were capable of overcoming any challenge. You had gone into that surgery the next day with a renewed sense of confidence, and everything had gone smoothly, just as Jude had predicted. Afterward, you had felt a sense of accomplishment that was indescribable, a feeling that Jude had helped you achieve.

A cross came in from the right, the ball arcing through the air towards the penalty box. Jude's eyes never left it. He leaped, his body twisting mid-air in a perfect bicycle kick. Time seemed to slow as his foot connected with the ball, sending it flying towards the goal. The stadium fell silent, the collective breath of thousands held in anticipation.

The ball sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the net. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the stadium erupted. The noise was deafening, the joy palpable. Jude had done it. He had scored the winning goal, securing his team's place in the next round of the Champions League.

You leaped to your feet, your voice joining the chorus of celebration. Tears of pride and joy filled your eyes as you watched Jude being mobbed by his teammates. He looked up into the stands, his eyes searching, and for a brief moment, they found yours. You weren't sure if he recognized you amidst the sea of faces, but you hoped he felt your pride and love.

After the match, you made your way down to the players' area, your heart still pounding with excitement. The halls were a maze of concrete and metal, the noise from the stadium a distant roar. When Jude finally emerged, his face lit up with surprise and joy at the sight of you. He rushed over, sweeping you into his arms.

"You came," he breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and happiness.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," you replied, holding him close. "You were incredible, Jude. I am so, so proud of you."

He smiled, his eyes shining with emotion. "It means everything to have you here. I can't believe you saw that goal."

You laughed, the sound filled with pure joy. "I've always known you were amazing, but seeing it in person... It's something else."

As you walked together towards the locker rooms, Jude turned to you, his face serious. "I know how hard it is for you to get time off. Thank you for being here. It really means a lot."

You squeezed his hand. "You deserve to have someone here for you. You've always been there for me, Jude. This was the least I could do."

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #judebellingham x footballreader #judebellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #fanfic #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #football

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team7-headquarter · 4 months

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I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

#narusaku #sasusaku #sasunaru #not a serious thing tbh I just wanted to put somewhere my opinion about these ships #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #og team 7 #team 7 #naruto shippuden #naruto classic #narusasusaku

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

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Alright, guess it’s time to address the apocalyptic legal elephant in the room:

For those who might not know, WotC plans were leaked to “update” the OGL in what is basically a scorched earth policy with regards to 3rd party material/creators in the hopes of cutting out the competition and forcing people to use their new products.

As someone who lived through the 4th edition/pathfinder schism, the situation is laughably similar: D&D is flourishing more than it ever has (thanks primarily to the OGL) but the execs at Hasbro want more of the money spent on the hobby to wind up in their pockets. Oblivious to the fact that the opensource nature of the game is what draws people to it, they task the design team with creating a proprietary virtual tabletop through which they can sell d&d content without having to worry about books or pdfs being pirated. This rightfully outrages the fandom and burns every scrap of good will they had towards WotC, resulting in a dead edition that’s maligned years afterword as folks hop to the newer, easier game system.

The thing that’s different this time is that the d&d playerbase has grown exponentially since the days of the first OGL, with 5th edition being the easiest version of the game to run/pick up and so many resources online, there’s almost no barrier to entry besides finding a stable/accommodating group. Hell, with the explosive popularity of liveplay series you don’t even need to be actively playing in order to be in the fandom. All of these people are networked together in a fandom hivemind spread across twitter/reddit/youtube and WotC just made an enemy of every single one of them with its shameless and destructive cashgrab. No streamer or 3rd party publisher wants to give Hasbro 25% of their revenue, to say nothing of having their project “cancelled” if WotC sees it as a threat to any of their current projects ( see the huge number of spelljammer materials published after the company dropped the ball).

It took about two years after the announcement of 4th edition for Paizo to come out with pathfinder, and I have no doubt the OGL leak kickstarted every major 3rd party publisher brainstorming some legally distinct version of the 5e ruleset. In the coming months I expect to see a number of these surrogate systems floating around the internet in much the same way that the onednd playtest content, but spurred on with the added “fuck you Hasbro” energy. After that, it’s only a matter of time till one of the big streamers picks up one of these systems and popularizes it, not wanting to pay the 25%tithe to WotC. Personally my money’s on Critical Role: they were one of the major factors in popularizing 5th edition and they’ve got the fandom pull to legitimize any claimant to the throne.

To step away from playing oracle for a bit, I’d like to finish up this post by dunking on WotC:

*ahem*

HOW FUCKING DUMB TO YOU HAVE TO BE TO TURN YOUR ENTIRE CUSTOMER BASE AGAINST YOU IN ONE NIGHT? This is some new coke/Reynolds pamphlet/invading Russia in winter levels of shooting yourself in the foot. Wizards was on shaky ground to begin with given that they’re coming off a series of notably disappointing products AND trying to launch a new edition/virtual tabletop/battlepass system, but to follow that up with a retroactive rules change that lets them outright steal from or shut down creators? It’s laughable. Maybe, MAYBE they could have made this work if they were knocking it out of the park with new releases every year and cultivating a base of diehard WotC loyalists, but the fact of the matter is that aside from the brand name, the hobby has largely passed them by. Everything that Wizards does, from player options to settings to monsters to rules modules, someone else does better because they’re willing to take risks and put in the effort. Aside from the elegant simplicity of 5e’s base system, I can count maybe two pieces of actual game design (piety from Theros, ship combat from Saltmash) that I consider usable at my table, which is SAYING SOMETHING considering we’re nearing the end of the game’s ten year golden age.

I know we’ll weather this storm, we always have, and regardless of what happens I still know my friends and I will enjoy gathering around the table and slinging dice even though we might not be playing “dungeons and dragons” in a couple years time. I’ll keep my eye on the horizon, and let you know where I find safe harbour.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #dm advice #dm tip #dm tips #dm tools #writing advice #one d&d #dapper digresses #ogl #ogl 1.1 #hasbro #critical role #open d&d #opend&d

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graysoncritic · 4 months

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A (Negative) Review of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

Out of this entire essay, this was the section that I considered cutting entirely. After all, in the past there have been instances when Barbara Gordon and her romance with Dick Grayson have been weaponized by Taylor and his fans against his critics.

The example that comes to mind was when Taylor and Redondo were criticized for not including Duke in a Nightwing cover that parodied The Brady Bunch.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022)

Personally, I believe that, while discussions of how Duke’s positioning in the Bat Family is warranted, the matter was blown out of proportion, and many of the attempts to cancel Taylor crossed the line into harassment (make no mistake, while I believe him to be a terrible writer, I do not wish him any ill-will). That being said, Taylor also escalated the matters when attempting to pin said negative comments onto DickKory shippers who did not like that he wrote DickBabs.

(While the original Tweet has since been deleted, the screenshot used is available in this tweet

Neb | 🏳️‍🌈 [@NebsGoodTakes]. Twitter, 20 June 2022, https://twitter.com/NebsGoodTakes/status/1538939571789934593)

For this reason and this reason alone, I considered removing this part of the essay. While I have no idea if anyone will read this monstrosity, I did not want my arguments to be invalidated simply because I did not have a favorable opinion on the DickBabs.

However, after much consideration and numerous discussions with other Dick Grayson fans, I found that the subject of Barbara Gordon’s portrayal in this run (as well as in many recent DC media), and her romance with Dick perfectly embodies many of ideas I wish to explore in this essay — mainly, how shallow approaches to progress ideals create deeply problematic narratives that not only undermines the themes of a story, but they also destroy characterization.

I will start by once again stating that I do not believe this is a problem unique to Taylor’s writing. As I alluded to above, I believe DC’s modern portrayal of Babs does a great disservice to her wonderful, empowering, complex character. This is but the analysis of one of the stories she appears in. It is my hope to prove that in Taylor’s Nightwing, Barbara Gordon is not written as a woman with a strong sense of self and an internal life, but rather idealized girl whose existence revolves around the men in her life, and whose perfect yet shimmering depiction serves only to make her into the reader’s proxy-girlriend.

Barbara Gordon in the late 90s and early 2000s was a mature and confident woman in her late-20s to early-30s. She had her own job, her own friends, team, villains, and the type of confidence that can only come with age and experience. She was serious while still having a sense of humor, pragmatic, and she knew exactly what she wanted for herself.

(Gail, Simone, writer. Bennett, Joe; Barrows, Eddy, illustrator. Perfect Pitch: Part One. Birds of Prey. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 22)

She was also flawed. She could get angry at people for little reason, she could be too cold or too straightforward without considering the other person’s feelings, she could be purposefully petty and selfish, she could get unreasonably jealous, she was impatient, she could be too proud to admit when she was wrong. It was all of these factors which allowed Barbara Gordon to be her own person — to be a fleshed out, well-rounded woman.

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Leonardi, Rick, illustrator. The Gun. Birds of Prey. 39, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp. 16)

Babs’ life did not revolve around Dick. Yes, she loved him, but she still had some interiority. She had a life outside of Dick Grayson, outside of Bludhaven, outside of Batman, and outside of Oracle. She had her own goals, her own dreams, her own likes and dislikes that worked independently of the men around her. She had her own history that informed her decisions, she had both positive and negative relationships with other women and those relationships were not dependent on her connections with Dick or Bruce.

(Gail, Simone, writer. Timm, Bruce; Lopez, David; Melo, Adriana, illustrators. A Wakeful Time. Birds of Prey. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 02)

By comparison, Taylor’s Barbara is not a woman, but a girl. She is very young and very immature. If Dick is written like a young man who just left home and is experiencing adulthood for the first time, then Babs is written as his girlfriend who is still in college and does not have concrete plans for her future.

Note that when referring to Taylor’s Babs, I mainly characterize her through her relationship with Dick. That was intentional. While writing this essay, I struggled to think of Barbara having any meaningful interactions with characters who were not Dick or Dick’s friends, the Titans. I also struggled to think of her doing something for herself rather than for Dick and the Titans. I struggled to define her goals independent of Dick, I struggled to describe the plans she has for her future that do not revolve around her relationship with Dick, and I struggled to give an account of what she does in her spare time when she is not helping Dick, Nightwing, the Titans, or Batman. That is because everything in Barbara Gordon’s life, as written by Taylor, is constructed around Dick (As many may know, it is really hard to prove a negative. How can I get supporting evidence from the comics that Babs does not have a life outside of Dick Grayson when my argument comes from those factors not existing? For this, though I hate to do so, I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on the reader’s familiarity with the run being discussed).

Barbara is a constant presence in Taylor’s Nightwing run. She is a secondary protagonist, and she is often portraying helping Dick Grayson behind the scenes,

(Taylor, Tom, illustrator. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 93, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022 pp)

Helping Nightwing as Oracle,

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Leaping into the Light Part 4. Nightwing: Rebirth. 81, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 19)

Or fighting by Nightwing’s side as Batgirl.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. You are Nightwing. Nightwing: Rebirth. 105, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 05)

She is always present, she is always doing something… But all of that is in the service of the men around her rather than for herself.

As Dick Grayson Fan A pointed out during a discussion, “Modern Babsgirl is forced to be perfect at everything. She's never allowed postcrisis Babs' edges, her flaws and intrinsic motivations. Taylor's Babsgirl is designed to be the perfect girlfriend for his blank self insert Nightwing. There's no meat to her bones, she's just shimmer and gloss.” (The subject of Babs came up when DC announced the lineup for Birds of Prey (2023) and Babs was not included on the roster.)

In other words, Babs as portrayed in Taylor’s run lacks any bite, edge, and maturity that would make her feel like a woman with her own sense of self and with a life that is not dependent on her boyfriend. Babs’ portrayal is a shallow girlboss-type of feminism, where though Babs is powerful and intelligent, she is not allowed to be a real person for she serves no purpose other than to be the perfect, understanding, badass girlfriend.

As a result, Dick and Barbara’s relationship becomes hollow. Because Babs lacks interiority, individuality, and agency, she becomes a flat character. This, in turn, makes it so it is hard to understand why Dick and Barbara are together other than for the fact that DC mandates it. The over reliance on the childhood friends-to-lovers trope only increases this hollowness rather than fleshing out their relationship. While Taylor includes flashbacks of Dick and Babs as friends when children, growing up together as teenagers, and fighting together as Robin and Batgirl, those instances feel removed from their individual histories. These moments exist in isolation, removed from the context of the rest of their lives, be it together or separately.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart. Nightwing: Rebirth. 92, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 06 - 07)

DC currently treats Dick and Babs as a foregone conclusion. As a result, Taylor does not make an effort to get his readers on board with the relationship because he assumes that they should already support it. Dick and Babs are portrayed as getting along great, never having had any conflict, tension, or disagreements. This idealized romance would not necessarily be a problem if it didn’t come at the expense of developing Dick and Barbara as individuals outside of their relationship. They are not one being, but two separate people coming together. They should be written as such, but in trying to create the perfect relationship, Taylor robs Dick and Babs of their identity outside of their romance.

Not only does this inseparability that Taylor attempts to portray as “charming” destroy Dick and Babs’ individuality, it can also be downright insulting. In #106 Taylor infantilizes Dick when making it so Babs needs to be the one to wake him up so he can start his work as Nightwing.

As I mentioned previously, Dick is known for his toxic perfectionism, his obsessive tendencies that often come at the cost of his health. Making Dick laze around in bed while people need his help and having his girlfriend tell him to get ready for the day, as if she was his mother and he was a teenager who did not want to go to school in the morning, is not only out of character, it also diminishes Dick’s competence. It makes it seem like he cannot function as a responsible adult without Babs being there to hold his hand through everyday difficulties.

Not only that, the scene also plays into incredibly sexist dynamics where women are expected to carry the domestic labor in a relationship — the man cannot keep track of his own schedule, and so it becomes the woman’s responsibility to attend to his needs. What was intended to be a “cute” scene portrays Dick as being immature and irresponsible, and portrays Babs spend her time keeping track of an adult man’s responsibilities.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Byrne, Stephen, illustrator. The Crew of the Crossed Part One. Nightwing: Rebirth. 106, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp 08)

This unhealthy codependency further insults Dick when, in #107, Babs demands Dick come back home as he is about to help his ex, Bea. Rather than believing Dick’s capability as a vigilante who has been operating in the field for far longer than she has, Babs shows her complete lack of faith in Dick’s ability to get anything done by himself by telling him that she “wants him home now.”

(Taylor, Tom; Byrne, Stephen The Crew of the Crossed Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 107 e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 19)

This is a great contrast to Nightwing (1996) #66, where Babs encouraged Dick’s independence and had full trust in his abilities to take on such difficult challenges on his own. When Lockhaven goes up in flames, Babs trusts Dick to be able to handle the situation by himself, even though she also knows that Dick’s mind is greatly preoccupied with Bruce and the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Indeed, in the next issue (not part of Murderer/Fugitive, but happening simultaneously to it), Dick does handle the Lockhaven fire by himself, without requiring any assistance, before returning to Gotham to help with the investigation that should clear Bruce’s name.

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Burchett, Rick, illustrator. The Unusual Suspects. Nightwing. 66, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp 18 - 19)

This healthy separation and this unconditional trust not only portrayed Dick and Babs as both trusting each other’s abilities as heroes — Dick did not worry about Babs’ capability of taking care of herself, and Babs knew Dick could handle his own — it also portrayed them as being more secure in their relationship. They were individuals first. They had their own independent lives and personalities outside of their romance. They trusted the other’s ability to win on their own and handle their own cases without help. And that, in turn, made it so that they could stand on their own, and so that their relationship did not feel so vulnerable.

That being said, it wasn’t as if previous depictions of Dick and Babs didn’t present them with hardships, or demonstrated how, at times, they could bring out the worst in each other. As much as they could compliment one another, Dick and Babs could also disagree, get into arguments, and even fights. That is because they were individuals first, with their own opinions, preferred way of doing things, and their own background that would sometimes come in conflict.

Taylor avoids having meaningful conflicts in his story. While this negatively affects his narrative in a myriad of ways, the lack of the conflict in the plot also affects the relationship between Dick and Babs. It is fine to have a wholesome, sweet romance, so long as it is balanced with a plot containing other forms of tension. This way, the relationship can be a safe harbor for the main characters, the one space in their lives where they can be safe, and the one source of strength they can draw upon when facing the challenges ahead. By balancing a conflict-filled plot with a wholesome romance, the stakes of the plot feel higher while the romance feels sweeter. They foil one another to create a cohesive and unified story.

In Taylor’s Nightwing, all major plot beats take a backseat to the sitcom-like relationship between Dick and Babs. The lack of conflict in the plot and the lack of conflict in the romance makes it so everything is stagnant.

I do believe that Taylor thought he was writing a “Will-they-won’t-they” style romance in the beginning of his run. In Nightwing #95, for example, Batwoman implies that the reason Dick and Babs aren’t together is because Dick and Babs are scared of crossing that line.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Four. Nightwing: Rebirth. 95, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 17)

Wally also played into that idea when, in #91, he pointed out that Dick and Babs were already together and just needed to make it official.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Get Grayson Act Three. Nightwing: Rebirth. 91, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 19)

More than that, I believe Taylor attempted to make a commentary on comics imposing needless conflicts in relationships to keep two characters apart. In Taylor’s view, Dick and Babs were always in love, always meant to be together, and never had a complicated history that prevented them from rekindling their romance when Dick is trying to regain some control over his life after recovering his memories. This shows a lack of understanding as to why Dick and Babs often break up and does a disservice to both their characters.

Now, to explain this, I’ll borrow heavily from a private discussion I had with a Dick Grayson Fan A once distinguishing the difference between external and internal conflicts in a romantic plot. While we were not talking Dick and Barbara then, much of what we said still applies to their relationship.

External conflicts, as the name suggests, involve external forces that keep the couple from being able to develop their relationship despite their mutual feelings for each other. This is the case with a romance like Clark and Lois. Given Babs’ laugh at Dick’s condescendingly sexist claim that Babs shouldn’t be with him because it is too dangerous (as if he doesn’t know very well that Babs can easily take care of herself), it seemed that Taylor believed that this was the conflict that has been keeping Dick and Babs apart. And so, with one panel, he dismissed the idea that external forces could keep Dick and Babs apart because they are able to face their enemies together.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp. 17 - 18)

But in the past, what broke Dick and Babs up were not external conflicts, but internal ones. If external conflicts are created due to external forces, internal conflicts preventing a couple from being together come from the characters not yet being who they need to be in order to be happy together. This can be due to a clash of personalities, worldviews, needs, wants, or goals. To prove my point, I want to look at Dick and Bab’s break up in Nightwing (1996) #87 and the Nightwing Annual #02. (I’ll be honest in saying that it pains me to cite Nightwing Annual #02 in this essay, for I absolutely detest it. I believe Dick is written incredibly out of character and it, quite frankly, captures one of my major problems with how some writers choose to depict DickBabs. In trying to prop Babs up, Dick gets knocked down and ridiculed, and often burdened with the full responsibility as to why Dick and Babs haven’t been able to get together due to timing and Dick’s immaturity. As such, writers make it so Dick and Dick alone must change in order to become a partner worthy of Babs. They greatly mischaracterize him, fault the failures of Dick and Babs’ relationships on those mischaracterizations, and then portray Babs as the patient woman waiting for her immature soulmate to grow up. This is both an insult to Dick’s character and a propagation of sexist tropes where a woman must put her life on hold in order for the man to “catch up” to her maturely. Not only that, it unfairly requires that only one party makes changes for another. It is not Dick and Babs that must change for each other, but Dick who must change for Babs.)

Just as Taylor uses Dick and Babs’ shared history to bring them together, their breakup explores how shared history can make being together so difficult.

In Devin Grayson’s run, their shared history can be painful to Babs. Not because she doesn’t look back on their time growing up together fondly, but because it was such a happy time in her life that it makes her feel bitter about what she lost. While she is incredible as Oracle, she is still frustrated that she can't be Batgirl anymore. The past, no matter how good, is a reminder of what she can no longer be, and Babs wants to move forward. So Dick bringing up their time as Robin and Batgirl, however fondly, is painful for it makes her feel like they are stuck in the past they shared rather than moving forward together.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Path, illustrator The Calm Before. Nightwing. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 21 - 22)

But to Dick, the past you share with someone is what makes your relationship in the present special. The past informs the present and the future. Dick, much like Bruce, doesn’t move forward by disconnecting himself from the past. His parents are part of his past. So is Robin. His childhood with Bruce. The past is something good to Dick, even when it's also so filled with pain. Dick is not shackled by his past the way Bruce is because he does not see it as something that needs to hold him back. You can move forward while still embracing who you once were and honoring the legacy you carry on your shoulders. The past informed who Dick is now, the relationships he has, and the person he wants to be. The past is where much of what he loves exists. So when he brings up their shared history when talking to Babs, he is not doing it because he loved Batgirl but cannot love Oracle, and he is not doing so because he is just focused on who they were then and not who they are now; he does it it's because to Dick, there's no such distinction between Batgirl and Oracle. They are both Babs, and he loves both of them.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator. Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 16)

The way Babs copes with trauma is by divorcing herself from the hurt, by letting go of who she was and embracing who she wants to be. Dick, on the other hand, merges who he was then with who he is now. He doesn't see those people as separate entities, but rather as extensions of him. And that makes sense when you consider that Babs' main trauma relates to something that was taken away from her, and for Dick, the only way he can remain connected to his parents is through the past. It's a great example of incompatibility. Neither one is "at fault" for how they view this issue, neither of them is more correct than the other. They are just different. They care for each other, but the way they understand and interact with the world prevents them from being happy together at this moment. For that to work, internal change is needed.

In portraying Dick and Barbara as complex individuals first, who have different attitudes towards looking back at the past and looking forward to the future, Grayson managed to make their relationship feel real. There’s a weight to their breakup, you can see why they care for each other and why this decision is painful and not taken lightly. They love each other, but they are not in a place where they can be themselves and be happy together yet. It is not danger that keeps them apart — it is the very same differences which they admire most about each other which pushes them away.

In Nightwing Annual #02, we see other reasons why Dick and Babs failed to come together so often. These included Babs being scared of Dick eventually leaving her due to tensions between Dick and Bruce

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 22 - 23)

Timing,

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 25)

And, perhaps most importantly, the way in which Dick devalues his own life.

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 37 - 38)

This is something Grayson also alludes to during her run, when she often portrays Babs being both worried and frustrated at Dick’s tendencies to push himself too far.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 13)

In both Grayson’s run and the aftermath of Infinite Crisis, the toxic perfectionism referred to many times during this essay led Babs to break off their relationship despite their mutual love.

Having lost the mobility of her legs due to the Joker, Babs sees her life as Oracle as a second chance, and one which she will use to its fullest by putting herself first. It makes sense, then, that she sees Dick’s self-sacrificing tendencies and his desire for approval as both concerning and irritating. As Dick constantly puts himself in near-death scenarios for even the smallest of things, Babs decides that she would rather wait for a time when Dick learns to value himself more rather than to continue in a relationship where she is the only one who cares about whether Dick lives or dies.

Whether this is the right solution to their relationship is up for debate. Personally, it irks me that stories will often frame this as Dick having to mature to be with Babs and not place an equal burden on Babs having to learn to accept that this is just who Dick is. But that is irrelevant to this discussion, for what matters is that there have been plenty of reasons why Dick and Babs did not work out in the past, and those are almost always rooted in who they are as individuals struggling to perfectly fit together as a unit. Dick and Babs have a messy history, both as individual characters with their own stories, and together as friends and romantic interests. They are two different people who, although their morals align, approach life differently. The development in their romance, then, comes with how willing they are to change for the other, and how willing they are to accept the things that cannot — and should not — be changed. It is about a balance of give and take, and when Babs and Dick broke up in the past, it was because they were not able to find that balance. It is because they, as individuals, clashed. As Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns and Cesar Alfonso Marino put in their essay analyzing Dick’s portrayal in the Batman Family (1975-1978) series, Dick and Babs will often find themselves in “point[s] of inflection which marks that both heroes must go their separate ways to avoid further tensions (developed by sexual attraction and/or problems about leadership).” (Pagnoni Berns, Fernando Gabriel and Marino, Cesar Alfonso “Outlining the Future Robin: The Seventies in the Batman Family.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 32)

In other words, it was about interior conflicts, not exterior ones.

When taking this into consideration, one can see how Taylor’s portrayal of Dick and Babs’ relationship is not only incredibly hollow, but incredibly cynical. Because Taylor removed Dick’s self-destructive, toxic perfectionism, that is no longer a point of friction in their relationship. Because Babs is no longer the pragmatic woman who doses out tough love, that is also no longer a point of friction in their relationship. But as a result, Dick and Babs are no longer themselves, and their relationship is no longer representative of their shared history. Instead, we are left with an insulting and purposeful misrepresentation of their past relationship, with Taylor displaying a blatant disrespect and disregard for anything his predecessors contributed to these characters. Dick and Babs were never apart because of danger. Dick would never condescend to Barbara in this manner, and Barbara would never let something so trivial go unchallenged or get in the way of what she wants. What got in their way was a matter of compatibility. They may compliment each other in the field, be great friends, get along well, but in previous attempts to make their relationship work, they found that they were simply too different to share a life together, their goals did not align, and their approaches to life did not work together. Getting and staying together was not a matter of external factors, but rather whether they could do the difficult internal work necessary to make their romance last.

I want to make it clear that I actually love the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope. But what makes friends-to-lovers interesting is the fact that it creates inherently messy romances. If you two characters who have loved each other for so long, then they naturally have a history. They have seen each other at their best and at their worst. Yet, insecurities, timing, and compatibility keep them from being able to get their happily-ever-after. That creates a messiness that adds weight and meaning to the relationship. Seeing them overcome these challenges, become better individuals, and then finally come together is what makes the narrative so effective.

Dick’s and Babs’ romance, as currently portrayed, lacks that weight. Taylor and DC want that history, that “true love” aspect of their relationship without acknowledging the complications that come from having lived so many years in close proximity. In other words, they want the appearance of a long shared history without acknowledging the contents of said history. This robs both Dick and Babs of their individual personalities and backstories, for it is there where the source of their conflicts lie. All of the things that make them interesting individuals are sacrificed for the heteronormative DickBabs amalgamation. There is no Dick Grayson. There is no Barbara Gordon. There is only a happy, wholesome, smiling couple of nothingness — as it was put earlier it is all “shimmer, gloss, and no substance.”

And this does not affect only them.

In making Dick and Babs inseparable, Babs has become heavily involved with the Titans. This leads to the majority of Babs’s interactions in the current canon to be with Dick’s friends. And because, once more, Taylor skirts away from conflict, that means that all of Dick’s friends have become Babs’ friends. However, by making Babs friends with all of Dick’s female friends, Taylor created a shallow girlboss feminist narrative where all of these women’s individual personhoods are reduced their relationship to one man. He does not take into account who they are, only their gender and their mutual connection to Dick. In trying to do a girl-boss feminist empowerment, Taylor instead creates a deeply misogynistic narrative.

Kory and Babs, for example, should be allowed to dislike each other despite being on the same team. They are, after all, supposedly fully realized women with their own personalities, values, and goals. Their existence is not dependent on Dick Grayson or their romance with him. Real world women dislike one another for various reasons that are unrelated to men. Male characters often hate each other without it being because of a woman. So why can’t the same be true for female characters?

To attempt to make Kory and Babs friends simply to undermine expectations because one of them is Dick’s ex and the other one is Dick’s girlfriend is not empowering. It sacrifices characterization for the purposes of subversion.To think of the dynamic between these two characters in terms of their relationship with Dick reduces their existence to a man by implying that the only possible reason they could dislike one another is because of said man. It is not due to different value systems (which would be incredibly reasonable given their different background and cultures), it is not because their personalities clash (as they are two different people), it is not because their likes and dislikes may contradict (once more, because they are two different people). All the things that would make them realized individuals with agency are ignored in favor of focusing on their relationship with Dick.

Babs is a cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey. Kory is a warrior Princess from a different galaxy. It would not be unreasonable to expect their opinions to conflict when their backgrounds, upbringings, and experiences also differ. After all, those are things that shape our value system, dictating our perspectives.

Having different values or different ways to express your opinion does not mean that one is right and the other is wrong. It does not mean one is superior to the other. It only means they are different. Diverse. To believe one must be correct and the other must be wrong is to fall into the traps of ethnocentrism. By making Kory and Babs values indistinguishable, the story implies that there is only one correct way to interact with the world. This eliminates diverse perspectives in favor of a monolithic one. The fact that Kory's culture is the one that is ignored so that they are compatible with Babs implies that Babs – the cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey – is the one whose culture and world views are correct and, therefore, superior.

Dick’s relationship platonic relationship with Donna is also devalued and watered down in favor of Dick and Barbara’s romance. Because Dick and Barbara are depicted as having been each other’s best friends since childhood — when, in reality, Dick was closer to Donna during his preteen and teenage years, and Donna is often portrayed as his best friend — Donna’s place in Dick’s life is replaced by Babs. Babs must be everything to Dick — his true love, his longest childhood friend, his one female best friend.

This creates a narrative in which Dick cannot have a significant interaction with another woman without it being a threat to his relationship with Babs. Needless to say, this is an incredibly heteronormative worldview which implies that men and women who are not related cannot share deep and significant platonic intimacy without some underlying romantic tension. So naturally, Donna cannot he Dick’s longest friend, his best friend, because in the heteronormative world portrayed in Taylor’s run, that would mean that she is a rival to Babs.

Perhaps it is for this reason that Melinda was revealed to be Dick’s sister so soon into her introduction. If Melinda and Dick were not related but were still meant to interact with each other, that would create a bond that some might see as romantic or sexual. So by presenting Melinda as Dick’s biological sibling within moments of the two first interacting, Taylor strips Melinda of any romantic or sexual appeal. In this heteronormative world, only by being related can Dick and Melinda share intimacy without threatening Babs’ position in Dick’s life.

Needless to say, this heteronormative worldview which only allows for the relationship between non-biologically related men and women to be seen through lenses of romance and sex is also a misogynistic, male-centric worldview. In this story, women are not treated as people and are instead perceived solely through their relationship to Dick Grayson.

#nightwing #anti tom taylor #anti dickbabs

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months

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Ok so, before the indigo disk released I heard there was going to be people with competitive movesets, so before it released I literally made myself an entire competitive team. IM A CASUAL PLAYER 😭😭 and I just think it’d be really funny that carmine and kieran would probably think i’m just gonna stroll up with my usual team but nope swords dance + scale shot 💃 if you could write their reactions to the new squad I just think it’d be funny lmao

(If you want the team I made for reference, it was koraidon, ogerpon, chien-pao, blood moon ursaluna, armarouge, and a shiny slither wing because I felt like having a shiny so I hunted one lol)

- 🪑🥚

Bro I went into the Indigo Disk 100% blind so you can imagine my shock when I realized double battles were gonna be everywhere </3

I mostly had a "fuck it we ball" mentality going through it (which made some battles go on for WAY too long), but later I taught my Ceruledge Poltergeist when I realized almost every NPC in the dlc uses held items.

Funny enough Ogerpon (with Spiky Shield) and BM Ursaluna were on my team. He was an absolute TANK with the assault vest and he knocked out Hydrapple with a Moonblast

Anyways enough rambling and onto the request!

......

Kieran

He was expecting your usual team when you started challenging the BB Elite Four, rolling his eyes at the thought of you trying to use the same old tactics to defeat him.

But he's changed. He's gotten stronger and wanted you to be surprised by what he can do now.

Instead, though, when you arrive to the championship battle...not only did you bring out Ogerpon with her teal mask to (supposedly) insult him, but you also had Chien-Pao, which may spell trouble for his Dragonite.

He'll admit, you were clever to bring a Pokémon who could lower the defense of all the others and cut their HP in half with Ruination..but he doesn't give up yet.

Seeing a shiny that looked like a Volcarona but fluffier was certainly bewildering--as is the Bloodmoon Ursaluna you managed to tame back in Kitakami and the Armarouge who sets up a Psychic Terrain to boost its Expanding Force, allowing it to hit two of his Pokémon at once.

Oh, and apparently you have not one but TWO Koraidons, with the one you brought into battle being more brash and a fierce fighter in its Apex build.

You set that one up with a Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo that absolutely kicks ass, somehow striking your opponents 4-5 times whenever you command it.

Kieran's certainly gotten smarter about his team, but so have you, and he's livid about it.

It was like you enjoyed knocking him down over and over again...yet he can't hear the reluctance in your voice as you utter the final move that finishes off his Hydrapple.

You knew you had to win. He needed to be humbled.

But it didn't feel good at all as you watched him crumble and Drayton rub his loss in his face.

Carmine

When you battled her, she (like her brother) expected to see some familiar faces on your team.

Yet you surprised her (in a good way, very much unlike her brother) with Ogerpon, and she smiles and asks if she missed her, with the legendary responding with a small hop and a happy trill....

Followed by a devastating Ivy Cudgel that lands a critical hit on her Pokémon.

Yeah, she can definitely tell you've been training the Ogre a lot, but she's proud of how confident she's grown nevertheless.

Seeing you have both Chien-Pao and another Koraidon working in tandem is impressive, especially with that Ruination + Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo you pulled.

BM Ursaluna and Shiny Slither Wing are the only two that genuinely shock Carmine, as she's only seen one in myths and the other....she's never seen in her entire life.

But after the trip to Area Zero, she understands Slither Wings better (although she's amazed you managed to find a shiny down there).

Either way, those two are powerhouses.

She remembered you talking about a little lonely Charcadet you found during an outbreak, and to see it has grown up into a mighty Armarouge was such a sweet thing to see.

You clearly took the time to plan out your team before coming to the Blueberry Academy.

Carmine found your battle to be fun.

Although she can't exactly say Kieran will feel the same way..considering Ogerpon is with you and you have some new tricks up your sleeve.

But she figured he oughta find that out for himself.

#hope you dont mind my interpretation of your team and their movesets ^^;#clanask #chair egg anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon carmine #headcanons #ogerpon #bloodmoon ursaluna #armarouge #chien pao #koraidon #slither wing

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thr0wnawayy · 20 days

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Who would the 10-13 1A members that died in the MLA be, if MHA had any actual stakes? I really liked your Kaminari idea, so I just wanted to explore it with you. It would have realistically made UA/the heroes look a hell of a lot worse and the villains look a hell of a lot smarter if they went for the angle of "the best heroics school in Japan is using child soldiers!"

I know for the heroes, it should have been Pixie Bob and Gran Torino in addition to Crust. Endeavor also should have died because it would have actually given the story actual stakes - Japan is now in shambles and the new #1 hero/heavy hitter is dead. Oh shit, what are they going to do?

Firstly I feel I should clarify that both 1A and B would lose some team members as both classes were thrust into war with basically no real training. Although for the sake of plot 1A would lose vastly more.

With that stated, let us begin.

I know for a fact that Koda is dead.

Truthfully, there is no way someone as bulky as him (with the addition of his poorly designed costume) would be even marginally capable of outrunning Shigaraki's Decay.

His quirk (Anivoice) gives him zero advantages and being in Jaku (a city under evacuation) would only add to this.

We also mustn't forget that the rubble by itself was also capable of disintegrating anything it touched. Putting all that together and given how close he was to "ground zero", his chances of survival are slim to none.

Additionally, everyone who found Midnight's corpse is either dead or brutally injured.

Midnight's body is isolated in a decently foliage heavy area, with plenty of hiding spots and vantage points making it all too easy to set an ambush.

Our merry band of MLA/PLF mercenaries simply have to bide their time, wait for the shock and horror to settle in and then strike.

Sero, Kirishima and Setsuna are easy targets (with Setsuna being the farthest from the bait) their backs are turned and mentally are either distant or "vacant".

If Momo didn't recover from her grief and get off the floor, it's game over.

However. She would likely manage to fend them off long enough to escape (thanks to her intelligence and dexterity), although not without some scars. (eyepatch momo, anyone?)

Mina might be able to hold them off due to her acid but will eventually falter because (as you mentioned) Aizawa's a shitheel.

That brings us up to 5 students so far (if we include Kaminari's death) that have died due to UA's (and the HPSC's) crippling negligence.

I'm a tad hesitant to add Tsu here but it's unlikely she'd survive. (even if she does survive the wave, she'd likely die in the crossfire)

Comicman, because yeah he's unimportant.

For the Villa Raid team it's important that we cut some heroes in order for this scenario to work.

Edgeshot is dead, likely fried to death by Electro-lite.

This would cause the raiding heroes to become discouraged and overwhelmed.

the MLA's gear is more than a match and combined with their years of fighting and tactical prowess. It's not even close.

Simply put; divide and conquer.

Mineta's dying for sure. His costume restricts his (torso and leg) movements and makes him standout like a traffic cone. That guy with holes all over his body is likely the one to snuff him out.

Ojiro is dead the moment the MLA members use numbers to overwhelm him, no amount of martial arts will save you from getting jumped.

Mines dies because his quirk (Twin Impact) suffers from the Flect Fallacy.(Overwhelming the quirk will break it). So pretty much any MLA member could be the one to kill him

That sets the score to 11 total student deaths (8 for 1A, 3 for 1B), not a good look.

We know the rest, Dabi kills Enji for good.

Skeptic publishes a video along with Dabi's exposé that reveals UA is using child soldiers and that the HPSC forged paperwork to allow this.

And the crowd goes wild!

The reactions would be brutal, national if not global criticism from every angle.

The entire raid and evacuation effort would be considered an immense failure, the villains remain at large to gather their numbers and most civilians would be left homeless and displaced.

The hero that everybody placed their bets on turned out be a child/wife beating eugenicist who bought (and later assaulted) his wife when she was only 17. Only to be killed off by the very child he left to burn.

The (global) outrage partially stems from the fact that if it weren't for Dabi, no one would have known otherwise .

The number 2 hero is an (attempted) murderer and seems almost irritated at Enji being outed, the world stage takes this the wrong way and opts not to aid Japan.* What pisses them off the most is his uncaring attitude.

Considering them a lost cause when Shigaraki not only breaks everyone out of Tartarus but also manges to kill AFO by sheer force of will (and wanting to see his friends live as they please)

Rei's speech/conference serves as the final nail. Going into immense detail of the pain she and her children suffered at the hands of Enji. (If their were any doubts Touya was her son, they were killed here)

When asked if anyone knew, she finishes her speech off with revealing that some heroes and staff knew about the abuse and chose to look the other way. Causing the room to burst into an uproar.

*(explaining why Japan was allowed to fester for as long as it did without intervention, something Hori failed to explain)

Parents begin pulling out their children in droves, not wanting to risk their kids getting drafted, others quit by choice.

Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu don't put their students on the front lines (they aren't stupid). The commission is unable to force them due to their, "unique" situation.

The heroes that quit are harshly criticized by the public and media (and usually fairly too), pointing out how shitty it looks (and is) for heroes to suddenly abandon them as soon as things get serious.

Class 1A is left to pickup the pieces with 8 classmates killed (+ Bakugo) the events of the last week have shocked them to their cores but perhaps there is hope.

Of course they're left to pick up their predecessors mistakes, again.

Midoriya would still go rouge, albiet he would stick to his principals. He's made a disturbing connection between Bakugo and Endeavor and it haunts him.

(I should add that Bakugo's death is portrayed for the selfish play it was)

Midoriya likely driven by the need to ensure that he doesn't lose anyone else. His anger at AM would probably stem from the fact that he is putting himself in danger for someone as "expendable" as himself.

I could see the two having a heart to heart that Midoriya is more than his quirk once he willingly returns.

Some additional information:

Bakugo dies permanently, because Edgeshot was killed by "Electro" earlier (even then I'm not doing the writing atrocity that is the "Jeart".)

For heroes I'd like to add Jeanist to the roster. Gigantomachia should have swatted him and his airship like a fly. This means the top 3 are dead, adding to the chaos. This also prevents the old-gen from taking up space.

The High-End Nomu beat the tar out of Miriko, leaving crippled at best and a paraplegic at worst. (That is assuming they don't kill her).

Fourth Kind is killed when, like Ojiro, he is overwhelmed.

Your absolutely correct, Gran Torino and Pixiebob are eliminated, joining Crust.

Twice actually lives, though I would keep that ambiguous until later, he wouldn't get out unscathed of course and would probably need to be put into a coma while his injuries heal.

Himiko's revenge plot now has additional stakes as she promises Twice that she will return to him. (before he's medically put under)

This also fuels the PLF + Spinner, vowing to do right by their ally and friend.

Dabi would have disfigured Hawks upon discovery of his attempt on Twice's life, no more cosmetic scars. Just good old fashioned brutality.

(The fear of losing Twice may have dug up the past memory of losing his mother after Enji drove her to the brink. As Dabi cares deeply for both [even if he won't admit it] ontop of the fact that it's a "hero" that's trying to take them and he betrayed them).

Overall this world is going to be one wild ride with a very different ending to what Hori gave us.

It is a story not of heroes and villains, but of ideals and goals. It asks the question:

What is it to save?

A few additional notes:

Momo would likely have a revenge arc as a sort of parallel between Izuku and Himiko. However it wouldn't be as bland as what we got in canon with Mina.

The mercenaries aren't mustache twirling supremacists, no. Here they're cold, calculated soldiers who are strictly tactical. Midnight was "nothing personal, just business" to them.

They serve as a dark mirror to Momo's shift in personality during the war, as Momo reverts to her initial cold confidant personality and kicks it up to 20 as she hunts them down.

Midnight's killer even points out midbattle on how Momo was sexualized and she doesn't even know it. Telling her at one point: "You may see them as an equal, they see you as a display"

The battle isnt treated as a victory either, while the Momo and her squadron win, the gravity of the situation isn't ignored and Momo actually listens to her opponent's critique.

#mha critical #bnha critical #hero society critical #anti endeavor #mha rewrite #anti bakugou #anti bakugo katsuki #anti enji todoroki #anti mha ending #anti aizawa #ua critical #lov #justice for rei himura #anti kohei horikoshi #anti horikoshi #anti hpsc

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batsplat · 3 months

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always am obsessed with motorsport champions that decide to run the number 1 plate vs those who’ve stuck with their number. because it reveals so much of each of their inner philosophies, whether they are deeply superstitious, or seek a tangible everyday proof of their victory, or concerned with branding/legacies, or trampling the inner critic that believed deep inside of them that they were cut out to be a champion. just so interesting to parse through possible motivations

you're so right anon!!

of course, a big part of it is historical context... you can't really disentangle the choice of whether to run the number one plate or not from the era within which they made said choice. until fairly recently, it was entirely the norm to pick the number one plate - and beyond that, even those who didn't finish in first tended to just adopt the number that represented the place they had finished in during the previous year's championship. so for instance in 1987, gardner was first, mamola second, lawson third, haslam fourth, macckenzie fifth, and so on. in 1988, gardner ran the number 1 plate... mamola 2, lawson 3, haslam 4, mackenzie 5, etc etc. the only champion who broke with tradition was british racer barry sheene (500cc champion in 1976 and 1977), known for being a rebel - and even the styling of his iconic number 7 was apparently a wee bit controversial:

sheene stuck with the 7 both after his formula 750 title and then after his two 500cc titles:

there's some ways in which sheene is kinda the prototype of the modern rider, and he was the first to reap the benefits of having a distinctive number associated with him

in the eighties and nineties, it was all back to number one plates - but then of course another rider decided to break with tradition

incidentally, the generally purported story for why valentino took the number 46 is that it was his father's number. if his autobiography is to be believed, the truth is a little different:

I am Valentino. Graziano chose that name for me because he wanted to honour the memory of his best friend, who drowned at sea, near Pesaro, at the age of eighteen. The fact that St Valentine's Day is just two days before my birthday was also a reason. Number 46 originated when I raced minibikes. I was on a team with two kids from Gatteo a Mare, Marco and Maurizio Pagano. They are the brothers who lent me the Aprilia 125, which I used for my debut at Misano. All three of us had number 46 because we raced in three different categories. They too loved Japan and Japanese riders. One day we were mesmerised by a wild-card entrant at the Japanese Grand Prix who pulled off the most amazing tricks and seemed to have no fear whatsoever. He was number 46. And from that day on, so were we. For me, that lasted until I moved up to the Italian championship and, later, the European series. But when I finally made it to the world championship, I was asked to choose a number. I discovered that 46 was Graziano’s number when he won his first Grand Prix on a Morbidelli 250cc, back in 1979. Which was the year I was born. That’s why I decided that I, too, would be number 46. For me that number represents my career and, partly, my life. It certainly symbolises my massive, incredible, adventure.

so valentino was only the second premier class rider who stuck with his number. the norm of just following the previous year's standings to choose your number was kinda starting to die out in the late nineties anyway. by 2002, when valentino was defending his title for the first time, if you look down the list it's basically personal numbers all the way. still, valentino was the one to break tradition for champions - the first to do so in a couple of decades. valentino did also know sheene personally as a result of the link through his father, who was a friend of sheene's and had raced him:

^valentino with sheene, valentino wearing a tribute helmet with the iconic '7' on it after sheene's passing (also with the rainbow helmet colours and the word 'pace' or 'peace' on the back during the 2003 invasion of iraq), and valentino's 2005 championship celebrations for his seventh title, his shirt again featuring sheene's seven

hayden didn't follow valentino's example and instead went for the number one plate in 2007. casey made the same choice for the 2008 season, then jorge in 2011... so for a hot moment it really did look like valentino had been just another blip. if anything, the trend was going the other way, with a couple of high profile instances of riders who hadn't won the title rejecting their established numbers:

this particular trend didn't catch on, and from 2010 onward dani decided to just stick with the 26. because all the non-valentino aliens just couldn't stop faffing about with their numbers, 2010 is the only year in which all four aliens are actually concurrently running the numbers we most commonly associate them with

then, by 2012 apparently people were starting to get a bit superstitious about the number one plate. here, from an interview with casey:

the idea is that you can't defend the title if you're sporting the number one plate. which is true! in the 21st century, three guys chose the number one plate, and they defended their titles a grand total of zero times. one bloke stuck to his number, and he defended his title five out of seven times. so yes, it is technically correct that nobody with the number one plate had defended their title, though it is equally true that nobody not called valentino rossi had defended their title. I suppose we'll never know what the bigger factor was

anyways, if picking the number one plate was already a sure thing before, I reckon this sort of silly talk about 'jinxes' would have made casey even less likely to change his mind for 2012. not only is he stubborn, but he also takes an extremely dim view on superstitions

That race was the twelfth in a row that had been won by a rider not starting from pole, which was a new record. People were making a big deal about it and questioning whether, psychologically speaking, it wasn't a good thing to qualify on pole position at all. Maybe to the superstitious riders out there it had become an issue but I have never allowed myself to be affected by outside influences like that and I put an end to the stat by winning from pole in the next round at Laguna Seca in California. It is amazing how many riders have superstitions, which to me are completely ridiculous. Pretty much every one of them has a little mascot or a lucky pair of undies that they once had a good result in and have been stuck with ever since (so to speak!). Superstition is basically just fear and as an athlete my view is that by allowing it to enter your mind you are effectively handing over control. My approach has always been to deliberately tackle it by doing things differently to the last time, just to make sure I don't get into a restrictive habit. Some riders look at their qualifying position and think, I never go well from fifth position, or arrive at a circuit thinking about past results there and say, 'I've never done well here before, it's not my favourite circuit.' You have to be in the mindset that every day is a new day, a new set of circumstances. Every corner is different, every situation is different, and if you are not prepared to open your mind to that then you will always struggle more than necessary. You might have been through one particular corner a thousand times before but with a slight change in temperature, a new bike, a different tyre or a rider trying to pass you on the inside it becomes a completely different challenge and you have to be ready to deal with that.

given that casey is like, neurotically anti-superstition - well, he was probably always going to do the same thing as he did in 2008, but now he definitely would never just stick with his number. unlike jorge... who did change his mind, having run the number one plate in 2011 - but decided against making the switch in 2013. funnily enough, this did not help him defend the title. the eventual 2013 champion ended up also opting to stick with his number... and, well, marc's title defence went a little bit more smoothly. after jorge's 2015 title, he once again stuck to his 99, while marc has used the number 93 throughout his career. by the time you get to 2020, it's easy to have a warped perception of how common it is to keep your number. if you're born in, say, 1997 or later, you think it's basically the done thing to stick to your number, and it's really only a few outliers who use the number one plate. but even in the 21st century... it's really just valentino and marc who were doing it, plus jorge two out of three times. but between the two of them, they sure were winning enough of the titles to make it feel like the established norm

by this point, there really was a bit of a superstition about how the number one plate was 'cursed'. obviously, this wasn't actually a 'curse' as much as it was 'the dominant force in the sport in the noughties decided this number one plate thing wasn't for him and the dominant force in the 2010s who also happens to a massive fan of the other guy also decided not to make the switch either so that probably explains it'. it's not 'you won't defend your title if you're sporting the number one plate', it's 'you won't defend your title if your name isn't valentino rossi or marc marquez'. but obviously, sports drives people insane, so it was always going to be something that prompted a lot of speculation until someone finally managed to defend the plate

following his 2020 championship, mir didn't depart from the new tradition, with a suzuki video to announce his decision:

and fabio did likewise after his 2021 title:

obviously, sticking to their numbers didn't actually help joan and fabio defend their titles, and after his 2022 championship it was pecco's turn to make the choice. pecco went about this in the most pecco way imaginable, with just a touch of public hand-wringing about the whole thing:

just as a quick reminder, before pecco there had been 28 premier class champions. five and two thirds decided against the number one plate - sheene, valentino, marc, joan, fabio, and jorge twice. "I have always been fascinated about riders with number one" describes something that until very recently had been completely normal. not even remotely noteworthy. cheers valentino

eventually, presumably after some extremely extensive introspection, pecco decided to go for the number one plate:

and also this:

and also this (look he's got a lot of thoughts on the matter, please allow him):

and talking about defending the number one:

pecco has continued talking about it sporadically since then. he's spoken about it in the context of defending his title, which as he points out he can only remember marc and valentino doing:

and then the pressure inherent to sporting that plate, from after he'd successfully completed his title defence:

hm. right. let's unpack

the thing about this whole 'running the number one plate' business is that in motogp, each rider's individual choice has to be read with that history in mind. for many years, this wasn't even really a question... it's just what you do when you win the title. sheene was the rebel, the one who decided to do things differently, who wanted to be associated with his very own number. and valentino, who himself knew sheene and was already attached to his own number and has always had a good sense for personal branding, decided to stick with 46. of course, valentino being valentino, he's inescapable enough within motogp that ever since he made that choice, every single champion after him has had to actively make a decision one way or another

so you've got jorge, who had used the number one plate in his title defence during his 250cc campaign in 2007 - and also used it in 2011 as motogp defending champion. he ended up changing his mind for his following two campaigns... remember, he only started using the number 99 in 2009 after his fractious split with his manager during 2008 (see more on numbers lore here). here was what he said about his decision in 2011:

versus his decision in 2015:

jorge in particular does of course have a bit of a complicated relationship with the numbers he's used during his career - and unsurprisingly he's clearly put quite a lot of thought into the whole matter. he's determined to still have the number 99 represent him in some way even in 2011, while also thinking about how he can integrate the number one into his initials - and since it's jorge, of course it's particularly important that his fans approve. he "won't forget" his 99, it was still on his leathers because it's still 'in his heart'... but he explains it by saying he has "earned the right", that it's a "unique opportunity". then, a few years later, his main cited reason for sticking with the number 99 is how it 'represents' him

very much a question of identity, then, something about how jorge made the choice to use the 99 and how it was an expression of liberation for him... he was tempted by the number one once and only once - a statement in itself, following on from jorge's title win in 2010 where the oppressively popular defending champion had been taken out of contention through injury. jorge says he's 'earned the right' because he feels like he deserves it and he wants to tell the world as much. did his failure to defend the title play into his decision not to run the plate again or did he just decide it wasn't really for him after all? did he realise he had grown so attached to the number 99, what it symbolised to him, that he didn't want to give it up again? or did he just realise it was better for personal branding?

last year, here's what casey had to say:

it's fun how the perception of it has changed so drastically, hasn't it? now it's kinda the brave decision to take it... and that's mainly the legacy of two blokes who happened to monopolise this century of racing and decided to make their numbers their own (you may have noticed that there's considerably less material out there on why they made the choice they did). it's gone from something that you just sort of did automatically to something that puts a bit of a target on your back. because that's the subtext, right - everyone wants to 'take the number one plate'... which obviously they do anyway, but all this talk of curses and jinxes attempts to give it a bit of extra weight. is it presumptuous to take that number? valentino and marc made the call to stick to their numbers - and years later it's become a statement to deviate from that path. in that fabio quote above, in context he's really just trying to say he feels like he's the number 20 and nothing other than that - but "I feel like I'm not number one" is still a teensy bit loaded. how did marc's injury affect the choice made by those in his absence?

casey is unsurprisingly very firm on the whole thing, "you are world champion and you should be wearing number one". as if doing anything else is shying away from this duty. defending the title is another "challenge" that he says he likes - almost like a way of putting extra pressure on himself. though in a different interview, casey also says this:

just a number after all, then? it's also interesting how they frame it in different ways, isn't it? for casey it's "recognition" of an achievement, for jorge it's something you've "earned"... and for pecco, it's something you "need to respect". it's about something that puts "pressure" on you... perhaps that's partly because so much of the discourse about the number one plate has become about defending the title (or failing to do so), but pecco discusses it more as a responsibility than something he deserves. you can tell that it's clearly preoccupied him for a while - it's something he's "fascinated" by, he's "admired" people who have done it, he's "always loved it". for both casey and pecco, part of it seems to be about respecting the history of all the blokes who have used the number in the past, like it's an act that pays tribute to that heritage. you'd think this shouldn't have been such a tough choice in the first place, wouldn't you? goes to show how much of a break with tradition it's become - tradition, of course, that was really started by pecco's own mentor. would it be that surprising if that's part of the reason for the reticence? and, at the same time, would it be that surprising that his mentor's long shadow might make him feel like he needs that big and bold number one? what does pecco think it's saying that he went a different way? all this public hand-wringing just because he's breaking a trend

for jorge, the number one plate was a public declaration that he'd made it, naysayers be damned. to pecco, "the number one plate means you need to demonstrate you are number one". it's like giving yourself a point to prove... is it mainly a matter of pride or giving yourself something to live up to? both of them go to great pains to stress their continued attachment to their original number, how they're continuing to integrate it into all their cute designs... and that is something that has changed pretty definitively - not entirely as a result of valentino, but around the same time as valentino emerged as the figurehead of the sport, and he's certainly a big part of it. even the riders who go with the number one still want to have their number and to be known by it. the numbers have become such an integral part of branding and rider identity that riders want to make clear how important they are to them, whether they stick with the number as defending champions or not

at the same time, the fact that taking the number one plate has been de-normalised means that this decision places extra focus on the challenge of defending the title. pecco might not frame his choice in opposition to valentino and marc's to keep their numbers, but he does repeatedly link it to how they alone had been able to win successive titles. for him, then, it becomes an indirect way of living up to a legacy - counterintuitively by doing the opposite of what they did. "since I remember, was just marc and vale have repeated the title" “I thought about it many times this season in all the races we were struggling that the only two riders able to win two years in a row were marc and valentino"... that's what he's trying to live up to, this simultaneous source of inspiration and insecurity. are you lacking confidence if you need to see the number one to believe yourself that you are the number one? or is it conversely shying away from something you have rightfully earned if you can't bring yourself to take the plate? is it an expression of ego if you think your personal number is more meaningful than the number one could ever be? personal branding decisions aside, wouldn't manufacturers much rather you display the number one plate proudly on their bikes?

kind of remarkable, isn't it? it should be such a simple choice... and yet. not only is it now a question of branding and identity, but within motogp it's also become one of how you relate to the legacy of two specific riders. maybe it'll gradually become more common again to take the plate - after all, the curse has now been broken. or maybe it will be the source of much hand-wringing forevermore... we shall see. we shall see

#personally I'd always keep my own number lol. but I also think pecco specifically made a good call #though maybe it would've helped to do a little bit less public introspection and hand wringing and soul searching #poor little ferret wants a number one on his bike. needs to write essays justifying it. buddy it's fine who cares #batsplat responds #//#brr brr #does it bother anyone else that valentino doesn't actually use a continental number seven? no? just me?#some of sheene's 7s didn't have the dash. which. there may be a good reason for this but it doesn't quite feel like ideal branding-wise #taking a massive sharpie to valentino's title winning shirt #incidentally schwantz generally stuck to his 34 until he won the title. thought it interrupted the flow too much to mention it but #current tag

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carionto · 11 months

Text

How to beat Deathworlders

I don't know what I want to write and it's a little frustrating. So, to fix that, I'm just gonna throw this at me - Giant Ant Planet

The first call to arms Humanity has declared. They mobilize with unseen speed and precision seven of their mightiest Dreadnoughts, hundreds of transports, and amass fifty thousand soldiers, fully armed and trained on the target.

They are headed to a world Humans scouted as having great potential for life to flourish. How correct they were.

In orbit above the planet Chromathium-2-4, the station Truncated Crescent Ellipses was tasked with conducting experiments to test the viability of Human-digestible flora and fauna living on Chromatoff (as the scientists began to call it for short).

When the fleet arrived, the final message from the station turned out to be true - it had crash landed on the surface. From the chaos of the recordings they received, there was a containment breach and the systems were under attack by some unknown electronic waves and incomprehensible code. A hostile act, but by who?

This was two weeks ago. Whoever it was, they would know the wrath of Humanity. Once we find your traces, there will be no hiding for long.

Preliminary scans show the station was dead and only local creatures and plants appeared, in greater density than elsewhere, but no matter. Just some animals.

The first unmanned craft landed and began exploring the wreckage. All of the digital systems were fried, not a hint of power remained anywhere. Attempts to manually power anything up proved fruitless - the data had been replaced with pure garbage code. Then, the drone vanished underground and went silent. Connection failure.

Orbital sights showed nothing, all frequencies were monitored and were free of unaccounted signals. The next group of drones descended and shortly after touchdown they too were seemingly devoured by the ground, all power and electronic signals cut.

A deep scan showed the same dense biological activity, but looking closer at the data it was like a carpet just below the actual surface layer. And for whatever reason the pulse couldn't penetrate below a few meters. Scanning areas further from the crash revealed a much more detailed and sparsely populated map going down the expected three kilometers.

For the third attempt they kept several drones above the landed ones at different altitudes. The moment the drones on the ground were vanished again, a sudden signal struck the ones floating up to seventy meters above and cut them off as well, but didn't seem to reach any beyond that. The visual was not as detailed as they'd like, but it was enough - the tips of large pincers and antennae and beady eyes. Ants.

The fleet maintained a perimeter around the entire system just in case, and spent half a day consulting professionals and former colleagues of the deceased scientists to get a better understanding of the current situation.

Two experiments the team had worked on before and supposedly continued when relocated to the new station stood out - metabolic acceleration, and unassisted neural interfacing via modified brain waves. Far from the wildest here, such as the self-relocating giant sequoia, but ones that offered a plausible explanation.

Ants serve a variety of critical functions in the maintenance of an ecosystem, so naturally they are a part of most late stage terraforming efforts.

Here, however, something went wrong and they evolved alongside technology at an intimate level. Perhaps deliberately made to do so.

They are spreading fast too. Twelve hours ago the "carpet" of underground ants was roughly two square kilometers. Now it was close to three and a half. In mere weeks they may spread across the entire continent, perhaps make it across (or below?) the seas somehow and ravenously consume all life on this planet before succumbing to extinction themselves.

This world is bountiful. Also, we're here already. Hmm...

Eh, may as well. Plenty of us have seen Starship Troopers and only joined to hopefully one day shoot at alien bugs. Guess these are more like home grown critters, but whatever.

With that brazen attitude (and a quick orbital bombardment) the troop ships landed, well, were forced to crash land the final few meters, but whatever electromagnetic warfare these ants were throwing our way didn't account for reinforced alloy armor and hand-held rail guns. Their sharp pincers, acid throwers, and thick carapaces did however.

Actually, fucking hell, they move real fast underground. Uhh...

This isn't looking so good in retrospect. Did they add cockroach DNA in these bastards too? Some of them literally don't care about losing their head, what the fuck!?

Okay, holy shit, abort mission! Good thing we still install regular ignition engines as an added redundancy to the military ships. Not very fast or efficient, but screw you, burn beneath the thrusters. BURN!

*deep breath*

Okay. So. We lost 831 soldiers, and 4625 are injured. And the ant casualties don't matter cuz they're ants. Super mutant ants. Who are going to take over the world if we don't nuke them. Which might not work anyway because HUMAN scientists made them.

Hoisted by our own petard or something.

Right, let's just chalk it up as a... military exercise gone wrong and quarantine the planet. Wait, make that the whole system.

...so this is what it must've felt like to lose the Emu War...

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #story #scifi #carionto #ant #giant ants #you can really see where my brain process switched

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paper-mario-wiki · 1 year

Note

in your opinion was fallout 4 over-hated at launch or is it just one of those games you have to engage at it's own level (aka The Gamer's Bane)?

It's similar to Super Paper Mario in that it's a very well made and fun game, but it is inconsistent with how the series had been established to be for the previous games. This both in the aesthetic sense, where the retrofuturism and Jetsons-y visuals were cranked up from a 4 to an 11, but also a lot of core changes that people hated. This was stuff up to and including straight up retcons and contradictions, like Jet being mentioned in pre-war terminal entries, or specific power armor lore details that I've actually forgotten but apparently they were important to people. Some go as far as saying it's a soft reboot, which I think is accurate. On top of that, it's significantly more railroaded in its roleplaying possibilities than previous titles, locking you into the role of a grieving widow searching for your kidnapped child no matter who you wanted to be when the game came out, as well as drastically cutting down on dialogue tree diversity and intrigue. These two things you're able to augment with mods, Dana for instance has a backstory of a rogue Institute synth with the memories of a pre-war Vault Dweller who teams up with Nick Valentine to solve the mystery of a missing child. But I'm only able to experience that because a mod I have for skipping the game's intro allows you to pick specific points to spawn, and had to modify HUNDREDS of in-game dialogue interactions to cobble together NPC lines in a way that supports those different backstories when in reference to the main quest. And the fact that fans needed to do all that stuff is kind crazy. Cuz the fans aren't profiting from the game, it's Bethesda that is.

I don't think the game was overhated at launch, I think it was criticized for being completely different from what the entire rest of the series had been, and a letdown in the eyes of many.

I don't think its failings as a Fallout game disqualify it from being a good game, though in the eyes of many it does disqualify it from being a good Fallout game, which I can understand fully.

#anon

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badomensbaby · 10 days

Text

buzz cut baby. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend, luke, returns home one night with a surprise. your reaction, however, wasn't exactly what he was expecting.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. safe sane and consensual, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, established relationship, masturbation, flirting / teasing.

words: 3,910

a/n: i hate that i have friends because what the fuck! why do i do this to myself? anyway, i love buzz cut luke. enjoy!

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You’ve always adored Luke’s curls.

Honestly, they’re probably what drew you to Luke in the first place all those years ago. Initially, anyway.

It was some influencer party in the hills that your best friend dragged you to as a plus one, citing there would be hot guys and a pool and live music from a top-charting band, that you’d be stupid to decline. That shutting yourself away following your breakup wasn’t the best way to cope.

And, in a way, you’ll really never be able to thank her for that. If you would’ve fought harder, resisted just the tiniest bit more, you would have never seen those bouncy, bleached curls and dark roots in the kitchen, messing around with a keg he swore harbored a personal vendetta against him.

His curls might’ve been the reason you noticed him, but everything that followed was Luke just being himself. Stupidly charming but awkward and fumbly, especially when you offered to help and probably got way too close.

You didn’t know him, not really, and finding out two hours later that you were the reason the band’s frontman was late to play their short set for everyone in attendance was a smack in the face. For all you knew, you were locking lips and clenching your thighs around the long, long fingers of some Hollywood wannabe.

He wasn’t, though, he was Luke fucking Hemmings. And he had your cum on the edges of his lips while he sang about falling in love for the first time.

That night was so unlike you. You weren’t fond of hookups, only long-term relationships that seemed to fail for one reason or another, but that didn’t entirely derail you.

You didn’t know Luke but that night changed the course of both of your lives for the better, you’d like to think.

It’s six-thirty in the evening when your phone rings on the island. Interrupting your jam session, aided by the scent of the roasted chicken you’ve had in the oven the last hour and a half, a picture of Luke post-concert with his tongue dragging across your cheek flashing on your screen.

“Hi, handsome,” You greet him, a smile tugging at your lips. He’s been at the studio since seven, planning the second half of his upcoming tour and reserving hotels with his team. You’ll never understand how he does it.

“Hi honey,” He drawls softly, a sigh of relief following but there’s a hint of something in his voice that straightens your shoulders and furrows your brows. “What’s my perfect girl up to?”

“Just making dinner,” You say, leaning your backside against the island while you peek once more through the oven window. “How’s work? You almost finished?”

Luke hums in confirmation. “On my way home, actually. And..” He tapers off, the sound of his car chirping faintly in the background as he unlocks it. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“For me?” You feel heat rise instantly to your cheeks. Luke’s always giving you little surprises, likely since he’ll be kicking off the second part of his tour in just about two months means he’s feeling a bit guilty. He had done that during his first round, as well as the band’s tour last year. Luke always hates leaving you.

“For you,” He hums again. The warmth seeping through your phone’s speaker speaks something else entirely though, a more lustful tilt to his voice. “I’ll be home in thirty. Think you can wait in the bedroom for me, pretty?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. Fifteen minutes until the chicken is done. “I think I can make that work,” You tease lightly, as if you’d ever think about saying no. Time spent with Luke is always appreciated, as you never really know when he’ll be swept away on another tour or some fashion show abroad. “Drive safe. I love you.”

“Always. I love you.” He says before promptly hanging up.

For the next fifteen minutes, you clean up best you can around the kitchen. Not that you had left it a disaster but you couldn’t stand to see a single dish in the sink. Once the chicken had been taken out and covered to keep warm while Luke was giving you your surprise, you trek upstairs with warmth pooling in your stomach and excitement riddling your veins.

Though the unspoken promise of something intimate had been shared, you still weren’t sure how far exactly you should go. You settle for keeping your current outfit on, a simple sundress Luke had gotten for you the summer before — a baby blue satin fabric with small daisies printed on it, back propped against the headboard and a pillow in your lap as you wasted away the remaining minutes until Luke’s arrival scrolling through Instagram.

Your toes tingle and your thighs involuntarily clench when you hear the front door fall shut. When Luke’s voice calls out a sing-songy, “Honey, I’m home!” that echoes up the staircase into your bedroom. You toss your phone carelessly aside and sit up, cheeks warm and fingers drumming excitedly on the pillow still in your lap.

“In here!” You call back.

The sound of Luke’s shoes thump on the staircase, slow and calculated steps that make the warmth in your stomach ignite into a full on flame. Rising to your chest and resulting in your breath speeding up. He stops just outside of the cracked bedroom door. “Cover your eyes for me, would you, doll?”

It isn’t an unusual request, given your bedroom dynamic. So, you comply, placing both hands over your eyes. “Alright, I’m not peeking I swear.” You say.

The door creaks lightly. “Keep ‘em closed,” You hear him say, a bit closer now. “You’re excited, huh? You’re blushing all over, baby.”

“I like your surprises,” You say honestly, softly, producing a light chuckle from your boyfriend. Your heart rate doubles from the titillation that fills the room. “Is it that pretty see-through set you saw me looking at the other week? I wanted to save that for your birthday, but—“

“Open.” Luke interrupts you lowly.

You quickly remove your hands, blinking rapidly from the change to the bright room.

It definitely isn’t that pretty lingerie set.

A loud, sharp gasp falls from your mouth. You reel back, eyes widened, and goosebumps trail every surface of your flushed skin.

Long gone are the blonde ringlets and dark roots that curled around the tips of Luke’s ears. The curls that you often found your fingers sinking into for comfort, or for pleasure, the curls you’d wash on the bad days and style on the good ones.

“You’re bald.” You blurt in a panic.

Your brain tries, tries so hard to make sense but there’s a big piece of the puzzle missing. Something that’s been such a heavy, big part of Luke for so long. The thing you noticed first about him. Gone. Shaved down and smothered in bleach.

Luke raises one amused brow but the undertone of his own panic is evident. A nervous chuckle escapes him. “I’m not bald. I just shaved my head,” He says. “Do you.. not like it?”

“I.. don’t know,” You answer honestly in a breath. “I.. your curls.. why did you—?” Slowly, you climb off of the bed, hesitantly approaching your boyfriend standing still near the dresser. “What am I supposed to hold on to while you fuck me now?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Luke’s shoulders deflate, tension dissipating from them. “Y/N, I’ve talked about shaving my head before. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, babe. My ends were dead.”

“Yeah, but—! I thought you were joking!” You splutter, cheeks hot and furiously pink. “What the hell am I supposed to pull on now, your ears? I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Y/N,” Luke steps toward you, hands hesitantly reaching for your hips to make contact. You let him but your chest continues rising and falling quickly while your eyes roam his short, short hair. “Getting rid of my curls doesn’t mean I’ve gotten rid of my ability to fuck you. What’s going inside your head?”

“It’s — a lot,” You say. “I wasn’t expecting it, like at all,” You reach a hand up to graze the fuzzy top of Luke’s head. It feels weird, the short hairs tickling the palm of your hand. “I’m serious though, Luke. Sex won’t be the same now.”

“That isn’t true,” Luke tugs the corner of his lip between his teeth, a habit still exhibited often despite the lip ring being long gone. “Baby, you know that isn’t true. C’mon, you don’t think I look like some bad boy from one of your romance novels?”

A smile threatens your lips but you stifle it, pursing them. You’re meant to be mad, your brain just can’t compute the sudden change, even if it was the best decision for his bleach-fried curls. You adored them.

“Shut up,” You huff. “Don’t try to get me on your side.”

“Why? I’m having fun over here,” Luke’s fingers drum on your hips, teasing and threatening to pinch the fabric of your dress between his fingertips. “You’re really this upset about not being able to pull on my hair when I fuck you?”

When he says it like that, you feel stupid. But yes, you are, because it wasn’t something just for you. Luke loved getting his curls tugged while he ate you out, or fucked you, even from behind. He liked the pain, the urgency of it. This isn’t just about you.

“You like — liked — it too,” Your pink lips jut into a pout. “Maybe I’m being unreasonable but yes— I’m a little upset.”

“Alright,” He hums, digging his fingers momentarily into your hips, thumbing the prominent bones there. He knows you’re sensitive. You think maybe he might part from you, your breaths bated as you hang on to his every movement. “I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.”

You swallow harshly. “Prove what to me?”

“That I can fuck you so well my curls will be the last thing on your mind,” He says, tongue trailing on the inside of his lower lip before clicking off the roof of his mouth. “How many orgasms will it take, huh? I’m thinking three.”

“Oh,” You breathe out. “I don’t know if that’ll be enough.”

“Oh, really?” A crooked grin tugs at Luke’s lips, brows raised curiously. “Four, maybe? I bet if I fuck you stupid long enough you’ll cum without a fucking touch.”

Good Lord.

You can’t trust yourself to respond. Luke isn’t a vulgar person often, and most of the time your bedroom affairs fluctuate depending on either of your mood. One night you could be draped over the mattress with Luke’s tongue tracing his own name on your heat and another riding him with slow, slow tilts of your hips as the sun comes up. It’s never the same experience twice.

But this time — you have a feeling tonight will blow every other night out of the water.

“Guess I should start off with an apology,” He mutters, almost missable between your ears, words lagged and not understood before Luke’s dropping to his knees before you. Wide, soft blue eyes with inky, dark lashes blinking up at you. Ringed fingers still clasping your hips.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s silently asking for permission, as he does often, and you nod. Your tongue is so tied you’re afraid nothing good will escape your mouth if you were to make an attempt to respond verbally. Luke’s hands slowly slide along the fabric loosely clung to your thighs, speed consistent as he grabs hold of the hem and brings it upward.

With one hand balled around the fabric of your dress, resting just below your stomach, you feel Luke’s warm fingers trace the material of your underwear. Teasing you. Taunting you. All the while your handsome boyfriend keeps his eyes locked on yours, a startled breath is knocked out of you when he begins mouthing at your clothed heat. Teeth threatening your covered clit.

He’s always been impatient, and that sentiment proves right once again as he tugs the material to the side and wastes no time tasting you. Wedging himself between your thighs even as they rumble, even if the position isn’t the most desirable. His tongue traces every inch sincerely, writing his apology in the form of circles and figure eights and capturing your clit between his lips so suddenly it makes your knees threaten to buckle.

You feel it in the way he moans at the simplest taste of you, the I’m sorry he hadn’t said aloud. You feel it in the way his fingers eagerly slide alongside his tongue and fill you, keeping you steady despite the desperation to fall apart right there.

“Luke,” You whimper helplessly, his eyes threatening to fall away from yours and flutter closed in pure bliss. He loves this just as much as you do, if not more. This man was made to eat pussy. You’d bet your life on it. “God-“

He takes your strained whines and moans and ragged breaths endearingly, curling his fingers to reach the perfect spot that pulls a broken moan from deep within you. Every shake of your thighs, every wave of pleasure that builds in the pit of your stomach and threatens to crash over you, he eagerly takes it in stride. Luke knows you won’t last long but surely he’s counting on it.

His mouth retreats, fingers still curled inside and finding every spot that makes you whimper. Luke looks fucking wrecked already, and if you thought you were in for it before, the sight of Luke spitting directly onto your clit nearly makes you cum on the spot. It’s demeaning and dirty in the best way, before eye contact is fully broken and Luke dives back in like he’ll never taste you again.

It’s mainly his eagerness that turns you on the most. The desire he possesses to pleasure you, to worship you. You feel it when Luke begins to suck on your clit again, the dam threatening to break and drown you both. Without a thought, your hand flies to his head, grasping the back of it and holding him against you. Orgasm building and building, prickling the base of your spin and the tips of your toes, stomach tightening as he works his fingers and tongue in some kind of foreplay crescendo.

The violins and cellos that resemble moans from the man with his tongue buried inside of you and the ones spilling from your lips build until you’re letting go. It feels insatiable. And you’re absolutely blubbering just as much as you rock through it, Luke’s fingers slowing and tongue working to lap every remnant of your release in earnest.

Your mind feels hazy, post-orgasm, knees weak as Luke’s arm slithers around your backside to keep you upright. You spare a glance at him, when the bleariness fades from your vision, to see his lips glistening beneath the bedroom lights. Tongue dancing around every inch of his mouth to capture your taste and savor it. “I don’t know if I accept your apology yet.” You huff between broken breaths, thumb idly swaying back and forth across the side of his head.

A look of challenge flashes in Luke’s eyes. “I figured,” He says, thumb swiping the top of his lip before dragging his tongue along the digit. Luke slowly rises to his feet. “Let’s get you more comfortable, hm?”

You nod, despite the lack of explanation as to what more comfortable really means, as you’re being handled rather briskly and bent over the edge of your bed. A small oh escapes you.

“Get those knees up, doll. I can’t be doing all the work here,” Luke says, tapping your thighs. Sluggishly, you do as he says, now on your hands and knees, ankles just barely hanging off the bed’s edge. “Hm.”

Your dress is rucked up once more, now pooling around your lower back, underwear still pulled to the side and a low whistle sounds from behind you. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?” Luke groans lowly. “I swear to God, need a picture of your pussy in my wallet.”

You can’t help but moan. Luke’s belt clanks as he unfastens it, clattering to the floor, jeans sliding down his legs. You spare a glance, to see the material gathered at his mid-thigh. He hadn’t taken them off entirely. And for some reason, you find it hot how needy he is for it.

“Maybe I’ll take a picture,” He continues, as you feel the tip of his cock drag slowly through your wetness, slicking himself. Preparing himself to utterly destroy you as promised. “After I’ve filled you up. Huh? How ‘bout that? A picture of my pretty girl’s pretty pussy full of my cum.”

Your arms wobble, sending your chest directly into the mattress. Only further aiding the ease of Luke entering you, slick and warm and thick as he slides in so effortlessly with a low hiss. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes— God, oh my—“ You mutter against the sheets, turning your head so that your cheek is flat against the soft material. Luke buries himself to the hilt, one hand fastened on your hip while the other is splayed and slowly traveling up your lower back to grab the fabric of your dress. Holding you in place. “Luke, please.”

“Since you’re begging so nicely, my perfect girl,” He says, pulling back only to bury himself inside you once more. It’s so wet and slick and obscene, the sound bouncing off of your bedroom walls alongside his low grunts and your sharp breaths. The angle alone is enough to make you cum, combined with the sensitivity from your orgasm. Luke continues the slow motions, withdrawing his cock only to sink back in. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Too slow,” You grumble. “Faster. Please— for fucksake.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Gagging for it,” He sighs in faux-annoyance, but you know he’s just as desperate to fill you, to claim you and leave you a mess. “As you wish.”

The curled fist against the middle of your back presses harder, pushing your chest flush with the bed with no room for movement. Fingernails sink into the soft flesh of your thighs as Luke’s cock withdraws slowly, one final time, before thrusting so harshly a broken moan is pulled from your throat. No mercy is evident in the way he fucks you, like it’s all you’re meant for, the tip of his cock nudging that spot just barely.

Tears pool in the corners of your eyes.

“God baby, this pussy was made just for me. So fucking warm and wet,” Luke grits out between harsh exhales through his nose. “Taking my cock so well.”

“Luke,” You reach out desperately, fumbling to grab the sheets between your fingers as your body rocks from his thrusts. He’s been intense like this before, long ago, but you’d be a fucking liar if you said you hadn’t longed for it on the occasion. “Fuck, you feel so good. Please— please don’t stop.”

“I’d be an idiot to stop,” Luke says. “Christ, Y/N, you’re fucking soaked. It’s so fucking hot.”

A sudden wave of something hits you full force. Something more powerful than an average orgasm. Your thighs quiver so harshly that they cramp, Luke’s cock nudging the perfect spot dead on and the only sounds escaping you are desperate pleas and whines that can’t be deciphered. Your head feels like jello, holding on to something that’s begging to be free. So, you do.

“Oh, fuck—“

The pleasure is almost blinding. Your body feels so warm, on fire practically, and Luke’s thrusts stutter. “Did you just—“

He doesn’t need to ask. You did, you both know it. The way your release floods your thighs, Luke’s cock and dampens the sheets. It’s only happened twice in the time you two have been together, and squirting definitely isn’t something you’ve practiced.

“Oh fuck, Y/N-“ Luke whines. Broken and breathy, nails digging into your hip so harshly for dear life as he buries himself inside you fully one last time, panting your name on an endless loop as he comes undone. “Fuck.”

After a moment, Luke slowly retracts, and the sound of knees hitting the bedroom floor is unmistakable. You’re in no state to move, vision speckled and blurred, while you somehow manage to keep yourself upright. You aren’t sure if minutes pass or seconds, but you jump slightly when Luke’s hands softly clasp the back of your thighs.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke says weakly. “Holy shit, Y/N. What a fucking masterpiece.”

No doubt he’s taken a photo or two. Or three, or ten. Luke’s just sentimental like that.

You slowly attempt to rise on shaky arms, but Luke presses his thumbs into your skin with a tut. “Hold on, baby,” He says. The words for what sit on the tip of your tongue but Luke’s actions prevent you from asking, as a sudden warmth meets your most sensitive spot.

Is he—?

Fuck.

The tip of Luke’s nose ghosts the soft skin between your holes, as his tongue works to clean the mess you and he had made together. Catching every last bit, with hungry little groans. All you can do is sit and relish in it, in Luke’s desperation to taste himself inside you once more, that you don’t really register a slickness that isn’t due to your boyfriend’s current activity.

Weakly, you spare a glance between your legs to catch sight of Luke’s arm furiously working. He’s getting off, you realize. To tasting his own cum inside you.

Luke groans weakly against your pussy, lips quivering and he’s likely finished all over himself. The warmth that floods your stomach is preposterous. Luke backs off.

“You were that desperate?” You ask, finally turning onto your side to see Luke, pink-cheeked kneeling beside the bed. Eyes wide and glossy as they meet yours. “You got off to eating me out? After cumming inside me?”

“Well, I—“ Luke clears his throat. “M’fucking weak for it, you know that. After I took a picture I just— fuck off.” He turns away, clearly embarrassed.

“You’re cute,” You laugh softly, thoroughly exhausted and sweaty and way too warm than is desirable right now. “I accept your apology, by the way.”

“Figured,” Luke says. “You didn’t have time to think about my curls,” Reminded once more of the short hair that decorates Luke’s head, your lips part to defend yourself but Luke holds up a silencing finger. “Don’t even, Y/N. You know how long I’ve been dying to make you squirt like that—“

“Luke Robert Hemmings!” You gasp.

“Just saying! More important things happening than my hair. I need to remember what I did so I can make you do that again-“

“That’s enough out of you, Slim Shady,” You shake your head, cheeks a roaring pink much like Luke’s. His jaw drops from the nickname, slinking back, cock half massed and hanging out of his boxers. “You heard me.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. Before you know it, he’s reaching for your ankles and a squeal escapes you.

You’re definitely in for a long night.

You may have always adored Luke’s curls, but you love him just the same without them.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #what the fuck #i'm not sorry #buzz cut baby

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emaistome · 7 days

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Alicent and her "liberation"

I wholeheartedly believe that to tell a feminist story, you have to at least tell a story that make sense, this is unfortunately not what Ryan Condal and his team did with Alicent Hightower, in season two of HOTD.

I kept defending them and their choices, until that last scene of season two, and although it breaks my heart that Alicent “sacrificed” Aegon, I have to admit that the things she said around it bother me a bit more.

Before anything, I want to point out that the patriarchy is not some fable, some story that they tell women to make them be submissive; it’s a setting that affects the lives of every living woman in the world (both the real world and asoif). It restricts the freedom of women, and put their very lives at stakes all the time. It manifests itself everywhere, so much that it’s easy to make people believe that “It’s just the order of things”. Sure, women can try to fight against these rules, like Rhaenyra (to a certain extent) who did not care about the prejudice against women and their sexuality, and vied for the throne despite having bastards. Or like Rhaenys, Visenya and Alyssane who despite all of their faults, did try to make the lives of women in the seven kingdoms better.

Alicent did believe that men were more fit to rule, while she thought that women were supposed to “guide them gently”. Although she believed that Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne, and she also tried to be named regent, so it’s inconsistent, but I digress. However, I don’t blame her for that. Alicent did not make these rules; these rules existed long before she was born, and that’s what she has been taught since she was a child. Alicent suffered a lot from them. In fact all her life, all she did was trying to make a better life for herself and her children under these rules. For the entire season one, Alicent was shown as the person who suffered more from gendered oppression in the show. Her reasoning for taking the throne was valid her actions were understandable and motivated by self preservation. If they Rhaenyra took it, she would need to kill all of Alicent’s children.

Somehow, season two episode height, had her apologizing for all the actions she made out of self-preservation. And you can smell that some 21st century writer was the mind behind her reasoning, but I’ll say more on that later.

Multiple people in charge of the show, talked about Alicent needing to be humbled. Why does she need to be humbled and apologize for her sins? While a man like Viserys, who cut his wife to take a child out of her and raped Alicent is glorified. They had her recite all the misogynistic criticism the general audience had against her, and apologize for it.

Alicent tried to be the perfect friend for Rhaenyra, more than she should have. For some reason people still find ways to blame her. She was groomed since she was 14 by Viserys and Otto; she is blamed for that, as if she had any agency in the situation.

Alicent should betray her family, disobey her father to protect Rhaenyra, do the opposite of what she was told since she was a child. And it would still not mean anything because neither her, nor Rhaenyra have power in the situation.

She was raped by Viserys as a 15/16 years old girl, again it must be her fault as a 15 years old girl, and she manipulated poor old Viserys who had no idea that he was grooming a young girl. And they always use the argument that it was fine at the time. The discourse around it resembles the discourse around Lolita when it was first published more than 50 years ago, and people still haven’t moved from blaming young girls for the actions of the men around them.

If they have a little bit of conscience, they will tell you that they feel bad for Alicent when she was a child, but not for the adult she became. But the adult is the direct result of the abuse that she suffered when she was a child. And again she fears that her children could be killed, a valid fear. Why would I blame her for doing what she could to save her family? Apparently Ryan Condal and Sara Heiss, think that she should apologize for that. “I lost my way; or rather it was taken away from me.” Implies that she realizes that getting married and having babies was never what she wanted, but something that was forced on her. But in the same scene (just like in the entire season), she praises Viserys even thought he was the main person who took her agency away from her. And I understand that victims can cope by idealizing their abusers, but viserys did not abuse only her, he abused her and her children, and clearly didn’t value her sacrifices. I think it came to that point where she didn’t even need a “liberation arc” to realize that, yet she still praises him.

Let’s talk about her plans to run away. This is where the writing started to feel the most like a 21st century pseudo-feminist was in charge of this writing and was more attached to the idea of Alicent being free, instead of real freedom. Alicent planned to runaway with her daughter and her granddaughter to “breathe the open air, and finally be free”, but she doesn’t plan any money? It’s as if they were trying to make her sound dumb because Aegon and Larys were also planning to runaway but somehow they knew they had money somewhere. But Alicent? Nothing. I’m actually not nitpicking. The patriarchy actively refuses to grant women power or money, so that they could stay bound to the men around them, to their family. And she doesn’t have any skill to survive when she “wanders in the wilderness” she was raised a highborn lady in a castle life in the wilderness, without any family to protect her would kill her and her autistic daughter and granddaughter. Women usually stay in abusive environments not only because they were brainwashed, but also because they feared that the world outside might be less kinder to them. It takes a minimum of logic to understand that the patriarchy can’t be kinder to a lowborn unknown woman than Alicent who sat in the royal small council, where only her and Rhaenyra sat as women in the seven kingdoms. She is still top two, of the most privileged women in Westeros, running away would not make her situation better.

We have a a history of women actually running away from Westeros and not being free from the patriarchy. Saerra was sold to a brothel, Jorah’s wife was some man’s concubine and Daenerys, had all her money being stolen and was sold as a child bride to Khal Drogo.

There is not a single way to make that scene work, it’s not feminist, as it realizes nothing but making one of the most intelligent characters appear very dumb. And I’d rather have Alicent be misogynistic and intelligent than having her be liberated and dumb. Women in real life can be misogynistic and perpetuate the system that made them suffer because that the only way they can survive. But also how can I blame her for her own oppression, how can I ask her to apologize for her actions as a victim.

#alicent hightower #house targaryen #house of the dragon #feminism #alicent don't need to apologize #Ryan Condal #team alicent #team green #hotd alicent #hotd

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