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submalevolentgrace · 1 year

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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

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saerins · 6 months

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°୨୧ NO CONTEST

+ kaiser x f!reader | wc 2.8k | content: fluff, friends to lovers, slight hints of jealousy, mentions of alcohol, they go clubbing

notes: help me i think i made myself fall for this guy even more after writing this shit for him > ⤙ <

summary: being just friends doesn’t mean much when neither of you really want to keep it that way. problem is, will either of you make the first move?

SPOTTED: KAISER-KAIA DUO HIT THE STREETS, NEW BUDDING ROMANCE?

“i like you though, y/n.”

it’s spring and the weather outside is the nicest it’s ever been in a while and you have every chance to enjoy it except for the fact that dear michael kaiser is lounging on your couch, rifling through the magazine he got in the mail.

“right, haha, very funny,” you mumble sarcastically, slumping down onto the other couch where kaiser isn’t sprawled all over.

sometimes, you think it’s funny how he’s portrayed as this hot, sexy, confident soccer player who can do no wrong when it comes to matters with his looks, but then in private he’s like… well, this. his bed head’s a mess, his room slippers are the fluffy-fuzzy kind, and much less high maintenance than everyone makes him out to be. (but you have to stop yourself from staring because kaiser doesn’t sleep in anything but his sweatpants during this season and well, where his abs are concerned, he’s definitely got no problems there.)

kaiser sighs in the overdramatic fashion that’s probably his trademark right about now. “y/n, y/n, what do i have to do to make you believe me?” he turns around, smirking at you as he raises a brow. maybe it’ll work on his countless fangirls, but after being friends with him for over six years, you’re probably immune to it.

“maybe you can just shut up and get ready for your event later.” you roll your eyes, sauntering to the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast, automatically making two of everything because kaiser loves to crash your apartment in the morning. (he really does need to learn about personal space.)

breakfast preparations go quietly. kaiser listens to you—he shuts up and starts getting ready for his event before coming back into your apartment, all fresh and ready to shamelessly eat the breakfast you made, staring at you from across the table whenever you’re not looking like he always does.

“kaiser-kaia duo hit the streets, new budding romance?”

“miko, don’t tell me you’re reading that gossip rag too,” you whine, looking for any excuse not to dive into your pile of work for the day.

your colleague swivels her chair over to your cubicle, looking around to make sure your bosses aren’t around to witness the both of you slacking off. “hey, isn’t he your friend? give me the tea! are they really dating?”

leave it to miko to get all excited about dating rumours. you really don’t know what’s so special about them—kaiser’s gotten so many of them ever since, well, forever. even before he became a soccer superstar.

you remember what kaiser said in the morning. “i like you though, y/n.” always ready with that smooth tongue of his. that aside, if he really was dating someone, you bet that they’d be staying over with him more often than not, and there’s really no harm in rejecting a rumor as opposed to confirming one.

“nope, they just happened to be waiting for a cab at the same spot.” and paparazzis love to snap a shot from misleading angles. now that you’re really looking at the article, they managed to make it look like kaiser’s kissing her cheek. you find yourself rolling your eyes at it and looking away.

miko sighs, leaning back against her chair. “man, that sucks, they look cute,” she comments, scrolling away from the online article before she gives you a suspicious side eye. “hey, you sure you’re not dating him?”

you still a little at the sudden line of questioning before turning your attention back to your laptop equally quickly. “if i was, i wouldn’t be so free all the time now, would i?” a response to which miko shrugs off and decides to let go of as she retreats back to her desk.

as much as you love miko as your colleague, you haven’t been as honest with her as you could. she knows you’re friends with kaiser, yeah, but she doesn’t know he’s basically your neighbour. she doesn’t know that he comes over all the time whenever it’s off season. she doesn’t know that the both of you have fallen asleep next to each other on the couch.

she doesn’t know a lot of things—like how your heart’s beating erratically now at the notion of being someone special to kaiser. it’s always been sweet nothings that you thought would stay that way, and you’ve always been short at realising your own feelings, so much so you were, once upon a time, positive you had zero romantic feelings for your friend.

now? you’re not so sure anymore.

seven days pass and kaiser’s been pestering you every single moment you’re free—like he always does—but today’s kind of a special day because it’s your birthday and it’s an hour away from your dinner party yet you’re not even close to ready.

your hair’s wet, you’re still in your loungewear, you have no idea what to wear and kaiser’s just flipping through the channels, half bored to death. for his part, at least, he’s already ready.

it’s not even fair how he takes just half an hour to get ready and yet he looks like he does. hair perfectly soft, and he’s wearing a nice black suit with a wine red dress shirt underneath, his tattoos peeking out here and there. if he wasn’t a soccer player, he’d definitely either be a model or a very charming businessman.

“too handsome for you?” kaiser smirks as he catches you looking, and you have to spin on your heels to avoid getting flustered (to his face).

“shut up, kaiser, i haven’t found anything to wear,” you groan, making a beeline for your bedroom. you really wished your friends hadn’t booked a high-end restaurant for little old you—then you could literally just throw on anything and be done with it.

kaiser, completely comfortable in your apartment, strolls into your bedroom with you and starts browsing through your closet, ignoring your protests. within seconds, he finds a dress and holds it out, a lopsided smile filling his face. “how about this?”

the wine red satin dress hovers in front of you, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat before you speak, feeling the line getting blurry. “trying to get me to coordinate outfits with you or something?”

you’re trying your best but your voice quivers just a little bit, and you bet that smug smile on his face that he can hear it. “why not? we look good together,” he shrugs, as though it’s no big deal but it’s hard to stop yourself from overthinking when lately the two of you have been flirting more often and serious than usual.

rolling your eyes and trying not to be too late, you grab the dress from him and change into it, spending some time to yourself to recollect, internally cursing him for being able to make you this flustered over nothing at all.

by the time you come back out into the living room, hair all done and accessories settled, this time, kaiser’s the one who’s caught staring, shameless in the way his eyes drag over you from head to toe. you’d tease him for it, but you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for his comeback so you refrain.

as you grab your go-to black heels and sit down to strap them on properly, kaiser’s quick to offer a hand, his lithe fingers taking your heel from you, slowly inserting your feet, his eyes lingering on your face and his thumb rubbing circles around your ankle. your eyes are glued to his own, and somehow it makes you even more nervous when he’s not joking around. when he looks at you like this—serious, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying anything at all.

the way he ties the straps are gentle and precise, tight but not too tight that it’ll hurt you. you’ve jokingly told him to help you tie your shoelaces before but he’s always refused. yet now he’s helping you put on your heels on both feet without saying a word and the way his hand lingers on your calf when he’s done is enough to make you melt.

on some other day, you’d joke with him and get him to let go. today, you’re silent.

kaiser chuckles, though, his hand casually brushing up your calf slightly before he pulls away, gently patting your head as he gets up.

“let’s go.”

dinner is agonising, enjoyable, agonising.

it’s nice; being seated around a table, enjoying small talk and nonsense with the same group of friends, catching up with people like kaiser and ness who’s been away a lot because of their profession.

yeah, that part’s nice. what’s agonising about it all is how close kaiser is to you, how his right hand casually drapes around your shoulder from time to time, shifting down to your thigh sometimes, making you go crazy.

it’s not like the both of you haven’t been close before, but you feel like maybe this time, it’s different. it’s not just the close proximity, it’s the intimacy of it all that has you inwardly keeling over. what’s worse is that you think you want it, him. in a way you didn’t think to think of before.

“you sure you’re not dating him?”

miko’s words ring repeatedly in your head. somehow, your answer’s changed from nope to you sort of wish you did. you bite your lower lip, absentmindedly laughing along even if you didn’t hear the joke at all.

“you okay?” the voice in your ear nearly makes you jump up from your seat.

on your right, ness is grinning as he looks at you, like he knows something’s going on in that little head of yours. you shake your head anyway, but ness shoots you a knowing smile as his eyes briefly shift to kaiser’s arm around you before winking at you.

fuck, is that really enough to make the heat rush to your cheeks?

“y/n?” one of your other friends calls out, snapping you back to the foreground.

“what?”

“next stop: new club downtown! orange, or grape, or whatever the fuck name it is,” he drawls, excited, “you up for it?”

before you even get the chance to agree, one of the other guys speaks up. “hey kaiser, speaking of clubs, didn’t that dating rumour come up recently? the one with, uh, kaia?”

readjusting himself, kaiser pulls away from you, taking a swig of his beer. “don’t remind me,” he groans, sighing.

“why not? she’s hot!”

there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t explain.

beside you, ness snickers. “tell ‘em what really happened, stupid.”

that manages to pique your interest.

kaiser sighs, resigning because he knows they’ll just keep hounding him if he refuses. “she tried her luck, that’s all,” he settles for something vague, trying to escape.

ness, however, ever the kind soul, expands on his words, making sure you hear every single bit—you’re not sure if he’s trying to egg you on or just see your reaction.

“please, she was trying to get you to send her home, no?” ness’ explanation gets a reaction out of the group, and you’re glad you all have a private room here so no one outside can hear you, servers included.

“shut up.”

“kaia and kaiser—has a nice ring to it.”

and even though kaiser doesn’t entertain that, you feel a little envy brewing inside you—one that you fail to drown out.

orange is filled with people; combining the fact that it’s holiday season and it’s the club’s launch night, it’s safe to say that there’s barely any room to breathe. still, your friends are all drunk on the alcohol, pulling one another to the dance floor, leaving you and kaiser at the table.

he’s still close as ever, his bare hands brushing yours, one of his arms around your waist, keeping you close.

“dance with me,” he raises his voice over the music. the way he smiles so genuinely now managing to make your heart skip a beat.

suppressing your grin, you wordlessly agree, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. he meanders the crowd skilfully, as expected considering he and ness are frequent clubbers. it’s only now that you realise you’d never gone to such a place with him, which is surprising considering your many years of friendship.

as you join your friends on the floor, you can’t help but notice how kaiser sticks to you and you alone, his hands on your waist, trickling up and down your arm, dancing along behind you. even surrounded by people, he commands your attention alone.

unfair.

but to kaiser, it’s unfair too. it’s not fair how you’re so pretty, it’s not fair how you’ve always been. it’s not fair that he’d fallen slowly for you, and now so so deep. how is it fair that even when he tries to forget you, when he tries not to mess with the friendship, that he ends up falling even more?

his eyes stay glued on you, shamelessly making sure no other man gets their hands on you—it’s fucking insulting how they try to get you to dance with them even when he’s right there. lucky for him, you’re not budging. you’re there. with him. only him. even if your other friends are here.

it’s just him and you and he wonders what you’re thinking. are you as flustered as he is right now? kaiser hasn’t even let himself drink more than one mug of beer, all because he knows this is a night he’d rather remember than risk forgetting.

“hey, isn’t that kaia?” one of your friends excitedly points out and kaiser follows his line of sight.

it is her, and she’s heading this way—but that’s not really important because what’s important is how kaiser noticed you’ve stopped dancing, awkwardly trying to shuffle away. it’s kind of funny, he swears he can tell that you might feel the same way about him. maybe you’re just more stubborn than he is.

so he keeps his arms around you, pulling you close.

“stay with me,” he whispers into your ear, and he suppressed a grin from the goosebumps searing across your neck. he guesses it’s a good sign you’re listening to him.

“kaiser, what’s up?” kaia greets, evidently trying to move for a hug but kaiser’s not budging, squeezing you closer instead.

he nods at her in acknowledgement before letting the rest of his friends throng around her for a photo.

once she’s sufficiently busy, he hears you speak up. “were you dancing with her that time too?”

kaiser manages not to snicker at your obviously jealous tone, “yeah, we went with a few other people after our shoot was wrapped up.”

you nod, and all kaiser can think of somehow is that your shampoo smells so nice. “oh, sure you don’t wanna dance with her again tonight then?”

are you testing him? it’s cute.

he shakes his head. “nah, i danced with her a lot that time already,” he teases, though he’s not too sure whether you’d take it like a joke like it was meant to. when you don’t respond, he chuckles, gently turning you to face him. “there’s one thing i didn’t do with her though.”

kaiser’s face is just inches away from yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek and he’s aware that everyone in the close vicinity is looking at the two of you but he doesn’t care.

honestly, he has to admit, he’s dreamed of doing this a thousand times over, always hovering between the decision to ruin this friendship or not. the thoughts were there whenever he’d wake up next to you on the couch. or whenever all of you met up and one of the other guys would throw their arms around you. or in the mornings when you made breakfast. there’s not a time he’s been sure whether this is what you wanted too.

hell, he’s not even sure now. but fuck, if he wastes another minute not trying he thinks he’ll kill himself for it. and he’s hoping to god this isn’t a dream because you’re not pulling away and you’re not treating this like a joke and it can only be because you want this too.

without another thought, his lips press against yours and it’s like the loud music drowns out into the background, getting lost and fading away. suddenly it’s like you’re the only thing in front of him and fuck, you taste even better than he can ever imagine.

“fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pressed against yours. “be mine?”

still breathless from that kiss, you chuckle weakly and nod, both of you earning whoos all around the room. (you make a mental reminder to tell miko before she winds up seeing this online before you get a chance to explain.)

and just like that, kaiser’s finally gotten the girl of his dreams.

“want you, baby, just you.”

the next morning, the two of you make the headlines.

LIPS LOCKED: KAISER & RUMORED GIRLFRIEND SHOW OFF THEIR LOVE

#bllk x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #michael kaiser fluff #kaiser fluff #kaiser x reader fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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fishyfishyfishtimes · 5 months

Text

Daily fish fact #4 062 993

General fish fact!

Fish have gills maybe. Sometimes, I think? Uhh....

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #marine biology #biology #zoology #general fish fact

( 1 note )

🧊 grønland-citizen follow

Only 100 years old... he shouldve been at the blub :(

( 40 notes )

🖤 pandawhale follow

Liveblogging my migration! ;)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Found a fish! Ate it >:)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming!!!

🖤 pandawhale follow

My sister and I bullied this humpback for a lil before our ma told us to stop. What a party pooper..

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming and balancing a fish on my head B)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Sorry forgot to update. Swimming!

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming..... still swimming....

🖤 pandawhale follow

Cod why did I think this was a good idea we're just swimming a dozen million miles and that's it

🎣 murican-shad follow

So, um... what was that about the fish?

( 153 notes )

💤 manatee-ing-just-fine follow

"Hey, did you hear about the recent-"

No, I didn't. I'm literally so unbothered by fishcourse I couldn't care less. I'm just goin with the flow. Riding the waves. Chilling. Moisturised and in my lane. Do you think the moss on my back signifies anything other than my peaceful adn pacifist nature. I'm just a Guy

( 588 notes )

🐟 migrating-gal follow

OOOHHHH MY COD YOU FRYS!!! You have no idea holy carp holy carp theres this one atlantic salmon migrating at the same time as me,,,, says we're going to the same river,,, her sides are such a gorgeous rich chestnut colour and shes so large compared to me and her belly accentuates her curves and shape in the best way! Her scales are so shiny too? Shes practically glowing!!! UGH every time we swim next to each other i wish there was a small creek so that she'd be forced to swim over me and crush me with her whole body weight

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

Horny on main again?

🐟 migrating-gal follow

Oh, when I post about MY crushes its suddenly soo strange and unusual? Sure mr. "where can i find a salmon who will bite me right". sure. It's literally the season!

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

You cannot prove I said that.

#/hj #hush hush #lets just pretend neither of us said anything thanks ;))

( 22 notes )

🐡 puffering follow

Felt bored. Doodled this.

( 9,432 notes )

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

Ngl I really hate how barren fish representation actually is :( There's two types of fish ever. Fish and shark and sometimes ray. They always show generic fishes only, like nonspecific fishes with one or two primary colours plastered on the side. Where are the pipefishes? The anemonefishes? The anglerfishes? The damselfishes? The morays? The hogfishes? The groupers? The marlins, the tunas? Even the wrasses???? There are never any specific species, just red fish, blue fish, that's it!

🌠 stargazing-in-antarctica follow

I would also like to bring up unflattering fishes. It's always reef fishes that get their spotlight to shine, but I've never even seen another stargazer portrayed in a good light on TV

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

!!!! This is so true! There's so many of us who never get our chance to be seen anywhere and it makes me so sad :( No diversity at all in the casts of recent underwater movies.

🦈 zzz-in-pyjamas-zzz follow

even the representation that does exist for specific fishes sucks. sharks like myself never see ourselves be shown as anything other than bloodthirsty killers :( we get generalised into a single stereotype of a big gray murderbeast

🔲 among-the-sea-weeds-deactivated follow

Anemonefishes are underrepresented?? umm okay. so we're just gonna pretend like a clownfish didn't star in the single biggest fish movie of all time? Where the sharks are portrayed as nice people mind you so why are you even whining. okay. sure. cool. Really need more clownfish movies out there!!!!

🪸 acidicanemone follow

No need to be passive aggressive @among-the-seaweeds-deactivated. You say anemonefishes are oversaturated in the media? In that case, point me to the seemingly abundant movies where two-band anemonefishes are the main character? How about the ones with only Mauritian and orange-fin anemonefish leads? Red saddlebacks, tomato anemonefish, orange anemonefish, skunk anemonefish, wide-band anemonefish, I could go on. Just because one species of anemonefish, the clown anemonefish, starred in one movie doesn't mean that the rest have it super nice and cozy.

Finding Nemo wasn't even too good for clown anemonefishes either. It's the only movie many have seen that even features a clownfish in a speaking role. My anemonefish roommate has often had people calling her Nemo or asking her to tell a joke because it's a "funny gag" from the movie. It's the first thing people tell her when they meet her a lot of the time. Trust me, the only person who has a problem with better fish species representation is you.

🐬 the-spinnerrrrrr follow

Did

Did you also miss the part where the shark goes on a massive murder rampage over two (2) tiny fishes because he smelled A Blood

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

This person had a ton of anti-dolphin posts on their account too, why am I not surprised 😭😭😭 We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down for cod's sake. Anemonefishes are called "Nemofish" to this day and age still

🦑 strawberry-squid follow

"We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down."

Beautifully said.

#deep sea talks #long post #fishcourse

( 644,214 notes )

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

Just moved into my new place! It's this wonderful sandy crevice with a beautiful view of the kelp and a good nice rocky back wall for support. Hope the neighbours are nice and don't throw their sand into my hole like at my last neighbourhood

😎 the-goby-living-next-to-your-cave follow

hey

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

what the fuck

( 1,201 notes )

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

can someone please come hang out with me in the deep sea? :( it's so boring here...

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

I can! :)

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

wonderful! Come Closer please. to the Light.

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

RIP @shrimpy-wimpy it's been more than 3 hours 💀💀💀💀

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

hopital

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

SHE LIVED!!!????????

#WHAT THE FUUUUUUUU

( 362 notes )

🐉 autistic-rhinomuraena follow

Pictures of my transition journey :}

🪶 pelicans-we follow

Oh look at you !!!!! You look so much happier and more comfortable in your latest picture! So happy for you!!

🌔 look-to-the-moon-wrasse follow

I can't wait to go through my transition myself :]c

#only i'll vbe transitioning in the opposite direction haha #*be

( 4,009 notes )

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

New drawing of a terramaid!! 👩👩🐟🐟

🐙 magnapining follow

Okay but imagine if terramaids we're actually real. To live on land there scales would probably be all dry and rough-textured! Brushing against them would immediately ruin your slimecooat, probably

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

Ah, thanks. I hate it.

🐳 left-whale follow

Since they're half human and humans have hair, what if they had

THESE!???

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

NOOOOO DON'T RUIN TERRAMAIDS LIKE THIS FOR ME ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

There's more. With a human lower half, they most likely give birth to live young as well. And with mammalian reproduction habits comes the, well....

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

STOP THIS SHADNESS THIS INSTANT

🌊 pull-the-triggerfish follow

Since they have a human lower half with a human digestive system that means they have a human diet too, right?

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

why

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

Too much time in our flippers, dear.

Oh, and a need to make everything cursed. Of course.

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

Please stop reblogging this 😭😭😭 I just wanted to show off my art

#not my art #im so tired i keep getting notifs for this post #let me rest

( 428,497 notes )

🐌 hadal-snailfish follow

*moves one inch*

#unreality #tw unreality #fake post #fakeposting #fake posts #marine biology #aquatic #my art #fishblr #long post #teeth tw #teeth #merfolk #mermaid #fish

885 notes · View notes

nahoney22 · 4 months

Note

Hi, love! 💙

May I request a F!Reader x Thrawn? NSFW.

Jealous Thrawn , NSFW, tension with Director Orson Krennic~

Reader is an imperial intern in training & stationed to work under the Admiral for anything needed to make up community hours. Reader has had a good idea that Thrawn probably disliked them due to his distant & cold demeanor around reader & slight remarks. Reader is not too fond of the Chiss, finds them ‘rude’, but still obeys (loyal to the empire).

However Reader finds out that’s far from the truth when invited to an Imperial Ball, getting hit on by other superiors (Director Krennic, slight Rivalry between both men from Death Star vs Tie fighter Project), making Thrawn jealous & admit “someone like yourself can make a man like me lose control & do the most unimaginable of things, and suddenly my loyalty & devotion becomes all yours.”

A Warrior’s Needs***

Grand Admiral Thrawn X F!Reader

word count: 8.7k

Sneaky peak at my collab with @raevulsix 🤍 ^

When invited to the Imperial Ball to act as a spy, your galaxy is turned upside down when you witnessed your Boss, Thrawn, get jealous.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language, dom!Thrawn, sub!reader, smut, dirty talk, praises, p in v sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, face fuck, multiple positions, finger sucking, biting & marking, mating press, creampie, aftercare, doubtful reader, brief mentions of alcohol, jealous and possessive thrawn, kinda boss x secretary, shy imperial female reader who wears a white dress with slit. Director Krennic flirting with reader. NSFW ART. Not proofread. Also noticed I didn’t hit the brief entirely but it’s more or less on point 😅

Includes Fanart by the incredible Raevulsix that can be found here and the NSFW one here so go give her all the support and reblogs! 🤍

Authors note: oh, bestie here we go! This is my first time writing for Thrawn so I hope I portrayed him somewhat okay - I never kinda finished rebels yes I know bad girl. Co-wrote with @raevulsix 🤍

The seemingly endless day was filled with a relentless stream of forms, data analysis, and tasks delegated by your boss that was causing a strain on your eyes from staring at the screen. But when your superior got called away, you seized the opportunity to lean back in your chair and take a moment of respite and listen to the faint hum of the ship.

As you reclined, you surveyed the expansive office belonging to your boss, Grand Admiral Thrawn. The space was dimly lit, dominated by blacks and greys, with a faint luminescent glow that did little to alleviate your eye strain.

Even sitting for the prolonged period had caused your legs to stiffen, so, anticipating Admiral Thrawn's return in about an hour, you stood up and began to walk around, seeking relief.

The office itself was a marvel, a fusion of refined taste and strategic functionality. Intricate artwork adorned the walls, showcasing pieces from various galaxies, while carefully placed artifacts adorned the shelves, creating a captivating ambiance.

You hesitated, torn between returning to your desk or succumbing to curiosity just this once. Normally, being in the same room as your boss felt challenging due to his cold demeanor and strict rules – no speaking unless spoken to, avoiding direct eye contact, and focusing solely on work.

The reputation of the Chiss, their stringent standards and unwavering determination, preceded him. His formidable nature and unyielding drive to succeed made him a daunting figure which makes him all the most frightening. Though, he had never raised his voice in your presence. The odd quip of passiveness was hard to miss however when he spoke to those under him or even as an equal, but luckily, you never came across it.

Until right now.

“I sincerely hope that you looking through my possessions is a hint that you have finished today’s reports.”

Startled by his sudden appearance behind you, you turned wide-eyed and mortified, stammering out an apology. "Forgive me, Sir—Admiral—Grand Admiral," you fumbled, feeling the weight of his piercing red gaze. "I didn't realise you had returned."

His cold stare and piercing eyes bore into you as he coldly acknowledged your oversight. "Now tell me, what are you doing?"

Faltering, you considered fabricating a lie, but Thrawn's demeanor warned against deception. "My legs and eyes started to ache," you admitted slowly, collecting your nervous breaths. "I stood up to walk around the office in your absence to ease it off. Admittedly, I got distracted by your collection." You gestured awkwardly before composing yourself. "I will finish off the reports immediately."

As you settled back at your desk, attempting to regain composure with shaky fingers swiping across the monitor, Thrawn's silent presence once again caught you off guard. A large hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, tapping the screen as he scrutinized your day's work. Frozen, you held your breath, transfixed on the screen.

After an intense minute, he broke the silence. "I need your assistance tonight," he declared, withdrawing his hand and making his way to his desk. You swiveled in your chair to face him.

Tonight? The prospect of more work dampened your spirits. "You will attend this Imperial Ball," he stated, not bothering to look your way.

A ball? You? Your flabbergasted expression went unnoticed as you asked, "May I question why you're asking me to go Grand Admiral? I believe this is for people like yourself, not just workers. And I’m just an intern."

He leaned over his desk, hands flat on the surface, and lifted his gaze to you. "I hope that's not an insinuation that I do not work."

Your day seemed to be spiraling further downward. "Sorry, forgive me, I didn't mean for it to come across like that." Nervously wringing your fingers, you stood. "I just don't think I'm the right candidate for whatever it is."

"And yet you do not know what it is I am asking of you," he replied simply. For a moment, you thought you detected a hint of amusement, but the dimness of the room and the strain on your eyes left you uncertain.

His posture regained its imposing stance as he circled his desk, arranging items with precision, making an already orderly space even more meticulous. Leaning against the black desk, he continued, "There have been reports of a few individuals willing to expose the Empire's plans on Lothal and they've been invited. I need you to gather as much information as you can and report back to me."

You had heard about this upcoming ball. All of your superiors would be attending and you had very little doubt that your friends, other workers like yourself, would be attending. So, the confusion lingered; why involve you in this? Hiring spies seemed a more logical choice. "So, when we land and head to the settlement, dress up.”

You are almost at a loss for words, was this some kind of punishment or did he sincerely trust you this much? So many questions yet his answers won’t settle with you regardless. "But Grand Admiral, I... I don't even own a dress."

"All of that has been arranged already."

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you hardly recognised yourself in the white dress that starkly contrasted with your usual Imperial attire. Only applying little makeup due to the fact you didn’t know how glamorous this was going to be, you marveled at the intricate details of the crystals adorning your dress—light and elegant.

As you added the finishing touches to the ensemble, you spent a moment admiring the transformation. The dress fit perfectly, making you wonder how Thrawn acquired your exact measurements. Perhaps it was part of the meticulous process involving your enrollment details he scoured through.

Yet, a peculiar thought crossed your mind: imagining Thrawn personally selecting this dress for you. Shaking off the notion, you grumbled to yourself, averting your gaze from the mirror. Such thoughts seemed absurd, given the professional context and how alluring you felt with a dress with a knee high slit. Your gut, however, betrayed you, swirling with a sense of uncertainty.

Left in disarray, you then pondered the impending social interaction with your superiors. How in the galaxy were you going to do this?

Thrawn had departed without providing you any guidance, leaving you to grapple with the dilemma of presenting yourself as his assistant or someone of greater significance.

When the time came, navigating the unfamiliar surroundings with nervous steps, you followed the confident strides of those who seemed familiar with the venue.

Presenting your pass to a guard, you slipped inside and held back a gasp at the sight that unfolded—an elegance seldom witnessed within the Empire's strict regimes. It was special, yet you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place.

As a wallflower, you stood on the sidelines, observing and absentmindedly tapping your fingers against a glass of an unfamiliar alcoholic concoction handed to you by a server. Unbeknownst to you at first, your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for your boss, Thrawn.

Surrounded by people you didn't know on a personal level, everyone exuded a somewhat regal aura. The faint but lovely music played in the background as the room unfolded into a wide-open space where various groups mingled, leaving you feeling like a hopeless outsider.

Taking a sip, cursing your shaky hand, you mustered the courage to fulfill your task. It was time to eavesdrop and gather the information Thrawn sought.

Worming your way into conversations wasn’t the easiest task you ever had to do but still, you managed it. Avoiding small talk, you nodded and smiled, feigning comprehension while attempting to extract useful information.

Yet, nothing seemed amiss.

Everyone appeared content with the Empire's forthcoming plans and events, leaving you struggling to maintain the forced smiles and laughter.

As you moved from group to group, you still found yourself keeping an eye out for Thrawn but no luck. Perhaps he wasn’t even attending. After all, his presence to you would have stood out since he was the only Chiss and his character was non-short of intriguing.

After an hour of this charade, weariness crept in. Your feet throbbed in the unfamiliar heels, prompting your excuse from a group - to whom didn’t seem to even acknowledge your existence - no one noticed your departure as you went to a quiet corner to collect yourself.

In the quiet corner, frustration and exhaustion compounded as you pondered the lack of information to report back to Thrawn. With past mishaps already haunting your thoughts, you berated yourself for the potential third strike.

However, things started to take an unexpected turn.

"Not enjoying the night?" The voice sliced through your thoughts, and you turned to see a figure adorned in a stark white military imperial uniform with a flowing cape to match. There was only one man you knew who wore that ensemble.

"Director Krennic," you blurted out, swiftly standing and adjusting your dress, visibly flustered. "I was just taking a moment for myself."

The man chuckled, swiftly suggesting you retake your seat, which, hesitantly, you did as he settled beside you.

Internally, you were freaking out. The power and influence of Director Krennic were both impeccable and imposing, especially considering his involvement with the upcoming and developing 'Death Star' project. "I hope you don't mind the company? It's been a long evening for me too," he mentioned, his gaze intense.

His stare unsettled you, sending an uncomfortable tingle down your spine. Yet, despite your unease, declining the company of one of your superiors wasn't an option. "Not at all," you replied, forcing a laugh that sounded awkward but hopefully convincing.

"Since you know who I am," Director Krennic began, turning to face you, "it is only fair that you tell me who I have the pleasure of meeting?"

A gulp caught in your throat. This was the first time tonight that someone had paid attention to you, and you debated whether to fabricate details about your identity. Ultimately, you settled for honesty—your name, at least. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've heard many things about you," you said, hoping your nervous breaths weren't too apparent.

He smiled, seemingly charming. "Beautiful name for a beautiful lady."

Mentally, your smile dropped, but you maintained it outwardly. Was he flirting with you? This exceeded any expectations for the night. "Oh, erm, why thank you."

He chuckled, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the loveseat you both occupied, taking a sip of his drink. "So, tell me about yourself. What is it you do?"

The moment of decision that had loomed over you all night finally arrived, and you found yourself veering away from the complete truth.

His reaction was palpable. A flicker of tension crossed his expression, transforming his once-charming smile into one that grew tense and strained. "Ah," he responded after a pause, his fingers tapping against the glass as his demeanor turned slightly hostile. "So, I will assume you work under someone of... authority."

The word 'authority' sounded more like a growl than a mere observation. It was evident that Krennic held some animosity toward Thrawn, likely due to their conflicting projects that often caused tensions between the two.

"That she does."

A voice sliced through the tension, and you turned to see Thrawn standing behind both of you. Your eyes involuntarily scanned his attire—a departure from his usual white military uniform to an impeccably suave and expensive-looking all-black tuxedo. It was a stark contrast to his typical appearance, and he looked good, remarkably good.

"Thrawn," Krennic acknowledged, standing to match his height. Kind of.

"Director Krennic..." Thrawn drawled slowly, the two of them staring each other down.

(Art by Raevulsix)

The tense exchange between Thrawn and Krennic didn't escape your notice, particularly Krennic's apparent lack of acknowledgment toward your boss's full title, indicating a hint of pride. Thrawn, on the other hand, maintained his dignity with elegance.

"I was just speaking to this nice young lady and getting acquainted," Krennic stated.

"I noticed," Thrawn replied, his gaze briefly fixating on you. A sense of impending chastisement for lying to a superior loomed, but for now, Thrawn played along, redirecting his attention to Krennic. "But I need to speak with her in private.”

Krennic's expression twisted into a smirk. "We all serve the same purpose, Thrawn. Whatever you can say to her, you can say in front of me."

Maintaining his composure, Thrawn remained unaffected by Krennic's arrogance. "It is a matter that does not concern you."

"And it does her?" Krennic prodded.

"Yes," Thrawn affirmed, tone low.

Krennic's scrutiny fell upon you, making you feel a chill run down your spine. Unable to meet their gazes, you were frozen under his stare. "I see. Well," he extended his hand, and tentatively, you placed yours in his, allowing him to help you stand, his grip maintaining a slight tension. "It appears my presence is not warranted."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Director Krennic. Perhaps we could talk again soon?" The words slipped out before you could consider the implications, and Krennic's sly smile at your proposition didn't escape Thrawn's notice, his glare feeling like sharp daggers at the back of your head.

Suddenly, you’re pulled towards Krennic, his breath lingered near your face as he spoke in a whisper but loud enough for a certain someone to hear, "That would please me, but I shouldn't continue to play with possessions that don't belong to me."

Thrawn's sharp rebuke sliced through the air, "That will be all, Krennic." In an instant, Krennic released his hold on you, leaving you stunned as he walked away.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Thrawn, your heart racing. The unsettling implication of being referred to as a possession of more so, his possession, lingered in your thoughts. As you stared up at Thrawn's stern expression, full of thunder, you tried to gather your thoughts.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn, I—"

"You are not to ever speak to Director Krennic again, is that understood?" his command cut through your attempted explanation.

The tension thickened as you nodded in acknowledgment of Thrawn's command, keeping your gaze lowered. However, instead of walking away, he approached, sending a jolt through you.

A gentle touch beneath your chin lifted your gaze to meet his, and you're awestruck as his eyes glowed. Not even metaphorically or hypothetically - red eyes that held a powerful allure, captivating your attention. His words became a distant murmur as you found yourself too entranced by his intense gaze to even realise he was speaking to you.

Was anyone else seeing this? Surely someone had to have been watching this somewhat intimate exchange.

Suddenly, his raised brow and deep furrowed eyes broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "Sorry," you stammered, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

For a second, he paused before a sly smile merges on his face. "I said,” he starts but a part of you didn’t quite believe he was telling you everything, “I hope you have some information to tell me. After all, that is why you are here," he repeated, his tone unwavering.

Your stomach sank as you realised you had nothing to report.

"Actually, I—" you began, but he interrupted, instructing you to head to his quarters to discuss further. As he stepped away, you finally regained your senses, but before you could utter a word, he vanished into the crowd.

Feeling the weight of the situation, you sighed, acknowledging the mess you were in.

Entering Thrawn's office, anxiety flooded your thoughts, making the walk feel slow and burdensome. Anticipation of the imminent repercussions swirled in your mind.

Without seeing the point in waiting outside, you ventured in, greeted by the familiar ambiance—chilled air and a dimly lit room adorned with sculptures, artifacts, and paintings, showcasing Thrawn's appreciation for art, a shared interest between the two of you.

Moving towards his desk, your fingers traced the flat surface before taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite.

"I feel sick," you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair as your knee bounced nervously.

"Perhaps some water?" Thrawn's calm and composed voice cut through the silence.

Caught off guard by Thrawn's sudden appearance, you startled in your seat, quickly composing yourself with an apologetic tone. "Sorry, I... I'm fine."

He hummed softly, crossing into the room. "Are you sure you do not want a drink?" His offer was polite, but you declined, mustering a steadier breath. "I'm sure. Thank you, though."

Seated behind the desk, Thrawn's piercing gaze seemed to bore into you, an intensity that was strangely captivating rather than uncomfortable. Boldly facing the inevitable, knowing your fate might be sealed, you met his gaze head-on.

Despite working under him for months, it was the first time you truly looked at him. His angular face was striking, his skin a captivating shade of blue reminiscent of the most beautiful oceans you had only dreamed of seeing, yet it was his glowing eyes that held the allure.

"So," he finally spoke, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers on the desk, breaking the silence, "fill me in." The directive was clear, and despite your nerves, you prepared to relay the truth, whatever the consequences might be.

"Grand Admiral Thra—"

"Thrawn," he interrupted, and confusion furrowed your brows.

"S-Sorry?"

"Thrawn is just fine. Proceed," he instructed, nodding, and despite your confusion, the fear of falling short in your duty took precedence.

"I have nothing to report," you rushed, holding your breath.

Thrawn's expression remained unchanged as he leaned back in his seat, nodding slowly. "Is that because you spent the evening with Director Krennic?"

Your heart sank at the insinuation. "Not at all. I only spoke to him for a minute before you came over," you defended, sitting a little more forward. "I genuinely have nothing to report. I saw nothing awry."

"Interesting," Thrawn drawled. "And he gave no hints of deception to you?"

Thrawn was clearly fishing for information on Krennic, but you had nothing substantial to provide. "No, though he wasn't too pleased about me working for you. Lie or not."

The room fell into a hush, the only sound being the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the desk. "That I can imagine, given how he was looking at you all night."

The mention of Krennic's prolonged interest caught your attention, and Thrawn noticed, a fleeting smirk crossing his face. "How is it you like the dress?"

Glancing down at the attire, you smoothed out its seams. It was the most extravagant outfit you had ever worn, and while it felt foreign, it also made you feel special. Especially considering the attention from someone as influential as Krennic. "It's lovely."

"I knew it would look good on you," he replied casually, causing your heart to pause momentarily.

"Can I ask what you mean by that?" you inquired, exhaling shakily, eyes widening. Did he choose this dress for you?

Thrawn tilted his head. "I think it is obvious what I mean," he stated, then stood, circling the desk until he stood in front of you. You craned your neck to look up at his imposing figure. "But I will spell it out for you. I picked this dress specifically for you… And you look divine."

The realisation struck like a thunderbolt, rendering you momentarily speechless. Krennic's cryptic insinuation about being a 'possession' suddenly made sense—jealousy seemed to be the most plausible explanation, although it felt improbable given your position as just his assistant. Then, doubts began to seep in as you recalled that he might have had someone else before you, and maybe even before that.

Standing up, nerves jangling, you instinctively took a step back from the Chiss, your thumbs nervously twiddling as you grappled with the situation. "I'm not that kind of girl, Grand Admiral—"

"Thrawn."

"Yes, sorry... I'm not that kind of girl."

He regarded you with an almost quizzical look, his eyes betraying a subtle understanding of the implications behind your words. "And I'm not that type of man," he responded calmly, though your scoff interrupted him. A brief pause followed as he closed the distance between you, his gaze piercing. "You do not believe me."

"You're a powerful man, you've probably had numerous assistants, interns, before me..." you stated your thoughts, a surge of boldness propelling your words. "I don't want to be just another assistant, disposable at your whim."

Thrawn observed you, his face maintaining an air of impassivity yet hinting at a hidden admiration for your courage. "May I be honest?"

Silent but attentive, you allowed him to continue, even as his words stung. "Your work is subpar. Lacking."

Ouch.

"Yet, you've remained my longest-serving assistant," he remarked, drawing closer, and this time, you didn't pull away. "Despite mistakes, missed deadlines... Do you know why?"

He stood before you, his presence almost overwhelming, his eyes emanating a deep red hue, sending shivers down your spine as his warm breath brushed against your skin. Inhaling a distinctive, spicy scent mixed with a hint of alcohol from the Ball, you felt your knees weakening, your preconceptions about him slowly crumbling. "N-No," you finally managed to breathe out.

Thrawn's admission rang out in the quiet room, his voice a blend of quiet intensity. "Because what I want is you. I want you to be mine, I need you to be mine."

"Grand A—"

"Say my name properly," his hand swiftly found your waist, tracing the delicate details of the dress he had meticulously chosen for you. "Say it."

Your eyes met his, the words you intended to voice dissolving as all you could focus on was his demand. "Thrawn."

His chest heaved subtly at the sound of his name spoken by you. "Again," he urged, this time his other hand tenderly yet with some vigour cupping your jaw.

Your eyes closed involuntarily, caught in a trance. "Thrawn... what is happening?"

"You have captured my interest since the first time you entered my office," his hand glided from your waist to the small of your back, and you found yourself instinctively leaning into his touch.

The nagging doubt that this could be too good to be true lingered in your mind. "Have you said that to all of your assistants?"

He chuckled, the resonance of his low laughter sending vibrations through your chest. "Now, now... I was not lying when I said that I am not that kind of man. Have you ever seen a Chiss with another person?"

Truthfully, you had never witnessed any other Chiss aside from him. "Well, no, but—"

"Then understand me," he insisted, drawing you closer against his chest, your hands clutching the lapels of his black tuxedo. "Understand that I do not seek companionship, I do not pursue romantic commitments. War and military endeavors dominate the minds of my species. So, tell me, why are you at the forefront of mine?"

"I... don't know," you confessed, feeling an electric excitement coursing through your skin.

His hand cupped your cheek, his breath grazing against your skin as he leaned in. "A woman like you can make a man like me lose control."

His proximity made it hard to breathe, yet it felt inexplicably right to lean toward him. "Can anyone know about us?"

The query hung in the charged air, bold and daring. You anticipated the response, though his confirmation solidified it. "No, nobody can know."

The weight of the decision hung heavy in your mind. You understood the necessity of keeping your connection with him secret; his position was far too vital to risk any involvement. “But, my devotion, my loyalty… it’s all yours.” His interruption broke through your thoughts, and as you opened your eyes to meet his gaze, you found yourself once again ensnared by the fiery red glow that captivated you.

"Lose control then."

Without hesitation, his lips crashed onto yours, enveloping your senses in a whirlwind of passion. His kiss, intense and commanding, nearly swept you off your feet. His hands explored your body, fingers gripping your hips firmly before lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso as he skillfully guided you through his quarters, never once breaking the embrace, and eventually leading you into his bedroom.

You find yourself being placed on a bed, his body leaning over you as his lips, intoxicating and flavoured with just a tinge of alcohol from this evening move from your lips, down your neck before he stands over you.

“I have submitted to you,” with one hand he unclasps the button of his tux before moving it off his shoulders and carelessly chucking it to the side, followed by him unclasping the top button of his shirt, “are you willing to submit to me?”

(Art by Raevulsix)

Sitting up on your elbows, you’re prepared to answer but your words are caught in your mouth as he unbuckles his pants, sliding the belt out of the loops before he releases his strong, throbbing cock.

Your mouth salivates, watching as he moves his hand along its length. You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips just at the size of him and it made you both excited and also a little nervous.

“I assume that you like what you see?”

You nod, your legs coming together as you feel your cunt begin to throb which doesn’t go unnoticed by Thrawn. “Crawl towards me.”

Obeying, you crawl on your hands and knees across the sheets, your white dress trailing behind you before you are sat comfortably in front of him, his beautiful blue cock twitching under your wanting gaze.

Thrawn lets out a soft sigh, sliding his hand down to the base of his length and tilts his head at you before dangling the curve of his dick down toward you. You open your mouth almost on instinct and slide your tongue out, grazing the underside of the head.

“You’ve done this before,” he comments with glowing eyes.

“Once or twice,” you whisper, sitting up onto your knees to take the fullness of the head into your mouth, rolling your tongue around the tip of it, melting at the saltiness of his precum.

Thrawn moans, long and low. It's been excruciating for him to not have been able to touch you until now and you were absolutely perfect. Large blue hands lift to your head and his fingers slide through the roots of your hair, tugging softly—encouraging, pushing you to take more. "Now that is my good girl." He practically purrs, and the ache between your legs throbs even more with excitement. “You are wonderful.”

You blush, unsure if it’s due to the compliments or the fact your boss's cock is stuffed in your mouth which had your lips etched open wide and eyes already starting to water. As he drops his pants fully and removes his shirt from his body along with his tie and pants, you look up at him with adoration.

You run your hands up and down his toned thighs as you begin to take him deeper into your mouth (if you even can), your saliva dribbling down his heated skin and your chin.

Thrawn curls his dexterous digits tighter into your hair and holds your head still as you envelope him as far as you can, opening your throat for him as he begins a violent and sudden ruts into your mouth. You whimper in please, a hand coming between your legs as you pull your dress to the side and dive your fingers straight to your clit as he deepthroats your pretty mouth.

His grunts and moans fill the room yet remain low and husky as you feel his tip poke at the back of your throat that forces a response from you; gagging on his velvety and soaked cock.

You hold strong for him, your fingers aching as you rub your clit in a circular fashion and push down the pleasant assault on your throat. “Look at you, a mess… it is rather arousing.” He cooes, one of his hands leaving your hair and holding his cock as he pulls out, giving you a very brief gasp of air before he slips it straight past your lips again.

Closing your eyes, you swallow uselessly around his thickness as he grunts and gives a few shallow thrusts before he pulls you back off. The sound you make is ragged, spit bubbling from your lips and tears rolling down your cheeks as he cups a hand under your chin and brings your face up. “And did I say you could touch yourself?” His eyes glance down at the sight of your hand between your legs. “Very insubordinate.”

You had never been so belittled yet praised at the same time before but it had your blood boiling in lust for it. “I couldn’t help it,”

“That much is obvious,” he replies as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek, “lay back. I want to look at you.”

Doing as you’re told, you scoot back before laying back on the bed, your head hitting one of the pillows as he analyzes you fully from the end of the bed. His expression was unreadable, not showing much signs but as he looked at you, you just admired him for a second too.

Tall, handsome and clearly strong from being a skilled fighter, you were a little breathless and now, a little insecure.

“Don’t worry,” his words broke you out of your trance, watching him kneel on the bed before he moves towards you, “you are breathtaking to look at.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and bashfully, you look away from his gaze but find yourself softly moaning as you feel something warm and wet caress at your exposed thigh.

Looking back his way, Thrawn lay flat on his stomach and tediously licked at your flesh, your skin dousing in goosebumps at his touch. “Thrawn…” you breathe, now meeting his dark, glowing gaze as he folds your dress upwards, exposing yourself to him.

Thrawn pushes your panties to the side, hooking his finger through the damp fabric to expose your glistening cunt to which he made a noise of satisfaction. “You smell beautiful.”

You let out a soft and nervous chuckle but your nerves are dwindled when Thrawn continues to kiss at your inner thighs, tasting the slightly salty tang of your skin before you let out a small yelp of surprise when his teeth sink into your skin, his tongue circling around the teeth marks that he left. “I hope you do not mind if I sometimes find myself needing to taste you.”

You blink at him, breathing ragged. Nobody had ever bitten you before but it didn’t even hurt. It was new to you and the sensation made your mind whirl. So, you shake your head and watch as he continues to leave love bites on the inside of your thighs, marking his territory; his breath warm and fanning agasint your sex that you were so eager for him to touch.

“Thrawn… touch me. Please.”

There’s a chuckle that lasts a moment before he says, “I am not one to take orders… but since you asked so nicely.” He growled the last part until his lips latched to your cunt and you let out the most pathetic whine you could muster.

“Perfect." Thrawn grunts, his breath on your wetness making your toes curl as tongue slides flat against your folds and up to your clit.

“F-Fuck, Thrawn…!” You choke, stifling your ragged gasp with a hand over your mouth in the fears someone would hear the lewd noises of your moaning and the lapping and sucking of your pussy.

You look down at Thrawn at work, obsessed with the fact that his eyes were trained on you with an intense gaze. He’s sucking on your clit with such dominance that has your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his hands clasp on your thighs, spreading them open as they threaten to close.

It had been a while since you had been touched like this so there’s no surprise that you felt your climax begin to bubble.

“Oh my.. fuck… Thrawn I’m going to-.”

“Do it. Cum on my tongue. Now.”

Legs spasming, stars blurring your vision you feel yourself let go, followed by a collected moan from the both of you as he laps up your juices. Your body is heaving from the sensation but Thrawn doesn’t stop.

“Another.”

“T-Thrawn… I can’t…” you rasp, completely overstimulated as your body writhes in your dress and across the sheets.

“I know you humans are capable of some remarkable achievements. This is one of them. Cum again.” His mouth is back on your folds, tongue rubbing along your clit furiously to force another orgasm from you.

You wanted to cum again, desperately, but your body was tingling and shaking too much for you to fathom what was even happening.

Despite the bed being so large and spacious, as your body involuntarily fights against him, your head is bumping against the headboard as Thrawn pushes his tongue deep inside you, strong and powerful hands biting into the flesh of your thighs as your whole body convulses.

“Thrawn,” you gasp, your hand finding its way onto the sheets, gripping tight, “I can’t.”

“Another.” He demands from you, tongue relentless. Not once did he even lift a finger to your pussy, the pleasure being solely done by his tongue. You pondered what it’d feel to have his fingers inside you but as the familiar sight of stars began to speckle your vision, your body fires up.

“That’s it,” he growls into your cunt, sending violent vibrations through your body, “I knew you could do it.”

You're crying his name, sweat coating your body as you let out a lewd cry as your body gives in to Thrawn’s advances.

As you heave, catching back your breath Thrawn has moved away from your cunt as you flop onto your side, completely spent.

Your legs still twitch and Thrawn watches you in amazement. The mattress sinks beside you as Thrawn brings you to him, your back pressed to his bare chest as he runs his fingers up and down your arm. “You really are quite enchanting.”

You let out a breathless laugh and found your head falling back into the crook of his neck, your heart rate calming down. “So are you.”

The compliment repeats in his mind, not really used to such pleasantries but nonetheless gives a rare smile. “Pleasures all mine,” he purrs, leaning down as his lips ghost over your ear before he plants a delicate kiss to your lobe that had you biting your lip.

You could feel his erection pressing into your back and you damned the beautiful dress for blocking the warmth of his skin against you again. But despite the room having a chill to it, the fire in both of you was sure to warm you up.

His lips move from your ear as he leans more over you and you crane your neck, giving him the access you knew he desired as his lips found your skin, teeth grazing your pulse.

Your breaths came in shallow, uneven waves, charged with anticipation as you awaited his next move.

"Do I detect a flicker of unease?" His voice, low and delicate, cascaded over you, sending goosebumps skittering along your spine.

You turned to meet his gaze, a response ready. "Not at all," you replied, your voice betraying the hint of excitement that danced within.

He leaned closer, his words a whisper against your lips. "All in good time, my pet. Patience," he murmured, grazing a phantom kiss over your mouth. "For now, I just want to revel in your presence."

Your smile was tender, curiosity lacing your words. "And how long do you plan to bask in this admiration?"

His gaze held yours, an intensity in his touch as his hand cupped your jaw. "Are you expected elsewhere tonight?" His inquiry lingered, hinting at a deeper intention.

“No,” you shake your head, looking down at his lips and subtly biting your own before meeting his gaze, “I just want you.”

“You are to do exactly as I say,” he utters, his thumb trailing over your lower lip before you take the instinct of letting him slide it inside your mouth, allowing you to suck on his digit eagerly, “and that is to be patient.”

You whine softly around his thumb, your pussy beginning to throb as you crave him. Suddenly, you got bold. You pull his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and meet his beautiful eyes again. “Perhaps I should have kept speaking to Director Kren-.”

He snaps.

A fire sizzled in him at the mere sound of his rival's name coming from your mouth, his jaw clenching but alas increasingly aroused at your defiance and his clear sign of jealousy.

Smashing his lips to yours, you’re brought to his chest with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him yet. Your lips felt swollen from his scorching kiss that left you breathless, needing more as you tug on his broad shoulders to bring him even closer to you.

“How dare you say his name in here,” he growls, raking his hands up your thighs as he shifts your dress past your knees, letting it ruch just above your navel and pulling your panties down to your ankles that you kick off, “that man infuriates me to no end.”

He leans over you, capturing your lips but before you could kiss back, he’s pulling away, teeth grazing your lower lip. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you rasp only to receive a firm spank to your rear before his mouth moves to your neck, sucking and marking his territory once again.

“How can that be?” He murmurs against your hot, sweating skin, “I’m the one with the masterpiece.”

Before you could even fathom his words, you’re pushed up against the headboard, making space for Thrawn’s large and toned body between your legs, his cock and balls resting hot and heavy against your bare, wet cunt.

Dazed, you look at the scene between your legs before you, never in a thousand years would you think you would have the Grand Admirals cock just resting against you. On you.

“I’m going to fuck you,” his words both sounded like a command and a promise to which, you mouth a breathless ‘please’.

You whimper in anguish as he presses his cock down against your folds, teasing you as he thrusts his hips back and forth slowly. “I want you to beg. I want you to beg me to slide my cock into your pussy.”

“Please Thrawn, please fuck me. Please fuck me until I cum all over your cock again.” You wiggle your hips, attempting to coax Thrawn’s length to conveniently slip inside but by the size of him, this would be a delicate operation.

“That’s it,” he cooed, gripping his cock and stroking it slowly above you, letting the tip rub against your aching pearl, “you have submitted to me perfectly so far…”

Then, you feel his cock press into you, your pussy opening to welcome him all the way in. You're tender already but the pain that hits you as his cock splits you open is fucking incredible.

It’s hard to read his expression but he’s holding his breath, letting his eyes close he slowly seethes all the way in you. His fingers bruise into your thighs as he keeps them apart as you white-knuckle grip onto the sheets. “Wow,” you keen, “f-fuck - that’s amazing.”

“What a good girl you are,” his blazing eyes meet yours, “and it appears you take my cock exceptionally well.”

The motion of him sliding in and out of you slowly only lasts a few moments before Thrawn gives you everything. Grabbing your hips, he lifts you to meet his now rough and demanding commands, eyes not once leaving your face.

He’s analysing every movement, every sound and every look you make. Like he’s making a mental note of you.

Words strangled in your throat but the gentle groans and low rumble of his rare praises is enough to have your eyes rolling back, cursing loudly as you feel him so full inside you. A prick of heat dances down your spine and settles in your abdomen, increasing the already growing fire of arousal that was quickly overtaking you.

He moves one hand down your body, caressing your breasts from over your dress which has your head tilting back in pleasure but not before he grabs at your throat. His hold isn’t dangerous, in fact it was very alluring as he keeps your focus solely on him. “Don’t you look away from me.”

“Yes, Thrawn.” You pant, gasping as he ever so gently squeezes your throat as he drills hard and fast right into you

Minutes of exctasy pass and soon, Thrawn has flipped you so you straddled on top of him, not once breaking away from you as he ruts his hips upwards, your chest falling against his bare one as he fucks you with great determination.

“O-oh fuck! Thrawn please…!” You whimper pathetically, sobbing into his chest as his arms wrap around your body, pressing you tight against him, confined to his warm skin.

He’s groaning your name, teeth biting into the flesh of your shoulder before he moves you so you’re sat up straight, grabbing hold of your dress so you have nowhere to go. “Ride me. Come on.” With one hard spank to your arse, you squirm in pleasure; eyes locked to his as you began to move your hips to and fro, dragging your pussy along his cock that was soaked with your juices.

Nails biting your hips, you writhe on him, your hands falling to hold onto his toned pectorals, watching as he stares up at you as he fills every inch of you.

His blown pupils show that he is hungry and at long last, he starts to remove your dress. Tossing it to the side, he sits up slowly watching your breasts bounce up and down on your chest as you grind hard on his cock. “Your body would be perfect as a sculpture.” His fingers caress over your stiffened nipples, a hum of satisfaction in his throat. “That way I could admire you when you are in my absence.”

You couldn’t help yourself, planting a heated kiss to his lips as his words spur you on to satisfy the Grand Admiral. His right hand cups your cheek, his tongue sliding in your mouth where you could taste your orgasm from before. “I need you, Thrawn.”

“You are mine.” He murmurs to your lips, noticing as your rhythm starts to get jagged he does you the courtesy of laying you down on your side. And just like the before, he slips behind you but this time also sliding himself inside you.

Legs like jelly, your body is still alight with desire, one arm snaked under your nude body, cupping your jaw as he holds your head back just far enough so he can kiss and nip at your lips. You cock your leg up a bit, allowing Thrawn to fuck you with extra slickness. You take him inside your fluttering cunt with almost no resistance, just enveloping him in a heat that you were desperate for him to not to leave because it feels so good. You feel so good and so full.

The sound of his cock slapping your wet cunt was disgustingly filthy and you kept having the creeping nervous feeling that someone would have heard both of your secret ‘meeting’. “Nobody will enter,” he says as if reading your mind, “try and relax.”

His lips move from yours to your neck, sharp teeth grazing over your already bruised skin as he keeps one hand on your jaw, the other sliding over your breasts and giving them a teasing slap that emits a moan from your throat. “Oh, you like that? Would you care for another?”

And before you could even scream yes, he slaps your tits one more before his hand flies straight to your cunt, fingers expertly caressing your clit that makes your body involuntarily jolt.

“Gorgeous little tart.” He growls, hips now pounding into you that you were certain it was going to leave bruises as he circles his fingers deliciously over your swollen bud.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck—" you cry, sweat beads trailing down the side of your face, only to have Thrawn's strong tongue dancing with your own.

Toes curling, you're melting into his mouth and under his touch as you whimper that you’re going to cum, only for him to encourage you to do so. And you do.

Your body burns with heat until it feels like you have been doused with water, putting out the flame inside you. You cum harder than you think you ever have in your life. A strangled cry of pleasure is made from your mouth, as if you were in pain but not at all.

“That’s it… what a delicious sight you are.” He purrs, eyes burning with delight as his thrusting lets up, welcoming the feeling of your tight and wet walls caressing around his cock.

Then, you’re being moved into the most compromising position you could be. Your chest is heaving wildly, eyes glistening in lust because despite your legs still shaking from your climax, you are pressed onto your back, legs folding over your body as he crouches between your legs. His cock pushed down straight into your core. His veined hands grip your ankles, keeping you in place as well as using you for balance.

“You have presented yourself so well tonight and you have obeyed me perfectly,” he rasps, mouth almost drooling, “now is time for your reward.”

Speechless, as usual when you’re around him, you’re surprised at how flexible you suddenly are as your feet almost come to the side of your head. His body pressed tight to the backs of your legs until his lips touch yours, rough and demanding just like his thrusts.

The position, the sounds, who you were with was sending your mind into overdrive. Your hands find their way around his back, nails accidentally scratching at his skin that made him hiss subtly as you go to apologise, he says, “harder.”

“What?” You gasp, both from him unexpected pleasure in you clawing at his back and how his cock has filled you completely, tip pushing right to your cervix.

“Harder.”

So you do. Your fingers claw at him desperately, legs aching and clenching your cunt around his cock hungrily making the roll of Thrawn’s hips more violent and his subtle groans of pleasure louder.

His hot breath catches your own as he pressed his sweat-slicked forehead to yours, legs quivering as you pant his name.

“You’re going to take every drop of my seed, do you understand me?” He growls, a shit-eating smirk on his lips as he gauges your reaction.

You nod your head eagerly but it wasn’t a good enough answer for him as he lets go of one of your ankles and wraps a tight hand round your throat. “Answer me.”

“Yes, y-yes.” You cry in pleasure, matching his smirk before time seems to grind to a halt as he plants himself as far as he can go into your womb, letting all of his scorching seed spill out with each pulse from his stiff cock.

Rope after rope of white lace pours into your used pussy, and the Grand Admiral doesn’t dare to pull out before he has made sure that you have received every last drop inside of you.

He lets out a heaved, heated breath before he pulls out of you, the feeling lewd and filthy before he collapses on to the bed beside you.

You lay still, heart racing at what just happened and before you could even turn to look at your Boss, he had stood up and walked across the room and left behind a door.

A twinge of hurt proceeds you as well as the sudden change of temperature in the cold air. You swing your legs round and sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through your sex-crazed hair before you swipe up your dress in your hands.

Before you could slip away, preparing for the awkward retreat to your own quarters, the door glided open with a hiss.

"I have drawn you a—" His voice filled the room, interrupting your hasty exit, causing you to swallow hard. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him holding one white robe while draped in another.

"I just... I thought..." Your words trailed off as he advanced toward you, a sudden surge of nervousness overtaking you.

He tilted his head to the side, his gaze penetrating. "Did I not convey that every word I spoke was genuine?" The question hung in the air, his sincerity challenging any wavering doubts.

“It seems too good to be true.” Your sigh carried both disbelief and a tinge of self-doubt as he closed the gap between you, his presence a calming yet overwhelming force. "I don't deserve a man like you," you confessed, your words carrying the weight of uncertainty.

In response, he enveloped you in a comforting embrace of a soft, white robe, shielding your exposed skin from the cool air.

"And why would you think that?" His question hung in the room, probing deeper into your insecurities.

As his actions of tonight seemed to have spoken louder than words, a glimmer of reassurance began to emerge within you. With tender care, he guided you across the room, revealing the spacious bathroom with its welcoming, steam-filled air. The drawn bath exuded an enticing warmth, a stark contrast to the chilly room.

"I want you to be mine. If you will have me," he murmured, his voice resonating with earnestness, echoing the genuine desire for your acceptance.

You turned to meet his gaze, observing the hand clasped in yours before lifting your eyes to his captivating, unique red gaze. There was a captivating allure, something undeniably beautiful and different about him.

Your attempt to decipher his unreadable expression failed as his stoic visage remained unchanged. Yet, those enigmatic eyes held a magnetic pull, drawing you in. "Will you take care of me, Thrawn?" you asked, your voice carrying a vulnerable plea.

"I will do everything in my power for you," he assured you.

The moment lingered, and finally, your lips met his in a tender, gentle kiss. He guided you towards the inviting warmth of the bath, easing your weary body into the scorching water, allowing the tension to dissipate.

"Your face is like art," he suddenly declared, catching you off guard once more. His words prompted a staggered breath, causing you to look up at him as he admired you.

"Do you not agree?" His question tinged your cheeks with doubt and embarrassment.

"I've never viewed myself like that before,"

“I’m sure you will begin to find that you will agree with me for most things,” he drops the robe from his body and gestures you to sit forward and as you do, you sigh heavenly as he slips in behind you, arms wrapping around your body as your back is brought to his chest.

"And soon you will agree and see why you belong with me," he murmured, his voice carrying a sense of quiet assurance as he tenderly ran warm water up and down your arms, creating a serene atmosphere enveloping both of you in a comfortable moment.

His tender care continued as he focused on you, his lips trailing softly over the marks he had left on your neck. Whispered words of praise graced your skin, creating a delicate symphony of affectionate gestures, each touch and utterance a testament to his adoration for you.

Later that night as you grew tired, he gently carried you back to his bed and settled beside you, drifting off to sleep, the weight of your actions pressed heavily on your mind. The realisation dawned that this relationship would be far from ordinary. He held power, wealth—everything beyond your reach but he was offering it to you. a fundamental shift, a leap into an entirely different world.

Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected turn could be the shift you had been waiting for your entire life.

———

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad

#nahoney22 writes #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn #Thrawn x female reader #admiral thrawn x reader #star wars #grand admiral Thrawn x reader

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nov4-rocket5 · 1 month

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When I hear Viv say that her take on Hell was based around Dante's Inferno and Paradise Lost, I feel it was less "actually reading the poems" and more, "taking some of the vague ideas most people 'get' of them."

Seriously, reading Dante's Inferno and Paradise Lost for myself, I can't really see any aspects of them in how Viv portrays Hell. Okay, Hell has several layers, and Lucifer's got a bit more dimension than just "evil," but those are the things that everyone already kind of 'gets' about those poems.

If Hazbin Hell was actually more like the Hell Dante portrayed, I'd actually be sympathetic to the sinners inhabiting it. Because keep in mind, some of the things Dante had happen in Hell included:

Being put in a pit with Cerberus, who will maul/tear anything that moves apart as cold rain/sleet/snow constantly falls.

Being turned into a dead shrub/tree for eternity as harpies eat fruit growing out of your body.

Having to walk on hot sand as burning hot embers of fire rain down on you, making the sand hotter, and if you fall or stop at all, you get frozen in place for a century.

Being submerged head-first in literal shit.

Getting chopped into pieces and thrown into a giant pile of other people cut apart, while being fully conscious.

Any and all Debt Collectors go to Hell because God's Natural Order is to do things in life, and recieve reward/consequences for them, and since Debt Collectors do absolutely nothing of worth at all, they go to Hell by default.

Being lost in a black fog while constantly being afflicted by illnesses and ailments worse than anything on Earth.

If you committed a sin that would land you in the last couple rings of Hell, the moment you committed the sin in life, you soul immediately gets sucked from your body down to Hell, where a demon then inhabits your empty mortal body.

And nothing in Paradise Lost was translated into Hazbin Hell at all except the 'Sadboy Luci' part it's culturally remembered for (even though Lucifer very much wasn't the hero of PL at all), and... maybe Adam being kind of a dick. In Milton's story Adam and Eve after eating the Forbidden Fruit have a couple pretty bad arguments blaming each other because emotions like anger, lust, and shame are new concepts to them that they'll have to learn to control.

#hazbin critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical

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jinkiezzsstuff · 2 months

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Knight

Emily x male!reader

this was requested by @wfig123 and the request was: “can you do Emily x male!reader where Emily becomes a fallen angel and ends up with Valentino, but reader saves her and he takes care of her”. They also drew art to go with this request which is so cute! <3 Their art is added below t

Summary: Emily coudlnt sit silently and watch heavens cruelty once Adam was gone, after a fight with Sera nothing could be done when the hellfire sucked her down. And just as Emily’s hope lifted with Charlie finding her, it dropped again when she got snatched up, luckily you like playing knight in shining armour

Warnings: Valentino and his crew, bad explanations of action sorry gang lmao, kinda disney-esque saviour stuff, kidnapping, swearing, sexual harassment, Emily is portrayed as meek, male reader, no physical description except the reader has lightning powers like last request. NOT PROOFREAD alrighty lads lemme know what i missed :))

word count: 2.2k

It was an unfortunate state of events for Emily, one minute she’s being guided by Sera, then she finds out her guide, the one she adored most, lied to her. Charlie opened Emily’s eyes to world she never knew existed and the goodness in her heart wouldn’t allow Charlie to fight the battle alone, especially knowing that those were human souls, just like they had in heaven, she had to believe.

Emily had pestered Sera since Charlie left, and when the extermination happened, Emily couldn’t just stand by as Lute returned single handed, uh, literally. Emily had what could only be described as a mental breakdown paired with an identity crisis. She screamed at Sera about how angels were the symbol of love, peace and that the exterminations are everything but that. Not to mention it brought forth a catalyst of problems, with Lutes missing arm, and Adam seemingly dead, it wouldn’t be long until the whole of heaven heard of what’s become. Emily’s emotional outburst caused catastrophe, as the portals opened to pull Emily down all Sera could do was stand aside watching the hellfire grip and pull her down, Emily screaming for Sera to help her, to do something.

And just like that Sera had backstabbed Emily a second time, or was it a third? Landing harshly in the smog, and ashes, Emily coughed, her wings burning her dress tattered. Physically she didn’t change but her halo had fallen and horns curled out of her hair. Overwhelmed with emotions, Emily curled into herself in the dilapidated alleyway, unsure of what to do from here on out. After another good cry, Emily pulled herself off the ground, hair tattered, dress dirty and feeling the worst she’d ever felt. It was like falling into heaven took the clouds from her eyes so she could see things as they really are, and as much as she hated the feeling, she preferred to know.

That’s when it hit her, the reason she originally fell, Charlie, the hotel, safety. With new motivation Emily pulled herself off the ground beginning to walk towards the open streets. Eyes jumping from demon to demon, brick building to brick building, it was surprisingly advance and the demons looked less grisly, like she originally imagined.

If anything it looked like a crueller heaven, which she supposes shouldn’t be a surprise considering Lucifer was drone heaven originally. Stumbling through the streets, many demons could tell she was fresh meat by the way she carried herself, it was very skittishly, something that screamed victim.

Wringing her hands together, she went to ask some lady demons, who looked kind, where the hotel resided. However before she could a gasped sounded out behind her, turning on her heel Emily barely had time to catch her footing when Charlie crashed into her, giving her a organ crushing hug. “Oh my goodness Em! My dad got a message from the Seraphim! We were so worried there’s been a search out all day!” Charlie exclaimed, pulling away to inspect the fallen angel. Emily began to tear sniffling at the thought of people looking out for her, it was much kinder when people were willing to risk themselves for you.

Wiping away tears sheepishly, Emily shot Charlie a kind smile. “Thank you so much Charlie, I- it’s been so scary, I don’t know what i would have done without you.” Emily says meaningfully, giving Charlie a warm look.

“Cmon, let’s head back to the hotel so we can call everyone back.” Following close behind Charlie, Emily slumped twiddling her fingers as she walked down the hectic streets. Across the way a demon screams for mercy, before a shot rings out making Emily jump. “Is it, uh, always like this?” She asked meekly, not entirely sure of what she wanted the answer to be. Smiling Charlie nodded looking a little embarrassed at the fact. “Yeah, i mean some of these souls don’t deserve what they get, which is why stronger, and more violent demons go after them. Like that poor guy.” Charlie ushered Emily away with a guiding arm behind her back.

Pulling out her phone, Charlie sent a message to Angel, Husk, her father, you, and Cherrie who stayed back after the reconstruction of the hotel. Charlie got a quick response from you as per usual, and quickly opened her phone, reading the response. “My friend YN, he’s excited to meet you. He’s kinda been obsessed with the whole fallen angel thing. He’s hoping to get into heaven at some point, but he originally came to in his words, ‘stick his nose in your business’.” Charlie laughed at the recollection of your first arrival, gazing up at the pentagram covered sky. “He sounds kinda nice.” Emily muttered unsure of what she should really think.

“Don’t worry everyone will be nice, it’ll be grea-” Suddenty four demons burst out from an alley, right in front of both Charlie and Emily. Emily immediately jumped back a small shriek emitting from her. Charlie being the kind soul she was, attempting to yank the demons off eachother, reprimanding them for being so stupid, and getting tossed back. Emily watched a few feet back, hand to her mouth watching as Charlie’s demonic form emerged, as she got shoved away once again by the large bore demon.

Charlie was too carried away with the idiocy in front of her, to realise her dear friend was not used to the things residing in hell. And with one foul swoop, silent as a ghost, Emily was whisked up and away, dragged drugged and banged against god only knows what. Her vision was blackened and she knew she was crying but couldn’t control it nor could she properly feel her body.

She couldn’t tell if she was tossed in some cage or whether she was thrashing around a small car but all she knew is that it was a bumpy ride. When it finally stopped, it felt like her body was covered in bruises, she felt her body being dragged up by someone much stronger than her. “Here ya go boss boy.” A light voice hummed, not what she expected to come from someone so strong. There was the wicked smell of smoke invading her nose, making her want to cough and sneeze, however she held it together too afraid of what they do if she suddenly moved or made noise.

There was a long exhale, a breath hit Emily’s blindfolded face and she couldn’t help the recoile that happened when the smell hit her. “What a beauty, mm; she’ll cost a pretty penny y’know. Bring her.” Emily felt claws pick at her chin and then release her. At the beck and call of the man, Emily was taken to another room, this one was less echoey compared to the last, making her feel claustrophobic with the men in the room and cloth on her eyes.

It smelt like incense, cheap perfume, carpet, sex, booze and cigarettes, something Emily was not familiar with at all. Suddenly the arms gripping her, shoved her roughly against a surface, her bounced against it gently, establishing it was more than likely a bed. It was bare nothing but mattress underneath giving her no comfort nor way to hide from prying eyes. She felt cold hands pinch the top of the cloth near her eyebrows, and then the light hit her eyes, causing her to flinch, blinking rapidly.

She tried to bring her hand up to shield her eyes from the light, but found they were bounded by chain or something behind her back. Emily scanned the room in a panic, the room was small, only fit for a bed, a mirror and a few plants and such. It appeared more like a set then a bedroom, the walls were hot pink and furry, the mirror was large and in the shape of a heart, lights surrounding it, the worst part was that it was aimed right at the bed Emily sat on. There was two doors on each side, and near the one on the right closest to Emily was two men. One big beefy man who resembled a shark, and another tall lanky lavender coloured demon. He wore a long red coat, that was spread open, underneath was a black button up, and regular khaki colour suit pants. He wore the ugliest heart glasses paired with the ugliest top hat, and to Emily he was a hideous sight.

Grinning the sickly moth showed off his gold tooth, closing in on Emily’s shrunken down figure. “Look at you kitty, you’ll make such numbers, my pretty little angel.” The demon purred bending down to invade Emily’s space, smoke blowing at her. Coughing slightly, Emily scowled weakly tugging her head away from his cold hand. “I’m not- what’re you talking about?” Emily whispered in horror, standing to full height the moth brushed his clawed hand against his chest, and down. “Oh pretty little thing, you’ll figure it out hm? By the way sweetie, Valentino.” Sticking out the lower arm for a hand shake, he cackled to himself like he was hilarious before pulling it back. “Oops~ I forgot. Silly me!”

The shark behind him laughed like an idiot the two of them observing the way Emily’s body shook with fear, rage, and grief for what may come, tears free falling down her cheeks. “Oh c’mon, you’ll be fine.” The moth tutted, flicking his hand, he turned his attention to the shark whispering to start the cameras and bring in the centipede. As the shark left the room, the power cut out making the moth growl enraged. “What the fuck is this now?!”

Emily flinched back at the tone Valentino took compared to his previous coy tone. Valentino stood awaiting a response, his fists suspended up. Sighing with frustration he began to leave the room. Emily, unable to properly see in the dark of the room, stumbled off the bed tripping slightly.

She watched strobes of lights shoot through the hall, and without a second thought she booked it out the door. She ran down the hall, and turned, a window lighting the hall granted her sight with a staircase, she quickly sped to the stairs walking down cautiously as to not trip. She wished she could spread her wings but with her hands bound she wasn’t able to.

At the bottom of the stairs she followed the red glow of an exit light out a door, and down a creepy hall. The corridor led to a metal door, using her body to push the door open, Emily tripped crashing out of the door and onto her face. She teared up face scratched against the concrete, to the side of her she could hear the sound of demons muttering. Twisting her head to the side she saw two slutty looking demons, one smoking the other drinking. “Oh your Val’s angel, luckyyy. Let’s getcha back inside sugar.” The one with the cigarette said country twang slipping out like molasses.

Emily squealed, inching away awkwardly as her hands couldn’t lift her off the floor, before the two demons could put their hands on her, lightning appeared striking the two in the head. It was as comedic as it was blinding, the two demons sunk to the floor after the strike, Emily teared up turning her face away. You stepped out from the side, panting getting your ass kicked by waves of different demons including Val himself in attempts to find Emily.

You walked up to her shaking figure crouching down, you broke the cuffs with the heat from the lightning you were so generously gifted. “Bad time to meet huh Emily, my names YN, Charlie called me after you got snatched, thankfully she recognized that foul shark.” You explain when Emily turned tearfully up at you, slowly you pulled out your phone, opening a picture you took with both Charlie and Vaggie. “Here’s the proof, I’m a man of many crimes, but never a man of lies.” You say jokingly, trying to relieve the tension, thankfully that seemed to convince her. Looking up at you with diamond like tears across her lashes, she through her arms around your neck sobbing into you.

Gently you wrapped your arms around her, cooing at her softly while combing your fingers through her hair. “S’okay hun, you’re safe now.” You reassure giving her a tight squeeze, your heart breaking at the sight of the angel in your arms. You knew thanks to Charlie she had quite the reality tossed unwillingly in her face, and now she’s here. “Let’s get you to the hotel, okay sweets?” Gently you lifted yourself with her, your anxiety getting to you as you realised you were still in the alleyway where Valentino could get you any second.

Speedily you took off with the angel in your grasp, a block away you’d put her down, as she insisted, but you kept your hand intertwined with hers. She blushed when you took a tight grip, telling her that you wanted to keep her safe.

Once back at the hotel, you messaged Charlie about you being back with her, before turning to Emily. “Make yourself at home, this is the lobby and Charlie should be making her way back soon, once she’s here you’ll be given a room.” You smile at the angel, she reciprocates, her cheeks dusty a hue of purple. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sheepishly tugged you at the collar pecking your lips with a chaste kiss. “Thank you for saving me.” You grinned at her shy gratitude, and pulled her into a side hug . “No problem.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel emily x reader #emily x reader #emily hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel x reader #emily x male reader

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the-path-to-redemption · 3 months

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Ruby's treatment of Penny in v8 was pretty disgusting and their reunion in v7 was nothing short of lackluster, but the fact that she actually grieved for her the whole volume 9, didn't immediately get over her death like the rest of them (with the exception of Weiss to an extent), and tried to preserve the last thing that remained of her, says that Ruby was only one who gave a shit about her. Penny's death hit so hard it finally forced Ruby to snap out of her I-will-save-everyone holier-than-thou hero complex.

Like recall Yang and Blake. Who the fuck would behave this way like an hour after learning of their friend's death? Can you imagine Yang acting the same way if it was Blake who'd died in her place? No cuz Yang cares about Blake. But it's not that uncommon for our paragons of virtue and glory to have little to no reaction when something horrible happens to their friends/allies, is it? Either Penny meant nothing to WBY or rt legit sucks at portraying relationships and human emotions.

Long Post Ahead

It's both.

RWBY does not give a fuck about Penny and RT being trash at portraying human anything are both accurate statements that has been coexisting for as long as the show has been running.

And honestly, I'm not even surprised that _WBY doesn't give a shit about Penny. Ever since she was introduced in V1, Penny was Ruby's friend and only her firend. She didn't interact with anyone else in Beacon, and we only got to see her teammate Ciel ONCE in the entire show, so I would be more surprised if the rest of RWBY even know something about Penny before she died. Yang did in V7, and I was a bit shocked because they have NEVER interacted once after their first meeting.

But back to the matter at hand, it's very clear that the writers brought back Penny because the fans expected them to (which is fair) but just stopped at that. Penny is back because it make sense and the fans like her, but why? Narratively, why is she back? Especially when Ruby was less than adequate in treating Penny's return or seeing her as a friend. Not only that, Penny was still stuck in the same predicament that troubled her in Beacon, that she doesn't have a choice or a say in how she want to live her life as her own person, but instead must put duty and her role in the grand scheme of things first, leaving her with no agency for herself.

Many people criticized Ironwood for this, but RUBY also took that choice from Penny in V8. She constantly wave off Penny's concern for the people now that they have created a civil discourse between them and Ironwood, and shut down any of Penny's attempt to properly deal with her regrets and choices.

And then Penny dies, and the Winter Maiden power went to who it was always meant to go to. Why was she brought back? Why put her through so much only to fucking kill her off again, and for her death to be for someone else's motivation, whether it be Ruby or Jaune?

Because Penny wasn't a character to RT. She's a plot device, and that's all she was. I don't doubt that Yang would care more if Blake dies or vice versa, or Weiss would care more if it was Winter. They don't have a reason to care about a plot device that doesn't directly affect them or their story. Only Ruby could because Penny was her friend, but even then I still could not look past how she treated the poor girl.

It's just a frustrating ordeal to look at, because you could've went literally any other route, and it would have meant something. Penny would have meant something. But it's too late now. They wrote themselves into this corner, and now they have watch their story crumble under the pressure.

#answered #anonymous #rwde #rwby critical #anti rooster teeth #ruby rose critical #yang xiao long critical #team rwby critical #penny polendina #penny deserved better

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jesawyer · 1 year

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Potentially controversial question, though I don't mean it in that sort of way: One thing I noticed in Deadfire's writing was that there was a far greater likelihood for male characters to be portrayed as the more incompetent or less sympathetic half in most dynamics, whether it was debtor/debtee (Radora/Zamar), boss/subordinate (Furrante/Aeldys), enemies (Rinco/Mokeha) and so on. That's not to say misandry, since the goal is obviously equal representation, but I did notice this enough that I assumed wasn't just me seeing things or wanting to see them to justify a bias, especially also considering that if my observations were accurate, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest considering I would have chalked it down to an understandable difference in context regarding the way genders act based on historical norms and power dynamics (ie. There is possibly more historical weight in a man abusing a woman vs the reverse of that, so it is important to understand that history before portraying something that may or may not be a false equivalency). Essentially I ask this more as a curiosity than anything else: What was the writing team's approach to portraying gender dynamics in Deadfire?

I think the first thing is that we did make a conscious effort to numerically represent women as much as men among NPCs (note: there are not many non-binary characters in Deadfire, so in this answer I'll just be talking about male/female dynamics). We also put more women in authority positions where we felt it made sense in this fictional world that we created. For those who think that's bad, well okay.

That said, I don't really agree that the women consistently come across as more competent or sympathetic. In cases where they do, it's usually a difference of degree, not kind. I think a lot of the female characters are kind of shitty people and/or bad leaders, as many of the male characters are kind of shitty people and/or bad leaders.

If you prefer Aeldys to Furrante, that's understandable, but also Aeldys... sucks? Director Castol and Lueva Alvari are also both bad in different ways. Queen Onekaza II is a sympathetic figure but installed herself as a monarch over the other tribes of the Deadfire and has caused a lot of collateral damage to the Huana in her ongoing defense of the region - literally a gatekeeping girlboss. Prince Aruihi is a flawed character but I don't think he comes across as particularly incompetent or malicious compared to his sister.

Rinco is annoying and pathetic but Mokeha comes across as excessively belligerent even if she was in the right. Radora did get jumped by pirates, which is easy to sympathize with, but I don't think she does much to endear herself to the Watcher. Hazanui Karū is highly effective but she would be perfectly content seeing the RDC effectively steamroll Huana culture. Atsura is below her in rank, but he easily as competent as she is in different areas, but repellent for other, weirder reasons.

And as far as the companions go, Xoti is approaching Permanent Dark Mode, Maia assassinates people with no questions asked, Pallegina is a ultranationalist zealot... I don't know - I just don't think these characters feel "better" or more sympathetic than the male characters.

I think the main difference really is just that there are about as many female characters as male characters and they are more represented in key positions of power. But they often suck ass in those positions of power because they are difficult jobs and inherently corrupting. For better or worse, one of the recurring comments about Deadfire's factions is that they all seem kind of shitty. Even in cases where you can shift the faction head, they still feel a different type of shitty. That's both because of the vibes of the faction overall as well as their leadership. You do not, in fact, "gotta hand it" to the Royal Deadfire Company or Aeldys' nightmare anarcho pirate flotilla with the Ukaizo storm engines permanently set to Max Power.

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aerodumb · 1 year

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Wade/Nancy is an artist who's been surrounded by negative opinions. She currently works under the username Grisgrisdoll, but she's widely known as the name that haunts her past, Kastoway.

I've seen many, many accusations being thrown online against this artist, but I noticed that for many people spreading them this knowledge is secondhand. I found her Deviantart account some time after she changed her username to Kastoway in the beginning of 2014 due to my hyperfixation on creepypastas at the time. I never actually followed her, but I visited her account every now and then, so if I missed something important, it was because of that and I will be glad if you tell me. In this post, I'll list the incidents in chronological order *with evidence* and then give my own opinion at the end.

One thing to know about Wade is that she has had many different names and usernames throughout her life. In addition, she is comfortable with people using either "she", "he" or "they" to refer to her. I'll be alternating the pronouns and using both her names.

He was 13 when she created Ticci Toby [1]. He posted her first drawing of him on the 19th of November 2012 on DeviantArt [2] and Toby's origin story one year later on the 23rd of May 2013 [3]. Wade changed the personality of Toby to make him less upbeat, more tragic and more scary. One of the first instances where he showed discomfort with how people portrayed Toby that I remember was in a publication she posted on the last day of 2013 [4]. This situation ended up with a small redesign of Toby on 5th of February 2014 [5].

She took a short break from DeviantArt around July [6]. It was this year when her creepypasta blew up out of proportion. Previously, she had expressed her desire for Toby to only be shipped with another creepypasta character called Clockwork. However, many people didn't like Clockwork and didn't respect this wish, leading her to further getting tired of the creepypasta community. By october of the same year, her Deviantart bio said: "Most people know me as the creator of the creepypasta story "Ticci-Toby"-- which yes I am, but I prefer not to be constantly called out for it nor only recognized or appreciated for it. I do not contribute to the creepypasta fandom anymore so please don't ask me about it. Thank you" [7].

One issue that is frequently overlooked when discussing Wade's actions is her problem with impersonators, as she stated on a status in November [8].

On 14th of December 2014 he made a post trying to solve all the turmoil that had formed because of shipping [9]. He stated that he had asked people not to ship Toby with anyone but Clockwork because that was what he was comfortable with, but he realized that decision was pointless and didn't care at this point. The situation had gone out of control and there were people bashing creators who shipped Toby with others or with their own characters. He apologized to the hurt and asked people to stop the white knighting. In addition, he recognized "I wasn't prepared for my character to become popular on the internet. I really wasn't. I never thought it would happen and I'm still not good at dealing with it. In fact I suck at it, it's true". He was 15 at the moment.

In 2015, they got into Marvel, even having a tumblr blog where she drew Deadpool replying the asks of her followers. At the end of their bio, it could be read: "I will not reply to notes or comments regarding Ticci-Toby or anything Creepypasta related, sorry." [10]. This message was deleted months later, so their profile didn't mention Toby or creepypasta anymore. They kept the folder for her creepypasta drawings in their gallery tagged as "old".

In April 2016, he had to warn the general public that Toby wasn't real and that he was his creator [11]. People had been spreading misinformation, saying that Toby was real or was based on a real person. Wade feared that something like the tragedy of Wisconsin could happen again, it was a serious concern.

In May, Nancy made a post saying that people could still ask her about Toby [12], but later in June that year, she decided to step off the internet with the purpose of trying to improve her life, archiving the majority of her work [13]. Later in 2017, she updated her bio to let people know about her new instagram account where she mostly posts original art. It was at this point when I stopped checking her content completely, as this account, called bonejars at the beginning, was private for a while. She hasn't been very active on DeviantArt apart from the times she announced her podcast.

On the porch: Episode 2, 16 April 2020, started a wave of negativity against them. I didn't watch it at the time and it is now private so I can't say much about it, but they did some clarifications on her instagram stories later. Many users took screenshots of them and they can still be read [14]. In them, Nancy says that they came to terms many years ago with the ships, that they left the fandom because all of the drama made them miserable and that they'd wish Toby to no longer be associated with the creepypasta fandom. Despite this, they don't want people to stop doing what makes them happy, they said they're ok with headcanons and people reinterpreting the character, that they like the fanart as long as people don't profit from it. They said "I know what escapism is like and using fiction to cope with life. I would never wanna take that away from anybody". Later, they had to make further clarifications because people accused them of wanting to take Toby away from the fandom.

On 25 abril 2021, Nancy posted a new redesign of Toby on his Instagram account [15]. This version of him was significantly different from the last one. The character is older, wears different clothes and looks more realistic due to Nancy's art style development. With this design, he looks like a character from a slasher.

Many people weren't pleased with the redesign due to thinking the reason for it was to invalidate the previous one. Consequently, they brought to the surface controversies from the past. Nancy was accused of having supported two controversial figures in the creepypasta community: Laughing Jack's creator Steve Aikins (Snuffbomb) and Sally Williams' creator Shilo (la_mishi_mish).

Steve presumably harassed his ex-girlfriend and talked indecently with several young girls back in 2014 [16]. I haven't found evidence of Wade supporting him and I can't remember exactly what she said. If someone has screenshots of it, I would be grateful.

Shilo used to draw NSFW art of Sally [17]. This character is canonically 8, so she usually aged her up in this kind of content. However, she posted a compilation of sketches depicting Sally and Jeff the Killer having sex in 2015, stating it was ok for them to have intercouse because they were both 13. Shilo was 22 at the time. Several sources indicate that she stopped drawing mature content due to social pressure. Nancy and Shilo follow each other on instagram to this day.

There haven't been more references to Toby on Nancy's part since then.

◇ Ok people, get the pitchforks because now I'm gonna give my opinion!

So, what can we accuse Wade of? Of being an idiot and a hypocrite when he was a teenager, of having bad companies and managing fame poorly. I don't think we can blame them for anything else and feel that a big part of the hate they receive is undeserved.

I think she was a hypocrite because she got angry with an interpretation of Toby that she had at the beginning. What's more, Toby's story uses an interpretation of Slenderman that was invented by the fandom, proxies are not canon. It's like a fanfic of a series inspired by just a couple of photos.

Still following Shilo is yikes. However, we don't really know if they're still close and I'm personally gonna give her the benefit of the doubt. Defending Steve was a bad move, but, as some people have pointed out before, he was a teen when that happened, way younger than Steve and she could have been convinced to think he was innocent. Shilo is older too.

Being that young, she wasn't prepared for facing the bad sides of fame. Ignoring stuff, going radio silent and then saying things in the heat of the moment didn't help her a bit, but it was all that occurred to her at the time. She's tried to explain things in more detail in recent years just to go back to saying as little as possible because at this point, people get angry for whatever she says.

People say they're homophobic. Their instagram account refutes it.

People say he was mean and insulted the fandom. I remember reading a couple of statuses on DA that I thought were insensitive, but that was a long time ago. People grow and he's changed his mind a lot as you can read in his instagram stories. If you say these things referring to the post where he told people Toby wasn't real, I'm sorry, but I think he had all the right to be harsh. People said Slenderman was real, it ended up in a tragedy and now the same things were being said about Toby. Can you imagine how it's to feel you're responsible for someone's death? He was trying to protect people.

People say she went after artists that portrayed Toby in a different way than hers, yet every time she's said something that ended up hurting people, she took responsibility and apologized for it. I don't believe this person could go and directly hurt someone. Remember what I said before about her issues with impersonators and people white knighting? That could be what's happening. Even now she has problems with people pretending they know her, so be careful!

People say they have abandoned the character many times. It's true they've said they didn't want to talk about Toby on four different occasions, but I don't think they did it with that intention. Why did they redesign him then? The design we all know is inevitably tied to the creepypasta community and they want to move on from it, that's why they didn't want to talk about him. Now they made a version of the character that isn't tied to that world, so we have two Tobies, one for them and one for us. I think that's cool!

Many don't like that they can't use the old version to earn money, but I want them to understand that this is a really particular situation. Usually, people making commissions of characters that aren't theirs isn't a problem when the creator is getting money on their own (unless you're Disney, Disney has no chill). This isn't Wade's case, she has never been monetary compensated for creating or drawing Toby and she has the right of choosing not to allow the commercial use of her characters. "Give for free what you were given for free" is a rule that makes sense in this case.

I don't expect anyone to stop disliking Wade, you're free to feel whatever you want, but at least I hope that this post helps people to see that all of this is more dimensional than just "kastoway is evil". At the end of the day, she's just a dude that fucked up many times and I think her experiences can help us to not commit the same errors.

◇ Here you have all the evidence

[1] Wade's age (look at the replies)

[2] First art of Toby

[3] Toby's Origin on Kastoway's DA

[4] Post where Wade complains about the difference between fanon and canon Toby

[5] Updated Toby design

[6] Wade's DA on hiatus

[7] Wade saying he doesn't want to be known just for creating Toby

[8] Wade complaining about impersonators

[9, 11] Nancy clarifying the issues with shipping and people saying Toby was real (look at section "Kastoway and his creation")

[10] Nancy saying he won't reply asks about Toby

[12] Nancy apologizing and saying ask about Toby are welcomed

[13] Nancy announcing her departure

[14] Nancy's deleted instagram stories

[15] Toby's new design

[16] About Laughing Jack's creator

[17] About Sally's Creator

#very long post #4 pages long #kastoway #ticci toby #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta characters #creepypastas #deep dive

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animebw · 10 months

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Short Reflection: Oshi no Ko

I have a serious bone to pick with Oshi no Ko.

To be clear, I don't mind that Oshi no Ko is s bad show. Bad shows are a dime a dozen, its not special in that regard. I don't even mind that it's a bad show that got absurdly popular. Again, not an uncommon occurrence, I've learned to live with the popular consensus among anime fans being very hit and miss. No, what chaps my hide about this misguided misfire is that it's the worst kind of bad show: one with delusions of grandeur. It's a self-indulgent piece of pandering wish fulfillment that's convinced itself it's a Deep, Complex masterpiece telling Hard Truths about society while perpetuating all the sins it claims to be criticizing. And while it may have somehow pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone else, I've watched enough anime to see through its plastic facade to the squirming rot underneath. This show is lying to you, and unlike the thesis statement it makes in its first episode, this lie is the lowest form of love I can think of.

And I was excited for Oshi no Ko at first! I've always struggled with idol anime because they can never seem to drop their packaged, plastic facade of perfect little angels chasing their dreams to address anything resembling real emotion. So the promise of a more honest take on the genre exploring the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole, warts and all? Written by the author of Kaguya-Sama, which I've finally come around to appreciating as a masterpiece of the rom-com world? And a bonkers 90 minute opening episode suggesting an adaptation that would go all the way to make this series shine? Yeah, I had high hopes for this one.

And then the first minute of the show had two separate jokes about the protagonist being a pedophile.

Gotta tell you, when I heard Manga fans hyping this one up to high heaven, I was expecting something a little less blatantly unsalvageable than that.

After that, I spent most of that bloated first episode in slack jawed disbelief. Was I really sitting through another Mushoku Tensei reincarnated pedo baby plotting? Why was I being subjected to jokes about who gets to suck their teen mom superstar idol's breast milk? It was almost a relief when the same obsessive stalker who initially took the protagonist's life came back to finish off his new mom, setting him and his similarly reincarnated sister on a seemingly much more interesting path. But by then the damage was done, and the cracks that had formed in Oshi no Ko's foundation would only grow larger and more obvious as it settled into its proper story.

Funnily enough, though, the most obvious warning sign in that first episode wasn't the pedo baby nonsense. No, it was its handling of Hoshino Ai, the aforementioned teen mom superstar idol who got two superfans reincarnated as her twin babies before being murdered by a stalker. For a show claiming to portray the dark reality of the entertainment industry, there isn't a single thing dark or real about Ai. She is a relentlessly perfect plastic mannequin of a person, never once showing herself to be anything less than upbeat, bubbly, and inoffensive. Not once in the three years we spend with her before her death do we see her sulk, throw a tantrum, or express any emotions besides peppy and cheerful. If there’s anything resembling a real girl underneath her facade, we don't get to see it, not even when she's alone with her babies with no one to judge her. This show wants to pull back the curtain on the uncomfortable truths of this industry, but it doesn't even have the guts to pull back the curtain on its most important character and risk turning off an otaku fan base who can't conceive of women as complex individuals with complicated inner lives. And sadly, that cowardice is very indicative of how poorly the show will handle its themes moving forward.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Following Ai's death at the climax of the first episode, Oshi no Ko's real story picks up ten or so years later, with her now-teenage children Aqua and Ruby going to a special high school for aspiring entertainment industry professionals. Here they're able to meet fellow creatives and pursue careers in film, television, music, YouTube, and more behind and in front of the camera, all to follow their respective goals of tracking down their mother's killer (Aqua) and following in their mother's footsteps of becoming a beloved idol (Ruby). Thus the stage is set for a walking tour behind the scenes of all corners of the business, exploring the truth behind the shining mask of perfection the entertainment industry so often wears while slowly building up the mystery of who the twins' father was, and why he seemingly arranged for Ai to be killed. A solid setup for the story to explore its ideas in an engaging way, but as always, a setup is only as good as its execution. And no matter how many monologues its characters spew about the true nature of the industry, Oshi no Ko consistently fails to be anything more than plastic and shallow itself.

The biggest issue, sadly, remains Aqua himself. Even after you get over the whole reincarnated pedo baby angle, he is just the most miserably emo edgelord to be around. He's a mopey, brooding bore who looks down on pretty much everyone around him, but the show constantly insists on portraying him as cynically honest, the one clear-eyed adult in a cast full of kids. Which, considering how female-heavy the rest of the cast it, gives the whole show a creepy, paternalistic vibe. So many of Oshi no Ko's "realistic" portrayals of the industry's scumminess essentially boil down to a naive, inexperienced girl getting in over her head and finding herself in some sort of physical or emotional peril, only for this Light Yagami wannabe to swoop in and save her with the power of his Experienced Adult Man Perspective. There are times when it clearly wants to touch on how particularly rough girls and women have it in this scummy, sexist industry, but it undercuts itself every time it turns their struggles into yet another excuse for the one prominent dude in the cast to show off how much smarter he is.

And yes, in case you even needed to ask, of course the majority of these girls fall in love with him. You've got Kana Arima, a foul mouthed former child actor who's implied to have nursed a crush on him ever since he humiliated her on set years ago by being do much naturally better at acting than her to the point she broke down crying. There's Akane Kurokawa, a sincere good girl who falls for him after he saves her from suicide (more on that later) and otherwise exists to be tortured by some of the most laughable backstory retcons ever put to screen (She's an unprepared novice to the industry! Just kidding, she's a member of a prestigious theater company! Just kidding, she's a child actor who's been part of this industry her whole life!). There's even, believe it or not, his sister Ruby, who in her past life was a terminally ill child in love with Aqua's past life, her physician at the time. He even jokingly promised to marry her when she turned 16, which could have passed as a tragic, knowingly futile promise to comfort a girl who had no chance of living that long, but considering how things ended up... yeah, let's just say I am dreading what happens when Aqua and Ruby discover each other's previous identities. Honestly I almost hope they just say "fuck it" and take the plunge into Incest Lake, just to break the brains of everyone who's convinced themselves this show isn't a trash fire.

It also doesn't help that the dialogue is pretty uniformly terrible. Characters speak in tangled, overwritten declarations and explanations that never read as something a real person would say but also aren't stylish enough to pass for the kind of purposefully exaggerated back-and-forth exchanges that define, for example, the Monogatari series. It seems to think if you just drop a lot of monologues about how dangerous and unfair the entertainment industry is, that will compensate for the relative lack of real danger and unfairness in its actual portrayal. I'm not asking for a Perfect Blue-style pitch black perspective, but there are barely even shades of gray here, to the point it almost feels like the show's lying to you. There's a moment where Ruby and her aspiring idol group exclaim that a collective dressing room they share with a bunch of other bottom-tier idols is "packed like sardines," except the room we're shown has plenty of breathing room and empty space. This show flat out lies to your face, in contradiction of the visuals its showing you, to make the girl's situation seen worse than it actually is.

But let's circle back to Akane and get attempted suicide, because her focus episode is, in my opinion, the one moment where Oshi no Ko actually manages to live up to the expectations it set. Short version, Akane's on a reality dating show with Aqua and a bunch of other high schoolers, and her attempt to make herself more of a presence at her manager's request results in her becoming the target on an online hate mob who takes one bad thing she does and uses it as an excuse to harass her relentlessly. As someone who's seen too many stories like this play out in real life- overwhelming, self-righteous hatred from complete strangers who've convinced themselves your one minor infraction justifies ruining your life- seeing Akane succumb to the tidal wave of insults and threats until she tries to jump off a bridge was one of the most powerful experiences I've had in all of anime this year. It's masterfully directed, impeccably edited, and brutally, unforgivingly honest about how life-ruining this kind of negative online attention can be. It's hands-down the best episode of Oshi no Ko, and if the rest of the show had been as brave as this episode when tackling its subject matter, I'd have no problem singing its praises alongside everyone else.

It's also, sadly, a perfect representation of why this show is so fundamentally broken.

Because when you take a step back and look at the whole picture, as incredible as this episode is in isolation, its only real effect on the plot is to give Aqua yet another helpless admirer to fall I love with him seemingly as a matter of course. Akane's suicide attempt, as gut wrenching and heartbreaking as it is in the moment, only exists to give the reincarnated pedo protagonist another teenage girl to fawn over him. And considering how much inspiration this plot line draws from a real-life suicide tragedy in Japan, to call it nauseating and disrespectful would be the understatement of the century. The real victim's mother certainly seemed to think so, as she held an interview expressing anger that her daughter's tragic fate was being used as free source material without even consulting her first. And if you were hoping Oshi no Ko fans would react to this response with empathy and nuance, showing how much they took away from this arc's message about the evils of online harassment by refusing to participate in it themselves... well, let's just say I truly envy your optimism.

But really, isn't that the most fitting representation of this show's failure? It claims to showcase and criticize the exploitative nature of the entertainment industry, only to exploit real life tragedy for entertainment itself, and its fans react to this ugly truth by becoming exactly the kind of evil the show they claimed to love was warning them against. It's a perfect storm of hypocrisy that reveals just how shallow and craven the whole affair is. Oshi no Ko is not deep, it's not complex, and it's certainly not challenging. But it IS good enough at superficially appearing to be those things to attract a fan base that wants the ego boost of being seen as liking Mature(tm) stories about Serious Issues(tm) without actually being challenged to leave their comfort zone of pandering wish fulfillment. And the second something actually challenging does show up to demand they face an uncomfortable truth, they reveal just how unwilling both they and the show they love are to grapple with the ugly reality they claim to represent.

Is that harsh? Definitely. Unfair to the vast majority of Oshi no Ko fans who love the show without being gross and weird about it? Probably. But I can't be honest about this show without being honest about how miserably it betrays the very foundations of its stated goal. Ironically enough, Oshi no Ko is its own worst enemy, the greatest embodiment of everything it's trying to speak out against. It's a stupid show pretending to be smart, a cowardly show pretending to be brave, hiding cheap convictions with cheap edge and cringeworthy harem bullshit in hopes it can avert your eyes from the truth. But peel back that plastic layer of corporate sheen and it's every bit as shallow and hypocritical as the industry it claims to criticize. It's as hollow as Hoshino Ai herself, hiding its inner emptiness as best it can and hoping its beautiful lies will make you love it regardless. And if lies are indeed the greatest form of love, then Oshi no Ko must be the greatest lover of all. Me, though? I'll take something honest and uncompromising over an insincere fake like this any day. And I give this first season a score of:

3/10

Yes, this is the worst show I watched to completion this season. No, I'm not sorry about it. If you want to know what actual good shows I kept up with, keep an eye out for my seasonal reflection coming next week!

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #oshi no ko #spring 2023 anime #spring 2023 sr

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