Mossy Don't Stop Drawing Them In Modern Clothing

He would throw up...

Then push you into the bed to show you what he's really capable of

"Youngling?" Thrawn's cold voice cut to your core, sending shivers down your spine. The warrior paced across the floors of his bedroom so he came to stand a hair's breadth in front of you. Nose to nose, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"You would allow such a decrepit old male to pleasure you?" A slow chuckle escaped, his hand shot up to grasp your neck. You let out a startled gasp, his long fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck. A sharp smile made its way onto his face.

"I assure you," he whispered as he pushed you to the bed "I am perfectly capable of satisfying you like a real Mitth.

"With twice the vigor."

Thrawn Dances

The Mitth are cold, stoic, and calm. They exude power and control, as emotionless as the ice flats of Csilla. They are stark uniforms, and blazing suns. Intense and they demand perfection. They are from the heart of the Acendancy, and often they consider themselves to be it's center. As one of the Nine they groom their young since birth, or adoption, to be the perfect example of what a Chiss should be: powerful, fearless, an unmovable pillar in the storm. And they certainly don't dance. Not unless the occasion permitted a sharp two step, two persons, arms poised to the side, one two three four, one two three four. It was controlled, it was routine.

The Kivu were different. Further from the core, the family hadn't even existed during the days of old. Small and humble, many would overlook the family. Rentor, a backwater planet, incapable of producing anything of cultural significance. Or so the greater families thought. And true, they were small and humble, living their lives away in small farming areas, preferring not to get mixed up in the political slights of the larger families. And to the outside world they would appear just as any other Chiss family might. But they danced.

Oh, they danced. And not the stiff steps of the higher Mitth, no it was light and jovial, underneath their planet's moon, their arms raised above them, swaying with the wind. Necklaces and bracelets of scales rattled on their bodies, and shook as they thumped their bare feet against the ground. Long skirts and dresses flared out as their wearers twirled and jumped. Streaks and flashes of colour, from scarves and hats, jewelry and shoes came from every direction. Men and women, children and adults, all joined in in the dance. Shaking their instruments and rattling their jewels. Each to their own beat, each expressing their own story and song. Each making their own art.

You could learn a lot about someone from watching them make art.

Their dance was embeded in their hearts, even years after being conditioned into the ways of the higher families, it would remain. Small scars on one's ears, lips, nose. One's steps a bit too light, a rhythm to their run, twirling batons with grace, treating the dojo as a dance floor.

Who would say anything if they saw through the cracks in a warships' doors, a young man swaying to his own song?

I was talking about Prime and as I mentioned the books by Alexander Irvine 😊

Everyone: "What if Megatron and Optimus Prime were bitter exes! Haha haha hahaha"

Me *having read the books by Irvine": They...they are. They literally are.

They were leading a revolution with together, theywent on dates through the Pits and Iacon, and it got to the point that they couldn't differentiate whose ideas were whose anymore. And they only fell apart because Megatron is easily jealous...and not the one with the brains in this relationship, okay.

The Letter

Eli, my dearest friend,

It has been decades since our first meeting, and I feel I must thank you for the years that you have, for lack of better words, put up with my "krayt spit". I do not know if it was fate or merely luck that you were aboard that vessel that found me, though I have never believed in fate and one must not rely on luck, some star shined in my favor that day that it was you, Eli Vanto.

Through the years, you have never wavered. You have remained my closest confidant, and on occasion my savior. Though I am aware that you were bitter about the divert in your life track, your skills would have been throughly wasted as a supply officer. And I am pleased that you came to recognize that as well, in time. I would not have made it this far, neither in the Empire nor even back home to the Ascendancy without your help and guidance. I am a better man for your influence.

You have come far, my friend, look at yourself, a commodore in the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet. With many more promotions and honors to come, I have no doubts in you. You have learned much, and have become one of the greatest warriors I know. You are aware of what others are not, and have developed a skill for improvisation. A necessary tool for any commander.

Look after those who remain, instruct them in the ways of a warrior. Continue the work that we started and pass it on when you meet your own demise. Continue to live.

I leave you all that I have, my knowledge. I have added to the journal, utilize it. Do not mourn me, Eli Vanto, I am now with my brother.

May warrior's fortune smile upon you.

- written by Mitth'raw'nuruodo, left to Eli'van'to upon his death

I just feel so happy when I imagine dancing with Thrawn ❤

HELP ME FIGURE THIS OUT!

For a long time my tag for most sites has been Aroa'yr Shuk, and I've run into a little problem.

I was trying to remember what it meant as I only have a slight memory of making it, I know for a fact that shuk means tear, but I can't find the meaning of aroa'yr, I know that I didn't make it up (if I had it would of been closer to "aroy'a") but I also can't find any proof of that the word exists beyond a thing on swgoh.gg called "Imperio Mandaloriano Aroa'yr" so I know that the word at least exists.

And I put it through Google Translate and it's not a real life language.

So can someone tell me if I just made this up? If Mando'a has changed? If it's from another Star Wars language?

Please help me...

"This youngling can not satisfy you like a real Mitth can. Come here girl." He orders with open arms and a smirk, too happy to backstab his nemesis.

The real delicacy is that you come on your own volition, seeking the warmth of a real experienced man.

"Yes, sir..." You flush purple, shyly coming into his arms. You feel them snake their way to your chin, he tilts your head forcing you to look at him.

"What happens behind those doors, stay behind those doors." He intimates you...

Please do write something, I would read it with great pleasure ! ❤️

There's not an emoji for my face right now, it's a mixture of: ☺🤭😶😏😳😮😟😖 and high pitched screaming.

A "real experienced man" indeed. I would love to see Thrawn's reaction to being called a youngling. Insulted, acknowledge his youth, he's more...energetic than his elder.

Excerpt from The Last Command by Timothy Zahn (1993):

 “But…It was so artistically done.”

Thrawn’s last line starts with the word “but,” almost as if under normal circumstances he would be furious that his plans had unraveled so spectacularly and without him knowing it. Instead, he says “but,” and he says it calmly, with a smile on his face. He can’t be mad, because to him, his opponent beat him with the same level of attention he put into his plans. Because it was masterful and because even he could not have predicted the genius of turning the Noghri against him and then silently infiltrating Wayland.

The irony here is that our heroes actually didn’t put that much thought into his defeat specifically. I would argue that Thrawn’s true opponent was Leia, as it was her skill in politics, negotiation and empathy that both turned the Noghri against Thrawn and got Mara Jade to reveal the location of Wayland. In a way, it was Leia’s art that Thrawn didn’t account for.

This line alone also makes me ask – what does Thrawn really care about? Looking only at Zahn’s Thrawn Trilogy and no other material, it is clear that Thrawn likes to win. He also likes to prove his worth, becoming one of the few high ranking, non-human imperial officials. But more than that, Thrawn loves art and psychology. He craves knowledge, surrounding himself by other cultures’ art in order to learn, to improve and to win.

So, did Thrawn really care about the Empire at all? What was his true motivation? There is little evidence in the trilogy to suggest that Thrawn cares a lot about ruling the galaxy or in reviving the Empire. In fact, Pellaeon even states at one point that Thrawn has created a new empire, different than the one before, with his ingenuity and proportional punishments for failure. So why is he doing it? Truthfully, I don’t think this question really answered in the trilogy, leaving it up to the readers to decide. But from his last line as he dies, I’d hazard to say Thrawn doesn’t care about the empire or superiority or anything of the sort. He cares only about the art of war. To him, war is a chessboard, a game for him to play. Sure, he loves to win but he can appreciate when he loses. And that is why he can’t be mad at his defeat. Because it was so artistically done.

How do you think Thrawn would be as a dad?

Hmmmmmmm... Good question.

He would be protective, it's a given. But I think he would have difficulty to show affection or to create a bound between him and his children. He loves them, obviously, he love them so much but he wouldn't know how to show it? Especially if they are younger kids.

Or rather he would show it in ways that are obvious to him, but not others. Like I wrote in this fic, he's definitively on the spectrum and what would be seen by a simple drawing session by his children is a deep mine of information for him. It is his way of showing that he deeply cares, that he loves, but it's not obvious for them.

They don't feel neglected, he's alway's around to help with everything and anything, they don't feel unloved, they just feel misenderstood? They craves kisses and hugs but it doesn't come naturally to him who is more reserved. He won't reject them if they come asking, he's happy to oblige, but it rarely comes from him either.

As they grow older they understand that they are so much way to love someone, and because their father didn't love as they wanted or expected doesn't mean he didn't love at all. He loved them by nurturing their artsy side, he loved them by teaching them everyday, he loved them by caring everyday.

He simply loved them.