THIS LOOKS SO FRICKING GOOOOOOD!

Grogu made him wear a cloak because he didn’t want his dad’s armour getting too wet.

I AM SO EXCITED FOR THEM TOMORROW!!

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How they react to you being captured by the enemy:

*my first time writing, but I love this blue man too much for my own good lol! Please don’t be afraid to steal my ideas, I just want to see more thrawn! This was done over my phone notes so I didn’t get a chance to remove it!

Thrawn:

-His most prized art peace, the only art price dedicated to him, and him only. His wife.

- Would do everything in his power to retrieve you.

- He could care less how many life’s he’ll have to take to get you back to him.

- Would personally take the mission himself.

- His star destroyer, the citihaunting , and it’s entire crew, would loom over the the planets main city

- You were his prized possession, his favourite piece of art work. No one dear steal that from him.

- Governor Pryce would be blamed for you’re kidnapping, as he put her in charge of you’re safety when he was commanding his ship.

- He’d go retrieve you personally himself.

- Considers his men incompetent, especially his generals.

- Rains hell fire near the base you are kept as a warning.

- You were surrendered quickly at that point.

- You never had to worry he’d always come back for you.

- His most prized possession.

- Quickly destroys the base immediately after he safely has you back on board.

- Wants to scold you for getting yourself into that situation.

- But ends up just wrapping his arms around you from behind.

- You feel him leave a trail of kisses upon you’re neck

- You lean into his touch.

- You watched from the windows in Thrawns chambers, you see nothing but death and destruction.

-The base is completely desecrated, nothing could possibly survive the destruction.

- You’re heart aches for the people that lost their life’s because of you’re recklessness’s, and you’re husbands anger.

- You hear is smooth voice whispering into you’re ear

- “There is no one or thing in this galaxy that will bring harm to you, I’d personally destroy the galaxy, down to its very planet, if it meant keeping you from harm.”

- He holds you’re jaw so he can tilt you’re lips towards him

- You feel him tighten his opposite hand on you’re waste.

- The kiss doesn’t last long as he was still an Grand Admiral, and he had a full fleet to attend too.

- His position as Admiral meant he could keep you safe. So he took hos role very seriously.

- He gave you one last kiss on you’re forehead before leaving.

-He paused for a moment as exited his personal quarters, his back turned to you.

- “Try to stay out of troubles this time.” Thrawn sternly advised, yet had a small smile grow as he left for his post

- You both get a thrill from him rescuing you.

- And you both know he gets off to the idea of keeping you safe.

- He thrives off the idea of him being you’re protector.

- His love for you would burn the galaxy down just for you.

- But never would he admit that, he had to much pride.

Thrawn manspreads.

It's even canon.

Thrawn’s expression hardened, and for that single awful moment Qilori thought he’d made the final mistake of his life.      “Let me explain something, Qilori of Uandualon,” the Chiss said softly. “My job—the sole reason for my existence—is to defend the Chiss Ascendancy and protect my people. I will do whatever is necessary to achieve that goal, and will allow nothing and no one to stand in my way. Do you understand?” — Thrawn: Ascendancy - Lesser Evil (2021) by Timothy Zahn

Story idea:

The daughter of Thrawn and a human is in a Victorian-esque love triangle with Thrufian's two sons.

Hmmm... I'm sure he would let me ride him. Laying on the bed with a glass of wine in a dressing gown, he would let me do it, ordering me the pace and telling me i'm doing good work for him.

I'm sure he has a praise kink

Okay okay you got me there. I can see him as a cowgirl type of guy.

And that praise kink 😳

I'm just saying he'd probably be crazy for a "my Patriarch."

Reverse Robins AU!

Damian | Timothy | Jason | Dick

• Early Life:

The eldest of the bat boys, Damian is the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. The product of a one night fling when Bruce was 27 and newly cristened as Batman, he is the only "blood" son. The boy was raised and trained by the League of Assassins for the first 9 years of his life before being given to his father.

• First Outing:

Trained to always finish the job, Damian found his father's methods lacking when it came to his vigilante work. And so with his mind set on rectifying this fault, Damian donned his old robes that he wore when working as an assassin and followed his father out one night. Batman was up against a C-lister thug and when he beat him and left him there for the cops to find in the morning, Damian swooped in to finish the job.

• The Name:

After that fateful night, Bruce realized that he couldn't leave Damian to his own devices and decided to train him to be a hero. Henceforth Damian was known as "Shadow." The superhero name bestowed upon him by Commissioner Gordon, seeing as he was always in Batman's shadow.

• Home Life:

Damian has the worst relationship with his father among all of his adopted siblings. They had a strictly professional relationship while on patrol that bled into their home life. Bruce had no idea what a child needs, and beyond that he never wanted Damian. This child was thrown on him and Damian knows he viewed him as an unwanted and untrustworthy pest for the first few years.

Alfred became his caretaker in much the same way he was for Bruce.

• Independence

Damian left his life as Batman's sidekick at age 18. He kept the name Shadow believing it to still be accurate. Damian, while for the most part maintaining the life of a solo vigilante, has been a part of many super hero teams, and led a few as well.

Shadow is inducted into the Justice League two years after leaving Batman's side. And it is widely acknowledged that he is the only choice for the next Batman.

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! 💕

You're a doll. Have all of the Thurfian love 💙

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?