#Chiss is Nod Posting

[chiss-ticism]

Enoch is eternally slept on in terms of receiving anything resembling fleshed out characterization, I mean all of Second Generation are - but at least Irad has his Servitors of Irad and Zillah has the Black Hand and their Weeping Stone, but how much must he have meant to Caine for him to name the First City and their/their empire's language after him

[chiss-ticism]

[cracking my knuckles] Okay. So!

There's a lot that can be said for the Sabbat; a lot of it, not unjustifiably - especially from a more humanly inclined perspective, negative. But that isn't really the lump sum of its total parts.

[Cover art for Guide to the Sabbat.] (Revised Edition Sourcebook) Art by: Bill Sienkiewicz [a link to his website.]

The majority of Sabbat - those younger Cainites who were embraced without the broader context of the Anarch Revolt of yesteryear, born into an unyielding meat-grinder of war that saw a lot of the nitty-gritty details tossed to the wayside in favor of perpetually ~Riding the Wave~ - are, largely, a disjointed mess of passionate vampires who have lost sight of what it is that they are actually fighting for. I mean, in Time of Judgement: Gehenna, the end of the original World of Darkness' timeline in which - to varying degrees depending on the Gehenna Scenario you're running and which particular brand of Noddism you think is more interesting to subscribe to - the Sabbat is objectively correct about the end of the world being imminent and have been the only ones to, yet the book has this to offer:

The Sabbat: Uh... okay, so they were right about the whole Antediluvian thing. That doesn't mean they're disciplined enough to do anything effective about it. The Sabbat is the Mongol Horde of Kindred society. These Cainites are brutal, felonious, self-righteous, consumed by their own purposes and largely, a chaotic mess. Occasionally, they muster enough coincidences to keep them from shooting any more hookers in the head and occasionally win a game/Crusade, but thereafter they sink back into their mire of self-invoked monstrosity. They've got their capable individuals, sure, but even a bunch of capable individuals can't make up for the fact that the majority of its rank and file is better suited to stabbing itself in the eye and setting itself on fire than... well, anything of actual value. Add to this the fact that they don't have a leader [...]. Logically, the Sabbat should fracture, too, with maybe a few of the sect's luminaries possibly leading a subsection of the more competent ones and the rest of them proving to be the general pain in the ass they've been all along. Politics will rend the sect from within, disorder will undo it from without, and a select few of them will rise from the Ashes and take their place... wherever. Those are the ones who have the distinct pleasure of facing the Antediluvians in whatever form.

[Time of Judgement: Gehenna. Page. 17.] (Revised Era Sourcebook)

Scathing, right? So why bother giving them anything even slightly resembling a chance? For me, personally, it's a few things:

Sympathetic Origins

[The Inquisition] (Second Edition sourcebook) Art by William O’Connor [link to his website]

[I'd written about this in character before, so I'm just attaching that with relevant sources 😌]

"Let me set the scene for you," she leaned forward on the couch, elbows resting on her knees as she continues to speak animatedly. "The year is 1381 and you're one of the woefully socially underrepresented and otherwise abused masses of neonates and fledglings permeating the whole of Europe. There's fuck all in the hope department of your local village market; being bound in blood to your sire - an overwhelmingly common practice of the time - didn't give you the luxury of even that."

It was a very difficult time for the childer of Caine, probably even the most dangerous since the end of the Pax Romana et Vampirica Princes, lords, doges, caliphsv or whatever they called themselves had over-seen their domains with an iron fist for the whole Dark Medieval epoch. They thought everybody else was just as greedy as they were, so they locked themselves away in their castles and cities and trusted no one. The practice of siring as many Kindred as possible and then binding them through the blood that had made them undead was far spread. There were no minions more attentive, no fighters more loyal, and the more you had, the merrier. That worked perfectly for many, until the raging fires of the Inquisition were lit in Spain. To save themselves and keep their power, the elders sent their own progeny against the Inquisitors, who came armed with fire and faith, and numerous young childer were destroyed. Most of you, esteemed readers, know what happened next. Under cover of unrest in mortal society, the young Cainites managed to cut the ties that their sires had strengthened with their blood for so long. First, they were only a few, but almost two centuries later, their numbers had grown immensely, and not only in Spain. The sons turned against their fathers. The Anarch Movement was born.

[Encyclopaedia Vampirica, p. 73]

"Then comes along a curious kine with revolutionary ideals -- worked up about some tax or another," she waves a hand dismissively. "their personal gripes aren't relevant - their contribution didn't last for very long at all - other than to point out that it was a joint movement of kine whose its sparks lit the raging inferno that would become the Anarch Revolt. It turns out that there, and you'll never believe this, is a much better way of living than complacency." "Things only escalated from there: Mass bouts of distrust with spies ~presumably~ hiding in every dark corner, Childer on Sire violence was a main stay, diablerists ran rampant in their pursuits of power - as of yet unshackled by any sort of central power telling them to fuck off, so on so forth." "Between 1381 and 1493 - our cutoff date for the Revolt - some scholars crunched the numbers and took account of who had shown up for the Convention itself, estimating that that the vast majority of the European licks who were active at the start had either been put into torpor or, much more likely, had been taken in the cold embrace of whatever the hell is waiting for us after we die for good." [end]

On the other side of things, Hardestadt the Elder was drumming up support for the creation of the Camarilla - a coalition of Elders with the express purpose of pooling their resources together and beating back their wayward childer with brooms... It didn't really become the power house it is today until the around 1450s or so with his childer posing as him after his very-timely death at the hands of Patricia "Tyler" Boilingbroke [her sire was The Robin Hood, btw. Check her out - she's great.], leading the charge.

With the Elders putting their immense resources into one blood-stained bucket and the Spanish Inquisition was breathing hot air down everyone's frigid necks, the Anarchs were left with one of two choices: submit to the whims of the Camarilla or get put down like a dog for wanting something as simple as personal freedoms. Those who, stuck between a rock and a hard place, understandably decided that bending the knee to the Camarilla was better than ending up on an Inquisitor's torture racks became the Anarch Movement as we know it now-a-nights and those that didn't ended up forming the, nominally smaller, Sabbat. In the years to come, the Camarilla would systemically draw a blindfold over the eyes of their own childer and those of the Anarchs that reviled everything they stood for, covering up the existence of the Ancients and effectively muzzling effective praxis by being allowed to define their rules of engagement.

Not every anarch gave up so easily, however. The "decisive" return achieved by the vampires of the fledgling Camarilla, the repentant Anarchs and the vast majority of Clan [Banu Haqim] offered little in the way of of remedying the situation that had caused the situation to begin with. Enraged, these anarchs and rogue [Banu Haqim] rampaged through Thorns, leaving nothing but a burning, bloodied carcass of the town behind them. Although they had yet to organize themselves, the sect that would become the Sabbat had committed itself to its immortal course of action that night. In the half-century to follow, packs ("sabbats") of antitribu plagued the night, dragging villagers into the darkness and striking ever more precisely at the foundation of power the Camarilla was building for itself. These rebels organized themselves into a cohesive, ideological sect over those 50 years, agreeing on a rough doctrine of cause against the elders and the Antedilluvians who pulled their strings. Freedom from the Ancients' Jyhad had become the root of their purpose - even though the Lasombra and Tzimisce managed to destroy their Antediluvians, that only allowed the existing Ancients to fill the vacuum. By the mid-16th century, the entity known as the Sabbat had united in righteous opposition to the Camarilla and blind subservience to the greater evil.

[Guide to the Sabbat, p. 15] (Revised Era Sourcebook)

An aside: Their staunch adherence to the Path of Humanity at the cost of all others is one based in blending in as opposed to any claims to morality - no matter what the Kindred may try to tell you.

(Who's Who Among Vampires: Children of the Inquisition. Dominique Touraine) [2nd Edition Sourcebook] Art by: Tim Bradstreet [his website]

They're Not ALL Comically Evil (or stupid), I promise.

A lot of them are. I'm not going to waste your time and be like 'erm, actually the Sabbat are the uncontested good guys of Vampire's little corner of the World of Darkness' - that's a silly idea for a plethora of reasons I'm not here to argue with anyone about. What I am here to argue about is that they do have folks within their ranks who are dedicated to being more - doing more - than just the bare minimum in lip service to the Dark Father and that of their local Archbishop's ego. First thing's first - a clarification: a lot of the fucked up stuff you hear about the Sabbat doing is, a lot of the time, on enemy territory. The majority of them know better than to shit where they eat and those that don't are typically killed for it if they're ballsy enough to go espousing their vampiric prowess; the time isn't right to go mask off just yet.* *A lot of Cainites get away with things they shouldn't because of the Sabbat's strict adherence to personal freedoms above all else. They can't deal with people who are skirting the line without being accused of being The Man by some of their younger members. The Sabbat also intentionally leans into their stereotype as a boogeyman to make themselves less knowable, attempting to amass War Parties to hunt down anyone who can shine a light on how they actually operate on a night-to-night basis. When they're taking the war directly to the Camarilla, the intention is to put the heat on them within their own borders and wear them down through attrition. The Sabbat will do any number of things from shovel-heading to drive-by shootings on Cammies in public places [which is a masquerade breach either which way, given that they can't reasonably get back up and go about their day or let themselves be examined at a hospital.] By and large, the Elders and wise Ancilla of the Sabbat are more likely to take this whole [un]Holy War Against my Undead Grandma thing more seriously on account of having had more time to consider their lot in [un]life. The Black Hand, an adjacent death cult within a death cult that is so firmly intertwined with the Sect that most people think them to be one in the same, are the Sabbat's special operatives with stricter-than-most recruiting policies, to put it lightly. They predominantly recruit from that pool of individuals. However, if you need a more specific example of a Sabbat member having all of their marbles together and trying to espouse genuine change for the better - take the Ventrue Antitribu elder, Dominique Touraine:

At a massive Sabbat rally in Paris, Dominique asked her fellow anarchs, “What do we really offer when we offer Kindred freedom?“ "Breaking the Blood Bond is viciously hard work. Sundering the emotional, social and supernatural ties between neonate and mentor requires extraordinary temptation." "So we dangle before young Kindred the purest bait yet discovered: absolute freedom. We peddle the opportunity to act free from restraint, and that lure draws young vampires to the Sabbat like flies to honey. We tell them freedom means complete recklessness and utter irresponsibility. This has great appeal after the oppressive weight of years of domination by siblings, mentors, elders and Antediluvians in the Camarilla. So the young see the Sabbat as a chance to lead explosively violent lives with no one else to check their basest impulses.“ "But the crucial phrase is no one else.’ We all have to answer to our own inner voices about which desires to act upon. To me, freedom does not mean utter irresponsibility, but complete responsibility. It’s a chance to explore self-control and self-identity far from the stifling restrictions of the Camarilla courts. Eternity is a long time to spend not knowing who one is and what one stands for." “Most Sabbat members who have tasted the freedom that comes with inner guidelines and living by a personal code of ethics have found it infinitely more satisfying than slavish devotion to the whim of the moment. Our whims are not our will, and caprices are greater tyrants than the lords of the Camarilla. Only by living a vision greater than ourselves are we truly free.” Her words struck a chord in many anarchs, who embarked on personal quests for their own visions and senses of purpose. It also enraged the more savage members, who considered it a sneak attack on their freedom, and a tricky way to regulate their behavior in a manner they could not understand. These anarchs give the members of the Sabbat a reputation as monsters that live to kill. But many Sabbat members reject unrestrained violence for human, conscientious behavior: integrity over intimidation. These two groups wage a running battle for the ideological heart and soul of the Sabbat, and though the second group is a distinct minority, they carry great power in the eyes of the Sabbat rank and file. Though these vampires often turn to Dominique for guidance, she is likely merely to answer, “What do you think?"

[Who's Who Among Vampires: Children of the Inquisition. Page 68.] (Second Edition Sourcebook) She was present for the aforementioned Anarch Revolt, saw the formation of the Camarilla, the Anarch Movement, and the Sabbat and came to the conclusion that the Sabbat was the best avenue for genuine change available - never once losing conviction in those beliefs and continuing to encourage the younger Cainites around her to better themselves the entire way through. They're on the smaller side of the already, comparatively, small Sabbat - but proponents for eeking out something resembling an actual life beyond eternal war do exist.

[Image Source: The Red Sign, p. 4] [Revised Era Sourcebook] [Artist: Vince Locke, his website]

Culture

Other folks have mentioned the aspects of 1.) Acknowledging that you're not human anymore and that you don't really have to pretend to be. and 2.) Packs being akin to a dysfunctional family unit more than oft-mistrusted acquaintances with shared goals as they are elsewhere so I'll skip over those talking points. Whereas the Camarilla are all coworkers under the ever-watchful eye of the elders, the Anarchs (culturally speaking) vary widely from domain-to-domain, the Sabbat has a culture to call its own:

Palle Grande

The largest and most revered of the High Holidays, the Palla Grande occurs on All Hallows Eve. It is a time to celebrate the history of Caine, and re-enact small plays or pageants comprised of parables from the Book of Nod. It is a dark masquerade ball with political overtones, and usually hosts the Sect's yearly Ecumenical Council.

Fesivo Dello Estinto

The "Festival of the Dead" occurs during the second week of March. The purpose is to revel in being a vampire, provoking one's vampiric nature and celebrating immortality by laughing in the face of death.

Walpurgisnacht

This festival occurs on the 30th of April, exactly half the year around from the Palla Grande. Walpurgisnacht is the night where the Sect celebrates its founding, telling the tales of Silchester and the Anarch Revolt. It is also the holiday wherein new childer are chosen, dragged before the Sect and Embraced in a public and ritualistic fashion.

The Sacrifical Revel

The Sacrificial Revel, traditionally held in February, is a dark and thoughtful holiday. The Sabbat celebrate their freedom, tell tales of sacrifices made for the Sect in the previous year, and remember those who died for the cause over the centuries.

The Eides of Caine

The central theme of this High Holiday is that of the murder of Abel, and Caine's resulting exile from Eden. It is celebrated in late August, during the time of the first harvests, and is often celebrated through unveiling works of dark beauty, elegantly flesh-crafted masterpieces, or other artistic performances in Caine's honor.

[Caine's Chosen: The Black Hand] (Artist: Kirk Van Wormer)

Noddism + the Broader World of Darkness

I'm going to be completely honest with you - I just think Noddist lore is a grand ol' time. Book of Nod!Caine was, mostly, a sad old man who happened to invent the concept of murder [according to Demon: The Fallen] and not feel bad about that, specifically, ever. The fragments that Aristotle de Laurent and Beckett wrangled together paint a tragically compelling tale of a flawed person who tried his damnedest to do right by his childer and grandchilder, imparting the wisdom he learned over his many years of ~dubious~ undeath only to be scorned by a number of his grandchilder who, in turn, went on to kill their sires. Add onto that that God scorned him a second time over with the Deluge. Caine's city, of all vampiric cities, was the only one that required literal divine intervention to put a stop to whereas all of the others fell apart due to some variation of Cainite infighting. Ironic, is it not? All of that aside, the Sabbat is also the 'go to' if you want to deal with some of the more esoteric portions of the WoD from a vampiric perspective.

Want to piss off Werewolves? Go Dog-Tagging. ["The object of the game is to capture a werewolf, tag its ear (with tags similar to kind used by cattle ranchers), turn it loose and get the hell out of there before it comes back with friends".]

Want to deal openly with the demons and their infernalist pets or other such heresies like the Lilith-revering Bahari? The Sabbat Inquisition has you covered.

Changelings? The Kiasyd, rare as they might be, love to catch and skin 'em. You might as well talk to them before they get the chance. The Camarilla has answers to these things; but they're just veer towards secrecy in the name of dismissing the existence of these things outright or otherwise covering them up.

Viable Alternatives?

You could stick with the ever-blind Anarch Movement but I, personally, wouldn't put my money on the folks who struggled to claim large swathes of territory before the Camarilla's Elders and the Sabbat went eastward/willingly let go of their territory. This is not to mention that the Anarch Movement is a just Leftist Infighting: The Sect and that they struggle to make a lot of meaningful ground because of that. The Sabbat was held together with scotch-tape and vaulderie sludge on top of losing most of the engagements that they partook in, but for the longest time sectarian warfare was the Camarilla vs. the Sabbat [and sometimes the Anarchs were there] ignore the fact that the Sabbat, because of their own infighting, lost most of America to the Camarilla despite getting there well before they did. We don't talk about that.

The Black Hand

I think that @tzimizce summarized the Black Hand best in his big ol' post of recommendations for Sabbat sourcebooks [which I highly recommend - it's a solid list. Caine bless.] There, he wrote about Caine's Chosen: The Black Hand, a revised edition sourcebook that goes into the inner machinations of the titular Black Hand that everyone runs for the hill for when they hear their name:

Not only does this work seamlessly with the v5 timeline, it gives you an alternate, considerably smarter and more intelligent sabbat. These are not stupid shovelheads shocking you for the sake of shocking you and proving themselves 'inhuman' this is your blackops, special forces, your high end ancillae/elder special operatives who value resourcefulness and pragmatic effeciency while being considerably more zealous and actively watching out for Gehenna. I use this as a primary source for my critters because not only do I find they're more convincing but they're also dangerous. You can fight off a hoard of shovelheads you can survive a siege, but can your camarilla survive violently intelligent espionage and being churned inside out from within?

And, yeah, that's pretty much the appeal of the Black Hand. No notes.

[Vampire: The Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition. Page 74]

TLDR

So why the Sabbat?

Camarilla members always smell vaguely like cheese.

The Sabbat, while nominally considered a monolith by those outside of its ranks, is anything but. If you want the stereotypical murder-hobo experience, there's plenty of precedent for that. But peel back the layers of Camarilla propaganda [exacerbated by the Sabbat themselves] and you will discover a small contingent of folks who haven't forgotten their origins as abused fledglings and neonate banding together for the sake of the rights of their brothers, sisters, and siblings.

The Sabbat has always edged closer to the more ~supernatural~ elements of the World of Darkness than the Anarchs or Camarilla do on the face of things.

Anarchs also smell faintly of cheese. and are also doomed to fall down the same pitfalls now that they've taken center stage as the preeminent resistors of Camarilla oppression - all the while not having the Vaulderie to catch their fall.

The Ventrue Antitribu have little get-togethers where they dress up in knight armor. It doesn't get better than that.

Attention Sabbat Apologists

Why should I join the Sabbat? Please radicalise me

[vibratingskull]

Hello!!!! Hopefully this witn come off as annoying (idk when you posted the tranw stranded fic btw because Tumblr won't show me-)

But- I beg you, if it's okey, could you please write part 3 of what happens after they're rescued 😭😭??? You don't have to if you don't want to! But my heart it just- AHHHH

😭😭😭

I love it, I screamed, 😭😭

Idk how to end this 😭

It is not annoying at all dear anon, it is in fact flattering that you liked this silly story to desire it to continue! 🤗🤗🤗

Part 1 - Part 2

ThrawnxF!reader

Tags : Angst/hurt, abandonment, medical examination, semi-descriptive birth

“Your blood pressure is good and the blood test came back correct.” The droid says, praising you with its weird chanting voice.

The droid takes the blood pressure monitor off your arm as you remain silent, eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“We will do an ultrasound.” The medic comes to you, their datapad in hand.

Another medical examination…

Since you all embarked on Thrawn’s ISD, the Chimaera, Thrawn's first order of business was putting you and Thaishi in the medical bay, subjecting you to numerous medical examinations.

Clearly he didn’t trust in the Frog people medicine a lot, and now that you had access to modern medicine again he immediately forced you two to run a battery of tests. Blood tests, shots, weighting, fetal heart rates, glucose tests, ultrasounds, scanners... The whole nine yards.

Thaishi was absolutely terrified. She never saw any droids, never saw the white blouses of the medics, never got any shots, never saw all of this machinery beeping all around and she was thrown in this white sterile room suddenly, getting stripped down to have nodes of a cardiac monitor on her little chest, getting manipulated all around to get her vitals checked. You would have run to her to console her if you weren’t plugged in to so many monitors yourself! But Thrawn stepped in, entering the bay after his long shift he immediately got to embrace and comfort her, hugging her on his laps when she gots her shots. The little sweetheart never saw a medical needle before, even less have it piercing her skin. She cried and whined with big tears on her cheeks, begging her father to not let the droids or the weird humans touch her. 

Thrawn cradled her, soothed her patiently with his deep melodious voice, singing her a Cheuhn lullaby to dry her tears and took care to explain to her in detail every medical procedure that was happening for her to understand and calm down. He remained with her during the end of her examination, holding her little hand or keeping her on his lap.

Unfamiliar with Chiss vitals, the medics compiled every data and asked Thrawn’s opinion on the results, making sure Thaishi was healthy and wasn’t at risk with the new germs her organism never encountered before. 

The results were very comforting, she was strong and healthy, only a very mild-case of flu resulting from the encounter of the human germs, but her antibodies were already at work. The shots would do the rest.

So tired from having screamed and cried so much, Thaishi fell asleep in Thrawn’s arms, hugging him tightly, so he came to you with her in his arms, caressing her back tenderly. You were still examined, laying on the sterile bed. He took and squeezed your hand, sitting down next to you, listening to your own results.

The baby seemed healthy, they grew very well, maybe just a heartbeat a little weaker than the norm, but nothing alarming said the medic. After listing everything up, the medic put on their most magnificent brown noser smile and asked.

“So, do you want to know the gender?”

You looked into Thrawn’s eyes and shrugged. He nodded, understanding.

“We will keep the surprise.” He announced.

“Oh… Okay…” The medic responded, disappointed to not be the one bringing good news to their Grand Admiral.

Once an Empire’s dog, always an Empire’s dog…

“ Lady (Y/n) needs peace and quiet.” The chief medic said, looking darkly at his intern to keep them moving.

Thrawn nodded again, careful of your and your baby’s health. He remained with you for half an hour, squeezing your hand, caressing your forehead, kissing your cheek and speaking sweet nothing to you.

But you didn’t let yourself get charmed.

You knew very well where that attitude came from.

Soon…

Soon they will come to take your children away and Thrawn will let you go, leaving you to go back to the Rebellion and resume war between you two.

And your family will definitely disappear, torn apart across the universe.

You looked straight into his carmine eyes, with a harsh gaze, trying to convey your strong will.

You still haven't forgiven him.

He only looked at you back with even more tenderness and his caress became even more softer, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly.

“Do not look at me like that.” He invited softly, “You stab my heart.”

“You know very well what you did!” You retorted lowly but harshly to not wake up Thaishi.

“I know Ch’acah. But I needed to come back.”

You only frowned and remained silent, too tired to start an argument.

“The medics told me the baby was healthy.” He continues with his soft melodious voice, “You take such good care of them, thank you.”

“The village’s healer helped a lot.” You recalled him.

“We have true medicine now. My team will take over, do not worry about anything.”

“I was not worried back at the village!” You retorted. “Everything went well for Thaishi!”

“Here nothing will escape us.” He closed the matter. “Sleep, Ch’acah. Build up your strength, the term is close.” 

He kissed your forehead a final time before going back to his shift, not before dropping Thaishi in her new bedroom for the night.

How many hours did he already spend on the Bridge? No matter because he was ready to go back on duty immediately.

You spend the evening alone, eating alone at the grand table of the Grand Admiral suite. The plates were rich and expensive, worthy of Thrawn’s standing, but it had no taste for you. You got to bed early,  only to turn and turn in the bed, never finding sleep. You pretended to be deeply asleep 5 hours later when Thrawn slid silently in the bedroom, sneaking under the covers to hug you tight like he used to…

And days let place to weeks, traveling through space towards the Empire’s territory. Closer and closer to the end of your life… Thrawn buries himself in his work, sparing little moments for you and your daughter, while you spend all your time with the Frog people like those four years of bliss, when your family was whole. You did not waste any time to be an annoyance to the Imperials, making their days difficult, loudly advocating for the community’s rights on the ship, negotiating more spaces on the Chimaera, more time in the enlisted mess hall, freedom to come and go anywhere you please on the ISD, so on and so forth… Even if you have to recognize, the treatment of the community was royal in contrast to what you feared.

But apparently welcoming and taking care of a Grand Admiral for four years gives some rights on his ISD. You’re not delusional, you know that if they were any other alien community they would have traveled in cells. But Thrawn  would have never accepted his hosts to be treated like animals… So overall the Frog people have nothing to complain about, really.

That doesn’t prevent you from fighting for more to stick it up to those imperials.

And to their horror, you being Thrawn’s wife give your words weight and power here. A thing that seems to piss off Commodore Faro immensely.

She knows she is walking a thin  line with you, you may be a civilian but you are her Grand Admiral wife, she knows that if she says no too much you will go straight to Thrawn. So she does her best to mediate any situations to the best of her abilities.

It’s a shame she is an Imperial, she could do so much good in the Rebellion with her talents! But you know recruiting your husband’s officers will be a big no no! So you let her be.

Until you have another complaint to scream everywhere in the Chimaera!

So you actually rarely let her be.

To her utmost annoyance.

“The baby is fine.” The medic calls you back to reality. 

You blink, turning your head to the screen to observe your baby. You see them agitating themself inside your belly, giving little kicks and punches around.

“Do you want to listen to their heartbeat?” They ask.

You nod, putting on the headphones to listen to the little drum, beating rhythmically and you refrain from a sob.

What a wonderful sound…

The most wonderful music you ever heard with Thaishi’s laugh. You caress your tummy with your eyes glued to the screen to observe your sweetheart. The heartbeat is indeed weak, but you can feel it beat through your veins!

Your baby is determined to come into the world and meet you.

You know it!

“Can I get an ultrasound image?” You ask, trying to keep your voice stable. 

“I will send it immediately to the Grand Admiral.” The medic accepts.

You greet your teeth. You wanted the image for yourself, and share it with Thrawn later down the day. But they all tend to bypass you, only taking Thrawn’s desire and orders into account despite your pleas. ‘Are you sure the Grand Admiral would want this?’,’Grand Admiral Thrawn would never accept that!’, ‘I will ask Grand Admiral Thrawn’s opinion.’ and so on and so forth…

To them you may be their Grand Admiral wife but you’re also a lowly rebel and they have no qualms letting you know.

“We didn’t detect anything abnormal.” The medic announces, “You simply have a light iron deficiency. A slight change in your diet should mend your vertigo, no need to worry.”

“I am not worried.” You clap back, “Thrawn pushes me to come to the med bay at any signs of light weakness.”

“The Grand Admiral” He corrects, “... Simply wants to be sure his baby is healthy.”

You don’t like the emphasis on ‘his’.

“Well I know Our baby well, I knew nothing was wrong.” You retort.

You look black in each other's eyes in silence. 

Now you’re both pissed off.

“The images.” You order.

They sigh and shake their head.

“Right away…”

------------------------------------------

You stir your food with your fork.

This isn’t really good.

You lay down your fork and slouch on your seat, observing the mess hall reserved to the enlisted and ensign. There aren't a lot of people at this hour which is both a blessing and a curse. With so few people there are not many people to shoot you down with their gaze but you also cannot feel the lively and busy activity of a community, which is why you came here in the first place.

The frog people are not here anymore.

They have been disembarked on a planet of their choosing. You lost friends when Thaishi lost everything she ever knew. She hugged Lei really hard, refusing to let her go, her mother and you had to separate them. They both cried, refusing to say goodbye to their bestfriend. The Chiefs saluted you and Thrawn, thankful for letting them pursue their goal and having the opportunity to fly freely in the universe once again after a millenia. They shared a respectful handshake with Thrawn and pulled you into a hug, congratulating you again for Thaishi and the baby, promising to keep you in their hearts.

You would lie if you said you didn’t shed a tear as you saw them disappear on the planet surface, getting smaller and smaller as the Chimaera was flying away in space. Thaishi cried her eyes out and you had all the pain in the world to calm her down, hugging and cradling her.

You felt how the tension in the Chimaera’s crew suddenly lifted like a fog disappearing. 

Finally the weird alien community wasn't here to soil their precious Imperial ISD anymore!

You used to eat with them at noon in the enlisted mess hall, and now you’re all alone.

Without any friends and community on a ship with a crew that hates you, a busy husband and a dependant 4 year old child.

Busy… To not say outright absent.

Since you came inside the ISD Thrawn is consistently on the Bridge for long, long shifts. You only see him at noon one day out of 5 and feel him enter the bed past 3 or 4 a.m to rise back at 6 or 7 am. You're not dumb, you know he buries himself in his work to not face the fact that his family will soon not be anymore.

It was his idea to send your children to the Ascendancy,  and while he knows it in his heart to be the best solution it doesn’t alleviate the pain for all that.

So he works.

And works.

And works.

To the point that you feel like a single mother.

You sigh, massaging your temples when Karyn Faro appears in the mess hall, pissed off, holding Thaishi, in tears, by the hand.

“Lady (Y/n)!” She shouts, for everyone to hear.

“Thaishi!” You raise on your foot, “What happened, sweetheart? I thought you were sleeping already.”

Faro lets your daughter go and she sprints into your arms, burying her head in the crook of your neck.

“Your daughter entered the bridge!” Faro lets you know harshly, “This is not the place for a child!”

“I just wanted to see daaaaaaaaad…” Her little voice breaks down in terrible sobs. “I miss him!”

You hug her tight and caress her back soothingly.

“I hope it won’t happen again.” Faro bites.

“Or what?” You clap back, “What will you do? Throw her in a cell? She is 4 and the daughter of your Grand Admiral!”

She frowns harder and her nostrils flare and for a second you expect her to explode and scream her rage in your face and for everyone present to witness.

But she inhales and recovers her calm, speaking with a deadly cold voice.

“The Grand Admiral himself is asking you to make sure this incident does not happen ever again.”

She lets that sink in and you take the stab in your heart.

You look into each other’s eyes, angry and gauging the other down.

“I will speak with him about that.” You let her know.

“Dot that. In the meantime, keep an eye on your daughter, she could hurt herself roaming around the Chimaera like that. So many corners are treacherous…”

“Are you threatening my child?” You demand, ready to claw her throat, not believing what you’re hearing.

“I simply do not want to discover your precious child bleeding out in the machine's room.” She simply responds with a false smile.

She stands to attention and leaves you in the middle of the mess hall with your child in a mess.

You sigh. What a bitch.

You carry your daughter the best you can with your heavy pregnant belly to lay her down in her bed. She stopped crying but sniffs and sighs, her red eyes still wet with tears.

“I don’t like it here, mom…”

“What are you saying? You have a large bedroom just for you, you always complained you wanted your own space back at the village!” You try to make her see the good sides of the situation.

There aren't many, you admit…

Thrawn placed her in the bedroom next to the Grand Admiral suite, and you know in your heart he meant well. Thaishi complained so much to not have a bedroom for herself he thought she would be happy like that. And back where Lei and the other kids were here she could accommodate herself seeing her father less, but now she feels truly alone.

She sniffs loudly as you tuck her in her large, maybe too large bed, holding on to the covers.

“I miss Lei and everyone! Can’t we go back and take them back?” She pleads.

“No sweety.” You try to soothe her, “They resumed their nomad life. We do not know where they are now and we ourselves are heading towards our new home.”

“I liked the village!” She complains, “I don’t understand why we have to live on a ship!”

You caress a strand of hair out of her face tenderly.

“I know sweetheart. But you’ll see, you will meet a lot of children there, you’ll make a lot of new friends, go to school with a lot of kids, start a new life. Isn't it exciting?”

“Nooooooo…” She whines. “I liked how it was… And I don’t see dad anymore!”

“Didn’t you see him on the bridge?” You ask.

“I was immediately stopped by the adults.” She explains, “I called for dad but he didn’t even turn to me.” And she broke down crying again.

You lay next to her and hug your child tight, letting her wet your shirt with tears.

“Mum, I want to go home…” She cries,” Everyone is so mean here…”

You kiss the top of her head tenderly, pressing her against your chest, against your beating heart.

You didn’t tell her.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that soon, once her sibling is born in less than three months, she will be sent away with them in the Ascendancy.

Never to see you or Thrawn again…

You start crying with her and you hug each other.

Mother and child alone in a cold bedroom on an hostile  imperial ISD, with the sole ending to be separated forever…

You end up sleeping with Thaishi in her bed, holding her tight in your arms. You don’t feel how someone comes inside the room to pull the covers back over Thaishi, kissing her cheek tenderly and lifting you up to carry you.

You wake up at the sensation of being cradled softly, only to meet white and a military plaque. You raise your head to see Thrawn, carrying you bridal style to your bedroom.

“Sleep, my sweet.” He softly orders, “You need to gather strength for the birth.”

“No.” You immediately step your food down, “No. We need to talk.”

He lowers his carmine gaze to you, but remains silent.

He enters the suite and heads towards the bedroom, only letting you go to lay you down your shared bed. As he rises back to go away you seize his arm immediately to force him to stay.

“No. You will not escape this conversation.” You warn.

He looks at your resolute gaze and sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed, fixing the wall. You both remain silent for a moment, not knowing how to start. You get a quick glance to the alarm clock, informing you it was 4 am already.

“Thrawn…” You sigh.

“I know.” He simply says, “Believe me, I know.”

“You didn’t even turn to her?” You ask, flabbergasted. “She just wanted to see her dad.”

“I know, Ch’acah.” He admits, lowering his head lightly, “But I walk a thin line. I cannot let the most minuscule slip off happen.”

“She cried for two hours for Maker’s sake!” You start to feel ire raising in your blood.

“If I let them see anything, you three could get hurt.” He explains, “I am held at gunpoint, if I show any weakness towards any of you two they will devour us all. Thaishi and the baby included.”

“Another reason to defect.” You remark coldly.

“We already had this discussion, Ch’acah.” He patiently says.

“I know…” 

But that doesn’t mean you accepted the situation for all that! You can only see the good he could do if he joined the Rebellion, all the lives he could save and improve…

“I need the Empire’s resources.” He continues almost to himself, “Even if I have to make the sacrifice of myself.”

“Right now you are sacrificing your daughter. We barely saw you last month, you stopped eating with us, you come back to the bedroom when everyone is sleeping and rise back earlier than everyone else. I feel so… We both feel abandoned.” 

He lowers his head to fix his hands with intertwined fingers. He murmurs something so low you cannot hear it.

“What did you say?”

“I cannot face you both.” He repeats.

You look at the back of his head, how hunched over he is, how… fragile he seems at this very moment.

“The pain is too great.” He lets out in a breath, “Seeing you reminds me of what I will have to leave behind. Work helps me to forget, to not suffer for a few hours…”

“Is that why you take so many shifts? To avoid us?” You ask with a nicer tone.

“Yes.” He admits, raising his back straight, “I am a coward… It was my idea.”

“You’re not a coward.” You say softly, “But you are making a mistake, do not drive your daughter away from you. Thaishi needs her father to guide her, to love her.” You take his shoulder and squeeze it, “Please, do not turn your back on us…Thrawn, we need you as much as the Ascendancy needs you. Why can’t you see it?”

Thrawn turns to you to meet your gaze. You see so many emotions flashing in his carmine gaze despite his aloof expression.

“Do not reject us…” You beg.

He takes both of your hands to kiss your knuckles tenderly, reveling in your presence.

“I am sorry.” He finally says, “I indeed made a mistake. I put myself before the needs of Thaishi and the baby.”

“Stay with us tomorrow morning.” You propose, “Faro is competent enough for you to take half a day for yourself…” You squeeze his hands.

“Will you forgive me?” He asks, pleading with his eyes rather than his tone.

“Will you spare more time for Thaishi?” You ask.

“Yes. I will also accompany you to each of your medical appointments. I will spare you more time.”

You put your forehead against his, breathing deeply.

“Thank you…” You sigh.

His hand comes caressing your cheek delicately, tilting your head to capture your lips in an infinitely tender kiss. One since a long time ago… 

He kisses you lightly, like you could break at any moment and you respond, relieved to have your husband back.

At least for the three last months…

He leans forward to kiss your pregnant belly reverently, caressing it with his large palms, murmuring sweet nothing to your unborn baby.

“Hello you, I am back, sweet thing.”

You cannot help but smile, caressing his hair as he talks to your baby for long minutes. He finally rises to kiss you chastly.

“Sleep, cheo vir. It is terribly late.”

“Will you stay?” You demand, worried.

“Yes. I will.” He promises.

You nod lightly, satisfied for the moment. Thrawn helps you out to put on your pajamas, take off your shoes, gently massaging your sore foot. You sneak under the covers as Thrawn leaves the suite, promising to come back immediately.

He actually comes back with Thaishi, sleeping soundly in his arms and he lays her down next to you, kissing her forehead. You caress the tummy of your daughter as Thrawn takes his shower and comes into bed, Thaishi between you both.

He takes her delicately in his large arms and hugs her tight, a hug that she gives back eagerly despite being asleep. You stay awake a little more to admire this wonderful scene, father and daughter, hugging each other at last…

When morning comes you are relieved and pleased to see Thrawn sitting in bed, caressing Thaishi’s back softly as she sleeps still. You extend your arm and caress his cheek with your knuckles and he turns his head to you, a light smile coming to grace his lips as he sees you, eyes pouring love for you.

“Good morning, Ch’acah.”

“Hi you…” You smile back.

This moment is peaceful and tender, your whole family reunited.

But you both know.

It cannot last…

--------------------------------------------------

You groan, holding the low of your back. Your spine is crushed and your baby is kicking and punching relentlessly, preventing you from sleeping correctly for the last two weeks. 

Your term is not now, you still have two months to wait so your child just decided to get feisty with you. You remember how stressed you were with Thaishi, she kicked so little you started to fear she died in your womb. What a relief you felt when you heard her first scream.

Your baby may have a weaker heart but they appear determined to fight to live, and right now they’re fighting you.

You rise from your bed, in pain, feeling like you are about to wet yourself with how squeezed your bladder is. You walk slowly with very little step when you receive a formidable kick in the stomach.

“Ouch!” You groan, “You sure are full of energy, little one.” You laugh through the pain.

You enter the living room of the Grand Admiral suite to discover Thrawn trying to correct Thaishi's terrible table manners, and she seems too happy to give him a hard time now that she has his attention. They both turn to you, Thaishi with her mouth full, and greet you.

“Welcome, Ch’acah.” Thrawn immediately stands up to meet you, “Did you sleep well tonight?”

You sniff and purse your lips in response.

“No. Your baby keeps kicking me around.”

He presses his large palm on your stomach, circling your shoulders with his other arm. He smiles lightly as he feels a hit against his palm.

“They are so vigorous.” He notes, pleased, “They seem to be in a rush to be born.”

“You don’t say!” You huff, “They punch me all to their heart content.”

 He kisses your cheek with a low purr.

“I thank you for going through all of this for our family.” He praises you, “You amaze me everyday.”

You gulp discreetly. A family fated to disappear, sooner than later now… But you both keep the act before Thaishi, to preserve her. When she is not sleeping in your bed with the both of you, Thrawn is holding you all night long to comfort you and dry your tears. 

But you cannot cry in front of your daughter.

Thrawn wanted to tell her, but you formerly forbade him. You wanted for her to live as peacefully and fully as she could, without a ticking time bomb over her head and an imminent sense of doom. You just wanted her to live like any normal little girl.

“Thaishi, do not take such large bites” Thrawn chastises her, “You will choke yourself, little one.”

She looks at him defiantly, pushing another bite in her already full mouth, making her look like a hamster. Thrawn sits back in front of her to teach her while you serve yourself some caff. You groan again, folding forward when another kick comes punching your rib, cutting your breath.

“Are you alright, Ch’acah?” Thrawn asks, ready to jump into action.

You smile painfully, gesturing to him that this is nothing out of the ordinary as you come to sit to enjoy a breakfast with your little family.

Thrawn already filled your plate with your favorite, pushing it to you, intimating you to eat something. You wince, not hungry in the slightest with your stomach so squeezed.

“Be reasonable.” He says softly but firmly.

“Be reasonable, mum!” Thaishi repeats with her mouth full of brioche, “Be reasonable!”

You wrinkle your nose, but accept nibbling at your food to appease him. He took your plates away once you ate half of your portion, satisfied.

But if you had listened to yourself you wouldn’t have eaten a quarter of it.

“I must go.” Thrawn announces, putting on his white jacket, “Do you need help to dress first, Ch’acah?”

“Already?” You say, disappointed.

For the last month he took care to be more present in your life, staying as late as possible in the morning, putting Thaishi to bed himself even if it was in the middle of one of his shifts, helping you bathe or take a shower even after a full, long day of work and massaging your foot and shoulders before bed.

Faro holds you personally responsible for that, you could feel her shooting you with her glare furiously, but Thrawn was still the Grand Admiral of the ship, still efficient and hard working, never slipping off… So she has nothing against you, factually.

But today he wants to go way earlier than your new routine.

“This area is infested, I want to oversee any possible combat” He explains.

You immediately tense up.

Infested by who? The Rebellion?

You are ready to make a scene to prevent him from going to fight your comrades but he immediately understands your weird gaze.

“Pirates, Ch'acah.” He lightly smiles, “They are numerous in this part.”

You immediately relax.

“Oh… Okay. Good luck, love.” 

He leans forward to capture your lips in a surprising demanding kiss, you remain unresponsive for a moment, taken by surprise by such eagerness.

The birth is near, he is on edge as you are even if he hides it well.

“Urk…You are disgusting” Thaishi complains mockingly.

Thrawn and you both laugh at her reaction and he comes to kiss her cheek to say goodbye.She circles his neck with her arms and squeezes him tight.

Once he leaves the room, she immediately turns back to the table to take another bite, already throwing out what he was trying to teach her. So you lightly slap her hand away.

“No, young lady. Finish your plate first.”

She sticks her tongue out but finishes her plate nonetheless. You take a sip of your caff, observing your blue jewel in silence as she eats eagerly. She is growing and starving all the time, you have difficulty holding her in your arms now.

But not Thrawn.

He can still lift her and carry her like she weighs nothing. 

You remain still as you drink your cup, not showing how your baby is literally demolishing you from the inside, punching hard in your stomach. But when you have the guard of Thaishi you refuse to show your pain, you must be a strong mother for her.

But those kicks are really strong and… painful.

“What do you want to play this morning?” You ask her.

“I won’t have lessons today?” She asks with sparkling eyes.

You tuts, shaking your finger.

“Do not dream too much, young lady. You will do your homework as every other day, but today you can play a bit first.”

 She sighs in response but appreciates the prospect of games before lessons.

----------------------------------------------

You are in so much pain. It feels like a tool gripped your stomach and twisted it in knots before pulling on it like it was trying to rip it off of your body. You greet your teeth as you pretend to make your doll walk on the make believe doll house in the suite. Too lost in her game, Thaishi is fully focused on the figurines in her hands, mediating a negotiation between a client and a market gardener. 

You hold your stomach, breathing deeply through your nose. You ate something bad for sure.

“Mom?” Your jewel asks.

“It’s alright, sweety. Just dizziness, it will pass.” You smile through the pain, refocusing on the game of your little girl, you wouldn’t want to trample on the nascent romance between her dolls for anything in the universe!

Your doll is about to join the negotiation for some samara fruits when the entire Chimaera trembles suddenly and an alarm starts blaring out. Thaishi yelps in surprise and fear, losing her balance. You catch her in your arms and you hold each other tight.

“What’s going on?” She asks terrified.

“Pirates, most probably.” You answer calmly, trying to keep our own anxiety at bay.

“Are we… Are we going to die?” She raises her eyes round in fear up to you.

She never knew battles or war, and always lived a peaceful life in the village. You look into her eyes, flashing memories of your battles against Thrawn.

How he used to win with such talent and brio each time!

“No. No sweety.” You soothe her, “Your father is leading the battle. That means we are going to win.” You caress her back, pulling her on your lap.

“I am scared!” She whines, snuggling against your breast.

You hear people running in the attending corridor, the battle alarm still screaming in the loudspeakers. They are all rushing to battle.

“Thaishi, look at me.” You say authoritatively.

She looks up to you again with questions at the sudden change of tone, but listening carefully to you.

“Your father is the Grand Admiral Thrawn. Unbeaten and invincible.” You expose clearly.

She is way too young to know about all of that, no use to go into details, just enough to reassure her, “He is the tactical genius of this generation. There is no safer place in the Universe but his side. Do you understand me?”

You bite the inner of your cheek at how the humiliation you suffered at his hand, how many times you had to flee the battlefield to escape death and destruction. The long hours spent forming a new strategy that could take him by surprise.

To no avail.

Despite all your and your comrades efforts, Thrawn never showed any weakness in battle and wiped out all your attempts at assassination. 

If one could win no matter the odds, it is him.

“Do you understand me, Thaishi?”

She slowly nods, hugging you tighter. You smile comfortingly to her face soaked with tears and hug her.

“You have nothing to fear, my sweet. Your father is here to protect us.”

A light explodes outside of your bay window, a missile you determine, illuminating the bedroom harshly. You raise on your feet immediately to lower the blinds and protect your daughter from that spectacle but you don’t even take two steps you fall down on the ground, holding your stomach.

You’re in so much pain! You feel your blood boiling and flewing furiously in your spasming muscles.

What is going on?

“Mum? MUM?!” Thaishi runs to you.

You feel another contraction spasming your entire body and you gasp, all your air kicked out of your lungs.

“Mummy! Mummy!” She shouts, powerless, kneeling next to you.

She suddenly turns her head and jumps on her little feet and runs out of the room.

You’re in too much pain to just hear the battle outside or the commotion in the corridors. You bite your lower lips, drawing blood, curling over yourself pathetically on the carpet of the large bedroom when someone bursts inside the room.

You are suddenly being lifted up in the air and you cannot help a scream of pain in response. All your southern muscles are contracting and convulsing while you feel a wet and warm sensation spreading along your thighs, soiling your undergarment and dress.

Did your water…?

But it is too soon!

Way too soon!

The unknown officer, soldier or ensign is speeding in the corridors with you in their arms. Your baby had to come in the middle of a battle! 

When Thrawn is away.

They finally reach the med bay and enter without consideration for the other patient, shouting that the Grand Admiral’s wife was twisting in pain on the ground. You are being laid down on a bed as carefully as they can, a medic and a droid arriving at your side immediately.

“Her water broke.” The medic calmly says, “Let’s place her in the operation room.”

You wriggle on the mattress, each heartbeat getting more and more painful.

Your bed is pushed in a white, sterile room and someone transfuse you with something.

“Thrawn…” You gasp, “Where is Thrawn…”

“He is leading the battle, lady (F/n).” They coldly announce.

Where is everyone?

Why are you alone?

With Thaishi, Thrawn and all your friends were here to support you.

But today you are alone… In a cold room with droids and machines and imperials

Where did all of your life go?

You scream again as a new contraction stops all your thoughts. The medic chief enter the room, seemingly pissed off.

“What do you mean her water broke? The term is two months away!” He harshly announces.

“Labour started chief, she is fully dilated and the contractions get closer and closer.” Someone responds.

He hisses but takes his place as you wince in pain.

“Prepare an incubator! The baby is premature at 28 weeks, they will need intense care.” 

You close your eyes shut as a new wave of pain washes over you. 

“Thrawn! Where is Thrawn!” You demand.

“He cannot make it to you, lady (F/n). You will need to do it on your own.”

As to punctuate his words, the Chimaera is shaken again. The bed trembles, worsening your pain. You feel your sweat soaking your bed and dress.

It is so uncomfortable!

“Prepare everything, they may needs respiratory assistance, surfactant in an intubation tube. Their liver and kidneys aren’t formed yet. Keep an eye on the vitals and stand ready. Lady (F/n) you can push.”

“No! No, I want Thrawn!” You cry, “Where is he? He must be here!I can��t do it without-”

Someone slides their hands in yours and squeezes it tight and a female voice rises.

“He is fighting to keep us all alive. You must be strong and do it without him. We are all here to take care of your child, focus on your labor.”

You squeeze back her hand, the pain is so great the flashing white lights blind you completely, preventing you from seeing her face.

“We are all here for you right now!” She assesses.

You feel the tools pulling on your organs again, signaling you that you simply cannot wait for your husband to magically appear in the room and support you.

You’ll have to pass this trial alone.

So you start pushing, greeting your teeth and pressing her hand with yours with all your strength. You curse as the morphine is taking its sweet time to kick in, but you have no time! Your baby is coming now!

You scream as you push, feeling like your organs get tearing apparts in millions of shreds.

Maker, you forgot how hard it was…

You feel her circle your shoulders to help soothe you as you push.

“We have a head!” The medic announces, “Keep pushing, Lady. One last time!” 

You dig your nails in the metal bar you are holding and the soft hand of the woman supporting you and push hard!

“Come on!” She encourages?

You keep pushing and pushing, pain ravaging your inside.

Until you feel a mass passing through your inner muscles. And suddenly…

Silence.

No liberating scream of a baby.

Just dead… silence.

“Install the respiratory assistance and put them in the incubator, we must stabilize their temperature.” The chief orders around.

You feel dizzy and weak but still have the sense that something went wrong.

“My baby…” You moan, “Give me my baby…”

“They must go into intensive care immediately. Your job is to rest and prepare to take care of a premature baby.”

Your bust fall with a ‘oof’ on the bed, too tired to do anything anymore.

“Good job!” The woman congratulates you.

You turn your head lazily to her, and open your eyes round in surprise.

“Commodore Faro?” You ask, bewildered.

She nods in response.

“What are you doing here?” you ask at the end of your rope.

“I was running to the bridge when your daughter burst out the Suite in tears, screaming at the top of her lungs that you fell. I simply carried you here.” She explains.

You lose all your words.

She hates you.

Why would she do that? Why would she help you?

“But…” You shake your head, weak with the loss of blood.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn would have killed me if I turned my back on you at that moment.” She simply explains. “He could forgive me for not reaching the bridge for a battle, but not for me not helping you, especially when you are giving birth.”

“It… It doesn’t make any sense…” You insist.

“Because you’re weak and dizzy.” She finishes.

“Thaishi… Where is my daughter!?” You have a flash of clarity in your fogged mind.

“I ordered an officer to take care of her in the the Grand Admiral suite. She is well.”

“Go get her…” You order weakly, “She must be so worried I left her, my jewel… My daughter…”

She prevents you from trying to stand up, pushing you back gently against the bed.

“I’ll ring the officer, do not worry. I-”

She is shushed by the door opening.

Thrawn enters, immediately spotting you. He places himself at your side and takes your hand, caressing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Ch’acah. How are you?”

“Tired… The baby…”

“Is in intensive care, I know. I am sorry I was not here, my love. I failed you.”

“My baby…” You feel tears coming back, “They didn’t let me hold my baby… I want them in my arms…”

He presses his forehead against your, caressing your cheek tenderly.

“Be patient my love. The medics are taking care of them.”

He rises back up and turns to Faro. She stands to attention immediately.

“I thank you, Commodore Faro.” He ceremoniously says, “Thanks to you, my wife and baby are safe.”

“Of course, Grand Admiral.” She respectfully bows her head, “How did the battle go?”

“Very well. Some resistances that held on against us, but we rose on top.”

“As always with you, Grand Admiral. I will take my shift if you don’t need me anymore.”

“Of course, Commodore.”

They nod to each other and she leaves. Thrawn turns back to you and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Ch’acah.” he starts, “You must have been scared.”

You wipe your tears off, sniffing.

“I want my baby.” You insist weakly.

“I want to see them too.” He assures you gently but seriously, “But we cannot right now. Rest a little, it was a lot of emotions for you.”

“Stay with me!” You demand, afraid he would leave you now.

“Of course. I left the bridge to my officers and Faro will take command for now. I can remain with you.”

---------------------------------------------

Your eyes are fixed on your baby inside her incubator.

Your sweet little girl.

Your little warrior.

Nothing is yet won, so much could still go wrong. But she is taken care of. Thaishi is pressed to the incubator, observing her little sister intently, absolutely hypnotized by the blue baby sleeping soundly.

“Do not poke the incubator, sweety. Let your sister rest.” You say, laying in your bed.

You’re still in the med bay in a private room. You refused to sleep away from your premature baby. You wanted to be here at any signs of illness or bad reaction, to jump into action at any bad signs. Besides, you have been judged too weak to leave yet.

Thaishi stops poking and jumps in the bed to slide between your arms, snuggling against you.

“What’s her name again?” She asks.

“Thauko.” You say again with a little smile.

“Thauko…” She repeats lowly, “Why is she in that weird crib?”

“She is premature, she needs a lot of care.”

“Premature?” 

“She is born too soon, her development hasn’t stopped yet.”

“Is that… Bad?” She asks with her years old words.

“Yes… But we have skillful medics and she is a Chiss, like you. She will survive.” You say assertively.

You both remain silent, eyes fixed on the incubator, listening to all the machinery helping your baby staying alive. You sigh and bury your nose in Thaishi’s hair to inhale her scent for comfort.

That’s when Thrawn decided to enter your room.

“Daddy!” Thaishi shoots, already forgetting your demand to remain quiet for the baby.

“Thaishi, my little one.” He takes her in his arms, “Did you come to visit your little sister?”

She puts and winces, displeased.

“Yes, but she doesn’t move, she only sleeps! That’s so boring!” 

He chuckles lightly in response.

“It is normal, she needs to build her strength to grow and heal.”

“Well it’s boring!” She insists.

He comes to the incubator, passing a hand through one of the designated holes to gently, tenderly caress the tummy of his baby. You observe him observing his daughter with so much love in his gaze. She wriggles at the warm sensation of his large palm on her body, her tiny, tiny hand trying to seize one of his fingers to keep him here.

“Hello, Thauko.” He salutes her respectfully, like he would an adult. “My brave and courageous daughter.” He says almost to himself.

“Our little warrior.” You add with a sad smile.

“Indeed.” He hums approvingly.

You cried in his arms, terrified for the life of your daughter. But he remained assertive that she would survive, that you will all surpass that trial together. He was so adamant you had no choice but to get convinced that she would make it, no matter the odds.

But that is how he operates. Always choosing hope no matter what.

The feeble baby seems to burp, trembling in the crib with tubes in her little nose.

How much would you give to be able to hold her against yourself, to hug her tight and shower her with love and warmth. 

But your human body isn’t warm enough for her, preferring Thrawn’s warmth. He delicately grazes her plump cheek with his knuckles, blue skin on blue skin.

You silently admire that scene.

Your husband giving love to both of your daughters, hugging one and caressing the other gently. He retracts his hand off the incubator to leave your baby at peace and his gaze travels to yours.

“They are coming.” He simply announces.

You shudder.

He needs not to precise who, you know very well who he is talking about.

But now?!

In this situation?!

Did he lose his mind?

“With a premature baby?!” You demand, digging your nails in the cover.

“They have been properly warned and prepared in consequence.” He continues, “They are en route.” 

You open your mouth to retort but Thaishi beats you to it.

“Who’s en route?”

Thrawn affirms his grip on her body and turns his gaze to her, deadly serious.

“The Chiss Ascendancy.” He explains, “They come to pick you up.”

She tilts her head slightly, not understanding.

“I thought we were heading towards an Empire?”

“Me and your mother. You and Thauko will go your own way.”

She remains silent for a second, like she failed to understand.

“...What?” She asks with a trembling voice.

You give Thrawn a black look, warning him to keep his mouth shut but he slightly shakes his head to you, telling you he made his decision. He comes to sit on your bed, keeping her in his arms.

“Thaishi, you and your sister will join the Chiss Ascendancy. You will grow there and become adults, form your own families and serve the Ascendancy at the best of your abilities. This is for your safety.”

“You are coming with us… Right?” She inquires.

“No, my jewel.” He informs her, “Me and your mother have unfinished business at the Empire. Dangerous business, improper for children so young. The Ascendancy will welcome you, raise you and educate you in civilized ways. You will join a new family and walk towards a brighter future that we could not give you here.”

Her little hand that held his sleeve fall down to her side, gawking.”

“You will… abandon us?” Her voice is toneless with incomprehension and fear.

You rise in a sitting position to hug her.

“No, my sweet, no. We pondered this situation, this is the best solution for your safety. Our… respective works could never permit us to meet your needs and offer you a stable family. You would only suffer.”

“But… But… I don’t want to go…” She insists

“We know, little one.” He continues, “And we do not want to let you go either. But your safety and well being is our ultimate priority, the best solution is to send you to the Ascendancy.”

“But… No… No!” She decides, shouting, “I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay!” She starts punching his arms but he easily seizes her little fists to stop her as she cries.

“This is for the best, Thaishi. You may not understand now, but once you grow you will accept and recognize our decision was for the best.” He asserts.

She wails and screams and cries, refusing to calm down.

He hugs her tight, preventing her from punching and hurting herself, his head resting on her own little head.

“I don’t wanna! I wanna stay! Why are you abandoning us!?”

You press yourself against her, both of you holding her, letting her express her frustration, anger and fear through her tears and whines.

Your heart bleeds at those odious sounds. You only want to hear her laughs and giggles, those sounds are just so painful to you.

“They are coming to bring you to a better future.” He gently insists, “You will understand one day.”

“I wanna stay with you!”

“Once an adult, you will be free to come back and meet us once again. We could talk longly about anything you so desire. But before that, you will remain safe in the Ascendancy.” He keeps talking with his melodious, soothing voice.

You all three remain in a tight hug, consoling Thaishi, knowing the scars on her heart will take years, i not decades to heal.

----------------------------------------------------

Your legs tremble, feeling like jello. Thaishi holds on to your hand like a buoy in the open sea. Thrawn remains stills next to you, his hands clasped behind his back as always.

Before you a large Corvette is slowly opening its ramp.

Thashi digs her nails in your flesh when the ramp hits the floor, revealing Chiss with hard gazes. They silently and haughtily descend to join you, like they own the place.

Thrawn takes a step forward, with a respectful and polite expression.

“Admiral Ar’alani, I hope your travel was safe and good.” He asks in Sy Bisti.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn.” She responds coldly, “It was uneventful, which is quite surprising. Where are they?”

You flinch, squeezing Thaishi’s hand in yours. Thrawn take a step to the side, designing you two to his fellow Chiss. She walks up to you assuredly, gauging you up and down.

“I assume you are the mother.” she continues in Sy Bisti.

By instinct you place yourself before Thaishi, feeling yourself trembling before that woman. Her gaze lazily falls on your daughter, observing her intently.

“What is your name?” She demands.

Thaishi hides behind your leg and you caress her head.

“Your name, child!” She insists harsher.

“Thaishi.” You interject, trying to appease her, “Her name is Thaishi.”

“Thaishi…” She repeats before turning towards Thrawn, “The Mitth will not appreciate that name.”

“I fail to see why?” He responds, tilting his head slightly.

“Of course you don’t.” She turns back to you and your child, “Thaishi of the Chiss, it is time for you to say your farewell and come with us!”

You feel your daughter flinching behind you, oressign herself tighter behind you.

“A moment…” You ask, kneeling to her.

The woman named Ar’alani breathes through her nose and joins Thrawn to speak with him in Cheuhn. Your level isn’t good enough to understand the discussion.

You look at Thaishi, checking the zipper of her coat was up.

“Are you ready?” You ask softly.

She shakes her head.

“No… I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, my sweet. But it is for the greater good. You’ll see, everyone will be like you there, you’ll make a lot of friends and have a lot of fun.” You try to smile at her.

“But you will not be with me.”

“Thauko will be with you. Take care of your little sister, you are the eldest, she will need you.”

She sniffs in response.

“Mom… Can’t I stay?” She tries to plead again.

“Oh my sweet, I don’t want you to go either. But you would never be in security with us.”

You take her in your arms.

“Mum…” She insists.

You look into her red eyes. You see she is trying really hard to be strong and assured but you feel how close she is to broke. You squeeze her in your arms, reveling one last time in her.

“I love you so, so much Thaishi. Never forget that, please.”

She buries her head in the crook of your neck.

“It is time.” Thrawn announces, coming closer to you.

He kneels to Thaishi, holding her cheeks in his large hands.

“Thaishi, be strong. Obey the adults and work hard, do not neglect your education and look over your younger sister.” He says assuredly, the last orders from a father to his child, “I love you.”

He hugs her and she hugs him back, circling his neck with her little arms. You look at them, refraining a sob. You raise your head as you hear the wheels of the incubator, you stand up and press your hands against the glass, observing your baby.

You rarely had the occasion to hold her in your arms, she so rarely got out of the incubator. You gently take her out and kisses her forehead tenderly. Thrawn come caressing her head delicately and kisses her cheek. You press her against you one last time and put her back inside the incubator.

“Let’s go.” Ar’alani says, taking Thaishi’s hand and pulling her towards the corvette.

The Human medic pushes the incubator to who you assume to be a Chiss medic that take it and roll it towards the ship. Thaishi nervously turns back to you, falling behind Ar’alani.

“Mum.” She calls.

You wave at her, trying your best to smile comfortingly, hiding the pain you feel deep inside you.

“Mum…” This time her voice cracks.

She pulls on her hand, freeing herself and runs back to you. You immediately lower yourself and embrace her. Ar’alani looks at her, flabbergasted.

“Thaishi.” You broke.

“Mum!” She cries. “Don’t let them take me! Mum!”

You squeeze her hard in your arms when you feel getting snatched away from you. Ar’alani stands back up, holding Thaishi in her arms and turns back to the ship.

“Mum! Dad!” Thaishi screams at the top of her lungs, extending her hands to you, “Dad!”

You feel Thrawn kneeling next to you, circling your shoulders, as much to comfort you as to prevent you from running after your children.

“Mum!”

You dig your nails in Thrawn’s flesh, fighting the urge to sprint after that Chiss woman and take back your daughters with your teeth and fists.

“MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!” You hear her final scream as the ramp closes back on them.

And then the Corvette takes off…

And disappears away.

And you break.

In a million pieces.

You scream, clawing at Thrawn that tries to keep you whole. You tear up his uniform in your pain, tearing his blue skin to blood.

But he holds on.

Embracing you in his large arms, caressing your hair, speaking sweet nothing in your ears.

But you are just deaf to his words.

And you cry.

Suddenly your fight for the Rebellion feels so insignificant, and you wish you would have gone with your children.

Thrawn opens your collar for you to breathe better as you wail, cradling you tenderly.

“Breath, Ch’acach.” He tries to calm you down, “They will be safe there, not harm will come to them. Breath.”

You sob and gasp, right in the middle of a panic attack. Thrawn caresses your cheek with the back of his hand, holding you close.

“Calm down, (Y/n). Calm down.” He keeps chanting lowly, only for your ears. “I am with you.”

Your mouth is open to swallow big bowls of air but they never reach your lungs, getting stuck in your throat.

“Today I am with you to catch you.” He continues gently.

But he wont be for long anymore… In less than a week you will reach the Empire's territories and he will let you go back to the Rebellion.

And you will be alone.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

[al-astakbar]

☆ Kept — Thrawn x reader ☆

> summary ☆ Thrawn reveals a long-held desire

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader

> word count [1.8k] ☆ warnings ☆ breeding kink but it’s soft; PIV sex; creampies; cunnilingus; speaking Cheunh; visions of domestic bliss ;-;

> posted on ao3 ☆

You know that Thrawn has always kept parts of himself back. In reserve, waiting for the right moment to play his hand. But this… 

“You want to…” the word itself, the very idea sounds shockingly filthy when he says it. 

“To breed you, yes.” He tilts his head slightly at the fierce blush that creeps up your neck. “Is that not the correct term in Basic?”

You open and close your mouth several times, feel your heartbeat in your ears as your pulse surges hot with a sudden rush of arousal. “It… is,” you say at last. “But, why? I mean, can Chiss and humans even have babies?” 

He nods once, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Oh,” you say faintly, as your mind fills with visions of growing round and big with his child, maybe more than once. Of holding tiny bundles in your arms, of the heartbreaking sweetness of tiny blue hands and fingers and soft, wispy ink-black hair. Wide red eyes glowing up at you from little faces. And Thrawn there, always, gathering you into his family, keeping you safe and close at his side. Once or twice would never be enough for him. He’ll want you constantly, he’ll keep you filled and dripping, and always sated. You swallow hard, then take a few shaky breaths. “I… yes. Please.”

Something fierce comes over him then. He takes you in his arms, bears you down on the bed with a deep, claiming kiss. His mouth is hot on yours, his tongue sweeps in, parting your lips, and he brings a hand up to tangle in your hair. 

“Yes,” he repeats between kisses, his accent getting a little less cultured, a little further from the usual cool, modulated tone, “yes, you need this, little one.” 

The familiar term of endearment sounds much less innocent now, though it never fails to rouse you, to make you press closer to him in seeking to unravel that knot of tension in your core. 

He is still commanding and maddeningly confident. He takes in your reaction with a knowing smile as if he expected nothing less. “You need to be bred. I’ve waited far too long.” 

The word, again, makes your heart skip. Makes you hopeful, and lightheaded with need. You hadn’t dared to imagine, before this, that your association with Thrawn could be anything other than temporary. Except now he’s marking you. Now he’s kissing along your jaw, your neck, sucking a bruising kiss there on the sensitive skin too high for your collar to hide. Even before you start to show, everyone will see. It will confirm what the crew of the Chimaera have been whispering about for months. Grand Admiral Thrawn has a little pet. And he intends to keep you.

He has you bare in a moment, rucking your dress up past your stomach and then pulling the straps down to expose your breasts. He likes to watch them as he bounces you on his cock. 

You arch to his touch, squirming, desperate for more. Aching to know what it will feel like soon, when they get tender, when your body changes and ripens.  

“It will be a lot,” he tells you. “When I fill you up, there will be too much to hold inside you.” He sounds a little breathless at the idea, dizzy at the possibility. You can already feel the hard line of his erection pressed against your hip, and he’s grinding slowly, winding the thread of your desire tighter turn by turn. 

He still hasn’t answered-- “why?” Your breath hitches as he reaches down, undoes his button and zip. “Why do you want to…?” Why now?

But it seems to be some instinct Thrawn himself hasn’t quite come around to understanding, though he is beholden to it. The urge to fuck his seed into you until you’re swollen with it, filled to bursting. To keep you barefoot and domesticated and your thighs always sticky with his cum, a testament to his virility. 

“There is a phrase in Cheunh. Che’o euhn cabpen.”

“Che’o…My…?” He’s rubbing the head of his cock along the seam of your pussy. Slick, sliding in the wet. You can’t think, can’t get the words from your limited Cheunh. 

You steady yourself with your palms against his chest. He hasn’t bothered to take off his uniform. Almost never does. He is broad and strong underneath the pristine white wool. 

“My little wife,” he translates, his voice low and raw. He spreads your legs wider, hands on the backs of your thighs, pushes your knees to your shoulders so you’re wide and open. All for him. 

Another time, he would get on his elbows and luxuriate in tasting you, press lewd, open-mouthed kisses to your clit. He doesn’t have the patience now. He notches his stiff cock at your entrance and sinks in with a sigh. His glowing red eyes drop closed for a moment. His control over himself is tenuous, and already starting to slip. 

You whine at the sting, clenching around him. He groans, and rocks in further, and again. His thick length stretches your pussy, inch by inch until his hips are flush with yours. He opens his eyes. 

“Yes, my little wife.” His chest rises and falls with harsh breaths. “Once it takes, you will bear that title, among the Chiss.”

Once it takes, you’ll give him a legacy. The thought of it is intoxicating and powerful. It draws a shiver of desire up your spine, makes you feel just how big he is inside you, how firm and strong he is holding you down as he splits you open. His thrusts deepen, get rougher. He makes you take more, his balls slapping heavily against your ass. Words-- Cheunh and Basic-- tumble from his mouth. One you hear over and over--

“Cssut’sahn?” You ask.

Thrawn’s  eyes snap to yours. “Tight,” he gasps. “So-- so tight--” he breaks off with a growl and orders you to touch your clit, he lapses to Cheunh and back again, need to feel you cum. Your fingers find slickness and relief. Close. You circle the spot in time with his driving strokes, everything gripping tighter and tighter and you’re gasping his name. The need to be fucked and filled and owned, the need to be bred, all coalesce to a bright, singular pleasure. It floods your body, making you ripple and flutter around his thick length and then he’s following you. You feel hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, filling you up and overflowing, just like he’d promised. So much of it. It leaks out but he doesn’t stop, he moans and wraps his arms around you, his hips still rolling slowly.

He stays like that for a time, then pulls back so he can look at your belly. He puts a hand flat there on the soft skin, quiet and intent. When he eases his cock out of your pussy it makes a slick sound and then you feel a gush of his cum after. It drips out, down your pussy and ass, onto the sheets. Thrawn watches with fascination and an odd gleam in his glowing red eyes. He scoops some with his fingers and pushes two of them into your oversensitized, dripping hole. 

“Thrawn--” it’s too much, your body clamps down and tries to push him out, which makes more of his cum ooze out, coating his hand.

“You’ll need to relax, little one, if I’m to breed you properly.” His voice is again cool and soft. Amused at how pliant you are at his touch.

You moan helplessly at the thought of taking him again. But that is what he’s going to do. He takes pity on you, prepares you, gives you a second orgasm, his fingers stroking inside you at a decadent pace, milking slickness from your pussy. Just as you’re cresting, he dips his head, gives your clit a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss and makes a low, feral sound as you come on his face.  While you’re shuddering and whimpering, twitching away from his touch when it overwhelms you, he rises. He buries his cock in the slippery mess of your pussy with one deep thrust, and somehow he feels even bigger than the first time. Thicker and harder. He stuffs you to the brim, setting a hard, deliberate rhythm. Soon, with a stream of more Cheunh, he’s pressing into you deep, his cock twitching and flexing as he pants against your neck. 

“It’s important that I fuck you often,” he murmurs, his face pressed to your skin. “Every few hours, until the seeding takes. I know you are sore…” But he only lets you rest for a minute. When you are too tired to keep your thighs open, he turns you over, takes you from behind, pounding into you rough and fast. And when your legs give out, he holds you up, pulling your hips to his, the obscene, erotic sound of flesh on flesh filling the small stateroom. Several times throughout the day, his comm chimes and he has to leave you. He buttons up his uniform, adjusting his rank plaque so it isn’t crooked, and leaves you there on his bed. His toy. He doesn’t have to restrain you or lock the door. You stay, sated and docile, until he gets back. His little wife. The words play over in your head. 

You say them back to him when he returns and he allows you an indulgent smile. He enjoys the way you look right now, you can tell. He is more permissive, more attentive than he’s ever been. You feel treasured and delicate, like some particular rare piece in his collection. He turns you over on your back, taking in the sight of you. Your face flushed, eyes glassy with desire, your thighs pink and sticky, pussy swollen and dripping from a whole day of stimulation. He soothes his fingers along your slit, catching more of his spend and pushing it back in. He gives you one last soft, lazy orgasm, coaxing you higher and higher until you’re shuddering, rolling your hips up to his mouth. He speaks more in Cheunh, as if you understand it. You catch a little bit. Him telling you it feels good, doesn’t it, little one. It feels so good for you, to be filled up, to have all my cum inside you.

What you don’t understand now, you’ll learn. You’ll hear it in sweet little voices, you’ll sing it in lullabies. It feels almost taboo to imagine, a vision of years from now, of Thrawn with his temples entirely grey, his white uniform and rank plaque folded in a box somewhere. All his battles won. And you’ll sit with him in a quiet, sunny room and listen as he tells stories to your children.

☆ oh shit tag list i almost forgot ☆

but there is only one :) 

@crosshairs-wife​

[99tech99]

a/n: this is part of a longer fiction. general background is that reader is the senator for kuat and has leveraged her association with krennic to negotiate exclusive contracts between kuat drive yards and the empire. both by virtue of her senate/business position and krennic’s influence, reader is a member of the advanced weapons research division.

krennic and reader are in an established situationship and while its’s not like they had to fill out hr paperwork and file it with the emperor, everyone knows it.

WARNINGS: reader being mouthy. innuendo.

840 words below the cut

The hologram of the conference room of the Advanced Weapons Research Divison materialized in front of you. About a dozen Moffs and Admirals, including Tarkin, Thrawn, Yularen, Savit, and of course Krennic, were seated at a round conference room table. Some, like Tarkin and Krennic, were physically present. Others, like you and Thrawn were attending as holoprojections.

You turned your attention to the Chiss. “Admiral Thrawn, I hear your rebels have been creating a spot of bother on Lothal?”

Even as a holoprojection his glowing red eyes were unsettling as he turned to look at you. “A minor nuisance,” he replied in his velvet tone.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I would classify the infiltration and sabotage of an Imperial weapons depot a mere nuisance,” you replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Krennic attempting to hide his grin by pretending to read his datapad.

If Thrawn were affronted by your insolence, he didn’t show it. “They shall be dealt with.”

“Perhaps you could consider posting a guard?” you asked sweetly. Several others smiled now, recognizing your use of Thrawn’s favorite word.

“Senator,” Tarkin interrupted, the slightest edge of warning in his voice. “I believe we are ready.”

You gave a nod. “Yes, thank you Moff.” You folded your hands neatly in front of you.

“Gentlemen, I come before you today to discuss a rather vexing problem. There has been an alarming uptick in piracy along hyperspace routes used to carry raw materials from planets and way stations to Geonosis for assembly.

“As I’m sure you recall, over the past year I have attempted to contact each you multiple times to address the issue, but to no avail.”

“Pirates and Rebels are an unfortunate scourge on the Empire,” broke in Admiral Yularen. “Savit is constantly engaged with pirates in his sector. And as you seem to be well aware, Thrawn is handling a Rebel cell. The ISB is also monitoring these threats galaxy wide. This Division cannot drop everything each time there is a supply chain—“

“I am well aware that we are all so very busy.” You didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “You have all conveyed quite plainly my little supply chain trifles ranked too low for any serious consideration.

“However, I wonder, gentlemen, if my ships and supplies continue to be pilfered, how you expect me to build your Death Star.”

A ringing silence followed your words. You waited, suppressing your smile and maintaining your stony expression. You had never been told the name of the weapon Project Stardust was building. All heads turned in unison to Krennic. Indeed, he had never heard you address the project by its proper name either. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, a slightly bemused expression on his face, as though unsure to be impressed by or furious with you.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t look at him. He’s kept his mouth shut like a good boy.” Your lip curled. “Your own channels are not as secure as you may think.”

Savit shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat. Your smile widened. It was, in fact, a transmission intercepted from Savit that you had learned the phrase “Death Star.”

Tarkin was the first to speak. “What a creative little way to inform us you are performing espionage on the members of this council. Would you care to enlighten us as to what prompted this flirtation with treason?”

“Dispense with your theatrics, Tarkin.”

Savit spoke up. “It’s a fair point. On whose authority do you—“

“Coaxium and Clouzon-36 for hyperdrives. The components for a complete battery of turbo laser cannons AND a tractor beam…Nearly a thousand kilos of kyber. THAT is my authority.” You paused to give weight to your statements.

“The most critical concern now is the pattern to the ambushes. This is not the smash and grab work of amateurs.” Your eyes flicked to Thrawn.

“This group knows when and where to strike. It is clear they have accessed our shipping schedules and manifests.”

“Very well, Senator, you now have our attention,” said Tarkin in a resigned tone. “What would you have the Council do?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” you snapped. “I’ve merely supplied every Star Destroyer, TIE fighter, and turbo laser the Empire has. I’d assume as the highest levels of the Imperial Navy, you would know how to use them. Fix it!”

You ended the transmission abruptly.

There was a moment of silence.

“And now we all have our answer,” Tarkin drawled.

“To which question?” asked Thrawn with the slightest frown.

Tarkin shot Krennic a thin lipped smile. “The question of whether Krennic is a sub.”

A peal of laughter rippled around the table. Krennic was unfazed.

“A switch, Tarkin, if you must know,” Krennic corrected jovially. “That mouth of hers must be put to good use occasionally.” More laughter rang out. “Now, I understand why my personal life must be irresistibly and ceaselessly fascinating to you, but for now, shall we address the issue at hand?”

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[auspex]

VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt : The Empress

Hello! Here is my fourth fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my first fic is here

my second fic is here

my third fic is here

This fic is about a Nosferatu from the game I am the storyteller for, Blood and Silicon, which has its own blog run by the player @chiss-ticism here: @sanguineasylum. This one was a bit rushed so perhaps less well proof-read as the others D:

Van lazily threw a paper plane towards the garbage. “Now Vic,” she flicked one of her hoop earrings as she spoke; “I understand what he’s askin’ me to do. What I’m not sure about is if this one is worth the risk, and the time. We’re busy these nights, you know that.”  

Rubbing his face profusely, though expertly avoiding the open boils that covered his skin, Vic spoke through his hands. “Ugh. Look. Don’t kill me Van.” 

“The hell does that mean.” 

“Ok so,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest protectively. “We get the usual payment, a promising contact in LA, and we fuck over the Ventrue. And I uhm, kind of accidentally already said we’d do it.” 

Van’s voice was gravel. Even more so than usual. “Hand me the fucking file. Then get out.” 

“Thanksyou’rethebest bye!” 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Flipping through it, the request seemed routine. The only trouble was who it was for. But hey, no one said this shit would be easy. Van wouldn’t let Vic know it, but she would have agreed anyways. 

So many kindred wanted to travel to LA these nights, ever since the anarch foothold there solidified. Smuggling those who were being hunted by the Camarilla to LA and getting them properly embedded was just one of the many services the Nosferatu of San Jose provided, and Van was the essential head of operations. Once they made it to her, only the last leg of the journey was left. 

It was straight down the freeway to LA. Any would-be Camarilla pursuers knew it, and if their quarry got this far, they tended to become desperate. 

Now, getting there was only half the battle, but Van handled everything - the trip, and getting settled. An all inclusive package, to those who would pay the cash, and be a source of intel for the Nosferatu for the next 2 decades of their unlives. After doing it for a decade, Van knew practically as much going on in LA as she did in San Jose. 

She drummed her long fingernails on her desk as she read through the profile. “Richard, Hoàng’s sire, huh.” Surprising. Richard had embraced Hoàng in San Jose and clearly was positioning him to work closely with promising up-and-comers. Such a long term strategy would imply Richard wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

But it seems his past was catching up with him. Richard’s sire, Anthony, had recently awoken for torpor, and was not pleased with Richard’s defection. Those Cammie Ventrue had a reputation to uphold and all that. San Jose was far from New Orleans, his native city, but LA was even further from the Camarilla’s reach.  

Oh, fuck you Vic. And here was the kicker. 

Richard didn’t just want an introduction and safe passage to LA. He wanted his death faked, and assurance that the Nosferatu would corroborate his final death to any-would be investigators. 

Still, a deal could always be sweetened. Van smiled. Perhaps this actually presented an opportunity.

~

“Richard. Thanks for coming by.” 

“Of course. Thanks for having me. You have a lovely office. I like, erm, your posters.”

Van turned her head to look. Her tiger posters were striking, she had to admit. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Preciate’ it or whateva. Didn’t have you come by to show you my decor though.” 

The well-dressed Ventrue nodded and clasped his hands in front of them, laying them on the desk. He spoke in a slight Yat accent. “But of course. We can get down to business. How were you considering handling my proposal?” 

“Oh well, yanno.” She tilted her head deeply to the left, casually leaning and resting her head on her hand. “It’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve considered. Pretty close to acceptable, actually.” 

Richard raised his eyebrows, but kept a congenial smile. “I thought it was found to be acceptable already?” 

“Look Richie. I dunno, I guess you twisted Vic’s arm about it, god knows it isn’t hard to, but if you want a job done right, it betta be worth my while. I’ll do it, but if you want a real convincin’ death? Let’s bring Hoàng into it.” 

His smile dropped. “You might need to do some explaining.” 

“It’s simple. Despite what you’ve done for him, proppin’ him up or whateva’, and despite keepin’ him bonded, anyone with a brain can see he resents you for forcing him to cut ties with his kid early. He’s barely a neonate.” 

“I can see where you’re going with this. Perhaps.” 

“No, ya don’t, I’m not done. I reach out to him, I cut a deal with him - say I’ll get ya killed, and keep his hands clean. Now we got a paper trail of the death. If your old man comes around, we accidentally leak the info.” Van accentuated the word ‘accidentally’ with air quotes quite dramatically with her unnaturally long nails. “Plus, Hoàng now owes the Nos for doin’ nothing we wouldn’t have done anyways, so we all benefit. I can arrange it. You don’t gotta worry bout’ a thing Richie. I just need ya to confirm some things about him… and provide somethin’ to prove-” again, accentuated by air quotes- “we got your ass.” 

“This could work. And please, call me Richard.” 

~

“Oh, Vic, it is good t’have a reputation. A lesser kindred could have never pulled that deal off. Now, when ya meet with Hoàng, be real nice, okay?” 

“I always am, Van.” 

“Ya, I know, that was sarcasm. Fuckit man, get meaner. Make sure he really feels like he owes us - Richie here positioned him well, let’s get that intel. Now get out.”  

Van turned before Victor could reply and returned to her spreadsheet on the computer screen. She didn’t much care for technology, but with the amount of cash she had… well, it definitely was easier to use than a physical calculator. 

Cobbling together fake IDs took lots of money. Bribing anarchs to accept Ventrue in LA cost extra. Vic really should have charged this asshole more. 

[eric-the-bmo]

Hello! I originally followed for Yam of Starbound, but if I may ask what are your other ocs like? I see posts and reblogs about them and I am curious to learn more!

Aaaa thank you so much!! ;-;

Because I'm a Nerd, pretty much all of the other OCs that I talk about here are for a ttrpg setting called "The World of Darkness," in which many supernatural creatures secretly exist in a modern world.

Unfortunately I'm pretty bad at summarizing things/figuring out what's important, so I'm just going to ramble/summarize a Lot about my top guys for this- I'm gonna yap about vampires and demons and mages and whatever else, and will try to provide any needed context- So prepare for a lot of words, grab a coffee or something /lh

My main guy is Leo West, my character for an on-going campaign called Blood and Silicon. He was a librarian who, unfortunately, met a charming vampire bartender named Jeremiah and became his ghoul- which is a human bound in servitude to a vampire after drinking some of their addictive blood. That was all unbeknownst to Leo, though, since Jeremiah repeatedly erased the man's memories of anything that could reveal what he was doing with him or that vampires existed- and, yknow, it was kind of under the guise of being in a romantic relationship. These two were dating(?) and hey it was Not a good relationship. Did J reciprocate?? Idk but like.. Dude imagine dating your toxic drug dealer who tends to vanish a lot.

[art by crownedinmarigolds]

Anyway, Leo began to investigate the gaps in his memories (lowkey becoming a conspiracy theorist) and discovered something unknown that resulted in his death- and Jeremiah brought him back as a vampire, for reasons yet to be explained to him. Leo has no memory of the two months that followed his Embrace.

Leo later arrived in San Jose claiming that Jeremiah/his sire sent him there, and has practically been adopted by an older vampire named Harrison, who rules a large district of the city and is coincidentally his great-grandsire. After accidentally revealing to a would-be victim that he was a vampire, Leo is now blood-bound to Harrison as punishment; H is keeping a leash on this man.

Leo's in a coterie with two others, Blake and Percival [played by vtmgremlin and chiss-ticism], who've been tasked to show Leo the ropes of surviving as a vampire. The boys also do general quests and investigations for Harrison, and are currently back in Leo's home city of Chicago to fake this young vampire's death.

He's a very impulsive and easily-fixated individual, as well as being a chronic liar. He has the ability to turn invisible, see things that are supernaturally hidden/invisible, and can sense & slightly resist when others are trying to use vampiric charm magic on him. (He also likes dnd) Leo is fascinated with figuring out his sire's past in order to find a reason for why this has all happened to him.

______

Meanwhile, Jeremiah's past is largely unknown, save for the fact he's a descendant of Harrison and a Noddist scholar- aka a vampire who studies The Book of Nod, a book of vampiric scripture that talks about Caine being the first vampire, rules to follow, and signs of the end times. His whereabouts are currently unknown- but Harrison seems to think that Leo knows something about this, and has employed Percival to figure it out...

I'm unsure how to describe his personality, because while I have an idea of one in mind, he's a character technically controlled by the Storyteller of the game. From what I've observed, J seems to be manipulative, dismissive of humans, desperate to keep his goals and past hidden, and def has a drinking issue. It's a whole thing where vampires can acquire the affects of whatever drug humans are using if they drink their blood, so. Yknow. While most of his abilities are a secret/unrevealed, it's well-known that he's pretty good at mind control- it's how he made Leo forget, after all. His assigned ST character song is "Bug Like an Angel" by Mitski. (Is he ok-) [Fun fact! J is the only OC in this list to have a voice claim (and i am ashamed to admit that it's a youtuber called jschlatt)]

________

(Leo and Jeremiah's ship/duo name is Lovers Reversed, which of course is its own tag on my blog. Unfortunately my favorite part of their dynamic has to mostly be kept under wraps, since the other players for this game follow me and haven't figured out what happened with these two yet. They suck, I'm obsessed with them, and the song for them assigned by the ST is "I'm Your Man" by Mitski)

[art on the right by sm0kebreaks]

________

Ok, now for a character for a yet-to-be-developed campaign called Divine Intervention:

Long story short, Arielle is a former messenger of God who rebelled against Him & His angels with an army of fallen celestials, lead by her sort-of-brother Lucifer. The Fallen eventually lost the War that followed and were tossed into a place known as The Abyss, where each one, completely isolated, suffered and festered into demons from their torment. The walls of the Abyss cracked open in 1999, and Arielle successfully managed to escape 4 years later; Desperate to prevent itself from getting dragged back into the Abyss, it clawed out a human's soul and possessed the body of Cecelia Vadala, a semi-famous talk show host in LA. With Cecelia's memories, Ari was able to anchor itself a bit away from its psychic turmoil and gain some semblance of mental stability.

Arielle has teamed up with two other demons, Wendy and Imrael [owned by auspex and vtmgremlin], in order to find Lucifer and continue the War against Heaven (because what else is there to do?). She aims to get closer to Wendy in order to climb the ranks of demon society, because despite being a Herald she didn't do anything important enough to be noticed during the War, and thus has no current political standing. She views humans as normally not worth her time unless she can get something out of them.

She's charismatic, egotistical, loyal to her allies (hopefully), and is unfortunately sensitive to any failures; Ari's got to be seen as perfect, after all, since it was one of the first angels! She's a former Herald!! A Devil! She's got her pride on the line here! (But also, Heralds don't quite have a use anymore since the war is over, so she's a bit desperate to prove she has worth and can be kind of impulsive because of that. And, of course, due to multiple instances throughout her existence, she just really wants attention.) Despite all of this, I view her as also being silly, and I adore her <3

(Also, side note, she likes women)

Arielle/Cecelia has to keep up her talk show in addition to keeping her demonic nature a secret, lest any monster hunters find the Trio. Her golden eyes might make hiding her true nature a bit difficult though. Due to her torment (which is an actual game stat/mechanic), she is currently unable to enter churches.

Arielle is immune to mind control and has the ability to supernaturally inspire humans, understand all languages, and manipulate fire to a very minor degree- but she'll gain more abilities as her new body gets acclimated to its presence. It can also temporarily leave Cecelia's body to access its Celestial form, but it can't be without a human host for long lest it be dragged back into the Abyss.

I imagine her to have a deeper voice, similar to the lead singer of Rosegarden Funeral Party when she sings. The song in her playlist that probably fits her best is "Remember My Name" by Mitski (so sorry for all the mitski it's merely a coincidence and this is the last you'll see of her in this post-)

Fun fact; Ari likes butterscotch and pigeons :-)

_______

This next guy, while probably the least developed of the three, is for more of a written story and also requires a bit more context:

In the World of Darkness, there are reality-bending humans known as mages! Mages understand that reality is only the way it is because it is shaped by the general belief of the masses that this is how it "should be"- and due to this understanding of how reality works, mages are able to reshape parts of it around them with their own beliefs and willpower. The Mages of WoD have organized themselves into factions known as Traditions, with each faction having their own philosophical beliefs of how reality/magic works.

Stanley Winchester was originally a Construct/artifical human cloned from a member of a Tradition known as The Technocracy- i'll talk about them later- specifically made to explore a realm past the veil of our reality called the Gauntlet. He ended up going missing during a trip-gone-wrong, and somehow fell out of the Gauntlet and into Las Vegas with no memories of his past.

Stan ended up being brought in by some members of the Cult of Ecstasy, where he stayed for an undetermined amount of time. After an encounter with a dangerous mage who had lost their grip on reality permanently altered his eyes, he decided to leave the Cult and did so with the help of another mage known as Nameless [owned by auspex].

Unlike his Technocratic counterpart, Stanley is a chill person who follows the philosophy of Existentialism, talks a bit like a frat guy, and greatly dislikes the Technocracy. He's also extremely cold to the touch and doesn't age- both results of being a Construct- and developed a bit of an addiction flaw from his time with the Ecstatics.

Mage powers are a bit more fluid than other supernatural's abilities, but I'll try my best here to describe his magic: Stan can sense his immediate surroundings (and sometimes locations he's not even physically present in), detect spacial warps, and read surface-level thoughts and emotions. He can also peek into the Gauntlet, slightly affect small things about it, and of course can "step sideways" into it- quite easily, actually! Unlike other mages, passing into the Gauntlet doesn't cause him any pain ☆ ________

I'm very slowly working on his Technocratic counterpart, but at the moment I don't have anything substantial about him- save for he has a supernatural scar from the Gauntlet, gets nightmares about something, and is dedicated to the Technocracy's belief of applying Order to the universe. I also mainly just refer to him as Winchester in order to differentiate him from Stan.

Like the rest of the Technocracy, Winchester vehemently denies the exist of magic actually being real and views his own magic as a highly-advanced kind of science- all these other so-called "mages" are just Reality Anomalies, simple as that! His theme, at the moment, is "Chaos in The Jungle" by Pim Stones, and I'm curious how he'll develop once I actually start to work on him again.

__________

And those are the current main ocs I have!!! I also have others of course, and maybe one day i'll rotate those guys more. But aaaa ty for reading!! it was v fun to ramble about them 🫶

[thrawns-backrest]

Posting this now because if I edit it one more time I'll go insane. Enjoy!

Title: Buried in Ice

Characters: Ronan, Ba'kif and others

Chapters: 4/?

Summary: Ronan adjusts to life with the Chiss when a sudden revelation leads him to realize that his fate is not as firmly in his hands as he'd thought it was.

___

The Steadfast, Eli had to admit, was once again living up to its name.

For a vessel that had spent a week on standby without its crew, it had bounced back into active service with admirable ease. Or maybe it wasn’t the ship itself, as much as it was its crew Eli thought as he leaned back in his seat and listened to the chatter of various officers flitting between their stations.

It was not the Chimaera, admittedly – it would be a long time before any other vessel took the title of home for him – but the routine familiarity of it was welcome. Especially after a week on an unfamiliar ship sharing quarters with five other officers.

Even Tanik and Khresh’s bickering had its charm after that. Anything did, really, compared to the stilted awkward conversation of people who weren’t quite used to living together. And speaking of which…

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto?” He turned to glance at the Chiss orderly. “The bridge will begin pre takeoff procedures shortly. Is there anything you need?”

The Chiss stood there patiently and Eli threw him a sheepish little smile. “No thank you, I’ll be off in a moment.”

He got a nod in response and the other wandered off again, leaving Eli to sigh and run a hand through his hair. If there ever was a polite way to tell someone to kriff off… At least they were being polite about it.

Eli’s pride aside though, the Chiss had a point, Ar’alani didn’t take kindly to people lounging around on the bridge when they weren’t needed and it would be prudent of him to scamper away before she arrived.

With that in mind, and another long-suffering sigh, he leaned forward to turn off the terminal where he’d been pretending to read some datasheets. He made sure to give Vah’nya a little wave when she saw him get up and then he was on his way to his quarters, deep into the ship’s interior.

In all fairness, he had a good reason to avoid getting back. A very angry, very vengeful harpy of a reason that he’d managed to elude for a week.

Ronan had not been happy about being left behind on Csilla. Decidedly and understandably so given that Eli hadn’t gotten the same treatment. But that didn’t mean Eli had made the situation any better when he’d avoided Ronan and slipped away before the other could unleash his preliminary rage on him, thus ensuring that his esteemed roommate would be twice as furious with him now.

Not that Ronan didn’t usually have something to complain about – even if he didn’t he was quite good at making up reasons anyway – but Eli was sure it would be worse this time. Not least of all because Ronan had had time to stew in his anger while he kicked his heels back on cold, indifferent Csilla.

And now the one to suffer for it would be Eli.

Dragging his feet against the floor, he rounded the corner and saw the familiar hatch come into view. He half expected Ronan to be waiting for him outside but was surprised to find the hallway empty and even more surprised when he didn’t find Ronan inside even as he keyed the hatch open.

Eli took a step into the small space. Strange… maybe he’s gone to grab something from the mess? Although that was unlikely given they’d just picked their crew up from Csilla and the fact that Ronan avoided mingling with their Chiss colleagues like the plague. The light above the fresher indicated that it was unoccupied as well and Eli frowned at the sight of pristine untouched sheets.

No luggage, no rumpled sheets, no other place to hide in the room in general. Where in the Maker had Ronan gone now? Eli bit his lip, lingering at the hatchway. A certain recent conversation played on repeat in his mind and a nagging little feeling had materialized at the back of it. He was probably being paranoid, of course. But it didn’t hurt to check.

With his mind made up he spun on his heel and headed back down the hallway. The crew were already running pre takeoff diagnostics by the time he reemerged on the bridge and he gave a mental sigh of relief as he spotted Ar’alani in her command chair.

Marching up to it, he hid his wringing hands behind his back.

“Admiral. Do you have a moment?”

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto.” Ar’alani gave a miniscule nod. “What is it?”

“Has Lieutenant Ronan reported back to the ship yet?” He winced. “Lieutenant Lyron, I mean.”

A stupid mistake. Just because they accommodated him didn’t mean they extended the same courtesy to Ronan yet. Ar’alani seemed to ignore the slip up but some other dismayed emotion crossed her face.

“You haven’t heard yet?” she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

Eli’s stomach dropped and the room suddenly felt colder.

“Heard what?” he asked hoarsely.

“I suppose you haven’t…” Ar’alani stroked her chin. “Lieutenant Lyron is being reassigned.”

“Reassigned? Reassigned where? By who?”

“By General Ba’kif himself. As for where, I don’t have the details yet. All I know is that he won’t be part of the Steadfast’s crew anymore.”

“Isn’t this a bit sudden?”

Ar’alani huffed. “He’s been on Csilla for a week now. I’d hardly call that sudden.”

“It’s just –” he fumbled for the right thing to say. “Well, he was rather vocal about being unhappy here last time we spoke and I was wondering if it hadn’t gotten him in trouble.”

That seemed to catch Ar’alani’s attention and she narrowed her eyes, turning around to face him fully.

“Vocal in what way?” she asked briskly. The tone registered with Eli and he stiffened but kept his mouth shut as he weighed his reply.

Vocal in a way that could get him killed, he allowed himself to think in the privacy of his mind, because he’s an idiot. But the thought didn’t make him feel any better and he once again recalled his conversation with Ronan.

If Ronan had expressed those same grievances on Csilla of all places, and done so with his usual lack of tact, he could be rotting in a high security cell by now or worse, Eli thought fearfully.

You can’t pry secrets away from the dead, he remembered Khresh saying once, nudging a Grysk corpse with his boot. Yet another victim of their enemies’ fanatic suicidal policies upon being captured.

Were the Chiss prepared to go this far for the same reason? Absolutely, he concluded grimly. This war had cost them enough already.

He shook his head and remembered Ar’alani was still waiting for an answer.

“In a way that could be… misconstrued ma’am.” He said carefully. Maker, if he had to spin lies to save Ronan from his own stupidity.

Ar’alani, predictably, didn’t like his answer and Eli steeled himself as he saw her gaze harden.

“I will have to ask you to speak plainly, Lieutenant Commander.”

Kriff. He had stepped out of line. No matter how you looked at it, there was an accusation in his words and even if Ar’alani knew him well enough to realize it wasn’t directed at her, it was still one aimed at her people. And while Eli knew it wasn’t an implausible one, to make it without any evidence was a poor move on his side. Insolent even.

He felt his cheeks warm as he looked to the floor and clenched his hands behind his back.

“It’s nothing ma’am. I was just wondering.”

Ar’alani’s colder than usual gaze kept boring into him. For a moment he wondered if throwing himself out of the nearest airlock wouldn’t be less painful than this.

“I will tell you if I receive any additional news,” Ar’alani’s frosty tone snapped him out of his thoughts.

“For now we’re preparing for takeoff. Non-essential staff are to clear the bridge.”

___

Eli had in fact not been given any additional news. And neither had he been able to stop thinking about Ronan’s absence.  

And after his third time of bungling his duties because of being distracted, Ar’alani had finally lost her patience with him. The next time the Stedfast stopped on Csilla to resupply, she emerged from the duty office and all but dragged him all the way to EDF headquarters where she gave him some directions before storming off for a meeting with Ba’kif.

Eli was of course mortified for making her snap like that. One of the most accomplished commanders he’d served under and Tharwn’s friend, at that. But the predominant feeling that gnawed at him as he walked down the winding corridors of Csaplar was dread. Ar’alani hadn’t given him details and he’d felt too embarrassed to push for them but he was fairly sure he was supposed to meet Ronan where he was going. Fairly sure. Or maybe this was the place where he would simply learn of Ronan’s fate.

Eli now cursed his past self for thinking that leaving Ronan unsupervised was a good idea. If the man had decided to take things into his own hands – which he certainly had the gall to do, Eli thought as he remembered a certain shuttle bearing vital evidence rising into the sky – there was no telling how much of a liability he’d presented himself as and what the Chiss would do with him as a result.

And how the guilt of that result would affect Eli.

But that would have to wait, he decided, as he stopped in front of a numbered door and checked again with his notes before raising a hand to knock. There was a short pause and he used it to wipe his sweaty palms on his thighs.

Then the door slid aside and Eli’s mouth opened on reflex before promptly snapping shut as he stared at the person in front of him.

Chiss. Tall, bored-looking and dressed in administrator garb and unmistakably Chiss. Eli felt his stomach clench. This was supposed to be Ronan’s office, his mind supplied frantically, and again the image of Ronan’s cold corpse being disposed of somewhere flashed before his eyes.

Just as a flash of surprise crossed the Chiss’ face.

“Oh, the other one…” he murmured and Eli blinked at him dumbly.

“What?”

He tried to wipe the dumb look off his face but the Chiss was already turning away, talking to someone else further inside the room.

“Lyron, we have a guest.”

Lyron, Eli perked up, feeling a spark of hope, that was Ronan. And if that wasn’t promising enough, Ronan’s petulant grumbling answered them not long after.

“I’m busy, can’t you take them on?”

“I think they’re here to see you specifically.”

At that Ronan himself finally appeared at the door – or at least Eli had to do a double take to make sure that was Ronan, what with what he was wearing – and the moment their eyes met, Ronan’s face flushed almost comically.

“Maker Vanto, what did you do!” He hissed and yanked Eli harshly into the office.

“There’s only two of us here, why would you think stirring up trouble with the Syndicure was a good idea? As if they don’t distrust us enough already.”

Eli’s confusion only grew as he was dragged over to a cluttered desk, his relief all but snuffed out under the flurry of events unfolding around him.

“Wha–? No, I didn’t do anything!” he sputtered and almost fell back on his ass when Ronan finally let him go and spun around to glare at him. “I’m not in trouble, I’m just here because –”

Because I wanted to check up on you, his mind finished for him and the words died in his throat, his tongue seizing up in defiance.

Like hell he was going to tell Ronan that. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance on Mustafar he, Eli Vanto, was going admit he’d been worried sick about Ronan and feeling guilty on top of it. Eli would sooner eat his own boots.

He would sooner eat Ronan’s stupid cape.

He grimaced and tugged the sleeve Ronan had yanked askew back into place.

“I’m here because Admiral Ar’alani told me to check up on you.” He lied evenly and Ronan, the ingrate that he was, had the nerve to roll his eyes.

“I don’t need another handler.” Before Eli could protest though, he fixed his glare somewhere behind Eli and bit out a ‘what?’

Eli turned to see the Chiss from earlier sitting at another desk and observing them with open curiosity.

“Nothing, it’s just your language is so strange,” the man said thoughtfully, making Eli realize that he and Ronan had been throwing rapid-fire Basic at each other this whole time. Ronan met the remark with a scoff.

“And you think yours sounds any better to us?”

The Chiss blinked at him. Then gave a dainty shrug.

“Fair enough.” He got up and tossed a data cylinder Ronan’s way. “That’s the data on the Plikh case Ba’kif told us about. I’ve had enough of those blockheads for today so I’m going to the back to do some filing.”

“Fine. Don’t let your sleeves get caught in any equipment again.”

“Please, that was one time. But I’ll be careful for your peace of mind.”

“The day I find peace of mind in this job is the day this planet sprouts vegetation.”

“My, we should tell Ba’kif to find you some more leisurely cases then.”

Eli followed the whole exchange in mute wonder, flicking his gaze between one party and the other. For all that most of it was sarcastic or biting the whole thing had an almost casual air about it.

“Friend of yours?” he asked once the Chiss had disappeared in what Eli assumed was ‘the back’.

“My colleague, if that wasn’t obvious enough.” Ronan huffed and waved a hand at the seat on the other side of his desk. “Come on, you’re clearly not going away until you have a full report.”

A full report was indeed what Eli got. Mostly because of his own growing curiosity and not because he doubted Ar’alani would get all the details from Ba’kif. If she didn’t have them already, long before they’d landed on Csilla.

The more Ronan talked though, the more Eli was forced to set all his hang-ups aside and reluctantly admit that this, all of this, sounded like it was the best place for Ronan to be.

For starters, Ronan may have survived alright in the navy for the short time he’d been there but underneath all that swagger and bravado, he was still a civilian. And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Eli could tell he didn’t have the stomach for real military work.

The image of him clutching his midriff and looking decidedly queasy after a more brutal encounter with the Grysks was one Eli was more than familiar with by now. These things took their toll in time.

But more importantly, Ronan was doing well here.

Eli’s eyebrows shot up as he learned that Ronan wasn’t just training to be one of Ba’kif’s employees, he already had a few successful cases under his belt and from the sound of it, Ba’kif was entrusting him with even more sensitive ones.

And on some level, it made sense.

Ronan may have stumbled in the navy but administration, the tangled politics of keeping Krennic’s project afloat and coordinating all the secret operations surrounding it, that was his element. Eli himself had witnessed the man read the room and adapt instantly to his makeshift plot, successfully keeping up with him on Aloxor.

At the end of the day, no matter how much they disliked each other, Eli had to admit these were things Ronan was good at. Thrawn wouldn’t have sent him here if he wasn’t.

The man himself seemed to enjoy it too, despite the typical disgruntled front he put up. Eli may not be a savant in reading people, but he knew Ronan well enough by now.

Even the exaggerated way he gesticulated in his new robes didn’t escape him, he thought wryly with a private little sense of amusement. Trust Ronan to flourish in an elaborate, flowy outfit.

One thing that did worry Eli was that Ronan seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much. After hearing about Aguilos’ case, Eli had gone a bit pale, wondering if the loth cat that had gotten the cream wasn’t terrorizing the whole pantry and begging to get in trouble. But Ba’kif seemed to be on top of that for now… at least it sounded like it, Eli thought to himself.

Eli didn’t know the general too well personally but from what he could glean from Ar’alani he was a staunch ally of Thrawn’s and that support could have inclined him to watch over Thrawn’s envoy. Eli genuinely hoped that was the case.

Speaking of Thrawn though… Eli furrowed his brow as he only partially listened to what Ronan was saying.

No matter how much he tried to chase the thought away, he couldn’t help but feel like there was a familiar touch to how neatly things had slotted together. Ronan’s fortunate new position. Ba’kif’s support. It all seemed a bit too convenient.

Was it possible that…? No, Ar’alani had told him from the start that they didn’t know what to do with Ronan. They’d struggled to find a place for him on the Steadfast and if Thrawn had had a plan for him, he would have said so. Or rather Eli liked to think that despite the fact that not informing people of his intentions and still getting the intended results was exactly Thrawn’s style, down to a t.

The only reason Eli wasn’t entirely sure this was all some multi-dimensional game of Dejarik on Thrawn’s part was that he couldn’t imagine his mentor knowing what to do with a political player.

An analyst like Eli, sure, but someone like Ronan? Thrawn could recognize his talents perhaps but Eli couldn’t imagine him foreseeing this development of events.

In fact, the only thing Eli could think about as he left Ronan’s office, lost in his own somber melancholic thoughts, was that Thrawn himself could have benefitted greatly from an institution like this if it’d been around when he was. And that’s to put it lightly.

Ar’alani was characteristically close-lipped when it came to telling Eli stories of Thrawn’s past but she’d told him enough (not to mention Eli had been there for every step of Thrawn’s journey in the Empire) and he had no doubt his former mentor must have faced the same political struggles in the Ascendancy.

Constantly and relentlessly until they had eventually led to his exile.

An event that was instrumental in leading Eli to where he was now but that he felt deeply regretful of nonetheless. There was so much here, Eli thought, that Thrawn could be experiencing for himself. Things that Eli may never get used to himself but that must have been dear to him.

Of course, there were things Eli missed viscerally himself – things he may never experience again depending on how this war developed – but the fact still stood that Eli had made a conscious decision about leaving his home.

Thrawn hadn’t. And neither had Ronan, he supposed.

And he had to wonder how much of what Ronan expressed so boldly and unequivocally, Thrawn kept to himself. Eli shook his head slowly, feeling a sudden sense of sadness.

If there was anything that sounded like Thrawn, it was suffering alone, in silence. That unwavering stoicism that made Thrawn so many enemies and even more admirers. Eli could only hope that wherever Thrawn was now, he had the strength and support to power through whatever the Empire and the rebellion threw at him…

And that one day he would be here, personally, to show Eli all the things he had missed about his home.

___

taglist: @vibratingbonesbis @labextia

[chaoticstrata]

Got tagged by @serenofroses to post some WIP. Thanks, hun! Here's some of Chapter 4 of "In Harmonious Song" below!

post a paragraph, snippet, screenshot, or drawing layer of your current project! (✿◕‿◕✿) tag 5 people to post teasers of their wips too

“Bad,” Theron said quietly, “Really bad.”

Aketho studied his face, could see the toll of what the other spy went through in his expression and movement, but he didn’t push him for more information. “I see…” he murmured, setting back to work. He glanced up quickly, before adding, “If you need to talk--”

“Later,” Theron cut him off. It wasn’t harsh, but tired--Aketho could only imagine what the other man went through. “Not now.”

The Chiss nodded, and placed a bacta bandage over the worst of Theron’s burns. He’ll need to have a medic look him over once they get back to the hideout…hopefully a Republic one if they were able to shut down that tower. He reached up and turned Theron’s head slightly to get a better look at the bruises on his face and head. The other man made to pull away, frowning.

“Stop fussing, we need to--” Theron’s words drifted off when Aketho kissed his temple. He could feel the human freeze beneath his lips, a stuttered breath escaping past soft, bruised lips.

“Sorry,” Aketho murmured against his skin. He pulled back and caught hazel eyes with his own, “I’m just…I’m really glad you’re alright. I thought I had lost you there….”

“Aketho.” The other spy’s face softened, but held a look of worry as he glanced in the Vector’s direction.

“He’s not going to tell…trust me, he…knew before I did,” Aketho said as he let out a small laugh. He shook his head when Theron gave him a bemused look, “I’ll explain later.”

He gave the other man another quick peck to the temple before pulling out a medical scanner.

“Really?” Theron sighed, sounding irritated again.

“Just a quick scan, as long as there’s nothing too severe, then we can leave,” Aketho promised. The other man gave him a resigned look and nodded. As he said, the scan was quick. Thankfully, there was nothing majorly wrong, but he did make a note to give to the medic on Theron’s condition at the time of the scan. “Alright, let’s head back.”

“I swear, if both fleets have--”

“If both fleets have destroyed each other in the fifteen minutes--max--that it took me to check you over, we have bigger concerns than the tower,” Aketho huffed, standing and helping Theron get to his feet. “Now, let's get back and apprise Lana of the situation.”

Aketho had to admit that Theron was very good at keeping his face neutral, but the Chiss noticed the slight downward pull of his lips and the way his eyes hardened at the mention of the Sith’s name. Interesting. It would appear something more than the abduction happened while he was away, gathering intel from Torch. He'd have to keep an eye on the two of them, see if he can figure out what it was.

--------------------------------------------------

Tagging @zhakyria, @kemendin, @ruensroad, @frauleiiin, @eorzeashan (Sorry if I tagged you again ;-; )

[stardusthuntress]

Angel Eyes

Captain Rex x femaleChiss!reader

If you don’t know the species, I recommend reading up on Thrawn! His species is incredible! (if you want to just get to reading this, common Chiss physical features are described in the fic, it's sometimes more fun to figure it out as you go, right? tried to make it fun for those who wanted that option)

Not really sure where this came from, just a random idea I had last night that had to be written down, so here ya go!

Summary: Post-battle, Rex discovers that one of his favorite informants (she/her) is a species he is not familiar with. He does his best to make her feel welcome and accepted for her uniqueness, instead of despite it.

TW: reader is described, but only by attributes common to all Chiss. But she is described as female (she/her pronouns, it's self-indulgent, okay?) and it is sorta about body dysmorphia, sorta... if you squint. I like to write about the stuff a lot of us struggle with, idk why exactly, but here ya go! It’s just fluff really, sfw, though Fives suggests there could be more to it if you want there to be 😉 important note it does describe a bit of a potential injury scenario! Tried to be as vague as possible, but there is one mention of "not much blood" and a potential concussion, so if you're squeamish this might not be the fic for you!

author's note: comments on the tense preferences are encouraged! I usually prefer to read works that call the reader "you", but this one came out as "she", no idea why. But what do you guys prefer?

Reader is a mercenary of sorts, helping out the republic where she can, bringing in info, fighting when and where she can, providing her skills as a trained warrior, medic, etc. Usually, she steps in when the Jedi can’t be there.

This time it’s a battle with the 501st. And something goes wrong (as always). As usual, Captain Rex is able to seize the moment and win the battle, and then it's just a matter of patching up the wounded and repairing the ship.

She always wears her helmet, with a dark visor so no one can see her face, only a faint glow showing the shape of her eyes, creating a powerful first impression. Given that she’s an informant, the men never asked questions, knowing it's imperative to keep her true identity hidden. But this time, the visor shatters.

She tries to hide her face when Kix shows up with a med kit. But he needs to see her face because of the damage to her helmet. She says no. So, to respect her choice (consent is ALWAYS important kids), he scans her. And his data pad goes nuts with alarms. He’s suddenly very concerned.

She knows it’s because her species isn’t in his database.

He doesn’t accept that answer. “Every sentient species in the known galaxy is in my database. Why do you insist that yours isn’t listed in my database?”

“You just answered your own question”

“Oh ha ha, very funny. You want me to believe you're from the Unknown Regions?”

“Yes”

“Alright, jokes over ma’am, you must have a concussion, I don't think it's even possible to get ships into or out of the Unknown Regions. Let me see your face — WOAH!” He lept back and she flinched away.

Of all the things he was prepared for, she wasn’t one of them. Blue skin with prominent arches on her forehead and glowing red eyes. He was stunned into silence.

That’s when Rex walked in.

He heard everything as he walked over, but hadn’t been fast enough to tone down Kix’s reaction.

“I’ll take it from here Kix, why don’t you tend to the men down the hallway”

“Uh, yessir” he was trying to hide his reaction. He’d been through enough medical training to know a reaction like his wasn’t going to make his patient feel better. He sighed, and went to pack up his gear.

“Here take this one.” Rex held out the med kit he was carrying “I’ll use the one you’ve already got setup”

Kix nodded, took the med kit, and headed toward the exit, pausing as he reached the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said “I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realize the glow of your eyes beneath your helmet was real, I thought it was just a really cool effect. Not that the glow of your eyes isn’t cool! I just... wasn’t really expecting it,” he sighed, realizing he would do less damage if he just stopped talking. He nodded at the Captain, and stepped out of the doorway to the turret.

Now it was Rex’s turn to try to convince you to show him your face.

“It’s ok Rex, I’ve patched myself up after worse. You can leave the med kit, I’ll deal with it myself. If you could just grab my spare helmet from my ship, and keep the men out of here until then, that would be great.”

Rex sighed, and sat himself down, rummaging through the med kit. He had no intention of going anywhere until she was back on her feet.

“Let’s see, looks like the transperisteel shards from your helmet don’t have much blood on them. That’s good. Any minor scratches or bruises?”

“Rex, I appreciate it, but this really isn’t a good idea.”

“I’m not going anywhere, and as it just so happens, I’m the captain of this ship. Come here. Let me help you. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for us.”

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Waiting patiently for her to be ready to trust him.

She sighed. “Please don’t be surprised. I promise I don’t mean anyone here any harm”

“I know [your codename], I trust you with the lives of my men in battle, why would seeing your real face change that now? But we do need to get you patched up. And it could certainly be helpful to know why Kix’s med pad seemed so confused; if you're alright with explaining that to me. I trust you. Are you willing to trust me?”

She nodded and slowly turned towards him. "I do trust you, Rex" Her eyes were still trained on the ground, but he wasn't about to rush her. He knew how difficult it could be to process anxiety on the fly.

Gently, so gently it almost wasn’t even there, his curled index finger tilted her chin slowly up towards the light so he could check for injuries. Finally, her gaze flicked up towards his face, and he could see her bracing for impact.

But like he had promised, Rex wasn’t afraid, he trusted her completely.

And the look she saw on Rex’s face captured her attention. Where Kix had been startled and afraid, Rex was almost exactly the opposite. Eyes soft, brow uncreased, his eyes widened a little in surprise but not a bad surprise. This was an admiring surprise. Slowly a smile spread across his face.

“Perhaps we should call you ‘Angel Eyes’” he smirked.

She looked away, with a hint of a laugh. But her eyes flicked back to him almost instantly. Something about the way he looked at her made her not want to look away, not want to miss a second of the way he made her feel.

“And give up my reputation as a fearsome warrior?”

He laughed. “Na, just give 'em a run for their credits when they find out just how dangerous you are to the wrong person.”

She smiled.

“Well, the good news is your helmet seems to have absorbed most of the blow. There’s almost no damage that I can see, some minor bruising, but that's to be expected”

“Aww, an epic scar would have been fun though,” a small smile crept onto her face. He chuckled.

“But I’m not sure how to check for a concussion with your species. You wouldn’t happen to have some reading material or experience to help me out, would ya?” He winked.

You produced your datapad. “Mine should have my vitals from a good day to compare it to” she unlocked it, and handed it over. Trusting him to scan you, proving that this trust does indeed go both ways.

Rex gets her patched up and helped her clean up the remnants from her helmet. She’s still actively avoiding his men, and he doesn’t like that. This strong women, who is normally so confident and charming, is suddenly reduced to shyness and avoidance simply because her eyes are surprising. He doesn’t like it.

“Now, I know you’d rather we just go get your helmet and call it good, but that bruise on your cheek doesn’t need the pressure of a helmet on it for at least a few hours. And you need something to eat to promote the healing process and replenish everything your body just spent in battle. What do you say you accompany me to the mess hall? Besides, I’d like a chance to prove that those eyes are more stunning than anything, Angel Eyes.” He stood tall, pulling her to her feet, and extended his elbow for her to take, an invitation from the strong, calmly confident man.

She smiled, and placed her hand on his arm.

“Chin up, Angel Eyes. Let them see that burning fierceness I know those eyes hold”

She does and very soon gains her confidence back as them men treat her with reverence instead of fear.

Later, after a good meal, he sends her to take a nap. Selflessly insisting that she take his bunk for a quick nap while he finishes up paperwork. Her ship had been damaged in the fight, but he had his best men on it.

Fives quietly approached the Captain as he sat at his desk, buried in his paperwork.

“I see there’s a woman in your bed Captain,” he smirks.

Still focused on the pad in his hand, Rex answers “yes, she took a blow to the head so I insisted that she — WAIT! NO! Not like that Fives! Dank Ferrik, what have you done,” his voice fades off into a tired sigh.

The other men in the room are trying and failing to keep their laughter quiet. He can hear them giggling behind their hands and datapads.

He finds a task that requires an ARC's supervision and sends Fives off immediately. But it’s too late, the damage is done. It took Fives one sentence to convince the room that the good captain had a love interest. He was never going to live this one down. But he was more concerned with how she would take it. It was hard not to fall for the woman after all. He knew from experience watching her in battle that she had a nasty bite when provoked. But she also adored the 501st, and his boys in blue would do anything for their beloved informant.

Kix was seated next to Rex. Having redeemed himself as she and Rex had passed the med bay on their way to the dining hall, boasting loudly about how she had saved the day when they walked past - to keep his men distracted from their own pain, of course.

Sitting not far from the Captain now, he glances at him, “She is one hell of a woman, Captain” he whispered.

Rex tried to hide the smirk that grew in the corner of his mouth at Kix’s words, but he couldn’t entirely suppress it. “Back to work, doc, I know you’ve always have more reports than I do to finish up”

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!

[marroniere]

fic: strength of heart (tenderness of the soul), thranto, E, WIP, almost finished

Word count: 190,318 words so far (5000-word chapters are posted twice a week, 38 chapters overall)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, mpreg, Thrawn dealing with his traumatic past

Excerpt:

The wounded look in Eli’s eyes makes his heart ache.

Thrawn sets the feeling away.

The Rhigal sector is where Thrawn needs to be now. It is as obvious as the fact that nighthunters sleep in nests, or that spike-apple juice cures hangovers. Thrawn’s job has always been to protect the Ascendancy. This is, in fact, the only job he has ever had, even when he was in the Empire. Once, he called it the sole reason for his existence. No, not once.

The fact that protecting the Chiss Ascendancy is the sole reason for Thrawn’s existence is even more obvious than the fact that grillig fruit grows on trees.

That he is not in the fleet anymore should not keep him from doing the job, not when it, simply and plainly, needs to be done.

Eli may not want Thrawn to take unnecessary risks.

Judging by Eli’s tone, full of pain and disappointment, the whole…situation between them, their relationship, it might as well be over.

Upsetting as it is, Thrawn is not surprised. He is not made for a relationship. He is a fool for allowing himself to think otherwise. It only took one more threat to the Ascendancy to show him how big of a fool he was. How incompatible the only job he has ever had is with the idea of having a relationship with anyone, even Eli Vanto.

He goes to the refresher to clean himself up. Turns the sonic shower on and closes his eyes. Touches his stomach—flat, which is to be expected at less than three weeks.

If everything is to be over between him and Eli—

No, obviously, he does not want it to be over.

Perhaps serving the Ascendancy and being with the man one loves are not as mutually exclusive as he used to think.

When he returns to the bedroom, he sees Eli sitting on the bed and typing a questis message with too much concentration.

“Eli,” he calls.

Eli raises his head.

The wounded look in his eyes has not gone anywhere.

Thrawn’s throat tightens.

“Eli,” he calls, “could we talk?”

This is an uncharted territory, and one Thrawn feels particularly uncomfortable in.

Nevertheless, he should at least try.

Eli stares at him, unable to say anything.

This particular mix of hurt, indignation, and yet also a desire to hug Thrawn and not let him go anywhere is confusing.

Eli takes a deep, shaky breath.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t.

Then he decides to voice the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I’m scared for you.”

Thrawn answers nothing, apparently waiting for him to continue.

“And—” Eli starts.

Another deep, even shakier breath.

He keeps his voice as even as possible.

“I’ll admit, it actually hurts. Gives you an impression that you mean nothing at all to the man you love the most, you know.”

Thrawn keeps watching him.

Eli decides to risk. He might sound whiny, self-indulgent, weak. He hates complaining, and he especially hates it when people complain for no reason. He tries nonetheless. Smiling and nodding and acting as though everything was fine would be dishonest toward Thrawn.

Same glowing, unblinking gaze.

“Say something,” Eli asks.

[chiss-ticism]

the time between being cast into the Land of Nod and finding Lilith must've been a grueling thing to endure. Forced to wander alone for an indeterminate amount of time with no feasible hope of finding anyone, like, ever because you killed what was one of the 4 people you knew to be alive at the time... I would've gone insane within the week

[saltinekryze]

ahsoka 1x08 (finale!!) liveblog / post-mortem

under a cut because a) i have a lot of thoughts, and b) i finally updated my tumblr app and i can do that on mobile now

in the recap where thrawn talked about “wren and bridger” as a team and there was a shot of them grasping each others’ wrists mid-fight, the epitome of trust and partnership — chef’s kiss. i luv them

“even i fell victim to the heroics of a single jedi” yeah thrawn you better give ezra his flowers

the nightsister ritual is cool af. i’m still wondering why morgan elsbeth looked mostly human in the first place. is she generations removed from the nightsister line?

“the blade emitter is too narrow” lmao was that a nod to the criticism about how the lightsabers in rebels looked skinny

ANOTHER KANAN MENTION

“HE TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW” 😭😭😭

EZRA’S USING THE SAME EMITTER AS KANAN AND USING A BLUE KYBER CRYSTAL 😭😭😭😭 THERE’S ONLY TWO EMITTERS OF THAT SAME KIND. IM FINE!!!!!

oh i’m glad sabine got her helmet back. (did she get it back last ep and i just didn’t notice?)

ahsoka, sabine and ezra all fighting the troopers is VERY COOL!!! please imprint that scene onto my brain

oh it feels soooo good to see ezra fighting with a saber again

zombie troopers! oh shit!!

“what’s your excuse?” “i missed you” AWWWW I LOVE THEM ❤️❤️

“for dathomir” 🥺 idk can we get merrin and morgan to have a cup of tea together or something. can they just vibe together

yessss let diana lee inosanto’s skills shine!! major props to rosario dawson too, i can’t imagine the amount of training she undertook

ezra and sabine fighting more troopers together with lightsabers HELL YA

ezra’s nervous smile as he stabbed the night trooper PLEASEEE that is so him

so there we have it… sabine using the force…. cool moment but again dave. we don’t HAVE to make everyone force-sensitive. that being said, i do enjoy the contrast of the effort it took sabine to summon her saber vs. the ease with which ezra summoned his. different levels of force-proficiency! i suppose that’s something they’ll explore more later (in a different series or in the upcoming filoni film?)

ezra’s trust in sabine!! sabine’s trust in herself!!! THE FORCE JUMP!!! (i guess sabine really unlocked her force abilities just then. 0-100 real quick. i am still figuring out how i feel about that.)

the troopers just standing in a circle watching ahsoka and morgan fight lmao. like a cursed dance battle

SABINE CAME BACK FOR AHSOKA 😭😭😭😭 oh this is such a good moment for her character. i’m so proud of her

ezra up to his old tricks stealing stormtrooper armor and imitating voices on comms :)))

“i knew your master” sick thrawn novel reference. so where’s the chiss ascendancy

SABINE AND AHSOKA ARENT MAKING IT BACK HOME. I FEEL SICK. IM SO SAD

SABINE AND EZRA WERE FINALLY REUNITED AFTER ALL THESE YEARS AND NOW THEY’RE SEPARATED AGAIN. I AM ILL

MORAI!!!!!!

oh there’s shin. that shot of her on howler-back raising her saber? dope af

BAYLAN STANDING NEAR MORTIS GOD FIGURES???

the Daughter’s head is missing. so i guess they are setting it up so ahsoka will take her place somehow and restore the balance. she’s imbued with her spirit after all

the fuck is thrawn planning to do on dathomir?

so like. did ezra just steal a ship and sneak away? no one noticed? or cared?

DID CHOPPER RECOGNIZE EZRA FROM AFAR?? IM CRYINGGGG

“hi hera. i’m home.” THE LOOK ON HERA’S FACE ❤️❤️ EZRA’S TEARY SMILE

ahsoka telling sabine “it’s time to move on” … leave me the fuck alone. sabine HAS to get back to the ghost crew. she just has to. i cannot bear it if she never sees them and never gets to go home again. i can’t even think about it too hard

FORCE GHOST ANAKIN WATCHING THEM (sabine can sense him too so i suppose she’s officially part of The Disaster Lineage. good luck bestie)

THE BEAUTIFUL MUSIC!!!!!

i do have some bones to pick though: namely — NO ONSCREEN HERA AND EZRA HUG????? NO ONSCREEN EZRA AND JACEN MEETING??????? DOES EZRA EVEN KNOW ABOUT HIM?!!

i wish we got more of a hint of what baylan is up to. ray stevenson is a tremendous actor and his presence will be greatly missed.

i might just write an angsty fic about ezra returning to the empty communications tower sabine lived in and maintained in his absence. i’m in shambles. goodbye!

[vibratingskull]

Sparring session

“Au where you're an imperial officer (with a crush on Thrawn obviously 🤭)but you're bad at sparring, so he offers to give you "private lessons" in his quarters, and once there, things quickly become a little spicy..😄” - @ele-millennial-weirdo

Tag List

It’s a Thrawn x gn!reader

warnings : a bit of blood, nsfw implied at the end

You crash down, your breath cut out and a shockwave spreading through your spine. You stay laying on the floor, contemplating the ceiling and why you accepted to practice sparring given your atrocious level. You hear your opponent laughing joyously and the congratulations of the little crowd of officers that came in to train during their break. 

You breathe deeply through your nose, still down, when you hear footsteps and a head comes into your field of vision. Two red orbs observe you with indifference and a pinch of disappointment. The room goes dead silent. 

"Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), is this the true level of combat an imperial officer is capable of?" 

Reality finally hits you and you jump on your feet, saluting your superior. 

"Sir, I'm sorry sir!"

Thrawn slowly shakes his head. 

"Such a level is inadmissible. You are supposed to represent the excellence of the Empire."

You nod shameful. You can’t believe he witnessed you ridicule yourself like that. Not him.

"Yes, sir. One on one combat has never been my forte, this is why I continue training."

He looks at you from head to toe, then glares at the rest of the group in the back of the room. His gaze goes back on you, you feel yourself cowers under his burning sight. 

"Clearly the training is inefficient. You will come see me tonight, I will give you a private lesson. Let’s hope I can instill you some techniques by the end of it. You are all dismissed, go back to your posts.” 

You all head towards the door hurriedly. A hand grasps your arm as you walk past the chiss, squeezing it gently. Your heart skips a beat as you look up to him.

“Do not expect me to go gentle on you, you are clearly behind the rest of the group. It is an immense task that is ahead of us.” He warns with a steady voice.

You gulp, nodding once again. He releases you and you run after your colleagues, a little bit of apprehension in your stomach.

______________________________

You enter Thrawn’s training room carefully, hearing muffled combat sounds. You see Thrawn fighting with an electrical staff against his two DT-series sentry droids. You don’t say a word, sliding yourself on the side of the room against the wall, admiring the spectacle before your eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his athletic abilities. He gives blow after blow, escaping the deadly grasp of these droids with ease and agility, he manages to put one on his knees and use it as springboard to jump and deliver a powerful kick in the head of the second one, knocking it over. Your eyes widen, taking measure of his actual level in combat. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you tonight. 

“Override code : Rukh.” He orders 

The droids raise up and shut down. He stands straight, you see his shoulder moving with his heavy breath. You approach with his towel that you hand to him, he slowly turns towards you and takes the fabric with gratefulness in his eyes.

“Right on time Lieutenant commander (y/l/n), I permitted myself to do a warm up.”

He rubs his face and the back of his neck, fixated on you.

“I can see that.”

You squirm a little. You’re intimidated by his feat in combat, and terrified at the idea of fighting him, you’re not gonna lie. He towers over you, eyeballing your form and muscles.

You cross your arms in front of you to flex your biceps by instinct, to not show how intimidated you are.

“So. What do we do?” you ask, masking effectively your nervousness.

“You will take the staff and we will fight each other.” He shoves the weapons into your hands.

Okay…

You are bad.

But not THAT bad.

You take offense to that.

“Are you sure of you, sir? I won’t hold back.” You warn

“Good. Me neither.” He answers unfazed.

You frown. You both take a combat stance and without warning you jump on him. You crash the spear on the ground, missing him by some inches. He takes the occasion and kicks you in your exposed ribs, propulsing you against the wall. You hold your stunned head, the shock was hard. You glare at him with anger. He raises an eyebrow with a grin. He gestures to you to come to him, taunting you. Ire spikes in your blood.

You will need to feint him, you think. You stand up, cracking your neck bones to ease your muscles. You throw yourself at him, swirling the staff but at the last second you dive and aim at his feet with a circling motion of your leg, he jumps to avoid it and you sink the weapon in his stomach and ignites it.

Electricity flashes before your eyes, blinding you. You hear a horrible scream and smell the scent of burning flesh.

You stop it, realizing your error.

You hear a thud as his body crashes down, unmoving. You look at him, horrified. 

What did you do?!

That could count as a murder attempt. 

You toss the staff, throwing yourself over him, checking for a pulse, for a breath, for anything that proves he’s still alive.

“Sir?! SIR?!” 

Eyes closed, he doesn’t respond. You lift his black tank shirt to see his stomach. 

It’s not pretty.

You clench your jaw. What are you going to do?! 

Suddenly, a hand seizes a fistfull of your hair and yanks you backward. You yelp with surprise and pain. You’re projected on the ground once again and a body rolls over yours, you throw a punch without thinking,hit, and get one in return. You plant your nails in his side, drawing blood and tearing the fabric apart. A powerful hand comes and claps your wrist, forcing you to let go  so you try kicking him down with your knees but he doesn’t budge. Desperate, you raise your bust and bite down his shoulder, you hear him hiss.

It isn’t any noble martial art anymore but a crude fistfight of the street between bloodied and bruised people. You roll like that for a minute, in a messy battle of scratches and bites, ripping both of your clothes. You lock him between your legs to prevent him from getting back the upper hand, your waists pressed against the his. You only hear the sound of hiss, grunts and gaps coming from both of you and the taste of blood in your mouth.

At one moment, everything came to a halt. He managed to pin your wrists besides your head, flashing you his canines and growling at you. You growl back, shaking your arms to free them. You lock eyes, both panting and bruised, you see blood dripping from his nose, and you feel it in your mouth. You both stay still waiting for the other to do something or break the silence, but you just look into each other's eyes. 

You’re captured by those shiny red orbs.

And suddenly, something switched.

Your lips crash together in a messy, deep kiss. Your tongues meet and hug the other, you put your hands in his hair, disheveling them. He holds your cheek with one hand and slides the other under what's left of your shirt to your chest, caressing the skin. Your blood mix and your limbs tangle. You squeeze your legs, pressing him harder against your pelvis, igniting both of your passions. You roll again, helping him to get rid of what’s left of his own shirt, you caress his sides and chest, you lick the blood you’ve drawn with your bite and hear him moan. He kisses your cheek, caressing your back and sliding one hand in your pants to the heart of your cravings. You wave your back at the touch, gasping. You came back to your senses seeing the blood and the glass shards on the floor.

“Here?” You ask incredulously.

“Here, on the floor, like beasts. It suits us both...” He pants with desire and pulls you for another kiss.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar, @thrawnalani, @justanothersadperson93

[keeshya6]

Fierce & Feisty Friday

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Every Friday can be fierce and feisty! Just post a snippet or excerpt with a character who's being extra fierce or feisty so we can all get in the mood for the weekend.

Thank you for the tag @loonysama !

I am tagging: Anyone who wants to join in and has something fierce or feisty to share!

This week, my fierce and feisty comes from a scene in chapter 11 of An Unexpected Meeting. (Mando/Female Reader 18+) Mando has just learned that Reader speaks Cheunh, after she put a cocky Chiss in his place using his own language. If you'd like to read more, come on over to the ongoing story at Ao3!

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About fifteen minutes later the Crest grows quiet, systems shutting down. Flipping a few switches on the final sequence, Mando then turns his seat to face you. He cants his helmet again in the way you've come to recognize as curious.

"Yes?" you ask, a slender brow arched.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Oh, umm…" Your eyes move up towards the ceiling as you think about it, ticking off numbers on your fingertips. "Four fluently, if you count Galactic Basic. Two conversationally. And… I know random phrases from quite a few more."

The tilt of his head has become rather harsh by the time you look at him again, his surprise obvious for once.

"What?" you ask with a nervous laugh.

"You speak six languages? And phrases from others?"

You nod slightly and shrug. "Well, some of us learn how to fight off ten elite guards…and some of us learn six languages," you respond with a cheeky smile.

He just stares at you for a moment before finally laughing softly and shaking his head again. "You're full of surprises."

Another shrug. "Languages made sense for me. I had a knack for it and I grew up in politics. In fact, I was a diplomat, of sorts."

He nods slightly, rubbing absently at the side of his neck. "Yeah, that does make sense. You can't question people if you can't communicate with them."

"Exactly."

He pauses for a moment. "Which six do you speak?"

Another pause in thought as you mentally sort them. "Fluently, I speak Galactic Basic, Bothese, Rodese and Ryl. Conversational in Huttese and Cheunh."

He regards you quietly for a few moments and then nods slowly. "That's impressive."

"Thank you." You smile brightly at him. Then, a mischievous glint comes to your eyes as you lift a single shoulder to shrug. "What can I say?"

You pause, waiting as he starts to rise from his seat.

"I have a talented tongue."

Mando goes deathly still at that, halfway out of his chair.

His gloved hands, which had been lightly braced on the chair arms, now curl over them in a tight grip. His knuckles probably turn white under the leather. He takes a few drawn out, ragged breaths before slowly turning his head and leveling his visor on you.

"Fucking. Maker. Woman," he snarls at you.

For a moment you try to look at him innocently, but you can't hold it and end up doubled over your lap in a fit of giggles.

[mercurypilgrim]

I posted 654 times in 2022

21 posts created (3%)

633 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tearlessrain

@actualanxiousswampwitch

@merindagriese

@shark-wrangler

@swtorpadawan

I tagged 323 of my posts in 2022

#swtor - 77 posts

#laugh rule - 43 posts

#mass effect - 37 posts

#ghost of tsushima - 24 posts

#star wars - 21 posts

#art - 18 posts

#cyberpunk 2077 - 15 posts

#jin sakai - 15 posts

#so pretty! - 12 posts

#mshenko - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 101 characters

#i've not rewatched it in years but i am 99% sure i could pull a full presentation on it out of my ass

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Greedfall really is just 'Hats: The Game', huh

12 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

#4

Doc/Jedi Knight

8/10

I'm in the apparent minority that likes Doc, so I was always going to be in favour of Doc/JK.

I'm a sucker for the 'playboy with a heart of gold' trope, so it's no surprise really

A relationship build of bickering and banter?

Top tier

- - - -

My JK/Doc

"And then Kira said that she doesn't like guys with facial hair! That disrespects the moustache!"

Beryon chuckled, taking a swig of his beer.

The Jedi was a decent drinking buddy and a better friend, once Doc had gotten to know him.

Coarse, grumpy and prone to bouts of touchy sarcasm, Beryon V'lante was an acquired taste that Doc knew most people never acquired.

"Well, I for one think it's a glorious moustache." The Jedi assured him, and Doc waved his beer in the air as he gestured.

"Thank you! Wait-" He narrowed his eyes. "You can't even see it!"

The miraluka started to laugh, and Doc took a grumpy drink.

"I can sense it's majesty in the Force," the Jedi assured him, teasing. He wiggled his fingers in the air while he said it.

When he'd stopped laughing, he shrugged.

"Besides, I've kissed enough men to know that a moustache is the least weird thing you can come across."

Doc knew Beryon didn't adhere to the Jedi rule of 'please try and be celibate', and he couldn't help but wonder about that.

"Kisses with beards can be fun, anyway." He waved a hand. "Don't listen to Kira."

Doc had no intention of listening to Kira, not on this particular subject anyway.

Still, it might have even been the beer, but now he was curious.

"What's it like, then?" He asked, cracking open another bottle. "Kissing someone with a beard, I mean."

The Jedi looked surprised at his question.

"Well, I dunno how to describe it, really? Prickly?"

Doc frowned.

"That doesn't sound nice at all."

Beryon hummed.

"It's not bad, I just can't explain why it isn't." He admitted, amused. He ran a hand over his own stubbled jaw.

He gave Doc a wicked grin.

See the full post

13 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#3

@ Ven if you could pick a dish to magically know how to cook properly what would it be

Ven stares at you for a moment, not having anticipated your question.

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, frowns, and then thinks some more.

"Klemon tart because I want want be able to eat it whenever I want. Wait- the wedding meal from Warm Hearts, Cold Space because that sounded amazing- wait, no. ... Can I change my answer?"

After you nod in bemusement, he continues.

He looks very pleased with himself, impatiently brushing an errant curl from his eyes. The stream of consciousness you received a moment ago seems immediately forgotten.

"Chiss toasted salad, because it's Malavai's favourite." He says proudly, pleased with himself for deciding. "I have absolutely no idea how one toasts a salad, or why anyone would want to, but he likes it for some reason. I want to be able to make his favourite thing perfectly, and he would be so surprised."

He gives you a delighted, sly grin.

"He would accuse me of getting a delivery from the restaurant he likes, but it would have been me!"

He cackles as if he's planned a vicious practical joke, and not his lover's favourite meal.

Seemingly distracted from the actual point of the question, he calls up the holonet on his datapad and begins looking at recipes.

"I can't magically know, but I've got the holonet and that's basically the same thing, right?" He asks you, turning back to his searching before you can answer. He shoves the datapad in your face, barely an inch from your nose. As you reorientate yourself, you see a recipe page.

"Do you think this would be too hard?" He asks earnestly, a crease between his brows. He's quite forgotten the original question, now excited and fixed on surprising his lover.

You're not entirely sure how to answer him, especially when he takes your silence as dissent.

"Awesome," he breathes, beaming. "Hey, do you want to go and get ingredients with me?"

13 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

#2

I wonder if a lot of 'discourse' arises simply because of people's complete inability to separate fiction from real life.

"Reading X makes you a bad person because it's bad!"

"Reading mysteries with detectives in them is copaganda and you're bad for liking them!"

"Writing fanfiction about X is just as bad as doing it in real life!"

Yes, of course there are arguments for subtle social shifts from literature, but the stark complaints presented on Tumblr tend to run along the lines that there is no difference between media and real life. Reading about X is exactly the same as committing the act, or that consuming X media means you have been brainwashed utterly and completely by it's themes.

Is this fanfiction on AO3 with 38 views really causing the collapse of society as we know it, or shall we give most people a bit more credit when it comes to digesting media

19 notes - Posted September 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lord scrounge/Jedi Knight

10/10 absolutely iconic

Love me some Sith/Jedi

LS Jedi, Grey, or DS Jedi, it's all good stuff

The angst over having *gasp* feelings?

Even more angst over the fact that Scourge can't return said feelings at the beginning?

The bickering?

The found family dynamics?

Just

*chefs kiss*

- - - -

My JK snd Scourge and their uh, interesting dynamic:

Beryon wasn't a man used to laziness.

If he was awake, he should be doing things, and there was always stuff to be working on.

If there wasn't, it meant he'd missed something.

So, coming in dead tired after a successful mission and wanting to do nothing more than sleep, while not unusual, wasn't something he felt he should actually be indulging in.

T7, damn him, had just given a cheery whistle and headed off to his spot, no worse for wear.

Scourge's presence had filled their little apartment on Odessen, and Beryon felt himself relax the moment it brushed against his senses.

He dragged himself in, and felt Scourge's attention shift to him.

"Well," the other man said, amused. The deep rumble of his voice was soothing. "Look what the droid dragged in."

Beryon flipped him off.

He heard Scourge chuckle, and something being set aside.

"Come here."

Scourge's voice always gave him shivers.

Beryon was tired though, and not in the mood for anything fun.

"Scourge, I just want-"

"I just want to greet you properly." The Sith assured, and Beryon didn't believe him for a moment. Nevertheless, he gave a gusty sigh and headed over, dragging his feet.

Getting close, he braced a hand against the back of the sofa and leaned down to give his lover a kiss hello.

Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled, and he found himself being bundled up against a solid chest, bracketed in by Scourge's arms.

He struggled, spitting curses at his Sith, who just chuckled warmly.

See the full post

29 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

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