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history. philosophy. art & blues

@handsofthrawn / handsofthrawn.tumblr.com

ympire of ysalamiri
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blackmonitor

Bazrav’evi

Inspired by @myevilmouse​ - Infectious

“Bazrav’evi.”  Thrawn sounded pleased with himself. “Which means?”  She was almost afraid to ask. “From your suggestion.  Baz is compulsory, or implying obligation—an absence of choice.  Rav’ is a vulgar diminutive of the Cheunh equivalent of ‘fuck,’ and evi is an affectionate way to refer to a close friend.  So…compulsory fuck buddies.” “Perfect,” she approved.  “Your planet’s linguists would be proud.”

I might be bad at this but I could not upload this without the background. So here is the link for the actual sticker design. 

#thryce
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rt-d00-t

Ok, so I think they might be buddies. I mean, they hate each other. Definitely. He’s slow and condescending with no sense of humor and she makes rash decisions and is … a bit wild. Except, they would be unbeatable working together. They might be reluctant about it at first, but then? I mean I would totally watch/read them snarking at each other and kicking ass. Enemies to friends. Anyway I love them and I think about them a lot.

Art is by the very talented @penguinkiwi

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inquisitorius-sin-bin
pomrania asked:

Thrawn sitting in a throne-like chair and petting a white ysalamiri, like he's a Bond villain.

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inquisitorius-sin-bin answered:

This was so, so satisfying to draw, but mostly because that Ysalamir is my new best friend. This is poster sized, so view full screen for best resolution.

I am always self conscious about how I draw Thrawn, because I think I follow SOOOOO many people who draw him much better than I do, but I think this came out pretty well!

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lyrisei

Thrawn in his makeup artist era💋😩 if star wars wont give me my southeast asian representation i will simply have to do it myself. I guess thats why i love self insert so much man

#art
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blackmonitor

I’m afraid I have some bad news, sir.

Inspired by - Infectious - @myevilmouse​

Thrawn had expected as much.  When his XO came to his personal quarters in the middle of the night, it was unlikely to be anything else.

Commander Faro stood awkwardly, half at attention, half at rest, clearly discomfited by the sight of her commanding officer in his sleep pants.

Lips dry, eyes wide, adrenaline-infused.  Fingers twisting, weight shifting.

Yes, this was most unlike Faro.

“Report, Commander.”

#thryce