#arcticelves

[imwritesometimes]

If you feel inspired - and absolutely no obligations if you don't - could you write something for Lokius + "after they share a first kiss, they brush it off as not meaning anything, it was just a heat of the moment thing..." from the prompt list?

thank you sooo much 😘 -after they share a first kiss, they brush it off as not meaning anything, it was just a heat of the moment thing. it’s just lust, they’re attracted to each other, but that’s it. there’s no actual love there. they both know it’s a lie, but they won’t let themselves admit the truth, not to each other, or themselves (send me Lokius ship prompts) __________

Loki stumbled through a time door awkwardly, his long legs striding into an empty TVA time theater with an unsteady gait, his breathing uneven and ragged. He slid across the smooth floor a bit, still damp from the downpour he'd just barely escaped. He turned immediately back to the time door when he got his footing, waiting for Mobius to come stumbling into the room after him.

Loki watched the time door intently, hands on his hips, chest heaving. One minute stretched into two, stretched into an eternity. Droplets of water splashed the floor just outside the glowing, orange gateway and Loki held his breath. Time stopped as he stood there, staring, panic beginning to seep into the marrow of his bones.

At last, Mobius stumbled through the door, the gateway disappearing behind him, shoes squeaking on the floor as he careened back into the time theater. Loki reached out, steadying Mobius before he could fall directly into the God's chest. Mobius' arms wound around Loki's body as he finally came to a stop and tried to catch his breath.

Loki let his eyes fall shut for a moment, focused on the feeling of Mobius, safe in his arms. He thought about the storm they'd escaped, the moment they'd become separated trying to make their way to the time door Mobius had opened with his TemPad. He eased Mobius back a bit, eyes roaming over his body, checking him for any obvious injuries.

"You okay?" Mobius asked, voice rough, concern etched over his face as he met Loki's gaze.

Loki reached over and cupped the side of Mobius' neck, thumb brushing gently just below his ear. "Yes," he whispered as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to Mobius'.

Mobius went still for a heartbeat before he tugged Loki closer and parted his lips. Loki gently nipped at Mobius' lower lip and the agent hummed, pressing himself as close as he could against Loki's body. Loki inched one of his legs forward, slipping it easily between Mobius' knees.

Heavy footsteps outside the time theater door startled them, and they backed away from one another quickly. Mobius exhaled a shaky breath as he smoothed his tie down over his chest. Loki nervously tucked his hair behind his ear as he glanced from the time theater door to Mobius. When no one entered, he let out a long, shaky breath and licked his lips, meeting Mobius' gaze.

"I shouldn't have -- "

"I didn't -- "

They stared at one another for a moment before Mobius chuckled, a small smirk on his face. Loki stared back, biting his lower lip.

"Least we made it back in one piece," Mobius said quietly, ducking his head in an attempt to hide the flush creeping up his throat and over his face.

Loki cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah," he said, voice a bit high before he cleared his throat again. "Close call," he mumbled, slipping his hands in his pockets.

Mobius hummed in agreement and raised his head again, watching Loki with a curious look on his face. He wanted to cross the time theater, put his hands on the God again, crowd into his space and beg to be kissed again. "I think we earned a lunch break," he said instead, trying to keep his voice even as he spoke.

Loki swallowed thickly. He tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest as Mobius approached him, an easy grin on his face. He just nodded slowly, resisting the urge to step forward and press more soft, tender kisses to Mobius' lips. "We should get there before they run out of salads," Loki said absentmindedly, letting Mobius lead the way through the time theater door.

[lehdenlaulu]

For Sleepover Saturday, could you list your top five films with amazing cinematography? Thank you!

Oooh yess certainly! These are not in any specific order, but here goes:

House of Flying Daggers (2004, dir. Zhang Yimou, DP Zhao Xiaoding)

Hero (2002, dir. Zhang Yimou, DP Christopher Doyle)

Pride and Prejudice (2005, dir. Joe Wright, DP Roman Osin)

Gravity (2013, dir. Alfonso Cuarón, DP Emmanuel Lubezki)

Star Wars: Rogue One (2016, dir. Gareth Edwards, DP Greig Fraser)

I also feel like I should give a special shoutout to Dariusz Wolski’s work with the Pirates of the Caribbean movies because it’s what really ignited my spark of passion for cinematography.

[Talk to me?]

[politicalmamaduck]

This or That

Thank you so much for the tag, @arcticelves! This is such a cute game!

Bold choices!

honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or unsweetened iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafes // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macarons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or watercolor // fairy lights or candles

For clarity/accessibility, my choices were: honey and lemon, musicals, lemonade, strawberries, summer, forests, cafes, dragons, gemstones, owls, fireworks, brunch, sweet, Rome, classic art, sushi, moon, polka dots, croissants, matte, Degas, planetariums, road trips, coloring books, and candles!

I shall tag (with zero obligations): @lenuca, @batbrucewaynes, @jessacarstairs, @briarlily, @southsidestory, and @eowynsheildmaiden! <3

[lafiametta]

Fic title: "A Far Distant Fire"

For some reason, I’m getting a Star Wars vibe from this title, and while there was the clear temptation to go with some kind of a Din Djarin and Grogu story, I think this one was tailor-made for a pre-series Rebels fic. (I’m only half-way through Season 2, and I’m trying not to spoil myself for what might happen later!) And because I’m a romantic who loves all the tropes, it would center on Kanan and Hera, off on some sort of smuggling mission on an Outer Rim planet. Long story short: they have to leave the Phantom for repairs, there’s only one inn in town, and, naturally, only one room available. It’s all angsty bed-sharing (at first, Kanan offers to take the floor, but Hera tells him not to be stupid) and being suddenly and achingly aware of each other, wrapped up in all of these strange, unbidden feelings (because they’re partners, right? why would they risk everything they’ve worked so hard to build?). Finally – finally – they fall asleep. In the morning, Kanan wakes up first and for a moment just watches Hera sleep, knowing he might not get another chance like this any time soon. He thinks about reaching out to her, kissing her, telling her how he feels, but instead shakes his head and shifts onto his other side, letting his movement gently wake her from her hard-earned sleep and with her none the wiser.

[send me a made-up fic title and I’ll tell you what I would write to go with it]

[yverocher]

I just saw the post about your sweet Quincy and I want to express how very, very sorry I am. I know that hardly helps when you are grieving, but please know that I've experienced a similar grief and I am thinking of you and hoping that you can find some comfort in your happy memories.

Thank you so much for your sweet words and your condolences ♥♥ And I'm so sorry for your loss as well *hugs*

It hurts so much when something that horrible is happening, but you're right: all the happy memories are worth a lot and it's still comforting to know that what little time he had on this earth was filled with love and joy ♥

[tomjopson]

a late birthday gift for @arcticelves!! I hope your day was lovely ❤️❤️

Months have passed since the triumphant return of Erebus and Terror, after both ships successfully navigated the elusive Northwest Passage. On land once more, Thomas finds that he does not care for the praise or money following the expedition.

A telegram arrives from one Captain Francis R.M. Crozier that reignites Thomas's desire for the sea, as well as those he left behind at the docks in Greenhithe.

fill for @theterrorbingo prompt fix-it

Edward Little/Thomas Jopson, rated T, 2.2k words

[gigi-sinclair]

So @arcticelves is having a birthday today, and we have to celebrate! Thank you so much for all you’ve done for The Terror fandom, and for inspiring me personally. I started this a long time ago, based those images from The Transformers: The Last Knight and any picture of Matthew McNulty in period dress ever. It never went anywhere, and it’s definitely not complete, but here, for you: “For Honour and For Glory.” 

Edward notices the horse, a lovely chestnut mare, before he notices its rider.

His brother knights would laugh to know it. George would laugh, in any case. “No wonder your bed is always empty,” Edward can hear him saying. “When you'd rather stare at a pretty horse than a handsome man.” John would shift awkwardly in place, and try to ignore them.

George would be right about one thing, though. This stranger is handsome. His hair is thick and black, his beard just as dark. He wears burnished armour and a fox fur collar that draws even Edward's gaze, as disinterested as he is in fashion. Most remarkable are the man's eyes. They're a piercing light blue Edward can't recall ever seeing before.

“Sir Edward? Sir George? Sir John?” The man asks, as he brings his horse to a staggering halt before them.

George stands up. “Indeed.”

The man casts his beautiful eyes about. Edward feels at once self-conscious. Their camp is rustic, nothing more than three small tents and a cooking pot over the fire, but they are simple men, with simple needs. They made that decision long ago.

“I come from the court of Lord Crozier,” the man says. Edward knows of it. From what he's heard, that place is the opposite of simple. The man dismounts, stumbling a little as he puts his foot on the ground. Edward resists the urge to offer him a hand. “We are in need of help.”

“You are in need of mercenaries,” Edward assumes. It is their occupation, after all. The three of them are known for it, and they are good at it.

Crozier's man turns to look at him. “We are in need of you,” he replies, his gaze meeting Edward's. He holds it until Edward has to look away, his throat suddenly dry and palms suddenly damp. He lets George go through the pleasantries of telling the man where to tie his horse, of inviting him to sit by the fire, of offering him a slice of boiled boar meat from the pot. Edward concentrates on calming his hammering heart.

“We are besieged by a beast,” their visitor says, once they're all seated. He calls himself Thomas. He doesn't give a surname, nor does he call himself “sir” or “lord”, although he is dressed as a knight or a nobleman.

“A beast?” John repeats. “What type of beast?”

“Some believe it to be a bear, but it's unlike any bear I've ever seen. It's stealthier. Stronger. It brushes off our spears and arrows as if they were nothing. It was under the control of a warlock, it seems, but now the warlock is dead, and the creature has turned rogue.” 

Edward exchanges a glance with George. Clearly, it does not go unnoticed. Thomas draws himself up. “I am aware of how this sounds, gentlemen, but I promise you, we are being terrorized. The creature stalks us. There have been times we could not leave the castle for weeks on end.” With a dart of a quick pink tongue, Thomas wets his lips. Edward pretends not to have noticed. “The beast killed Lord Franklin.”

“Lord Franklin?” George blinks.

“You knew him?” 

“We did.” George looks at John, then at Edward. “We have done work for him in the past.” Edward never cared overmuch for the man. Sanctimonious was the word that best described him, but his gold was as good as anybody's.

“Lady Jane Franklin controls his lands, for the moment,” Thomas says. “With the support of Franklin's favourite, Sir James. But it is not a stable position. Our lands abut theirs, thus any instability in the region affects us as much as them. We cannot properly defend our lands while the beast is at large.”

“Well, you certainly make a very interesting proposition.” George smiles kindly. “I think my brother knights and I...”

“You say 'our lands',” Edward breaks in.

A flush comes to Thomas' face. “In, in, in the sense that we are all devoted to our lord...”

“You are Crozier's heir.” Edward is not as sure of it as he sounds, but when Thomas' blush deepens, he knows he's right. He heard rumours of it, that the childless Crozier took a beloved servant as an adopted son. Obviously, this man is he.

“Crozier sent his own heir out unaccompanied?” John frowns. “When the roads are fraught with far more dangers than a large bear?”

“I left my guards in the village,” Thomas says. “I thought if I approached you humbly, you might be more inclined to offer your assistance. Please. We will be deeply grateful if you can help us. I will be deeply grateful.” Again, Thomas' gaze catches Edward's and holds it. Am I so obvious? Edward wonders. He looks away.

“Why don't you go back to the village, my lord?” George suggests.

“Thomas,” Thomas interrupts.

“Thomas,” George repeats. “The inn is reputable. We will find you there when we've got an answer for you. We shan't keep you waiting long, sir.”

“If that is your wish.” Thomas pushes his hair back from his face. “Thank you for your consideration, gentlemen.” Edward determinedly does not watch as Thomas returns to his horse. It takes him a couple of tries before he can hoist himself into the saddle, and another minute of pulling at the reins before the mare heeds him and leaves the patch of grass she had been happily munching.

“It's madness,” John says, the moment Thomas is gone. “The man is mad. We're not hunters.”

“That's exactly what we are,” Edward points out.

John huffs. “You take my meaning. We do not chase bears, no matter their size or strength.”

“What if it isn't just a bear?” George asks. “Thomas said there was a warlock involved.”

“No,” is John’s immediate reply. “God does not grant us warlocks. Or witches, or demon bears, or anything else.”

“God does grant us lovely men, though, doesn't he, Edward?” George beams at him. “I tell you, if I hadn't pledged my heart to my lady, I might even look twice at that one myself.”

“Stop it!” John stands up abruptly, nearly knocking over the pot. George reaches out to steady it with a hand. “Stop it at once. Both of you. We're not entertaining this idea a moment longer.”

“All right, all right.” George holds up his hands in surrender. “But let me ask you this, John. How long has it been since we were last paid?” Too long. “And how much might we charge Crozier to dispatch something that has been harassing him so badly?” A good deal.

“I'm not too proud to go after a bear instead of a horde of armed men for once,” Edward decides. It might even make for a nice change of pace.

“There we have it, then. Two against one, John.” George shrugs. “Nothing you can say to that.”

From John's pursed lips and creased forehead, it seems like there is a great deal he could say, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“I'll deliver the news.” Edward ignores the resultant smirk from George. There's nothing to smirk about. It's simply his duty, as the de facto leader of the group. “You two break camp and join us in town.”

“Yes, sir,” George grins, heading for the tents even as John scowls on.  

The village inn might be reputable enough, but it isn't what one would call luxurious. Thomas and two men, in bright red coats that would be visible a mile away to any highway bandit seeking wealthy quarry, sit in a dark corner of the musty room, mugs of ale before them. Thomas looks up when Edward approaches.

“We will leave at once,” Edward says, by way of greeting. He tried out several on the way over; that was the best he could come up with. “If we ride hard, we should make it to Beechey Island before we have to stop for the night.”

A bright smile lights Thomas' face. Lovely, George had called him. Edward thinks stunning might be more apt. “Why not ride through?” Thomas says. “The sooner we get back, the better.”

“Not even we travel the woods in the dark if we can help it.”

“We did it on the way here.”

“Then you were fools.” Edward stares at the two guards. They conspicuously don't look back. “And damned fortunate you weren't murdered. We stop at Beechey.” His voice is firm. Thomas seems of a mind to argue further, but he apparently thinks better of it.

“Thank you very much. Sir...John?”

“Edward.”

“Sir Edward. I can't tell you how grateful I am.” The fractiousness in Thomas' expression changes into something else. His gaze dips down, then raises back up to Edward's face. Edward can feel himself flushing, glad that the room is dark enough to hide it.

“You don't need to be grateful, just pay us on time,” Edward snaps, more roughly than he intended. Whatever Thomas’ expression belied, it disappears, and Thomas goes briskly to his feet.

“Of course. You needn't worry about that. Get the horses ready, men. We leave as soon as Sir Edward gives us the word.” Thomas' guards go. Thomas hangs back. Edward should say something to him, he knows, but his mind is distressingly blank.

“Thank you,” Thomas repeats. Then, he too is gone, headed for the lone sliver of sunlight that marks the front door.

I'm going to regret this, Edward thinks, but even as the words form in his mind, he knows he wouldn't retract his decision for anything.

[pachitoherrera]

You are so kind to make these beautiful Poison gifs for me, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! There's nothing worse than liking a side character and knowing there will be no content for them, but you have saved me from that fate! I have only my meager writing skills to offer in return, but if you'd ever like a drabble or fic or headcanons (for anything), I'd be glad to oblige. Thank you! ❤️

AHH BABEEE 💕 you cannot imagine how happy your message made me like fr, my mood went up by 100% and i was all smiling and dancing :) also god yeah i could sing a song about that, especially in the narcos fandom?? like poison, VELASCO, calderon, eduardo, TATA ! (but also edward little my funky little doomed lieutenant 😔 ) honestly we saved each other!! without you i wouldn’t think about poison as much as i do now, all the little details you notice about him 🥰 MEAGER the understatement of the century!! i went through your terror writings and lord do you have a way with words!!! your writing is amazing i am in awe 💗 so you’re saying i can jump into your inbox with prompts ? 😙

[tommyplum]

arcticelves: “sparrows-books: Why is this man built like a truck and why do I want...”

@tommyplum​ Don't tempt me to write that...

oh??!? Should I not throw myself into encouraging you, who writes some incredibly textured and layered interaction among people who have a lot on their plates and don’t particularly want to let on, to explore how tight all of Carillo’s shirts are, and how Javi gets that nervous overstimulated energy whenever they’re together, and how Carillo’s always faintly frustrated but he’s still out on a date with Javi getting drinks at the start of the series? and how Javier’s super fuckin jelly when Steve suddenly gets it into his head to go for a helicopter ride with Carillo? To not wonder about Javier’s obvious streak of self-loathing mixed with a need to keep secrets and what Carillo’s bull-terrier single-minded determination and sureness does when it bangs up against that? and 

[1zashreena1]

Top 5 episodes of Narcos!

I am absolutely, positively horrendous with episode numbers and titles. But!!!! How about I list my top 5 moments/scenes and you can pretend to dramatically swoon in shock upon exclaiming that they are all in reference to the same character!

The basement torture session

Oh sorry, are you afraid of heights? Here, let me help you get to the ground faster by shoving you out of this helicopter

Bullets don't care about the age of consent

That time he pisses in somebody's face via an uplifting neighborhood mural

The triumphant return (and subsequent moment in which we are all Javi copping a feel)

[hegodamask]

For the Star Wars aska, #7, #10, and #14 please!

hello, friend!

7 - species

fave: this is tough! i really like nautolans. i wish we saw more of them. particularly love that once piece of art of a nautolan sith lady. muuns also hold a special place in my heart, because darth plagueis.

least fave: i guess they’re legends now but i don’t like the yuuzhan vong. ugly motherfuckers. you know how a lot of things in star wars just sort of… feel star warsy? i don’t feel that at all with the vong (maybe that’s the point, but still.) i was never really into the era of legends they came out of anyway.

10 - weapon

fave: you can’t beat a good old fashioned lightsaber! i love sith/dark sider lightsabers the best of course. sure, you’re only limited to one colour choice but boy does it look intimidating.

least fave: i can’t think of one! i’m kinda bummed by the knights of ren’s weapons i guess. they should’ve been force sensitive dark siders with their own lightsabers imo.

14 - fight

fave: sidious vs maul and savage in the clone wars! i went mental when that aired for the first time. so brilliantly animated as well.

in terms of the live action movies i also love luke and vader’s fight in esb, sidious vs the jedi masters in rots and kylo + rey vs snoke’s guards in tlj. 

least fave: sidious vs rey in tros. i’ll say no more.

Send me a number please!

[imwritesometimes]

Three fanfic writer questions for you: 12. favorite place to write; 20. favorite character to write; and 38. do you re-read your own stories? Thank you!

THANK YOU, DEAR!! OMG 🥰💜🥰

12) favorite place to write - In bed, on my laptop

20) favorite character to write - I adore writing Holland March and Jackson Healy maybe more than any other characters but I also really, really enjoy writing Cobb Vanth

38) do you re-read your own stories - I'm gonna own my cringe here and admit that HELL YES I DO!! I enjoyed writing them, and I enjoy reading them. I am my own perfect audience lol

asks for fanfic writers

[pooraurora]

last line meme

i was tagged by the darlings @arcticelves & @whalersandsailors !!

while my soul is sold to my big bang at present, i’ve been pecking at all my other wips here and there so here’s the last bit i wrote for my teen!joplittle au

post the last line you wrote

“Hello my darlings!” She sings. Then she looks at Thomas’ face and her expression falters. “Thomas, precious, are you feeling alright?”

“Tom’s mum called,” Edward lies and Thomas bristles. “So he’s got to go home.”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Little cries, setting the tray of chicken bake down on a trivet in the center of the Little’s huge kitchen table. “Is everything alright Tom? Teddy, why don’t we have daddy take him home? Tom, sweetheart, let Mr. Little drop you off, I’ll feel much better.”

i tag @beepbeeplizzie and everybody else who wants to do it!!!!!!!! blease tag me so i can *eyes emoji* see!!!!

[politicalmamaduck]

Sabacc and Secrets

Thrawn and Ar’alani play sabacc with a smuggling ring. Written for @arcticelves, for the tarot card themed prompt "The Fool": madness, cliffs, gambling, innocence, recklessness. I hope you will like this! Read it on AO3 here.

“The Aristocra find your conduct unbecoming, Captain.” Ar’alani’s tone was not scolding, but rather wry, with raised eyebrows and upturned lips to match. It was not a full smile, nor did Chiss eyes twinkle, but Thrawn could not help thinking a lesser species would describe her expression thusly. 

Thrawn would rather describe his friend and colleague as a work of art. She was not only a model officer, displaying keen intelligence, an eagerness to serve, and trim physical fitness, but also a willingness to listen and learn. She was not overly sentimental nor complacent, neither a slave to emotion or tradition. 

Ar’alani was one of the few beings Thrawn ever trusted, from the moment they met at the Academy on Naporar. He knew the feeling was mutual. Their history of teamwork spoke for itself.

Therefore, he would bring her into his confidence, entrust her with his plan that would bring them one step closer to their enemy’s identity, and once more bring glory to the Ascendancy. 

If she would take the gamble with him, despite what the Aristocracy would see as recklessness, all the better. 

“Do you agree, Admiral?” He knew she did not. What she said next mattered, however, for the form of his planning. 

“You know I don’t agree, Thrawn. However, you do need to learn to play the political game better. I won’t always be there to help you smooth things over afterward.”

She told him that before, numerous times. 

“I am grateful for you and your assistance, Admiral.”

Ar’alani sighed. “What are you planning, Thrawn?”

He couldn’t resist smiling in turn.

Ar’alani couldn’t help but thinking that this time, truly, would be the time Thrawn’s recklessness, or madness, as some of the Aristocra would put it, would get them killed. 

Here they were, diving over a cliff in a small speeder, chasing criminals--smugglers, most likely, not a full crime syndicate--who Thrawn believed had ties to those who wished to destroy the Ascendancy. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many variables to pinpoint a particular target or assailant. It was unsettling, Ar’alani thought, shifting in her seat as Thrawn guided them closer to the smugglers’ hideout. 

She had no doubt, however, that they would be up to the challenge, when their adversary revealed themself. She trusted Thrawn, trusted herself. 

Even if she wasn’t comfortable with that dive over the cliffs just moments before, or playing a high stakes sabacc game with these criminals. Just being Chiss would put them in danger. If the criminals discovered their true identities--Ar’alani wouldn’t allow herself to continue the thought.  

She’d have to deal with the aftermath and the Aristocra regardless. She steeled her spine and took a deep breath as Thrawn landed the speeder. He nodded at her as they entered the lair. No words were necessary. They would play their parts, obtain information and hopefully cargo, and leave with their heads held high, if all went according to plan. 

It was hard to see inside the cave; the glow-lamps placed throughout did not reach through all the shadows and curves to penetrate the pockets of darkness fully. Crates of cargo stacked upon each other loomed haphazardly above and to their sides. They pressed forward, traveling deeper as the ground sloped downward into the space beneath the mountain, despite the potential for an ambush they’d never see coming. Ar’alani could hear voices up ahead, and laughter. Credit chips clacked together, and mugs thunked against a table. 

Ar’alani never could see the appeal in gambling or gaming, and she assumed Thrawn felt the same way. It was enough to gamble with their warriors’ lives on a mission. She ran a hand through her wig and adjusted her glasses to be sure they were in place, and took Thrawn’s hand as they entered the smugglers’ den. 

No blaster fire or other weapons met them, but their arrival did cause a stir. 

“We weren’t expecting any more tonight.”

“Who are the newcomers? Didn’t see them last time.” 

“Friends, please, may we join?” Thrawn asked. “My partner and I would like to buy in for this round.”

Ar’alani smiled and nodded at the smuggler who approached to her left, trying to appear coy and flirtatious.

“What can I get you to drink?” he asked, reaching to take her arm. She tried not to recoil from his touch, and hoped he wouldn’t notice how cool her Chiss skin was. At the same time, she reminded herself they had no reason to suspect she and Thrawn were Chiss at all, and she highly doubted they were familiar with Pantoran physiology either. 

“Ales for us both, please,” she said, smiling once more. After he departed to grab their drinks, she followed Thrawn to the sabacc table.

They made idle conversation while waiting for the cards to be dealt. The ale was not to Ar’alani’s taste, as she suspected, but it was a safer choice than any of the local homebrews. Smugglers of this sort wouldn’t stock fine Corellian whiskey, unless they were siphoning from their cargo. She listened carefully to the conversational cadences; she would gather the intelligence, and lose at cards, while Thrawn played to win. 

The cards dealt, each player called out their opening total. Ar’alani held The Queen of Air and Darkness and Demise. -15 wasn’t a bad total, but the card titles gave her pause. She was not superstitious, nor were her species, and she pushed her thoughts away to concentrate. 

Next to her, Thrawn chose to draw on his first turn. Ar’alani followed suit, drawing an eight. She would definitely lose at -7.    

Thrawn’s expression was unreadable. She did not dare ask him anything, to draw more attention to them, but she did gently place her hand on his arm, to reassure herself, if nothing else. 

With their cards drawn, Ar’alani listened to the chatter around them, allowing her focus to drift away from the game. There would be another shipment from this location next week, she deduced. The smugglers would meet the buyer in deep space. 

On the next turn, Thrawn stood. Ar’alani chose to draw again, pulling 11. Her hand was far worse, and she hoped Thrawn’s was far better. This time, she felt Thrawn’s hand on her own arm to reassure her. She appreciated the gesture for what it was, for she knew Thrawn was never nervous. 

Their second turns completed, starting with the dealer, everyone called their final hand. Thrawn inclined his head ever so slightly. He nodded to Ar’alani, who met his eyes. 

Gasps arose around the table as Thrawn laid down his cards. “Idiot’s Array,” he said, without gloating. He won. Ar’alani grinned. 

Her grin faded, however, when across the table, a burly human rose and slammed his fist down. “Not fair,” he bellowed. “This newcomer must have cheated.”

Thrawn shook his head. “I played an honest game, just as you did.”

“Take it easy, buddy,” another smuggler said, clapping the burly man on the back. “Have another drink and we’ll play another round.” 

“Like hell we will,” the burly man said, pushing his colleague away. He fell down to the floor, knocking over a chair. Chaos reigned from then, as fights erupted across the bar. A Gamorrean took a swing at the burly man, trying to bring him down, while other humans helped their compatriot off the floor. 

Thrawn and Ar’alani grabbed their winnings and ran for the entrance, blaster fire beginning to erupt behind them. They wouldn’t be able to carry any of the cargo, but at least what they learned was safe in their brains--and other information inconspicuously documented on their holorecorders. 

“They headed for the entrance!” someone yelled from behind them. They ran, hurtling through the darkness, dodging the crate towers as best they could. Ar’alani hit the corner of one with her hip; she’d have dark bruising later, but the bruise was worth her life. 

The blaster fire followed them as well; one hit a crate, spilling its contents and hopefully delaying their assailants. 

As they emerged from the cave’s darkness into the night, Ar’alani and Thrawn leaped into their speeder, barely settling in before taking off.  

Her heart still racing, Ar’alani turned to Thrawn. “Are you injured?”

“Just minor scrapes,” he replied. “And you?”

“I’ll have a large bruise tomorrow, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

Thrawn nodded. “Good. Thank you for your assistance. I trust you noticed their pattern?” 

“Of course. We’ll be ready for their next shipment. Perhaps then we can uncover their buyer’s identity.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn said, appearing deep in thought. 

They arrived back at their ship, docked in the closest city’s outskirts, without incident. They loaded the speeder, then strapped in for takeoff. Once their coordinates were set and the autopilot engaged, Ar’alani finally allowed herself to relax. She wanted to ask Thrawn how he played such a hand, but he spoke first.

“I will grab the medkit, if you will allow me to see to your injury?” His tone was quiet, unlike his usual confidence. The fighting would not have fazed him, certainly, she thought. Was there something she missed?

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, unstrapping herself and following him toward the bunks. He grabbed the kit from a shelf, and she sat down, allowing him to sit next to her. 

“Please accept my apologies for your injury, and what you will have to explain to the Aristocra when we encounter these smugglers next,” he started. 

Ar’alani laughed. “I will deal with them when I have to. How did you play such a hand?”

Thrawn put down the bacta patches and met her eyes. “I analyzed the game, the players, their weaknesses. I assumed those across the table would be overconfident, and pull too many cards and drinks.”

She nodded. “A sound strategy, as always.” 

“There is no one else with whom I would rather strategize.”

Ar’alani smiled as Thrawn placed a hand on her cheek. His hand was soft, gentle. As he leaned in to kiss her, she thought the gamble had been worth it.

[lafiametta]

Original Sin (King Arthur/Lucien Grimaud) 

by @arcticelves and @lafiametta

The Frenchman had managed to capture his attention from the moment he had been brought before Arthur, arrogant even after being forced onto his knees, and even though he embodied all that Arthur despised—a mercenary heart fueled by cruelty and immorality—Arthur could not deny that he was drawn to Grimaud, compelled by dark, forbidden desires within himself that he did not understand.

Rated E

[read on AO3]

[fitzchocos]

arcticelves replied to your post “Tobias tribe.”

But did he look hot in those three minutes? (Which is all that really matters)

i mean god you’re right, that is all that matters. and yes, he’s a cute little baby in it