Whatever it costs

“Let me explain something, Qilori of Uandualon,” the Chiss said softly. “My job—the sole reason for my existence—is to defend the Chiss Ascendancy and protect my people. I will do whatever is necessary to achieve that goal, and I will allow nothing and no one to stand in my way. Do you understand?”

~

“I have nothing but respect for Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s abilities. I disagree with his choice of position.” []

“You mean his service with the Empire?”

“Yes.” Ar’alani half turned to gaze out the forward viewport. “There are grave threats facing the Ascendancy. []” She turned back to Faro. “Is his life here truly so much better?” []

“His life here is precarious,” she told Ar’alani. “But this is apparently where he thinks he can best serve all of us. Including the Ascendancy.”

~

“Someday, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, you’ll overthink and overplan, and it will come crashing down all around you. When that happens, I hope someone is there to lift you back to your feet.”

“You, perhaps?”

Ar’alani shakes her head. Her expression holds regret, perhaps even pain. “I very much fear I will never see you again. [] If you don’t return quickly, there may be nothing left for you to return to.”

“I understand. But for now, I must remain here.”

“Then do what you deem right,” Ar’alani said. Her expression is stiff but firm, holding farewell. “And may warrior’s fortune be ever in your favor.”

~

Thrawn’s eyes seemed to focus on something in the distance behind Ba’kif. “My job is to protect the Ascendancy and the Chiss people, sir,” he said quietly. “Whatever it costs to achieve that goal, I will pay it.”

~

The comm screen lit up with a face. [] Her blue-black hair was tied in a tight knot at the back of her head. [] “I am Admiral Ar’alani of the Chiss Defense Fleet,” she said in a clear voice []. “Are you he?”

“I am he.” Eli took a deep breath. “I am Eli Vanto. I bring greetings to you from Mitth’raw’nuruodo. He believes I can be of some use to the Chiss Ascendancy.”

“Welcome, Eli Vanto” Ar’alani said, inclining her head in greeting. “Let us learn together if he was correct.”

~

Eli.

After everything else.

You gave them even Eli.

"Whatever it costs."

[Photo: custom necklace by @caitlynminimalist]

Like the wind

That is the way it is with a wound.

The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much.

And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain.

~

Writing today, before watching the first episode of "The Book of Boba Fett", I am tickled pink, nonsensically ranting about this for days.

Although possibly accounted among the "first wave" of "crazy fans" of a rather "obscure" character as Boba Fett, I am actually not excited just because of him. To be frank, I found his appearance in "The Mandalorian" amazingly cool, but slightly out of character.

People change, especially after, possibly, being digested for some time by a Sarlacc. Nonetheless, I personally noted a shift in his portrayal there.

But I am digressing.

Like most of you, lovely people in this community, my total eagerness and expectations are for Fennec Shand.

From her introduction to her further development in TBB, she quickly becomes one of my favorite SW characters.

And, yes, partially for nothing related to her fashionable appearance, quotable lines, and overall overwhelming awesomeness.

But because she is portrayed by the one and only Ming-Na Wen.

"The Joy Luck Club" is one of my favorite books, and her interpretation of June is simply sublime. And, I have to admit, "ER" was my very own introduction to a type of "active fandom" that, later, expanded to more franchises. And I do not even start with Mulan or Agent Melinda May.

[WHAT. A. CHARACTER.]

On top of that, having a 58-years-old woman kicking asses in a multimillion dollars production is exactly the spirit with which I want to start my 2022. As much I adored Leia's matriarchal leadership in the sequels, having Mrs. Wen jumping from rocks while shooting stormtroopers is the kind of mood I want for the future of this franchise and our society, in general.

~

I had on a beautiful red dress, but what I saw was even more valuable.

I was strong. I was pure.

I had genuine thoughts inside that no one could see, that no one could ever take away from me.

I was like the wind.

~

[Photo: creative and perfect, @geekablycute Fennec Shand earrings.

Both quotes are from "The Joy Luck Club" by Amy Tan]

Have yourself a merry little Chissmas

"Have yourself a merry little Chissmas

Let your heart be light

From now on

Your troubles will be out of sight."

~

I love how @nerdilyinclined is geeking-up the classical carols.

And so, a merry little Chissmas, Thrawn.

More than ever, after "Lesser Evil", I just wish for you a time when troubles were truly miles away.

Eli and Ar'alani.

Ch'eri, Samakro and Thalias.

Kivu'rik'ardok.

Like in the olden and golden days of yore, gathering together once more.

For you.

Like Mr. Zahn, I guess, I hope that the powers-that-be will have the heart to write you at home (the only home you have ever known), surrounded by your faithful friends, and even, perhaps, some new ones.

I know. I know.

It's a silly thought for Christmas.

When the "real world" is a mess.

When people are suffering, and the lack of empathy is everywhere.

When even members of this amazing community are not well, or in trouble.

But, see, Thrawn.

Maybe this is the point.

Maybe this is the reason why, among all the infinite things we cannot control, I would love that at least you, YOU, an imaginary character from a multimillion dollars franchise, could have a little bit of peace, recognition, and love.

[Photo: wonderful Chissmas decoration by @rylothrelics. With the cute cute Santa Thrawn.]

You sleep more than I do

“Really,” Eli said, frowning. He hadn’t heard anything about criminal profiling work. “When have you been doing all this?

Thrawn inclined his head. “You sleep more than I do.”

Eli felt his face warm.

~

'Raw'n pompously declared that the pillows were super comfy. I honestly don't think he slept, but he asked for a set for himself anyway.

I love hotel rooms.

Maybe because, for me, they mean vacation (which I love) or conferences (which I also really love).

And, for how much I enjoy traveling with friends, there is a special joy in being alone in a hotel room.

Or, well.

Alone with a 6 inches tall blue alien who doesn't sleep, anyway.

Today's plan, my second jump, is being tested at 8:45 am, in time to fulfill the challenging requirement to land within 24 hours after a negative result with a 17 hours journey ahead, and having the first trip of my life in business class.

After two years of canceled flights and rescheduled mess, I accumulated so many e-tickets coupons that Delta was basically becoming my saving account.

So, I decided.

Spending them all for a business class ride.

Which sounds fancy (and I'm not fancy) and a very adult thing (and I'm SO NOT an adult).

But, I guess, they will get that memo kinda quickly when I will start to take pictures of the above-mentioned —incredibly handsome— lil guy in my very fancy and very adult seat.

There.

Ultimately, I managed to bother you also on this Thrawn Thursday.

Hugs and Chisses

"The Unknown Regions remained uncharted because a chaotic web of anomalies had created a near-impenetrable barrier to exploration; only the most foolhardy or desperate ventured there—criminals, refugees, and, if the reports were true, remnants of the old Imperial fleet who had refused to accept New Republic rule.

A few planets had been discovered, but their populations remained small, and their trade with the rest of the galaxy had been throttled by the navigational risk. The Sith and the Jedi had found paths through to even more dangerous, more hidden worlds—or so legends said—and the specific, carefully stepped coordinate jumps required to safely navigate the anomalies were among their most closely guarded secrets."

["The Rise of Skywalker" - by Rae Carson]

~

As some of you might have already read in my IG stories, I am attempting to visit my family (actual and found) in Italy for the holidays.

Things once trivial like boarding a plane and waking up the next day in another continent are now definitely more challenging.

Saving you the long list of complications, I decided to embark on the journey, anyway.

Jump by jump.

"If we can make it to the ground, we'll take the next chance.

And the next. On and on until we win... or the chances are spent."

This also means a couple of weeks of not planned posts.

Yes. So even more useless than usual.

But, equally, the domineering reappearance of my teensy-weensy favorite travel companion.

'Raw'n.

Camera lover, gourmet connoisseur, and infallible copilot, he will take care of me every step of the way.

Drowning our uncertainties in cheese triangles and fruits sticks.

Thus.

So long, folks.

Hugs and Chisses!

[PS - I am posting this Thrawn Thursday caption —on a Wednesday— because I genuinely span from zero time tomorrow to bored to death for seventeen hours. Forgive also the simplicity of the photo, but I am always utterly uninspired when *I* am inside the clothes that I want to share with you. That said, the t-shirt is hilarious, brilliantly Barbie pink, and I adore it with all my heart. By Chissless on Teepublic].

Loyalty

Did Thrawn even recognize the depth of loyalty he inspired in those who worked with him? Knowing Thrawn, probably not.

~

“The way she looks at the universe [makes her a good commander]. Certainly a better commander than I. [] Her officers follow her with confidence, even eagerness. Mine follow me because they’re good Chiss warriors.”

~

Samakro glanced around the bridge []. They were tense, he could tell, for all the same reasons he was. But he could see no panic or serious doubt. They’d been with Thrawn long enough to trust him to get them through whatever mess he was leading them into. Distantly, Samakro wondered if they’d had that same confidence back when he’d been the Springhawk’s commander.

~

Even from the beginning, the attitude of the officers and crew had struck him as unique. [] Everyone from Faro on down seemed intent on working together to do their jobs and complete their assigned tasks to the best of their ability.

The reason, of course, was obvious: Thrawn.

The grand admiral was smart and subtle, but never used his brilliance to show up or humiliate anyone. He demanded results, but never perfection, and had amazing stores of patience for those who were truly working to their fullest ability. He cared about his people, to the point of standing up for them even against the disapproval of powerful men like Lord Vader. []

The result was telling: a degree of loyalty Kimmund had seldom seen [].

~

Faro felt her eyes bulge. “My new [command]—sir?”

“Indeed,” Thrawn said, and this time there was no mistaking his smile. “Congratulations, Commodore Faro. May you serve the Eleventh Fleet as well as you’ve served the Seventh.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Faro managed. “It—sir, it’s been the greatest privilege of my life to serve under you. I can only hope my officers will feel even a tenth of that pride and satisfaction under my command.”

“They will that, and far more,” Thrawn assured her. “And now, Commodore, one final time: You may prepare my ship.”

~

Inspiring people change lives.

And @geekablycute is precious.

She gifted me countless days of inner sublime joy.

"Thank you" is truly not enough.

Know their names

“I was just keeping up their morale,” Ahsoka said. “They need to know we take the same risks that they do. That we’ll sit down and talk to them, and know their names, instead of just snapping our fingers and calling them clone. Nobody likes being treated as if they don’t matter.”

For all her bluster, she had her very adult, perceptive moments. Anakin knew how it felt not to matter. “Well… they seem to like you. That’s good.”

“They’ve lost so many of their friends. Can’t you feel their pain?”

“They’re soldiers,” Anakin said. “It’s the job.”

“It’s yours, too, but you hurt all the time.”

Anakin didn’t look at Rex, and Rex didn’t look at him, but the captain took a few slow paces and put a little more distance between them, appearing engrossed in something via his helmet comlink. He was obviously anxious to avoid hanging around for what threatened to be a very personal exchange.

“You’re right, Padawan,” Anakin said. She was, and he didn’t want to discuss it; agreeing with her served both purposes. “We all handle our loss in our own way. Thank you for thinking of the men’s welfare.”

~

Respect and care are paramount in any relationship.

Mentors and pupils, managers and employees, generals and soldiers.

We can maintain the rigor of our decisions and firm evaluations without forgetting that personal and professional levels are different.

It is not just about being empathetic but also considering human complexity.

Others, like us, are not just one thing.

Not just clones, or students, or employees.

And it would be a crucial mistake to judge one aspect of a person's life as the totality of who the person is.

Some of my students are terrible at my subject.

Some because they actively prefer to enjoy their afternoons chatting with friends instead of unveiling the secrets of a gas turbine.

[How can I blame them?]

Some because they are absolutely the negation of what I teach.

Either way, I love them.

They are many many other things besides being a D- student in my class.

They are witty and hilarious, sweet and kind, generous and caring.

They will still receive a D-.

But, ultimately, it is not what matters.

[Photo: rocking my finals week with Her Universe]

Unexpected Alliances

Thrawn stared at the fire with a somber look. []

“Is the Empire the greatest evil you can phantom? Or is it perhaps the Sith? [] The Emperor is cruel and full of malice. I won't deny it... but [] the darkness lurking beyond your cosmic shores is far, far worse. [] One must act as necessary for the survival of life in the galaxy.” []

“That's still not an excuse for the injustices the Empire has done!"

“So you say you would rather choose to right an injustice over everyone's else lives.”

“That's not what I meant-”

“I know,” Thrawn raised a hand as a gesture of understanding. “Your sense of duty and empathy to those around you compel you to take immediate action, sometimes without thinking ahead of its consequences.” []

“The decisions and choices I made with it were my own. I can't simply turn a blind eye to the suffering of people!” Ezra’s hand became fists, trying to stay calm, but Thrawn was making it difficult. Perhaps sensing this, Thrawn’s voice became softer trying to diffuse the situation.

“You chose this path even if it took you away from your people, because it was the only way to save them. I commend you for that. I have been doing the same far longer than you. During all this time I have learned one must carry the weight of all their choices. Even the regrettable ones. There are no easy choices in war.”

“That sounds like Mon Mothma,” Ezra calmed down and shook his head giving a half-hearted chuckle. [] Thrawn gave him a small smile in turn.

“Ah, Senator Mon Mothma. Had I stayed and outlived the Emperor, she might have been my first choice of contact to come to a truce with your Rebellion... if it hadn't been destroyed by then, of course. She could have been reasoned with.”

“She-... you-... what?” Ezra stuttered in disbelief, looking at Thrawn in shock.

“There would have been disagreements, but nothing insurmountable I presume.”

["Last Known Trajectory" by @soulnova_alizrak]

~

[Note: this excerpt is very long but so perfect. I will divide it into two posts]

[Photo: pin by @fantasypinstress]

Utterly fabulous

“Any idea who else you’re going to ask into this madness?”

“I have some ideas,” Ar’alani said. “I’ll start with Thrawn’s friends.”

Ba’kif grunted. “I’m guessing that’s a short list.”

Ar’alani nodded heavily. “Yes. It is.”

~

Some people might think that the SW fans are intolerant, uninclusive, and, generally, mansplaining like hell.

And, yes, the fandom menace IS.

But that is the annoying and whining top of an iceberg that has the loveliest, nicest, and most generous humans under the surface.

A community that does not curse you if you post almost 100 stories in a day (or, at least, they are so kind to silently suffer your unstoppable need to share), that reads your excessively long captions, and does not call the closest asylum when you ask to print a pair of shorts just for the thrill to pretend you stole them from Thrawn's closet, as the perfect fag hag** that you are.

The story starts with @outerspaceoutpost producing this absolutely brilliant set of hilarious shorts, and @anna_thegodkiller buying a very cute, Eli-related, pair. From there, my twisted mind produced a mental scene in which an "I am flattered but I also I really don't know how I can explain to you this and I want to die a little" Eli has a surreal conversation with a puzzled Thrawn, who, obviously, wears the —spicy for us, factual for him— item. At this point, the insane idea was then commissioned to the unparalleled @lucenorthstar, with the dialogue support of @trisha.clev and the Thrawn who lives in her brain.

End of the story? Nope. Going full circle, I then actually asked a kind and acquiescent @outerspaceoutpost to produce the exact replica (color, text, and all) of the abovementioned shameless shorts.

And voilà.

Tell me again that this community is not utterly fabulous.

[**Note1: with the term I don't want to imply T sexuality, but more my headcanon attitude towards their partnership.

Note2: it is a terrible term, but since not-so-nice humans call me that since the beginning of time, I reclaimed it, like others do with "queer". Linguistic reappropriation is a form of personal empowerment, but I understand that, although it is my way of addressing name-calling, it might bother some]

In your hands

“Good day, Lieutenant Vanto." []

Eli froze, his own readied greeting freezing in his throat. That was it? *Good day, Lieutenant Vanto?* All the long months since their last meeting, and that was all the greeting he got? []

“Come, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Eli said, the whole sense of unreality still digging at him. *Good day, Lieutenant Vanto…*

He started as the death troopers silently closed in around them, feeling his growing bewilderment and resentment disappear into understanding. Of course—Thrawn was merely being formal here because of the urgency of the situation and because there were strangers present. Once they got someplace more private, that stiff and proper exterior would surely open up.

~

Eli didn’t know what Thrawn was going to say about him to the stormtroopers, or to Commodore Faro, or to anyone else. Actually, he didn’t know if the grand admiral would say anything at all. [] He didn’t mind for himself. Thrawn had said he might be of use to the Chiss, and Ar’alani seemed satisfied with his work, and for right now that was enough. It was his parents who had to bear the brunt of the stigma, and his former friends in the fleet who had to see his name forever draped with contempt.

Which made Thrawn’s aloofness toward him so puzzling. Didn’t he realize what Eli had gone through? What he’d given up for him?

Maybe before this was over he could get Thrawn alone, even if only for a minute, and find out what his former commander was thinking.

~

“Lieutenant Vanto, another moment of your time, if I may.”

“Of course, sir,” Eli said, a knot forming in his stomach. What could Thrawn possibly want to say to him that he couldn’t say in front of the others?[] The door closed behind them, and Thrawn raised his eyes to Eli. []

“The project you’re working on for Admiral Ar’alani. She hasn’t yet told you its purpose, has she?”

“No, sir,” Eli said. []

“Ask her after the battle,” Thrawn said. “I believe she’ll then be willing to tell you.”

~

The Ascendancy.

The navigators.

Ch'eri.

His beloved sister.

Everything most cherished he had.

Everything he gave up his life for.

Reverently entrusted in the hands of Eli Vanto.

[Photo: keychains by @ooakrafts]

Good morning

NOTE: This excerpt is not canon.

I saved this little passage many months ago, and, despite I really wanted to share the familiarity and the sweetness in it, I am always unsure when I know that the whole story, despite just barely hinted in here, implies a romantic or sexual relationship between Eli and Thrawn.

The unforgivable guilt is that I forgot to save both author and title. So, please, if you encounter this in your readings, let me know who gifted me with such a sweet heartwarming gem.

Thank you!

~

He opened one eyelid and nearly jumped out of his skin when he was met with four beady eyes staring back at him.

"I told you not to disturb Eli," came Thrawn's voice, gently chiding, and the yellow lizard was plucked up with a squeak. Eli turned around to see the Chiss holding the lizard high and close enough that it could play with his nose.

"Humans need six hours of sleep to function optimally," Thrawn was warning it, even as it evidently paid no attention to his words or the commanding tone of his voice. "If you disturb Eli again, I am going to have to leave you with Bridger, or keep you in an enclosure for the night. We don't want that, do we?"

*I kind of want that*, Eli thought, but sat up on the bed with an agreeable smile. Annoyed as he was with Thrawn for choosing a thrice-damned lizard over him the previous night, he couldn't deny that it was criminally endearing to watch the usually stoic, serious Chiss former Grand Admiral melt like chocolate the moment the diminutive ysalamir did anything cute.

Thrawn, thankfully, set the lizard down on the floor where it scampered off and went underneath the curtains, and turned his glowing red gaze on Eli.

Eli grinned. "Good morning."

~

[Photo: custom CEDF Eli Vanto by @poppourrico / @cardinal.creates. Sorry if I'm featuring these pops again. I really REALLY try not to repeat posting the same collectibles, but these were too fitting the weekly Eli and Thrawn theme to pass]

Quientessential Eli Vanto

Standing to the side, watching his captain and the Strikefast’s senior troop commander discuss the mysterious settlement they’d found on this unnamed world, Cadet First Class Eli Vanto tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

And wondered what he was doing here.

None of the other ten Myomar Academy cadets had been ordered down with Parck’s shuttle. Eli didn’t have any particular expertise in unknown artifacts or tech. It wasn’t like he needed planetside experience, anyway—he was on track to become a supply officer. There was no reason he could think of why he’d been singled out this way.

“Cadet Vanto?” Barris said.

Eli wrenched his mind back from his musings. “Yes, Colonel?”

“The droids said there are half a dozen trade languages out here that use Bogolan script. You’re our expert on obscure local languages.” He gestured to the crates. “So?”

Eli moved closer, wincing a little. So that was why he was here. He’d grown up on the planet Lysatra in this part of Wild Space, pressed up against the so-called Unknown Regions. His family’s shipping company worked mostly in and around their homeworld, but they did enough business in the Unknown Regions that Eli had picked up proficiency in several of the local trade languages.

But that hardly made him an expert.

“It could be a variant of Sy Bisti, sir,” he said. “Some of the words are familiar, and the syntax is right. But it’s not standard.”

Barris snorted. “Hard to imagine a standard for a language so obscure that even the droids don’t bother with it.”

Eli held his tongue. Sy Bisti was actually a perfectly well-defined and eminently useful language. It was the people who still used it, and the worlds they lived on, that were obscure.

“You said you can read some of it?” Parck prompted.

“Yes, sir.”

~

Quientessential Eli Vanto.

Epically failing to be invisible given his unstoppable natural inclination to be unbiased, curious, and forthright.

We know him for less than a few paragraphs, and he is already, overwhelmingly, in our hearts.

[Photo: beautiful pin by @ritarussiandoll_pins, featuring one of the most prolific Thranto artists @iskelan_art. In the background, Eli chubchub plush by @penguinfairycrafts]

Hold onto it for him

Ba’kif stared at him. It wasn’t often that someone could catch him by surprise, especially not an alien. The words were organic, not rehearsed or meant as a performance. [...] These were the words of a military man, with a steadiness that spoke of growth and maturation yet to come. This man would be a leader. He could see Thrawn’s mark on the man, but he also remembered Thrawn’s words: he guided, he did not teach. These things were pre-existing, or they weren’t. But Eli Vanto’s strengths weren’t restricted to only patterns and tactics. Vanto was adept in politics, too.

And with that, Ba’kif understood.

He cleared his throat. “I called you here today because you deserved to hear from me about your former commander and fleet-mates. [...] I have but one more thing for you, Lieutenant Commander.”

Without looking away from those dark-edged eyes, the general pulled open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a box from inside.

"I think that Thrawn would have wanted you to have this," Ba’kif said, pulling the plush lid off the box to reveal the four-pointed medal inside that gleamed gold and was polished to a flawless shine. "It was given to him many years ago." Slowly, methodically, he explained its significance: To the Stybla, and the Mitth, and to Thrawn, personally.

Vanto’s expression shifted from interest to awe, to something part embarrassed and part horrified. "Sir, I—I’m honored, but I couldn't possibly accept this."

Ba’kif made no move to take it back. "Then don't," he said. "Hold onto it for the time being. When Thrawn returns, you can give it back to him then."

~

Keeping my "Eli series" strong this week, with this excerpt from "Negotiate, Deliberate, Extort as Necessary" by @DistantStorm.

One of the main missteps when thinking about Eli Vanto is associating him with the topos of the lost young cute boy, completely bewitched by the strong alpha male.

A world of no.

15 years of "Sir" did not make Eli less bold, blunt, and honest.

And yes.

Even with Thrawn.

[Custom ring: @caitlynminimalist]

Wild Space Giveaway

Researching a proper scent for Eli has been fun but also kind of stressful.

A lot of responsibility since, despite he appears in just two out of six canon books, his fandom is vast and adoring.

Because, frankly, it is impossible not loving him.

[Right, Thrawn?]

We wanted something kind and sweet but, at the same time, direct and blunt. And since he is a Wild Space cowboy, in a way, something exotic and a little rough.

The selection of the notes has been super long, spanning all summer. And, since the other mastermind behind this, @kotoroa, lives something like 8,060 km away from me, also pretty challenging, given the need to send each other the scents for comparing notes.

Ultimately, the choice fell on saffron and white tea for the top notes, purple peonies, orchid, and tobacco for the middle, with a base of everything you can think of good and earthy: vanilla, almond milk, and tonka bean.

At this point, the artistry and talent of @thenerfherderco did the rest, and the “Wild Space Cowboy” scent is now available on her website. And, since I am pretty proud of it, also part of my most recent giveaway on IG (check the link on the right).

For entering, everyone needs to comment why they love Eli and Thrawn (as friends, partners, soulmates, mentor/mentee, whatever is in their headcanon), and to mention someone that is their own "Eli". Someone honest, who understands the complexity of their soul. No names needed. Just feelings.

When you try to fix your soul

“What is it with you and Hutts?”

“I spent too much time with them to ever like them. And that’s all you need to know.”

Anakin regretted it as soon as he said it. He’d made it sound more as if he had some wild, dark past, and nothing was better guaranteed to keep Ahsoka asking questions than that. If he explained he’d been a Hutt’s slave, she’d dig away at it until all the bad stuff came out.

It was hard enough telling Padmé, and she was his wife.

Wife.

It was such a serious and wonderful word.

It shouldn’t have been a guilty secret. Anakin wondered what would happen if he told Yoda straight out that he had a wife, that he didn’t agree with all the arbitrary Jedi rules on avoiding love and attachment, and ask him—respectfully—what he was going to do about it.

He’d have to tell Kenobi first, though. And that was going to be much harder, because he heard that Kenobi had faced the same choice as Anakin, but had walked away from the love of his life, and done things strictly by the Jedi book.

How can that be right? How can that make us better Jedi?

No. Anakin would say nothing.

He weighed the corrosive effect of keeping secrets from his old Master against the storm that would be unleashed if he confessed to his marriage.

I have a war to fight. And Padmé is nobody’s business but mine.

~

This quote is a gem.

So much Anakin in it, so many words left unsaid.

Creeps leading to the collapse.

But why, you may ask, pairing it with Anakin's lightsaber?

For people who use to fix things, not having everything under control is hard.

Build, break, repair. And start again.

All predictable, known.

But attachments, emotions, relationships.

People.

They are beyond oneself ability to affect them.

Change them.

And this is destabilizing.

And terrifying.

~

“Life seems so much simpler when you’re fixing things. I’m good at fixing things. I always was.”

~

[Photo: I love this saber pin series, by @projectlunarock]

Lesser Evil

Time to thank my IG followers for the support and the love.

Truly, a Thrawnsgiving!

Today, I will giveaway a **signed** copy of "LesserEvil", the extraordinary conclusion of the Ascendancy trilogy. Mr. Zahn deserves all the most wonderful things in life, so I decided to support him a little, and I bought a few copies to gift around, today and in the future.

Check my IG for details!

[Link on the menu on the right]

Thrawnsgiving

Eli had dared to see his commander as almost a friend.

What he didn’t know—what he’d never known—was how Thrawn saw him.

Did Thrawn have friends? Eli or anyone else? Had he had friends when he was growing up in the Chiss Ascendancy, or had he always been different, the oddness of his mind leaving his young peers bewildered or resentful?

~

It is said that one should keep one’s allies within view, and one’s enemies within reach. [] But what of friends?

There is no accepted answer, perhaps because true friendship is so exceedingly rare. But I have formulated my own.

A friend need not be kept either within sight or within reach. A friend must be allowed the freedom to find and follow his own path.

If one is fortunate, those paths will for a time join. But if the paths separate, it is comforting to know that a friend still graces the universe with his skills, and his viewpoint, and his presence.

For if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone.

~

Time for reflection and acknowledgment.

Time for understanding a year of emotional suspension and changes.

Time for being grateful for all the love I received and still receiving.

Time for celebrating my precious found family.

In a way, indeed.

Thrawnsgiving.

~

"You see in him a shiny new piece the Stybla can add to the political board," he said, looking back at Lappincyk. "But that's all you see."

"And you think the Mitth see more?"

"I don't know what the Mitth see," Thrass said. "All I know is what I see."

"Which is?"

Thrass took a deep breath. The young, socially awkward caded fascinated by artwork. The unique ability to understand that artwork, while beneath the intellect was the quiet pain of a hidden loss. [] What exactly *did* he see in Thrawn?

"What I see," he said, "is a friend. My friend."

~

"He'll be traveling aboard the Parala; I'll let you know his departure time in case you wish to see him off."

"Thank you. I would." Ar'alani looked at Thrawn as she stoop up. "I'll say my goodbyes then, Thrawn. Don't you dare leave before I get that chance."

"I won't," Thrawn promised, "That's not what friends do."

~

[Photo: Eli and Ar'alani pops by @cardinal.creates]

Wild Space Cowboy

Patterns and complexity, righteousness, and compassion are keys to the heart of this Wild Space cowboy.

Eli Vanto is not a man easy to define.

While overlooked by not attentive minds, he reveals an intense and rare soul, an exotic twist, and the most profound sweetness.

Today @thenerfherderco on IG releases her "Wild Space Cowboy" fragrance, inspired by "our" golden boy, Eli N. Vanto.

Exotic saffron, cozy vanilla, and sexy tobacco for a mix of everything that's good and rough and honest.

A fun ride for @kotoroa and me.

And, hopefully, for everyone who loves this precious human.

[I honestly don't know how Melissa manages to not be terrified at every release, because I am.]

[Photo: in-universe. During a forced check-and-repair week for the ISD Chimaera on Spira, the bridge crew opted for a short-term leave, after almost nine consecutive months chasing pirates. When Agral proposed Spira, a tropical planet known for its golden beaches, Pyrodi emitted a fainted ultrasound for approval, Hammerly looked intensively at Faro, while Thrawn, failing miserably to read his crew excitement, knowing Spira just for their advanced and upgraded Imperial Spaceport in orbit, was quickly informed by Vanto. "It's a vacation spot, Sir. Great cocktails, fish night markets, and famous pop-music boybands". "Ah," was the monotone reply. Faro, looking amused, nodded to Agral, the docking details established. During a wild night out, maybe after too many rounds of "T-16 Skyhoppers", the conversation verted on the utterly undeniable fact that, if they had to pick a bridge crew member for being in a boyband, the spot was totally Eli's. From there, the escalating decision of having a set of heart-shaped pins made in a local "S-pop idols store" was quick and unanimous. Eli tried to protest for all the good 15 minutes that took to the set to be made, giving up just when Hammerly handed a special and different pin for him. You can guess who was on that one.]

[Photo: this universe. The adorable pin is design and made by @cherriielle, while the Chimaera bridge t-shirt, my design, is sold on Teepublic - link on the side menu]

My only father

"When she thought of her father, she thought only of Bail Organa. He had been her father in spirit, and surely that was more important than anything else."

~

“I stand before you not only as a senator, but also as Bail Organa’s daughter.” [...] “It was my privilege to know him as both a leader and a father. As proud as I am to think of his courageous stand against Palpatine’s tyranny, I also smile every time I remember how he used to get down on the floor to play blocks with his little girl. [...] He taught me so much about politics, leadership, and war, but above all he taught me that no price is too great to pay for our ideals. Bail Organa was willing to die if that meant the Empire would fall. He believed in the New Republic we have been able to create, and in the promise of fair, equal government for everyone under the law. [...] My father gave us one legacy more precious than any other—a galactic peace. All of us here today have inherited the responsibility to preserve that peace from this day forward. Only by doing so can we truly honor and remember him.”

~

“I hope to have told you all this myself,” Bail Organa’s voice said. “I hope we have enjoyed many more happy years as a family, that we have seen the Empire fall, and that we have gone forth together to find General Kenobi and your brother. If so, this recording can serve only one purpose. You must be listening after my death, so let this be my chance to say once again how much I love you. No other daughter could ever have brought me more joy.” Tears welled in Leia’s eyes, but she fought them back. If she began to sob, she wouldn’t be able to hear her father’s voice any longer. He concluded, “Please know that my love for you, and your mother’s love, endures long past our deaths. We are forever with you, Leia. In your brightest triumphs and your darkest troubles, always know that we are by your side.”

~

I wanted to post these quotes for months, as a specular parallel of my caption about Vader and Leia (July 5th).

Finally, with a little time for myself, I could share them.

A hymn of found parents and adopted families.

Perfect for this week of love and closeness.

I do it for them

“How did it end?” Del asked.

“They all got shot.”

Rex wanted this moment to be over.

It was—as usual—on the cusp of hilarity and sobbing despair. For all his training and his loyalty to the state, all the theoretical reasons why he was doing what was right, the only thing that made him sit and wait for the inevitable was that he was doing it for the men next to him, and for Skywalker—wherever he was—and even for Kenobi, but for nothing and nobody else.

That was as far as any man could think. And it was far enough.

~

I love SW books so much.

Legends or not, each one of them adds layers and feelings and deeper understanding.

And when you think that Rex cannot be better than whom you saw in the tv series, there.

You find a new passage, a new quote, a new emotional place to be.

[Photo: stunning keychain by @afanofshop, one of the most creative small shops around. In the background, the incredible work of @lorna_ka, who illustrated "The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark". It is brilliant when one of your favorite fanartists, ultimately becomes a canon artist. And her work is perfect. The quote above is from "The Clone Wars" by Karen Traviss]

New traditions

"Send danger from the east unto the west,

So honour cross it from the north to south,

And let them grapple: O, the blood more stirs

To rouse a lion than to start a hare!"

~

No spoilers here (obviously).

Quoting Uncle Willy when a new Thrawn book is out, might be my new favorite tradition.

And I hope to have one in the future.

I mean. A tradition.

We were blessed with three amazing books in a little more than one year. And the withdrawal from my found adorable Chiss family will be brutal.

I wish to have soon more tales. Small moments.

And, no.

For how much I love Ahsoka, the live-action will not count if Mr. Zahn is not allowed to place his seal of approval.

[#NoThrawnwithoutZahn]

We can just hope for a new project soon.

Maybe one involving our favorite Wild Space Cowboy.

On top of the emotional rollercoaster that is affecting me this week, I leave you with a tiny (and extremely sad) Sherlock parallel about sacrifice.

And love.

~

"I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. [] I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you. I have already explained to you, however, that my career had in any case reached its crisis, and that no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this. [] I made every disposition of my property before leaving England, and handed it to my brother Mycroft. Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow,

Very sincerely yours,

Sherlock Holmes"

Please, talk

"Going somewhere, Master?"

Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks. Reclutantly, he turned around.

Anakin wore the exact smug smile Obi-Wan knew he would. But the smirk was balanced by the concern in his friend's eyes. []

"I presume Padmé told you about Duchess Satine's message to me?"

"Yes, and how the Jedi Council refused your request to help her."

Obi-Wan frowned. Just hearing the words brought up a disturbing flash of anger. He took a calming breath.

"It's not like you to disobey an order, Master."

"This is... different, Anakin."

"I understand. If it were Padmé in trouble..."

"That's not what I mean."

~

"Master Yoda feels that your judgments concerning Rush Clovis are clouded."

"Mm, I believe he can't be trusted."

"Yes, but there is more, isn't there? I sense a deep anger in you by my simply saying his name." []

"They had a relationship... once. I simply feel she is vulnerable to her emotions."

"She is... or you?"

"What are you implying?"

"Anakin, I understand to a degree what is going on. You've met Satine. You know I once harbored feelings for her. It's not that we're not allowed to have these feelings. It's natural."

"Senator Amidala and I are simply friends."

"And friends you must remain. As a Jedi, it is essential you make the right choice, Anakin, for the Order."

~

"Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order."

~

I know.

I tricked you with Obitine IG stories and this gorgeous pin by @ritarussiandoll_pins (art by @p4ndster).

And here I am, talking about the "misinterpretation of silence and its disastrous consequences".

Which brought pain and suffering and death.

And not just to these two emotional monoliths, but to an entire Galaxy.

It would have been easy. Just a matter of being honest.

To themselves. To each other.

A simple confession, a "yes, I excruciatingly know where you stand right now, and it sucks, so leave this shit, and just be unapologetically happy. It matters way more than the fucking Order."

Ok, FINE.

Obi-Wan wouldn't have sworn that much, but the point remains.

Why not just TALK?

We had each other. That’s how we won.

Poe sat in the dark, beside Leia’s covered body.

“I gotta tell you,” he told her. “I don’t know how to do this. What you did… I’m not ready.”

“Neither were we,” came a voice from the shadows, and Poe turned.

It was Lando Calrissian. []

“Luke. Han. Leia. Me,” Lando said. “Who’s ever ready?” []

“How did you do it?” Poe asked. “How did you defeat an Empire with almost nothing?”

Lando was silent for a long moment. []

“We had each other. That’s how we won. We were friends.”

~

“We have stolen a small Imperial shuttle. Disguised as a cargo ship and using a secret Imperial code, a strike team will land on the moon and deactivate the shield generator.” []

Leia leaned closer to Han and said, “I wonder who they found to pull that off.” []

“General Solo, is your strike team assembled?”

Leia, startled, turned to look at Han. Then her surprise changed to admiration.

“Uh, my team’s ready,” Han said, squirming under the attention that was suddenly given to him. “I don’t have a command crew for the shuttle.”

Beside Han, Chewbacca raised his hairy paw and barked, volunteering. “Well, it’s gonna be rough, pal,” Han said. “I didn’t want to speak for you.” Chewbacca growled cheerfully, conveying to everyone that the choice was his.

Han smiled. “That’s one.”

“Uh, General,” Leia said, “count me in.”

“I’m with you, too!” Luke volunteered as he entered the room from the rear. [] Making his way down to the ampitheater’s floor, Luke arrived before Leia, who embraced him warmly. Then, sensing a change in him, she pulled away and looked into his eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

Luke thought, *I still can’t believe she’s my sister*. But he couldn’t tell her now. He hesitated, then said, “Ask me again sometime.”

Han, Chewbacca, and Lando crowded around Luke as the assembly broke up.

“Luke,” Han said, extending his hand. Luke took it. “Hi, Han… Chewie.” It feels so good to be among friends again.

R2-D2 beeped a singsong observation to C-3PO. [] “‘Exciting’ is hardly the word I would choose.”

~

[Photo: Leia, Han, and Luke mini Funko Pop.]

Conceit and patience

"You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin. I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories.”

Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe. “No doubt you think that you are complimenting me in comparing me to Dupin,” he observed. “Now, in my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick of his of breaking in on his friends' thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour's silence is really very showy and superficial.” []

“Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?”

Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically. “Lecoq was a miserable bungler,” he said, in an angry voice; “[] That book made me positively ill. The question was how to identify an unknown prisoner. I could have done it in twenty-four hours. Lecoq took six months or so. It might be made a text-book for detectives to teach them what to avoid.”

I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I had admired treated in this cavalier style. [] “This fellow may be very clever,” I said to myself, “but he is certainly very conceited.”

~

“You know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.”

“I shall never do that,” I answered; “you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world.”

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.

~

One of the most striking differences between Thrawn and Sherlock is the absolute naivete and patience of the first versus the arrogance and conceit of the second. Sherlock hates explaining himself to others, fundamentally unworthy of his genius. On the contrary, Thrawn teaches and mentors, never dismissing the potential around him. He does not live for the applauding crowd.

It is telling that, although said directly to Watson just in "The Crooked Man", "elementary!" is the undoubted expression associated with Holmes, while for Thrawn is "perhaps".

[Photo: in love of @lilac_vode art]

Who is worth saving

I’m not a kid. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. It’s not the Jedi way. Maybe Yoda was right; I was too old to train. I can’t be like them, all serene and unfeeling.

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden. [] His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them.

I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”?

The hatch swung open. “What’s wrong, Skyguy? [] Worried about helping Jabba?” []

He tried not to think about it, but the thought was like a corris weevil, eating away at his resolve.

The Jedi had never tried to rescue his mother or buy her out of slavery. [] Not even Qui-Gon Jinn had cast a backward glance at Shmi Skywalker. As the months and years wore on, the question would not leave Anakin alone. He didn’t want to let resentment eat away at his fond memories of his old Master, but he couldn’t stop it sometimes.

Why wasn’t my mother worth saving?

Jabba grew fat on the misery of beings like Anakin’s mother. []

And still I have to save his son. Because we need his goodwill. His space lanes.

The idea stuck in Anakin’s throat like a splintered nuna bone. The pain was palpable. []

Could she see? Could she see he’d slaughtered those Tusken Raiders? Was it etched in the Force around him? Did she know he’d committed an atrocity to avenge the death of his mother?

If she did, she wasn’t sensing his guilt.

He didn’t feel guilt about it at all.

“Let’s go,” he said.

~

Stars, this man is INTENSE.

[Photo: beautiful keychain charm by @indyren_pins.

Excerpt from "The Clone Wars" by Karen Traviss]

Royal Imperial

And just like that, Eli's life had been completely upended.

His career trajectory with the navy, so carefully calculated and implemented, was gone. Worse, just because he'd been solidly on track to graduate from Myomar didn't mean he would make it in the much tougher environment of Royal Imperial. Even with only three months to go, he could still wash out.

Especially since his time would now be split between his studies and playing word games with Thrawn. An alien who was even more of a fish ashore than Eli himself.

An alien who could not possibly succeed.

Eli knew what Imperial Academies were like. He'd heard all the running jokes about Falleen, Umbarans, Neimoidians, and other aliens. And Royal Imperial, smack at the center of the Empire, would almost certainly be the worst of the lot. Thrawn had as much chance of surviving here as a wounded bird in a nest of blood spites.

When he went down, would Eli go down with him?

He had no idea. But he guessed he probably would.

"You seem thoughtful," Thrawn said.

Eli made a face. The Chiss had no idea what he'd let himself in for. "Just wondering how we're going to do here."

~

Royal Imperial is a tough place.

Mentally, physically, emotionally.

The students there may be mean and biased, rude and racist.

But, in a way, this is people.

Not the place.

I was always fascinated by Universities.

[This is probably why I work in one].

Bubbles dedicated to knowledge and discovery.

Or, well, this is how —romantically— I think about them.

[Yes, the reality is a tiny splash more brutal and disappointing].

But, in a way, I still believe that is what I do for a living.

Studying.

Learning.

Teaching.

So, despite I truly do not like the Empire, I do believe that Royal Imperial is a great institution, probably with a history way older than Palpatine and his reign of terror.

And I would love to be part of it.

Because, sometimes, for changing mean and biased, rude, and racist behaviors you need to start from the inside.

[Photo: the greatest shout out for @outerspaceoutpost for accepting to create for me this aurebesh version of her Royal Imperial set. Thank you so so much!!]

The morocco case

Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back his left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined arm-chair with a long sigh of satisfaction.

Three times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but custom had not reconciled my mind to it. []

“Which is it to-day?” I asked,—“morphine or cocaine?”

He raised his eyes languidly from the old black-letter volume which he had opened. “It is cocaine,” he said,—“a seven-per-cent solution.” []

He put his fingertips together and leaned his elbows on the arms of his chair, like one who has a relish for conversation.

“My mind,” he said, “rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation."

~

Thanks, Mr. Zahn, for keeping the iconic posture and the long nervous fingers, but dismissing the abhorred addictions.

Thrawn is high on gallery visits, tactical studies, physical and mental training.

High on winning a point, sometimes.

Irritating the Syndicure, always.

And if it is true that he poshly arrives late to the promotion reception of his best friend, and —OK— I wouldn't define him as a party animal, it is also undeniable that he loves to have a drink or a chat or a friendly spar with the people he feels comfortable with.

Still, feeling challenged. Persistently intrigued.

His mind is constantly spinning and processing reality, without being bored by it.

I noted already that my unconditionally favorite Thrawn's quote is "curiosity is a choice".

An admonition for Sherlock and his lack of maturity and real discipline, concealed behind his egomaniac self-promotion.

[Pin: @ritarussiandoll_pins, Art: @nekostarberry]

You show, I learn.

Skyguy. I bet she thinks that’s cute. []

Ahsoka really annoyed him. [] She talked too much. And she was far too cocky, in that naive, chirpy, why-can’t-we-fix-it way, as if he and the clone troopers had never been in combat before. When it came to battle— well, he’d still take lessons from them, thanks. And she could do the same.

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either.

Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment— who were those Masters to feel bewildered, when he was the one uprooted from everything he knew and told he had a destiny?— and feeling that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And they stopped him training the Chosen One.

Qui-Gon hadn’t cared what the Jedi Council said. He’d trained him anyway, a Padawan in all but name.

Why am I thinking of all this now? Haven’t I put it behind me? Haven’t I had enough bad memories since then to take their place? [] Maybe she’s like me. Maybe nobody else wanted to train her, either.

~

Yoda fixed him with a critical stare. “Trouble you have with your new Padawan, I hear. [] If not ready for the responsibility of a Padawan you are, then perhaps to Obi-Wan she should go…”

Anakin didn’t take kindly to those kinds of psychological games, not even from Master Yoda— especially from him.

Remember me, Master? The Chosen One? The one you didn’t want to train?

“There are no problems, Master,” he said calmly. “Who could possibly make such a far-reaching judgment about a youngling’s future in such a short time, anyway? That would be rash. Unfair, even. It’s our duty to nurture talent and support it.”

~

“If we survive this, Snips, you and I are going to have a nice long talk.”

“Snips?” she said indignantly.

“That’s what you get for being snippy. Got it?”

“Got it, Master. Let’s go. [] So what’s the plan?” Ahsoka asked. []

“I thought you were the one with the plan…”

“No, I’m the one with enthusiasm. You’re the one with experience. You show, I learn.”

~

[Photo: beautiful pin by @thescevolitanostore. In the background, Fulcrum bandana by @evergoodmerch]

Thrawnkin

"There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination;

where there is no imagination there is no horror."

Although I suspended, just this week, my Sherlock and Thrawn series, with the urge to post my "Thrawnkin", I couldn't let go the matter completely, dropping here a fascinating quote from "A Study in Scarlet." I found it somehow appropriate since, for many, Halloween is a way to exorcise fears, imagining and living them, but, ultimately, controlling them.

Halloween is not a celebration that is part of my culture.

If we do commemorate the deceased on November 2nd and the Saints on November 1st, Halloween was something purely "American" just up to ten or fifteen years ago.

Now, Halloween is merely an excuse for some extra parties in clubs and pubs, but most of us do not carve pumpkins, decorate the house, or wander on the 31st dressed like sexy zombies or sexy nurses. (The sexy part seems substantial).

That said, I have been utterly crazy about Charles M. Schulz's Peanuts since I was in elementary school. If *maybe* I do not own all the 17,897 strips, I definitely daily read and quote the large majority of them.

How is this connected with Halloween, you are asking.

Well. My exposure to the whole hype —candies, carving, and all that jazz— derives from a bunch of adorable Li'l Folks waiting for "The Great Pumpkin" to rise from the pumpkin patch on Halloween evening.

Unfortunately, though, (and I am quoting here) "when the Peanuts strip was first introduced in Italy, Halloween was almost unknown there as a festivity. The earlier translations turned the pumpkin into a watermelon ("Il Grande Cocomero") because it was felt to be a more Mediterranean fruit-figure and its name sounded better."

So, yeah, I grew up with no Halloween and... The Big Watermelon.

I carved my first pumpkin in 2007, and I tried hard to keep the tradition each year, global pandemic permitting, up to yesterday.

Except for one time, I always represented my "obsession of the year", something nerdy and niche, obscure to the large majority of people.

So, I couldn't help but attempt a "Thrawnkin" this year.

I am not very positive about the results, but it was a total blast.

Hux

I recently bought the digital version of "Age of Resistance - General Hux," the one-shot comic, just for preparing this post.

I did not know or understand Armitage at all, and when I bought this gorgeous pin by @ritarussiandoll_pins on a design by @yanh_hyung I wanted to fill my total ignorance, at least a bit.

To be honest, the reading left me with more questions than answers.

Hux's childhood is probably the most terrible you can read in SW media.

Like EVER.

And, I mean, including SLAVERY and WAR and MURDER.

The psychological and physical torture depicted there, screaming from the ink in front of you, may be just comparable to the pain inflicted on Anakin by the Emperor in the Pak's Vader last installment.

And, if you didn't read it yet (DO. IT.), well, that is super heavy stuff.

This? It might be even more massive.

So, the fact that Armitage grew up totally (like TOTALLY) messed up, it is not surprising. But I did not expect that he was SO wicked, to be honest.

And I am talking about Marchion Ro's level of evil.

Which, if you didn't read anything "The High Republic" yet (DO.IT.), well, it is like being a COMPLETE SOCIOPATH —manipulative, egocentric, displaying no empathy whatsoever—.

Hux is the mold of the frail kid, totally ill-treated by his abusive father, becoming a torturer and a mass murderer as a coping mechanism.

A perfect counterbalance for Ben, the loved kid and talented pupil that everyone wants to be.

So you can guess the hate and the envy.

[And the twisted connection too]

[Finally realizing why there are so many S&M Kylux fanfics on AO3]

I conclude by saying that, although I still don't understand the character at all, I started to feel that his demise in IX was a total waste, and, if you want the five cents of this very last-minute fan, a total lack of appreciation and grasp for his dramatis personae.

You deserve to be loved

Two pale blue moons shone over the horizon in a starry sky. []

An image flashed through his mind, of a time long gone. He was standing looking at the Lothali moons with Kanan at his side, the familiar weight of his hand on his shoulder.

Ezra felt something growing up in his chest, a pressure he had kept in check since arriving, but now it was suddenly increasing, taking him by surprise and completely unprepared. []

The Ghost. Home.

The image of his parents dissolving in front of him.

He fell on his knees, holding himself, sobbing and trying to breathe, trying to calm himself... but it was no use. [] He needed this to happen. He allowed himself to cry, to yell in pain, let it all out as tears covered his face.

He didn't notice when Thrawn had arrived and crouched at his side.

"Are you hurt?" a frown on his face.

Ezra looked at him in confusion. Of course he was hurt. How could he not see it? [] Was he truly incapable of real emotion?

Then he was walking with him, and the last thing he knew, he was back on his cot. When he woke up, [] it was day already. []

Coming out of his hut he saw Thrawn, cleaning his hands from some kind of black tincture.

"Ah, you are awake. Good. [] You required some rest. It was understandable."

"I-" Ezra scratched the back of his head and looked away from him in embarrassment. Something his attention from the corner of his eye. He froze with a silent gasp. His eyes watered again.

He had trouble breathing.

There, against one of the trees, was a small wooden tablet with a drawing. It was the picture of his parents with him as a child, replicated with black ink. []

"I apologize. Even though I had studied that photo many times I lack the detailed skills of Miss Wren and the necessary tools and pigments to-"

"No, it’s fine," Ezra hurried to say as he dried his tears and tried to keep his hands from shaking. []

“Last night you mentioned you wished you had it with you. [] It was something I could provide."

After a long silence, Ezra nodded.

"Thank you."

["Last Known Trajectory" by @soulnova_alizrak]

~

Lesser Evil is already breaking me.

I needed for him to be seen for a tiny fictional bit.

[Photo: art by @aly_en.art]

The brain-attic

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing. [] My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth traveled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.

“You appear to be astonished,” he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. [] “You see,” he explained, “I consider that a man’s brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. [] Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. [] It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.”

“But the Solar System!” I protested.

“What the deuce is it to me?” he interrupted impatiently; “you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work.”

~

“Could there be a political aspect to this?”

“An excellent question” Samakro agreed. “Let me give you a simple answer: no.”

Laknym frowned. “No, sir?”

“No,” Samakro repeated. [] “The truth, Laknym, is that I’ve been Thrawn’s first officer since he came aboard. I’ve watched him in battles, in preparation for battles, in the aftermath of battles, and dealing with Aristocra and senior officers.”

He looked back at Laknym. “And I have never—never—seen anyone as utterly incompetent at politics as he is.”

~

Although the reasons for their selective ignorance are intrinsically distinct —a deliberate choice to disregard some subjects vs. the inability to understand social constructs— I find it staggeringly fascinating that these two great minds would not or could not master tasks uncomplicated for an ordinary man.

[Photo: phenomenal pin by @ritarussiandoll_pins, on a design by @nekostarberry]

So little about me

“Hey, Thrawn…” Ezra said after passing him a refilled waterskin. It was night already.

“Yes?”

“I just realized... I don't know the name of your race.” [] Ezra tried to sound casual as he sat on the opposite side of the campfire.

Thrawn rose his red eyes to him, analyzing the Jedi for a moment. “Chiss. The name of my race is Chiss. [] I would have assumed Agent Kallus would have informed you of these details when he defected to the Rebellion,” Thrawn raised an eyebrow inquisitively. []

“Maybe he did? I might have skipped over that part of the report,” he shrugged. []

“You knew so little about myself and yet you managed to defeat me,” Thrawn seemed to show amusement at this thought. []

“Aren't you angry about that?” [] Ezra hadn’t realized the question nagged him since the first day he woke up here.

“Your maneuver took me by surprise and, yes, I must confess I was initially upset,” Thrawn explained softly.

“...and scared” Ezra added truthfully but maybe too bluntly. Thrawn’s eyes met his, narrowing, his expression hardened.

“Yes. Jumping into hyperspace with no windows and held by bizarre creatures can be regarded as frightening.”

“But you are not upset anymore?" [] It just simply confused him why Thrawn had never complained or lashed out to him in revenge. Thrawn had lost everything he had worked for in the Empire.

“You accomplished something remarkable. [] I told you before I had originally dismissed you, and that was my error. Only someone else had come as close as you. [] He was known as Nightswan" Thrawn’s tone was solemn and full of respect. "I had attempted to save him during the Battle of Batton."

"Wait, I know that one. A whole city was destroyed. All those people died because of you" Ezra’s tone lowered, anger found again a grab on him.

"That was the official statement, yes. I took responsibility for it" Thrawn said calmly but there was a hint of disgust in his eyes. “Governor Pryce was there. Perhaps you would be able to persuade her to tell you more about the events of that day, but I doubt she survived the attack on Lothal,” he added offhandedly as if he was actually glad of that part.

["LKT" by @soulnova_alizrak]

~

I so need all this.

Understanding.

[Photo: pin by @maxxmerch. Note: I slightly darkened Ezra's skin color.]

Unlikely similar

His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.

~

Thrawn and Sherlock.

Tall, regal, graceful, delicate, sharp, slender.

Handsome.

Alike, yet so categorically different.

A "new" series, ranting about these two extraordinary characters.

In addition, of course, to Eli's and Ar'alani's ones, Faro's and Ezra's.

[And, to be precise —as I NEED to be for being, well, ME— this is actually my second post about the duo]

Will I end up extending #ThrawnThursday during the whole week?

Perhaps.

Do I care?

Nope.

~

The prisoner, as Eli had already noted, was of human shape and dimensions. But there the resemblance to normal humans ended. His skin was blue, his eyes a glowing red, and his hair a shimmering blue-black. [] The prisoner was dressed in what appeared to be skins and furs. [] Even marching in the center of a rectangle of armed stormtroopers, he had an air of almost regal confidence about him.

~

Standing [] was a tall, slender man. Or rather, not quite a man. His eyes were glowing red, his skin blue, his hair blue-black. He was dressed in a black military-style uniform with a burgundy patch on one shoulder and silver bars on his collar. Something was holstered on his right hip—a sidearm of some sort—with a slender, lightsaber-sized tube holstered on his left.

Thrawn.

~

Thrawn was taller than Samakro had expected, and carried himself with grace and a certain air of confidence. He was also courteous to the officers and warriors, and knew his way around the Springhawk.

~

Never in

His deep hazel eyes seemed to soften and melt, and his eyelashes swept down and his lips parted as he leaned in, and—

Vi released his shoulders and stepped back.

"Archex, what are you doing? [] Were you trying to kiss me?"

He squeezed his eyes shut like a child trying to hide. "No. Yes. Maybe?" []

"Then I'll go ahead and let you in on a little secret: I'm not into it." []

"It just felt like—I'm so sorry—"

She interrupted him before he could dig himself into a hole. "Look. We work together. We're partners. I care about you, but not like that."

She'd never cared for anyone like that, men or women, never had such urges. [] She tossed him a grin. "Look, just know that I'm your friend, and I'm here for you. Not romantically or physically, but for pretty much anything else. You can count on me. Okay?"

["Black Spire" by D. S. Dawson]

~

"Now, see, that I just don't get," Leox said later, when Affie and Geode tried to explain the Jedi to him. "How are you supposed to prove love to the galaxy at large if you don't know how to love one individual person?" []

"You don't have to have sex with someone to love them. You should know that if anyone does.

"Indeed I do."

["Into the Dark" by C. Gray]

~

There are gazillion reasons why people decide to NOT come out. And they are ALL valid.

So, on this National Coming Out Day, I want to say: no worries, no pressure.

Even if you are not out, not planning to be, maybe not even with yourself.

I want you to know: you are welcome and loved, and you can always speak with me.

Personally, I never being "in", actually. I was very clear to anyone asking since I was 12 or 13. The posters in my room were pretty self-explanatory as well.

Unfortunately, though, —bi problems— you are never *truly* believed until you introduce him or her or them. Everyone is then very shocked, trying hard to put you in their mental boxes. Besides dating, I spent eleven years of my life in long-term relationships with men, and the last seven with a woman. At 45, it would be nice not to have people still saying that I am "confused."

But, it is their limit, not mine.

I can fly anything.

[Photo: tookas pride by @hans.pins, kyber crystal by @liminalpins]

And he was you and you were him

Ezra was barely holding himself together, both his hands raised up towards the creatures and sweating profusely, trembling. Clearly, he was feverish from his wound [] and the young Jedi fell to his knees panting and gasping. [] Thrawn stared at him briefly, narrowing his glowing red eyes as he considered his options. After a few heartbeats, he finally approached the young man and pulled him up from his good shoulder. []

"NO! n-no...!" he mumbled in alarm and tried in vain to step away from Thrawn.

"Bridger, we are heading to the remaining escape pods. Will I have to leave you here to die?" It was not a threat, it was an honest question and Ezra was awake enough to comprehend this.

"Ok..." he calmed down and started to drift back into unconsciousness. Thrawn hurried to the nearest working escape pod practically dragging Bridger along.

"Kanan... I'm sorry..."

Thrawn seated Ezra and hastily strapped him the best he could, then went to the controls of the escape pod. [] Even if they detached now, their chances of survival were minimal. He looked back at Bridger and couldn't help to find all of this predicament impressive. He half smirked at the irony of it all and pressed the emergency release button.

"May the Force be with us."

[]

Fire engulfed everything.

He was a child, it was raining. He was scared and alone.

Red eyes over him. He tried to escape. He was held down. He screamed for help.

Stars. He was surrounded by stars. Dume was there. But it wasn't Dume.

"Kanan."

He could not see him, but he was brilliance. He could not touch him, but he was embracing him.

He smiled as a wave of relief and peace rolled over him.

He opened his eyes.

["LKT" by @soulnova_alizrak]

~

Continuing my journey across possible futures post-Rebels, I adored this very on-point suggestion regarding the inevitable overlap between Kanan and Thrawn in Ezra's soul. Although the Jedi will take years to fully trust the Chiss, Thrawn's natural mentor abilities, selflessness, and kindness, will inexorably lead him to feel the strong parallel between the two men, ultimately accepting the latter in his complexity and good intentions.

A very Ezra thing.

[Photo: magnificent pin by @ghostcrewpins]

Your scent

"They’ve shared a room for years, shared silences, meals, advice, stories.

Eli can’t help but breathe in Thrawn’s scent — Imperial soap, the cool scent of his hair gel, and something that Eli has come to know as just him."

Yes, you guessed right.

This passage is not from one of Zahn's books, but from an extraordinary fanfiction written by Amukmuk, titled "In Your Hands".

For disclosure, the story is an ace —but not aro— take on Eli and Thrawn's relationship.

And it is wonderful.

[Thank you @trisha.clev with all my soul]

Although the quote is new and, let's say, non-canon, I am waiting to write this caption and take this photo since, more or less, forever.

And given that IG doesn't show my posts anyway, it does not matter too much if end up sharing this too late, when half of the world is asleep and the other —the one that does not write geeky posts about the cologne of imaginary tall aliens on Friday evening— is out drinking beer.

~

There are two types of fragrances for a literary character.

The perfume that he or she would wear, and the scent that he or she is.

I already spoke about this elegant cologne that @thenerfherderco associated with Thrawn.

And it is indeed perfect as the perfume he would wear.

He would choose an extremely pleasant, refined, sophisticated scent.

He would not want to stand out too much (he is already, well, BLUE), but he would care to give everyone a feeling of decorum, cultivated taste, without being too frivolous, or —the horror— predictable.

But what scent Thrawn IS?

Our first impression of a fragrance is largely shaped by the top notes. The molecules are small and evaporate quickly. They intrigue and attract, then transition into the headier middle notes, which are forming the soul, the foundation of the perfume. They generally account for the majority of the aroma, hold our attention, acting as a buffer for the more robust base notes. These are made by heavy molecules providing complexity, depth, and a lasting impression.*

So, what scent Thrawn IS?

Top: Polite, Disciplined, Unforeseeable.

Middle: Selfless, Rare, Intense.

Base: Caring, Delicate, Complex.

Can a perfume be all that?

Can a man?