Corellian Ryshcate

Not canon relationships, you say.

Yeah, you're right.

So why, you ask, did I bother you with *this*, all June?

Why did I stubbornly insist on overly sweet gay family fluff?

Why is so important for me to share these stories, to proclaim this intimacy, to paint this affection between characters who, I hope we established in my last post, are not authoritatively gay.

Why simply talking about Vi and Amilyn and Eleodie is not enough for making my point? Why the urge to exploit established characters that we are extremely familiar with? That YOU are extremely familiar with?

Because I wanted, no, I *needed* to show that these characters that mean so much to us, that we take inspiration from, identify with even, who are witty, and brilliant, and caring, and wonderful remain *unchanged*.

As two dads. As two husbands. As lovers.

I wanted for you to live the connection because you already know them, respect them, feel them. And while I color them in love, and raising their kid, you *sense* that they are the same.

As YOU.

Having the *right* to be and to love and to be happy.

As YOU.

A small fictional alien family that is EXACTLY like yours.

Imperfect, messy, and sweet.

Molded with kindness and Corellian Ryshcate, selflessness and joy, sick days and broken hearts. Kisses, markers, coffee, and a little sleep.

And there is no State, no Governor, no God that can negate it.

[Photo: I will never stop to be grateful to @lucenorthstar for creating this piece for me. I am a saccharine addicted as for fanart and fanfictions and this was everything I wanted, really. The Corellian Ryshcate is a type of pastry that was traditionally served at celebrations and commonly eaten by Corellians who had left the planet. The pastries are made with Corellian whiskey and nuts in layers of pastry]

The blue marker

“Hey, Thrawn?” Che’ri asked, swinging her legs back and forth as she colored in her drawing.

“Yes, Che’ri?”

“Are you ever going to get married?”

Thrawn paused and put down his questis to regard her over the desk. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Thalias was telling me about her friend who’s getting married this weekend. I guess I was curious. Is it because you’re in the military? Or because you’re the captain?”

“Neither,” he answered.

“Then why?” she frowned. []

“Because I do not want to,” Thrawn told her.

“Thalias wants to get married someday,” she informed him. “At least, I’m pretty sure. She always ends her stories with people getting married and living happily ever after.”

Thrawn’s face twisted slightly. “I’m sure,” he said. “Many people want to get married. Perhaps you may want to, someday, when you’re older.”

Che’ri wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Thrawn smiled. “Perhaps not. But people aren’t always interested in the same things. Thalias is interested in marriage, in meeting someone and falling in love. I am not.”

“Okay.” That made sense. Except-

“You’ll still have friends, though, right? Everyone in the books always stayed with their spouse.”

“Of course, I’ll still have friends,” Thrawn told her softly. “I have you, and Thalias, and Ar’alani, and everyone else to be my friends.”

“That’s okay then,” Che’ri nodded firmly. “Can you pass me the blue marker?”

Thrawn passed her the marker, and she went back to her drawing.

A springhawk, of course.

[From "Five Times Thrawn Explained and One Time He Didn’t Have to" by v838monoceros on AO3]

~

Asexual and aromantic representation in the media is limited and rarely openly acknowledged by creators or authors. Many characters are potentially but not explicitly confirmed aro or ace, leading to a form of hurtful erasure.

Among them, Sherlock Holmes -the known inspiration for Thrawn- is portrayed by Conan Doyle as uninterested in sexual or romantic relationships, with the intention to characterize him as solely driven by his intellect.

So, for my 4th Pride #ThrawnThursday, I felt compelled to acknowledge this undeniable aspect of Mr. Zahn's *canonical* portrayal of Thrawn, as a caring, loving aroace character.

Slash!

"I am a slasher".

If this sentence seems nonsensical to you, here I am, trying to frame what for me is a very LARGE component of my experience as a fan.

I have several real-life friends that write actual academic books on this topic, and, since I am just a consumer -a very old-timer one, but still, just a consumer- I will quote here, mostly, parts taken from Wiki or other websites, so to use the right sociology terms and stay in 2200 characters.

Slash fiction is a genre of fan fiction that focuses on romantic and/or sexual relationships between characters of the same sex*. You probably know it as M/M now*, or, even, just "shipping", not really distinguishing heterosexual pairings from homosexual ones.

But, back in the day, the difference was there, and so, we were "slashers."

It is commonly believed that slash originated during the late 1970s, within the Star Trek fandom, starting with "Kirk/Spock" stories generally authored by female fans. The name arises from the use of the slash symbol / in K/S, identifying romantic and/or sexual Kirk and Spock fiction, as compared to & in K&S, conventionally used for friendship fiction. In its earliest days, slash has been particularly inspired by popular speculative fiction franchises (e.g. sci-fi), possibly because this kind of fiction lacked well-developed female characters or because the speculative elements allowed greater freedom to reinterpret canon characters. However, already at the end of the '70s, large slash productions were also based on non-speculative sources, such as "Starsky and Hutch". 

Later, frustration with the portrayal of gay relationships in mainstream media fed a growing desire in authors to explore the subjects on their own terms, using established media characters. In a way, so, slash has been important to the LGBT community and to the formation of queer identities, as it represents a resistance to the expectation of heterosexuality. That said, though, slash is generally unrepresentative of the male gay community as a whole, since, primarily, filtered and coded by women*. It is worth noting, however, that the predominant demographic among slash readers and writers identifies as other than heterosexual.

*A quick note here. In today's fan fiction communities, the term "slash" is almost lost. M/M fiction, although deriving from slash, include also not canonically trans characters or canonically queer characters, so that it cannot be confined to a definition of "relationships between characters of the same sex". Additionally, the M/M genre is more and more written by young trans men, which shifts perspectives and nuances. Even not as a sociology academic, but as a 25+ years fan fiction reader, I can easily note many differences between a rather recent M/M creative work, maybe authored by a teenager trans man, and a 1995 slash fiction written by a cis woman. So to say, that my caption aimed to discuss specifically slash, not "modern" M/M.

Random on a Friday evening

Arcane is probably the best thing I saw on TV or other media in the last 10 years (minimum).

These days, since Netflix is heavily promoting it in LA, I read a lot of comments from people that absolutely want season 2 like tomorrow.

While I do understand the hype (believe me, in the last six months there was not a DAY that passed without me watching some parts of it), I am also painfully aware that it took them 6 years (!) for producing these 9 episodes.

So, I'd rather wait for a couple of years more, or whatever it takes really, for having a second season at the level of the first, instead of something messed up, just for the sake of the momentum.

But I understand, it's just me.

Nothing. I wanted to say it.

Touch

“You come here often,” Thrawn states, but Eli can hear the question dancing behind his tone. 

“Yeah. When I first came here I obviously didn’t have a place to go so I stayed in base housing and would walk around to find a place for dinner.” []

Thrawn leans forward, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and guilt. “They were the only people who would serve you.” 

Eli sighs. He should have known that Thrawn would figure it out, he went through the same thing, after all. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter.” []

“I am sorry for what I have put you through.”

Eli reaches across the table on instinct. “Don’t be. I love my life here. So what if the beginning had a few hiccups? Most beginnings do.” 

Thrawn turns his hand over to catch Eli’s fingers in his own. For a moment, he just stares at their hands.

“In the beginning, I thought you were a spy.” 

Eli laughs. “I know, in the beginning I thought you were going to kill me at any second.” 

“I know.”

The waitress comes back to deliver their drinks and they both withdraw.

~

Thrawn puts his hand back on the table, just a tiny bit over the center. Eli feels his lips twist up into a full grin and sets his hand just in front of Thrawn’s. Thrawn twitches his index finger ever so slightly so that it brushes up against Eli’s. Moving his hand forward by mere millimeters, Eli lightly ensnares Thrawn’s index finger between his first two fingers. Thrawn smiles, something soft and so, so fragile, and rubs his finger up and down the length of Eli’s. Their hands are equally calloused, but Eli hardly notices, he is too caught up in the cool whisper of Thrawn’s skin against his own. It sends a shiver down his spine. 

Thrawn moves to withdraw. “My apologies, Chiss are cooler—”

Eli tightens his grip. “No.” He loosens his hold and Thrawn stays. He runs his own fingers up the length of Thrawn’s in an echo of his touch just moments ago. “I don’t mind it.” []

“I had not expected you to feel so warm.” 

“It’s my undying optimism. Keeps me nice’n’toasty.” 

Thrawn smirks. []

Eli hums with thought as their food is set down. This time they don’t separate and Eli has never been so grateful to be left-handed in his entire life.

~

From "New Beginnings" by amukmuk (go to read it all - on A3o).

[Photo: pins by @ritarussiandoll_pins, art by @maryallen138]

Luminous Magnificence

“I am Vinthar the Sarkan of Egg-Brood Xazin’nizar, and I welcome you to this unscheduled boarding, friends of the spaceship designated: Starfall. I envy you today for the blessing you are about to receive as you are poised ineluctably to meet his highness, her glory, his wonder, her luminous magnificence— The picaroon! The plunderer! The pirate ruler of Wild Space! The glorious knave, Eleodie Maracavanya!”

Showtime.

As Vinthar presses himself against the hallway wall with a deferential swoop, Eleodie strolls onto the ship with a long-legged stride. Chin up. Eyes down. Project confidence. You will one day rule this galaxy. []

Zhe regards those bound before zher with golden eyes. These people are frightened of what is happening. Good. They should be.

Now it is time to soothe their fear. A balm to salve the sting. []

Zher words are loud and alive, vibrating with a deep intensity. The voice that emerges is velvety and rich, and Eleodie can feel it all the way down at the ends of zher fingertips. Zhe hopes they can, too.

["Aftermath: Life Debt" by Chuck Wendig]

~

My leaning conservative University (despite what the Regents or the Governor of this State might claim), has finally introduced new name badges which include gender pronouns. Before this needed change, I used to show them thanks to this wonderful pin by @missupsetterdesigns, which conveys both my nerdiness and my values.

As members of the human collective, we are used to being treated as individuals. Generally, in our very first social exchanges, we introduce ourselves or we are asked for our names, jobs or where are we from.

The interlocutor does not assume, most of the time, any of these facts. And, after being informed about our generalities, they refer to us with our name, prefixes, or suffixes, as a sign of respect for our uniqueness.

And if the cisgender privilege might allow some of us to just omit our pronouns, for many people this crucial distinctive aspect of their persona shouldn't be given for granted, yet deserved to be treasured.

So, freeing ourselves from our bias, let's accept other perfect souls in their wholeness, "his highness, her glory, his wonder, her luminous magnificence."

Thank you, Tom

I finally saw Top Gun.
(First thing I did as COVID negative)
It was EVERYTHING.
I loved it SO MUCH that I cannot even express it.
It was really everything I wanted. All of it.
Even a little more in many "now we are old people but it's ok" aspects.
I basically started to cry like an idiot in the middle (that hug between real-life friends), and keep tearing up until the end.
I won't say anything more because I know some people didn't see it yet, and actually, I want to thank everyone who didn't spoil it for me so I didn't expect (or wrongly expected) some parts.
It was truly truly truly good.
I will go again to see it next week at the theatre until is out because.
Yeah.

Changes

The hour is becoming so late that it is early by some standards and Eli can feel his eyes drooping. []

A rustle of movement catches his attention and draws him to the present. Thrawn stands before him and, not for the first time and definitely not the last, Eli admires his form in civilian clothing. [] If he is troubled by Eli’s lingering gaze, he doesn’t comment and simply extends his hand. “Come,” he says.

Eli shakes his head. “I’m almost done with this.”

Gently, with their fingers just barely brushing, Thrawn plucks the questis from his hands. “You have not made a single edit in twenty minutes. Whatever you are working on can wait. It is time for bed.”

Eli doesn’t want to go—he isn’t ready to say goodbye. It’s impractical, he knows, to be so concerned but this is too good to be true. He and Thrawn aren’t the kind of men who get happily ever afters, they serve their nation and they die doing so.

But Eli still takes his hand and Thrawn pulls him up easily. When they are both standing, Thrawn doesn’t loosen his grasp like Eli expects. Instead, he holds Eli's hand closer, examining the scar across three of his knuckles. “This is new,” he murmurs.

It’s not, it happened about five years ago, but it’s only a reminder of how much has changed between them. “Broke my hand,” Eli murmurs. “Medics had to reset some bones.”

“How did you break it?” Thrawn whispers, rubbing a gentle thumb across his skin.

Eli shrugs. “I forget.”

Thrawn tuts, but doesn’t press the issue, probably because he knows just as well that it was caused by a brief slip in his temper. Instead he takes a step backward, tightening his grip on Eli’s fingers to ensure he doesn’t pull away, and leads him from the dayroom and to Eli’s bedroom. []

Thrawn wakes before Eli, but that isn’t unusual. [] It appears that some things never change. []

"You're still here."

"I have no intention of leaving."

"It's my cooking ain't it?"

Thrawn huffs a laugh. "Perhaps."

~

Please, Stars, let them be happy.

They so deserve to be.

[Another gem from amukmuk. This is "misty". Read it wholly. On AO3]

[Photo: one of my most treasured and beautiful commissions, done by the incredible @psiibee]

Forgotten and tossed

"At the edge of the galaxy

So far away

Black was the spire

That called me to stay.

A beacon for drifters

Forgotten and lost

The spires summoned those

Broken and tossed.

Come stay here forever

Or just pass on through.

The spirit of Black Spire

Will forever change you."

I know.

I already quoted this.

But it's so beautiful, that every time I read it again, I tear up.

[Alright, I cry at Cheerios commercials, but this really sees right inside my soul, ok?]

"Drifters forgotten and lost", "broken and tossed."

The sad, brittle looks of my queer community.

Yet not free. Without the right to even exist.

Hidden. Invisible.

So many moments spent having to explain ourselves, over and over.

What we like, what we do not.

And why.

Like it was simple, right?

"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 Delilah S. Dawson]

Vernestra sighed. She felt like she was really bad at this. Why couldn’t they just duel or meditate? This was a difficult conversation for her because she’d never once had any of those feelings, regardless of the people she met. She could tell when someone was attractive, and there were people she liked more than others, but she had never felt the push/pull of attraction so many other Padawans did when they came of age.

["Out of the Shadows" by Justina Ireland]

Feeling like in need to pass an endless test.

Others lurking, ready for our missteps. Ready to push us to conform.

Constantly hammering us into their shiny mental boxes.

Until we fit, you know?

[From my privileged pedestal, I am part of the lucky ones. I hate labels with a passion, but, if you read my other posts on the matter, I am actually the very opposite of an aroace. So, why do I care so much about this post, and Vi or Vernestra? Probably because, among all the possible shades of our community, often —and mistakenly so— defined by sex or attraction, the aroace group is the least represented of all. The true "forgotten and tossed", even from our community itself. And I am truly, deeply, sorry about this]

[Photo: Vi Moradi tooka by @amandaanime99_cosplay]

So limiting

This student was human, a tall, gangly girl with a narrow face and long nose. Her hair was acid green, which meant that either she was from Iloh or she really liked standing out. While the others mostly wore white gear with silver or orange reflective stripes, this girl wore a rainbow of bright colors that clashed so painfully Leia had to fight the urge to squint. Her goggles were already strapped on, and they were of antique make, with pink lenses that curved out from the frames to an almost ridiculous degree. []

“Hi,” Leia began. “I’m Leia Organa.”

“Of Alderaan,” the girl said in a curiously even tone []. Her thinness and gawkiness reminded Leia of a marsh crane.

“Um, yeah. And you are—”

“Amilyn Holdo of Gatalenta.”

~

“Can it be morally right to feel happy when there’s so much injustice all around us?”

“Of course. Happiness is our moral imperative.”

“That sounds [] like— like hedonism.”

“Not at all.” [] Amilyn said, “Great evil can only be fought by the strong. People need spiritual fuel as much as they need food, water, and air. Happiness, love, joy, hope—these are the emotions that give us the strength to do what we need to do.”

That wasn’t just the incense; that was genuine and true. Leia flopped back down on the bouncy floor, really relaxing in Amilyn’s company for the first time. “I guess all that meditation pays off for you guys.”

“Yes. Well, that, and it’s pretty obvious you like Kier. You might as well use that energy, you know?”

Leia opened her mouth to protest, but what was the point? “It’s like— like everything else is this raging storm, and he’s… the only safe place. The only one who lets me just be myself.”

“Beware words like ‘only,’” Amilyn said, wagging one long finger, but she was smiling. “Don’t let your head be turned by the most dangerous substance known to exist.”

“Which is?”

“A pair of pretty dark eyes.” Then Amilyn thought about that for a moment. “Or more than a pair, if you’re into Grans. Or Aqualish, or Talz. Or even—”

“That’s all right” Leia said through laughter. “It’s just humanoid males for me.”

“Really? That feels so limiting.”

~

Amilyn.

Honest. Fearless. Strong.

And so adorably unique.

[Photo: stunning art print by @vyllaart]

Equality

“Come on, just kill me, I know you can.”

He shakes his head. “Surrender is not an admirable form of defeat.”

She huffs and leans forward. “Yeah, but drawing out my suffering has to violate some wartime convention somewhere.”

Thrawn rattles off the name of the convention under his breath and moves a tile forward.

He doesn’t end her suffering.

She’s about to swear—which would no doubt earn her an admonishment from her dad—when the lock of the door clicks. [] The door whirls open, revealing one Senior Captain Ivant, duffle slung over his shoulder.

Thunhe gasps and flies out of her chair. Her dad catches her easily, dropping his duffle to better hold her in one, fluid motion. []

“Have you been managing okay?” he asks as he loosens his hold.

“Yeah, Thrawn was just torturing me with a game of War.”

“You asked me to play,” Thrawn states dryly from behind them. [] Thrawn’s flat, dull eyes are glistening and his lips are twisted ever so slightly upward. She looks to her dad, he is almost grinning, his eyes equally as bright.

“Let’s see how bad the damage is,” Da says and moves towards the board. He tuts. “He’s got you in dire straits, but you can still win.”

“Wait, really?” []

“May I?” Da asks, motioning to her board.

She nods and watches as he places a black square on the board. []

“An interesting move.” He considers the board for a few moments and then looks up. “I trust the campaign was a success?”

Da nods. “Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You going to make a move or try and distract me with small talk?”

Thrawn smirks. “I doubt you could be so easily diverted.”

Thunhe’s gaze bounces between the two of them—how their eyes are locked on one another’s and how they both look hungry for victory.

“You could start the game over,” Thunhe suggests.

“This is part of the challenge,” Da says, slipping into the spot she had occupied and undoing his collar. “Besides, everyone loves an underdog.”

Thunhe wishes she could say watching them play was interesting, but it isn’t. []

When she leaves, she thinks she sees their feet brush under the table.

~

From "Home" by amukmuk.

[Please, read it all. It is PERFECT]

[Photo: custom pops by @cardinal.creates]

Unique and beautiful

One day it was working on an ancient speeder bike—repulsorlift repair was much simpler than the finicky requirements of a hyperdrive—and Syl was halfway through resetting the reverse gravitational timer when Jordanna walked in to check on the bike.

Syl took one look at Jordanna’s dark eyes and long dark curls and had the feeling of falling from a great height. When the other girl smiled, Syl swore her heart exploded.

The holos were always talking about love at first reckoning, usually romances that ended in tragedy, so Syl should’ve known better than to follow her heart when she got walloped by Jordanna’s appearance in Roy’s shop. But she couldn’t help herself, and the next few weeks became days full of stolen kisses and nights of staying up late and watching the auroras paint Tiikae’s sky in radiation-flecked rainbows.

~

“Hey, are you all right?” Jordanna said. She’d ended up in the copilot’s chair, although Syl wasn’t quite sure how. She reckoned it had something to do with the whispering coming from the back of the ship.

“Yes, I’m going to be fine. We’re going to be fine,” Syl said. And then she leaned over, grabbing the front of Jordanna’s shirt and pulling her forward until their lips touched. She didn’t know what had happened in the hangar bay, but she knew she loved Jordanna.

Surely they could figure it out.

“Hey! Can we save the kissing for after we’re safe?” Reath called. “We aren’t rescued yet.”

Syl let go of Jordanna with a smile that was reflected on her girlfriend’s face, and finished powering up the shuttle with no issues.

~

And it's Pride Month.

Again.

Things, still changing.

Maybe, just maybe, for the better.

[I believe so. Even on this bad day for the SW community]

New stories told.

Loves, and feelings.

Friendships, bonds, understandings.

Fandoms that are freer and freer of reflecting themselves in characters and relationships.

Instants, in this geek year, when tears fell from my face.

Of happiness, you know?

Witnessing a "diversity" that blends, and transforms into... "normalcy."

As it should be.

Beyond the gender, the labels, the artificial constructions.

Read, write, draw, experience just people.

Unique and beautiful.