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]