How Do You Think Thrawn Would Be As A Dad?

Okaaaaaay! Wild theory time that many will say is totally incorrect!

This theory is partially inspired by this post by @twinterrors29

https://at.tumblr.com/twinterrors29/boba-fetts-reputation-as-the-best-bounty-hunter/cbubdg5i3k36

But it is also just a wild mind tangent that I came up with. Now on with the theory!

...

Boba Fett is a feared bounty hunter, he's been in the game since he was 10 years old, since his father the great Jango Fett died.. He's good at what he does. He's respected and revered. But here's the thing...

Anyone could be Boba Fett.

Throughout canon many have been Boba Fett. In old canon the name Boba Fett was just alias used by Jaster Mereel. It wasn't until "Attack of the Clones" was released that anyone had even heard of Jango. And during "The Clone Wars" TV show, during the arc at the end of season 2, we see that no one can differentiate between Boba and the other clones.

So where am I going with this?

This:

Is not Boba Fett.

Or...well...he might be.

Don't believe me? Neither do I. Here's some shaky proof:

Boba Fett was born in roughly 32 BBY and the show "The Mandalorian" takes place in roughly 9 ABY, which makes Boba Fett approximately 41 years old. During the events of "Attack of the Clones" Jango Fett is 44 years old having been born in 66 BBY (the beginning of the Clone Wars was in 22 BBY lasting till 19 BBY). During which time he looked like this:

(It's hard to find a good photo of him.)

Now YES, the actor has aged, Boba fell into a Sarlacc and is dealing with scaring, and he has spend the last 5 years on Tatooine (we all know how this goes for people...)

But this ⬆️ is the work of 20 years.

Case in point, I have a hard time believing that Boba and Jango are roughly the same age, I mean look:

One obviously hasn't aged as delicately as the other.

There's not really much that can explain this, we fans just look over it because we love Temuera Morrison so much (I love him too).

But who do we know who have accelerated aging that would explain this difference? The other clones, of course.

The clones (with the exception of Boba) were genetically modified so that they would age at twice the normal human rate, at 10 they were physically and mentally 20, and battle ready.

But they aged at twice the normal human rate, why would a 40 year old look 60 instead of 80?

Well there's a simple answer. Deceleration.

In the Republic Commando books, Skirata finds a way to slow the clones aging down to a normal human rate. Unfortunately nothing in canon has shown that this is possible, but as many have pointed out, Rex was looking really spry in "Rebels."

So it is possible that some 10 years after the war, a cure was found.

During the year 19 BBY the clones were roughly 26-28 years old, ten years later in 9 BBY when the "Kenobi" series take place, clones without decelerate aging would appear nearly 50 years old, and lucky for us we see a 501st trooper in a cameo:

Now, he's obviously older and grizzly, but he still more closely resembles the younger Boba Fett than Jango who is closer to his age physically.

...

I'm not saying that anything I've said here is definitive proof that the Boba Fett from "The Book of Boba Fett" and "The Mandalorian" is a Padmé decoy, far from it. But I am saying that there's enough here that there's a chance that it's true. Especially with the drastic personality change that we see from Boba in the original series, stern and serious, dangerous. A personality that even carries over into "The Clone Wars" and the Boba Fett young readers books, though technically Legends now. This new Boba is not the stoic and legendary bounty hunter we know, and that may be the point, but it won't stop me from theorizing.

After all this may be the real Boba Fett:

Or maybe this one:

Or this one!

Or maybe the real Boba is dead.

We may never know...

Which is the real Boba? Are they all the same Boba? How many Bobas are there?

What if the Boba Fett we've come to know and love, isn't even the real Boba Fett?

Side Note To Fan Fic Authors

Here’s the thing.

I read a lot of scripts.  A lot.  From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies.  Features and pilots.  Specs and treatments.

And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff.  It’s more inspired.  It’s more compelling.  It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt.  It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful.  It’s smart and thoughtful and good.  It’s novel-quality.  Better than, sometimes.

Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job.  This is what they do on the side.  In their spare time.  For free.

So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good.  You’re good writers and great storytellers.  I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do.  And  because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies.  You’re better than that.  So be better than that.  If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it.   You’ve already started.

And you’re more talented than you might think.

When I tell you I started SCREAMING!!!

I started hearing whispers, about Thrawn's return. As HEIR TO THE EMPIRE.

Is Audible worth it? I just want to finally listen to all of the Thrawn books (I love the snippets I've heard of Marc Thompson's voice), but will I actually save anything? Or would it be better to buy them individually?

Audible is $14.95/month aka 1 credit per month or 1 free book per month, but the Thrawn audiobooks range from a little less to a little more than $15 each. There is a plan that is $119.50/year, that give you 12 credits.

Buying books individually: $171.25

Monthly plan: $179.40

Yearly plan: $119.50

But once I get these books, I'll probably never use it again seeing as I don't really listen to audiobooks.

If you couldn't tell this was me thinking outloud, I problem solve better when I'm speaking to someone else.

Somewhere slightly offscreen thrawn is lacing his hands together in annoyance at Gideon's plan, with his internal monologue going like

So he made his base on Mandalore for no real tactical advantage besides apparently aggravating the Mandalorians further- while Beskar is a useful resource it is not worth risky planetary travel, difficulty in communication, hostile megafauna, and barren land- and then he used the Beskar to armor his personal guard of stormtroopers and himself- not the Praetorian Guards we've so generously gifted- in full suits of armor designed closely enough to Mandalorian tradition to further offend- the rest apparently being inspired by Lord Vader, may his soul rest, and then. He asked for the darksaber. The symbolic weapon of leadership, further tactically useless other than even more offense.. giving the Mandalorians, historically scattered and infighting, a common enemy to rally against...

...because of a personal vendetta against their people...

I really want a chiss tv series where we see thrawn and ezra in the chiss ascendancy between rebels and the ahsoka show and with flash backs styled like how the memories are in the thrawn books so we can get more of thrass (preferably in TCW/TBB animation style).

also just seeing ar’alani and eli vanto again would complete my life :)

DISNEY MAKE IT HAPPEN OR ILL CRY

The Arrival

Warnings: none

Chiss delegates were coming to the Empire. When Governor Arihnda Pryce had first heard the news she had scarcely believed her ears, but no, they had not tricked her and neither had the secretary that had brought her the news. Arihnda grimaced, she almost felt sorry for what she had done to the poor girl. But surving in the Empire was a dangerous game, and one could never be too careful. So she didn't let her mind dwell on it. Still, she couldn't believe that she was here at what appeared to be a regular, old, run of the mill gathering of the Coruscant elite. There was dancing, party drinks, colored lights strung from every eave, the only oddity from any other high-class party was that this one was held at the forefront of a landing platform. Currently empty, but as the night went on the whispers of people began to rise, the whispers that tonight's gathering was in fact a welcoming party for the Chiss....Aristocra who would be joining the Empire.

Ah yes, the Chiss. A remarkable species, tall and lithe, with few exceptions, in her personal experience. They all possessed a blue palor, ranging from a powdered baby blue, to a deep midnight. Their eyes shone bright red, glowing even in the daylight. And they all sported a series of strange markings across their foreheads, it was unique to each Chiss and she often caught herself wondering if the patterns continued down to other places on their bodies.

The most important aspect of a party, Arihnda had decided years ago, was the people. And that night the small square they had carved out, was certainly not lacking. Some of the most important men and women in galaxy had gathered there, including but not limited to: Moff Jerjerrod, Moff Adelhard, Moff Delian Mors, Grand Moff Tolruck, and even Grand Moff Tarkin. As well as a number of ISB officers and lesser goveners and senators, Arihnda Pryce herself included. But none of them concerned her tonight. Any other night her eyes would sought him out, but tonight he was impossible to miss.

The Chiss stood only twenty feet away from her, engaged in conversation with Colonel Yularen, an expected occurrence. His white uniform was buttoned up the neck, his golden shoulder bars neatly polished, and his Grand Admiral's plaque shined in the diming light. His blueish-black hair that had grown long enough to curl slightly, was tucked under and pinned, giving the allusion that it was shorter than it truly was. In his un-gloved hand he held a flute of some dark red alcohol. Swirling it gently and taking a sip every once in a while, he would have come off as completely impassive, undisturbed by the prospect of tonight's meeting, if his red eyes hadn't kept flicking over to the spaceport every few moments or his neck hadn't been tightening against the pressed colar of his uniform. To the untrained eye he seemed as calm as ever, but Arihnda could see that he was nervous.

Moving through the crowd, swiping a glass of some yellow sparkling drink from a busdroid, she made her way towards the Grand Admiral and Colonel. As she approached she could discern that they were in deep conversation concerning the Grand Admiral Thrawn's Tie Defender project. A smile tugged at the corner of her lip, she had long since convinced the Admiral to station that project of his on her home planet of Lothal, and so far the arrangement had paid off wonderfully for the both of them.

Due to it, Lothal remained the center point for all military activity in the Outer Rim, providing it with an unchallenged position of power with the lesser systems and a direct connection to Coruscant itself, meaning a communications hub. And for the Admiral, virtually free testing grounds, supplies, and labor. The deal wouldn't get any sweeter. From what she had been told the Tie Defender project was proceeding at a satisfactory speed and continued to produce the most efficient fighters the galaxy had ever seen. As she neared the end of her musings, she stepped to the edge of the two men's conversation range, just as Thrawn was finishing his sentence.

"...even pilots of mediocre skill are aces behind the controls of a Defender."

"They will surely be a great asset for the Empire." Arihnda stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back, she inclined her head to the two men. Yularen took a step back, allowing her intrance into their circle while also distancing himself. His critical eyes took in her modest uniform for the occasion. She had opted to remain in her grey Imperial jumper, instead of dressing up for the night. From her side she could feel Thrawn eyes burning into her. She had long since become accustomed to his...intensity, but she had not yet learned how to be comfortable under it. Nor did she think she ever would. It took all of her willpower just not to squirm.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn, Colonel Yularen," she greeted them both.

"Governor Pryce," Thrawn's deep melodious voice rose to greet her in turn. Yularen bowed to them both, before turning and striding off to find company in another group. Arihnda's lips pressed into a thin line. He had never exactly agreed with Thrawn's choice of companionship with her. She turned to look up at the Chiss, he towered over her, his presence was both comforting in a way and intimidating. She was aware that he could as surely be a powerful enemy as he was an ally. Though, she thought ruefully, she didn't know what he would do without her on the political field.

Glancing at him, she wondered if he understood the political significance of the Chiss sending delegates into Empire space. Maybe that was why he was so on edge, maybe it was only because it had been so long since he had been among his own people. Watching as his hand tightened around the neck of his glass as he once again glanced towards the landing pad, she decided to broach the subject.

"When do you expect them to arrive?" she kept her voice light, nonchalant. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, his gazed still fixed forward.

"I am not sure what you mean," she smiled slightly, he would bluff his way out of a confrontation with a bloodcrazed enemy and mislead even the brightest tactician. But this man was a horrible liar when it came to casual conversation.

"Oh?" a slight eyebrow raise, "I thought it would be at the forefront of you mind."

He gave her a poor imitation of a quizzical expression, and she internally sighed.

"The arrival of the Chiss delegates?" he paused for a moment before his shoulders dropped a few inches.

"It has crossed my mind once or twice," he admitted, and by "once or twice" she knew he meant that he hadn't stopped thinking about it once.

"Are you ready for their arrival?"

"I had hoped so," he paused and she gained the faint sense that he was speaking more to himself than to her, "I had hoped that I would have more time before facing the Aristocra again." A puzzled expression took over her face.

"Again?" Thrawn turned to face her, his own face blank, a slow blink took over.

"I am cavpet for a reason, Governor Pryce. The Aristocra are an army of their own right, their fight to protect the Ascendancy from within. They proclaimed me a danger to our world and they had every right to do so." She stayed silent for a moment, mulling over his words in her head, she could understand his fears to face his people if they thought he was a danger to their society. But surely they must recognize that he would not intentionally endanger them? If he was even a fraction as loyal to the Ascendancy as he was to the Empire than there was no doubt that he would give his life to protect them. A word he had used snagged at her attention, she twisted her tongue around the foreign pronunciation before turning to face him again.

"Cavpet?" The word was strangled in her mouth, but understandable as she forced it out. He hung his head, his lips pressing together and the skin around his eyes tightening. She leaned closer, unused to such displays of emotion from him, as he spoke.

"Exile."

Arihnda barely managed to keep the look of shock off of her face. She had heard rumors of him having been found on a desolate, uninhabited planet, but she had never even heard a rumor that he was outcasted.

"I...I am sorry," what was she meant to say? There was no way that she could relate. Thrown out from your land, separated from your people, your family. Having everything you loved and knew stripped away from you and being trust into an unknown and dangerous land filled with people trying to stab you at all corners. Wait, maybe she did know how it felt.

But even then, having to stand still and greet the people who threw you out. Acting as a diplomat for the people who showed you no mercy? It was cruel. She could almost feel sorry for him.

"It is no fault of yours," he stated it simply "I do not blame the Aristocra, I understand their reasoning, and I am aware that my exile had to happen so that I could continue to the next stage of my life." She stared at him for a few seconds, that was not how she would have felt if she was in his shoes. He turned his head to hers and a small smile graced his lips. It was exquisite.

"I had hoped that I would be able to construct a viable ground for the Ascendancy to accept me back by the time I came to meet with the Aristocra," melancholy filled his eyes, "I find that unlikely to happen." He straightened and stared down at Arihnda for a second, before nodding and turning to walk away from her.

"Ms. Price," she muttered a goodbye and went her own separate way. Not commenting on his misuse of her title.

Arihnda lingered around the edges of the party for hours, interacting and conversing with various diplomats here and there while she waited and watched. Thrawn had not yet rejoined the socialites' circle. She had suspected that he had run off somewhere to discuss battle tactics with Colonel Yularen, until she spotted the Colonel in vigorous conversation with his own ISB agents. And Tarkin was still in his place, standing almost completely still, allowing suitors to come to him rather than chase them out. There was no one nor anything out of place that could have pointed her towards what Thrawn had disappeared to.

The night dragged on, and as it grew later, some of the politicians began to wane out. Dragging bejeweled skirts and feathered headdresses behind them, they made their way to the exits and out into the cold Coruscant night. It wasn't uncommon for these kinds of parties to last until the very break of dawn, and sometimes continue after, but many of the politicians and military leaders were becoming impatient.

They would wait nearly two hours more, before a sleek spacecraft appeared.

Long and slinder, the vessel gave the appearance of a large bodied snake. Swirls and straight lines of engravings traced the walls of the ship. And it grew closer, three legs popped from the belly of the ship and allowed it to land on the small platform. As it did an outrageous cheer went up from the surrounding socialites.

Looking around Arihnda Pryce could see the curiosity and wonder spreading across the faces of the men and women around her, she listened to their cheers as if in a far away chamber, busy trying to dissect the alien ship, trying to learn what she could before the Chiss, she knew where inevitably inside, exited the craft. There was nothing that she could see beyond the outside design and artistry. She wished there were books that held the secrets to Chiss policy and political intrigue. But unfortunately and excitingly, this was first contact, she would have to learn as she went. As she finished her meager observations, the hatch door at the center of the ship slid open.

Arihnda's heart stuttered. She stared at the ramp leading from the ship to the ground floor, waiting with baited breath as the thuds of people's footsteps became audible from within the ship. She felt herself unconsciously leaning forward, when from the edge of the doorway she caught a glimpse of dark fabric. And two Chiss exited the ship.

They were both of them male, standing at around six foot, one was an inch taller than the other. The one on the left was a deep azure in colour, his eyes remarkably bright against his darker skin, his mouth was pulled into a tight line, and his brow was furrowed. He scanned the area in sync with the Chiss to the right, the closest colour she could think of to describe him was cyan. Not a bright blinding blue, but lighter than any other she had seen. He looked younger than his companion as well, and his eyes seemed to shine a bit more. They both had dark blue-black hair cropped close to the tops of their ears, along with wearing dark grey uniforms, striped along the edges with burgundy red and sporting twin blazing suns on their shoulders. Arihnda didn't mistake them for the Aristocra for a second, she had been among enough military personnel in her lifetime to recognize a uniform where she saw one, and they both had rank plaque on their chests, though she couldn't decifer their meaning.

Her observation was comfirmed correct as the two soldiers positioned themselves at the two sides of the door. And while neither of them carried a visible firearm, probably as a sign of good-faith from the Aristocra, she had no doubt that they could hold their own.

Turning her gaze back to the door of the strange vessel, she was met with the gaze of an older Chiss decked in red, older than the two who had stepped out before, older than Thrawn. His gaze rested on her for two seconds, and during that time she could hear the blood pumping through her ears. His gaze was no less intense than Thrawn's, it must be a species thing then, but unlike Thrawn where she got the feeling he was picking her apart, laying her out on a medtable, and reading her strategies and tactics. It seemed as if with this man, just from those two seconds of study, he could (and would) strip her of every dignity and acomplishment, shred her every dream and hope until nothing was left but a breathing shell, scavenging for power at the bottom of the sea floor. She shuddered, and made a note not to anger him, he had the same look about him as Grand Moff Tarkin.

Looking closely at him, studying his patterns. She noticed that his skin was darker than any of the others, his blue-back hair was graying, pulled into long locks that coiled around his head, his ridges were more defined than those of Thrawn. And his regalia, she frowned as she got a closer look at it, it was the same colour of the other twos' uniform threads. Besides his black boots and gloves, he was draped in dark burgundy red. The fabric swung around him, and from his shoulders a caplet fell. It was decorated in a variety of fine threads that twisted into intricate patterns, but as he stepped down she caught a glimpse of the crest embroidered onto the back of the caplet, a blazing sun. Was it the sign of the Ascendancy?

The idea was pushed to the back of her mind as another male in black exited the ship, tucked under his arm was a holopad of unknown design and a bundle of burgundy fabric. This outfit was made of considerably more fine fabric than that of the soldiers, and the way he held himself reminded her all too well of the politicians standing around her. Though his suit was still striped with burgundy. The Chiss must really like red, she thought ruefully, observing the four Chiss who stood just outside of the vessel.

Grand Moff Tarkin began his approach to the elder Chiss leading the parade, when two more exited the ship. This time a woman cloaked in black striped with yellow exited, and a male of the same age and height with stripes of dark blue stepped off with her. And as Arihnda watched they turned in such a way that she could see they each wore unique crests, not that of the sun. Though looking closer she did begin to see that another patch was present on their opposing shoulders, what appeared to be a solar system composed of two rings, with a single planet in the first and three in the second as well as another larger circle connected to the one in the upper lefthand corner, looking at all of the Chiss she noticed that they all carried this crest, no matter the colour they wore. Last and finally, two more soldiers exited the vessel, both wearing the respective colours of the chiss who came out immediately before them. And these two she noted with a hint of surprise, were carrying blasters.

They filled out of the ship, two of the four soldiers standing at the back of the convoy near the doors of the spaceship, the other two stood at the sides, the three in striped finery stood at the center protected by the warriors at their sides, and at the front stood the one in full burgundy, with his hand now firmly grasped in Tarkin's.

"Welcome to the Empire, I am Grand Moff Tarkin. We were told to expect you tonight. Have a drink, rest yourselves after you long flight. Afterward we will travel further into the capital to meet the Emporer himself." Tarkin's smile was filled with joy, his words flowed like honey, but in truth it was all a test, it was always a test with him. Of course the Chiss were allowed and welcome to stay as long as they wished to mingle, but it would be impolite and improper to leave the Emperor waiting any longer than necessary.

A protocol droid scurried over and gave the fine dressed Chiss the translation in Sy Bisti. The Chiss watched Tarkin his face unchanging, his eyes blank as the protocol droid rattled on. When it had finished, he started himself and spoke. But not in Sy Bisti, not in his native tongue, instead he spoke in Basic. It was undefined and rough, but he knew more than enough to hold a short conversation and be understood.

"I thank you Grand Moff, for your seen hospitality. I and mine, will stay half of the hour. Then we will travel to city's capital to meet with your Emperor." Well played, it would be rude to reject a Grand Moff's invitation, thirty minutes with the excuse of the Emperor waiting for them was more than satisfactory. Apparently Tarkin believed so as well, if the quirk of his lips was any indication.

"And what do I call you?" The older Chiss smiled, a thin, knife like thing.

"I am Patriarch Mitth'urf'ianico. It will be easier for you to call me Thurfian." Once again Arihnda found herself frowning, so it was not just Thrawn's solution to shorten his name. And as for the Mitth, why was the first part of their name the same? Arihnda watched carefully as Tarkin bowed his head and gestured to those around.

"Please mingle, if there is anything I may do for you, speak it and it shall be yours." The Chiss, Thurfian, smiled at his proclamation. He tilted his head as if to think, though no seriousness was put into the gesture.

"There is one thing you may help with Grand Moff." his eyes twinkled as Tarkin promised "anything" as he brought his hand to rest above his heart, "Where is Mitth'raw'nuruodo?" The Grand Moff did not seem surprised by the question in the least. He clasped his hands as he opened his mouth to answer the very question she had been wondering the answer to.

"He is here." Tarkin took a step back and gestured high, to a balcony where Thrawn stood, his hands perfectly clasped behind his back as he gazed down at the scene below. From his vantage point he would have had a perfect view of the landing platform and the entire yard, he could keep an eye on everyone simultaneously. From high above, he inclined his head ever so slightly in the Patriarch's direction before beginning to make his way off of the balcony and down the stairs to meet with those below.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, and the company of socialites parted to make room for him as he slowly walked his towards the eight other Chiss. His pace was slow and calculated as he approached them, he eyes the one in front warily. With good reason Pryce believed, he reeked of danger. He passed her side, and she could see him glance at her from the corner of his eye as he strode past and continued down the aisle. He reached his destination quickly enough, beside Grand Moff Tarkin, directly in front of Patriarch Thurfian.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn." Tarkin aknowledged. He automatically spaced his feet, and squared his shoulders, coming to attention and staring ahead. But even from where she stood so many steps back, despite his attempts to hide it, and remain as stoic and calm as he could. She could see his fist clenching, and the sweat dripping from his neck.

The elder Chiss took him in with one sweep of his eyes.

"Thrawn," his lips curled in what Pryce could only describe as an automatic reaction of disdain. A trained reaction to his name. Thrawn, for his part, remained unphased, staring straight ahead.

"Thurfian," Arihnda was almost certain that he was breaking some sort of protocol there by excluding the Patriarch's title. That same nasty smile crossed his lips, and he leaned forward.

"Grand Admiral," Patriarch Thurfian snorted and stepped back, he looked Thrawn up and down once again. He raised his hand to shoulder height, two fingers raised with the others curled inwards. And made a sharp gesture towards Thrawn. Without hesitation the two soldiers with the red accents charged forward, they gripped Thrawn by the shoulders and pushed him down, one of them kicked in the back of his leg forcing him onto his knees, as they roughly grabbed his long hair and pulled his head back so that he was glaring up at Thurfian. Tarkin took a step forward, his mouth opened to protest, but the soldier in yellow quickly moved to intercept him and pushed him back.

Arihnda jerked forward, a protest if her own catching in her throat as watched the Patriarch take the step back towards Thrawn.

Thurfian clasped his gloved hands behind his back, one brow arched as he glowered down at the other Chiss. He appeared satisfied at Thrawn's position, kneeling in front of him. His hair had come undone and fell across his face, giving him an almost wild appearance. Thurfian's mouth curled as he opened it to speak, a language she did not recognize came from his lips. It floated with a melodious cadence, hard consonants were replaced with vowels, glottal stops such as those found in their names passed without the speaker lingering on them, it was overly filled with "ch's," "ce's" and "s's" making each word flow into the next. Arihnda found herself unable to decern where one sentence ended, and where another began. Bordering frantic, she searched for the translator droid, only to find it standing off to the side, its head cocked to the side in what she would describe as confusion in a human. Distantly, she heard it mutter:

"Curious, I have no records of this language in my database." Karabast. Her one chance to understand what they were doing to him, thrown away. She locked her eyes on Thrawn, hoping that by observing him she could determine what they were doing. How they were punishing him.

Even kneeled on the ground, forced below his station and disgraced, he held himself with the same stoic grace that he always possessed. His expression was unchanging, the only visible sign of any discomfort the clenched fists at his sides. Thurfian shouted a long winded sentence in Thrawn's direction, it was accusatory, this time she caught one word cavpet. Thrawn's own response, in contrast, was short and direct, one word from what she could tell. Thurfian barked a laugh, and Arihnda found herself glaring at the side of his head, wishing that she could tear if off for mocking the Grand Admiral, when he moved forward and tore the plaque from Thrawn's uniform. An outcry rose from the crowds around. Each of the Chiss's faces remained impassive, the only movement the flicker of the blue accented Aristocra, and Thrawn's head bowing down, not reacting to stop the Patriarch in any way.

Thurfian bent down, his face mere inches from Thrawn's and spoke in a voice so soft she wouldn't have believed it had come from him if she hadn't heard it herself.

"Nah cavpet," Thrawn's head snapped up to meet his gaze, shock evident in his eyes and...that was hope she saw. More words were exchanged, this time in a commanding voice again. She could not discern any their meanings, they were all too closely related and unlike anything she had ever heard before. Then he gestured to the Aristocra who stood beside him, and the young man presented him with the red caplet.

The Patriarch held his head high and proud, the caplet draped across his arms, as the two soldiers released Thrawn. She expected him to rush to his feet, but to her surprise he remained knelt. He looked younger there, on his knees, his face tilted upwards, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes shining bright. The words he whispered were broken, and Thurfian replied. Thrawn's jaw set, and his shoulders straightened. He stared ahead, unflinching, as the other began to chant. Soon he was joined by the other Chiss who wore red uniforms. Slowly lifting the caplet high, he unpinned the clasp, and swung it around Thrawn's back. Fastening the burgundy fabric around his shoulder.

He spoke a few more words, before lifting the younger Chiss to his feet. They stared at one another for a moment, before the Aristocra behind them whispered one quiet word.

"K'ihn."

A smiled crossed Thurfian's face, as Thrawn turned to him with wonder in his eyes. He nodded to him and clasped his arm in his own.

"Bah to k'ihn Mitth," he handed the Admiral his plaque back, and Thrawn fastened it over the burgundy cape. Seeming as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders, a small smile lifting his lips. Thurfian placed an arm around the Admiral's shoulders, and began to lead him through the crowd of people, past Grand Moff Tarkin, to the building that Thrawn had exited from. "Come, we have much to discuss."

Arihnda craned her neck, trying to catch the Grand Admiral's eye as he traversed through the crowd once again. But his gaze remained locked ahead, his full attention on the Patriarch, both speaking in the twisting language of before. The Patriarch's arm never leaving Thrawn's shoulders. A red striped guard following them closely. She took a few quick steps foward, intent on following them, before she found her path blocked by the translator droid.

"Curious, very curious." Anger bubbled in her stomach, she reached out and twisted its shoulder so that the protocol droid was facing her.

"What is curious?" she snarled, shaking it a bit. The droid gave a startled squeal before straitening itself back out and answering her with a slightly shaky voice.

"If I have correctly identified a language with a common root as that of the Chiss, as I believe I have; interpreted their voice and mannerisms correctly; and reviewed the symbolism of the caplet, I may be able to give a rudementary translation of the ceremony." Arihnda Pryce stared at him for a second before gesturing for him to continue.

"Well then hurry it up." The droid shuffled back.

"Oh, forgive me mistress, I would feel much more comfortable in my assessment if I was allowed a few days to overview the gathered data and time with one of the natives of the species."

Looking around, the other Aristocra had begun to mingle with the politicians who had remained. Each Aristocra was followed closely by a soldier in the same colour as them. Grand Moff Tarkin had dissapeared with the Patriarch and Thrawn, Colonel Yularen had engaged the burgandy clothed Chiss in a vigourous welcome, to which he replied with an almost cold indiference. The yellow clothed Chiss made their way around the area, mingling with any and all politicians who came their way, she seemed to have a liking for the white frosted sweets that made their rounds. The one in blue, still stood back, closer to their ship, seemingly content to observe the party rather than join in the festivities. Clenching her fist around the droids arm, Arihnda began her march towards the last of the Chiss.

"Your request for additional time is denied; however, you may confer with a native of the species."

"Oh wonderful." The droid swung around and toddled after her, intriged to interact with one of the Chiss. Coming to a stop in front of the young male, she noted the mild surprise that crossed his face befor he masked it perfectly.

"Can I help you?" She could hear the grimace in his voice as the words came out clipped and heavily accented. The governor opened her own mouth to answer, before she was interupted by the protocol droid.

"Oh yes, I am RQ-O72 interspecies relations. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The droid held out a flat hand to the Chiss before them, he simply stared down the droid before muttering something under his breath that the guard behind him hummed in agreement to before turning to Arihnda herself.

"I am Syndic Clarr'obi'nero, Robin if you will." The alien inclined his head to her, in what she assumed was well meant greeting.

"A pleasure," she returned "I am Governor Arihnda Pryce. Governor Pryce will do." She noted the difference in the first of his name, and reminded herself to study it more in depth later. She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to continue with the civilities, when protocol droid interupted her once again.

"It is of great interest to us what was said during the ceremony preformed with such haste," She sent a glare in the droids direction, as the corner of the Chiss's mouth twiched, and another offhand comment was made to his companion. "I have studied the intonation, and the sygnificcance of such a ceremony is not lost on me, I believe that the language has roots near the planet Exegol, a facisnating region, mostly ice planets. Which would explain your species' palor and inclination to run hot. Taking what I know of the lost languages of the Exegol peoples, I was able to cross reference..." The droid rattled on as Arihnda studied the young male, he had a faintly bemuused expression on his face as he, in turn, studied the droid. Beyond his base appearence, she couldn't decern anything of use from him. He was just as unreadable as the rest of his companions. But the waiting had gone on for long enough, her voice cut through the drooid's chatter.

"It was certainly a lovely ceremony. I wish only to know what it means." She paused for a second. "Grand Admiral Thrawn is a great friend of mine." Robin studied her for a second, a confused look blosoming on his features. He seemed to have exhaused his Basic capabilities. Arihnda turned to the droid.

"RQ-O72, relay everything that I just said into Sy Bisti." Another pause. "Exclude the last sentence."

"Yes, mistress." The droid launched into a long winded translation of her request in the chittery language. As he finished, Robin bowed once again to her.

"They certainly like bowing." She muttered. The droid opened it's box to relay that as well, before she quickly stopped him. The Chiss had mirth in his eyes as he straightened again and gestured to the protocol droid, and began his own chittery speach, speckled here and threre with the flowing words of his native tongue.

"The ceremony was indeed a hasty one, as it is of great importance. A wrong was done many years ago to Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Her impatience must have shown on her face, because he quickened his pace. "He was cavpet and now he is bun'zan'i once again." Bun'zan'i, it was one of the many words whispered by Thurfian before.

Looking up far above them all, the Grand Admiral and Patriarch stood face to face on the balcony, conversing in rapid speach, both cloaked in red burgundy, a significant colour she was sure. Her attention did not stray from them as the string of languages continued towards her. The Chiss bowed again, this time lower, and Arihnda gained the faint sense that he did it purposely. His smile twisting on his face. Thrawn's eyes alight with a fire she had never seen.

"He is bah to k'ihn, he is of the family. One with the Acendancy."

Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Claustrophobia, Child Death, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Four: Peace Lily

"This one, Gēgē," Damian whispered as he took a book off the shelf. Jason lay back and let Damian sit on his lap as he read the title.

"Can you turn the page for me, Damian?" Jason requested gently. Damian made a soft noise and obeyed. Jason couldn't use his hands when spending time with Damian, but he found ways around it. Damian had a fondness for Jason that not even Talia could explain. They spent most of their days together. The boys sometimes took a nap together in mid-afternoons when Talia was busy.

Halfway through the book, Damian stopped turning the pages at Jason's request. "Damian?" Jason whispered. Damian turned and looked up at him.

"Sleepy?" Damian asked. Jason nodded. "I can tell." Jason chuckled as Damian stood up and helped him to bed. Jason held back his laugh as Damian tucked him in. Talia smiled and crossed her arms as she watched the two boys from the doorway.

"You too, baby bird," Talia whispered. Damian obeyed and lay down in his bed. Talia tucked him in, and he quickly drifted off to sleep. She kissed his forehead and whispered something that neither boy could hear. Jason, however, lay awake, watching her. "Are you too tired to talk for a moment?"

"No, I'm not too tired," Jason whispered. She crouched by his bedside and pushed his bangs out of his face.

"Your bandages are coming off soon... And soon after, your training begins," Talia informed him, "Do you have any idea what that means for you?"

Jason shook his head, and Talia continued to speak. "Jason, I'll oversee your studies. Everything from history to hand-to-hand combat," she explained, "And then my father will take over your training once you're ready to spar with others."

He smiled. "Like homeschool?" Jason asked.

"It would be more intensive than homeschooling, but it would be something like that. I'm telling you now because there might be things that happen during your training that might not make sense... It might even frighten you at times-."

"But you'll be there, won't you?" Jason interrupted as he sat up.

The innocence written all over Jason's face moved her to tears. She had to fulfill her father's wishes. Talia promised to train Jason and examine the extent of his immortality before she'd even met him. She had no idea how sweet and gentle Jason was, nor how few years he'd been alive. Talia nodded as she turned her face away from Jason. "I'll do my best," Jason whispered to get her to smile. "Talia."

She embraced him and smoothed his hair down. "And I will do mine," Talia whispered. She squeezed his shoulder as she let go. "Get some rest." Jason nodded and lay down. She pulled the blankets over him and kissed his temple as she always did with Damian.

She left them alone to meet with Ra's and plead with him for Jason's soul. It was a fight she didn't see herself winning, but she had to try. "Baba, about Jason... I don't think he's suited-."

"I'm in no mood to hear your reservations on this matter... I allowed you to doctor him in a traditional sense as you asked, but I will not permit you to waste any more of my time. He will start training as soon as his hands have healed," Ra's snapped. Talia took a deep breath.

"You've already killed him once. Isn't his blood enough? Could we compare-."

"Should I exsanguinate the boy and bathe in his blood? Or should you have me drink his blood like some crazed beast?" Ra's asked sarcastically. Talia hung her head and looked out the window. "What changed?"

"He's only a child. A fragile child. Jason could be easily broken under the pressure of what you require," Talia whispered, "I don't think he understands his own gift."

"He will understand soon enough," Ra's replied, "But I'll take his state of mind into consideration..." Talia nodded and excused herself.

"I heard your footsteps, little one," Talia whispered. Jason came out from the shadows. She turned to face him, and he walked toward her with his head hung low.

"I didn't mean-. Well, I did mean to snoop... I'm sorry," Jason whispered. Talia opened her arms and embraced him.

"It's alright... Jason did you hear anything that you-. Do you have questions about anything you heard in there?" Talia asked. Jason nodded. "You can ask me."

Jason kicked at the air and mouthed what he had to say breathlessly before speaking aloud. "What did you mean by my gift?" Jason asked. "Do I have powers? Was that what you meant?"

Talia nodded. "Jason, would you like to sit with me in the garden?" she questioned. Jason nodded, and she led him by his arm to a small garden and helped him into his shoes. "Can you explain what happened to you in the past month?"

Jason smiled up at the warm sun. He hadn't been outdoors in weeks. Jason remembered what she asked after coming to his senses. Jason explained that he got sick from the cold twice and that the hospitals made a mistake.

"That's not at all what happened. Jason, you've died twice since December," Talia whispered, "But for one reason or another-."

Jason let out a laugh. "No," he shook his head. "I-. No." He tried to take a breath but couldn't get enough air. "That's not true..."

"Jason, you died-."

"Am I dead now?" Jason questioned. Talia shook her head. "Where am I? Am I being punished?"

"No, you're not dead, and you're not being punished... This island is your new home. It's where you'll grow up. I'll get you a room and playroom if that's what you like. Do boys your age play with toys?" Talia asked as she attempted to calm him down. Jason let out a breath and smiled. The smile was for Talia. Jason liked Talia, trusted her, and Jason wanted her to like him.

"I prefer books," Jason chuckled. Talia nodded and wiped tears from Jason's cheeks.

"A library then, little one," Talia whispered. She wrapped her arms around him, and he closed his eyes. Talia frowned and held onto Jason. All she wanted to do was protect him, but that wasn't in her power. Not anymore. Jason was no longer hers to care for and love. Jason belonged to Ra's now.

@vibratingbonesbis @thrawns-backrest And there were three. Forgive me for the inactivity hopefully that can be changed soon. I would love to add my thoughts to this post.

First off THAT IMAGE, and secondly I am so glad we're all on the same page about how godly this man's hair is. I would die to braid little strands into it. I personally see it as slightly wavy, a little frizzy when he hasn't had the time to take care of it, and if we're being honest that's never. He always makes time for self care.

This man is the epidemy of healthy, he takes a shower every day, brushes his teeth twice a day, always smells fresh, never misses laundry day, eats three hardy meals a day (opposed to Thrawn who will forget to eat because of work, Thurfian will just have the food brought to him and eat in his study). He actually has a decent sleep schedule. Averages about 6 hours a night, which is pretty good.

Everything in his life is immaculately scheduled...which leads to the unforunate fact that if one thing goes awry everything is thrown off course. His schedule probably looks something like:

Awaken

Breakfast

Patriarch stuff

10 minutes dedicated to Thrawn hate

Lunch

Gossip with Zistalmu

Patriarch stuff

Deal with CEDF drama

Supper

10 more minutes dedicated to Thrawn hate

Leisure reading

Sleep

Speaking of leisure reading, this man has a grand library, every single book is leather bound. Inside there is a wood fireplace with a red armchair that he frequents for relaxation. It's perfect for...activities.

I also see him as the type to play to piano. OR the organ. Perhaps he can play while you dance for him, or sing if you are talented. But I am certain he loves dancing with you. Jane Austen style dances.

As @vibratingbonesbis said we believe him to be a boy dad. Specifically I think he would have two boys who were raised to be the perfect Syndics they one day are. His grandchildren are given much more freedom by him than he gave his sons. He has at least three grandchildren, some are girls and he loves them dearly. He'll teach them politics, but I believe that he would actually advocate for them to leave the realm of politics and take advantage of their inheritance for other dreams. Image if one of them married a Thrawn kid and he comes to regret that lieniency.

He is very stifff and proper even with his partner, even in bed. But that doesn't mean he won't have some fun with you. Taking you on walks around the Ascendancy, bird watching, staring at you as you stare at the birds and the clouds. He loves late night walks, watching as the starlight is reflected in your eyes. He'll pull you onto his lap as he reads, perhaps even read to you. Pull you underneath the bed to "hide" from your duties. Persuade you to leave your duties on his rare days off. He probably cried at your wedding, but he won't admit that.

One of his love languages is giving gifts, you look like a idol.

GIRL (gender neutral, I don't know what you prefer)!!!!! YOU'RE FEEDING ME!!! YOU'RE KEEPING ME ALIVE !!!!

Give me all the Thurfian you've got, all the headcanons, all the silly thoughts, all the sketches !!! TALK TO ME !!!

OH GOD YOU'VE OPENED THE FLOODGATES!!! (and hnnnnng he's so pretty here I'm-)

Okay starting with more about his hair because I'll never be done with his hair. I hc that the traditional hairstyle for higher ranking Syndics is long so whether your hair looks nice or not, too bad, you need to grow it out for etiquette. Thurfian of course has the best hair for that, long silky and heavy like a velvet curtain, and half the Syndics go green with envy every time he walks by. Because what a lucky bastard of a man.

He dresses very traditionally for a patriarch. All the items you would expect from a man who respects cultural traditions. The right pieces, cuts, accessories, colors. You can't clock him on that front, he's as proper as they come (and proud of it). And it slaps because the ensemble is insanely flattering on him.

(I'm still working on the details but here's what I have so far)

a lil wip of it lol. I have more outfit hcs but I'll keep those for a post jshfjh

He's actually scared of Thrawn because the way baby Vurawn read his mind that first time they met has been haunting him ever since. Like what do you mean this oblivious child read my carefully constructed facade? As a result he avoids talking to Thrawn in person like the plague. If Thrawn enters the room and Thurfian is there you can bet he'll beeline to the other end immediately.

Zistalmu is the most high maintenance bestie ever. He likes it when Turfian takes him to the fanciest restaurants, orders the best food prepared when he visits, etc. It gives Thurfian a headache most of the time but he perseveres because he needs Zistalmu to feel sane (someone who understands what a menace Thrawn is) and he's lowkey proud of himself for taming a feral bossy Irizi.

Other Syndics actually kept dropping hints that he's being considered for the position of patriarch but they all flew over his head. He's all bout procedure and the right order of things - he'll do everything in order, he'll earn every bit of progress and only then will he consider himself worthy of it. Still, even though it came as a surprise, man stepped up to the challenge like a champ.

Also every time Thrawn's insane plans succeed he locks himself in his office and gets drunk on expensive wine. Probably complains to the empty bottles too.

(I don't have any silly sketches yet because aaah time but if I could I would draw 14716998983 versions of this man looking annoyed/exasperated/tired/done with absolutely everyone.)

NOW PLEASE GIVE ME SOME OF YOUR HEADCANONS!! PLEASE I AM STARVED!!! PARCHED!! Finding a fellow Thurfian connoisseur is making my brain go brrrrrrr so much

love how movies Kit Fisto was this funky alien-looking guy.

and then the animators said what if we made him into a sex icon