Eli Vanto - Blog Posts
"thrawn has some twisted reasoning as to why he’s back working with the imperial remnant, like he must atone for something or his mission was not completed and the man is bullheaded single minded stubborn and must be stopped because he is incapable of stopping for himself"
Never has a quote been more true.
my contribution to the collective meltdown/copium pile is this:
ezra is actually working with the ascendancy on getting thrawn back from whatever he thinks he’s doing
by ascendancy i mean Eli, Ar’alani, Vah’nya and maybe Un’hee, with Thalias and Samakro running background support. hell, throw Borika in as well if you want to
Ezra and Thrawn actually learned to respect each other while they were stranded by the space whales
it’s why he hasn’t returned to lothal yet
thrawn has some twisted reasoning as to why he’s back working with the imperial remnant, like he must atone for something or his mission was not completed and the man is bullheaded single minded stubborn and must be stopped because he is incapable of stopping for himself
team chiss meets up with team ghost at some point and they exchange ideas sort things out manage to extract thrawn from the remnant and make him finally see the light
the real big bad was rae sloane all along bc that woman deserves to gaslight gatekeep girlboss to her heart’s content in live action as well. live action imperial remnant brass is looking testosterone poisoned currently
thranto is canon and so is ezrah’nya and kalluzeb. let’s give sabine a girlfriend too while we’re at it
Thrawn Dances
The Mitth are cold, stoic, and calm. They exude power and control, as emotionless as the ice flats of Csilla. They are stark uniforms, and blazing suns. Intense and they demand perfection. They are from the heart of the Acendancy, and often they consider themselves to be it's center. As one of the Nine they groom their young since birth, or adoption, to be the perfect example of what a Chiss should be: powerful, fearless, an unmovable pillar in the storm. And they certainly don't dance. Not unless the occasion permitted a sharp two step, two persons, arms poised to the side, one two three four, one two three four. It was controlled, it was routine.
The Kivu were different. Further from the core, the family hadn't even existed during the days of old. Small and humble, many would overlook the family. Rentor, a backwater planet, incapable of producing anything of cultural significance. Or so the greater families thought. And true, they were small and humble, living their lives away in small farming areas, preferring not to get mixed up in the political slights of the larger families. And to the outside world they would appear just as any other Chiss family might. But they danced.
Oh, they danced. And not the stiff steps of the higher Mitth, no it was light and jovial, underneath their planet's moon, their arms raised above them, swaying with the wind. Necklaces and bracelets of scales rattled on their bodies, and shook as they thumped their bare feet against the ground. Long skirts and dresses flared out as their wearers twirled and jumped. Streaks and flashes of colour, from scarves and hats, jewelry and shoes came from every direction. Men and women, children and adults, all joined in in the dance. Shaking their instruments and rattling their jewels. Each to their own beat, each expressing their own story and song. Each making their own art.
You could learn a lot about someone from watching them make art.
Their dance was embeded in their hearts, even years after being conditioned into the ways of the higher families, it would remain. Small scars on one's ears, lips, nose. One's steps a bit too light, a rhythm to their run, twirling batons with grace, treating the dojo as a dance floor.
Who would say anything if they saw through the cracks in a warships' doors, a young man swaying to his own song?
The afterlife is very sacred to the Chiss. They live their entire lives in service to the Acendancy with the hope that they will be returned to the snow and ice that made them and return to watch over those who they set on the same path. Their students and prodigies.
Thrawn wouldn't pretend to have believed in the idea that after his death his spirit would be magically transported to land where everyone he had ever loved was, where he could watch his people grow, and be at peace. But he also wouldn't deny that he felt a need to protect the Acendancy and that he felt a deep connection to the cold snowy worlds. If he was a spiritual man he would say his soul longed for them. But Thrawn was never a spiritual man, instead he focused his days on protecting his people, his friends; teaching others so that they could do the same; and bettering himself. And in the final days he focused on making sure that his death wasn't in vain. That it meant something. And that final note didn't fall flat.
Thrawn didn't know what would come of him. An eternity burning as some humans believed, would certainly be torture for the Chiss. Wondering forever and ever on planes of ice alone with his thoughts, he couldn't say he would particularly enjoy that. He hoped for eternal darkness, the kind of rest you only get when you enter a deep dreamless sleep. He didn't expect the stories to be true.
He didn't expect to open his eyes and be greeted by soft white light.
Thrawn sat up, his arms coming to rest beside him, none of the sluggishness he had expected was there. There were no burn marks, no shrapnel, none of the telltale signs of the explosion that had taken his life. Or was it the assassin? The purrgil? He couldn't differentiate one moment of the past from another, it all slammed into one jumbled ball. Compared to the stark calm around him, it felt like a blizzard was tearing through his skull.
He held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself in his mother's tongue, trying to calm himself with the luxury he so rarely allowed. The blizzard was getting stronger. Where am I? Where was I? Who was I? Who am I? What am I? The storm continued to grow and twist and turn. Wrapping him in it's embrace as he slowly began to sink into the soft snow beneath him. A hand reached out and touched his shoulder, and it all came to a stop. The wind was frozen. And his head was empty, for what seemed the first time ever. Looking up at the one who saved him, the face of a Chiss woman stood above. Some 50 odd years younger than she should have been, her bluish black hair slicked back, and an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face stood Ar'alani.
"Mitth'raw'nuruodo..." she whispered, stroking his shoulder. "Come," she held out her hand for him to take.
And he did.
Rising to his feet with her help, he could feel the years sliding off of him, the age, the horrors, until nothing was left except the man he had been years before. With no worries except for the safety of his family. As he rose, he began to see them around him.
The laughing figure of a woman ran past, followed by a gaggle of young girls.
"Vurika!" She passed by.
Ar'alani pulled him forward, to the feet of a middle aged Chiss. He had crinkles around his eyes, but a smile on his face.
"My boy."
"General Ba'kif," Thrawn whispered, hardly recognizing this version of his commander. The older man smiled and slipped an arm around Thrawn's shoulders.
"No status here, simply Ba'kif," Thrawn smiled, a sense of warmth blossoming in his chest. He began to look around, counting off the faces he recognized. Rik'ardok, Mak'ro, In'daro, Ali'astov, even Urf'ianico. There were non-Chiss there as well, though none that he could make out. He saw a man with brown hair and a crooked smile and began his way, before Ba'kif's hand pulled him back with a small bittersweet smile on his face.
"Wha..."
Ar'alani stepped forward "He's not here yet Raw," She explained before once again taking him in her arms and pulling him forward.
"Where are you taking me?" The two Chiss stayed silent, smiles on the both of their faces as they traveled through the comforting cold, surrounded by the voices of the dead. Then standing before them a stadium, an exact replica of the chamber where so many times he was called to explain his actions to the Aristocra, they stopped. He looked around with confusion, wondering what this was. Before the images began. Eli, Faro, Che'ri, every living prodigy of his sprung to live before them. Living out their dreams, and fulfilling their duties to protect their Acendancy. A smile on his lips, the young Raw turned from the spools of colour only to find another man in front of him, a wry smile on his lips. A grin broke out on his own usually stoic face.
"Hello Thrass."
PLEASE!?
i know hes not gonna be there but what if...... eli vanto in ahsoka show......... what if just......... what if wh
Thrawn would kiss Eli Vanto's hand.
When inviting him to dance, Thrawn would bow down deep and brush his lips against the back of Eli's hand, light and enticing, before pulling him into his arms.
While meeting as civilians, Thrawn would greet him in the way that gentlemen greet their ladies in some reaches of the galaxy, with a kiss to his hand and a utter of his given name.
While gazing out of the viewport on their warship, he would grasp his hand and raise it to his lips, while they stood side by side in silence.
Before a mission, while outfitted in black armor, a helmet underneath his arm, he would pull the human to where no prying eyes could see, and lift his gloved hand to his waiting lips as they stared into one another's eyes and whispered their promises.
In the heat of passion, Eli's hand coming to rest against his cheek, he would turn into it and press a kiss to his palm.
While they readied to leave the Admiral's cabin, he would press their bodies together cupping his face and connect their lips, hot and heavy distracting the man in front of him. Pressing him up against the wall, and biting down on his neck, listening to the strangled gasps that escaped him. He would pull away and lift his hand for a chaste kiss, a tease, before leaving the cabin and him a disgruntled mess.
Long after Eli Vanto has become Mitth'eli'vanto, he would raise his left hand to his lips and kiss the ring there on his fourth finger, a symbol not only of Eli's human culture but of Thrawn's love.
Thrawn would kiss Eli, his, hand.
And then Thrawn teaches him traditional Chiss courting dances.
He’s trying to teach him how to dance
Eli: Basic is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.
Thrawn: Please stop
Imperial!Ezra ends up on the ISD Chimaera, found family with dads/mentors Eli Vanto and Thrawn.
Ar'alani: How many kids do you have?
Thrawn: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?
FIRST DRAFT
OCC Thrawn, Thurfian redemption arc, random idea!
Coming Home
Snow drifted past them all, sticking to their shoes and hair. His nose stung with the prickle of cold, his shoulders ached, and his hands began to numb. But Eli did not notice as he looked up at the face of the former Grand Admiral who stood before him, his head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. His red eyes were closed as tears trickled down the planes of his face, and Thrawn was smiling. A feeling of relief settling in his bones.
A Chiss with a general air of distain and wariness moved forward, an embroidered cloak, a sun on each shoulder, secured with a golden tassel moved forward and into Thrawn's line of sight.
“Exile.”
His eyes lifted up, tears still flowing freely.
“Thurfian, Patriarch. You are the one who called for my exile. Rest assured that whatever lesson you wished to instill in me, I have learned tenfold. I wish only peace upon the Chiss. But I understand our ways.” He fell to his hands and knees. “But please, if you are to kill me, shoot me now, so that I may not know a single more day away from Her.” Thrawn's finger curled around the snow beneath his palms, as if to soak up as much of the cold of his mother world as he could.
Thurfian, the Chiss, took a step back. His red eyes widening by a fraction. His head tilted to the others, military and political leaders alike, before turning his eyes once again to the Chiss before him. His shoulders slumped.
“Mitth’raw’nuruodo …” he stopped, and took a breath, he squared his shoulders, “My brother, you will not die today.” Thurfian unclipped the cloak from his shoulders and…and placed it on Thrawn’s.
“Welcome home, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Welcome back to Csilla.”
Apparently Thrawn being your favorite character because you read all of his books before you even knew he was in "Rebels" is "beyond niche".
Imps version ~
I made it during a boring class lmaol
"Can i preen it like bird do?"
"... Yes."
The texture of the sail is soft and sensitive to touch due to it still being part of the skin. When relaxed, it is invisible even to the keenest of eyes.
Majority of scars on Thrawn's body came from training with Vanto. Despite the Lieutenant's protest against using sharp weapons against the Grand Admiral, Thrawn insisted there is no need to worry.
Extra note + doodles below:
I intended to make full anatomy of Thrawn one day but that been an uphill battle between me and the World(tm) so his anatomical notes is basically scattered doodle I have. He is a biological machine functionality wise. Less mundane and more the way he desceibe everything. Extra note but he DO have tail. It is stumpy and short.
^ this IS outdated pattern he have but it help to discern where everything is.
"And without a word, you'll embrace the sea that sings." -(wiege)
Vanto need a better Chiss cause this one is Doomed (tm)
"He's the Saint and I'm his (dying) Angel" or some shit. All of these are Out of Context doodles regarding Star Wars Rewrite. Only Nightswan is literal one.
Vanto trans ^ Thrawn is too but not in a way you think (silly)