#tualon

[inquisitorius-sin-bin]

The Imperial Inquisitorius

Nearly 66 hours over 20 days and 1 burst sclera blood vessel later, they're here.

May the Force Ever Serve You

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[archfey-edda]

Version 1 - Imperial puppets

[blackbirdswritings]

So, Tualon had a Nautolan master called Bavoc Ansho

Do you think his name was inspired by Anchovy?

[ct-hardcase]

What is this? More Training?

This has been a long time in the making, and though some parts of it were a grind due to my artistic motivation severely flagging, I'm happy with the end result, and finally managing to get the inquisitorius in a group shot, even with the hike in numbers!

[who-needs-words]

For fan fiction reasons I was searching Wookieepedia for other Jedi around Anakin’s age (both legends and canon)

For reference anakin was born in 41BBY

-Jax Pavan (legends, knighted three months before the clone wars, friend of Anakin)

-Darra Thel-Tanis (legends, born in 41BBY)

-Tru Veld (legends, born in 42BBY)

-Ferren Barr (canon, older padawan during the clone wars)

-Rissa Mano (canon, recently knighted during the clone wars)

-Nahdar Vebb (canon & legends, recently knighted at the start of the clone wars)

-Ferus Olin (legends, born in 44BBY)

-Bardan Jusik (legends, born in 43BBY)

-Etain Tur-Mukan (legends, padawan at the start of the war knighted during the war)

-Iskat Akaris aka thirteenth Sister (canon, born in 40BBY)

-Tualon Yaluna (canon, born 42-35 BBY)

-Charlin Plaka (canon, born 42-35 BBY)

To be fair, you could argue any knight during the clone wars without any age indication (Aakar Deshu for example) could be Anakin’s age but then this list would be endless so I stuck to characters with confirmed BODs or have other age indicators

[legomocfodder]

Some assorted Imperial minifigures.

Terisa Kerrill, Tualon Yaluna, Eli Vanto, Iskat Akaris, and Dedra Meero.

These figures are mostly purist, with the exception of Tualon's lekku, which I painted

[phi8]

The Fifteenth Brother

After Andor, I reread my favorite piece of Star Wars again: the Revenge of the Sith novelization! It’s great, especially about the way Jedi perceive the world through the Force. It inspired me to finish a piece of Inquisitor - Rise of the Red Blade fanfic that I started more than a year ago, about Tualon Yaluna. About how they break him to become an Inquisitor.

Read it under the cut, or on AO3, here!

As opposed to Iskat Akaris, Tualon Yaluna was a good Jedi before he joined the Inquisitorius. In Inquisitor – Rise of the Red Blade, Iskat leaves him to die on Frong during Order 66, and we meet him again on Coruscant, now fully turned to the dark side. This is the story about what happened in between, about what is required to break a Jedi.

I hope she dies. I hope she dies. Tualon was lying on the cold hard ground, barely seeing the shuttle that carried Iskat Akaris away through his slowly closing eyelids.

He was vaguely aware of the ash falling on his burnt obsidian skin. I hope she dies. A moment ago he had felt intense searing pain, the pain of being shot with laser fire. Now he barely felt anything anymore. I hope she dies. He was alone, in the dark. I hope she dies.

Somewhere in his mind, he realized how unbecoming those thoughts were of him. Jedi weren’t supposed to wish people dead, to hate. Because he hated her, oh how he hated her. Her fiery red form, those long dexterous fingers, her smile that that belied so much hidden depth... He was supposed to accept those emotions, feel them, then leave them behind. But he knew it didn’t matter anymore. Right before Iskat (I hope she dies) had turned on him, on them, on Sunghi too, he had indeed sensed what happened all across the galaxy too. He wasn’t a fool. The Jedi were no more, whatever that meant. What it meant for him, in this moment, was that nobody cared if he stewed in hate and anger and wishing people, her, dead. I hope she dies.

I hope she dies.

I hope she dies.

--

A ship entered the atmosphere. Tualon didn’t know if he had been unconscious, or if the one thought had taken over so much of his mind, but he had completely lost track of time. Before he could recommit himself to his mantra, he startled. The ship carried on it an individual Tualon could feel even from on the ground, weakened as he was (was he still dying? How long had it been?). It was a being that cast a shadow over the living Force of Frong. Its presence made the light shrink away in fright. I hope she dies.

The ship, which sounded an awful lot like another clone transport, touched down near him. Whoever the being was, they made no effort to cloak their emotions. Tualon could feel hatred and rage, though what ran through all of them was an intense annoyance. The feelings were broadcast so clearly he could even tell it was annoyance at underlings for not doing a job correctly.

Now that Tualon was focusing on something other than wishing Iskat dead, more sensations returned to his body, none of them good. While the dark figure was rifling through what sounded like cloth near him and briefly ignited what had to be Sunghi’s lightsaber, Tualon couldn’t help but groan as the cauterized holes in his body began to ache once more. He tensed and doubled over on the ground, his forehead pressing into the dirt. Immediately, the shadowy presence was focused solely on him. Tualon sensed the being reach out in the Force to touch his consciousness and realized who this was: it was a Jedi temple guard, one he met once, who had given him some pointers on his Soresu stance. Why was a Jedi so strongly submerged in the dark side?

“Well, well, well. It seems this little Jedi knight discovered his potential, right at the last minute...”

Tualon was enveloped in a vice-like grip as the temple guard used the Force to lift him from the ground. His head swam as he was jerked upright and now clearly heard the temple guard speak to him face to face, still unable to open his eyes. He felt weak.

“Lord Sidious will be pleased with another recruit.” The voice, vile and sharp, came from a mouth with filed teeth, something Tualon was very familiar with. “You can thank CT- 1123 for neglecting to take your lightsabers, there might not have been anyone to notice you sustaining yourself on hate for days.”

Tualon wanted to react, but only a shuddering sigh escaped his mouth. It tasted like ash. Everything hurt.

He was vaguely aware of being brought on board the transport, the temple guard no longer annoyed, but basking in arrogant accomplishment. Even before they left Frong’s gravity well, Tualon lost consciousness.

--

He awakened in the familiarly claustrophobic suspension of a Bacta-tank. Though he was clearly somewhere remote or sheltered, Tualon was on Coruscant: no other place in the galaxy had that density of sentient life. However, something was off. His home felt different in the Force, like a filter had been put in front of the lenses of a holocam. Colder.

He’d been in the Bacta-tank for at least a few days, judging by the lack of blaster bolt holes in his body. He really had been badly damaged, but now that he was awake and not actively dying, Tualon, for the first time since the clones shot him, could reflect on what happened.

The first thing that hit him was not his brush with death, nor the treachery of his clones. Not even the clear absence of Jedi on Curuscant and probably in the galaxy, thinking back to the wave of despair that washed over the galaxy, before... No, it was Iskat’s betrayal. She left him! She left him to die! Tualon promptly forget to reflect. I hope she dies.

I hope she dies.

I hope she dies.

I ho –

The lights in the medical room suddenly started flashing violently, shaking him out of his mantra. Tualon felt annoyed, but quickly understood this was something done with intention and he closed his eyes. The medical facility he was in might have looked shoddy, but this was not some electrical interference. Someone wanted to torture him.

Years ago, in the months leading up to the war, Master Ansho had taken him to a world controlled by the separatists, on a mission to negotiate the freedom of some prisoner. It had been a barbaric planet with a savage culture, and their charge was held in a gross cell with a sharply sloped floor. Most importantly, the lights in the cell were strobing, just like the ones in this room, and they must have been during her entire stay. The prisoner, a minor dignitary from Hosnian Secundus, had felt completely dulled out in the Force, after being in there for only a few weeks.

Thinking back to that pathetic woman, Tualon steeled himself. He didn’t know what was going on, why he was here... Why had the temple guard been so steeped in dark side energy? No matter. Someone was trying to torture him, and a Jedi  was impervious to that stuff. Tualon, despite everything, still was a Jedi. Right? He closed his eyes more firmly and tried to drown out the light still flashing through his eyelids by meditating.

When Jedi meditate, they typically let go of their sense of self, letting the Force pour itself into them, through them. You take a breath and quiet your thoughts, and you let the universe in. But Tualon’s thoughts didn’t quiet, no matter how hard he tried. In fact, the harder he tried, the louder they sounded. They rang in his head. Iskat’s blood red skin refracting the cold light of Frong as she turned around. I HOPE SHE DIES. The touch of her thoughts close to his, then drawing back, in on themselves as she walked away. I HOPE SHE DIES. Her gaze, usually full of fire, avoiding him.

He opened his eyes, and immediately regretted the decision. Squinting at the strobing lights, he twisted against the tubes connected to him in the Bacta-tank. He couldn’t focus. No, that wasn’t true – he could only focus on one thing, but that thing was not how a Jedi meditated.

Tualon closed his eyes again, hoping the dull flashing through his eyelids wouldn’t have the same effect as the full thing, and tried to think. Actually think this time.

Clearly his mantra (I hope she dies) did something. The temple guard had implied it kept him alive. He could use it to shut out the lights, he knew it. I hope she dies. But Tualon also knew that this was pure, unadulterated hate. I hope she dies. How he hated Iskat, the way her body moved during combat. He shouldn’t use this. But as his thought went to the Jedi and their teachings, he instinctively reached out to his fellow brothers and sisters in the Force, and was forced to violently remember, again, what he’d felt when he was dying. The gaping hole in his reality, the void where all that he knew used to be. The Jedi were no more.

I hope she dies.

He hiccuped a sob into the Bacta and let the hate consume him. He was lost, and terribly, horrifyingly, alone. At least his thoughts of Iskat and the way he hated how she smelled when they  decompressed together after sparring, would keep him sane. And if they didn’t...

--

They left him in the Bacta for what felt like a long time. The strobing lights were always there, and when he felt like his body had more or less healed, a loud siren came on through speakers he couldn’t see. It was loud, reverberating through the fluid in which he was suspended, and it was irregular, maddeningly so. Sometimes it was silent for long enough that he thought it was finally over.  But always the sound ripped through him again. The siren didn’t come off for as long as he was there. And still, he was in the Bacta.

Tualon’s only recourse was to sink deep into himself. The mantra helped at first, but at some point (weeks? months?) it lost its meaning. Who did he want to die? Why? The only through line was the hate. Hate is a very simple thing. Tualon discovered that you can hold hate in your mind and turn it around, examine it. It becomes like an abstract object, divorced from its source, an anchor to bind your being. Until all you have and all you are is the feeling of wanting, needing, willing, someone to die. To kill. To rip to shreds, to murder, to devour. I hope she dies.

--

He realized he was breathing air, not absorbing oxygen through a fluid. His eyes were open and he wasn’t being blasted with light and his ears weren’t bombarded with sound. The ceiling of a darkened room stared back at him. Instinctually, he sat up – or at least, he tried to. He was shackled to a reclined medical chair, and when he reached into the Force to undo the bindings, he found his capacity to do so lacking.

Behind him, he felt a shadow. A hole in the Force he was familiar with. It was right outside his field of view, but it touched his mind.

A finger trailed across his right lekku, tracing a line up to his scalp. Tualon shivered.

“My master has studied up on your past, Yaluna,” the voice of the temple guard said. Nine more fingers joined the first on his head. “You were an exemplary Jedi, right up until the end.” The fingers left, and Tualon was almost sad they did. “You displayed a beautiful capacity for the dark side however, which is what we want.”

With a mechanical sound, the chair harshly changed modes, and Tualon lurched upright, suddenly looking at a dark holoscreen.

From out behind him, the temple guard stepped into view. It was a Pau’an, dressed in the greys and blacks of some kind of uniform. His eyes were shot and yellow, the eyes a child sees right before it wakes up from a nightmare.

“We need to get all those Jedi teachings out of your poor head. So let’s get you up to speed, shall we?”

Tualon heard the repulsors of a floating droid somewhere next to him. The shadow’s eyes flicked up to the source of the sound and nodded.

A shiny black sphere of a droid flew up to his face. From a hatch, two arms appeared, and they fasted something to his eyes, forcing them open. A sickening wave of panic hit Tualon. Then the droid positioned itself above his head. As the holoscreen flickered on, Tualon heard another port in the droid open, and when a logo that was similar to that of the Republic appeared on the screen, Tualon felt a needle pierce the skin on the top of his head between his lekku. His breath hitched.

The recording was to the tune of hokey music, retelling the story of the Clone Wars, but weirdly disparaging the Jedi Order’s part in it. Under normal circumstances, Tualon would see this for the clear propaganda it was. Right now however, a needle had been put into his brain, and as his forcibly opened eyes took in the holorecording, he screamed out in pain.

--

Over the course of his stay there, needles would be put all over his body. They pricked the wrinkles of his brain so that he couldn’t think, agitated muscles to tense them continuously, went into his arteries to fill him up with stims and other things so he wouldn’t die from malnutrition. He came to believe there were creatures in his body, centipedes on the inside of his skull, feeding on his thoughts and flesh. All the while, his perpetually open eyes took in holorecordings of an alternate version of the Clone Wars and the history of the Jedi Order. A version of that history he knew deep down to be false, but the worms in his brain made sure that critical thinking was not possible – both because they manipulated certain parts of his brain, and because all he could feel and think was excruciating pain.

Sometimes, the shadow, the temple guard, was there. Its darkness whispered to him about accepting the pain, using it. It repeated his old mantra back to him. I hope she dies. It retold him the tales of Iskat, her deeds of violence juxtaposed with those of the Jedi on screen. The darkness sweetly promised him he could kill her himself, that he would be allowed to rip her apart with his teeth.

Once, another entity entered. It had a mask instead of a face. Where the temple guard was a mere void in the Force, this was a black hole. A cold star that had burned out. It sucked in any emotion around itself, into an event horizon of pure flashfrozen anguish. Tualon would, despite his delirious state, forever remember the robotic hiss of repeated breath as a gloved hand enveloped his face and looked so deep into his mind Tualon felt like he would never crawl out of the hole Darth Vader had created.

And on the screen, the Jedi murdered civilians of the Galactic Empire.

--

Slowly, deep in the pit, bound to the chair, Tualon regained some control. Following advice from the temple guard, the Grand Inquisitor as he demanded be called, Tualon found his hate again. Crystallized in his soul, Tualon reached for it like he reached for the Force.

He turned it over in his mind’s eye, using the object that it was to silence the worms eating their way through his brain stem, to shut out the images of horror and dogma he saw on the screen. He fed it all the pain he felt, all the anguish from the needles and the betrayal of Iskat. It grew and grew, until Tualon could hang on to it. Like, he realized, he had been doing already. He just needed to feed his hate.

When the Grand Inquisitor visited, he started to talk to Tualon – not whisper in his ear of the death of Iskat, or how to sink further into the pain, but actually talk, like equals. Or something like it. When he visited, the screen darkened, and Tualon could sometimes close his eyes as he talked to his superior.

Sometimes he said something the Grand Inquisitor didn’t like. If that happened, they forced open his eyeballs again, and let the worms back in, forcing him to watch bombings on the screen, showing what happened when Jedi could run their course through the galaxy, the horrors they could inflict.

The more frequently the Grand Inquisitor visited him, the less he had to watch and endure, until it was only a few hours in the day when he screamed as needles pierced his skull and he consumed images of war.

The Grand Inquisitor talked about an organization he was part of, leader of. A group of beings fiercely defending the glorious and new Galactic Empire against the Jedi. Iskat Akaris was part of this Inquisitorius, and if he joined, the Grand Inquisitor told him, he could do whatever he wanted to her. And that sounded like a marvelous deal, Tualon thought, hanging on to his hate.

It was the hate that sustained him through the hours in the chair. He was afraid of that chair, of what they made him ingest in it. But fear was something he could feed his hatred. He was terrified of the chair, but he slowly, unsteadily, he conquered it.

When the Grand Inquisitor finally let him out of the room, finally unplugged from the needles, his eyelids free, he felt a sort of flat elation. He had forgotten more about himself than he cared to admit, but his core was still strong. The hate he felt had seen to that. With his new uniform folded in a neat pile in his hands, the crescent of his new lightsaber on top of it, Tualon was eager about the future. He was going to see Iskat again. He might even get to kill her.

[mrkestis]

Tualon Yaluna - Hermes

shepherds - travelers - thieves

[tremendouskoalachild]

there is not enough about iskat/tualon. official or fan works. they have such an interesting and fucked up relationship! i want more evil romance!

[paracosm-draw]

I’ve never before sent in an ask to anyone but I just wanted you to know you have been feeding me so good with your art and writing and UGH. I love it all,

if you still want kissing prompts - the one like “if I kiss you , I won’t be able to stop” is one of my favsss depending on how people write it , it can be from angsty all the way to sexy and i’m a sucker for it.

hope you are having a good day/night byeeeeee ✨❤️

Eeeeh I sure took my time but here I am with the last of the kiss prompts ! 😌🤲🏻

I'm truly honored that you chose me for your first ask, and I really hope you'll like what I wrote for you ! 🥹🫶🏻

This is a little different from what I've done for the other prompts and I must admit I might have lost control a little bit at some point (this is around 3,6K words, so much for short drabbles)

Also I started writing this in a very emotional state because close friends graduated last week and I have one more year to go without them (there's a connection with the fic, you'll see) so I hope it all makes sense ehe

Good read ! ☀️❤️

_

The sound of laughter and light chatter is filling the room. There’s music in the background, something bright and loud and modern - noise as Master Obi-Wan Kenobi would describe it with a slightly raised and critical eyebrow. The sweet smell of shuura pie is hanging in the air, freshly pulled out of the oven by Olana Chion. She’s part of the batch of freshly Knighted padawans, along with Keer Stenwyt, Cyruss Okent, D’urban Wen-Hurd, Iskat Akaris, Onielle, Zeeth, Charlin Plaka, Tualon Yaluna and Anakin Skywalker. 

The conditions are far from ideal. Tomorrow, they will all be dispatched to their first mission as Jedi Knights, the weight of responsibilities and other’s lives hanging on their shoulders and their shoulders only. The war is raging in the Galaxy, Jedi scarcely dispersed to its every corner in order to help and protect, fight and negotiate. Olana, like all of them, knows they’ve been Knighted by necessity more than because they were actually ready for it, even if half of the group would gladly argue about that. They will be given no time to adjust. Tomorrow, they will be given ships to fly and men to command. Tomorrow they will be given orders and they’ll have to give some in return, with the knowledge that their choices will more than once make the difference between life and death. Tomorrow, they’ll be on their own, with the Code and their trust in the Force for only guidance. Tomorrow. 

But tonight, they’re still teetering on the edge. Still unsure about their status, still looking out for their Masters but flirting with the irresistible pull of emancipation, of freedom at the same time. It’s as scary as it is exhilarating. 

Anakin’s the first one to share the strange mixture of pride and confusion coming with their precipitated Knighting.

He feels a bit lost, a bit out of it. For reasons. Anakin… is inebriated. Intoxicated, even. It’s his fourth - fifth ? - glass of wine ; a sweet nectar his Master brought back from one of his missions especially for the occasion. The taste of it is thick on his tongue, almost syrupy, the smell strong and flowery and heady and one of the most fabulous things he has ever tasted. Something Obi-Wan took his time choosing because he knew Anakin would like it, because he knows him that well. The thought makes him giddy, unless it’s the alcohol. 

Speaking of which, his glass is empty again. As is the bottle, now. Glancing around, he tries to spot his Master among the crowd massed in the relatively cramped quarters Olana still shares with her Master, Avan Post. Until tomorrow. They will be assigned new quarters soon, in the Knight’s wings, and as his gaze travels over the room, Anakin realizes he doesn’t really know how to feel about it. 

He has shared quarters with Obi-Wan for more than ten years now. Obi-Wan’s quarters - their quarters - is what Anakin has come to consider home over the years. Those four walls hold more memories than he’s capable of remembering. They’ve seen them get to know each other, change and grow old together. They’ve witnessed the storms and the peace offerings, the many misunderstandings and the moments of complicity, the endless lessons, repeated over and over again, the words thrown in anger against closed doors and the ones stuck on the tip of tongues, the silent apologies, the laughter bringing tears to their eyes, the nights spent tinkering over Anakin’s projects and cups of tea left on the cupboard, always by pairs, just as the warm plates of food after a long day of training. They’ve seen them grow from strangers to Master and Padawan to equals. 

He will miss it. 

He will miss Obi-Wan. 

Something twists painfully inside of his belly, making his throat constrict and his vision blurry. The light cloud of joy and delight floating above his head since the beginning of the evening suddenly grows darker and heavier, nostalgia making itself a nest deep inside his chest. He doesn’t want his own quarters, he realizes. He doesn’t want to leave his tiny bedroom, he doesn’t want a whole space for himself, free from memories, too large and too empty and above all, away from Obi-Wan’s side. He doesn’t want- 

“Padawan.” 

A gentle hand lands on Anakin’s shoulder, pulling him out of the haze slowly obscuring his mind and souring his mood. A presence, bright and familiar, softly prods against his own in the Force and Anakin instinctively lowers his shields, pulling it closer until he’s surrounded by it. Only then, curled up in the comforting Light like a youngling on his first day at the Temple, he finds the strength to release his feelings into the Force. 

“Master.”

Tilting his head back against the back of the couch, he looks up at Obi-Wan hovering above him upside down with a concerned frown. It accentuates the furrow between his brows. The one that appeared one day, soon after the war began and hasn't left since. Anakin wants to smooth it with his thumb. He doesn’t like it when Obi-Wan is worried, especially about him. 

“Are you feeling okay, dearest ? You look… distressed.” Obi-Wan says quietly, the fingers on his shoulder burying slightly in the folds of his tunic as he squeezes gently. 

Anakin wants to reply that he’s feeling good, great even. He’s finally a Knight, he can finally cradle into his hands a dream he’s been nurturing since Master Qui-Gon Jinn took him from his home planet and offered him a future, since he promised his mother she would be proud of him one day, for he would fly among the stars and dedicate his life to helping others. He made it, despite all odds. He should be proud, he should be thrilled, he should be chatting and dancing with the others for his last night of freedom. But there, with the last drops of wine lingering on the back of his throat and the weight of emotions settling in the pit of his stomach, all he can think about is Obi-Wan. Or the absence of him. How he will miss him. All of the things he didn’t tell him. How he would like more time. How afraid he is. 

Instead, he summons a smile he hopes convincing and jumps from the couch, turning around to hold out his hand to his Master. The world spins around him. 

“Dance with me ?” 

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow but takes his hand without hesitation. Anakin pulls him closer in the small space between the couch and the coffee table and Obi-Wan lets him, maybe because he looks like he’s about to fall on his face if he doesn't get immediate support. Anyway, Anakin is not going to waste the opportunity to wrap his arms around his Master’s waist so he does just that, and if he holds him a little too tight, Obi-Wan doesn’t complain. His Master rests his forearms on Anakin’s shoulders and his fingers find the place where his Padawan’s braid had been a few hours before. Anakin observes him as he brushes the tip of his fingers behind the shell of his ear, looking contemplative. It makes him shiver, the look and the touch. It makes him feel hot all over under his clothes. He’d like Obi-Wan to do that again, but before he can think about the right way to voice his thoughts, his Master steals the words out of his mouth. 

“I know I told you countless times, and especially today, but I’m very proud of you, Anakin.” He says in the soft, familiar voice of him, a wave of pure pride and fondness swelling up into their bond. They didn’t sever it yet, by mutual agreement. Not yet. They didn’t talk about when. 

It’s not the first time over the years that Obi-Wan speaks those words, and certainly not the first time today as well, but Anakin feels his face grow a shade darker just the same. He bows his head slightly, to hide his burning cheeks as much as to express his respect to Obi-Wan. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“I truly believe you are and will be one of the best among us.” Obi-Wan continues, then more sternly. “Don’t let it get to your head too much, though.” And Anakin lets out a chuckle. 

“You know me, Master. I’m a paragon of humility.” 

A smile lifts the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth, his eyes twinkle mischievously. 

“And a better dancer than you claim to be. That’s a shame you never shared your talents before.”

Anakin looks down at where they're awkwardly swaying in a limited corner of the living room. His brain, slowed down by the sweet wine, doesn't immediately take on the grin slowly spreading under Obi-Wan's mustache. 

“You’re making fun of me !” He accuses, though it comes out more like an offended whine. 

Obi-Wan has the audacity to look smug about it and even to laugh to his face when he scowls. 

“I would never, Padawan mine.” He finally says, eyes full of mirth. “You haven’t even stepped on my toes once.” 

And Anakin can’t even be angry at him, not when Obi-Wan calls him like that. Not when there’s a horde of butterflies fighting for their life inside of his belly. Without a warning, a wave of emotions builds up inside of his chest, too massive for the confined space of his body and for a moment he’s sure he’s about to explode if he does nothing about it. He wants- He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants Obi-Wan to call him like that again. He never wants to stop being Obi-Wan’s Padawan. He never wants to stop being his. He wants- He wants…

Tightening his hold on his Master's waist, he presses closer and buries his face against the side of his neck, wishing he could disappear into him and be cradled against his heart for eternity. 

Obi-Wan lets out a huff as Anakin wraps himself around him in a suffocating embrace. One of his hands leaves a shoulder to slip in the short hair at the back of his head, nails gently scratching the base of his scalp. 

“Anakin, dear one.” He breathes out against his temple. “I can’t breathe.” 

Anakin can't breathe either, but not for the same reasons. Tomorrow he'll have to leave everything behind. Everything he knows, all of his marks, the pillars on which he built his life. The person he loves the most in the universe. It’s all too soon. He’s not ready. He’s not- 

He realizes that panic is setting in when Obi-Wan squirms against him with a pained noise. 

“Ah- Anakin. You must calm down. Everything's alright, love.” 

Everything’s not alright but he clings to Obi-Wan’s voice to push past the haze of panic, focuses on the fingers carding through his hair, on the steady weight against his chest and slowly loosens his hold. 

Obi-Wan lets out a little sigh and cups one of Anakin’s cheeks in the palm of his hand. It’s warm and strong and calloused from hours of wielding a lightsaber and it’s another small part of Anakin’s home. 

“Good.” Obi-Wan whispers, softly stroking Anakin’s cheekbone. “Focus on me, darling. What’s wrong ?” 

Everything. Everything's wrong. Everything's out of place because tomorrow Obi-Wan will not be by his side anymore. 

Anakin tries to speak but it’s a pitiful whimper that comes out instead. 

“I'm not ready, Master.” 

Obi-Wan’s features soften impossibly at that. He takes Anakin’s face in both of his hands and plunges his eyes into his. He doesn’t say that he believes Anakin’s ready. He doesn't say that it’s the way things work, that there’s a time when Master and Padawan have to trace their own paths, he doesn’t say he cannot wait to see Anakin spread his wings or how proud he is of the Jedi he’s become. He doesn’t say that everything comes to an end. Instead he says : 

“Well, let me tell you a secret. I don't think I’ll ever be ready to let you go either.” 

Anakin’s eyes widen. He’s so taken aback that he forgets about the ache in his chest for a second. Obi-Wan… doesn't want to let him go ? 

“But…” 

“I know.” Obi-Wan chuckles, almost sheepishly, and looks away. “I’m not supposed to tell you this. This is not what the Code teaches us about attachment. But I can assure you… every Master feels the same way, at least a little bit when the time comes. It’s only natural, when you've taken a child under your care and watched him grow for-” 

“I’m not a child anymore.” 

Anakin doesn't know why he said that. Obi-Wan does know he’s not a child anymore. But a part of him wonders if he really sees it. If he understands it. What it means. For Anakin. For them. 

“I know you’re not, Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiles fondly. “In fact you’re a dashing young man, now. And an excellent Jedi.” 

Anakin cuts him before Obi-Wan tells him how proud of him he is once again. That’s not what he wants to hear right now. What he wants- He doesn't really know what he wants. A proof, perhaps. A proof that everything's not going to end up tomorrow. That he will not be cut out of Obi-Wan’s life like he never existed in it in the first place. That he's not disposable. That Obi-Wan will miss him as much as Anakin does already.  

“You asked me what I wanted as a gift for my Knighting ceremony.” He says without thinking. “I know what I want.” 

“Oh ?” 

Obi-Wan’s hands have left his face, quietly folded around his neck instead as he continues to guide them in a slow dance. He’s looking at him with genuine curiosity and Anakin wonders if he would give him anything he asked for. But there’s only one way to find out. 

“I want a kiss.” He blurts out before all courage abandons him. 

He expects a lot of reactions following his demand, from anger to disappointment, from horror to disgust. Probably a lecture about the Code, or about their status as Master and Padawan, even about age gap and power dynamics and how Obi-Wan will never see him as something else but the little Ani he found on Tatooine. What he’s not expecting is the way Obi-Wan turns his head away with a pained look. 

“You know that’s not something I can give you, dear one.” He says softly, even though the lines at the corner of his eyes are strained. 

“I- “ Anakin opens and closes his mouth several times, not knowing what to do with Obi-Wan’s answer. It doesn’t feel like a rejection, not really. Obi-Wan said he couldn't, not that he didn’t want to. 

“I want it to be you.” He says just as softly. “I want my first kiss to be you.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap back to him at the words, mouth opening slightly with disbelief. He looks disarmed, maybe for the first time since Anakin knows him. 

“You’ve never been kissed ?” 

“I- No.” Anakin blushes and lowers his gaze, flustered and a little bit ashamed. 

He’s nineteen. Most of his classmates had had their share of adventures already. He knows several of them had gone a lot further than kisses as well. He knows he could have had the opportunity if he had wanted to. But he hadn’t. Because- Because- 

“I didn't want anyone else. I- I've always wanted it to be you.” He whispers simply, because it's as simple as that. 

“Oh, Anakin…” 

Obi-Wan looks even more pained when Anakin dares to look up at him again. He wonders why. He wonders if Obi-Wan pities him, or if he thinks he’s stupid. But he doesn’t care to be stupid, or pathetic. He’s the only one who can choose whose lips will grant him his first kiss and he has chosen and nobody would be able to make him change his mind, should he wait ten more years. 

“I can’t do that, Anakin.” Obi-Wan repeats, fingers running along the back of his neck. It doesn’t sound convincing. It sounds like Obi-Wan is trying to convince himself more than Anakin. 

“Why not ?” Anakin asks, trying to swallow the disappointment building in his throat. “One kiss. This is the only gift I ask for.” 

He could wait. He knows he could. He has waited for years already, from the day he had learned what being in love meant. He could wait a little bit more. Except he can't. Because he’s leaving tomorrow and he doesn't know when he’s going to see Obi-Wan again, and he doesn't know if the next time they meet Obi-Wan will remember him. 

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan refuses to look at him once again. He has gone tense between his arms. Anakin tightens his hold around his waist. 

“Why ?” 

He has to know. He has to know before leaving. He has to know what’s holding Obi-Wan’s back. He has to know if it’s duty, if it’s the Code or if it’s something else entirely. 

“Why, Obi-Wan ?” He insists, gently tugging at the back of his belt to at least get his attention again. 

Obi-Wan swallows. For a few seconds, Anakin thinks he’s going to walk away and close the subject but then he turns his head back to him and the look he gives him is devastating in his vulnerability. 

“Because, my darling-” He whispers. “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.” 

There’s still music floating in the air, still people laughing and chatting and dancing and celebrating. There's shuura pie being shared on plates and they're still in the middle of the living room, surrounded by pairs of Masters and their former Padawans. But all Anakin is able to see and hear and feel is Obi-Wan, the rest of it being reduced into white noise in the background. 

He's not sure he’s heard well. He’s sure he’s heard every word, but they don’t make sense. 

��What…?” 

Obi-Wan looks just as lost as Anakin feels. His eyes travel on his face, uncertain but oh so clear. There’s insecurity in them, a good fair of shame as well but also determination. He doesn't close his mind when Anakin probes at it to weigh the sincerity of his words. He lets him in and he lets him see. He lets him see all of it. The years of guilt and adoration, the underlying fear building up with the menace of the war and the regrets of having to free him in this uncertain world, the constant terror of losing him hidden in the back of his mind. 

“Master…” Anakin gives him a look of utter disbelief, heart beating loudly in his chest. There's so much Obi-Wan had kept concealed from him, for all this time. He doesn't even know where to start.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, the top of his cheeks a little bit darker than usual, but he doesn’t look away this time. 

“If you agree, I would like us to talk about all this when you come back.” 

When he comes back ?! He doesn’t even know when he’s supposed to come back. It could be weeks, it could be months. He could get injured, or worse. And how is he supposed to wait for so much time when Obi-Wan just confessed feeling the same way about him ? He had waited for this moment for what seems to be his entire life. He wants to talk about it now. He wants to take Obi-Wan’s hand and drag him back to their quarter so they can spend the rest of the night marvelling about this miracle of the Force. He wants to have his first kiss before leaving so he can take the memory with him and cling to it when things turn dark. 

But Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan doesn’t share Anakin’s excitation. His part of the bond is hesitant, holding back, almost afraid. Even when Anakin leans forward and presses his nose against his temple. 

“Can I have my kiss, at least ?” 

Obi-Wan’s nails scratch him gently at the base of his neck, his beard tickling the side of his jaw when he turns his head slightly. Heart missing a beat, Anakin closes his eyes when he feels the warmth of his breath traveling a little bit higher. 

This is it. 

He’s finally, finally going to be kissed for the first time, and by the man he's been in love with since the age of nine.

His heart starts racing in his chest as he tries to brace himself, but realizes he has absolutely no idea of what he’s supposed to do. Should he keep his eyes closed ? Should he open his mouth ? Is it going to involve tongues ? What does he do with his hands ? He suddenly feels hyper aware of where they’re resting on his Master’s hips. 

And then. 

Then, soft lips press gently against his cheek, staying there the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and then they’re gone, brushing now against the shell of his ear. 

“Patience, dear one.” 

Anakin feels like he’s going to explode. His whole body trembles when Obi-Wan whispers in his ear. This is terribly unfair. He hasn’t got a single bone of patience in his body and Obi-Wan knows it. 

“Master !” He complains - whimpers-, opening his eyes to glare at him. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle in the corners the same way they do when Anakin is being unreasonable and endearing at the same time. His smile is soft when he strokes the cheek he just kissed. 

“Patience, Anakin. I promise you we’ll have more time after your mission.” 

“What if I die ?” He blurts out.

This is stupid and cruel and he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. But Obi-Wan doesn’t seem offended. His smile widens in a grin as he pats his cheek. 

“I guess you’ll just have to not die, then.” 

[padofwan]

So last night I finished reading Rise of the Red Blade for TotE Vibes Research purposes and the two Inquisitor characters in it really illustrate exactly why I think Barriss is going to survive and escape them.

Because the thing is that there are two kinds of Inquisitors! The ones who volunteered, and the ones who...didn’t. Iskat (RotRB’s focus character) perfectly exemplifies the first type: she had some traumatizing experiences at a young age, fell through a number of institutional cracks in the Order, had a really terrible master (meet me in the pit, Sember Vey), everyone was too busy to give her the follow-up they would under normal circumstances, Palpatine had an agent actively gathering information about her and pushing her to become Worse—she was a pre-selected candidate who was offered the choice to come quietly when Order 66 hit, and she took it. By that point all of her issues and doubts had been exacerbated to the point where it wasn’t hard for her to make herself hate the Jedi, and then she rationalized her way through any indication that her freedom was a lie and doubled her way down right into hell.

By contrast: Tualon, Iskat’s crechemate situationship guy. He had some issues but was not someone on Palpatine’s radar; Iskat left him to die in Order 66 and he survived getting shot by darksiding out about her betrayal. Because of that he was taken alive and they did some shit to him. When Iskat runs into him at the Inquisitor HQ after he’s freshly-inducted he can barely remember why he hates her, or anything else from before he was taken. He woke up in the room where you fight Trilla and they fully shattered him and glued a semblance of a person back together out of the wreckage, just COMPLETELY Winter Soldiered the guy, and the only way he had to cope with it is to lean into a weird codependent situationship with Iskat.

And that distinction’s always been there with the Inquisitors; you have the true believers who ended up hating the Jedi or wanted to go on a power trip (or had the kind of revenge plan only a 12 year old could come up with and then stick to for a decade, in one case) and didn’t need any additional coercion to volunteer, and you have the ones that they broke. In the former group you’ve got the Grand Inquisitor, Reva/Third, Lyn/Fourth*, Fifth, and Iskat/Thirteenth. For the most part they’re certified freaks, but they came by it naturally. (Reva’s a different flavor.) In the latter, you’ve got Trilla/Second, Seventh, Masana/Ninth, Tualon, and probably most of the others. They all got disassembled and reassembled without much care given to the process and are all Coping with it badly in different ways, whether by deciding it’s Empowering, Actually (Trilla & Seventh) or by becoming completely jaded about everything (Masana & Tualon).

(*We obviously don’t know a lot about Fourth yet, but the fact that she shows up to recruit Barriss while rocking yellow dark side eyes before ROTS is even over tells me she’s definitely a volunteer.)

All this is to say: The Grand Inquisitor is making a colossal mistake with Barriss from the drop, and it’s why I think she’s going to win their battle of wits and escape. Because he is treating her like she is an Iskat and she could not be any farther from it.

He sends Lyn to get her to come quietly! They actively withhold information from her about what happened to the Jedi and what her expected role in it is! That’s not how they recruit the ones they think will be a problem; if that were the case she would have been stunned out of hand and woken up on a rack.

Instead, he’s giving her special attention,, he’s training her—he doesn’t think they need to break her. She’s just got a few...pesky hang-ups from her time as a Jedi that need ironing out**. He’s projecting on her; he doesn’t just want an empty shell holding a lightsaber—he wants Barriss Offee, loyally kneeling at his side, fully believing in their mission. She’s his favorite.

(**That “mercy only breeds defeat” line isn’t just a generic darksidism; I’m pretty sure he’s directly critiquing how Barriss got caught because she showed mercy to Asajj Ventress.)

And surely that's something he can turn her into, right? Because she hates the Jedi, right? She attacked them, she outsmarted them, obviously she’d be down for wanting to wipe them out! He was there when she confessed and, like pretty much everyone else in the room save for Ahsoka, he didn’t hear a single word that she said—just what he wanted her to be saying. He’s got a deeply incorrect idea of her, and that idea is “she’s just like me for real.”

And he’s wrong, because the Inquisitorius is everything she feared the Jedi Order was becoming—literally, an army fighting for the dark side—and the Empire is everything she knew the Republic was becoming. She might be prone to despairing, it might in some hypothetical be possible to get her into the same resigned despair trap as Anakin, but she would never actually want to serve the Empire, and they don't think they'll have to try hard to convince her to.

She loves the Jedi, she loved being a Jedi, she wanted to save them. She wants to be one again more than anything even though right now she thinks she doesn’t deserve it, thinks that she’s already too broken to reclaim what she was. But I think being surrounded by actual fallen Jedi and being told over and over again that she’s like them is, in the end, going to be what reminds her that she never stopped being a Jedi in the first place.

And as long as she can make sure her captors don't realize that's true until it's too late, she'll be home free.

[inquisitorius-sin-bin]

Inquisitorius Draw-A-Thon Day 12: Tualon Yaluna

Back from break, and ready to power through our remaining Inquisitors this week!

[archfey-edda]

Imperial puppet.

Still a WIP. I just liked the look of Iskat alone - now time to draw Tualon.

[425599167]

I've been holding back a while on publishing this post, but I finally feel like sharing my thoughts about Barriss in Tales of the Empire.

It was fine. It was the okayest way to continue Barriss’s story. It’s not bad at all, it’s just basic and misses out on opportunities.

Part of what started my fascination with Barriss was her courtroom tirade. Not just her motives, but seeing her, a young woman of relatively low rank now put in handcuffs, speak up and tear into the most powerful people in the galaxy. My impression of her was, from that point on, she is uncontrollable. This part of her is out in the open, there’s no going back to the demure padawan. She can be angry and scared and self-hating, but even if she uses the dark side, she is a wild card. She can be intimidated into feigning loyalty, but she’s plotting against whoever dares think they can manipulate her. People like Barriss are why the Rule of Two was necessary. In TotE, she was not that. She seriously worked as an inquisitor and intended to follow Vader’s orders, albeit briefly. It isn’t a definitively wrong direction for her character, but I was underwhelmed.

The first warning sign that got under my skin is the scene from the trailer where Barriss is depicted being the first person to bow to Vader. The knee-jerk takeaway was she’s evil now, nothing more to it. I predicted she was planning to escape the inquisitors, pretending to be loyal, and laying it on thick. Then in the episode it turned out that scene was shown in reverse for the trailer, she was actually the last person to rise, and the villains are all too stupid to notice her hesitation. Because, y’know, why write the protagonist showing some cunning when you can just deceptively edit the trailer? Good work, marketing team, you successfully tricked me into thinking you were making something interesting.

Then the scene with Vader. Let’s assume it wasn’t just a cheap move made to stick him in the trailer. Vader will kill people for annoying him, and he mutilated several inquisitors as part of their training. It didn’t take much for him to kill Trilla, Iskat, and Tualon. He has personal reasons to hate Barriss, but expresses nothing. His goal could be to make her suffer as his servant, but again, he frequently brutalizes subordinates yet does nothing to her. Even if he really doesn’t care about the events of the Sabotage Arc, shaky loyalty would not be tolerated. He could put Barriss in a torture chamber to take his frustrations out on rather than give her any opportunity to escape. There’s hardly even a meaningful look, like he’s got anything in mind for her. This being shortly post-RotS, maybe he’s so burned out over recent events he doesn’t really care about Barriss, but him being too tired to pay attention undercuts the menace. Maybe Palpatine ordered him to leave Barriss be, but nothing implies that, and at this point I’m doing the writers’ job for them. Vader’s involvement doesn’t work, and Inquisitor Barriss doesn’t work by extension. IIRC Pablo Hidalgo pointed out this problem years ago, and he was right. Vader is just an evil cardboard cutout for Barriss to kneel to, and that could be a good moment showing how out of her depth she feels, except it doesn’t make use of his character and their history. This is little better than other pointless Glup Shitto cameos.

My personal fix would be giving Vader a single line implying he’s leaving Barriss alone because he wants her to try escaping so he gets the satisfaction of hunting her down. He could maim Marrok and that nameless inquisitor to make a point, but he wants Barriss in top shape for a good chase. Perhaps Barriss could infer his identity based on his wording, a suggestion he already chased her down once before and she won’t survive the second time. Ratchet up the terror Barriss feels, the danger she’s in, the enmity between them, the challenge of how to escape knowing Vader is watching and waiting. Barriss isn’t only under the same pressure as the other inquisitors, Vader is looking for an excuse to kill her and is savoring her misery. Lyn is a fine antagonist, but Vader is the one Barriss is forced to kneel to. Vader is the obstacle she needs to overcome to free herself. Seeing the Empire’s infamous top enforcer getting outsmarted by the girl he thought he’d trapped and broken would’ve hit so much harder. Getting Lyn to leave Vader’s service is a solid victory, but it’s not the same magnitude and it's possible to combine both events anyway. Using his character could’ve made Barriss’s struggle and triumph even greater.

Another option is to forego Vader entirely and focus on the Grand Inquisitor, because Barriss’s interaction with Quizzy didn’t amount to much. There’s no mention of Luminara and whether Quizzy captured and/or killed her yet, nor does he reveal that he was present for and motivated by Barriss’s confession. Like, maybe that green lightsaber Barriss used could’ve been Luminara’s. Let her grapple with the implications. Fans who know about Quizzy’s past can dig under the surface, such as how he encourages Barriss as sincerely as his smug personality permits, but to this day we only know he was one of those four temple guards because of BTS or supplementary info. It is unreasonable to expect the audience to know all this, I only know it because I'm a Barriss-obsessed weirdo. There’s been nothing on-screen about it, most viewers don’t know, this was the opportunity to explore that connection, but it doesn’t happen. The training scene was fine. Everything was just fine.

A sticking point for me is her helmet, because that could’ve meant something much juicier. Barriss’s inquisitor helmet strongly resembles the one she stole from Ventress and wore while attacking Ahsoka. I’m not sure if this is purely a choice by the animators, or if it’s supposed to imply one of the villains intentionally made the helmet look like that (most likely Lyn, depending on who would have access to the helmet and whether Barriss even kept it with the sabers). If the inquisitors designed the helmet to remind Barriss of her crimes, it reinforces how they don’t understand her at all. They present her the helmet to make her one of them, but it’s a glaring reminder she isn’t. Service to imperialism isn’t what the original helmet represented. Barriss’s disguise was that of a dangerous renegade aware of the Republic’s impending fall, and the inquisitors don’t get that about her. That helmet doesn’t just remind Barriss of her attack on the Jedi and how she hurt Ahsoka, it reminds her that she knew the Empire was coming, wants to kill it, and can fight back independently. Giving her the helmet could’ve backfired on the inquisitors spectacularly.

What I found interesting about Barriss is she’s highly intelligent and recognized the unwinnable situation of the Clone Wars, then her reaction was inventive and volatile. She’s right about everything and handles it terribly. TotE Barriss is kinda dumb, especially in her second episode. She went with Lyn on a mission to kill a Jedi, witnessed her partner commit a massacre, then tried to convince the target Jedi to come with her back to the inquisitors despite what she knows about the organization, and only took down Lyn at the last moment. I watched her throughout the episode hoping her comments to Lyn were probing for information, waiting for an opening, but they weren’t. There is no defection plan, she’s genuinely operating as an inquisitor and wants to take a Jedi back alive to people whom she knows murdered at least one of her peers and forced her into a deathmatch with another.

At this point, Barriss is mentally unwell in many ways due to child soldier war trauma and probably serious brain damage, plus the year in solitary confinement couldn’t have helped, but I always thought her issues manifested as doubt and contempt for any authority. Her behavior can’t all be written off as “she’s crazy and irrational”, there are patterns there. After the bombing, she was dismissed by the Jedi Council as a “Separatist terrorist”, and that shows how little people understand her. Jedi, Sith, Republic, Separatists, Empire, rightly or not, Barriss resents them all for ruining her life. Trust is overrated. Eventually deserting fits with her previously putting on an appearance of loyalty until her doubts break through, but it would’ve been interesting to see her evolve further after that side of her already emerged during the Sabotage Arc. Sincerely giving the Inquisitorius a chance makes her look like an idiot compared with her previous appearance. It’s not the worst direction to write her, but it’s so much less than she’s capable of. Maybe Barriss just wasn’t as cunning of a character as I imagined her to be.

The broader problem with TotE is that, despite focusing on Barriss, it killed the remaining interest in her, and there wasn’t much left. After TCW Season 5, the one big question about Barriss was what happened to her after RotS, and many people vilified her enough to not care at all, or assumed she was executed before or during Order 66. After eleven years of fading relevance broken up by occasional theory clickbait that always turned out wrong, TotE answered the question adequately and left little room to explore her further. Her time between deserting imperial service and being found by Lyn is implied to be uneventful. Barriss says, “I saw amazing things, traveled the stars with my master. But that was long ago,” the corollary being she hasn’t been traveling and hasn’t seen amazing things since being a Jedi, nothing worth showing in a future story. She spent at least a decade in hiding without being seen by the inquisitors, including a long period in that tundra working as a healer.

This was the best opportunity to show Barriss and Ahsoka finding each other. It was skipped over. The small hint of what happened off-screen doesn’t tease intrigue, and apparently the writers consider Ahsoka and Barriss reconciling to be less interesting than what happened in the third episode. Instead she gets to interact with such fascinating characters as Unnamed Jedi, Unnamed Attendant #1, and Unnamed Attendant #2. Then Barriss gets stabbed through the chest and could easily be presumed dead by fans and future writers even though being impaled in Star Wars has become inconsequential. The resolution was so basic, yet filled in so much of the timeline, people aren’t clamoring for more stories and space wasn’t left to fit more in. I’ve thought of ways (Barriss is active but skillfully avoids being seen, she travels but doesn't see "amazing things" because the galaxy is burning) but TotE put in unnecessary restrictions which make it tougher.

It was eleven years since Barriss’s story progressed. All of TCW’s other dangling plot threads got dealt with during that time, Barriss is the bottom of the barrel. There is currently no reason to believe she will appear again. I’d like to think Barriss could reappear in Ahsoka Season 2, which probably won’t be until 2026, and I’ve seen a couple people suggest TotE was providing background for that purpose. The problem is that Barriss wasn’t even hinted at in Ahsoka S1 to build up awareness, even when it would make contextual sense for Ahsoka to mention her. If she does show up, it’s an obnoxious writing choice to foreshadow a character in a completely different series and medium with a much, much smaller audience. You might be wondering, “How much smaller?”

That much smaller. Before anyone says anything, I did try variations like including Ahsoka and Barriss's last names, that made it worse. TotE couldn’t even keep Barriss at half of Ahsoka’s baseline popularity for a week before she fell back down to nothing. Google Trends isn’t a perfect measurement tool, but it’s useful for seeing how TotE is mostly forgotten and continues declining. Then keep in mind Barriss was only half the TotE story. What little interest remained after the first few weeks was drowned out by The Acolyte, which maintained >100x more attention even after the usual post-premiere drop, and even that wasn't enough to save it from cancellation. It probably won’t make anyone at Lucasfilm think Barriss is worth revisiting. I remember people saw the TotE trailer and said stuff like, “We are so back!” No we fucking aren’t. I wish we were, but we aren't.

TotE is irrelevant now. In my experience, tumblr is the most Barriss-friendly social media site, and almost nobody here is still enthusiastic about TotE. There was an uptick in Barriss posts when it premiered, but that died quickly, TotE posts showed mixed reactions, and few of the recent Barriss posts are about TotE. Nobody new got invested, 80% of her tag is the same dozen-or-so diehard Barriss fans who've been here for years, myself included. Reddit has next to nothing and one time I checked, the first post to show up specifically questioned why nobody was talking about TotE, followed by several critical posts. The subreddit r/talesoftheempire was created on the same day the trailer dropped, when interest was highest. It has 16 members. There might be stuff happening over on Twitter but I’m not making an account to check because why would I make myself suffer like that? Even on my favorite totally legal website for watching shows, the Barriss episodes have no ratings because nobody watched them, and my second-favorite site doesn’t have the show at all.

Fanart is a troubling indicator. Very little recent fanart shows Barriss as she was in TotE, people stick with her Jedi look. I didn’t keep a tally, but I think people drew more TotE fanart between the trailer and the premiere than they have since the show debuted. Barriss’s final outfit, which depicts her at what should be the climax of her character arc, has been drawn by only two people. For a little perspective, I write a Barriss-centric fanfiction series with a couple hundred subscribers, and five people have made art of my Barriss. Even factoring in how long I’ve been writing, that ain’t good. On @barrissday, a niche fan event specifically about celebrating Barriss, only a fraction of one artwork referenced TotE. Lately, there’s been more artwork of her decades-old Legends appearances than a recent animated series starring her.

Sure, I was proven mostly correct in my reading of Barriss’s character and I’m still writing stories about her, but I didn’t want to be doing that for a diminishing audience. Being proven right doesn’t matter to me if other people don’t become invested in Barriss’s character or even find her worth talking about. I wanted her to become popular and loved and interesting. The show was so unimpactful it took months for me to build up enough motivation to explain how unimpactful it was.

Star Wars would be so good if it was good.

[ct-hardcase]

with the conversation about inquisitor lightsabers happening, that reminds me, I still want to know what the fuck's going on with the engravings on seventh, ninth, and trilla's

[blackbirdswritings]

I love you. Normally thousands of thoughts stormed through Iskat's head, but now there was only room for one, I love you Tualon. It hurt so much to die, to have one of her hearts pierced by the blade of the one who'd stolen them. Iskat was going to die, but for the first time in her life, she would be free. They would both be free. In her last moments, she was with the man she loved. Darkness closed in and she felt the force all around, and then... Oblivion.

Iskat woke up with a start. It was a nightmare. It had to be, but it wasn't. The Thirteenth Sister was sitting in her bed, in a Jedi shuttle, in the Lyre. She glanced down at herself and inspected her chest. She expected a small, burnt hole there, proof of her death, of Darth Vader killing her, but she saw nothing but the cabochon her master had given her, the smooth blue stone she hadn't worn in years. Unthinkingly, she tore it off, snapping the rope binding it around her neck. She didn't need a Jedi trick to suppress her. She was free of their lies. She just needed to figure out what was going on, if she was dreaming or really dead or... Something else.

"I don't get the appeal of time travel stories" I tell myself as I start a time travel story to give Iskat a happy ending