#because she was more than capable of getting him hurt but completely unequipped to help him. of course

[blujayonthewing]

for that one oc ask - GHOST and DESIRE for uhhhhhhh Melliwyk! I know very little about your OCs yet so i'm tempted to just keep throwing asks at you but I don't wanna overwhelm lol

hi hello first of all please do feel free to send more... if the spirit moves you...... 👀

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

When asked about the scars up her arm, Melliwyk usually explains it very briefly as the result of a lab accident when she was still a student, laughing off almost dying and how the discharge launched her across the room, but it also launched her academic and research career. What she does not generally explain is that the other thing that happened was her then-roommate happened to walk back in unexpectedly at the exact wrong moment, got caught in the face with magically charged electrified shrapnel, and was permanently blinded... the incident may have accelerated Mel's arcane studies, but it ended Amberly's.

It set the tone for the rest of her career. Even having exploded, her experiment was highly impressive and promising, especially from someone so young and still early in her arcane studies, so it opened up a lot of opportunities for her-- and on the other hand she got a reputation for keeping an eye on the bigger picture and not letting personal risk or others' feelings get in the way of meaningful progress, a reputation she leaned into an benefited heavily from despite the fact that Amberly getting caught in the accident in their dorm wasn't even really her fault. There were lots of other times in the years following where she was more than a little flippant with risk management or others' wellbeing in the pursuit of her work. It got her a lot of professional respect, and mostly her reputation ensured others kept themselves out of risk around her; she got really used to not thinking about anybody else whenever she did anything, for better and for worse.

This was decades ago, now; for most of that time, she's consciously thought about it very little-- and definitely less and less over the years (although it subconsciously has affected her decisions sometimes, like moving out into the middle of nowhere alone to get into weirder and possibly more volatile experimentation). She's been thinking about it a lot lately, though. Adventuring is the first time in a long time she's had to live and collaborate with others, and relies on mutual trust for her own survival. Doing Hero Shit in the real world, with real people enduring real suffering, has also put her back in touch with her humanity after spending so much time in magical academia and then total isolation. She's had to think, a lot, about how many people have been hurt or killed by things like not barring the door while working on something dangerous, or thoughtlessly drawing aggro to an already injured NPC, or failing to safeguard her loved ones after knowing that her becoming an enemy of the state would put a target on their backs as well. She liked Amberly. She hadn't meant to hurt her, and hadn't even meant to be careless about her safety; it worries her how hard it seems to be for her to protect others from her own actions, even when she wants to-- how dangerous she is to the people she cares about. She's not entirely sure what she can do about it other than isolate herself again, and that isn't really an option anymore.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Oh man this is a really interesting question for her right now! For her entire adult life, her greatest desire was to either reinvent or rediscover artificing, which was a millennia-lost art in her world; she kind of figured, you know, either she'd do that under less fraught circumstances, or it would be a lifelong pursuit that she could work to further but would never personally live to see the end of, so, honestly she's feeling more than a little unmoored right now in terms of, you know... personal goals..... entire life's purpose...... that kind of thing. Fortunately she's still got the broader overarching desire for discovery in general to keep her going, and slightly-more-dubiously-fortunately the Ongoing Adventure demands all of her attention right now (more, I would almost argue, than she has to give...), but Being An Artificer when that was a theoretical/ experimental field has been so central to her identity for so long that I think if you asked her right now what she desires most she'd get really stressed and existential about it, lmao. She hasn't had a chance to figure it out yet! I mean, of course, there's always going to be an answer, and right now it's probably 'to destroy the sorcerer king [our bbeg]' for various plot and personal reasons-- but even that, you know, I think she'd be uncomfortable and dissatisfied with the thing she wants the most being 'to beat the bad guy' instead of something more personal and/or interesting.

ask about my OCs!!

#THANK YOU GOOD QUESTIONS!! #mel remembering that she really does care about other people has been good for her as a person but it hasn't FELT good lmao #melliwyk: [alignment shift from ch. neutral to ch. good] #melliwyk's brain: hey remember how many lives you've ruined getting where you are today. and you weren't even trying to. lol #our druid's entire home island getting firebombed traces back to melliwyk meeting him and taking him with her on her journeys #she's too sensible to Blame Herself for the actions of evil people following a chain of events she never could have predicted-- #but she is. Aware. of the fact that if zhartook hadn't met her his home wouldn't have been destroyed and his people nearly wiped out #she's DEEPLY aware of xander getting hit by the retaliatory AOE spell meant for melliwyk and then dying at her feet #because she was more than capable of getting him hurt but completely unequipped to help him. of course #high level arcanist NPC who knows her by reputation: [expresses surprise at her caring or having objections-- #-- to a secret construction project where citizens are being enslaved and cruelly and ruthlessly worked to death by summoned devils] #melliwyk: [desperately wracking her brain for whether she was ever really THAT heartless? surely not? surely.......] #(she was NOT ;n; but now that's A Thing she's gotta think about) #... anyway sorry this is so fucking long including the tags I am physically incapable of being succinct dfgkjhffkdgf #ask thing #my OCs #melliwyk

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 8

Present Day

“Here's here?” Miles tried to sound nonchalantly, tried to sound as if Alex Turner was just another member of the audience and not the very person who was giving his heart palpitations –  and not the good kind! His hands grew cold and sweaty and he was suddenly fighting the urge to run and hide. His throat dried up. His right hand began fidgeting with his guitar pick. He hadn’t seen Alex or heard from him in three weeks. “Where is he?”

“Audience. He isn't alone,” said one of the sound guys as he and some other stage hands placed the finishing touches on Miles' stage set up. “Got a woman with him.”

“Girlfriend,” supplied Miles absentmindedly from his spot half behind the stage's curtain. These days, Alex hardly went anywhere without her. That much he'd been told by mutual friends. As his eyes drifted across  the people who filled the club, he told himself he wasn't looking for him. But he was. Of course he was. He doubted there would ever be a time when he wouldn't look for him.

The sound guy interrupted Miles' thoughts. “Everything is set up. You're on in five.”

Miles knew. He had a gig to play. People to entertain. A facade to uphold. He made his way back to area where the rest of his band had gathered. All of them were hyped up, ready to rock out, and here he was, wishing he was anywhere but in this very place.

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was a fucking grown-up! He had played in front of empty halls. He had been booed and laughed at. He had bloody played in front of an ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. Why was this so goddamn hard? “Somebody play our song,” he called out, forced himself to smile and barreled through. They all fell in line, went ahead and performed their usual pre-show rituals. He joined them all. But his heart wasn't in it. And neither were his nerves.

“Stage is that way,” whispered Victoria as she tugged his arm and pulled him away from the wall against which he hovered, a look of concern in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” lied Miles. “All's good. Bit tired, I guess.”

“If you say so.”

One last deep breath and then he went. Big smile, on-point outfit, great band, everything was as it should be. Except, he wasn't as he should be. Three weeks ago, someone had broken his heart and now here he was, or what was left of him, only the remains no longer resembled the original version. The stage was the one place where he had still felt connected to the person he used to be. But tonight, even that last bit of comfort was taken from him.

And even worse, halfway into the show, the bloody asshole responsible for it all had the guts to appear side-stage and wait for an invitation!

There wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Nobody knew that he and Alex had a falling out – if one could even call it that. Nobody knew that Miles got cold chills at the mere idea of sharing a stage with Alex. And nobody, especially not his manager, on whom he blamed Alex's side-stage presence, and who was without a doubt responsible for this shit-show that was about to go down, had even the slightest idea that the insides of Miles' stomach began to churn as his band began playing the first notes of “Standing Next To Me”. That song. Their song.

That very manager now stood next to Alex and motioned for Miles to introduce him. To just play along.

Miles bit the insides of his cheeks, waved a hand at Alex, whose eyes he had yet to meet, and adjusted his guitar. Some audience members had already spotted him, had begun shouting his name. There was no way out of it now. “My brother. Alex Turner.”

Brother.

A laughable description, truly.

Whores would blush over the tales of what he and Alex had done.

But how else to introduce him? The world 'friend' just wouldn't make it past his lips. Lover? Too big. Too meaningful. He couldn't even describe him as a one night stand, since, one, it hadn't lasted an entire night and, two, there had been no staying around afterwards. Which, to say it bluntly, was the most fucked up thing Alex had ever done to him!

From the corner of his eyes, Miles watched Alex wave at the crowd. He smiled, pretended, just as he was doing. Miles could tell because, despite everything, he still knew Alex better than anyone else.

As Miles began to sing, hoping to end this farce as soon as possible, Alex inched closer towards Miles. Not much, merely inches, but it was enough to make him uncomfortable, enough to make him lose focus and instead become angry and restless.

Then Alex fully invaded Miles' personal space.

They had shared mics for years. Had done countless worse things in front of audiences much bigger than this. But having Alex within reaching distance, having him so close that Miles could actually smell him, and feel the heat radiate from his body, was torture at its finest.

“Matt dragged me here,” whispered Alex. Miles heard the hesitation in his voice, the shaky nerves and the shared yearning to be anywhere but here, on this stage, together. But in that moment, Miles cared not a single bit. Alex leaned just a fraction closer. “Can we talk later? Please!”

All Miles could muster was half a nod. Alex was standing too close, he was smelling too good, he was too bloody distracting. Miles forced himself to focus onto the song, tried to pour all of himself into this performance and not get lost in his conflicting thoughts about his temporary co-star. The audience, as expected, was eating all of it up. The energy was all-consuming. Until, at long last, their eyes met. Then Alex became all-consuming. Falling too quickly into their usual habits, Alex placed one arm on Miles’ back, strained to share the mic when Miles made no room for him, and when it was all played and sung, Alex pulled Miles’ head towards him, hugged him, and even had the audacity to kissed his cheek.

Miles wanted to punch him for that.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t punch him for that later. The idea of it was tempting.

“Backstage?” whispered Alex, hopeful, before leaving the stage.

“Fine.”

Half an hour later, Miles sat in his dressing room, fed up about waiting for him to show up. Checking the time once more and not happy with what the face of the watch was telling him, he decided he had waited long enough. He grabbed his guitar and made his way out and towards the stairs. He wanted to be alone, in the cold, to gather and sort his thoughts.

“Miles?”

“Al?” Miles found him sitting on the stairs near the dressing room, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingertips. “I was waiting for you. You’re the one who wanted to talk,” he reminded him, his voice laced with bitterness and long-stewed ire.

Alex nodded in acknowledgement, took a long pull from the cigarette until it was gone and then flipped it to the ground, careless and quickly forgotten. “I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, trying to find the right words for what I want to say, but they won’t come to me. It’s as though they’re hiding from me.” He looked up, met Miles’ eyes. “I still haven’t found them.”

Miles leaned back against the wall, tired and exhausted, still holding on to the guitar. He had never cared for the right words. He’d settle for anything that offered even the slightest bit of explanation. He’d even settle for a bloody shouting match, as long as it offered just a single answer to the innumerable questions he had. But, as he watched Alex sitting on the steps, crumbling beneath the weight of his own world, Miles felt a little less of the anger he’d felt before. “You used to sit with me until you found the words. You could have done that tonight.”

“And watch you look at me in disgust? No,” said Alex sadly as he harshly shook his head. “I absolutely could not have done that.”

“It’s not disgust, Al.”

“Hate? Anger? Pain? Regret? Annoyance? Gloom? Melancholy? The list of words at my disposal is endless, Miles. And when I imagine what you might think of me at the moment, not a single kind vocable crosses my mind.”

“Honestly?” Miles shrugged his shoulders, a gesture of helplessness. “I have no idea what I think of you at the moment. You know what would help me figure that out? If I had any idea how you felt. ‘Cause I’m not the one who left in the middle of the night without a word.”

Alex looked away. “That was a really bad thing, I know.” His feet began to tap nervously. “Miles, I feel so lost,” he admitted and stared forlornly at the ceiling. “I feel so incredibly lost. I no longer recognize this world in which I live. Everything I thought I knew about myself no longer applies. I’ve hurt you. I never imaged myself being capable of that.”

In the old days, Miles would have rushed to Alex’s side, would have touched him and comforted him, but in this age, where every day felt like an endless walk across a continuously disintegrating bridge, he no longer dared to make quick moves. Every step was carefully placed. One wrong move and he feared his world would completely crumble apart. So he remained stoic, glued to the wall. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you intended to hurt me.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Alex’s somber, stricken face. “That’s a very kind assumption.” For a while, they just looked at each other, until Alex got up and took a timid step towards Miles. “The sum total of what I’d like to tell you could fill an entire album. Or ten. One day I’ll be able to answer all of your questions and I’ll be able to use all the right words, I promise. But I can’t do it now.” His voice was on the edge of breaking. “I know I'm the one who asked for this conversation. But now that I'm here, I find myself unequipped to be having it. All I can do is apologize for the way I left. And I'm begging you to believe me when I say I never, ever wanted to hurt you. You must believe that part, Miles!”

“Then why did you go,” whispered Miles, trying so hard to keep from reaching out, from touching him. Alex looked so vulnerable and Miles longed to console him. Even now, after everything. But he wasn't sure his heart would survive another set-back.

Alex lifted his hand, aimed to touch Miles' arm, but stopped mid-move. His gaze fell to the floor. His arm fell back to his side. “I want to tell you, Miles. I do, you need to believe me! But I can't. I don't know how to say it. I don't know how to express what I want to say. I'm too scared to say it wrong. I fear the wrong word will do more damage. What if the wrong word will cause irreparable harm? But one day I will find the words, I swear!”

“So you just say nothing instead?” His anger returned. “Here's how I felt after finding you gone: Miserable. And lonely. We did a big, bad thing to our friendship that night, Alex. And I needed my best friend to be there with me, cause you're not the only one who is fucking lost!”

“Miles, I tried to stay, I wanted to stay! I really did,” confessed Alex, on the verge of tears. “I couldn't.”

Miles swallowed hard, suppressing the same tears he saw Alex struggling to contain. “So what happens now? I can't pretend this didn't happen! I can't hang out with you and crack jokes when all I really want is for you to fucking talk to me about it!” Their friendship, it occurred to him then, was at an impasse. It shouldn’t come to such a shock to him. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. He’d had no intention of reaching out to him, so if Alex hadn’t shown up tonight, who knows when they would have talked or met again. Yet, his heart was aching more and more with each painful beat and the mere idea of parting ways with Alex for God knew how long was letting his blood run cold. “Is this the end?”

“Until I find my voice,” replied Alex, hoarse and weak.

Miles took a long look at the guy, then at Alex, and then at their surroundings. Here he was, in a dark and lonely hallway, fighting to control his emotions, all but saying farewell to the one person he needed in his life more than anything, and this guy just walked up and told them to pose? He met Alex’s eyes, grabbed his guitar and straightened up, all the while marveling at the farcicality of it. “Isn’t it fucking ridiculous? Our goodbye, captured for eternity?”

“Don't call it goodbye,” begged Alex, giving the photographer the same sad and hollow look that Miles was giving him. “Maybe one day we'll look at this picture and share a laugh,” he said quietly. But he sounded unconvinced. And so felt Miles.

The picture was taken. “Thanks,” said the photographer and vanished back to where he came from.

Some moments passed. “It's goodbye for now, but not forever.” Alex bowed his head slightly.

Miles gripped the neck of his guitar with bruising force. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted to hold on to Alex. He wanted him closer, not farther away. But what else was there to do? He did not know. And so he let go. “Goodbye, Alex.” As he watched his friend slowly make his way down the hallway, Miles' heart spoke before his head could stop himself. “You can always call me, anywhere, anytime!”

Alex gave him a stricken smile, a last lingering look, and then he was gone. Miles felt the sharp, splintered pieces of his broken heart tumbling down in his chest. There were times in his life when he had wished to experience a devastating, soul-crushing loss, just to know what it would feel like. Now that he knew, he found it sucked. It sucked fucking badly! l He picked up his guitar, made his way up the stairs and at long last arrived on the rooftop, where he was alone and where it was quiet. A few old lawn chairs were there, a couple of overfilled ashtrays and some litter that people had left behind. Taking a seat on a chair, Miles gazed up into the sky, found the moon staring back at him, and began strumming the notes to one of Alex’s songs.

Oh, the dawn won't stop weighing a tonne

I've done some things that I shouldn't have done

But I haven't stopped loving you once

Would Alex be here with him right now if they hadn’t met in the elevator that fateful night? They had argued that day, had all but ended it then. But, what had that argument been about, really? It all seemed so insignificant now. Miles leaned back and closed his eyes, his fingers still strumming the strings. He’d been mad at Alex for flinching. He’d been mad at him for his lack of answers. He was still mad at him for the same shit!

But Alex had never been good with answers. He was tremendous at arranging words in the most lyrical manner, could compose the most complex ideas and let them sound light and melodic. However, he was a total and complete failure when pressed for a simple answer. On good days, Miles loved that about him, loved watching him struggle during interviews, loved watching journalists get bored waiting for Alex to say a single world while Alex was mentally writing an entire anthology.

On bad days, Miles wanted nothing more than a plain and simple statement. No metaphors, no long, rhythmic sentences, just a yes or a no. For more than two years now there was one burning question on his mind, one he had never dared to ask: “Do you regret that I kissed you?” For the first time ever, Miles spoke the words out loud.

How to live with a question that one would most likely never receive an answer to?

2010

“We’ve been here all night and you haven’t said a single thing to me,” said Miles, taking a seat next to Alex at the bar. “Have I done something to piss you off? I sure feels that way.”

“Nope.” Alex drowned his beer and got up, not meeting Miles’ eyes.

Miles rolled his eyes. “You know what?” He grabbed Alex’s arm and stopped him from walking away. “Next time you lie to me, try harder!”

Alex glared at him, but sat back down while pulling his arm out of Miles’ grasp. “I wasn’t lying. You haven’t done anything. It’s what you haven’t done that’s pissing me off.”

“And what would that be?” Miles demanded to know, completely unaware of what his friend was talking about. One moment they had been fine, the next, Alex had barely looked at him anymore!

“When were you going to tell me that you have feelings for my girlfriend?”

“I do what?” Miles gaped. That accusation came out of nowhere. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not. I was talking to your dove yesterday. Found her sitting in the corner, crying her eyes out ‘cause you broke up with her. She told me quite a bit!”

“How about you tell me what she told you, huh? Do it, Al! I have no bloody idea what you’re talking about! I don’t have any feelings for Alexa!”

“Then why are you always hanging out with us?”

It felt as though a ton of bricks had been dropped on him. “I wasn’t aware I was bothering you so much,” said Miles. His shoulders dropped, and he looked away from Alex. “You should have told me I was spending too much time with you. I’ll stay away, then.”

“That’s not what I meant, Miles,” groaned Alex. “You know that’s not what I meant, right?”

“No, Al, I don’t.”

Miles could practically hear Alex role his eyes. “I mean, why would you spend so much time with us — well, not too much, but — fuck! I'm explaining this wrong! She said you had feeling for Alexa! She said you’d rather spend time with my girlfriend than with her!”

“That’s not true!”

“It is, Miles. You’re always with us.”

“So it does bother you?”

“No! Fuck, stop twisting what I say! This isn’t about us. It’s about you and Alexa!”

It was about them, Miles wanted to say. It wasn’t Alexa’s company that he found himself looking for. It was Alex’s. But how to explain that without making a fool of himself, wondered Miles. So he avoided an actual answer. “She and I…we broke up. I didn’t feel as much for her as she did for me and that’s that. But I don’t want anything from your girl, Al! You just have to believe me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been spending too much time with you guys.”

“Bloody stop saying that, Miles! It’s not what I meant!”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Why don’t I start right now? I’m feeling tired anyway. So, goodnight. See you around, Alex.”

“Miles! Don’t do that, don’t walk out on me. I fear I’ve said it all wrong!”

“I’m not walking out on you. I’m going home. We’re good, Al. Don’t worry about it. Go spend time with your girlfriend and let me get some much needed sleep. Really, Al, we’re fine. Don’t worry!”

“Swear, Miles?”

Miles turned around, faced his friend and forced himself to smile the world’s most reassuring smile. “Yes. I do. Goodnight!”

Present Day

They didn’t speak for a week after that night. And even after that it felt strange for a long time. For months Miles would pay meticulous attention to how often and how long he hung out with Alex. He wouldn't spend a single night over at Alex's, like he'd done so often before. He'd made sure to not be around when Alexa was near. And after Alexa had ended things with Alex, Miles wouldn't talk to her for a long while. It had hurt him, for he and Alexa had become genuine friends and he had ignored her in an attempt to not endanger his friendship with Alex.

Remembering all that, it occurred to him, though, that there were times when Alex had wanted answers and Miles couldn’t supply them. Not because he didn’t have the answers, but because he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say without saying too much or too little.

More and more of his anger towards Alex began to dissipate and what remained was guilt. Guilt and regret for being as bad with the right words as Alex was. His friend had been right weeks ago – he was a coward. If he had been honest about his feelings, his confusion and all that festering attraction that had slowly poisoned their friendship during the last years, maybe all of this could have been prevented. Whenever Alex got lost in his endeavors to say what he wanted to say in the most precise, perfect manner, Miles got lost in his fears of saying the wrong thing the wrong way. Whenever Alex couldn't say anything, Miles wouldn't say anything.

Miles placed the guitar aside, gave his entire attention to the night's sky. How could he blame Alex for walking out on him, unable to stay, when he himself hadn't said a word to stop him, afraid he'd leave anyway? Yes. He had been awake, had felt the cold fog that had fallen over him the moment Alex had slipped out of his arms. He had deliberately kept his eyes close as Alex had gathered his clothes. He had deliberately remained silent when Alex had vanished out of the room. He'd been as much of a coward as Alex had been.

He should have told him that, Miles knew. But he'd been hurt and confused and, god damnit, he wanted Alex to fucking tell him how he felt before he would admit to his own feelings. But Alex would never do that, would he? He never made the first step. Never had.

Except...

Memories of their night returned. Memories of that moment in the elevator. Memories of Alex, making the first step, giving Miles the choice to say no.

Bloody hell! Why was it all so damn fucked up?

Maybe he needed faith that one day they’d meet again and indeed have the right words for each other. Maybe Alex was right about saying goodbye for now? How could they spend time with each other when an enormous cloud of unresolved problems would continually rain down on them, forever reminding them that they were not okay? Wouldn't that hurt more than not talking at all?

Who was he kidding!

Not speaking with Alex? Deliberately not talking to Alex when all he wanted was to talk and to fix? Miles had no idea how to endure that.

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #miles kane alex turner #fanfiction #fanfic #it may seem like the end #but...

[padawanlost]

re: Obi-Wan and Anakin's communication issues. I can think of a couple of times in tcw where Obi-Wan does make an effort to reach out to Anakin. during the Clovis arc he tries the whole "this is like me and Satine" and Anakin is not having it for a few reasons, and on Utapau he outright asks if Anakin wants to talk about Ahsoka and when he doesn't, he brings it up again anyway. both times, he does pretty much tell Anakin to "get over it" but it's also Anakin that puts up walls and shuts him out.

As yousaid, Obi-wan’s “reaching out” is about telling Anakin to get “over it”. That’sno a healthy exchanged by any means. Obi-wan does try to reach out to Anakinto understand him and listen without judgment, he does to try to convinceAnakin to do whatever he believes Anakin should be doing. And I wouldn’t count their conversation about Ahsoka’sdeparture as a healthy communication either because Obi-wan waits WEEKS beforehe “reaches out” to Anakin and he only does it after Anakin slips and saysAhsoka’s name.

To beclear, this is not Obi-wan’s fault in the sense he is doing on purpose. Obi-wanis simply unequipped do deal with Anakin (or anyone who is not a Jedi) in ahealthy way. Communication is an exchange, a process. Imagine a world wherethere’s only two languages (A and B). Then, imagine Obi-wan was taught onlylanguage A and that language B is inherently bad. Now, Obi-wan has to train achild who speaks nothing but language B to learn language A AND completelyforget language B. Also, Obi-wan cannot understand language B and is notallowed to learned it. Do you see the problem? It’s not that Obi-wan is tryingto hurt Anakin, but is inability to understand Anakin hindered Anakin’s abilityto understand Obi-wan which created a relationship where neither side iscapable of fully understanding the other because they are not speaking the samelanguage.

As forAnakin putting up walls, the same way it’s unfair to say this a result ofObi-wan’s cruelty, it’s also unfair to put this on Anakin because he was thechild. It was, regardless of why he failed, Obi-wan’s responsibility to raiseAnakin. Anakin shut down Obi-wan’s attempts because after 13 years together Anakinknew better than to expect Obi-wan to understand.

[Obi-wan] heard himself - that tone of voicethat Anakin had always resisted. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin’s sharp response… then realized it wouldnever come. [Jude Watson’s The Last of the Jedi: The Desperate Mission]

Anakin had always hated sand. It was one of the many things about hisPadawan that Obi-Wan understood better now that Anakin was dead. That was thehorror of losing someone: Understandingcame too late. [Jude Watson’s The Last One Standing]

 “I just…” Anakin stopped. He took a ragged breath. “I thought you wouldbe proud of me.” I am proud of you.Obi-Wan wanted to say the words. They were true. He was proud of so much inAnakin. But now was not the time to tell him that. Or was it? [Jude Watson’sJedi Quest: The School of Fear]

‘I thought I’d lend a hand to Doby and Deland. They’re from Tatooine.’Anakin looked uncomfortable. ‘If they win, they free their sister. She’s aslave.’ ‘I see.’ Obi-Wan nodded at the two brothers. 'I wish you good luck.Anakin, may I speak with you a moment?’ He drew Anakin aside. 'You know this iswrong,’ he told his Padawan with a frown. 'I’msure you are helping for the right reasons. But this is not our mission. Wehave more important things to do.’ [Jude Watson’s Jedi Quest: DangerousGames]

‘Why do you like to go fast, Anakin?’ The dreamy, shuttered look cameover Anakin’s face. 'Because I can leave myself behind.’ he said, his eyes onthe ship. Garen glanced at Obi-Wan. He raised one eyebrow. It was not a Jedianswer. Obi-Wan frowned, troubled by it.There were still places in Anakin he could not reach. [Jude Watson’s Jediapprentice - Special Edition: Deceptions]

Such a dichotomy. [Anakin] is the most fearless man I have ever foughtwith … yet a part of him remains that small, frightened boy who left Tatooineeleven years ago. The boy [Obi-wan]knew, to his shame, he’d sometimes failed to reach.[ Karen Miller’s Star Wars:Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When they’d met,Anakin had been a warm-hearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He wastwelve and a half now, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be aboy who hid his heart. [Jude Watson’s Jedi apprentice - Special Edition: Deceptions]

 “Get away from me,” Anakin said, as the edges of his vision rippledscarlet and black … and the rage that dwelled inside him drew itsbreath to scream. “I don’t want you here. She’d be alive if you’d believedin my dreams. She’d be alive if I had freed her. Get away from me, Obi-Wan.Leave me alone!” But Obi-Wan wouldn’t. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Anakin. Youdidn’t dream she was in danger. You didn’t dream she’d die. If you had—if you’dtold me—” Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder and shrugged,trying to dislodge it. “Don’t touch me. Are you deaf? I said leave me alone.” StillObi-Wan ignored him. Of course. Because that’s what he did. He gave orders, henever listened. “Anakin, you have to know it wasn’t deliberate.” All he hadto know was that this man had failed him. Sickened, trembling on the brink oflosing self-control completely, he reached out to pluck himself free ofObi-Wan’s grasping fingers …[Karen Miller’s Star Wars: The Clone Wars:Wild Space]

Obi-wan and Anakin’s relationship between TPM and AOTC was not the cozy,loving, friendly thing the fandom likes to pretend it was. It’s not hard tounderstand why Anakin would shut down all Obi-wan’s attempts after the tumultuous10 years they had spent together. Anakin’sreaction is pretty normal for someone who grew up like he did, when everytime you express your feelings you get told you are wrong to feel them you stopexpressing yourself. Again, it’s not that Obi-wan was intentionally trying tohurt Anakin, he simply didn’t know what else to do.

After 13 years of feeling misunderstood, is it really that surprisingthat Anakin doesn’t trust Obi-wan with his deepest feelings? I mean, that’s whyhe doesn’t tell Obi-wan about Padme, their marriage or his dreams. It’s notthat he thinks Obi-wan will hurt it, it’s because he doesn’t believe Obi-wan iscapable of understanding what Anakin is going through.

 [Anakin] turned away. “I’m notsure [Obi-wan]’s on my side.” “Your side? Anakin, what are you saying?”“He’s on the Jedi Council, Padmé. I know my name has come up for Mastery—I’mmore powerful than any Jedi Master alive. But someone is blocking me. Obi-Wancould tell me who, and why … but he doesn’t. I’m not sure he even stands up for me with them.” “I can’t believethat.” “It has nothing to do withbelieving,” he murmured, softly bitter. “It’s the truth.” “There must besome reason, then. Anakin, he’s your best friend. He loves you.” “Maybe he does. But I don’t think he trustsme.” [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

And onObi-wan’s side:

“You think Skywalker won’t be able to handle this?” Mace Windu said. “Ithought you had more confidence in his abilities.” “I trust him with my life,” Obi-Wan said simply. [Matthew Stover’s Revengeof the Sith]

Both Obi-wan and Anakin feel the same about so many things but they don’tspeak the same language so they don’t communicate effectively. So much of itgets “lost in translation” and it puts them in a situation where they both knowthey care for each other but they don’t really *know* each other. And, as Ialways say, that’s the tragedy of their relationship. Everything they neededwas right there all along, they just couldn’t see it.

#ask #anon #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sw meta #meta: anakin #meta: obi wan #txt