#on another note: luke's voice acting here. HEART WRENCHING.

[khickuwa]

My thoughts on “A Dream of Benji” - Luke’s Fluffy Fuzzy Time Card

so I had the privilege (or the misfortune, depends on how you’d view it lmao /lh) of getting and reading Luke’s new FFT card. I haven't seen anyone talking about it yet, and I have many thoughts about it so.... To anyone who hasn’t read it yet, beware I’ll be discussing spoilers (come back when you’ve read it please I promise you you won’t regret it) and as everyone else probably mention it’s probably best to read this after the FFT event (or at least after completing Benji’s route) 

BUT I MUST SAY, this card has surprisingly became one of my favorite Luke cards (in  terms of the art as well I mean look at THEM(tm) LAYING DOWN IN A MEADOW OF FLOWER... MISS ROSA LOOKS SO ESPECIALLY PRETTY HERE LIKE) right up there with Luke’s 1st anniversary card “Under the Milky Way” and Luke’s “Shape of You” card. I know everyone is probably saving up for the second anniversary (I really need to save up to I haven’t been playing as much last month) but if you do have the s-chips to get the card like... *grabs you in a chokehold* it’s so good. I promise you it’s really worth it.

Though disclaimer!  These are just my thoughts (I’ve been up all night thinking about a virtual dog... Please I Am Not Okay) feel free to disagree! I’ll be discussing about character death and Luke’s illness, so if you ain’t good with that feel free to skip this!

Okay, moving on.

Hoyoverse. What the actual fuck. (YOU THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE A CUTE CARD? CUTE EVENT? TAKING CARE OF VIRTUAL ANIMALS?  A FLUFFY FUZZY FUN TIME!?!? WRONG. ABSOLUTELY WRONG.) This whole card was so incredibly devastating and yet it’s so hopeful at the same time. They really hammered in the idea of “inevitability” and “hopeful anticipation”  irt actualbird's journal of NXX Investigation Team Behavioral Studies. To me at least, this card is like everything that makes Luke... Luke... condensed into a card.

About Benji  (you sweet sweet boy):

Immediately right in the first story, Benji is admitted into hospital and it’s very much obvious that... Benji, a retired 9-year old military dog, doesn’t have much time left.

Benji, obviously, is very much a parallel to Luke Pearce... As I was reading the card, Benji’s situation almost feels like a peek into of what could be Luke’s Future... what could become of Luke. Once great and majestic dog plowing through a vast field of snow, saving hostages along side other agent... now so frail, the wear and tear of old injuries, old age and illness is finally getting to Benji. 

...and in Luke’s own words: “Is he still the same Benji from my memories.”

Luke and Rosa decides to take Benji into a dog park, where they hope to give Benji some sort of “freedom”... for Benji to finally some semblance of living life as a normal dog. It still had to be catered in a way that was familiar to Benji... and this is sort of scattered around through out between the event stories and the card. eg. making custom training dumbbells, planning training regiments, recreating a hostage situation. Even when Benji is retired, he's still yearning to go back... eg looking back to the direction of military base. Because in the end of the day, that’s all Benji Knows. His Whole Life has Always Been a Mission to Benji.

Then Mr. Henderson, a man in the dog park who's also grieving about his late dog, who's also a retired military dog. And while Luke was able to open up to this man, as both have/are going through the same grief. But MAN did that interaction cause Luke to spiral downwards.

Even in what I would say Benji’s last moments with Luke and Rosa, the way that Luke had to dismiss Benji of his “duty” this way. (I’m not okay, I’m not okay, THIS DIALOGUE WRECKED ME)

About Luke (ah here we go again):

After being subsequently punched multiple times in the face by “LOOK BENJI/LUKE PARALLELS, LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT!!!”

As I’m going “NO BENJI UWAH QAQ” every second through this card... I also can’t help but fear for Luke. It really made me think that... let’s say even if NSB drops Luke the moment he was diagnosed with the illness and three years left to live, I really do wonder if he would’ve been able to cope with it... or otherwise live with himself? 

Luke as we know it, has this whole self deprecating deal of avoiding and hesitating happiness. The way I see it, he often times try to make himself seem "small" in a way, that he prioritizes other people's needs first before his own. And I would imagine the last thing he'd want for himself is to become a burden/useless. If one day Luke does retire from NSB, one would think that he'd be free... but not really either. I can imagine him being sort of like "what now?" (i can sort imagine luke entering this phase of adjusting back to normal life when he's back in Stellis. this brings me to the headcanon of luke's... questionable lifestyle is a product of Luke having to readjust to normal life /i’m sorry i made fun of your kitchen and my boy, you probably had to make do what with what you had.)

If think about Luke lying in a hospital bed, nearing the end of his life. I'm Going To Lose It (tm). But looking at Benji all old and sickly... I really can’t help imagine that IF it were to happen, it would probably go down the same way it did for Benji. (I Am Going To Cry)

Anyways, after the conversation with Mr. Henderson, Luke spirals down into thoughts of "if I didn't left you, would things have been different?", “we could’ve been happier, if only I had made the “right” choice. (and I wanna grab him by the shoulders and then scream at him “LUKE STOP BAD >:C”)

About Rosa (YOU GO GIRL SLAY):

NOW, HONESTLY. ROSA REALLY DO SHINE IN THIS CARD. HER RESPONSE TO BENJI. HER RESPONSE TO HER SAD LITTLE BOYFRIEND GRIEFING AN SPIRALING DOWN. THIS IS WHY SHE IS THE MC(TM) AAA

but more than that, this card somehow not only showcase her strengths but also how this somehow becomes a weakness as well (at least to me). 

Rosa to me, comes off someone who really looks on straight ahead and her focus on what she can do in the present, in contrast to Luke’s tendency to focus on past regrets and uncertain tomorrows. I would argue that she also has this like- perseverance/stubbornness against adversities and I would say that her solutions also come off as very head on?. (could you imagine having to argue with your lawyer girlfriend, like nah... you ain’t winning for sure.)

(”But that’s for dogs” I’m laughing through TEARS OMG - Luke is Dog-Coded FR) But Rosa in here is really ain’t letting Luke go, forcing Luke to Actually Look into her Eyes and tell her What’s Wrong. (LukeRosa nose booping omg...this is how they comfort each other in my head from now on) Which yes, sometimes I think Luke does need someone who can hold him back before he retreats, but also at the same time... after this exchange, Rosa realizes that it’s not really quite enough to erase his worries. And I think this is also the exact moment Rosa realizes that not all problems could be solved immediately... sometimes you have to let time do its thing and just.. sit with it. 

(Rosa calling in an animal psychologist... like did she just searched on up in the internet for consultation like pls Rosa) In Story 5 (I’d put in every screenshot from this part if I could), we go on the Benji’s “rescue mission”, I kinda enjoyed how Rosa does fumble a bit here and there... though with good intentions, perhaps the overly familiar environment was over-stimulating to Benji? which caused him to attack Luke somehow... But anyways... It seems that Benji still thinks that he’s on service and it’s not when Luke “dismissed” him of his “duties does Benji stop and Luke, just so full of grief, wondering why Benji couldn’t just forget the past. And Rosa really isn’t holding back with her words when she says:

“Why does Benji have to forget the past?” “

Have you ever thought that perhaps Benji is proud of himself for being a military dog?” 

“You said before if Benji wasn’t a military dog, he could probably lead a happier life.”

“But Luke, you and I are not Benji, We can never understand Benji’s true feelings.”

“And we can’t just make wild guesses about whether Benji would have ended in a better situation if he had made a different choice...

“Because it will never happen”

Because it will never happen....

MISS ROSA I-

“But how are you sure a “perfect and flawless” choice exists in this world”

“Luke, are you sure that if one makes a different choice, one’s ending will be better?”

I just really love Rosa for this because she just so... incredibly focused in the present and taking one’s autonomy. And this is probably so reassuring to Luke (and to me) cause she’s basically saying “regardless of what happens, we will be fine.” 

And I don’t think Rosa has ever blamed Luke for leaving, for having a dangerous job, nor for getting diagnosed with only 3-years left to live. SHE JUST LOVES HIM SO MUCH OUEUEUEUEUOOO!!! Even. EVEN. if Luke’s condition does turn for the worse, I really do think that Luke is in very VERY capable hands. AND THAT’S SO REASSURING TO ME? As much as I Really Don’t Want Luke to Die (Please Find A Cure For Him), but just the thought that Rosa is going to be there for him (just as he will be there for her) regardless of whatever happens to the both of them, it will always be the “best ending”.

I’m just so happy that Rosa’s answer to Benji’s case is really just to ensure that Benji lives the last few days of his life... happy. and IT’S SUCH A ROSA ANSWER PLS... Even with Luke as well, even with knowing all the risks of staying with Luke, she’d rather make the most out of the remaining time they have. But even so, she’s still so full of hope! “As long as we’re not at the end of the path, there’ll be boundless possibilities” 

Luke is the Definition of Devotion, BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT ROSA? It’s so subtle, but I really can’t deny that Rosa does really really really love Luke too, in a way that she’s going to be there for him... for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. (HOLDS THEM BOTH IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS UUUUUOEOEOOEOE)

When Benji finally passes away peacefully in a quiet afternoon, with Luke and Rosa at his side, I really do think that this is the best ending for him. RIP Benji, you were the goodest boy. 

#tot spoilers #chika rambles #Luke Pearce #lukerosa #tearsofthemis #on another note: luke's voice acting here. HEART WRENCHING. #i'm using korean dub #cause luke sounds the most gentle in korean to me at least #also reliving mystic messenger vibes... #but whenever his voice breaks i just wanna cry with him #anyways have I told you guys that I love them so much? #I love them so much #this almost sounds like a sponsored ad for Luke's FFT card but #omg it's so painful but so good #forgive me for any grammar mistakes/typos cause i really didn't structure this in anyways it's really just everything in my head plonked #down to the keyboard as i smash the keys with much much emotions

[myjjbaby]

Hey could you do a jj and reader, where she is there when he gives his dad the money and he told her to stay inside or something and then she hears the fight and comes outside when jj has the wrench and talks him down, maybe ending in smut if you’re comfortable or just heavy fluff.

hold on

author’s note - and anotha’ one! JJ actually owns my ass wow but here’s another request! i chose not to go smut with this one because it seemed a little too harsh but im totally open to writing some jj sexy time lol side note - please don’t expect me to whip these out fast because im a slow writer and i want them to be decent before i post

synopsis - requested by anon! when everything goes to shit and JJ needs you, you break a promise.

warning - 1.1k of pretty angsty stuff and abuse

“We’re sick of your shit.”

“John B-”

“Don’t defend him, he pulled you into this too, Y/N, y ‘know that right?”

“Oh, my shit?”

You went to grab JJ’s arm, holding him back so he wouldn’t do something he’d regret.

“Yes, your shit.”

“Yes, JJ. You’ve been pulling guns on people.”

“You’re acting like a freaking maniac!”

You sent a quick look to Kiara and Pope, they may be your best friends but neither of them should have said anything. Your boyfriend would not take lightly to people yelling at him, he would start a fight with a short temper like his.

You dozed out, never being a confrontational type, as Pope and JJ argued. You barely even noticed how dire the situation was getting until the blonde boy slipped out of your grip, taking a step closer to his friend.

“Yeah? Well I just did! Pay it back. Right here, right now, by myself,” your heart was nearly shattered as he stepped away from all of you, “you know what? That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he grabbed the navy duffel holding twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, “go off, by myself.”

JJ started walking away from the group while his friends watched on. Kiara went forward to talk him out of it but Pope arm stopped him.

“Let him go.”

You shook your head, knowing the last thing JJ should be is alone. You went to follow but John B took a step to block you.

“Don’t,” you mumbled before racing after your boy.

He wasn’t too far ahead, his foot kicking rocks on the side of the road. JJ hadn’t noticed you following until your hand brushed his. His shocked eyes turned to your before setting into a harsh glare.

“Y/N, go back to the others.”

You shook your head, grabbing his hand again when he tried to pull away.

“Please,” his voice cracked, “just go. I need to bring this home.”

“I know, which is why I’m coming with you.”

JJ shook his head, pulling his hand from yours again. You knew he hated bringing you into his home life. You were the good side of his life which he wanted to keep far from the bad parts.

“No, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

You knew he was referring to Luke Maybank, his father.

“If you think for a second I’m letting you go home without me, you don’t know me very well.”

JJ groaned something about your stubbornness before grabbing your hand in his warm one. You smiled at his affection, glad that he wouldn’t be doing this alone.

“Stay out here,” they had reached the turn where his driveway touches the main road, “don’t come into the house, okay?”

“JJ-”

“No, I want you safe.”

You nodded but he wasn’t done.

“Promise me, baby, promise me you’ll stay away.”

He didn’t pull his hand away until you muttered a soft promise, JJ nodded along with you, satisfied with your agreement to his terms. With a shaky smile and a quick kiss to your temple, JJ Maybank headed towards the yellow house that was supposed to be home.

As the time went on, your heartbeat fastened with your breath. Your hands shook while you stared at the wicker porch in the distance. Frozen in your spot, you didn’t move until you heard it. JJ yelling.

“You gave me nothing! You gave me nothing but a shitty life! All you ever did,” he emphasized each word with a punch to Luke’s jaw, “was try to scare me,” another punch, “well guess what? I’m not scared of you anymore.”

The blonde boy was shaking about his father when you finally reached them, JJ holding a rusted wrench in the air as you rushed to the ground beside him.

“JJ?”

You grabbed his wrist, noticing Luke Maybank was nearly unconscious and couldn’t hurt the boy you loved. Slowly, you helped JJ lower the tool towards the ground.

“I ain’t,” his voice broke off into a soft cry, “I ain’t scared of you no more.”

You grabbed his forearms, gently lifting him away from the older man still laid out on the grass. You walked JJ back towards the house and decided to question him about the broken screen panel in the porch later. He held tightly to you, his sobs muffled into your tanned shoulder. Your fingers threaded into his hair, lips pressed into the soft waves, and whispered calming mumbles into the heartbreaking silence.

He didn’t pull away until you had walked him up the stairs. Grabbing you in one hand and the navy duffel in the other, the two of you walked away from the scene and towards John B’s chateau.

The journey along the road was quiet except for JJ’s sniffles, each one making you grip his fingers tighter. He suddenly stopped in his tracks forcing you to take a few steps back and turn towards him. Your heart dropped with him as he fell to his knees, ignoring the painful grit of the gravel below him. JJ tucked his face into your stomach and he wrapped his arms around the small of your back holding you close to him.

“JJ?”

You lowered yourself onto the ground with him, his head now buried into your neck.

“You promised me you’d stay away.”

“I’m sorry,” you really weren’t, “I couldn’t just watch on.”

He was still mad at you but that simmered away as he pulled you deeper into himself. His shoulders shook as he took deep breaths, lungs heaving as he desperately searched for air.

“I was going to do it,” he sobbed into your skin, “I just- I can’t take him anymore.”

“I know, J, I know.”

“I was going to kill him.”

Your breath stopped and you held him tighter against your body, holding the broken boy together. Your eyes filled with tears, but you willed them away, knowing JJ would be ruined if he knew how upset you were. Always taking care of you before himself.

“Look at me, baby,” he shook his head, inhaling you deeper, “JJ, look at me.”

His eyes met yours, the familiar baby blues looked muddied by the emotions that shook through him.

“You didn’t though, JJ, you stopped yourself. You know why? Because you're better than him. You’re more the man than he’ll ever be, hell more a man than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He cried harder, trying to pull you closer until there wasn’t a gap between your flustered skin and his shirt.

“Just hold on, okay? Hold on a bit longer. We’re going to be better.”

“And if we can’t be better?”

“We will be.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #outerbanksedit #recs #john b #like damn #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #obx requests #obx #jj obx #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj angst

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Ablaze - aka Obi-Wan learns the truth about what happened to Anakin post Mustafar Oneshot

Whatever Obi-Wan had hoped for, it wasn’t this.

He had been convinced when he turned his back on his past, tears blurring his vision as he left Anakin - his brother - behind by the molten lava lake of Mustafar, that that would be the end of it. He had known the twins once born must be hidden, concealed from the Empire and Palpatine. He had held them in his arms, as he watched Padmé’s life leave tear filled her eyes. As he watched her succumb to a broken heart, as her time ran out.

Obi-Wan had hoped that in spite of everything Anakin had done, every deed committed out of some sort of misplaced idea of justice to save his wife, he’d have passed on to find peace. There was the guilt, crippling and heart wrenching as it weighed heavy on his shoulders, looming over him every waking moment. Like a phantom, he wandered lost with only one purpose. One foot on the ground, one already in the grave as he watched over Luke faithfully. It was his only mission, as heeded the Lars’ warnings of not coming too close. Of not getting to know Luke personally. He watched as the boy grew to resemble his father more with each day, bringing back still painful memories of Anakin as a padawan, of Anakin questioning him, initiating arguments yet always returning for comfort and solace.

He had prayed that, much as it had destroyed him, Anakin was finally free from the demons that had plagued him so.

Anakin; who had been lured and manipulated into becoming a disciple of the Dark Side. Anakin; who had always been good, and kind, and just. Anakin; who loved so deeply, so truly that he stifled the air in Obi-Wan’s lungs. His brother, his son, his best friend - all in one. Anakin; whose final resting place lay among ashes, fire and brimstone. Obi-Wan considered it his cross to bear, and perhaps one day, he might have the courage to tell Luke the truth. Once Luke was old enough to understand, and to feign for himself. With the truth, danger would be sure to follow. The eyes of Emperor Palpatine were everywhere.

He had been wrong.

The first time caught wind of rumours regarding some mysterious empirical Enforcer cloaked in black, purging the remaining Jedi from the Galaxy on behalf of the Emperor - he felt sick to the stomach. Nauseous and dazed, losing focus the world became a blur as he casually continued to eavesdrop. He'd caught whiff of the grim news by accident from some bounty hunters normally located off planet, on one of his rare trips to the Cantina of Mos Eisley. At first, he told himself he must have misheard them. But the more he listened, the more he heard, the further the claws of dread sank into him. Suffocating him.

A menace clad all in black, face concealed. A Force wielder, one of the bounty hunters had professed. The other denied the existence of such a thing, but did affirm she too had heard some tall tales from a couple of drunk Imperial cadets, matching the description.

A regular smuggler was quick to chime in, in a foreboding low voice, that speaking of the devil might as well conjure him forward. Obi-Wan should have asked, then. But he couldn’t bear it. He’d prefer being unwise, uncertain as to the identity of this cloaked assassin. Deliberately ignorant by omission. Still, a voice at the back of his mind screamed at him to trust his gut feeling.

So, for a few more months, he buried it. He ignored the inquisitive part of himself, the one wanting desperately to pry and find out more. The one wanting to either reaffirm, or deny, what he was already suspecting. Eventually it got the upper hand. Hood pulled over his head, one night he surrendered to the urge. Travelling by land speeder with the intentions of visiting that same Cantina, back to the same area.

While it was not likely he’d be approaching the same crowd - bounty hunters never stayed long without Jabba the Hutt personally acquiescing - there might be other visitors willing to share their knowledge. Or perhaps suitable victim to coax information out of, via mind control. Against better judgment, Obi Wan found himself considering kidnapping, or at the very least stunning an unsuspecting stormtrooper, simply to pull the soldier away from public eyes for interrogation.

As luck would have it, he needn’t have worried. Ears perked, senses keenly attuned to his surroundings, he was quick to pick up on a rushed, impatient tone. There was a note of distress, of distinct dread radiating from the person speaking. Letting the Force guide him, Obi-Wan found himself drawing near to a small, scrappy docking area on the outskirts of the small city. Three ships anchored neatly aligned, all in beat up condition from bad to worse. The vessels would fly, but not much more. Pacing back and forth by the cargo holder of a battered YT-freighter, was a young twi’lek male. Lekku twitching, sharpened teeth bared. His company consisted only of a human woman, who looked about the same age but less antsy.

“How can you be so sure he won’t find us?”

“Because rumour has it this planet is off his radar,” said the woman, with clear disinterest. “We’ll have time to repair the ships. Turk'll gather up some credits, and then we'll go undercover. The Empi--”

“We’re not talking about the Empire, Oma!” hissed the twi’lek, and Obi-Wan felt the tension of anticipation pouring into his bones, as he pressed his back closely to the wreckage of what was once another clay building.

“It’s all the same, he is no different. He can’t be everywhere at once, surely he must have more important clientele to keep up with. We’re only possible associates at best, and even then he has no evidence.”

“You don’t understand!” the twi’lek raised his voice, before catching himself. "He doesn't need a justifiable reason to give chase!"

In an instant, the man's wide eyed stare darted madly around the location. Obi-Wan waited patiently, seeking aid from the Force to remain unseen and concealed. He had perfected the expert craft of hiding his Force signature, all to stay alert out of sight and mind from the Empire. For four years, it had worked to his favour. Still, he pulled his robes tight around himself, nodding in greeting as a random stranger - a Rodian - passed by in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan was considering wiping the encounter from her memory, but the woman disappeared into the night and it seemed an unnecessary endeavour.

With a hushed tone, the twi’lek piped up again as he inched closer to Oma, his female companion.

“He knows we aided that young Jedi. He knows we docked on I’qka, we’re in the Imperial records. The kid told us himself he was being hunted! Don’t you figure if there’s a kid on a planet that rarely ever receives visits from outside travelers, and this kid disappears with the one ship that has been knowingly recorded, that’s going to raise suspicion?”

“Which is why we’re going to make repairs only on The Japor, and trade this ship in for something more inconspicuous,” said Oma, still as unbothered as before. “You think too much about it, if anyone’s gonna raise suspicion, it’s you with your fidgeting. Pretend you never met the kid, and it’s gonna work out a hell of a lot better for us.”

“No one’s gonna want this junkyard of a ship,” the twi’lek huffed, glancing with a doubtful expression back at their vessel.

“There’s a constant demand for functioning scrap parts here, we’re gonna make a fortune if we pick it apart. Might even trade some parts off to the Jawas. You get in their good graces, and they’ll find you whatever you need.”

“Better be. I just don’t understand… aren’t you afraid of him?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m afraid or not, what matters is that we keep running. It’s only a problem if he catches us, and as long as we’re one step ahead, he’s no threat.”

Oma sounded calm and collected, but Obi-Wan could sense a fleeting tinge of dread through the living Force of her bloodstream. He could sense her palpitated heartbeats, sense her shortness of breath. He must condone their bravery however; hiding and assisting a Jedi fugitive under the Empire’s nose was high treason, punishable only by death penalty. Helping a Jedi was just as bad as being one, and the two must have been aware of that when they decided to act out of compassion. He couldn’t do much to aid their flight or ensure their safety, given the risk of blowing his own cover and subsequently Luke’s, but he was going to ask the Force be with and guide them. He hoped it’d be enough. Perhaps the Jedi was someone he knew, so he would wish him too a safe haven.

“So, we just keep running forever and hope he never catches us?”

The twi’lek sounded dejected, his lekku twitching in distress as he padded over to slump down to sit on the lowered landing pad. Obi-Wan felt his sadness as clearly as were it his own, even as Oma placed a hand on his shoulder to offer what appeared to be a supportive squeeze.

“Isn’t that what we do best? Let’s just hope the kid will get by and find a safe place to stay. That would make it all worth it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but if… if he comes after us, at least we’ll know he probably hasn’t found the kid. He’d need us alive, right?”

“Right,” Oma nodded, although that possibility didn’t seem to particularly put her at ease.

Obi-Wan sighed softly.

If the rumours of the Empire’s treatment of traitors was anything to go by, he’d presume a swift death was to prefer. More than one person had whispered of torture, and torment to force an approved testimony out of prisoners. It was frightening, how low the morals of those in power had stooped in such a short amount of time, since the fall of the Galactic Republic.

He had fought bravely in The Clone Wars for freedom, for justice. Was this his reward? Was this what the Jedi and their troops had laid down their lives to preserve? Then, on the other hand, Anakin too had been adamant to protect freedom. Had been adamant to end slavery, never able to overcome his own traumatic childhood raised on this burning sand planet as a slave to Watto. Mournfully, Obi-Wan regretted that he had never taken the time to speak about that experience in depth with Anakin. Regretted that he had not trusted Anakin’s visions of Shmi’s death. Perhaps, if his mother had lived, he would have resisted Palpatine’s lure.

It all came back to Anakin.

Every waking moment, Obi-Wan's mind would wander aimlessly until memories of familiar, mischievous blue eyes flashed before his inner vision. When he slept; nightmares of Mustafar, the stench of burning flesh and shrieks of anguish haunted him. Pleas for help, begging for him to come back. Begging him to stay. Every time, Obi-Wan tried to will himself to stay. Longing to turn back around, to hurry to Anakin’s side. To hold him in his arms, as they both perished in a burst of flames and embers. Instead, he had no control of his own limbs as he walked away. The sound of Anakin’s pained howls, and the gurgling noise that replaced them as the heat withered away his esophagus ringing in his ears.

“Are you afraid?”

Obi-Wan startled, at first convinced that the voice had spoken directly to him. He blinked his eyes, looking up only to realize it was Oma who had broken the silence. The twi’lek craned his neck to glance up at her, her dark eyes unreadable in the distant light spilling out of the freighter they called home. The twi’lek exhaled heavily; only to offer a sharp nod, eyes once more scanning their surroundings as if he’d been reminded of their vulnerable state.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“If he was so intent on killing a kid, what’s to say he’d hesitate to kill us just out of spite? I...” he paused momentarily, tone almost inaudible as he spoke again and if Obi-Wan hadn’t been so attuned to their conversation, he would have missed it.” I know people opposed to the Empire. They’re… attempting to align. To form some sort of resistance. Either way, a childhood friend of mine, M’naaka, works in close contact with their organizations.”

Oma only nodded to confirm she was listening, but he expression spoke of curiosity. It was clear she had never heard of this before.

“So, M’naaka has never met him directly, but--” the young twi’lek’s head shot up abruptly, his entire body strung out like a prey animal sensing the close proximity of a predator.

When nothing happened, no ambush forthcoming - Oma herself beginning to look increasingly uneasy - he settled back down into his tale.

“But she’s heard from her companions. They say that if Vader’s got reason to keep you in his sight, you’ve already lost.”

‘Henceforth, you shall be down as Darth… Vader.’

No.

No.

“Vader has bigger problems to cater to, if what you’re telling me about your friend’s contacts is true.”

Vader.

The name left Obi-Wan cold - the same sickness of that first mention of an assassin of the Empire cloaked in shadow had brought forth. The nausea returning, head spinning. He had pleaded with Master Yoda years ago, as they rid the ransacked and destroyed Jedi Temple of clone intruders, pressing that he must watch the holographic surveillance recordings. That he must see who had massacred their peers; the people he had grown up with, the only family he had ever known. The only life he knew, laid to waste. Children chopped to pieces, young men and women cut down in their prime. Whoever he had imagined to be the perpetrator, it was not Anakin.

Even now, he couldn’t believe Anakin could be capable of such vile acts. Yet, the holograms didn’t lie.

Now the sinking feeling Obi-Wan had experienced in that horrifying moment - as he'd watched Anakin kneel obediently before the now revealed true identity of Sith Lord, Darth Sidious - had returned tenfold. The sorrow.

He'd watched Anakin take on the mantle of Darth Vader; apprentice and second in command only to Palpatine himself. He'd watched all his hopes for his former padawan as a young Jedi crumble to ashes, scattered to the wind. Molding to become one with the sand dunes of Tatooine nightfall as he was brought back to present day. The bitter cold of the air was matched only by the block of ice forming in his chest cavity. He shut his eyes, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

The memory was still fresh, still vivid and tangible. Anakin, body set ablaze. Eyes a sickly yellow; bloodshot and animalistic as he poured the full intensity of his rage, his hate, his fear into the already heavy, charged air of Mustafar. His clothes, his hair, his skin aflame. Obi-Wan could not bear to watch the man he had loved as his own brother succumb. He abandoned him. Had left it up to the Force. He had assumed that the Force would take pity on Anakin - the man who was supposed to be The Chosen One - despite the monster he had become.

There were so many question, nothing made sense anymore.

How?

How had Anakin lived? Why? What must he look like? What agony must he be in? How might anyone survive being set afire? Obi-Wan had assumed that Maul was alone in his conviction, his ability to feed off of the Dark Side to sustain himself despite his mortal wounds. Had Anakin relied on similar tactics? Where was he now? Was there anything left of the man Obi Wan had raised and mentored? Did he know where to find his former master? Was he coming for him?

Vader. Of course.

Who else would be so consumed by spite, as to hunt innocent Jedi children to purge? Who else could be so petty, so insidious, so self absorbed? Anakin had been good, at heart. He’d been flawed, he’d been human. He’d been lying, he’d bent the rules, he’d become too attached. But he’d been well meaning, he’d been gentle and loyal and caring.

The shadow that had taken his place seemed to feed off of death, as if the blood on his hands made no difference to him. And why would it? Obi-Wan had seen the children lying lifeless on the cold stone floors of the Temple halls. In that moment, he had known there was no saving Anakin. He had refused to kill Anakin, had been adamant Master Yoda go in his stead. Anything at all, but that. In the end, he was left with no choice. Left with a naive belief, that maybe he could help Padmé bring Anakin back to sanity. Help him see reason. In the end, it was all for naught. In the end, Padmé faded away to become one with the Force. Leaving behind Anakin's estranged children; children he must never be made aware of.

Anakin died that day.

The Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had known, burned to dust upon shores of ash. The man reemerging in his place was changed; twisted, evil and unrecognizable. The man who had taken his place was but a pawn of the Emperor, serving his master’s bidding at his beck and call as a slave. There could be no other explanation. The man in Anakin's place had nothing left to live for, no one left to save.

Why hadn’t Anakin told him about Padmé? He must have known it was an open secret. He must have known Obi-Wan had already suspected it for several years. How could he hesitate? How could he stubbornly go on, wrestling in silence with his own fears and the expectations placed upon him by outside forces? How could he find Palpatine a better confidant?

Padmé had died, and Anakin with her. And with Anakin’s death followed a part of Obi-Wan.

As he swallowed down the stone cold terror of truth welling up in his chest, biting back an inexplicable urge to weep over the pitiful fate that had befallen his brother in arms - Obi-Wan somehow found enough strength for his legs to carry him back to his land speeder. Enough energy to take him home; home to safety and solace, where he may still serve his purpose of guiding and watching over Luke.

A man like Vader would not hesitate to twist Anakin’s son into something as cruel, and vicious, and unyielding as himself. But despite the fact that Obi-Wan refused to acknowledge Vader as Anakin, refused to believe Anakin had ever possessed the ability to overstep the line so grievously - deep down, in his heart, he knew it was a poor man's comfort. But if he dared set it the truth free, dared allow himself to dwell upon it, he feared he too would lose his mind.

Deep down, he knew that the love he had harbored for the boy had never been enough. It seemed, he had never really known Anakin at all.

------------

I always did want to write something like this, a piece where Obi Wan tackles the realization that Anakin is still alive under the mantle of Darth Vader. Here's my take, until canon inevitably offers us an official version, of a possible look at that. I had fun writing Obi Wan though, and his denial of Anakin's true self as a juxtaposition to Ahsoka's acceptance of the truth.

If you ship Obikin, you can always look at it that way too. It is written to be canon compliant, however!

Enjoy!

Link below to the Ao3 post, and subsequently my account:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636756

Lose Companion to Lifeline:

https://stuffilikeipostno2.tumblr.com/post/634787175881474048/lifeline-ahsoka-reaching-out-for-anakin-post

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304

#obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi wan #obi #kenobi #ben kenobi #star wars #sw #revenge of the sith #post rots #anakin skywalker #anakin #skywalker #darth vader #vader #lord vader #tatooine #luke skywalker #canon compliant #ewan mcgregor #james arnold taylor #sir alec guinness #ot #pt #prequels #originals #swr #rebels #anakin and obi wan

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS RPG BOSSES: NEO-OSAKA

LEVEL 1-7

LEVEL 8-10 (YOU ARE HERE)

FINAL BOSS

ENDINGS

Word Count: 2,803

You are one of many modified humans in Neo-Osaka. A relic of your brief time in the criminal underbelly. Your adopted little brother, Luke, has been kidnapped by a criminal syndicate known only as The Devil Triad for unknown reasons. Simeon, his upperclassman, is the sole witness of his kidnapping. Armed with your trusty katana, the healing microbots in your blood, and  the information Simeon has given you, you venture back into the underworld of Neo-Osaka to save your brother.

TW: Blood, Violence, Mention of Drug Use

LEVEL EIGHT – SOLOMON, THE SCIENTIST

It’s difficult to believe that the cadaver before you was ever human. If the label in front of its preservation tank can be believed, anyway. Thousands of glassy eyes rest from branch-like limbs, rolling aimlessly in the fluid. The surface of its skin reminds you of marble. Multitudinous horns protrude from what you think may have been a head once, one of them curling in to skewer the dead flesh, and it is only then that you notice that the mouth appears to be wrenched open in a scream. You hope that it – no, the human – hadn’t died that way. Aside from that, there are stranger details: a ring of bone encircles its head, seemingly having wrenched its way through the skull; six fledgling wings have sprouted from its back; and there are even veins visible within the corpse’s skin. Blue blood.

You’re not sure what you had expected upon infiltrating the The Devil Triad’s main base of operations. Something akin to an expensive manor, maybe, like where you had found the treasurer. A secret underground laboratory. A lair built into one of the many floating mountains surrounding Neo-Osaka. While the last part is partially true – the human swordsman had directed you to a business district on a floating mountain, after all – you certainly hadn’t expected the main base of operations to be hidden in a corporate office.

Especially not in one of Neo-Osaka’s most magnanimous companies. AkumaGen Technologies is known for its charity events, contributions to the people, and aid it gives to various hospitals throughout the city.

You read the label once more. HUMAN SUBJECT #491, it says. ANGEL PROJECT. METAMORPHOSIS UNSUCCESSFUL.

The door opens somewhere behind you, allowing white light to filter into the otherwise dark laboratory. Someone steps in. You quickly make yourself scarce, slinking into the glass-covered rafters above, and will your body to remain completely still.

It takes less than a minute for the figure – a tall, lanky man in a white labcoat – to make his way to where you had stood. He observes the preserved cadaver before him with a clinical eye, jotting down a few notes onto a clipboard, and powers up a holo-screen. He scrolls through various files, flicking away information that he deems unnecessary. A muffled conversation through a hand radio is barely audible, and you strain your ears to hear it. Something about sanguine material, you recognize. Something regarding recorded data, results of a process, and the latest subject. The scientist mutters something under his breath.

He takes his time with his observations. You take the opportunity to assess him from your position.

He stands a little less than two meters tall, you estimate. Given his narrow frame, he is likely less than seventy kilograms. You imagine that his physical strength is marginal compared to yours. While it is possible that the scientist could alert another worker in the facility, you’re fairly confident that you could incapacitate him fast enough. Your hand rests on the handle of your katana. If you can just --

An invisible force wrenches you from your hiding place. The glass of the rafters shatters beneath your body, and you grunt in pain as the shards dig into your flesh, the metal floor rapidly approaching. Thankfully, you break your fall with your face.

“I didn’t realize we had a rat in here,” the scientist remarks, the fingers of one hand splayed out. A psychokinetic stance, you realize. “Don’t you think eavesdropping is a little impolite? How did you even get in here?”

You open your mouth to speak – only to hack up blood, your body racked by shuddering coughs. You glance down at the sizeable shard of glass embedded into your abdomen. Much to your horror, your own blood has already begun to pool beneath you.

The scientist sighs. “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter. Sorry about this, by the way.”

You don’t have time to react. Another force knocks you back into the shadows of the laboratory. The metal of some unknown machinery dents when you crash into it, a gasp of pain escaping from your mouth.

In the time it takes for the scientist to attack, however, you take note of  approximately three things.

One, he is a true psychokinetic. A psychokinetic with an absurd level of strength and control over his own abilities. Unlike the dockmaster with his modified limbs and horrific scars, the scientist before you has needed no such alterations to his physiology. His abilities have likely been honed over a number of years by The Devil Triad – although he was likely recruited for his abilities in the first place.

Two, his psychokinetic energy is connected to the movements of his fingers. While you had to effectively dismember the dockmaster in order to get rid of his psychokinetic abilities, it looks like you might only have to chop off this one’s  fingers. A task easier said than done, of course.

Three, his psychokinetic abilities seem to be limited to the manipulation of glass and air. There is a simple rule when dealing with psychokinetics: remove them from an environment that contains the materials of their affinity. Unfortunately for you, the laboratory is composed of mostly glass.

Something above you begins to splinter. You look upwards to see yet another glass-covered rafter shaking with the force of his will. The scientist furrows his brows in concentration, splaying his fingers into that stance once more. Blood runs from a nostril as he does so, staining his white lab coat, but he doesn’t falter. The air itself ripples and cracks in front of his hand, much like glass. You can see the shards forming.

“Now,” he says, gritting his teeth, “s̷̺͌h̶͍̚á̶̲ṭ̶̈́t̸̳̅e̴̯͆r̴̙̊.”

LEVEL NINE – BARBATOS, HEAD OF SECURITY

The sharply-dressed man before you only regards you with boredom. You stare back at him in disbelief. In spite of your katana buried into his neck, effectively spearing him, there isn’t even the slightest hint of pain in his expression. No discomfort, no adverse reaction, and certainly no surprise. The man – the head of security, judging by his badge – only gazes at you dispassionately, wraps one gloved hand around the blade of your sword, and wrenches the blade deeper into his body. The act pulls you closer. He rears back the other hand. Tightens it into a fist.

The man hadn’t even bothered to dodge your attack, now that you think about it. You should’ve known better.

The impact of his fist against your cheek sends you flying into the monochrome wall behind you. You grunt in pain when you finally crash into it, your body making a distinctly shaped dent in the concrete. Already you can feel the effects of your injuries: your ribs are cracked again, one of your lungs may be perforated, and you may or may not have broken one of your wrists. You’ve been separated from your one and only weapon. Worse, you suspect that the man very well be another cybernetic organism.

It only takes another moment for your suspicions to be confirmed. When he draws your blade from his throat and tosses it aside, the blade is completely free of blood. The white dress shirt that the android wears bears no sanguinary stain.

You’re running out of time. You only have so many hours to find Luke until he is turned into one of the many cadavers you had stumbled upon in the laboratory, and it has already taken you long enough to put down the scientist. With the scuffle ending with both of you being impaled by glass – and only one of you possessing healing microbots – you aren’t entirely convinced that you’ve properly recovered. Not enough to take the android in front of you head on, at least.

You need time. Time that you don’t have.

A bit of metal hangs from the android’s throat. He rips it off in annoyance, tosses it aside, and mouths wordlessly in your direction. Despite your rather serious injuries, you’re glad that you’ve taken away his ability to speak. You’re not sure if you would have wanted to hear the things he would have said otherwise.

Even if you could run, it would be utterly futile. You would only get lost in the monochromatic, winding halls, given the size of the facility, and it would take little time for the android to find and eliminate you. There are no windows in this hall, the next, or the one before this that you can jump through. No doors, either. Aside from the harsh, industrial lighting above you, the white concrete corridors are almost completely featureless. Devoid of all escape routes. If you want to get to the heart of the base and save Luke, you’ll have to incapacitate the android as soon as possible.

That is, if you can.

Even with the aid of the microbots in your blood, the simple act of forcing yourself  to move is excruciating. The world fades in and out. Your body screams in protest as you stagger onto your feet, your cracked ribs grinding against bruised organs, and you cry out as your bones and flesh knit back together. Despite this – no, despite everything about the horrible journey into the underworld of Neo-Osaka – you find that you’re no worse for wear. Some deep-seated part of you hadn’t expected you to survive this far. Some horrible, insidious voice had told you to turn back, that it would be so much easier if you gave up, and that this was one of the most stupid, reckless ideas you’ve ever had. You’ve questioned yourself countless times, and each time you’ve only given yourself the same answer.

Luke is the only family you have left. You’ll do anything to save him. Even if it means tearing yourself apart in the process.

Your katana is a short distance away from you. The android has picked up a pipe that has fallen from the damaged wall, apparently intending to bludgeon you with it. You need to move. Now.

LEVEL TEN – DIAVOLO, CEO OF AKUMAGEN

You’ve seen him countless times. You’ve seen his face plastered over holo-ads at least four stories high, spray-painted on the sides of buildings, and welded into various merchandise. You’ve seen that dazzling smile glaring back at you from interactive ads on the train, filtered through TV screens, and scrawled across news stories. You’ve learned through years and years of media consumption that this man is a hero. That Diavolo, CEO of AkumaGen Technologies, is nothing short of magnanimous, selfless, and ultimately perfect leader. You would recognize that shock of red hair and pinstriped suit anywhere.

The actuality of him in front of you, however, is jarring. Bizarre in a manner that makes even you drop your guard.

“You’re here,” Diavolo says, his back to you. The skyline of Neo-Osaka is laid out before the massive windows, its silhouette painted with the neon lights of holo-ads and airships. The floating mountains of Neo-Osaka idle against the clear night sky. “I do hope you’re enjoying the view. It’s precisely why I had this office built up here. There’s nothing quite like it, don’t you think?”

The massive skylight allows moonlight to stream into the room, as do the expansive glass windows. Despite his referral to the space as an office, you can scarcely believe that it is what he says it is. Not in the traditional sense, at least.

A single platform composed of marble sits at the center of the room. A myriad of strange apparatuses have been both embedded and placed beside it, most of which appear to have medical uses. Tools for dissection, if you had to guess. You don’t really want to mull over that idea. The presence of chains, shackles, and needles located near the platform give you enough information of whatever it is that they plan to do to your little brother. If the information you have taken from the scientist’s documents is to be believed – as well as what you have gathered from the cadaver – then The Devil Triad truly does intend to use your brother as a subject for the Angel Project. A stepping stone to creating the ultimate panacea. While it could very well work, you --

No. No, there’s no time to think about that now. Regardless of the circumstances, Luke isn’t some animal to be experimented on. Whatever reasons they have aren’t your concern.

There’s no chance in hell that you’re letting them to do that.

“You’ve caused a great deal of trouble for us.” Diavolo turns to face you, smoothing down a wrinkle in his suit. “Murdering left and right, slaughtering indiscriminately, cutting down anything and everything in your path. Have you ever wondered if you’re doing the right thing? If you’re on the right side?”

As if he has any right to talk, you point out. He’s the head of The Devil Triad, for fuck’s sake! Last time you checked, gangs aren’t exactly known for being moral, either. Of course you’re doing the right thing! If they give Luke back, then you’ll get out of their hair.

“That Levi boy was dismembered and left for dead by his own family,” he says, taking a step towards you. His hands are folded behind his back. “We stitched him back together and offered him a position in the triad.”

Like you would believe that. No one would be able to survive something so traumatic. Yet those scars of his – those scars could only be from --  

“Asmodeus was an adolescent addict when we found him.” Another step. “We were never able to truly wean him off his poison, but we did pull him off the streets. It’s hard to get them sober when they get addicted that young.”

So what? You’re not here for some pity party. Even if the patrons wanted to be somewhere else for a while, even if they wanted to escape the gritty reality of Neo-Osaka, surely there was a better way than --

“Mammon’s big brother got me pretty good with his knife the first time I found them in the alley.” His tone is light. Casual. Diavolo raises his hand in confirmation, pointing to a faded scar on his palm. “Goes by Lucifer, but you probably knew that already. He likes to tell people his name a little too much. Mammon was a savant with numbers and wouldn’t go anywhere without him, so we took them both in. I’m surprised he didn’t disembowel you.”

As a matter of fact, he did. But why does that matter? You just want your brother back! These people have probably killed countless times, so it’s not like you’re any less justified. You just want a happy, normal life with your family.

“And what makes you think that they were any different?” Diavolo presses. He is nearly within arm’s reach. “What makes you think they didn’t want to live happy, normal lives? I never had any intention of keeping them in The Devil Triad. They were the ones that chose to work for me. With me. The people you killed had lives, too. We took the twins in when they were starving. We picked Satan’s head out of the dumpster when he was set for the junkyard. We fight to keep our territory safe from other triads and to keep the people under our protection safe. We do what needs to be done. That doesn’t mean that we’re monsters.”

The rush of air is there before you can even see it. You dodge backwards just in time to see the blade of a thermal saber materialize in the air. The tip of the weapon reaches where your head was in a matter of moments, nearly singeing the air itself, and you move to unsheathe your own weapon. Light spills onto Diavolo’s form as he regards you with a cold, quiet ire. A flick of his wrist, and the blade of his thermal saber sets itself alight. He splits the handle into two and brandishes the second sword in the other hand.

For the first time, you see his mouth twitch into a frown.

“What makes you so different from us?” he demands. Determination burns like fire in his gaze. “Tell me, and I just might decide to kill you quickly.”

#obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me fanfic #writing #obey me hc #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #if you cant find the other parts bc my web skills are shite #just search on my blog using the word #neo osaka #thatll get ya to where u need