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#“it takes strength to resist the dark side. only the weak embrace it.
inky-axolotl · 2 years
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In my opinion, it was a missed opportunity to spend episode 4 watching Obi Wan recover post- Vader fight.
(Also a bit of a headcanon- hurt or lost arms and hands of course doesn’t stop you from using the force, but it takes a bit of retraining)
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americankimchi · 2 years
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thinking about how obi wan's literal rite of passage into knighthood was less about him killing a sith and more about him resisting the lure of the dark side even in the face of total devastation and how that beautifully summarizes his entire life
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clonewarsarchives · 1 year
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Matt Lanter & James Arnold Taylor at Star Wars Celebration 2023 Day 2
youtube
livestream timestamp: 02:54:50-03:07:10
What is a quote from the show that's less quotable but more haunting, because it was difficult to get out in the moment?
ML: Well, it's not difficult to get out necessarily, but Anakin says something like, and it may not be verbatim, but something like "I realize, more than you know, I realize what it's like, wanting to leave the Order." [note: "I understand, more than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order." final words to Ahsoka in 5.20 The Wrong Jedi] and that says so much to me. It's something that we never really see Anakin kind of voiced that, he's sort of handcuffed, he felt chained, and he sort of voiced that to Ahsoka. It was such an intimate moment, I love that moment.
JAT: [Obi-wan voice] "It takes strength to resist the Dark Side. Only the weak embrace it." [5.16 The Lawless] That episode was haunting for me. We would get the scripts when we walked into the room. I did not know - spoiler alert! I think at Star Wars Celebration it's okay to say - In Season 5, Satine, I did not know what was gonna happen. So... when Obi-wan says "Satine..." under his breath, those are little ad-libs, those are moments that would just happen because it was heart-wrenching to be there and to be a part of that. Those moments are haunting, because I also think Obi-wan is a true believer. He wanted to see if he could save Darth Maul. He really believed there was a chance, with Ventress or with any of these people that he could maybe, save them. Or any of these people [points to Matt] "You were my brother!"
ML: "I hate you!"
JAT:  "Get over it." [laughs]
full recap:
How have years of experience working with both George Lucas & Dave Filoni changed your perspective on Star Wars?
ML: every time we go in recording, Dave would sit there and talk half an hour at least. It's amazing we got work done. He would sit there and talk about Star Wars, where the character were, and share storytelling which he learnt from George. It's a pretty cool moment
JAT: It was those moments where we were recording an episode, and he's through the glass and he's on the phone, and then he hangs up the phone, he says, "OK George just said..." and I'm like "Wait a second, George George?" "Yes." It was so great to watch that, see what he's taken from the Master and made so wonderfully now with everything he's doing.
ML: I feel like I've learnt a lot about character, from Dave.
JAT: and Sketch! He's a great artist. Dave would sketch characters as we're going, so he would draw little Ahsokas for Ashley and things and give them to her. Now she's gotta hold on to them, they're worth a fortune for now I'm sure.
Fave moment making TCW?
ML: some of my fave are moments like this! we're all on stage, we're celebrating TCW and Star Wars in general, travelling with these guys, be up at the ranch. Truthfully, seeing the joy it brings on people's faces, people come up to us and just talk about - "it was my childhood" or some traumatic event but TCW got them through. Those are the little meaningful things that you don't forget. So along with enjoying it, it brings people thorugh tough times. Those are the really, really cool things to hear.
JAT: I would wholeheartedly agree with what Matt says. It's a life-changing experience to be a part of it. I saw Star Wars- I'm the old man in the room now- I saw Star Wars when I was 7yo in a driving movie theater and it changed my life, never thought one day I get to be old Obi-wan. Now I think I'm one of the only peole, if not the only person here, that was actually in the first Clone Wars. So you see those 20 years, Clone Wars 20 [logos], that's because the micro series of Clone Wars, and I was Obi-wan in that, and that was the first time I got to play Obi-wan.
What are you most proud of as your part of the legacy for these characters, that are just larger than life in the Star Wars galaxy?
ML: I think that in TCW, we got to see Anakin a little different than we did in the films. George and Dave wanted to take the Clone Wars time to sort of expand the character of Anakin and make him a hero that we really really loved, so when he falls, and becomes Darth Vader, I feel like it's that much more sad. It's so much more tragic because you rooted for this guy, you cared for him and it also adds more to his story as to why he turned: the loss of Ahsoka, which is something we didn't know about. All of that, it's been such a joy to just add to that character, making him so much more rich than he already was.
JAT: Yeah, I totally agreed. Hayden and Matt complemented so much on this character of Anakin Skywalker and they bring so much to it. I'm honoured to work with this guy on a regular basis, he's an amazing actor, a wonderful friend. We live near each other, he actually lives on a hill now, just so he can say "I have the high ground! [Matt echoes]" It's not fair!
ML: It's true, "I have the high ground."
JAT: And I would say for me, bringing the sass to Obi-wan Kenobi has been the funnest. Yes, I love that too.
What is a quote from the show that's less quotable but more haunting, because it was difficult to get out in the moment?
ML: Well, it's not difficult to get out necessarily, but Anakin says something like, and it may not be verbatim, but something like "I realize, more than you know, I realize what it's like, wanting to leave the Order." [note: "I understand, more than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order." final words to Ahsoka in 5.20 The Wrong Jedi] and that says so much to me. It's something that we never really see Anakin kind of voiced that, he's sort of handcuffed, he felt chained, and he sort of voiced that to Ahsoka. It was such an intimate moment, I love that moment.
JAT: [Obi-wan voice] "It takes strength to resist the Dark Side. Only the weak embrace it." [5.16 The Lawless] That episode was haunting for me. We would get the scripts when we walked into the room. I did not know - spoiler alert! I think at Star Wars Celebration it's okay to say - In Season 5, Satine, I did not know what was gonna happen. So... when Obi-wan says "Satine..." under his breath, those are little ad-libs, those are moments that would just happen because it was heart-wrenching to be there and to be a part of that. Those moments are haunting, because I also think Obi-wan is a true believer. He wanted to see if he could save Darth Maul. He really believed there was a chance, with Ventress or with any of these people that he could maybe, save them. Or any of these people [points to Matt] "You were my brother!"
ML: "I hate you!"
JAT:  "Get over it." [laughs]
Anything you want to say to people who has been with TCW/these stories/your characters from the start?
JAT: Thank you all. You all saved Clone Wars. All of you. [stands up] [ML: Yeah, absolutely.] You all saved Clone Wars. We love you. We truly love you and thank you. From the bottom of my heart.
ML: You guys embrace The Clone Wars, and now we've got 7 spectacular seasons of Star Wars content that just adds to the saga, and makes it so much more rich. To be a part of that and feel the love from you guys, the warmth, it's pretty amazing. It's great to celebrate TCW on its anniversary and Star Wars in general. It's amazing to be here.
[host reminiscing SDCC 10th anniversary panel]
JAT: We never thought that it would come back, truly. None of us did. So it was truly fantastic to see that panel. The explosion from everybody there was fantastic.
How emotional was it for you to come back and step into those roles again?
ML: For me, people ask me this all the time, "What was it like to come back?", but I feel like I never really put Anakin down. We were always doing video games, special little projects here and there. And also honestly, Anakin is a part of me. We've been doing now for 15... 17...
JAT: 17 years, because we started 2 years prior to it coming out.
ML: So I mean, I had a Star Wars wedding. Shoutout to my wife, if you're watching back in the States. It's a part of me now, and it's always has been, so I never really let it go. But it was great to come back and be in the booth with these guys, for sure.
JAT: We were in the same studio that we recorded originally, so it was very magical. I remember the last time we did was Ashley and myself, and Dee, and Matt. And Dave goes, "We got it the first time, let's just do it again because it's fun to watch you guys," so we did it like 2 or 3 more times, and that was the energy of it. 'Cause we're really just a family. We truly are a family and we just love being a part of it all.
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jedimasterbailey · 1 month
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It's Revenge of the Ask time 😘 the crackhead one, you know which one I mean 🤣 I humbly request 6, 10, 11, 12, 17, 22
Oh boy… 🤣 I know you pick some hard ones on purpose since I tortured you with a bunch so let’s see how I do!
6. What is your favorite Star Wars meme?
Like Hayden Christensen I enjoy the Anakin and Padme memes where Anakin says the most unhinged or ridiculous thing and Padme is just praying what he’s saying is a joke and we all know Anakin never jokes.
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10. If you could pull a George Lucas and sneak into Disney+ and edit any Star Wars scene, what changes would you make?
I would input Barriss Offee everywhere until Feloni and the gang have no choice but to address her story. Just kidding (slightly), I would input all the deleted Jedi scenes (like the Mirialans tandem fighting) during the Battle of Geonosis in Episode so we can see all the awesome background Jedi fighting instead of exclusively Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme mostly.
11. Who would you want as a Jedi Master? (Why)
As much as I love Luminara, Mace, etc, we don’t really get to see them in the teaching role very much so it’s hard to gauge so I would have to go with Obi-Wan on this one. Obi-Wan undergoes through so much pain and trauma in his life yet he always stays in the light and bounces back and as someone whose also had a pretty traumatic life I would benefit immensely from a Jedi Master who could completely get me and guide me on the right path. Not to mention he’s incredibly kind, noble, smart, patient, and witty which are traits I greatly admire in someone.
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12. What lightsaber form would you master?
Form 3 Soresu which is the lightsaber my most favorite characters in Star Wars use and I’d be living that Jedi truth of only drawing my lightsaber in defense and not attack so that would be my preferred fighting stance.
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17. Pick one Star Wars line to describe your life, what would it be?
“It takes strength to embrace the Dark Side. Only the weak embrace it.”
-Obi-Wan Kenobi
Again I’ve had a very traumatic and depressing life pre-marriage that I still struggle with to this day and possibly for the rest of my life and there have been many times where just being a bad person or unaliving myself were very tempting options for me, but time and time again I chose to resist it as hard as it has been. So Obi-WAN’s quote to Maul here resonates deeply with me. It does take strength to confront your pain and challenges head on and stay in the light because it is so much easier to not be.
22. Ask your own slightly unhinged question here! The question I was given; which two characters would fight each other to the death only to end up in the most intense lovemaking?
Cal Kestis and Trilla Sunduri for sure and if you’ve played the game or seen the Fallen Order cut scenes then you would definitely know why this doesn’t need further explaining.
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Original Ask Questions
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minervahouse · 1 year
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why “mariners apartment complex” is so david coded
spoiler warning, etc. etc.
You took my sadness out of context, at the Mariners Apartment Complex, I ain't no candle in the wind
she reached for his arm, but he roughly shrugged it away. “this is where we leave each other,” he said. (tvs, 314)
I'm the bolt, the lightning, the thunder
going back… to see edward king’s son. and he was a complicated person to go back to. (tvs, 39)
Kind of girl who's gonna make you wonder, who you are and who you've been
before david, stevie had never had a boyfriend.(nine liars, 389)
And who I've been is with you on these beaches
david got out of the kayak, half falling, and got her up under his arm and moved her to the shore. (bitw, 312)
Your Venice bitch, your die-hard, your weakness
but once stevie was around david, something in her became wobbly. the lines and edges blurred. (hotw, 111)
Maybe I could save you from your sins
“both of us have real problems, but maybe we should make our weird personalities work for us.” (truly devious, 318)
So, kiss the sky and whisper to Jesus
whatever had happened between david and stevie didn’t exist at this moment. everything was dew and larry’s instant coffee and the gentle, buttery morning sun. (truly devious, 407)
My, my, my, you found this, you need this
she wanted… david. she wanted him. (truly devious, 315)
Take a deep breath, baby, let me in
was this really going to happen? the last foot of space between them was rapidly closed up, and david pressed his lips to hers. (truly devious, 242)
You lose your way, just take my hand
stevie could only concentrate on the feeling in her hand, the warmth of his palm against her skin, the message it conveyed. it was a need. a need for her strength. (tvs, 247)
You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again
“whoa… whoa…” david swung his legs over the side of the kayak and slipped into the water, catching her in a clumsy hold. (bitw, 311)
Don't look too far, right where you are, that's where I am
david had come a long way to be with her. her. that was the only reason he was here. (bitw, 227)
I'm your man
“he got to you once,” he said. “i didn’t want him to be able to get near you ever again.” (hotw, 288)
I'm your man
“these nice people will give me a minute to speak to my girlfriend, won’t they?” (hotw, 342)
They mistook my kindness for weakness
“and in the end, all I'd be doing is taking money from another person who wanted to buy me. this guy isn't asking for anything- he's nice- but he's also sticking it to his enemy.” (bitw, 382)
I fucked up, I know that, but, Jesus, can't a girl just do the best she can?
“do you think i can’t control myself or something? like i’m not serious about you? what have i done to make you feel like that? because i’ve kind of worked hard to stop being fuckup david and he this new one?” (nine liars, 171)
Catch a wave and take in the sweetness
he turned to her and grabbed her in a huge, enthusiastic embrace and started jumping up and down. she started jumping too, because it was hard not to jump, and because this was something worth jumping for. (hotw, 292)
Think about it, the darkness, the deepness, all the things that make me who I am
“because… my dad has messed up everything in my life. now he’s making a career of messing up everyone’s lives. but he can’t have this. he can’t have you. it sounds cheesy, but it’s all i’ve got.” (tvs, 221)
And who I am is a big-time believer, that people can change, but you don't have to leave her
“i thought you just left,” she said. “i wasn’t got i leave,” he replied. (bitw, 317)
When everyone's talking, you can make a stand
“because believe it or not, this is the right thing to do. it’s not easy. but it’s right. so what’s the bigger deal? what’s worth it?” (hotw, 141)
'Cause even in the dark, I feel your resistance
she wished she could see his expression now, but they were blind to each other. he held her face in his hands for a long moment, saying nothing- not kissing, not moving, not seeing. (tvs, 222)
You can see my heart burning in the distance
just the sound of david’s voice was all stevie needed to conjure david in his entirety (hotw, 85)
Baby, baby, baby, I'm your man (yeah)
it was david. her david. stevie and david. (nine liars, 389)
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A Christmas story, but not cheesy! It's probably the Christmas we've all been thinking about... 😉 Your Strawberry
An unusual Christmas
She ended the call and took a deep breath. Thank goodness the haunting had ended. His test result was just as negative as hers. So they could travel to the Fort at noon today as they had planned months ago. Although her family would not be there for Christmas, they would visit between Christmas and New Year. She was looking forward to letting everyone know. The last few days had been so horrible that she had doubted there would be a positive outcome. Everything had gone well for so long and now he had contracted the virus after all. Before Christmas, of all times, and especially before his birthday. After the early years of their relationship, when they were more apart than together, they had vowed never again to spend special events apart in front of each other. Even if they didn't have much time for each other that day, it was always a comfort to see each other, touch each other, talk to each other and have a little time together. Now this virus had managed to do something that not even his work had managed.
She had been so afraid for him, especially because he had admitted that he was not well. He never complained, so she was sure he was even worse than he admitted. They had spoken on the phone and shared countless video calls, but it was still awful to see him suffer and not be able to help. It would have been comforting if she could have just held him. But he had deliberately separated himself from her because he was afraid she would catch it.
She was infinitely glad that they were finally seeing each other again. Her nervousness increased immeasurably as they passed the entrance to the country house to which he had retreated. The car had barely come to a halt when the door opened on his side and he looked at her, beaming with a mask in front of his mouth. Sliding down beside her, he spoke, "I've been waiting for you." Moved, she simply looked at him. Seeing the emotion in her eyes, he took her hand in his and his gaze told her, "I missed you." Her eyes returned him a, "Me too." On the drive to the airport they held hands and were silent. They knew that soon it would be just the two of them. Then they would finally hold each other in their arms again and talk.
When the plane had taken off and the flight attendant had discreetly withdrawn, he undid his seat belt, took off his mask and did the same to her. Then he hugged her tightly and said, "I'm so glad to have you back." "Are you all right?" she wanted to know. "I still feel a little weak, but since I have you with me again, nothing else matters." He broke away from the embrace and looked at her. She clasped his face with her hands and said softly, "My poor darling, you had to go through this all alone." He pressed his hand to his heart, "You have been here with me all this time, giving me strength," he assured, smiling. "Let's not think about it any more. It's over," he demanded. She nodded.
After the plane landed, they were taken by car to the fort. She made sure that no gift was forgotten for her children and grandchildren, for even if they came later, they would of course be given presents. It amused him how demanding she was about the proper storage of the gifts.
When they finally reached the fort, he was tired. The journey had exerted him more than he had expected. Concerned, she looked at him. "You lie down and rest a little first. I'll take care of everything," she stipulated. Gratefully he accepted her offer and gave in without resistance. He lay down on the freshly made bed in the bedroom and fell asleep exhausted. He only woke up again when it was already dark outside. He sat up to switch on the light. Just then, the bedroom door opened quietly. Smiling, she looked at him: "I wanted to see how you were doing. Everything is ready for the two of us to have a peaceful Christmas Eve." "Can I still take a shower?" he asked. She nodded. "I wanted to put on something more festive too," she replied. Smiling, he stepped towards her. "You're pretty no matter what you wear." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I can't persuade you to shower with me today?" he asked hopefully. Laughing, she shook her head and headed towards the wardrobe. "Absolutely not."
As they sat across from each other at dinner, she smiled happily at him. "I didn't think we'd be able to sit here and celebrate Christmas together this year," she admitted with a sigh. After several, very tasty courses, they moved to the sofa in front of the fireplace. She snuggled up to him and with soft Christmas music they looked at the festively decorated tree. Then he heard her sigh again. "What is it, cherie?" he wanted to know. "I don't know exactly," he heard softly. "Somehow I don't feel so well," she added wanly. Concerned, he turned her face in his direction. "You look exhausted," he declared in alarm. "I don't like it." Carefully, he got up and laid her on the sofa. "Good thing we have a doctor with us." He picked up the phone and a short time later, the doctor was with them.
He watched anxiously as the doctor spoke to her. Only with difficulty could he restrain himself from asking questions. It was decided to do a quick test first to see if she had contracted the virus. It would break out late, but that was not unusual, the doctor said. He noticed her startled look and tried to remain calm. The next few minutes dragged on interminably and the result confirmed the suspicion. She had also contracted the virus. After the doctor had told them the result, he looked at him. Immediately he spoke, "I will definitely stay with her. Since she isolated herself after my diagnosis, she can only have the virus from me." The doctor nodded. "That's what I thought."
After the medic left, he stepped up to her, lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Carefully, he helped her undress and laid her in bed. After he had undressed as well, he hugged her tightly. "We'll all have to unload again tomorrow," she whispered sadly. "I'm so sorry, mon coeur." "It's not your fault." She snuggled closer to him, "At least we're together. It's going to be all right." "I hope so," she heard him murmur before she fell asleep.
Morning dawned as he awoke from a dreamless sleep. He felt her still in his arms. Immediately the memory of yesterday came back and he stiffened. Worried, he looked at her, but was relieved to find that she was sleeping peacefully. The next moment his thoughts began to spin. He felt fear take hold of him. This virus was dangerous and no one knew who how would react to it. He had survived it to some extent, but he was young and fit. Would she be able to cope as easily? His fear was mixed with anger at himself. He had infected her. Had he been too careless? Could he have prevented it? He felt his heart racing. He couldn't lose her, not like this.
Suddenly he felt her put her hand on his chest. "Stop it," she demanded. Irritated, he looked at her. "You're blaming yourself for this. That's nonsense." "How do you know what I'm thinking about?" he wanted to know. She raised an eyebrow and explained, "I know you better than you know yourself sometimes." A fine smile showed on his lips. "How are you?" he asked. "I don't know exactly. I'm feeling a bit wimpy, but the important thing is that you're here." He heard how sleepy her voice sounded. "Go back to sleep," he ordered in a whisper. "Don't go away," she begged. He kissed her hair. "Don't worry, I'll stay with you."
Helloooo sweet 🍓! ❤️
Oh wow! Talk about a rollercoaster of emotions here too 🤧 The expectation of getting back together, finally being able to do it, Emmanuel still feeling a bit ill and then Brigitte becoming ill. Damn! You just kill me with the beautiful and touchy writing 🥺❤️
“I can’t persuade you to shower with me today?” “Absolutely not” hahaha Brigitte, how can you say no to a proposition like this 🤭😏😂
Brigitte got ill but at least now they no longer have to stay apart and can take care of each other🤧❤️
Thank you so much, Strawberry!
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nightgalen · 1 year
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hiiiiii gale — i wanna hear more about your obi-wan thoughts so! what are your thoughts on how obi-wan processes his emotions and traumatic events (anakin on mustafar, order 66, etc)
Hi Cody! I will preface this by saying this is my interpretation of his character and how I have read some aspects from Canon/Legends and turned them to headcanon. Everyone is free to disagree or have their own opinions, but these are mine. Putting it below a cut!
Obi-Wan's responses to traumatic events in canon are oftentimes, from the outside, not handled in healthy way -- to an outsider. His staunch reliance on the Jedi Code allows him to compartmentalize tragedies and let traumatic events roll off his back like water. This often means in the moment, he is able to process the traumatic event and not freeze -- an essential component in combat and other difficult situations, as is keeping a level head.
Two blatant examples of this reaction happen both on Mandalore during Satine's death by Maul's hand, and subsequently, when Commander Cody executes Order 66 against his (Cody's) will.
"You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it. It is more powerful than you know. And those who oppose it are more powerful than you'll ever be." He does not even react to Satine's death with a word, only expression. Had he not believed so wholeheartedly in the Code, he would have been defeated on Naboo, on Mandalore, and perhaps Mustafar. His control over his emotions in the moment often save his life. However, this may mean others perceive him as uncaring or uninvolved in events that otherwise would be debilitating. Whereas many would expect an emotional reaction, Obi-Wan, in contrast, believes so wholeheartedly in the Jedi Code and controlling his reactions, that he may outwardly appear cold or indifferent.
The 'no attachment' rule for Obi-Wan seems to frequently become de-attachment, or even dissociation. It is very clear to me that he has PTSD throughout Kenobi as well as existing canon, in combination with Legends material; if not blatant survivor's guilt. He frequently replays past traumatic events in his mind and cannot help it. He worries about failing Luke, expresses explicitly in Kenobi that he is terrified at the prospect of losing Leia, no doubt due to the blame he casts on himself for killing Anakin Skywalker & not being able to save Padmé Amidala. In the original Legends Kenobi book, the name of one of the people in Tatooine is just enough like Anakin's that he has a difficult time even processing speaking with them. I'm stealing this cap from my friend's highlighted book because we were speaking about it a while back:
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In the Journals of Obi-Wan Kenobi, he also comments upon the Clone Wars:
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The tragedy of Obi-Wan is that he realized everything too late, and now it haunts him. It is essential to his character to acknowledge a few key points: -He was old for a Padawan (almost sent to Agricorps), and initially failed his trials: Qui-Gon took a chance on him, and he felt as though he needed to prove himself to his Master constantly. On Naboo, not only did Qui-Gon suggest that he would take on Anakin as a Padawan, it went without saying that this meant his own tutelage was coming to a swift close based on a 'Chosen One' prophecy, even after how hard he'd tried to prove himself to Qui-Gon and the other Jedi. Qui-Gon's death put him in a dire situation -- Master-less, not having completed his training, and newly knighted with a Padawan of his own cast upon him via a dying man's promise.
-The Clone Wars, quite frankly, did not give him enough time to process trauma. Geonosis began the war and it's important to acknowledge hundreds of Jedi died coming to his rescue (re: the Survivor's Guilt). His seat on the Jedi Council is because a Council Member died at Geonosis. The Jedi are his family. Obi-Wan, brought to the Temple at 3 years old, did NOT have any other family beyond the Jedi. And they died for him, and a war began, in which many of his family members continued to be slaughtered and were thrust into General or Commander roles by the Republic (purposefully -- I know there's a lot of anti-Jedi sentiment out there, but I again direct your attention to the very manipulative Chancellor who also happened to be a Sith Lord intentionally putting them in these positions to make them no longer guiltless in the downfall of the Republic). The deaths of the Clones are also not processed with enough time -- Grievous kills a man in front of him, and all he can do is tell him "You will regret that", and work with Cody to get their remaining men to abandon ship.
-Order 66 -- the death of his ENTIRE FAMILY, felt through the Force. We saw how it affected Ahsoka physically and emotionally -- Obi-Wan felt the same, and then had to go after Darth Vader. The failure of Anakin Skywalker was a testament -- he felt -- to his own failed training, and subsequently, the entire Republic fell because of his poor teaching. He lives with this until his death. Kenobi had Anakin's last act as Anakin to absolve him of his guilt (You did not kill Anakin Skywalker -- I did) -- before his eyes shift back/the colour theory in that scene changes and we still see Obi-Wan blaming himself until his dying day.
I feel like Obi-Wan was never given a proper time to express his emotions until he lost absolutely everything. He expresses his love to Anakin only after Anakin is already 'dead'. He cries in front of Vader because he feels like he is the one guilty of murdering his own Padawan. He thinks of his friends and his family and his fellow soldiers and everyone he lost constantly upon Tatooine, and cuts himself off from the Force -- the one thing that had GOT HIM THIS FAR -- both to protect Luke, but also because to remain as he was is too overwhelming.
In the moment, he could not. He felt obligated both by the Code and by the demands of the war to put those down as they arose -- he was trained to do so, and it had saved his life multiple times. This doesn't mean that Obi-Wan doesn't care or was not affected by trauma: he simply reacts differently. And in a world where being empathetic to how people process things, I do think that it is understandable, in a way. Even though it is fundamentally flawed. If he were given ample space and provided guidance on how to handle these events in the present moment, perhaps we would not see so much resentment guided towards him (Anakin and Ahsoka both comment on his indifference a few times in canon, in which he responds (to Ahsoka) "that's not fair", and it's a far bigger statement than I think people realize. Anyway thank you for being so patient and if you read through, I am impressed. I have so many more little headcanons and I could pull up more resources, but I hope this gave a broad overview.
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ghostofnibelheim · 1 year
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azure-steel​:
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Being pulled back into that pseudo embrace was the first instance then, where Cloud suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone here. But he offers no resistance, allowing his head to roll back against the round of the man’s shoulder, and bright eyes gaze up at him sluggishly from beneath his own suffocating fog of muted agony.
He was so beautiful, this man tempered by flames, death and chaos. A beauty snared in the trappings of battle torn armour and worn leather, a monster caged within the shell of an angel, yet in that moment, while he drowns in the ethereal jade ocean of the former First’s eyes, Strife can almost convince himself that he knew this man.
From another time, another life. When he used to be somebody else.
                                                ‘Please come back. I love you…’
A flash in the pan, as that memory quickly dissolves as soon as it manifested with the sweep of the other’s arm around his waist. The slip of Sephiroth’s hand against his skin was an entirely new - albeit not unwelcome - misery, his touch like a thousand needles forced beneath the flesh, scorching and leaving figurative marks enough to have him drag the air into his lungs with a vicious hiss between clenched teeth, to have him writhe and whine underneath the gravity of that pressure no matter how tender.
And yet, this touch… it felt different from before. A whole new agony, but familiar, comfortable, addictive, electric.   And he welcomed it with the subtle arch of his spine, if only to savour that white-hot spike of desire that touch elicited. Desire he should not want, even if the fact of the matter remained —
— that he did, needed it, more than he felt he’d needed anything in his entire life.
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No longer a matter now whether his unlikely saviour was right or whether he was wrong, there was no fight left in him at this point, simply no room left for obstinance, not when this fresh pain felt so good, where the rush of fresh blood demanded release, and bones ricochet against their flesh cage, where the air tasted like ambrosia. Shame had no place here anymore, amidst the heady glow of the corals surrounding them, where the vulgar stench of sulphur had been replaced with the thick aroma of salt and the remnants of rotting sea life.
Too much, it was too much to bear, too much to finish on his own, to come through the other side and live to see another day with such shocking clarity as he’d once spied the ocean waves cresting beyond the fringes of the overpass. He needed to feel, to feel anything other than this, anything than the crippling torture ripping him apart from the inside.
Anything at all.                
                                            Run me through.  
An arm rises from beneath the sail cloth, eyes a flutter with the expenditure of energy he was so certain he didn’t have to caress gently the ex-SOLDIER’s cheek - impossibly soft, so fresh, cool to the touch - while the other attempts to guide Sephiroth’s hand ever lower.
“Please…” A whisper, quaking and desperate.
                                             Run me through.
“Please… it hurts so much. Help me.”
                                        I can’t take any more.
“… I’m begging you… please…”    
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That was better.
Much better.
Cloud’s surrender into compliance was so pleasant, Sephiroth almost thought it came with a sound of its own. Something subtle but unmistakeable, like the click of a jigsaw piece falling into place under his finger. The picture he yearned to see was just a bit more clearer now.
Things could get better. Even in this place full of rot and anguish, there was hope. A spark of life that however weak, still shone in the darkest recesses of a soul that was clawing desperately to not return to the Lifestream. If he looked close enough, he could see it right there, in those small dark dots at the center of stained blue eyes.
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“That’s more like it.” A small praise, but that he was sure would be appreciated with how he opposed no resistance then against the pressure of the blond’s hand over his, letting it lead him where he most desired, feeling that weak energy, wavering and desperate under his skin, for strength he’d lost.
Strength that he no doubt would regain one day. He’d never let that slip from his mind.
The quivering man who sat in his arms now could very well become his enemy once more the next day. Rather, he had every reason to, and yet…
That promise he’d made wouldn’t be broken. For Zack; for the woman he had brutally murdered without any remorse; for himself… He’d keep this small light shining for as long as it blinked in his sight.
If he’d came to regret it, he’d do so as a warrior, with sword in hand, before an opponent who actually stood a chance.
Not this miserable thing who cried for help or mercy at every turn.
What did it have to feel like, to be in this position just now? Though Sephiroth could perfectly recall the time and place where he too, on the cusp of despair and blood-curling horror had found relief in similar treatment, he couldn’t quite say it could be the same experience.
He hadn’t been addled by a near lethal dose of intoxicating mako addiction; alone after he’d lost everything; in the hands of his worst nightmare.
If he were to make a guess, it seemed simple enough.
Pure hatred. All-consuming, unadulterated scorn.
But then, what was that gentle touch against his cheek? Those vibrant blues that had once so strongly pierced through him with rage to the point they could almost draw blood, why did they look so different now? Even on the edge between maddening agony and soaring pleasure, they didn’t leave him. Behind that glossy veil of a near-broken spirit, there was peace, the likes of which felt so oddly familiar, in a strange way.
What did he see, right now?
Maybe the former infantryman was already half-way back into the realm of dreams, even as their gazes locked.
In that case, there was only one thing left to do. Take his hand, and lead him to the very end of that long corridor.
To the darkness preceding the next dawn.
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jedivoodoochile · 2 years
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It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.
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jassrain · 1 year
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Meditation brought Kenobi back to Mandalore, the red armor stiff but still allowed a reasonable amount of movement. He was before the Zabrak and the Throne of Mandalore. Under Maul's control the place has become drab and cheerless, as the dark side settled into the Throne room.
"Your noble flaw is a weakness shared by you and your Dutchess. You should have chosen the dark side, Master Jedi. Your emotions betray you, your fear and yes your anger. Let your anger deepen your hatred."
"Don't listen to him Obi-" Satine squeaked out before Maul silenced her.
"Quiet!" Maul snapped, lifting the Duchess by her throat and waving the Darksaber.
"You can kill me but you'll never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side, only the weak embrace it." The words were more defiant than Kenobi felt.
"It is more powerful than you know." Maul snarled.
"And those who oppose it are more powerful than you'll ever be.
But I know where you're from. I've been to your village. I know the decision to join the dark side wasn't yours. The Nightsisters made it for you." Whatever Maul's plan was, Kenobi was sure Satine had been figured into it, just what remained to be seen. It was difficult to focus on anything, with Satine held aloft in Maul's grip, the Darksaber being waved carelessly. Savage Opress looming and menacing itching for something to happen, probably and preferably the death of a jedi.
"Silence!" Maul snapped, the anger obviously rising in him. "You think you know me? It was I who languished for years thinking of nothing but you. Nothing but this moment." He pointed the Darksaber at Satine. "And now the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us. I never planned on killing you but I will make you share my pain, Kenobi."
With that Kenobi felt the tremor as Maul readied for the kill, an attempt to step forward was greeted with blaster butts to the back, knocking him to his knees. If not for the armor he would have completely lost focus as it was he held enough to redirect Satine's path as Maul pulled her to the Darksaber. With a growl Maul pulled Satine to the Darksaber again and again Kenobi found the strength to redirect her path, now to his waiting arms. The guards around him swung their blasters to strike but he was already on his feet to grab Satine, though he misjudged and they collided falling to the floor together.
“Again, Ben?” Satine sassed using her old nickname for him as she worked herself free to get up.
“I’m sure it beats what Maul is planning.” Kenobe was to his feet first and pulled her up and towards the door as she fumbled to get her feet under her. Blaster bolts started singing past them, he reached for his lightsaber that wasn’t there, taken by the guards. He flung Satine forward through the door “GO!” He shouted for her to run as he turned to face their pursuers, as she passed through the doors the wall seemed to have exploded debris raining down around him and knocking back those intent on recapturing him. Looking over his shoulder Kenobi saw a Mandalorian woman in an owl-eyed T-visor helmet talking to Satine, using a wrist shield to block incoming blaster bolts. Another Mando took Satine in a speeder as the owl-eyed Mando came to Kenobi's side flipping his lightsaber to him.
"This might do you better than just standing there." The Mando grunted while dodging more blaster fire. "Now, let's get out of here and regroup."
"Fine by me" Obi-Wan agreed, deflecting blaster bolts back, disabling weapons and jetpacks while moving back to where his rescuer entered.
"Can you handle one of these?" The Mando asked passing Kenobi a jetpack.
"I'm a fast learner" he answered, attaching it to the borrowed armor.
"Good, we'll get you out of the city and back to the Republic, you can report what happened here to the jedi and the senate."
"That will bring a Republic invasion." He protested.
"Better that than leave Mandalore in the clutches of Maul."
"Very well, I'll make my report but I'm not returning to the Order or the Republic. I'm leaving both until everything here is put right and that old wound Maul is dealt with."
"Why would you do that?" If Mandalorian could have any expression, hers would have confusion.
"I think your sister would know." He then added under his breath "maybe in my leaving for love, Anakin would find the strength to do the same."
As the vision faded images of Satine and Bo-katan were in the hut, Satine leaning against the counter and Bo-Katan sitting on it, both women talking and starting to get animated about the best way of dealing with the current state of Mandalore or pushing back against the Empire.
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multitrackdrifting · 1 year
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The Clone Wars is truly peak !!!!!
"You can kill me. But you will never destroy me.
It takes strength to resist the dark side, only the weak embrace it."
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proxylynn · 2 years
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let’s see…how about one where Jack and Doe quote Star Wars to each other? xD
Lynn: *looking up movie info* The first film released, Star Wars (1977), is the fourth film chronologically and was later subtitled Episode IV: A New Hope. Joseph died in 1984...so...Maybe he saw the movie. Doe, have you seen...?
John Doe: *holds red lightsaber*
Lynn: Doe?
John Doe: You’re fulfilling your destiny, Lynn. Become my apprentice. Learn to use the Dark Side of the Force.
Jack: Not so fast...
*Jack comes in holding a blue lightsaber*
Jack: Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.
Lynn: Oh good lord...
John Doe: If only you knew the power of the Dark Side...The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. *eyes sprout in his hair*
Jack: You're the Chosen One, Lynn. It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. Bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness.
John Doe: The dark side is in our blood. It is your destiny! Join me, and together, we can rule the galaxy as boyfriend and girlfriend! Come with me. It is the only way.
Jack: Fear is the path to the dark side…fear leads to anger…anger leads to hate…hate leads to suffering. And confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.
John Doe: *snarls* Oh, you are so dead...again!
*Doe charges Jack and their sabers clash...only to be flung back by a black saber*
Lynn: Boys...If you define yourself by the power to take life, the desire to dominate, to possess…then you have nothing. Don’t center on your anxieties, my sweet boys. Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs. Always remember, your focus determines your reality. It won't be easy. There will be loss and sacrifice. But we can't back down just because we're afraid. That's when we need to stand the tallest…Stand up together. Because that's when we're strongest—as one.
John Doe: *heart eyes* I don't know about you...But this is such a turn-on.
Jack: Oh...I can agree with you there.
Lynn: *rolls eyes with a smile* Dorks...You're all such dorks.
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kenobismullet · 3 years
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“You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.”  S05E16 THE LAWLESS
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mcgregor · 3 years
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THE CLONE WARS APPRECIATION WEEK 2021
Day 1 : Favorite Character ➾ Obi-Wan Kenobi “You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.”
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mostthingskenobi · 3 years
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Because you’re asking us, I’d like to know which is your fave Obi version, quote and lightsaber pose is! Xx
Hello Anon! Why thank you for asking 😊
I love ALL versions of Obi-Wan, but my favorite will forever and always be Clone Wars Obi-Wan ❤️From the moment I watched Landing at Point Rain, I was hooked on Kenobi!
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My favorite quote is, “You know, when I cut you in half, I should have aimed for your neck instead.” I like this one because it’s not something a Jedi should say.
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But I also love, “Not to worry, we are still flying half a ship.”
And “Another happy landing.”
And “That’s no moon.”
But especially, “You can kill me, but you’ll never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.”
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As for lightsaber poses....this is the hardest question of all!!! I am partial to 4 moments in particular.
Jar’Kai Obi-Wan is possibly the greatest thing in all of Star Wars:
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This duel with Grievous is underrated and freaking amazing:
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I mean...look at the power and the strength:
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This one makes me seriously reconsider my decision to not have children:
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And this one is the most extra, sexiest thing I’ve ver seen:
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I went through all my screenshots and I have a lot more!!! Tune in tomorrow for a long post about all my favorite Obi-Wan poses with a lightsaber 😊
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inkykeiji · 3 years
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you be the match, i will be your fuse
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fluffy anon said: dabi coming home after an absolutely horrid day at work and just needing to be absolutely BABIED by reader (i’m talking cuddling in bed, taking a bath with him and washing his hair then getting out just rubbing his back as he sleeps with his head on your chest)
genre: angst + fluff, laced with just a hint of smut (like two sentences)
notes: aaaah happy birthday dabi!!! this has absolutely nothing to do with your birthday but eeee ily | title cred: sure thing by miguel
warnings: 18+, implied/mentioned death of a child, one instance of implied past physical abuse, self-destructive behaviour + coping mechanisms, co-dependent toxic relationship
words: 3.5k
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It’s thundering the day it happens, ferocious growls that rumble through your apartment—a tiny, quaint space you share with Dabi, full of faulty appliances and cracked linoleum—rolling, fluffy grey clouds blanketing the entire sky, swollen with restrained rain droplets as a storm brews within them. Little fingers idly toy with the yellowed pages of your worn pulp fiction novel, flipping through them and bending corners as your eyes search the angry sky, chewing on your cheek.
Dabi should’ve been home by now. It’s not like him to be late without calling, without letting his babygirl know what’s going on—he knows the way you worry, the way you overthink yourself into a frenzy, the way you’re so clingy and needy, teases you about it incessantly and tells you he thinks it’s cute—and a deep sense of dread takes root in the pit of your stomach, dark and bitter and unfurling, quickly spreading throughout the cavity of your chest.
His phone must be off—no, it’s never off, he doesn’t do that anymore, not since you stumbled into his life—his phone must be dead, your repeated calls growing increasingly frequent and urgent every time you’re greeted with the drone of his automatic voicemail.
Something’s wrong, horribly so.
It’s evident the moment he arrives home, scratched brass doorknob slamming against the wall, deepening the crater its left from past incidents of a similar manner.
It infects the air around him, hanging heavy and thick, its dense presence nearly suffocating. His shoulders slump under the pressure, the weight of whatever he’s carrying practically crushing, as he drags his crimson splattered boots through the front door, soles scraping against the cheap hardwood, bringing the putrid scent of charred flesh with him—his or someone else’s, you don’t know.
You swear you can almost see it, this—this thing, this aura, enveloping him in its haughty embrace as his chest heaves under a deep, controlled breath, pausing in the foyer as the door shuts behind him.
Bare feet pad against the floor, your legs moving without your explicit permission, drawn towards him in an almost instinctual manner, the desire to care for, to comfort, burning as it bubbles up in your chest, mixing with that intense sense of trepidation and invading your veins.
He permits you to wrap your arms around his torso as you nuzzle against him, body going rigid for a moment, still and stiff as marble, before he exhales again, melting into your embrace.
Several questions race through your mind at such a speed that they crash and clash together, becoming nothing more than incoherent jumbled lettering, tiny fingers curling in the fabric of his clothing as you try to pull him closer, nonsensical babbling spilling from your lips. A vacant ghost of a chuckle leaves his lips, nothing more than a simple huff of breath, and he squeezes you closer.
“Bad day?” the words are mumbled against his dirty t-shirt, what was once a pristine white now tarnished with ash and blood. You don’t get a response—you don’t expect one.
He doesn’t talk much, not on days like this.
He doesn’t need to.
Bad days—really bad, terrible, awful days such as this one—are surprisingly rare with Dabi. Sure, he’s had the typical ‘bad’ day before, where someone pisses him off, or he gets into a fight with his superior, but those bad days usually require railing you into your creaky, springy king-sized mattress until you’ve forgotten everything but his name and he’s fucked all of the anger and hatred out of his body.
They are not like this one. No, on days such as this, on days where he’s killed someone he deems to be innocent, someone who—like him—is a victim of heroism, he’s quiet, distant, unpredictable, bordering on unhinged, and you’ve learned to tread with extreme discretion.
But you don’t push, either, resolving to communicate through gentle touches, soft fingertips that run along his tense, broad shoulders and press into the hard coiled muscles, tender fingers that thread through inky tufts of hair, sapphire eyes closing as he hums and leans into the motion like a cat.
It’s only for a second, though, just a moment of weakness before he’s breaking out of your embrace, pushing past you and clearing his throat, glass door to the balcony sliding shut a moment later. 
You don’t follow. You know better than that now, a phantom sting in your cheek serving as a reminder, the resounding sharp sound of glass shattering as it’s hurled at the floor slicing through your mind with such viciousness it makes you wince. 
Instead, you sit. And you wait. Like you’re supposed to, like a good little girl, a book clutched between your quivering hands, unblinking eyes staring at the words on the page, nothing but incomprehensible symbols—lines and lines of black ink in meaningless shapes—as scorching sapphire loops through your mind.
Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl. Give him space. Let him come to you.
It’s standard procedure, really.
And eventually, he does, comes back inside with an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in a hand, along with a crumpled package of cigarettes. You don’t know how long it’s been, muscles sore and joints aching from sitting in the same position for so long, eyes dry from staring at the same page, barely moving, barely breathing. His hand is bleeding, knuckles bruised and gleaming with sticky scarlet that’s still fresh and flowing, but it could be worse. It has been worse.
The harsh clink of the bottle against the kitchen counter makes you flinch, and he sighs, heavy and full of derision, eyes flicking up to glare at your side profile.
“I can hear you thinking,”
“You’re filthy, baby,” the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable, involuntary, almost reflexive in your response, eyes snapping to his face and voice whiny, voice pleading. “Take a bath with me,”
And you can see it—can see it in the dark cobalt of his irises, what he needs, the very thing he’s fighting himself on, the very thing he’s fighting so hard against. Always so stubborn, so reluctant, so cautious.
Because, fuck, he used to be able to resist it, this pathetic ache for comfort—something that’s only managed to grow in your presence, that’s shifted and morphed from a dull smoldering to a raging fire, an insatiable longing for your fingers in his hair and your breath on his skin and your voice against his ear—a skill he’d been constructing, developing, perfecting, since he was thirteen years old. A skill you succeeded in shattering in the matter of a few measly months.
Because you—you’re different. And he hates it sometimes, he swears to the good Lord he does, but hating it doesn’t make it any less true. You break him down, you make him weak, you make him want, and the longer he spends around you, the more he finds that he doesn’t fucking care. And that’s irritating, that’s exciting, that’s terrifying, that’s new. 
Fury blisters his chest, his lungs, his throat as he holds your stare, jaw clenching twice. But you don’t falter, not like the rest of them, not like anyone else—everyone else. You never falter, always so eager to see the good in him, a snort leaving his nose at the thought. The good in him. Is there any good left in him? Was there ever any good in him in the first place? Are you the good in him, now? Does he care?
And he’s not sure he’ll ever understand it, but he’s beginning to realize that, maybe, he doesn’t have to. 
Maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe, it’s okay, if you love him, if he loves you.
Maybe.
It’s too much, and he can feel frustration stinging his eyes, long delicate eyelashes fluttering as he quickly blinks it away. Spears, sharp and cold, splinter your chest at the sight, but you know if you begin crying too, you’ll lose him. You know that if you begin showing what he considers weakness, he’ll pull away, even though this is what he so clearly needs most. 
So you steel yourself, swallowing hard against the pain collecting in your throat, will the tears away and force your body to stay calm, approaching him slowly as if he’s some sort of feral animal prone to lashing out. 
Apprehension is clear in his azure eyes, head tilting a little as they narrow, regarding you with skepticism, with suspicion. 
It’s bold, and dangerous, and—as far as Dabi’s concerned—fucking stupid, but you don’t care, determined to prove to him that you aren’t going anywhere regardless of how many tantrums he throws, no matter how many times he hurts you in his anguish. It’s almost desperate, really, this sheer need to prove to him that you aren’t scared of him, that irrespective of how soft he seems to think you are, you are strong, even if it’s in ways he could never understand, that you can be strong for him, when he needs it, that he can borrow some of your strength, if he needs to.
And that—that’s why he loves you. It hits him hard, as this realization always does, kicks him in the chest and knocks the breath out of him every time, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.
A tiny hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Dabi regarding the offer with a wary hesitance. Wiggling fingers attempt to entice him, earning a tiny smirk—a massive victory—as sapphire flits up to gaze at you through thick lashes, an eyebrow raised.
You match his expression, quirking an eyebrow of your own and nodding at your hand, speaking a moment later.
“Let me in, baby,” the words are barely above a whisper, but they’re so raw, filled with so much unadulterated love it hurts, pure and real and everything he’s never had before. “Let me help,”
And, God, it’s fucking overwhelming, how badly he wishes to give in to this unfamiliar compassion, how desperately he desires your affection, despite the malicious voice echoing off the walls of his skull, berating him for being so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable.
But the urge to accept, to seek out consolation in you, wins, just as it always does, that nasty voice reverberating in his mind silenced the very instant his skin touches yours.
You let him make the last move, allow him to make that final decision entirely on his own accord, to grasp your hand in his, warm and rough, and pull you towards him, crushing you against his chest as he buries his face in your hair, eyes squeezed shut against that annoying burn of tears, chest stuttered with a hitched breath, air that gets caught in his throat as he chokes on the words he wants to say.
But he doesn’t need to say them. You already know.
“Come,” you murmur to him, fingers threading through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s take a bath,”
     ✰          ✰          ✰
The bathwater stings your skin, just a hint too hot to be comfortable, but you say nothing as you settle onto his lap in the cramped little tub, encompassed by frothy bubbles, dainty scent of orange citrus tickling your nose.
Heated fingertips press into your hips as he finds comfort the only way he knows how to, in your precious little whimpers and broken moans of his name as he bounces you on his cock, so vigorously you’re positive you can feel him in your tummy, the pads of his fingers searing his prints into your skin.
It’s heady, it’s intoxicating, it’s addicting, heightened emotions both pleasant and unpleasant swirling together with the symphony of your cries and his grunts as the water you’re submerged in begins to bubble and boil, to crack and pop, sudsy liquid sloshing over the side of the tiny tub as he forces you to ride him, faster and faster and faster until you’re whining and convulsing around him, and he’s filling you with thick cum, cock throbbing aggressively as he spurts load after load into you.
After, as he leans back against the cold tile, residual droplets sizzling into steam as his heated skin touches them. Gentle fingers card between his hair, water cascading through onyx strands as it pours over his head from a worn plastic cup—a faded Darth Vader staring back at you as you rhythmically repeat your actions until the tresses stick to his forehead and cheeks, drenched and shining in the low light of the washroom.
Heavy lids obscure the most brilliant sapphire from you as shampoo is massaged into his scalp, slow and unhurried and thorough, every stroke, every comb through inky clumps easing the turmoil in his mind bit by bit, calming the storm that’s been raging inside of him for hours now. Deep hums rumble in his chest as your fingers continue their ministrations, your eyes trained on your motions. And you can feel it, the tension dissipating from his body with each circle of foam rubbed into his soft hair, shoulders finally beginning to relax as he subconsciously nuzzles into your touch, following it, longing for it, aching for more.
He shifts then, after you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair, manhandling you into a position between his thighs, bare chest pressed tightly against your back. You work hard to keep your body from tensing, forcing your breathing to stay even, to stay calm as you brace yourself for what’s coming next.
“He was eleven,” he says after several long moments of silence, voice low and trembling, hoarse and heavy with remorse. “This time.”
This time. That’s the third innocent civilian—innocent by his standards, at least—this month.
That’s the first time it’s ever been a child.
You don’t turn around to look at him, not yet—he isn’t finished—simply opting to lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing each wounded knuckle, crude staples catching in the dim warm light of the tiny bathroom. 
You want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. You want to tell him anything that’ll make him feel better, that’ll absolve the guilt so evidently gnawing away at his insides, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.
“What are—I don’t even—” his voice breaks and you feel his chest stutter against your back, feel him exhale harshly, breath cool on your damp shoulder, feel him swallow thickly as he tries again. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he would never admit it, you know he needs release this from the confines of his mind—you know you’re the only person who can offer him such an outlet. “Why the fuck were there kids there in the first place? Huh? They shouldn’t—They shouldn’t have been there,”
Orphans are everywhere in this city, you murmur, lips moving against his rough skin. He knows. Orphans of heroes. He knows.
“I’m gonna kill Shigaraki, I swear to Christ. Sending us to a—a fucking place infested with fucking ch-children,” his fingers curl around yours, hand beginning to shake as it clutches you like a lifeline, like that guilt will devour him from the inside out, like he’ll disintegrate into nothingness, if he doesn’t. “I bet you he fucking knew—nah, I-I’m positive he did. Asshole only cares about himself, though. Doesn’t matter that—that the cause we’re supposed to be fighting for affects these stupid kids,”
You’re right, love.
The words leave your lips in a gentle breath, leaning your head back against his collarbone and staring up at him. Cobalt eyes stay trained on the cracked tile wall, jaw methodically clenching as his molars grind together, an attempt to quell the trembling of his chin, exhaling hard harsh breaths through flared nostrils.
“Whatever,” he huffs, voice still wavering and not nearly as self-assured as he wishes. “Th-That brat shouldn’t have been there in the first place,”
He shouldn’t have, you agree, finally squirming in his grasp, turning to face him, to straddle his hips again in the tight space of the tub. And he welcomes your affections readily this time, arms encircling your waist as he holds you tightly to him, blunt nails digging purple-tinged crescents into your flesh as he shoves his face against your neck, finally allowing those emotions he’s been fighting to leak from his eyes and absorb into your skin.
Little palms rub soothing circles into his back as he shudders against you, allowing him to empty his soul onto you as soft lips press chaste kisses to his damp hair, waiting until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are drained, azure glassy and bloodshot, nose twitching and red.
And after he’s done, when he finally pulls back, scrubbing aggressively at his nose as tiny sniffles hitch in his chest, gentle fingers begin to lather soap into his skin, washing away the dirt and grime and blood from the day. Fingertips carefully trace along the metal sutures decorating his body with immeasurable adoration, you whispering all of the things he so desperately needs to hear that he’d never dare to ask for, complimented by the tender touches that cleanse his soul with their unconditional love.
He’s bigger than you are, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to wrap him in a fluffy white towel, using another in an attempt to dry his hair as your hands move in shaggy motions, heart soaring in your chest when you pull a soft laugh from his lips, wet and wobbly and croaky, but a laugh nonetheless.
A mutual silence, gentle and comforting and stuffed full of an immense love, a special kind of love, a love words do not exist to explain, swathes your bodies as he allows you to dress him, pulling a ratty old band tee over his head and a pair of plaid PJ pants up his legs.
“You always look so cute in my clothes,” he rasps from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, glowing crystal eyes watching as you pull one of his t-shirts over your naked body.
A genuine bubble of laughter erupts from your throat as you climb into bed with him, immediately allowing him to latch onto you, to pull you towards him, to hold you close like his own personal plushie.
“Sleep,” you murmur as the two of you settle into a comfortable position, limbs tangled together, his head resting on your chest, fingers threading through his hair and then tracing down his neck, his back. “And then I’ll make you ramen,”
“The spicy kind?”
“Of course,”
I love you.
“Extra spicy?”
Laughing again, you feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, grip around your torso tightening. “Extra spicy. Now, rest,”
More than anything else.
“With the little fish cakes?”
“Your favourite little fish cakes,”
More than words could ever tell you.
“And the pork belly?”
“And the pork belly,” you feel his chest rise with an inhale, hastily adding, “And those little cream puffs you love so much, from that dingy convenience store downstairs, for dessert. Now sleep, baby,”
He laughs, even though his vision is blurring, even though it comes out more strangled than anything else, because he doesn’t want to cry again, because his chest stings and aches and swells and warms, full of inexplicable emotions, feels like it’s going to fucking burst as it chokes and reinvigorates him all at once, and—God, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
Because even though he’s terrified beyond belief, he’s willing to try—just for you, only for you—as he continually realizes with each passing day that he isn’t sure what the fuck he’d do without you, now. Because you’re too entangled up in his life, too deeply embedded in his very soul, for him to ever remove you, now. Because as petrifying and unfamiliar as it is, he doesn’t want to, now.
Because even though he’s broken, irrevocably so, and you can’t fix him, won’t fix him, you’ll still stay, to hold those pieces so gently, so tenderly in your hands, you’ll still protect those fragments and keep them from shattering further, you’ll still give them the affection and devotion they need, the affection and devotion they deserve. Because you love every part of him, even the bad ones, even the shards with jagged edges that cut into the soft flesh of your palms every time you caress them.
Because you accept him wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and that’s—he’s never experienced anything like that before, this unlimited, unreserved, unquestioning love. And although he doesn’t know how to say this, isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to find the right words to communicate it, he’s beginning to learn that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad; that sometimes, it’s okay—it’s good—to be vulnerable. He’s beginning to learn that with you, in the warmth of your shitty little apartment, with the stove that only has two functioning burners and the fridge that’s perpetually too cold, he can be, without judgement, without fear, without trepidation.
Because you are his only salvation, and he wouldn’t trade this for the goddamn world.
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