Hi, it's me Mao. I'm ready to rewrite this piece of shit ? check it out when you have the chance :3
The rewritten version will be more intended for mature audiences but there isn't any sexual/extremely violent stuff. Just some potentially triggering stuff.
Depression, Self-harm etc.
I'm projecting but it's ok bc if I'm fucked up then no way in hell is Anakin fine after all that.
Here's what the revised 1st chapter looks like cuz I'm not allowed to post this as a stand alone.
Note that it's still short but any future chapters are at least twice as long.
Anakin Skywalker found himself in a world that felt both familiar and surreal, as if he had stepped back in time to a period long gone. Luke's eyes had shone like the twin suns of Tatooine, and Anakin couldn't help but be captivated by the memory of those eyes.
As he laid there, still reeling from the shock of his resurrection, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was trapped in some sort of Force-induced illusion. His body, once encased in the mechanical suit of Darth Vader, now felt strangely whole and alive.
He sat up and observed his surroundings. The room around him seemed to echo the passage of time, bearing the scars of his past. The dented wall, a product of his anger and frustration. Anakin's eyes narrowed as he contemplated whether this was another test by the Force, a trial to test his resolve.
He slammed his non mechanical arm into the already dented wall relishing the pain it caused.
Then, a familiar voice, tinged with a Coruscanti accent, broke the silence. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi, his mentor and friend, chiding him for tinkering with his cybernetic arm. Anakin couldn't help but smile at Obi-Wan's attempt at humor, even in this bizarre situation.
Obi-Wan walked in, not expecting that Anakin was experimenting with his remaining flesh arm.
"How'd you manage to do that?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously still thinking he had been tinkering with his mechanical arm.
Anakin was silent as he sat on the bed while Obi-Wan approached.
Suddenly, Anakin pulled Obi-Wan down to his level and their eyes met; a deep intensity filled the room. Anakin's eyes seemed to glow, and his actions left Obi-Wan both concerned and bewildered.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan uttered cautiously, uncertain of the intentions behind his Padawan's actions. Anakin's hand moved to cup Obi-Wan's cheek, a trickle of blood from his injured knuckles staining his skin.
Was this another vision?
I could kill him.
Will it end once I do?
His gaze never wavered from Obi-Wan's face.
Obi-Wan, confused, rose up, looking down at Anakin with a mixture of concern and tenderness. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he needed to help his Padawan.
"Come on, let's get your hand fixed up before we talk about this. And we will talk about this, understood?" Obi-Wan said, his voice firm but caring.
Anakin's gaze shifted to his injured hand, and he nodded, unable to speak the words "yes, master" without feeling a sense of dread.
They made their way into the living room and as Anakin settled on the couch, the pain in his hand grounding him in this vivid illusion, he couldn't help but feel a flood of memories and nostalgia washing over him.