He sometimes forgets the Jedi—including himself—are people.
Well, no, that isn’t right. Anakin is aware of how his heartbeat thuds in his ears when he rushes across a battle field, saber burning bright. Of the way his hair sticks out in fifteen directions. Of the chrome, wires, and circuitry taking the place of his right arm. Of desire burning like fire in his chest when he steals moments with Padme, fingers tangled in the curls of her hair as her soft mouth meets his.
He grew up a slave on a planet baked dry by twin suns, and around beings baked drier. Some days (weeks, months, years) knowing he’s a person, and his name is Anakin, was all he had.
Before the Jedi, when he met someone new he would wonder what their favorite color was, or what they liked to do for fun. And yeah, he was a kid then, but…
Knowing other Jedi personally, the way he knows Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and the way they know him, is something that gives him pause.
excerpt from a thing I’m writing.