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novaewalker · 16 days ago

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ANAKIN SKYWALKER AHSOKA: PART 5 "SHADOW WARRIOR" (2023)

#anakin skywalker #ashowka

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novaewalker · 17 days ago

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rots novel gave me sorrowful yaoidelusions

#WhAT THE FUCK #OMFG

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novaewalker · 29 days ago

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We finish this together.

#arcane #arcane league of legends

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novaewalker · 1 month ago

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The saga is complete.

STAR WARS: EPISODE III - REVENGE OF THE SITH was released 20 years ago on May 19, 2005.

#rots #fanedit

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novaewalker · 1 month ago

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He didn’t ask for him.

He didn’t want him, not at first — Obi-Wan was barely more than a boy himself, grieving a master he couldn’t save, and suddenly there was this wild, stubborn, terrifyingly powerful child put in his hands with a dying wish and a promise he didn’t know how to keep. It was duty, at first. Duty and fear and clumsy responsibility. But somewhere between the battles and the lessons and the laughter that only they shared, Anakin became his brother.

Not his student, not his soldier, not his burden — his brother.

And Obi-Wan loved him with a fierceness he didn’t know he was capable of.

He laughed with him.

He fought with him.

He bled with him.

They grew up together in the fires of a war that asked too much of both of them, and through it all, they held onto each other — stubborn, relentless, unbreakable.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?” Obi-Wan had said once, laughing, not knowing how true it would be.

Maybe some part of him knew even then.

Maybe some part of him had already made peace with it.

Because what else do you do for a brother but stay by his side, even if it kills you?

And for a while — for a while it worked.

Through the worst the galaxy could throw at them, they stood back-to-back, lightsabers drawn, trusting each other beyond reason.

Anakin called him “Master,” but it wasn’t about rank anymore.

It was about faith.

It was about family.

And then.

And then the cracks came, hairline fractures Obi-Wan tried so desperately not to see. The war had eaten at them, hollowed them out. Anakin was hurting, scared, desperate for control over a life that never gave him any, and Obi-Wan — Obi-Wan thought love and loyalty would be enough to save him.

He was wrong.

He was so terribly, heartbreakingly wrong.

When he saw the holos, when he saw what Anakin had done, the world ended.

And when Yoda said, “You must destroy Darth Vader,” Obi-Wan broke.

“I can’t kill Anakin,” he said, voice cracking wide open, because he couldn’t.

He couldn’t lift his blade against the boy who once grinned at him across battlefields, the boy who once called him “brother” with a smile that could have outshone a thousand suns.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

But he had no choice.

And on Mustafar, with fire raining from the skies and the ground splitting open beneath them, Obi-Wan begged him — begged him — to stop.

He didn’t want to fight.

He never wanted to fight.

“I will do what I must,” he said, but his heart was already breaking.

And when the battle was done, when Anakin lay burning and broken on the black sand, Obi-Wan looked at him — not a Sith, not a monster — his brother, the boy he had raised and fought beside and loved — and the grief tore him apart.

“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you,” he said, and it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t hatred, it was grief so deep it hollowed him out.

He left him there.

Not because he hated him.

But because he couldn’t kill him.

Because he couldn’t finish what the galaxy demanded of him.

Because even when Anakin burned with hatred, Obi-Wan still saw the boy he loved.

And so he carried that wound — that failure — into exile.

Into the desert.

Into endless years of silence under twin suns that burned but never cleansed.

He watched over Luke from a distance, guarding the last fragile hope of everything he had lost.

Because he couldn’t save Anakin.

But maybe he could save his son.

And when fate dragged him back into Anakin’s path, years later, when Vader towered before him in darkness and rage, Obi-Wan still — still — didn’t hate him.

He stood there, alone and beaten and so, so tired, and when Vader’s mask cracked open, when he saw the scarred, ruined face beneath, it wasn’t Vader looking at him —

it was Anakin.

Still there.

Still his brother.

And Obi-Wan sobbed out “I’m sorry, Anakin… for all of it,” because after everything, after all the death and pain and failure, he still loved him.

Still.

Always.

And Anakin — gods, Anakin, broken and half-buried in rage — gave him the only mercy left:

“You did not kill Anakin Skywalker. I did.”

And Obi-Wan understood.

He had tried.

He had loved.

He had loved so much it destroyed him.