#and wake up in the middle of the night to Vader hovering over him hand on his throat growling ‘I told you to be good’

[tennessoui]

Would mob boss Anakin die for the twins or Obi-Wan? Or would he always, if absolutely forced to, choose his own life over theirs?

I feel like it was this sort of question that inspired Vowbreaker (mob boss!obi-wan’s answer to “would he die for anakin?”)

I cant even imagine one dying before the other it’s so sad so instead I’m gonna answer the question: what would Playmaker!Anakin’s Vowbreaker be?

(Given the same sort of scenario of an unknown stalker intent on Obi-Wan:)

I don’t think Vaderkin would fake his death ever, even to save obi-wan from a threat—that’s just not how his brain works. Instead, I think he’d kiss the twins goodbye, REALLY kiss obi-wan goodbye, and then disappear with one trusted henchman, leaving a note to tell obi-wan that he’ll be back and to be good while he’s gone.

then brutal and senseless killings start popping up all over the city and obi-wan just KNOWS it’s his wayward husband so he puts on his detective cap for the first time in years in order to try and track him down and drag him back to the family because anything can be worked through together—he’s not going to allow Anakin to just leave him! After all, Anakin didn’t allow him to just leave after he ran the first time

Mobi-Wan wants a clean image because he wants power in a city thats largely above board. Playmaker Anakin doesn’t want elected power and he knows the police can’t touch him because the city is so different, so he can very much take a more brutal approach when trying to find out who wants to hurt/take his obi-wan away

[scarletjedi]

Am I allowed to ask for some of my favorite Time Travelling Gigolas? Anything you'd like. Or if you're feeling more star-wars-y how about some snippet time travel there, say with Luke from TLJ era waking up back at the beginning of his journey? You know me and my weakness.

I think I’m feeling a “Luke” vibe with this one, partially because I can’t help thinking about him. Fair warning, this one contains spoilers for TLJ. 

If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

Luke hadn’t understood what Obi-Wan had meant, all those years ago. He thought, he had, with all the wild confidence of his youth, when he had faced the Emperor and thrown away his own weapon.

You’ve lost, your highness.

Like so many things, he had been wrong.

Facing down his nephew — the twisted remnants of that sweet boy he had once been — only then had Luke truly understood that Obi-Wan had merely spoken the truth from the particular point of view that Vader would understand.

The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.

Luke knew that — perhaps better than anyone, and he knew what Kylo Ren feared.

“If you strike me down,” he said, “I will always be with you.”

Kylo’s rage was blinding, like the blast of the Death Star’s lasers, like the Emperor himself in the moments of Vader’s betrayal — of Anakin’s resurrection.

There would be no resurrection of Ben Solo, and Kylo Ren would never be free of this Legacy, the Shadow of the Skywalker name.

And I will haunt you, Nephew.

Kylo struck and Luke closed his eyes. The sun was setting on Ahch’To, stretched and twinned by the planet’s atmosphere as all around him the Force raced like the first winds of a sandstorm, and Luke was a calm center in the middle of it all, letting it rage around him.

The suns were setting.

”Luke!”

The Force swelled.

“Luke! I’m shutting the power down!”

“Okay, Uncle Owen!” Luke called back, the words coming easy from his mouth as he twisted to call back over his shoulder, and stopped as he back foot sank into sand still warm from the heat of the day.

His cloak, that he had worn for more years due to the damp of his rocky, island home than for recognition of his station, was gone. As were his robes, worn and patched through as they were. Instead, he was dressed in desert whites, his legs wrapped against the sand swirling around his ankles. His hair fluttered in the coming night winds, and felt cool against his bare cheek.

Luke closed his eyes and reached out with his feelings.

In the homestead, Owen and Beru Lars went about their life, unaware of what their future would hold, and Luke had to stop and breathe past the tears that sprang to his eyes. They were here, his family was alive!

Closing his eyes again, Luke pushed further, reaching out and finding first the familiar warmth of the Darklighter homestead, and Biggs, restless. Luke pushed on.

Out, further past the Canyon and the wastes, to the edge of the Dune Sea, to a small little home, just a step above a hovel, was Obi-Wan Kenobi — his presence was muffled, deliberately so, and sluggish with sleep, and Luke pressed on before he could wake fully, extending out past the confines of his world.

In the greater Galaxy, the Force throbbed like an old wound, dark and writhing in places as if with rictus. He could sense Leia (he had always sensed Leia, even if he hadn’t recognized the feeling), but there was no answering call. Leia could not respond — perhaps didn’t even know what she was feeling. She was close, though — very close, and next to her —

Vader.

There was no mistaking that deep well of anger, or bitterness of resentment, and Luke pulled back into himself, wrapping himself in the rhythms of the desert, hiding his presence with the ease of long practice. He didn’t cut himself off from the Force, however. Not this time.

Never again.

Opening his eyes, he descended the stairs into the homestead proper so his Uncle could seal them up for the night. It was too dangerous to be out at night, what with all the Sandpeople.

His Aunt was in their small kitchen, cleaning the supplies from their tiny surgery, and Luke hovered in the doorway as he remembered. They had seen their last runaway off to Mos Eisley, where they could get off planet quickly and quietly nearly a tenday before, but the sealants in their small side-room were old and leaked sand, and Beru made a habit of cleaning her tools twice before sealing them up for the next user.

As if sensing his presence, Beru looked up and smiled at him. “Hello, Luke,” she greeted. “Care to give me a hand?”

Luke nodded, and wordlessly went to help her with her task, moving the clean tools from the sanitizer to the sealant bag. They worked in silence for a moment.

“What’s bothering you, Luke?” Beru asked.

How could he explain to her?

“Just a feeling,” he said. “Like everything is about to change.”

Beru paused, looking at him, and Luke was surprised to realize that she was reaching out to him with the Force. It wasn’t strong — certainly not strong enough for the Jedi of old to take her to the Temple — but it was there, all the same. Luke wondered, for the first time, if this was why Grandma Shmi had taken Beru under her wing.

And if Luke was right in his guess, she would be dead in two days.

“Luke,” she said, startled, as Luke suddenly backed away from the counter.

“I’m alright,” Luke insisted. “I think I’m going to turn in early. Get a head start on those condensers on the South Range.”  

“Alright,” Beru said, and Luke felt her eyes on him as he left the kitchen. “Sleep well!”

Luke did not meet his Uncle on the way to his room, which was a good thing, as he stopped stock still in the doorway, staring at the collected detritus of his young life.

There wasn’t much — Luke had never owned many things, but there were his starship replicas, his old stuffed Bantha that sat in a place of honor on top of his clothes chest. He didn’t have a personal data terminal, like Biggs had, but he had a datapad that he had found in a scrap heap and refurbished that he could use to read or play games or listen to music. His blaster rifle hung above his bed, so he could grab it easily in the middle of the night, and his memory box sat under the small lamp on his side table.

He knew the contents of that box like the back of his hand — it was one of two things that Luke had taken with him when he had left the planet for good. Still he found himself entering the room to run his hand across the cover, feeling the engravings flow under his fingers as they spelled his name, the free skywalker, in symbols no one in his life to come would recognize.

He had lost this box when his academy burned.

Luke placed it back on his bedside table with a click.

With a weariness in his heart, and a phantom ache in his limbs, Luke lay on the bed and fell fast asleep.

Luke woke in the middle of the night to the pin-drop silence of the desert at night. What had he heard —

No, not heard. Felt. There, at the outer edge of the property, stopped just beyond the sensor range.

Luke climbed from bed, he was still wearing his clothes from the day before and his hair must be a mess, but it had been decades since he’d cared about such things. Silently, he crept through the homestead, careful not to wake Owen or Beru, moving much quicker than he should have been able to.

The moons were high in the sky when Luke reached the desert surface, lighting the sands in blues. The figure waiting for him was a smear of black in the darkness. Luke walked towards it with no fear.

Closer, and the figure revealed itself to be a man, wrapped in a dark brown cloak. He still smelled faintly of Eopie, and down below the next ridge, Luke could sense the visitor’s mount.

Luke stopped, just outside of lightsaber rage, and smiled — the first true, warm smile he had felt in ages.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

Before him, Obi-Wan Kenobi reached up and lowered his hood with two hands. His expression was one Luke had never seen before — bewildered and wary all at once.

“Luke,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice creaking. “It is you — I couldn’t be sure. But what has happened to you?”

Luke’s smile softened as he sighed. “A lifetime.”