#we have a sort of mutual respect now i let him maul my hand once every morning and we're good for the rest of the day

[possiblytracker]

tbh i thought id have more to post abt when i got back but i am struggling to come up with anything more eventful than the goose i made friends with at my new volunteer job he was supposed to be an animal ambassador for a critically endangered species but he kept biting little kids so now he lives behind the scenes biting volunteers instead.and following me round the yard screaming

^ savage beast who will not be placated by such meagre offerings as day old lettuce

[wolveria]

The Jedi’s Gambit - Ch. 3

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Cad Bane

Summary: The day Cad Bane turned himself in caused quite a stir at the Jedi Temple.

The way Luminara told it, he simply walked up the steps, approached the nearest Temple Guard, and said, “I surrender.” Toothy smirk and all.

Yes, Obi-Wan definitely had a bad feeling about this.

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers (for my writing challenge at @trashmenofmarvel​)

Word Count: 1.3k

AO3

As Obi-Wan stared out the cockpit window into the blue-white blurry tendrils of hyperspace, he reflected on the irony of the situation. A cruel irony that he did not thank the Force for providing.

He had woken up for weeks, screaming out Satine’s name after dreaming of her death.

Maul, choking her in the air.

Maul, running her through with the Darksaber.

Obi-Wan, cradling her in his arms, helpless to do anything but watch as she told him she loved him, one last time.

And now, after Obi-Wan had seen a vision of Bane’s death, he was reminded of Satine again. Not just because of the parallels of his dreams, but because he had finally remembered where he had seen the quarry in his vision.

More years ago than he cared to remember, Satine, Obi-Wan, and Master Qui-Gon had been hunted by a rival faction of Mandalorians through one of those ore pits. Draboon was the only one world he knew of where lapis was mined in such vast quantities.

The memories of Satine were not so fresh that the pain was sharp, but his heart still ached. The knowledge that Bane might die where Obi-Wan had once tread as a Padawan was unsettling. Nothing that had happened in the past day made sense, and Obi-Wan having a Force vision did nothing to ease his nerves. Anakin and Ahsoka were the ones who had premonitions, not Obi-Wan.

Not since his youth, anyway.

Inevitably, as happened during the hours trapped on a ship in hyperspace, Obi-Wan’s thoughts turned to places he wished them not to go. He tried meditation, but once again, silence and peace was out of his reach. Instead, his normally well-honed mind decided to drudge up all the worries and concerns that had been let loose during the last day.

It was not lost on him that they all centered on the bounty hunter.

Obi-Wan couldn’t figure him out. Since the beginning, Bane had surprised him time and time again. Despite his twists and plots and murderous tendencies, Bane was quite capable of veering off course and acting in unexpected ways.

His rescue of Hardeen in the Box, for example. Certainly, Bane didn’t know it’d been Obi-Wan, but it’s not like Bane had been close companions with Hardeen either. They’d eventually reached a sort of mutual respect, but for Bane to go out of his way to save him? It didn’t make any sense.

If yer gonna kill him, do it like a man.

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop the shiver that traveled down his spine. He remembered how he’d sensed Bane’s anger, shining brightly through the Force. The bounty hunter’s intense hatred of Moralo Eval, the mastermind behind the Box, was only one part of the equation. Bane had seemed genuinely infuriated that Eval had nearly killed Hardeen, as if the act had been a personal affront to the bounty hunter himself.

And then, of course, there was the Delano. Bane had tricked him, and in such an unnecessary way that it made the Jedi question his real motives. Why had Bane visited Obi-wan in his quarters and gone through such an elaborate ruse? It would have been far simpler to wait in hiding while he cracked the necessary codes to override the ship’s navicomputer, and then grab the Sith artifact with no one the wiser. Obi-Wan and Anakin would have been far too late to stop him.

Instead… Bane had sought him out, seduced him, and then rendered Obi-Wan unconscious so he couldn’t follow. But why? It was one of the many questions Obi-Wan wanted answered when he caught up to Bane.

He would catch up to Bane; there was no doubt in his mind. And when he did, Bane would have much to answer for.

When Obi-Wan came out of hyperspace above the planet, he took the controls and guided the ship down to its surface. He didn’t bother heading to the spaceport—if his vision was correct, the prison transport would be sitting in the middle of an ore pit, bypassing the meager mining towns completely.

There was only one area of Draboon where the lapis mines were located, but Obi-Wan still felt an unusual amount of anxiety. Just because he might know where the vision would take place, he didn’t know when the events would unfold. It could be hours from now. Or it could have happened already. Bane could be currently buried at the bottom of a quarry, too late for Obi-Wan’s help.

He pushed the thoughts aside with great difficulty. Obi-Wan had to believe he wasn’t too late. He had to believe the Force wouldn’t have granted him this vision just to send him on a wild bantha-chase that ended in Bane’s death.

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened at the sight of the dark forests coming into view. It was impossible to see the planet and not think of Satine and his master, Qui-Gon. Both gone now. Dead at the hands of a raving monster.

He released his anxiety into the Force as he focused on the readout on his screens. There were many lapis mines on the planet, too many to check one by one, so Obi-Wan had to trust that his recognition of this particular mine had been correct.

For a brief moment, he wished he had Quinlan Vos with him. Not a sentiment that struck him often, but the man’s ability to track through the Force was legendary. Of course, Obi-Wan didn’t currently have any items that belonged to Bane, so Quinlan wouldn’t have been able to track the bounty hunter, anyway.

Could use yerself, he almost could hear the bounty hunter say. Seein’ as you belong to me.

Obi-Wan shook off the ridiculous thought. He didn’t belong to anyone. He was simply trying to stop an unlawful execution. That was all.

Sure, sure, the low, amused voice answered.

“I suppose we do this the old fashioned-way,” Obi-Wan said to himself with a sigh. As Dex’s ship descended into the atmosphere on autopilot, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to expand, his consciousness reaching out toward the quarry where the vision had taken place.

Obi-Wan was startled to feel Bane’s presence almost immediately. It was strong, incredibly so, but something was also wrong with it. It pulsated with an aura that he could only describe as bleeding black-red, and over this connection Obi-Wan could feel the oily slick quality of the dark side of the Force.

As quickly as possible without crashing the ship, Obi-Wan landed far enough away from the mineral pit that he wouldn’t be scanned by the prison transport. Obi-Wan could see the ship in question, cradled within the bowels of the abandoned lapis pit.

As soon as his ship touched down, Obi-Wan rose from his seat and grabbed his helmet, placing it over his head as he hit the button to lower the docking ramp.

He had lost his Rako Hardeen outfit on Mandalore, but he had purchased another for such undercover missions. A scruffy old fur-lined vest, a jacket with a hood, and light armor plating over his groin and shoulders. The helmet was smaller and sleeker but undeniably had the Mandalorian aesthetic that he had grown partial to.

Basically, almost exactly like his old bounty hunter outfit, expect it now had a hood he could slip over his helmet. Obi-Wan found he liked that particular style and he didn’t see a point in changing it now. Besides… he couldn’t deny he would take a small amount of pleasure of seeing the surprise on Bane’s face as he recognized the familiarity of the outfit.

Of course, that was assuming the bounty hunter still lived.

Obi-Wan took off toward the pit at a run, mentally willing Bane to hold on and not say or do anything to get himself killed before the Jedi Master could pull him out of this mess.

Next Chapter

[doorsclosingslowly]

Atrocity Exhibition

Snapshots of the life and death of Savage Opress, from seventeen different angles. Drabble collection.

1.7k | also on AO3

I.

The body lies empty in the plaza, half-naked and with twin charred holes in his chest that must’ve done him in and already spotted with purplish death-bruising, and yet, he looks oddly peaceful. She kneels in respect: there is no doubt in her mind that Savage died to protect her Mand’Alor. He tried to, just like the soldiers that Death Watch has already found in the throne room, and just like them, he fell victim to the silent menace none could defend against.

“I’m still alive, but you are dead,” Rook Kast whispers. “I remember you. We will find Maul.”

II.

Her baby is a boy. Kycina had prayed for a girl, not for the sake of his sire, waiting captive in her rooms and soon to be killed for the deficiency in his seed, in the way of her mother and all women before her; but for herself. The boy, Savage, she will give into the care of his tribe, and when he has grown and been taken she will close her ears and weep his death. A girl, she’d have seen grow up, would have delighted in her every move.

A girl, she would have cradled to her chest.

III.

An obstacle, that’s all he is, or—an opportunity. Maul loves him. That long-discarded wretched failure of a traitorous apprentice has thrown in his lot with another of his species, a dumb brute with even less promise than Maul ever had, and he loves him. This is delightful. Sidious makes sure that Maul is fully conscious again by the time he slaughters the animal. He allows them their little goodbyes. It would take long to find physical pain that Maul hasn’t yet suffered, and he is well-acquainted with emotional abuse, but this: this loss, it was worth flying out for.

IV.

Always a step behind Maul, never in front. A trusted lieutenant, because he’s not the leader, not by a long shot, not with the shorter man’s arrogance in play. A shield, instead. And: a loved one. Pre Viszla sees it, in the way Savage stops the knife aimed at Maul, and in the total lack of flinch. Never a doubt he’ll intervene, and it’s mutual, certainly, what with Maul’s easily exploitable concern after the rescue.

That’s why, despite certain security concerns, he gives the order to lock both brothers inside the same cell. This is Mandalore, and family is honored.

V.

The young nightbrother has grown strong, Brother Viscus notes with silent helpless pride. On the field, Savage is straining muscles and cocky grins and there’s nary a yelp when the lance of his training partner strikes true, and then he wrestles the other teenager down and helps him up again. The boy is the very picture of a son of their tribe, powerful and kind with children and someday, Viscus thinks with a rend in his hearts he cannot seem to rid himself of, someday he will make a fine mate for the Sister who wins him as Her prize.

VI.

This new acolyte was a mistake, Darth Tyranus decides. He’d visited the Nightsister tribe in the belief that one of their males had been powerful and cunning enough to murder his own former Padawan, and he’d gone there despite the pain and disgust he feels whenever he thinks of the now-dead Darth Maul’s deed. He found: utter disappointment. Ignorance. Imbecility. Abjection. This is the kind of creature that dared best Qui-Gon?

On the floor, Opress whines and curls and begs for his brother—for the murderous beast that once enticed Tyranus—and so he gifts him another lesson of pain.

VII.

The enemy rushes onto the battlefield, cutting off that brother’s arm in a bright spray of arterial blood and choking this brother with massive claws, and right then Spotlight knows he was wrong. He’s been wondering, see: maybe they’re not so different, him and the Separatist flesh grunts. They look scared, before he shoots them, and Spotlight himself certainly wouldn’t be fighting this war if he wasn’t made to do it. No-one gets anything out of war but the civvies. But the beast has this wild look, like he’s karking enjoying it, and Spotlight was wrong. This is the end.

VIII.

Traitor, the droids name the Sith beast, and they shoot it instead of taking aim at him or Obi-Wan. Frankly, that’s fine by Anakin. He’d like to get a good chop in himself—somewhere, he is still that nine-year-old kid huddled on Naboo who was told that Qui-Gon Jinn was never coming back, that he’d been slain by the Sith, a kid who wanted to beg Who’ll be my Master now and couldn’t—Anakin wouldn’t mind taking on Dooku’s animal, but there’s no reason to risk entering the droid’s blaster-hail. Opress roars out a shockwave and flees. Next time, then.

IX.

It’s terrifying, even with his big brother beside him, and Feral can’t imagine how much worse his first trial would be, alone. Although. He shivers: being killed by the pale Woman, or accidentally by one of the other unlucky sods beside them, that’s bad (and it would already have happened, if Savage hadn’t interceded), but compared to… to being taken (Savage puts himself between another blow and Feral’s body) compared to being taken by the Sister, death is fine, and so’s being struck lame; but Savage will never let Feral get hurt. How are they gonna get out of this?

X.

The Sith looms. Angry growls and quick strikes and then—he shouldn’t be this strong, Adi Gallia thinks frantically, shouldn’t be able to overpower her this easily when she is a General and a Jedi Master and a Member of the High Council to boot, and it gives her terror for the future. He shouldn’t, because the Jedi triumphed and routed the Sith once before and hunted them to extinction; but they have returned, and the force favors them. Opress smacks her against the ship and spears her when she falls, and there is no death. There is the force.

XI.

What a moron. Looks strong—looks like mounds of juicy juicy meat, more like—but with all those nice muscles there’s not much space left over for brain, it appears, because, after that shitty strangling, the offworlder’s actually following Morley meekly to his doom. If he didn’t look as delicious or was a little less of a humorless prick, and what kind of catchphrase is Where is my brother? anyway… if Morley wasn’t so hungry, then he might even find it in him to feel bad for the ugly meathead. As it is: maybe Master will leave Morley some entrails.

XII.

He’s gonna kill her. This dude is actually going to kriffing kill her, not in a pervert way but in broad daylight, in the middle of the restaurant, grabbing her and holding her up and strangling her and everyone’s screaming, and Mikjoo was just going to look at his weird glowing amulet, that’s all. She was gonna make conversation, with a man who looked slightly sad and very lost and like he’d potentially give decent tips.

It’s not murder, in the end; he throws her to the floor and runs off, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a total psycho.

XIII.

Her creature drags himself to the table, drags himself home, bruised, a failure and: still alive. It’s a testament to Talzin’s craft that the bespelled nightbrother was able to return, and the result of her own shortcomings that Dooku yet lives. No matter. When young Asajj returns, another path to her vengeance shall be found. As for Savage Opress… in the crystal, Talzin sees her Maul, once stolen by Sidious and finally located, and there’s none more suited to fetching the boy than this durable, obedient tool. She speaks comfort and helps him up. There is further use for him.

XIV.

Her mate—or he would have been, if this was a normal coupling—he washes himself in the sink of the sister’s house where Asajj is staying, for this step in the grand plan of her revenge against her former Master. Trembles wrack his glistening bruised body, and she ignores them, according to her wishes and—she is sure—also his own.

Shock laces through him when instead of a kiss, she presents him to Mother Talzin, that and naked relief; but when he stands after the ritual, what’s left is not a mate. Not a nightbrother. Only—an instrument.

XV.

The foolish apprentice looks up from underneath Maul’s clawed foot, all thoughts of brazen challenge forgotten. There is no pain, not yet. This should be cause for further correction, Maul remembers, should result in screams, writhing and terror, but—a face, a familiar sort of face if Maul remembered his own and more still now he doesn’t, leads him from out his trash cave and into the light. A low voice rings through the nightmare. A hand offers meat. Safety. The apprentice looks up. The brother loves, despite everything.

Maul extends his hand. He doesn’t care to interrogate the instinct.

XVI.

Two brothers and a smoldering pile of corpses, that’s what Obi-Wan finds on Raydonia. Violence, senseless and vile, evident in this carnage and in the shaping of its perpetrators, for he’s visited their village, knows of enslavement and degradation and forced breeding, and knows that none should ever arise from such filth as exists on Dathomir and feel any compassion. Both were doomed from the moment of their birth.

He ignites his lightsaber and faces them. Unlikely though it is, he prays: for victory, but more still, for the chance to extinguish this cycle of violence with both their lives.

XVII.

He wrings his hands around Feral’s neck, or he doesn’t: he is watching his fingers kill, is looking down at them, and they’re not even the right size. A plea, silent, disembodied: they don’t look like his fingers. It’s only the perspective that does it, making them out to be his own body; that, and the self-aimed revulsion. Stop. They don’t, of course. His hands don’t belong to him anymore.

Afterwards, he won’t remember the Mother’s intrusion. He will see nothing but his own flesh, by his own will, killing his own brother.

Afterwards, Savage will only see: a monster.