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obimaulartfire · 9 months

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Do you ever just...wake up and think about how Obi-wan was, for most of his life, Maul's reason to live?

Let me explain, and this is one of the main reasons I was drawn to ObiMaul in the first place. (long ramble below)

We're all aware of the events at the reactor fight, and it'd be an understatement to say it was a very hostile first encounter. But it's in the aftermath where the dynamic gets interesting.

Maul survived on his own, for years, with only his top half. As a former biology major, sometimes I think about how possible this would be in real life, if at all. It would be insanely uncomfortable at best, and impossible at worst. But through the excruciating pain, Maul survived, fueled purely by his intense hatred/obsession with Kenobi (and some star wars darkside magic, I'm sure).

Maul says this himself when first meeting Obi-wan again in season 4 of The Clone Wars:

"You would never imagine the depths I'd go to to stay alive, fueled by my singular hatred...for you."

Imagine being on the brink of death, with half of your circulatory system GONE, your heart beating irregularly, and your "lower half" being in constant pain, but still finding something to live for, and living...for YEARS. That's impressive. Hate-filled or not, it's hard to deny that for that time, thoughts of Obi-wan literally kept Maul alive for a decade.

Maul comes back to the series having been left for dead by Sidious, with spider legs he made himself, and no sense of time and a destroyed sense of sanity. Yet, he lives.

And additionally, revenge on Sidious is only second in his thoughts to his revenge on Obi-wan, even though Sidious is technically the one who left him for dead. Since Maul can't sit still, he did many other things during the Clone Wars in accordance with his own ambitions, likely to attempt to reclaim that part of his life that had been lost to Lotho Minor, but that's a tangent for another post.

He gets revenge on Obi-wan (I guess) by killing Satine, but even that isn't enough for him, as evidenced by the Satine hate shrine that we see in Rebels, when Ezra visits Maul's cave on Dathomir:

(on a side note, there is no sane heterosexual explanation for this^, I'm sorry/j)

Why would you keep a memento of someone you've killed? Why would you cross out their eyes? Maul didn't hate Satine that much, and it's my opinion that he did this because she was important to Obi-wan.

And that brings me to my next point: Rebels Maul

Y'all.... there's a reason the title of my blog is "Twin Suns Changed My Brain Chemistry", because I vaguely had feelings about these two in Clone Wars, but Rebels really cemented this dynamic for me.

I cannot emphasize enough that in Rebels, Maul thinks Obi-wan Kenobi is dead. Whether he got killed in Order 66 or when Vader and the Inquisitors started purging Force Users, there was maybe a .000001% chance that any Jedi, especially Obi-wan, would have survived that. And yet. When we enter Rebels, we find Maul on Malachor, stuck on the planet looking for the Sith holocron.

WHY is he trying to find the Sith holocron? In Maul's own words:

"As for me, I...seek something much simpler, yet equally elusive... Hope."

Hope? That surely isn't a Sith ideal. It's revealed later that the only reason Maul wants to combine these ancient artifacts is to learn whether or not Obi-wan Kenobi is alive. I shit you not.

This implies that Maul has had Hope that Obi-wan has been alive for what... 15 years? That's a long time. At this point, Maul may be like, 49 or 50. He has been fixated on Obi-wan for 30 years of his life. Thoughts of Obi-wan kept him going and going and going for 3/5ths of his life. Even when he thinks Obi-wan has died, he spends 15 years trying to find him, just hoping that he is alive. But for what?

It's unclear to me what Maul, in canon, really desires from Obi-wan. But one thing for sure is that Obi-wan acts as a...source of emotions for Maul. A source of feelings, and a reason to keep going through times that other characters would give up.

Other characters may have survived, but Maul lived because of Obi-wan. Through being bisected, the Clone Wars, being chased by Vader and the Inquisitors, and through periods of despair.

And before the end, he just wants to find his reason to live again, and dies in his arms.

#obimaul #obi wan x maul #i've been writing this for hours #i just have a lot of feelings #star wars headcanons #long post #sw rebels #swtcw #darth maul #obiwan kenobi #i'm so afraid to put my thoughts out there but tumblr is the perfect platform for that so #one day i really hope to capture the raw emotion in this duo bc i crave it and there's not a lot of content out there like that #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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whumblr · 9 days

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Meet the warden

Prev chapter - 1st chapter

A bleak and barren interrogation room. Way to break out the clichés.

Lucas glanced around, even though there wasn’t much to look at, except himself, staring back from the two-way mirror. The only part of the room that showed that there was at least some form of advanced technology in this bleak place.

The figure staring back at him wasn’t much to look at either. While he could certainly feel the dried blood caking to his face, could feel the bruise under his eye every time he blinked, seeing his own reflection in black and blue completed the full picture. The bump on his forehead could barely be covered by some strands of black hair and was probably the cause of his massive pounding headache. The fatigue was plain to see on his face, in his eyes. And, unfortunately, didn’t overshadow the hint of resigned fear. All combined, bit of a sad look there, and he looked away.

His throat was parched and he could only hope that he was going to get a cup of water without having to give up anything in return.

But given his treatment when they’d dragged him in, sitting him down here for – what – at least an hour now without the slightest concern for his injuries, he didn’t really feel luck was on his side for that one.

Just when he thought he might as well catch some shuteye and crossed his arms to slide down on his chair, the door opened and rudely interrupted any plans of rest.

Lucas glared up, did a small double take as his eyes had to adjust a few inches higher than he’d anticipated to meet the eyes of the man filling the doorway, and his eyes widened as he recognised who it was.

Heavy footsteps of combat boots echoed against the concrete box as the man slowly entered the room, closed the door. His long black coat had been replaced by – or had just concealed – a simple white dress shirt, tucked into black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, accenting his toned forearms. Sharp grey eyes roamed over the bruises on Lucas’ face.

It was the man who had slammed his head into the floor and had arres— fucking dragged him to this place.

Lucas nearly snarled and looked up at the man, who stopped at the opposite side of the table. Now that he was standing directly in front of him, the man was even taller than he’d thought. Perhaps also because of how he carried himself; he stood straight as an arrow, hands behind his back, practically looming over Lucas.

Annoyance flared in Lucas’ eyes. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble to actually come all the way here to interrogate me, you know.”

The man’s lips twitched, trying to hide a smile. He pulled the chair back and sat down across. “Don’t be silly,” he said, voice deep and laced with authority, and he looked Lucas straight in the eye. “I am the warden here.”

Lucas fought the impulse to close his eyes and take a sigh, but the man took in every small twitch of body language and nothing escaped him.

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes didn’t leave Lucas’. “You are fucked.” He folded his fingers and let his hands rest in front of him on the table.

Lucas unconsciously leaned back on his chair, as if he could gain a few inches away from the man. The warden… So he wasn’t at a police station; they’d skipped ahead a few steps and brought him straight to prison. This man’s prison. The prison he’d been looking into. What an awful coincidence. Yeah, right.

The warden slid a folder onto the table and opened it, taking his time reading through it like he had all the time in the world and all the information was new to him.

“Lucas Rafael Varga,” he read from the first page, emphasizing each word.

Lucas scoffed mentally. As if the man didn’t know his name yet. This was just a means to show what they had on him. He glanced at the little metal tag left of the man’s chest pinned to his white button-up. N Mathison was punched in it in old-fashioned block capitals. “Warden Mathison,” he responded as if in a belated greeting.

Mathison didn’t look up but his lips twitched, not enough to form a smile. He merely nodded in response.

Lucas took the time to take him in. The man was probably a bit older than him, forties maybe. Though the lines on his face could be making him look older than he actually was… He had a weathered look about him, going by his manner and posture (not to mention his physique) possibly gained from a combat role. Military? His hair only reinforced the assumption; an undercut with longer black strands of hair tinged with grey combed back, medium fading to a full grey at his temples.

Grey eyes suddenly shot up from the file and Lucas startled.

“I thought you were leading the pack of wolves?” he grumbled, trying to deflect.

“No, no. I only joined the search for you.” Mathison pushed the file an inch away and leaned forward, noticing Lucas’ discomfort. “After all, it was best to keep you out of trouble. Someone has to protect you from yourself.” The one corner of his lips turned up in a devious smirk.

“You make it a sport to hunt down civilians?”

“Depends on the catch. I do when they are looking into my business.”

So this probably was the man Lucas had been looking for. “Your business being covering up the murder of one of your inmates.”

The warden wasn’t baited and gave an almost exasperated shrug. “That’s what you are hoping to find. I think in time you’ll find yourself reassessing your theories.”

“That man was my client. At the time of his death, he shouldn’t even have been here! I got his sentence reduced to five years, and that was eight years ago.”

That did draw out a reaction. Mathison’s expression twisted, but not in shock or surprise. It was almost in disgust. A mere twitch of the one eye, a crinkle of his nose, barely visible and quickly covered again. Mathison responded calmly: “There are many factors that can add to a man’s sentence.”

Lucas reared up to argue, but thought against it and sagged in his seat. There were many factors why they’d go this far trying to stop him from looking into the matters too deeply. But he wasn’t going to get much out of this. Not now. So he switched to another argument. “You can’t keep me here. No trial, no legal base, it’s unlawful.”

It was unceremoniously slammed down. “You’ll find I don’t care.”

“So this is nothing more than a kidnapping.”

Mathison smiled wryly at that. “A kidnapping doesn’t happen in broad daylight, in public. An arrest, however…”

“An arrest,” Lucas scoffed.

“You were caught up with a client, aiding and abetting. Things escalated beyond your control. Bonus, you resisted arrest.” He nodded at the bump on Lucas’ forehead.

“What? That’s why I’m here?”

“That’s the story why you’re here.”

Lucas stared at the man in disbelief and reality fell into his stomach like a lead weight. It’s not like he had expected anything that would ensure his release that very day. He had hoped Ava could help bail him out; they’d delay things just because they could and to send a message, but ultimately they’d have to send him on his way, all this being nothing more than a warning. But it slowly dawned on him now that this was serious. That this was, literally, for the long haul. And unlike him, they had been preparing for it.

The only thing he had going for him, the tiny bright light that was currently being smothered by dark helplessness, was the fact that no one was going to believe this. Or, well, at least Ava wasn’t…

“After all, if this had been just a simple mistake,” Mathison said in a sweet voice that didn’t match his expression, “you would have simply gone along quietly. Talked your way out, threatened consequences. No. You knew we were coming. And you chose to fight because there was no other option.”

“You can’t do this,” Lucas said, but the certainty of his tone melted away by the warden’s casual confidence at breaking the law and his own voice suddenly sounded too shaky to his ears. “You can’t keep me here isolated from everything and everyone. People will ask questions, they will come for me.”

“They won’t. You’re too ashamed of your actions and refuse to meet with anyone. The trial is in a few weeks and after that everything’s done and dealt with.”

“What about my lawyer.”

“You’re a defence lawyer. You represent yourself.”

Lucas gaped at that. “I will not,” he said, too invested in this fake ass trial.

Mathison finally gave a genuine smile to that, one that wasn’t laced with a condescending cruelty. He took something from Lucas’ file and slid the paper over the table. “Your letter of representation. For your sake, I suggest you sign this now.”

Lucas glanced almost in disgust at the paper. “I will not,” he said again. “You cannot keep me locked in here forever.”

“Doesn’t need to be forever. You know very well how long proceedings can take. And then I’m saying without the delays. Just in a few months… a lot can change.”

…Like me not existing anymore.

“It’d be in your best interest to sign that paper,” the warden continued.

Lucas couldn’t hold back a humourless laugh. “What’re you gonna do? Arrest me? Put me in prison? Hm?”

Mathison just pushed his chair back and walked back to the door, signalling with a single knock that this conversation was over. “You’ll see.”

Still unnamed prison whump tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

#quote from man chucked in prison:#what are you gonna do put me in prison?!#whump #whump writing #prison whump #angst #emotional whump #an-ti-ci-pationnn #captured #stoic whumper

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