#Jedi blood test

[sw5w]

Checking Your Blood for Infections

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:50:27

[threebea]

Jedi lightsaber rainbow 🌈

[galactic-rhea]

The Midi-chlorian essay only a few asked

(or, How Is Anakin Skywalker a walking biological horror)

So I made this post and a few were actually interested, also i needed to write down all of this or I wouldn't be able to sleep.

The way I went just from "hahaha they're just mitochondria before becoming forced symbionts and losing all autonomy" to the Medical Horror that would be Anakin Skywalker .

Let me explain, going from this theory, let me tell you that the average mammal cell can have between 800 to 2000 mitochondria. In Star Wars we're told that the average living being, has 2500 midi-chlorians per cell. The difference isn't that big, so we can assume that mid-chlorians are smaller than our real-life mitochondria, and it would make sense since the mitochondria have the best possible living conditions, whereas midi-chlorians, if they're free-life bacteria (as in, they aren't forced to live in the cells of another being) it would make sense if they're just smaller, let's say, sneaky, to increment their chances at living.

So Midi-chlroains don't just produce ATP, Force sensitives have a minimum of 4000-5000 midi-chlorians per cell. That's...a big number, but not very horrific. See, the amount of mitochondria is related to how much energy the organic tissue requires. The cells of muscular tissue and neurons are the ones with the highest mitochondria count. Also the mitochondria in the neurons are mobile and flexible, because just thinking burns ATP.

We can assume that using The Force burns insane amounts of ATP, so I assume it makes sense for Force Sensitives to have big amounts of Midi-chlorians. But! The problem with this is that we're told that the Midi-chlorians are attracted to the force, not born within it. But any multicelullar organism (with a few exceptions) need the mitochondria. Mitochondria have their own ADN, and they're always inherited from the mother, so we can assume that there's two different types of midi-chlorians: The ones any normal being borns with, and the ones that get attracted because of the baby's force potential. Either that, or both the mithocondria and the midi-chlorians exist simultaneously.

Which means that Jedi (or anyone who wants to know, really) would need to take several blood tests for midi-chlorians count. Because a newborns midi-chlorian count wouldn't be the same through a babie's infancy. UNLESS...The midi-chlorian infection (yes, i'm calling it that) ocurrs already since the pregnancy, if the force is strong enough for a fetus to be a possible force sensitive in the future, then I guess the midi-chlorians would get attracted to the parent during the pregnancy as well.

WHICH BTW, IT FITS WITH PADMÉ BECOMING FORCE SENSITIVE, at least for a while, like the discarded ROTS concepts. But also, would mean, that poor Shmi became a hella strong force-sensitive person as well, at least for a while.

And it would be a biological advantage if we take this route, because it would possibly make the pregnant being stronger and with a higher supply of energy.

It also explains why the jedi would only take a single blood test when the force sensitive is just a baby, because the infection is already settled. It can also be argued, that any baby born with a fairly high amount of midi-chlorians (like the 4000 per cell count minimum) would only increase, if only slightly, as the force sensitive grows because the midi-chlorians will get attracted regardless.

There must be a limit, or more like, a balance, that the midi-chlorian and the force potential of the individual met. As in, there's just enough force within the individual for a certain number of midi-chlorian, and all of this is probably decided already during the fetus formation or very early on the baby's life.

Now, Anakin...would be an abomination. Because his cells are so full of midi-chlorians, that it's scary to think how the cells aren't exploding or downright giving malfunctions to the rest of the cellular organelles.

If we go by the route of "midi-chlorians start infecting the force sensitive host mother during pregnancy" it means there were high chances of a misscarriage or an incompatibility between Shmi and Anakin, because holy cow, Anakin is just too much.

But you know what also, it could potentially mean? That Padmé's pregnancy was a risky one, fron the start -slowly nods-. Luke and Leia's force potential was lower than Anakin's, but there's still a lot to unpack there in terms of compatibility. We are never given the exact count of midichlorian count for the twins, but let's pretend it was low enough for Padmé to not inmediatly have a miscarriage. That, and also, maybe, Padmé isn't strong in the force to manipulate it, but maybe just close enough for the pregnancy to be carried to term, let's say, her midi-chlorian count is 3900, close enough.

Something similar with Shmi, I'm taking for granted that she also had a difficult and risky pregnancy (on top of it being a pregnancy she had no agency). It becomes worse because, unlike the twins, Anakin is just...50% human. The only possible genes Anakin has are from Shmi. So he's probably...genetically, almost a clone of Shmi but with a massive infection of Midi-chlorians (yes, this implies that Anakin has homogametic sex chromosomes, aka XX, there's no other possible explanation because he literally only has Shmi's genes to work with!).

But he's Space Jesus, though,so let's pretend that the "no father genes" helped with this and allowed Anakin to grow into a...normal-ish baby despite it all.

Midi-chlorians must be extremelly small, closer to the size of a virus in this case, viruses vary on size and the way they infect the cells is by hijacking the nucleus, which then can produce more viruses instead of its own proteins. This can vary anywhere between a production of 50.000 to 100.000 viruses produced by infected cells.

Which, btw, still fits somewhat with the mitochondria theory, because mitochondrias are believed to have been from a genus of bacteria called Rickettsia, which used to be believed to be the in-between of Viruses and Bacteria due their small size and extreme endosymbiotism.

Still, we aren't even told how many midi-chlorians Anakin had, just that it was over 20.000 and thus the chart couldn't even register it. Even if we're just counting 21.000 midi-chlorians per cell, that's...a lot. Even if the relationship is symbiotic and positive in nature, that's excessive, an infected cell will usually die faster. So Anakin's cellular death must be on record time.

The life span of a cell varies highly depending of the type of cells, white cells can live about 2 days, others about 5, and then there's others that live about 6 years in average.

Forget all of that, Anakin's cells die anywhere between a few hours and a week. Which also means a super fast regeneration and healing (Hey! that tracks, that's how he didn't die even though he should have, on several ocassions).

But that's not the only problem here, the production of energy is strong with this one, too strong. Again this should make the cells burst due too much ATP because of an increase on osmotic pressure. Anakin is producing so much damn ATP (which we can assume it becomes glycogen stored in muscles and fat tissue) his need to be active and just doing something skyrockets, he might as well be the equivalent of being high on meth since birth.

The accelerated cellular formation and death, gives me the horrific idea that Anakin was probably one of these babies that are born premature, but also that he probably was bron with, idk, teeth and already lots of hair. Maybe that's also why he got so tall of all sudden, lots of cellular grow, huh.

Anakin seems to age normally by what are we given by canon. So despite it all, his life-span or aging doesn't seem to be compromised, this is probably because of how strong he is with the Force. In the sense that...he needs the midi-chlorians to handle this much power, but he also needs the force to handle with that many midi-chlorians, otherwise he would have been already born dead.

See, ageing has a lot to do with stem cells. Anakin's stem cells need to be highly prolific and potent to keep cellular division happening at such a high rate, we can infer that any force sensitive has potent stem cells, so the force must inherently affect stem cells. So Anakin's stem cells must be monstruosities in efficiency. If Anakin donated stem cells to someone else, that person would either have a strong inhumne reaction against them or they would get some of the worst cancer ever seen. Again I'm no expert, but the fact Anakin doesn't develop cancer at all as soon as he was born is already impressive. The rate in which Anakin's cells die must be ridiculous, even has a baby, he must have required tons of energy and endure lots of stress which...tracks. The fact he gets electroshocked, burned, gravely wounded or whatever every week or so, must help him to no develop some cancer, which is a bit funny.

But it would also mean he can go long periods of time without eating or resting like...a normal human. Not saying that he doesn't need it, though, but his neural activity and use of the force must be high at all times to burn out that much energy. Theoretically, the production of glycose and glycogen helps him through long periods without sleep or food so he doesn't get long-term damage, or at the very least the ability to keep going, like I said, maybe is like being on drugs all the time; there's still the need to sleep and eat, but he can push his body to keep surviving beyond what's considered normal without having long-term damage. (Don't get happy, this isn't taking into account all of the stuff that happens to him, lol)

The balance between burning too much energy and not burning enough must be insane as well. As Vader, a lot of this probably watered down because all of his energy must be saved for...you know, surviving all the torture. But as a young teen/man amist war? Oh boy.

I'm not an expert, but I'm theorizing that putting Anakin in an induced sleeep must be...fricking hard. Painkillers that work on him? fricking hard. Anesthesia? Probably the same used for big animals, he must be insane and awful for a doctor to work with! Just imagine it, he probably gets injured in such a way that would have anyone else fall unconscious, but Anakin remains awake and with tremendous amounts of adrenaline triggered by a stress response sustented by the extreme amounts of energy that the midichlorians produce.

When it happens in the central nervious system, excess of ATP can produce neuronal dysfunction. In fact, many degenerative mental illnesses have a lot to do with a malfunction of the mitochondrias. There's a corelation also with neurodivergency sometimes, like autism or ADHD. I will leave it there.

And with all of this...I also conclude that Anakin, on general basis, doesn't like sugary things and doesn't even rationalize why, but is because he has already enough glycose. Having something sugary probably gives him a headache.

God what has Star Wars done to me.

[kopykunoichi]

Refresher for the people still confused about this...

In a galaxy far, far away, EVERYONE has midi-chlorians in their blood. The Force resides in all living things. It binds the whole galaxy together. Midi-chlorians are what allow beings to commune with the Force. The more midi-chlorians you have, the more potential you have to RESPOND TO and WIELD the Force. But notice that Asajj couches her statement with the line that those with a higher m-count were "believed" to be more capable of wielding the Force. There's a correlation, but it's not necessarily the only factor (see Sabine Wren).

This is the moment where the clones literally become stand-ins for the fans.

"What? If you can use the Force, you're a Jedi!"

No. If you can use the Force, you can use the Force. To use it as a Jedi uses it, you have to train as a Jedi. To use it as a Sith uses it, you have to train as a Sith. To use it like a Nightsister, you have to train as a Nightsister. Or you can get some rudimentary instruction and decide how you want to use it.

Jango Fett didn't have a high m-count, so his clones didn't either. But Omega and the rest of the Batch were special cases. As Cut said, the Kaminoans create with a purpose. Their deviations were intentional. Hunters abilities have always suggested he had a higher m-count than the others. But Omega's ability to perceive things before they happen (her bad feelings are nearly always spot on) and her affinity with animals have always been hints that her m-count is a little higher.

(Will update with screen grabs when I get them)

At the end of the episode, Omega asks Ventress if she has a high m-count.

Ventress: *looking at her nails* From what I've seen...no.

Omega: Then why is the Empire after me?

Ventress: Believe it or not, I don't know everything. But seeing as how a high m-count would make you a target, consider yourself lucky.

Omega: But I'm already a target.

Wrecker: Don't worry about it, kid. We'll figure it out. C'mon, let's get some chow.

Omega: *sigh* Thanks for trying.

Once they're out of earshot...

Crosshair: You're lying.

Ventress: About which part?

Hunter: You tell us.

Ventress: If Omega did have that potential, she'd have to be trained. Which would mean leaving you behind.

Hunter: That's not happening.

Ventress: What you want is irrelevant. The fact is, the Empire is after her, and they won't stop. If I were you, I'd leave this place. You're not as safe as you think you are. Our business is done.

Crosshair: I still can't figure out which side you're on.

Ventress: My own.

Okay, so Ventress is clearly not telling the truth about the m-count, which we know, because we've already seen Omega's charts. I really don't understand why people keep taking Ventress at her word here. We know better, and so do Crosshair and Hunter. My guess is that she's trying to protect Omega because she knows firsthand what it's like to be taken from your family and trained as a young girl.

We know that when Omega was at Tantiss, she was receiving transfusions of blood with midi-chlorians the same as all the other clones (harvested from the dead Jedi they're undoubtedly holding in the vault). They were taking her blood samples, but Nala Se kept throwing them away because she knew Omega would retain the higher midi-chlorian levels and she didn't want Hemlock to know that. The Emperor needs a clone that will maintain a high m-count so he can eventually get himself a new body. We know he does get that body, but not for decades - presumably because a) he never gets Omega, and b) the Batch is gonna take the fight to them at Tantiss and blow up their entire supply of midi-chlorian donors. Think about it - they're still working on Project Necromancer in The Mandalorian (24 years after The Bad Batch), but their resources are severely limited. The Empire has been all but wiped out, the Emperor is hiding out on Exegol, Dr. Pershing is clearly no Hemlock since he keeps killing his test subjects, and Grogu seems to be the only m-count donor they can get their hands on. The Emperor's cloned body is also deteriorating rapidly in TRoS, which suggests that even 25 years after The Mandalorian, he STILL hasn't figured out the right formula for cloning himself (which is good news for Grogu and Omega).

Which brings us back to the question, "Is Omega Force sensitive?"

The answer is, "yes", she is sensitive to the Force due to her elevated m-count. We've seen this all along. Hunter most likely is, too, and maybe some of the other Bad Batchers, to varying degrees. Tech could riot race, which takes incredible reflexes. Hemlock said that Crosshair didn't have a high m-count, and we don't know where Wrecker's abilities stem from. Omega can't wield the Force because she is untrained, but the potential is there. A person's aptitude to wield the Force seems to be strongly correlated to their m-count, but we've seen others with low aptitude eventually open the door to the Force with years of training and a decent dose of impending doom (we see this clearly with Sabine in Ahsoka, but it was also a topic in Legends).

Omega being Force sensitive doesn't mean that she has to leave her brothers. She can choose to pursue her training or not. She'd also have to find someone willing to train her. I'm not convinced Ventress is looking to take on any apprentices at the moment, but she could possibly connect Omega to Quinlan Voss (imagine the trouble those two would get up to).

But I don't think Omega will choose that path. One, it would just make her a bigger target. Two, I don't see her prioritizing power over family. She's a clone, and clones are ALL about family. They're Mando coded, not Jedi coded. Screw the space Buddhist lifestyle - clones parade their attachments around like trophies. Omega goes around collecting attachments like most kids collect rocks..."Hello, stranger trying to kill me, let's be besties."

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

I realize disney's been tending to stick with the jedi exclusively adopting children with parental permission, if parents are alive, and I appreciate that aspect, but I have thought about the concept (which I am told crops up in legends) of them having some sort of legal right to force sensitive children in the republic, just because it is interesting- especially thinking about cases of child abuse.

Something that disney, legends, and fanon, all generally agree on is the idea that force sensitive children are often in danger because of their force sensitivity. Some take it further with an analogy for neurodivergent kids, since them being weird kids is a recurring theme.

And well. Realistically, over the course of about a thousand years there must have been a few jedi who found a force sensitive child who was in a deeply unsafe situation but their family or guardians had no intention of giving them up for whatever reason. How firm is the parental permission rule in that situation? What if that child is gonna die there?

Laws and systems and rights are finicky things, with often odd histories. I guess, out of all the options available, I can imagine that there was legal framework giving jedi a kind of social service role for force sensitive children and only force sensitive children*, the probably mediocre result of some bit of regulatory legislation that happened at some point, ostensibly there to protect these vulnerable children, that makes it so that technically, if a child passes this standardized test, the jedi can take them away, and that's written in republic law somewhere. Does that law also specify the jedi have to prove unfitness of the guardian? Maybe, maybe not (the republic doesn't seem to have a lot of attention to detail). Does that mean it's actually jedi custom to just go ahead and forcibly take children as a normal thing? Every line of canon dialogue says no. It could be a legal right they have but aren't 100% comfortable with, and are aware it would be unwise to abuse.

.*this is where I plug my headcanon that the blood test is bureaucratic box ticking first and foremost. it's not that i hate midicholorians, but it's a well established thing that jedi can sense force sensitive children absolutely fine without doing a blood test. For their own internal purposes, it's maybe a scientific curiosity to get a count. but for the paperwork? That is a piece of paper that officially categorizes a child as force sensitive in a way that regular people can quantify. so there.

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP EIGHT

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

ALPHA-17

@ihuntmonsters: He’s uhhh super badass and sexy and kicks ass and is really awesome and I’m in love with him Perfect propaganda yes. He shall lead Mandalore

Anon: He's pretty good with training children! He is very good at inspiring loyalty! He is very willing to go after sith lords with just his teeth if he has to!

Anon: Vote for Alpha he’s got Cody’s thighs, Fox’s tits and Wolffe’s ass. He’s also a DILF, if you consider the shebse squad/command batch headcanons. And who wouldn’t want a Mand'alor like that?

Anon: Alpha-17 would be a great mandolorian leader I mean look at those Pecs! What else do u need in a leader?

Anon: HERES WHY ALPHA-17 FOR THE WIN: HE WILL ASSASSINATE ALL OF THE OTHER POLITICAL FIGURES WHICH MEANS DEAD SKEVY SHEEVY PALPATINE AND WHO DOESNT WANT THAT?

Anon: What a guy. I love him so much. He's such an asshole. Alpha-17 was part of the second test batch of clones of Jango Fett, one of a group of 100, and as such he was trained directly by Jango Fett in the art of war; these early batches who had more contact with their Mandalorian trainers are commonly considered to have a stronger claim to 'Mandalorian-ness' because of this exposure and learning experience than clones from the later, larger batches

Anon: Propaganda for Alpha 17: tall

Anon: Alpha-17 should rule Mandalore because a good king doesn’t want the power of the throne and he does not want that at all. also he’s the funniest choice. might have the skills to not get killed by maul

JANGO FETT

Anon: Jango became Mand'alor (according to Legends) at the tender age of 15 immediately after the death of his adopted father Jaster Mereel. While another of Mereel's men (Montross) made a grab for the position Jango brought up the betrayal Montross had done to Mereel causing the older man's death. The other Haat Mando'ade fell in behind Jango as he had become Jaster's Legacy. He led the Haat Mando'ade for 8 years and seemed prosperous. - And then Galidraan happened, between poisoned information and tensions being high between the Jedi and Mandalorians it only took a spark for it all to be blown to hell.

Anon: Jango was trained to be Jaster's successor to the title of Mand'alor from the time he was adopted at about 8 years of age, following the death of his blood family - when Jaster was killed, Jango was chosen by their people to step into the role despite being a young teenager at the time, suggesting that he was already known to be a good leader, and one who had earned their loyalty and trust over even Jaster's formerly-trusted second-in-command - while his time in the position was short, he did seem to command great loyalty and respect from his followers, although his focus seemed to have been more on their faction's mercenary work than on serving as a ruler or even cultural figurehead for the people of Mandalore at large - regardless, Tor Vizsla saw him as enough of a threat to his own claim to the throne to seek his swift removal from the political field - even after having disappeared from the field of politics for years following the incident at Galidraan, many Mandalorians still answered his call to come and serve as trainers for the GAR, suggesting that they took his claim seriously as well

Anon: Jango Fett, while a man of many mistakes, inherited the role of Mando'alor from Jaster and tried to do the same as he did: honour their past, move forward and provide for their people - He took care of Montross and tried his best to protect the people who followed him, to make sure they had a future and didn't fall apart and get scattered to the winds again.

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: I mean. Jango’s got the best brand recognition? Absolutely everyone for centuries with recognise the Jango Fett look, and that army that Jango was kinda sort of responsible for did conquer at least half the galaxy, just…. Not in the name of mandalore

[freesia-writes]

Originating from this post, I'd like to offer a list of longfics featuring TCW/TBB characters for those of you looking for some good reads! Feel free to drop any others into my asks! Fics are general audience or PG-13 unless noted "Mature" at the end.

The links are mostly to the post with the authors' descriptions so you can get a better idea of what each one is about!

Crosshair

Sharp Edges - @spicy-clones and @lightwise - Crosshair x F!Reader - Mature

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy - @badbatchposts - Crosshair x OC plus Batch/others - Mature

When the Order Fell - @victimofdavefiloni - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Caught in the Crosshairs - @silverwings22 - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Half-Moon Glow - @moonstrider9904 - Crosshair x OC; TCW AU - Mature

Roasted, Brewed, and Served with Attitude - MelMorganne99 - Crosshair x OC in Modern Police AU

It Never Rains - @letsquestjess - Crosshair x OC

Sunflowers and Blasters - @523rdrebel - Crosshair x OC

Only What Burns You Back - @the-little-moment - Crosshair x OC - Mature

Tech

Tech and Vel - @freesia-writes - Tech x OC

Song of the Sea - @silverwings22 - Tech x Alien OC - Mature

Tech as a Father - @missfrieden - Tech and Batch

Gravitation - @moonstrider9904 - Tech x OC AU - Mature

Meltdown - @autistic-artistech - Tech x OC - Mature

Brother, Hold Me Up - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch, Others - Mature

The World Goes Cold - @lifblogs - Tech, Batch - Mature

Hunter

Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt - @freesia-writeswrites - Hunter x OC

Hunter and the Librarian - @clonethirstingisreal - Hunter x OC - modern day AU

Sun and Rain - @photogirl894 - Hunter x OC

As Iron Sharpens Iron - @arctrooper69 - Hunter x Reader

Echo

Not Just the Carcass, But the Spark - @the-little-moment - Echo x OC - Mature

Test Subject/System Upgrade - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Echo and the Batch

Rex

Captain's Log - @rexxdjarin - Rex x OC - Mature

Wolffe

I Yearn, and So I Fear - enigmaticexplorer - Wolffe x OC - Mature

The Wolfpack Queen - @reader6898 - Wolffe x OC - Mature

No Strings Attached and Walk Me Home (sequel) - @cyarbika - Wolffe x F!Reader - Mature

Multiple Featured Characters

Rise of the Clones - @AmberOwl24 - SO MANY CHARACTERS!

Stars Beyond Number - @dystopicjumpsuit - Clone Rebellion Echo x Riyo, Gregor x OC - Mature

The Moonwalker Series - @moonstrider9904 - Batch x OC (love triangle then single pairing) - Mature

Line of Destiny: A Series - @ilikemymendarkandfictional - Multiple Stories: Rex x OC, Crosshair x OC, Clone OCs and Howzer

Same Heart - @dumfanting - F!Reader x TCW Echo, then Fives, then Echo/Cross Poly - Mature

Blood Daughter - @letsquestjess - OC + Bad Batch Adventure 

A Lupe of Faith - @lonewolflupe - Jedi!OC x Fives, later x Hunter - Mature eventually

Stronger Together - @cloneflo99 - Rex/Crosshair x OC - Mature

Other Clones

Quantum Entanglement - @freesia-writes - Howzer x OC

Martyrs and Kings - @dystopicjumpsuit - Post-Stasis Kix x OC - Mature

The Only Exception - @starqueensthings - Howzer x OC - Mature

Disillusioned - @amberskyyking - OC + OC Clone Squad Adventure - Mature-ish

The Helmeted Hunter - @jedimasterlenawrites - Boba Fett x F!Reader - PG-13

Children of Providence - @ladysongmaster - Din Djarin, TCW Characters Adventure

The Last Word - @ariadnes-red-thread - Fives x OC

One Step at a Time - @wild-karrde - Clone OC - Mature

Welcome to the Outpost - @just-here-with-my-thoughts - Mayday!!

[gffa]

I keep updating my feed to see if you have more opinions about the acolyte episode. I feel like this recent episode could’ve used a couple of your posts as reference when it comes to how the Jedi canonically go about acquiring [redacted for spoilers just in case you haven’t seen it yet]

Honestly, it felt like the show was trying really hard to portray the Jedi's methods as hinky, but couldn't actually do anything about it because of established worldbuilding. The Jedi of the High Republic have explicitly said they have to get permission from the parents. The Jedi of the prequels are explicitly shown as not adoption-hungry, the only time we see potential Jedi younglings, neither of them are taken from their parents, one says they'll be going later, one is just handed back to her mom, no indication Roo-Roo is going to be a Jedi at all. So, I think it's a weird situation, where The Acolyte is working so hard to create tension and mystery, but I'm not sure how it's going to shake out. I keep thinking of Torbin, like, yeah, what happened was a tragedy, but why was he specifically so torn up about it that he felt he had to die to obtain Mae's forgiveness? From what we saw in the episode, Mae set the fire, Mae ran off and the scaffolding fell and she was assumed dead, the Jedi never forced Osha to join them, Osha was the one who said she wanted to go. Therefore, unless the show is really, really poorly written, there has to be more to the mystery that we haven't yet unraveled. I feel like that's also influencing everything going on with the Jedi potential adoption, that this situation feels like we still don't have the full context. Why was Aniseya so worried about the Jedi finding out how the twins were conceived? Why do the Jedi care so adamantly, when we see in both the High Republic and the prequels that the Jedi live perfectly fine with other Force using traditions/cultures? Even if this coven was dark, that doesn't mean anything to the Jedi, they were perfectly well aware of the Nightsisters' existence and did nothing about it. Unless this show is extremely poorly written/ignoring top level canon, there has to be more to what was going on with the coven than we know about. Because what we see is the Jedi felt very strongly about these two girls for some reason, but they were clear that, while they had the right to test them, it still relied on the parents' permission. We see that they're pretty aware that Mae and Osha were failing on purpose--Mae can't fake her blood results, after all--and they don't push Mae, but they do gently push Osha because everything about her is straining towards wanting to be a Jedi. And EVEN THEN they just say she passed the test, it's Osha who talks to Aniseya and gets her to agree to letting her go, not the Jedi. The show's vibes kinda feel like there was pressure from the Jedi there, but the actual content of the episode is that the coven agreed to it specifically because they didn't want to attract attention, like they weren't part of the Republic, they specifically said they didn't have to agree, the others were willing to fight about it, but Aniseya was the one who said, no, let them take the test. Yeah, the Jedi are pushing for some reason, but it feels like it's not because that's how they operate in any other situations where we see them with Force-sensitive children, but because they know something specific about this situation. So, I'm fine with everything presented so far and, honestly, it was a lot more positive than I was expecting! Like, this show isn't just a big lore dump, it has a specific story to tell, you know? It's a situation that has its own unique circumstances and, sure, they were borrowing elements from other Jedi worldbuilding, but everything we saw in there was done with permission and they made a point to roll with what each girl seemed to want. Sol was so careful not to unduly pressure Osha, just ask her what she really wanted, gave her a little nudge because he could see what she wanted. They made sure it was her choice! That it was her mother's choice! How could I have asked for more than that?

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (1)

Chapter One: Confined

Gif by @ventresses

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Rating: 18+

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Imprisoned on Tantiss, Omega finds herself needing to adjust to life there whilst the rest of you decide on your next mission to give you intel you desperately need.

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Very mild canon-typical violence, one use of y/n, Hemlock, brief wound description, nightmares with emotional hurt/comfort, my interpretation of various people's headspaces, slight angst, me going off script/episode plot in the last part, and remember, italics represent silent Jedi communications

Word Count: 5K

Author's notes: And we're off! Happy Star Wars Day!! We are pretty much just following the plot of this episode, save for a bit at the end so it might feel like a bit of a slow start, but bear with me! Technically, this will also wind up being a 'fix-it' fic so just stick with me on that process too! Hope you enjoy! And I have already started working on the next chapter! Also, I am just going off my past taglist so anyone who wants added/removed, please let me know!

21 days since Eriadu

Water dripped from the faulty tap in the small cell as light crept through the bars on the window.

Omega stared out into the open space with a forlorn sigh as she envied the birds that sounded their freedom as they chirped their usual song. She stepped down from her bed and started pacing anxiously as she waited for Emerie to make her scheduled appearance.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, the door opened, and Emerie stepped inside.

“Good morning, Omega. How are you feeling today?” Emerie asked.

“Like a prisoner.” Omega replied curtly. “I want to leave.”

“Prisoner?” Emerie repeated, surprised. “Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there. Come. We have much to do.” With that Emerie turned to leave.

Omega reached under her bed and brought out her box before she followed Emerie out into the corridor. The grey colouring of her new clothes matched the other scientists and the non-descript design of the inside of the base.

They turned a corner to pass a squad of clone prisoners being escorted past and Omega let out a gasp as she recognised the figure at the front of the line but despite her effort to look at him, he only stared at the floor.

--

Omega entered the lab and watched in quiet upset as the clone was subjected to a blood sample being taken from the back of his hand. They all had similar expressions of pain and defeat written across their faces and she wished she knew how to stop it.

Emerie placed the test tube into one of the free slots in the tray that Omega was holding before she took the datapad out and created a record for Omega. “And now I need to take a blood sample from you.”

“From me?” Omega repeated. “Why?”

“The samples are used for various research projects. All of us serve a purpose here.” Emerie explained. “It won’t hurt.” She added as a means of reassurance before she readied the equipment to take the sample.

Omega sat up on the bench. “Can you at least tell me where my brothers are? Or my friend, (Y/N)?”

“I do not know.” Emerie replied simply.

Omega held her hand out and braced against the sting of the needle as her blood was drawn. “If you’re a clone like me, how come I never saw you on Kamino?”

“Because I was sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing. He saw potential in me, like Nala Se sees in you.”

“I never knew that I had a sister. It’s nice not being alone.” She offered Emerie a small smile, but it wasn’t quite returned.

“Head to the lab.” Emerie ordered as she took the device away and placed Omega’s sample in with the others. “Nala Se is expecting these.”

--

As the security scan was completed, Omega entered the lab and walked over to Nala Se who was busy placing more blood vials into a centrifuge.

“Thank you, Omega.” Nala Se said as she took the tray from her and started processing the data from the samples and it was through that that she saw the concerning sight that Omega was now a part of the system. “Omega, your sample was taken?”

“Mn-hmm. Emerie said it was routine.”

Nala Se deleted the record from the system before she destroyed the physical sample.

Omega watched this with curiosity. “Why are you discarding it?”

“Tell no one.” Nala Se replied before she took the other samples to the centrifuge. “It is safer this way.”

Omega knew the Kaminoian well enough to pick up on the worry in her voice. “This research, it’s not like what we did on Kamino, is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“I don’t understand. Why did they bring me here?” Omeag asked, hoping that if Emerie couldn’t give her the answers that she sought then Nala Se would have some idea.

“To ensure that I co-operate. The Empire seeks the reproduction of a genetic M-count, but the experiments on the specimens have yet to yield the desired result.”

The M-count was something she was aware of but nothing else Nala Se was saying made much sense to her. “What specimens? You mean the clones?”

“No. Not the clones.”

Any further elaboration was cut off as the lab doors opened and Omega turned to see who it was.

“How nice to see you reunited with your trusted assistant.” Hemlock commented to Nala Se. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “I’m sure Omega’s presence here will only strengthen your efforts. Shall we head to the vault?” He waved a hand in front of him towards the doors.

Omega went to leave but Nala Se’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from advancing.

“See to your remaining tasks.” Nala Se instructed before they left the lab.

Omega watched them from the window and wondered what was so special about this vault Hemlock had mentioned but she didn’t have the means to find that out yet. For now, she had little choice but to head to her next chore of the day.

--

She glared at the droid as he shocked one of the Lurca hounds and she irritably scooped some food up before sending it through the hatch into the bowl of the hound she was currently tending to. As the droid’s attention was focused on something else, she took the opportunity to gather more loose straw from the ground and hid it in the bottom compartment of her box.

She carried on to the last cage to see her favourite of the hounds. “Hi Batcher.” She whispered to the hound curled up at the far end of the cage but her only reply was a low growl. It was then she noticed the bowl was overflowing with uneaten food. “Hmm. Still won’t eat the food, huh? I don’t blame you.” She stole a quick glance back to the droid to see he was still paying her no attention and she took the chance to fish out her lunch from earlier. “Here, I saved you some of mine.”

Batcher got to her feet but snarled and pressed herself aggressively against the bars of the enclosure.

In the shock, Omega had dropped the nuggets inside the cage, but she watched as Batcher ate them and swiftly retreated to the back of the space. “Better? I’ll bring you more tomorrow.” She stood up and left to do what she had been wanting to do the entire day.

--

As she slowly walked down the corridor, she glanced between each of the cells, the sounds of teeth chattering and coughing made her concern grow as she saw the effects this place was having on all of the clones here.

She made her way to the cell she’d been searching for. “Crosshair.” She called quietly. “I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

“There is no ‘we.’ And there is no escape.” Crosshair sat up. “I’ve already tried.”

“Every stronghold has a weak point.” Omega said. “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

She sounded just like them and that was the last thing he needed. “Not every clone is your ally. You trust too easily.”

“Maybe you don’t trust enough.” Omega countered but as she said that she noticed a tremor in his right hand which he tried to conceal with by holding it with his left. “Crosshair?”

“Just…” He sighed again. He didn’t need her pity or her concern. “Go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega went to leave but she stopped herself. “There has to be a way out of here. I’ll find it.” She didn’t expect a reply, so she didn’t wait for one, instead she left now.

Crosshair watched her go. Even from that small interaction, he’d already seen so much of them in her and that would either make her or break her in this place and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be around to watch.

--

Darkness had fallen and it was that time again where she scratched the next tally into the wall. She brought the Lula hay doll out and held it close to her chest- it wasn’t much but it was the reminder of home she needed. If you truly weren’t here, then Omega knew you all would be looking for her, but she was going to do whatever it took to make that easier.

--

5 months later

The dripping water, the sunlight creeping in, the birds chirping, the concealing of her doll at the bottom of her box… the routine was all so familiar now. She was already standing at the ready for when Emerie opened the door and, like clockwork, it whirred open to reveal the older clone who had the same opening remark she always did.

“Good morning, Omega.”

“Good morning.”

“Let’s begin.” Emerie led the way out.

--

Yet again, they walked the same route to the testing centre and yet again she passed Crosshair in the corridor, but she had long since learned that trying for any sort of recognition from him in this environment was pointless, so she kept her gaze down too.

She let her blood be drawn, her hand was now numb to the sensation, and she took all the samples to the lab where Nala Se once again destroyed all traces of her sample. She hadn’t been able to learn anything more about the vault or the specimens but what she had gathered was that you, Hunter, and Wrecker definitely were not here and that made the thought of escape feel far more feasible and appealing.

--

The lurca hounds were the same as they always were but as she made her way to Batcher’s spot, she saw the hound tending to a nasty cut on her front right leg. “Batcher? K-9X1! Hurry!” She yelled to the droid.

“What is the issue?” The droid asked as he approached the girl.

“Batcher’s hurt.” Omega informed him.

“LH-201 sustained injures during the nightly patrol. If her wounds do not heal, the subject will be terminated.”

“Then do something to help her!” Omega demanded.

“I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

Omega could only watch as the droid merely walked away, and she turned to the sound of Batcher’s whimpers of pain. She wouldn’t accept termination as Batcher’s fate, if the droid wouldn’t help Batcher, then she would.

She ran over to the medical kit on the wall and took the bacta out but when she reached into the kennel to try and tend to the wound, Batcher snapped at her. “Now look. I need to clean your wound for it to get better. It’ll only hurt for a second, so put those teeth away and behave.” She said sternly but it seemed to do the trick as Batcher let her do it. “See? That’s not so bad.”

Omega worked in silence for a few seconds before she spoke to the hound again, “You know, I have a friend that would’ve been able to help us get along a lot faster.” She said warmly as she continued to apply the bacta to the wound. “But I think we’re getting there now.” She smiled as Batcher gave her hand a tentative lick once she finished with the bacta.

--

“I dressed Batcher’s wounds as best as I could. At least she didn’t bite me. That’s progress, right?” she looked at Crosshair, but he gave her nothing, so she continued talking. “If she doesn’t get better soon…” She sighed. “Maybe I can steal a med kit from the lab and see if there’s anything I can use-”

“Stop.” Crosshair interrupted her with a frustrated sigh. Clearly the others hadn’t done a very good job of making her stay on course and now he needed to be the one to remind her. “What is your primary objective?”

“Escape.” Omega answered.

“Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.”

“Not without you.”

“If I get the chance to escape, I wouldn’t think twice about leaving you behind.”

“You’re lying! You wouldn’t do that. You’re my brother.”

She had been insisting on that for months now, no matter how many times he tried to push her away and he didn’t know how much more of that he could tolerate hearing. “I’m not them.” Crosshair snapped.

Omega couldn’t accept that. “I’m not giving up, Crosshair. I won’t let you either.” She got up to leave.

Crosshair stood up with a heavy breath and called out to her retreating figure. “Omega.”

Omega stopped and turned back to face him.

“Don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” He said, meaning every word.

“None of us belong in here.” She replied before walking away.

--

Her door whirred open before the usual time, and she woke up with a gasp as two troopers entered her room. She got to her feet and concealed her doll behind her. “What’s going on?” She asked Emerie.

“Surprise inspection. Standard procedure.” Emerie informed her.

“Clear.” One of the commandos said.

However, the other noticed the doll hidden behind her back and he tore it from her grip and handed it to Emerie.

“We’ve been over this before, Omega. Personal items are forbidden.” Emerie chastised her. “I’ll dispose of it.”

“Don’t!” Omega protested. “Please, Emerie.”

“It is for your own good. Come, we have work to do.”

--

It was a welcome sight to see Batcher so happy to greet her this time around. “Hey, Batcher.” Omega said fondly and she saw the wound had nearly scarred over. “Look at you. You’re almost at a hundred percent.” She gave her a soft scratch on the jaw.

“Did you not read the standing order for the day?” The droid yanked her to her feet. “LH-201 has been slated for termination.”

“What? Why? She’s healed.” Omega argued.

“The creature’s recent domesticated disposition has been deemed a liability.”

“But that’s my fault, not hers.” Omega tried to resist being pulled away, with Batcher also barking in protest, but the droid’s grip was strong.

The droid groaned. “It is protocol.”

Omega finally managed to weasel her way out of his grasp and steal his datapad but the droid reacted swiftly and started to pull it away from her. She allowed herself to be tugged airborne and she braced her feet against the droid’s torso and leaned back, the momentum giving her the victory. She got away from the droid with the datapad in her hands and she quickly activated one of the large crates on the ceiling above and it fell on top of K-9X1. She grabbed his electro-staff and shocked him with it but not before he had the chance to call security so now, she had to act swiftly.

Omega used the datapad to open the exit hatch in Batcher’s kennel and deactivated her collar. “Batcher, come!” She ran over to the bars and reached in to take the collar off the hound. “Now you need to run away and not come back, okay?” It pained her to let her one close companion go but it needed to happen. She patted her snout. “And try not to bite anyone.”

Batcher hesitated and whined at her.

“I can’t go with you yet.” Omega explained. “I have to get Crosshair first. Batcher, go!” Omega watched her run down the tunnel with both relief and sadness, but she’d get out soon too, she knew she would.

“Breaking the rules, I see.”

Omega jumped and turned around to see Hemlock standing before her and Emerie standing behind him.

“And releasing a weak lurca hound into the wild? I didn’t know you were so cruel, Omega.”

“Me? You were gonna terminate her.” Omega said angrily.

“And you believe your actions changed that outcome?” When Omega faltered in her reply, he kept speaking, “Now some rotations ago, one of our shuttles crashed just beyond this mountain. But that is not what killed them. No, it was the creatures that roam the jungle. Even our strongest lurca hounds struggle against what’s beyond these walls. And your domestication of LH-201 only made her vulnerable.”

“You don’t know she won’t survive.” Omega disputed. “She deserves a chance.”

“Oh, the flawed logic of an idealistic child.” Hemlock’s tone fuelled with quiet mockery. “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.”

She wasn’t afraid of his threats anymore. “Or what?”

Seeing the way he turned to look at Omega again, Emerie hastily intervened. “Doctor, perhaps I should return Omega to her room.”

Hemlock held a hand up to stop her from going any further and kept his gaze on Omega. “You have more to say?”

“I know you brought me here to make Nala Se cooperate. You need her. She won’t work for you if you hurt me.” Omega said confidently.

Hemlock only laughed. “Of course I’m not gonna hurt you, Omega.” He inhaled deeply. “Your friend in the detention block, however, may not be as fortunate.”

“Don’t hurt Crosshair! He didn’t do anything.”

“I did have plans for CT-9904, despite his resistance to re-education, but I am willing to make a few sacrifices if your misbehaviour continues.” He bent from the waist and leaned down towards her. “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.”

Now that threat was one that she knew he would follow through on and she didn’t want to be responsible for Crosshair suffering even more than he was already.

“Take her back to her room and restrict her access.” Hemlock ordered Emerie as he exited.

Omega left with her a few seconds later.

--

Night had fallen and Omega sat huddled on the edge of her bed, but she heard the door open. “Go away.” She said with a sigh, not even bothering to look at Emerie this time.

“Omega…”

“Please… just go.” She requested, hoping the misery in her voice would be enough to convince Emerie to leave and she was grateful to hear her footsteps retreat and she angled herself towards the door to see that her hay Lula had been returned to her. She picked it up, but the sound of a lurca howling brought her back to the window.

She attempted in vain to peer through to bars to the outside for any sign of Batcher, but she couldn’t see anything. She then looked at the growing collection of tallies that represented the months that she’d been here. It may take more time, but now more than ever she knew she needed to get out and she needed to take Crosshair with her.

--

Hunter’s eyes snapped open, and his heart was pounding in his chest, but his surroundings told him it had been another dream. The ship was still steadily travelling through hyperspace towards Oba Diah, and the three of you had been using the long journey to catch up on some much-needed rest before the mission would begin.

Reaching out to Roland Durand of all people had felt like a long shot but when he said he could help if you only found the Pyke that had disgraced him and the Durand name, it had been an easy decision to accept but it had done nothing to quell the worry and fear that coursed through his veins. He sat up and began the usual routine of deep breathing.

Ever since you’d fully opened yourself up to him and the Force again, he didn’t need to wake you anymore when this happened, you would feel everything he felt and wake up a couple seconds after he did, and this time was no different. “Which one this time?” You whispered; your tone filled with tender understanding.

“I’m sorry.” Hunter rasped as he steadied his breathing. He hated that this was having a knock-on effect on you two, especially since your own sleep had only now started to get better. You were another person he was still finding a way to let down.

You shushed him softly as you sat up next to him. You have nothing to be sorry for. “Which one?” You prompted again. You knew his sleep had been haunted by more than just the reminders of what had happened in the recent months, it was these new nightmares that were plaguing him more and more.

Hunter released a heavy breath. “Same one as the nights before. I can see her, she’s right in front of me but no matter what I do, I can’t reach her and- and then she’s taken away.”

You pressed your lips to his shoulder, and you rubbed soothing circles on his back. “This mission for Durand is another step in the right direction. You’re doing all you can. We will find her, Hunter.”

Hunter shook his head and swung his legs out to the side of the bunk. “We took too long to find you, and you weren’t even really hiding.” Hunter countered without glancing back at you.

He didn’t need to look at you for you to feel his distress. You reached a hand out to his shoulder to try and get him to face you again. “Hunter-”

He gently but firmly pushed your hand away. “I’m going to go over what we’ve got again. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

You sighed and watched him go to the cockpit. You’d seen the shift in him as had Wrecker. The relief of your reunion had long since passed and he, like the two of you, was getting more desperate to find Omega but it was affecting him far more than he was willing to talk about. His once calm and collected demeanour had vanished and he was taking on missions with little care for the risk or conditions they came with and this mission for Durand was no exception. Whilst you and Wrecker were happy to agree, there had been little discussion over the matter or the conditions of the deal. The two of you had done what you could, but you knew the only true thing that would bring him comfort would be finding Omega again.

Although a strong part of you wanted to follow him, you knew that right now, he needed the space, and you would give him that, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him drive himself into the ground for much longer.

--

You woke up again to find the space next to you ice cold and you knew that Hunter had not returned at all, and he wasn’t planning too. You tossed the blanket aside and silently walked towards the cockpit where you could hear the faint tapping of fingers against the keys of a datapad.

You leaned against the entryway to the cockpit and studied him for a moment as he kept his focus on Tech’s datapad. He looked utterly exhausted. His head drooped every few seconds, his shoulders were hunched, and weariness was written all across his face. It pained you to see him like this.

Aware that his brother was sleeping a few metres away, his words to you were quiet, “I said I’d be back soon.” He continued to tap through the intel that he’d been anxiously scanning for any detail he could’ve missed.

“You said that hours ago.” You matched his volume and straightened up. “You need to talk to me. Shutting down like this isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not shutting down. I’m doing what needs to be done to get Omega back.” He couldn’t stop. He’d let her down for long enough. The answer was there, and he kept missing it and he couldn’t stand it.

You fully came into the cockpit and kneeled in front of him. “You may be a leader, Hunter, but you’re not alone. This isn’t just the fear that we’re not going to get her back because you know we’re not going to stop until we do. There’s something else you’re afraid of.” You searched his face for a sign of what more it could be, but he wasn’t giving anything away. You kept your voice low but kind, “What is it?”

Hunter ignored you and kept his eyes fixed on the words on the screen in his possession, but he wasn’t reading them anymore.

“Hunter, put it down.” You attempted to take the datapad but his hold was too tight.

“I can’t stop. I can’t. She-” He cut himself off and swallowed thickly. “I can’t stop.” He repeated again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re too exhausted to think straight.” You said with concern. “Talk to me, please.”

Hunter silently shook his head. The responsibility of all of this was on him, you shouldn’t be worrying about him now.

You knew how hard this was and he rarely allowed himself those moments of vulnerability, but he’d been there for you countless times, it was now your turn to be the one he could lean on. “You’ve helped me through so much, Hunter.” You placed one hand on his tattooed cheek and stroked your thumb along his cheekbone and whether he meant it or not, you felt him relax into your touch. “Let me help you now.” You whispered as your other hand fanned across the datapad and started to push it out of his grasp. “Put it down.”

“I-”

“Put it down.” You repeated again, applying more pressure now as you felt his resistance fade and relief coursed through you as he let you take it from him.

Hunter finally let the datapad slip from his grasp and he let the tiredness take over and his body sagged against the chair.

“What else is it that’s bothering you?” You came back from putting the datapad away and crouched again and laid your hands on his knees.

Hunter hesitated for a moment but for this first time since he woke up, he caught your eyes and he saw nothing but love and concern behind them and he swallowed thickly. “All she wanted was to not end up an experiment and that’s exactly what I’ve let happen.”

“Hunter…”

The words just tumbled from him now. “I let down Crosshair, I let down T- I let down Tech. I was too late to save them, but I still had you, I still had Wrecker and I still had Omega. Then you and Omega were ripped away from us and that was another thing I couldn’t stop. I relied too much on Wrecker when we were looking for you, I wasn’t who he needed me to be, and I can feel that happening again. I can’t be too late again. I can’t let another person down… I can’t let Omega down.” He turned away from you once more.

Your heart broke for him. “You have done no such thing.” You brought your hand back to his face to keep his eyes on you. “Listen to me, you didn’t let them down and you weren’t too late for them. At that time, Crosshair had made his choice, and you wouldn’t have been able to change his mind. Tech, he-” You felt the emotions rise up in your throat, choking the next words you were going to say. After pausing for a second, you cleared your throat and started again, “Tech made his choice. That wasn’t you being too late for them. As for Wrecker, he won’t and doesn’t think that. You’re his brother first, Hunter, he would never think that.” You paused for a moment to let that sink in before you added, “And you weren’t too late for me either. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened as he listened to the words you said but he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully believe them.

Still seeing the reluctance behind his eyes, you took his hand and placed it over your heart. “Feel that? I’m not worried, I’m not doubting you. We’re getting her back, you have not failed her, Hunter and she’ll know we’re looking for her. She’ll know that.”

Hunter closed his eyes and let the comfort of your steady heartbeat flood his senses.

After some time had passed, you decided it was time for him to get some proper rest before you arrived on Oba Dia. “Come on.” You took his hands, and a gentle tug encouraged him enough to get to his feet.

Hunter was so tired he could barely register his movements; all he knew was somehow you were getting his feet moving and leading him back to your bunk.

“Lie down.” You instructed gently as you reached the bed.

Hunter did as you said, and he felt you slide in next to him, he willed his weary body to turn and hold you like he usually did.

You shook your head and nudged him, so his back was facing you. You wrapped your arm around him and put your hand in his and placed it over his chest. “Just close your eyes and breathe with me.”

“This mission’s gonna help us somehow, right?” Hunter murmured with a tired voice.

You planted a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Yes, it will. Drug syndicates were not high on your list on the people you were looking to stay on an even keel for. The Pykes weren’t going to stop you from doing whatever it took to get to her.

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[sw5w]

Has Anyone Been to 'em All?

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:50:08

[supersaiyanjedi14]

Artwork I commissioned from @rainbow-zebra-art of my Sabezra fankids, Brycan and Mazal Wren-Bridger! Thank you so much for this, RZ!

As a reminder for anyone interested, these two exist in my personal Star Wars AU, which is a hybrid of the Legends EU, Disney Canon, and other SW properties I want to squeeze in. I'll put some more specific stuff about them under the cut.

BRYCAN WREN-BRIDGER

Brycan was born on Krownest in 10 ABY, growing up in the immediate aftermath of the Thrawn Campaign. He grows up as a close friend of Jacen, Jaina and Anakin Solo, while also being super close to his "uncles" Kanan and Zeb and "aunts" Hera and Ketsu. Brycan is a kind and friendly boy who nontheless has a sarcastic streak rivaling his parents, and his passion for athletics and martial arts serves him well in his Mandalorian upbringing and Jedi training. Unsurprisingly, Brycan still grows up with a good deal of pressure, what with being descended from two cultural factions known for conflict with each other and being the child of two prominent war heroes. Determined to live up to his heritage while also stepping out of his parents' shadows, Brycan becomes a passionate Mandalorian warrior before enrolling in Luke Skywalker's Jedi Paraxeum on Yavin 4 at age 14. He does struggle to reconcile the contradictory aspects of the Mandalorians and the Jedi, but he does eventually learn to form a good balance with the help of his parents and Din Djarin.

The Yuuzhan Vong War puts Brycan though the biggest wringer yet, as the horrors of war cost him multiple friends and his mother is grievously wounded shortly after giving birth to his sister Mazal. He is roped into a faction of more militant Mandalorian crusaders who encourage him to give into his passions and pain, leading to a tense conflict with his father and a personal vendetta with the Vong commander Nas Choka. However, Ezra manages to save his son from falling down the dark path, and he rejects the hollow promises of revenge. He finally comes into his own as a Jedi Knight by wars' end, priding himself as a credit to his forebearers as a true Mandalorian Jedi.

Other notes:

-Brycan built his lightsaber in imitation of designs favored during the High Republic, featuring a physical crossguard below the emitter. Reflecting his mixture of Jedi and Mandalorian tradition, the crossguard is composed of solid beskar while his kyber crystal is an Adegan sapphire.

-Brycan is one of the most accomplished lightsaber duelists of his generation, mastering both the Shien and Djem-So sides of Form V as well as boasting a comprehensive academic understanding of numerous martial arts from across the galaxy. Thouhg he favors his lightsaber, he always wears a Mandalorian vambrace wherever he goes, loaded with a Dur-24 wrist laser, a fibercord whip, a portable energy shield, and whistling birds.

-Brycan's strength in the Force is easily comparable to his dad, though he appropriately focuses on the more physical aspects of his power. He's not as advanced a telepath as Ezra, but he compensates by being an awesome telekinetic and taking up a special interest in energy diffusion.

-While not as vibrant as his mom, he still inherited Sabine's artistic skill, particularly as a sketch artist. He can produce a nearly flawless rendering of someone in a heartbeat and has a talent for hand-drawn maps and starcharts. He occasionally cooks up new designs for his mom to try out.

-His best friend is Han and Leia's daughter Jaina, both of their natural fighting instincts feeding their desire to test and improve themselves. Sparring together is their favorite pastime, where they have traded wins and losses over the years.

-While a combat-oriented Jedi raised as a Mandalorian does raise some immediate assumptions, Brycan's passion for fighting is not as a blood sport. He sees it as a way of expression of his spirit, and he puts it to use for the good of others. He lives by the Form V maxim of "peace through superior firepower", wielding his skill to strike out at injustice and protect the innocent, not to flaunt his power. He doesn't go looking to pick a fight, but if fighting needs to be done, he is razor-keen and committed.

-Teenage rebellion and war trauma aside, he loves his parents more than anything in the world and adores his younger sister Mazal.

-Despite lacking Ezra's strong affinity for animals, Brycan does owns a Loth-wolf he rescued as a cub named Beskad (the mando'a word for "sword"). The two are nearly inseparable, though his efforts to mold Beskad into an oversized hunting dog have had minimal success.

MAZAL WREN-BRIDGER

Mazal was born on Mandalore in 26 ABY during the height of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Growing up in the shadow of the conflict, Mazal resolved to do her part to help put the galaxy back together after being nearly ripped apart. Like her older brother, Mazal initially wanted to become a powerful Mandalorian Jedi warrior, joining in the battles and adventures. However, this was shattered when she went on her first serious combat mission, helping in an effort to subdue a combine of pirates seeking to exploit the post-war chaos on Carlac. The mission ended in a horrific disaster, with the strike team being decimated in an ambush and narrowly escaping back to GA space. Traumatized by her experiences, Mazal found her previous passion lost, even considering turning in her lightsaber and throwing out her armor so as to never be stained by that violence again. Fortunately, Mazal received much-needed counseling from both Jedi Healers and more mundane therapists, and Sabine helped her daughter rediscover her calling. Feeling that the galaxy needed healing hands far more than warriors, Mazal was drawn to the ideals of the late Duchess Satine Kryze, seeing the value of promoting peace over the use of force. Taking up the path of a Jedi Healer and joining the reformed Mandalorian Protectors, Mazal channeled her passion into humanitarian aid, traveling the galaxy to help pick up the pieces of disaster and conflict. In a way, she does manage to become just as much of a Mandalorian Jedi as Brycan, albeit one dedicated to the higher calling of the Force and the more grounded tenents of the Resol'nare.

Other notes:

-"Mazal" is a Hebrew name meaning "good fortune". I chose this to fit a naming theme with her father Ezra as well as to reflect the safety of her birth given Sabine's injuries soon afterward.

-Despite no longer being a dedicated fighter, Mazal still keeps up on her training. She may not like fighting, but if the people she's helping need a lightsaber to protect them or Mandalorian armor to shield them, she won't hesitate to use it.

-Powerful in her own right, Mazal's Force abilities manifest strongest in her advanced skill in the healing arts, directly studying under Master Cilghal at the Jedi Academy. She also shares her father's sense-based aptitude, focusing on life-detection and projective telepathy to aid in her relief work.

-Unlike Brycan, Mazal is just as much of an artist as Sabine, constantly redecorating her room with new paintings and sketches. Her hair is her most common canvas, rarely going a month with the same dye job.

-Mazal is a self-professed daddy's girl; not even the Force can get Ezra to say no to her. At the same time, possibly as a result of having come so close to losing her and her mother, Ezra is almost overprotective of her, and was beside himself when she came home shell-shocked from Carlac. Sabine grows closer to her during her recovery period, and their time painting together played a big part in getting her back on her feet.

-She gets along well with Ben Skywalker, both being close to each other during their training. Outside of her family, Ben's the one she can confide in the most.

-Mazal is bi and dates Zay Versio as a teenager.

Feel free to ask me more about these two!

[voidartisan]

VENTRESS IS BACK!!!!!

wrecker looking to hunter for an appropriate reaction gives me LIFE

this episode also made me realize how much I miss hand-to-hand/lightsaber combat scenes. it looks so cool

THE BAD BATCH THEME. "WE'RE NOT BIG ON FOLLOWING ORDERS"

"are you a Jedi" "No but I know some of their ways" SHE WAS A JEDI. SHE TRAINED AS ONE. I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS

opposite of she should have been at the club. she should have been at the temple. roasting obi-wan and shoving Anakin down the last couple of stairs. being a bad influence on the padawans.

also if u really knew their ways u would know that they use a blood test. smh just find a medic

"we gave omega our word that we would't interfere" "YOU did" he says. holding a sniper rifle

still no conclusive results on whether omega is force sensitive. give me a definitive yes or no dang it.

just,,,, something about ventress having a soft spot for young vulnerable girls who have been ripped from their homes. girls who remind her of herself

"I have a few lives left" CARE TO EXPAND ON THAT????????

i'm taking that statement literally btw. nightsister magic has no rules

lastly ventress and fennec spin-off novel WHEN

[abigailywrites]

irenic. [obi-wan kenobi x reader]

part two of victory.

ao3 / ko-fi rating: g word count: 3.7k warnings: none

Separatist forces shoot your ship down before you even touch Lasan’s surface. You eject at the last minute, the blast catching part of your chute and burning a hole through it before the flame is extinguished.

There’s sickening dread when you think that the fast-approaching rocks may be the last thing you see. And then you impact. Everything goes dark. 

Nevertheless, you wake. Pain sears through your right side, and your head throbs. Everything is too bright, and your mind is clouded. Your first attempt to push yourself off the ground makes your ribs, ankle, and wrist burn. You scream in agony.

“There she is!” a voice in the distance shouts. You don’t bother lifting your head to identify it. You’d recognize a battle droid anywhere.

Hoisted up between two droids, you're made to stand on your ankle which you’re sure is broken if not shattered. Another scream rips out of you, and you’re hyperventilating when it’s over.

Another voice, a female voice, breaks through the pounding in your ears. “This is no Jedi,” she says. “It’s a padawan learner. How quaint.”

Icy fingers grab your chin and force it up until you’re face-to-face with Dooku’s deadly assassin: Asajj Ventress. So much for surviving the fall. 

You’re too weak to say anything. When she removes her hand, your head drops again and unconsciousness begins to pour into your skull. 

You barely hear her say, “If she’s here, her master is sure to follow. Take her back to the encamp…”

Darkness again. 

The pain from before is still there when you wake in the middle of the Separatist encampment, tied by the wrists to a whipping post, kneeling in mud. It’s the dark of night. You’re not sure how long it’s been… Days, probably, judging by your hunger. Ventress isn’t likely to feed you. If she did, it would only be enough to keep you alive. 

Something bright red clouds your vision. Blood dripping from your temple into your eye. It should’ve dried by now. Unless it’s being kept fresh.

If your mind was clearer, you might try to think of an escape. But as it is, you’re on the verge of slipping away again. 

All you can think of is Obi-Wan. How you left him. The pain in his eyes. There’s still so much you want to tell him...

There isn’t even darkness this time. Just swirling nothingness that lasts an eternity… Until the faintest of colors crawls in. A still, small voice piercing the silence. 

“Hang on, dear one, hang on…”

The next thing you’re aware of is falling back into a painful reality. You’re still tied to the post, wrists rubbed raw by the shackles. You haven't been moved even once. Who knows how long you've been suspended there with a broken body desperate for healing?

It’s another bright afternoon, and there’s a voice. A real one that doesn’t belong to a battle droid or Ventress. “I am not here to fight you, Ventress, but I will if I have to,” it says. “Wouldn’t you rather avoid it altogether?” 

Your heart begins to pound, and you begin to dare to hope. “Obi-Wan…” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. You’re not even entirely sure it’s him, but you say it all the same.

Consciousness is coming to you heartbeat by heartbeat, fading in, fading out. Fading in, you’re aware of someone crouching in front of you. Fading out, you don’t know who it is. Fading in, there’s a hand on your forehead, tenderly brushing away the hair that’s sticking to it with blood and sweat. Fingers gently lifting your chin. Thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Fading out again, but now you know for sure. No one else has hands like that. 

Ventress is saying something smug. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears.

Obi-Wan stands. Maker, he’s so close. If you had full use of your hands, you could reach for him. “Make no mistake,” he says. “I am not here to fight, but Anakin Skywalker isn’t far behind, and he most certainly is. I can tell him to turn around. Or we can test a fleet of starfighters and highly specialized clone troopers against your dozen or so battle droids.”

What happens next is clouded to you, but it feels like another age before you’re vaguely aware of being lifted off the ground. Strong arms under your knees and around your back. Vaguely aware of Obi-Wan’s voice piercing through the fog. “There, I have you now. Can you hold onto me, my darling? There we are. Good. Don’t let go, dear one.”

Don’t let go. It’s the last thing you hear before you’re fading, fading, fading… 

Your next waking moment is oddly euphoric. Your mind is still clouded, but you aren’t registering pain. There’s a bed underneath you. Your arm is in a sling, your ankle has been wrapped to immobility, and everything feels tight to the point of discomfort. You can sense that you’re in the Temple, but you’re not sure where.

“The intensive care unit.” It’s Mundi’s voice answering your unasked question. Slowly, you turn your head to face your master. He’s scowling at you like you haven’t just survived being a prisoner of war. 

“Hello there,” you say. Your voice isn’t in perfect condition yet.

“Indeed,” Mundi replies, scowl unchanging.

There’s a long silence before you continue. “How may I be of service, Master?”

“Is this a laughing matter, padawan?” he scolds. “Forgive me if I fail to find the humor in stealing a starfighter to go on a rogue mission ending in miserable failure.” 

“It was my starfighter,” you grumble.

Mundi leaps to his feet. “It was the Republic’s starfighter! Do you realize that I am currently fighting for your position in the Jedi order? You are at risk of expulsion, more than you have ever been.”

Strangely, that does nothing to faze you. Must be painkillers. “Well, I am sorry, Master,” you say. “But considering that I’m not fully recovered, may I be spared the lecture temporarily? And who knows? If I’m expelled, you may not have to give it at all.”

Mundi’s face turns bright red, and he storms out muttering, “Obstinate, stubborn girl!”

With Mundi gone, you sleep. It’s not the slipping to and from consciousness. It's real sleep, deep and restful. The painkillers wearing off is what wakes you. Suddenly aware of how much your entire body hurts, you start awake.

“Careful, careful!” a sweet voice chides. A hand like no other grabs yours, and your eyes focus. There’s Obi-Wan’s face before you. His blue eyes, stung with concern. His hair is newly trimmed and unkempt; but, Maker, it’s still him. “What do you need?”

“Water,” you say immediately. You feel like you haven’t had a drink in weeks. In fact, that may be true. “How long was I…?”

“Nearly a month,” Obi-Wan tells you as he releases your hand and pours a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. “Some thought you may not wake at all.”

He hands you the glass, and you begin to greedily swallow it down. 

“Slowly, my—” He cuts himself short.

You don’t acknowledge what he said. What he almost said. Instead, you finish your water. Slowly. “I hear I’m being expelled from the order,” you say.

Obi-Wan sighs and folds his arms over his chest. “Not exactly,” he says. “The council reached a decision this morning. If you’re able to pass the Trials after you’re recovered, you’ll remain as a full Jedi Knight. You’ll only be expelled if you fail.”

Something between dread and excitement stirs deep in your stomach. “I see,” you say. “Are you here to tell me this, Master Kenobi?”

“I’m here as a concerned friend,” he says. “That is, I hope we are still friends.”

And you know deep down that you’ll never be able to be purely friends with him. Not really. There will always be a part of you that wants to reach for him like he’s the last water in the desert. And you know that Mundi’s right. You’ll never pass the Trials with that kind of attachment.   

None of this stops you from smiling at him. “I suppose,” you allow with an exaggerated sigh. “Only because you rescued me from Ventress. If you hadn’t, I would’ve screamed at you to get out. You’re lucky I even recognized you at all with your hair like that.”

Obi-Wan hums. “Oh, yes, of course,” he says with a nod. “I thank you for your benevolence, oh gravely injured one.”

“You’re welcome,” you continue. “And I suppose, in my benevolence, I will allow you to visit me tomorrow. If you’d like to?”

He smiles. It’s that warm candlelight smile again. “I would like that very much,” he says. Then he reaches over just to tweak your padawan braid, flooding you with so much warmth, you nearly forget your pain for a moment.

A month of painkillers and physical therapy goes by. You’re just beginning to walk again, but it feels like you aren’t making any real progress. 

“Besides,” you complain to Obi-Wan one evening. “It hurts.”

“It’s going to hurt. There’s no getting around that,” Obi-Wan counters. “And I think you’re being a rather difficult patient for the poor nurses.”

“I’m being charming to the nurses,” you counter. “It’s my kriffing ankle that’s being difficult.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “My mistake.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes you want to kick him. Unfortunately, your ankle has made kicking difficult lately. “Fine,” you say, throwing your blanket aside. “Help me up. I’ll go walking right now.”

“No, no,” Obi-Wan says, eyes widening. “I’ll call a nurse to help you.”

“No, you can help me, Master Kenobi,” you say with a shake of your head. Your hand reaches for his. “Come on.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, he wraps his fingers around yours and helps you rise shakily to your feet. Slowly, carefully he leads you out of your room and into the infirmary garden. You wince the whole way but bite back complaints. His hand is still holding yours, and the other is on your elbow, gently steadying you. No complaints. You don’t want him to decide that the walk is over.

There’s a bench in the right wing of the garden where Obi-Wan leads you when you begin to tire.

“You ought to get a walking stick,” he remarks when he’s sure you’re comfortable.

You hum and shake your head. “Why would I need one? I’ve got you.” 

“Yes, I suppose you have,” he answers after a pause.

You let a minute pass in the stillness of the garden, breathing in the open air, and letting the sound of falling water lull your eyes shut. “You know,” you say. “It is getting easier to walk.”

“Good,” he says. “The worst of it should have passed by now.”

You open your eyes and turn your head to him. “It could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t shown up.”

Obi-Wan holds your gaze a moment before looking down at his hands. “I try not to think about that.”

“I think about it,” you tell him. “All the time. I thought I was going to die there.”

“It was the will of the Force that you didn’t,” he says. He still won’t look you in the eye.

You hum thoughtfully. “I wonder about that sometimes,” you admit. “I still don’t understand how you found me.”

Now, he looks at you. Oh, that’s a familiar look. The conflict you sense in him is familiar, too. The night he kissed you in the archives is only too vivid in your memory. You’re not sure how long he looks at you like that before he speaks. “I felt you,” he says, his voice quiet and raw. “I always do. As though your voice is always humming in the back of my mind. But it changed that day. I heard you screaming my name as if you were in pain… So, I followed it. That’s how I found you.”

How are you supposed to answer that? You won’t be able to without making yourself a liar. The only honest answer would be to hold him and tell him you loved him in every language you knew. So, you don’t answer, but your voice is choked when you ask, “And how did you get me away from Ventress?”

He braces his hands on his knees and takes a deep breath. “Oh,” he said. “I merely suggested that if she gave you up, I would see to it that she was left alone while she was on Lasan.”

There’s a silence as this revelation registers with you. “Obi-Wan,” you say slowly. It’s the first time you’ve said his name since you returned. “You surrendered the planet in exchange for me?”

“From a certain point of view,” he answers. There’s a smile playing at his lips, but his eyes are so tired.

Your lips are parted in disbelief, and a minute passes before you can gather a sentence together. “That, my friend, would be a pyrrhic victory.”

“No,” Obi-Wan rejects out of hand. There is something firm and resolute about his voice. He is leaving you no room to question him. “No, it was very much worth the cost.” 

Everything is crumbling in you. Your resolve. Your stubbornness. A whole life dedicated to training. Everything you’ve ever been taught. And, somehow, you’ve never been more at peace.

Obi-Wan pats your knee once before his hand lingers there. “We ought to get you back to your room,” he says. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “If you hold me up.”

“Of course, dear one.”

Walking is getting easier. You aren’t holding his hand for support.

Once you’re fully recovered, you’re graciously allowed a month of training before you face the Trials. That month slips by all too quickly. Seeing Obi-Wan becomes rarer and more precious. Suppressing your attachment to him becomes impossible. You know you’re still radiating it by the way Mundi glares at you even when you’re silent and tells you to be mindful of your feelings. You’ve stopped caring.

You’re beginning to understand what Obi-Wan meant when he described how your voice hummed in the back of his head. You’re starting to feel him, too. In quiet moments, no matter the distance, you can feel his being like you can hear your favorite song playing in another room. The strange thing is that you’re not sure it’s much different from regular love. Amplified by the way the Force connects you, maybe. But just regular love, all the same.

Your time before the council approaches faster than you can blink. Everything is going just as you always planned, and it’s making you dizzy. Your back is turned to Obi-Wan’s seat. You can’t risk looking at him now.

Something in the way you’re holding yourself must be unusual. Master Yoda addresses you. “Something to say, have you?”

Yes, you do have something to say. It has been building in you for months now. “Masters,” you begin slowly. “I am truly honored by this chance to prove myself to you…”

“But?” Master Yoda presses.

“But, I regret that I cannot take the Trials.”

Master Windu exchanges a look with Master Yoda before looking back at you. “Are you afraid you won’t pass the Trials?”

You shake your head. “Not at all, Master Windu.”

“Then why will you not take them? You understand the alternative is to resign from the Order?”

“Yes,” you say. “I simply find that the cost of dedicating oneself completely to the Jedi Order is not one that I am willing to pay.”

No one argues this, and the council is silent for a long while.

“What will you do?” Obi-Wan’s voice speaks behind you.

You turn to face him. He’s staring at you half-dazed like he’s trying to read your mind. As if he doesn’t know that you would let him in before he could ask. You smile. “Well, Master Kenobi, with the council’s permission, I’d like to continue to work in the archives. I’ve been trained very thoroughly there, and I don’t need to be a full Jedi Knight to sort holofiles.”

Obi-Wan smiles back at you.

“We will need to confer on this matter,” Windu says.

You turn back to him and nod. “I leave that to your judgment.” With a bow, you leave the council chamber, feeling lighter than you have in years.

Obi-Wan’s presence is outside your door almost as soon as you’ve finished packing away your few possessions.

“Come in,” you tell him.

He steps through the door and shuts it behind him, lingering in front of it for a moment before he speaks. “I— I have been sent to tell you that the council has agreed to your request to work in the archives.”

You respond with a smile and a nod. 

There’s a moment when he looks like he’s about to leave it there and walk away. But he doesn’t. “What did you mean when you said the cost was more than you were willing to pay?”

With a deep breath, you look down at your shoes and answer. “Just that in the past year, I’ve been happier than I ever remember being, just from letting myself feel. Feel everything: the good and the bad. And I was about to sacrifice that for a stoic life that I no longer wanted.”

Arms folded over his chest, Obi-Wan wanders across the room to you in slow, cautious steps. “And you’ll be happy? Working in the archives?”

“Yes,” you promise him. “And I assume I’ll see you quite a lot?”

He smiles. “Well, nothing ever really changes, dear one.”

“Well,” you counter, returning his smile with a teasing quirk of your brows. “Your hair changes every now and then.”

He takes another step toward you. He’s standing over you now. “Do you know why I cut my hair?” he asks, his voice low. 

You can’t find it in you to say anything at all so you shake your head. You’re craning your neck to look him in the eye. His dark, worshipping eyes.

“I did it so I could forget what it felt like to have your hands in it.”

Oh. Oh. “Well…” you say, ignoring how everything in you is seizing and burning all at once. “Rash decision.”

Obi-Wan gives you the smallest of smiles and tugs your padawan braid. It’s a useless thing now, you remember. But you think you’ll keep it. “I can think of worse ones.” His fingers leave your hair to wrap around the back of your neck, his thumb brushing just behind your ear. 

“Did it work?” you whisper after swallowing hard. 

He shakes his head and presses his lips to the space between your brows. “No,” he mutters against your skin. He moves his other hand to the other side of your face, letting his knuckles caress your cheekbone as he kisses your temple. “No.” He kisses your cheek, close to the corner of your mouth. “No, my darling. It didn’t work.”

You’ve had enough of waiting. You reach your hands up to cradle the back of his head, digging your fingers into his hair so he would never be able to forget what you feel like there. You pull him into you, lips meeting lips in blazing heat that gives you chills. It’s not the kiss from the archives. It’s not scrambling and desperate. Everything is slow and deliberate. From the way his arms drop around your waist, cinching you to him, to the way you slide your hands forward so you can feel his beard against your hands.

He pulls away, forehead against yours, just to look in your eyes. To brush your hair back from your face. Just to breathe. He’s smiling like he’s never known hurt, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, and the separation, however momentary, becomes too long. You bring his open mouth back to yours, loving every inch of warmth that he’s giving you. And you can’t help but feel like you’ve won something. And you can’t help but feel that it’s worth any cost.

[momojedi]

— TANTISS topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

**

type. loss, pt 2 note. continuation of this since a bunch of people asked me to! this will definitely have multiple parts, I'm already looking forward to sharing it with you! warnings. imprisonment, slight mentions of blood word count. 519

star wars masterlist || pinned post

With each forceful blow against the metallic wall, crimson smudges spread on it as I pull back my bloody fists with a frustrated growl. Yet, it remains useless.

Two months have passed since my confinement within this… cage . Survival wasn't on my agenda when I was apprehended; I anticipated an immediate execution upon boarding the imperial shuttle, or perhaps even before that. I was barely conscious when electric currents surged through my veins from the net, though it would’ve been a far more pleasant death. However, fate had other plans for me, which led me to Mount Tantiss.

Beyond the confines of my cell, the research facility's interior remains a mystery to me, save for the long hallway. Only  scientists or the occasional presence of a commando trooper disrupts the solitude. According to intercepted radio transmissions I’ve picked up on, I'm kept in a highly secure sector, impervious even to a Jedi's escape. And right they are.

Resting my forehead against the cold surface, the weight of the safety collar around my neck feels suffocating. Attempts to remove it are met with searing shocks, rendering me powerless.

Approaching footsteps outside my cell trigger my fight or flight senses, my focus sharpening on the cell door. But as Dr. Karr stands before, me, unlocking the cell door with a scan of her hand, a sense of familiarity offers a semblance of solace, even despite her corrupt work field. Her arrival is accompanied by a young girl, a recurring visitor whose name has remained unknown to me so far. We’ve never spoken before aside from the occasional glances yet whenever I look away, I can feel her big brown eyes linger on me sadly.

Without instruction, I rise to my feet. I’m familiar with the routine by now. As the gap between us narrows, Dr. Karr's speaks up, “Your name?”

I bite my tongue, suppressing my irritation. “[Name],” I snap, pulling myself together, “same thing is was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” Dr. Karr

types something into her datapad. 

The little girl's gaze lingers, conveying a silent empathy beyond her years. Dr. Karr continues her  tiring tests. “Count.”

I take a deep breath before rattling off the first few numbers in the speed of light when she loudly interrupts me with a cough. “Slowly.” I furrow my brows. 

“5.”

“6.”

“7.”

“8.”

“Fuck.”

“Off.” 

She lets out a deep sigh through her nose, taking down her notes. Then, she lowers the datapad. “Dr. Hemlock will be with you shortly.” And with that, she abruptly leaves as she always does.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on me as I rub my face, emitting a weary sigh. Yet, the sensation of being scrutinized persists. Then, unexpectedly, a soft voice breaks the silence. “Here.” I reluctantly pull back my hands to find the young girl, still present in my cell, offering a handmade tooka doll. I examine the creature made of straw and elastic ties, hesitantly taking it from her. 

"She comforts me when I'm lonely... I thought you might need her too," she explains gently, her sincerity palpable.

[padawanlost]

“Qui-Gon returned from Tatooine with a former slave boy. According to the boy’s mother, the boy had no father.”

“A clone?” Palpatine asked uncertainly.

“Not a clone,” Dooku said. “Perhaps conceived by the Force. As Qui-Gon believes.”

Palpatine’s head snapped back. “You don’t sit on the Council. How do you know this?”

“I have my ways.”

“Does this have something to do with the prophecy you spoke of?”

“Everything. Qui-Gon believes that the boy—Anakin is his name—stands at the center of a vergence in the Force, and believes further that his finding him was the will of the Force. Blood tests were apparently performed, and the boy’s concentration of midi-chlorians is unprecedented.”

“Do you believe that he is the prophesied one?”

“The Chosen One,” Dooku amended. “No. But Qui-Gon accepts it as fact, and the Council is willing to have him tested.”

“What is known about this Anakin?”

“Very little, except for the fact that he was born into slavery nine years ago and was, until recently, along with his mother, the property of Gardulla the Hutt, then a Toydarian junk dealer.” Dooku smirked. “Also that he won the Boonta Eve Classic Podrace.”

Palpatine had stopped listening.

Nine years old … Conceived by the Force … Is it possible …

His thoughts rewound at frantic speed: to the landing platform on which he and Valorum had welcomed Amidala and her group. Actually not Amidala, but one of her look-alikes. But the sandy-haired boy, this Anakin, swathed in filthy clothing, had been there, along with a Gungan and the two Jedi. Anakin had spent the night in a tiny room in his apartment suite.

And I sensed nothing about him.

“Qui-Gon is rash,” Dooku was saying. “Despite his fixation with the living Force, he demonstrates his own contradictions by being a true believer in the prophecy—a foretelling more in line with the unifying Force.”

“Nine years old,” Palpatine said when he could. “Surely too old to be trained.”

“If the Council shows any sense.”

“And what will become of the boy then?”

Dooku’s shoulders heaved. “Though no longer a slave, he will probably be sent to rejoin his mother on Tatooine.”

[James Luceno. Darth Plagueis]

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Elysium

Within the next 24 hours, you had been given a crash course into vampiric, or otherwise known as Kindred, unlife. Leon taught you how to rouse the blood, something you would need to do every night before you could rise from your dead slumber. 

“Never go to bed hungry,” he warned. “You may not wake up for weeks.”

The next important thing was to use it for what he called the ‘Blush of Life’, so that you could pretend to look human. Without it, your skin was the color of ash, you were icy cold to touch and had no heartbeat. You remembered the shock on your face when you peered in the mirror at your grayish body and listless eyes. Resting his hand on your shoulder, he murmured, “You’re still beautiful to me.” You shrugged it off without a response.

Mending wounds required rousing the blood and so did using certain powers within ‘Disciplines’, but you hadn’t fully crossed that bridge yet. Apparently by focusing and channeling it through your blood, you would eventually be able to call upon the innate gifts endowed by your clan. 

Some already occurred passively for you. Like when Leon tested you by hurling a glass at your face spontaneously. You caught it with perfect timing, assuming it was just by pure luck. But he rewarded you by throwing another, which you seized again flawlessly; your reflexes working double time compared to normal. He said it was dubbed ‘Celerity’.

“What the fuck, Leon?” you seethed, before smashing the glasses to the ground.

He sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

As for the other abilities, they would come with time as you honed your craft. Leon appeared to be positively cheerful about the whole thing though. “You’re doing really well,” he praised. “I’m sure you’ll pick them up fairly quickly, especially the simpler ones.”

“Like the Jedi mind trick?” you scoffed, referring to the time he pulled that on you in the park.

Pursing his lips, he ignored your jibe and clarified cautiously, “Yes, though that would be under Presence.” 

He stretched out his back on his armchair; it took a lot out of his patience to educate you. You weren’t the easiest student to handle, seeing as how you were the opposite of what he had been like with Ada, always challenging him head-on, as if you were trying to catch him out on any slips he made. Not to mention the endless snarky remarks you doled out.

“There’s one more — Auspex, but we don’t have to worry about all of this for now.”

You huffed, shaking your head at all the strange terminology you had to put up with this evening. There were many things that depended on rousing, but that also meant that sometimes your hunger would increase. It was like Russian Roulette, you never knew when you’d get hit. And then, the topic that you’d been dreading came up.

“Feeding,” he began. “There are many ways to do it, but keep it discreet.”

“I’m sure bashing the guy on the head the other night was warranted,” you argued, your tone still fraught with bitterness.

His brows knitted into a slight frown. “It was an emergency,” he muttered, before attempting to change the subject.

Heading towards the fridge in his open plan kitchen, he opened it and handed you what appeared to be a blood bag. “If you want, you could try one of these… but they’re not to everyone’s tastes.”

You squished the liquid contents inside the PVC bag between your hands, causing it to pool on one side and then the other. Playing with your food. You shuddered. The concept was still so alien to you.

“The medical ones are almost undrinkable. However, the unprocessed ones could work, at least for you. Doesn’t really do anything for the older ones among us,” he explained, though there was a momentary pause when he noticed your discomfort.

“Hey, you okay?” Reaching out for the bag, he placed it back on the fridge shelf after you surrendered the item to him silently. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. But, uh, we can go slow.” He swallowed anxiously, hoping he hadn’t touched a raw nerve with the subject matter. 

Gesturing towards the compartment, he mentioned, “I have a couple of these in here now. You’re free to have them at any time… or not.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” you mumbled, nodding despondently as you turned in the other direction. He was trying to be nice, but everything that had happened so far felt like a bad dream you wanted to escape from. You still couldn’t accept your new reality.

“Would you like to take a break?” he asked tentatively. “We don’t have to continue with this tonight, if you want.”

Clearing your throat, you waved away his concern, trying to put on a brave front. “No, it’s fine. You said it won’t be long before we’d be called in front of the Prince… and Sheriff?” The pitch of your voice rose at the end of your sentence, uncertain of whether you had used the right titles; they sounded foreign to you, as if you were living in medieval times. 

He had already explained to you the rough details of what had happened when you’d been attacked. It was difficult to wrap your head around the implications behind it, but the demonic face of your assailant continued to haunt you. Did you now have to testify in a sort of court? Would they bring you in for further questioning? How exactly did the judicial process work in this world? 

According to Leon, Kindred culture and politics were a completely different ball game from those in the mortal world. So, as much as you had a tendency to wing it in your previous life, you were way out of your league in this one.

“I’m guessing with the shit that went down, I should try to be prepared.” You gazed at Leon intently, trying to read from his expression how bad the situation was. 

There was a slight shift in movement of his lips, but other than that, nothing. Damn that man and his poker face.

“Okay, I’ll teach you what I can.” He took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. This time, you didn’t pull away. “Just stop me at any point.”

He spent a substantial period enlightening you about The Traditions, the laws of the Camarilla — the sect you now belonged to, unfortunately not by choice. The first law and most crucial of them all, was to uphold the Masquerade and prevent anyone from knowing about the existence of your kind. As of now, Leon, being your creator, or sire, was responsible for your actions until you progressed on from being a fledgling to a neonate. Basically, a point in time where you wouldn’t be treated as a baby anymore. 

You began to understand that this was the same crappy autocratic system you had despised as a human, rife with contradictions. Especially when Leon proceeded to tell you about what he jokingly coined ‘Tradition 0’.

“The thing is, I can go on about all these rules, but whatever you do, don’t get caught.” He adjusted himself uneasily on his high stool, supposedly half-regretting what he had just informed you. You had a rebellious streak, he always knew that, and perhaps even liked it; living vicariously through your actions. But he was putting you in a dangerous spot by encouraging it.

“You’re telling me this?” you coughed out a laugh.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he cautioned right after, but you rolled your eyes at his remark. Typical.

“I’m just saying some rules are bullshit—”

“Glad we can agree on something,” you taunted.

“Right, well,” he sighed, the dull pounding at the temples of his head starting to grow more persistent. “Be smart about it.”

With that, he presented a burner phone and pager, nearly identical to the ones he owned. You grimaced at the old-fashioned, brick devices in front of you. One of the things Leon had iterated was the Camarilla’s blanket tech ban. He said it was a safety precaution against the Second Inquisition, or ‘SI’ for short, who’d managed to infiltrate hordes of Kindred through their carelessness. Personally, he shared his doubts about that, surmising it was more about the older generation’s fear of technology, and using the ban as yet another form of control.

“Technically speaking, you’re not even allowed to have one of these.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he jiggled the phone, hoping you’d appreciate his word play. You didn’t, providing him with nothing more than a scowl.

Tough crowd, he shrugged before setting it down on the counter. “Anyway, I’m guessing your colleague’s gonna start worrying about your radio silence very soon.”

Fuck, Patrick. In the whirlwind of events, you’d forgotten about your instructions to him the other night.

“Pager’s usually for any comms from the Prince, among other more, uh, unconventional methods.” He recalled one of Hunnigan’s rats tailing him along the street with a spellbound look in its eyes, the dead drops, and the codes in graffiti at specific locations around the city, mimicking secret messages on ancient Venetian walls.

First things first though, you needed to allay any worries that resulted from your absence. You grabbed the phone, flipping it open. What was once a novel experience with Leon at the cafe now felt like a chore. You were unused to the stiff buttons, tiny screen and pixelated graphics as you punched in the numbers.

Pressing the age-old phone to your ear, the ringtone eventually came to halt, and you heard someone fumble on the other end of the line, along with a muffled shout over a wall of background noise, “Yeah, just a minute!”

“Patrick?” you addressed purposefully.

“Jesus! Where’ve you been? I tried calling you a million times; went straight to voicemail. Everyone’s been asking around for you! Did that guy—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I, um—” you glanced over at Leon as he eyed you inquisitively, wondering how you’d talk your way out of this one. 

“Lost my phone; think I dropped it somewhere,” was the classic excuse you settled with.

Leon nodded approvingly.

“Explains the unknown number,” Patrick inferred. “Anyway, you coming in?”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Uh, actually, I’m not feeling so hot.” That was at least a partial truth. “Gonna take this shift off too. Tell the rest I’m sorry.”

There was a low, static chuckle. “Must’ve been a wild night, huh?”

“Come on, seriously?” you guffawed, cursing workplace gossip with a passion. “It wasn’t—”

“Later, boss,” he drawled. “You deserve it.” He hung up before you had a chance to argue any further.

“Yeah, fuck you too, Patrick,” you grumbled, slamming the phone’s cover back onto itself as Leon failed to stifle a snicker. 

He’d eavesdropped on the entire conversation. You flipped him off in response, which earned you an even louder chortle.

Both of you were interrupted by a series of beeps coming from Leon’s pager. He swiped it up in his right hand, taking a peek. His jaw tightened visibly, setting into a hard line as he regarded you with a rigid expression. 

“The Prince beckons.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Huddling under the parasol that Leon held out to shield you from the pouring rain, you walked briskly beside him. Your heeled boots clacked along the city pavement, as you headed towards what appeared to be an inconspicuous underground shelter. Drawing closer, you saw the distinct mark of the Umbrella Corporation logo at its entrance. 

Security cameras lined the walls and an access control pad lit up by the side. Scanning his magnetic token against the reader, he keyed in a numeric code which caused a set of doors to open, allowing you to enter an elevator shaft.

“Umbrella’s involved?” you gasped in incredulity. It never occurred to you that the multinational conglomerate would be so intrinsically tied to the underworld.

Leon shot you a dour look, his brows puckered as a clear sign of his discomfort. “Yeah, the Prince is its biggest investor.”

You clucked your tongue. No wonder they’d always seemed shady. “So, this Prince… has he got a name?”

“Mm hm, Wesker.”

Given the way he had spat it out, you didn’t have to be a genius to guess that Leon wasn’t very fond of the man in any respect. It wasn’t a surprise, since to you, all corporate overlords were the same — evil, money-grabbing assholes.

“You would do well to follow my lead when we meet him,” he counseled gravely, as you reached the bottom level of the place, and stepped out onto the platform that serviced one of Umbrella’s many private subways across the city.

You were the only ones in the empty station. It was eerily silent until you boarded the automated train, whereupon a robotic voice announced, “This train is bound for NEST. Do not exit until the final destination.”

Leon’s mood seemed to grow increasingly morose the further you journeyed towards Elysium, where the Prince had his quarters open as a neutral ground for the Camarilla vampires to be entertained, relax and attend to important discussions. It just so happened that Wesker considered himself to be the greatest scientist ever known to mankind and fancied his Elysium to be instated within Umbrella’s laboratory complex. Apparently, the location had been considered unorthodox, but no one dared to challenge the Prince, instead resorting to petty complaints behind his back.

As he gave you a brief rundown of the place, who you should avoid and how you should behave, the train braked, stopping at the facility’s station. Leon’s final words of warning echoed in your ears, “Remember, you answer to me, and only me. Not to my sire, not to anyone else. Got that?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have made some flippant remark and opposed his sudden display of authority over you, but you’d never seen him this unnerved before. He steeled himself, his countenance turning stoic and impenetrable; the only remnant of who he was shone through his sapphire eyes. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person and you weren’t sure what to make of it. Instead, you chose to hold your tongue and observe the situation. Nodding quickly, you stuck close to him as he requested while entering the sterile, clinical setting of Wesker’s inner sanctum.

As you walked across an extended bridge towards the East Area, you noticed cliques of what you assumed were other vampires hanging around the pathways and the circular main shaft. Sipping on scarlet liquid in wine glasses, they whispered to each other, sneering as they gave you the side-eye.

Your ears pricked up as you tried to zero in on their hushed conversations. All at once, you heard a cacophony of voices surrounding you.

“She won’t last a week.”

“I’ll give her three days at most.”

“I heard she tasted delicious.”

“No wonder Leon couldn’t restrain himself.”

The voices were overwhelming, coming from all directions, and at times sounding right up close to your ear. You felt woozy and nearly stumbled, if not for Leon wrapping his arm around to catch you. He threw you a look of concern, but said nothing as he led you away from the crowd.

“Easy there, wouldn’t want to accidentally fall off the ledge now, would we?”

You ignored the feminine voice, allowing her silvery laughter to wash over you as you resolved to focus on the task ahead. Harden yourself, you breathed, imagining a void abyss into which your emotions could be emptied. Leon had mentioned they would try to faze you, and you knew now, more than ever, that in order to make it out of here in one piece, you’d need to place your trust in the man who had upended your very life.

From one door to the next, the way this complex was built seemed to mimic that of a spacecraft. The final set of doors swooshed open as its panels glided along the tracks. You set foot into a neatly manicured greenhouse, its lower temperature and misty atmosphere contributing to the lushness of the plants it housed. 

There was a tall, athletically built man in a full black formal ensemble, topped with a smart, matching coat, standing with his back to you on an elevated section of the room that served as a podium. His sandy, almost platinum blonde hair was gelled back tidily, and his hands, donned with fitted black leather gloves, were interlocked behind him in a military stance. He appeared to be fixated on something through a glass window below him. 

At his side stood a svelte lady with a tousled, brunette bob, dressed mostly in camouflage garb except for a striking cobalt blue tank top. She wielded a broad, heavy-duty steel machete, its surface catching the light and casting a menacing glint. A Doberman Pinscher sat obediently by her side, vigilantly surveying its surroundings.

It was only when you passed through the pathway connecting the entrance to the podium that you realized others were lurking around the shrubbery. Their eyes gleamed in a variety of otherworldly colors as they looked on with aroused interest at the spectacle before them. The vibe was tense, but you couldn't quite place your finger on the exact cause.

As Leon reached the edge of the stairs leading up to where Wesker was standing, he placed his hand diagonally across his chest, bowing in reverence. “My Prince,” he greeted, casting a stern glance at you to indicate that you should follow. 

You dipped your head in an awkward semi-bow, feeling completely out of place amid the formality of such a situation. He wrinkled his nose at your halfhearted attempt but left it at that, deciding it would work more in your favor not to make an obvious fuss over it. It was only then that the formidable man turned around to acknowledge the pair of you. His height, accentuated by the elevated platform, made him appear even more imposing as he towered over you. Although he sported a pair of pitch black sunglasses, you could still see the red glow of his eyes like burning embers behind them.

“Leon Kennedy and his newly Embraced childe.” He grinned wolfishly, though you didn’t understand what was so funny. “I realize your initiation to unlife was under… rather dire circumstances. My sincerest apologies.”

The tone of his voice seemed to suggest that he was mocking you, rather than being genuinely sympathetic to your plight. Your temper was beginning to flare up again, but when you peered over at Leon, you saw the strained look in his eyes and the tautness of his neck, almost as if he was pleading for Wesker to show some form of mercy. His vulnerability struck at your core, and you felt a sense of pity for him to be reduced to such a docile position. Biting your tongue, you quelled the simmering anger that was threatening to boil over.

“Such fire in her eyes,” Wesker tutted, smirking at Leon knowingly, though your sire remained expressionless. Holding out his arms, he welcomed you with them, “Let me have a closer look at you.”

For the first time you had entered Elysium, a bone chilling fear ran through your entire body, though it was soon replaced by the warmth and weight of Leon’s hand on your back, gently coaxing and ushering you towards Wesker with a reassuring gaze. You knew he was supporting you through this, despite harboring the same trepidation and dread within himself.

Once you were inches away from Wesker, he reached out, tucking his fingers under your chin to tilt your face from side to side under the harsh beams of light hanging overhead from the ceiling. “Hmm, not bad.” He licked his lips suggestively. “Tell me, Leon, did she taste as good as Sherry?”

Sherry? Who was—

“I am certain that Sherry is more suited to your palette, Prince.” His evasiveness carried a wisp of sadness. 

A respectable Prince never needed to rely on any of his Disciplines to incite fear and control over others in Court. Wesker, as a Ventrue, was more than skilled at Dominate, and could have chosen to use it indiscriminately. But what good is a Prince who relies on the powers of the blood to achieve his desires? A weak pushover. An idiot who should’ve been overthrown yesterday. 

Leon knew that Wesker reveled in prodding at his vulnerable spots with an invisible stick just to put him in his place. In turn, he was expected to perform this little monkey dance each time around the Prince for his acceptance. He just prayed that you would continue to be sensible; you were trying your best so far to temper your emotions and he was proud of you.

“Very well.” Wesker released your face, before signaling to someone at the back of the room. “Bring the rat in,” he summoned.

A scrawny man clad in a torn and bloodied hoodie was dragged by his chains towards the center of the room. His face had been mutilated and bizarre, occult symbols were burnt into his skin. Kicked to the ground, he sniveled woefully, scrambling to clasp his hands together as he begged, “P-please, I-I don’t know anything else, I swear!”

“Silence!” his captor roared.

Turning back to you, Wesker gestured towards the prisoner. “This abomination was part of the group that attacked your kind. They conducted what we call a Mass Embrace,” he lectured. 

“If your sire taught you well, you would know which of the Traditions were broken?” The lilt at the end of his sentence informed you that this was a test, as he peered at you expectantly.

You caught a glimpse of recognition in Leon’s eyes, as he offered a subtle smile in encouragement.

“Two of them,” you answered, crossing your fingers that you had memorized the text correctly. “Breaching the Masquerade and unsanctioned siring of another Kindred.”

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. “Indeed,” Wesker commended. 

For some reason, he then decided to recite the Third Tradition in its entirety, as if hinting at something to you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder. If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy progeny shalt be slain.”

Before you could respond, the woman with the machete stepped forward. “I am ready to fulfill my duty, Prince.”

“Oh, Jill.” He gave her a fond side smile. “So eager for blood.”

There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Final Death. See to it then, my trusted Sheriff.”

In an instant, she leapt across the wide distance separating the Prince from the captive, and hacked off the screaming man’s head with one clean sweep. You flinched, shielding your eyes from the gruesome display as the other vampires murmured to each other animatedly. 

This was meant as a lesson. Wherever you went, you would be observed and judged, and if necessary, put down like a dog just as that vampire had been.

As the corpse was carried away, the rest of the audience took their cue to leave the vicinity, boredom setting onto their faces once again as they sauntered out. You were about to head down the stairs, when Wesker grabbed your wrist, motioning for Leon to join him as well. “Wait a moment, little one,” he cooed.

When the room had emptied out save for the three of you and Jill in the background, Wesker spoke up, directing his question to your sire, “Since you were at the scene, any guesses as to who might be responsible?”

“Well, based on the particulars of the Embrace, and their love for creating shovelheads, the obvious choice would be the Sabbat. The clues seem to point there at least,” Leon deduced logically. “The Anarchs would be fools to pull off something so bold… and stupid.”

“The Sabbat, those insolent rats,” Wesker hissed. A hint of rage tainted his voice, as he balled his gloved hand into a tight fist, causing the leather to pile and squeak. “Do you know how much trouble this incident has caused me?”

“The Raccoon City newspapers and broadcasting network have been going off their rockers about this,” Jill piped up, making her way over with her Doberman in tow. “The fire covered up any real evidence, but the Raccoon Police Department suspects foul play. They’re calling for witnesses.”

“Leon, I have come to value your experience, especially with such delicate matters,” Wesker remarked. “I want you to investigate this for me. We can’t have any more of these imbeciles popping up where they shouldn’t be. Next thing you know, the SI comes knocking at our door.”

He glanced over at you again as a calculating smile spread across his face. “Take the fledgling with you. Let this be a way to prove herself as an asset to our domain.”

“As you wish, my Prince,” Leon obliged, though you could tell that he was dismayed by the outcome.

“Jill will brief you about the case after you’ve had your refreshments,” he continued. “Otherwise, our meeting here is concluded.”

At this, he released his grip on your wrist, the imprint of his hand still visible around it. Leon took the opportunity to loop his arm protectively around your waist, pulling you snugly against him as he escorted you toward the exit. You hated to admit it, but after the overwhelming events of today, you were thankful for the comfort he provided you.

However, after settling into a private booth in the lounge on the lower level of the East Area, Wesker’s words came back to haunt you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder.”

The tenet ran through your mind over and over again, until it finally dawned on you that your Embrace was by no accident. Leon had planned to turn you all along. You would have been beheaded by Jill if he hadn’t acquired Wesker’s permission in advance.

Your lips quivered as you stopped drinking the ruddy fluid from the glass that had been offered to you on the way in. It clinked as you placed it down on the crystal countertop before facing the man in question.

“You’re a goddamn liar, you know that?” you reproached, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. 

With just one look at you, he knew that you had discovered his dirty little secret. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. I was going to give you the choice,” he asserted, shuffling closer in desperation as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand.

“Like hell you were!” you jeered, pushing him back by the shoulders.

“I’m telling you the truth!” he exclaimed, unwilling to let you go as his eyes darted in panic, and his expression crumpled into despair. “Please, you have to believe me.”

Suddenly, the curtains drew open as a sultry, contralto voice rang out, “There you are!”

You jolted towards the source, finding yourself face-to-face with a glamorous lady in a rouge thigh-high slit dress. Her raven black hair was styled into a sleek, angular bob cut which was tucked behind her ears. A foxy smirk played across her bold red lips.

“Oh, Leon, why haven’t you introduced us? I’ve heard so much about you.”