#educating the younglings

[violent138]

Informed my sister about Batman/Superman and first she laughed and went: Dude, Superman or Batman could be their ship name.

Me (with monocle on): It's superbat actually

Sister, cackling: Wait, wait, or MAN-MAN.

*My monocle falls off*

[chikoyama]

watching twilight | @2xcursekissed

She was giddy, mind buzzing with anticipation—

Watching a movie with her kohai had been rather high on her list of to-dos. So, when Chiyori finally got the chance to steal a few hours of Yuuta-kun’s time, and arrange a bit of a workaround in her own schedule for him, she was ecstatic to say the least.

Of course, it couldn’t just be any movie. It had to be Twilight, her favourite romantic movie of all time. She’d watched it on countless occasions by herself, but sharing the experience with someone — her kohai in this case — was always enjoyable. Special even.

“Yes, the title of it is Twilight, Yuuta-kun!” Chiyori informed rather enthusiastically while she let him examine the cover art. “Your senpai used to watch this all the time,” she added, smile stretching across her lips. She found it rather endearing that her kohai was being so ardent about it.

Though, after placing the popcorn and snacks on the coffee table, the older woman seized the case from the teenage boy’s hands to receive the disk inside to feed the DVD player. “Now, watch and learn, Yuuta-kun,” she said half teasingly, wielding a smirk. Her eyes sparkled as she waved the cover next to her head.

Aaah, there was so much her kohai had yet to experience! Once she noticed the production logo appear on screen, Chiyori got up from her crouched position. Gently snatching Yuuta-kun by the wrist, she eagerly lead him towards the couch to sit.

[the-californicationist]

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever. 

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age. 

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade. 

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice. 

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones. 

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.   

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?” 

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain. 

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin. 

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high, 

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing. 

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot. 

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size. 

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself. 

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood. 

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal. 

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated, 

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus. 

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony. 

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help. 

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes. 

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you. 

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility. 

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure. 

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely. 

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session, 

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.” 

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves. 

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life. 

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure. 

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said. 

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.” 

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.” 

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs. 

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale, 

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication. 

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm, 

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real. 

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then. 

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own. 

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again. 

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done. 

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss. 

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved. 

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts. 

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan. 

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you, 

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival. 

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts. 

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame. 

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time. 

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars. 

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip. 

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots. 

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry. 

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual. 

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself. 

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement. 

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated. 

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick. 

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience. 

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused. 

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious. 

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance. 

Another loud slam. Another rejection. 

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned. 

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again. 

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation. 

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it. 

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well. 

Alpha Price had imprinted for you. 

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time. 

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people. 

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed. 

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform. 

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you. 

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.” 

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black. 

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch. 

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting. 

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent. 

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face. 

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice. 

He chuckled a bit, sighing, 

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly, 

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you. 

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key. 

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will. 

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control, 

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back, 

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command. 

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there. 

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water. 

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him, 

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him, 

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million. 

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you. 

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs. 

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake. 

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center. 

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate. 

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done. 

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform. 

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed. 

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony. 

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply. 

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant. 

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened, 

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them, 

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave. 

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar. 

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land. 

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to. 

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him. 

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil. 

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms, 

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you. 

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega. 

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done. 

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived. 

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power. 

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence. 

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard. 

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what. 

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance. 

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings. 

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly. 

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time. 

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure. 

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock. 

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power. 

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you. 

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet. 

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.      

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat. 

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response. 

No deal. 

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor. 

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in. 

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot. 

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed. 

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need. 

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped. 

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body. 

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness. 

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest. 

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him. 

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars. 

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core. 

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. . 

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief, 

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream. 

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland. 

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core. 

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste. 

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see. 

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you. 

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight. 

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths. 

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais. 

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever. 

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again. 

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love. 

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

So I did some math.

Kanan in Rebels says that, before Order 66, there were ten thousand Jedi protecting the galaxy.

Let's be extremely generous here, and assume he means ten thousand Jedi Knights. And let's take it a step farther and assume that this is at the end of the Clone Wars when the Jedi were streched thin, and that normally the number of Jedi Knights and Masters is higher. Counting the Corps, Padawans and the increased number of Knights, the number of able, field-ready Jedi could double the 10,000 Kanan mentions.

So, 20,000 fully-fledged Jedi. Half to protect the galaxy, the other half to restore planets, give access to free education, etc.

Of course, we're working on the assumption that none of these Jedi is permanently injured and unable to return to the field, or that they don't have duties to tend to in the Temple like taking care of the younglings. I'm, again, being very, very generous here.

There are a trillion people on Couruscant alone.

This makes the people's expectations (both in and out of universe) of what the Jedi should do absolutely laughable.

They're not enough people to invade a single planet, they aren't even enough to fill a fucking football stadium in my country. You want them to end slavery while also holding negotiations, diplomatic missions and be omniscient enough to know about the Sith Grand Plan? Be fucking real, man. They're streched thin doing everything they can.

My 140 people quirky Church hasn't solved human traffiking on our 7 billion planet population (same exact ratio btw). Should we stop giving soup and home-made clothes to the poor and focus on an impossible goal so that we don't stray from our purpose?

All my estimates have been extremely generous, almost to an extreme, and as such they are probably not very acurate. It's way, way worse.

And that's barely scratching the surface. On numbers alone, the Jedi cannot do any of the shit you want them to do. If we count permanent injuries and disabilities that may take Jedi out of the field, children, elders, archivists and others, the number becomes much more depressing.

[evilminji]

Waaaaait a fuckin second >.>

You know the Agricorps? Where Obi-Wan almost went?

Where generations of JEDI YOUNGLINGS who "aged out" may have gone, along with the OTHER Corps? Such as the Explorer corps? Who are probably off in Force knows where, poking at rocks, going "hmmmm, yes, it appears..... I am HELLA fuckin lost."???

THEY? Are not "jedi" as far as most people think of them.

JEDI are the whooshy swooshy dudes with the lightsabers, right? The KNIGHTS! Fancy robes and live in the temple.

J'onn, who is a farmer, that got assigned by... somebody? SOMEBODY after it all went to SHIT around here? Yeah, J'ONN isn't a JEDI! What the fuck are you talking about? He grows space yams.

Buuuuut you're wrong! Ain't'cha? J'onn sure fuckin IS a Jedi. He went to Jedi school. Grew up in the temple. Probably looks up one day, in the middle of the fields, as the force tells him "take the fucking jedi logo off your overalls NOW" and?

Whooop! Naked J'onn! Oh dear, lost his overalls in the compost heap. Unfortunate.

Time to gather the kids he's technically not allowed to have but no one ever checks on them so screw the rules! Honey! We gotta leave! Yeah, all of us!

Cause like???

Look me in the eyes. Look me in the FUCKING EYES. (o.o) (as I stare creepily into your soooul~) and tell me Papadapaline would even fuckin REMEMBER the Corps.

Sure, eventually, he might. If he finds the crumbled note he threw somewhere. But they're not "important" right? Not like the KNIGHTS. The WARRIORS, in his eyes.

Because? He is a SITH.

And the Sith value POWER.

Not education. Not agriculture. Exploration or hyperlane maintenance.

And HEALING? Medicine? Psssshhhhh. Only in so far as they can twist it! What use is the Corps to him? They are NOBODIES.

Buuuut? Funny thing about nobodies? They tend to be the most dangerous sort of all. The tiny spark. The well placed word. That one form filled JUST were you hoped it would not be. The Force LOVES nobodies. They are the butterflies that blow galaxies apart. Bend and reshape destinies. Steal somebody's stapler.

They are not Jedi, they are Corpsmen.

Order 66 wouldn't effect THEM.

@spidori @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @mayfay

[lets-try-some-writing]

https://www.tumblr.com/lets-try-some-writing/768522286265417728/have-you-seen-the-humans-are-space-cats-tag-i

Just saw this post; how many times do you think a human snuck aboard a cybertronian ship simply because they diddnt have anything to lose on earth or just wanted to start a new life.

How would the cybertronians react to their stowaway?

You know what? I love this prompt so take a lil fic thing to go with it. Partially inspired by @nova--spark's Earth101 writing.

Human Stowaway

Report from: OSCD (Organic Study and Comprehension Division) - Expeditionary crew of The Illuminator.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

During out last scientific expedition to the planet Earth, we followed proper procedure and the tests we ran went as they were meant to. However, it was only once we were already en-route to Cybertron that we discovered a little... souvenir from our planetary assessment.

An organic, a human specimen that calls itself Mah-Ark Hah-Rt, snuck aboard our vessel. We were aware of the phenomenon of humans abandoning their world in favor of sneaking onto Cybertronian vessels. But we did not anticipate a human deciding to take up residence on our ship. We are just a science vessel after all, and more often than not, reports of human stowaways come from private ships and small visiting groups of younglings attending tours of Earth for educational purposes. Those humans are usually returned or taken in by the vessels they board. But in both cases, there are certain contingencies already in place for such an event.

We do not have any such contingencies. And so as soon as we discovered Mah-Ark, we opted to take care of it until we arrived on Cybertron and could send it to Captain Bumblebee, the designated liaison to Earth. With all that said, our interactions with Mah-Ark have been interesting to say the least.

Scans and close assessments using our knowledge of humanity have indicated Mah-Ark is a human male. It, (or as Mah-Ark prefers to be addressed) he appears to not be much older than two stellar cycles of age, nineteen by Earth solar standards. Despite our studies of human languages, communication has been difficult. Mah-Ark speaks only a little of Earth's major language of trade and instead primarily speaks the Earth dialect of 'Russian'. We have no idea what he is saying most of the time, but we've learned to largely read him.

So far, we've managed to figure out why he's here based on a few scattered 'memes', various pop culture references, and through having him draw things. He used quite a few English curses along with the name of several planetary leaders on his homeworld, so we assume he has been dissatisfied and tried to escape elsewhere. He also drew a rather devastating scene of several human shaped figures being hit by a vehicle, so we've come to believe he may be without a clan to lean on. With that in mind, his abandonment of his planet makes more sense.

After we pulled Mah-Ark out of the vent he was hiding in, we discovered quite quickly that humans have needs that must be met. After his internals made very concerning sounds and he proceeded to pull out a can of mushed... stuff, we concluded that we needed to get supplies. Mah-Ark needed to fuel first and foremost, and we lacked the necessary resources. Mah-Ark brought enough supplies to fuel himself for roughly an Earth week, but we had to take a detour to try and find alternative fuel for his organic frame. We would have returned to Earth, but by that point the effort would have been wasted due to travel constraints. In the end, we took a path past a techno-organic world where we used some excess funding to purchase an array of fuels.

The techno-organics inhabiting the world were kind enough to offer suggestions, but presenting the fuel to Mah-Ark was informative and annoying in equal measure. Mah-Ark was unable to use his mouth bones to pierce the thick shell of many of the nuts we purchased, and even when broken, he was still incapable of digesting many. The few that we concluded were soft enough to be consumed did not often appeal to him. He purged them from his systems soon after or otherwise was unable to keep them in his frame. We attempted to offer fruits from the techno-organics as well as a few of their other organic crops, but most were rejected by our stowaway. We checked everything and confirmed it to be close enough to Earth plant life to be consumed safely, but Mah-Ark had opinions and flat out refused a great deal of it.

Analysis of human customs, specifically 'Russia' and its surrounding territory revealed a more meat and carbohydrate based diet. Once we discovered this, we made another detour to a similar planet and spoke to the organics there for guidance. With their aid, and after confirming Mah-Ark would be safe to wander, we had our human properly outfitted for long term space travel and gathered supplies suitable for him. He greatly enjoys meats rich in fats along with various baked goods. The organics we took him to found him quite endearing and supplied us with enough to make it to Cybertron and longer, just in case. We considered purchasing H2O, but thankfully, as a science vessel, we have machinery to gather 'water' and produce it for Mah-Ark.

With his fueling and hydration concerns addressed, housing Mah-Ark was a whole other affair. Humans are complicated creatures. The mutterings from other crews with humans make it seem as though their humans are totally comfortable anywhere. While this is partially true, Mah-Ark did not enjoy many of the places we put him. The vents were too dark for his liking and we often found him crying when left alone there for long. The loss of water from his system was concerning, so we moved him to other various alcoves. He was not found of high places for fear of falling while in recharge (we were unaware humans moved so much while recharging). He disliked the space beneath the command console where there was a heater. He muttered something about 'boiling' and we quickly got the picture after assessing his liquid loss.

Even when we found a place in our Captain's quarters for Mah-Ark to reside, the human was not happy being so far from the crew. Humans are also social creatures, and thus we devised a system to keep Mah-Ark from losing too many fluids to stress. Every time Mah-Ark had to recharge, he warned us with a 'yawn' and one of the crew would hold him in their arms. Or if the crew was also set to recharge, one of us (usually decided by a randomizer), would take him to berth with them. Each of us created a small makeshift location near our berths for Mah-Ark. He liked being able to see us.

We also found that soft things were greatly appreciated by our resident human. Mah-Ark hoards things that are soft, and so we ended up shredding one of our emergency thermoplastic sheets for him to use as bedding. He seemed to appreciate it, especially once one of the crew carefully fluffed up the torn substance into a nesting material. Mah-Ark was surprisingly resourceful and wove the provided material into a surprisingly solid berth in each of the crew's quarters. Since his various berths have been created, Mah-Ark has been noted being exceptionally cheerful, at least based on body language and the abundance of 'laughter'. It was a bit difficult to adjust to Mah-Ark's frequent need to recharge, but we have learned to adjust.

By the time we had all of this figured out, Mah-Ark had been with us for almost two Earth weeks. Around the third Earth week, Mah-Ark expressed a severe amount of restlessness. Observation led us to believe he lacked enrichment. And it was through our attempts to handle his needs that we discovered just why other crews enjoy having humans around.

Mah-Ark brought various devices that were rendered useless in deep space, and so we devised a few new things for him to watch media on. Most of it was in Cybertronian, but Mah-Ark began to learn through watching out media. Before we knew it, Mah-Ark was making noises akin to glyphs. It was incredibly slurred and almost indecipherable due to his organic biology, but he learned some of the easiest terms and we soon found ourselves watching him speak like a sparkling. He learned to point out energon, various parts of the frame, and several important parts around the ship. Once we confirmed he was able to comprehend pieces of our language, we began to guide him.

Humans are quick learners.

After almost two Earth months with us, Mah-Ark spoke enough broken base Cybertronian to be understood. We learned that he enjoyed engineering, specifically working with heavy machinery. Our resident medic took the chance to see if it was possible to train a human in a useful Cybertronian skill, and to our surprise, Mah-Ark learned and became a very useful tool to scan to for micro fissures and other small issues in our frames. Mah-Ark, so long as he was properly guarded in armor and body suites, was quickly able to figure out where small errors were located and even begin helping to weld and stitch things into place.

He has made a useful medical aid indeed. Additionally, he learned to help maintain our ship and, after a few close calls with pipes, became proficient in assessing the internal wiring of the command console. His small size has made him beyond useful in many regards.

Aside from his useful application, Mah-Ark has... endeared himself to us. He has interesting insights and takes such joy in things we know to be commonplace. His short life means he had seen next to nothing of what we have. It brightens our cycles to show him all that we have discovered and learned and watch him awe over it. In turn, he tells us of his life on his homeworld, at least as much as he can. His existence is simple, but his descriptions and illustrations of his life have made him more than interesting. He's a companion. He is, despite being so much smaller and far more fragile than us, a thoughtful member of our crew.

Every day he learns more and speaks more of our language, albeit a version we have dumbed down for his benefit. He has even begun trying to create various tools to travel around the ship faster, in order to match the speed of the rest of us of course. He loves to watch and ask question. He enjoys being held in our servos. He is... more than a pet. He is a friend.

In light of all of this, the crew of the Illuminator would like to make a formal request to keep Mah-Ark Hah-Rt as part of our team. We would also like to request permission to correspond with other vessels with human crew members to learn of their ways and possibly get Mah-Ark a few of his own kind to associate with. We lack information on medical care for humans along with various other niche subject matters regarding his care. It would be amazing to have access to further resources, or even a call with Captain Bumblebee or others who are familiar with Earth.

We care for our human. No matter how small he is or how short his time with us will be. No matter how complicated it is to learn of his needs. We want to keep him. The crew of the Illuminator make this request fully acknowledging the difficulties ahead, but this stowaway is ours, and we intend to keep him if possible.

[kenobers]

wholesome obi-wan headcanons

tw; cigarettes (you won't catch Master Kenobi vaping)

Obi-Wan's a bit of a hypocrite

He may chastise you for your caffeine consumption, but God forbid anyone try to separate that man from his Jawa Juice

However, it's not because he thinks he's above anyone else, but rather because he knows his habits are bad

Speaking of which, he was most definitely a cigarette smoker in his padawan days

He kicked the habit when Anakin became his first padawan, but he still keeps a box or two of Eopie Blues at a close reach.

Always indulges the younglings, who are all enamored with him

Lets the little ones climb all over him like a jungle gym

Doesn't hesitate a crying youngling and comfort them

Touch is definitely his love language

He's very much the type to immediately touch your forehead if you say you're feeling sick

Ruffles your hair when he's proud

Places a hand on your shoulders when you're anxious

Biggest hugger in the Jedi Order (the bar is exceptionally low here), has a great sixth sense for when someone needs a good hug

Forehead Kisser

A true master of power naps

Makes you offer to put away other people's shopping carts at the grocery store

Drops the most insane dad lore

Doesn't quite seem to understand that it is insane

"Lots of people have a catalogue of songs by famous outlaw folk singers written about them."

"I don't understand you're so hung up on that. I guarantee you the Jedi life will lead you to do much stranger things than be offered a spot in a cannibalistic cult that worships a broken droid they think is the Maker and will rise again."

"It's not that odd to be banned from a planet for turning down their queen's marriage proposal. Frankly, it's a miracle Anakin isn't banned from any at all."

He's got a knack for hand sewing

He's a fancy man, but he's certainly not wasteful. There's no need to part with a perfectly good tunic just because it has a fixable hole in it.

Also has a knack for cutting hair

Always cut Anakin's hair for him

Knows how to do Mandalorian (French) Naboolian (Dutch) and Gungan (fishtail) braids (most definitely probably thanks to that year he spent with Satine)

Has the tiniest first aid kit but manages to fit everything he could possibly need in there

Including menstrual products and mint tea (good for the tummy)

Keeps an eye on padawans on harsher masters

This is partially part of his duty to make sure all padawans are getting the care and education they need, but also because he wants to make sure all padawans know how much their presence and hard work is valued

It's not his place to question another master's teaching tactics, but he can make sure he slips in a praise or two for the padawan whose shoulders always seem a little slumped

[lightsaber-dorphin]

Jedi Order Corps and Subdivisions

More of my worldbuilding for the inner structure of the Jedi Order. This time focusing on the Corps and the schools of thought/ roles within the Order.

Some of these are canon, others are my own creation. The Jedi consolidating to one temple on Coruscant during the Ruusan Reformation is canon, but I’ve taken my own liberties with it. Without further ado, lore!

Prior to the Ruusan Reformation, there were a number of independent denominations of the Jedi. Most of them merged into one order based in the Coruscant temple during what was called the Reunification.

Many denominations had different ideas of what a Jedi should be/ how they should use their powers. As a result, Jedi from certain traditions tended towards certain jobs within the reunified order. The corps and their branches formed as a result of certain traditions and teachings being passed down by Jedi who occupied certain roles.

The corps aren’t administrative divisions. Individual Jedi have their corps and branch affiliation listed on file as a marker of what they specialize in/ what they’re trained to do. Jedi are selected for missions based on their corps and the specifics of the mission, and answer to whichever body sent them on the mission. (see my Jedi Order Bureaucratic Structure)

Reunified Jedi Order:

One permanent location on Coruscant

Wayfinders:

Wandering Jedi who are technically members of the Order & follow its precepts but don't answer to the Council

Nonspecific:

Individual members can and do have corps/ division affiliations, but the group as a whole doesn't have a corps/ division affiliation

Usually part of the Sentinels or EduCorps

People aren’t selected to be trained for these jobs it’s all volunteer work

A lot of people do it part-time or for short periods, but a few folks make it their permanent gig

Maintenance workers:

Sometimes someone says “what if instead of going on missions I patched all the holes in our drywall” and why would they stop them

Lots of part-time volunteers

Most are Sentinels, because their philosophy encourages learning random useful skills

Quartermasters:

Distribute supplies

The Order buys stuff in bulk and then Jedi pick it up from the quartermasters office

Kitchenmasters:

Jedi way of saying chef

Transport mechanics:

Do you know a Car Person? Imagine if they were a monk.

Accountants:

The most dedicated to preserving the Jedi way of life of any group in the Order

Without these unthanked warriors the Jedi Order would’ve been destroyed by late-stage capitalism

Most are Lore Keepers

Lawyers:

Usually hired from the outside

Inspired by "Jedi Counsel” on ao3

Sometimes a Jedi goes to law school

Temple Guards:

Protect the temple and are its first responders

Based on the lore from "Nameless"

Very connected to the living force within the temple

A little spooky!

Education Corps:

Advance in rank via academic achievement

Maven is the title equivalent to Knight

Can have multiple padawans at one time (but usually don’t)

Lore Keepers:

Strongly believe in the importance of academics

Believe knowledge is the path to connection with the Force

Based on "The Librarian's Lineage"

Preceptors:

Teaching is hugely important to the Jedi, and all Jedi teach & learn how to teach to some degree, but for Preceptors it’s their main focus

Like the MedCorps it has a lot of transfers

Normal Preceptors:

Classroom teachers

Have formal education training

Either work for the Department of Classes or the Department of Primary Classes

DoC and DoPC are roughly the same thing, except the DoPC is for the general education classes all Jedi take as children and the DoC is for elective and continuing education classes

Battlemasters:

Teach lightsaber classes

Have formal education training

Inspired by "Careless to Let It Fall" on ao3

Main differences are that there’s more than one & they take education classes

Crèchemasters:

One lead crèchemaster and two-ish assistant crèchemasters per every 6-ish younglings

Formal training in early childhood education

Must serve as an assistant crèchemaster before being a lead crèchemaster

Assistant crèchemasters are from "aphelion" on ao3

Exploration Corps:

One-on-one apprenticeships

Rarely in the temple (unless they have a padawan, when they’re required to be there more often)

Usually have a bed in a communal room at the temple instead of their own apartment

Use Knight title. Yes this is sometimes confusing

Vanguards:

Wandering explorers/ patrol the galaxy

Instead of responding to specific requests they visit places & are available if anyone wants their help

Specific purpose is to make sure the Jedi don’t neglect/ are unaware of certain parts of the galaxy just because it hasn’t requested Jedi aid in a while

Seekers:

Find potential Jedi and offer them a place in the Order

Bond with new initiates and ease their transition into the Order

Archaeologists:

Expertise in Force-temple ruins

An undead Sith~ sleeping in your bed. Who you gonna call? Ghost! Busters!

Work closely with the Lore Keepers

Most likely to become Wayfinders or leave the Order (by percentage not numbers)

“Former Jedi who got really interested in a niche of archaeology without many Force-related ruins” is a thing in the archaeology community

They can work on normal digs but the Senate won’t approve sending them/ use of Jedi funds

Medical Corps:

MedCorps padawans are very rare. Most members transfer in from another corps

Student healers from other corps have a healing mentor in charge of their healer training, separate from their lineage-master

Healer is the equivalent title to Knight. Healers-in-training are called Student Healers, no matter what their rank is

Knight Corps:

Knights being a fifth corps

This is the corps we see most in canon

One-on-one apprenticeships, Knight title

Guardians:

Focus on fighting abilities & lightsaber combat

Consulars:

Negotiators, ambassadors, diplomats

Focus on Force abilities

Sentinels:

Focus on non-Jedi skills such as hacking

Considered a midpoint between Guardians and Consulars

Shadows:

Jedi spies

Answer to the High Council

Watchfolk:

Permanent/ long-term posting within a system

Agriculture Corps:

Focus on nature-related abilities

Grow most of the food for the Order

Very involved in disaster relief work

Rarely in the temple & usually have a bed in a communal room instead of a personal room

Have long-term postings & typically get settled there

Padawans are assigned to a group rather than an individual

Maven is the Knight-equivalent title

The chapter that inspired this whole project

Terraformers:

Large-scale Force usage

Can revitalize uninhabitable areas

Use the Force to rapidly speed up regrowth, kickstart life on planets where there is none, etc.

Conservationists:

Don’t believe in using the Force on the scale that Terraformers do

Use the Force to help individual plants grow, stave off rot and parasites, connect with animals, etc.

Beastmasters:

Creature specialists

Force-sensitive animal control

Inspiration

[prettyacademia00]

aquatic people in the jedi temple

considering the wide variety of species in the jedi temple, there are definitely bound to be a range of needs by each, such as aquatic people, nocturnal people, blind individuals (like the miraluka), those with other disabilities, etc. as such, there's probably accommodations for each of them.

headcanon then: there's an area of the temple that is like a massive manmade pool, or multiple pools, where the community of aquatic species lives in, having their respective sleeping quarters in pods along the "walls" of the pool, and an area in the middle for other recreational or educational purposes

the exterior of the pool has a hallway outside of water that goes around and connects to each room, and maybe each room has a window that is like a pocket that connects the area with air to the water like a tiny ship moon pool and the aquatic person can peek out their "window" to speak with the land people

the central area of the pool has spaces for eating, recreational purposes, classrooms, and meditation spaces, all of this so that those who are made for water can relax, eat, sleep, and do their day-to-day tasks and hobbies comfortably

still, not all are the same, which means the tech that they used in the mon cala episodes in sw:tcw were developed, or simply advanced, by the jedi for the sake of having land species hang out with their friends and lineage members underwater, or there are a lot of oxygen "bubbles" for them to use

this is especially great when thinking about aquatic species forgetting about their need for water, since they're technically supposed to be in water at all times, and i can imagine land species jedi hanging out with their aquatic friends, masters, or padawans above water, noticing that they're dehydrated, and then dragging them to the pools as they grab an underwater suit or mask

picture this: padawan bant eerin being super focused on her studies and not paying attention to her health needs for the moment, and obi-wan pulls her and her (waterproof) study materials into the pools to chill and study underwater

padawan nahdar and kit meditating together in the center of the pools, or practicing with their specially-made lightsabers for underwater combat

jedi knights and masters visiting aquatic younglings and playing with them in the water before they're fully adjusted to being out of water

just a space made for the respective needs of all jedi!

[antianakin]

I feel like fan reactions to Naboo and their elected monarch system and Padme's part in it is QUICKLY becoming as onerous as the way fans react to the Jedi and the Padawans.

"Naboo relies on children to run its government"

Does it though?

Two out of the four most canonical Naboo queens we've ever seen were fully adults as far as we can tell. Only Padme and Apailana are actually children, but Jamillia is very clearly adult and Neyutnee doesn't seem to be a child either. Padme makes a comment that obviously does tell us that she's not the first child queen nor the youngest queen ever elected, but this doesn't necessarily mean that Naboo REQUIRES its queens to be children or even that it PREDOMINANTLY elects child queens. As far as that quote tells us, Padme could literally be only the SECOND child queen ever elected. Just because she isn't the youngest ever doesn't mean there was any more than one other child queen elected before her and that one person happened to be elected younger than 14. That's just as accurate of a headcanon to make as the one that says that most queens are elected as children.

We also don't see children in any other positions of power during either TPM or TCW. The governor of Theed is clearly an older man, Palpatine is clearly an adult as the Senator (and Padme herself is an adult when SHE becomes the Senator), and there's nobody else that we ever see other than Padme and her handmaidens who is clearly a child in the scenes depicting Naboo's government. So it seems just a little unfair to claim that Naboo relies on children to run its government. EVEN IF we pretended that it only ever or mostly elected child queens, the vast majority of the people making political decisions appear to be adults still.

From a meta perspective, Naboo having child queens appears to be just another aspect of the message about the wisdom of children (note the clear foil between Padme and Palpatine as two politicians from the same planet, but she is the wise child and he is the corrupt adult). It comes up again in AOTC with Yoda asking the younglings to help Obi-Wan with his question about the missing planet and then saying that the mind of a child is wondrous. It's not some sort of hidden message about Naboo being a corrupt piece of shit hiding underneath natural beauty.

"Padme was raised to be a politician/child queen"

Was she though?

Her mother appears to be an educator and her father works in some sort of refugee organization, neither of them is a politician themselves nor are we ever told that they are, and in the deleted scenes from AOTC, we hear that they're actually not SUPER happy about Padme still being a politician because of how dangerous it is for her and would presumably prefer if she quit her job as a Senator and came back to Naboo to live a quieter life. This is an opinion they're so open about that Padme has to ask Anakin to lie about what he is and why he's traveling with her to try to keep her parents from getting anxious and when he chooses to reveal that information anyway, they instantly start talking about how much they don't like how dangerous Padme's job is. That doesn't sound like the kind of people who would've required or even encouraged Padme to go after a political job as a child. They clearly chose to SUPPORT her political interests early on, but that doesn't mean they RAISED HER with that expectation on her.

Padme appears to have chosen to become a politician and to campaign to be Queen all of her own free will and because she wanted to pursue that path for herself. Why do we need to take that agency away from her? Even if she says she believes she was too young for it and seems to regret the path she chose now that she's an adult, it doesn't mean it was FORCED upon her. The parallel between her and Anakin is RIGHT THERE, they both chose a career path that they believed was what they wanted, but the reality of it turned out to be something different than they thought and they both feel trapped within a cage of their own making. The whole point is that they can LEAVE this cage any time they want, that they made the choices that led them to where they are and they can MAKE DIFFERENT CHOICES if they want to, but some part of them clings to this path they're on rather than embrace the uncertainty of letting it go for something that could make them happier.

[eldewinddolly]

🦎 Half-goblin Holly backstory headcanons 🦎 (including some more general goblins headcanons because actual canon is *not it*) (very long post ahead, but I felt it was due time to expand the lore of my beloved half-goblin Holly) - Her dad's name is Lezzare. Holly was very close to him as a youngling ; he used to affectionately call her "B'wa-biba" (darling sparkle) - He made all her childhood clothes himself, as per the goblin tradition of mending : goblins love to patchwork their clothes with visible stitches, and fabrics passed down in the family from generation to generation - to allude to how their skin shed naturally and symbolise the love and protection of the family allowing them to grow. This tradition is mostly seen as an excuse for poor craftsfaeship compared to the more sophisticated, gold-thread embedded clothing of the elves and centaurs, but many goblins are actually very skilled at sewing. - He and Coral met at the university, at a marine biology class - Coral attended as a student and Lezzare as an auditor (goblins basically aren't allowed to pursue higher education in Haven because they are deemed too stupid) - Lezzare was an activist fighting for goblins' rights, and advocating for a demilitarised Haven (arguing that the People should only defend themselves against mud people as a united front, and not further the divides between the fairy families according to the "nobler" elven values and morals). - Even though he was a pacifist, he was sent to Howler's Peak after a mass arrestation following a deadly terrorist attack, when Holly was still quite young. Coral joined LEPMarine and moved to Atlantis with baby Holly so they could go visit Lezzare more easily. - Holly still loved her dad, but the stigma of being a goblin hybrid and her dad being in prison slowly started to take a toll on her ; especially since Coral was gone working most of the time, and Holly spent a lot of days with various LEP officers both being very dismissive of her and her father, and encouraging her to join the LEP like her mom. - When Coral died, Lezzare was allowed to attend the funeral, which absolutely didn't sit well with Coral's family who hated him and disapproved heavily of their daughter's relationship with a goblin. At the funeral, Lezzare started performing a goblin fire grieving ritual which was interpreted as an aggression attempt, causing an absolute riot between him and Coral's family and LEP coworkers, with Holly torn in the middle. - Holly was extremely mad for a very long time at her father for ruining her mother's funeral. Lezzare was also really upset that she chose to join the LEPrecon after everything they did to their kind. - I believe they were strictly no contact since, and for at least the first three books. But after meeting Artemis, and the B'wa Kell rebellion, Holly starts to see things a bit more differently, and a bit less black and white. Julius' death, then the events of The Opal Deception leaving her out of the LEP and more isolated than ever, as "the goblin LEP experiment that ended up being a murdering failure like every other goblin ever is", really changed her entire perspective. - Now she sees her dad more often ; mending their relationship takes time but they find things to bond over, and it gets better 🧡 ... That's it for now ! Please tell me what you think about all this ! Also, I've started working on a feature film two weeks ago that's why this piece took forever to finish ; even though I'm really done with it, and I think I could have done better with the color palette (too same toney imo), I'm pretty happy with how vibrant it globally turned out. And I'm also quite happy with Lezzare's face 💚

[passportclown]

Shockwave x Reader

Warnings: Lack of humanity and empathy, denial of subtle emotional attachment

Basically, Shockwave has subtle feels and examines his human companion experiment. Meanwhile, human just wants to explain the FNAF lore. No actual explanations of FNAF lore aside from mentioning a name. Struggled to portray and characterize Shockwave despite him being one of my Favorite characters. I'm used to writing emotionally volatile individuals. I hope someone can enjoy this, I liked writing it.

Takes place after TFP and maybe sometime during RiD. Shockwave is living on his own in a laboratory he constructed on Earth. Might make this a series.

ao3 link

Companion? Negative. Experiment? Logical.

Shockwave considers himself to be a logical being. No- he doesn't consider himself to be logical- he is logical.

But his small organic experiment truly tests his rarely fluctuating patience.

Said organic is currently sitting on his desk, incessantly chatting and yapping, distracting him from his current experiment.

He originally procured the organic for study, curious about Earth's dominant lifeforms. The creature piqued his curiosity, so he originally refrained from dissecting it.

He's currently questioning that decision.

"So, his name was William Afton, okay?"

Shockwave continues to ignore the organic struggling to explain the story behind some Organic Youngling games. He hasn't the faintest clue why the organic is insistent on 'educating' him.

"Cease your nonsense." Shockwave interrupts the human, bluntly and unemotionally. Not angrily, of course, Shockwave is much too calm to be swayed by a human. Simply.. displeased. The human flinches and Shockwave stares curiously. His finials twitch briefly as he examines the micro-expressions on the Organic's face.

Humans are so similar to Cybertronians, yet so.. different at the same time. Perhaps it's due to humans being closely related to Unicron. He ponders whether that would make humans a cousin species to Cybertronians, or perhaps a less evolved fleshy variant. 

Despite their small organic processors, they're capable of intelligence and emotional capacity. Many of his fellow Decepticons compare humans to insects, which regarding their size is an exaggeration but not entirely inaccurate. 

Homo sapiens. A widespread primate species. Their method of fueling is primitive but effective enough. They digest their fuel and their body expells the waste produced afterwards.

Their designs are intricate and delicate. Shockwave is aware of his large size and thickness compared to other Cybertronians as well. If he were to angle his digit just the wrong way, his human experiment would be offline.

He barely noticed how he was caressing their small form- no, not caressing, studying. He examines them up and down, his digits lingering on their skin through their clothes.

Humans don't come with natural plating, they construct their own. Innovative. Intelligent. Humans are inherently illogical, emotionally driven, and messy. But at the same time, they're intelligent enough to create weaponry and protection and homes.

Compared to Cybertronians they're primitive, but they've existed for far less time. Shockwave ponders how humans would end up if left to their own devices. How would they evolve? How would they change?

"Shockwave?" His human speaks up.

His finials twitch, and he nods in acknowledgment.

"Can.. can I tell you more about the FNAF lore now?"

...The human may be illogical, but they are Shockwave's. He will continue to study them as they age and decompose. They are.. an interesting and prime test subject.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being another displaced Padawan with Cal Kestis

Cal Kestis x jedi!reader

warnings: angst, STAR WARS JEDI SURVIVOR SPOILERS

a/n:

prompt:

you and cal went way back

like, jedi padawan back

so after the purge, about five years later, you guys reunited by chance. thanks to cere junda, no less

and, god, seeing someone so familiar after trying to get by on your own, someone who knew the feeling of the trajectory of your life being thrown off before you were ready, that wasn’t easy to come by

“you’re here” -cal

“i’m here” -you

“we survived” -cal

“just barely” -you

cere was delighted that the two of you could have lifted each other’s spirits so much, which was very much needed in desperate times, as you two were just given a very important mission by a former jedi master in your order

you and cal kicked some serious ass together, helping one another relearn old lessons your masters had taught during your youth

“i think running across walls was the hardest thing i was ever taught” -you

“it took me forever to get that right! i could only get two steps in before i plummeted to the floor!” -cal

you shared a lot of stories and emotions during travels, in private

and not all of them were positive, but this was the first chance you’d had in five years to face these emotions, to air out your feelings

“do you miss the clones? i was so fond of our battalion, they were always so kind to me” -you

“i think…i think that was the worst part. the people who defended us in battle, gave me pep talks before training, always there, that same face at every turn suddenly behind the blaster that was meant to put me down” -cal

“i miss them” -you

cal and you had your missions together…and separately. you’d be on one planet and he on the other, trying to race the empire and inquisitors to the holocron

“it could happen all over again” -you

“it could be the key to saving the galaxy” -cal

“or we’d be creating a generational tragedy” -you

“so would the empire” -cal

“you’ve got me there” -you

cal gifting you ponchos from his travels (lol)

“any chance you like pink?” -cal

“well…” -you

braving zeffo alone while you knew cal was somewhere far more dangerous, you had a bad feeling about it

but your teachings from the order were always the same, no attachment. mission first, feelings second…no, last

but on cal’s adventure, he found merrin, a nightsister from dathomir

you hadn’t seen any nightsisters since ventress, which did happen to make you feel a bit off

“cal…you sure?” -you

“trust me, y/n. things have changed. merrin is just like us” -cal

“cal told me much about you. another survivor. a pleasure” -merrin

you and merrin grew quite close actually

she was truly spectacular, and swapping stories with her was sort of educational

“wait…the jedi responsible for the nightsister genocide? you said lightsabers, plural? how many?” -you

“four” -merrin

“two green, two blue?” -you

“precisely. how did you know?” -merrin

“hang on, no way—” -cal

“my master killed him shortly before we were split up…when the clones turned” -you

“grevious? really? master kenobi finally got him?” -cal

“who is this ‘grevious?’” -merrin

“general grevious, he was a separatist general—a cyborg. he wasn’t a jedi, he stole lightsabers from his kills. he ordered the attack on your home” -cal

“i’m so sorry, merrin” -you

you three were still healing from many scars, but doing it together was much more achievable than trying alone

it was a wonder you even made it to fortress inquisitorius

you, cal, cere. all three of you fought like hell to save those kids.

now, cal and you, you two had much different perspectives than say, cere or trilla

displaced padawans. little guidance. cal was barely old enough to even be a padawan learner, but times were desperate and the order called upon the youngling to start quite early. you were in a similar boat. it made you two see eye to eye better than most

trilla, a padawan with much more training and insight, one who was failed by the order that she was most loyal to. failed by her own master.

cere, a devout jedi master who failed many people who were counting on her. who lost herself to a side of herself that every jedi is supposed to fight.

and just before any resolution could come of all of you together, the famed and feared darth vader showed himself

and the sinking feeling you felt before he arrived froze you

“what is it, y/n? y/n?” -cere

*ominous breathing sounds*

you shook off the feeling, fleeing instead

cal and you were split up when you swore vader made a point to hold you back

“run cal! get out of here!” -you

“y/n l/n, i was hoping i would see you” -vader “where is obi-wan?!”

“i thought you were dead” -you

“is that what he told you?” -vader

“you’re going to kill me to get back at him? i haven’t seen him since the purge, anakin! i left!” -you

“there is no anakin!” -vader “did you leave, or did he leave you?”

“are you just going to let cal get away?” -you

“he can’t get far” -vader

“my journey is not important to you” -you

“you are like me, y/n. obi-wan failed us. these inquisitors are weak, impressionable, disposable. but i know how you think. i know how he thinks. i give you the opportunity to join me. fight with me.” -vader

“i saw the holotapes, anakin. i saw what you did to the younglings and i will not let you do it again. we are not alike, obi-wan did not fail me. i took a page out of ahsoka’s book, i found my own path. and it is not beside you.” -you

“this is not over, y/n. i trust you’ll find your way out” -vader, force pushing you off a ledge

you did find you way back out and merrin was quick to save you before going back for cal

you were left completely unharmed, as well, which was quite the surprise to everyone else

“what happened back there, y/n?” -cal

“nothing i’d like to relive” -you

cal nodded and let it go, focusing on the holocron floating before you all

your mind kept replaying memories as they discussed what to do with it

memories of anakin’s massacre. vader’s speech. younglings you couldn’t save. luke and leia somewhere across the galaxy. the inquisitors.

“destroy it.” -you

in one quick swipe, cal took his lightsaber to the glowing blue cube. no questions asked

and from there on, it was no longer about the order. you remembered why you left in the first place. the purge, the politics, your master couldn’t contain himself. your troops turned their blasters on you. everything you were taught was bantha fodder. and you were just a padawan

it was now about disassembling. scaring the people in power while giving the little guy some hope.

“this is a much better gig than obi-wan playing by the rules” -you

“from what you told me, him and anakin never played by the rules” -cal

the name made you shudder, but you pushed past it

“well, anakin was known as the rulebreaker. obi-wan always tried to reel him in. but, i’ve noticed a rule or two that master kenobi had bent” -you

“anakin has a padawan too, right?” -cal

“he did. she was also a rule breaker. when she left the order, i almost followed her. last i heard, she went to mandalore with half of the 501st. i, uh—” -you

“right…” -cal

you were still haunted from the encounter on nurr. still hadn’t told cal and it was eating you up inside.

but the fighting made it feel better

dismantling, stealing, helping

and then merrin left. and cere. and greez settled down. and you and cal were just two makeshift jedi knights with your tragic pasts and your need to keep your place in the galaxy

and keep each other close

but not too close

those rules you followed, the one’s obi-wan followed, you threw them out a long time ago. the jedi order was corrupt. you examined each council master postmortem and decided that they were all flawed despite their rank. you hated them for it.

but decided the one teaching you would follow would be to lose hate, a step to the dark side.

you didn’t really even know at this point, what was the difference between right and wrong anymore

cal and you continued fighting. joined up with saw gerrera. never left each other’s sides

which…sparked feelings you’d never really been taught or told how to deal with

only aversion, really. but it wasn’t like you didn’t really talk about it

“i don’t really see the problem with it. look at everything else we do, that’s not exactly the jedi way” -you

“it’s dangerous” -cal

“love is dangerous?” -you

“attachment is” -cal

“i figured you already had attachments. we were all a crew before this” -you

“i let them all go” -cal

“and you’d let me go?” -you

you began constantly questioning these ways and trying to fight for a new future with cal, without pressing too hard

but it was hard to ignore those feelings and harder to constantly be denied by your old life

and it was harder when the new crew always teased you two

“come on, kestis. if you don’t, i will” -gabs

“yeah, just go for it. who’s it hurting?” -bravo

“i’m just not ready to go there” -cal

you were more bothered than you let on

but you always put the mission first

up until your trip back to coruscant

“this is just a reminder of how little it all matters now. there’s no one left.” -you

“that’s why it matters” -cal

the intensity of this mission made it so it was just the two of you again

and maybe that would spark something…but you doubted it

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 // @pheonixfire777 //

[edenemy-art]

guys i have some theories for skeleton crew!!

theories & spoilers below cut

theory no. 1: Jod is/was at some point definitely a Jedi and ended up being either a part of Tak Rennod’s crew or defeated by them.

he was probably a padawan or youngling who survived order 66 and took refuge with pirates, so he twisted his views to align with his pirate life. that’s why his views on attachment are so skewed and twisted from the Jedi way.

his many aliases would make sense if he were a Jedi because he couldn’t risk being caught and turned in to the Empire. also, if everyone knew him by a different name, it would be harder to track him down if one alias was found out.

also why he’s so deflective about whether or not he’s a Jedi

the theory that he was once part of Tak Rennod’s crew is not based on much tbh. just a maybe

now, i do think that he was at least defeated by Tak Rennod & his crew at some point. my proof: the lightsaber. the lightsaber seems to call out to Jod at the end of episode 5, and i really don’t think that’s a coincidence. i think that was Jod’s lightsaber, and i think Rennod got ahold of it by defeating Jod.

theory no. 2: Tak Rennod survived the crash on At Attin and is now the Supervisor.

it is heavily implied that Rennod survived the crash, considering that in the log, he knows what the treasure of At Attin was

i firmly believe that the “Jewels of the Old Republic” were all mints at some point—which is why At Achran looks so similar to At Attin—but were all destroyed or decommissioned for one reason or another.

Tak Rennod found At Attin and vowed to make sure that it didn’t meet the same fate that the other Jewels did.

hence, his destroying of all evidence that At Attin ever existed, and making sure SM-33 killed anyone who inquired about At Attin

i think Rennod is the one who put up the barrier and made sure no ship got in or out, so he could keep all the treasure to himself

i also believe that he is the reason the education on At Attin is so supervised and linear, so that everyone on the planet is there to make him more and more money.

we have yet to see Rennod’s or the Supervisor’s face yet, so i say guilty until proven innocent

[spacialshrimp]

[¿What if a Youngling hurted you on purpouse?]

-----------------------------

Author note: I wanted to write something else about yautjas so there is going to be random "What if" yautja posts sometimes.

Also this idea is from @raccoonsrummagerostrum

I hope you enjoy

-----------------------------

It was a common day for you and you're mate in the clan village, you're mate has came back from hunting a couple of days ago ,and were spending every second together.

Now you two were at the market , looking for some fur coats, since both of you we're going to spend chrismas with you're family ,so you're mate wanted to be as ready as possible for the cold of winter.

In that moment someone hit you on the back of the knee, it hurt but not bad and when you looked you saw a pup, with a small playful and mischievous smile ,spreading his jaws.

When you're mate saw it he growled at the pup, and after the mother came, both of you went back home, an hour later, Mother and pup shwed up at you're door, and the youngling had a bump that made him look like a unicorn.

Then the female made the pup look at you and say:

¿what do you say?

Sowy

¿Why?

Becawse i hitted you..

¿And?

And.. thwats not okey...

You were impressed, but you knew yautja education was different, so you just accepted the little one apologies.

------------------------------------------------------

Im sorry if it was short, i hope you liked it.

[bambiiboop]

After watching the season finale, I’m just imagining domestic din 🥲🥲 i can imagine him falling for grogus teacher, at the school he goes to when he’s not on missions with din. especially seeing how nurturing and caring she is with him. And they live happily together as a clan of three ( maybe more 👀)

Yessss oml how cute ???

He doesn’t expect much to come out of sending the kid to school, but he’s not so arrogant as to think he can teach him everything.

Sure, he can teach Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. How to fight, how to navigate, how to negotiate. He can tell him stories and legends from their culture, but at the end of the day, he’s probably not the best one to teach the kid how to read, write, and do math.

Not like he can’t, but he just doesn’t have the patience. Besides, it’ll be good for the kid to go to school. Make some friends. He’s still only learning how to talk, but maybe that’ll come with socialising with someone besides Din, who, let’s be honest, isn’t the most talkative of people.

Navarro has a school. Two, in fact, with the population increase. One for the younger kids, one for the older. The younger kids learn their letters, how to read, math, geography. They play sport in the courtyard and make wooden swords to play with in arts class. The older kids study history, maps, languages. Some take apprenticeships as blacksmiths or mechanics.

Honestly, Din isn’t sure what to make of it. His own education was spotty, taught by older members of the clan. He never had a formal education as such, so he doesn’t know what to expect of someone who makes educating younglings their profession.

He certainly doesn’t expect someone like you, who’s so patient and kind. While taken aback at first, he finds himself watching you. Noticing little things. How you don’t chastise the children who are a little louder, a little different. How you make time for each and every child under your care, treating them all as though they’re special, all equal.

Maybe he was a little worried Grogu wouldn’t receive that same kindness. He knows his son is different, in a variety of ways.

It doesn’t seem to bother you; you find a way to communicate, to understand the kid even though it’s difficult. Once he’s worked out his letters, you give him a little datapad to input words into, and it speaks for him. It’s limited - Grogu can only learn so fast, and he’s still very young - but basic phrases are still giant leaps.

With the help of his data pad, Grogu can introduce himself, say yes, no, please and thank you. The other kids stop being wary of him and invite him to play with them. It’s kind of cute, actually, watching a group of five year old human kids and Grogu playing some sort of ball game. One day Din shows up to collect him and they’re finger painting together, Grogu and a little boy and a little girl.

You just smile at him as he walks in, put their picture on the wall to dry.

“We learned a new word today.” You tell him, and Grogu taps his datapad.

“Hello, dad.” The artificial voice says.

While he’s still wearing his helmet, behind it, Din smiles.

It’s almost inevitable that he falls for you. Inevitable that you reciprocate. You’re bonded by caring for the same small, strange child who endears everyone to him.

When he asks you to live with them, he’s nervous. Expects you to refuse. Is elated when you say yes.

Once you’ve moved into the little house, the walls decorated with paintings Grogu has done with his friends, you’re standing outside together, watching the kid play in the shallow water nearby.

When he turns to you, hands on your waist, and you in turn go to hesitantly remove his helmet, he doesn’t stop you. He lets you, lets you set it aside before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

What was once a clan of two officially becomes a clan of three, and honestly? He’s never been happier.