#graphic mundi

[expendablemudge]

HAKIM'S ODYSSEY: Book 3 From Macedonia to France, a graphic indictment of selfishness and greed that many need to read. Graphic Mundi gets kudos from me for all 3:

[graphicpolicy]

Graphic Mundi announces its fall publishing lineup

Graphic Mundi announces its fall publishing lineup #comics #comicbooks #graphicnovel

[smashpages]

Out this week: Nuking Alaska (Graphic Mundi, $19.95):

Alaskan resident Peter Dunlap-Shohl recounts what life was like for the state during the Cold War and the constant threat of nuclear war. 

See what else is arriving at your local comic shop this week.

[robkirbycomics]

First review of Marry Me a Little is in (from the venerable Publisher’s Weekly), and it’s pretty sweet. 

[mar-ruiz]

(vía Review ― 'Down to the Bone: A Leukemia Story')

[garadinervi]

Georges Perec, (1969), A Void, (Metagraphs), Translatred from the French by Gilbert Adair, «Verba Mundi», David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc., Jaffrey, NH, 2005, pp. 284-285

[book0ftheday]

Last Ones Left Alive by Sarah Davis-Goff. Cover photograph by Sally Mundy, design by Alex Merto. First U.S. edition 2019.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1828

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnaubingo -Non-Traditional Alpha Traits @spnabobingo -Bed Sharing

A/N: This part has a couple of flashbacks in italics

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART IX

Partway down the drive, the car sputters and dies, rolling to a stop a few yards from the house. Bobby got up, mumbled idijits straightened his trucker cap, and heard the Impala’s squeaky doors simultaneously open; then Dean's voice was carrying on the night air, “If you’ve screwed up my car, I’m going to kick your ass!” 

Bobby marches towards the car and spits, “Stop giving your brother a hard time.” His rebuff dissipates when the elder brother's scarlet irises lock on him. Dean moves in front of a female sitting in the backseat like a predator protecting its kill and menacingly growls at him. 

****

Sam quickly rounds the car, blocking the Beta from his line of sight. “Dean, calm down, it’s Bobby. Remember when he'd play baseball with you instead of practicing with the shotguns?” Dean ignores Sam and tries to round-end his equally quick brother when a hand grabs his wrist. Dean halts and peers back at the O, who points to him, her ear, and Sam, who advises, “Listen to your Omega Dean."

Bobby’s jaw drops upon hearing the youngest Alphas' words. He sees the O wince as she holds her arms up and watches Dean quickly shift from aggression, something the younger man is prone to, to the gentleness he remembers from childhood. Once out, she scented the air before making the universal sign for Beta. “Yes, he is. Bobby, this is..," Dean strumbled over what to call her when she held up her hands and, with her fingers, indicated the number 4444968503.

“That’s a helluva lot of numbers for your name, little lady,” Bobby remarks, looking sternly at Dean. “Do I have to worry about you going for my throat while sleeping?” Thoroughly abashed by his reaction toward the man he considers a surrogate father, he responded No, Sir. “Good. We’ll discuss this," gesturing to Deans still scarlet-hued eyes, "later." Bobby peered around his darkened scrap yard. "Let's get inside. I feel like a crow waiting to be picked off here.”

Little did the seasoned hunter know how right he was as two celestial beings observed the group from the shadows.

"You know,” the one in a business suit said, “When they told me the apocalypse had gotten the green light and the job of watching over Michael and Lucifer's vessels to my department, I thought, this is it, this is what’s going to make me more than employee of the month for the fifth, no, sixth consecutive millennium. And I was this close," held two fingers centimeters apart, "To getting the key to the Axis Mundi and mano e mano with the big guy.” His features hardened, “Of course, that was before you. Care to explain why disregarded orders to get rid of that birth defect?”

The other looked across the yard at the parties retreating to the house while his unerring memory returned to the past. 

****

Castiel was assigned to watch over Dean from his conception. As his charge grew, he was in awe of the boy's perception of others' emotions and intuitive knowledge of how to comfort them.

Shortly before his fourth birthday, John and Mary told their son that he would be a big brother, showing him the ultrasound photograph and Dean got excited, saying he’d be the best big brother to his two siblings. His confused parents again explained there was only one pup but Dean skewed his little face into a fierce expression, continuing to insist there were two amused his father.

On the other hand, Mary felt apprehensive at her offspring's insistence, and the feeling grew throughout the pregnancy. A few months later, she was fixing lunch when Dean came running in and began talking to her middle, saying he would be the best brother in the world to them. He placed his tiny hands on opposite sides of her swollen belly, and Mary felt kicking directly under them.

Several weeks later, Deans bounced off the walls, saying his siblings would be here tomorrow. John and Mary reminded him it would be longer before his brother was ready for his debut, but in the wee hours of the following day, Mary’s water broke.

John found himself juggling a hospital bag, his son, and his mate to the car for the hospital. The angel sat in the backseat gazing at his excited charge and felt—regret, aware that fulfilling his orders to eliminate the extra pup would unduly distress the vessel.

But before Castiel could further analyze this sudden human emotion, he got distracted by the doctor saying there were complications with the pup. They needed John's permission for an emergency procedure. Not detecting any unnatural issue in the mother or pups, he quizzically followed to the delivery room where Mary, despite being drugged, had a quick delivery.

The angel watches the doctor evaluate the slightly sedated pups and deems them healthy before handing them to a nurse. But instead of taking them to the nursery, they detoured to the stairwell, and Castiel quickly realized they weren't a staff member but rather someone intent on stealing both pups. The angel intervenes and then finds him in a quandary. 

Saving Lucifer's vessel left him holding the baby—specifically, the unnecessary pup whose existence puzzled heaven. When the female gazes at him with disturbingly focused eyes, other emotions trigger in the angel, leaving him unable to complete his task. Momentarily searching, he transports her to another state and swaps her with another stillborn pup. 

****

"You disregard the plan that's been in place for eons because some reject made you feel?!" Zachariah barked out a laugh of disbelief and turned to his companion. “I’m going to ask and don’t lie. What made you grow a conscience this time? Strike that. I don't care. Now, who else knows about your screwup?"

"I told no one."

"Then we've got a mole within our midst." Zachariah is interrupted by the Winchester Alpha pulling into the yard. Pointing a finger at Castiel, the senior angel says, "This is your only chance to return to my good graces. Find out who is behind that thing's reappearance."

“Okay, thanks.” Bobby tossed the cordless on his desk. “Dr. Stevenson can get it, but it’ll take a day.”

“Good," John says, tossing back his third glass of whiskey. "The sooner that implants back in, the better.” Bobby sipped it on his glass, studying the other hunter he’d known for years. 

Bobby learned the day they meet that John Winchester was an obsessive bastard who’d do anything to get the demon that killed his mate, including dragging his two very young sons into the hunter life.

****

The first time the boys were left with him, Sam had just turned three and was curious about everything. Dean? Well, he found the seven-year-old rather odd. He would get out of sorts if his training schedule were changed but patient as Job with the toddler, answering every question, no matter how crazy they were, and caring for Sam as if he were his pup. 

One night, screaming woke him up. Rushing to the room the boys were sharing; Bobby stopped dead in his tracks. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking a howling Sam, trying to comfort him with tears streaming down his face. When he saw Bobby, Dean panicked and began apologizing, babbling on that Sam didn't mean to do it and he’d clean up the mess, confusing the Beta before noticing Sam had wet himself and the bed.

Reassuring Dean it wasn’t a big deal, Bobby gathered some clean sleep clothes and rustled them into a warm bath. Leaving Dean to watch Sam, he stripped the soiled bedding and tossed it into the washer, making a mental note to get a bed protector, grabbed a lawn bag, split it open, and placed it under the spare bedding.

He had just finished remaking the bed when Dean, carrying his sleeping brother, entered with a weary expression that made Bobby sad and angry. 

Putting on his kindest smile, he helped them back into bed, left a small lamp he’d found on, and told Dean to wake him if they needed anything, no matter how trivial.

****

Bobby returns to the present when John drops the now-empty bottle on his desk. Reaching into a drawer, he pulls a fresh one. Topping off his glass he remarks, "You wanna tell me why you failed to mention Dean has a fresh claimed Omega, let alone one beat all to hell." He stares John straight in the eye while sliding the bottle toward him.

John suppressed snarling for such an impertinent question, knowing he needed to stay on good terms with the Beta until Dean finished his mandatory probation and told him about Helms's establishment, Sam witnessing the O fighting with his Alpha lugs—explaining why it looked like it went three rounds with a vengeful spirit—to purchasing it for a dollar.

However, John couldn't hide the flash of guilt in his eyes as he skimmed over what happened at the clinic before admitting the judge's enforcement of the claiming statute was his fault, but didn't sugarcoat the details of witnessing Dean's claiming horrified Bobby.

“If everything is like you say, what'd you need Frank's help for?"

John looked directly at him, saying he needed the state order to take Sam erased if Dean failed to fulfill his probation. Bobby knew the Alpha was lying through his teeth but didn't call him out. Instead, he threw his drink back and headed to bed.

Passing the room the boys still occupied when staying; Bobby could hear them talking before loudly closing his bedroom door, giving John time to finish that second bottle. When he reopened it later, he could hear the Alpha's loud snoring, and carefully snagged the keys from his jacket, slipped out the kitchen door, and took the scenic route to the Alpha’s truck.

Bobby knows whenever John is hiding won't be in the regular places, i.e., in the glove box, over the visor, ect; began examining the vehicle's exterior and, finding nothing, opens the weapons catch. Nothing stands out when he spots a curse box and recalls John inquiring about creating one some time ago.

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

PART X

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[koscheys-skull]

About This Blog: Functionality, this is a side blog. My main blog may be found on my main page. I follow from croziers-compass which is an Age of Sail, Terror, and Polar Exploration blog. I also have a writing blog which you may also find on my main page.

This is an 18+ Blog. Minors, I am terribly sorry. But I shan't be responsible for you. You are responsible for yourself. I will block if I notice Minors following me.

This is an LGBTQIA+ Friendly Blog.

Terfs get cursed.

About The Necromancer:

I am an active occult practitioner that specialises in Necromancy, Demonolatry with a focus on Death Demonic, Alchemy, Wortcunning, and Folk Magic. Casually I will tell people I'm a Folk Practitioner as that is the Axis Mundi of my practise. My Necromancy is Folk. My Demonolatry is Folk Demonolatry. My Alchemy is Folk Alchemy.

I work with the dead and spirits of the dead alongside the Death Demonic. I also am a curse breaker from time to time as the need arises.

My Patron is Lucifer.

The Demons I work with the Most: Murmur Bune Bifrons Eurynomos King Paimon Belial Mephisto Verrine I also work with the Baphomet, Several Saints including Saint Cyprian, the Patron Saint of Necromancers.

I am a Diviner and Craftsman. My medium is Osteomancy (Bone Reading) and Cartomancy. My main decks are Ophidia Rosa, Marigold by Amrit Brar, and Flux Arcana by the amazing Micah Ulrich who also has a shop! I offer readings from time to time. But it never hurts to drop an Ask in my Ask Box if you're looking for one.

If you got a reading from me and you'd like to Tip Me, I have a Ko-Fi. I come from what some communities call "FamTrad" (Family Tradition). All aspects of my work have origins in Family Traditions passed down to me from my grandmother and other kin. I have been an active practitioner since I could hold candles for ceremonies (about 6 years old).

I am Romany, multilingual, and lived most of my life in Belarus. I am well versed in Slavic Occultism and Paganism as well as a broad array of other traditions.

I am friendly and warm of an individual! Do not let all these words worry you! I enjoy life and I am generally very pleasant and I am very approachable! Don't let the themes make you shy! Come hither and you shall not worry for a thing!

Themes You May See On This Blog (This is your CW / TW List that may be worth being mindful of): Death Blood Bones Body Horror Graphic Themes Occult Religion / Religious Themes Catholicism Christianity Demons Demonolatry

Things I will discuss and post about on this Blog:

Death Work and Necromancy Demonolatry Folk Magic Divination Blood Magic Occultism Alchemy Magical History and Theory Deity Work

Profile Picture by the lovely and wonderful neanmoins-que.

Banner Picture done by the incredibly talented Kelly Roman of whom also has a website and a shop!

[talonabraxas]

Hekate: Goddess of The Eclipse Talon Abraxas

Eclipses are such a powerful time to explore darkness, so very Hekatean in their essence for they not only either dim the world or occur at night when they are visible, but are also liminal times. As part of my personal studies, I reflect on experiences during the previous eclipses to see how they brought powerful medicine to me.

Eclipses are generally turning points, a type of Nyssa experience (refer to Entering Hekate's Garden if you are unfamiliar with that term). As Hekateans, the MOON will always be highly influential since we are naturally attuned to it's powers: emotions, intuition, magic(k), mystery. They are sacred events when we can behold the majesty of the universe, and Hekate Anima Mundi, with awe and wonder.

Generally, I recommend connecting to the eclipse in a more intuitive manner during the precise times, such as contemplative work of devotion (see prayer below), and reserving spells and rituals for hours before/after. Viewing eclipses in person is deeply spiritual experience, which I have been fortunate enough to have many times.

Understanding Eclipses: Significance and Characteristics

"The metaphor for the violence done to the goddess as a representative of natural order and the balance of the natural world appropriately takes the form in the celestial sphere as an abrupt and frightening change in the heavens: an eclipse. The actions of this goddess as eclipse are not the warrior goddess archetype but the intellectually powerful and disturbed nature of a goddess represented as a raging fury determined to shake the universe, darken the skies, and set the world into a readjustment of its values after experiencing the chaos of the unnatural. Eventually, her power is to astound, frighten, and horrify to create the required and necessary change to the culture of the patriarchy that is out of sync with nature. Therefore, her power dwells in the unmasking of uncertainty and the shocking of mankind to evoke revenge and correct misconduct through a demonstration of cosmic change." From "Goddesses of The Eclipses," by Helen Benigni.

I don't feel the need to say more about their significance, especially to us Hekateans. This quote, and the entire scholarly article linked above, says it all.

2024 Eclipse Cycle

The 2024 Eclipse Cycle begins with the Libra Full Moon in March, and concludes with the Libra New Moon in October. For many of us living in North America, the Spring Eclipse Season brings us a very special total solar eclipse, a rare treat. Keep in mind that solar eclipses happen twice a year, so although this one may be more personally relevant because we can see it, it is in keeping with the natural cycle.

Eclipse seasons happen at the opposite side of the zodiacal calendar, as illustrated in the Covina graphic above. Since our calendar is lunar, twice a year we start a new moon month on an eclipse.

Beyond the full Aries solar eclipse on April 8, another unique astrological event in 2024 is that there are two Capricorn Full Moon's during the summer, which results in an unusual third Libra eclipse.

[fionajames]

From the one word prompt list: hiraeth

dreams of home

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm so so sorry I haven't been posting, like, at all, but y'all should have seen my schedule the past month, on addition to the fact I'm obsessed with Teen Wolf right now. shadowdragon, I'd just like to say, thank you so much for this request, I apologise for taking so long, and also apologise for the brutal feels ahead. I hope you enjoy, and as always please send requests guys! Oh, and also, please leave comments, I love them.

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

It had been seventy-two standard rotations since Order 66.

It had been seventy-two standard rotations since the fall of the Republic.

It had been seventy-two standard rotations since the rise of the Empire.

It had been seventy-two standard rotations since the massacre of the Jedi.

And, it had been seventy-two standard rotations since Obi-Wan’s family died.

He stared out at the lifeless sands of Tatooine, as he often did. Each breath he took was heavy and rasping against the abrasive, sandpaper-like feeling of the inside of his throat. Every sip of water did nothing to quench his thirst and pain.

Instead of the empty desert he saw the rolling rivers of lava, the tears falling from burning orange eyes, the sight of fire eating away at flesh. The scent of burning skin and hot, thick air choked him as he sat, suffocating him in the last memory of his brother. The words that his brother had wailed, driving a knife through him and twisting over and over and over, sinking deep into his blood like acid.

Obi-Wan placed his hands in the sand in front of him, splaying out his fingers and feeling the grains fill the gaps between his appendages. He attempted feebly to ground himself in the tan earth, but all he could hear was Anakin’s final screams. The hot air of Tatooine taunted him as a reminder of Mustafar.

Thoughts of Anakin always led to thoughts of Ahsoka. Oh, Ahsoka. So young, somewhere far away near Mandalore, lifeless. The absence of knowledge of what happened to the Togruta led to endless, haunting scenarios of her death. 

Most of the time she was on the ship, just leaving Mandalore, and Rex had appeared behind her, pistols aimed at her head. She’d had one moment to turn and see his face, mumbling a weak; “Rex…?”, before the Clone emotionlessly blasted her in the head, leaving nothing but the mutilated corpse of a teenager behind.

Obi-Wan had had plenty of time to meditate - not with the Force, no, he’d pushed that away - and yet he could never convince himself of one, inevitable truth. It’s all my fault.

He thought of Qui-Gon, and how if only Obi-Wan had been trapped behind the rayshield all those years ago, maybe the Jedi would still be alive. If only he’d been impaled by Maul, then maybe Qui-Gon training Anakin would have steered the brunet away from the call of the dark side. He’d never quite forgiven himself for watching the light fade from his Master’s eyes, and this only made it worse.

He couldn’t even find it in him to feel betrayed by Anakin. Instead, he felt as though he’d betrayed him. After all, it was his fault. His training had failed Anakin. He’d failed Anakin. No amount of meditation would ever change that. 

Nor could he blame Anakin. Instead he blamed himself. He thought of Ahsoka’s crippled, cold, dead body. His fault. He thought of the Younglings in the Temple, some not even old enough to walk. His fault. He thought of Aayla Secura, of Kit Fisto, of Ki-Adi Mundi. His fault. His fault. His fault.

Thousands of Jedi, dead, because he couldn’t teach one small boy what thousands of others lived by. 

Yes, everything was his fault. 

He longed for the days, early on in the war, when the three of them were on Coruscant. His family, safe, unscathed, happy. He thought of Ahsoka in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, her hands in the water as she watched the fish swim against her fingers, the way she’d giggled and laughed. He thought of Anakin, leaning against a tree trunk, finally content during their break from all the fighting, breathing so deeply Obi-Wan wondered momentarily if he was asleep.

He thought of all the other Jedi - many he’d never even met before - happily living their lives before the war. He thought of Younglings, huddling together in big groups to talk and running around corners, tumbling over their own feet before bouncing back up. He thought of Padawans hosting huge games of hide and seek, and tag in the Temple’s many rooms. He thought of young Knights, training together and helping each other through forms. He thought of Masters, discussing their Padawans’ journeys and looking after them. 

He thought of home.

Oh, did he miss it.

He longed for the days when Anakin was young where they’d play holochess and discuss tactics, or when they’d explore different planets. He remembered one time when Anakin had found a plant he considered the most beautiful thing ever, and insisted on taking it back with them to the Temple. He remembered even at the end of the war, spotting the blossoming, colourful flowers in the Knight’s room.

Obi-Wan wished he could have met Ahsoka before the war, when life was easier, happier, better. He had similar times with Ahsoka, though a lot fewer. He thought of times where he’d found Ahsoka reading, and spent afternoons listening to her thoughts on the literature. He remembered how happy she was when learning, when training.

Obi-Wan felt a lot of hiraeth for his home that once was. He knew now that he could never return to that home, and all he could do was hope that one day, he’d find a new home. 

He glanced to the side, spotting the little curved top of Owen and Beru’s farm, where little Luke Skywalker was somewhere inside. He smiled softly, anchoring himself against the tidal wave of memories to the thought of his brother’s child. 

He’d do his best to ensure that Luke got his home, some place where he belonged. Obi-Wan wished he could show Luke the Temple, alive and warm with Jedi. But the Jedi were gone, and this was the new life for Force sensitive children - hidden, frightened, cursed.

He thought of Anakin and Ahsoka, side by side, laughing. 

Yes, that was how he’d remember his family - the family he longed for, the family he harboured such deep, raw, hiraeth for. One day, he’d join them in another life. For now, he would make sure Luke found his home, his hiraeth.

A/N: So, yeah, I apologise, for that, but also, don't regret it. I hope you enjoyed though, and please send requests + leave comments!!! I love you all <3, stay safe.

(taglist: @skellymom, @techs-goggles9902, dm me if you wish to be added or removed)

[graphicpolicy]

Weekly Preview! It's another potluck week!

Weekly Preview! It's another potluck week! See what's coming to GPTV! #comics #comicbooks #manga #graphicnovel

There are a lot of comics coming out every week to be covered. Check out some of what we’ll be reviewing and this is only the beginning! This week’s reviews include: Graphic Public Health: A Comics Anthology (Graphic Mundi) The Return of Mark Hamill (Jack in the Box) Shy Vol. 1 (Yen Press) Welcome to Feral: Little Town. Big Scares! (Holiday House) Not shown: The Beginning After the End…

[smashpages]

Out this week: The Flavors of Iraq (Graphic Mundi, $19.95): 

Feurat Alani and Leonard Cohen’s award-winning graphic novel comes to the U.S., courtesy of Graphic Mundi. A French-Iraqi journalist, Alani began tweeting about what Iraq was really like in 2016, as he felt the images portrayed in the media did not match up to reality. The story details his experiences as a child in Iraq under the dictatorship of Saddam Hussein and as an adult reporter under U.S. occupation.

See what else is arriving at your local comic shop this week.

[hereticpriest]

Mercy Chapter 3: Instincts

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter Warnings: Frottage/dry humping/thigh grinding, more exposition, fantasizing about your friend, manipulation and discussion of violence. If you notice any missing warnings, please let me know!

Read on AO3

Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Four

Chapter 3: Instincts

By the time you turned twenty-three, you had been going on missions without your Master for a couple of years, often paired up with other similarly aged Padawans or Jedi Knights. You were preparing for the trials at the advice of your Master, as the Council wanted you to take them a little earlier than normal - within the next year or so. You understood why - despite your blockers and your self-control, your Alpha nature was obvious to anyone who saw you. Even other Alphas that you encountered on missions had a habit of deferring to you, which often made your job easier as a diplomatic mediator. Your nature was tamed, but the Council wanted you to face the trials early, believing that that would help you further in your efforts to suppress the instincts that you battled every day.

The Council called for you while your Master was gone on a mission to Dac to help the Mon Calamari with an investigation, and you were pleasantly surprised to find Master Qui-Gon Jinn waiting for you by the entrance to the chambers. Since your old Master left the Order, Qui-Gon had been kind enough to meet with you when he had the time, rare as that was. You would have tea together, sometimes with Obi-Wan if he was around. Something felt very right when all of you were together, and you knew you weren’t the only one who felt it. The older man smiled warmly, placing a hand between your shoulder blades as he guided you through the doors.

“It appears we will be working together, young Padawan. I am pleased to have the chance.” He said as he led you in. The Council was in limited attendance today, though Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, Coleman Trebor, and Ki Adi Mundi were present. You knew many of the Masters were busy on their own missions right now - it was a busy year with many small outbreaks of violence. Master Windu offered a small smile at the sight of you both, and brought up a holo of a planet you hadn’t been to before he began speaking.

He explained that there was a bar on Daiyu in which a Twi’lek bounty hunter named Ros Bartim often collected work and rewards. He was known very well in this bar, and appeared to either know the owner or be one himself. Ros Bartim had information about an exclusive bounty that the Council heard involved an unknown senator on Coruscant. He’s looking for assistance on this job as he is known as a criminal on the Core worlds and can’t travel very easily there. According to Council intelligence, Ros Bartim is an Alpha who only respects Alphas, and won’t entreat with any other designation. He has a lot of respect for powerful Alphas especially, and has been known to gossip a little when loosened up with their presence. Your job was to get the details of the bounty from Ros Bartim, including the origin of the bounty, the reward, the target and the timeline.

You had been selected for this job not only because you were identified as an exceptionally powerful Alpha during your presentation and thereafter, but also because the Council believed that you would be able to follow the will of the Force and the Jedi Code while embracing your natural instincts. This was a huge show of trust, and you felt a hundred feet tall, bolstered by their belief in you.

“You will need to remove your scent blockers for this mission, young Padawan. You will need to listen to your instincts, and behave as an Alpha while retaining your presence of mind. Master Qui-Gon will masquerade as your pack-bonded Beta, and will help you keep your head even if the situation were to get difficult. We trust that you will get this job done without compromising yourself. We’ve sent the details of the mission to your datapad. May the Force be with you.” Master Windu dismissed you, and you bowed before leaving with Master Qui-Gon.

“You’ll need to shower. Pack your things, and I will meet you in one hour in your rooms.” The older Beta instructed, giving you a nod of his head before departing from your side. You put your robes through the laundry to remove the lingering sterile odor of the scent blockers you wore every day of your life as soon as you got through the door. It took you twenty minutes to shower thoroughly enough that you had removed all traces of the scent blockers you had worn, and another ten to pack your bag with necessities. Running entirely on instinct, you began to rub your chin against your cloak, scenting the fabric so it wouldn’t smell so clean and fresh.

“Ah, that’s a smart idea.” Master Qui-Gon commented idly from the doorway, and you looked up at him sharply, startled that you hadn’t noticed him in your distraction. It took you a second to blink back to reality and relax your posture.

“Hello Master Qui-Gon. I should… probably scent you before we go as well. If you’re to be…” You hesitated to say mine, even as the thought made your teeth ache.

“You will need to lean into your instincts for this mission, young Padawan. It may be uncomfortable, but I will not hold anything you need to do during this mission against you. I will need to follow your lead, as I am not as familiar with Alpha to Alpha dynamics. I trust you, Mercy. Do you trust me?” He asked, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself before nodding.

“I do trust you. You… You should refer to me as Alpha. I’ll have to call you my Beta. I apologize ahead of time for any displays of possessiveness - it will take me some time to lean into my instincts, and it will be better - easier - if I start now. Do you mind if I scent you?” You asked, and had to bite back a pleased chuff when he exposed his neck in offering. In the back of your mind, a chorus of your Alpha instincts roared with delight. He wants to be mine, wants to be mine. Big strong Jedi Beta wants to be mine. My pack. It was embarrassing how right it all felt. You’d long known that you were destined for a pack of your own, even if it wasn’t exactly in line with the Jedi Code.

His scent of petrichor, jasmine and frankincense met your nose as you leaned in to rub your chin and cheek against his scent glands, and you grasped at his back, arms around his broad torso. Strong hands closed around your waist, and you chuffed in response, earning yourself a muted purr that had your tail curling around your Beta’s hips. Once his natural scent had begun to blend with your own cinnamon, forest and vetiver, you finally forced yourself to pull back, tamping down on the instincts that drove you to fortify your claim. Two steps back, and Master Qui-Gon coughed quietly, smoothing out his robes as he looked you over.

“That took wisdom and restraint, young Padawan. The Council made a good choice assigning you to this mission.” He complimented you, and you offered him a smile in return.

“Thank you. We should go, before my scent causes a stir.” That drew a laugh from the Jedi Master, and he nodded, leading you out of the dormitories. Like you, Master Qui-Gon only had a small bag with him, and he let you know that you would be taking a small cruiser for this mission. A delighted trill greeted you as you approached the cruiser, and an unpainted astromech zoomed out in front of you. It looked similar to the R2 series, though it had a more complicated holoprojector and optical system than any astromech you’d ever seen.

“D41-Z3, huh? Daisy. Do you like that name?” You patted the top of the droid gently as it gave a happy trill, checking it over for any scuffs, “You need a paint job, Daisy, you’re too cute to be plain silver.”

“That will have to wait, Padawan. Come along.” Qui-Gon encouraged as he began to walk up the ramp into your cruiser. Daisy rolled over to the front of the cruiser and was swiftly loaded into the cockpit, while you followed your companion into the ship. The journey to Daiyu was long, but you spent most of it reading your favourite holonovel with Qui-Gon sitting beside you and pretending he wasn’t reading over your shoulder. The closeness helped temper the storm inside you ignited by your newly freed instincts.

As you neared your destination, you slipped into the fresher and changed into a pair of brown padded flight pants, a white undertunic, a black armoured vest and a dark brown flight jacket. Your lightsaber fit into one of the pouches on your belt, but you also strapped a blaster to your hip, the solid weight of it comfortable enough after all of the years of blaster training you’d had to go through. Qui-Gon met you in similar clothing a few minutes later, though his outfit was looser.

Daiyu was a mess of neon, a cluster of people whose scents were so varied it was almost overwhelming. Qui-Gon’s gentle hand on your shoulder was grounding, and you led the way to the bar via the directions on your wrist comm, projecting strength with your gait alone. You pushed the door open confidently, striding towards the bar while keeping your gaze fixed forwards. A human man bumped against Qui-Gon, and while the Beta didn’t seem perturbed, you let out a low, bone-chilling growl. The man froze, hackles raising at the challenge of a fellow Alpha, but his spine turned to jelly when you bore your teeth at him. Your ears were pressed back to your skull, tail looped around Qui-Gon’s waist possessively.

“Apologize.” You sneered, and the other Alpha dipped his head submissively.

“Sorry for bumping into you.” It was directed both to Qui-Gon, and the ground, but it was enough to relax you. Combined with the way that your Beta rubbed his wrist against yours, the posturing was over, and you turned your gaze back ahead to the bar. Qui-Gon ordered you both drinks, and you scouted the bar for threats, then remembered your purpose here and took a second look around for Ros Bartim. There was a green-skinned Twi’lek Alpha in the prime booth, the one you would have chosen if you were to be in his position, and you made eye contact shamelessly. You only looked away when he dipped his gaze, but you noticed an eager grin tugging at his lips first.

Qui-Gon handed you a mint-green, translucent drink, and you sipped it calmly as you surveyed the room, bringing his wrist up to your mouth so you could press a couple of possessive kisses to his scent gland. It sent waves of calm through you, and you chuffed quietly against his skin as the tension bled out of you. You had never felt so wired in your life - on edge and tense enough you were nearly grinding your teeth. The bartender caught your attention carefully, and you narrowed your eyes at him for a second before calming.

“Your attendance has been requested at a table, Alpha. If you wouldn’t mind, a valued client of ours would like to speak with you.”

You hummed like you were considering it, checking your wrist comm as if you had better things to do, before nodding at the bartender. He directed you to your target’s table, and you led Qui-Gon over, keeping him close as the music thumped away in your chest. There was an invisible barrier around the booth in question that was being projected by a small disc under the table, and if your innate danger sense hadn’t warned you of it first, the Force would have. You walked through regardless, and once inside, the sounds of the bar dulled as if rooms away.

“You look like a woman who knows her way around a blaster.” Ros Bartim greeted you, and you gestured for Qui-Gon to sit first, guarding him with your body. You sipped your drink before answering, voice lax and casual.

“You look like a man who knows better than to waste my precious time.” You replied, watching the effect that had on him. Smelling it too. A hint of tang overtook the spice of his scent, and Qui-Gon met your gaze briefly. He was an Alpha whose interest lay in other, stronger Alphas. Not necessarily an uncommon thing, but useful, in this instance.

“Of course. I have a job, you see.” Ros declared, gesturing to the bartender with two fingers out horizontally, swiped from left to right. It clearly meant something to the other man, as he immediately headed around the circular bar to the far side. You would be nervous, however you didn’t feel anything necessarily malicious from the other Alpha. More… mischievous. “I’m looking for a… business partner. Someone a little more mobile than I am. How are you enjoying Daiyu, by the way? D’you need help finding accomodations?”

Impatience flared within you. A low growl rose in your chest, and the other Alpha stiffened, pressing his back to his seat away from you. Qui-Gon calmly took your wrist in his strong grip, rubbing his chin over your scent gland while pressing your palm to his cheek, a display of possession that sent waves of calm through you. Your ears gave a delighted shiver, exposing you, though Qui-Gon only smiled fondly at you despite very obviously noticing.

“You’ve got a pretty devoted Beta. That’s a lucky thing… rare to find one so attuned to you.” Ros commented, and you chuffed at Qui-Gon approvingly before turning your attention to your target. Your hand fell low on your Beta’s thigh, unassuming but possessive.

“Tell me about the job. I’m not here for a social call.” You informed him while the bounty hunter grinned boldly at you.

“You could be, though.” He informed you, an offer in his voice. He seemed thoroughly disarmed, no longer looking for the trap and instead looking for a treat in your presence. He glanced briefly to the side, then smiled wider and sat back in his seat. The sweet scent of honeysuckle and pear reached your nose, and you watched as a pretty human woman approached in a slinky, shimmery dress of silver sparkle. Ros nodded to her as she climbed boldly into your lap, straddling one of your thighs so as to not obstruct your conversation.

“This is Lani. She’s been pinging my comm since you walked in the door wanting an introduction.” Ros informed you, and you placed a gentle hand on the Omega’s hip to keep her from falling as you adjusted in your seat.

“The pleasure is mine, little one.” You hummed to the sweet woman in your lap, the smell of tang sharp and demanding in your nose, “Tell me about the job. We’ll talk social calls when the work is done.”

Ros grinned widely, watching the Omega girl in your lap as she began to gently rock her hips, but he finally slid a puck across the table to you. You covered it with your hand, sliding it across the table to Qui-Gon. You weren’t stupid - the Omega was both a distraction, as well as a test of your composure and control. Her arousal was real, and she wasn’t drugged, but it was a convenience for Ros. It only made the bait more tempting. Thankfully, while the woman was beautiful, you were able to keep your composure - no Omega had ever affected you nearly as strongly as your Beta’s Padawan, and you doubted one ever would.  Qui-Gon stroking his thumb over your tail where it wrapped around his waist certainly helped your concentration, tuning you back into your surroundings instead of distracting you. Your ears flicked with irritation at the position you’d been put in.

“A… unique buyer wants the Corellian Senator out of the picture. It’s a high profile job, I know. It won’t be easy, but the pay is more than worth the effort. We’ll split the reward 40/60, since you’ll be doing most of the work. I can provide any weapons, transport or access that you need.” Ros explained, drumming his fingers against the table.

“Who commissioned the job?” You asked disinterestedly, bouncing your leg to the rapturous delight of the Omega in your lap. She preened under what she assumed was attention, grinding against your thigh eagerly, chasing her undoing. Frankly, while she was surely a lovely thing, you wanted her out of your lap and out of the way.

“They want the job to be private.” Ros replied, and you snorted.

“And I want to be a Queen. We don’t always get what we want. I’m not going to take a job with that much heat for someone who can’t put out.” You retorted, answering the Omega’s soft whimpers by rocking your thigh for her. Ros watched intently as she took her pleasure from you, and you could tell from the soft pulses in his signature that he was taking more pleasure in your composure than he was in the little Omega’s orgasm. You stroked her hip comfortingly as she trembled, panting for breath, her legs shaking. Your thigh was soaked. You had a brief flash of blue eyes pleading, a soft mouth lax with your affection, and pink cheeks dotted with freckles. You blinked it away.

“Okay, okay. So serious. I bet you’d be real pretty if you let loose, but if you’re gonna be a drag about it… Look, it’s a group of political extremists based on one of Corellia’s moons. The Iron Fists. They want to destabilize the Corellian government for… Stars knows what. A coo of some sort, I’m sure. Either way, they have the funds to bankroll this bounty easily.” Ros finally gave in, and you could tell he’d been dying to tell someone. Dying to brag about the bounty he’d picked up. His eyes lit up as he told you the details, and you hummed appropriately, acting as if it had caught your interest. The small reciprocation had the other Alpha grinning as he leaned back in his seat, at ease when he should have been anything but.

You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

~

Your form shimmered into view on the holotable in the council chambers, and Qui-Gon stood beside your spectral form, arms folded in his sleeves. He was aching to get back to his chambers, knowing despite his weaker Beta nose that the scent of Alpha clung heavily to his form. He needed a shower, and to do his laundry before his Padawan got back from his mission. He didn’t want to throw Obi-Wan’s hormones out of order - the young man had such careful control of his instincts, but something about you seemed to tilt him off kilter.

“Masters, I beg your forgiveness for not coming to the Council meeting. I do not think I would be presentable, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to subject you to how overwhelming my scent is right now. I humbly request time to recalibrate, and recentre myself in the ways of the Force.” You said politely, standing in the living area of your shared chambers with your Master. He was still gone, thankfully. Despite his filtration mask, you would hate to subject him to even the trace amount of your scent he might catch. It was pouring off of you like sweat in the desert sun, and a Beta could be bothered by that even with their weaker nose.

“Grant you this request, we do. Read your reports, we have, and impressed we are with your control.” Master Yoda said, and you felt your cheeks get hot at the praise and the reason for it. You could still smell the Omega’s slick on the flight pants you’d worn, sitting in the laundry waiting for your robes to join them.

“Thank you. I will spend my time in meditation, and return to duty once I have… settled.” You promised, and Master Windu gave you a respectful nod, knowing as you did how much you needed this time. Even now, you ached to have your Beta close to you, calming you. But Master Qui-Gon was not yours, and you could centre yourself without his aid, like it or not. You simply had to remember how, after 36 hours straight of playing the role of Alpha while you arrested the Iron Fists at the Council’s behest. You’d been running on instinct for days now, and even meditation on the cruiser ride home did not even begin to lift you out of it.

You closed the hololink and stripped out of your robes, throwing them into the laundry. Naked, you locked the door to your chambers and placed a keycode override on it to ensure that even the most adamant person would have difficulty getting in. You took the longest, most indulgent shower you’d had in years, scrubbing your skin raw until you finally felt clean. You practically drowned yourself in scent blocker, and opened the windows to let out any lingering scent in the air, then got dressed in only your undertunic and pants, sitting on the round meditation cushion in the centre of the living space.

And there you remained for the better part of seven days, only getting up to eat the meals delivered to your door, or visit the fresher. You decidedly did not think about the reason why the Omega on Daiyu didn’t truly tempt you, nor did you imagine said reason sprawled in your lap the way she had been, desperately rocking his hips into your strong thigh, making the same soft whimpers. By the end of the week, you almost believed yourself.

~

“Master, did you get a new cologne?” Obi-Wan Kenobi asked as he walked into the chambers he shared with Qui-Gon. The man in question was standing in the fresher, changing into his casual robes that he often wore between missions. The bounty hunter disguise and his nicer set of robes were piled in the laundry closet haphazardly, as if he’d stripped in a hurry and tossed them on his way to the fresher. It smelt of crackling campfires and lush forests, of roiling waves and aged leather, of cinnamon and vetiver. It smelt right. It smelt like home. Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, a soft sigh rolling from his lips at the instant relaxation that settled across his shoulders.

“Ah, no, my young Padawan. Let me put my robes in the wash. I’ve just returned from my mission with Mercy.” Qui-Gon explained, and Obi-Wan understood very suddenly. He eyed the robes in the laundry room, pupils dilating. He wanted those robes. They smelled like the comfort of his Master and the warmth of home - like his Alpha. They belonged in his bed.

Qui-Gon placed a soothing hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, guiding him away from the laundry room. Once he felt relatively sure that the young man wouldn’t try to get past him, Qui-Gon put his clothes directly into the wash, starting it before Obi-Wan could protest. The older of the two opened the window, then grabbed a scent-blocking air freshener to spray the chambers, ignoring the soft whine of protest from his Padawan. The younger man accepted an extra dose of heat blockers with a bit of a pout that he’d forever deny, then joined his Master for their normal post-mission ritual of tea and idle conversation about missions, temple going-ons, and whatever philosophy question Qui-Gon happened to be pondering at the time.

[spirkkock]

chapter 2 has been posted!

A Lesson in Shii-Cho by Spirk_kock

Summary: “Despite the reservations of many of us on the Council, we believe it is in the best interest of the Order and of the Republic that young Skywalker continue to remain under our watch. He has grown into a powerful Force user and skilled warrior - despite his volatility - and it is our duty to ensure that he remains on the path of light.” “What we are asking of you,” clarified Master Mundi, “is to take him under your wing as a mentor.” This was highly unusual. OR: A very bitter Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself inexorably responsible for the continued training of the very man who stole his master; a volatile young Jedi Knight by the name of Anakin Skywalker.

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi

Chapters: 2/15 Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, Asajj Ventress, Dooku | Darth Tyranus, Padmé Amidala Additional Tags: Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Lightsaber Forms (Star Wars), Lightsaber Training (Star Wars), Slow Burn, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trans Male Character, Nightmares, Anakin Skywalker Has Issues, Jedi/Religious Trauma, Jedi Are Just Space Catholics, Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Fix-It, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets Therapy, Canon-Typical Violence, Transphobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker is Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, Character Study, Angst with a Happy Ending, Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker Are Not Together, But Does Anakin Know That?, Unreliable Narrator, The Jedi Make Mistakes but they are not Bad, Nuance

[garadinervi]

Georges Perec, (1969), A Void, (Postscript), Translatred from the French by Gilbert Adair, «Verba Mundi», David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc., Jaffrey, NH, 2005, pp. 281-283