#when you can simply put the pin on another worshipper...

[stromuprisahat]

Siege and Storm- Chapter 12 (Leigh Bardugo)

Malyen's not a Grisha and you can't start social change by taking away protective uniforms from the army, for fuck's sake!

It's much harder to steal a whole usable uniform from a corpse, than some stupid pin. Sure, Alina has two and half bodyguards at the moment, but that won't last forever!

[whirlybirbs]

                                          (   gif from the lovely @starwarsfilms​.   )

---   LOVE SICK.   ;

summary: khairyn sar is an important holiday within nabirian religion -- it celebrates love and fertility. obi-wan gets a gift for you from the lower-level markets, aided by a helpful women who urges him to buy a certain plant...  pairing: obi-wan x handmaiden!reader, established in this fic & this fic as well. word count: 8k warnings: this is porn with a dash of sex pollen trope / nsfw, 18+ a/n: i am literally not even sorry. here’s a late valentine’s day piece for you all, my lovely lil valentines. pls don’t repost!

It’s a holiday.

Maybe not on Coruscant, but to the Naboo senators and delegates on Coruscant, it is. 

Padmé’s usual senatorial garb is exchanged for one of deep reds and a grandiose headpiece that mirrors the visage of Khairtai, the goddess of Fertility and Love. Beside her, Dormé, Sabé, Ellé and yourself bear a smudging of crimson down the center of your foreheads. It’s from the crushed millaflower -- ground into a fine, deep red powder and blessed by the resident royal Pontifex. 

Your outfits mirror Padmé’s, hair pinned back tightly into a tight, neat braids with a golden pin halo-ing your heads. It’s of religious significance; each comb bearing two bounding ash-rabbits. Symbols of fertility.

The Royal house of Naboo, namely the Amidala’s, are one of many devout to the Brotherhood of Cognizance -- a polytheistic, monastic, allegorical based religion. Padmé herself was a larger worshipper of Shiraya, the goddess of the moon; Obi-Wan, on more than one account, found himself rather enraptured with the large statue on the outside patio of her Senatorial apartment upon visits with his friend.

In the evening sunset, the goddess’ moon shaped harp frames the horizon quite perfectly. Obi-Wan always wondered if it was some sort of metaphor -- perhaps that Padmé was right where she needed to be, away from the throne and serving her people worlds away. 

She’d moved to Coruscant following the ending of her second term of Queen, promptly slipping into her elected position as Senatorial representative. With her, she’d brought Dormé, Ellé, Sabé, and you -- along with a small squad of royal guards. Though, Obi-Wan believed she hardly needed them. Padmé’s handmaidens were more than capable.

You were more than capable.

Obi-Wan, from the upper deck of the Senate’s session, can hardly tear his eyes away from you -- you look rather stoic beside the ex-Queen. You’d joked a few days ago to him that you needed to mind you expressions when some of the other Senators spoke. Obi-Wan bites back a chuckle when F’aralo Pxo from Ithor finally stops babbling and your awfully sour look fades. 

Crossing his arms, the young Jedi Knight watches as the session is dismissed by Sheev Palpatine and the large, cavernous room begins to dissipate of senators and delegates. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi catches you and the others on the sixteenth floor, about to enter Padmé’s apartment.

“Merry Khairyn Sar.”

He strides close, like a glimmering star flashing across the sunset. Handsome and bright-eyed -- you wonder if your heart will ever cease it’s crescendo of excitement when you see him. Your stomach flips and you can’t help but stare at the appearance of one certain Jedi Knight. 

The gaggle of women turn on their heels, their faces lighting up at the appearance of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your face, by far, is the brightest. 

“I only have a minute, but I thought I might come say hello.”

The two of you bite your tongues, amused little smirks threatening to bloom on your faces. It’s childish, but it’s lovely.

Padmé laughs happily at the sight of you both, moving to gesture for Obi-Wan to come in -- once inside the apartment, the Jedi is quick to loop his arms around your waist and haul you high; the reunion is short and sweet and brings smiles to the faces of your closest confidants as the move to spread throughout the apartment. Your earrings sway as you grapple with his shoulders, sliding down him when he places you back on the plush carpet carefully.

The others have known since... gods, what? Years ago? 

Before Anakin had even reached puberty and before Obi-Wan had started growing this beard out. You recall in this moment the first time you’d seen him since his diplomatic mission to Naboo, when you’d fallen in love with the kind-hearted Padawan, and how the others had been so keen on seeing the romance play out on the tarmac. 

They had, after all, read the correspondences the Jedi had sent in the time apart from one another. 

It’s been four years since -- and yet, the sickly sweet tempo of love is still enough to make your knees weak. Seeing him, though often enough now that you’re permanent residency is on Coruscant, is still enough to bring a needy whine to your heartstrings. 

“Don’t you have a Padawan to be minding?” you grin, kissing him quickly as he smiles. The prick of stubble tickles. 

“The younglings have a trip to the Archives today,” Obi-Wan explains, bowing slightly to chase your words with a kiss to your cheekbone, “But I do have a council meeting within the hour..”

You swat at his chest gently. “What have I said? Anakin is not a youngling. He’s fifteen --”

“Acts like it,” Padmé supplies, pointing at Obi-Wan who mirrors her amused-yet-trying-not-to-seem-it look, “I’ve heard the stories.”

“I’ll have greys because of him soon, I swear it.”

Another kidding swat. This time, the ruddy haired man catches it and laughs warmly. He holds your hand closely, kissing your knuckles. Your face grows hot as sheepishness creeps up your collar due to the semi-public display of affection.

“I have a gift for you,” he says quietly, eyes softening, “For Khairyn Sar.”

You should have known Obi would have figured out about the holiday.

He was a romantic -- charismatic about love and flirtatiously sweet. 

Of course a holiday celebrating love would be right up his alley. You hold your tongue -- you wonder if Obi-Wan truly understands the meaning of Khairyn Sar, or if to him, this is a just a small patronage holiday dedicated to romance. 

Khairyn Sar is an important holiday within Cognizance. Weddings and performative engagement ceremonies are large parts of the holiday, as well as... well, plainly put: conceptions. 

Nearly every devout Nabirian’s dream would be to conceive a child on Khairyn Sar. Those born within nine months of the day are said to be gifts from Khairtai herself, after all. Those with the blessed with being a Khairtai’é frequently found success within relationships, love, and careers. Fertility meant more than simply sex. 

Padmé is a Khairtai’é. She truly did have the making of a Queen.

Ellé speaks up from the couch, balancing her vibroblade on her fingertip effortlessly and watching you both. “...Obi-Wan, you do you have a brother?"

“Maybe a cousin?” asks Sabé, melodic and sweet, “A single cousin?”

“A sister, even,” Dormé croons, dropping her chin into her hand -- her voice goes a bit mopey, “I wish someone would bring me a gift for Khairyn Sar.”

It is akin to announcing your love to the world, after all. 

Obi-Wan offers one of his trade-mark smiles. The dimples beneath the blonde shadow of his beard are charming and Padmé can’t help but grin as he watches you blink up at him with a moonstruck look that says it all:

You love him.

“I’m afraid not,” he apologizes, hand gracing the small of your back, “Though, if I find any formidable suitors of the Royal Handmaidens of Naboo, I’ll make sure I let you all know.”

“You better,” Dormé swats at his shoulder as she passes by, hanging her cloak and grinning when the Jedi leans to swats her back.

In the last few weeks, he’s become a fast friend -- they’re all within the same age, and Obi-Wan had fallen easily into a brotherly cadence when it came to the girls; you trusted them all, and so, he did as well. Happily. He’d known them all briefly from the time him and Qui-Gon had on Naboo during the negotiations with the Trade Federation... Dormé, Sabé and Ellé had all been on the Nubian by your side when you’d first met the charming Padawan. 

“I’ve got to go,” he breathes, leaning to kiss the crown of your head, “Will I see you later?”

You nod, enjoying the warm pass of his fingers on your cheek. 

“Of course,” you promise, “Dinner?”

"Dex’s?”

You groan happily, bending a bit in the knees as you nod vigorously at the thought of fries and a shake. Not the most glamorous meal, but a favorite of you both and a safe haven from the Senate and Council. 

“Yes, please.”

Obi-Wan grins, tosses a wink, and sneaks out the door with a wave.

As soon as the door shuts, Dormé is quickly to speak.

“You better marry that man.”

“Someday,” a mindful smile, “For now --”

“For now,” Ellé points, “Please give that man a night worth remembering.”

“Ellé!” 

You scold your sister-in-duty with a sheepish look of modesty on your face, swatting at her as you fall beside her on the couch. The others laugh. 

If only you had any idea what was in store for both you and Obi-Wan. 

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

You meet him outside of Dex’s as the sun begins to set, happily falling into both his arms and the smell of fried food wafting from inside. It’s not often that you’re able to make the trek to the lower levels with him, and seeing the friendly Besalisk owner, Dexter Jettster, was a perk -- the four-armed man had always been kind to you. Fatherly, almost. 

He’s tenfold that with Obi-Wan. 

Dex happily supplies a hot plate of fries and two bantha burgers you and Obi’s way, free-of-charge. Dex mentions something about owing Obi-Wan for dealing with “those damn kids last week”. You raise a brow, taking a big bite of your burger, and Obi-Wan waves his hand.

“Street kids,” a shrug, “Pick-pocketing.”

“They stole the damn credit drawer!”

“Mm,” you mumble shaking your head at his uncanny ability to downplay every situation, “Always the humble hero, huh?” 

He nudges you with his boot as he laughs, dropping his gaze into his meal. You have a way of making him feel sheepish. It’s been years, but your words of flirtation still strike him in his composure. His cheeks are rosy when he looks up, wiping sauce from the corner of his beginning-beard. 

“You love it.”

“I do,” you waggle a fry in his face, spurring a breathless laugh from the Jedi, “Very much. So much, that I’m spending Khairyn Sar with you, in a diner, eating terrible food -- no offense, Dex... Says a lot, y’know.”

“None taken,” the cook calls out from behind the counter, “Merry Khairyn Sar, kid. Yer lucky, Obi-Wan! Those Naboo girls usually spend tha’ holiday with th’ man they’re set t’ marry --”

“Hear that,” you call, raising a finger and pinning Obi in his spot with an amused look as you both play-off your well-kept secret, “You’re lucky.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan clears his throat nudging your boot as you nudge it right back, “Aren’t I, Dex?”

“Sure are,” the Besalisk chortles, “If y’ weren’t a Jedi I’d say hurry up ‘n’ marry ‘er already!

Oh, if only he knew.

“Thanks, Dex,” you say sweetly, throwing an appreciative look the cook’s way, “And thanks for keeping this one in line.”

A big, guffaw of laughter meets your words and Dex hits the counter. “He’s trouble!”

“He is,” you shake your head, “He has everyone fooled. Everyone thinks he’s a flawless Jedi Knight, but he’s trouble. I’ve been saying it for years...”

Obi’s eyes crinkle with fondness. You mirror it.

“I love you,” he mouthes when Dex’s back is turned.

“I love you, too,” you mouth back.

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

You like Obi-Wan’s quarters.

They’re very him. 

Warm, quiet and neat. 

The room could be considered a bit small, but with a reasonable sized refresher and a large bed, you find no reason to complain. There are a few trinkets lining the shelves above his bed -- tokens of missions and trainings. 

Among them is a pebble from the beaches of the Lake Country; one he’d taken before leaving Naboo after the negotiations. You and him had spent hours on that beach, swimming and rolling in the sand, before things changed. Before Qui-Gon’s death and his rise to Knighthood. 

He doesn’t have many belongings, but so is the way of the Code.

His bedroom is a familiar space, now. You’ve spent many nights in this room, tucked beside him in the vanilla colored sheets. You wish it was every night. But, you both knew you needed to keep suspicions low. You were just thankful that Obi-Wan’s direct neighbor, Aayla Secura, was wise enough not to ask questions. 

The lights to his room are warm and low, illuminated strips of light coming from beneath the shelving -- the large bay windows that reach from floor to ceiling frame the colorful air-lanes illuminating the night sky of Coruscant’s Senate District. Like stars weaving a path, traffic moves slow across the horizon. 

Obi locks the door behind him before his hands find your waist and he drops a kiss to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through the layers of your cloak and dress, smiling as he fiddles with your hips and noses your ear. 

“Do you want to see the gift?”

You nod, chewing your lip and turning to catch him in a quick kiss. The Jedi leans in, putty in your hands. Obi-Wan makes an appreciative sound when you hold his jaw, pulling him over you as you bend back a bit. 

“Alright,” he says, a little breathless, before pecking another kiss, “Stay here.”

You do as your told, laughing as he takes two steps forward only to retreat back for another smile-laden kiss. He disappears into the walk-in closet; as he does, you strip your cloak from your shoulders and toss it on the bed. 

Obi-Wan returns, sans his own robe, clutching something behind his back.

You quirk a brow, noting the incredibly excited look plastered on his face.

“Close your eyes.”

“Obi-Wan,” you warn playfully as you do as your told, “If it bites --”

“It doesn’t bite.”

“I swear,” you outstretch your hands, palms up, eyes closed tight, “It it bites...”

He’s laughing. “It won’t bite!”

Suddenly, there’s a cool, heavy weight in your hands. It’s glass, you realize quickly, and as Obi-Wan smiles, you peel your eyes open and quickly sigh in awe.

“Obi...” the bouquet is large, with three or four different flowering bursts of color nestled inside a large vase, “It’s beautiful.”

You’re quick to move across the room, placing the bouquet down on his desk as he hovers, watching you tut over the flowers -- all of them Naboo natives, you realize with a slack jaw. Your whirl around, handing finding his chest. He smiles, dimples kissing his face.

“You didn’t have to --”

“Oh, hush,” he chides, hand sweeping a circle along your lower back as you bend and admire the plants with gentle hands, “I wanted to.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“I only wish...” a soft sigh as he leans forward and pokes at the stem of a deep purple plant that’s clasped shut tightly, “This one refused to bloom, it seems.”

In hindsight, you should have known better.

You should have known what was going to happen when you reached out and touched the plant the same time as him. You should have known a puff of pink pollen would come flying out, right into your face. You should have known the smell would make you gag and Obi-Wan do the same. 

You should have known. 

You stagger back, grabbing his arm.

“Oh gods --”

“Open a window.”

“What the hell was that thing, Obi?!”

You should have known.

“Open a window!” 

“It’s moving,” you screech, carrying the vase in outreached arms as your make a disgusted face and quite literally run to Obi-Wan who is throwing open the small window of his refresher, “Ohmygod, does it bite?!”

“I don’t care to find out!”

“It smells,” you choke, “It smells --”

“Give it to me --”

“What’re you -- Obi!”

Obi-Wan Kenobi, trained Jedi Knight and well-regarded rising leader within the Council’s tanks, promptly takes the bouquet from your hands and lobs it out the thirtieth story window of his quarters’ refresher in the Jedi Council building, vase and all, all while maintaining eye contact.

He quickly slams the window shut and drops his hands to his waist with a panicked look on his face. He looks pained, like he can hardly believe he just did that.

There’s a beat of silence as your mouth falls open, then you cry:

“...What was that thing?!”

“I don’t know!” he throws his hands as his agitation peaks, “The woman at the market said it was for Khairyn Sar -- she kept, gods, she kept saying it over and over --”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“... Obi.”

“... What do you mean ‘Obi’?” Obi-Wan’s voice nearly splinters, panic striking hard and fast across the Jedi’s face at the slow realization in your tone, “Don’t say -- don’t say ‘Obi’ like that -- You know it worries me, when you say --”

“Did she say Khairyn Sar,” you annunciate the syllables slowly, moving from the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the bed as you dot the sounds with your finger in the air, “Or, did she say Khaitai Rysar?”

Obi-Wan blinks.

“... Is there a difference...?” he pushes a hand through his hair as you drop your head back and groan; quickly he breathes out a sheepish mutter, “From the look on your face, there’s clearly a difference --”

“Khairtai Rysar is a plant -- named after the two god’s who... they... it’s... Oh my gods --” you drop your face into your hands, not bothering to tip-toe around the subject any longer, “You bought a sex plant, Obi-Wan!”

He blinks. His mouth moves but no words come out. His brows climbs his face. He tilts his head. The look is owlish and mildly terrified.

A pause.

“... Excuse me?”

His voice is an octave higher than usual.

“Khairtai Rysar is a plant from Naboo,” you squeak out, flopping backwards onto the bed and groaning, “It’s a gift typically given to newly weds. It’s got a pollen that acts as an powerful hypnotic aphrodisiac --”

"Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“-- When we touched it, it must have blossomed,” you barely manage, rubbing your face and sighing, “The spores are extremely potent. Any contact with them is...”

Obi-Wan’s face falls and when you pull your hands from your face, you see him staring at the spattering of pink pollen across your nose and cheeks. You shoot up straight before pulling away your hands and gawking, realizing you need to wash your hands right now because you’re covered in the pollen --

Quickly, you dash into the refresher as your curse when you see your now pinkish reflection and make work on scrubbing your face and hands. 

Obi-Wan had lucked out -- well, to a degree. The pollen had only caught him partially; cast off from when you’d staggered back and grabbed onto him. 

“Oh, this is horrible,” you mumble, washing your face with ice cold water and staring at him in the mirror, “Horrible, but hilarious -- stop looking like you’ve murdered me --”

“I feel horrible!” he cries, face pulled into an apologetic look, “Gods, I’m sorry --”

“Maybe we can... just... sleep it off?” you offer, wiping your face with a towel he offers, “Right? I mean, I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t anticipating us sleeping together anyways --”

Obi’s fiddling with the facial hair along his jaw, nodding as you speak. “Well, yes. Considering the holiday -- I’d planned for it.”

“I mean -- I feel fine,” you wave your hands, “Do you feel fine?”

“Yes,” he nods, sea-green eyes watching your expression, “I -- I feel fine.”

You’re both panicking. 

“Okay,” a little squeak, “So... let’s just... try -- try to sleep it off. For now.”

“And if we can’t?”

You hesitate. Both of you swallow.

“Let us cross that bridge when we get there,” Obi-Wan offers, sounding a bit pained, not even wanting to think about the answer to his own question. 

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

Neither of you can sleep.

It’s been about an hour since the entire debacle began.

You’re both laying awake, staring at the ceiling, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Not that you can blame one another -- you both tend to shoot as straight as an arrow when it came to... stimulants. You really had no need for death-sticks or spice, and Obi-Wan was the same. Having come to terms with the fact you both will be out of control in a matter of hours is a bit terrifying, especially considering the delicate balance of things. 

Hiding your relationship wasn’t easy. 

In reality, it brought with it a wide array of challenges, including the whole fact that you and Obi-Wan, more often than not, needed to be quiet and quick about sex. 

Your encounters were always sweet; always gentle and loving and brought on by moments of happiness or longing. Seeing him for the first time in a while always brewed up arousal in your gut -- you couldn’t help it. It came with the territory of love. Just seeing Obi-Wan smile somedays was enough to snap that coil and wind it tightly in your gut. 

After all, he is so damn handsome. 

Even now, looking mildly horrified and extra concerned, he looks handsome -- his profile illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the windows. 

The Jedi exhales, rubbing his face, and turns to eye you in the dark light of the room. 

You’re already staring -- in the dark, he can make out the trace of a smile on your lips. It’s endearing, and it puts him at ease to know this big mistake hasn’t caused you to hate him

Yet.

“Do you feel any different...?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips into a grimace.

“Maybe I was wrong?” you mumble, “But I’ve heard others tell stories about the smell. Like... rotting meat. There was a guard once, when I was in the Naboo Royal Academy, who was out for an entire week on account of the plant. He’d just been married and...” 

Obi-Wan swallows. “I can’t believe --”

“Ah!” you tut, raising a finger, “Stop -- if we’re both about to be off our minds on some aphrodisiac love pollen, it’d just like to remind you that this could be a lot worse.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

You roll over, prop your chin up in your hand, and quirk a playful brow. “You know I’m good at riding things out --”

Both of Obi’s brows rise at your words, his face warping into something of curious contemplation -- he props his head up, mirroring your position in bed. “Has the pollen already gotten you in its grips, then?”

You laugh, ducking your head and snorting a little. “I’m just saying! Trying to stay positive.”

“You’re a wretched minx and you know,” he mumbles, leaning in to steal a kiss, “That I quite enjoy when you do ride things out. Ever the optimist.”

“So, worst case scenario...”

“We lock ourselves in this room for a week?”

“Or we just... get it out of our systems. Ride it out.”

Obi-Wan hums, flopping back down to the pillows. “Right. Ride it out.”

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

That bridge Obi-Wan had talked about crossing?

Well, it arrives a little past midnight.

And along with it, a roaring river runs below. 

You wake up feeling like your body is two hundred degrees and climbing. At first, you’d just figured you’d had one too many covers on you -- Obi-Wan did have a bad habit of being a small space heater -- and so you’d opted to crawl on-top of the covers. But, even that’s not enough.

In your half-asleep haze, you’d nearly forgotten about the earlier events of the night. But, it’s when the sudden urge to strip flashes to the forefront of your mind, you remember exactly what had happened with that damn Khairtai Rysar plant.

You’re peeling off the spare tunic Obi had lended you in a flash, skin glistening with a feverish sweat -- you give in to the urge and nearly sigh when your skin hits the cool air. 

Your eyes drift as you sway a bit, room spinning slightly from the quick movement. 

The moon casts a cool glow over the man snoring softly beside you, his own shirt having been discarded a few minutes ago. His arm is over his eyes, his entire body above the sheets. 

His trousers hang low on his hips and you watch him breathe out a sigh.

He’s dreaming. 

The dip of his waist is where your eyes glue themselves, for some reason, and your lapse in reality draws to a conclusion between your legs. The ache there is... horrible. Suddenly, you realize you’re uncomfortable, and you shift in bed. Your mind feels like it’s six steps behind your body. 

You lay back down, rolling over to bury your face into the pillow, and groan.

This is bad. This is really bad. 

And from the timing of it, it was only going to get worse.

It wasn’t as if you and Obi-Wan hadn’t had sex before -- you had, plenty of times in plenty of places you maybe shouldn’t have, but this was different. This was... This was the sort of thing you’d both heard horror stories about. Hours and hours of feverish impulse, little to no control... Wonderful if you’re trying to conceive a child on the eve of Khairyn Sar, like the market saleswoman probably thought when she sold Obi the plant. 

You sigh, a small smile worming it’s way on your face despite the circumstances. 

You just want to skip to the part where you can both laugh about this. 

You try and keep yourself present -- but it’s getting harder with the sensitivity to every slight breath coming from the body beside you. Your mind wanders as you try to count yourself to sleep; your mind has better ideas, readily delving into fantasies that feel like half-truths, and the ache between your legs worsens. 

You’re mid-dream of Obi lapping between at your core when he moves, brushes your arm, and you jump awake. 

“Sorry.”

You can only manage to grit out a muffled moan. 

The Jedi rolls, ignoring the evident hardness that’s now painful in his trousers, and eyes you carefully -- you’ve stripped, the only thing on your body are the thin, red satin bottoms on your lower half. Sweat is glimmering along your back, and Obi-Wan feels a twang of guilt build in his chest.

He rolls, props himself up, and touches your spine. It was supposed to be a calming gesture, one rooted in apology, but...

It’s a mistake.

Your body reacts immediately, a gasp wringing itself from your throat as your fingers tighten in the sheets -- you grit your teeth, raise your head and nearly plead: 

“Please,” a whisper before it all rushes out, “That... feels good.” 

You can’t find the words to explain that his touch is like pour ice water over a burn. It feels wonderful. You squirm against the mattress as Obi tries to catch his breath. His lungs stutter and he ghosts his fingers along your spine once more -- this time, it sends a pang of arousal straight to his gut. 

“I... I think,” his voice is hoarse and his throat is tight, “I think --”

You just chew your lip and nod, nose brushing the pillow as you remain face down. You feel it too. 

It’s all he can manage. His brain is a foggy mess of fantasy and arousal. You’re the focal point of it all; the force around you is louder now, mingling between him and his sensitivities. His fingertips brush the dip of your spine and you inhale sharply, nerves alight at the contact. He can feel the sensation along his own spine -- it’s like a punch square in the gut. 

Then, on the hazy impulse of some rose colored pollen, Obi bends, slowly, and kisses the blade of your shoulder.

You whimper, gasping slightly when his hand spreads flat across the back of your ribs and sweeps along your skin, bringing with it a electric sensation that throbs your sex with painful, empty want.

“Obi...”

“This is...,” he breathes, lips ghosting your shoulder, “Not good.”

“It hurts.”

He couldn’t agree more. His brain feels like it’s on fire. When he closes his eyes he only sees you, spread out beneath him and saying his name over and over and over -- fucking hell. His voice is low. “What do we do?”

You pull yourself up in bed, hair wild and eyes set in dark circles. You look dazed and far-away, but your attention is rooted on him. 

You reach out and touch his chest, busying your touch with the thatch of reddish hair there. Your fingertips buzz and your body cools immediately -- Obi-Wan leans into the touch, his hand finding yours as he exhales a shaky breath. 

“Ride it out?”

Obi’s eyes are as large as dinner plates at the recommendation -- the usual green over-taken by his dilated pupils; his touches are hungry. He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing furiously as you shift closer.

“Ride it out.”

It’s a downward spiral from there.

You both surge forward, meeting for a kiss that’s like being plunged into an icy lake -- it soothes a bit of the fever, waves of relief coming in the form of wandering hands and messy love-bites. You roll yourself on-top of him, pushing your arms up beside his head and gasping when the Jedi grabs your jaw and pulls you right back down for a kiss that steals the very air from your lungs.

... This is different.

You whimper, collapsing to his chest --  and Obi shudders at the brush of your clothed hips against his own. He feels like he’s drowning in you, happily, and his whole body is alight from your touch. His brain is six steps behind his body and the room spins around him as he pushes himself up and you follow suit, sitting up in his lap. 

Instantly, calloused hands snake around your waist and you have to bite your lip so tight you draw blood to keep yourself quiet when Obi-Wan’s mouth latches onto to the curve of your breast and bites a tender little mark there. Your hands shake, tightening into the tufts of hair at the base of his neck as he makes an appreciative sound at the reaction and blinks up at you from underneath thick lashes. 

Gods above this is heaven. 

Everything feels so... hot. Tight and needy and wet and just the mere pass of his hands along your waist has your squirming in his lap as his tongue draws up and around the swell of your right breast. In a flash, he’s taken the perk nipple there into his mouth and your body quakes.

In response, you fist his hair. Tight.

And he moans. Right against your skin, gasp worming itself from his throat as you get the message and tug again -- this time exposing his throat and allowing yourself to dive below his stubble and little sloppy little kiss there to his delight. 

His whole world is swimming with pleasure and he can feel his own arousal throbbing eagerly in his trousers as your nails run along his scalp and drift to his beard, giving the hair there a gentle tug. 

His heart stutters, mouth dropping open as you laugh greedily into his neck. 

“You like that?” 

A breathless nod; he’s stuck on the way you speak -- half-way in the room and half-way in his mind. Obi-Wan feels like his whole heart is going to give out; he can’t focus, to stuck on your body and the way the force is running directly between you both like a pool of water. Each touch casts a ripple and... 

Fucking hell. 

He flips you both, pressing you into the mattress with enough force to rush the air out of your lungs and make the bed creak; you can’t help but muffle a surprised laugh, shoving your hand over your mouth lazily as Obi-Wan noses your jaw and litters exploring kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes into your skin, stubble raising goosebumps along the hot burn of your fever. You shiver, fingers greedily looping into his hair as he bites a daring little mark into your décolletage, “You’re so beautiful --”

He sounds like he’s underwater. Your hearing is going in and out, eyes half-open to watch the sight of him drifting lower and lower and lower and...

Obi’s fingers brush the band of your bottoms and you gasp loud enough that his eyes shoot open and he moves to slap a hand over your mouth.

The motion is rough enough to spur you on, lending you to arch your back and laugh headily into the skin of his palm. You feel intoxicated -- like you’re tipping over the edge of a blissful high and every touch is enough to make your legs shake.

“I’ll be quiet,” you murmur, plucking at his fingers and watching his eyes grow darker -- you sit up, gripping his palm, before darting your tongue out to draw around his index finger. Instantly, the Jedi turns to putty, and he drops his head as he curses. You laugh, taking his whole finger in your mouth, before he pulls away and sweeps his hands under your bottom.

“Up.”

It’s not a request. It’s a demand.

Your lower abdomen burns with arousal as you do so, lifting your hips and allowing Obi-Wan to snag the band of your underwear and drag them down your hips. You can feel the wetness brush your thigh as he tosses them over his shoulder. Your legs shake a bit, hands winding into the sheets as Obi-Wan hangs himself off the bed and presses your legs apart with warm hands.

There’s no precursor, no build-up.

Not that you need any.

He just lays his tongue flat to your soaking clit and groans, like it’s the first meal he’s had in days. The vibration is heavenly. Your whole body goes hot-white at the sensation, need to feel full peaking in that moment; your arms collapse and you fall back to the sheets gasping as the Jedi between your legs traces the swollen, pink folds of your sex with his tongue. It feels like you’re not even in your body -- like you’re floating somewhere above the moon and swimming with the stars.

You taste like honey. Sweet. So damn sweet. And he can’t get enough of it.

The sensation of his mouth on your center isn’t the only thing winding the spring in your gut higher and higher. It’s... hands. Everywhere. Touching you where his hands aren’t -- across your waist and pinning your thighs down to the mattress as you squirm, in your hair and running across your breasts as you quiver. It’s like you’re the center of three people’s attention, and you realize with a wanton moan that it’s the damn force. 

“Obi...”

He raises his heavy-lidded eyes only for a moment, arms wound around your legs as he holds the apart. A lock of his hair has fallen into his face and you can feel his stubble grace the inside of your thigh as he smiles.

“Sonofabitch,” it rushes out when a non-visible hand ghosts your jaw, trailing down your throat eagerly, “Is that -- is... Obi --”

“It’s me,” he mumbles, pulling away for a moment -- you can see your wetness along his chin as he sways a bit, his grip tightening on the flesh of your thighs, “I’m here.”

And all over.

You move to dig your fingers into his hair, only to watch one of his hands gesture slowly through the air and -- suddenly, both of your hands are above your head and you’re arching against the mattress.

“I’m busy.”

It’s all Obi offers in explanation for the action, jaw falling open as his tongue presses deep past your entrance; once, twice, and again. He rightly fucks you with his tongue, and you suddenly snap.

Your whole body quakes with an orgasm that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. He coaxes you through it, tongue sweeping up your clit as you shake and moan and cry his name over and over.

“What a good girl.”

The reaction is wonderful -- but, it begins an even further downward spiral for you into the land of need. 

Suddenly, the fever flares in the glow of the come-down. It’s worse. Hot and terrible and the ache between your legs isn’t stopping.

You mumble, bleary and quiet, trying to keep your voice level. “I n-need more.”

He does as he’s told, watching as your chest heaves and you continue to squirm despite the light hold on your wrists. In his mind, he traces the curve of your waist and you jump -- it makes him chuckle. It gives him enough time to let go of your thigh and slip his middle finger over your clit, down your folds, and past your entrance.

Gods, he loves you. 

His name spills over your lips so sweetly, Obi has to catch his own breath. 

It’s when he crooks a second finger deeply into you that he gets a real reaction -- this one stirring the haze in his mind and making his thoughts spin. You writhe and gasp and buck your hips down onto your hand, all while begging for more. 

And who is he to deny you that?

Suddenly, the pressure for your wrists is gone.

You sit right up, hair a mess and lips pulled into a terrifying snarl -- you grab the back of his head as he shifts up the bed, slamming your lips onto his and clawing at his back; the Jedi can’t help the desperate whine that worms out of him. 

Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he hears himself promise to get Aayla an apology card. 

“Lay down.”

Your voice is low, and Obi’s brows raise slowly -- he looks fucked out of his mind, but it’s just the pheromones and the force making it hard to think. He obeys the demand wordlessly, rubbing at his face as his head lolls back against the pillows --

Then, your hand ghosts along the imprint in his trousers and he sees stars.

If this is what you’d been feeling... Gods, he’s two beats from coming himself. It doesn’t get any easier -- maintaining some semblance of pacing and composure -- when you tug the hem of his trousers down and away. 

Obi bites his knuckles so hard it draws blood.

Everything feels so... overwhelming. 

It’s only elevated when your hands brush the warm flesh of his cock, eyes hooded with lust weighted lashes. Your bottom lip only brushes the underside of the head and Obi-Wan has to grab something to ground himself.

His arm bows above his head, securing itself to the pillow. You watch his bicep flex with a greedy gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe, tongue darting out to slip flat along the very base of his shaft, “I love you -- so much.”

He can’t speak. Not at all. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out -- only a desperate sound of approval muffled against his knuckles when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and giggle. The sound has his hips twitching at the vibration. You notice, and happily slip your mouth farther along his manhood.

Obi-Wan just swallows, inhales sharply, and muffles a needy moan behind both of his palms. 

Your nails run down his sides, causing the muscles there to jump -- years of training has given him more of a physique than he lets on, and you find yourself watching him hungrily as you bob up and down his member. It’s sinful and in no way pretty, but Obi’s two beats from death’s doorstep when you pull away and swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Gods --”

You crawl up his side, kissing him hotly as he leans to meet you halfway. 

“I -- I need to feel you,” your whisper, voice shattering, “Please.”

He sits up, moving quickly to drag your towards the edge of the bed -- you follow, watching as his cock brushes his stomach when he sits up; it’s all you can think about. Right now, the hollow ache between your legs is driving you mad. 

Obi watches as you throw your leg over his hip; he can see the glistening of wetness running down your thighs there -- and the fact the room smells like flowers hits him suddenly. The pollen, he realizes. Which is better than it smelling like sex, which in a few hours, it most definitely will. 

You hover above him, backlit by the moon and the sight of Coruscant’s night, and kiss him like it’s all you need in this world. Everything is mingling together, painting an overwhelming collection of synapses just trying to rid the pollen from your system. Every touch, every kiss, every breath... all of it is enough to have you needing more. 

“Go ahead,” he breathes, watching as you nose his cheek and sigh, melting into his arm, “I’ve got you --”

You sink down on him and...

That’s it.

There’s no better feeling in the world. 

Nothing like riding it out. 

It’s all him and it’s wonderful and loving and thick and fits the need just perfectly. His fingers dig little half-moons into the skin of your sides as he gasps, mouth falling open as yours does above him. You don’t need time to adjust; you instantly pull yourself upwards and pack down the slick heat of his cock again. The fever washes away with every thrust, your need escalating to sheer bliss by the time Obi-Wan has finally begun to get his bears.

His grapples with you, words stringing together praise and adoration through messy kisses and delighted moans.

“Just like that,” he whispers, snapping his hips up into yours as you scramble to hold onto him, “Gods, you’re so perfect --”

You tighten a hold into his hair and pull, spurring his words to fall off into pleasure and for the sound to be smothered by a bruising kiss. He’s tipping into the territory of carnal, now, hands scaling your back to lift you up and guide you back down with enough force to make you see stars. 

“S-shit --” you hiss, throwing your arms around his neck, “Again.”

So he does. Again and again and again and you’re shaking. Your legs are burning, pace stuttering into a disjoined slow -- and it prompts Obi-Wan to take the lead. You nearly shriek when he lifts you off his member fully and tosses you to the bed, forgetting their previous position in favor of one where he can fuck you right into the mattress. 

Calloused fingers slip between your legs as you grin, legs spread wide and back to the sheets. 

Above you, the Jedi’s smiling. “Let me do the work.”

A shaky nod; he climbs over you, bracing himself up on his elbow beside your head. His cock slips into you easily -- the sound you both make is akin to bliss. Again, the fever begins to receded. Now, his hands are in your hair and your legs are hiked around his hips. You can feel your muscles shaking with each filling of your core. 

“I love you,” it’s muttered against your lips, bodies jostling with each impact of pleasure, “I love you so much --”

Your arms are tight around his neck when he bends, lifts your hips, and drives home. 

It’s world-ending -- before you can even vocalize it, you’re screaming his name and coming so hard you swear you hear something in your chest snap. You shake, tightening harshly around his cock and working his own sudden orgasm out of him in a blink; suddenly, the whole bed moves an inch with a sudden push and the room rocks on impact.

BOOM. 

He’s grasping at you, catching you as you writhe against the sheets and send him spilling a mess everywhere. Inside you, across your thighs, along your stomach. He can’t help but muffle the mantra of your name into the skin of your shoulder as he heaves and shakes and tries to grab your hips for stability with one hand. 

There’s a moment, then two. 

Then, Obi-Wan collapses next to you on the sheets. 

His eyes are wide, chest rising up and down quickly as he swallows and turns to look at you beside him. You’re no better, arms spread out and jaw slack -- there’s a smile on your face, one that blooms into a laugh when you raise your head and stare down at the mess between your legs.

You drop your head back and Obi-Wan exhales slowly.

His voice shakes.

“... I feel better.”

“Yeah,” you muster with a tired laugh, “Me too.”

✶   ---   ✶   ---   ✶

The next morning is... interesting.

His room is a mess. You both wake to find nothing is where it was before. All the trinkets adorning his shelves have flown across the room and even the bed as moved an entire foot from its usual location. 

There’s a crack in the wall where the headboard meets the dura-plaster.

You both wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a land-speeder, full throttle.

Obi-Wan sits straight up and you nearly scream when you see the state of his neck and back. He’s covered in dark purple bites, and running down his back are welts from your scratches. You’re in no better shape -- you face plant into the carpet upon first attempts to stand. 

You both stand in the refresher, slack jawed and just as dazed as you’d been when you’d finally won-out the pollen last night, sometimes around two in the morning.

You just know that the girls are going to have a lot to say about this.

Obi-Wan spares you a single mortified look -- and you both burst into laughter.

Gut-wrenching, tear bringing laughter that sends you both out of the refresher and bracing against the objects in his room. He’s smothering a terrible snort when you try to speak.

“I can’t... I can’t believe --”

“Merry Khairyn Sar?”

You shriek, swatting at the Jedi’s arm as he descends into another bought of laughter. You can’t worm the smile off your face. At this point, you don’t want to.

“I need breakfast,” you point, gathering up your gown and robe from the day previous, “Before I can handle the trademarked Kenobi snark.”

“Dex’s?”

“I’d love to see you try and explain those hickey’s on your jugular to him,” you prod at his neck, earning you a delighted kiss on your way to change in the bathroom, “So yes.”

“Oh, trust me,” he waggles his finger, “I’ve got everyone fooled, you know --”

Obi-Wan eats his words when, after cleaning up, dressing, and straightening his quarters, you both step into the hallway only to come face to face with certain an exhausted looking Twi’lek.

Aayla Secura most definitely heard everything. 

The apologetic look she offers is enough of a give-away as you cover your mouth and Obi-Wan guides you away before you can even utter an apology.

“Morning, Master Secura!”

Once you’re in the elevator, the laughter begins anew. 

Obi-Wan will find a way to make it up to Aayla.

After all, it was a holiday.

Maybe not on Coruscant, but to the Naboo senators and delegates on Coruscant, it was.

[rayfive]

The American idea of default “Korean face”:

-Narrow eyes, round face, huge cheekbones, low nose bridge. Always this particular face type. It is kind of obligatory.

-Tan

-Shittiest possible makeup that makes your eyes look as swollen as possible & your overall face like a burning sweet potato. Literally the shittiest makeup you can humanly come up with

-Bad fashion sense

-Long pin-straight hairstyle regardless of your face type because you’re Korean or something. As if it is a symbol for “Korean”.

And when actual Koreans, who often do not look like this nor do this to our faces, get out of this box of arbitrary-af racist stereotype, they call us “whitewashed”.

This applies not just to white people but also (or even mainly) to POC who want to throw shit in our direction for all sorts of petty, competitive, misguided, or straight up malevolent racist reasons.

This is one of many reasons why I oftentimes don’t sympathize much with Asian Americans (...along with other Americans, not just them to be fair lol). They sort of act as if this is the ‘correct representation’, otherwise it’s “toxic beauty standards”.

This notion is racist as hell.

When an American company had a chance to present a Korean female skater from South Korea, they used this shitty makeup method and made her face look manifestly darker than she actually is to fit her into their racist box. It is not too much unlike an Asian equivalent of ‘blackface’ except they did it on her own face. Needless to say they were not successful with their business here.

In their region, I think it is lowkey considered obligatory to distance an Asian person’s look and representation as far away as Caucasians as possible just for the sake of affirmative action. The result is that only the polar-opposite of the so-called “Caucasian face type (I have a problem with this term)” is allowed to be represented as a positive and proper Asian face. Another result is that the overlapping elements (a high nose bridge or light skin for instance) are obligatorily assigned to the white race, giving them a monopoly over these facial features. Asians are not allowed to have those features because it is supposed to primarily belong to white people and to represent Asians with that kind of look would be considered catering to “Eurocentric / toxic beauty standards”.

From white people’s point of view, they do the same thing because they accentuate the aspects of Asian face that are different or polar-opposite from their own as much as possible with a self-centered tendency. This can be seen especially clearly from the way they oftentimes draw Asians. They tend to draw in accordance with a series of fixed codified notions on what Asians are supposed to look like, and these codified notions tend to revolve around ‘what is opposite from them’. The result includes things like unnatural tan skin tone or selectively un-stylized eyes portion of the picture (just to accentuate on their notion of what it should be) that would’ve otherwise just equally be stylized as the rest of the image. A stylistic choice in and of itself is not problematic, just that it is worth pointing out their particular way of stylizing Asian image shows that their notion revolves around what is ‘Not Caucasian’.

I wouldn’t be as lowkey disgusted by the repetition of this selective race-agenda-driven representation if it wasn’t for them getting out of their way to call us walking toxic beauty standards just for existing with better makeup, fashion sense, and in a different climate, where ice-fishing exists in the winter, with a highly sedentary lifestyle. We are not bound by the political necessity to ‘distance our representation as much as possible from Caucasians’ appearance’ either. The result is we don’t give a fuck whether it “overlaps with white people or not” we don’t care and we don’t think about white people much. We are not obsessed with white people nor race in general. The result is we don’t have the same agenda as them, and these race-obsessed Americans blame us for our skin color or facial features or the representation thereof calling it an incorrect or toxic representation for all the wrong (and highly regional) reasons. When they can’t call it that because it’s just a passer-by and not a tv representation, their next step is to call it fake or bleached, debating on whether that person faked their skin color. (Because they can’t call a regular, accidental passer-by a “toxic” “REPRESENTATION” anymore.) They take away elements of natural spectrum of Korean appearance from its rightful ethnicity by dismissing them as white features at the slightest resemblence and call them products of cosmetic surgeries aimed at looking like white people. Never have I seen such thorough, all-out, un-reserved pathological white worshippers as these people, yet they throw around this accusation that squarely belongs to themselves. What they are doing is elevating white people on a pedestal while putting us under their feet by stealing Korean facial features and offering their ownership to white people. I couldn’t think of a better real-life manifestation of white-worshipping than this even if I tried on purpose. My grandfather is not “whitewashed” for having a nose bridge as high as Caucasians. He is fully, thoroughly Korean. My entire family is not “whitewashed” for having double eyelids. I’m not “whitewashed” for having a skin lighter than a huge chunk of Southern Europeans.

So when it comes to this image agenda, both groups (POC and white) basically see us as a ‘race’ before humans or individuals. They see us either as a tool for their regional agenda, or the burning sweet potato stereotype rather than humans or individuals. It is disgusting.

I was already aware of this racist flow before a black American IRL asked me to fill out a survey on “beauty standards in South Korea”. Which sort of worked like a last drop in the bucket for me and I started to lash out on this issue, frankly with full justification. I know they have unique political needs in their region so I didn’t criticize anything in this regard in the past, but the story changes when they get all up on our faces telling us we are walking toxic beauty standards.

Multiculturalism is a failure and they don’t just stay as a regional failure but bleed onto my country as well. They go racist on us, attacking us with their regionally-generated pathological viewpoint.

I am not a walking “toxic beauty standard”. You are racist.

You can’t call people “white washed” or “bleached” for being “whiter than whites” when they are born this way, and this is simply not debatable. If you have a problem with living people’s skin colour, there is a simple solution for you : Jump off a bridge, or quit living on this planet. That way you can avoid dealing with this ‘problem’.

[skultrashfics]

I've just had a slight brainstorm and I thought maybe you could make something out of it.. .. Now what would be, IF Mevolent didn't even die in the end of the War, but stayed into hiding until the days of the 21st century... And a certain female sorcerer (Reader) accidentally came upon him at a late night in Dublin's lifeless sidesteets.. She may live, but will never forget.. .. As said, it was just an idea, if you like it, feel free to use it!

This is a really fun idea Chickpea! I may actually want to continue this as a series :) What do you think? Mevolent Shenanigans in the modern-day? 

A change of Heart 

Pairing: Mevolent x Reader (maybe?) Chapter: 1/?  Word Count: 1540 Themes: Night walk, Fighting, Tea (the drinking kind)

It was getting cold as you walked home, you had just left Grecious O’Callahan and Donegan Bane’s home as you had been marathoning nerd movies all day. It had been a perfect way to spend your time off work. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself and buried your chin into your scarf, the air was icy and it felt like it was biting at your face while you walked, maybe you should have taken up their offer of driving you home. But it was a beautiful night, the stars shone vividly in the cloudless sky and the roads were empty, silent and glistening. 

You tunnelled down your usual route, keeping mostly your destination in mind due to the cold. But your head kept looking around at all the sights of the city at night and how beautiful it was in its desolation. You approached the alley behind the bookstore and quickly began to make your way through it, that convenient little shortcut was always one of the landmarks to let you know you were almost home. This made you happily increase your walking speed until you suddenly ran into something tall and firm, it was so firm in fact, that you fell backwards onto the floor. “Ow…”, you mumbled looking up and realising that it was a person. “Oh my goodness I am so sorry!”, immediately you clamoured up to see if the other person was ok. A black hood had fallen from their face and as they straightened up and glanced at you your face froze with fear and your whole body stopped moving. Quickly you laughed and shook your head, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you. Or just stare at you- but it’s funny you kind of look a lot like...”. Your sentence trailed off at the end and you began to feel a chill run down your spine and not just from the cold. This tall man continued to stare at you with piercing eyes- your body was screaming at you to run away as you realised that nobody could possibly ever look so much like another person purely by coincidence. Then softly, he spoke breaking the incredibly long silence, “Yes yes, I am Mevolent. And you just crashed into me quite rudely”. Your body tensed up, “B-but you can’t be… you were killed”, straight away you blasted a fireball at him which he easily knocked away as though it were a fly. You now stood in a defensive position and Mevolent sighed, “Are you really going to try and fight me? You’ll die”. He almost laughed as he said this but you paid no attention as you grabbed an icicle hanging down nearby and threw it straight at his throat. He caught it and crushed it in his hand before throwing that back at you, the tiny pieces of ice hit you square in the face like loads of tiny little needles. During the time it took you to close your eyes and hiss in pain, Mevolent had punched you in the stomach and then hit you across the face. Clenching your jaw you took another swing at him, shooting a fireball in his direction before trying to physically punch him. Fortunately for you, he dodged to the left as you expected and he scowled realising that he couldn’t move very well. He had black tendrils piercing his arms and legs, pinning him there, “Necromancy magic?”, he thought aloud as you kicked him square in the face before turning and running away. You realised you could not stop him and should instead get help. You panted softly wondering where to run as your vision cleared up. Your body ached now, but you realised that he had probably gone easy on you and so you ran through the pain. A swift noise followed you overhead and as you turned to see what it was you saw Mevolent descending from the sky, your shoulders drooped as you realised you were going to die. As Mevolent landed he sighed softly, “Do you live around here?”. You looked at him extraordinarily confused, “What? Why..?”, you replied sharply. He simply pulled his hood back over his head, “You seem to be confused. I am cold and would like a cup of tea. Your magic is very interesting. I also want to talk to somebody other than those worshippers. They can get annoying sometimes”. You had an astounded look on your face, causing him to laugh rather rudely at you, “Come now. Aren’t you cold too?”.

Standing in your kitchen, making tea for Mevolent. You had to repeat that to yourself several times to make sure it was real. You glanced back through the doorway and there he sat, seemingly enthralled while watching the television. Once the kettle had boiled you made the tea reached for the sugar and paused, did he even take sugar in his tea? “No thank you”, you heard come from the living room. Shrugging it off you grabbed both mugs and walked into the room, placing one down in front of Mevolent on a coaster. He picked it up and nursed his cold hands with it. You stood awkwardly staring at him not knowing what to do until he gestured for you to sit. As you sat down he started to talk again, “How can you use elemental magic and necromancy magic? You don’t look like a teenager, what did you choose when you surged?”. It felt very strange that the topic of conversation was on you rather than him, the most feared evil being of your lifetime. “I-Ah…. I never had my surge. It’s been 300 years, and it never came. So I tried to study as much as possible”. Mevolent nodded his head as he thought, “I see. How interesting”, he then took a sip of his tea. “What are you doing here? I mean- how are you alive? I hope I am not being too rude but, well… there was the war and I am very confused”. Mevolent nodded again, “I can see that. I was not killed at that time. It was a mere reflection, but since my enemies had gotten so far I thought that I would let them carry on believing that I was dead. I wanted to see what they would do, I was getting bored with war. To be honest, it took me a long time to show myself before my followers again. And now I just think they are all crazy. They lost too much because of me and now they will do almost anything to get it all back. So I have been killing the particularly troublesome ones, one by one”. You did not realise but your mouth had dropped open in surprise as Mevolent spoke. It was impossible to believe and yet there he was on your sofa telling you himself. “After The Faceless Ones were actually brought back I saw what monsters they were. They would not listen to anyone and would have destroyed everything. After all, I have seen the mortals and sorcerors alike accomplish, I can say I am quite comfortable living out my days like this”. Putting yourself back in the moment you frowned, “But don’t you have your own home? Or friends?”. It disgusted you a little, but you felt genuine concern for Mevolent’s well being. He chuckled at this, “What does someone like me need friends for? I caused a lot of suffering because I was young, headstrong and foolish. My mind corrupted by my mentor’s teachings- what use has my life if not to right those wrongs? Friends do not fit into the picture. Most of the time I can easily sneak into mortal hotels so I stay there a lot. I like penthouses”, he added with a smirk. A small smile weaselled its way onto your face and you remembered to sip your own tea, “Do you know where they are? The other’s that you are looking for?”. Mevolent shrugged, “Most find me purely by coincidence. Kind of like how you bumped into me earlier. You are a very kind young lady”. You laughed this off and fiddled with your mug, “I don’t know why you would say that. I attacked you earlier”. Mevolent sipped at his own tea, musing over that thought with humour on his face, “Yes you did. Which is to be expected. But before that, when you bumped into me you recognised me and still apologised for the inconvenience. Even after I hit you, I still received shelter and tea from you”. You didn’t really think you had much of a choice in the latter, but he was being considerate all the same. Mevolent stood finishing his tea and then made to leave, “Feel free to tell anyone about our meeting by the way. They will not believe you. And any sensitives will not be able to detect my presence in your memories so that will not work either. Goodnight… what was your name?”. You paused for a moment before responding, “Y/n… my name is Y/n”. Mevolent flashed you the briefest of smiles before walking out of the front door as he closed it, it locked behind him.

[badnovels]

Surprise Birthday Drabbles!

To celebrate this special day, we cooked up two Everlark drabbles just for you! Enjoy! <3<3<3

Love always,

Jackie & Caryn

The Garbage Will Do by JennaGill

Modern Everlark AU, featuring a scavenger from Jakku and lowly radar technician. I just couldn’t leave this idea alone and hope you like it! Happy Birthday Jessa!

********

“C’mon Peeta, you promised,” she said through the bathroom door, fidgeting with her middle bun. A bobby pin shook loose, and she wished she’d been more attentive while her mother arranged her hair. She grabbed another from the dresser and secured her hair hiding the elastic. She checked the top and bottom buns, fussing with the details of her favorite character.

“I dunno Katniss,” wafted between the crevices, spreading tendrils of doubt that they could pull this cosplay off at the Capitol ComicCon. “It’s a lot, Katniss. I’m Kylo acting as Matt, poorly, and I just want to be me.”

She straightened her muslin bindings and wrapped on the door with her staff. He promised this for her birthday and there was no backing down now. “I haven’t had my muffin yet, Matt!” she bellowed through the thin veneer, shoulders squared up to face him.

“Fine! Could you please not yell at me, you’re stressing me out!” Peeta huffed and stepped through the door, a vision in a beige jumpsuit, safety orange vest, over-sized glasses, and wayward ashy blond waves grown out especially for today. “You can’t even see how shredded I am in this,” he muttered and stomped across the room, grabbing his wrench.

“There’s my Undercover Star Killer Base Boss,” she drawled, proud of his transformation. She hooked her finger under his stiff collar and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “If you keep this up Matt, I’ll treat your light saber right tonight…”

He hummed in approval, “Lead the way, Mrs. Radar Technician, lead the way.”

******************************************************************************

The Seventh Floor by Papofglencoe

A/N: Modern AU Everlark ficlet. Rated M/Eish? Basically this is just library porn, with a nod to a mutually beloved author (who would be appalled by this). Happy birthday, Jessa!

****************************

She watched, her mouth hanging slightly agape in shock at the sight of him, as he strode past the circulation desk and jabbed the call button for the staff elevator.

A goddamn masterpiece. That’s what he was, his wavy golden hair and the t-shirt stretched taut over his thick, muscular shoulders damp from getting caught in the summer squall outside. A fucking Picasso. Or a Renoir. Or… or one of the other names she really should have paid more attention to in any of the countless art museums in D.C. that she’d been dragged into in the past couple years. None of the masters she could think of now came anywhere close to capturing his beauty.

As the elevator descended, groaning on its ancient cables, Katniss had the ridiculous thought that even the machinery was bowing to him, drawn to him not because it was summoned, but from the magnetic pull of simply wanting to be near him, prostrate at his feet.

When the rheumatic elevator doors finally wheezed open, after what seemed like three delicious years of gaping at his ass, he glanced over his shoulder toward her. His shockingly blue eyes, framed by a pair of ill-fitting, black-rimmed glasses, locked on hers, and the ghost of a smirk flitted across his lips. He stepped onto the elevator, the doors sliding shut between them, and she would have written him off as a phantom, some gorgeous ghoul conjured by boredom and a dash of paranoia, if the panel above the elevator wasn’t marking his progress upward.

As he made his way higher, to the fourth, then fifth, then sixth floor of the library, her pulse sped up, hammering violently throughout her body. She could feel the blood throbbing in her neck, in her ears—so loud the world fell silent around her. The blood stampeded through her arms to the tips of her trembling fingers. It pushed her heart to its aching limit. It coaxed its way between her legs, heating her, inspiring her.

She squirmed on the stool where she sat, watching the number “7” light up. The elevator halted, waiting at the top floor of the library to be called again.

He’d gone to the seventh floor—a quiet floor—its stacks housing all the language and literature books the university owned. Of course that’s where he’d go.

“So, ah, I know no one asked me, but I vote you go find that nerd.”

Her coworker’s caustic tone snapped Katniss out of whatever trance he’d put her in the moment he’d walked through the library’s double doors.

“Eh,” Katniss demurred, nervous at the mere thought of it. “I don’t know…”

Her brain began to list out all the reasons it was a terrible idea. It was the week before finals. The library was swarming with students, and the circulation desk had been slammed all morning. To make matters worse, her boss was in the office today—albeit probably passed out drunk at his desk. Katniss looked at the mountain of books that needed to be checked back in and sorted onto carts for reshelving. She imagined the mountain growing to epic heights in the next twenty minutes, avalanching and smothering Johanna Mason to death.

Actually, that last part was sort of a pleasant thought.  

“Listen up,” Johanna sighed. “I can go on pretending I don’t know it’s your birthday and be the spectacular bitch to you that I usually am. But I’m feeling generous today, I guess. And I know for a fact that loverboy was shooting ‘fuck me’ eyes at you. So…” She waved her hand dismissively at Katniss. “Scram. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll tell them you’re on the can from whatever crap you ate at the Union for breakfast.”

Katniss bit her lip, her nerves warring with the overwhelming urge to go find him. Not that she had any idea what to expect, or even to say, if she did. “Well…”

Johanna shot her a withering look, her limited patience with her having already run threadbare.

It was enough.

“Fine. Cover for me. But if anyone asks where I am, don’t say anything about the “can.” Tell them I took my break early.”

**********

What the fuck was she doing anyway? This wasn’t like her at all. This was reckless and wild and… and so completely unlike any script she’d ever followed. It’s not that she was a great respector and worshipper of the rules—not at all. She’d trespassed more times than she could count into local hotels to use their swimming pools. She’s smoked pot with her best friend Gale since she was fifteen, either lying to her mother or sneaking out in the night to get stoned in the playground of the local elementary school (“drug free zone,” her ass). Katniss was openly disdainful of authority, and, if she was not mistaken, she’d dreamt just last night that she’d embarked on a personal mission to assassinate President Trump (best dream ever).

But when it came to boys…

It was different.

She found him down one of the British literature aisles, a copy of Persuasion open in his hands. At the sound of her steps, he looked toward her, his cheeks flushing a ruddy pink. He snapped the book shut and carelessly stowed it back in what was probably not its place, the spine jutting out a couple inches.  

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice a low rasp in the almost sacred silence of the stacks.

“Hey,” she murmured back, wiping her suddenly clammy palms on her skirt. The thread connecting them pulled her toward him, the force of it unwilled but never more welcomed.

She stopped about a foot from him, unsure what to do next. Really, it was up to him.

The glasses he was wearing sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose, a little too low. Not fitted for him. He pushed them up with one finger, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the glasses were also crooked.

“Sexy specs.” She smirked at him, hopelessly lost for him.

“Well,” he sighed, smiling down at her. “Unfortunately, my girlfriend has a thing for nerds, so I’m sort of stuck wearing them.”

“For now,” Katniss amended.

“Or,” he shrugged, “you know… whenever she wants.”

Katniss barked out a laugh, remembering too late where they were. She clapped a hand over her mouth to silence herself. In the distance, somewhere on the floor, she heard a chair push back and the soft snores of someone who’d lost their battle with studiousness.

It was probably a terrible idea, what they were going to do. Technically, they could get expelled. Or possibly arrested. But the minute Peeta had cracked a joke, in passing, about fucking her brains out in the library, it had become the fantasy that had sparked a hundred orgasms for her. It had been months, and it was all she could think about.

It was a terrible idea.

As the thought of what they were going to do came to her, Peeta seemed to read it on her body. Before she could change her mind, he had her pinned against the shelves, the hard planes of his body perfectly molded to the soft planes of hers, like two pieces made to lock together.

“Happy birthday,” he breathed against her neck before biting down on the flesh, sucking it between his teeth, nearly to the point of pain.

Katniss gasped, her hips involuntarily bucking at the sensation. As his tongue flicked the tender spot he’d left in the crook of her neck, Peeta grabbed one of her legs, winding it around him.

“You wore the perfect skirt,” he rumbled into her skin, burying two fingers deeply, shockingly fast, inside her.

Katniss’ head lolled back, ecstasy and agony raging through her. She wanted to burn alive, burn with him, burn this place to the ground. When she moaned, he leaned in and bit her lip harshly, punishingly.

“Shhhh,” he reminded her, his fingers curling inside her in a taunt. Teasing her, tormenting her, commanding her to moan again.

“Nerds don’t…” she gasped, her hands desperately trying to find their way into his pants, trying to grasp onto him, to feel him and love him. “Nerds don’t kiss like that.”

“Lucky for you, then, I’m not a nerd.” He backed away slightly, taking his fingers and the heat of his body with him. It felt like a cataclysm, that loss of his warmth and steadiness.

But instead of losing him, Katniss watched him sink to his knees in front of her, his hands coasting down her body, over her tits, her tummy, to her hips. He squeezed them, bracketing them with his hands as if touching her was painful to him somehow. He kissed her pubic bone softly over the fabric of her skirt, then dipped his head and bit her thigh.

“Oh god,” she said, wondering if god himself could see, could hear, would know what was happening. Wondering if god thought the creation before her was half as perfect as Katniss did.

She pointed upward, her arm flailing against the shelf. Amis, Austen, Auden went tumbling down around them as Peeta lifted her leg onto her shoulder and, moving the narrow fabric of her panties aside, began to speak to her in a language they’d made themselves.  

“They’ll see,” she panted, her index finger pointing to nowhere.

She could feel the rumble of Peeta’s laughter against her, seeping into her and moving her. His breath was hot against her, his hands bruisingly clutching at her ass.

“Then let’s put on a good show.”  

[mazurah]

Lost in Time Ch. 24: Reach - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Fayrl and Ma’zurah find out why they were attacked the previous night and resume their journey.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for language and canon typical violence.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 24: Reach

The sun had risen above the horizon, and birds were singing and warbling like mad beings in the shrubbery. Miners milled about, repairing the damage done in the night and cleaning the area.

Fayrl squinted in the sunlight with eyes accustomed to the darkness of the house. After a moment, he saw Lash and Ragnar resetting a door onto its hinges. He approached them with a smile, Ma’zurah trailing behind him. “Good morning, my friends!” he called cheerfully.

“It is a morning. Not sure if it is a good one, save for having lived to see it,” muttered Lash as she hammered the last pin into the top hinge.

Ragnar did not meet Fayrl’s eyes, he simply gave a silent nod, still holding the door for Lash.

Fayrl felt the chill in Lash’s words and realized the gravity of the morning’s mood. They had lost people in the night. He had not considered it after spending so much time feeling sorry for himself. He decided to switch tactics. “My apologies. I try to stay on the positive side of these types of situations. We came to see if we could be of any help.”

“Had enough of your help,” grumbled Ragnar under his breath.

Fayrl took a step back. “We will see if we can help someone else.”

Ragnar snorted. “You do that.”

Fayrl motioned to Ma’zurah and moved out of earshot. “Sorry about breakfast,” he said in a whisper. “Guess we’ll have to call in that favor later.”

Ma’zurah frowned. She could see why the Nord would not be pleased to see them. She followed after Fayrl, searching for the landowner. She spotted him exiting the small horse stall attached to the public house, and realized that she had forgotten to check on their horse before she had fallen asleep. She walked forward and peeked into the stall while Ainethach watched her. Both horses were placidly munching on a freshly filled basket of hay. She turned back to Ainethach. “How are things going for you?”

“I’m fine, but a lot of my miners aren’t doing so great. We have several people still too injured to work, we lost one man, and one of the children is missing. We fear the worst.” He turned and gave Fayrl an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to say that some of my people are asking that you leave immediately. I won’t hear of it though. You saved my life last night, and I’m grateful.”

Fayrl shook his head. “I failed in saving one of your men. I am not surprised that they should want us gone. I did what I could to ease his suffering, but not everyone is willing to accept such battlefield medicine. We can be gone in an hour if need be.” Fayrl still felt the sickly feeling of guilt twisting in his gut. He knew there had been no other choice; he had done what relieved the man’s suffering. He had even given the man a happy end to his life, but he had still ended the man’s life.

Ainethach gave a slow nod. “I heard what happened. You needn’t worry yourself too much. You’ve proven your worth in my eyes. I can’t really blame them though. We’re simple folk here. Battlefields are not a part of our lives. Or at least they shouldn’t be--damn Forsworn.” The man’s lips thinned.

“Is that the name of those who attacked you? The Forsworn?” Fayrl had a few things he would like to do to this group if he ever met with them face to face.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. You’ve not heard of them? That’s a surprise. They’ve only gotten worse in recent years. You’d best take care traveling through the Reach. Traders to Markarth have taken to hiring armed guards, and even so, shipments still get overrun. It’s been a sore drain on my business, I can tell you that.”

“I see,” Fayrl said gravely. “We shall be sure to keep an eye out for them. Do you think they would harm the child should the child have happened across them?”

Ainethach threw his hands in the air. “Who knows! They may be Reachmen, but they’re a devilish lot, all of them! They have strange, heathen rituals. Some say they consort with Hagravens, and some of them carve out their hearts and replace them with the heart of a briar! There’s no telling what they’re capable of. There’s not much we can do though. We’re simple folk here. We will have to call the guard and hope they’re willing to conduct a search. Enmon swears his daughter was sleeping soundly before the attack, and that the Forsworn must have taken her. If that’s the case, searching will be futile.”

Fayrl turned to Ma’zurah. “They attacked us in our bed last night. Or they tried.” He wasn’t sure what sort of rituals these Forsworn might follow, but he knew that nothing good could come from having a Hagraven rip your heart from your chest and put another one inside. That was a dangerous sort of magic. A child brought into all that was not likely to fare well at all. “If we find any sign of the girl, we will bring her back. No child should be left to face such terrors alone.”

“I know Enmon and Mena would be grateful if you found anything,” replied Ainethach. “Even a rumor would be better than nothing. The girl is named Fjotra. She’s seven years old, and she has brown eyes and brown hair about so long. She was last seen wearing a red tunic. I know it’s not much of a description, but it’s all we have.”

“We will do everything we can,” Fayrl assured him. “If we hear anything we will send word.”

“What is a Hagraven?” Ma’zurah asked suddenly. “Ma’zurah just thought it was some type of large bird.”

Fayrl turned to Ma’zurah incredulously. “They are witches! Crones more like. They make pacts with Daedric forces to gain power. Usually considered very dangerous and very evil. They love to prey on mortals. I hear they have a taste for mortal flesh. And I mean that in every sense of the word.”

Ma’zurah returned Fayrl’s incredulous look. “Ma’zurah thought that ‘witches’ was a religious slur for Daedra worshippers. Are you telling Ma’zurah that there are actually people who identify themselves as witches in Skyrim? Is that why Nords always seem so concerned about witches?”

Ainethach laughed and crossed his arms, watching the exchange in amusement.

“Witches are magic users who work for evil forces and seek to harm others,” explained Fayrl. “Though I suppose it might also be used as a slur. But that is not its original meaning. I hear that there are some rituals involved in becoming a witch and Hagraven too. Probably a moonlit orgy and eating a man’s heart or something similar if the children’s tales are to be believed.”

Ma’zurah stared at Fayrl. “Alright then…” She shook her head and turned to Ainethach. “Why are these Forsworn attacking you?”

“Well, it has to do with the history of the Reach, but it also has to do with the fact that I’m a Reachman. Basically, I’m the only Reach-native landowner around, and the Forsworn are convinced I must have sold them out to the Nords to have kept my land, nevermind that my family has owned this land for generations! On the other hand, the Nords are convinced that I must be working with the Forsworn not to have been driven off by now.” The man shook his head. “It’s a difficult situation.”

Fayrl nodded. “I see. Do you mind if I ask you about these Silver Veins, or whatever their names were? Your miners seemed concerned about them.”

“The Silver-bloods? They’re the richest family in Markarth. They own or have a stake in every mine in the Reach except my own. They’ve been try to get me to sell my mines to them for years now. It’s just been getting worse. Last time, they tried to intimidate me into selling by sending hired thugs.” Ainethach scowled.

“Ah yes, Silver-bloods.” Well, that explained all the complaints then. They were moving for a monopoly. That was always difficult to counter. And surely they would not stop if there was still a threat that they could use for leverage. Fayrl had seen similar situations in House politics in Morrowind. “So you are trapped between the battles of the Reachmen and the Nords then?”

“Well, not all Reachmen, just the Forsworn, really. There’s plenty of us Reachmen who are simply tired of the whole damn mess.” Ainethach ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “The Forsworn are really just a menace. They recaptured Markarth a few years back during the Great War, and when they were ousted by that Ulfric fellow--The Bear of Markarth they call him now I think--they just turned to terrorizing the countryside. Been doing it for nigh on twenty-five years now. There are few enough farmers in the area as it is, what with the terrain being what it is, but I think all but the last stubborn few were driven out by the damn Forsworn years ago.”

Now Ulfric was a fellow Fayrl could actually put face to name for, provided it be the same one they saw up for execution. The man seemed to be at the center of more than a single conflict. Fayrl would have to try and learn more about him. In the meantime, he felt sorry for Ainethach. Twenty-five years of dodging raids and being the focusing point for a political battle between two warring factions was no easy life. It was a wonder Ainethach had not decided to sell the mines purely to be done with the whole affair. “You’re a tough man, Ainethach. You call yourself simple folk, but you stand against a lot. I’m sorry we could not do more to protect your people. And we will look for this lost child. You have my word.”

“Thank you. We’ll be grateful if you do.” Ainethach paused and glanced between his two guests. “Anyhow, I've stood about boring you with my troubles for long enough. I've got to get back to work, but can I offer you some food before you leave? We traded for some potatoes, eggs, and a fresh butchered goat only a few days ago. I could cook you up an omelet with some cheese, garlic, and herbs in only a couple minutes.”

“You have not bored us,” Fayrl assured him. “Your troubles are a great burden and we have done little to alleviate them. We would be grateful for a meal however, but then we will go. We thank you for your hospitality.” Fayrl’s tone was somber. He was preoccupied with worry for the missing girl's safety. He did not like the idea of her spirited away in the night by Hagraven cultists. That was no fate for a child.

Ma'zurah’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. Ainethach ushered them to his house and cooked them the promised omelet, and when they had eaten their fill, they repacked their bags, mounted their horse, and proceeded on their way.

---

A few hours later, Fayrl’s ears perked up at the sound of running water. He wouldn’t mind stopping to cool himself down if a river was nearby.

As he directed the horse down the road, the sounds of water drew closer and louder until he caught sight of a bridge. It spanned a deep canyon with a rushing river far below. To their right flowed a tall waterfall, roaring like the sound of thundering horses’ hooves. Fayrl stopped their horse in the center of the bridge and hopped off. A breeze blew spray up onto the bridge and it felt cool on his cheeks. He sighed as he looked down into the canyon. “I wish the river was just a bit closer.”

Ma’zurah looked out over the edge of the ancient stone bridge. The waterfall was huge, and the sides of the gorge it had carved into the rock were lined with creeping vines. “It is beautiful though.” She slid off their horse and walked up next to him, sliding a hand into his. “Ma’zurah was enjoying your singing. Fayrl is a good bard.”

Fayrl smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you. I don’t use my birth gifts alone to get people to pay for my music.” He lapsed silent, taking in the scenery; the rushing river and the creeping vines. “It’s so strange to see this place. I mean, I’ve seen this waterfall before, but the river is different. Deeper. Harder to see to the bottom. It is much cloudier than it once was.”

Ma’zurah squinted down at the river. “It looks like a normal river still to Ma’zurah. We should keep going. Help Ma’zurah back up?”

Fayrl sighed. He did not know how to explain the loss he felt from the extreme the passage of time. Rivers and trees, these were natural elements that moved on such incremental time scales; their changes were so miniscule that a mer would usually only notice them over a lifetime. And yet to witness such a profound change so short a time after his last visit here… it disturbed his sense of self--of place.

“Yes, let us go,” he replied with a shake of his head. He turned his back on the river and swung up onto the horse, holding out a hand to help Ma’zurah up.

Ma’zurah settled into place, resting her hands on Fayrl’s hips. “How did Fayrl learn to be a bard?” she asked, putting her chin on his shoulder. Her whiskers tickled his ear.

Fayrl shivered. The combined sensation of having her so close, her hands on his hips, her breath so close to his ears, and most of all, the light sensation of the whiskers against his ear, it was almost too much all at once. He was thankful that they neither were using a saddle with a horn, nor that she was in front of him. His body was reacting far faster than he would have cared for given how much longer they likely had to ride that day.

It was only fair, he supposed, after how he had tortured her just the day before. But he had always been far better at dispensing the teasing than at being on the receiving end. With any luck they would stop for lunch soon and he could excuse himself to pray.

“I started music as part of my formal education,” he replied, careful to keep his voice even. “My tutors felt I had a particular gift and I was encouraged to pursue music as a gentlemer’s hobby. Something to entertain at social occasions. Though, once I joined Indoril Intelligence, they found it was a skill that could easily be applied when sending me afield. And so I became officially a bard as part of that cover. I was certified under a false name in Vivec. I was also certified at the Bard’s College in Solitude and given special recommendation by the governor of Kvatch. All of these documents were used as a way to prove my identity and to get me into a variety of situations not afforded to the ordinary person.”

The horse reached the end of the bridge and the sound of roaring water slowly started diminishing. Ma’zurah purred against Fayrl’s back, happy to find him so ready to talk about himself. “So Ma’zurah gathers that Fayrl writes his own songs often. How many songs has Fayrl written?”

“A few dozen,” he said with an easy wave of his hand. “I have my song book if you’d like to look through it. It only has ones which I did not write as commissions, though there may be a couple of those in there as well that I wrote when I hadn’t enough parchment. Three of the songs I wrote for the Companions are in there. I wrote them eight, but only three are in there. Oh, and skip the earlier ones. Mostly work I did for the temple before they gave me a special book for just their compositions to go in. Feel free to flip through if you’re interested.”

“Maybe this evening!” Ma’zurah laughed. “Ma’zurah is not fluent enough in either Dunmeris or Daedric script to read and ride without much difficulty, and she does not want to damage Fayrl’s song book. Ma’zurah does appreciate the offer!” She rubbed her face against Fayrl’s cheek, then resumed her position with her chin on his shoulder.

Fayrl shivered as Ma’zurah moved against him again. Curse his people for having such sensitive ears! If he wasn’t careful he would let himself give in again to those desires which he knew Ma’zurah was trying to avoid.

“At least Fayrl seems to enjoy being a bard,” Ma’zurah said after a moment. “Indoril Intelligence could have picked worse options for Fayrl’s cover. Ma’zurah is lucky. She got to establish her own cover when she was working with the Blades, so she joined the Mage’s Guild. Also the Thieves Guild, but that was mostly because Ma’zurah had nothing at all on which to live when she was sent to Morrowind.”

“I have never had the opportunity to choose my own cover,” said Fayrl. “Well, I suppose I could have done so when I fled Morrowind, but I just had so many connections established with my old covers, I just sort of… picked up where I had left off before.” He tried to imagine what it would have been like to have known Ma’zurah the assassin. How differently might she have acted? He hadn’t figured her the type for hired murder. Yet what else could a group called ‘The Blades’ be? “I had other covers as well. But there were often more opportunities acting as a bard. I am sure your masters gave you a variety of tasks to complete in a variety of places?”

“Not really, no. Vvardenfell was quarantined as soon as Ma’zurah arrived, so Ma’zurah never left Vvardenfell after that until she had defeated Dagoth Ur. Well, that is not quite true. Ma’zurah found a mage willing to transport her to Mournhold to take care of the Dark Brotherhood assassins who were after her after the first House named her Hortator. But that was after Ma’zurah had no more contact with the Blades.

“Anyway, the Emperor wanted Ma’zurah for one thing, and one thing only, and that was to become the Nerevarine. Ma’zurah is still not sure if he knew that Ma’zurah was really Incarnate, because Ma’zurah did not even know it at the time, but all of Ma’zurah’s assignments were about the Nerevarine prophecies. First it was information gathering, then it was prophecy fulfilling. The Empire thought that if they made their own Nerevarine, they could better control Morrowind. Or something. They never really asked Ma’zurah to do anything except fulfill the prophecies though. This one probably would never have done anything they commanded after regaining the memories of Resdayn anyway.”

“Oh,” said Fayrl, sounding very small. He felt rather strange for his assumptions. It seemed the Blades were simply more Imperial spies. He had certainly dealt with enough of those in his time. He would never have suspected she had been used by the Imperials like that though. There was likely so much more to know of her. “And you were the Nerevarine after all that. What a stroke of luck for Morrowind.” He hoped it would be a more positive turn.

“Maybe.” Ma'zurah lapsed quiet, looking at the passing landscape. They were travelling in a shallow canyon now; down the road on the right side of the canyon wall there appeared to be some kind of stronghold built directly into the rock. It looked abandoned, and in sore need of repair. Watching revealed no activity, and Ma’zurah dismissed it in her dreary abstraction.

“When this one severed Dagoth Ur’s connection to the Heart of Lorkhaj,” Ma'zurah continued slowly, “she also severed Ayem, Seht, and Vehk’s source of godhood. This one is the reason that they no longer protect Morrowind; the reason that Ayem and Seht are dead and Baar Dau fell. It is… debatable whether or not that was a good thing, considering. The cost was much higher than Ma'zurah was prepared to pay. But Mafala said that Ma'zurah strengthened the Dunmer in the process, despite the death of so many countless thousands, and who is Ma'zurah to question Mafala?”

Fayrl stopped the horse. “Wait.”

He turned to her as best as he could on the horse. “You have to know that the end of the Almsivi was prophesied. What happened as a result was not your doing. Vivec could have done something about Baar Dau. He could have done something about it for centuries! But he didn't. He preferred to use it as a symbol of power, to force our people's fate. There is nothing you could have done about that. You saved Morrowind. We returned to the true faith. You stopped Dagoth Ur from doing who knows what unspeakable things to our land. You're a hero, Ma’zurah. Don't let anyone make you doubt it. Not even yourself.”

“Thanks Fayrl…” Ma'zurah hugged him around the waist and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

There was a sudden whistling rush of air as an arrow flew past Ma'zurah’s ear. She snapped her head up with a curse.

“Shit!” Fayrl pulled the horse to the side of the road to avoid the arrows, leaping off and leading it behind a boulder. He kicked himself for letting his guard down. He knew better! He had been trained better than this! What a stupid thing to do.

Ma’zurah hunkered down at the horse’s side, hastily untying the horse’s makeshift blanket saddle and their packs while trying to catch a glimpse of their attacker. She did not want to get caught in combat without her potions again, but she also did not want their horse to get shot. She caught sight of three figures on the walls of the fortress, and two more on the ground outside the front door, and realized that the place was not nearly as abandoned as she had assumed. She slipped the bit out of the horse’s mouth, cast the longest invisibility spell she knew on it, and gave its flank a sharp slap, sending it galloping off the way they had come.

Fayrl had his blades out and ready. He crouched down with an aura of shadow around him. “I can’t reach anyone up above, but I can take care of the two on the ground. Think you can get rid of the archers? I might be able to ensnare the closest one for you.”

“Ma’zurah can hit them with ice spikes.” She cast chameleon on herself and pulled a few potions out of her pack, slipping them into a more easily accessible pocket before shouldering her pack. She pressed Fayrl’s pack into the lee of the boulder, covering it with the blanket. “Watch out, they are headed this way!” she hissed to Fayrl.

The two enemies on the ground were indeed heading toward them, intent on investigating the area in which they had last been seen. Ma’zurah turned her focus to the enemies on the walls. More Forsworn, she realized. Her eyes narrowed and she slipped stealthily out of the shelter of the boulder to find a better vantage point from which to cast. She worked to gather moisture into ice spikes while she waited for an opportunity to snipe at one of the Forsworn on the walls.

Fayrl had come to the same conclusion. He licked his lips. He had wanted to pay these bastards back for the night before. Now he was going to get the chance. He only hoped he could slaughter them all.

He whispered quietly under his breath in Dunmeris as he made himself invisible and slipped around behind the two heading their way.

“Lady of Whispers, these lives I take for myself. To You I give the new shape of the Web, The now-severed strands ripe for the taking, The fate that was in motion now changed to one of my choosing.”

He drove his sword into the back of the man with an axe in hand, bringing his dagger to stab the man repeatedly around his gut. He vanished from sight again, and a circle of thorned vines erupted from the ground around the Forsworn woman who had been approaching her fallen companion’s position with arrow nocked on bowstring.

“Now!” shouted Fayrl, dodging out of the way of arrows flying blindly in the direction of his voice.

Ma’zurah spotted all three of the archers on the walls duck out of cover as Fayrl momentarily betrayed his position. She sent three ice spikes, one after the other, toward the archers, catching two in the chest and one in the arm. All three dropped out of sight atop the wall, but Ma’zurah could not tell whether they were all completely neutralized. She cursed silently and made a break for the front door of the fortress, letting her camouflage drop as she entered the cover of the doorway. They would have to go up there to check, and she still hadn’t gotten the knack of casting levitation on other people. She knew better than to split up without some means of communicating with Fayrl.

Fayrl appeared again behind the ensnared woman thrusting his sword up through her ribs and pulling up, her body pulled by his force against the brambles holding her down. She pulled out a knife and with the last of her strength, furiously attempted to cut away Fayrl behind her. The knife ripped through the sleeve of Fayrl’s tunic as he pulled his blade away and let the woman’s body fall to a heap on the ground. He vanished again.

He reappeared beside the door, body flat against the stone of the fortress, his chest heaving as he drew breath, a smile plastered upon his face. He enjoyed the familiar pumping of blood as he fought. He wanted to take these bastards out. “Beautifully done, my dear. Shall we go inside and see who else we can find to say hello to?” Fayrl suddenly remembered the girl; she might still be alive in there. If these were the Forsworn who had taken her, she might well be here.

Ma’zurah nodded, then noted the tear in Fayrl’s sleeve. She stopped him and examined the cut. It was not particularly deep, but she healed it anyway to prevent it from becoming contaminated. “This is why Fayrl should wear that damn armor he got!” she chided him quietly. “Go get it! Fayrl’s pack is behind the rock!”

He waved a hand at her and disappeared from view to retrieve his pack only appearing once he had grabbed it from beneath the blanket. He threw off his tunic and slipped on the fur-lined armor, laughing mentally at his own image. What tacky armor!

He pulled his tunic back atop the armor and returned to the door. “Ready to rescue a girl and kill some Forsworn?”

Ma’zurah blinked at him, realizing that she had forgotten about the lost girl of Karthwasten in the surprise of the attack. She might very well be here. All the more reason to go inside then.

“Ready,” Ma’zurah whispered, and slowly cracked open the door to the fortress.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

[janetchavezcom]

Exploring Chichen Itza: Mexico’s Wonder Of The World

The Ancient Mayan Ruins of Chichen Itza

Chichen Itza, Mexico

The history of Chichén Itzá is not for the faint of heart. These Mayan ruins are shrouded in mystery and have a way of haunting you long after returning home from Mexico.

Once you finally get past an army of local vendors at the entrance, the ancient stone carvings of fearsome creatures and bloodthirsty warriors at Chichen Itza inspire awe and trigger unease at the same time.

This pre-Hispanic city (and UNESCO World Heritage Site) has a fascinating 1,000-year-old history. It is the second most visited archaeological site in Mexico, partly due to its close proximity to Cancun.

Located in the Yucatan Penninsula, the ruins are extensive and cover 740 acres. Many sections have still never been excavated.

While wandering around the massive archaeological site, I kept wondering what hidden treasures lay undiscovered beneath my feet.

Jaguar Head Sculptures

Temple of Kukulcan

History Of Chichen Itza

One thing that makes the Chichen Itza so intriguing, other than the giant stone pyramid, is the mysterious decline of the Maya people themselves.

By the time of the Spanish conquest of the Maya, this great city and others like it were virtually ghost towns.

Historians have several theories as to why. Overpopulation may have depleted environmental resources. A great drought or another catastrophe may have wiped out the civilization.

Competing city-states were constantly at war too — the Maya may have simply done themselves in.

In any case, Mexico’s most famous ruins are astonishingly well-restored site compared to other Mayan ruins in the region. Which is why it’s considered one of the New 7 Wonders Of The World.

El Castillo Pyramid at Chichen Itza

Pyramid Temple Of Kukulkan

Once you enter Chichen Itza, you can’t miss the Temple Of Kukulkan (aka “El Castillo”). A large 98-foot-tall pyramid which dominates the northern part of the city.

Kukulkan is a feathered snake deity in the Mayan religion. The pyramid is guarded by enormous carved serpent heads at the base of the stairs.

The Mesoamerican fascination with stars and planets mean the four stairways of the pyramid represent the four points of a compass. There are 365 steps, one for each day in the solar calendar.

Nine terraces probably symbolize the Maya belief in a nine-level heaven too.

If you REALLY want a treat, visit the pyramid in March or September during the annual equinoxes. At sunset, a play of light and shadow creates the eerie effect of a snake gradually slithering down the staircase!

Scientists recently discovered that this pyramid actually has two more pyramids inside it.

Hall Of A Thousand Columns

Temple Of The Warriors

Temple Of The Warriors

The Temple Of The Warriors is another impressive structure at Chichen Itza. Some of the 200 columns on the south side depict warriors in bas-relief.

The columns once supported a roof system that is long gone.

Also known as the Hall of the Thousand Columns, this grand space might have been a meeting place or an indoor market.

A Chac Mool tops the broad staircase, distinctive statues found throughout the Yucatan Peninsula. Reclining figures holding bowls with their heads turned at a 90-degree angle and propped on their elbows.

They might represent temple guardians or slain warriors bearing gifts to Chac, the god of rain.

In Maya religious ceremonies, stone dishes probably held offerings such as incense, tobacco, tamales or tortillas. In Aztec rituals, they more likely held human hearts.

The Mesoamerican Ballgame

Oldest Sport in the World?

The Maya Ball Court

Off to the left of the main pyramid, you’ll find the famed Maya ball court. While many sites include ball courts, the one at Chichen Itza is the largest in the world.

Maya athletes played a game where the object was to put a rubber ball (representing the sun) into a small stone circle perched very high on a wall, without using your hands OR feet.

Some carvings suggest that the winning team’s captain was decapitated, which was a sign of honor. The ball game is over 3,500 years old, making it the first organized game in the history of sports.

Some of the games were played to resolve arguments between rival cities or as an alternative to all-out war.

The Sacred Cenote

Cenote De Los Sacrificios

Chichen Itza means “mouth of the well of Itza” in the local Maya language. One possible translation of Itza is “enchanted water.” The Yucatan is covered in cenotes — distinctive limestone sinkholes that form natural pools.

Cenotes have deep spiritual significance for the Maya. Many scholars believe Chichen Itza was built solely because of the large cenote located here, which provided people with fresh water.

Cenote de los Sacrificios (also known as the Sacred Cenote) measures about 200 feet across with sheer cliffs that drop to the water’s surface. During severe droughts, worshippers tried to appease their rain god Chac by sacrificing special items or people (!) they weren’t very fond of.

Dredging this cenote uncovered thousands of artifacts made of gold, jade and copper. Numerous human skeletons with sacrificial wounds littered the depths as well…

La Iglesia Structure

The Wall of Skulls

More Cool Archeological Structures

Tzompantli means “wall of skulls,” and this next attraction lives up to its name. The large platform supported stakes on which decapitated human heads were impaled on top of each other.

The unfortunate victims were enemies defeated in battle or prisoners of war sacrificed to the gods. Whimsical skull carvings around the base are a nice touch.

This exhibit would have scared the living daylights out of would-be enemies.

A more elaborate platform nearby is known as House of the Eagles. Its motif is similarly creepy. Eagles and jaguars, symbolizing Toltec sacrificial warriors depicted clutching human hearts.

One of the most interesting structures is El Caracol, which functioned as an observatory. There are many more fascinating stops at Chichen Itza, so plan to spend at least 3 – 4 hours to see it all.

Popular Cenote Ik Kil

Less Crowded Cenote Zaci

Swimming In Cenotes Nearby

While you can’t swim in the cenote at Chichen Itza itself (unless you want to join the skeletons at the bottom!) there are others nearby where you can.

The closest cenote, and most popular with tour buses, is called Ik Kil. While it’s a pretty one, it’s always packed with people and feels like a tourist trap. I’d probably skip it.

If you want a more authentic cenote experience, I’d recommend cooling off in the cenotes near the town of Valladolid. These include Cenote Zaci, Cenote Dzitnup, or Cenote Suytun.

Navigating the Local Vendors

Getting To The Ruins

The ruins of Chichen Itza are about 197 kilometers (2 hours) from Cancun or 181 kilometers (2 hours) from Playa del Carmen by car. It’s also about 1.5 hours away from Merida.

The smaller town of Valladolid is another option. From here the ruins are less than an hour away.

Rental Car

RentalCars.com searches all the big car rental companies and finds the best price. This is probably the easiest way to rent a car in Mexico.

If you’re looking for a more adventurous route, the “libre” road runs parallel to the main toll highway and goes through a bunch of smaller villages for a more authentic feel of Mexico.

By Bus

Mexican ADO Bus Service from Cancun to Chichen Itza costs about $202 MXN ($9) one way and takes 3 hours. From Valladolid, there’s bus service every 30 minutes for about $26 MXN

Collectivo Taxi

Colectivos van taxis leave Valladolid from a lot just east of the bus station and cost $35 MXN.

Different View of the Pyramid

Tips For Visiting Chichen Itza

Tickets cost $242 MXN ($11 USD). If you pay cash, only pesos are accepted. You can rent a locker for large bags and valuables.

There’s an evening “light & sound” show at 7pm in fall and winter and 8pm in spring and summer. It’s included in the price of admission.

Try to visit first thing in the morning when they open, or late in the afternoon to avoid the huge tour-bus crowds.

Consider splurging on a guided tour. There are information plaques at each attraction, but nothing like the insight you’ll get from a local guide.

Tourists can no longer climb to the top of the Kukulkan Pyramid due to UNESCO status and a few deaths over the years from falling.

The sun is unrelenting. Wear a hat, apply sunscreen and take plenty of water. If possible, arrive as soon as the gates open in the morning.

The mediocre food on-site is expensive. You can get much better stuff down the street at the village of Pisté for a lot less.

Avoid the vendors selling souvenirs at the entrance. Yes, tourists support their livelihood, but many of them sneak in without authorization, and it’s become a bit of a circus.

Chichen Itza Map

Getting Around the Ruins

Traveling To Mexico Soon?

Don’t forget travel insurance! I’m a big fan of World Nomads for short-term trips. Protect yourself from possible injury & theft abroad. Read more about why you should always carry travel insurance here.

USEFUL TRAVEL RESOURCES FOR CHICHEN ITZA

Location: Chichen Itza, Mexico Cost: $242 MXN ($11 USD) Entry Fee Book A Flight: Learn how I find the cheapest airline flights Rent A Car: RentalCars.com is a great site for comparing car prices Find A Hotel: My tips for booking affordable accommodation Protect Your Stuff: WorldNomads.com can insure your trip & gear Recommended Guidebook: Lonely Planet Yucatan Suggested Reading: The Maya: Ancient Peoples & Places

Pin This!

READ MORE FROM MEXICO

15 Cool Things To Do In The Yucatan The Best Of Playa Del Carmen Tips For Visiting The Ruins Of Tulum How Much Does Traveling Mexico Cost?

Have any questions about the Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza? What about other suggestions? Drop me a message in the comments below!

This is a post from The Expert Vagabond adventure blog.

from Tips For Traveling https://expertvagabond.com/chichen-itza-mexico/

[allcheatscodes]

black and white pc

http://allcheatscodes.com/black-and-white-pc/

black and white pc

Black And White cheats & more for PC (PC)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Black And White cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for PC (PC). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

Use the links above or scroll down to see all the PC cheats we have available for Black And White.

Genre: Simulation, World Building Sim Developer: Lionhead Studios Publisher: Electronic Arts ESRB Rating: Teen

Hints

For Mega-Blast Miracle

To get the mega blast miracle all you have to do is play a smirish game and do two gods. Then when you get there, tell your builders to build your temple. After go up to a village where your margin almost touchs it. It says 1500 beliefs. Get that city and you will have the mega-blast miracle. Note you don’t get it on your real world, you can just try it out in srimish game. it might be fun

Another Southpark Spoof!!

In the first land go to the three sailor people. Kill the sailor with the accordion and then one of the others will say “Oh my God, you killed Kenneth!”

Eeeevil Way To Gain Villages

To get a village the eeeevil way,kill everyone in that village(1.villages with no villagers worship no one)and send in a missionary. When you get any influence in that village it becomes yours. This works incredibly well in land three, Lethys’s second village when he sends wolves to attack the village.(it will kill the only villager[see 1.]and the wolves will go away to rest)Then send in another missionary and put the wolves in the village store.

Easy Prayer Power

To get a lot of power without killing anyone make sure stats are on (press ‘S’). When someone dies(you can hear the Deeeeeeath whisper) sacrifice them!peace out:)

Kiddie Toys

In world 1, when Lethes is destroying your villages, go to where the creche used to be, if you zoom in enough, you should see a teddie bear and three dice. If you put them in the vortex, they will not be burning when you recover them in world 2.NOTE:YOU HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THE BUILDING BURNS ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE GROUND!!!

Hint: Special Attack:

You can use your creature’s special attack in battle by moving the pointing hand in the direction of a star. This is very useful when defeating the Ogre in land one.

Red Stone If DOOM

Use this trick if you want to attack to something.Find a Stone and take it to the place where you want to through it to enemy. Then tap on the stone so you can divide the stone. Do it till you get lots of it. Then Use the Fireball Miracles on the stone and you will see that stones are red. Now take one of them and throght them into the enemies place. Make sure that the stone would be stay near the house or Tample or. , if it stayed, that thing would start the get fire.

Easy Miracles

The best was to teach your creature a Miracle is:Use the Learn leash.Take the Mircales that you want. Then Use it in front of your creature. Then you would see a light above his/her haid. Now take the rest of your miracles and put it in the worship’s dish.

South Park Spoof

Leave the game running without taking any actions. Eventually, you will hear the advisors in a spoof of South Park.

Get Beliefs

This is the Evil way to get belief in games.First you have to use Fire ball Miracles or lighting Mirales to fired enemies houses.Then Use Water Miracacles on it the out down the fire.If you do it, you will get a lot of beliefs.

Easy Miracles

You can sometimes find Miracles under the stones or Trees.

See Bats

Black & White allows you to be as good as you can be as well as a super evil demonic overlord. The world that you oversee will change to reflect how you are acting. One of the cooler things that can happen is the happy little white doves you see flying will turn into black crows and then eventually evil bats.

Easy Wood

Instead of waiting for you follers to chop down wood, you can just take a tree and put it in the scaffold area on the house and it will trun in to wood also works when you put it in the store.

Creature Growth

Most people like their monsters fit and healthy and skin as heck. Well for the maximum effect of your creature’s growth rate u must keep it a little fat so that when the creatures energy runs out (tiredness get’s over 50% and other things) the creature has backup fat to take energy from instead of taking energy from his growing reserves so keep some meet on that mad boy.

Easy Gestures

If you see a gesture on the bottom right of your screen press that letter on your keyboard.

The Fastest Way To Send ALL Your Worshipers To The Next World

Cancel out all of your Teleport spells. Turn up the Totem to a 100% in all of your villages and cast two teleports, one by your temple and the other so that it is hanging halfway of the edge of the vortex. Then simply pick up your merrily dancing worshippers and drop them “gently” on the teleport by the temple. They get sent to the other teleport and the vortex carries them to the next world.

Destroy Lethys Villages In 3rd World

Okay, first of all you find a guy named actor. Grab him and press pause with the P key. Now you will notice that there is no x on your hand as you go through the land. Next, with the game still paused go to lethys temple and zoom in very close to that cup like thing where you sacrafice things. Now very quickly press P and the right button on the mouse. If done correctly he will be stuck in the sacrafice dish. It usually takes me A couple of times to get it right. And If he runs out of it just grab him and sacrifice him into lethys dish. He cant die. Now go get a rock(any size) and begin dropping it o lethys temple you will notice that it shrinks. Also his land shrinks and his villages are destroyed. P.S Every time you hit his temple it may not shrink. After a while of doing this his land will get no smaller. Note: for help contact me at

Easy Way To Get Villages

There is a guy named ‘Actor’ in the map somewhere.anywhere you throw him you can move around freely.ok? Actor is invincible. He doens’t die but he teases so have some fun with him.

Infinite Water Miracles

Use the following trick to get unlimited Water Miracles on the first level. At the place where there is the first silver reward, scroll on land one. After completing it, knock over the rock again and it will turn into a Water Miracle.

Dizzy Evil Conscience

Start the tutorial and wait for your conscience to stop talking. Repeatedly move your mouse in circles and your evil conscience’s head will eventually start spinning.

Beach Balls, Bowling Balls And Bowling Pins

Go to the God’s Playground (press [F2] during a game) and exit out of the first tutorial by pressing [Esc]. Then zoom all the way out. Look for the small island off of the larger one. When you find it, zoom in on it. Rotate the camera so that you are looking at the small island and can see the large island in the distance. At the base of the small island you will see two beach balls, two bowling balls and some bowling pins with smiley faces on them.

Smiley Face Footprints

Set your system date to April 1 and begin a game. Your character will now leave smiley face footprints in the ground.

Infinite Food And Wood

Activate a Food or Wood Miracle. Then, hold the Hand over the door of the village store or workshop and quickly and repeatedly press the Right Mouse Button. If done correctly, a large amount of food or wood will be created for very little mana.

Custom Villager Names

Note: This procedure involves editing a game file; create a backup copy of the file before proceeding. Use a text editor to edit the “names.txt” file in the game folder. You can change the names contained in the file as desired. However, the number of names in the file must match the number listed in the first line.

Funny Trick

Here’s an interesting thing, during the tutorial, when your conscience isn’t talking, move your mouse in circles alot and the evil conscience will start spinning his head. 😉

Cheats

Alter Time

Hold [Alt] and press 1 to slow down time or hold [Alt] and press 2 to speed up time.

Unlockables

Currently we have no unlockables for Black And White yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Black And White yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

Currently we have no glitches for Black And White yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Guides

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Achievements

Currently we have no achievements or trophies for Black And White yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.