#foundlings at least

[canisalbus]

When Machete became a cardinal, did his parents ever recognize him?

Machete's home village was on the other side of Italy (and separated by the sea no less) and it was small, relatively rural and remote. It's very unlikely many news about Holy See's happenings made their way there. I don't think his parents had any reason to expect to ever hear about him again, he seemed to be somewhat of a lost cause when they dropped him off.

[spacedace]

Okay so...the next chapter for Foundling at the Door is currently 10,189 words long and still (fucking somehow) not quite done 🙃

The other three chapters combined come to 14,233 words long. So I uh...I might be willing to admit that cutting it into two chapters instead may be the better idea...

But that would require me being decisive about something, so instead of sitting down and making the call myself I'm gonna just make a poll lol

[akallabeth-joie]

Les Mis 1.1.2

18,000 francs, in budget categories

Poor people in general (including food relief): 6100 francs, 33.9%

Religious groups (including seminaries): 2150 francs, 11.9%

Education (children’s): 3500 francs, 19.4%

Better food in hospitals: 1,500, 8.3%

Debtors: 1000 francs, 5.6%

Abandoned children: 1000 francs, 5.6%

Prisoners: 900, 5%

Poor mothers: 850 francs, 4.7%

Self: 1000 francs, 5.6%

I previously made a compilation of just about every time money is mentioned in the book. The bishop’s base salary is identical to Gillenormand’s annual income, with the carriage funding adding the approximate value of Bahorel’s generous student allowance. The actual amount Myriel chooses to live on for his personal expenses is slightly higher than Feuilly’s annual income.

[yamineftis]

Can we stop calling the Children of the Watch a cult? Pls we’ve been over this already.

The ones who have called them “zealots” and a “cult” in the series were obviously in the WRONG, doing so in mockery and disrespect. They are NOT a cult just because other characters think them covering their faces must be crazy cultist shit.

[thatlavenderblue]

I'm sorry but like... These two giant chickens being cooked during the Mandalorian assembly... They seem kinda familiar DON'T THEY???

[ccborrega]

Also worth noting I am still pretty much running with my own ideas for the Peach origin story thing and my Mario headcanons in general because good as the movie was I do feel robbed in some aspects.

[landfilloftrash]

Nightmares and Night-Lights

***

Bayou-bayoushkji- bayou,

Seedjit kotjik na kriyou,

Her feet ached. Why did they ache. She hadn’t moved. Or maybe she’d moved too much, instead. Warm, too. It was too warm. The wind was too soft for the heat around her. Too wet. Familiar– not water. Thicker. Blood. On her. On the cobbles. On their faces. Her claws. Felt heavy and uncomfortable. Mom was split in half. She knew it was mom, despite her insides now decorating the ground, because that was the necklace she wore and opened to lull them all to sleep. It was open now. It was playing the tune softly, without pause or break like it would when mom played it; mama’s voice floated nearby. 

On nje bedjin nje bahat,

Oo njevo yestj m’noho rebjat

That might be Riik, laying next to it, with their eyes next to a smashed head and torn up body. Their eyes were facing her. Riik did tend to stare a lot. She wasn’t sure, but the way they were curled reminded her of how they’d fall asleep. Mama was nowhere to be seen, but from the corpses strewn all over the broken buildings, she felt numb with the certainty that she could find her. The voice that sounded like her provided only that same dread that she was gone.

Vcje pah lallichkum seedjatj

Kashou smasljetsum yedjatj.

There were others, even closer to her, but the way they were torn she couldn’t tell what creature they were. How long had she been standing here? She’d watched this. Right? She’d seen familiar faces and not rush around her and die. She thinks that was death. It reminded her too closely of when she caught a mouse or vole. But it was so loud. It still was. Why hadn’t it quieted? The insides were everywhere. She always hated when it was loud. Where was Ahky? Where was mama? She was holding a hand. It wasn’t connected to anything. 

She could taste the heavy pennies in her mouth. 

Bayou-bayoushkji- bayou.

Eno jolted to the side with a distressed cry. 

The room she found herself in was dark, shadow-filled room, the pale light that would barely give a human’s eye a fragment of information filling the room the dark but defined shapes of beds and desks and lumps filling the beds for the young owlin’s eyes; it was confusingly disorienting, as though she expected to be somewhere else.

But overwhelmingly familiar.

. . . Oh. She was in the church.

She blinked and peered around the room a secondary time, her heart thumping loudly in the pin-drop quiet– no one seemed to awaken at her call, which she was pretty happy about, since if one kid started groaning, it usually wasn’t long before the entire room started talking, shushing, and groaning alongside them.

That was just how her fellows functioned. She usually joined in on the shushing, if she did at all. 

(A pillow over one's head did wonders, especially with her experience with her siblings.)

A pillow over her head wasn’t a sure way to stop the nightmares, however, and she rubbed her eyes to blink away the afterimages of torn up bodies of her family and her friends like the aftermath of house cats finding a den of rats.

It made her tremble in the summer heat.

She– no. She couldn’t go down that road of thought. If she started thinking about if it were truly a ‘prophecy’ like what the ‘pastors’ talked about, she would start crying– and crying would wake everyone and ask her what’s wrong, and she’d have to explain her nightmare, and she’d have to tell about who she saw— 

Mister Rollo!

Her head snapped up as one of the faces that haunted her sleep, covered in gore, flashed in her vision.

That was how she knew it was a dream. It had to be. Mister Rollo was too big to be taken down by anything short of a dragon. Unless the monster was sneaky. Or perhaps dragon shaped. Then maybe it could have gotten him without anyone knowing. Oh, shoot– what if it was one of those ‘prophecy dreams’ or whatever they were called and Mister Rollo was in trouble?

There was only one way to make sure.

Shuffling from laying on her side, (she slept on her belly, but her nightmare had apparently gotten her to toss and turn onto her side) she hopped off the bed and armed herself with blanket and pillow, and began to hustle her way into the dark of the hallways.

Part of the challenge was making sure no one saw or heard her, because even when she was small, (Well. Smaller.), she recognized that adults didn’t seem all too thrilled when you were up and about after they called ‘lights out’. She wasn’t particularly sure on the hows or whys of it, but she knew that much! So that was her main goal in the darkness of the church— aside from trying to wrack her scattered, wired brain into remembering where his room actually was.

She just.. Had to ignore the lingering taste of copper in her mouth was all, and the noises from the woods outside the windows that reminded her too closely of screams or calls for help.

That’s all.

It took a couple false starts and a couple incorrect room-peekings, but she eventually remembered her way in the monotonous hallways. Landmarks weren’t really a thing, so she tried navigating via the feelings around her. Not really a sure choice, but so far her gut hadn’t really steered her wrong!

Besides she was pretty sure wolves couldn’t get in the building, so she was okay to take her time and find her way through.

Clicking quietly on the tile and wood, she let herself stand there for a moment and feel the silent air. Incorrect feeling. Mister Saint Rollo had a weird energy to him, but it was a nice one; made her feel comfortable. So it wasn’t any of these— and she made her way through like that.

At some point, her head decided to remind itself that she had a map of the building that she had been working on for the past few weeks and that it would probably be really useful right now. But it was all the way back at the creche and what if she got caught on her way back out?? It was under her mattress anyways so she couldn’t get at it without a bit of effort on her part. So all in all, it took longer than she liked while sneaking, but suddenly at one point her feet stopped and she stared at them. She didn’t think to stop walking. Turning her head to the door next to her she peered up at it. This one?

Some doors, when you open them, have a creaky feature. This feature varies; some creak when you open them slowly. Some creak when you open them too fast. Some don’t creak at either speeds and only creak when you open them at a vaguely normal pace. Eno had been listening to the doors throughout her stay and found them to be of the first variety— mostly, at least. After gently grabbing the handle she moved the door swiftly to avoid the slow opening creak and peered in. 

The small mountain on the bed was a promising sign however. But she knew illusions existed. Monsters could use magic. And Dragons were powerful magical creatures; She would not be fooled. Ducking into the shallow gap between the door and its frame, she dragged her weapons of choice in with her before she closed the door once more.

Creeping closer to the bed Eno noted that, yes, it did look like an asleep Mister Rollo but she wasn’t completely convinced. She wasn’t sure how she was going to be convinced, but she knew that she needed to find that proof. By the time she was standing right next to him, she had completely assured herself that she’d figure it out, and then go back to bed. 

Now. If it were an illusionary spell, casted by a monster as either a disguise or a stand-in for something that wasn’t there; would it start to fail if she stared at it too hard? She wasn’t quite sure about how magic worked. It didn’t sound right, but she knew from the way some fancy dressed people complained in town, or even some of the bigger kids in the church, that magic was extremely ‘finicky’ and ‘could make no sense’, so she was hazarding that something to that effect might happen, but it wasn’t a completely assured thing. So as she stared intently, she tried to take note of anything that could be categorized as ‘off’ or ‘very-definitely-not-what-it-seems’. 

Not as easy as it sounded. 

Maybe she should just wake him up and see if it was actually him? No, because if it was then she’d just be interrupting his sleep— she didn’t want that— but if it wasn’t actually him, then it’d be no harm, right?

Eno stood there debating, and studying, moving her position slightly so her legs didn’t ache too bad and to get a new perspective, and doing more debating about that studying, for an unidentified amount of time. Mostly because she wasn’t paying attention and had no inclination to.

(It was nearly an hour.)

But as she was finally settling into the idea that he was what he appeared to be, and that she could leave, she noticed a slight shifting– well. Stronger shifting than he had been doing for the time she’d been watching, and she paused in all her processes to tune back in and see.

His eyes slowly blinked partially open— and then seemed to jolt into awareness and onto an elbow as his eyes widened and looked back at her, blinking rapidly.

A couple seconds passed as the Goliath visibly strung together coherent thoughts, and a quiet sleep-slurred voice greeted her; “….Hello, Enososin.”

Well that was ‘fortuitous’ timing. Mom liked that phrase.

“Are you real?” She demanded, quietly, but getting straight to the point of her debate.

In the dark, Rollo’s expression flashed to one she had absolutely no idea how to categorize; just in general— (and if she could, she’dve labeled it as ‘having a brief existential crisis’)— before he slowly nodded at her. “…I believe so, yes.”

She poked the closest thing to her— his arm— with suspicion. It felt real, but nighttime always had secrets.

Hm. Well. It sounded like him, looked like him, and probably by all accounts was him. Besides, she was already planning on sneaking away the second before he woke up, so, for now, it was safe to assume it was, in fact, Mister Saint Rollo. But in case it wasn’t, or she had been pre-emptive in her checking in on him…

She nodded to herself as she finally concluded her deliberation. “Goi’g to be making sure.”

“‘Making sure’?” He echoed.

She dropped down to her belly and swiftly crawled underneath the bed with all the confidence of a child who played in crawl spaces, dragging her blanket and pillow underneath it with her.

There was a brief moment of silence as she got herself settled into her little spot before she heard the bed creak above her— what she presumed to be Rollo to be laying back down; and she was right! Up to a point. 

In the dark she saw a shape peek where she was, bright whites of his eyes squinted slightly in the shadows; he had laid back down to peer under the bed and look at her.

“Enososin,” he quietly, but gently— not mad then, just seemed to be confused— asked into the slight echo, “what are you doing?”

“Maki’g sure!” She whispered. She’d already told him but that was fine. He just seemed to be a bit slow to wake up!

More silence. “Making sure of what, little owlette?”

“It took you a long time to wake up while I was looking at you!” She fiercely whispered her explanation, “If a monster creeps in, you won’t know! I’m making sure that doesn’t happen!”

Another moment of silence, and she allowed it, because he seemed… actually, she had no idea what that expression was. His face was strange, in the best of ways she could possibly enunciate in her limited vocabulary, but nonetheless she couldn’t parse some expressions yet. This one looked… at the very least soft, but the widened eyes and the creased brow confused her. Those meant a lot of different things with humanoid faces.

Eno wasn’t about to ask what was up with his face, so she waited patiently for him to either go back to sleep or continue talking. Eventually after a couple more moments he sighed, quietly, but she saw him slump a bit with closed eyes and a small smile on his lips. “Alright, little savior,” he quietly chuffed to her, “you plan to defend me as I sleep?”

She chirped an affirmative with a little headbob.

“Well,” he hummed, and there was shifting above her and suddenly one of his hands reached down below and offered itself to her, “I have an idea for your quest.”

She looked at his hand and chirred at him in interest. “What’s the idea?”

He wiggled his fingers at her, and as he did, his tattoos started to glow ever so slightly as a spell manifested like water filling a cup in his palm, glowing softly in the night. “To give you my power to defend against the mightiest beasts, should they choose to go against a defender of your caliber.”

‘Oh !’ Her eyes widened, ‘Magic!’ That would absolutely help in her mission. And if it was some of Mister Rollo’s magic… She reached for his hand and the orb of light floating within the little presenting curve of his palm and touched it. 

Upon her touch, the orb didn’t quite shatter, but it did break apart into little bright pieces, swirling her finger– hand— arm— before sinking onto it like vines on a branch. A warmth accompanied the swirling magic like instead of touching an orb of soft light, she’d grabbed a very pleasantly hot mug of cocoa filled her hand raced through her arm, settling nicely throughout her bones and leaving a warm center in the middle of her chest as she blinked in slight surprise. She hadn’t been sure what was going to happen, but that had been really cool. She chirped in quiet excitement as she pulled her hand away, looking at it in curiosity.

“That should be able to tide you over,” he murmured with a yawn, drawing her attention back to the receding hand and tired face– right. She’d woken him up. Well now she definitely had to make it up to him. “You sure you’ll be alright down there?” 

Eno chirped another quiet affirmative. No need to be loud when he was clearly sleepy. “Nothin’ will get you while I here!” 

“I’m sure it won’t,” he hummed again, a different kind of smile on his face as it disappeared, once more going back to laying down, indicated to her by the slight creaking and shuffling of the bed’s frame above her, “be careful down there, little one.”  

She waited until his own shuffling had stopped and waited patiently for the now familiar sound of sleep from him. Once she was sure of it, she began shuffling her blanket into a position where she could watch the door and window with no real issues. Making sure it was spread out as much as it could go, she layed on her belly and settled on her blanket, and then methodically pulled the edges over her legs, left side, and then right. The last step was simply pulling her pillow closer to her as she settled her chin on it.

Tonight, she was the wolf that would bite if anyone got close to the edge.

Pulling a– what had Mama called it–? An all-nighter, wasn’t exactly new to the owlin, but it had been a long time since she had done so. Eno mused to herself that she hadn’t done this since mom’s birthday, all her siblings having wanted to surprise her with breakfast and all their little gifts. Admittedly, she had volunteered to wake them up, so she had no one to blame but herself for the boredom that ensued, but the mere fact she had been put on duty to wake the others so they could get breakfast ready kept her strong throughout the night. Minus a couple of nod-offs that she had quickly rectified with pinching herself. She had stayed awake ‘till daybreak, done her job by quietly waking the others, but had passed out as everyone else made breakfast. 

She yearned to be able to do that again— to wake others to surprise their collective loved one. Even if she went to sleep afterwards, her mom had come by while she was still trying to fight sleep and chided her gently for the all-nighter, claiming that she wasn’t built for being a ‘night-owl’, before giving her kisses and a thank you for the gift. Then told her to sleep and that she would wake her for lunch. That had been nice. She missed that.

Maybe they’d come back. She’d like to introduce her moms to Mister Rollo. He was very nice, and even if they didn’t like the church surely they’d get along fine with him? Mama would probably have a joke stowed away that would make him laugh. Mom might comment on something he was wearing and usher him away to ‘fix him up’, considering that was her job. Mom liked clothes.

She had no idea how her siblings would react to him. Okay, that was a lie; she could make a very smart guess at it. They’d probably start various climbing techniques to investigate him. Odus would probably see what was in his pockets. If he had any. She didn’t know, and was not in a position to ask. Maybe later. Zofaas would be the only one of them to ask smart questions– Kinzon would try to copy, but none of their brains worked as good as Zoe in that regard. Ahky would maybe whisper to her about whether or not he was as nice as she was claiming (sometimes she lied about someone’s niceness, but she would whisper to her twin what was the real deal) and she’d be able to tell him that he was as nice as she claimed. Oo, Frul might not get along with him but they’d certainly like Ms. Saint Celestine. They liked stars. So did Riik. 

Riik…

She hoped they’d come back. Or whatever had taken them would give them all back. Was this what it felt to be on the receiving end of a scavenger hunt? They didn’t steal people, but if this is what it was like she never wanted to do it again. But if something stole them, wouldn’t there have been some kind of sign? Did she miss it? Should she check the house again? And if it wasn’t being taken, when would they come back? She hoped they missed her as much as she missed them. Or at least thought about her. Even thinking would be nice.

It was thoughts and wants like that that kept her awake as she peered between the entry points with critical eyes. The shadows moved slowly, the night methodical in its plodding through time, but she didn’t give into the soft call of sleep. It had its chance and decided to give her nightmares, so she was preventing them and that preventing was making sure the sounds her ears picked up throughout the night stayed away.

She didn’t want to move in case something happened while her back was to the entry points, but occasionally, to wake herself up a bit, she gently patted the bed above her to make sure the weight of a goliath was still resting on it. Eno guarded the room with critical eyes until the morning birds were singing and her own eyes were like candles, burned down to slits. No one was getting her family without warning again.

Eno suddenly rapidly blinked as she saw something moving in front of her, getting her to raise her head from her scrunched pillow, before realizing that Mister Rollo had gotten up. Getting up. Process of being awake. Whatever. He was ok. She’d done what she set out to do. She made a soft sound of delight. 

His feet shifted suddenly at her sound, and it took a couple of moments but then he was kneeling and looking under the bed again, this time on the floor with her.

“You’re still down there?” He whispered to her. The quiet sound of ‘bafflement’ was very much present there, Eno thought with a quiet giggle.

“Mhm,” she chirred back, “I tol’ you I’d keep watch.”

“So you did,” he whispered back, “so you did.” And she was too tired to see what his face did as she let herself slowly blink, but when she was looking at him again, he was gesturing gently for her to move towards him. She quietly trilled at him in confusion. He only gestured again with slightly squintier eyes. Happy? Too tired. Sleepily, she figured it couldn’t hurt, so she gently shook herself free of her blanket before crawling forward with her weapons of choice.

Rollo backed up as she crawled from under the bed, and she didn't really process why his hands were slowly approaching her– clearly meaning to grab her but she didn’t really mind. She knew he was safe. Then she was gently scooped from the floor and placed on the bed. Oh.

“Why don’t you go to sleep, now, little owlette?” He murmured to her, “Even mighty protectors need to rest.”

Her brain was. Sloshing in her skull like– like? Soup. Yeah, soup. She liked soup, but not this soup. She was already partially gone. But she nodded as the words processed. Yeah. “Had to make sure y’were okay,” she slurred a little bit, curling once more with her blanket, “tha’wuz my job.”

“And you did beautifully,” he chuckled. She felt him gently pet her head as she shut her eyes. “Now sleep, Eno. You’re safe in the light.”

And she was out like a candle.

***

Prologue; One - Two - Three (you're here!) - Four

High Seas; It Begins - Something's Wrong

[xxsycamore]

OFFICE ACTIVITIES

╰┈➤ ❝ That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now. ❞

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Office Sex; Secret Workplace Relationship; Semi-Public Sex; risky sex; Desk Sex; Sexual Fantasy; Dirty Talk; a lot of dirty talk; Teasing; Kink Negotiation; Glove Kink; ROY'S GLOVES; you know where they're going; Hand & Finger Kink; Finger Sucking; mouth fucking (w fingers); Begging; Praise Kink; Pet Names; Roy is both rough and very loving; Female Ejaculation; Squirting; and i mean SQUIRTING; squirting is the main focus of this fic; Vaginal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Masturbation; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Kissing; Neck Kissing; Aftercare; Some Humor; Light Dom/sub; Dominant Roy; Dacryphilia • wordcount: 5,211 • masterlist

"Colonel, you wanted to see me—"

"Lock the door."

Blinking, you look at Roy's silhouette where he remains with his back to you in his chair, facing the windows of the sunlit office. You do a small bow while complying like a good subordinate, even when he won't see it, and lock the door from the inside. Still, you can't help but let out a small sigh. The pile of paperwork on his desk is bigger than what you saw this morning, when you expected to find it at least halved by now. But alas. And while everyone is away taking care of their own duties, you have the office to yourselves today, so locking the door is hardly necessary…

"With all due respect Colonel, you really, really don't have to hide the fact that I'm helping you with paperwork. I'm sure everyone knows by now."

Roy spins in his chair bossily, raising a hand to signal he doesn't want to hear more. "I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"No, seriously, it's okay, I-"

"Come here."

You do as told, ready to take the load he'll hand you from another pile, or something else to be taken care of in his stead, anything, really. He's in the habit of procrastinating often, you know your Colonel well. There is something almost endearing about it, when he doesn't realize how bad he is at masking it.

He's gesturing you to stand not in front of his desk but rather to join his side, and you do, finding yourself close enough to notice even how the irritation colors his gaze to make it fiercer. Once you're where he summoned you, Roy removes the folder he was holding in his lap and throws it on the desk.

This tricks you into thinking that the folder is the object of importance in this exchange. When your eyes shift to those of the Colonel for further cues as to what is wanted of you, your attention is inevitably stolen.

Roy's blue uniform trousers are tented with an obvious erection.

Face heating up, you quickly close your slightly agape mouth and try to look anywhere else, and disastrously you meet his gaze. Judging by the way he does nothing to hide the fact that he has a noticeable hard-on, or by the way he looks you right in the eye, you have the feeling that you'll get to live another day. Then he speaks again.

"I can't work like that."

His tone is stern, not even a whisper; something akin to one of his less-straightforward orders that would see him click his tongue when failed to comprehend by the other party.

And you don't want to disappoint.

"I understand. You can't work like that indeed, Colonel…"

And you do understand. If he went this far, then that's all you need to understand that you're allowed to lower your guard now.

It's all so natural with you when Roy beckons you into his lap, and you don't lose time maneuvering yourself because you've claimed this seat dozens of times already; your Colonel has a high sex drive. Despite being lovers after work hours, he still needs you during the day, when you're stuck playing this game of pretend. Or maybe that part is exactly what entices him?

Claiming his lips for an impatient kiss, you can't help the small grunt that escapes your throat as soon as Roy's hands begin roaming and foundling about your chest.

The worst part, you never get used to this.

With color on your cheeks, you try your hardest not to hump his leg and miss entirely the point of your being summoned here. You place another chaste kiss on his lips, boldly taking the decision of when enough is enough as you nudge things forward. Undoing the first button of his uniform, you make place for your lips to touch the heated skin underneath. To feel his hot pulse under your tongue as you place kitten licks there.

Roy's curiosity leaves him enjoying the show as you find your footing again, removing yourself from his lap and instead sinking to your knees with a thud. Your hands make their way downward on his torso and then fall on his thighs, his clothed arousal right in front of you.

"You should've told me sooner, Colonel… I could sneak under your desk, I could even stay there while you attempt to take care of those documents… With the way I'm hidden, surely the door doesn't even need to be locked."

You time your suggestion with palming the tent of his trousers, eager to feel how your words get to his head. But he only smirks.

"As much as I feel compelled, no."

It leaves you confused as you stand between Roy's legs. It's rare for him to refuse a blowjob, the balance of powers in this game of teasing is once again off in favor of his striking dominance.

"On the desk. Now."

Pulse quickening, you find your head clouded when you rise to your feet again. Roy all but backs you onto the desk with his body, your legs parting to make space for him in between.

His backlit frame only highlights the darkness of his eyes as he has you cornered; you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for something, anything.

"You know, you're the reason I can't do my work right now. I've been thinking about you again. About fingering you."

Fuck. This close up, you're sure he can observe even the tiniest of bodily reactions he rips out of you with words alone. The slight twitching of your leg, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you realize you're at fault for his hard-on. The expectation in your wide eyes that are pleading him to share the images birthed by his brilliant mind that led to this.

"That's why I can't go on with my day before I do this to you. I need to see you squirt on my fingers, and I need it now."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you can feel the blood pumping in your veins turn to liquid fire as you burn from the inside. Something deep in your belly awakens, steals your resolve and fills your mind with cries of hunger.

Roy wants to make you squirt; to send your body into tremors overpowering your very control of it until you're helpless and making a mess of his hand, of possibly everything - the thought is almost scary, for reasons unknown to you, and you shiver. The signals your brain unwittingly sends south make you feel a certain pressure rooted deep within your core - as if, almost by his spoken command alone, your body can obey and leak arousal through the layers of clothing that you want gone now.

And so you begin to undress, making him chuckle with your impatience. He meets your hands halfway and easily takes over with his much steadier ones, unshaken by building lust unlike you - even if his firm erection which is now pressing against your thigh says otherwise.

He mutters something about how much easier this process would be if you were wearing a miniskirt right now and not those troublesome uniform pants - and the distraction returns some blood to your head as you exaggerate a sigh followed by a tiny laughter. It makes the task of taking off your uniform jacket and unbuttoning your shirt easier.

Unlike the hushed pace of removing the article of clothing, Roy noticeably slows down while peeling the underwear off your lower half, enjoying how he renders you naked and completely on display before him. He pokes a firm index finger on your glistening folds to part them, and you can see his gaze clouding with desire as he inspects the wetness seeping from your core.

Before you can avert your eyes, he locks his with yours. The gentle caress of his warm palm on your belly right over your womb startles you.

"Do you think you can do this for me?"

The whine coming from deep in your throat surprises you, and you feel as if you can get off on this simple, chaste sensation alone. Your pussy throbs in neglect.

"Please."

Roy mocks you just a little bit with his laughter for receiving pleas in place of an answer. Even if it works just about alright with him.

Instead of feeling his fingertips returning to your folds, upon withdrawing, you hear a desk drawer opening. Willing your heart to take the chance and relax, your eyes follow Roy's ministrations as much as they can. He takes something from the drawer and - to your utter surprise, it's a new pair of white pyrotex gloves.

Your legs twitch in a manner of closing, instinctively, as you stare at Roy confused.

"Don't play coy now, I know you've always wanted this. You can't take your eyes off my hands when I'm wearing those."

You puffer your bottom lip, defeated. He's way too observant. Or you're way too horny when it comes to this, to him. Especially now that the only thing you can call the display of his fingers pushing their way inside to find their designated places, vain at the back of his hand protruding, ministrations rougher and rushed because he's not touch you right now, is simply pornographic. They look so good on him, stressing the deftness and length of his beautiful fingers, the flame alchemy transmutation circles at the back stark red to remind they're no ordinary gloves.

"But… isn't this…"

"Dangerous? You think I'd put you in danger?"

There's irony in that line when it comes out of the mouth of Roy Mustang putting on the gloves that give him the name of the Flame Alchemist, but you can will your brain into pushing through the surface to see the offering of trust here. Especially because he is so dangerous is that line so delightful, stroking the trust of your heart that would let him do everything, anything to you.

Combined with his touch returning to caress your skin, this time on the inside of your thigh, you genuinely relax - but only for a second, because you're now busy trying to commit to memory every second of feeling the texture of his gloves on your naked, sensitive skin.

"Besides… I thought you love to say that they're useless when wet."

. . . . .

"Pfft—"

"Are you laughing now?" Roy's eyebrow arches as he stares you down, one part genuine disappointment, one part overemphasis as he knows you'll only laugh harder at his reaction. And laughter is a good balm for relieving the nervousness that made your belly noticeably tense up and cave into itself.

His thoughtfulness goes mostly unnoticed as your laughter quickly morphs into another whine as Roy's glove-clad hand brushes against your arousal. The touch is feather-light, yet when looking down you can unmistakably see the glistening juices on the tip of his middle finger where he used it to swipe along the slit of your pussy.

"Have you fantasized about this before?"

Roy is awful for ending most of what he says with the curve of a question, giving tasks to your brain that are a little too hard to take on. He drives your mind to a place inside the darkest nooks and corners of your perverse imagination where you see yourself stealing his gloves to masturbate with. Or where he's letting out his frustrations on you, you being dragged in an ally just meters away from where some bastard managed to run away from him, tarnishing his plans. You love how he fights but manages to never get his hands dirty. Being dragged to these dangerous missions that give you the chance to see him in action never fails to mix pure, incontrollable desire with the adrenaline running through your veins.

"Yes…" You confess in a tiny voice, and Roy rewards you with another barely-there touch, even if it aims not to bring you pleasure but to simply coat his fingers in your juices and prepare them for penetration. Roy raises them up for you to see. You're already wetter than when you'd finish fingering yourself to the thought of him, and it makes your face red with embarrassment.

"How unfair. I remember being way more concrete when sharing what goes in my mind than you, just now. But I will allow it… you seem to have a hard time forming coherent words right now."

Your brain goes haywire with the rising expectation of feeling him either on your clit or inside you first - the seconds stretching out endlessly before he finally makes his attack, the tip of his middle finger rubbing the tense muscles of your entrance.

Roy is careful as he pushes his finger in, having a good idea about the impact of this long-awaited exploration of the material of the gloves in your most sensitive place.

You're erratic, body spasming to suck him in deeper and pelvic arching to scratch the itch you have deep inside. The fabric adds a delicious layer of thickness to his already girthy finger, but…

"Not- enough— More…!"

Roy clicks his tongue. "You're way too impatient. I'm already being so generous to you, pushing my fingers inside you to give you what you want. Perhaps you can learn from a little exercise before we continue."

Roy's finger exits your heat roughly, in vivid contrast to how he entered you, bringing forth more wetness that helplessly leaks on the office desk. You exhale heavily in defeat, pleading Roy with a wet gaze. He remains unwavering, like training a dog that refuses to obey, and raises his other, dry hand to your face with fingers stretched forward.

The little cute tilt of your head has him letting out a mocking sneaker, and he suppresses the need to scold you for needing verbal orders as well.

"Suck."

Following every little twitching of your pupils as your eyes get hazed with the desire to worship him, Roy is not sure if your mouth falls open to moan or to take him in first. Either way, his fingertips already register the softness of your lips, even through the texture of the glove.

You part your lips further with the intention to fit two of his fingers in your mouth, and Roy allows it. Your tongue explores them, tracing over the seam running down the sides, then the junction of his index and middle fingers. You suck there, barely remembering to look Roy in the eye like you wanted to instead of remaining with your eyes closed in bliss.

He looks… aroused. With how much composure he possesses, the thought of how, in turn, you might look right now scares you. But you can't do anything about it - this, too, is a major fantasy of yours. And it only gets better.

Withdrawing with a wet pop, next you hope to fit another finger in, if Roy is willing to bring them closer together, and he quickly gets the idea.

This is his left hand that he uses to do this to your mouth, and he is still so very skillful with it. He tricks you into thinking you could do whatever you want with his three fingers in your mouth, but as soon as you lower your guard, Roy shifts their position, grabbing your tongue.

Your eyes widen, pathetically trying to call out to him in the one moment your ability to speak is stolen. Roy enjoys the muffled sound that resembles his name and continues to hold out your tongue between his fingers, watching you begin to droll.

From there on it's easy for him to shift his fingers once more, placing them flat against your wet tongue before gathering them together again…and beginning to slide them on your tongue.

The place between your legs is burning, and it feels like torture when you already know what it feels like when he pleasures you. You'd much rather he didn't touch you there at all before this, inner walls contracting to chase after the faint memory of his single digit's shape where it was buried inside you.

Roy fucks your mouth with his gloved fingers, and you moan around them. It's a filthy display, with your cunt dripping on his desk, and he can't avert his gaze for a second.

"Enjoying yourself? Maybe I can keep doing this until you cum and we end things here?"

Alerted, you want to communicate your wish to go all the way with what he planned for you, and to speak you need to withdraw - but the second you lean back, Roy's hand pushes forward, following your movement without letting you escape.

Just before you can choke, Roy removes his fingers from your mouth, and you see how much they're covered in your saliva. The risk did things to you you're unwilling to admit.

"Okay, I get it. You need more."

Finally able to take mouthfuls of oxygen again, you feel silly for being so worked up and breathless from just this. But Roy likes what he sees, especially when you try to present your cunt better for him, spreading your legs further apart.

"You're absolutely leaking…"

"Colonel, Please…" You beg, attaching the honorific to your pleas because you know the effect it has on him. "Colonel Mustang, please fuck me with your fingers. Make me squirt."

He returns his right hand to the burning skin of the apex of your thighs, tracing along your outer lips with a small hum.

"Okay then. Let's make your cunt squirt for me."

You throw your head back a second too quickly, as the heavenly feeling of Roy entering you again domineers over the bits of decency left in you. His finger bottoms out in you, swirls around until his palm is facing downwards, and is taken out again - just for you to instead feel the tips of middle and ring fingers prodding your hole next, in the same position.

"Nghh—" You groan, remembering to breathe as Roy explores your tight insides. You begin to relax, and the movement of his fingers gradually becomes smoother. The wet sounds of his entry come to your ears every time he pushes out the way out and pushes in again, and they embarrass you a little.

After a good few strokes like this, Roy turns his hand around.

He keeps his fingers buried deep inside, unmoving save for his fingertips that begin to search around, prodding into your front wall, looking for that spongy part inside you that will make you see stars.

More heat rushes to your lower body and you let a particularly loud gasp when Roy finds it. He mutters a word of self-satisfaction and repeats the motion, hitting your G-spot.

The pleasure begins to build with a dangerous speed, and you barely contain your moans. There's still something missing, but if you receive it right now, it will be too much.

Roy knows your body and its limits well. He doesn't force the pleasure on you, and keeps a steady but slow pace. Monitoring your sweet sounds, he is careful as to when to move on to the next step.

"I'm going to touch you here next."

Narrating his ministrations, he manages to make you focus. You fix your position on the desk again, making sure to watch what he's doing.

Roy puts the thumb of his left hand flat on your clit. At first, the mere presence of it is enough to send sparks of stimulation deep inside you, creating a loop of pleasure with where his fingers are buried, but you get used to it quickly. Then, he begins to rub your aroused nub, and you go erratic once again.

"Ahh— Too much-"

"Shh, I got you." He gives you a break, simply resting his thumb there without caressing, while he focuses on thrusting his fingers in and out.

Your heavy breaths are entangling with needy moans as the pleasure builds, this damned feeling of not enough threatening to eat you up from the inside. Roy knows your body well in combination with masterfully reading your reactions, and generously gives you more when you ask for it. The balls of your feet press harder into the surface of the desk near the very edge of it, your torso lifting just a little bit, to chase after Roy's movements inside you. He lets you rock back into his fingers, more wetness coming out and lubricating his entry.

"I'm going to speed up now. Tell me if you need to stop."

You breathe heavily through your nose, nodding your head more times than he needs for confirmation, and it makes him chuckle. The corners of his lips don't stay curled for longer than a second because of his growing concentration.

The rubbing on your clit returns, and Roy's fingers don't slow down. Standing there with nowhere to escape but to receive his rough, filthy yet loving pleasuring, you grip the edge of the desk behind your back preparing yourself, as it builds up.

"Roy- it feels a bit strange—"

"In a good way? Like you wanna go?"

Your answer comes a bit late because your mouth is stuck falling open in the face of those unfamiliar sensations. You hurry to blurt it out before stops, god forbid.

"In a very good way…! Just please, don’t stop!"

Not needing to be told twice, Roy keeps the pace, firmly hitting that same spot inside you with his fingers while rubbing on your clit. He watches your body spasm as you let out a scream, and then it happens.

Liquid begins to stream out of you, coating Roy's fingers - a small flow at first, before you all but hear the sound of a squirt escaping you.

"Mmm…" Roy grunts at the sight and the feeling of you closing up from the inside on him, fingering you through it until your body begins twitching too much. Careful not to overstimulate you, he withdraws your fingers, causing a smaller squirt to flow out.

Breathing heavily with your mouth open, you close your legs a little bit now that Roy's hands aren't between them, and you look at the puddle next to them. When you return your gaze to Roy, he's looking straight at you, leaning in for a kiss.

He's definitely not kissing you enough during all of this, but you don't feel too cocky right now to complain about that. Not when his kiss feels so rewarding.

"My good girl. I knew you could do it. Did that feel good?"

Roy drinks down your small noises of lingering satisfaction, and you whisper a breathless 'yes' before kissing him yet again. It makes you a bit too distracted, and you almost jump at the feeling of his hands parting your legs again.

"Think you could do it again?"

You look at him in disbelief, but it might be directed at yourself and the ridiculously deepening arousal you feel more than anything, your core pulsing in anticipation, aching to feel Roy's fingers again.

He knows that look. Pecking your lips with his once again, he slips his fingers in.

"Put your hands around my neck."

Your heart leaps at the command and you shift your body, grabbing into him for purchase. Your ass is on the edge of the desk now, and you're holding Roy for dear life, his broad shoulders being your anchor.

"Will it be easier for you this time, hmm? You're nice and open for me."

"Roy… don't say things like that…"

"But it's true. I love knowing that I can make your body soft and pliant, letting me do such a naughty thing with it."

You groan and shove your head in the junction of his neck and shoulder, warming the skin with your breath.

"Don't hide. Come on, kiss me."

It's easier said than done, when the sensation of what is happening between your legs rules over every coherent part of your mind. Roy knows your kiss would be lacking and sloppy, and maybe that's exactly why he wants it.

His tongue shoves between your agape lips, dominating yet another part of you as he continues to finger you while avoiding the place that is swollen and needy for his touch, as if testing if you can start leaking juices again even without the stimulation.

The strange feeling builds again, and this time you're not afraid of it. You break the kiss to plead.

"Roy…Roy! Touch me more! Now!"

Hearing the low rumble laced with dark wanton deep in his throat, you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he begins stroking your clit again.

Your moans of his name grow from encouraging to warning, as you feel the water balloon deep in your core close to popping once again. And then it happens.

Large portions of liquid fall noisily to the floor, mixing up with the sound of water squirting out of your body. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as a purely physiological reaction, the pleasure playing a big part in it.

Roy's large palm is so warm as it moves up and down whole, unlike how he'd only move his fingers earlier, and you feel played like an instrument; like you're close to witnessing the true strength in him that you lustfully admire finally inflicted on your body - in the most perverse, but loving and safe kind of ways.

"Gods— I can't tear my eyes off of you. Look at you."

Planting his forehead against yours, your eyes trail from his beautiful lashes up close to the place he's admiring, and you have to fight a surge of embarrassment. This is what he made out of you, you're so very his in this moment.

"Roy…—Ahh-"

He speeds up again, not having left your core for a moment, and you feel yourself starting to do it all over again, even if it's more of a current flowing out of you instead of the earlier powerful jets. What builds up inside you is different this time, a feeling you know all too well, something that you were lingering along the surface of for the past few minutes but that was always pushed to the back of your nerves in the face of the new, unfamiliar sensations.

"Come for me. Come on my fingers."

Roy fingers you silly, your walls clamping down on him as he does it just the way you love, no tricks this time to conquer your body, he just gives it to you. And you take it oh so willingly and greedily.

It takes no time for you to reach the heavens, and you moan out his name once again, feeling the electricity of an orgasm surge through every nook and corner of your being, toes curling in pleasure.

Roy holds you through it, making sure you ride your high all the way. Towards the end of it, your leaking hole begins helplessly pushing out more liquid.

"Roy— Too much—Roy-"

"Fuck." He curses as he slowly withdraws his fingers, noticing how thickly they're covered in your warm juices all the way down his palm. He enters you with one finger to tease just a little, meeting no resistance. "Fuck." He repeats as he reaches down to palm his bulge. He moves to his belt and begins undoing it in a hurry.

Pulse beginning to drum in your ears, you continue holding onto his tall frame as your eyes widen. Just how worked up did that make him? You figure he must be painfully hard by now, watching you perform the one thing that would get him erect relying on fantasies alone.

Wrapping the hand dripping with your juices around his cock, he uses the slick to lubricate his pumps as he pleasures himself at the sight of you. It lights a new fire inside you and you can't help but watch; the reddened head of his cock, the vein running down his side protruding with the rush of blood, and his culmination dragging closer.

He lies you back down on the desk and you place your hands below your hips, opening up more for him, so Roy can get a nice view of your still swollen lips and pulsing hole. He moves in closer, bringing his strokes so close to your pussy that it makes you clench down so hard when he accidentally brushes the tip against your inner thigh.

"You're perfect. So perfect for me- Haah—"

You rarely hear him let out more than a grunt, a man in control of himself even in the face of consuming wanton. It's rewarding, knowing that it's you who turned him into that. There's nothing more that you want right now than to watch him spill all over your spent cunt, coating it with his warm cum.

Roy keeps stroking, and you wonder if he's fallen prey to the heightened stimulation of the gloves too, seeing that he didn’t bother to take them off even after making use of the juices coating them. It could be this that works him to orgasm so soon, or it could be everything else combined with it, but you soon hear the familiar sounds of him losing control.

In the next moment he erupts, hot-white pleasure reaching to his very gaze as you see him taking in the sight of you hungrily. Warm ropes of cum land on you one after another as Roy pumps his cock, the swollen tip kissing your sensitive folds.

He loses the inner fight and presses forwards, pushing the bulbous head of his cock inside you, moaning as another gush of semen leaves him and fills you with scorching warmth.

You mewl at the unexpected contact, shudders of pleasure rippling through your body as you continue to feel his cum even after he removes his cock from inside you. You feel it drip out thickly, mixing with the rest of the mess left by your passionate session.

"Kiss me, Roy!"

"So demanding…" Hurrying to comply with your weak, adorable command, Roy seals your lips with his before you can scold or bite him. With how good he seemed to be making you feel, he's not too worried about facing those protests, though.

You and Roy remain like that for awhile, catching your breaths but losing them right anew in passionate kisses, not breaking off the contact even as he tucks himself back in his trousers and readjusts his messed-up clothes, removing his gloves as well. He tells you to wait for him as he goes to take something to clean you off with, but you just cling harder to his frame.

"Stay a little longer…"

He exaggerates a sigh but still smiles stupidly against your nape.

The late morning sun has nothing on the warmth that comes from Roy's embrace, and you bask in it.

"You know…" He begins, playing idly with your hand with his now bare one, as if he had started missing the direct touch so soon. You hum in question, and he continues.

"I want to take care of those documents even less now."

"…ROY!"

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[katakaluptastrophy]

What do Captain Deuteros, the Princesses of Ida, the Baron of Tisis, the Lady of Koniortos Court, the Duchess of Rhodes, the Master Templar, and the Reverend Daughter all have in common? They almost certainly own slaves.

Ok, not "slaves". As I'm sure Housers would be the first to tell you, they do not have slaves. Gideon herself explicitly establishes this in chapter one:

I’m indentured, not a slave.

But functionally, what does that mean?

We don't get a definition of what Gideon means by a slave, or how this word is used in House (do the Houses also have slaves? Are slaves something other, uncivilised people have in the benighted darkness beyond the light of Dominicus and the empire?). Gideon is an unfree person who is subject to violence and exploited for the financial gain of her masters, but it means something to her that she is not, in some economic or legal sense, a slave. So what is an indentured servant?

Gideon's status is referred to using several other terms over the course of GTN, primarily by Silas Octakiseron. While Silas is not an unbiased commentator, it's interesting that his objection to Gideon is not just because she's Ninth, but because she has usurped her social position:

“Thrall,” said Silas. “Serf. Servant... Villein,” continued the necromancer of the house of the Eighth, warming to his thesaurus. Colum was staring at Gideon, almost cross-eyed with disbelief. “Foundling. I am not insulting you, I am naming you for what you are. The replacement for Ortus Nigenad, himself a poor representative of a foetid House of betrayers and mystics.”

We don't know the exact connotations of these words in House. But a "serf" historically was a sort of feudal peasant tied to the land of a manor. Unlike a slave, a serf usually couldn't be bought or sold as an individual, but could be transferred wholesale with the land. Generically speaking, serfdom involves a tie to the land, an obligation to generate income/goods for the feudal lord of the land through labour and/or rents, and a lack of freedom of movement. It could be from birth or a voluntary indenture.

The contextual information that we get about Gideon's status backs up this very feudal image:

Gideon is, as Crux repeatedly reminds her, in some way the property of the Ninth. She wears a security cuff, and her attempt to run away is described as theft and misuse of House goods. In a typically House way, it is not just that she owes them her labour - she owes them her body once she dies. (What's interesting is that this part isn't specifically tied to her status as an indentured servant, but it fundamentally colours how it is understood in world.)

"You talk so loudly for chattle, Nav... You chatter so much for a debt. I hate you, and yet you are my wares and inventory."

Crux is Harrow's seneschal. And it would seem that at least on the Ninth, this role is very much the same as its medieval feudal equivalent: the official in charge of the management of the estate's goods and labourers.

Gideon is a legitimate subject of violence in House law: Harrow talks about how it would be "master's sin" if she "employed unwarranted violence" against her. Which means that some degree of violent punishment of indentured servants is legally permissable.

She is meant to be a financially useful asset: regulations exist governing indentured people joining the military, where they can generate revenue for their House. However, Harrow warns Gideon that "the Cohort won’t enlist an unreleased serf" - because the movement of a serf is at the discretion of her Lady, not something over which she has free choice.

The description of how Gideon came to be of the Ninth is particularly interesting in shedding some light on the institution of indenture in the Houses:

The Ninth had historically filled its halls with penitents from other houses, mystics and pilgrims who found the call of this dreary order more attractive than their own birthrights. In the antiquated rules of those supplicants who moved between the eight great households, she was taken as a very small bondswoman, not of the Ninth but beholden to it: What greater debt could be accrued than that of being brought up?

Medieval serfs too had no freedom of movement; they required a license from their lord to spend extended time away from the manor.

It's easy to forget, when the Houses themselves likely range in scale from the size of Los Angeles to Aotearoa New Zealand, that legally they seem to understand themselves to constitute feudal households. Those born in each House are part of - or in some cases it would seem, property of - the House. We see discussion in the Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers of the heirs of cavalier lines being traded between Houses for political capital. Necromancers, meanwhile, are apparently such a political or reproductive asset that they are usually not allowed to marry outside their House. Obviously, these are examples of people at the top of House society, whose movement brings with it political power, or financial assets, or reproductive capacity. Where does that leave a more ordinary person who lacks those desirable assets? It would seem that they can be their own asset, granted access to another House on a debtor's bond - it's not clear in the House context whether this is typically an exchange of people already debt bonded to their House, free people entering into such bondage to secure a right of passage to another House, a combination, or something else entirely.

But it speaks to a much more ancient understanding of how people are tied to lands and lords, alongside the Houses' very different attitude to the value of human lives:

“You’re no slave, but you’ll serve the House of the Ninth until the day you die and then thereafter"

One could infer, since we've encountered nobles and serfs, that the Houses have something akin to a three-tier system like many historical European feudal systems, with nobles, freedmen, and serfs.

The medieval European feudal system was primarily a function of the management of land - serfs and freedmen's statuses were a result of their relationship to obligations to the land - requirements of work, or rents to their lord, who ultimately controlled and profited from that land. This is where the tricky difference between serfdom and slavery tends to arise.

But the Houses are not a European medieval feudal kingdom. They are not, presumably, a primarily agrarian economy. So what use might such bondspeople be? What does that society look like, outside of its highest nobles investigating each others' murders and its strangely incestuous demigods?

There must be some agriculture and industry. Given the trying conditions of living in inhospitable space environments, that there might be some class of labourers fundamentally tied to their Houses, perhaps initially stemming from the order or situation of their ancestors' resurrection, isn't impossible to imagine (after all, ruling families and cavalier lines also trace their status from the Resurrection). From the information about the rules governing movement between Houses, perhaps there are also people living in dire conditions on remote moons willing to sell their freedom for a chance at slightly better conditions, or a new start in a different House. Most Houses do not have the necromantic capacity to create skeleton constructs on a scale to manage most of their labour - in The Mysterious Study of Dr Sex, it's clear that the Sixth has a finite supply of skeleton constructs that they would require Ninth input to overhaul. We have to assume most labour on most Houses in human, and some portion of it at least in some way unfree.

But the Houses are a spacefaring society with a large, centralised military and an economically complex empire. It does not function entirely like a medieval kingdom, however much it may sometimes look like one. Much of its imperial structure seems to be on a much more 19th or 20th century model.

And the Cohort is one area where we can see some non-medieval, but awful implications to the Houses' practice of serfdom. Consider the commission that Harrow offers Gideon:

It purchased Gideon Nav’s commission to second lieutenant, not privy to resale, but relinquishing capital if she honourably retired. It would grant her full officer training. The usual huge percentage of prizes and territory would be tithed to her House if they were won, but her inflated Ninth serfdom would be paid for in five years on good conditions, rather than thirty.

Gideon is not being promised as canon fodder - this is a promise of officer training. And yet, Gideon is a serf - and that officer training would be an investment in financial returns from her involvement in the bloody machinery of empire.

How many people in the Cohort are not free? Are serfs released from their usual obligations in the House to which they are debt bonded to instead generate income for their House on the battlefield or die trying? What proportion of the Cohort are functionality enslaved children, sold a dream of glory by smutty comics and released by their Houses because their eventual deaths will be more profitable to their Houses than their labouring lives?

And fundamentally, if the Houses are in some way substantially reproducing aspects of medieval feudalism, there's only one person who can be responsible for that...

[fliflaflux]

Lux of Candlekeep

Name: Lux Race/Subrace: "Drow" Gender: Female Sexual Orientation: Demisexual Age: 39 [30. Flamerule, 1453DR] Height: 4'7 Class: Wizard [Bloodmagic] Deity: Bhaal Jergal Alignment: True Neutral Background: The Haunted One

Class & Path Features Wizard [Blood Magic]: The blood magic school is an extension of the Tal'Dorei Campaign - for such a 'special' bhaalspawn, however, I found it quite fitting. To quote the description of the class from the Campaign: “Blood magic - also known as haemocraft - is a rare art that harnesses the latent powers of a creature's life force to enhance the caster's own abilities while manipulating and weakening the enemy's body from within. Some of the more macabre mages, seeking to enhance their arcane pursuits, turn to the hemo-art to amplify their spells by donating the blood of their own lives to reach new heights of terrifying magical prowess.”

Even on the Sword Coast, this kind of magic would put most wizards off. It incorporates parts from the school of necromancy - coupled with the macabre manipulation of the life force of living beings, this magical art does not make friends. However, Lux is unaware of this at the beginning of her journey and has to learn it through trial and error.

Background information

Although Lux was shaped into the form of a Drow (At least they assumed she was a Drow - she does look a little strange for a dark elf.) , she did not end up in the Underdark. As a foundling, she was first found in Waterdeep and came to Candlekeep via several detours. Finding a Drow baby above ground was strange enough. But it didn't take the scholars and wizards much to realize that there were other things wrong with this child. So she was taken into the care of some local wizards.

For most of her time at Candlekeep, she was treated less as a growing child and more as a research project. It didn't help that most of the Keep's residents and apprentices preferred to steer clear of the strange Drow girl. Not only did she have a special talent for necromancy, but she also tended to throw violent tantrums and generally exhibited quite disturbing behavior for a child. This ensured that she spent long stretches locked up.

The urge that had always slumbered within her finally awoke in her late teenage years. With the Urge, Sceleritas Fel also appeared in her life. A being who was kind to her without much in return - even more so - who practically adored her. So it wasn't difficult for her to follow his whispers and make a bloody escape from Candlekeep.

[...]

[antianakin]

Listen, there is a difference between "The clones being Mandalorian is a headcanon that works" and "The clones being Mandalorian is the intended canonical reading."

Yes, there's a few extremely minor design choices that, if you are IMMENSELY familiar with Mandalorian Legends content and a very eagle-eyed viewer, seem to indicate a connection between a few of the clones and that identity (although at least one of those design choices is just a symbol for a Mando ship which could just as easily be a connection to that kind of ship rather than anything to do with it being Mando specifically).

But if you do not know these symbols by heart already and aren't specifically looking for it, you'll never notice that connection.

You know what WOULD have shown more of a connection between the clones and being Mando? Having the clones actually SAY SOMETHING about it when they're confronted with canonical Mandalorians. Rex and Cody (and several of their men) spend an entire episode on a Mandalorian ship surrounded by Mandalorians and never make a single mention of it. Rex and the 332nd all go to Mandalore to save it from Maul and there isn't a single indication that anybody involved considers there to be a connection between the clones and Mandalore. As far as Rex and the clones are concerned, this is just another mission and there's far more visual connection to Ahsoka than there is anything Mandalorian. And then Sabine meets Rex, Gregor, and Wolffe on Seelos and spends quite a lot of time working with Rex afterward and there's never any indication of them connecting over a shared Mandalorian identity.

You would think, if the writers wanted there to be a CLEAR OVERT CANONICAL CONNECTION between the clones and the Mandalorians, they'd have taken advantage of these multiple opportunities to do so, but they didn't. These were both shows for CHILDREN, they're not all that subtle when they want you to know something. If the audience was supposed to understand that the clones were Mandalorians, they'd have said so. You can argue that some of this is just because Lucas had Jango's Mandalorian identity stripped in TCW for his own purposes, but that doesn't explain everything in Rebels or TCW season 7 when Lucas was no longer that involved (and Filoni was clearly making changes to how the Mandalorians were being represented anyway, so if he WANTED to make the clones Mandalorian, he could've done so).

Being Mandalorian does not seem to be a specific ethnicity. Jango is played by someone who is Polynesian, but he's the ONLY Mandalorian we ever see with that ethnicity and there seems to be a wide variety of ethnicities among the people who do identify as being Mandalorian. Being Mandalorian appears to be more of a NATIONALITY. You are Mandalorian because you were either born within the Mandalore system yourself or because you are the child (biological or adopted) of a Mandalorian. The clones are neither. They are obviously not born anywhere near the Mandalore system and the only person who might be considered their "father" never acknowledges them as his children (depending on your source, he actually considers them basically chattel and not people at all). So the clones cannot claim Mandalorian heritage through the location of their birth OR through their parentage. Jango is not their father, he has never BEEN their father, and he would probably vehemently deny being their father if anyone had the ability to ask him about it.

It also feels worth nothing that, while The Mandalorian did re-canonize Jango's own connection to being Mandalorian, they did NOT make Boba a Mandalorian. Din straight up ASKS Boba if he's a Mandalorian and Boba says no. Boba confirms that Jango was a Mandalorian foundling, but he DOES NOT take the identity for himself. He uses it a little to convince Din to let him take the armor back, but that's more about appealing to DIN'S values than it is indicative of Boba's own. To Boba, it's important because it's a connection to his father and because, you know, it's his and it was stolen from him. It's not important for the reasons Sabine seems to lay out when she describes her armor as being a connection to 500 generations of her family or whatever.

So if Boba, who DOES arguably have a claim to consider himself Mandalorian through his connection to Jango, does not actually consider himself a Mando, why would the CLONES automatically be Mandalorian? When they had the opportunity to explicitly make Boba a Mandalorian again, they chose NOT TO, so why would I ever believe that the intended understanding about the clones is that they are all automatically Mandalorian just because they happen to look like Jango?

If you want to headcanon the clones as Mandalorian, go right ahead, nobody is stopping you. But let's not pretend that it's CANON that the clones are all Mandalorian or that we the audience were expected to see them as Mandalorian. It is just as canon to say that they AREN'T Mandalorian and have never felt any connection to being Mandalorian as it is to claim the opposite. And there's a lot more evidence to support the idea that they're not.

[noisynaia]

Hi! Can you do a Din x F!reader where when Din is visiting Greef Karga and telling him about how he wants to redeem himself, but then Karga asks him if that's really what he truly wants? Maybe the reader takes Grogu somewhere while they talk and he asks Din something like, "Have you ever considered not going back to Mandalore? You can be happy here with her." Or something along those lines? Thanks! You have a great talent! ♡

𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐸𝐿𝐷𝑆

Thank you so much sweet anon 💕 This is such a lovely idea and I had such a great time writing it. I live for soft Din who just yearns for happiness but needs a little help realising that he is deserving of it. 💗

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader 

note: Mutual pining. Love confessions. Found family. The helmet comes off. Din has his first kiss. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta read and English is not my native language.

You are sitting in the passenger seat of the cockpit with Grogu, who is softly babbling, in your lap as he cradles his beloved little silver ball with both of his tiny hands. Din is sitting in the pilot chair next to you, getting the Razor Crest ready for landing. You can’t help but stare at him as he skillfully manoeuvres the ship. You have been travelling with the Mandalorian and his foundling for a little over a standard year now and what had started out as a small crush on Din has now bloomed into so much more, even though you had tried to fight it and protect your heart you have fallen utter and deeply in love with him. 

The three of you are on your way to Nevarro to talk to Din’s employer Greef Karga. You have been with him to Nevarro a few times before and you are exited to be back, but you can’t help but worry that this might be your last time on the planet, at least while travelling with Din and little Grogu.

You have tried to fight your feelings for Din, but no matter how badly you tried there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling. You know that you are only setting yourself up for heartache, knowing that there is no way that the two of you ever could be together, even if he reciprocated your feelings which you don’t think he does. He is Mandalorian after all and you are not…  Even though he is now an apostate. But that is why he will be travelling to Mandalore, to proclaim his creed and seek redemption and you can’t help but have a feeling that that journey won’t involve you which hurts. You know that your stay on the Crest always has been temporary. Just a job, after all. Just a needed help looking after Grogu. Staying on the ship with the little youngling while Din is out hunting bounties, but you feel like Din soon will tell you that you no longer will be needed. 

That you will be parted with Din is going to hurt, but losing Groguis going to be unbearable. You have ended up caring so much for the little green kid, loving him so much, you don't think you could love him more had he been your own child. It is terrifying, the thought that you one day will have to say goodbye to him. You try not to think too much about it and you shake your head as Din is landing on the barren ground that constitutes as the spaceport of Nevarro City. 

You cradle Grogu in your arms as you descend down the ramp with Din, the warm glow of the late afternoon sun is reflecting off his beskar making him look even more impressive than usual. You can’t help but feel proud to be walking by his side as you step through the pillars of the tall arch that open Nevarro City up from the spaceport. You are met by Karga that are walking towards you, arms spread in a welcoming gesture and a big wide smile lighting up his face. You can’t help but giggle when you notice that he has two small droids in tow, holding the ends of his long robe so it doesn’t drag along the ground.  

“Mando, my friend! I was beginning to fear you would never return.” Karga greets him before turning his attention to you, offering you a great big smile. “And I see your beautiful travel companion hasn’t left you yet.” He lets out a friendly laugh. “You haven’t got tired of that old bucket head yet my dear?” You let out a giggle, you have missed the older man’s friendly, teasing banter.  

“Not yet.” You smile at him. “Besides, this little one makes me stick around.” You say, looking lovingly down at the little child in your arms. 

Grogu is shrieking with happiness at the familiar face and Karga looks at him with an even wider grin on his face than before, if that is even possible. “And would you look at that, my favourite little green baby! How are you doing kid?”  

“Grogu.” Din says in a flat but not unfriendly tone, looping his thumb in his belt.

“Come again?” Karga turns towards the Mandalorian.  

“His name, It’s Grogu.” Din clarifies. 

“Huh, if you say so.” Karga shrugs his shoulders before taking Din’s gloved hand in his, placing his other hand on the armour of Din’s upper arm in a welcoming gesture. “Now come, come! A great deal has happened here since your last visit.” 

It is true that a lot of things have happened, the city is looking amazing, many of the buildings are new and shiny, more trees and greenery than ever before, even the people on the street look more vibrant and happy.   

“Yes, a lot of things have changed here. It doesn’t even look like the same place.” Din lets out. 

“Yes, yes! We have a construction boom going on in the city, it is all rather exciting. But now come, come! It has been a while and I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.” Karga smiles, clearly proud of the new state of the city. “The two of you are very welcome to join us, of course, but I will not take offence if you would prefer to take a look around instead, it will probably be more exciting for the little one.” Karga addresses you, gesturing to Grogu. “I will happily offer one of my droids to give a tour of the new city if you are interested or maybe show you to the healing baths, those Twi’leks know what they’re doing, very soothing.” 

“Thank you but I think we will be alright. I think we will go to the bazaar, find something nice for this one.” You smile down at Grogu who is happily cooing at your words.  

“Good choice, you have to spoil the little bogwing as much as possible, being spoiled is an important part of being a youngling. And make sure you go to the fruit market. The meiloorun melons are most delectable this time of year.” Karga states before turning to Din. “Well, shall we, Mando? I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.” 

Din turns his head back at you, his visor looking straight at you and you know that his eyes under his helmet must be locked with yours, it is a thought that always sends a warm rush through you and makes your heart beat a little faster. 

“I’ll find you later. You have your com on you, right? ” He asks you which makes you roll your eyes with a teasing smile on your lips even though you still feel your heart beat a little faster than normal by his gaze. 

“Of course.” You say, picking up the little device from your pocket to show him. “But we will be fine. You worry too much.” You say as you put the comlink back in your pocket. “I’ll call you if a reptavian is out to eat us or if we are about to be abducted by pirates or, I don’t know, maybe a kowakian is stealing Grogu’s meiloorun.” You tease him, he is always being so overprotective.

“Ah, ah. You must remember, a man is always allowed to worry about the people he loves. ” Karga chuckles while giving Din a playful pat on the back. Your smile falls at this and you feel your face heat at his comment. Din clears his throat awkwardly. You know that Din cares for you, but in what capacity you’re not sure, he is always making sure that you are safe and comfortable. He, of course, loves Grogu dearly, but Karga’s innuendo about Din loving both of you has your heart beating even faster than before.

“Shall we.” Din comments quickly, clearly flustered by Karga’s words too.  

“Sure.” Karga exclaims. “It was lovely to see you again, now go and enjoy the city. I think you will find the place quite pleasant, we have built a new school too, great for the little ones.” He tells you, gesturing at Grogu, like he is trying to sell the idea of settling down here before turning to leave with Din. 

You watch the backs of the two men as they walk up the stairs before they disappear into Karga’s building. You shake your head slightly before looking down at Grogu. “Shall we?” You ask him, echoing Din’s words from before. The little kid gurgles happily up at you which makes you smile widely. Maker, you love his cute little face so much. 

You walk down the bustling street to the bazaar. You have to admit that the changes to the city really are very impressive, you could actually imagine living in a city like this. You start your shopping, a ration run was long overdue anyway and besides the needed basics you find a lot of other things too. A new robe for Grogu, happy to find some small enough to fit him, Maker knows he needs more, you feel like you are constantly washing the few he has. You also find a few things for yourself and you are happy when you find a booth that is selling Din’s favourite brand of nutrition packs, and in his favourite flavour too, not that he has told you that they are his favourites, but it was easy to figure out as they always are the one he picks.

“So, is it melon time now?” You ask, looking down at Grogu after you have paid for the nutrition packs. Grogu is cooing happily as if he understands and you chuckle down at him making your way to one of the fruit stands. 

Karga was right, the meilooruns look perfect, ripe and mouthwatering. You smile at the elderly Twi’lek behind one of the booths, placing Grogu down on the ground before you start picking out the tastiest looking fruits, making polite conversation with the fruit seller while still keeping an eye on little Grogu. You pay for the fruits and the Twi’lek behind the booth hands you the last one. You feel Grogu tuck at your pant leg as he looks up at the fruit in your hand, clearly very interested in the orange-red melon that is almost bigger than his head. You chuckle at him, bending down to let him hold it which makes him let out an excited shriek.      

“Good job!” You coo at the youngling as he proudly holds the big fruit with both hands, waddling over to the basket that you have lowered for him, where he, with a little difficulty but complete determination, lifts the fruit up to join the rest.     

“Aw, what a good boy, helping mama out.” The Twi’lek coos at Grogu. 

Your heart clenches at the woman’s comment and you yearn by the idea of actually being the little green kid’s mother. You smile at the fruit seller and then down at Grogu 

“Yeah, he is the best.” You sigh softly.  

Grogu is looking up at you with those big bright eyes of his, softly babbling before reaching his tiny arms up towards you in a gesture to tell you he wants you to lift him up. You are happy to oblige, picking him up and nuzzling your nose against his little chubby cheek before leaving a soft kiss on the same spot. 

“Well, sweetheart I think that was all.” You tell him with a smile. “Your dad is probably also finishing up with Karga about now.” 

“Why don’t you take some of these too, on the house, for being such a sweet boy.” The Twi’lek says, putting a few pika fruits and some jogans down a brown paper bag.  

“Oh, no, that’s too kind of you.” You try to politely decline the woman's sweet offer but she just shrugs you off. 

“Now, none of that. We like giving gifts here on Nevarro.” She smiles at you as she shakes her head, making her lekku’s swing from side to side, before looking at Grogu. “Why don’t you give these to your father, little one? Proof that you were nice and helpful while out shopping with mom?” She smiles at Grogu who is cooing and making grabby hands at the bag and you can’t say no to him, so you let him take it and thanking the sweet Twi’lek before going out to see if Din is finished at Karga’s. You can’t help but feel at peace here, people have been so sweet and welcoming. 

—      

Karga is pouring himself a glass of spotchka, offering a glass to Din, just like he always does, which Din declines, just like always does. “Hm, so today isn’t the day I’m gonna see your face either.” The older man jokes, lifting his glass to take a sip of the strong beverage. Din only scoffs at the comment. 

“I came to tell that I won’t be able to take any bounties for a while.” 

“Well, I am happy to hear that, Mando. Finally ready to give up that tumultuous life of yours?” Karga says with a big smile on his face. Now this was not the reaction Din had expected, confused by the man’s words.

“I have shown my face. I have to go to Mandalore to seek redemption in the living waters.” Karga’s smile falls as Din tells him this.

“Oh, Mando. Now I had hoped that you had come to tell me that you were ready to come quieten down here in Nevarro City.” 

“I have taken off my helmet, I need to go to Mandalore.” Din tries to explain, but Karga does not seem to see that as a problem, waving a hand in the air as if what Din is telling him isn’t an issue in the slightest, like Din hasn’t broken the most holy of creeds, cutting him off with an unconcern look on his face.

“Well, have you considered not going?” The other man simply states. 

“I am an apostate now.” Din tries again but it still doesn’t seem like an issue to Karga. 

“Isn’t that just all the more reason to stay here. You might be considered an apostate among your people now, but here you will be welcomed with open arms. You could hang up your blaster, settle down and give the kid some stability, maybe even add a new little one to the family, I’m sure that lady of yours would enjoy that.” The older man says with a wink followed by a deep belly laugh before continuing. “Now, I don’t know how ugly that mug of yours is under there.” He says gesturing at Din’s helmet. “But I know that ain’t gonna scare her away, even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.”

Din feels his face heat up under the helmet at Karga’s words. “She isn’t my lady.” Din mutters, not able to suppress how deeply he wish that you actually were.   

“Hmm.” Karga hums, not sounding convinced. “If you say so. But, Mando, my friend, I have known you for a long time, since you were a young man and I don’t think I have ever seen you as happy as you are now, with her and the kid. I know you keep insisting that there is nothing going on between you and her, and that might be the truth, but you can’t convince me that you don’t want there to be.”

Din wants to protest, to tell the man that his statement is wrong, but he knows that it would fall for deaf ears, and he would give himself up anyway, Din has also always been a terrible liar. Of course he want’s something between you. His employer has seen right through him, hit the head right on the nail. Din has over the last few months started to come to terms with the fact that he has fallen completely and utterly in love with you. It is scary, completely unknown territory and Din doesn’t now what to do with these feelings he has for you, sure that you don’t feel the same - but, as little as he likes to admit it, a little hope has bloomed in his chest by Karga’s words. ‘Even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.’ could that really be true?

 Could you really feel the same for him as he feel for you? No, of course not, Karga is just teasing like he always does, right?  

“I can’t hang up my blaster. It’s not that simple.” He sighs, shaking his helmeted head. 

“But it’s not that complicated either.” Karga says, taking another sip of his spotchka before continuing. “You deserve some happiness, Mando and  I think she can give you that. This is just an old man’s advice and you can do with it as you will, but I hope you believe me when I say that all I want is to see you happy.” He finishes this drink, setting the now emty glass down on the table before pulling out something from the pocket of his extravagant outfit.  

“Now go back to that girl and that Grogu of yours and treat them to a nice dinner, I know how much that kid loves to eat.” He chuckles. “I have a nice prime tract set up, right over by the hot springs. You can spend the night there, I’m sure she will appreciate having somewhere nicer to sleep than that old ship of yours.” Karga says with a smile as he slides enough credits for a nice dinner and then some over the table along with a keychip and a little piece of paper with an address scribbled down. “Think about what I’ve said okay? It’s a nice place and it can be yours if you want it.” He adds, gesturing to the key that Din is now clutching in his gloved hand.

Din simply nods at the man and mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before leaving. Karga’s words ringing in his head as he makes it down the busy street to the bazaar to find you and Grogu.

—      

The house Karga has lent you is beautiful, which makes perfect sense, the High Magistrate has always struck you as the type of person with an eye for finer things, the makeover the city has gotten is proof of this. You had taken a little tour of the house, not able to stop yourself from fantasising about what it would be like to live in a place like this. It’s nice to pretend even if it’s just for a single night or two, you hope you get a chance to try out the soothing hot spring in the backyard before you have to leave again. It will probably be soon, you know how badly Din itches to travel to Mandalore to redeem himself. The thought making a tight knot form in your stomach, you and Din havent really talked much about it or talked about what was going to happen with you. You don’t even know if you would be allowed to come with him as a non-Mandalorian. Maybe the time you have been dreading so badly finally has come, Din telling you that he no longer needs your services and that he will travel to Mandalore with Grogu and reclaim his creed without you. It makes your little tour of the house feel so much more bitter sweet, the fantasy of the three of you living in a place like this seem stupid and silly.

You can’t help yourself from dragging your feet towards the open door of the room in which Din is currently putting Grogu to bed, watching them from the doorway. You are in complete awe by the sight of Din sweetly tucking Grogu in for the night, placing the warm blanket over the little kid who is placed on the soft bed. The contrast of the two is always a sight. The big brute bounty hunter, clad from head to toe in shiny, intimidating beskar, and the tiny little kid with giant shiny eyes and wobbling ears.

Even though you have known for a while that you love and care deeply for both Din and little Grogu, now as you watch them, you know that the love you have for the both of them is deeper than anything you have ever felt before. You love the little green kid as if he was your own and you have fallen deeply in love with his armour wearing dad. 

Your heart yearns so bad by the sight of them, the love Din has for his little foundling is so bewitching and you find yourself stepping into the room, softly tip-toeing over to the bed, feeling yourself being pulled in like a magnet. Din looks up at you when you reach the bed. His helmet conceals his emotions but he doesn’t seem to mind that you have come over to them. Grogu has already snoozed off, Din pats the empty space of the bed next to him, encouraging you to take a seat which you do. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment looking at Grogu as he sweetly sleeps. You wonder how many more of these small moments you have left with them. You suddenly feel like you might start crying. You sigh as you stand up, stepping over to plant a soft kiss on Grogu’s forehead before turning your gaze to Din, giving the man a weak smile as he rises from the bed too. The two of you quietly stepping out of the room and towards the living area.       

You sit down at the soft sofa, Din sitting down in one of the comfortable arm chairs. A silence falling over you as you both seem to be occupied with your own thoughts. 

After Din had found you and Grogu at the bazaar he had taken you out to one of the nicer places to eat in the city. Fancy, but not too fancy to bring a kid. Din had, of course, not been eating, but you had made sure to get some food back with you to the house that he ate while you were out in the backyard playing with Grogu, giving him privacy to take off his helmet. He might have taken off his helmet that time for Grogu, and now is an apostate for it, but he still follows the creed. 

It had been a good evening, one you wished you would have many more of, but that just seems like wishful thinking, but Din had been very quiet. Not that he has ever been a huge chatterbox or anything, but he had been quiet even for his standards. You can’t help but wonder if something is wrong, now that you also sit in silence here.           

“Din?” 

“Hmm?”

“You are being awfully quiet tonight, anything on your mind?” You ask in a low voice, close to a whisper, feeling a little unsure if you should even ask him this.  

“Oh, Karga just said some things to me. I don’t know, I guess it just made me get stuck in my own thoughts, I’m sorry about that.” He says with a slight shake of his helmet. 

You open your mouth to answer but he continues before you get to say anything.     

“Do… Do you like it here?” His voice is softer than normal and slightly shaky. 

“Here on Nevarro?” You ask a little confused, mirroring his soft tone.

“Yeah, here on Nevarro… Wo-would this be the kind of place you could see yourself live in?”

“If I was living in a house like this? Absolutely!” You grin at him, but Din doesn’t seem to be in on the joke, his shoulders tense as he fidgets with the leather of his gloves.   

“Well, Karga he… he offered it to me, the house here... Well, to us. To uhm, to stay.” He adds. 

Us… Could he mean? Your stomach does a flip until you realise what he means by ‘us’. Him and Grogu, of course, the clan of two. You look over at him, offering him a weak smile as you imagine it for a second, Din and Grogu living in a place like this, the warm blanket of domesticity covering them.  

“That sounds nice.” You say, giving him a little smile. It really would be nice for them to have a quiet life, but you know that it is never going to happen. That isn’t the life of a Mandalorian.

“Yo-you really think so?” He sounds startled and you can’t help but giggle softly at him. 

“Well, yeah, of course. I can imagine you preparing lunches for Grogu in the morning, lots of meriloons for snacks, of course, and then taking him to school.” You say with a playful smile on your lips, remembering Karga’s comment about the new school they had built. “And, all the other kids thinking Grogu has the coolest dad ever with all that beskar.” You laugh softly at your little fantasy. 

“So I would be a cool dad, huh?” He finally chuckles along with you. 

“Oh, yeah. The coolest.” You nod. “How many other parents wield the dark sabre?” You snicker. 

“No one, I guess.” He chuckles again and, kriff, how you love the sound of it.

“Oh, and you would bake for all of the bake sales, obviously!” 

“Pff, of course, I would!” He plays along. “I would bake all the pika cakes needed. Hell, the little one gets them for free.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen where the bag with the fruits Grogu was gifted at the market lies. “But you would have to help me taste test them, make sure that we come with the best cakes. Can’t lose my cool dad status because I’m being outshined by another parent with better baking skills.” 

Wait is he saying that you would be there too, in this hypothetical scenario?! 

“Would I?” Your tone has lost all the playfulness from before, now low and unsure but also hopeful. 

He stiffens, shoulders getting tense again. “Wouldn’t you?” His voice is now soft and a little shaky through the modulator.

You can’t believe the direction the conversation has taken. “I guess I would if you want me to.” You confess. 

“I do. I really want you to.” He whispers your name. The visor of his helmet trained on you and you know that he is looking directly into your eyes.  “I would want that. I never thought I could have that, but with you… With you and Grogu, that is all I want.”

“Din I…” You feel how warm tears are slowly falling down your cheeks now. “I want that too. I want you.” You get up from the sofa and he rises from his chair, the two of you slowly approaching each other until you stand with only a few inches between you. 

“I don’t want to go to Mandalore, not anymore.” He whispers. “I don’t…” He takes a shaky breath, like he is getting ready to tell an earth-shattering secret. “I don’t mind being an apostate.”  

“Din are you sure you don’t want to go..?” You can’t believe his words. You are happy, of course you are, but this is his creed, his life, his whole identity. You need him to be sure.

He doesn’t answer you, just standing still in front of you, like a statue. You start to think that he might have regretted telling you this, that he is realising that he does want to go to Mandalore and that he just got caught in the moment for a second, but then he moves. It is like everything is going in slow motion, it takes you a second to realise what he is doing as he brings his hands up to the side of his helmet, a loud hiss sounding through the room before he removes the beskar from his head.

A little gasp escapes your mouth as you take in the sight of his unhelmed face. You are met by a pair of the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, tender and bright, like the twin suns on the planet you grew up on. His hair, that is slightly mussed from the helmet, is a deep brown which matches the colour of his eyes. Dark stubbles are adorning his jaw and a trimmed moustache is framing his upper lip and you notice how soft, how kissable they look. There is no doubt in your heart as you stare into the his eyes, this is the man you love, reaching your hand out to softly cup his cheek, making sure to not make contact with his skin until he lean against your hand himself, not wanting to overwhelm him if he isn’t ready for your touch yet, but he does lean in, letting out a little gasp as your palm gently cups his cheek.   

“Hi.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence.

“Hi.” He echoes as your palm rests against his bare skin, fingers slowly brushing over the stubbles of his cheek. A faint, sheepish smile on his lips and a slightly unsure look in his eyes, clearly not used to being looked at and not knowing how to react to your gaze without his helmet. He has nothing to be shy about though. He is so gorgeous and you are gonna let him now. 

“Din, you are beautiful.”    

He doesn’t answer, still taken in the feeling of being touched without the armour. You let him take all the time that he needs and a little while goes by before he finally breaks the silence.

“I kind of want to kiss you, cyar’ika.” He confesses, voice barely more than a whisper.    

“You can.” You tell him your voice is soft, a mellow smile on your lips as you stare into the deep umber of his eyes. He nods slightly, giving himself a moment to let the idea of finally being able to kiss you sink in, you don’t rush him, letting him do it in his own tempo.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.” The words are coming out soft and shaky, almost apologetic, as he confesses this to you. It doesn’t surprise you, it must be incredibly nerve wracking for him, after so many years behind the helmet, standing bare and exposed in front of another human being. It makes sense that he never has kissed anyone before considering the creed he has lived by. You can’t help but feel a little giddy by the idea of being the one to give him his first kiss, a soft and loving gift he can carry with him forever.   

“Din, that’s okay.” You reassure him before adding with a slightly cheeky grin. “It’s not like I mind teaching you.” This makes him smile too, letting out a low sound, the ghost of a laugh, you have heard that sound before but never without the modulator of his helmet and you feel your heart flutter warmly. 

“I’m glad you don’t.” He whispers gratefully as he begins to lean in closer until your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. His hands moves up to cradle your face, gently cupping your cheeks with his broad hands. You hum content into the kiss, your lips moving slowly in sync, a part of you wants to deepen the kiss letting your tongue explore his mouth but you hold yourself back, this will hopefully be the first kiss of many and you want this one to be sweet and soft and not overwhelm him. 

You finally have to pull away to catch your breath, finding those beautiful eyes of his that you have already fallen completely for. 

“I love you.” You whisper into the quietness and he smiles at you, the prettiest smile in the galaxy, before leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss. 

“I love you too.” He mutters against your lips. “I have for a while.” 

You let out a choked gasp, not believing that this is really happening, that Din really loves you too.

“I think I’m ready for something new.” He tells you softly, placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours. “A new beginning right here with you.” 

“That sounds good.” You smile. “But I think you might have to kiss me again, as your official taste tester I need another sample.” 

He lets out a low laugh before kissing you again. A kiss that tastes like the beginning of something beautiful. 

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@mswarriorbabe80

[canisalbus]

For some reason, I was always under the impression that Machete (through various misfortunes and happenstance) just sort of... BECAME a priest - I wasn't aware that be actually WANTED to be one :0 what was his reasoning for that line of work? I mean, I guess growing up in and around the church might foster an interest, but...?

Well, priests were held in extremely high regard at the time. Apart from nobility who had the benefit of proper education, they were usually the only people who were literate, and being able to read was a massive advantage. Social classes were extremely rigid, if you were born a peasant you died a peasant and so on. But if you managed to join the clergy, had luck on your side and didn't do abysmal job, you might be able to ascend to a higher status, accumulate more wealth and live reasonably comfortably regardless of your origins (to my understanding the main reason people didn't choose this path to escape poverty and hardship was because of the literacy requirement. I've read that some village priests could only write their name and memorized everything else, but for the most part you had to be able to write, read and speak at least passable Latin). Committing crimes against men of God was a severe offence, more so than regular laypeople, and (at leasts in some eras and places) priests themselves couldn't be tried in regular courts and had their own ecclesiastical courts instead, all of this made clergy kind of a protected class.

Machete spent his early childhood in a monastery, after his parents left him there (he was sickly and his family was stretched thin and couldn't care for him anymore. Before orphanages monasteries sometimes housed orphans and foundlings until they were old enough to be apprenticed). He grew up in a strongly religious environment so a certain sense of spirituality and fear of God was ingrained in him from early age. He was a quiet, meek, punctual and polite kid, and because he didn't like to play outside and was so well behaved, he was allowed inside the scriptorium and the library. He was inquisitive and very fascinated by books so the monks taught him to read, and when they commented he'd make a good priest he was instantly entranced with the idea. He wasn't interested in preaching, but if there was a chance he could be safe and respected, even regarded as holy, he felt he had to do everything in his power to attain that. Sure he was sort of guided and trained towards that goal all along, but he also genuinely thought it was something that would give his existence meaning and significance, after being discarded by his birth family and feeling vague worthlessness and lack of belonging ever since.

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓

Rhysand x OC Prequel Chapter to Betrayal (Prequels can be read in any order or as a standalone) Summary: Adelaide and Rhysand don’t like being apart for long, but a High Lord must be dutiful. (Takes place before the series' Timeline) A/N: I know, I know. You all want to see Rhysand get his ass beat, but this is not that.

“My dear Adelaide” her lover’s voice sung out from his office as she walked past, too enthralled in her book to notice he was in there. 

She quickly spun around, running back to his office. The lovers had been separated for only 3 days and despite around 300 years spent together, the days had gone by slowly. 

The two quickly met each other in the middle of the room, kissing feverishly as if they had been apart 50 years. 

As Rhysand pulled back, Adelaide chased his mouth, not yet content with the amount of kisses she had gotten. The High Lord quickly pecked her lips in apology while laughing at her eagerness.

“Slow down, my dear. We have all the time in the world.” He smiled down on her, taking in the beautiful face he had spent so much of his long existence undeniably enthralled and all consuming-ly in love with. Red hair not quite reaching her waist, not in the usual braids she put them in when she didn’t want to fight the curls she swore ‘had a mind of their own and decided they were at war with her’. The deep red of her hair accentuated by the gold accessories she wore in it, matching the ones that adorned the horns that came out of her head like twisted tree branches.  

The horns confused him at first. He had assumed that she hailed from Autumn because of the red of her hair, but the branches decorating her head hadn’t made sense with that theory, at least not fully. Her ears had much more of a point to them, a far cry from the rounded ears of the Illyrians, even farther than the High Fae did, as he did. So she couldn't have been High Fae.

Adelaide couldn’t give up much information on her front. She was a foundling, discovered on the border of Day and Night. The High Lord of Night at the time, Rhysand’s father, wanted nothing to do with the babe found, convinced that the red headed child must have been some ploy from Beron. Thankfully, the High Lord of Day took her in. At first, it had been her hair that drew him in, not far from the color his Lady of Autumn had. Her skin tone closer in resemblance to his than his love's. When he looked at her, he saw a timeline in which they got their deserved life together. Adelaide had no biological connection to either of them, but Helion loved her all the same. “It doesn’t feel that way, you always have something else to do.” She pouted. It would have been sweet, how much she had missed him, but the way her hands trailed down Rhysand’s chest, stopping at the sound of his grown when she pushed her fingers inside the waistband of his pants, Rhys knew she was anything but sweet right now.. 

“My dear,” Rhysand groaned as she continued to tease him, stepping out of his embrace. Don’t start something you know you can’t finish, he spoke into her mind. 

With no warning, she ran off down the hall, to their bedroom. She knew she couldn’t outrun him, but that made it all the more exciting. 

She had awoken the next day to the smell of her favorite tea being placed next to her bedside. She smiled at her lover, drowning in bliss that came from having him near. 

She then took in his outfit.

He was fully dressed in the clothes he wore when he needed to seem courtly and powerful. He had been called away, again. Sensing her despair, Rhysand leaned down on the bed, his kiss trailing from her lips, to her jaw, to her throat. 

But she pushed him away.

“You can’t seduce me into forgetting that you are leaving me again, Rhysand!”

“I am doing no such thing, just trying to make up for the fact I am leaving again. And I am not leaving you, my dear, I'd never leave you. Shoot me dead, should the day ever arise.” He laughed. She did too. What a preposterous idea, him leaving her. 

“Will you promise to hurry back, of sound mind and body?” 

“Always, my dear Adelaide, always of sound mind and body for you.” 

She hadn’t asked when he would be back, she learned not to over the years because these things never went on the original schedule. 

But she hadn’t thought it would be 50 excruciating years until she saw him again.  

[housederiva]

Shadow Dragons Blurb anon - YES that's exactly the one I mean! The little backstory bit when selecting the faction?

Fantastic! (I put the og question in this for anyone else who's confused)

I'm going to break down every part of it because I'm not sure how long you've been playing Dragon Age or how much preexisting lore you know, and I'm wording this like you've never played a DA game before (sorry for any redundancy) Also this is just my take on it so keep that in mind xx

Rook risked everything to liberate the incident people of Tevinter, even though it would anger the ruin elite -> Tevinter was built on and functions upon the back of their slaves' labor. Without it, the empire is nothing. This makes the Shadow Dragons as a concept and an organization a threat to the empire's power

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. -> A foundling is someone who was abandoned as an infant or a very young child and then cared for by the people who found them (which gives the 4 race options an explanation as to why they're in the city...or at least the player the ability to infer one themselves) Minrathous is the capital and largest city in Tevinter and where all the big decisions get made. The military aspect of the Mercar family to me implies Rook's adopted family are Soporati, which is one of the lower classes in Tevinter - members of this class often serve in the military. (The family's rank would be higher if any of them are mages, how many generations of mages the Mercars' have would raise the rank even higher. Personally, I'm interested in what happens if you play as a mage Rook and if no other Mercar has magic and if any of them will be seen outside my AO3)

While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. -> Rook was on a job for the Shadow Dragons where they were ment to act as a bodyguard for an unknown man of high rank (my fingers are crossed that it was Dorian) I believe Nessus is a typo and it's supposed to be Nessum, the city featured in Absolution. Whoever the dignitary was, he wasn't able to get the information he needed to uncover/stop the slave ring one way or another so Rook overstepped themselves, disobeying orders to just guard the dignitary to get him to the information he needed by putting him in danger

Alone, they snuck the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. -> Venatori are blood magic and red lyrium (both not good) using mages which are rotting Tevinter from the top down, They're the main antagonistic force against everything the Shadow Dragons stand for. So, not only did Rook disobey their orders, they led this important official through very dangerous spaces that, if they had gotten caught, would have gotten both of them killed and compromise a part of if not all of their faction. However, the risk of getting the dignitary closer to the ring paid off and every slave was freed, and the dignitary was returned unharmed

These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight. -> Rook's on a shit list now. The opposition knows what they look like/who they are and has been effectively taken from the shadows and put under a spotlight. I'm assuming the Viper, the leader of the Shadow Dragons, made the call to shelve Rook so no other job would be compromised by them being recognized

[jessilynallendilla]

DPXDC SUPERMAN AND CONSTANTINE FIC REC

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

& SUPERMAN 

Lex Luthor's Chance Of Fate  G 3,730 SERIES 

Years ago, Lex met a little boy at a tech convention. Some thirteen years later, they meet again. He's just as sassy as Lex remembers too. 

Two For One Special  T 12,583 

While in Gotham, Clark gets mistaken for Bruce Wayne. He's not alone in his dilemma, however, because a teenager by the name of Danny is also mistaken to be Tim Drake. At least Clark's having fun with his fellow captive. 

Oh Him? Don't Pay Him Any Attention He's Just Our (Resident Cryptid) New Intern  T 

Lois just wants to protect Danny, Clark just wants to adopt Danny, and Danny just wants to keep his job and NOT get fired. Jimmy Olsen wishes he wasn’t a professional photographer who could clearly tell that Danny Fenton is a spitting photoshop color reverse image of Danny Phantom. Perry White wishes he hired someone else. Needless to say, the Planet is a mess. 

You With The Sad Eyes  M 12,641 SERIES 

All it takes is an attempted kidnapping gone sideways for the Kent family to (eventually) gain a new member. Follow Jon and Clark as they try to unwind the mystery of the meta boy named Danny and all the secrets he keeps. 

Living Is Hell, What Else Is New?  T 5,546 SERIES 

A Connor Kent from a universe where Superman is a huge jerk arrives to the Like and Survive universe right in front of the Teen Titans. Kon takes his new identical brother home to meet his dad. 

Foundling At The Door  T 25,987 SERIES 

Kon had half a second to think so much for the quiet day before the tear in reality warped and twisted in ways that his mind simply refused to comprehend, bolts of green lightning arching out of the shattered mess leaving scars in the sky as a horrible after-image. And then someone fell out of it. A tiny, injured figure tumbled out of the break in time and space, plummeting to the ground in tattered hospital scrubs stained red and green. He moved before he could think, darting forward in the air to grab the battered body, not caring what else might come out of the ominous tear in reality above them. Elle escaped the GIW, if barely. Unfortunately the portal she created has sent her not to the Ghost Zone, but an entirely new dimension - one that doesn't have enough ectoplasm for her to survive, let alone leave. Badly injured and surrounded by strangers, the best option she has of surviving is going along with the assumption that she's a Kryptonian, whatever that is. At least Not-Danny and his boyfriend are nice. 

The Cryptid Of Smallville  G 

Danny gets de-aged and Clockwork sends him to the Kent’s because they’re used to raising superpowered children and time moves different on their Earth. A collection of connected one-shots surrounding the ten years Danny lives with the Kent family. 

Star Child  G 1,291 SERIES 

Although Martha lost her unborn baby, that doesn't stop her from being a mother. Nor does it stop her from showing kindness to strangers. She is surprised to see how one stranger shows his appreciation. 

Tomato Farms And Runaways  G 1,511 

It's amazing how much money merchandise can get you, enough to per-se... get way. Enough to leave behind a bad situation. It's not like he wanted to leave home, but with his parents finding out about the accident, and him being Phantom, there were no other choices left for him. Not with his parents on the loose looking for the "ghost who kidnapped their poor son and impersonated him". And after all, he could use a break. They all could. Him, Sam, tucker, jazz. 

Just the Typical Weirdness  G 6,622 SERIES 

Just a little ficlet with the idea of "Esperanto is Ye Olde Kryptonian" 

Get That Out Of Your Mouth (You Don’t Know Where It’s Been!)  NR 

Spring break, really just a great opportunity to try for the, well, who really knows how many times, to try and map out the Ghost Zone! Unfortunately for Danny, this little field trip of his has taken him much farther from home than expected. In a place that is simultaneously very different, and very similar to his world, Danny Fenton is trapped in Metropolis, powers weak and his own self following after, he needs to either find a way home, or a new source of the ectoplasmic energy he’s living off of. Meanwhile, in the home team, Lex Luther’s change of heart has everyone on high alert, especially as the lives of teenagers become pawns in a dangerous game of chess. Robin and Superboy, Superman and Red Robin, are all pressed to prevent such a catastrophe before it’s too late. 

& CONSTANTINE 

It's Hard To Make Friends When You're Half In The Graveg 886 SERIES 

For the record, neither Barry nor Oliver know how a teenaged Eldritch Abomination got into headquarters. They do know, however, that it's obviously Constantine's fault. 

A King's Gamble  G 

As tensions grow between Phantom and Plasmius, both vying for the title of King heir, the instability of the Ghost Zone affects Earth, pulling a reluctant John Constantine into the world of ghosts and ghost hunters. 

Beach Day Demons  G 4,823 SERIES 

John Constantine mistakes Danny as a possessed teen while he’s on his break to the beach. Chaos ensues! 

Afterimage  G 2,277 

The Justice League are having trouble with a ghost and Constantine really want to deal with it before the ghost's king comes to collect his wayward subject. Bruce thinks it sounds like a good solution for someone to come and collect the untouchable enemy until he suddenly, horrifyingly, doesn't. Barry let out a yelp and Bruce instinctively flinched backwards as he could feel his skin tingling, hands spasming, muscles twitching, and hear stuttering in his chest as the electricity in the air surrounding them increased increased increased. 

“The king has arrived,” Constantine choked out through clenched teeth. 

Really, Danny just wanted to take Skulker back to the Zone. 

Danny What The Fuck??  T 3,731 

Phantom is almost comically overpowered compared to the Justice League on account of not only being a boy king of an alternate dimension, but also because he fought creatures from said alternate dimension and whilst Constantine did that too -on a rather unfortunately regular basis- he didn't fight Darkside level threats on his own at fourteen years of age. Hence how overpowered Phantom was. But he was also still a boy, which might be how Constantine found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. 

Hellblazer And The Phantom  T 

After John Constantine finds himself in Amity Park, Illinois (courtesy of the House of Mystery), he learns about the ghosts of the town, most notably the Ghost Boy, AKA Phantom. When John is strong-armed by the Fentons into helping during a ghost fight, a wayward spell hits Phantom, erasing all memories he has of his human life. Considering the alternative is letting the Fentons experiment on him, John takes the young ghost kid under his wing. However, both of them are in over their heads as they try to get Danny's memories back, and Constantine is NOT father potential. 

Surprise First Meetings With Eldritch Beings Are NOT Fun.  T 1,909 SERIES 

People go missing all the time. It’s a sad fact but true. So it doesn’t catch the Justice League’s attention in the beginning. But when bodies start to be found in failed summoning circles, it finally pings on their radar. Bad news, they can’t tell who, or what, the cultists are trying to summon. 

Be Not Afraid (Or Whatever)  G 1,192 SERIES 

The weather god- though Constantine swore it was 'just' a ghost- had pinned down the entire Justice League. While they'd managed to trap Vortex in a two square mile area and evacuate civilians, and even arrested the cult responsible, they in turn were trapped in a small warehouse, protected only by the blood blossom spray and salt circle Constantine made. Enter the terrifying and awesome (and Barry means that in the biblical sense) Ghost King, stage right. 

Dimensional Sector D3C8QX9 And Why It Sucks (Less Than You'd Think)  T SERIES 

"…Wait. Oh. Oh, no. Oh, fuck. It's that dimension. Why'd have to be that dimension? Urgh, getting back is gonna be such a pain!" 

The Leaguers present exchanged unnerved glances. An eldritch abomination they couldn't contain nor defeat being angry about their stay didn't exactly bode well. 

"What do you mean?" 

The endlessly black eyes singled in on Barry, making him shrink back. For some reason, he doubted even he'd be fast enough if the being in front of him decided to hunt him down. 

"What I mean" it said with a grin willed with too many teeth and too little emotion "is that I'm stuck here for now. And you better buckle up, buddy, because I just decided just now to make it everyone's problem." There was a pause in which the eery glow around the being pulsated. "I'm so going to find whoever did this and move all their furniture two inches to the left." 

Wait, what? 

The Impossible Summoning  G 8,530 SERIES 

There's a new Ghost King in town, and among those freaking out from this news is the Justice League, who want to know if this is something they should be concerned about. Fortunately, John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara are on the case and have a copy of the ritual to summon the ghost king. However, someone, possibly the Ghost King or the ritual's author, really doesn't want the summoning to work. 

Pay Your Dues  T 

For Bruce, the beginning of the end began on an unassuming day in April. Or... John Constantine gets arrested and is sent to trial in the Infinite Realms. Somehow, Bruce's life is worse for it. 

John Constantine Goes To Amity Park.  T 14,811 

John Constantine goes to Amity Park and meets the Fentons. 

The Time I Got Summoned To A Different Dimension To Help Batman's Son  NR 2,129 

Danny became the ghost king after defeating pariah dark. He never really thought of any consequences to that, other than being a ruler of the dead of course. Which meant even less time to sleep and study for school, but still, that was the only downside to being the ghost king. Or, well, at least as far as he bothered to think it through. So yeah, he's quite surprised to find he can be summoned now. And also surprised to be finding it out as he's summoned away from his house to some meeting hall surrounded by people in weird costumes. Yeah, maybe he should also be surprised that apparently the summoning can work across dimensions 

Family Leave  NR SERIES 

He knows he can leave his kids unsupervised in his house. He's done it before. And sure, he has a lot of unexplained incredibly powerful objects just lying about. But his kids aren't stupid. One of em's even in his twenties. Not to say they aren't dumb. They're definitely dumb. They're just not stupid. They'll be able to handle themselves.... ? Nevermind. He's not leaving the house unless the dimensions are colliding. Fuck Gotham, fuck Batman, and fuck the League. No way. Shit. It's mandatory. 

There's Ghosts Haunting The House Of Mystery  T 1,792 

Constantine has an unexpected guest show up to the House of Mystery, funny thing is, he can't find them! Now if only the three suspicious looking ghosts in his living room knew where their guest mysteriously ran off to... 

Constantine's Tournament  G 2,582 

John Constantine is far from the first person to try to worm his way out of consequences by selling his soul to multiple entities. Too bad he doesn't figure that out until he sells his soul to a random teenager. 

The Peacock Chronicles  T 5,418 SERIES 

John Constantine needs help closing up a Lazarus Pit in Gotham. Danny Phantom can close up Lazarus Pits. This should be a perfectly straightforward arrangement between two people with the same interests in mind- unfortunately, Danny's intentions end up just a tad lost in translation. Constantine should've known doing a favour for a guy like Batman would be a mistake. 

Good Ol' Uncle John And His Ghost Nieces And Nephews  G 3,176 SERIES 

John Constantine is Uncle to 4 kids, maybe more. He just wants a smoke and a drink. They just keep causing Chaos. Once they sent the house to the Ghost Realms. That made him late for work. Not fun. 

Amity In The Ghost Zone  T 

What if Amity Park got stuck in the ghost zone after it was teleported? The city doesn't return on its own after Pariah Dark is defeated. Without knowing how to get the whole city back to the living world, Danny tries to evacuate the residents but most Amity Parkers don't really want to leave. Some people do, but many decide to stay. After all, Amity Park is their home, and the idea of having to start over somewhere new isn't very appealing. So the town, for the most part, continues on like normal. In the words of the great philosopher Dr. Ian Malcom "Life, uh, finds a way." 

Of Gravestones And Names  NR 4,862 

John Constantine didn’t know how he ended up as a father of two eldritch abominations but here he is making Mac n’ Cheese for the two horrors. 

Like A Lamb  G 1,376 

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both. Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run. 

Daniel Wayne - Escape From Fenton: The Infinite Realms  NR 1,720 SERIES 

John Constantine hates scientist, especially ones who cut the fabric of reality to open the a gateway to the Infinite Realms. He also doesn't like the government. And he barely puts up with the Justice League. 

Debts Always Come Due (And Sometimes That's A Good Thing)  M 

After years of playing off one demon against another so that, even with selling his soul multiple times, none can actually claim it, John Constantine finds out that one of his ancestors royally screwed him over and his soul is now the property of the Ghost King. But things don't go QUITE how he expects. 

A Little Accidental Adoption Never Hurt Anyone! Right?  T 

After Constantine meets the supposed High King of the Infinite Realms, they make a deal. It helps them both out, but neither seems to realize it's not just a deal anymore...well except Clockwork, but he's leaving them be for now. Or Constantine accidentally adopts Danny but doesn't realize it anytime soon. 

I Just Wanna Talk  G 

Danny is the inter-dimensional personification of the IRS for Death and the Unliving, and he just has a couple questions. 

Contractual Obligations  T 114,383 

Danny is doing his kingly duties when a demon breaks into a meeting demanding the king’s soul. Now Danny has only a few months to find his birth father and nullify this soul contract or else he becomes a slave to the demon on his 16th birthday. 

The Family  T 

The death of a necromancer caused some of his more sentient belongings to go berserk and the JL is called to clean up. They unearth an ancient scroll from the magician's residence and Justice League Dark is called into investigate. But why does it look like they want to move to the other side of the galaxy? 

Constantine, John  T 1,545 SERIES 

Danny muses on the enigma that is John Constantine and his relationship with the man. 

Who's Helping Who?  NR 4,815 SERIES 

Concerned about rising signs of villains co-conspiring to create a hefty summoning spell, Batman and select members of the Justice League decide to gather information with a summoning of their own. Danny Phantom's been missing from Amity for weeks. His friends have been scouring beneath the surface of the infamous GIW, but any traces of Phantom have been buried deep. Too deep for them to follow. But when Danny feels the pull of an otherworldly force powerful enough to summon him through his binds and chains, he holds out hope for something better on the other side. 

If You Give A Bat A Burger  T SERIES 

Strange things are going on in Gotham: A series of crimes linked only by a sentence uttered. A drug that no one seems to be selling, but lots of people are taking. An old enemy reborn, or someone pretending to be him. Graffiti that can't be photographed by normal means. Bartenders disappearing without a trace. John Constantine is also there. Danny wants nothing to do with any of it. He just wants to sell burgers and survive. Actually, he'd like to go home again, but since that isn't possible, he'll stick with burgers. Gotham's vigilante's have other plans. This is why Danny doesn't do favors. 

Mentory Stable  G 1,162  

Constantine thinks that Danny Phantom should stay in Amity Park. The Justice League thinks that they should be allowed to help. One person gets the last word. 

Dressed For Death  T 

The list of people John Constantine feels bad for is relatively small. The amount of people who feel bad for Phantom is probably smaller. 

WELL, Isn't This A Bitch Of An Unsatisfactory Situation.  M 6,917 

When Danny had been asked where he went when he wasn't hero-ing, he had pointed at the Well. He'd been thinking of a place for a quick ecto-blob ghost snack; he hadn't realized Amity Park would believe that he was murdered and dumped there. He hadn't expected they would try to protect it from the GIW. Hadn't expected the local police to show up to investigate. And he knew he was in deep shit when it turned out that yes, there was a body down that well. Lots of bodies, in fact. Entire families worth. There's a serial killer loose in Amity Park, and if Danny wants to get the stupid out-of-towner heroes off his back and save Vlad, ew, then he needs to figure it out quick. 

Minor Miscommunication Makes Danny A Happy Halfa T 1,525

Danny likes keeping Amity Park to himself. The Justice League can bother some other ghost and leave his city alone. But alas, Batman comes with the dreaded words and apparently he's the Ghost Ambassador and not the King? Oh he might have some fun with this!