#realm database

[technofeudalism]

i think the near-extinction of people making fun, deep and/or unique interactive text-based browser games, projects and stories is catastrophic to the internet. i'm talking pre-itch.io era, nothing against it.

there are a lot of fun ones listed here and here but for the most part, they were made years ago and are now a dying breed. i get why. there's no money in it. factoring in the cost of web hosting and servers, it probably costs money. it's just sad that it's a dying art form.

anyway, here's some of my favorite browser-based interactive projects and games, if you're into that kind of thing. 90% of them are on the lists that i linked above.

A Better World - create an alternate history timeline

Alter Ego - abandonware birth-to-death life simulator game

Seedship - text-based game about colonizing a new planet

Sandboxels or ThisIsSand - free-falling sand physics games

Little Alchemy 2 - combine various elements to make new ones

Infinite Craft - kind of the same as Little Alchemy

ZenGM - simulate sports

Tamajoji - browser-based tamagotchi

IFDB - interactive fiction database (text adventure games)

Written Realms - more text adventure games with a user interface

The Cafe & Diner - mystery game

The New Campaign Trail - US presidential campaign game

Money Simulator - simulate financial decisions

Genesis - text-based adventure/fantasy game

Level 13 - text-based science fiction adventure game

Miniconomy - player driven economy game

Checkbox Olympics - games involving clicking checkboxes

BrantSteele.net - game show and Hunger Games simulators

Murder Games - fight to the death simulator by Orteil

Cookie Clicker - different but felt weird not including it. by Orteil.

if you're ever thinking about making a niche project that only a select number of individuals will be nerdy enough to enjoy, keep in mind i've been playing some of these games off and on for 20~ years (Alter Ego, for example). quite literally a lifetime of replayability.

[emacrow]

Flash had been noticing he was being stalked by two kids

Especially if the kids is uno reverse Bruce Wayne bait.

These two kids literally stopped him from running back through the time 13th times in a roll by doing something distracting that completely took his attention alongside this them saving the day before Flash went back to fix it.

Scary accurate, too, after the last time he was tackled and manhandled by a giant glowing green dog when the kids play hot potato and threw a purple dog toy at him saying fetch cujo.

This little brats has some type of vendetta over him that they keeps stopping him from time running.

The 'We will break your kneecaps' on the watchtower in glowing green marker is new to him.. in the middle of a meeting with the Justice league.

You know, for the fastest man in the world, he didn't expect to get stalked and unabled to catch the stalkers even at last speed 13 times in a roll.

Especially with a group of heroes and Batman staring down at Flash for him to explain what had happened.

That two little kids were stalking the fastest man in the world to stop him from running sounds ridiculous, but it was true that even his team investigating can't seem to find anything or nothing on the database about this two children.

As if they didn't exist in the first place...

....

....

....

....

All danny wanted to do was go home after a lesson about being the Infinite Prince and its duty from Clockwork, but yet he couldn't seem to find the home portal, not even Vlad’s was opened which was very odd.

He did catch Ellie zooming around the ghost realm, who was panicking as well about the missing portals, but thankfully, Johnny and Kitty helped them find a natural portal to their home dimension.. Danny is going to have a stern talking with them about that later, but right now, he wanted to go home now.

Only.. there was no home to go to because Amity Park had disappeared.

If it weren't for Clockwork's sticky notes all over a stump trunk that used to be Amity Park's welcome sign that saved Danny from having a total meltdown and psychic break in his core with how small he and ellie became slipping out of the natural portal.

Apparently, some Jackass Time Speeder changed the timeline too many times in which Amity Park, the world greatest ghost town, ceased to existence.

Thankfully, Clockwork left them a little gift that were time watches to help located the dirty bastard that basically ruined Danny's timeline in exchange of punishment for all the timelines clockwork had to fix due to this man.

Danny and Ellie would gladly accept beating up this wannabe timeline ruining bastard, and they'll be creative at it, too.

Part 2 -> here

[novelistwriter]

An Al Ghul first

DP x DC Prompt

Damian had an older half-brother that he loved. Danyal was his name, and he was the best fighter in the entire League, even better than Ra's and Talia combined. Danyal was even a brother who encouraged Damian to follow the things he wanted to do behind the backs of Talia and Ra's.

The last Damian ever saw Danyal was right before he left on a mission that may lead to a new Lazarus Pit when Damian was 8 and Danyal was 10. And right before Danyal left, he had embraced Damian and left a parting forehead kiss, saying that he'll be back soon.

Danyal had found the Lazarus Pit but had fallen in it after the ground beneath him gave away, and he didn't have enough time to react, as he was busy drawing for Damian about Goliath and other animals Damian would like.

Danyal was sent to the Infinite Realms and then put in another dimension near a place called Amity Park. He's got no time for friends or school. He needs to get back to his younger brother. Danyal uses his brain to hack into the school database and remove his name from it, effectively stopping him from ever meeting Sam and Tucker and stopping Dan from happening.

Danyal spends the next couple of years trying to find a way back to his home. And since the Fenton parents are always busy, that leaves just the "older sister" he has to deal with on distracting. He likes that she tries to get to know his culture better than the adult Fentons, as she calls him Danyal and not Danny or Danno like the adult Fentons. She even tries to learn how to make food from this world's version of where he's from.

Danyal still became a Halfa because he tried to activate the portal early, which had caused the portal to work but brought dangers he had to find off until he found the right place to go to. His Ghost Half outfit is his Assassins gear, as he was wearing it because he thought he would be going home when he activated the portal.

After Danyal bested Pariah and became the next Ghost King, he has the means to go back to the dimension he comes from. He's not going alone, as the Nasty Burger explosion happens, and only the adult Fentons and others were there, leaving Jazz without a family. Dani, known as Ellie, is also coming, it was easy to convince her because of her curiosity of how different his world might be. Vlad is gonna have to serve his time, as Danyal used his new title to put the man in Walkers prison. The man made Ellie by using his DNA to make her and for freeing Pariah, so the man will either fade away because Maddie is gone or get a new obsession to keep him going.

Danyal is now 18 and is finally back home. He just hopes that Damian is okay and not too upset that he didn't keep his promise to return.

[loomingspector]

Dc x Dp story prompt pt. 2

The same vein as my other post here

But what if Damian and Danny was the same age, I really love that trope too, that they’re basically twins how close in age they are, maybe just a few days, MAX a week or so.

When Damian comes back to the family, Bruce gets a whole new kind of paranoid again. He kinda stopped the whole sleeping around phase when he got the kids, since Dick (wanting to kill people) kinda took up a lot of his free time. And after that the kids just kept coming so he didn’t really get into it again.

But then Damian came into it, and he was like “wait, have I checked the DNA database the last few years??” And goes down into the cave to do a country wide DNA analysis on DNA on file, both in police/hospitals and the whole nine yards. (Cause he’s extra like that)

And then he find that in just about the same time he was SA’ed by Talia, he got really drunk at a science charity event in Amity Park, maybe to get rid of his stress of it all, and because Bruce would rather die than cope with his problems in a healthy way, and released some energy by being with the Fenton couple, who seemed sane enough (at the time).

The Fenton’s knew that Danny was Wayne’s but then decided that they kinda just wanted him themselves, and then got really into GiW and ghost hunting, and then kinda forgot to tell Wayne.

So now Bruce has to juggle with the fact that Talia hid away Damian, and the Fentons fucking forgot to tell him that they have his son.

He goes to Amity Park to find his son, who’s basically in the same situation as Tim, barely acknowledged by his parents and left to his own devices with his sister.

Bruce being Bruce goes, welp, might as well get custody of them both. Legally he should be able to when Danny confesses to the illegal machines in the basement that killed him. So the couple is deemed unfit to care for the two, then minors.

Problem is:

Danny and Jazz doesn’t really want to leave Amity Park.

Solution:

Buy a second mansion in Amity Park and make that the home they move into, with servants vetted by the Waynes, and security on par with the White House.

They can live there until they finish school, and they’re free to choose what happens after that, go to Gotham and be with the family, maybe Gotham university, or anything else.

Bruce is just happy that they’re not in the cape business like the rest of his kids…

Danny doesn’t know Bruce is Batman, so he has to be extra careful to not expose himself as a hero to them, and also not drag them into the ghost realm and ghost fighting. And also, wtf is wrong with the ectoplasm in the Jason kid?? (He a ghost too??)

But he also really likes the idea of an actually caring family, I mean, Bruce went out of his way to not uproot his life and makes sure they can choose whatever future they want, even if that doesn’t include him. Hell he even took Jazz in, who isn’t even his kid.

His new siblings seem fun, caring and like they actually care, making an effort to help him understand that being neglected by his parents isn’t his fault. Tim and him finding comradeship in both of their experiences with it. Dick is just overly protective and seems like he’s trying to genuinely get to know him. Making sure not to pressure the two new siblings too much, but also organizing siblings bonding time.

Bruce of course doesn’t know yet that Danny is a vigilante, so he has to juggle wanting to learn about these new kids, as well as hide them away from his Brucie persona, so they can live normal lives.

He’ll just ignore the way Constantine is brushing things off his shoulders every time they’re in the watchtower together, mumbling something about a ‘dark energy’ clinging to him. But he always says weird shit.

So what happens when a giant ghost fight occurs in Amity, Bruce is notified and comes to rescue his kid in full Batman gear, Danny is gone and Jazz won’t tell him where he is, cause why the fuck does Batman care.

Danny is just confused why the entire Justice league is suddenly in Amity, and why the fuck The Batman™️ is running around looking for his human form.

Identity crisis at its finest.

[604to647]

The Might of the Realm

8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.

Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“No.”

“Princess, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, Din.  We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact.  We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”

Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction.  His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire.  You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.

Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.

“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”

Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people.  Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people?  Do they seem barbaric?  Cruel for cruelty’s sake?  This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”

You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees.  He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis.  The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”

“Do you think that tradition is being respected?  Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”

You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No.  I believe them to be sincere.  Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people.  Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.”  You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”

“I agree completely, Princess.”

This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine.  But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk.  We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries.  Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”

“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it.  Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”

“No.”

“Din, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, mesh’la.  I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.

Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would.  Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”

Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.

You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request.  The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss.  Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.

And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.

“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.

“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to.  Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”

“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”

“No.”

“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”

“He’s just a baby, Din!”

“And a Mandalorian apprentice.  You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”

And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm.  The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe.  And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can.  It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.

The crowd in the arena is deafening.  Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.

Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match.  Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention.  Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally. 

If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment.  The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors.  Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives.  As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.

You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight.  The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance.  You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army. 

You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look.  A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed.  The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pleasure in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.

With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.

A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you.  The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs.  You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.

You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement.  They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.

When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.

The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.

The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate.  Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.

Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.

Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.

You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.

When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.

You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief.  Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.

They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium.  The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.

You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”

Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena.  You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs.  A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready. 

A mudhorn??  Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet?  For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din. 

You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!”  The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence.  Wait, what did he mean – these? 

Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first.  A parent and its child!  Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young.  You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.

Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.

Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn.  As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack.  Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal.  When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again.  They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact.  The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.

Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired. 

Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose.  You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do.  The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins.  The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena.  At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task. 

Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull.  With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration.  Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep.  Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms.  The crowd roars its approval. 

The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today.  Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow. 

You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor.  You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end.  To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth.  You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.

Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box.  Where is my kiss, mesh’la?

You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor.  Later.

You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery.  Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.

“Princess…”

Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room.  They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips.  The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.

Finally, you hear something.  Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination.  Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.

They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.

Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain.  Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet.  The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.

But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely.  Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that.  After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him.  As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride.  He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels.  But his back is probably killing him.

The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”

You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please.  Are you okay?  Is everyone alright?”

Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms.  Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled.  Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head.  He’s okay.

Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess.  Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat.  The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”

Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake.  Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”

“We were given sustenance after our victory.”

You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself.  Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”

Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions.  Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.

Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own.  Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.

Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over.  Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.

You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”

“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.

“I’ll tell you later.  Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.

“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.

You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour.  With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit.  The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you. 

Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people.  Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only.  You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.

When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest.  Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands.  Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain.  As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.

Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust.  Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.

Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs.  And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.”  The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint.  Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you. 

Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you.  He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it.  It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, General.”

Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.

“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.

Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”

“That is not befitting of a princess.”

“I am not like other princesses.”

Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not.  There is no one like you in the galaxy.”

“And I’m yours.”

The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.

“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.

Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love.  No matter – he would obey either way.  Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin. 

With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.

“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question.  Neither did you.

“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”

“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.

Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy.  Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.

Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body.  With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.

Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.

“Cyare…” he strains.

“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.

“You’re teasing…”

“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle.  Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level.  Definitely teasing. 

Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.

You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.

“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”

“What do I have to do, Princess?”

His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet.  And let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, do I?” 

Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest.  Your body needs it.”

“My body needs you, mesh’la.”

Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way.  But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too.  Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time.  Time to enjoy one another.  Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.

Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together.  Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom. 

So, you don’t argue.

“Injuries first, General.”

“I have none, Princess.”  You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.

Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”

“Of course, mesh’la.  I would see you satisfied.”  Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely.  He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it.  Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.

Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love.  His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them.  Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat.  Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood.  When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek.  Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.

Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror.  It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body.  A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right.  It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman.  You.  You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.

You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries.  Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none.  Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval.  Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.

When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.

“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.

“After what?” you pretend to be confused.

“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.

You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”

Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer.  His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy.  When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all.  You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful.  Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you. 

Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”

He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for.  The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.

But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”

“Promise.  Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.

Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.

He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him.  As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”

“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him.  He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest.  You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.

Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.

The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find.  Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la.  Let me make you feel good.”

At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth.  This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery.  You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers. 

If you were his riduur – no.  No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak. 

As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him.  You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.

Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s.  The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you.  Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.

No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover.  Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure.  Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.

“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip.  Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.

Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.”  You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.

Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”

This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”

In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock.  Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him.  When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love.  Let me do the work.”

Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.”  You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant.  Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”

Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”

It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another.  Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub.  It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together. 

Always together.  How you love being together with your Mandalorian.  How you love him.

You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his.  Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.

Together.  Everything is better when you’re together.  You were able to get through today, together.

Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips.  Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate.  Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life.  A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is.  Thankful that he loves you.  For all of him.

Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet.  He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission.  A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you.  Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem.  And in your heart.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls.  I love you.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you.  I love you.

Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless.  The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.

Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Flavian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.

With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din.  Thank you for being the might of the realm.”

Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you.  You must know - you are the might of the realm.  The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good.  You’re everything, mesh’la.  You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you.  I would do anything for you.”

You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.”  Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.

[platinumaspiration]

Howdy, Simmers! I'm thrilled to present the Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair Default Replacement Collection, designed to give your Sims a fresh and fabulous new look effortlessly! 💇‍♀️💇‍♂️✨

It's time to redefine Sim style – one fabulous hairstyle at a time. Get ready for a hair revolution with The Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair DR Collection! 💖🌟

🍡Download - LC | MF 🍡

Updates folder - SFS | MF updated 19 Feb 2025

The nitty gritty details and disclaimers:

This is an entire collection that is interwoven with each other. Hair is repositoried to different ages, genders, defaults, and even hidden toddler hair. It's highly recommended that the collection stay intact and that you have the Ultimate Collection or all EP/SP. Recategorizers do not work with this collection

Not all hair works with each sims' faces and not all sims' faces work with each hair. So keep in mind foreheads, cheeks and ears may poke out. Previews are available at LordCrumps.com

The collection includes add ons that may require the defaults and are flagged as "Store Edition" hair. TS4 hairs range from base game to the most recent Stuff Pack (Home Chef Hustle). More hair may be included as add ons in the future.

Enable Store Edition icon

I wouldn't convert some hair without their outfit counterparts. Please make sure to remove conflicts. The outfits include:

ubodymascotknight_EP7 mbodysuperninja pubodybadger_badger pubodybadger_brown ubodycommercialmascot_buns ubodysocialbunny servo ubodycowmascot (a brighter/whiter version courtesy of tvickiesims)

Most of these hairs exist already in the realm of the community as custom hairstyles. Any of my hair previously converted (shrink, servo, santa hat, etc) should be removed; they'll be included in this collection.

TOU: Please feel free to use these as a template for your defaults and recolor the hair as you'd prefer for download purposes. I only ask that you do not reupload these original files (breaking down to packs, gender, etc) as they are intertwined and may not work without their exclusive counterparts. Please do not make these hairs as customs for reupload.

There are a few hair/items that use cc: credit: nolansims, sforzinda, arethabee

This took about... 8 months to complete. I've (re)converted all of these myself to my current expectations of my conversion content. This was play tested thoroughly over the course of that time. If there are any issues, please don't hesitate to send an ask. The file size is massive even compressed, but to be honest it's pretty decent for 500+ hair.

Under the cut are some personal sappy thank you notes that I want to share publicly:

Thank you to the defaulters at sims2defaults database for all your work! Just be kind if/when you tear into it lol

A humongous thank you to those whom have followed and been a part of my journey as a cc creator/converter. This inadvertently marks a huge follower milestone as well and I'm so happy that you all have been a part of this with me for the past (almost) 3 years!

I don't think I would have done this without meeting @lordcrumps over a year ago and joining in his journey for the ultimate 4t2 default collection. He's a true gentleman and scholar 🧐Thank you for play testing, collaborating, and above all, being one of my bestest of friends and confidant.

And, I would never ever had completed this without @tvickiesims. To think she raised me from a terrible toddler right into an angsty teen within that 8 months and still remained a true and close friend through all of it. Thank you for your extensive and detailed play testing, your companionship when I fall apart, and for being my twin flame 🤗

[mcyt-longfic-database-project]

Welcome to the MCYT Longfic Database Project

Hello!! My name is Jim ( @rocketships07 , he/him), and I'm just a guy with a passion for data analysis and cubitos. I have been compiling, for a few months now, a small google sheets file of my favorite mcyt longfics, because I enjoy being able to see some stats and have everything in a place I can access. However! It ocurred to me that it would be very fun to develop a much larger database so that I could share it with friends!

So, the MCYT Longfic Database Project was born.

IMPORTANT LINKS:

MCYT Longfic Database SUBMISSIONS Form

Publishing site voting (closed)

FAQ

MCYT Longfic Database

Here's how it's going to work.

1. Interest Check (due: jan. 27)

I'm going to first compile information on what fandoms most people want me to compile fics of. This can be any MCYT fandom! As long as someone requests it, it'll have a place in the database. To do so, please send me asks through my tumblr page with your fandom(s)!!

CURRENT FANDOMS ADDED:

Hermitcraft

Traffic Life Series

Empires SMP

Dream SMP

QSMP

Scott's Life series (X life/Afterlife/New life)

POW Creations (Pirates SMP, Rats SMP 1&2)

The Realm

Fable SMP

Life Steal

Outsiders

Yogscast

2. Fanfic submission form is released (jan. 27 - feb. 28)

I will be releasing a form, where you can submit your favorite longfics! This form will include plenty of different sections for you to fill, such as title, fandom, word count, main character(s), ship (or ships), main tropes or au, amongst other categories with the purpose of data analysis! Mainly because the database will also have an analysis tab, where you can see some fun stats about the database!

During this period, the database will not be public. This is due to the fact that Google Forms does not format the information correctly, and I will be creating a much easier to read file for everyone to see!

After the end of this period, the forms will continue to be open! I will not be updating it constantly after that, but I'll try my best to keep it updated!

3. Database publishing (march 1)

After March 1st, the database will go live!!! I will continue to update it and add fics as long as people keep submitting them.

Feel free to share it with your friends and use it to find new fun fics to enjoy!

[alphynix]

Albireonids were an early branch of the delphinoid whales, with their closest living relatives being modern oceanic dolphins, narwhals and belugas, and porpoises. Known from temperate latitudes of the North Pacific Ocean between the late Miocene and the late Pliocene, about 9-2.5 million years ago, their fossil remains are very rare in coastal deposits and they seem to have primarily been offshore open ocean animals.

Albireo whistleri is the best known member of this family, represented by a near-complete skeleton from what is now Isla de Cedros in Baja California, Mexico, dating to the late Miocene between about 8 and 6 million years ago. It was a rather small dolphin, around 2.5m long (~8'2"), with a stocky body, fairly broad flippers, and skull anatomy with some convergent similarities with the modern Dall's porpoise.

Interestingly these dolphins also seem to have frequently had pathological neck vertebrae, with both Albireo whisteri and the younger species Albireo savagei from California, USA, showing unusually asymmetrical atlas bones – but on opposite sides to each other. This might be due to illness or injury earlier in life, or possibly be evidence of some sort of "handedness" with individuals preferring to perform some actions more with one side of their body than the other.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

"Albireonidae." Paleobiology Database, https://paleobiodb.org/classic/checkTaxonInfo?taxon_no=42961

Barnes, Lawrence G. Fossil odontocetes (Mammalia: Cetacea) from the Almejas Formation, Isla Cedros, Mexico. University of California, Museum of Paleontology, 1984. https://books.google.com/books?id=rxyydMGWGqgC

Barnes, Lawrence G. "Miocene and Pliocene Albireonidae (Cetacea, Odontoceti), rare and unusual fossil dolphins from the eastern North Pacific Ocean." Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County Science Series 41 (2008): 99-152. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Xiaoming-Wang-43/publication/252086599_Geology_and_Vertebrate_Paleontology_of_Western_and_Southern_North_America/links/5625900908ae4d9e5c4bb863/Geology-and-Vertebrate-Paleontology-of-Western-and-Southern-North-America.pdf#page=105

Gillet, Amandine, Bruno Frédérich, and Eric Parmentier. "Divergent evolutionary morphology of the axial skeleton as a potential key innovation in modern cetaceans." Proceedings of the Royal Society B 286.1916 (2019): 20191771. https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2019.1771

Thomas, Howell W., et al. "Examples of paleopathologies in some fossil Cetacea from the North Pacific realm." Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County Science Series 41 (2008): 153-179. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Xiaoming-Wang-43/publication/252086599_Geology_and_Vertebrate_Paleontology_of_Western_and_Southern_North_America/links/5625900908ae4d9e5c4bb863/Geology-and-Vertebrate-Paleontology-of-Western-and-Southern-North-America.pdf#page=159

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 4

First Previously AU Summary

“And you never thought to mention that to anyone?!”

Red Robin and Supernova looked at each other.

“Information about the Infinite Realms is limited for a reason. Humans like to poke their noses where they don’t belong no matter the damage they cause while doing so. They were kind enough to return Batman even though we were trespassing and the tense relationship between our realms. We weren’t going to spit in their favor by subjecting them to an interrogation by the Justice League,” Red Robin stated firmly.

“And it wasn’t as if we were hiding this from you, you didn’t even ask how we got Batman back,” Supernova added.

Their words made some feel guilty or considered. Batman however, looked like someone wrecked the Batmobile while taking it out for a joyride. Not that most could tell the subtle difference from his default ‘I am Vengeance' look.

“Red Robin,” Batman growled. “It is expected that you put everything in your report. You broke protocol.”

Red Robin gritted his teeth. Leave it up to Batman to ignore everything in the face of the unknown. This was one of the reasons he never mentioned the Realms. He knew if he placed some unknown in front of him that he would dig and dig until he knew everything and had multiple contingency plans to defeat them. Only caring once someone got hurt from his digging. Only after. And the other reason was he hoped that he would ask him. That he would give him more than a nod. That he would be proud of him. That he would show him that he truly saw him as his son. Not a soldier and not a replacement.

“No he didn’t,” Supernova said, breaking Red Robin from his spiral.

Red Robin turned his head to see his boyfriend standing to his side, looking determined.

“You both did,” Batman grunted, “Things like other dimensional beings and deals should have been put in the report no matter what they think. We have a confidential database for a reason. We have done diplomacy missions across space.Their secrets would be safe. This matter with Trigon could have ended much sooner if you did.”

“We didn’t break protocol because we were not on a League sanctioned mission in the first place,” Supernova stated firmly. “You are not entitled to our or their secrets. And as we stated before we didn’t want to subject them to you guys. If you barged in when they were already weary due to the Anti-Ecto Acts you could have kickstarted a war.”

Before Batman could continue to admonish them Constantine cut in with a horrified look on his face.

“What do you mean by the Anti-Ecto Acts?” Constantine asked, hoping against all hope that it wasn’t what it sounded like. Because if it was it was likely they would be dealing with something worse than Trigon.

To be continued. . .

Next

[patchouii]

NBC’s Hannibal and fantastical realism: feats beyond the pale of human limitation

Nobody can deny that NBC’s Hannibal is especially unique and exemplary in its use of surrealism and elements of fantasy in a universe otherwise set in a version of our modern real world. These elements of mysticism and their loose yet easily understandable explanations provide both aesthetic and plot-driven benefits— this fictional universe isn’t as bound by physics and logic as ours, and that’s that, there’s no need to ask how a man grafted onto a tree as a public display was only found when dawn broke or how two violent and conflicted lovers have been confirmed to have survived a fall into the freezing ocean, bleeding from wounds we’d call mortal. NBC’s Hannibal elevates and abstracts Arthur C. Clarke’s statement that “magic is just science we don’t understand yet” on a revolutionary level, and the way that applies to certain characters is no different.

From what we see over the course of the show, some of the most fascinating and most obvious elements of this are the fantastical abilities and skills that various characters display. Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, and Elliot Buddish (aka The Angel Maker) are the best examples of this. We can assume that rare abilities fall somewhere along a sliding scale that runs from favoring heightened physical skill to mental skill, and it’s possible that the strain these gifts put on the people who possess them can morph them into curses— from Will’s bout of encephalitis to Hannibal’s psychopathic urges to Elliot’s brain cancer, it seems that toeing the line of human limitation doesn’t come without its biological costs.

Will Graham is introduced to us as a troubled star profiler with an “empathy disorder”, a “pure empath”, as Hannibal phrases it. But this isn’t empathy in a real world sense, Will doesn’t just consider how others feel about things, in fact, he can be incredibly cruel and selfish. Will’s empathy is an ability rather than a trait— he can literally take on the perspectives and emotions of those he “empathizes” with as a form of telepathic psychometry. His empathy also allows him to envision whatever he wants, closing his eyes or willfully dissociating and entering a world of his own creation. He can will himself into hallucinations while still entirely lucid. This is something that’s psychologically and scientifically impossible. People’s brains just don’t work like that. It’s fantasy, straight up, and the psychologists of the show’s universe are seemingly unruffled by it other than in terms of its understudied rarity.

I’d wager that Elliot Buddish sits at the mid-point of that sliding scale of rare, heightened physical and mental abilities compared to Will’s more mentalistic leanings and Hannibal’s more physical and sensory-based ones. Elliot killed and displayed his victims as “angels”, believing that he could sense who was a sinner. But a state of psychosis can’t explain how every victim of his happened to be a killer, violent criminal or sexual predator. The BAU team had to run his victims through their database to reach the same conclusion, and Elliot distinguished sinners from average people through seeing their heads wreathed in flames, a visualization reminiscent of the “light bar” Will uses to visualize a crime scene from the start. The reason I think he falls in the middle of the abilities spectrum is because his suicide— suspending himself from a barn’s beams, cutting and tying wings from his own skin before bleeding to death— and the impossible pain tolerance and strength it required matches Hannibal’s more physically centered abilities too.

Hannibal Lecter is practically a monument to carnality in all its flavors and forms, from his incredibly violent past to his love for manipulating minds and bodies with equal dedication and his preference for human flesh. It makes sense, then, that his elevated abilities should lie within the realm of the physical instead— or perhaps his inclinations are partially a result of the nature of the skills he was born with. Hannibal’s senses are elevated beyond that of any human and even those of some other animal species— his sense of smell is so precise that he can detect particle traces of corn husk on the body of a killer’s victim who was covered in resin, blood and dirt and jumped into a river before being found bloated downstream in the midst of the bleach-laden BAU lab. He can pick up on hormonal fluctuations as well in a related way and can recognize certain mixes of hormones, which is just impossible in real life. He says that he could smell the stomach cancer on a teacher of his and recognizes that Bella Crawford has cancer too, and he picks up on the changes in bodily chemicals that herald Will’s encephalitis and the fear of his victims. The senses of smell and taste are somewhat intertwined, and he can “taste the fear” in Randall’s flesh as a result. His exploits stalking around houses, roads and neurology offices in the pitch-dark seem to imply better night vision, and his pain tolerance is simply inhuman, silent and stoic as he’s branded by Cordell and fully mobile even after being shot in the side by Dolarhyde.

These slightly supernatural reality-but-to-the-left elements in the world of the show have always intrigued me, honestly, and they really put the cherry on top of an already wonderful series. To me, they seem to pay homage to the occasional flashes of surrealism and thrilling unreality that run through Thomas Harris’s original novels, matching the crisp, straightforward prose in the show’s visual medium in a way that’s delightful to watch. I’ve never watched any other piece of media that twists and stretches the world of its story as captivatingly as this, and I don’t think I ever will.

[flwrkid14]

Annabeth Chase and Tim Drake: The Ultimate Problem-Solvers Team-Up

Imagine!! Annabeth and Tim—two of the sharpest minds in their respective universes—deciding to team up for a project. Whether it’s a mystery that transcends realms or a puzzle involving both Greek mythology and Gotham’s criminal underworld, these two would be an unstoppable duo.

Picture it: Annabeth and Tim in a dimly lit library at Gotham University, poring over ancient texts and high-tech blueprints. Annabeth’s got her Greek mythology books open, while Tim’s hacking into secure databases with one hand and flipping through detective files with the other. They’re working on solving a riddle that involves an ancient Greek artifact with links to a new crime wave in Gotham.

Tim’s impressed by Annabeth’s ability to decode symbols and her deep understanding of mythology, while Annabeth is fascinated by Tim’s tech skills and his knack for strategic thinking. Together, they’re a force of intellect and innovation, blending mythological knowledge with cutting-edge technology.

Annabeth might be amazed by Gotham’s tech-savvy gadgets, while Tim is completely blown away by the ancient Greek traps and enchanted artifacts Annabeth has encountered. They’d probably spend hours exchanging knowledge—Tim explaining Gotham’s underworld and its quirks, while Annabeth shares tales of demigods, monsters, and Olympus.

During one of their intense brainstorming sessions, Tim might offer Annabeth a cup of coffee, only for her to raise an eyebrow and say, “I’m more of a nectar and ambrosia girl.” And Tim would laugh, responding, “Guess I’ll have to upgrade my beverage game.”

Eventually, after solving the mystery and uncovering the artifact, Tim and Annabeth would have a moment of mutual respect and camaraderie. They’d both know that they make an unbeatable team, and there’s a good chance they’d stay in touch.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Another Vox enthusiasts I see? Well if I may...

Vox with a GN Hacker reader who was turned entirely digital after manifesting in hell. They don’t even have a physical form they’re completely stuck within Hell’s databases, their skills are obviously useful to him so he offers them a place on the team which they immediately accept on the condition that Vox makes them a vessel to inhabit because holy shit are they going stir crazy.

I’m not entirely sure how Vox’s abilities work but given he can at the very least project himself onto screens and the like I get the feeling that he’d plug himself into the system whenever they talk. Mostly because it keeps them grounded, they’re alot calmer when he’s actually next to them and not looking in through a screen.

I hope this didn’t get too wordy or long I just wanted to be thorough because I have massive brain rot for this techno mf-

Take your time with this request! Kisses darling <3

-📽

Dude, does anyone else remember having Shimeji's or that internet episode from Fairly Odd Parents? Cause that's what I'm about to write!

Digital Pet [Vox x Digital Reader]

When you first manifested in Hell, you were completely unaware that you had ended up in Hell itself. Because instead of manifesting in the overcrowded circle designated for sinners, you instead found yourself in a digital landscape. Countless screens surrounded you like a million portals. You could see the different shapes and sizes of the devices being used in hell and could even alter whether or not you saw what was being displayed on the screen or what the screen could see itself like a window to Hell.

At first, you had a massive meltdown. From what you could tell, you were the only one in this digital Hell custom-tailored to leave you isolated despite having access to every device in Hell. You wondered what you did to deserve the extra punishment layered on top of not being good enough for heaven, especially since you hadn't done anything particularly evil when you were alive.

You lost track of how much time passed. You entertained yourself by jumping from system to system. You'd watch shows that sinners binged, and you'd watch the city from large advertisement screens that overlooked the sinner's circle of Hell. Anything to stave off the loneliness.

One day, that all changed when you felt an electric buzz make the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You heard the voice of someone swearing and immediately pulled yourself away from the screen you had been sticking your nose into. When you turned, you saw another demon who was still sparking with some bright electric energy as he dusted himself off.

For a moment the two of you just stared at each other in shock. As far as you and Vox knew, you were the only ones who could access the digital realm of Hell's database. Vox is immediately wary, but you are thrilled as you approach him quickly.

"H-Hi, oh my god!" you breathe as you look him over. He didn't look new to Hell, but you had never seen anyone else in the same pocket of space as you before. "Did you just die? Have you seen anyone else? Did you just get here? It's been so long since I saw another person that wasn't on a screen!"

Vox blinked as you rapid-fired questions at him. He looked you over as you rambled something about the irony of his face being a screen when he finally shook his head and held up a hand to stop you.

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down," he started. "What are you talking about? How are you even here? No one else should be able to traverse through the database of Hell but me."

Vox's interest only grows as you explain your situation. "I see," he hummed as he looked you over with new intrigue. "I wonder if you have similar abilities to mine and just got caught in the in-between..."

It was easy enough for him to lure you into a deal. The sheer amount of panic you expressed when he pretended he was going to just leave you there was hilarious at the time. In exchange for you "surfing the web" for him, so to speak, he took you on as an apprentice of sorts. Vox trained your abilities and helped you hone your magic. While you had every hope of one day figuring out how to manifest in the physical realm the way he did, Vox cleverly avoided any pursuit of the possibility.

He liked having full power over you and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to grow attached. While you hadn't learned anything about manifesting physically, you had learned how to appear on his screens. He'd never admit it to you out loud, but he found the tiny image of you running around on his devices and talking with him to be pretty damn adorable.

Despite his manipulation, the two of you actually slowly became friends. He found himself genuinely proud of you whenever you popped up to show him something new you had learned. There was a weird warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest when you would bounce with excitement at your new discoveries.

Sometimes you'd ask him to play a certain show or song for you. Even after you learned how to control inactive devices so you could look up anything you wanted, you still liked to ask him to play things for you just so you could watch them in his presence. You'd send memes to each other and Vox had to quickly excuse himself when you sent him a crudely drawn image of Alastor slipping on a banana peel while he was in the middle of giving a presentation at a meeting.

Vox was emotionally constipated, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell that the warm feeling in his chest was growing and he knew you were the source. He clutched his chest as he stepped into his lair and saw you sleeping on his desktop toolbar, waiting for him to come home after a long day at work. He had promised you that you'd watch the new episode of a show you'd been watching together, but his gameshow had run late.

He sits down with a sigh and traces over your sleeping form, feeling something twist inside of him as his claw only met with the cold, flat surface of a screen. He wondered what it would be like to hold you. To touch you. To have you in his arms while the two of you lay on the couch while you made him watch stupid shows instead of...

"Fuck," Vox whispered to himself as he pulled away from the innocent image of you. He clutched his face as he slumped forward in his chair. He had a decision to make.

And so do you, dear readers! I want to make a part two to this, the real question is:

[smbhax]

From “In the Realm of the Subconscious” in Captain Marvel Adventures #9, April 1942. C. C. Beck pencils & inks.

Info from Grand Comics Database.

[platinumaspiration]

Junk Drawer Item #6

Ignore my English in the preview. Definitely no one asked for these because they already exist in the realm of 4t2 cc. For me, I just felt like doing time pass after the hair defaults and object conversions have piqued my interest.

You can find existing versions among the community via the sims4t2bb database.

These require LordCrumps' shadow file. It is included!

Download - SFS | MF

details under the cut

Top to Bottom, Left to Right:

Modern Life Dollhouse 3 recolors | 924 poly | 260 simoleons

Realistic Princess Doll Castle 3 recolors | 3354 poly | 825 simoleons

Victorian Dollhouse 3 recolors | 3016 poly | 1500 simoleons

SP33 Up Up Into the Stars Dollhouse 3 recolors | 4016 poly | 260 simoleons

EP09 Cardboard Castle Dollhouse 3 recolors | 1585 poly | 125 simoleons

EP14 Country Classic Barn Dollhouse 6 recolors | 2410 poly | 260 simoleons

[aerofbreath]

Prologue - How It Started

Currently 3 years since the Accident, 4 years from the present day.

To be honest, Danny thought that the big reveal with his parents would have turned out badly. Especially since they keep on proclaiming how they plan on ripping every ghost apart “molecule by molecule”. Of course, there were a lot of uncertainties at first, but that's kind of what he gets for literally keeping his parents in the dark for 3 whole years. But, again, it's not exactly Danny's fault. There were plenty of talks and definitely multiple hours of reeducation and, who can't forget to mention, an ungodly amount of conversations on what or what not to say to a ghost.

Overall, this turned out to be the Best Case Scenario. By the end of it all, Danny's parents greeted him with open arms. Life was amazing knowing that all his fears were mostly for nothing. Key word is “mostly”.

In the three years that Danny hadn't told them about his ghost half, his parents, without any better judgement, agreed to have a strategic partnership with the Ghost Investigation Ward. Fentonworks would supply the GIW with weapons and research while the GIW actually goes out and enacts “the law”. What a stupid fucking law. Within a year of partnering with each other, Fentonworks easily became the GIW's top suppliers in anything EctoBiology. So when the meeting came to suddenly withdraw from supply raised some major red flags in the GIW.

To be honest, it took the entire Fenton Family by surprise. After spending weeks just struggling to break free from the GIW's hold, it wasn't long until they also find out about Danny's Halfa status. He knows it wasn't his parent's fault in this case. The GIW literally came in while Danny was out on patrol with weapons that no Fenton was able to identify and literally shot Danny down to the point of detransforming. They should've expected it, but they still weren't fast enough as they watched Danny being taken away. Although not officially, the GIW had declared war with the Fentons (and by extension, the entirety of the Infinite Realms).

Many ghosts from Danny's council (“You mean to tell me that my little boy is the King of the Dead?!”) stood by the Fenton's side as they fought tooth and nail for Danny's safe return. Sam, Tucker, Ellie, and hell- Even Vlad fought hard for Danny to come home safe. And he did… for the most part.

Although (half) alive, Danny was found battered and beaten with an ugly Y scarring his chest. Some were horrified and some were sad but even Danny knew that everyone was pissed.

Everyone who was there on the rescue mission and even some additional people that Danny didn't expect to join were on a warpath to make things right. And by that, they mean destroy everything that the GIW has ever had. Databases were cleared and/or destroyed. People were killed (a mother's rage is just a whole different breed) and many bones were broken. Not anyone important, mind you, but it’s still an uncomfortable amount.

Despite everyone Danny ever loves running on just pure adrenaline and rage, they almost lost. After almost burning all of the GIW to the ground, everyone beloved to Danny had collectively decided that in order for the GIW to never get a hold of ghost kind, they will need to destroy everything. Everything that the adult Fentons had worked hard for and everything they had built and rebuilt. They all had to go.

His family and friends gave Danny everything he would need to survive. Photos of them. Flash drives of everything the Fenton's have ever created. Food. Clothes. Everything.

Danny continues screaming why but their only responses were that they just couldn't join him. They said that they don't know how much longer they can continue to hold back. He wasn't safe, they said to him. Be happy, they said. They’re sorry, they said. They love him, they said.

Danny continued to thrash around in his parent's hold as they forced him through the portal, ghosts from Danny's council waiting on the other side. As soon as he fully made it through the portal, it closed with a horrifying boom. An explosion.

The Young King screamed in terror, trying to force himself away from the hold of his council. He had to revert back to his human form in order to break free from the ghost's hold. There wasn't a lot that his council could do at this point anyway since they couldn't touch him. All they could do was watch their distraught king cry and scream as he watched his family abandon him in sacrifice.

Danny knew that he wasn't thinking clearly. Once he was able to calm down from his breakdown, only then did he remember that he's the Fucking King. Ever since he took up the throne, he's been training to get stronger. Although not currently at his best, he can still do what he needs to do. With hands burning bright with green, almost greener than the Realms surrounding everyone, Danny clawed at the air around him, tearing a temporary portal in front of him. Thanks to Wulf, Danny's been able to create portals on his own. There's a lot of work to be done, but for now, it works.

He knows that making portals can vary. You will need to know the exact coordinates in the Human Realm and with math and dividing stuff, you will be able to teleport to the exact location you want from the Infinite Realms to the Human Realm. The best thing in this current scenario, Danny didn't stray far from where he was thrown in, so he can easily make it back home whenever he wants to.

The thing is…

There just wasn't anything here.

Maybe Danny got it wrong? Maybe he actually did move. He looked back through the portal where his council stayed, all of them giving him sad looks. No… This isn't right! He's got to be at the wrong place, he's sure of it! After all, Amity Park had buildings and trees and- and people.

This place had a fucking crater.

“Why…?” Danny then said, floating down in disbelief. When he opened the temporary portal, it was supposed to be ground level. He should have been able to literally step out of the portal and touch ground. Instead, he floated down at least a good few meters (that’s a few meters too many) before he found solid footing in the center.

From what he can see, this crater goes on for miles. At first, he thinks that maybe he's just in the wrong universe? Or maybe the wrong timeline??? But no, the more he looks, the more he can recognize from whatever's left. The sky still looks the same and there's a very specific smell in the air because of the Nasty Burger that once stood. He can continue looking down the crater for maybe miles- It's not really, but it sure feels like it- and he can, unfortunately, recognize the god awful “Welcome to Amity Park!” sign. Although literally hanging by a thread, that seems to be the only thing that survived the blow. Whatever blew up here wiped out the whole town.

Wait.

No.

No no no.

Danny widened his eyes, bolting into the sky. For at least a mile up from the ground is the temporary portal. That shouldn't be right. Whenever he made the temporary portal, he made sure that it would open back up in his basement. That way, he can be able to help out his family if he needs to. By at least a 10 mile radius, there is just nothing surrounding the area.

Danny shook his head, now floating in front of the temporary portal. He is in pure disbelief as his thoughts started to form in his head, connecting the dots together. The Portal was the catalyst for this event. Most likely what happened was that when the Fenton's threw Danny through the original portal, they had set it to self-destruct taking everything and everyone with it. The Portal killed everyone who ever lived in this horrible town. His horrible town. His haunt.

Once the Poor King came to the realization, the air around him started to chill. The ghosts watching him can see the portal waver before it started to freeze over. They can see Danny curl in on himself as the ice begins to form on his person. It was only then that a few ghosts have started to make an effort to keep Danny from hurting himself. Unfortunately, it was all for naught as they were blown back through the portal once Danny let out the horrible wait he dreads so much. There was something odd about the way he wailed but he didn't dwell on it much further. It shook everyone to the core as he wailed his heart out, mourning the loss of everyone he ever cared for.

From after that point was a blur. Using the Ghostly Wail drains Danny to the point of detransforming. Danny fell from the sky before strong arms decided to catch him lest he break his head open on the ground. There was a bit of an argument that had happened before Danny regained his strength to retransform unconsciously and he  could reawaken if he wanted to but he can feel Nocturn's powers soothe him back to sleep, dreaming of people now gone from his life.

Many ghosts from afar came to Danny’s  need, also mourning the loss of his haunt. Pandora  probably had helped carry him back through the portal that he made. Someone else- Ember and Skulker maybe- held on to Danny's floating items for fear that some ghost would take it. Nocturn- most likely- led the poor soul towards The King's Castle where Clockwork awaited with a sad smile. Danny will know that although Clockwork knew all that was to happen, he couldn't do anything about it as it was meant to happen. He knows that Clockwork wants to say more, but he decided not to press on further knowing that he will never get that Ancient to talk. He'll realize much later that he will just need to trust Clockwork’s judgement since he knows that he would never do anything that will hurt Danny and therefore the timeline.

Not all timelines ended up the way it did, but this was the timeline that will lead to Danny's eternal happiness. For now, it will feel like he drew the short straw.

For the next few weeks, Danny mourned. Mourned the loss of his parents. He mourned the loss of his precious sister Jazz and his beloved friends Sam and Tucker. He even mourned the loss of Vlad, hilarious enough, because after so many weeks of being the Realms, that awful man still has yet to show up. He could only assume that he died too. He mourned the loss of his mirror twin. He doesn’t know where she is, but there was no way he could get in contact with her. Not without a home to return to. Not when the GIW are still out there, probably, hunting them down like animals. It would be safer for Ellie to not come in contact.

Eventually, that miserable feeling numbed down. Although having been dealt the worst card, he still had his Kingly duties to do. Duties to focus on instead of being infected with fear and grief.

For years, Danny decided to pour out his half life and soul to the beings of this infinite land. Making sure that everyone here stay loved and seen. They will all receive the care they all deserve so that they may live their afterlife in peace. Of course, there are those who are against him that anyone as kind as him is sure to fall. But they were easily proven wrong. For those who oppose him will understand why he is the King. They all fear him as they all love him. Because of that, it’s changed him. No longer was he the scared and scrawny Danny Fenton. No longer was he the baby ghost of Danny Phantom. He is now just The Phantom. The Phantom, Ruler of the Dead.

Prince of the Sky and Stars.

King of the Infinite Realms.

(This is not the horrible rough draft that I was talking about! This first chapter is maybe the actual complete first chapter (prologue)! If anyone wants, I can post the general plot in another post! Okay bye!)

[yuurei20]

Updated Ortho Facts Part 15: Ortho's Abilities (pt1)

Ortho will often reference his “databanks,” which is how he is able to recognize the spectral realm during Halloween. He says they “have a baseline of 100,000 books stored inside" and “include comprehensive data on medicinal herbs and medicines.”

He also has access to information about the Queendom of Roses, with Epel commenting that Ortho can search for information a lot faster than Deuce can read his guidebook on Clock Town.

Ortho explains that he first came to the school as Idia’s “gadget,” but now he interacts with humans, and “hearing everyone's thoughts made me realize that the same story can read so differently depending on the person. Because of their values."

Ortho uses the example of the Thorn Fairy, saying that people who grew up in Briar Valley are so emotionally attached to stories about her that they are liable to trust idealized memories over accurate data.

Sebek is not amused, but Ortho says that he was able to use his database to debunk every contradiction that he’d found, and he and Sebek discuss holding a debate after the birthday interview.

Ortho says he is under order from Idia to never log into satellite position systems, but there does not seem to be anything actually keeping him from doing so.

He can detect people within a 10,000 meter radius (and motion detect within a one-kilometer radius), which he says makes it difficult to sneak up on him. Ortho is also capable of telling whether or not others are being sincere, testing this ability on Ace, Idia, Fellow and Rook. 

When Vil says he finds Fellow’s claims suspicious Ortho says that he performed a vital signs scan that did not indicate he was lying, but Ortho’s tests for heart rate fluctuations, perspiration and other vital signs might have been duped before, by Rook: Ortho performs what might have been a similar lie detection scan leading up to Beanfest and ultimately declares that Rook was telling the truth, but during Halloween Rook tells Trey that he is capable of controlling his own heart rate.

And Rook has baffled Ortho before: Ortho related an incident where he almost collided with Rook during a tuning run on his athletic gear. While no one was hurt, he’d worried that he’d frightened Rook and ran a vitals scan to be safe, only to discover that Rook’s pulse was completely steady with no fluctuations at all.

Ortho: “Was he surprised, but then regained his composure in an instant? Or was he unfazed the whole time? I've been secretly curious about it.”