#fantasys with LittleRed

[littleredbrat]

~~~ Intro ~~~

Hello Darlings~!

I'm Red~, your subby-switch entertainer est.'97! DNI: Minors, Pedo's, Homophobes ect. ~please~

I use this blog to release my inner slut and to give my Daddy ideas ~ I'm in a relationship and not looking to make myself a collection of Daddies, Masters, or Mistresses.

Tell me your fantasy's! I'd love to hear what your dirty little minds come up with <3

Kinks ; bd/sm, somno, cnc, bondage, intox, and more ~just ask;)~ Limits ; scat, spit, watersports, and still exploring asks are always open as are messages blog is ran mostly on queue don't send nudes ~please~

[icarusxdemise]

Must read

[mapas-fantasticos]

Map from Frostheat by Jamie Littler.

[middlegradeeveryday]

Frostheart by Jamie Littler

Summary:

Way out in the furthest part of the known world, a tiny stronghold exists all on its own, cut off from the rest of human-kin by monsters that lurk beneath the Snow Sea. There, a little boy called Ash waits for the return of his parents, singing a forbidden lullaby to remind him of them... and doing his best to avoid his very, VERY grumpy yeti guardian, Tobu.

But life is about to get a whole lot more crazy-adventurous for Ash. When a brave rescue attempt reveals he has amazing magical powers, he's whisked aboard the Frostheart, a sleigh packed full of daring explorers who could use his help. But can they help him find his family . . . ?

Genre: Fantasy

Book Type: Novel

[lint-beetle4]

Wukong x Fem Reader smut

Wukong with a breeding kink and Y/n who's very motherly, especially with the little monkeys and that just fuels his kink more as well as the idea of having a family with her.

King and His Queen (Sun Wukong x Fem!Reader Smut)

Wukong knew you were the one the moment that you started to coo at the his younger subjects, eager to baby them and learn how to care for them

What more could a king ask of his queen then to help in the raising of his subjects?

Wukong would help new mothers with their children, and sometimes just take the younger ones out of their hands for the older monkeys to get some peace

With you at his side? He could feel an old emotion stir in his gut as you gushed over his baby monkeys

He always talked fondly about the littler subjects, how they were full of spark and innocence

The way you smiled at them had his heart stuttering, and the way you presented a child to him made his instincts buzz in him

It was a fantasy of his for you to bear his child, for him to be able to claim you as his mate by dumping his seed into you

He almost felt embarrassed by it, but the prospect of having a family with you was just as enticing

Wukong felt his old age at the thought of how time would pass away so quickly with a family like that

He wants to see your kids walk and talk, learn about the world outside of them and listen to Wukong's tales

Wukong wanted nothing more than to have cubs of his own, with you and the moment he asked he felt rather silly at the way he stammered through the question, watching your face shift from confused to understanding in record time

"I just think--y'know--if we had..um--" Wukong took a deep breath trying to force the words out of his mouth. "Cubs, y'know? Of course, this is a serious commitment and all but--"

You shushed Wukong with a knowing and excited smile. Wukong never seemed to get over his stage freight, even if the stage was simply the way you patiently waited for him to finish. Knowing your poor lover would tie his tongue trying to finish his proposal, you nodded.

"I would love to bear your cubs, Wukong." You hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around with gently. "It would make me so happy if we could raise a family together."

Wukong laughed wetly, grabbing your face to kiss you as he tried his hardest to ignore the way his tears drenched his fur. You deepened the kiss, dragging Wukong closer to you as your heart pounded in your chest.

Wukong lifted you up, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He gave you a slight peck on the cheek, trailing down your neck as he removed your clothing, treating you as if you were porcelain. Wukong's hands fondled your breasts, brushing over nipples playfully as he bit onto your neck, sucking the skin tightly.

You hissed slightly, back arching as Wukong rolled your nipples between his fingers. His tongue was wet against the darkening bruise, and he trailed your body with more gentle kisses. With piercing gold eyes, Wukong never broke eye contact with you as he sucked on one of your breasts, biting the nipple slightly.

You moaned against him, your hips grinding against a well placed leg. As Wukong gave attention to other, your hands stroked his hair, fingers getting tangled in his wild mane. Wukong shivered at the way your nails scratched his scalp.

Wukong pulled away from your chest with an audible 'pop,' the sage's hand massaging your hips as his mouth breathed onto your wet pussy. Your hips bucked impatiently, Wukong sucking eagerly on your juices, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your core. You whimper, hands holding Wukong's head closer as you grind into his face. Wukong ate you out furiously, lapping up your fluids as his tongue swirled around your clit.

You felt his fingers enter inside of you, curling slightly to hit your g-spot. You hum desperately as the duel sensation of his fingers and tongue overwhelmed you with intense waves of pleasure. Yet before you could cum, Wukong pulled away apologetically, holding his cock, wet with precum.

You spread your legs wider for him, begging him to enter.

Wordlessly, Wukong slid inside of you slowly, pausing to let you adjust to the painful stretch. At your command, Wukong bottomed out with a groan, his cock twitching inside of you.

"Breed me, Wukong." You breathed, grinding against his dick. "Fill me with your pups."

Wukong thrusted violent in you, more bites littering your neck as his movements become more desperate and animal-like. You wrapped your legs around the sage, his cock hitting deeply in your pussy. You continued to moan, nearly screaming as Wukong claw's tore through the covers.

With a growl and a final thrust, Wukong held you close, hugging you tightly as he filled you. You whimper, cumming around his cock. Wukong's purrs filled the air as he nuzzled against you, his cock still buried deep into you as it hardened once more.

"I'll fill you up, my queen." He muttered, hips thrusting once more. "I'll give you all my pups."

[sp00kworm]

One Word

Pairing: Enchanted Armour/Knight (Sir Jurdanus Dawling) x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, Fantasy Violence

Summary: An Enchanted Knight finds you amidst a mushroom circle and your life is never the same after.

Rain dripped down the back of your neck as you flopped onto the mossy floor. There was no way out of a mushroom circle. They were carefully laid traps, hidden behind roots and dotted in intricate patterns which made them hard to predict. Whatever Fae had hidden this one was powerful indeed. The mushrooms were like iron and the small pebbles between skipped upwards at your face when you attempted to break the circle. Your fingers were numb from trying to force them between the littler mushrooms. It was impenetrable, and eventually you would be food for the Fae who wanted to steal you away. There was some Fae that didn’t eat mortals, but those were far and few between. The only thing you could do was try and think of deals you could try to trick the creature which came to collect you. If it took them longer than a few more days, you would be dead anyway. There was an odd comfort in that. You wouldn’t be subjected to the whims of whatever the Fae decided to do with you. The other hope was someone stumbling along your path, but few would be able to taint the Fae circle enough to let you free, and you didn’t have much you could offer them anyway.

How many more hours would you last, you wondered? Defeated, you cradled your hand and sat inside the circle, massaging the tender joints as you watched the sun move overhead. It was nearly evening time, the sun was beginning to set along the horizon, threatening the sky with orange and pink. The trees rustled and birds sang their evening tunes as you picked at the pebbles around you and flicked them against the ward. The pebbles pinged back at you like a game, and for a time it was entertaining. Sodden moss wet your bottom and you tried to ignore the wetness on your backside, sitting on the moss in favour of the agony of sitting on several rocks. The old trees creaked in the wind, and you removed your satchel to look at the mushrooms and herbs you had managed to collect before getting stuck.

Suddenly, the whole woodland went quiet. No animal made a murmur as the wind continued to blow gently through the leaves. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, waving with the wind as there was a great ‘thunk’ in the distance. The heavy clunk of armour thudded along the winding path between the old, twisted trees. The blood in your limbs went cold and your heart leaped into your throat. You stood up again and watched down the old dirt path as a great, heavy suit of armour rounded the corner. The armour was maybe six and a half feet tall, and the heavy cloak fastened about the shoulders made it all the more imposing. The steel was stained with black carbon, and the details were once orange copper. The details were green in most places but the emblem in the centre of the chassis, once bright, was a Swan, swooping upwards towards the sky, its neck bowed gracefully. There was a crown around its neck, resting on the top of where its wings were spread. The Knight rounded the trees closest to you, his armour clanking before he stood, the visor fixed on you trapped in the circle of mushrooms.

“Sir!” You shouted, “Please could you help me out of this faery circle?”

The Knight tilted his head, watching you carefully as his other hand not rested on the trunk of the oak, reach for his sword. He had two on his back, strapped underneath the great fur cloak which lined his shoulders. Watching him reach for the sword you panicked and reached for your bag, attempting to find something which would prove you were not Fae.

“Please, Sir...” You rummaged, throwing the pouches of weeds and herbs you had collected before you dragged out a small iron link you had found. You clenched it between your hands and showed him your skin, “Please... I’m no Fae. I got trapped here while foraging. I promise!”

The Knight looked at the link before he thundered over, the dark metal of his armour glimmering in the setting sun. The copper detailing was sickly green, almost falling off, and his neck piece squeaked with rust as he drew the long sword from his back. He turned his stance and looked at the mushrooms before there was a rattle through the armour and his hand reached forwards to where the magical barrier lay. The barrier rippled under his hand, the magic caving like a bubble, but still resisting. With another shuddering rattle the Knight grasped his sword by the hilt and stabbed it forwards. The warding screamed as the blade burst through the magic, sending sparks flying as he heaved the iron through it, to the floor. When he reached the floor, the Knight turned the blade swiftly and severed several of the mushroom caps. The barrier faded with a hiss and just like that, you were free.

You tried not to gawp as the Knight sheathed his weapon and stood back, resting his hands on his hips. You quickly hopped out of the circle and sighed with relief as you collected your items. When you finished you looked back at the Knight.

“Thank you, Sir...” You asked, wondering what the Knight’s name was. He probably had a House Name.

The Knight shuddered inside his armour again before the joints clicked and a voice echoed inside, “Sir... Sir, S-Sir...” He couldn’t seem to say his name.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, “Sir?”

Again the voice echoed from inside, “Sir...Sir...”

You frowned softly at him before daring to reach for the visor which covered his eyes. He let you grasp the metal, subdued and quiet.

“Here let me open this so you can...” You said before tugging the visor. It remained firmly shut. With a grunt you tugged it hard. It stayed down, as though it was glued.

The pieces fell into place then, and you let your hands fall to his broad shoulders. You fisted the fur. It was well cared for but old and holes had opened in the bottom of the soft leather upper. The crest wad old, battered and stained.

“You’re cursed aren’t your?” You asked as you stood flat footed again on the woodland floor.

The Knight nodded his head and tapped the crest in the centre of his chest. There was the house crest and a small moto painted intricately underneath.

“Alte Volant”

“I’m no specialist but this is definitely noble house armour... but, well I guess I could help you, as thanks for helping me?” You offered with a shaky sigh.

The Enchanted Knight nodded, his neck squeaking a little, and offered a hand to you. You looked down and then realised he was offering to carry your bags. Carefully you gave him the larger of the two and kept your satchel.

As your bag landed in his gauntlet, the air fizzed and a blue skinned Fae stepped out from a tree, their eight eyes twitching at the sight of the broken circle. Quickly, you whipped around, but the Knight was faster. The Fae span with another hiss of fury, her hands raised, crackling with blue magic as the tree roots curled violently under the woodland floor. As she clenched her teeth, magic shot from her, and the Knight grabbed his shield from his back, the great steel plated with old iron. He dragged you behind him in a flash as the bolt clanged against the shield and dissipated like water, falling as mist f. The Fae hissed again her body morphing into the trees as she skittered around and observed you both through one great black eye.

“A suit of armour playing Knight.” She gloated, “You died a long time ago, Knight!” She hung from the tree and reached her scales fingers for his helmet, “Iron is unbecoming. Iron is cheating.”

Instead of an answer, he sliced her fingers off with a strike of his blade and pushed forwards. The Fae screamed, and you covered your ears, watching as the Knight slammed her head against his shield then again, with a downwards arch, sending the Fae flying against the floor. There was a great screech before the iron blade sliced through her neck. You jumped as blue blood spurted up the trees and shook behind a trunk as the Knight wiped his blade with a clump or moss. He looked up and reclined his head at you. Without him, you would be dead.

You took a deep breath, “Come on, let’s get out of the woods.” You beckoned him to follow you as you grabbed your bags and made your way down the path. The thump of heavy armour behind you was the only indication you had of the Knight following you.

Luckily, your home was on the outskirts of town, tucked against the woods you had just been trapped in. The stone cottage had smoke billowing out of the chimney still, so that was a good sign that the cottage would be warm still. You opened the gates and looked back at the Knight following you. He paused by the gate and stared for a moment at the small, cobbled path to your home before he stepped inside the garden and waited again. You looked at the blue blood which had stained his armour before closing the gate and leading him inside to your home. The door creaked a little as you let the hunk of armour inside and you closed it firmly before turning the key in the lock and heading to the hearth. As you stirred the hearth the Knight stood by the table looking up at the dried plants and flowers.

“Come and sit down, I don’t know of you can still feel the cold, but it’ll at least be better than standing by the door.” You waved him over before getting a damp cloth from the kitchen area for him to clean the blood off himself. Graciously he reclined his head and placed a gauntlet over his chest. He began carefully cleaning the blood from the grooves of the paint.

While he cleaned himself you placed a couple of logs onto the stirred flames and looked into the ashes. Sat at the back of the hearth was the charcoal coloured egg you had found so long ago. It was a dragon egg. Abandoned or stolen, you didn’t know, but there was life in it as it wiggled gently and soaked in the heat of the new fire. The Knight caught your gaze and peered at the wobbling egg in fascination. A disapproving grunt was his only comment.

“Yes, I know. But I couldn’t leave it to die with the Fae.” You reasoned softly as you emptied your bag onto your work surface. The Knight shook his head but continued his work.

“How about we look for your crest? I have an old history book somewhere, and it has most of the noble houses in it.” You offered.

His visor turned slightly but he made no effort to tell you he wanted to have a look. Ignoring his silence, you went to get the book.

The book was very old. Your great, great grandmother had taken it before the great collapse. Many of the old houses no longer existed, after the revolution, but a few still remained in the far reaches of the country. You wondered just how long this Knight had been wandering. With a thud you placed the book on the table and leafed through to the catalogue of old house emblems. There were around a hundred, and you took a breath before beginning to scan for the old, battered coat of arms which was printed onto his chest plate. A swan in flight. It was a regal link. The Knight had maybe been close to the Queen before the collapse and that was many years ago. He could have been cursed a long time.

“Edelwyn… nope that’s a tree. Oakenfast… no that’s an acorn. Unicorn… a hare. That’s a peacock…” You turned the pages as the Knight creaked next to the fire, warming the leathers of his skirts before he began to brush the dirt from his cape with a hard brush. His weapons were next and you watched him for a moment as he pulled out carefully stored oils and cloths and began to meticulously clean the Fae blood from the iron. A few more pages revealed nothing until a crown appeared.

“Well, we might be down the right track, Sir!” You cheered as you reached for the kettle and filled it from a pail of water. Once it was over the fire you fetched the book and sat in the other chair on the large, overstuffed pillows.  You looked at the crest on his chest again and hummed, flicking between three pages before you found it.

“Dawling!” You cried out as you hopped out of the chair and showed the Knight the book. The crest on his chest was penned beautifully with inks of good quality. You beamed at his helmet as you pointed at the crowned swan.

With a faint creak of metal, the knight reached up to take the book from your outstretched hands. There was the faint sound of wheezing breathing through the visor of his helmet as he touched the page with the crest and then carefully, like he was caressing a baby bird, traced the letters of his family name.

“Dawling was the closest family to the Queen.” You told him quietly, “Before the revolution the Dawling family were the last near her and all of them were said to have perished when they burned the castle in the North.”

With a soft nod he looked over the small descriptive notes, his armour flexing gently with tension.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth…” You offered a gentle hand to him.

He said nothing but you watched him reach up, his fingers twitching. The metal of his gauntlets was cold against your skin but smooth and well looked after. Warmth enveloped his fingers from your skin and the Knight peered up at you. His visor was shined and as he put the book down you saw a faint glow behind the slats. Behind the metal there were two haunting eyes. The blue eyes glimmered before disappearing again into the darkness of the armour. Wisps of light trailed out of his neck.

“Would you like anything?” You asked as you patted his hand.

The knight shook his head as he looked back at the dancing flames.

“I suppose now I have to call you Sir Dawling!” You joked as you let go of his hand, “I wonder who put this curse on you though…I suppose we will never know now, but you can stay here a while if you like?” You offered.

Sir Dawling turned to look at you and nodded his confirmation, the flames reflecting patterns over his armour.

“I’ll make you the spare room up then.” With a smile you went to collect some linens but you were stopped by Dawling standing by the fire shaking his head, pointing to the sunset in the sky. With a confused stare you followed him towards the door and watched as he stood by the door, collecting his weapons.

“Can you not sleep?” You asked as he packed his weapons. He shook his head again and then made the shape of a butterfly which his armoured hands. When that didn’t work, he pointed to the blue blood which remained on his shield.

“The Fae? I doubt they would come this far out of the woods and beside they can’t get in here without invitation.” You soothed, but Sir Dawling shook his head and insisted, opening the door. He closed it behind him, his leathers squeaking a little as he sat outside the door on a small log. You looked through the glass of the window as he took his whetstone out and continued to work his blades. It seemed as though he was to stand guard. Maybe he didn’t need to sleep? He was after all, cursed. With a sigh you went to the fire and decided to make dinner, pondering on the curses which could have been cast over him before the revolution truly took root in the country. You stoked the fire gently around the dragon egg still nested in the coals. There was an answer to the riddle that you could not see.

A few hours later, after reading numerous books on the subject of magics, you hadn’t found many answers. The key to the Knight’s curse probably laid in the type of magic used to curse him. With more questions than answers you stood from the fire, wrapped tight in a blanket, and took the spare to the door. Quietly you listened behind the wood. Sir Dawling’s armour creaked with the phantom movements of his breathing and quietly the thud of his metal finger against his thigh. Quietly, you opened the door. His helmet turned to face you immediately. Dawling made a shooing motion with his fingers, beckoning you to head back inside. You stepped out onto the stone step and smiled at him before offering him the heavy woollen blanket. You could see he was eyeing the red dyed wool, but instead of giving him a choice you thrust it over his lap and smiled. Carefully, he unfolded the fabric and laid it over his thighs.

“You don’t have to stay out here you know… I feel bad with you out here protecting me and helping me again.” You sighed and rubbed at your shoulders against the cold.

Sir Dawling held his hand up and shook his head, as though it was no trouble at all for him.

“But still… there has to be something I can do?” You asked, “Or maybe give you? I don’t want you out here all night bored…”

Again, Sir Dawling shook his head and you sighed at his protest.

“Fine but please, come back inside if you’re cold or anything. I’ll keep the fire on for the little one anyway.” You joked.

He shook his head at the idea of the dragon egg again and fixed his gaze on the moon and the stars above. You left him there, gazing up at the night sky, and went to bed.

For fourteen nights, Sir Dawling sat outside your cottage. Reluctantly, throughout the day you let him follow you too and from your jobs in town. You didn’t have a particular profession, but you had a lot of room for foraging and several of the plants on your property were useful to the locals. Alongside a bountiful variety of mushrooms there were several herbs like mint and rosemary which were used in salves. Sir Dawling watched the exchanges carefully, wary of the townsfolk who were wary of him. The people asked after him curiously, but most of the people in the town were far too familiar with the workings of the Fae in the woodlands. Once you explained a few of them were even sympathetic towards the poor Knight, though the others knew that a crest meant he was once someone of an important station. Not many looked on the Queen or her Court favourably out in the woods. Still, no one had said anything, yet. Sir Dawling followed behind you, his tattered cloak billowing, and his swords an obvious statement of prowess. He didn’t need to draw them for people to know he was a killer.  

“Are you going to sit out here again?” You asked on the fifteenth night as you gave him a clean blanket.

Sir Dawling shrugged his shoulders, and as always, he didn’t reply.

“Well would you like a fire? I don’t know if you can feel cold but I got a little cast iron fire pit while I was out in town today!” You pointed to the edge of the small vegetable patch where the iron pit was located.

With a creak, Sir Dawling stood up, his armour clanking as he reached the fire pit and then bent over in order to drag it closer to the door. He reached for a log from the stack you had down the side of the house, but you had already beaten the Knight to it.

“Here.” You smiled and watched him take the log before you went inside to fetch some kindling and a small scoop of hot coals from the fire inside, “You know, the egg is really close to hatching I think.”

Sir Dawling shook his head at the mention of the egg you had pilfered inside of your home.

“I know you think I’m silly for keeping it…” You said as you handed the Dawling the kindling, “But I couldn’t stand the idea of a poacher getting it! That or the Fae. I just wanted to see if I could save it.”

A long wheezing sigh echoed from the chamber of Sir Dawling’s armour as he took the hot coals from your hands and carefully poured the scoop under the kindling. The twigs quickly caught fire with a few fans of his hands. Gently, he handed you the fire scoop back to take back inside and you did so before returning, running with your oven gloves on, with the dragon egg in hand. The egg gave another shake and a creak as you ran for the fire pit outside.

“SIR DAWLING! FAN THE FLAMES QUICK!” You screeched.

Sir Dawling took the fan from your pocket and fanned the flames as high as he could get them as you rolled the egg gently into the fire. The charcoaled shell cracked with the smoking wood, and you gazed at it in amazement as fiery lines erupted over the surface. The red patterns intertwined with one another, weaving an intricate image over the shell before a small, horned nose butted a chip in the shell. Sir Dawling leaned close enough to watch the egg shake and a small nose batter at the shell again. The flames licked the surface, like a caressing mother, and you dropped the oven gloves in favour of squatting by the pit.

The iron base glowed with the heat as another great creak sounded and a spiked tail flopped into the wood. The wood spat at you as claws raked at the thick calcium, gouging freedom from the egg. Horns prickled the egg and soon a small, growl sounded from the flames. A small, jade green dragon curled in the fire, grumbling in the fire, its tail poised high, and its neck flared defensively. It hissed and spat a small flame. With a firm hand, Sir Dawling removed the fire poker and watched as the dragonling growled, its sharp, ravenous teeth flashing. You looked at the jewelled creature in awe before sitting by the side of the fire and replacing your oven mittens. The dragon spat, its horned prickled in your direction, but you reached gently to move the eggshell out of the fire. Dawling’s helmet shifted to you, watching as you reached into the coals again and then placed the meat you were going to cook into the embers. The dragon grumbled, lowly, like a cat, but quickly turned its slitted pupils on the meat. Its eyes were a glorious orange, like amber. Carefully, its claws hooked the food, and you delighted quietly as it took the food and began chewing at the chicken leg.

“I know…” You whispered at Dawling as he looked to reach for the poker again, “Its stupid to try, but I think I can do this. Its such a beautiful creature.”

With another echoing sigh, Dawling nodded and watched you feed the dragon.   

Another leg of a chicken had the small dragon clawing at the edge of the fire pit, its head raised, looking up at you with a gentle rumble. The scales down its neck glittered in the fire light like gems. The dragon was beautiful. Carefully you dared to let the hatchling sniff your hand. The dragon rumbled, sniffed and then carefully pushed its head up into your hand. Underneath its chin, as it raise its head, there was the glittering of a bright, pearl coloured scale, round and fat like a heavy gemstone. It glittered before the hatchling ducked its head again and growled, hopping out of the fire to curl around your legs. The dragon peered up at Sir Dawling from between your legs, and cocked its head, wondering about the suit of armour which clunked in its seat.

“He’s cursed.” You offered down at the dragon, “He did something in his previous life which upset a great sorceress, so she made him like this.” You smiled at Sir Dawling, offering him your hand and a comforting squeeze. His gauntlets creaked with the squeeze, but you smiled at him and then offered the dragon your hand as well.

“Wait… how do I tell if it’s a male or female…” You whispered as you turned back towards the house. The dragon followed dutifully, swinging its tail like a happy kitten as you both slipped through the door.

“How do you like Frasadu?” You asked the dragon. It chirped in response, “So maybe you are a boy…”

Sir Dawling shifted on the log outside, touching the crest on his chest as he watched you go inside, feeling an odd ache where once his chest was. The Knight shook his head, moaning inside the armour as he reached for the poker by the fire.

There was a disgusting sound, like two pieces of metal grinding metal together, which woke you up. With a scream, you shot out of bed, just as there was a great slam against the heavy stone wall of your home. You heard the sing of iron outside, indicating Sir Dawling had drawn his sword. The dragon by the fire stirred, and opened his mouth, his teeth lighting with fire. You rushed to the door, grabbing a dagger before you opened it. Frasadu howled at outside, and you froze by the door as Dawling’s sword sliced through the first fae who dared to get too close. With a rush of odd light, his gauntlet slammed through the chest of another, and you stood, clutching at the iron dagger as the bottom wall of the garden exploded into rubble. A great insect like beast crawled over the stones, its mouth parts slicing against one another again to make the awful noise.

“DAWLING!” You screamed as the insect beast slammed a great, needle like leg down towards him. The Knight rolled and sliced upwards, severing one of the monster’s legs before he made a quick roll back towards you. He held his hand up and you watched as Frasadu roared, flaring his wings before he shot a great ball of explosive fire at the insect. The beast screeched and reared before its abdomen set ablaze, and it sprinted for the trees, howling.

The fae watched their monster run and hissed, their black eyes glinting like oil slick in the fire. A few of them slunk behind the logs and rubbles of your walls, watching as you reached to touch the top of Frasadu’s head. There was a brief moment of silence amidst the crackling rubble, both parties staring at one another. Dawling flicked the blood from his great sword and turned the flat of the blade upwards at the slinking faeries.

“You have dragon lord blood.” A great tall Fae slunk from the rubble, her white hair was braided intricately around her head, holding poisonous thorns and dried hawthorn leaves. Gossamer wings fluttered behind her, placing her before you gracefully.  Her face was narrow, impossibly thin in all dimensions, and her skin glittered green with a shine of iridescence. Black eyes bore holes in Sir Dawling as he stepped between the two of you.

“Silence Knight.” She scoffed. Her clawed fingers gripped into a fist and you felt the metallic scream of Sir Dawling as he was thrown in the air, writhing, his armour denting and groaning in on itself, “The incessant smell of your shame bores me.” The Fae spat, “You were cursed for it, and so you will end with it, curled in a ball of molten rotting metal.”

“Wait!” You begged, holding your hands out as you rushed in front of Dawling. He howled above you as his gauntlets were peeled open, each joint pulling outwards from his body. His arms buckled as you stared down the Fae.

“He is protecting me. He saved me…and I have looked after him. He does not deserve this…” You asked of her, “Please, leave him be.”

“I, Ushura, Lady of Glowing Stars, will not let the Fae Slayer live.” Ushura screamed, her fingers gripping the metal, tearing at it with the familiar glow of blue magic. It was the same colour that glowed inside of Sir Dawling’s armour from time to time.

“Please, my lady.” You begged, “What can be done to repay this sin?” You asked.

Ushura spat her disdain at your feet, “Your Queen has long since died. She was the one who asked it of him, but he was the one who carried it out, burning our burrows, slaughtering our children in their nests!” Fury burned in her veins, the weight of a thousand lives, her people, heavy on her shoulders.

“He suffers still for his slight, my lady, but please, let him live.” You asked, “I do not know what I am or who I am to you, yet, but I can only try and make things right.”

Ushura held Sir Dawling aloft, but the crushing of his armour halted, as did his howling. You watched her black eyes soften a little at the edges as she looked at the small hatchling at your side.

“Misee wi. Forni talmas, ui porteh alme.” She spoke gently, watching as the dragon at your side listened, his ear turned to her. The hatchling dipped his head and turned, his head stretched upwards, revealing the pearl beneath his neck. It was strangely, like you knew what to do, and you reached out carefully to touch the pearl. Frasadu hummed against you, and there was a great spark of white, brilliant light. You heard the Fae recoil and hide behind the rubble. There was an unending ringing in your ears before the light dimmed enough to reveal a great shape before you. All the sights and sounds of your ruined home disappeared behind the great shadow. Two wings spread out, shadowing beyond you, far into the corners of your field of vision, and you gasped at the silhouette of the dragon before you.

“Long have I awaited the return of a Dragon Lord. You are the last. The last of the line of glory, of brotherhood and blood ties beyond that of this continent. Frasadu was not a name you came up with, but it has rather always been my name, little one. Together, we are to restore what is broken, to mend the broken reaches of the world. We are destined to be, as your Knight is destined to follow you. Tell them, in the old tongue. As one we once were, and as one we are once again.”

The light receded as quickly as it had appeared and when you could see again you looked at your fingertips touching Frasadu’s chin. The dragon’s orange eyes reflected wisdom of thousands of years, and you smiled as you cradled his chin. With a resolute breath, you turned back to Ushura.

“Ret yue fristra, ret yue gugartha ne.” You told the fae.

“Then as one you must all remain.” She hissed. Her claws unravelled, dropping Sir Dawling from her grasp. The knight landed with a great crash, armour clattering against stone. You tried not to turn, holding the gaze of the Fae as Frasadu puffed his chest out before you, spreading his wings out in a threatening display.

“You must not return here.” You told the Fae, “Sir Dawling is to remain with me.”

Slowly, the Fae disappeared back into the trees, their eyes merging with the shadows as the firelight flickered far from view. You watched them for a moment before rushing to Dawling’s side. The armour laid motionless, laid in dented chunks.

“Please don’t be gone.” You begged quietly as you turned his helmet and desperately tried to place him back together.

There was a groan from somewhere within all the scattered metal and you found a twitching gauntlet in time to hold Sir Dawling’s hand. The metal armour groaned as you took his hand and tears burned in your eyes. You felt the wet drops on your cheeks as Frasadu growled and dragged a crushed greave over by your side.

“I don’t know how to fix this!” You told the hatchling, and the knight who’s head was laid in your lap.

The helmet visor clicked open with a sudden screech of metal. Your tears dripped inside the shell only to see the faint wisps of soul slowly swirling inside. The gauntlet by your feet twitched before it began to float, the dent groaning as the leather gloves stretched. You sobbed as you watched it float, the fingers reaching for you. The tips caressed the apples of your cheeks, slowly shifting downwards before they gave a gentle twitch. The chest plates expanded with a groan.

“Dragon… Lord.” Sir Dawling wheezed, his armour shaking, grinding along the floor as it attempted to fuse back together. You clawed at the pieces, pulling them together as your tears dripped down the once beautifully intricate metal work.

“Can we fix him?” Frasadu rumbled innocently. He sat next to you, his scales against your leg, “His soul is still here.”

“I don’t know how to fix this Dawling…” You wept on the armour with a thundering sob.

“Jurdanus…” Dawling wheezed, “Jurdanus… Dawling.”

“Jurdanus, please, Sir Dawling, I can’t…” You stuttered as you finally placed the rest of the armour together.

The knight gave one final, heaving breath, before the light dimmed behind his visor and the metal went slack against the stone. The fire continued to crackle behind you, dulling the sensation of reality for a moment before you placed your hands on Frasadu wept onto his scales. Sir Jurdanus Dawling didn’t move. The fires crackled as you held Frasadu close, and you looked to the stars in the night sky above. All was quiet, for a moment, before there was a gentle whoosh, like gas being lit. Frasadu grumbled, shifting in your grasp, stretching to look at the armour as a soft blue wisp drifted down towards you both. Amidst the fire you watched the light swift before it formed the shape of a large man. The silhouette drifted closer, and a hand reached to touch your cheek, tracing the same pattern Sir Dawling had drawn.

“Jurdanus?” You asked, hopefully.

The silhouette nodded before spreading its arms and laying backwards. The light disappeared back into the armour. A great whoosh sounded again before the ruined armour before you clanged, shifted, and banged, rumbling violently as it once again took on the perfect shape of a suited knight.

The light behind the visor glowed once more and with a delighted shriek you jumped over Sir Dawling’s hips, delightedly shaking his shoulders as he reached up to steady you by the waist.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” You wiped the tears from your face, sniffling.

Jurdanus nodded his head and reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Tenderly, he cupped your face, and there was a whisper of thanks on the wind, although no voice echoed from within the armour. You smiled and howled with laughter as Jurdanus sat up and dragged you with him, holding you close to his chest as he span through the garden, with Frasadu hot on his heels.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Hey,

So if it's not too much to ask, can you give me a summary on the Core Four's personalities? I really wanna know for analysis reasons, I'm re reading all the core 4 young justice and teen titans books and trying to decipher my favorite one.

I can give you the personalities as intended by their creators no problem, Person Newtonote.

Now as you read you might think "Oh, hmm, that doesn't add up with what I've read" when it gets into the Young Justice and Teen Titans books, but that's 'cause different writers write different things, and some writers understand some characters better than others, and some of it is just plain character development, or in worse case writers doing what ever they please 'cause they don't care.

I'll let you judge when what happens.

Onto what you've asked though, I'll try to keep it simple as I can while still being detailed:

Tim Drake:

My personal favorite, that much is likely obvious.

As intended, he is an idealistic young boy, and dreamed of Robin as an even littler boy (he's pretty small for his age). He's clever, and resourceful, and thinks very very highly of the legacy of Robin. It's his heart though that got him his job as Robin, and his compassion and genuine passion for the role of Robin. And he displays what many may call boy scout tendencies. Even admitting to original Robin Dick Grayson that he enjoys helping old lady's cross the road (or something like that.)

Being raised in private schools, without a lot of friends (He's shown having no friends until he goes to public school to my knowledge), he's a pretty naive and oblivious, trusting person. And it's through out his journey's he has to learn how dark Gotham City can get. Though compared to the other Bat-Family members of this era (90s) he's very much the heart and light-hearted youthful energy to it.

His social ability is mostly perfectly fine, he's no complete weirdo. Kid can get friends easy peasy. Easily likable to folks. Endearing. But he has an oblivious side, and can get ahead of himself. Has a habit of getting spiritually adopted by people who instantly want to protect him. Anyone from Batman, to former CIA agents, and even villains. He's just got that babyface on him, and button nose.

He also deals with anxiety in terms of being Robin, being worried that he may be stripped of the job, or let people down, or mess something up. And sometimes that lends him having a lot of insecurities about himself. While having some prior training in martial artists, and implications of having taken gymnastics, also a former boy scout, he still doesn't naturally take to the role like all other Robins around him. Which means he has to try a lot harder to have his keep.

In the Bat-Family in this era (the 90s) he's the heart, and baby to everyone. They're uber protective of him, and take him out of the action when they deem it to be too much for someone like Tim. Within Young Justice he puts on a heavy Robin persona to hide what he's really like. Making himself out to be a more Batman-esque mysterious leader.

When really, he's a dorky, fanboy, who loves Kaijus, Crocky the ??? Crocodile I guess (Basically Barney the Dinosaur), super heroes, cars, Warlocks and Warriors (Dungeons and Dragons), sports, comics, Sci-Fi, fantasy, and cartoons. Self-admitted geek, with some popular interests in there.

Think of Tim as sort of Autistic kind of. He's never officially said to be. But when you read his origin, it's definitely a legitimate way to interpret him. Though I believe his uniqueness is intended to really be molded by Tim's passion, and obliviousness from a lack of parental figures in his very young life.

Tim is supposed to be an optimist, as told by his creator, but to be real a lot of writers seem to forget that, even when making jokes about how he's optimistic compared to others. I think sometimes the writer's own cynism leaks out into him. So remember that...despite a lot of writers forgetting it. Be better than them.

Cassie Sandsmark:

My personal second favorite member, but, please, make up your own mind here.

She's a rebellious teenage girl, and tomboy. She stays up pass curfew to party, but is at heart a good hearted individual who truly wants to help. This comes at odds with her stubborness and headfirst attitude. She hates being treated as a kid. And shows a great deal of intuition and cleverness. She's also a babysitter. Seemingly a good one too.

Her need to prove herself can put itself ahead of her own logic though. And she buts head with her very stuffy mother who doesn't appreciate Cassie's care-free nature. She means a lot to Cassie, and Cassie wants her approval. Cassie's natural being is...very much in contrast to what her mother would prefer though. It's fun.

A lot like Tim she's also shown to be a Super Hero fanboy. For her it's specifically Wonder Woman and the Flash, while with Tim it's basically anyone the writer decides he hasn't met offscreen yet.

Through her journey's she learns to contain herself though, and better use her powers.

Bart Allen:

The most teenager-y teenager you ever seen. He has ADHD, but not the uber-hyperactive, talkative, hugger you see in some more modern misunderstandings of him.

Originally he was pretty quiet. Super popular in his school. Girls loved him and considered him a pretty boy. But in reality he has no social knowledge, because he was raised in basically a video game for two years. He's essentially an alien learning to fit in with human civilization. So he's incredibly reckless without intention. It takes him awhile to truly process the concept of death and related repercussions. So he's sort of dangerous.

He can be quite surly, and mean spirited on occasion. But like most heroes, he has a good heart that comes out in the end. It's just simply the 90s and being Anti-Authority is the norm. His name is Bart after all. Underneath that is a young man who does sweet things when he has it in him.

Just don't think of him like a baby like how a lot of people make him out to be. He's a teen's teen.

Original Bart, like original Tim, and original Cassie, to me, is the best version of the character. The most nuanced, and interesting.

Oh, and minor violent streak on Bart too. Started a fight before, and stuff like that.

He cares inside. That has to count for something right?

Kon-El:

Hot-Headed pervert. Over-confident. Fame hungry. Lady magnet. Stubborn. Head first. Sort of a prick. But again good hearted.

I haven't read him as much as the others, because I don't personally care for him. Then in the early 00s with Teen Titans they decided just to make him an angsty young Clark, which is personally boring.

I don't have a lot of great things to say about him. His solo is very dated, and overtly sexual. Something I have no interest in reading.

He's at his best in Young Justice though, where he isn't written as jail bait by a writer who thought it'd be great if he dated grown women to fulfill teenage boys dreams. Instead you get to have fun with a very flawed character without the distracting perversion...mostly.

Punk styled. Loves dressing like a punk. Until he doesn't. Ruh-roh.

--

Again though, different writers write different things. They catch onto different things more than others, some are plain neglectful, others don't care, some want to change stuff for the sake of it. It's comics, you'll be lucky if it's consistent.

But on my years of studies, all that is what the character's where intended to be by their creators. So a lot of it is a starting pad, but it's also the purest form of them you're going to find.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: David/Jake; bilateral move

For the prompt: Jake pov marriage and kids discussion - I know he loves David but how does he feel seeing as he would want these things and his partner doesn’t AND

Companion piece to this.

Jake likes kids. A lot. Has liked them since he was a kid himself, always happy to look out for the littler ones, maybe because he was the baby in his own family, Allie and Nat bouncing between treating him like he was a doll and telling him he was too young to join whatever they were doing, quit bugging them.

He likes kids, and he's always wanted them, has for as long as he can remember. Wanted the same kind of family he had, the only thing missing from their happy family in the suburbs picture a dog, because dad was allergic to them.

Some things have changed — he figured he’d have a wife at the beginning, and then he didn’t know, and then it was David. Not ‘a wife’ or ‘a husband’, but David, because David's been it for him since he clapped eyes on him, pretty much. Maybe not that quick, but close.

After that, any daydreams about what the future looked like always included David, and that meant no suburban picket fence with three kids and a dog, meant no proposing at center ice, no matter how sick that would be. And definitely, definitely no romantic gold medal or Stanley Cup or anything. The daydreams stopped sometime around the point where David even looking him in the eye was asking for too much, started to again when they got back together, but at that point they were mostly daydreaming about what they’d do during the offseason, closer, more realistic.

Around twenty-seven or so he quit thinking about the picket fence for good, not because he grew out of it, but because he knew that the things he was thinking about, they weren’t things David wanted. And not just things David didn’t want: increasingly he was realizing that his idle fantasies were David’s worst nightmares.

*

The thing is, Jake retired wearing the exact same jersey he got drafted in, redesign aside. And he’s proud of that. He was never going to win a Cup with the Panthers, not when his career was winding down and the Panthers were going into their second and a half rebuild, the furthest he'd ever gotten with them the second round.

Talking with management before signing yet another one year contract, they said nobody would blame him if he wanted go somewhere else, roll the dice a time or two. But Florida had been home since he was a teenager, Jake had worn that jersey season after season, been proud to wear it, proud of the guys who did — even when they sucked, they were working their asses off, every single night, they were trying.

Jake wanted to retire in that jersey, and not the way Joe did, signing a one day contract to do it, though fuck knows he didn't hold it against him, was just happy to be a part of the ceremony when Joe did retire, because he missed the hell out of him when he was hunting for a Cup his final few seasons, just happy to see him in red and blue again. Proud, but a little envious when Joe's gamble paid off in his final year.

But then, Jake wouldn't take back staying a Panther for anything, not even a Cup. He doesn't regret a single thing. Joe won gambling on a game Jake wasn't willing to play — it'd be like being jealous of someone else winning the lottery when you never ever bought a ticket.

Not that David's a prize. And not that he’s something Jake’s staying loyal to because it’s been so long that it just makes sense to. Jake says he wouldn't have given up being a Panther for anything, but that's not true. If he'd had a shot to play with David, a real chance to play on a line with him, see just how good they are together, not in a camp or an All-Star game or tooling around on a rink in suburban Detroit, he thinks he might have. In fact, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have let them get the entire question out before he said okay.

And that doesn't make sticking with the Panthers any less meaningful. He did stick with them, after all. But there’s hockey, and there’s David, and he knows which is more important, and fuck knows both together would have been a no brainer decision,

It didn’t work out that way, unfortunately. Not that Jake has regrets, because he doesn’t, doesn’t see the point in having them, but that’s one of the things he knows has passed him by. By the time he hits forty, he knows the marriage and kids thing is too. Thinks he knew that a long time before that — at twenty-seven, changing the daydreams, at twenty-five, welcoming David back with two open arms then holding on tight, stunned with how lucky he was. Maybe even at nineteen, kissing David back, feeling like all his dreams just came true, not knowing that they were going to change along the way.

David sitting him down, letting him know that kids aren’t a thing he wants, that isn’t news for him — he doesn’t think David’s right about himself, thinks David would be a good parent, that he’d work hard at it like he’s worked hard at everything he cares about, and he’d care so fucking much. But Jake’s well aware that this isn’t the kind of subject where reasoning beats out emotions, and, whether or not David would make a good father doesn’t actually matter, because he doesn’t want to be one.

The worst thing is that the only reason this comes up is Jake thought he was being helpful. David hates talking about it, visibly freezes up when the topic comes up, so Jake always says something noncommittal and changes the subject as quickly as possible. 

He thought that was the kindest thing he could do, but maybe it isn’t, maybe it just made David suffer for longer. Jake hadn’t known he was suffering at all, but the way David’s talking, somewhere between hesitant and frantic, talking like this is something he expects Jake to hold against him, something he expects Jake to leave him for — 

“David,” Jake says. David looks up, meeting his eye for less than a second before he ducks his head, like he’s ashamed. Or — no. Like he’s scared. Like he’s terrified. He looks down at his hands, and when Jake looks at them too, that’s when he finally notices they’re shaking.

“I’ve been gone for you since we were eighteen years old,” Jake says softly. “What did you think was going to happen here?”

“I don’t know,” David says, very quietly, and it’s that, the smallness, that breaks Jake’s heart.

[littleredbrat]

You deserve that in your life 🖤

Thank you, Darling~ <3 I think anyone who needs this in their life deserves it <3

[amaiguri]

"Though the seas may be wide and dark, the constellation of our ships light the way."

-- Zacheia d'Cantre

"I'm sure you know me by reputation but, formality dictates I introduce myself: Estreia d'Cantre, the littler star of House d'Cantre. It's a pleasure to meet you. (It isn't.)"

--Estreia d'Cantre

The Sarasean Sea is a Pathfinder 1e setting supplement I wrote to push this high magic system to its limit -- what happens when a high fantasy world spends 90% of its magical output on surviving a sunless world?

And yes, the d'Cantres invented the Decanters of Endless Water, thank you for noticing 🤣🤣🤣

[anueutsuhos-touhou-profiles]

Urban Legend in Limbo:

Touhou 14.5: Urban Legend in Limbo (2015) is a major benchmark for the series.

The incident this time is that urban legends have spread throughout Gensokyo! These urban legends have tied themselves to certain people who are characterized similar to them. Apparently the urban legends are not able to materialize independently because nobody in Gensokyo fears them like they do youkai.

The Urban Legends are as follows:

• Reimu Hakurei: the Woman inside the Gap (basically Yukari is her urban legend)

• Marisa Kirisame: the Seven Wonders of the School (pretty much every high school in Japan has its own 7 mysteries)

• Kasen Ibaraki: the Monkey's Paw, (a poor substitute for her missing arm)

• Byakuren Hijiri: Turbo Granny (this gives her a motorcycle and a catsuit but it's really about a grandma running along the highway as fast as a motorcycle)

• Toyosatomimi no Miko: Red Mantle, Blue Mantle (she gives you a choice between a red cape and a blue cape and kills you regardless of your decision)

• Ichirin Kumoi: Hasshaku-sama (a Japanese Creepypasta spread on sites like 2chan about a tall dark-haired woman in a sundress)

• Mononobe no Futo: Okiku (a ghost girl who's the main protagonist of an old novel)

• Nitori Kawashiro: the Loch Ness Monster (she thinks it's just an animatronic she made but it's the real deal)

• Mamizou Futatsuiwa: the Men in Black, (it gives her a nice suit and a device that's not a memory eraser. It's just for show. Her tanuki minions are disguised as aliens.)

• Shinmyoumaru Sukuna: Little Green Men (littler than her? I doubt it!)

• Fujiwara no Mokou: Spontaneous combustion (she doesn't even realize the incident is happening for the longest time since blowing herself up is something she already does. The urban legend is mostly manifested by her fire turning blue and thus hotter.)

• Hata no Kokoro: Kuchisake-onna (Pretty? Not pretty? DIE!)

• Koishi Komeiji: Miss Mary (the CALLS ARE COMING FROM RIGHT BEHIND YOU LOOK OUT SHE HAS A KNIFE)

• Reisen Udongein Inaba: Kune-kune (another Creepypasta posted on 2chan in 2001, weird white red-eyed worm creatures that wiggle around upright seen off in the distance that make you go insane if you look at them too long)

Yes, Kasen's urban legend is not so much one as it is a well-known story that nobody thought was real. Same with Futo's.

There are also rumors spreading about seven Occult Balls, that when brought together, can grant any one wish (hey, that sounds familiar...)

The Occult Balls are tied to seven Mystery Spots:

• The Pyramids of Giza

• Stonehenge

• The Tower of Babel

• The Nazca Lines

• Yomotsu Hirasaka

• Hell Valley

• The Lunar Capital

The story itself mostly involves all these girls having whacky role playing fun with their urban legends and discovering the true nature of the Occult Balls. Right up until they go too far and almost cause the destruction of all of Gensokyo.

Strangely enough, despite the severity of this incident, Yukari Yakumo is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Kasen and Mamizou team up to fill her general role. Perhaps Yukari thought one Sage getting involved was enough, or perhaps she's just lazy.

In a rarity for the series, the status quo of Gensokyo is broken in two ways:

A human teenage girl from the outside world makes her way into Gensokyo; and leaves! She becomes a recurring visitor of Gensokyo from heron out, but never fully moves in. This provides the people of Gensokyo a way to hear more about the outside world, mostly in a negative, pessimistic light.

Second, Gensokyo as a whole is poisoned down to the roots: an incident has happened that Reimu could not resolve. Gensokyo has now become a true land of fantasy: if enough people believe something is true, it will be true. The repercussions of this are explored in both mangas running at the time: Wild and Horned Hermit and Forbidden Scrollery, and would continue to be a major element of the series until around 2018, at which point it's kinda forgotten about.

Thus begins a sort of trilogy that follows with Touhou 15: Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom, and Touhou 15.5: Antinomy of Common Flowers.

Oh, and this game got a Playstation 4 release, making it the first official Touhou game to be released for consoles.

[freminetsdad]

Random baseless theories and headcanons that I don't remember how I came up with.

Sayu's old master left to join the Fatui.

Scaramouche total had a palanquin during his time as a harbinger.

Kaeya immediately noticed the interteyvats in Traveler! Lumine's hair during the storm terror thing.

One time at a festival in Mondstadt back when Kaeya was just brought in by Crepus, Kaeya made eye contact with Venti as he was performing and bolted the other direction.

Fischl reads through Mona's astrology books to get new ideas for her fantasies.

Paimon was actually hired by the Abyss Twin 500 years ago to find the Traveler and look after them, only once they were reunited and at full power would the Abyss Twin give Paimon her payment.

Diluc sometimes has nightmares where he actually killed Kaeya and goes into protective big brother mode right after.

Even though Diluc knows Kaeya is Khaenri'ahan, he hasn't grasped the fact that this means Kaeya was born 500 years ago and is the older brother. Kaeya hasn't told him either because he thinks Diluc already knows or he doesn't wanna make Diluc sad that his little brother isn't actually littler than him.

Cyno once told Wanderer a your mom joke and he busted out laughing and agreed with him.

Xiao gets territorial over Wangshu Inn since he's a bird and scares away all other birds.

Thoma can do that thing where you smell that it's about to rain and it confuses everyone in Inazuma.

Kaeya sometimes helps Ella Musk study the Hillichurl language.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb: THE FINAL CHAPTER! Despite being sent to another world as a Savior, Tsukina has managed to stay out of the spotlight and run her book café. With her marriage to her fiancé Il on the horizon, Tsukina is looking forward to their peaceful life together. But one of the regulars at the café seems to have other plans for Tsukina, and for the Kingdom of Othel! Will Tsukina get her fairy-tale ending?! The final volume!

Review:

The final chapter in the cozy fantasy romance featuring a magical Savior who just want to live a quiet life running her cafe and reading books. Tsukina has come so far from since she first landed in this land and with her wedding coming up she just wants to have a peaceful life with him, yet nothing is ever so simple for a savior. There is someone who wants the Kingdom of Othel to crumble and its up to Tsukina to save it before its too late and she never even makes it to her wedding. One final battle before she can reach her happily ever after and the betrayal is from someone close to her, can she make it in time? This was such a sweet and cute ending to the book series. I absolutely adored reading this series and I found this to be the perfect ending for our savior and our captain. Seriously what a cozy magical littler read!

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Bit of a fantasy esque here. This is also really modern but in saloon era times? Just go with it.

Saloon!Dillo LOVES Halloween. Why? He gets a lot more customers. Of course, you get the usuals, the humans. Course, 1the humans are also looking for a nice place to have some fun as the town is having a blast of a party

You then get the witches looking for a fluffy bubbler or toxic waste (alcohol with pink, blue, or green cotton candy incorporated to look like a potion bottle overflowing. This usually includes something like flavoed sparkling water or something strong along with a sweet, sour, or hard taste to it.)

And on special occasions, he gets the ghouls. He keeps stocks of old liquor just for them to get a taste of the good ol days. He gets to hear stories from way yonder.

The River Blazers decorate the saloon and will actually be able to roam around the saloon for once! The teen blazers (13-17) are looking after the young toddlers(6-11), and dillo keeps the littler tiny ones (1-3) in a room he has just in case they go down for a nap.

Dillo is working overtime and always gets paid a lot, there's also halloween inspired foods for the customers and kids! He makes sure its a safe place for everyone inside and out.

Halloween is also thr night he goes out hunting with the teen blazers. Though he has to be careful. Thr werewolves and werewolf hybrids look awfully the same, and he wouldn't want to accidentally injure a hybrid.

If he does end up doing so, he will patch them up and give them a snack as he keeps them on him as bait.

For some reason, Cape Leinsil is really eerie on Halloween. Doesn't help the nights are so dark, only accompanied by the lanters thr trailblazer have. It's always just been an eerie place

You’re literally so creative oh my gosh- I’m literally so wowed-

[stormethecat]

I just wanna gush about this character I made

My friends and I recently decided to give D&D a break and try out a new TTRPG system called Index Card RPG which comes with a sci-fi setting called WARP SHELL and it's super fun. One of the races you can choose (called a bioform) is a mecha, and one of my friends and I wanted to be one. We decided that another friend's mechanic character made us in a series. His character is named Null, the other mecha is named 01, my character is named 03, and there's a third lost mecha named 02. Both 01 and 03's memory of 02 have been wiped, and I have yet to learn anything about her

01 is a large tank-like robot with treads and a ripsaw and a taser. He's a scientist who specializes in xenobiology. (Unfortunately no picture available, but imagine something similar to Bastion from Overwatch with a big "01" painted on the side in block letters)

03 is a much thinner build with agile helicopter blade legs. He's designed for protection and specializes in machine guns. He has a massive particle cannon that unfolds from his torso and telescopes outward, resting over his shoulder in the form of a gatling gun. (Reference below for the type of robot he's shaped like, imagine something like that with a big "03" painted on the chest in block letters)

So there's this sort of subversion of expectations for 01 and 03's designs, with the big one being the brains and the littler one being the firepower. Null is a bit of an outcast, but always wanted friends so he created 01, 02, and 03 as a series of mecha to keep him company. And better yet, Null has a class ability called "jerry rigger" that allows him to combine any two machines to perform a hybrid function, so we decided we could use that to voltron 01 and 03 together.

I've written 03's personality to speak kind of pedantically and have very dry humor, inspired somewhat by Omega from Sonic. It's been very fun to roleplay and the deadpan deliveries and brotherly banter between 03 and 01 is fantastic.

It all just feels so epic, and I'm loving the freedom and simplicity of ICRPG. Plus a sci-fi setting after so much standard fantasy is pretty refreshing. I'm having lots of fun with it.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I thought about my Little One-Eyed Demon AU again at work, so unfortunately I am in too deep.

Had thoughts about why a littler Bill might want to open the portal this time around, and I realized his reasons didn't have to change at all from what they are in canon. He wants to have a really fun and wild party! He's in charge of everything and there's no rules and nobody can tell him what to do ever again!

Now despite him being an all-powerful six-year-old who is also mildly terrifying because of that power, this is an adorable desire. Adorable, but also concerning. What would possess a kid to be this desperate to seek out some kind of fantasy where he doesn't have to worry about being told what to do?

...I mean, aside from the whole 'being six-years-old and wanting to do whatever he wants forever as a result of just being six-years-old' thing.

Either way, it's something both Ford and Stan end up curious about once Stan comes to lend a helping hand. Not to hide the journal, mainly to just...play babysitter for a few hours while Ford gets some sleep without having to worry about waking up to a certain someone trying to spoon out his eyeballs.