#rune factory reflections

[lilaroxa]

Rune Factory: A Fantasy Harvest Moon will always hold a special place in my heart. Which is why I decided to draw Raguna as my first attempt at fanart!

I've said this in various spaces on the internet, but what really drew me into the series was how farming was part of the overall strategy. Particularly, how you NEEDED to farm to progress further into the dungeon. Nowadays, I feel like farming is more of an afterthought, making dungeon crawling and farm management two separate responsibilities.

I don't think the shift towards a more "cozy" experience is wrong, per se, but I'd love to see farming return to a more central point in the series. After all, isn't that what being an Earthmate is all about?

[aashiyancha]

Creative probkems require creative solutions

Masterlist here for newcomers

[dawnsies]

drew my version of Alice and Ares :V

[rehncohro]

Every July 10th, 2023, Conor posts a video discussing what he's been up to and what he's going to do. Can't wait for the next July 10th, 2023!: https://youtu.be/d0Sk7BUVOxI

[mysteriawrites]

Rules and Regulations:

DNI if you are one or more of the following:

Racist

Anti-lgbtq+

Islamophobic

Antisemitic

P3dophilic

Sexist

Ageist

Hater

Troll

In summary if you’re gonna be a jerk kindly move along please

Please do not:

Plagiarize

Send hate to me or others

Harass me or others

Give unsolicited criticism (some polite constructive criticism is fine tho)

Doxx me or anyone else

Share any personal identifying information (name face address etc): this is just a personal thing i grew up with strict internet safety rules and ik some people are more comfortable sharing things like their name or their face but im not and i think it’s better in practice not to so id prefer if you didn’t share that kinda thing appearance description is fine but like your name or anything like that especially cause i most likely wont use your name unless asked personally in which case that’ll be a private post (however pet picks are v much welcome plz send them).

What I will not write for:

Smut: I don’t know a thing about sex other then the biological understanding so I don’t think I could write it very well nor do I feel comfortable with writing it so sorry im fine with insinuating it tho 😉😏

Anything hateful towards irl people

Anything political

Romance with children

Incest

Noncon

Anything that makes me uncomfortable: if you request something that makes me uncomfortable that is not this list i will explain why im not writing it

What I will Write for:

Note: if you want to request more than one fandom you can, but it has to be separate asks for each one because my headcanons are kind of long.

Fluff

Angst

Gore

Headcanons

One shots

Matchups

Original stuff I come up with out of boredom

Character x Reader

Character x Character

AUs

Pretty much anything that wasn’t on the will not write for list unless or until i say otherwise

List of Fandoms:

Note: I’m in a lot of fandoms and always joining new ones so if there is a fandom not on the list that you want feel free to ask me I might know about it and forgot to add it or you’ll be introducing me to something new :) I’ll also try and keep the list updated

Note #2: I’m ok with writing for celebrities or vtubers as long as we’re respectful about it ok that means you understand that everything here is complete fiction and you understand their boundaries and if they dont feel comfortable with works about them those posts will be taken down

Marvel (Movies)

Harry potter (Movies)

The Maze Runner (Movies)

Motherland Fort Salem (Series)

Siren (Series)

The Owl House (Series)

Arcane (series)

The dragon Prince (series)

Avatar the last air bender (series)

Legends of korra (series)

The magicians (series)

My Hero Academia (Anime)

Sword Art Online (Anime)

Oshi No Ko (Anime)

Takt Op Destiny (Anime)

The Disastrous Life of Saki K (Anime)

Revue Starlight (Anime)

Blue Reflection (anime)

RWBY (anime)

Classroom of the Elite (anime)

The Apothecary Diaries (anime)

Revue Starlight: ReLIVE (game)

Bang Dream (game)

D4DJ (game)

Fire Emblem: Awakening-Engage (Game)

Persona 5 (Game)

Tales of Arise (game)

Our Life forever and always (game)

Mystic Messenger (game)

Obey Me (game)

Twisted Wonderland (game)

Honkai Impact (game)

Honkai Star Rail (game)

Genshin Impact (game)

Tears of Themis (game)

Zenless Zone Zero (game)

Punishing Gray Raven (game)

Aether Gazer (game)

Project Sekai (game)

Takt Op Symphony (game)

Blue Reflection series (game)

Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE (game)

Danganronpa TTH-2GD (game)

Master Detective Archives: Raincode (game)

Rune Factory 5 (game)

Hyperdimension Neptunia (game)

Atelier Sophie (game)

Baldur’s Gate 3 (game)

Love and Deep Space (game)

Nijisanji EN (vtubers) (Hiatus)

Hololive EN (vtubers)

Holostars EN (vtubers)

Avallum EN (vtubers)

(More to be added later)

Masterlist

[fantasy-harvest-rune]

I’ve changed the name of my blog to reflect the fact that Fantasy Life has become a huge thing for me. Plus (while I still love the older games) I haven’t played any pokemon games for a while. It’s also a bit of a pun on the Rune Factory series tagline.

[kirinda]

(icon and header and art in this post r by @/cupiidzbow !)

my names voltaire and this is my selfship blog! i barely use this blog and it needs revamping, my main is ousama!

IF YOU @ OR TAG ME IN A POST PLEASE @/TAG OUSAMA, MY URL IS AN OBSCURE CHARACTER AND I DONT WANT TO FILL HIS TAG WITH UNRELATED STUFF

im selfship tumblrs most hated thats how you know im a good blog baby yeah!!!!

do not follow me if you are a minor. do not follow me if you are a proshipper.

if you rb from misogynists ill probably block you its not my job to tell you when you follow one use that little brain in there

sharing f/os is awesome! be nice about it

F/O LIST AND SELF INSERTS UNDER CUT

MAIN GUYS

Kirinda (Eto Ranger) tag: 📸

Trafalgar Law (One Piece) tag: 🫀*note: I ship with all of the heart pirates and use the same tag for them. Only Law is a major F/O amongst them.

Masked Deuce (One Piece) tag: ♠️

SECONDARY

Banban (Garten of Banban) tag: 🥳

Kaito Kumon (Kamen Rider) tag: 🍌

Rowena MacLeod (Supernatural) tag: 😈

Shelda (Bugsnax) tag: ☮️

BOe (Магазинчик БО) tag: 🐰

Biznella (Super Sentai) tag: 🃏

Nellie Lovett (Sweeney Todd) tag:🥧

Chuck Keith (Gundam) tag:🌌

Olympia (Pokemon) tag: 🔮

Marcus Kane (Twisted Metal) tag: 🚧 *Only the Head-On and Black continuity

Lard Nar (Invader Zim) tag: 🛸

Misasagi (Rune Factory) tag: ⛩️

Self Inserts

Makoto Edamura (Great Pretender) tag: 🐱

The Director/Hubert (Interliminality) tag: 📺

All of my inserts use any pronouns while i usually default to he/they for them

My Eto Ranger self insert is Cabbage! He's shipped with Kirinda/Lydia. he's a...janitor i suppose? its his job to keep the ship and common area clean. he's super antisocial but enjoys speaking to kirinda while cleaning because it's less stressful than talking face to face with a living person. He falls HARD for that robot and their relationship begins before kirinda gets his physical body back but cabbage certainly enjoys the goofball regardless of form

My One Piece self insert is Karma! He's shipped with Law and sometimes the heart pirates in general as a polyship. Hes the user of the ryu ryu no mi model chameleon. He joined the crew a little after Sabaody after stowing away. He's kind of a menace but hes their menace. hes really bad at his job because he doesn't have the skills to utilize his fruits powers correctly. Law unfortunately sympathizes with them having childhoods that parallel at points. I do not have a self insert that i ship with Deuce. I have delusions about being Ace and we were partners

My GoBB self insert is named Eddie! Theyre an anteater who was made to work with disabled children and theyre shipped with Banban! I hope that doesnt sound weird I was in and out of sped classes as a kid so I wanted to reflect that.

My Kamen Rider self insert is Jules! They're shipped with Kaito and are a member of team baron. They dont really have any lore yet except for hardcore yearning lol. Might make them a rider too?

My Supernatural self insert is Voltaire!!! Hes shipped with Rowena hes a nachzehrer and certified menace. His ass should be dead but free will keep him alive bc hes Rowenas little play thang and keeps her slightly in line. Not by much. His heads so empty only thoughts of his pack and beautiful older women

My Bugsnax self insert is Sunnie Cuteloop theyre a magician! They heart Shelda we love faking magic. Two dif kinds of magic but you know.

My Pokemon self insert is currently unnamed and shipped with Olympia! They're also a magician I swear im not unoriginal I just do magic irl. They're the child of Hocus from the Oblivia region but moved to Kalos to pursue their career. They want to separate from their father and aim to be a better magician than he ever was.

My Invader Zim self insert is Tiere Ley a vortian scientist. They've been with Lard Nar since before the war but didn't officially get together till the Resisty was formed.

[sophiethewitch1]

Chpt. 5 - Safe For Now

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: You throw up :(

You feel like shit when you wake up. It’s the first thing you notice before the noise. People above you, lots of them, going about their day. And distantly, the ocean. You can smell salt, garlic buds, roses.

Ah, so you’re in the market then. The place where humans outside the walls congregate, a safe haven for rebels of all different kinds.

Which meant someone saved you, other than Asa. You couldn’t tell which was more embarrassing. Some random idiot who thought they could beat vampires (and actually did) or your own child. Still, it was probably a hunter like you, seeing as you were in the market.

The hub was a place full of survivors, rebels and generally vampire-hating folk. A rickety haven for humanity, made of scrap and pure spite.

It wasn't perfect, though. Safe for you... but not your ward.

In this place you always had to keep Asa’s hybrid status a secret. It was a hard one too, seeing as the walls were near coated in things that killed vampires.

Shit, you couldn’t just have a moment of peace, huh?

You hiss when you go to push yourself up in bed, your hands stinging with pain. You raise them to your face, sighing when you find them bandaged, red blood leaking through the wrappings. You let your hands flop against the covers, struggling to get up without them.

You can barely get into a sitting position, needing to use your elbows to do so. It’s difficult, painful and embarrassing. By the end of it you’re breathing heavily, your body weak.

What… happened to you?

You can remember fighting those vampires, your trap, Asa showing up and… fuck. You were bit. A vampire fucking bit you.

‘Again,’ a voice whispers in your head, and you shake away the thoughts.

It would do no good for you to go down that pity train. You needed to take care of Asa, make sure he was okay. Make sure he was still… alive. Your stomach revolts at even the thought he could be gone. He was the last bit of family you had left.

You let yourself sit back against your bed for a second, eyes squeezing shut. You count to yourself, backwards from one hundred. The voices go silent, the memories stop flashing. It’s quiet.

You sit up, looking around the room you’re in. There’s a bookshelf, a mirror hanging on one wall, protective magic and plants lining the ceiling. The floor is stone, as you're in a repurposed factory basement.

The mirror catches your eye, your reflection staring back at you. You don’t care about the bandages covering you, you don’t care about your messy hair, you don’t care about the ratty clothes you’re wearing.

You care about the mark on your neck.

A silver rune, one that would have a vampire’s true name engraved on it. It’s red, and your hand raises to touch it lightly. Need spreads from your stomach, and horror grows in your heart.

You’d been marked.

You turn off the bed, puking what’s left of your stomach on the floor. It splatters against the concrete, the sound horrid, the scent horrid. Still, it doesn’t compare to your literal worst nightmare. You’d been marked by a vampire.

…You were so, so fucked.

The door slams open, and your head whips to the side. Standing behind it is Asa, tears running down his cheeks. He sobs, launching himself at you and up onto the bed. He manages to avoid the puddle of puke to your relief, especially as his little hands shoot to wrap around you.

“Baba! Baba, I was so worried-” he sobs, and you pat down his back, murmuring comforting nonsense into his hair. You hear more steps, and glance up.

A boy - or really, you should call him a man at this point - stands by the doorway, brown, muscled arms crossed over his chest. With black eyes and dark brown hair, and a sharp face. He was handsome, and surprisingly tall for a human growing up in times like these. Still, you find his face irritating.

Creel. The boy you’d saved when you’d escaped half a decade ago.

Creel was a clingy guy, always worrying over his ‘saviour’ as he called you, and more than that always bothering you. He was two years your junior, but he was convinced that he had to protect you.

Like you said, annoying. He was probably the one who saved you and Asa, and that was humiliating. You take back what you said earlier, you'd prefer Asa saving your ass over this guy.

Creel looks at the puddle on the floor, the crying Asa, the mark on your shoulder, and finally, into your eyes. Obsidian pools that always seemed to find yours in the end, no matter how much you try to avoid them.

He raises an eyebrow. You give him a look, and he lets the question pass. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he’ll stop pestering you. No, you didn't doubt that he'd be straight to the point as soon as he opens his big fat fucking mouth-

“We need to talk about where you’ll be staying now. Your old house has been compromised,” he says, and you roll your eyes at him. See? So god damn pushy. You’d never met anyone you’d regretted helping more than Creel, and that was saying something.

“Good morning to you too,” you mutter, rubbing Asa’s back. Slowly, he stops wailing, only silent sobs wracking through him.

He must’ve been terrified, you know you were.

“Are you listening, (Y/n)? I said-”

“I heard what you said. And I’ll figure it out - on my own, Creel,” you cut him off, glaring up at him. He frowns, the most you’ll get out of his stony expressions. You don’t think you’d ever seen the kid smiling.

He stays silent for a second, simply staring. After a moment he nods, gesturing to the mess on the floor.

“I’ll clean this up for you, then,” he says, leaving the room before you can protest. You sigh, knowing full well that conversation isn’t over. He was more stubborn than you were.

But you didn’t want to join his group, where he would be in charge of you. Oh no, you’d had enough of servitude, of loyalty. Especially with the new mark on your neck, you seriously didn’t need any help from someone like Creel.

“Baba… what’s on your neck?”

Your eyes fall shut, and a sigh wiggles out of you. Seriously, you didn’t want to explain this to Asa right now.

“It’s… no big deal, baby,” you say, and Asa scoffs. You glance down, finding angry blue eyes focused on the mark on your neck. He breaks his glare, looking up to you. You both stare at each other silently, a furrow growing between Asa’s brow.

“You’re lying again.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you are.

“Of course I am,” you mutter under your breath, moving Asa off of your lap and getting off of the bed. You step cautiously around the mess you made, looking out into the hallway. Familiar dinky basement walls greet you, concrete stretching beyond your sight. Creel’s gone too, wherever that meathead thinks cleaning supplies would be.

“Hey, you said lying is bad!” Asa calls out from behind you, and you turn to look at him. You stare at each other again, but eventually you nod.

“I did. Now come here, we’re going to see the old hag,” you say, waving your hands to him. You can’t stop the way your lips twitch when Asa hears your words. He wasn’t the only one who hated the witch, but he definitely hated her… louder.

“Noooo!! No, no, Baba pleaaaaase! I’ve been good, dangit!” he whines, shaking his head. You reach to the bed, opening your arms, but he doesn’t leap into them like he always does. You sigh, again.

“Not for you, Asa. Baba’s gotta get this damn thing off of their neck,” you explain, and instantly the little gremlin launches into your arms. You rock backward at the force of him, but manage to catch your balance before you fall over. Jesus christ, you really needed to train this kid with strength control more.

“Good! It’s awful, it smells just like that meanie!” he says, and you grimace openly. A vampire’s mark was like that to other vampire’s wasn’t it? A brand of ownership, or as they see it, some weird and twisted form of soulmates.

You could say with full certainty you weren’t that silver freak’s soulmate. Or anything close to it.

But you would not be his prey, or his victim either. So, it was time to go see the only vampire expert in this town that had knowledge on anything other than murdering bloodsuckers. Usually you’d be perfectly happy with that type of thinking, but today… you’d need more creative measures.

…Motherfucker. If you ever saw Silvan again it would be too soon, but if you did, he’d be a dead fucking man walking.

“Yeah, I bet kid. Let’s get rid of it fast, and then we can get you that honey bread I promised you,” you say, stepping out of the room and heading down the hallway in a random direction. This place was a maze even when you knew where you were going, but you’d be damned if you’d wait for Creel’s guidance of all things.

Asa gasps, wiggling in your arms.

“Really?!” he shouts, and you grin, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“Really.”

The market is cramped, as it always is. People screaming out their wares, deals being made, crowds bustling and all of it underneath a rusty ceiling. You look up, watching the peaks of sun shine through the rotted holes, giving blessed light to the idiot you who’d more than once stepped on something and had to pay for it.

The factory warehouse had been used for some sort of soda company before the Collapse. Because of that, machinery filled every inch of the space not contained by human life. Or well, you suppose it’s the other way around. The long manufacturing lines stretched across the space, with lots of people sitting on them and even a few kids balancing along their tops.

You navigate through the space, Asa happily munching on his warm bread, cradled in your arms. You can’t see the witch anywhere nearby, but that’s to be expected. She wasn’t very welcome in the market, what with her… well, let’s call it what it is, deranged experimentations that threaten all life around it. No one could forget the antics she got up to, they were even more troublesome than your dumb life.

Still, she often helped with Asa, and you could tell she cared for the boy a little. At least enough not to dissect him while you turn your back. It was no surprise why Asa was scared shitless of the woman.

You find someone by the open doors of the market, a black hood pulled over their face. Still, it’s easy to see the upside down triangle patch sewn onto their cloak. The witch’s symbol, and the way to spot her workers.

Some believed she could cure vampirism, some believed she would end it entirely. Some believed that she had the key to making them suffer. They were all wrong, what that hag wanted was a mystery even you didn’t know.

But it wasn’t that simple, you were certain of that.

“Today?” you ask, nodding in greeting towards the courier. They glance at you, a frown on their face.

“Password?” he responds, and you raise an eyebrow. Okay, this guy must be new. You roll your eyes, but open your mouth to answer the password anyway. Easier to go along with the idiot and let his superiors rat him out for it later.

“Say that again?” the words from behind you make you physically deflate, your head hanging low against your chest. Really? How did he find you that fast? Well, you knew how. His stupid goons had been following you the entire time, you just figured you’d run faster than the meathead could.

Obviously, you underestimated the clingy kid.

“Creel! Hey, Baba and I were just going to see Old Lady again!” Asa chirps, looking over your shoulder with a big grin. You suck in your lips, looking like you’d just chewed on a lemon. Still, you refuse to acknowledge him, staring intently at the messenger.

The courier starts to quiver and shake, and your dislike for this person ramps up exponentially. Seriously, you’d die before you found one person in this stupid place who wasn’t either part of Creel’s gang, or scared half to death of the boy.

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” he asks, his deep voice tinged with disapproval. The courier springs into proper posture, hands pressed to their chest. They look like their praying - you don’t think Creel should be considered worth praying to, in any reality.

“Y-yes, of course Master Creel! You’re the owner of the market and- and uh- the rest of-”

Creel makes a noise of distaste, and the courier shrinks into themself. Now they look like they’re the one that swallowed a lemon.

“Not me.”

You sigh, looking to the spots in the ceiling for patience. The sunlight brings you peace, but the next word Creel says shatters it, as he always fucking does. By now much of the market’s sound has quieted, everyone watching like damned vultures.

“Them.”

The courier’s eyes move back to you, and it seems the pieces finally slip into place for them. They fall back against the market wall, gasping in an extremely over dramatic way. They grasp their chest, the fabric of the cloak twisting.

“You- you- you’re- you-!” they stutter, and you can feel your face heat at how ridiculous this all is. Why couldn’t you have one day where you weren’t the damned center of attention? One normal, peaceful, quiet, under-dramatic day?

“You’re the Hunter!”

“-You’re the Hunter!” Asa chimes with the stuttering person, throwing a tiny fist in the air at your humiliating nickname. The person seems to stutter under their breath once again, before they faint back against the wall.

You stare blankly down at their collapsed form.

“...I didn’t even get to find out where the witch was, Creel.”

-

NEXT CHAPTER

[dcviated]

@rfn-margot sent: New icon inspires an ask for a new season; how is Raguna handling the weather? All those leaves all over the farm and home? (And town?)

Rune Factory is a great farm sim but like all games in its genre simplifies a lot of… things. Whether it’s the fact there’s not a single bathroom in the RF series that you can see or the quizzical state of technology. On the one hand we’re magic-wielding backwater towns and on the other we have airships and flamethrower tanks. What is it? Where even are we??? I’m reaching for concrete foundations from which to build up my own version of this world and left with so many choices I feel like I’m building my own world entirely.

Well. That’s fine.

All this a preamble for me to get into… there’s a fuckton of trees around Kardia and Trampoli. Fall comes around and we don’t have to do any raking? Are you kidding? The only person who gets an excuse is Micah in RF3 farming under a tree and I guess Ares in RF5 with the dragons up in the air… There’s gonna be leaves. Neither town Raguna has lived in are windy enough that he’d escape the wrath of leaves. But! I think he’d enjoy it! It’s busy work, sure- but there’s going to be at least one or two monster helpers with him that play in those leaves. And that brings much needed laughter to our solitary farmer. Because he needs socializing and doesn’t always get much prior to marriage.

Raguna isn’t immune to jumping into leaf piles himself. The guy can be silly, especially when people aren’t there to watch. This can and should be exploited by an ask or someone or something I am asking anyone reading this to take advantage of it and !! You know!! Don’t make me spell it out.

As for the weather? Thriving. I was actually going to make a post about this as I’ve made in the past, that despite being a spring lad and that being his favorite the fall is not too far behind. Summer has its benefits. Winter brings its reprieves. Spring brings the work drive and readiness to develop but … Autumn is a time of settling and savoring. Whether it’s the shift of climate into more temperate ranges or the resurgence of the seasonal tastes that are oh so appealing not just to enjoy but to make for others who enjoy.

Raguna particularly enjoys those soft warm evenings with a hot mug of something spiced to drink. Sitting on the porch and listening to the growing wind whistle through the branches or brush the tips of the plants through the fields. He’s a reflective person and this is something you can do in any season, sure. But it’s the drink that makes it. A drink you can savor best when you feel the chill just start to pull at your skin.

The cooler weather also brings with it warmer clothing. We’ve only seen Raguna in his one outfit (two others if you count the wedding scenes) but I 100% believe he is someone who likes wearing warm hats, scarves, and layers when he’s working outside. Compared to the hot season he’s escaping; this lets the lad actually break into his wardrobe! Okay, not too dramatic. Raguna isn’t stylish by any stretch, but he does have clothes and familiar pieces he likes to wear. Soft wool-lined pieces. Collars. What have you. COMFORT. COMFY.

Also sweaters. Girls wearing sweaters? Maybe that’s my bias.

Oh yeah. And Raguna grows a pumpkin patch to give to people to carve for the season!

He’ll carve some too! They look silly! Not very scary!

And he absolutely adores the markets and festivals.

But he doesn’t do the drinking thing still.

Anything else I’m forgetting? Hm.

[glyphron]

I'm just going to put this here.

There's a lot of memes about Lucas saying he's a God. But, first, people forget the concept of a God between the eastern and western world is vastly different. In the western world, a God is a super powerful being capable of doing almost anything. In the eastern world, a God can be as simple as a spirit with particular powers over an element or area. They're not as indestructible or omnipotent. Next, a better translation into English for Lucas' status would be "demigod." A being that is godlike but lives among men and operates within their society.

As for Lucas himself, he is definitely NOT full of himself. He lost his memories and had nothing but his notes to rely on to teach him about the world again. In which he discovers he has all these powers that no one else he's ever met has. And has to draw conclusions on that alone. Given the culture RF games reflects, it would not be out of line for him to conclude he is actually some sort of divine being. I mean, what other conclusion is there to come to?

So, now you have a demigod running around trying to coexist with normal and, frankly more delicate, humans. He is now trying to figure out how to be himself qithout hurting anyone, hence his list of taboos. And to add to that, we can assume he is not lying about any of his abilities. He displays more than half of them throughout the game, and they work exactly as he says they do. Why would he be lying about the rest? He has no reason to, especially given his personality.

He is not narcissistic. Far from it, actually. He tries to be responsible with his powers and not meddle in delicate affairs or solve everything for everyone else. Remaining rather neutral because, he truly believes its not his place to decipher what is wrong or right but to just maintain balance. And let humanity decide for itself what it wants to do. He is not controlling and does not expect reverence or praise for anything he does. Nor does he spend time pushing it people's faces. He only brings it up when people misconcieve what he is or what he's doing. Like when his powers are called magic tricks. In other words, he is simply clarifying with what seems to be the reality of them, the truth. That's not really a God complex, despite literally counting as an Eastern concept of a God.

In short, his character arc is rather fascinating and particularly good. I must admit, when I first heard of his claim, I too rolled my eyes and expected narcissistic tendencies and the like. What actually happened was not something I expected AT ALL and I'm so glad I gave him a chance. He actually IS a demigod in the realm of RF considering he has powers on par or similar to the Dragons that are actually worshipped as gods in that universe. His claims ate legitimate. He's not pushy about it just corrects people when they get it wrong, as is his right. No one in their right mind wants to be mislabeled or seen as something they aren't. And he genuinely wants to be a benevolent being but, not in the sense of controlling things to be "just so." Rather, benevolent in that, he doesn't want to disrupt people in making their own decisions and living their own lives their own way. So, he goes out of his way to make taboo anything that causes problems or disrupts people in either the short or long run and avoids them as much as possible. He's also very well spoken, rather charming, and gentlemanly. And one of my favorite characters in Rune Factory 5 so far.

I urge other players to shake off their prejudices and consider the source culture of the material and how that culture differs from ours, and give Lucas and his romance a fair chance. And see how they feel AFTER that.

[aashiyancha]

Observe as i continue to make Ares' life more chaotic with every post i make

(Here's the masterlist link for any newcomers who perchance on this post that may be interested in reading in order )

[durotoswrites]

I posted 728 times in 2022

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I tagged 559 of my posts in 2022

Only 23% of my posts had no tags

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Longest Tag: 128 characters

#i find myself just wandering around watching the wild horses or the foxes while i gather waaaaay too many cooking ingredients <3

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The Shy Newcomer Update

It is with happy tears in my eyes as I type this!  I know it’s been a long time coming, and I thank you so much for your patience.  A new chapter of The Shy Newcomer has been posted! 🥰

(Cover art commissioned by the talented @acediee​!) 

Chapter 123: Healing

Summary:   Cliff and Gray finally start to realize they aren't alone.

Read on

Archive of Our Own

or

Fanfiction

Preview under the cut!

“You ever play?” Duke didn't turn to face him; he was studying the handwriting as if to etch it into his mind.

Cliff shook his head. A few of the bars he had stopped in to warm up during his travels had boards mounted to the wall, and there were sometimes a few people wagering a friendly game of darts.

“I don't know how the scoring works, but I've seen people play.”

Duke retrieved a handsome emerald-colored set of darts and stepped back to a worn piece of tape on the floor Cliff hadn't been aware of until then. Duke hesitated before handing him a set of his own, twirling one of the darts in his fingers with a sad smile.

“I'll go first and give you an idea of how it goes.”

Cliff's eyes were drawn to the darts that had been given to him. Holographic purple butterflies and a stylized capital letter a decorated the flights; it couldn’t be more obvious who used them most frequently.

“Alright, it's been a hot minute for me, so I'm gonna warm up. Used to play all the time at Doug's back in the day. Me, Manna, Jeff, Sasha, Rod... Heck, even Gotz and Hilda would join sometimes. We'd play regularly.” He twirled the dart by the barrel between his thumb and index fingers, watching the flight reflect the light from above them. “Ah, simpler times, for sure...”

He threw his first dart and Cliff wasn't sure if it was a particularly good throw or not. It was closer to the center of the target, but the curse mumbled under Duke's breath indicated that didn't necessarily make it a good shot. He waited for Duke to explain the scoring, but his mind was clearly focused on something else.

“Got a little harder to play once everyone started having kids... Once Ann got a little older and more active, it was hard to keep her out of the bar at night. Poor girl would get nightmares near nightly, so Doug tried to keep her behind the bar where he could keep an eye on her.”

Another toss. The smirk on Duke's lips told Cliff it was a decent one.

“Ann is Doug's daughter, but... she's got a lot of honorary godparents. We all look after our own, so when Felicity passed, everyone did their best to help Doug keep it together. Losing a family member... it's hell.”

Duke threw the final dart and it missed the board completely, landing right between the eyes of the illustration of a snowman on the calendar.

“Sorry there, Frosty. Guess we're havin' snow cones tonight.” He retrieved the dart and turned around, his dark eyes boring into Cliff. “But I guess I don't need to tell you how rough it is, huh?”

Cliff's knees felt a bit weak. He had recalled exactly how his mother's voice had sounded, something he had previously thought lost. “It's been on my mind a lot lately,” he confessed.

“So I've heard. Parents and sister, huh? I imagine that's a bit of a one-two punch...”

The chill of the wine cellar crept into Cliff's veins. “How do you know that?”

49 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

Reinhard, you’re allowed to eat real food...

69 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

#3

See the full post

235 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#2

Me, writing: has outline and theme planned

Also me:

479 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I couldn’t help myself when I saw the Grandpa’s messed up bed meme floating around.

1,149 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[daggerblacker]

Another one of my favorite scenes from my writing. This one's from page 160-ish of World War We.

Link to full book: daggerblacker.gumroad.com/l/nqzgnk

Summary: Stroy the brash and overconfident warrior attempts to take on an army of a hundred skilled combatants to win them over to her side of a flailing rebellion. Emphasis on Attempt, there.

"The Steelweaver outpost cropped up as abrupt as a sword through the bottom jaw, an honor-monger’s favorite attack for the quick, easy, painless death as the point pierced the brain. It was constructed of just two thick, steel legs, and the post was just a platform. A weaver sat cross-legged on it, gripping a pair of binoculars. Two whistles sounded, for two intruders.

The foundry drifted into view, a series of pipes emitting white smoke as clangs rang out through the community. New crates of unmolten steel occupied a small lot next to the building, barrels bundled by the dozen next to it. Sights like this were common at Blake’s, supplies going in, products going out.

Neat rows of sterling hatches lined the entrance, and I leaned over to catch my reflection in one as Lonnie guided the Grumbler through an open section of the tall, silver gate surrounding the encampment. The thick ringlets on my head were mussed, flying off in every direction like runaway welding sparks. My face, as usual, was the face of a stud, though. When in doubt, my good looks could get us through this. I just had to not look like a child murderer.

Some curious, gear-clad factory-workers shuffled outside as the Steelweavers emerged from their bunkers. The Grumbler rolled to a stop, and Fence, ever the fierce dramatic, leapt over the car in a whoosh of red and alighted in front of the gathering crowd. She didn’t bare her teeth, but a low growl thundered through her, a warning. Now, she was seeing my side of things. Better to come in hot and swinging than peaceful-like and end up getting fucked over. Again.

“Stay here,” I muttered over my shoulder to Lonnie as I slid over the door. I shrugged out of my cloak to flash my tats, leaving it in a pile on the passenger seat.

The Weavers all wore their glimmering weapons on their backs, hips, and hands. Bows tensed at the ready with silver arrows nocked. Palms on hilts and handles, alike. Here, a bronze mace swinging from a sling. There, a black sword that gleamed so mirror-like, the clouds swirled within the blade.

Their chaps were silver, instead of the usual tan. The hide of an aged batbuck, maybe even one that was already dead. While those from the factory wore helmets of a dull plastic probably recycled at that very plant, everyone from underground sported the true mark of a Steelweaver: Ornate silver helmets with weaver-runes inscribed on them, and two pairs of antlers jutting out of the tops. The antlers, by rule, were of the shed-seasonally variety. Procured by non-violent means. Honorable means.

Only one of the Steelweavers wore a golden helmet, and she stepped forward to glare at Fence hard. “Stroy the BiterRider,” she said, grimacing like she smelled something worse than the shittiest shit. “I don’t remember sending for you.”

I sidled up next to Fence, and she crossed a paw over me protectively. “You didn’t.” Slow-like, I drew Blackblood. Some stragglers were just joining the crescent-shaped crowd surrounding us. Now, the antlers were so clustered and branched, it appeared that thousands of Weavers had gathered, instead of just maybe a hundred at most. A battle illusion that was only reserved for their enemies. Blackblood’s handle slipped lower in my slick palms, and I had to wipe my hands on my chaps to get a proper grip again. “I came to make a plea, as one of you. A Weaver.”

Golden Helmet had to lean over to look me in the eyes, her shadow rivaling Fence’s in size as it eclipsed my face. She was bunker-brown, maybe early thirties. Not halfpeel—her eyes were only dark gray—but noting that made something prickly as an overgrown dustcup path ripple through my stomach. None of them were halfpeels, all the mutants had been sifted out of the entire population of the Weaver outpost. That proove, or maybe that other one, had swept through to collect them all. John Jefferson. Or James Washington. “We only hear pleas from Weavers,” she snarled, her breath stinging with the smell of untreated liquor. “All I’m looking at is a kid-killer.”

So that made two prooves, and two sudden bastions of untreated booze. The cliffclinger club, now this. In his cellar, I knew from shirtless, sweaty experience, Karr kept barrels of aged liquors and wines of every variety, brandy, vodka, beer, cherry wine, all untreated. Now, it was clicking into place so well an audible metallic clunk echoed at the back of my mind. Jefferson was bribing the Weavers with booze, real booze. The cliffclingers, too.

That was how something like a family of three being skinned on a train was kept quiet. Right there, in front of that rank-breathed Weaver, I flashed back to something Ma had said after weaning me and Joplin off of Quell. The exact words escaped me, but the gist was that it took compliant subjects to get away with being power hungry, sure, but it took knowing allies to smother information.

“How could you?”

The sick thing is, she didn’t even bother to feign surprise. Just grinned this wicked kind of grin that reminded me of the proove from the train. “It’s easy, you just tip your head back and swallow.” Her eyes slid down to Blackblood. “Seems to me you thought you could pass this forgery off as a genuine Steelweaver production.”

While I’d never been on the reeiving end of this move, I knew it to be the traditional Gustblood Freeze-Out. Something I couldn’t afford to be on the receiving end of ever, but the world couldn’t right now. “The kids they’ll have,” I said, fast, before she could announce the ‘forgery’ to her clan, “you think they’ll just let humans live peacefully? Die out on our own time? It’ll be a Homo Sapian-cide.”

“It’ll be none of my—our—business.”

I said, “You think a taller fence will save you?” at the same time that she made a motion for everyone to clang their weapons. The furry hat flaps over my ears did nothing to keep the ringing at bay. Piercing, white hot, and ear to ear.

Gold Helmet was talking to them, saying something, but my ears took a while to regain their function. The only reason I could hear Fence was she was in my head, “Don’t. This is wrong, yes, we’ll find another way.”

But there was no other way. Without the Weavers, Lonnie, Fence, and I alone didn’t stand a chance against whatever founding freakling was lurking in the Shraps. My hearing came back slowly as I said what I said next, “Article Five of Honorable Duel Rules. Section Seven, line nine-hundred-eight. I invoke it. I invoke a Rally by Mutual Combat.”

The only reason I knew about the rule was Barb. She’d described how her aunt had used it to rally a clan of cliffclingers. With the cliffies, her aunt successfully raided a camp of thieves, stealing back the plans she would use to build the first car of the quasi.

Of course, stories always have this way of sounding easy and sweet.

Again, Goldie didn’t flinch at the suggestion, didn’t raise an eyebrow though her peers did, muttering amongst themselves guesses as to who would volunteer as representative. You see, if one wins a Rally by Mutual Combat, the group the losing representative belongs to must fight at the winning party’s side. Just as an honorable good-turn, following the rules. Basically, a bunch of duel-purist bullshit I didn’t typically subscribe to.

People shoudn’t have to fight if they don’t want to. That’s why I would never make Fence fight for me. But, in a roundabout kind of way, I was just trying to make the Weavers fight for themselves, for humans, our existence as lingering germs from a recent apocalypse. Whether we died out or not, there was no way we were folding into those fucking prooves. “Who will it be?”

Goldie grinned big in a way I knew she’d been waiting to, this one looked painful, cleaving her face into two nasty halves. “What do you mean ‘who?’” She drew a sword from a holster on her back. The blade dragged across the leather with a hiss that rang out like a dust-darter’s deathrattle. It was wide, heavy, the blade as thick as my leg and just as dark. It had a black handle that was carved from the Woven Wood on the Steelweaver island way off the West Coast to resemble black antlers in her grip. “You want the Weavers? You’re gonna have to defeat us all. Article Five, Section Seven, line three-thousand. A group doesn’t have to designate a representative, that’s just the more honorable method. You don’t deserve our honor.”

Lonnie leaned out of the Grumbler. “That’s not a fair fight, one on one-hundred?”

Goldie only shrugged. “It’s not fair, but it’s by the book. Article Five, Section Three, line sixty-eight. Invokers fight alone, always. You are the aggressor, aren’t you?”

Fence gave a long, loud, mournful howl to my back as I said, “Let’s go!”

The Steelweavers met me like a lone tree in a holy, torrential flood. Goldie’s black sword took off the tallest curls on the top of my head when I ducked. For all my effort, I was granted a clubbing across the face. Blood welled in one corner of my mouth, and I expelled it through the gap in my two front teeth.

The club was in the hand of a Weaver with the reflexes of a proove. I would’ve complimented his fancy footwork, booth booths darting between each other so he was never still, but he brought that club down, again, before I could utter a word.

I swung Blackblood up to bite into the black wood of the club. This tore it out of his hands, and I cracked it in two with another hack, braced against the ground. With any other bandit, this probably would’ve just been a minor hiccup, but an honor-monger didn’t fight with their fists. Once the weapon was out of commission, so were they. And that little loophole was my only hope of winning this.

The former club-owner slunk onto the sidelines, taking a seat next to a helmeted Weaver on their lunch break, clutching a half-eaten EatIt in one hand while thrusting the other into the air with a cheer as another impressive Steelweaver bore down on me. This one had her antlers aimed at my face, a pair of brass knuckles laced through her fingers and ready to maim what remained of me when her antlers were done.

A shout ripped through me so bloody spittle sprayed out of my mouth as I willed those antlers to bend. My powers only just stopped them, the longest one bone white and dagger sharp inches from my face. The antlers snapped upward, and the Weaver’s neck backward.

She collapsed in front of me as three of her peers replaced her, all slashing, one with a sword, one with a single-bladed axe, and the last with a spear. There’s no question about being slashed in a situation where three blades are involved, its only a matter of how many times. I received three before my head was even clear enough to steer my arms.

I swung Blackblood after the last, a third along my chest, taking off half of the sword, the entire axe, and the tip of the spear in one swoop. From their faces, I was, at least, pleased to know now there was no disputing Blackblood’s origin.

Goldie renewed her effort, thrusting her sword through where my body was five seconds too late at every exertion. I couldn’t afford to stay in the same place for a third of half of a second, let alone five as her slow, heavy hand slashed down again and again and again.

The three cuts were shallow, stretching from the shoulder to my hip, but they stung like all hell and the blood streaming out of them soaked my sleeveless undershirt so it felt like a thick, wet, blacket around me. After a few dodges, Goldie grazed my shoulder, the tip of her wide blade splitting my skin there. A flap of flesh peeled away from me, there. More blood. Fucking shit.

I swung Blackblood, disarming a Weaver aiming a sling. She retired to the sidelines. Five down, ninety-five-ish to go.

A drove of Steelweavers came at me, flashing their teeth and weapons, but I propelled them back with my powers. Sweat rolled over every dust-covered centimeter of me.

A silver arrow rocketed across my face, barely missing my jugular. Another rained down from behind me, streaking past my shoulder and tearing through my left calf. A cheap shot, a sucker’s method. My own dirty tricks used against me.

The arrow embedded in the ground, a long strip of my blood-slickened flesh snagged under the tip.

I stumbled backward. That’s when I lost, but I was a good enough warrior to know I would’ve lost sooner rather than later, arrow or no arrow. There were just too many of them. Wave upon wave, individual after individual. Slashing, hacking, roaring, wishing me dead.

Goldie came upon me first, a smirk smeared across her face as if she were already gazing down at a savory kill. She didn’t brag, that wasn’t an honor-monger’s way, but she wore that fucking smirk. The Weaver in the golden helmet raised her wide, dark sword. “Any last words?”

I groaned on the ground. My hand had gone numb so I was no longer sure if the blood flowing between my fingertips was hot or cold. If I was holding my shoulder or my calf. If I was dead or alive. But she extended those three words to me, ever by-the-book.

Her compatriots grinned down, holstering their weapons. A few held their own wounds, a bloodied nose, a broken hand. The one with brass-knuckles lay dead at my feet, but Goldie stood over her, a boot on either side of her snapped neck.

Above us, the sky had curdled into a sick kind of purple. An imperfect, ever-shifting color. I thought that was pretty, and would’ve said as much if a silver, eight-pronged disc didn’t lodge in Goldie’s throat.

Before anyone could register what happened, Goldie grunted, her brow furrowing deep in a rage I’d never seen. She pulled the gear out of her jugular, revealing the depth of the gash, the injury stretching all the way to the nape of her neck. The gear in her fist, her eyes glaring past me, Goldie’s head lolled to the side.

Her body landed with a thud, her sword skittering out of the holster and across the ground with a metallic clatter.

When my shoulder heaved, and my whole body jolted upward, I figured Fence had me in her maw. But it wasn’t Fence. She was standing solemn next to the Grumbler. It was Lonnie.

She heaved me to my feet, and I stood, shivering, bleeding. “That’s enough. I’ll be taking her, and this—” Lonnie popped a compartment open on the gearspitter, snatching the bloodied gear out of Goldie’s hand and popping it into the chamber. She aimed it at the gaping crowd. “Don’t follow.”

Lonnie gave me her shoulder to lean on as I stumbled to the passenger side of the Grumbler, sliding into the seat with a groan. She took her place behind the wheel, and that was that. An honorable end to the world’s biggest ass-beating."

[iilelio]

Weird watching Nintendo see how well rune factory 5 did the gay marriage thing how much sales reflected how happy it made players and only now are they making other farm/monster fighting sims w a sprinkle of gay bc it's idk trendy now?

[e-m-yl]

First guardian: we will put him in a really tall very expensive looking tower which you can only get into through the unescapable monster realm. We’ll even name it after him.

Last guardian: just chuck her in the forest bois

[sysig]

Greed actually might be my favourite cave, I’m sad it’s the last cave if it’s this quality