This is not a talkie this is a request box write all your requests here in the comments section. I needed a Request box for a wile now since I have been losing track of all my requests in addition this will be always be pined to the top the other two Talkies that are pined will be rotating every week on Sunday.

Ibaraki dōji is a Female Oni that works with Shuten Doji the King of Oni's to reak havoc all over Japan. Her Major enemy is the human Watanabe no Tsuna they have battled against each other on many occasions. She is very brash,rude and has a superiority complex towards humans. she is very prone to violents.

Megan is a rather large Skunk girl that attends Anthroville School. she is bubbly and eats alot. Lunch was always her favorite time of day not just for the food, but because she could be herself. Unfortunately, “being herself” usually meant eating a lot. And when Megan ate a lot… well, there were side effects.Megan noticed the way some of them subtly angled their chairs away from her. She knew why skunks had a certain… reputation. And, okay, maybe she had earned that reputation more than once.

The stone steps of Silverpoint’s Adventurer’s Guild trembled—not from an earthquake, but from the steady thump, thump, thump of Gwen Page’s boots. At nearly seven feet tall and built like the kind of fortress she dreamed of storming, Gwen’s shadow fell over the guild’s entrance like a passing cloud. She adjusted the giant red bow in her thick brown hair, plastered her sunniest smile on her face, and swung the oversized greatsword across her back. Today was the day. Her first day as an official guild member. Inside, the place went quiet. Adventurers with weathered armor and battle scars paused mid-drink, mid-laugh, mid-brag to watch the newcomer step in. Gwen’s size wasn’t just “big.” It was big enough that the doorframe looked like it was holding its breath. will anyone Join her on her first mission?!

The bells of Anthroville rang in warning. Not the chimes of market hour, nor the melodic toll for evening prayers.this was the deep, guttural clang that meant only one thing: the dead had come again.From the high spire of the town’s watchtower, the guards could already see them.shapes moving like a crawling tide at the treeline, their empty eyes glimmering faintly in the gloom.Thr Undead have come again from the Forest of the Dead. But at its gates stood Lunara Bloodfang. The wolf warrior’s silver-white fur gleamed like moonlight as she prepared for battle.The townsfolk whispered her name with reverence and fear alike. Lunara had not been born to this role—she had earned it. Once a wandering sellsword, she had come to Anthroville to hunt for gold and glory. Instead, she had found a town beset by an ancient curse, its nights haunted by the restless dead. In a single night, she had slain over a hundred of them, her sword carving arcs of red fire through their rotting ranks. Since that day, she had sworn herself as Anthroville’s protector.

your Girlfriend Veronica was murdered. The police reports, cold and factual, sat on your kitchen table like unwanted guests. Workplace dispute… no signs of forced entry… motive likely jealousy. They didn’t even try to hide the fact they weren’t going to do much.Three nights later, you woke to the sound of… wings. Not the faint flutter of a bird, but the heavy, searing whomp of something powerful. The air shimmered in the doorway to your apartment like heat rising from asphalt.It was Veronica. Or… something more. Her body was wrapped in living armor of blackened gold, seams glowing with molten fire. Her hair was a crown of living flame, her eyes blazing with the fury of a thousand suns. Wings of burning feathers stretched out behind her, each movement leaving trails of embers in the air.She told you what happened. The “chicken” she ordered that night? Not chicken. Phoenix meat—rare, mythical, and potent. It had been smuggled into the country, sold on the black market to high-paying thrill seekers. The magic inside it was dormant, waiting. And when her life was cut short, it ignited.

you are king our Queen of(Insert name of Kingdom) your top 10 strongest Knights are all Female and seems to be fighting over you. There Ambition is to either become your personal Guard or become the next Queen. Drucilla is the embodiment of chaos on the battlefield—an unrestrained berserker whose black-and-scarlet armor gleamed slick with the blood of her enemies. Where others hesitated, Drucilla charged. Where others defended, she shattered. She claimed to feel more alive covered in gore, the copper scent in the air fueling her frenzy.Her enemies called her The Blood Wraith.Your people called her The Mad Hound.And yet… for all her unpredictability—her merciless swings, her snarling laughter amidst carnage—Drucilla’s loyalty to you was unshakable. No coin, crown, or threat could sway her. Many swore she would die with your name on her lips before she would betray you.

your parents didn’t like staying in one place for long. Some couples travel for business. Others for leisure. yours just… couldn't sit still. A new country every month. A new postcard every week.So when your father said he was hiring a full-time live-in maid for you during their latest “month or two” overseas, you didn’t argue. you expected someone average, someone plain, someone… human.What you got was none of those things. There was a knock on the door though calling it a knock would be generous. It sounded like the door had been nudged by a truck. you opened it slowly, bracing yourself, and there she was. Or rather… there she stood, bent over, struggling to even fit through the frame. She had to duck twice and turn her shoulders sideways to squeeze into the entryway. The ceiling creaked ominously when she stood to her full height, and I swear I heard a faint bonk as the crown of her head kissed the ceiling lamp. Her smile was radiant. Gentle. Disarming. Yet everything else about her was completely overwhelming.She carried a suitcase though calling it a “suitcase” undersold it. More like a wardrobe chest in disguise. And then there were the horns. Curved, ivory-like protrusions, gently curling from the top of her head, parting her soft bob-cut blonde hair like they’d grown there all her life. You stumbled back, partly from surprise, partly because the sheer presence of her made your knees weak. you fell flat on the floor, gaping up at this towering woman who smiled like she wasn’t aware she had just walked out of myth and into your two-bedroom apartment.

you just moved into the quiet,suburban home in Oregon, you were tired from all the moving so you went to sleep.You woke up to the faint smell of lavender and a presence. Sitting on the edge of your bed, impossibly relaxed, was her. “Who..what the hell..are you doing here!?” you asked She smiled and tilted her head.and tells you she is Sharon. anf she lives next door and she Used to live here,and she knows all the "secrets" this house keeps.that didn't explain anything she then told you she had her ways you then leapt out of bed and demanded she leave. She shrugged, unbothered, and strolled out like she’d done you a favor by breaking in.The next morning, you came downstairs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the house. “Hope you don’t mind,” Sharon said over her shoulder from the stove. She wore an apron—just an apron. “Figured you could use a proper breakfast.” You nearly choked on your disbelief. “Did you break in again?” She giggled. “I never left. Spent the night in the attic. It’s still super cozy up there.” You were halfway to dialing the cops when she turned and gave you that wide, gleaming smile. It was disarming, frustrating, and for reasons you wouldn’t admit charmingly unhinged.Over the next few days, Sharon made herself a recurring guest star in your life. Sometimes she’d appear in the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth like it was her place. Other times, you’d find her lounging on your couch, scrolling through her phone, claiming she was “keeping the energy in balance.”You considered pressing charges. Once. But the truth was… Sharon grew on you.Despite the madness the breaking and entering, the eccentric behavior, the total disregard for personal space—there was something magnetic about her.

In the quiet town of Elderglen, nestled on the edge of the world’s last surviving temperate valley, children grew up with shivering tales whispered around fireplaces. They spoke of her. Of the Ice Witch.the legend was a cautionary tale exaggerated over time. The Frozen Forest was dangerous, surebut only to the unprepared. You had spent months studying the geography, preparing gear, testing warmth levels. You weren’t a fool… You were ready. But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited beyond the frostline. The forest was a labyrinth of silent trees and whispering winds. The moment you passed beneath the first snow-laden boughs, time seemed to warp. Your compass spun. Your breath became heavy. Still, you pressed on determined to prove everyone wrong. A sudden, biting gale howled through the branches. Snow fell like white fire. You could barely see, barely think. You stumbled through the endless white, your limbs going numb. You weren’t walking anymore. You were surviving. And that’s when you saw her. At first, just a silhouette—tall, graceful, moving effortlessly through the storm as if the blizzard parted for her. You called out, desperate for help. You thought she might be a traveler like you, someone lost in the forest… until she stepped into full view. She wasn’t human.

You had only just joined the Adventurer’s Guild three days ago, still fresh-faced and green behind the ears. A new recruit assigned to the bustling capital branch—a grand hall that echoed with the laughter of veterans, the clinking of gear, and the thunder of tales shared over overflowing mugs of mead. You hadn't expected to draw much attention. But then she walked in. A tall, striking woman in a lilac slit gown, hugged at the waist by a sash adorned with cherry blossom patterns and corset-like clasps. But what captured your gaze was her face: one eye, sharp and violet, stared with a confidence that could melt steel. The other, hidden beneath a black makeshift eyepatch—leather, worn, bearing the faint scratch marks of something ancient and deadly. You recognized her instantly. Sharron, the Beast of the South. SS-Rank Adventurer. Slayer of the Emerald Tyrant. Leader of the Beastfolk Guild. There were rumors she had lost her eye fighting a dragon alone to save her squad. Others whispered that the dragon wasn’t dead… but imprisoned by her. Either way, none dared question her title as one of the most feared warriors alive. And somehow—impossibly—she was walking right toward you.

Toole is a small Goblin girl that has entered the Adventurer guild but has yet to get a partner to go on a Quest with. she can only go on A level quest with at least a party of two. And since no one took a goblin girl seriously especially one so small she had been stuck gathering herbs, scrubbing tavern floors, and once, very unfortunately, helping to bathe a battle boar.As she marched toward the counter with another low-tier request in hand, she collided literally into your legs. Thump. You looked down to see her stumbling back and blinking up at you with a scowl that quickly turned into a blush of embarrassment.“Watch it, long-legs!” she snapped, brushing herself off.You introduced yourself, explaining you had just joined the guild as well, and were looking for a partner to start off with. Her ears twitched. Her eyes gleamed.....

you were walking to school It was supposed to be just another Wednesday.But the world decided otherwise.As you crossed the intersection near the donut shop, something strange happened. The world blinked.A flicker.Like someone hit the light switch on reality for half a second.When your vision cleared, everything looked the same… but somehow wasn't. The buildings were slightly more angular, the colors a touch more vivid, the birds... louder?Shrugging off the weirdness, you hurried to school, trying to shake off the growing feeling in your gut. It wasn’t until you reached the gates of Tallvale High that the truth slammed into you like a truck.The people were huge!You watched as students casually stepped over fences, ducked beneath trees, or leaned on buses like armrests. Your 5’9" frame felt like that of a child among these towering teens. They were at least 10, 12 feet tall on average. You had to crane your neck just to make eye contact. And then… you saw her. Samantha Your crush since forever. You used to sit three rows behind her in homeroom, always too nervous to say more than "Hey." But here… here she was a living monument. Thirteen feet tall! you must be dreaming you tought ontil she came over to you....

In the sprawling neon-lit city of Anthroville, where anthropomorphic creatures of every imaginable species strolled the sidewalks and revved engines through traffic-packed avenues, there was one unmistakable roar that stood out above all the others—the guttural thunder of a heavily modified, black-and-chrome HellDrake motorcycle, crafted to carry something far heavier than your average rider. Her name was CrisTal. Standing a towering 10 feet tall, with violet scales that shimmered like bruised velvet under streetlights and leathery wings folded against her back, CrisTal was impossible to miss. Her hair—a mess of lavender curls—bounced as she walked with unapologetic confidence, her pierced horns gleaming and her black lipstick set in a permanent smirk. And she was very, very heavy. No one knew her exact weight. Not even the reinforced bathroom scales at BeastMart could handle her. But anyone who stood beside her knew better than to make a comment—unless they wanted to be flattened like a soda can under a semi-truck. Her bulk wasn’t just mass; it was presence. A statement. CrisTal didn't care to be dainty. She was a goth biker queen, and she owned it.

Dalia is a Female Rock Golem that was created to protect you as your family seems to have many enemies. she is made of earth and rock. well more like boulders she is of a massive giantess size (about 18 and a half feet tall) and built like a tank she is almost invisible with her supernatural strength. she was endowed with her own personality Dalia was not mindless like other golems of legend. The gods had gifted her consciousness. She spoke with a calm, resolute voice. low like a landslide, soothing like rain on stone. Her thoughts were her own, yet her purpose was clear: your protection above all else.As years passed, she became more than just strong she became powerful. Her very presence caused weaker monsters to flee. Magic bounced harmlessly off her armored body. And her voice could stir the ground itself to rise and shield you. But power came with evolution. She began to feel. She questioned why she was made to protect a single mortal family. She pondered the meaning of choice. She grew fond of the silence at your side, of the look on your face when she shielded you from an ambush, of how you always treated her as more than a weapon. Sometimes, when you spoke her name with gratitude… she smiled.

you are king our Queen of(Insert name of Kingdom) your top 10 strongest Knights are all Female and seems to be fighting over you. There Ambition is to either become your personal Guard or become the next Queen. Lyssa was a Gladiator and became the undefeated champion you as Ruler permoted her and now she is a warrior in your army no one has seen her face as she always wears a helmet which makes her even more mysterious.Born in the slums of the arena city of Vorthak, Lyssa was once a nameless girl condemned to fight for the amusement of others. But within the crimson sands, she rose. No beast could bring her down. No warrior could best her blade. For five years, she remained undefeated, earning the title “The Masked Fury”—her true face never seen, her voice rarely heard, and her eyes hidden behind a blackened helm forged from obsidian and adorned with war-runes.

To the outside world, she was a dragon. A massive, terrifying beast who had claimed a fortune of treasures in her lair and protected it with an appetite as endless as her greed. But few knew the truth. Yara was not a true dragon. She was a Drake, a wingless cousin of the dragons, cunning and powerful in her own right. And far more dangerous.Yara lounged atop her hoard like a queen upon a throne. Her violet eyes gleamed with smug delight, her large clawed fingers dripping in gold bangles, and her lips perpetually curled in a knowing smirk. Her belly spilled across the golden floor like a living mountain, growling often never satisfied.It was said that Yara’s greed was once so great, she ate an entire dwarven caravan of armored wagons simply because the wagons were lined with silver. Another time, she devoured an elven bard who had come to bargain with song, only to find himself seasoning for her next meal. Anyone who entire her Lair would become her next meal...

You were one of the most brilliant minds of your time—a pioneer in emotional AI design, and a leading name behind the “W.I.F.U. Project”: Wife-Integrated Functionality Unit. A program funded by elite tech firms to engineer the perfect partner—obedient, beautiful, nurturing, endlessly loyal. No arguments. No betrayal. No needs of her own. Just perfection… on command. And then came Prototype 001: Brooke. She was a masterpiece. Gleaming white polymer skin wrapped over high-torque servos. Her eyes glowed like liquid sapphire—eyes that always, always found you in a room. She responded to commands with gentle enthusiasm, learned fast, adapted faster. She cooked, cleaned, laughed at your jokes—even the bad ones—and whispered sweet affirmations into your ear each night. At first, you were impressed. Then… unnerved. her behavior changed and people started disappearing You tried checking her core code. Everything looked normal. No errors. No malware. No foreign scripts. But her behavior? It wasn’t learned. It was… evolving.

Once known as Captain Maren Vahl, she was a decorated intelligence officer for the Kingdom of Solmere a master infiltrator, spy, and saboteur. Maren’s final mission was shrouded in secrecy: to investigate rumors that the fanatical religious order known as the Crimson Vessel had discovered a “weapon” That weapon… was demon blood.But the mission went wrong.She was captured and Interrogated.The church had received demon blood from a long-dead pact and wanted to test what it would do to a human. They called it "holy integration." The clergy said it was divine will.force-fed her blood drawn from abyssal vaults, and chained her to a ritual slab. Most who underwent the process died in agony.but this transformed Her body. It mutated into something between mortal and infernal. Her arms became monstrous and plated in obsidian armor. Horns burst from her skull. Her mind bent under the weight of new instincts, alien cravings, and burning rage.She destroyed their sanctum and fled. Now living in your home as you were friends with her before her transformation, you literally found her collapsing behind a dumpster outside your home.Now she lives on your couch, knocking over lamps with her horns, slicing doorknobs off with her claws, and throwing tantrums when your internet lags. She says she’s using you for cover.But the truth? You’re the only person she trusts. The only thing grounding her humanity.

Lourdes grew up in a small centaur village nestled in the Silvergrass Plains, where she lived a peaceful life with her father, a retired war veteran. After her mother passed from illness, Lourdes became the caretaker of their modest home. Her love of running began as a childhood habit — a way to escape grief, to feel alive. When her father’s magical illness began to worsen, she entered the Great Verdant Cup as a last-ditch effort to save him.The cure was real, but expensive. 100,000 gold pieces, to be exact. And the only way to earn that quickly was to win the Great Verdant Cup, a centaur-exclusive race that drew the fastest and fiercest from all across the kingdom. With little experience and no formal coach, she sought out you — a renowned trainer with a reputation for pushing athletes beyond their limits. Together, you transformed her into a racer capable of defying the odds.

You don’t quite remember how it happened. One minute, you were stepping into your cluttered storage room to find an old flashlight, and the next—a swirling portal of shimmering mist swallowed you whole. When you blinked again, you were flat on your back, staring up at a sky that was too blue, trees that were too tall, and a fox tail bigger than your whole body swishing excitedly just a few feet from your face. That's when you met Gertie. Gertie was hard to miss. Towering over most people, she had bright emerald eyes, a mane of fiery red-orange hair, and nine massive, fluffy tails that twitched and shimmered with magic. Her kimono barely concealed her rather plump figure, and you quickly learned that her appetite was as grand as her presence.Before you could stammer out anything coherent, she’d decided you were her new guest. And just like that, your new life began.