#five word story

[mushramoo]

it’s so weird to me that ppl are like “u can’t like William Afton cos he’s a murderer” bro ppl simp for murderers in fiction all the time? Jeff the Killer? Jason? Slenderman lol? he’s fun and he’s got a lot of potential, as long as ur not simping for irl murderers I really don’t see the issue with it. Let me think my murderer is goofy in peace

#I think part of it might be how little the story focuses on the kids #cos I do really wish we got more info on them #but I mean fnaf in general I wish the lore was expanded #that’s a post for another day lol #fnaf #fnaf fandom #william afton #I’m not proship btw. just thought I’d mention that since I used the word fiction and ppl tend to assume #fnaf william afton #purple guy #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddy's

[paimonial-rage]

simple - alhaitham

synopsis: in which kaveh says you’re normal. alhaitham disagrees

ship: alhaitham x reader

notes: mistakenly written for a title prompt before realizing it was asked for a specific character

You’re the simplest person he knows. So incredibly simple, predictable, uncomplicated—sometimes he wonders how you manage to live such a life.

Personally, Alhaitham considers his life simple as well. He wakes up at the same time everyday, completes his work easily, leaves at the usual scheduled time on the hour, makes dinner, and goes to sleep. That is his life day in and out with the occasional change. But you’re not simple the same way he is. Your life isn’t as scheduled. And yet you are still simple.

Truly and irrevocably simple.

You dislike it when he calls you such. But can you blame him? You daily nag him about eating better, and yet everyday he sees you looking guiltily with a bag of greasy food from the Grand Bazaar. You struggle to make decisions and will often ask him for help, yet when he gives you his response, you’ll always choose the opposite option of his suggestion. He finds himself having to scold you everyday for mumbling under your breath while doing paperwork.

When he mentioned his thoughts to Kaveh, the architect grumbled that his observations were not indicative of the makings of a simple person. He said that you were just normal. Every human being had habits like that. But Kaveh was wrong.

You’re not normal. You’re simple.

If you weren’t simple, why else do you have such a disturbingly loud sneeze despite being so manners obsessed? Why else do you purchase so many notebooks despite knowing you’re not going to use a single one? Why else do you lose your pricey pens at the same rate Kaveh loses mora?

You’re simple.

You’re simple to him.

And he can’t stop thinking about it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #character x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #inspired by a convo with @milkstore #hopefully it’s okay to post this haha… #the wording of that last sentence is not a mistake #i tried the show not tell approach #i can explain this if need be though #the prompt for this is 'blackhole' #for being ridiculously short this is actually in my top five favorite stories haha #idk i really like this one for some reason #title prompt requests are still open! #you can read milk's tags for an explanation haha #my writing

[jojo-schmo]

Hello ms bubble wizard mage maam', I was just wondering what are your thoughts on magolor regarding how he's apparently **highly aware** of all characters to ever exist in the kirbyverse

Also its become a trend where god is replaced with NOVA in the expressions... Do they know?

Ello ello!

I like Magolor a lot, but he is omniscient? That's news to me. Is there a source for that? :O Unless you're talking about that Magoverse trend I saw floating around a while back- I didn't see much but what I did encounter reminded me of all the different Sans Undertale AUs out there. Hehehe Magolor is quite versatile! What fun.

And I know people use Nova as an expletive when writing Kirby characters! It's cool!

I use profanity in real life but I personally try to not associate Kirby characters with it in the works I make. I want to diversify the vernacular of the citizens of Popstar so I made a small list of expletives I thought of, lol. They should have a variety of things to yell out when they stub their feet or an apple falls on their head! So I get randomly inspired out in the world and I make sure to write them down!

I remember seeing someone have the characters use expletives based on food, like for example, "For the love of shortcake!" or things like that. That idea's fun!! (If you are the person who had this headcanon and are reading this please tell me so I can credit you for it!)

Does anyone else have expletives/exclamations they write for Kirby characters? Please share them if you do heehee. It makes the world building feel more fleshed out and creative >:3

#ask #headcanon #magolor #also if you use profanity in your Kirby works that is totally fine!! Everyone writes differently and has preferences #as long as a writer isn't going into like... problematic territory? But that's a pretty extreme boundary to cross #I don't think the average Kirby creator/enjoyer crosses into extreme or inappropriate territory. (at least I hope) #and I do sometimes find it funny to see a Kirby character say a bad word lmao! #But I personally would not make Kirby say f--- haha. I've seen enough of that in the real world ;P #and I try to keep the audience of a series like Kirby in mind #I think the most severe word I'd use for a Kirby character myself is “damned” in the context of condemning something to punishment #It's just my personal opinion and style right now! #if I wrote fan stories for like GTA or something then that would be different :P #I'm also trying to swear less in real life too lol #I am making..... some progress on that. xD #anyway thanks for riding the train of my stream of consciousness #take a complementary high five on your way off the train #:P

[viiioca]

welcome - when was it lacking? when was it extended? which of those moments lingers most strongly in their mind?

The first night in your new home, you hide in the attic.

The manor's hallways yawn like a predator's mouth. You have walked them all your life at your mother's heels like a ghost-girl, but she's gone now and you have no skirts to hide behind. There are too many eyes and too few voices. Staff once your equal – girls the same age and same lowborn breeding as you – move around you like the shadows of hunting birds. No one smiles unless it's to pity you. You feel like a rabbit caught out of cover, trapped somewhere between the den and the dinner table.

The moment you are left alone, you flee.

You know your way around the manor's hollows, as intimate to you as the heart lines criss-crossing your palms. You wedge yourself into a crawlspace – nearly too small now for your growing bones – and emerge in a cramped storage room made warm by the bare stone of a chimney. You played here with dolls, once.  In the cold and the dust and the dim lantern-light, you finally feel like you can breathe. You want to sleep here on the hardwood. You want to stay here until the house forgets you exist within it like some transplanted organ awaiting rejection.

A bell or two passes before the short hatch of a door scrapes open. In comes the sound of breathing, the knocking of knees and elbows awkwardly clambering into your hiding spot. You watch a set of cramped limbs unfold into an elezen boy hauling an oil lamp in one hand and a bag much too big for him in another.

"There you are," Verain says. Verain who grew up in this world half-shared with you, three years your elder and still a fulm shorter, ever-waiting for his growth spurt; Verain who could not possibly be less like his mother, save for his black hair and quick tongue. He drops next to you like a sack of laundry, leg bumping leg. "You weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," you say. You do not say that your stomach has been full of stones since it happened. You do not say that everything tastes like smoke.

"Thought as much." He pulls a lumpy tea towel out of the bag and unrolls it atop your thigh, revealing a traveler's meal: flaky bread and butter and apple jam, a slim wedge of soft cheese, a fistful of proud red grapes. "It's not much, but. You know."

He waves his hand. You know.

"Oh, and the cook sent this too." He retrieves a glass bottle wrapped in another tea towel; you can feel its warmth. Mulled wine. They water it down in the kitchen for children, you know, because you are not old enough for the proper strength, but it's comfortable and familiar like a bedtime story. He pours some into a mug and offers it like a pilgrim leaves coins at a waypoint. 

"Thank you," you say, gingerly taking the mug. Heat passes through the tips of your fingers, into your palms, up your wrists. The first sip is tentative, spicy-sweet, unsure that your body will not reject it and you will retch his kindness all over the attic floor – but it makes it down your throat and doesn't come back up. 

Progress is progress. Calm is calm.

"I'm sorry," Verain says quietly, small hands on the cold skin of your knuckles. No shortage of people have said this to you – but this, your churning insides say, is real. You believe him. The corners of your mouth manage a smile, and he smiles at you in turn.

You drink your wine and sit quietly with your soon-to-be brother until the lanterns dim and you drift off to sleep next to him, slumping, head on his shoulder. 

There's not much else you could ask for, in the end.

#ffxiv #my wol: estelle #my writing #roegadyn #femroe #gpose #thank you for the prompt!! #i spent five days writing a Whole Ass Story before god grabbed me by the shoulders at 3am and said “you do not need to write 2500 words” #also had the realization while posing this that estelle at 12 years old would be Average Hyuran Male height #they'll never add roegadyn child models because they just look like adults

[writerfae]

Why do I even worry about having to write fight scenes? I’ll just do it like Stephenie Meyer did in Twilight and just let Aiden faint before the action happens

#sometimes I wonder why I even worry so much about writing a bad story when certain books exist (quite successfully so) #in other words I just finished the first twilight audiobook and I hated it. I’m gonna start the next one immediately #it’s fun to hate-consume something once in a while I think and nothing is better to release work related stress #then to yell wtf Bella every five minutes while doing chores and stuff #writer speaks #writeblr

[pastafossa]

How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.

Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.

Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!

So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!

But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.

But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is: Write anyway. Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.

But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.

#writer's block #i am on step five if that's not obvious and that's ok #steps 1-4 got me through about 2 years of writing and over a hundred chapters. damn near a mill words. #so i'm VERY confident it works most of the time #or it does for me anyway #just. you know. not all the time #what's funny is i suspect if you read all of trt knowing the above #you'll SEE these moments #moments where i clearly hit a chapter i'd written ahead of time cause it had more detail or more excitement radiating in my notes #alternatively no one has any idea which ones are which which is even funnier to me #look i do not judge *anyone* who just can't do weekly chapter #the pandemic was a weird period where i had the time to do that and the management required to keep up with it outside then is intense #like it's possible. i was doing it before shit started going sideways last year cause that was NOT my year basically from july onwards #but just be kind to yourself about it #the story will come #and your readers will be there for it

[random-lil-illing]

sneak peak at my sb au info sheets. yes the au still lacks a name and proper lore but it’s got just abt everything else planned out so. stay tuned 👍

thinking of calling it something long and poetic like those ao3 fanfics but im not sure. if i decide to do that i have the perfect title but im still deciding

also should i turn this au into an askblog? last time i opened an askblog i got a question just as i lost interest… but i have high hopes for not losing interest in fnaf so i might do it but only if yall want me to

anyway enjoy!!

#my art #art #digital art #finished art #fanart #fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf au #fnaf sb au #security breach #security breach au #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #charlotte emily #henry emily #the puppet fnaf #lefty fnaf #god i love these losers so much #im still working on duo character sheets and putting the actual story into words #but then i think i have all the info down #as you can see michael doesnt really get along with anyone because hes either scared/wary of them or they think hes weird #also i dont really like monty can you tell #no hate to monty lovers i just prefer other characters #i might give him a redemption arc if im feeling nice #but anyways #enjoy the burnt food!!

[kirbyofthestars]

do you think marx would be willing to eat cyanide and/or battery acid lol

i admit the fandom joke of “marx eats inedible things” confuses me because this is a game about a protagonist who enthusiastically eats inedible things on the regular . stolen valour (/lighthearted)

i do think marx might do that to flex his undead immortality on people but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do it lmao

#my favourite five word horror story is “marx is a picky eater” #thats just my hc tho :] #letterbox

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Fifteen

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Chapter 15 - MoonshineNightlight - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

[Part One][Part Two][Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six][Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight][Part Nine][Part Ten][Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] Part Fifteen [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

The tournament takes advantage of the longer hours of daylight as the summer equinox approaches.

Soon enough, the jousting winner is declared—the knight from Nocant barely loses Alry, who had defeated Dale in the original non-tiered jousting round. Still, while there is an archery winner and now there is the jousting winner, the final winner of the tournament is the melee winner.

The knights are split into groups based on how well they did in the first two rounds. Dale will be competing in the champion’s ring which consists of the final four jousters and the three most skilled archers. Then there is another ring for the second tier ranked archers and jousters—twelve in total. Everyone else who participated in both rounds and who wishes to continue is placed in the final, largest melee ring. Purses and rewards will be given to various winners, of all three rounds and rings, with the winner of the champion’s melee ring being declared the winner of the tournament as a whole.

Lady Northridge as the host of the tournament would be the primary presenter of the prizes, however, as the tournament was in honor of the upcoming wedding and you are both one of said betrothed couple and not competing yourself, you will also present certain awards. As such, after leaving the jousting stands and afternoon meal at the high table, you are seated with Grandmother, one of the judges from the archery tournament, and one of the judges from the jousting tournament. Only Grandfather had also accompanied you from the group you’d watched the previous tournaments. 

You’re not sure you want to watch this melee anymore than the joust, although there is at least less horsepower and speed involved. It was far too easy for you to picture one of the competitors accidentally running another through with their lance. Not that it isn’t difficult to picture someone being fatally injured in melee, but you’ve watched practice matches and arms training with far more frequency, so it seems like it carries less of a risk.

Due to the way the different melee rings are chosen, the other rings are more dangerous than the champions ring due to the sheer number of combatants. Alliances tended to form between knights—likely hashed out in the break between jousting and melee—and they went on for longer, and so the competitors were more likely to make a mistake. The champions’ arena is the smallest ring, but still by far had a larger knight to square foot ratio. This gave a chance for a better exhibition of skill rather than luck or numbers. 

There are three primary ways to be stricken from the lists in the melee. Most obviously, if you are knocked unconscious. Secondly, if you are thrown from the ring. Fence height varies across tournaments, but as these fences are around waist height it’s technically a viable strategy . Finally, if any knight surrendered—at sword-point from another or simply because they no longer wished to continue—they could do so. Generally, only those injured removed themselves voluntarily once the melee had begun or else they were seen as cowardly or with no confidence in their skill. 

Those only skilled in archery or jousting and not in melee could withdraw at any time between rounds—archery with the most participants overall and the most who subsequently withdrew as even older knights might still be skilled enough with a bow even if no longer on horseback. It all depended on what type of bow they used in the tournament.

You’re grateful not to have to watch the other melees. There’s simply not enough room in these temporary stands to accommodate all three rings—in fact, they’re taking place on the outskirts of the fair where there is free space for both the rings and the crowds to watch. The other judges from the previous rounds are watching over those, baring the two here. Due to the limited stands around the champions’ ring, relatives and friends of the champions and other nobility are the ones who fill the majority of seats. You can see Dale’s cousins in the left stands, gossiping with Northridge’s neighboring nobles and some merchants. 

Your eyes are drawn back down to the ring, the champions having arrived a few moments ago. Instead of plate mail, all combatants will be wearing chain mail and all weapons will be blunted accordingly. You’ll likely only be able to track Dale due to the blue, black, and white that are his family colors on his tunic. Each has their pick from a variety of weapons for close range combat, provided by Northridge for the tournament.

You watch as Dale selects a sword as do three of the others, although one chooses a curved sword more popular in the south, and the remaining competitors select a battle ax, a scythe, and the final a mace. All still have daggers in their belt and solid wooden bucklers for shields. The chain mail they wear should be enough to prevent serious injuries. Still, some of your fears from the jousting: about Dale giving himself away, about him getting hurt, about him hurting one of the others.

You almost hope he gets pushed out of the ring in the first minute, at least then your nerves could relax. A glance around shows that no one else shares your sentiment—Grandfather in particular seems hopeful about Dale’s chances to win. Dale getting to this ring was what was in question since he doesn’t joust particularly often. He trains with the sword every day though and has started to do so again after he recovered. Families of those who host these tournaments don’t always win, but there is more pressure on them to make a good showing. And this one is in his, and your, honor on top of all that.

With all the weapons selected and the champions looking ready, Grandmother stands up. You can’t hear a word of her short speech—it's so similar to the others already given and you’re tense in your seat, eyes fixed on Dale. But your mind isn’t on this melee. Instead, you know that in a short span, it’ll be over—this first official start of the wedding festivities—your wedding festivities. 

How can that knowledge keep catching you off guard? How can you keep feeling surprised, and a little confused, about your own wedding? And why is Dale, with all his changes, not the part that worries you the most? In fact, even with the additional worries his condition invites, when you think of him, you mostly feel relieved. He feels the most real out of all of it, makes you feel the least like a child pretending and daydreaming.

This melee will happen, and you’ll help award prizes, and then tomorrow there will be the first true ball for your wedding, and then it will be your wedding.

And then it will be…well, the rest of your life.

You jump when the trumpet sounds and the fight begins.

The first few minutes after the starting trumpet are the most chaotic as it is when there are the most combatants in the greatest proximity, at least that’s what you remember hearing from fellow students who had seen far more tournaments than you had. That certainly seems to be true and you can barely track who goes where and who attacks who first, the dust they kick up proving unhelpful as is the sluggish way your mind struggles to refocus on what’s happening right in front of you as they all move and try to scatter and guard simultaneously.

Dale seems to primarily be fighting defensively, but he’s staked out a, well, not a corner since the arena is circular, but a section of the fence he’s claimed for his own, trying to keep his back to the fence as much as he can. Everyone has instinctively paired off to some extent as Nocant knocked out Yoral’s knight with his ax nearly as soon as combat started. He’d moved almost too fast for you to really watch more than Yoral crumple to the ground. He’d certainly seemed like a large threat as the runner up to the joust so that prediction seems to be holding true.

Mindry is the closest to Dale and he’s practically ignored the other knight near him to follow Dale—perhaps he wanted the prestige of defeating the man of the hour. You also aren’t sure which of these knights Dale used to know personally. You know none of these here traveled with him during those years abroad, but the majority are local and therefore likely went to primary schooling or even trained to be knights in the King’s service with him. Everyone in the champion’s ring is within an age—the very young not having the skills and the older not having the physical stamina or the interest for tournaments. It is generally considered the game of the relatively young and unmarried. 

Mindry certainly seems to be going after Dale with strong intent. Dale catches his sword on his buckler, and Dale tries to use the shield to wrench the weapon from his hand. Unfortunately, the blunted weapon isn’t sharp enough to get stuck in the thick wood and Mindry steps back easily. Dale waits him out, though, not chasing after him and giving up his guarded back.

Sure enough, Mindry can’t stay away and closes in again, but this time Dale doesn’t bother trying to catch him. He turns to the side to avoid a jab, strikes with his sword to get Mindry’s at the wrong angle, and knocks his shield into Mindry’s hard enough the other man falls to the floor. Before he can finish getting either his sword or buckler back up, Dale’s sword is at his throat. 

You’re glad that the rules dictate no one can attack one knight while they hold another at sword point because Mindry takes longer than you think to drop his sword in surrender. While he hops over the fence to leave the ring, Dale turns back to survey his remaining opponents. 

Hilium’s facing off against Alry, her eyes on his heavy mace while he watches her quick sword movements. They exchange passes every few seconds, but neither has a clear advantage as they circle each other. 

Meanwhile, the knight from Tiffin has staked out a section of the fence similar to Dale, with Nocant coming at her. He seems intent on pressing his height advantage, backing Tiffin back against the fence surrounding the ring. She hooks her weapon behind his buckler, cutting through the strap keeping it attached to his arm. Barely reacting to the loss of his shield, Nocant surprises everyone—not just you—when he steps into Tiffin’s body instead of backing off or trying to recover his shield like she expected.

Dale’s edging towards the dueling Hilium and Alry as Nocant and Tiffin are on the other side of the arena. It’s clear he’s trying to watch both fights and you’ve found another reason to be grateful he’s so covered in chain mail so that no extra eyes pop up to try to help, or if they do, they’re hidden.

Nocan smacks Tiffin’s hand holding the scythe and bringing the flat of the ax down on her head—hard. She staggers and Nocant avoids her swipe with the scythe she’s managed to hold onto and jabs with the ax. Despite catching it on her buckler, she’s still badly disoriented by the blow he landed to her head and he manages to shove her over the fence railing.

“You are skilled with the ax, are you not, my Lady?” the other judge from the jousting tournament remarks from your right. You’re confused for a moment before you follow her gaze to Grandmother on your other side.

Grandmother cackled, eyes still squinting through her glasses at the ring as Dale switches his stance to prepare for the now free Nocant. “My illustrious husband does encourage that impression, does he not? No, despite his sweet name for me, I was trained with the sword only and lost that skill many decades ago. I’ve no taste for weaponry nor any ability with them.”

“Then why…?” Lady Spir leans around Grandmother to peer at Grandfather.

He grins back at her unashamedly and guffaws. “I began to refer to my wife as my ‘battle-axe’ in our time in the senate, as with her sharp tongue at our disposal I had no need for any weaponry to cut down dissenters. Unlike even my own skill with the sword, the edge of her weapon remains honed and the force behind it still able to cleave those she disagrees with in twain.” He pulls Grandmother’s hand, which he was already holding, up to his mouth so he can press a kiss to it.

The two of them really are quite sweet, you think to yourself as you look back to the arena where Dale left his spot to get between Nocant and his buckler. Nocant seems to decide that his only option is rush Dale. Luckily, Dale stands his ground, not letting the other knight back him into Alry or Hilium. He catches the ax on his shield and thrusts with his sword that Nocant only partially manages to dodge. Nocant tries to land another strike with the ax, aiming for Dale’s head, but Dale ducks and then shoves Nocant hard in the chest with his buckler.

Nocant lets out a bellow when Dale manages to drive him all the way back to the fence, despite the weight Nocant has on him and the blow he manages to land on Dale’s back. Dale surges back up, his buckler going under Nocant’s chin and his sword catching under the head of his ax, stopping a strike midway through. Nocant tries to disengage, but Dale twists his sword just right to send it flying. 

Nocant surrenders quicker than Mindry, knowing he’s got nothing left to defend himself. You bite back a cry when Alry crashes into Dale, knocking him to the ground. You’d been so caught up in his fight, you’d forgotten about the other one going on only a couple yards away. Dale rolls the unconscious Alry off of him and gets his buckler up in time to intercept a truly powerful looking downward blow from Hilium’s mace.

Dale pushes the other man’s weapon away from him and scoots backward before lurching to his feet unsteadily. Even once on his feet, he seems unsteady, shaking his head briefly and taking a few staggered steps even as his sword is able to meet Hilium’s weapon this time. You abruptly remember how Dale’s balance has been off sporadically since the incident, how he’d made a passing comment about being on horseback helping, but there always seems to be the possibility of issues when on his own feet. He claimed there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his lack of balance which is why he simply carried his cane everywhere, but you doubt any of this combat has helped.

The men end up hilt to hilt, buckler to buckler for a moment, just shoving against one another before disengaging, Hilium’s retreat more controlled while Dale’s footwork remains just a bit unsteady. Grandfather mutters something under his breath but you can’t make out the words, a roaring in your ears as you watch them each jab at the other, a furious dance of dodging and clashes kicking up dust. 

Why did you ever think watching them actually fight would be less stressful than the joust? You barely feel like you’ve breathed since the trumpet went off, your hands are clenched so tightly in your skirts that they ache. Especially since Dale only seems to be getting further unbalanced as they continue to duel, each miss seems closer than the last until Hilium lunges forward with a triumphant cry. 

Dale bends all the way back at the waist, but doesn’t fall over. In fact, he hooks his shield under Hilium’s already badly positioned buckler, uses his sword to keep the mace away and uses his leverage to pull Hiliums shield arm, and the rest of him, over the fence you now realize he’d been steering them towards. He nearly wrenches his own with the move, and it results in both knights on their backs on the ground—but Dale is in the arena and Hilium is not.

Applause fills the stands as Dale’s squire hurries over to help him to his feet, Hilium’s doing the same behind him. You follow Grandmother to her feet as trumpets sound the end of the champions melee. 

A flurry of activity fills the ring, doctors and squires attending to the knights while a Northridge flag is raised over the stands, resulting in a second cry from the people around the outskirts of this arena. You slump back in your seat, feeling worn out for someone who’s done nothing but watch anxiously for the majority of the day. 

Once all the knights are free of their armor, mildly cleaned up, and conscious once more they arrange themselves in front of the host section of stands. It’s time for their rewards.

Grandmother, Grandfather, the two judges and yourself all stand yourselves to acknowledge them, walking closer to the knights themselves. Your eyes catch Dale’s as he grins, pleased with himself, and his grin only widens. He’s so obviously happy and proud you feel your expression grow more genuine as you smile back.

Grandmother is speaking, reiterating the prizes won and directing the servants to bring each champion their reward—purses, armor, weapons, and the like. As each competitor in this ring had won earlier, she gives those prizes now, with additional awarded to the last two eliminated in the melee, until only Dale was left. Her smile brightens at her grandson.

“Lord Dale of Northridge, heir apparent and betrothed to whom this tournament is dedicated. How lucky are you to have done so well in your own honor,” she proclaimed, her smile broadening at the crowd's laughter. “It is my pleasure to present to you this sword, a family heirloom I am relieved shall stay with Northridge—though of course I would have been pleased to present it to whoever was worthy. Originally, this sword belonged to my grandparent, to whom this estate was rewarded by Queen Sara the Second to increase our holdings as a reward for his service to the crown. This sword was commissioned and forged by Derryn of Northridge to be worthy of our expanded holdings.”

“Unfortunately,” Grandmother continues as you take a moment to admire the clear way she manages to project her voice, how it both reaches far but also causes others to fall silent. You’re grateful Dale seems to have inherited that quality and that no one expects you to give speeches such as this—at least, not yet. “The sword continued to see heavy use in Derryn’s lifetime, however by their grandchild’s time it was regulated to ceremonial display. In the flood that struck this estate a decade or two ago, it was damaged. In honor of this tournament, we had it restored and honed so it may once more serve the original purpose for which it was created.”

Dales comes forward so she can present the sword to him and he can strap it to his belt. He gives a similar but shorter reply—the words of gratitude from the winner dictated by tradition, but your thoughts are diverted because the final award was your own to give, both the physical and the privilege to the tournament winner which you are more than grateful is Dale. 

You would have had to have at least one dance with the winner at the dinner tomorrow and you are relieved to have the number of champions to dance with down to only the other two and Dale, with whom you expect the majority of your dances to be with as it is. 

Ceremonial crowns of woven laurels and flowers are the traditional prize, from when the very first contests of strengths began centuries ago. As the other for whom the tournament was for, it falls to you rather than Grandmother to bestow.

As Grandmother’s speech about Northridge and tradition and honor that she began after Dale finished his thanks wound down, you look to see if they’ve brought out the wreaths yet. To your surprise, Grandfather is the one who is coming over with the servants carrying the wreaths. You don’t know why that makes your spine straighten, he’d helped direct the armor given as well, but it does. Maybe it's the way his eyes dart to yours, a practiced blankness to them that he never used to have, and then away.

Your eyes land on the wreaths themselves, trying to push aside your trepidation. At least the crowns are obvious in which should be awarded to who. The one with blue flowers is nearly identical to the one with red flowers, both smaller and with fewer flowers woven in amongst the laurel branches. The champion's crown had to be the one with blue, red, and yellow flowers and was more elaborate than the others. 

You pick up the blue wreath the footman holds out to you and at Grandmother’s prompt, walk over to Yoral to bestow the wreath for his winning of the archery tournament. “Congratulations on your victory,” you say formally, focusing mostly on keeping your voice steady rather than particularly loud. Yoral lowers his head so you can place it as you continue, “Bear this symbol of your ability proudly and with great honor.”

He bows carefully to you and Grandmother, before bowing to the crowd and stepping back with the others. As he does so, you accept the red wreath from Grandfather’s squire, your gaze briefly stalling on the champion’s crown for only an extra second before you turn back around to walk over to Alry, winner of the jousting tournament.

As you repeat the same words and actions, your mind is stuck on the differences between the wreaths. The champion wreath has the same flowers as the others, but it also has one or two additional flowers in blue and red woven in that strike you as odd.

When you turn back for the final time to accept the crown, you are ready to analyze the flowers, grateful for your at least medicinal herbal knowledge as you slowly walk over. For blue flowers, borage is a common herb used with wine to soften memories, with certain people believing it dispelled forgetfulness and sadness on its own. It had no business in this crown. Blood sage is another that is not prestigious enough to be in such a crown and did have rumored cleansing properties—although the portion of the book you’d managed to read disputed that belief heavily, advising against counting on it to do much of anything. 

Finally, the yellow flower mullien did not suit either—not to mention there was only one spring of it rather hastily and loosely woven in. In fact, all of these flowers seemed like last moment additions. It took all your self-control not to look at Grandfather as you carefully. Mullien you did not remember reading anything about in the book, but you know it's associated with purification, both spiritually and medicinally. You had taken a few tinctures that included it yourself when you were younger.

You pick up the crown, taking care to wrap your fingers around the blood sage, with the mullien at the bottom. With your finger nail, you dig into the stem. You don’t think a single spring of the herb could hurt Dale, but you don’t want to take the risk. As you come to a stop in front of Dale you can tell you’ve cut through the stem itself with your nail, but it still clings.

“Lord Dale,” you say after swallowing slightly—all the moisture has vacated your mouth in the short walk over and you clear your throat as you look up at him. He certainly doesn’t seem worried or even to truly look at the crown as you continue, “Most congratulations on your victory. Your accomplishments in all three competitions has won you the admiration of the witnesses to this esteemed tournament.” You shake the crown as subtlety as you are able to as you raise it Dale’s lowered head, “Bear this symbol of your prowess so all may know of your talent and skill.” The mullien drops from the crown as you place it on Dale’s head. You quickly step forward, your shoe on top of the flower as you feel a rush of relief. Situated appropriately, you lean back to finish, “And do you honor you have earned.”

You pull back only to have to stifle a gasp as Dale catches your hand. His bright blue eyes catch your own as he presses a kiss to it, similar to how Grandfather had done to Grandmother only a little while ago. To your surprise, you feel heat begin to rise in your cheeks. He’s done so before, why is it flustering you so now? Maybe it's because it seems he’s left his mild suspicion and caution from the tent behind, even if it is only in front of an audience.

“My gratitude, my Lady,” Dale replies, eyes intent. You’re aware everyone around is watching, is listening, but you couldn’t look away if you tried. “This tournament was in honor of us both. What else could I do, but secure our victory?”

[Part Sixteen]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #story part #dale #terato #exophilia #osha compliant #male monster #monster x reader #monster bf #arranged marriage #slow burn #i need to rebuild my writing buffer cuz this is not sustainable #i wrote over 3.4k words today #and i'm posting this lik five minutes before midnight #this is why i need to plan things better

[july-19th-club]

love whenever anybody on true blood has like. a blood-induced sex dream about another character bc you get to see the imaginary version of that character that lives in their head. imaginary bill that lives in sam's head is like. a porn man. imaginary eric that lives in sookie's head is the softest nakedest guy imaginable with zero sharp edges. imaginary sookie that lives in eric's head - this one's not even blood-induced, just horny - is a cute little headband-wearer who says stuff like "oh, cheese and rice!" and shares sweet nothings about stuff she's never seen, like the wintertime

#he has a very weird idea of how telepathy works . uhuh 'don't use words i dont understand love is a foreign concept to me' shut up #that actually makes me really verklempt. very maudlin . she doesnt know WHAT winter smells like . the only ocean she knows is the gulf #but there's nobody around who does know! not from then! not one hundred percent not exactly! #you could find some five year old kid at the north sea in 2010 and he would not get it either. not the same sea not the same kid #oh . i love immortality stories they make me so terribly sad #i always wind up on the side of the immortality but still #true blood

[stergeon]

Rating: Mature (horny)

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Relationship(s): Edelgard von Hresvelg/Byleth Eisner

Words: 11.5k (2 chapters out of, theoretically, 3)

There's a new professor of the Black Eagles house, but it's not the one Edelgard and Hubert had planned to take on the role—and to make matters worse, Edelgard knows her. She could never forget her, or a single moment of that hot summer night when they met in Enbarr.

Worst of all, the professor doesn't seem to remember Edelgard.

AU in which Byleth and Edelgard meet by chance a few months before the start of White Clouds.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #edelgard von hresvelg #edeleth #byleth eisner #byleth x edelgard #fire emblem fanfiction #fe3h fanfic #my loathe letter to the past perfect tense #hubert's here but only in chapter one and like for five seconds at the end of the story that is as of yet unwritten #this started out as an earnest attempt at writing smut but it ended up becoming almost 20k words before anyone even kissed sooooo #if we're being honest this is two character studies in a smut trenchcoat #with a dumbass framing device that just exists to twist a knife #fun fact: this actually was like the third fanfic i ever wrote. i started it not too long after wrapping up shared space #then it spiraled out of my control so i've been sitting on it #i dunno i think ~12k words of preamble to agreeing to have sex is fine. if that's not your scene that's on you #someday i might work up the courage to post the next part #but if you thought the purple prose and self-indulgent pseudointellectualism were bad in these two chapters i will warn you #i'm just getting started #i have not even scratched the surface of how unsexy i can make a purported sex scene

[sotogalmo]

6:06

Hmmm ... nightmare gas & red Smoke ,,,,

Hmmmmm

#time diary(?) #audrey/kellie's time diary #small idea. what if the toys(ones given to CC: fredbear plush) semi have the same thing going on?? yk?? #like. the fazfrights stories r weird. but like. i think they just mostly talk bout like. toys from freddy's or any merch from freddy's #cc has trouble sleeping. but also. also. maybe maybe ... the reason why william made the gas(minus to torment his kids: weird #i think he wouldnt rlly do that. he does emotional manipulation. he wouldnt want his kids scared of him. he wants his kids #to trust him. to trust him so much that they follow his every words like trained dogs. thats what he did to vanessa & it worked #so he must've also done that to his own kids: via Micheal's speech in SL. that video is never leaving me) #william sees himself in all of his kids. he wants to be the only one though. so hes distant(mentally & emotionally)- #he puts his kids to sleep. the dreams were nice yeah. only nice to two? one? the other one knew so much that his dreams were never #dreams. he knew too much: his nightmares. he knew it all to well. he knew what William was doing #just like William knew what his Mother was doing. William's mom's knew what her father was doing #great grandfather: hare. grandmother: hare. william: hare. Crying Child: rabbit #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #poppy playtime #poppy playtime red smoke #william afton #cc afton #evan afton #i rlly rlly like the idea of cc being like will if you couldnt tell<3

[p-bee-writes]

Five Word Love Story:

"For you, I killed God."

#creative writing #writing challenge #writing prompt #prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #writerscorner #pluviab #pluvia bright #pluvia bee #pluviophile #five word challenge #romance #love story #spilled ink #writblr

[kicktwine]

Im about to make a whole osp style video on the importance of pacing and spacing in relation to whump or an authors decision to seriously harm a character

#kipspeak #long story short I wholeheartedly believe if you space it out wrong you will disengage your audience #and as a general rule of thumb you have a maximum of THREE instances across micro and macro story beats individually #Which both rest on a sliding scale of importance from minor to major and the spacing and groupage depends on what it is #three is also a guideline- I’ve seen characters hurt in unsatisfactory or overblown ways with only two; and I’ve seen it done #very well with four pushing five major focus points #setting also matters. Everything matters. But the conclusion is this #You are always on a balance beam with making your blorbo miserable. be aware of your major ‘chapter’ breaks (reset points) #… I have thoughts about things that I think have done it wrong and it is entirely about the pacing/spacing and not about the actual event o #the whump. #ahve I mentioned I hate that word yet. whump. I’m going to use it though because I need to get a point across #AND MIND YOU THIS IS FOR STORYTELLING WITH THE GENERAL PUBLIC AS AN AUDIENCE MOSTLY #of course that falls under genre and medium exceptions… #brb. I’m going to make an osp trope talk video

[transhoverfish]

SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER IS FINISHED. LETS GO GIRLS.

#its so weird. like theres one more chapter and then im like.... done w all my subnaut fics #like other than those other aus ive posted about but. tbh i never really intended to WRITE any of those #bc i would be here forever if i tried every single idea i came up with #but this is like the last big project i have planned for this fandom #and its. its weird!!!! ive been writing these fics for. what. four years?? five?? #theres an end in sight and its like. huh. #NOT TO SAY IM GOING AWAY FOREVER OBVS. IM STILL GONNA BE HERE. #but no more 20k+ word stories until at LEAST sub3 #sorry this has nothing to do w the fic at all EVERYONE ENJOY THIS CHAPTER IS A BIT OF A LONGER ONE TO MAKE UP FOR THE WAIT #final chapter will be out before the end of the week !!!!! #once again wtf r my tags #fanfic #fanfiction #subnautica: new years eve #subnautica spoilers

[crow-the-unknown]

ok but like.

a) devs needed the points, we're fine

b) yes we should be pissed but also i liked our fight and that's a championship-playing kind of team

c) it's a back to back, and while the travel wasn't extensive, we already fought super hard against new york so it makes sense for us not to be at 100%... that's just how back to backs work

and finally d) we literally haven't lost two games in a row for like... over a month. i think we're gonna be okay especially when the only time that happens now is when we had games like this. we battled a tough team yesterday only to lose but still got a point, and then still played pretty decent despite a second loss. obviously you never want to lose, but those are the ones i really don't mind so long as they aren't frequent - which they have not been.

#colorado avalanche #avs lb #long story short #in the words of gabe landeskog #you sulk for five minutes and then move on