Please feel free to post stories (but stories ONLY) here. For discussion and critique, please reply in “Writer’s Corner!”
I’m trying this out to help us isolate the stories we want to read/edit, and I’m finding they are getting harder to find in the old thread.
EDIT:
If you want to TALK about stories, please go here:
I’ll go first. Small clip from a tearoom scene inspired by 3H!
“Still avoiding your students, are we?” Adalena said with a smile as she took the empty chair next to the professor. The iron-wrought table was small, forcing him to make room on the circular surface by shoving the loose parchments together and in the back of his tome. The teahouse was the last place Fel expected to see his top student.
“No, just you,” Fel teased back. He’d gone there for a little peace and quiet, considering it was tucked away in a hedge garden next to a gently babbling stream. Until now, only the blue-winged butterflies kept him company as they fluttered around the splendidly mosaic peonies blossoming out of the well-groomed shrubbery, but her addition was a welcome surprise.
Well… here’s what I got. Hopefully it ain’t cringe.
The Inheritor of Alondite: Chapter 1
Aziel POV & Narrator
The Garden of the Strong. A small island off the west coast of Valem. The island itself was nothing significant, unless you cared for the beauty of nature. But it’s rumors were large, spreading throughout the land far and wide. Those rumors attracted many an adventurer and warriors alike. I held no interest in such baseless rumors, despite it’s promises of a “Radiant Warrior”. However, when the conquests of the “Conquerer” reared their heads, that little island of rumors seemed to become the only place silent of war.
I suppose I had hopes of finding the rumored warrior; hopes of finding a worthy opponent. Before the wars, I had challenged the Prince of Chon’sin. Yen’ Fay was his name. His skills was indeed impressive but, despite his reputation and skill, he kneeled before me in defeat. The journey to the Garden was vexing, the Conquerer’s men nearly controlling all villages and towns with the active taboo volcano, the “Demon’s Ingle”, as a final obstacle. Upon arriving to the coast, it was decorated with old oars and boats who creaked at the wave’s whim.
When I arrived to the Garden, I must admit it was not what I had expected. The island was covered in tents and remnants of campfires surrounding an atavistic colosseum. It’s walls deteriorating and what remained was fractured and cracked. Approaching what was left of an entrance, I could hear the roars of those inside, cheers and battle cries alike harmonizing with the clashes of steel.
If they had rules in such a place, then I cared not for them. Without hesitation or consideration, I entered the Garden’s colosseum, preparing to find and fight the rumored warrior. Upon entering, I saw many types of people. Men, women, Valmese, Feroxian, Chon’sinians, Ylissens, and Pelgians alike, all fighting and challenging one another as equals. While it was a grand scene, I grew tired of watching their bouts and issued a challenge to all who could hear me.
“To those brave or foolish, come test your skill and learn your folly!” I cried through my black helm. Arrogant it may be, I had always found it to be an effective method of drawing out the strong.
My challenge had earned me a swarm of brave challengers, only for them to be proven foolish as one after one would crumble after a few strikes from my blade. To say that none had skill would be a lie, but all of them had hardly came close to my expectations. My optimism lowered and lowered just as the sun fell from the sky for the moon to take it’s place.
“Is this all any of you have to offer? Where is the rumored ‘Radiant Warrior?’” I demanded, looking down at my defeated challengers. Even if no one held the answer I sought, I wanted a reason to stay on this Garden. Little did I know I would find much more than a worthy opponent.
“So! You’re here for that little rumor too!” A voice boomed, responding to my earlier demand. The voice was deep and gruff, but full of gusto. Looking for it’s owner, I saw only a giant clad in armor.
The large knight intrigued me. His armor was decorated in scars and dents with his shield matching the same design. For any seasoned fighter, each of those dents and scars told a story; a battle. But most impressively, he wielded his weapon with a single hand, which was a two-handed war hammer.
“Ooh, you’re the stoic type. Fine by me! Just put up a fight!” He shouted, slamming the face of his hammer against his shield. In response, I entered my stance, bringing back my blade while holding out my open palm. “Taking a stance now, are ya? Here I come then!”
With a battle cry, my new challenger charged like a raging bull with his hammer raised high. Bringing his hammer down, I met his strike with the flat of my blade, sending sparks flying through the air. Caught in a stalemate, our weapons quivering and shaking against one another as we struggled to try to break from each other. The giant brought back his shield, preparing to smash our stalemate along with my scarred armor. Before his follow-up, my blade finally broke our deadlock and met his shield with a spinning vertical slash. This second clash resulted in his shield becoming little more than scarp metal.
“Huh.” My opponent said stepping back, looking at his cleaved shield. “Well, I’ve been meaning to get a new one anyway.” He shrugged, tossing aside his scrap metal.
Starting our fight once more, my opponent opened with a large swing of his hammer, with his now free hand adding to it’s already massive force. Admittedly, he had pushed me to play defense as he continued to swing his weapon with abandon again and again. Deciding to take a gamble, I grasped the hilt of my blade with my second hand to prepare to match his heavy strikes, my sword gleaming in the sunlight.
When our weapons met again, I felt my armor shake and rattle as sparks flew once again. Our match was now nothing more than a contest of strength, continuing to match blow for blow. With each clash, the onlooking crowd seemed to grow louder and louder. I cared little for the entertainment of others, but even I felt their infectious excitement. But despite the enjoyment, I could sense the end approaching.
Suddenly, my opponent gave out a deafening war cry, raising his hammer above his head preparing a final downward slam. Taking advantage of his mistake, I slammed the flat of my blade against his plackart in a swift motion, almost desperate to be honest. Even though I sent him back inches, he himself remained still.
Frozen with his hammer still raised high, I waited for his next move. But, he made none.
“Gah! Damn my old age!” He blurted out, falling to one knee as he dropped his weapon. “Looks like you bested me, newbie. Well done…” he declared.
And with that, the crowd roared with enthusiasm, showing their appreciation for the fight they had witnessed. For once in a very long time, I felt pride in my victory. But my bones ached and my spirit weary. The cheers continued to become softer and softer as I left to search for a quiet place under the moonlight. The Garden is said to be truly beautiful at night but I was too tired to acknowledge it, for I barely had the energy to move in my armor that blended with the sky. Finally, I found a lone tree watching the sea by the shore. Deciding to join it, I laid under it’s branches and made my armor my bed as I allowed the waves lull me into a slumber.
Ugh. That fight scene…
Nice! I’m a fan of detail like this. Looking forward where I can include more of that into my story. Shoot… I could probably add some of that to what I already have… editing never truly stops, eh?
Apparently I can post this here 
thanks Dan
I admittedly don’t write much actually, kinda like Fresh I mostly just have my stories in my head and daydream them. I have been wanting to write them out lately tho lol
A little disclaimer, I started this when I was like, 5 and just started growing it, changing it and actually developing it over the years so don’t judge me if it sounds stupid please 
Anyway, it’s kinda like a giant fanfic that spans over multiple of my fandoms, some FEs included, that are all still separate but connected. Kinda confusing I know but I’ll explain
The idea of how it works is each story is a world. For example, (using FE) Magvel and Fòdlan are separate worlds entirely with no way to get between the two. There’s a barrier, a sort of “bubble” keeping them separate, even with ways to travel between worlds (eg. corridors of darkness from Kingdom Hearts) you still couldn’t get from one to the other. However, some of these worlds are actually a bundle of mini ones, for example Kingdom Hearts and The Flash. You could travel between the worlds inside (taking The Flash, you could get from earth-1 to earth-2, but not to Kingdom Hearts’ Twilight Town). So they all exist together, but impossible to get between.
But anyway, as you can see the different things are in their bubbles 
Basically my character, Ariella, gets bored with her normal life, and when her friend tells of a machine to travel between worlds she gets excited at the idea of adventure. He says that it’s not done and tested so not to use it for obvious safety reasons, but she sneaks in at night and uses it because she’s kinda stupid ngl she wants an adventure. It’s a character flaw what can I say lol
Anyway, it broke down while she was using it and because that glitch happened right as she was at the barrier it took her through to another one, but not as herself. As a baby with no memories of the past, a sort of reincarnation kinda thing but she slowly got her memories back as she got older. She lived a life there and died, as you do, but instead of staying dead she found the same thing happened, but in a different world. This repeats through all of them, however many of my fandoms I’m able to sneak her into lmao, at around 25 atm iirc. Also I should mention that she retains all memories, markings and powers she gets from one world to the rest of them (markings means scars, tattoos, etc.)
What else 
I guess I could put a list of the stories I have atm. It changes often but 
Links just take you to the wiki’s main page to get an idea of what it is if you’re curious
The next few (4, 5 and 6) are kind of a jumbled mess right now 
trying to fit some LoZ in here but it’s complicated
Guess it was more like ~20 then ~25. Oops
It’s still growing tho
Anyway that’s all I can think of atm but I spent way too long writing this lmao. If only I had this dedication to my homework 
Hope y’all enjoyed reading my detailed rambling and that it wasn’t too stupid 
I mentioned on the other thread that I had one (1) fanfic, and if anyone was interested, here it is. It’s focused on Julia. When FEH introduced Fallen Julia, I wanted something more than her boring brainwashed subplot from Genealogy, and tried to write something that focuses on her character and works as a “start of darkness” story. It’s a bit self-indulgent, but it was fun to write.
Maybe I’ll post again if I ever manage to write something else.
‘Uncle, uncle!’ a small child ran towards a man upon a bench, hunched forward, his head within an old book. Lor glanced up from the yellowing, torn pages, and with a slight disdain in his voice asked, ‘What is it Lyria?’ She held out her hand, and upon the tip of the index finger, a small scarlet droplet was building up. It was quite a shallow cut, scarcely a scratch, yet Lyria was distressed, for she rarely injured herself. Lor looked back down at the book and spoke gruffly, almost to the book, ‘It’s a small cut. You’ll be fine.’
‘Ok uncle,’ Lyria sniffled and wiped her eyes, but her uncle’s words comforted her. She departed to resume playing. Loose strands of her long brown hair flew into her face as she ran off, and the light from the sun reflected upon it. An exasperated sigh escaped from Lor. His right hand turned the pages while his left was occupied in his pocket, fiddling with a small piece of paper. It was always on his person, but always remained hidden.
The paper was poor quality, though the ink was expensive. Lor discovered the paper upon his bedtable after his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths. In neat handwriting, perhaps the neatest Lor had ever seen from his brother, for his brother was never meticulous when it came to writing nor anything else, the paper contained but three words.
Look after Lyria.
As the unread pages of the book grew few, and as Lyria’s energy began to exhaust, they heard trumpet flares, that rang and echoed through the town like shouts from a mountainside. The military squad had returned, a week after it was scheduled to. They were all assumed to be dead. Of the eight men that had left the town to fight, but five returned. Only one was uninjured. Lor yanked Lyria roughly to pull her onto the side of the road, out of the squad’s path. She held tight to a wood carving of a strycus, a small horned mammal native to the desert northwest of their village. As the squad came into her view, her eyes widened, and she was positively glowing. ‘Can I be a soldier when I grow up uncle?’
The question took Lor aback. ‘No,’ he answered bluntly. Lyria’s face became saddened. ‘Why? Does she not see these soldiers are wounded? Does she not notice the ones that never returned?’ Lor thought to himself. ‘She’s an ignorant fool, as youths are. How I wish her to grow up and face reality.’
‘You are a fool Lyria. Look upon the soldiers. Some are dead. Others are injured. Do you wish to meet an end like that?’ Lor didn’t even look down at Lyria when he spoke such a grim truth.
‘No,’ Lyria looked up at him, without truly understanding. She was unable to see what was not present, the missing three soldiers, and was unable to comprehend such severe injuries, given her lack of experience in the matter.
‘Besides, Lyria. You are already a Feeder, and forever you shall be.’
Lyria smiled.
The men passed, and Lyria rushed back out to play despite her tiredness, for children never truly tire. Lor finished the book. It was the first fiction book he had read in a long while. In a basket he stored his books, woven from fibers of Kir reeds, the bottom flattened and squashed from the weight of many books constantly pushing down on it. He went to take the next book from the basket and noticed it was empty. ‘Well, I shall have to visit Constantin tomorrow,’ he mused. Just as he placed the book gently and carefully back in the basket, a bell tolled thrice, all high notes.
‘Lyria!’ he yelled gruffly at her. ‘Feeding time.’ Lyria jumped up and down in excitement, but Lor glared at her, and the jumping ceased. As they wandered across the small town, Lyria kicked up dust clouds into the air, which led to Lor reprimanding her. When the two approached the outskirts of the town, the buildings began to thin and the trees thicken. Not only were the great pines becoming more plentiful as Lor and Lyria walked along, they became thicker and thicker. The pines stretched metres and metres into the sky, their branches erupting from each great sturdy trunk like spokes from a wheel. Needles littered the floor, covering it in entirely in small brown spikes, and they crunched underfoot. Even further from the town, when the trees reached great lengths in breadth, the two suddenly broke into a small clearing, scarcely a dozen meters across. No needles lay on the floor of the clearing, only a short grass that blew this way and that with every tiny gust of wind. In the centre, a wooden table, square and grey. The wood was not pine, instead it was from a tree whose origin no one in the town knew. The wood was far stronger than pine, and though the table did not carry the rich colour of the pines, nor the traditional curled designs of the town, it had its own beauty in simplicity.
Upon the table lay a few cubes. Despite being small enough to fit neatly into Lyria’s little palm, they weighed nearly as much as Lyria herself. Lor plucked up a small round knife from beside the table and cut the little grey cube into even smaller pieces. Two pieces for himself to carry and one for Lyria. When Lyria was younger she had much trouble carrying these little cubes, but carrying them each week, as was their job, made her strong. Where the cubes came from was none of their concern. Procuring the feedings was someone else’s job. Their job was only to feed.
Around the forest were hills. Great hills, their glaring white dulled by dirt and dust. From the outside, inexplicably, the hills looked anything but unusual, brown and grey, with their only remarkable feature being their sheer height. However, if a person were to look from within the forest or town, the hills could be seen clearly as white, and bumps all along the surface were visible, each bump nearly a metre across. In these white hills there lay what appeared to be a gaping cave. In it, a great beast. Ulfrir.
No one knew what Ulfrir really was. No one had ever laid eyes upon it. No one needed to.
Those who worked as Feeders, as Lyria and Lor did, would come once a week and toss a cube into the cave. As was tradition, the two would bow down, look straight at the ground beneath their feet, and wait. Soon after, great crushing sound was to be heard all around. The sound of rocks being decimated by a great force. It was forbidden to look upon the cave as the beast ate.
Each week, as was their duty, Lyria and Lor would walk through many dozens of meters of forests to the clearing and feed a cube to Ulfrir in the cave. Subsequently they would depart, once the momentous sounds had ceased, not to return for another week.
A bit more of what I had before, I’ll add what I wrote previously so it’s not confusing. Edited it a bit as well.
It was a bright and sunny morning in the Land of the Rising Sun that is Japan. Spring beginning to flourish with winter taking its leave to disappear again for another eight months, the students now return to their schools to resume their educations. One such student was Bushida Otake, a kind soul and quiet soul who did his best to make his family proud like any good son. But despite his efforts, he himself could never be proud. He was ashamed. Ashamed of his face, his teeth, his height, and even his name. Each and everyone one of those things that made “Bushida Otake” was the very definition of the savage demon, “Oni,” to everyone who saw him.
For years, he was never called “Bushida” by those who had a ever spoke to him. He was “Oni” to the point where his true name was lost to all. Classmates and strangers screamed in terror from his face, froze from his gaze, and trembled at his smile. After so many cries and screams of, “Oni!”, Bushida began to believe that’s exactly what he was and even feared the screams of terror that all gave to him.
As he walked the blossomed covered path, other students kept away with their groups, unintentionally dangling their friendships like food in front of a hungry animal.
“Hey, Oni! Did you terrorize the town on your way here again? Why don’t you just ride the bus? Oh yeah, they won’t let you on!” Teased a nameless voice.
As if that comment was original. While they had screamed from his looks in the past, their screams were now insults, still targeting his appearance. Ignoring the sneer of the morning, Bushida continued down the blossom covered path with each step sending petals into the air. Finally arriving to the school’s entrance, Bushida began to the routine of every student and began to replace his shoes with Uwabaki. With proper footwear now equipped, Bushida made way to his locker, dreading its contents.
Along with verbal insults, hate mail was another issue. While unaffected, the mess the overflow made had always been inconveniencing and nearly makes him late to his first class. Each morning this happened, it was a sad sight for those who had hearts but entertainment for those who lacked them. But, miraculously, a mess did not happen. Only a single letter slipped from his locker and fell to floor, a pleasant surprise for Bushida. Its front faced him from the floor, titled with a name. Unlike every other letter, the front said, “To: Bushida Otake.” Surprised by its formality, he gently picked it up and began to admire it.
But why receive a letter and not open it? And so, Bushida opened it with care, causing not a single tear on the envelop. Unfolding its three creases, Bushida read its contents.
Bushida Otake,
You are the Oni. A red warrior with unparalleled strength and might. Your teeth able to shatter any blade and your skin able to stop any attack. Your wrath that of lightning: Deadly and precise. Meet those of lazy deceptions, black feathers of heroes, and caring snow will your bravery and love be found.
The letter had baffled and confused Bushida Otake. For the first time, something positive had been associated with the title that had brought him so much strife. “Unparalleled strength and might?” Bushida repeated in his head. It was a compliment, rare treat for the boy. But this begged the question of who sent this.
Quickly turning over the paper and back again, Bushida found no name or even an initials to give the slightest hint. Reading over it again, the final line of this mysterious letter intrigued him. “Find those of lazy deceptions, black feathers of heroes, and caring snow will your courage and love be found.” Bushida repeated once again in his head. He had no clue of who, “lazy deceptions”, “black feathers of heroes”, or “caring snow,” could be, at least for now.
Despite his cluelessness, Bushida couldn’t take his attention away from it, moving through the halls with his eyes glued to the letter. For once, the fear everyone had for him had been in his favor, keeping everyone against the walls of the school halls. All except for one.
“Hey, Oni! Rare to see you reading a letter in the hall way. Didn’t know Oni’s could even read!” The one who yelled this old insult was none other than Gushiken Daisuke, the school’s most popular boy and “Hero.”
Bushida stopped and looked up from his letter at Gushiken and his brood, who decided to block the hallway behind their leader.
“Good morning, Gushiken-san. Did you need something?” Bushida asked, devoid of any particular emotion.
“Who said you could speak, Oni?!” A nameless lackey yelled, anger dripping from their voice.
This simply wasn’t true, for Bushida Otake did in fact have feelings. He had just experienced happiness after all, but that doesn’t matter when everyone sees you as nothing more than a monster.
“Now now, calm down. I just wanna know what he’s reading there.” Gushiken said, his charming smile on his face.
Upon hearing this, Bushida instantly tensed up. Bushida knew that smile. That smile meant that Gushiken was about to take something of his once again, like always. Until now, Bushida had nothing for him to take except time and confidence.
“You looked pretty happy with that letter you have their. So, what is it? A love letter? You gonna confess to a girl or something with it?” Gushiken questioned, stepping closer and closer to Bushida.
“No way! Like a Oni has any feelings! And not like any girl would accept it anyway!” Another lackey shouted.
“It isn’t one of those, Gushiken-san. Now, may I continue to class?” Bushida asked, crumpling the letter in his large hand out of nervousness.
“But I wanna see the letter…!” Gushiken demanded, reaching out to grab the mystery letter.
As Gushiken’s fingers touched the tip of the letter’s edge, the bell rang at as it does on every school morning, calling all students out the halls and into their classes.
“Oh! That’s the bell. See you in class, Oni!” Gushiken cheered, walking back to his dispersing brood.
Bushida breathed a sigh of relief at the bell’s ringing, clearly saved by it. Slipping his letter into his folder, Bushida continued through hallway, unaware of what was to come on this ordinary school day.
I like where this is going! Love the Oni concept, and the romance prospect. Cant wait to see where it goes
Thank you! Sorry I haven’t been able to respond at good times. This was a bit odd for me, as Gushiken Daisuke is probably the hardest character to write for me as he’s kinda still a “to be determined” character. I’m trying to convey that he’s pretty but stupid, only bullying Bushida Otake because he knows people like him when he does it but I still want him to be… well, a genuine ass.
It’s okay I’ve been quiet he last few weeks with work so I can relate.
Yeah character development is fun but I do find as I write sometimes the character even changes from my intentions. Sometimes okay, sometimes not if it is a big enough plot device.
Gushiken Daisuke. A boy full of talent with a signature and striking smile that he always had, ever since he was a small child. He excelled at everything. School, sports, art, anything you could think of and Gushiken would be number one.
Those around him looked up to him, thought of him like a real life superhero and praised him as such. But one boy in particular never joined the rest, never praising him for his feats. That boy was Bushida Otake. Gushiken never understood why Bushida never praised him, never recognized him. And during one lunch period…
“Hey, who is that, over there? He’s just by himself.” Asked a younger Gushiken, pointing at a larger boy, a younger Bushida Otake, who sat at his corner desk.
“Hm? Ah! Y-you don’t know who h-he is?” Another boy stuttered, clearly terrified of the boy Gushiken had pointed too. “T-that’s Bushida Otake… the Oni…”
With that, the entire group around Gushiken froze in fear, as if the name “Bushida Otake” would summon a vicious demon right in front of them.
Gushiken didn’t know why his classmate’s fear of this “Oni.” But someone who is called a demon and makes others shake in fright by the mention of their name was clearly a bad person right?
Gushiken then approached the boy in the corner desk, silently scribbling something down on a piece of paper. It was a silent exchange for a few seconds, Gushiken simply waiting for the boy to see him and give him his full attention. But the boy just kept writing intently, ignoring the world around him.
“Hey.” Gushiken said, annoyed.
Bushida jumped slightly, startled by the abrupt greeting. Setting his pencil down, Bushida looked at the boy and said, “Oh, hello Gushiken-san. Did you… need something?”
With the two boy’s eyes met, everyone stared at them, not knowing what was happening and wanting know exactly that. After all, no one dared approach a demon.
Suddenly, in a flash, the papers that laid upon Bushida’s desk was high in the air in Gushiken’s hands. All were completely surprised and shocked by this action, but while Gushiken’s group thought it was bold and brave, Bushida was frightened.
Just as soon as Gushiken took the papers, he began to run out of the classroom and into the hallway.
“This is what you get for scaring others, Oni!” Gushiken thought as he ran, blatantly ignoring the rules of the school. But as he ran, the “Oni” never gave chase, only sat in his desk frozen without the resolve to react in any way.
Oooo that was really cool, interesting to see another character’s thoughts on the main and it could give a really good insight to a friendship or a rivalry, I like this chapter
Thank you, did you see the 2nd part of the first chapter? Because I write large amounts, I figured I split them into parts for everyone
Oh no, not yet, I’ll read it now
Ooooo I like these parts, seems really cool. I’m enjoying this intro so far
Thank you. I plan to make a chapter for everyone, the main 4 characters
Oooo sounds cool, I’m excited to continue reading 
Ok. Because I get so many ideas constantly and have trouble focusing on a single story, I have… another story. Let’s see if this is the one I’ll stick too!
Bio:
Goya Shota, a handsome & promising Customer Service Manager in his 20s, has lived a blessed life. Little worry, but full of intrigue and entertainment. That was, until, the Coexistence Act was enforced. Humanity had finally found and proven the existence of… monsters. Or they revealed their undeniable existence to us, depends who you ask.
Now, Humans and Yōkai live as one; sharing the same streets, restaurants, jobs, laws, etc. Now, with his former company taken over by the powerful businessman and politician Ōtakemaru, Goya Shota now has much worry as to handle an increasingly tense work environment, angry customers, and new hires; in particular the new employe, Kamada Mizuki, a Slit-Mouth Woman.
Btw, I don’t have art for Goya Shota, but I do have something for Kamada Mizuki! I don’t own the art in any way.
