#Crudely Drawn Swords

[wholelotofweird]

hey chat, i think theres something weird with Brad TeamAlpha? is this a buff because he won Find My Skeleton??

@crudely-drawn-ben

[crudely-drawn-ben]

Day nine - warm hat.

[milswrites]

Cupid’s Sword

~Azriel X Fem!Reader~

Summary: Azriel has a crush but finds himself unable to approach them. Unable to just stand by and watch their friend’s desperate pining, Nesta and Cassian take it upon themselves to play Cupid and try and set them up. Will their efforts lead to success or is Azriel destined to remain single forever?

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. Stabbing but the good kind?

Azriel was staring again. Staring at her. His golden eyes hadn’t moved from her soft form all night, locked in place as if he were stuck in a trance. Which he may has well have been, her hypnotising features melted their way into his mind and invaded his senses, clearing them all of anything but her.

He found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her sweet voice carried from the bar where she was sat drinking with Nesta, causing his shadows to stir and attempt to crawl their way towards her in desperation for her presence. Her honeyed voice which delivered words like poetry, had always affected Azriel in ways he couldn’t explain. The velvet laugh that left her mouth as she spoke animatedly with her friend was as smooth as the whiskey Azriel was nursing.

He was hooked. Her presence a drug that Azriel hasn’t been able to get enough of since he had first laid eyes on her. Azriel hadn’t even been invited to Rita’s tonight. But when his shadows had reported to him that you had agreed to go tonight with Nesta, he knew there was no other place he wanted to be. Nesta’s permission be damned.

And so here he was, hiding in the shadows of a booth with Cassian, who was fearful of being caught by his mate on the one night where she was free of his company. Cassian had been unable to say no to his friend who had claimed he needed a drink or two after a hard days work, but now they were here Azriel could tell his brother was catching on to the real reason why he had wanted to come.

“Something caught your eye brother?” Cassian teased, bored of sitting and drinking in silence as Azriel’s attention was elsewhere, “or should I say someone?”

Azriel cursed under his breath. He would have been better off coming alone. If Cassian caught wind of his admiration for Nesta’s new friend he would never let Azriel live it down. Azriel could already imagine the relentless mocking that would ensue.

With great effort, he tore his eyes away from Y/N at the bar and settled them onto the overjoyed face of his brother manically grinning before him. “I don’t know what you mean” Azriel muttered, gaze moving to his half-empty drink to avoid his brother being able to read his lies. But of course once Cassian had started something he just couldn’t leave it alone.

“No?” Cassian mused, “the hole you’ve burned into Y/N’s head says differently. Unless of course it was my mate you’ve been staring at, in which case you’re more than welcome to come warm our bed tonight.”

The latter part of Cassian’s remark didn’t phase Azriel, he was used to the crude comments that spew from his friend’s mouth. He even sometimes heard them from Nesta. The first few words however caused Azriel’s heart to start beating faster and his palms grew clammy, skin clinging uncomfortably to the glass he was gripping for support. Defensively he said, “I wasn’t staring at Y/N.”

“Hm sure Az and I’m not the sexiest man - oh hey Y/N!”

Azriel’s head snapped to where Cassian had directed his voice, scared the woman had witnessed the conversation. She wasn’t stood there. Y/N was still happily sat at the bar with Nesta gossiping away with matching smiles on their faces. At his frantic reaction Cassian had broken out into a hearty laugh, his hand flying to his chest to brace himself as he did so. His booming chortle was enough to start drawing attention from the other customers who had found their way into Rita’s tonight.

“You’re whipped brother!” Cassian ginned merrily at Azriel who began to desperately shush his brother as his worried eyes briefly jumped to the bar, afraid the woman in question would be listening in.

“Yes! Ok! I like her!” Azriel hissed quietly between his teeth, hoping his admission would stop Cassian from teasing him for the whole club to hear.

“I knew it…I knew it” Cassian beamed in satisfaction as if he had just solved Azriel’s deepest secret. As if it wasn’t obvious enough from the way Azriel had been pining after Y/N from the shadows of their booth for the majority of the evening.

“Go over to her! I’m sure she’d say yes if you ask her in a date!” He urged Azriel, gesturing excitedly towards the bar as if playing wingman was his lifelong dream profession.

“And leave Nesta to discover we’re here ruining her girls night? She’s killed people for less” Azriel retorted in hopes that his brother wouldn’t make him go over to the bar and no doubt embarrass himself by being rejected in front of the mass of people in Rita’s tonight.

“Ah” Cassian dismissively waved his hand, “what Nesta doesn’t know won’t hurt her, I’ll hide in the toilet and you-”

Cassian was interrupted by the cold snap of his mates voice, “Nesta doesn’t know what dear?”

The two males gulped at Nesta’s sudden appearance, both having no intention of saying anything lest they anger Nesta even further. There was no doubt the terrifying woman would easily give them both a piece of her mind without them even needing to speak.

“Do you want to tell me, darling mate, why you’ve come to stalk me on my girls night?” She continued, her presence enough to leave both males breathless in fear.

“I wasn’t stalking you! I was watching Y/N!” Cassian blurted before he realised how his words had sounded and continued rambling before his mate could smite him, “not me! Him! Azriel made me come, he’s in love with her so I told him to go ask her out!”

“Cassian!” Azriel gasped with wide eyes, disbelief crossed his features as his brother betrayed his secret crush. Anxiously Azriel leant over to look past Nesta, trying to find the object of his affection and make sure she didn’t hear what Cassian had said.

Nesta’s face flashed with surprise at the information before her expression morphed into something more mischievously sinister as her eyes landed on the sputtering Azriel. “Don’t worry she didn’t hear. She’s gone home” Nesta reassured him.

But Azriel was feeling anything but reassured. The spark that had ignited in Nesta’s eyes caused him to feel unsettled and shrink back into his seat, wanting to escape the woman’s scheming gaze. Even Cassian seemed uneasy, shuffling where he was sat as he observed Nesta’s silent plotting, unsure of where this was going to go.

“It’s ok Azriel” she finally said in a sickly sweet voice as she placed a hand onto his shoulder, gripping it tight enough that Azriel knew he should definitely be scared, “we’ll get you that date.”

~~~~~

If Nesta could be described in a single word Azriel would say she was relentless. Ever since she had found out about Azriel’s not so little crush on Y/N at Rita’s over a week ago, she had been a force of nature.

He knew Nesta loved her friend dearly. Having nothing but good things to say about her since she had been introduced to Y/N by Madja. The elder woman had hired Y/N as an apprentice with the hope that she would be able to take over her healing duties when the time came for her retirement. Azriel had been curious about this woman that the usually reserved Nesta spoke so fondly of and so the next time Madja had brought her along after receiving the call that Cassian needed to be healed, Azriel had made sure he was there.

He was not disappointed. Y/N had been blessed by the cauldron in both looks and heart. Her presence on the day they had met being enough to stun him into a paralytic awe as he found himself unable to string even a few words together to speak to her.

Azriel was content to watch on in silent appreciation. Spending the days whenever she was at the House of Wind hovering close by, longing to hear a trace of her soft voice. If he was particularly lucky, he would on occasion receive an earth-shattering smile as she acknowledged him from a distance. But that was all it ever was, a distance.

Until Nesta had gotten involved and suddenly Y/N was everywhere. There was no room Azriel could enter that Y/N wasn’t in alongside a beaming Nesta. His inability to speak around her growing more and more frustrating as he had to grumble a shy hello before excusing himself, nerves too overwhelming for him to say anymore and his embarrassment at this stupor being too much for Azriel to want to stay in silence.

His reaction to her new overwhelming presence caused Nesta to grow frustrated. She had obviously been thinking that this would be an easy match and ignored Cassian’s warnings about how debilitating Azriel’s crush actually was. Nesta would have to try harder than just making sure Azriel could never escape Y/N’s presence. It’s a good thing she had a mate who was more than willing to help out his struggling friend.

Cassian was not a subtle man, he definitely wasn’t the type of person who did things in small measures. If Cassian was going to set his brother up he would do it his way, and hopefully not destroy any buildings in the process.

~~~~~

Azriel had grown used to Y/N being here. Which meant he had become very good at avoiding her whilst she was, his shadows reluctantly reporting to him not to leave his room whenever she was around.

Instead Azriel’s new favourite past time was wallowing in his own self pity as he laid face down on his bed in frustration at his situation. Which is where he was when Cassian had entered, neglecting to knock and alert him of his presence.

“Hey buddy,” his words interrupting Azriel’s sulking, “Can I have your help with something?” Azriel emitted a grunt of acknowledgment, not deigning to lift his head to look at his brother. “Great…cool” Cassian continued, “so I am superrr busy with work right now but I had promised Rhys I’d get some paperwork over to Madja. Think you can help me out?”

Deciding that doing Cassian’s chores would be a suitable distraction from his thoughts, Azriel raised his head slightly and grunted once more.

“Brilliant thanks Az!” He grinned, rubbing his hands together before turning to leave the room. Azriel sat up fully now in confusion, facing his retreating brother, “Cassian?”

The male jumped as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t and slowly turned back towards Azriel waiting to hear what his friend had to say. “The paperwork?” Azriel asked.

“Huh” sounded Cassian.

“The paperwork for Madja? Where is it?” Azriel watched as realisation crossed the generals features, mouth dropping open in a small o.

“Right… the paperwork. I’ll go get it!” Cassian said before running off, his footsteps pounding down the corridor as he ran to his room and back. Once he had returned, panting slightly at his hurried movement, he handed Azriel a sealed envelope, “here you go! And uh… don’t open that it’s highly confidential.”

Azriel enjoyed the flight over to Madja’s estate, the opportunity to spread his wings and allow the cool air to clear his head was refreshing. He landed smoothly and opened the door, ready to greet the elder woman he and the rest of the Inner Circle were so fond of. Yet Madja wasn’t there. Instead, Y/N was sat at Madja’s desk scribbling away at the papers laid before her.

At the sound of the door creaking open, her head raised, a bright smile adorning her face at the sight of the shadowsinger. “Azriel! Hi, what can I do for you?” Her honeyed voice made Azriel’s spine tingle and he found himself wishing for her to say his name again. Liking the way it sounded coming from her lips.

“Uh…where’s Madja?” He didn’t mean to sound as rude as he did when asking that question. However, the irregular pounding of his heart made his senses slip and his anxiety spike.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind, smile still on her face as she answered, “I’ve started taking over for her. When there’s not any serious injuries of course,” her smile then faltered a little, “but I thought you knew? You sent the flowers?”

A matching frown crossed Azriel’s features, “flowers? What flowers?” He asked as she directed his attention to the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers placed lovingly into a vase on the chest of drawers behind Azriel. He squinted his eyes, enabling him to read the note sticking out of them. The note which was written in Cassian’s untidy scrawl.

To Y/N

Congratulations on the promotion

With love, Azriel

He blanched, “Yes! The flowers of course. I ordered them so long ago that I forgot I’m sorry”

Y/N’s frown grew deeper at his excuse, “I only got the news yesterday?”

“Madja told me a week or two ago” he lied, desperate for the topic of this conversation to change before he dug himself a deeper hole. The lie seemed to do the job though as Y/N was obviously pleased with the thought of the older healer telling Azriel about it, telling him about her.

“Oh well, thank you! I love them” her blissful smile returned causing the butterflies already present in Azriel’s stomach to go wild. He wanted to tell her no problem, to ask her how her days going, to potentially ask her out on that date he was so badly craving. But Azriel’s tongue had grown heavy, glued to the roof of his mouth rendering him speechless.

Like a fool he stood there before her just staring. Admiring the way the golden glow of the sunlight shining through the window danced on her rosy cheeks. Taking note of the way her eyebrow slightly twitched as it did whenever she was confused. It was only when his shadows began to shift around him that Azriel allowed himself to return to the present only to realise just how long he had been in that trance and how uncomfortable he must have made Y/N.

Wanting to escape his anxiety, he began to sputter out a pitiful goodbye as he stumbled his way to the door. “Wait Azriel!” Y/N called out after him, “why is the letter empty?”

This was the second mistake Cassian had made. The first was not warning Azriel about the flowers. The second was handing him an empty envelope to give to Y/N with no explanation. What must she think of him? Turning up to her office with an empty letter and no idea about the flowers which appeared as though they were sent from him.

Neglecting to provide her with an answer, Azriel rushed from the building, wanting to avoid any accusations from her about him being a creep. He took off as fast as he could, leaving a confused Y/N behind in the empty office.

~~~~~

Azriel stormed through the house, wings flared and siphons glowing dangerously. He didn’t stop until he came face to face with a smirking Cassian who was loitering in the kitchen having waited for him brother’s return.

“Am I genius or what?” He chortled, arms outstretched as he waited for a hug he would never receive, “we better get you ready for that date!”

“There is no date” Azriel growled through gritted teeth, batting down Cassian’s arms as he watched the grin drop from his friends face at the statement.

“What? But I set everything up perfectly?” Cassian said in confusion, as if there was no possible way his perfect plan could have fallen through.

“Perfectly?” Azriel laughter bitterly, anger growing fiercely inside of him, “you made a fool out of me! She thanked me for the flowers to which I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about and then she opened the letter and found out it was empty! I looked like an idiot!”

Cassian sucked in air between his teeth awkwardly, “I guess I didn’t think that through…”

“No Cassian,” seethed Azriel, “you never think. And now you’ve ruined any chance I ever had of… you know what just forget it.” With that Azriel stalked off, needing to clear his head and mourn over the relationship he was never even able to start.

~~~~~

Cassian had begged his brother for forgiveness, unable to last another minute with Azriel’s sullen form sulking about the house ignoring him. Of course Azriel wasn’t actually mad at his brother, most of his bitterness was reserved for himself. He should have understood Cassian’s hints and help and followed along with it, then maybe things would have gone differently and maybe he would have gotten the girl.

Not wanting to admit his true feelings about it to his brother, Azriel said he’d forgive him but that Cassian should expect hell at during their next training session. Azriel had lots of frustration to expel.

Which is what led them to where they were now. Azriel beating down on his brother with all his might, the two locked in a deadly combat together. Cassian having to block powerful blow after powerful blow that his brother was delivering.

It wasn’t until Azriel struck hard enough to disarm him did Cassian then suggest the two took a break before he ended up being skewered. Nesta released a low whistle from where she had been watching as she moved towards the men in the ring, Azriel’s frustration at the pair of them was almost tangible.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side” she joked, slightly worried eyes absorbing the frazzled state Azriel had left her mate in.

“Yeah well whatever stops you two trying to play Cupid” he defended, reminding Cassian why he had fought so hard.

Nesta snorted, “Cupid? Have you seen Cas try to use a bow? I’d be better poking you to your senses with Ataraxia.” Nesta’s eyes lit up at her own joke. That same unstettling feeling that Azriel had fallen victim to in Rita’s had returned.

Nesta unsheathed her dagger, stalking towards Azriel who was backing off with his hands raised. “What’s going on Nesta?” Azriel anxiously said as his back met the edge of the ring, halting his retreat.

“It’s alright, relax Az! Things will work out ” Nesta smirked. And the next thing he knew, her dagger had been plunged into his upper arm as he screamed out in pain and gripped onto the handle of the blade which was sticking out of his bicep. Blood slowly trickling down his arm.

~~~~~

“Y/N thank the cauldron you’re here!” Nesta gasped in mock relief at the appearance of her friend.

The woman ran towards Azriel from where Cassian had landed with her in his arms, worry plastered on her face as it had been from the moment Cassian had frantically shown up at her door and said that Azriel been stabbed.

“Oh mother! What happened?” She cried, pulling out a towel before pressing it tightly to Azriel’s bleeding arm, knife still lodged in his muscle. Azriel opened his mouth to give her the honest answer but Nesta beat him to it, “Freak accident! Happened out of nowhere. Super unfortunate. We’ll leave you to it, come on Cas!” She dragged her mate away, the two whispering aggressively together as they left. Cassian had obviously not been privy to Nesta’s plan.

“Freak accident?” She said in disbelief, pulling the knife out before beginning to use her healing magic to stitch the wound together. “Cupids sword apparently” Azriel hummed quietly, the majority of his focus being on how attractive he found Y/N’s concentrated face as she worked. Her presence alone numbing the pain he was feeling.

“I thought Cupid used a bow and arrow?” She laughed in confusion, attention not straying from the intricate magic she was performing on Azriel.

“I don’t think Nesta has ever used a bow and arrow in her life” he huffed, face twitching in pain as Y/N’s healing powers created a small burning sensation on his arm.

“So Nesta’s Cupid?” She mused, small smile on her face as Azriel froze at the realisation of what he had said, likely due to the blood loss, “or is it Cassian? He did send the flowers instead of you right?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in Suprise, “you…you knew?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. He’s not exactly subtle. And neither is Nesta apparently” she said gesturing to the thin red line of raised skin that now marked his arm where the knife had been.

“Yeah” Azriel shyly laughed in anticipation of what was transpiring between them, a soft blush dusting over his cheeks, “guess they just really want me to be happy… in their own weirdly demented way.”

“I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be happier more than you do” Y/N stated, her finger absentmindedly brushing over his new scar sending shivers dancing down his spine again.

“Yeah” Azriel manages to squeeze out of his anxiously closing throat, her close proximity reawakening the butterflies that seemed to have permanently made their home in his stomach.

“So?” It was Y/N’s turn to urge Azriel to ask her the question, “are you going to let Nesta go through all the trouble of stabbing you just so you can let me walk away? I’ve been waiting a while you know”

This time Azriel was able to find his courage, “I really like you.” He finally confessed, wanting to get the truth out before his inability to speak around Y/N returned, “I find myself unable to keep control around you, I can’t pull myself together and I always end up acting like an idiot. Because I am crazy about you Y/N.”

“You’re a very cute idiot” she teased, finger now travelling from where it was brushing his arm to trail down his chest. Her words made Azriel flush, he attempted to answer but all that came out were small broken sounds of disbelief.

“Come on Azriel” she continued to tease. Y/N had complete control over this situation, over Azriel. His spirit drawn to hers as her lips moved closer to his, “use your words. Ask me.”

“Will you go on a date with me?” He managed to squeak out. Transfixed by the hold she had over him. Y/N breathed out an airy laugh before gripping onto his shirt and dragging Azriel into her before their lips collided.

Whilst Azriel may have had problems speaking with her, he definitely didn’t have any issues when it came to kissing her. Making sure to pour every ounce of longing and pining that he had been feeling since he first laid eyes on her into the kiss. Their lips moulded together as if they were made for each other. A perfect match.

“Yes” she confirmed pulling back from the kiss to catch her breath. Azriel shifted his eyes to the movement occurring from behind her shoulder, gaze finding its home on Cassian and Nesta who were excitedly jumping, holding their thumbs up to the male.

Azriel wrapped his unbloody arm around Y/N’s shoulders, a grin of appreciation on his face as he looked to his friends thankfully.

There were worse friends to have.

[hypers-omniac]

Dragon!Reader came to me in a dream I’m not even kidding. Maybe it’s my subconscious telling me I need to post smth LOL.

It's been stuck in drafts for a couple days, but im posting in a self-celebration of one of my favorite creators ever following me !!

Anyways here’s wonderwall.

CW: maybe a little suggestive at the end, a tad of angst. BUT NOT MUCH I PROMISE (maybe later)

Can’t stop thinking about dragon!reader- mean and covered in scales, something the forest itself seems to fear as the leaves quiver in the trees. Huffing smoke through your nostrils like the grumpy thing you are, hunted for a reward by many who’ve failed. The waxy glare of the sunlight bouncing off the trees and onto your scales as you sunbathe- gathering the warmth you need and taking a moment to yourself.

Your legend. A bedtime story parents tell their kin about in bedtime stories to stray them away from the forest. Your crudely drawn face posted to the walls of nearby taverns, waiting for the next fool who might take up the challenge and never return. Your claws bear blood, both metaphorical and literal, in a way that haunts you at night during private hours.

It’s your first instinct to be defensive, to be mean and harsh to all that enter your forest it’s all you’ve ever been taught, all you’ve ever known is violence and hatred for what you are. It’s not any different when a rather.. boisterous knight steps into your domain, the crackling of dead and dried leaves alerting you to his presence. You’re all bared teeth and slit eyes- smoke puffing out of your nose at the Invader, readying yourself emotionally to have to spill his blood.

But.. he never attacks. A rookie knight, certainly, with how amazed he seems. You must be the first thing he was sent out to hunt. His blue eyes follow your defensive movements and curled tail, even when you snap your teeth at him. He wears a stupid mohawk that only comes from men his age. Your growls do not deter him, but you can’t bring yourself to attack first when his weapon is not even drawn, the steel not a threat to your scales, just yet.

So you huff once more, the smoke making him cough and splutter, his eyes burning and tearing up. And then you walk away indignantly. Careful to never turn your back as you go about your daily task. Much to your chagrin, he follows you around, asking you questions you refuse to answer- “It’s rather rude to ask a lady her age, knight.”- he’s like a puppy, tail wagging as he follows you around.

Johnny, you learn his name soon enough. Because he comes back the next day, repeating the process. It’s annoying, having a fly buzzing around your ears constantly. But it’s hard to be mad at the little thing when he’s just curious- “No, Knight. I do not lay eggs.”- even if his curiosity wanders occasionally. He called you bonnie, and you can’t bring yourself to reject the title. It’s endearing.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to let your guard down around the man. With every huffing laugh he manages to squeeze from you, your eyes are always drawn back to his sheathed sword attached to his belt. A constant aching reminder of what you can never have, and exactly why. Your tail curls around yourself protectively at the thoughts, the same way it always does around him. It’s so exhausting having to worry about your safety all the time, but what can you do?

Johnny? Oh, he’s just happy to be around a Bonnie lass like you. Trying to be as charming as possible. He just wants you to use them, reader. Pin him down and take what you need until the two of you can get along. Maybe you’ll stop being so grumpy towards him if you take his frustration out on him? A man can dream.

Bloody hell, he’s not even a real knight. But they won’t let anyone into the forest unless they’re authorized. Johnny is just lucky one of his friends is a knight, letting him borrow the armor after a short ramble from the Scot about your picture- the damn drunkard having seen it at his favorite tavern. “Bonnie lass, Kyle. Gotta lemme see her, yeah? Jus’ gotta try- jus’ for a bit, jus’ so they’ll let me in?” Mans WHIPPED.

(He never even brings his sword. It’s an empty sheath and a fake handle, just so he can keep going into the forest in search for you without blowing his cover. What a guy)

[coffeebeanwriting]

What Bores a Reader The Most?

I asked my followers to answer the question “what bores you the most when reading a book?” 

Please keep in mind that these are all opinions and you’ll find yourself agreeing and disagreeing with some. Personally, I think this is amazing insight into the minds of unique readers all around the globe! I decided to keep reoccurring answers instead of merging them, just so people could see the repeating themes.

“Predictable conflicts or character actions. I want to be surprised.”

“When there’s no clear plot. When it looks like the book is leading nowhere.”

“Endless description. Nothing makes me more prone to skipping ahead.”

“When it feels like what you’re reading lacks purpose and there is no meaningful contribution to the plot.”

“Characters with less personality than a wet paper towel. Main characters with zero personality.”

“When I can’t picture anything in my head or what I understood changes randomly.”

“When a conversation is happening and I can’t follow which character is saying what.”

“Daily routines in a story. Like, I do not care.”

“When the world doesn’t move if the main character doesn’t interact with it. This applies to t.v shows, too.”

“Something that does not have a build up like a sudden relationship out of the blue.”

“When I’m so confused it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

“When there’s a 3 page description of some random object.”

“Wayyyy too much detail.”

“When the big plot twist is revealed and I guessed it ages ago.”

“Too slow or too long.”

“When the author unnecessarily drags the story and takes ages to advance to the climax.”

“Fan service that doesn’t contribute to the plot.”

“Useless descriptions and/or actions.”

“Over description of a landscape (cough old literature cough).”

“No action, no violence. I don’t like when characters talk for too long.”

“Long descriptions.”

“Too much descriptions when you are in a exciting moment. It breaks immersion.”

“Lack of imagery.”

“Constant usage of archaic vocabulary.”

“When the main character is extremely passive and doesn’t act or react.”

“Excessive description that doesn’t further the plot or meaningfully add to characterization.”

“Overly predictable plot, overly crude language for the sake of it, cringe/pompous scenes.”

“Long and boring exposition dumps.”

“Characters that never loose 😴.”

“When the world building starts out great and is really immersive until later on when things don’t add up.”

“When a character has too much internal dialogue.”

“Explaining “the science” behind magic systems in unnecessary detail.”

“Over description. I will skim and skip a lot of it.”

“Too much background info at the beginning.”

“When there’s small talk about a topic I don’t understand. It get’s sooo boring.”

“Too much inner monologue.”

“Slow plot.”

“When it’s just dragging on and on with the backstory.”

“Having to reread a sentence/paragraph a billion times because my brain got distracted.”

“When there’s no action, suspense or something similar for the whole chapter.”

“Things that aren’t relevant to the story.”

“Too much dialogue.”

“A lil too much fantasies.”

“Over drawn setting descriptions.”

“Overly long chapters, repetitive scenes, lots of complicated worldbuilding.”

“When it’s too simple or too detailed.”

“Long, long expositions.”

“Repeating phrases, plots ,etc.”

“Infodumps, especially in the beginning.”

“Too much history.”

“Overly descriptive settings.”

“Slow plot. I need drama!”

“Long chapters.”

“Slow pacing.”

“No major plot twist.”

“Miscommunication trope.”

“Massively long descriptive paragraphs.”

“Too much exposition in the beginning.”

“Long and confusing story building.”

“Repeating plot points. For example: the hero learning to trust his friends a million times without any real progression.”

“Training scenes that show nothing special. Especially sword fighting or head to hand combat.”

“Generic plot developments unless it’s written well.”

“Overuse of complicated words and sentences.”

“Long paragraphs.”

“I’m so over the bubble sunshine and extra grumpy trope.”

“When a character is overthinking.”

“Romanic subplots bore me. Having too many love interests.”

“When it switches between characters/subplots and one of them is awfully boring.”

“When too much information on a character is given one at a time.”

“Clichés.”

“When it takes a long time before the story gets interesting.”

“Long, long, long descriptions particularly of places that aren’t all that important.”

“Descriptions of unnecessary things.”

“Too much side character’s story. They’re a side for a reason.”

“I love beautiful writing so there must be some lovely descriptions... but don’t drone on.”

“Flat characters.”

“Scenes in which my favorite characters do not appear.”

“When the characters have no clear goal or the goal is too weak.”

“If most or all of the characters are unlikable. Then I don’t care what happens to them in the story. Being an evil/mean character is different from being unlikable.”

“When the plot does not move forward.”

“Writing unnecessary, irrelevant things that don’t have an effect on the story.”

“No real plot. The protagonist has no fire to them.”

“When the protagonist needs to figure out a love triangle and which person they like the most.”

“When the interesting parts happen right at the end.”

“When there’s too much info dumping with no easy transitions.”

“No progression after chapters and chapters. Characters not having development.”

“Too much description and a slow start to the story.”

“When characters are too oblivious to something.”

“Oblivious main characters, lazy plots, stereotypical encounters, main character is a god trope.”

“Unnecessarily long amounts of monologue or dialogue.”

“The second chance trope bores me.”

“Slow beginnings... like, get to the action in 3 chapters of less please.”

“Chapters being too long with small writing.”

“If the characters go through the same conflict over and over again.”

“Classic books... I don’t understand a thing, haha.”

“Being bombarded with unnecessary detail.”

“Bad boy meets good girl trope bores me.”

“Too much landscape descriptions like Tolkien or Stephen King.”

“Bad dialogue, too much excessive background details and too many character tags.”

“When the book moves too slowly.”

“Over described scenes or characters.”

“Descriptions without inputs of what a characters is thinking about. I need a lens of character POV to make descriptions interesting to read.”

“A badly written romance subplot where the characters involved don’t have any chemistry whatsoever.”

“I get a bit lost when there’s too much details about an environment.”

“When the story doesn’t go anywhere for a really long time.”

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting  

[bun-lapin]

First Years Prank Wars

Summary: Ace, Deuce, and Epel prank Sebek

A/N: So I know we're in the middle of a follower event but I couldn't resist writing some quick, funny shenanigans to celebrate Ace's birthday today~! Ace is so funny to me and I really have a soft spot for his mischievous attitude. He definitely gives me "lead troublemaker" vibes lol Happy birthday Ace~! <3

CW: platonic gn!reader, very silly, only one braincell and guess who has it (that's right, it's you!)

Walking into the Ramshackle Dorm lounge, you see Ace, Deuce, and Epel hunched over the coffee table in the middle of the room and furiously whispering to each other. A handful of maps and papers are chaotically laid out across the table and on the floor around the trio.

You ask the group, "What exactly is going on here?"

Ace looks up from the map on the table and excitedly shouts, "We're planning a heist!"

Deuce rolls his eyes at Ace and scoffs, "Quit trying to make it sound cooler than it actually is." He turns to you and explains, "We're planning to pull a prank on Sebek."

Epel chimes in, "But it kinda is like a heist! We're planning to sneak into Sebek's room and steal his portrait of Malleus."

You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrows, "You're planning to break into Diasomnia?"

Deuce holds up a crude, drawn in red crayon map of the campus and shouts, "Yeah!"

You tilt your head, feeling a headache about to form, "And you're planning to steal Sebek's portrait of Malleus? His most cherished posession in the world?"

Epel holds up a blurry photo of Malleus himself, not the portrait, and yells, "Yes! But don't worry, we're only going to keep it for a day or two. Then we'll put it right back!"

Looking over to Ace, you somehow get the sense that all of this is his idea. You put your hands on your hips and sternly ask him, "Alright, be honest. What did Sebek do to prompt this prank?"

Ace jumps to his feet and yells with indignation, "He made fun of my hair!"

You blink in confusion and then look to Deuce and Epel. They simply shrug and offer no extra explanation. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out a deeply aggravated sigh. You walk out of the lounge without a backwards glance and leave them to their work.

~ The Next Day ~

Walking to your afternoon class, you hear a faint sound, almost like a long sustained note in a really weird song. As you turn to look for the source, you realize the sound is the sound of screaming and it's getting louder and closer.

In the distance, you see Ace, Deuce, and Epel running faster than you've ever seen them run before. Sebek is close behind the three of them with a sword raised high over his head.

Sebek shouts, among other colorful threats and curses, "How dare you disrespect the young master like this! You three deserve no mercy! Stand and fight me, you cowards!"

You hide your face in a book and quickly walk in the opposite direction away from the chaos.

[scummy-writes]

"Find The Chev!"

Inspired by @minsharkie due to her super cute papercrafts, and a discussion in my ikepri/ikevamp server where @solomons-poison brought up a cute idea of the Clavis papercraft sitting on top of Sariel's paperwork.

You didn't have much free time on your hands, not really, but you felt inspired one day after watching Clavis make some of his... creations... With some inks and stiff paper you found around the palace, you set to work with a dastardly deed of your own: capturing Chevalier's likeness in a cute, mini version of him. And after Clavis laid his eyes upon it, a mixture of mischief and jealousy flashed in his eyes.

From that moment on, he came up with a new game to play around the palace in hopes of annoying his brother, lovingly dubbed 'Find The Chev!'

It starts off, well... Chaotically.

At first, the little Chev would be found in places accompanied by Clavis' traps: near nets that were ready to drop, right in front of a pitfall, and the worst was in the (unlit) fireplace.

That was when you huffed, dusting the soot from your cute creation. After a few touch ups and a new paper cape for the mini beast, you told Clavis you put too much work into this just to have it sullied in such a way.

From that point on, little Chev traveled to much safer places, and the game restarted in a trap-free style. Each of the princes had gathered wind of this game by now, and it became a daily habit for whoever to find him to share where he found them with the others (and perhaps with a hint of where to find him next)

───※ ·♡· ※───

Leon found him at the training grounds, fit with a crudely made paper sword of his own by the rest of the weapons. He brought the news with a chuckle, joking that it was the first time he saw Chevalier with a sword drawn and no bloodshed.

Jin found him in Leon's fraction's office, balancing at the very tip of the messiest pile in the room. He seemed oddly relieved that he wasn't hiding elsewhere in the room, rather than ashamed at the mess.

Chevalier found him in his favorite reading spot in the gardens, returning him to you with his normal frown. Yet the mini version of him returned with a petal on his head, unharmed and in pristine condition, faintly smelling of roses.

Nokto found little Chev near his favorite 'reading' spot in the library, late at night. He didn't deliver this news until the morning after, but reported that the mini King Highness was reading a book of his own, with a little heart drawn on it.

Licht found him next in the stables, balancing carefully on the divider separating the other horses with his. He found it odd that it was there, but mumbled that little Chev was safe ontop a crude wooden horse of his own.

Yves brought word of little Chev's next adventure as he gave you some sweets to 'sample', saying he found him next to his baking supplies. He did not confirm or deny if the little Chev helped him bake the sweets he presented, bristling with a blush instead.

Luke yawned as he patted your head, asking if you knew why little Chev was hidden away in his favorite sleeping spot. When you had no answer, he simply shrugged and grinned, letting you know he found him with a little blanket of his own to join in on Luke's nap.

Sariel mentioned it at the end of a lesson, cleaning up the papers you two had used. This time, little Chev was found next to a secret bottle of Sariel's, leaning up against it as though he had sipped from it's contents. ... You sweated during the interaction, having to convince him you truly had no idea who hid it that time around.

Keith brought news of the surprise tea time guest, nestled between various sweets that Yves had made. Little Chev smelled faintly of tea, he reported, and seemed to be in good spirits.

Gilbert found him on top of the chess board him and Chevalier play on. He presented him to you with a grin, making note that the little Chev had taken place of the king, and was toppled over. You weren't too happy with the implications, but found relief that he only came accompanied with a white piece from that set.

Silvio had his hands on his hips when we informed you of finding your 'weird toy' in the spare room he had been holding meetings with merchants in. His frown got worse when he said the gaudy paper necklace he wore wasn't funny in the slightest.

And Rio found him on your breakfast tray, serving him to you with a wink. There, little Chev accompanied your morning tea and pastry, ready for you to take him on his next adventure.

Clavis putting him in the fireplace was meant to be a joke about how he feels about chev's actions, but it was unlit and he never wanted to bring actual harm to it (why would he do that to smth you made!!)

Anyway this was fun! I thought this was a cute idea, and I had fun imagining the little trips lil Chev could have gone on. I thought any trips into town would be risky, so I kept it limited to just around the castle(palace?) grounds.

I am imagining that lil Chev has a resting place that is easy for anyone to nab without spoiling the fun of Who Did It This Time, complete with a note beside it to Please keep him safe on his travels. Each time he is returned to you, you debate on leaving him there or taking a turn at hiding him again.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lokis-laugh @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @drachonia @fang-and-feather @keithsandwich @bubblexly @ridiculouslly-ridiculous @drewadoodle

Ikepri Masterlist | Ikevamp Masterlist | Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

[kiingbooooo]

A little fairytale AU CapHavers fic in the works!

The ride to the mountains was beautiful, at least, the sun shining, his favorite horse carrying him away from the castle and all its plotting and intrigue.  Two days, and Anthony had reached the mountains.  The map had led him to the pass, the first signs of the dragon a series of scorch marks on a boulder.  Further up, a sign stated “BEWARE!  DRAGON!”  As he made his way up, the signs became more dire, with additional edits.

Underneath “BEWARE OF FEARSOME MAN-EATING DRAGON!” someone had written “No dragon here!  It has disappeared!!” in crude, hand-painted letters.  Maybe there would be indications of where the dragon had fled to, if it had indeed left.

The smell had been a clue.  Not meat, raw or cooked or burnt, but a slightly sulfuric odor.  He’d gotten off his horse by then, tethering it nearby.

Visor down, sword drawn, he’d approached through the narrow slot canyon.  It was wide enough to ride through, but he didn’t want the horse to spook if there was indeed a fearsome, man-eating dragon.

“Foul beast!  I come to slay you!”  Anthony knew he sounded ridiculous.  He’d be dying soon, like a fool.

From the cave, the sound of something falling over.  He cocked his head.  Sounded like pots and pans.

“I can hear you in there.”

“No, you can’t!” something growled from inside.  Anthony started.  Could dragons speak?  He really should have done more research.  “Begone!  Nobody’s home!”

[acutecoral]

I'm feeling ill thinking at Cellbit burning all those things from Bagi aside the drawing

Her letter, the bed roll, the sword, the candy

All those things he rends to ash, in the Fear room, a physical stand-in for his mind

He burns any trace of the child he was, to detach himself from that part of his past, from the connection of that lost part of his life

I can imagine the bedroll standing in for a sense of safety, the sense of home

The candy, so sweet and childish, I imagine these sort of treats were a luxury, how could one even came across them amongst a world of blood and flesh?

The sword, made of wood, a naive idea of what being a warrior meant, he was forced to survive in a war, in amidst fighting, to just survive, to make sure he can get past one second, one minute, one hour, one day further than all the others around him

Her letter...he can't think of it now, the horror of knowing he had a normal and peaceful life, that the experiences he went through could have been avoided, that he was ripped away from everyone he knew...that's too much

Think about how long it took for him to come to terms about the bloodshed and fighting and ruthlessness that marred every memory he had of his past, how he had to find a way out of that darkness all by himself

All alone, and imagine how that was something he had to come to terms with, he was alone, he survived still, and he's here, with a family, people to call friends, people he can trust...

And this revelation shatters that established belief in his reality it's too much, it's too much, he can't focus on that now

But...he has a sister.

Even if he doesn't want to see her and talk to her right now...she's there.

Somehow she's there.

Despite everything.

(Will she still be there if she knew the depths of depravity he was forced to just to stand where he is now?)

He holds onto that drawing.

A crudely drawn scene of one child pushing another on a swing.

She's all he has left of that life.

Does holding that old drawing feel familiar? Does it stir something inside him?

Does it feel like hope?

[wholelotofweird]

Heir of Nothing

i simply think that Enigma CrudestSwords is cool. @crudely-drawn-ben

[crudely-drawn-ben]

The Ffantasy Ccastle teams

Here are the complete teams from the Ffantasy Ccastle gameshow that represents one thread of our current Crudely Drawn Swords: Trilogy adventure. First up, our heroes in Team Alpha:

Team Beta: Cally Cooper, Barry Kudos and Daurade Maquereau.

Team Gamma: Moki Trumpeter, Ember Wrasse and Rocio Pomoxis.

Team Delta: Shanny Tompot, Togs Gurnard and Zander Mullet.

You might have noticed a theme in the naming scheme - once the players decided they were going to have fish-related names they basically gave me license to go wild with the NPCs and I am very happy with this. Cally Cooper is the exception because she lives in the Badlands and belongs to one of the Cooper families instead of the weirdly fish-obsessed city folk.

[souglias]

The Meeting of Two Monsters [Sougo]

Mafia!AU. Someone, who you come to realise later on is extremely powerful, bids for you at a black market auction

c/w: slavery (purchase at a black market auction, nothing else mentioned beyond that), sougo is sadistic and is up to the usual bullying he does in the anime (though arguably upped by a notch here), crude language

wc: 1.9k words

Okita Sougo x gn!reader

note: This is @username-janai-katsura-da 's request for me as part of the @/ficsforgaza initiative! Prompt is 'try me' taken from this prompt list here. Thank you so much for requesting mwah <3. I may make this into a series but well we will see how it goes

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

-

You’re thrown onto a bright stage, stumbling to a kneel with alloy-reinforced cuffs around your feet. The overhead lights beam at you, their orange rays starting to make you feel like a dish under food warmers waiting to be sold.

Though, it isn’t too far-fetched to say so. Among the pitch-black sea of darkness in front of you are shady bidders ready to pounce with their money.

Your arms, also restrained behind you with cuffs, start to feel sticky with sweat.

The auctioneer’s voice brims with enthusiasm as he describes you. Some terms and sentences go over your head, but you catch him throw out some characteristics that you are unapologetically proud of. Strong, agile, violent. The enthusiasm maintains even as he describes the injuries you inflicted on your current owner. Standing at the sidelines with a crutch and bandages on his face, you can smell his desperation in trying to get you off his hands. 

Given the gasps from the crowd, you’re certain no one will buy you. No one sane will throw their money for a beast that will bite them. But you don’t despair or feel even a pint of remorse. Throughout the wastelands of your birthplace and the planets you sought refuge in, you fought to ensure you did not have to bow down to others.

Besides, if nobody bids for you, you’ll automatically remain as property of this pathetic man. He and his bodyguards got nothing on you, and you can make your escape again. However, that would have to mean you’d have to make a quick escape. One much further out of the city before a particular group of men catches you again. It was dark the night they subdued you, so you didn’t manage to identify them. There is nothing of note other than the smell of nicotine, which is commonplace and useless information.

However, when the auctioneer begins, the paddles still rise from the darkness. Bidders shout their bids one after another. The scene leaves you bewildered. 

It’s a never-ending rally of shouts and increasing numbers until an assertive voice breaks through the buzz in the hall. When he announces his bid, silence befalls the auction hall. It is a price much higher than the previous by a large margin. If there is any shock, the auctioneer does not show it. He immediately responds, “[name], two thousand million dollars! Calling once!”

You don’t know if you’ll ever understand the workings of the underground world. It’s already difficult for you to comprehend how people are drawn towards danger.

“Calling twice!”

Whoever is throwing this much money to buy you must be a really mad dog.

“And sold!”

The knock of the hammer reverberates through the hall and the chatter resumes. The transfer of ownership makes a little uncertainty take root in your chest. You’re not sure of the capabilities of your new owner, and you hope he and his subordinates cannot match up with yours.

A man with hair of a mustard colour and bangs comes to get you. The alloy-reinforced restraints on your legs are released and you shake your feet to rid of the feeling of the metal eating into your skin. But he doesn’t give you much time before he probes you with the hilt of his sword. The moment he opens his mouth, you’re already set on making trouble for him. 

He drawls and speaks in between yawns, “Hey, hey, get going. I’d like to get to sleep as fast as I can.”

If you weren’t restrained, you’d have given him a good punch. He pokes you with his sword all the way to the car. Admittedly, his carrying of a sword makes you respect him a little. He’s got balls of steel from the way he carried it unapologetically in his belt (before he used it to be irritating). Most have already switched to guns or well-hidden daggers with the sword ban. 

With your hands still cuffed behind, he shoves you into the passenger seat and your face almost hits straight into the gear stick. You shoot him a glare that he doesn’t catch. With your hands behind you, you’re unable to lean back into your seat.

You gather all the propriety you can find within yourself and ask, “Can you release me? I’d like to sit back.”

He stretches over you for the seat belt and buckles it over your awkwardly bent forward body. “No.”

Without warning, he steps on the pedal and begins the drive down the dark city. In a foul mood and slouched against the seat belt pressing into your body, you scrutinise his attire. Long black coat with gold accents. It’s characteristic of a famous syndicate in the underground, but their name eludes your mind. S… S something. Or M… something? 

No matter, you’ll fight him and escape the moment you get out of the car. Even if he doesn’t release the restraints on your hands, you’ll make do with just your legs. Such a powerful organisation isn’t likely to have any business with you.

With the same lazy drawl as before, he says, “Alright, [name], welcome to the club. You’re to heed my every order, even if I tell you to die. In return, you get three meals a day.”

“That’s an awful deal. I’m always hungry, make it five.”

“Pampered much?”

“For my full prowess and to maintain my energetic self, I need that much.”

“Energetic? Oh, I’m guessing you’d be useful even in the sheets.”

What a crude asshole. “I’d detonate your dick.”

“Feisty bitch. You guys are always like that.”

You guys? Does this man have more than one slave? 

The car swerves sharply into a winding side road and you hiss at him. A three-storey Japanese house, surrounded by seemingly endless stretches of walls, comes into view along with smaller ones behind it. They appear well-maintained, but not flashy.

From the distance, you see the traditional Japanese wooden gates open as if they have been expecting the car. You observe the gate, trying to make an estimation on whether you could scale it. As much as possible, you’d like to avoid smashing through the gate and causing a commotion.

The headlights briefly pass the wooden plate nailed onto the gate frame as the car drives in. 

Shinsengumi. 

It hits you like a brick that this is the captain of the first division, Okita Sougo. A pint of anxiety takes root in your chest and for once, you’re unsure about your escape. You’ve fought and won many people, but those were not renowned fighters of the underworld. 

The Shinsengumi is a name that instils fear. They are disliked, but many cower under their gaze.

His subordinate opens the car door and you let him escort you into the building. Okita yawns behind you and you count on his fatigue to lead him to dreamland soon.

The nameless Shinsengumi member guides you to a shoddy, barren room with just a chair. He says something about the captain allocating this room to you. But a sense of danger grows imminent within you, causing most of his words to go over your head. Your legs itch to take off, but you suppress it as if you’re persuading an antsy child to be patient. The restraints need to be released, otherwise, the escape will be a sure failure for you.

The growing uneasiness in your chest warps your sense of time, making time seem to tick hurriedly. You’re not sure how much time has passed when the same member returns to release your cuffs. With no time to waste, you knock out the poor guy and break through the glass window. You hurl yourself over the windowsill. With the momentum of one foot when it touches the concrete, you launch towards the closed gate. 

You do not cover much distance when Okita appears beside you in a blur. You clench your fists and throw them towards him – his face in particular. 

Okita dodges your swing by leaning backwards and he uses the momentum to punch your flank with the side of his arm. You hit the ground on your back, but you compose yourself quick enough to kick him away and flip back up onto your feet.

Both of you exchange blows and swing fists at each other. You soon find that your body is starting to slow with a few days worth of exhaustion. As you punch him towards a tree, he manages to plant his feet on the bark while airborne and propels back towards you. You shift to dodge, but your foot slips. 

In the split second before his mean punch meets your face, you notice the gold of his coat catching the bright moonlight. A memory surfaces. In the pitch black of that night with barely any moonlight, there was a faint flash of gold.

You blackout. 

The next time you come to, you’re slouched over on a chair. The room is dark, and light barely reaches in from the slightly ajar door. Your nose aches and your hands are tied up once again. Raising your head, you meet a crimson-red gaze that’s between you and the door. 

Okita partly mirrors you, seated hunched over in his chair. But his elbows are propped on his knees and he rests his chin on the back of his hands. His eyes do not avert even as you shoot him a glare.

He rises from his seat and saunters over to you. You see the bruises and cuts you had given to him as your eyes adjust to the darkness. It quells your anger ever so slightly, even as he’s relishing looking down at you.

“I knew you’d try that. Energetic enough to fuck with me for a third time?”

“Die.”

You’d lunge at him at this moment, but you’re too exhausted. Sougo unsheathes his sword in a fraction of a second and he raises it above you. Your heart races. Maybe this is the end, but you keep your gaze steeled on him.

He brings down the sword and you hear it hit the floor with a loud thud. You do not feel pain where you expect it to flare. Looking down to assess your hands, a dent in the tatami mat below you catches your attention instead. The rope coiled around your wrists slides to the ground. Aside from the injuries from the tussle earlier, you’re unscathed from his sword.

“I can’t wait to wipe that defiant look off your face.”

The sheer absurdity you experienced from this man fires you up. You stare him back in the eye again. “Try me, assface.”

Even with the slight curve of his lips that he tries to suppress, the sadism brimming in his eyes betrays him. Sougo walks out of the room without a retort and closes the door. Following the sound of the lock, his footsteps fade away.

You slump back down into the chair. Basking in the darkness for a while, you let the last few hours sink in. When you stop trembling, you feel along the walls for the light switch and flick it. You wince from the sudden brightness and your eyes open slowly. 

It’s a clean and tidy room. No windows, presumably to prevent you from pulling an escape using it again. Near a small shelf, there’s a clean, folded futon with a pillow. Fresh clothes similar to the tattered ones you’re wearing sit atop it. Your loyal companion of an umbrella, which you thought you lost, rests closed on the floor beside the futon.

[fateandloveentwined]

poetry lines befitting MCS and XJY

These are mostly chinese tang shi and song ci poetry quotes, with a great biased amount from Su Shi because OP doesn't know better. Crude, 5-minute english translations below. There are lines I semi-made up or adapted from fandom/cpop songs (that is, most of Xiao Jingyan's lines), ngl OP is rather embarrassed of them because they aren't good at all looking back now but we'll just leave them here or else XJY would end up with zero quotes.

梅长苏 Mei Changsu

想那日束髪从军，想那日霜角辕门，想那日挟剑惊风，想那日横槊凌云。 ——夏完淳

Think to the day I tied back my hair and enlisted. Think to the day the horn rang at the frostbitten tents, think to the day I danced my sword making the sound that deafens the wind. Think to the day I took to the lance, and it pierced through the skies, rising higher than the clouds. — Xia Wanchun

将士百战身名裂。 向河梁、回头万里，故人长绝。 易水萧萧西风冷，满座衣冠似雪，正壮士、悲歌未彻。 ——辛弃疾

The warrior fights a hundred battles, yet what remains is his severed reputation. He looks to the bridge over the river, thousands of miles back, past acquaintances forever gone. In another life, over the howling of the west wind and the cold Yi rivers, the banquet sits, clothes adorned in snowlike white. The courageous man strides through the blizzard, the song of lament never ceasing. — Xin Qiji

零落成泥碾作尘，只有香如故。 ——陆游

The plum blossoms wither and drift to the ground, crushed into earthly soil and dust. The prevailing fragrance is what remains. — Lu You

亦余心之所善兮，虽九死其犹未悔。 ——屈原

So long as this is what my heart longs for and treasures, though I die nine deaths, my heart does not regret. — Qu Yuan

君臣一梦，今古空名。 ——苏轼

Lords and lieges ebb into nothing but a dream; in the river of time transcending present and past vain titles remain, cast into the void. — Su Shi

无波真古井，有节是秋筠。 ——苏轼

The heart is at peace like the ancient well that does not ripple; the integrity is as the autumn bamboos, steadfast and unfaltering. — Su Shi

舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 ——苏轼

The warship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. — Su Shi

对一张琴，一壶酒，一溪云。 ——苏轼

Facing but a guqin, a jug of wine, a stream of cloud. — Su Shi

江山如画，是我心言。 ——风起时

The rivers and mountains of the kingdom outstretches before me, as moving as in art: this is my heart’s will. — from the song “Feng Qi Shi”, when the wind blows

战骨碎尽志不休，冰心未改血犹殷。 ——改自《赤血长殷》、王昌龄

Bones completely crushed from the battle, yet aspirations unwavering. The heart has not changed; the blood flows red still. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red, and poet Wang Changling

袖手妙计权倾变，敛眸笑谈意了然。 ——改自《赤血长殷》

With folded arms, he devises labyrinthine strategies. The sceptre of power sways and shifts. He shrouds his gaze modestly, and in conversations of small smiles, he discerns the intention of men. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

萧㬌琰 Xiao Jingyan

潜龙一朝御风翔，长歌挽弓射天狼。 ——《长喑》

The submerged dragon rises one day to ride the winds. Singing high and long; the bow is drawn pointed at the invading Sirius. — from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

挑灯殿阙思悄然，闻钤行宫寝无眠。 ——改自白居易

Awashed in the raised lamps of the imperial palace, thoughts whisper in grievance. The bell rings at the Jiu’an grounds, and he lies abed sleepless. — adapted from The Song of Everlasting Sorrow by Bai Juyi

驰骋沙场繁华梦，谈笑鸿儒君臣纲。 ——改自《致陛下书》、刘禹锡

Dreams soar in the flurrying gallops of the battlefield, flourishing dreams of splendour and joy. In pleasant dialogue with scholars, civility obliges polite smiles into the etiquette of lords and lieges. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty, and Liu Yuxi

铁马并辔封疆，几回魂梦游；更鼓落夜未央，笔下兴亡断。 ——取自《长喑》、《赤血长殷》

Armoured horses riding in parallel at the borderlands — how many times has the soul wandered to such dreams of the past. The hourly drums sound ceaseless across the long night; under the emperor's brush, the fate of prosperity and declination writes. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here, and “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

揽尽山河只手倾，昂冕袖手瞰苍生。 ——改自《长喑》

The future of his kingdom sweeps into a tilt of his hand. With crown upheld, he folds his arms in his sleeves awatching humanity. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

咫尺抚眉峰，万丈叠远峰；梦底枕笑纹，惊风掀水纹。 ——《致陛下书》

Up close, the furrowed brows are smoothed. Ten thousands of feet stretch before him, converging into mountains at a distance. In the deepest dreams, the markings of a smile lie; he stirs up the wind which marks and rips tides in the tumultuous waters. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty

Two (three) things to note:

My dying obsession with Su Shi, sorry I can’t help it that perhaps over half of the all the poetry I know is from him;

To be really fair, my favourite description of Mei Changsu is 运筹帷幄之中，决胜千里之外, used in describing Zhang Liang in Si Maqian's Records of the Grand Historian. He orchestrates masterplans in the tent of the army; he determines the victory of the battle from afar, thousands of miles from the front.

As for my favourite depiction of Lin Shu, it is definitely Su Shi’s description of Cao Cao: 舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 The warship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. Xin Qiji’s verse above just fits the entire story of Mei Changsu so much, it deserves a mention.

I was assembling/making these lines up for something back then and so just listed whatever came to mind (for reasons I know not I kept on listing stuff for MCS, but maybe XJY was the typical good emperor kind of person so wasn't as inspiring coming up with quotes for him).

If there are lines of poetry you find really befitting the two characters, we're more than interested starting a thread here just for that purpose.

[marielaure]

Barriss the Ninth, a necromancer (digital art, 2D style, with a fading brown background and crudely drawn skulls and various bones)

Ahsoka the Ninth, Barriss’s cavalier (same art style as above but Ahsoka wields a sword in her right hand and knived knuckles in her left)

Both characters wear black robes.

I’m currently on ch. 21 of Gideon the Ninth! Hopefully I can finish the books up soon so I can draw griddlehark!

[gay-dorito-dust]

would you be able to do an aemond x reader where she's high born and good at fighting etc and defends aemond by threatening others

A/n: this was incredibly rushed, no solid idea seem to stick to my brain, like at all. Also this is me choosing to make Ser Criston Cole even more of a dickhead.

“A highborn should never dirty their hands, there are those who are more then willing to make a name for themselves.” Was your parents response when you voiced your desire to pick up a sword. They saw it unbecoming and a hindrance towards potential suitors from more predominant houses such as House Targaryen and House Stark. Your parents counsel didn’t deter you from going behind their backs and descend to the training grounds dressed as a man; For had you went as yourself, the knights would be inclined to go easier on you or outright deny you the chance to train in due to your gender.

However those days were forcibly drawn to a close once you were sent off to your new home at the Red Keep in KingsLanding. Yet that didn’t meant you couldn’t descend to the courtyard every morning to watch Aemond train with Ser Criston Cole from the archway. To everyone in attendance you were just fulfilling your duty as the future wife of the young prince by being supportive. You manage to have everyone fooled, everyone except for Aemond, who noticed a sadness in your eyes as though you were mourning the missing part of your heart as blades cross in a flash of silver; He even took note of how you’d instinctively rub at certain spots of your arms when he managed to nick his opponent as though you were expecting the same pain. Or as though old wounds were reopening upon a sense of old memories resurfacing. Needless to say he grew curious about the contents of the habits you indulge in your spare time.

Aemond seemed to be so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgot that he was still in the training grounds until Ser Criston Cole managed to take advantage of this and disarm him swiftly. “Had this been a proper battle my prince, you would’ve been slain on multiple occasions.” The knights eyes shifted over to the archway where you stood, cross armed and all before they shifted back to Aemond who’s jaw clenched at the implications that Criston was placing upon you. “It’s best to not be distracted by menial things.” Criston said with a carefree tone that told Aemond that he did not care for what was to happen to him as he was intentionally trying to provoke him. Aemond’s anger didn’t quell silently as it only boiled beneath his skin, like the raging lava of a dormant volcano ready to burst forth in blinding fury.

Meanwhile you were unfazed by the knights comments. It was blatantly obvious that he never felt the genuine loving touch of a woman despite coming from one. You genuinely wondered what his poor mother would think if she were to see her son making a fool out of himself and his family name; You certainly wouldn’t stand for it and you’d like to believe that neither would she. Aemond knew how to handle these sorts of situations himself, so you refrained from intervening in something that ‘didn’t involve you’ when it clearly did given Criston’s unsubtle and unprovoked jab. Neither you nor Aemond wanted to give the man any satisfaction whatsoever. Yet you noted in the way Aemond held the handle of his word, he was clearly close to severing Ser Criston’s tongue from his mouth.

“Don’t be provoked by him Aemond, the man speaks with a mouthful of shit.” You told the prince, causing a brief chuckle to pass his lips at your crude words. See Criston however didn’t find this as hilarious, “your foul mouthed bitch needs to keep her trap shut. It’s unbecoming of a lady,” he pauses to laugh nastily, “though then again if I were to say, it seems that between you and her, she’s more of a man then you are to speak to others in such a manor.” The small smile gracing Aemond’s face was quickly wiped clean off in exchange for one of pure anger. The courtyard that heard Criston, fell silent. You on the other hand, finally had enough of sitting on the sidelines and decided to step up to defend your husband to be; Marching up to Aemond and snatching his sword from his hand before quickly knocking Ser Criston’s feet out from under him, causing him to fall backwards on his arse and then poising the end of Aemond’s blade at his throat.

“My Aemond is more of a man then you’ll ever be,” you hissed venously, “you should be gracious that I don’t cut your tongue out right here and now for your impudence behaves should the current circumstances been any different, I’d make certain to drag your decaying carcass to the dragonpits to be fed upon.” You leaned closer to his face, pressing the blades tip just underneath his chin, “do I make myself clear Ser Criston.” “Crystal clear Lady y/n.” The knight merely murmured under his breath, embarrassed that he had gotten overwhelmed by a woman in front of an audience who would certainly let word spread throughout KingsLanding and beyond. He could already envision the smug smirks upon both Daemon and Rhaenyra’s faces which only made his blood boil even more. You smirked, having this fight won with ease whilst high on Ser Criston’s humiliation.

“Good, I would offer a hand but I feel as though your more suited right where you are.” You said snidely before looking back at Aemond who’s only eye beamed with pride as you expertly handed over his sword. “You didn’t inform me that you were well versed in the art of the sword my dearly betrothed.” He says as he sheaths his sword and escorting you back into the Red Keep, “Though I must say, It would’ve ruined the surprise had I known beforehand.” He adds. “Highborns aren’t meant to take up the sword but I always found swordsmanship to be quite the therapeutic stress reliever.” You responded, beaming with self pride and relief that Aemond didn’t think of you any less because of it. “Then perhaps we should train together sometime?” The prince inquired. You smiled as you reached for his calloused hand, “only if you won’t become a sore loser when I hand your royal ass to you.” Aemond couldn’t help but laugh at your pride as he stopped you to lean on close to your face. “If that’s your way of claiming a challenge my beloved,” he says in his velvety soft voice that housed a hint of mischief, “then I accept wholeheartedly.”

[vesemirsexual]

would love to be in the lodge and just clown on fringilla for eternity. “your report is due” no problem fellow queen, i have it right here. it’s a folded up piece of paper with a shittily drawn version of rhys-rhun castle. perhaps i even put a a crudely drawn stick figure with a sword giving the middle finger for extra flair. get rickrolled lmao