#and to allude to how/why

[bread-wizards]

I find it interesting that out of all the party, Laudna and Orym are following in Ashton's footsteps a bit in hiding things from the party (Orym with the Nana Morri deal, Laudna with her interacting with/talking to Delilah more and more), and I wonder how much of it is the residual impact that Bor'dor's betrayal had on them.

[nebulations]

Fish, 7 (For your prompts! ❤️)

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the prompt, you were the very first one to send one in! 7 was, again, the wildcard, so I randomly generated a different number to land on Yue Qingyuan (from Scum Villain)! I have no choice but to dedicate this to @bytedykes, because I told her about this prompt and she said “yqy pet fish mental health speedrun” and we went, uh, a little insane about it. Enjoy some yuefang, folks!!!!

“Mu-xiong,” Yue Qingyuan says. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you available?”

“Yue-xiong is never a bother,” Mu Qingfang says warmly. “And I am, actually, yes. Is everything okay, Yue-xiong?”

“I think I need help.” A bit dramatic, perhaps, and Yue Qingyuan hates to trouble Mu Qingfang on a rare day off, but Yue Qingyuan and impulse have never been the best combination, and he would appreciate a second opinion.

Mu Qingfang’s voice turns hard. “Where are you? I'll come right away.”

“What—?” Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone like the blank call screen will tell him why Mu Qingfang suddenly sounds so serious. “I'm at home, but—”

“I'll be right there,” Mu Qingfang says, and hangs up.

Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone for another second, then lifts his gaze to his sparkling new aquarium. His new betta, white and black and resplendent of fin, stares back. Was his crisis of faith about his viability as a fish owner really so deserving of such urgency…?

—

“So,” Mu Qingfang says. “This was your emergency?” He looks about as unimpressed by the betta as it does by the two of them.

Yue Qingyuan feels obscurely like he’s being scolded. Mu Qingfang is one of the nicest men he knows, but that just means that his censure takes the form of a blunt instrument of mass disappointment.

“In my defense,” he points out meekly, “I didn’t say there was an emergency. Mu-xiong just assumed.”

“That’ll teach me,” Mu Qingfang huffs, but at least he looks amused. “Yue-xiong should get used to asking for help more so this gege doesn’t have to panic every time he does ask.”

Yue Qingyuan’s mouth almost drops open. He can only hope his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Er—well, I asked this time, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Mu Qingfang allows, looking something horribly close to fond. Yue Qingyuan swallows and tries to hurry on.

“So—not an emergency, but I do want your opinion,” he coughs out. “I’m having… doubts. About the fish.” Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows contract. Yue Qingyuan rushes it out. “Do you think I should keep it?”

“Yue-xiong…” Mu Qingfang looks politely incredulous. “Why does my opinion matter? The fish is already yours, isn’t it? If you don’t think maintaining its upkeep will be feasible, that’s one thing, but… Surely Yue-xiong did the research before getting it?”

He doesn’t sound judgemental, but Yue Qingyuan feels his cheeks warm. “I did, but I wasn’t planning on getting a fish; I was only admiring the tanks. There was a salesperson who was… very insistent.”

Mu Qingfang regards him doubtfully, which is fair. Yue Qingyuan towers over most people he meets, and his bulk only further adds to the impression of immovability. It’s only when he opens his mouth that it becomes clear how spineless he actually is.

Yue Qingyuan falters. “I had thought… I thought it might be nice.” The bettas had seemed so majestic in their tanks, iridescent monarchs of false grass and plastic coves, and Yue Qingyuan had thought, wildly, that one might be rewarding to keep, might breathe a touch of life into his immaculately sleek living room. The whole affair hadn’t even been expensive by his shiny new standards, forget difficult to physically arrange. It was only when installation and set-up for his new aquarium had finished and he was left to watch that jewel-bright being swim disaffectedly through its new home that doubt had seized him, all-consuming and black. He had, admittedly, panicked a little after that.

(Yue Qingyuan’s apartment is very large, and very clean, and very empty. It holds the barest amount of decoration and muss to qualify as lived-in rather than a snapshot from a magazine ad. The fish may, in fact, be the only thing in the entire place which really qualifies as his. No wonder Yue Qingyuan wanted to jettison it from his life as soon as he got it.)

Mu Qingfang’s expression hovers between concern and simple confusion. “I’m sure Yue-xiong will be a more than adequate caretaker,” he says, more gently than Yue Qingyuan and all his neuroses probably deserve. “What’s this really about, Yue-xiong?”

Ah. There it is. Being the mildest person of Yue Qingyuan’s admittedly sharp-tongued social circle doesn’t preclude Mu Qingfang’s wit from being as keen as the scalpels he works with.

“I don’t…” Yue Qingyuan falters. How to express to Mu Qingfang how manifestly unfit Yue Qingyuan is to care for any living creature at all? He changes tack. “I think he hates me,” he admits dolefully.

Mu Qingfang stares at him for a long time, long enough to imply that he’s reevaluating certain opinions about Yue Qingyuan’s intelligence. “Yue-xiong, with all due respect to your new pet—it’s a fish.”

“Fish have emotions!” Yue Qingyuan argues. He flushes at the volume at which it comes out, and at the way Mu Qingfang’s eyes go wide-eyed in startlement. But the salesperson had been very insistent about that, as well. “Bettas are intelligent animals. They dislike certain colors, apparently, and they’re very sensitive—ah, to environmental disruptions, that is. And—”

Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows are still high, but his face has relaxed into a smile. “It sounds to me like you like it quite a bit already. Isn’t that reason enough to keep it?” His tone curls with sudden mischief. “Have heart, Yue-xiong—you’ve hardly known each other for a day! Give it time to adjust to you, and I’m sure you’ll win it over as surely as you do everyone else.” And he grins, sure and easy in his trust that Yue Qingyuan won’t fumble and shatter something so small and monumental as a life that he could cup in his palms.

While Yue Qingyuan is still dazed by that, Mu Qingfang’s eyes alight with interest. “Ah, Yue-xiong—what have you named it?”

“...”

Mu Qingfang’s face falls as devastatingly as it had lit up. “Yue-xiong…”

“Mu-xiong is aware that I was unsure of whether or not I’d keep him!” Yue Qingyuan is terribly aware that his ears are now heating up to match his cheeks. Mu Qingfang’s ensuing laughter does not help with that matter.

Yue Qingyuan is not very good at holding onto things. More often than not, he makes a mess of whatever he’s set his clumsy hands to, lets it fall right through his scarred fingers. But Mu Qingfang’s words ring through his head: Isn’t that reason enough to keep it? And, well, isn’t it? Surely Yue Qingyuan is adult enough to follow through on this. Maybe happiness can be look like his new betta swimming up to the tank to observe the new colorful form moving in front of it, can come as easy as Mu Qingfang quipping that his knowledge about fish is clearly lacking and vowing casually to read up on bettas to be a better fish uncle.

Yue Qingyuan buries a smile and walks over to let Mu Qingfang know that bettas can be trained to follow fingers around. The betta’s clear preference for Mu Qingfang over Yue Qingyuan is as good a marker of intelligence as any fun fact the pet shop worker could have given him. Yes, Yue Qingyuan thinks with a smile—he thinks he’ll be keeping this after all.

[utilitycaster]

I enjoy shipping, but I cannot see the appeal in watching shows only for the purpose of shipping; I think it closes you off to so much. I think coming into a work with the expectation that it will only succeed if a particular configuration of people end up happily in a relationship with each other when the curtain closes means you will reject so many unexpected choices altogether. It destroys your ability to appreciate the entire concept of tragedy. Just, imagine refusing to let yourself enjoy "I'm not a gardener" because you are too furious that a different kiss than the one you wanted happened to feel other emotions.

[ghost-proofbaby]

a man said the most eddie-coded thing about me that i genuinely cannot stop thinking about it days later but he doesn’t know that i know he said what he did

[disqualifiedashuman]

.

[relicsongmel]

Hey. Sprite analysis folks what the fuck does this mean

Somewhat inspired by this post

[ardentpoop]

saw a post on here a while ago that was like “calling your favorite fictional guy ‘prince’ doesn’t hit the same as ‘princess’”

not to be a huge asshole but there is a reason for that 😭 guess what word I’m thinking of. M-

[viily]

a littlwe TOO humbled at the peace of never posting anything i draw. great for not haviog comparison disease or engagement worries or whatever but it is Simply Nice to let others see cool thigns you make because art is cool to look at. like a generosity.

[whispence]

okay yeah this is literally just me playing around again

(translation: i just wanted to draw my girl </3)

also alternate version because why not :3

[lordofthestrix]

“Control is an illusion, something to make us feel grounded and in charge of our destinies.”

Old. Older than most by how well he took the sudden push forcing him away from her. Older than Tristan's people, even. It was no wonder the portly figure managed to surprise Aurora long enough to constrict his hand around her neck for a moment. They were no longer accustomed to strangers matching their might. Ancient vampires were an endangered species. In another world, under a different sky, Tristan could have been amused, even slightly curious about the bald-headed, leather-cladded gang leader and his entourage of bikers. One seemingly almost as primeval as them. In this world, under this sky, all he burned with was the scorching image of his hand squeezing his sister's neck as he began spouting some trite poison about his territory. Ancient vampires would be more of an endangered species by morning. The man had the good sense to reassess. Quick glimpses at the two of them. Thinking for a fraction of a moment before opening his mouth again. Be it to withdraw or double down. His hand closing against her neck. The motorcyclist spat out blood with inexpressive pain. Tristan struck against his throat before he could offer a word. Mercilessly. He wasn't feeling in the mood to talk. "Let me." He managed to the only other person with the right to survive the occasion. It had been a while, yes. A while since bones that refused to instantly shatter and hits capable of harming him. A while since any fight unleashed for anything other than sport that wasn't a mere execution. The fever raised as strikes were exchanged. The flames of the image consuming him. Growing overwhelmed, the man zealously hide on the defensive. Still rabid enough to protect the path to his heart with feral wildness. Quite the annoyance. And it was only a matter of time before his pride gave in and he unleashed that increasingly nervous swam of mosquitoes to aid his no doubt until then undefeated leader. Fine...Defend yourself. His hand promising her pain. Tristan struck against his eyes. It wasn't clean. The claws of a malefic creature capturing its prey. Pushing with vengeful ardor. Until his eyes exploded. Until his eye-sockets bled black. And Tristan pushed still. Remembering his threatening insolence against Aurora all the while the still fractured voice screeched. Tristan pushed. Finally, the skull violently shattered out of him. His breath wasn't quite recuperated when one of the men left behind by his failure pleadingly tried. "...I swear! we don't wan-" The hand of the dead man. Almost hurting Aurora. Tristan de Martel roared. Bending the room to its knees. Viciously. Dark veins tainted demonic eyes and the fangs of a monster visited his visage. Another uncommon event. It had been a while since Tristan last showed his real face to anyone who wasn't dinner. They were not a challenge without their ringmaster. They were carnage in motion. Fleeing. Battling. Begging. It was all the same. Vivid, giant stains of red on a suit that had once been blue. Strangest of it all perhaps, was the terrible sincerity and ceaseless fondness the ruthless beast was capable of effortlessly changing into once the affront found justice and it was her he was addressing. "Are you okay, darling?"

@ladamedemartel

[polestargios]

don’t mind me i’m just gonna yell about axel greylark in the tags

[akascow]

man yellowjackets would be so much better if it didnt keep cutting back to the present day

[bowsbar]

im very ambivalent on the twist btw

[smallhatlogan]

occasionally getting so mad about what they did to maya 5 years after the fact that i have to take a break from writing a maya scene in my fics and just be really fucking mad about her

[ratcandy]

Thinking of a really cool poetic line in my head and going "wow i should write that down so I don't forget it" and then guess what I forget to do

[4lph4kidz]

my next fic will be normal (lying)