#it's peak stupid and evil

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 7: the Darkening of Valinor

So Melkor loses his shapeshifting "soon after" he runs away from Valinor (hiding from Tulkas and Orome), but when exactly? I suppose when he empowered Ungoliant. Because later he doesn't disembody or go in spirit form again.

Yes, he takes his big bad form to talk with her— and so he stays. Forever, says the book.

Ungoliant is afraid of Aman and of the Valar. :D

Melkor promises her a lot, with no intent to keep it. I feel like this may have something to do with him being so much nerfed after the situation, unable to take his power back from her (if it would be possible anyway) and almost eaten.

The Valar do like to take CoI-like forms and eat and drink (and celebrate in general I suppose). It is canon.

Feanáro is ordered to come to the party. Huh. why? who thought they had the authority to do it? the book doesn't say, so maybe it was Ingwë, this would make sense and I see why he would think it was a good idea.

Finwë is still upset, and as long as Fefe is banished, he does not want to meet his people. So again, Fingolfin doesn't feel very usurpy to me here.

…and despite being named "Wise", he overtalks Feanáro too. :( This time it doesn't result in Fefe getting upset, but in a badly worded promise.

Ungoliant eats the trees, gets so big and ugly that even Melkor is terrified of her.

Darkness mentioned again!!!

(googling the english text of this part)

The Light failed; but the Darkness that followed was more than loss of light. In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, and to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will.

Oh. Darkness that is a thing. No, It *seems* to be a thing. (see: Theodicy and all that.)

I'll have to make a mass analysis of all the capital D Darknesses and how to connect them all (bind? no, we're not gonna do the bindy-bindy) to one concept. But I feel like they should be all facets of one thing concept.

Another thing (a thought for @dfwbwfbbwfbwf especially, I think): It's not "if". It's whenever their deeds started failing too much, Darkness fell upon them and entered heart and mind, and strangled the very will.

I don't think I'll subscribe to this HC, not fully, it makes things too easy, their hand was forced and I don't like their hand being forced.

But partially? This I will subscribe to. They did call upon something, something that seemed to be true, something that seemed to have the power to compel them. I think this reading is very close to Tolkien's intent, because it stinks of "this is how evil works".

Am I portraying Ungoliant as more evil than Melkor?

I think that at least in some aspect I am. Because she feels like something that is not entirely, well, that not entirely *is*. I don't know how to explain it better. And he was a Vala.

Can you stop being? Can you turn from a being to a non-being? I don't think so… I do not subscribe to the "Ungoliant was an uMaia" theory. I don't subscribe to any theory of "Ungoliant was [something that objectively exists]".

Ungoliant as Melkor's (self-inflicted but still real) trauma given a illusion of form by his power? Mmm. I like this one. I don't think it will be popular, but I do like it. (Or: his hatered, his jealousy, something like that, if you prefer. I don't think those are far apart from one another in this case.)

(Why is it easier to me when something evil-evil is not really real? Is it philosophy or my personality issues? Good question. I think there is some philosophy there too.)

Tulkas gets paralyzed by the spider-induced Darkness and Orome gets a "silence" spell on him. So, not only Melkor is defeated by a spider, he's just the most defeated.

[tojiscrack]

to my all little liars!! (edit: wtf happened to my english? 😭)

we’re at 24.6k words rn 😟 if you plan on reading it next week, i recommend you read it on the weekends when there’s no school or work for you waiting in the morning 😀

calling in the troops rn ‘cause there’s still one final scene i have to write and it’s gonna be LONG (this isn’t including the bonus scene btw) but it’s extremely important for the story to continue, and without it, the rest of the story literally cannot go on 😭

we’re locking in guys. it’s 100% gonna border 30k words for sureee. sm has happened in that ONE chapter and i literally cannot wait to release it for all of you, you have no ideaaa

gonna go to bed and then wake up, study, break, write for the fic, repeat. had to randomly drop an update here cuz i’ve been edging you guys for so long i’m sorryyy, but it really is nearly here <333

edit: fck it guys i’m writing it rn (the immediate comments got me motivated)

[yippee-optimistically]

hi .. 😨 so super recently i read this rly neat fic and have had brainworms ever since. basically ever since mephone left, the final 4 have been left to their own devices in the contesting grounds which r actually pretty far from the hotel. they sort of just have to fend for themselves. these doodles r sort of between fic fanart and a little bit of a concept for my own take on the idea ?? but yeah :P

if i hear any ii s2 e15 spoilers from this post ill delete my blog

[discjude]

this is, by far, the worst thing I've ever made. AWWP Tedros you will always be famous

[ashyy-slashyy]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, YA GOOBERS!!!!!!

these took me SO LONG i hope you enjoy, i love you!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

as usual i feel obligated to say that i don’t actually have a problem with popular fanon being popular. what i have a problem with is popular fanon being conflated with actual canon to the point where having a conversation about what actually happens in the fucking book becomes almost impossible, because fanon is treated like canon.

[antigonenikk]

i have decided i am officially a billy hargrove s1 steve harrington jason carver defender. i do not care that they are assholes thats why im obsessed with them.

[kubota-crackhead]

brainrot

[isnt-it-too-dreamy]

this mindset that comparing other genocides to the holocaust is so immoral and wrong and offensive is so nonsensical. comparing in this case is not about evaluating what was/is "worse", downplaying the severity of it, or erasing the unique contexts and characteristics that EVERY historical event obviously comes with, or anything like that, it's about identifying what genocide looks like and how it happens so that we can act to stop it if we see it. the "exceptionality" thinking when it comes to the holocaust has not helped anyone. in fact it prevents solidarity to others suffering a similar fate.

[lunatrics]

to be fair his father did claim him to be the devil and make his early years hell and then he was praised like a god by his mother when he finally killed him, so he may have obtained the complex t h e r e after being unable to feel emotion until that point.

[oarfishing]

Alright, I'm sick of seeing TERFisms on my dash, so here's a handy list of TERF dogwhistles and talking points to think about before you reblog a post.

I've seen a few of these before, but it doesn't hurt to make more. Especially when we're seeing a lot of radfem rhetoric popping up in LGBT spaces from people who might not know better.

SCREENNAMES: these are terms that commonly appear in radfem usernames across the web

rad or radical

fem or femme

vulva, clit, uterus, womb, ovary, vagina, etc.

febfem

anything along the lines of "angry woman"

xx or chromosomes

wombyn, wimmin, womyn, etc.

LGB

feminist

BIOS: things that show up in radfem bios

♀ or ⚢

febfem

female separatist

female, human female, adult human female

xx

something along the lines of "the scary feminist you were warned about"; being an angry woman, being sick of being silenced, being an evil woman, being an angry lesbian

detrans (NOTE: detrans people are absolutely not always transphobic)

dysphoric female

males/men do not interact

LGB✂️

misandrist

feminist (NOTE: again, very few feminists are actually terfs, but this is commonly in terf bios alongside some of these other terms)

TERMS: terms that radfems use in their circles

TIM - trans-identified male, a way of saying transfems, trans women, and other trans people

TIF - trans-identified female, same as above but the other way around, less commonly seen

DSD - disorder of sexual development, a way to avoid saying intersex and to categorize intersex people as "still male or female" (you might see "males with DSD" or "females with DSD" for example)

females or males instead of women and men

alternatively, women and males to dehumanize men

"peaking" or "peaked" - referring to becoming radicalized as a radfem or TERF

womyn, wombyn, wimmin, wo**n, and any other spelling that takes "man" out of the term woman

mentally ill men/women

sex-based oppression

gender critical

"TIRF" - trans-inclusive radical feminist (don't be fooled by the name, they're very much not)

TRA - trans rights activist, derogatory

sex-based rights

female separatism/"women's land"

WBW - womyn-born womyn

autistic girls/children

troon - (ridiculous) slur for trans people

RHETORIC: general ideological themes in radfem rhetoric

men are inherently more violent than women

women don't or rarely rape men

(woman on woman rape is ignored by almost all radfems)

being nonbinary is a way to "stop being" your assigned sex while still acting as your birth sex

lesbians are not attracted to men/penises and can never have sex with men/penises (otherwise, you're bisexual)

men can and will never be lesbians

there is no such thing as a bi lesbian, only lesbians and bisexuals. labels are rigid and sex-based

all of the world's suffering is driven by men

women would be better off separate

an all-female society is utopia

sex is binary, and intersex people are "glitches" or "still male or female but DisorderedTM"

men should expect to be feared by women

female/female relationships are safer and more pure than straight or gay male relationships

men and women are more different than similar

intersex people should not be allowed in sports

intersex people and trans men are never in men's sports

terrible world events wouldn't have happened if women were in charge

men are stupid and aggressive

being a man is not a positive thing

men's problems are lesser than women's

penises are disgusting and vaginas and vulvas are beautiful

trans women are performing at being girls

trans men see themselves as above lesbians

attraction is sex-based

porn is rape

porn is inherently violent

watching porn makes you predisposed to inflicting abuse

BDSM is inherently violent and misogynistic

transitioning children (whether socially or medically) are being abused

"bitch" and "cunt" are slurs against women

only gay men can say faggot and only lesbian women can say dyke

When you see a few or more of these together, RUN! It's a terf.

[aenramsden]

The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

christ more dragon god sy yapping:

all those b-points he got from finishing that first quest? gone. my mans got like 100 every time he blessed a new generation of peak lords, plus the 500 he got from finishing that first main quest {From the Ground Up}, plus whatever he got from fighting off all those beasties who tried to kill his little cultivators way back when.

but when he unlocks his human form, he does not unlock clothes, and he has to buy them from the system store! truly unfair! he looks pretty similar to how he looked in his first life, just a little less sickly. he also has to buy a sword from the system, which is frankly bullshit. but lanrui is a lovely sword—an almost pearlescent sheen to the blade, with peach blossoms inlaid in the hilt and a dragon scale sheath that…it’s almost certainly made from his scales, actually. weird. after buying everything he needs from the bullshit system’s scam shop, he’s left with about 150 B-points.

after his magical girl transformation from gigantic dragon god to gangly human wrapped in way too many layers of sumptuous green and blue silks, shen yuan is sent off the mountain on a couple of missions from the system. pop into the demon realm to slay this evil, fend off these fierce corpses attacking this little town—tutorial shit. it’s weird having such a small body again after six (or seven hundred???? he’s not thinking about the enormity of time right now) years as a gigantic dragon. his steps feel a thousand times lighter, and the first time he tries to pick a fruit from a tree, he kind of explodes it with spiritual energy. the tutorial is, unfortunately, necessary.

the system is almost helpful when it shares his stats and all his cool dragon skills. his official name here is lord canglong, but honestly it would be so hard to explore this world if people were falling all over themselves when they heard his names. did dragon gods get personal names before courtesy too? fighting with the system gets him a corny, half-assed compromise.

he still gets to be shen yuan, but while his first life’s yuan was 垣 yuán (wall), in his second life it’s 愿 yuàn (desire, hope), and the shen he has is… very transparently 神, shén (god, deity). he’s got stupid amounts of spiritual energy, he doesn’t need to eat or drink, and sometimes plants bloom around him since he’s the also kind of the god of springtime?

right when he gets excited thinking about how he’s a god!! (the dragon god in PIDW!! that bastardization of qinglong that airplane wrote who never did shit to defend the realms until his mountain was being destroyed by binghe merging them!!) the system butts in to remind him that there are limitations. he can’t kill humans except in certain circumstances or else he’ll be punished, which—fine, he didn’t plan to go around murdering people anyway? his dragon form will be locked whenever he’s not on canglong peak (bullshit!! what kind of half assed nerfing—) and there’s a permanent penalty on his account, [Dragon Ex Machina], that threatens to penalize him if he uses his dragon god powers to bully the plot into going his way.

so what’s the point of being a dragon god, then!?!??!?!

he spends days bickering debating with the system while he learns to use his sword and qi without exploding whatever he touches, but the system refuses to budge. if he tries to bully the plot too much, he’ll be punished. it’s bullshit, but so is this whole novel he’s found himself in, so…

shen yuan is ready to spend a few more days acclimating before he gets a game plan together but that flies out the window when something starts burning at the back of his mind, screaming that something’s wrong, something is in danger, part of his territory is threatened. he hasn’t felt that since the last demon invasion, and before he can stop himself, he’s mounted lanrui and darted off toward that feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

he ends up having blown in a wall of qing jing’s discipline hall, the tail of shen qingqiu’s whip caught in his fist (and fuck, that hurt to catch!!! his hand is definitely bleeding) as he stares down the man who was really just about to start whipping a child. a couple of disciples have gone white; a couple others have fallen over. the only ones in the room unaffected are shen yuan, luo binghe whose eyes are wide as he gazes up at him, and fucking scum villain extraordinaire, shen qingqiu. and the scum villain’s first words to him, lord canglong, dragon god of qing jing peak???

“move, or i’ll beat you too.”

[deepspacenova]

𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄

2000 words | missing scene. dragon sylus. light-hearted. sort of fluff.

Beyond Cloudfall [Deleted Scene]: In which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

Note: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole ass adventure to make her feel better with a cat. Full of self-indulgence and an out-of-his-depth Sylus. Hope you enjoy xx

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens’ hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity. 

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform. 

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang. 

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human. 

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance. 

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below. 

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself. 

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat. 

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above. 

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again… 

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve. 

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered. 

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence. 

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake. 

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do. 

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death. 

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction. 

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure. 

And his dignity. 

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. 

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it. 

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful. 

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.  

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave. 

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously. 

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave. 

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain. 

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

[mochinomnoms]

jade tries to get his pearl PTM to join mountain lovers club, and tries to appear all suave and cool but instead floyd ruins it

"i found these beautiful mushrooms in the forest, would you like to join me, i'll need a hand collecting them for my terrarium"

"yeah maybe after jade will put you in a terrarium, shrimpy"

to get revenge jade helps riddle hide from floyd and these antics continue, until riddle and yuu are found at the same time drinking tea in the heartslaybul garden and the twins make a truce instead of ruining it more

Jade and Floyd do love each other dearly, they're brothers after all, twins at that! And family is the most important thing!

However they also fucking hate each other in a way that only two close siblings could. They can also plan each other's murders in a way that isn't concerning because they are siblings.

But murder is illegal, being annoying isn't though! A skill that both are excellent at.

So Jade is happy to tip Riddle of everytime Floyd is on his way. Though he's not his keeper, he knows his brother like no one else, and almost has a sixth sense of where he is.

“Hey Jade, where's my Goldfishie?” Floyd had a pout as he looked around the classroom. He'd just seen Bluebottle walk out, so he knew that Jade was meeting with him and Shrimpy for his potions project.

“Oh, Riddle left already.” Jade was peacefully cleaning up his notes, tucking loose papers into his folder and closing his notebook. “He was in quite a rush when I mentioned that you'd planned on stopping by.”

Floyd's head snapped over to his brother, eye twitching at Jade's self satisfying smirk.

“...And why'd ya do that?”

Jade cleaned up the rest of the table, tucking his items under his arm. As he towards the door, he passed by his brother, leaning in and giving Floyd a rare, evil grin.

“Payback.”

“Oh, fuck you asshole, that's how you wanna play it huh?” Floyd hissed, jabbing a finger into Jade's chest. “Too can play at that.”

And thus, led to just about a week of the twins sabotaging each other's attempts to get closer to their desired mates.

Jade had been overly 'helpful' with Riddle, tipping him off to an incoming Floyd or coming over to 'talk' with his brother, giving Riddle a moment to escape. He'd even gotten Tony involved, though the little sharkmer wasn't privy as to why Jade had asked him to hang out with Floyd more often.

In Floyd's case, he'd taken time out of his day to interrupt any private moments between you and Jade. Floyd was delighted in talking up a storm with you, slipping in little insults at his brother while at it, much to your confusion. In retaliation to getting others involved in their spat, Floyd decided to bring along Wynfred, which got Jade immensely irked.

It's not until the two are walking within the rose maze, searching for both of their mates, that they finally come to an understanding.

“I haven't seen my Goldfishie all week, and it's your fault!”

“I could say the same to you, every time I manage to get a moment's of peace between us, you come and disrupt the entire thing.”

“That's not the same! You still get to see them, I haven't even managed to take a look at his red hair all week! I'm gonna forget what the color looks like Jade! I'm gonna forget unless I see Goldfishie right now!

“Hmph, I hardly doubt that'll happen. Speaking of, where are our mates?” Jade sighed, peaking around the corner to see a dead end. “They said that the two were having tea in the maze, but I can't even hear their voices.”

Floyd paused, taking a moment to go on his toes and peer over the hedged.

“Hmm...I can't tell, Goldfishie has this rose perfume, but everything around here smells like roses.”

Floyd wrinkled his nose before moving to look at the other hedge, as Jade looked down the other pathway, huffing at the unending paths and walls.

“Oh! I see them!” Jade turned back around to see Floyd halfway over the wall, hissing as he dug his palm into a thorn. “Ow! Geez, stupid flowers.”

Hopping off with a 'hup!', Floyd jogged down the path past Jade, a blissful smile on his face.

“I'm coming Goldfishe~” Jade followed after, snorting at the giggles leaving his brother's mouth.

Jade smiled, despite himself. It was always nice to see his twin happy. He used to make fun of his enamor for Riddle, but after you came around, he's begun to understand why Floyd was the way he was around Riddle.

Floyd stopped, peeking over the corner with a grin, which promptly disappeared. Jade furrowed his brows, speeding over to sneak a look at what made Floyd upset, though it really could be anything.

Though, he had to give Floyd credit, he could see why he was upset.

You sat next to Riddle in a small clearing with a table set, drinking tea and chattering. Based on how Riddle was smiling and laughing, Floyd was probably jealous.

“...not fair.”

Jade looked at Floyd and tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Is not fair, why does Shrimpy get to make him laugh?” Floyd's frown grew as he pouted. “He never wants to laugh with me!”

Looking back at the pair, Jade felt his chest tighten at the scene. You looked so carefree and bright, like the sun shining through the waves. Floyd was right, it was unfair that you two never shared these sides of you with them.

“You're right, it's quite unfair. Why don't we go and try to get those cute reactions ourselves? I'll make sure Riddle doesn't run off, and you'll do the same with my pearl.”

Floyd grinned, giggling as and offered a hand.

“A truce?”

“A truce.”

The two shook on it emerging from their hiding spot and, rather loudly mind you, announcing:

“Oh Goldfishie~/My Pearl!”

If you were to ask the students of Heartslabyul, they'd say that yours and Riddle's screams of terror could be heard from all over the dorm.

[hangup119]

ඞ JOIN GAME?

twenty-two. galvanized steel and eco-friendly wood veneers

warnings: spoilers for jujutsu kaisen (manga only), cringe brain rot 😓

NERVOUS WOULD BE A COMPLETE AND UTTER UNDERSTATEMENT FOR WHAT ANTON LEE CURRENTLY FELT. 

After he had made sure that the stream was officially over and that his camera was no longer running, he had made a quick dash towards the nearest mirror in a vain attempt of making sure he didn’t look too much of a try-hard with his outfit and hair. Only after making sure that he didn’t look like either, he gathered the last of his wits (what much was left after playing Resident Evil 4 for two whole hours anyway) and proceeded to make his way down to the lobby to finally meet the ”girl of his dreams,” according to the embarrassing, spur-of-the-moment tweet he had made earlier. He cringed just to even think back on it. 

“Where is she?” Anton muttered as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly looking around the relatively empty lobby for any sign of you, much to no avail. 

Well, this is  it, he thought while attempting to steel his nerves for the umpteenth time. This was the moment all previous chapters have accumulated to—the peak of countless weeks of having known each other online in and out of streaming and private DMs he would sometimes think about during the crack of dawn on a random Tuesday. He figured that there wasn't much to do now since he already hyped himself up while he was cleaning this morning, and recently just now when he was still five floors above. Sure, he probably looked real stupid when he kept repeating affirmations to himself (“your rizz is real, your rizz is real…!”) in front of whoever was monitoring the CCTVs today, but Anton realized that he was far too skittish about your short-notice meet up to truly care about others’ perception of him anymore. Which, in hindsight, was concerning. He wonders if he needs to schedule an appointment at the doctor’s…

“Boo.” 

Anton jumped lamely, cursing under his breath before having it immediately taken away when he turned around to face you. 

You blinked up at him.

“Woah,” you said, a bit surprised, “you’re so… tall.” 

“And you're so… short,” was his genius response. 

“What was that?” you asked darkly. Anton gulped nervously, but then you looked at him quizzically. “No, like, seriously, what’d you say? I couldn’t hear you properly; your voice is too soft, man.” 

Oh, okay. He almost breathed out a sigh of relief because you didn’t hear that.

“Nothing important,” Anton stammered, hastily ushering you towards the elevator doors without giving you a chance to say anything else. “Let’s just go. You wanna see the fish, right?” 

“But I—…” you trailed off, watching him hurriedly press the buttons on the wall. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed out eventually, awkwardly fiddling with the straps of your bag. When the doors finally closed, Anton stood back and glanced at you briefly. It didn’t go unnoticed however, as you quickly returned the look, offering him a small, steady grin.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Hi,” he nodded back at you, before tearing his gaze away. 

Anton didn’t bother to say anything else, and neither did you, so it was safe to say that the ride towards the seventh floor ended up being a little awkward, what with him trying to discreetly steal glances at you every now and then without you noticing, far too busy finding out what’s so interesting about the elevator ceiling. 

By the tenth urge, he realized just how hard it was to resist looking at you. 

Truly, incredibly, and scarily concerning. 

Now, don’t get it wrong: Anton’s not the kind to just fall for anyone that easily. Sure, he may be young and chronically online and knows too much brain rot-terminology for his own good, but he wasn’t some fourteen-year-old on Discord with a Ken Kaneki profile picture who’d join random servers that would probably die within three months, snag an E-Girlfriend within that time frame before breaking up with her because ‘LDR just won’t work out, babe, it’s not you, it’s me’ or however those situations would go. He was better than that, or so he’d like to think. (Although he was, unfortunately, a twenty-year-old on Discord.) 

Point is, Anton wasn’t stupid enough to fall for just anyone he met online—much less someone he met on Roblox Altitorture, for goodness sake! He can entertain the thought of finding them pretty through pictures he’s seen online, yeah, and he can entertain his friend’s teasing remarks about his supposed crush on someone he hasn’t even met, but Anton liked to believe that it never was that serious. He wasn’t that jealous over you sitting all alone inside another guy’s house, looking after another guy’s fish, or planning to spend another guy’s fifty bucks on useless micro-transactions he could buy for you as quick as lightning without you having to lift a finger (and he has!), and he definitely wasn’t that serious when he accidentally blurted out a sentence that could potentially jeopardize the fanbase he had been steadily building up since he was fifteen, right?

And inviting you over to his house under the pretext of taking a look at his fish (who was probably in both Sungchan and Shotaro’s hit list) wasn't that serious. 

…Right?

You’re just friends, Anton convinced himself when the two of you exited the elevator and walked towards his door. You’re just friends, Anton repeated inside his head as he typed in his PIN on the keypad. You’re just friends, he reassured when he finally swung the door op— 

“God, you’re so rich,” you muttered the moment you entered his condo, and all thoughts of denial Anton had repeating in his mind suddenly came running out the window as he watched you remove your shoes at the front. “You have all this space to yourself?” 

“My mom visits sometimes,” he squeaks out pathetically. 

You looked back at him, a bemused smile on your face and—oh, who was Anton kidding? You’re way prettier in real life compared to the pictures he saw on Sohee’s Facebook post, and whether that was a good thing for his mental health or not—well, he didn’t want to find out anymore. 

Wrongly assuming you’d head straight towards his fish tank, Anton found himself trailing after you as you started loitering by the living room. “Are these your parents?” you asked, signaling towards the multitude of frames on top of the wooden furniture. “You have a brother? He looks just like you.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Anton affirmed, moving to point at the photos. “That’s my mom, my dad, and my younger brother. Over there are my grandparents.” 

You whistled. “Wow, your mom’s really pretty,” you noted with a laugh, “she looks like she could be famous, or something.”

“Uh, she was an actress, actually.” 

Your smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. Anton had to stifle back a snort. 

“...For real?” you asked, carefully looking back at the picture and then towards him. He slowly nodded. “What? Don’t tell me your dad’s famous too? Your grandma? Your childhood dog? The mailman who steals your Amazon deliveries?” 

His silence practically confirmed it, and you squawked in response. (Though you weren’t too sure about the mailman. The grandma and the dog? Sure, since even his fish was famous.)

“My dad’s a music producer,” Anton elaborated, moving away from you to head towards the corner where his fish, the supposed star of the day, resided at. “He’s over in Korea, though, so I don’t see him as often anymore.” 

You followed after him, unsure of where else to go. “Your mom was an actress, and your dad’s some hot-shot music producer… and you decided to become a Let’s Play streamer?” you wondered to yourself, incredulous. Anton looked back at you indignantly, but you merely shrugged back at him. “I’m just saying, dude. You could be, like, I don’t know, a K-pop idol or something with those connections. Oh! You could be in NCT—what do you think of bright, green hair on those luscious locks of yours?” 

Anton gave you a scalding side-eye.  

“...Nah,” he eventually said with a  shake of his head, a wistful grin on his face. “It’s a little late for that.” 

You were about to say something else, something probably much more snarky to the absolute nonsense Anton responded to your suggestion with, but your words quickly died down inside your throat the moment a familiar shape of glass appeared in your vision. Anton promptly stepped aside to let you have your moment with his pet, unable to fight off the smile rising on his face as you approached the tank with wide, astonished eyes. 

“Stonerland,” you breathed out quite dramatically, finally witnessing the white betta fish swim inside his lonesome tank. “You’re real.”

You inched closer towards the glass, but remained mindful not to touch it per Leehan’s wise teachings. The light from inside reflected onto your eyes, splashes of green and white appearing in them. It would’ve been off putting to anyone else who was observing you, the you who was unblinking as you stared at the oblivious animal, but you didn’t seem to care. You were completely and utterly entranced, lost in your own little world. 

“...You’re so pretty,” you murmured, following Stonerland’s every move. 

Your gaze slowly moved towards him. 

“Right, Anton?” you asked, fully expecting him to be looking at the fish as well. 

Instead, you were met with him already staring back at you, like those romance K-Dramas Eunseok always made him watch with their cliché fireworks scenes that always had Anton’s eyes rolling whenever it inevitably came up. They were all just copies of one another anyway—Han River, fireworks, and the main couple having the space all to themselves when it really should have been packed to the brim with other couples because it was South Korea.; he really could have cared less about such things (even if Eunseok swore to him that they were “peak”).

“Yeah,” he breathed out absentmindedly. 

And because Anton always disliked watching those scenes, the thought of him doing the same thing, albeit at a different situation but with the same principle regardless, never crossed his mind. 

But now, inside his place—the Han River—and watching his fish—the fireworks—with only the two of you beside each other, Anton didn’t even have the chance to roll his eyes because he was too busy staring at you, like some cliché male lead in some cliché romance K-Drama. 

“Oh,” you said. 

And then Anton blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. “What?” he sputtered out, looking away from you and towards Stonerland, before inevitably bringing his gaze towards you again, only to shy away when you caught him in the act all over again. He coughed out, “What were you saying? Sorry, I was… I was thinking about something else.” 

“Like what?” your head tilted to the side.

“Like,” Anton nervously began, licking his lips as he thought of something to respond with only to come up with blanks. “Like, uh—” 

His eyes landed on Stonerland. 

“—I was just thinking of ways that I could fortify his tank so evil, malicious forces won’t get to him…?” he cringed as the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. “Because I’m low-key scared that if I invite the boys over, Sungchan and Shotaro will find a way to murder my fish when I’m not looking. Or something like that. I don’t know—I’m just getting bad vibes from them, you know? I might just be paranoid, though.” 

Anton immediately found himself desperately avoiding your gaze, feeling the tips of his ears turn red at how stupid he must have sounded just now. 

“No, I get it,” you said, which catched his attention. “Those two are definitely up to no good, since you practically memorialized the empire they worked so hard to destroy in the form of a fish. A small, helpless fish up against two grown men… yeah, maybe just don’t invite them over.” 

Anton looked at you hopefully, only to be immediately let down when you continued. 

“To be honest, if Stonerland was your pet fish in Minecraft, I’d probably blow it up when you aren’t looking too. Redstone engineering and all, it’d look like a whole fireworks show,” you added bluntly, watching the tank with blank eyes. After a second, however, you quickly look back at him with an easygoing smile, cheerfully saying, “Good thing Stonerland’s a real fish, right? So cute! Betta fishes are the best…” you sighed wistfully. 

You didn’t bother commenting on the look of absolute horror on Anton’s face, too busy cooing at his fish as if you had not just threatened to blow it up in another life. 

He looked at Stonerland—poor and unassuming Stonerland, oblivious to the evils surrounding him and his owner. He wasn’t even safe from the girl who kept squealing over him, simply because of his given name. Poor, poor Stonerland indeed. Anton briefly considered changing the unfortunate fish’s name, maybe install some galvanized steel beams around his tank and some eco-friendly wood veneers for extra protection just in the slightest case anyone would dare to think of hurting his precious betta fish, but he was definitely putting up a sign that had Sungchan and Shotaro’s names crossed off on his front door. 

He slowly turned to you, meekly saying, “Please don’t hurt him.” 

You looked at him, absolutely flabbergasted. “Stonerland’s a guy?”

“Yeah?” Anton’s eyebrows furrowed. “...You didn’t know?” 

“What!” you gaped. “But the fins…! It’s so pretty and long!” 

“Male betta fishes have longer fins, and they’re much leaner,” Anton explained, pointing at Stonerland’s white, flowy fins. “Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that Leehan guy you’re friends with a fish-expert or whatever?” 

You pouted. “Well, he is, but he doesn’t own any bettas… so I don't know if he knows anything about them.”

“Hm, so Leehan doesn’t know shit about bettas, the coolest fish ever. I see.”

He felt pride quickly bubble inside his chest when you looked at him expectantly. “Right, yeah! Bettas are so cool! And you know so much about them; that’s so cool!” 

“Nah,” he pretended to be humble, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just did my research.” 

“You should buy a black one,” you continued enthusiastically, “so they can swim together! Isn’t that cute?” 

Anton deadpanned. “Uh, they’ll probably fight to death if that happens…” 

“Oh, so like SatoSugu,” you said blandly. 

Yeah, whatever that means, Anton thought.

The both of you stayed there for a little while more, with most of it spent on useless chatter and you taking hundreds of photos of his fish, so much so that Anton worried whether your phone’s storage was about to reach its limit, however you didn’t seem to care. He honestly didn’t know what exactly was so enamoring about the fish—it was just some small living creature that came with flowy fins and a penchant for loneliness, and all it would do is swim and eat and live off of Anton’s paycheck, but he supposed that if you enjoyed looking at it so much, then he was fine with keeping it. Heck, he’d be fine with protecting it against Sungchan and Shotaro, if it meant that it would keep you happy to see it was still alive. 

Which is, again, concerning. Anton never meant for any of this to happen—he never meant for him to wake up on a random Friday and decide that he was gonna let you into his house when you were, at the core of this situation, just some girl he had just coincidentally met online—and at a kids’ game of all places. 

But between the calls you’ve shared, the jokes, the countless hours you’ve spent together playing games, and the private DMs you’ve shared where no one else could interrupt him teasing subtweets or obsessive ramblings from either shippers or haters, then Anton figured that getting Stonerland was worth all the trouble and money (and Wonbin’s constant whining at the bus) just to see you smiling towards the tank.

…So, yeah, maybe he was jealous of you sitting all alone in another guy’s house, watching another guy’s fish, planning on using the money you earned to purchase useless micro-transactions he could easily buy for you, and maybe accidentally blurting out a sentence that could potentially ruin his career was all the more worth it when you are literally standing right next to him now. 

Anton never thought that everything would eventually lead up to this moment, and he might not be extremely smitten with you right now the way those male leads in K-Dramas would be, at least he doesn’t think so, but what he knows is that there was already a tiny voice inside his head constantly saying that, eventually, at a moment when he least expects it, it will happen. 

“If you want, I can buy you a black betta fish,” he started, leaning his chin on his palm, “and then we’d have matching fishes. Just like SatoSugu, right?” 

You glanced back at him, a little bit shocked. But then your eyes twinkled, and a laugh escaped from your lips. Anton found himself smiling back.

“No way,” you said, “you don’t have to do all that. You already bought me some Robux.” 

“It was literally just twenty dolla—” 

You cut him off. “Plus, one of them dies anyway," you said grimly, your expression darkening. "Actually, they both die."

That quickly shut him up. 

You continued with a snap of your fingers. “You know what, I’ll just tell you their whole lore—no, wait, we should just watch Jujutsu Kaisen instead! Do you have a Netflix account? Let’s binge the first season.” 

Seemingly without a choice, Anton promptly handed you the remote to his TV, staring blankly ahead while he followed you towards his couch. 

It seemed that it was also safe to say that your online personality translated perfectly into real life. For better or for worse.

previous | masterlist | next

SYNOPSIS. not everyone is good at playing obby’s on roblox, and you’re no exception to this rule: after a particularly nasty encounter with another player on roblox’s altitorture, you log into twitter only to find out that the very same player who publicly dunked on your gaming skills turns out to be anton lee, a well-known streamer who also happens to be a friend of a friend. fed up with his fans bombarding your dms with teasing remarks or jealous musings, you decide to end it once and for all by appearing on his next stream with a promise to get through an obby successfully. however, you realize that the only thing you’ll be successful at is falling for anton lee instead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. wooo first written chapter! what do you guys think so far??? i really like putting the pov on anyone else BUT y/n, it makes her more mysterious HAHA

TAGLIST. (closed) @shoberi @gisellessgf @serafilms @palchokitty @seunghancore @nujeskz @hisrkive e @alwayswook @emohoon @milktea-academia @kyusqult @dolloie @slutforjeno @meowbini @yizhuobberi @fae-renjun @kcharlyy @whoisgwyn @saranghoeforanton @au-ghosttype @gyehyeonist t @dodot04lover @outrologist @papichulomacy @odxrilove @maleegayuh @ilovejungwonandhaechan @dalsosapple @starwonb1n @tojis-luver r @slayhaechan @lakoya @he6rtshaker @rikianton @brachioswrld @woonagi-lemon @ffixtionista @endtostartbreathin @ki3ntot t @bidibaabidiboo @totheseok @astrae4 @hanbinniesmango o @daegale @regrool @sunflowerbebe07 @taroddori @miyawwn @snowyseungs @p-d1ddy