#if they think this will make me buy premium

[morlock-holmes]

So, people explaining that AI isn't "real art" bother me, not so much because of the answer they reach but because most of the people saying it isn't seem to romanticize not just commercial art production, but also bizarrely to romanticize AI as well, in ways that bother me for subtle reasons I want to try to articulate.

So, first of all, I personally don't think fine art will be changed much by AI.

"What if the artist isn't directly producing the art but instead letting some process create it?"

Convergence by Jackson Pollock, 1952

"What if the so called "artist" is merely rearranging and recontextualizing something that already exists?"

"What if the artist outsources a tremendous amount of work?"

Cambell's Soup Can, Andy Warhol, 1968

The fine art world already confronted these questions and answered between 1912 and, what, 1980 at the latest maybe?

My point here is not to assert the artistic worth of these paintings but to assert their undeniable importance to 20th century art history.

Nobody paying thousands of dollars for a traditional painting on canvas is going to buy an AI version because it's cheaper; such people are already paying a premium for artistic technique and cultivated human talent.

Or, alternatively, I have absolutely no doubt that people would pay a lot for an AI project with, I don't know, Banksy's name on it, even if it was made with freely available, open source tools, because in other cases people are paying for, essentially, a name.

The fine art community already confronted the questions raised by AI art and we're already on the other side of that confrontation. Statistically, the large battles being waged over these issues already finished before you were born.

The actually (potentially) endangered part of the art world is the commercial art world.

Not fine art, but art produced as part of an essentially commercial process in large part under the direction of other people. Fan Art, scripts for films, stock footage, key art used for commercial campaigns, pulp fiction cover illustrations, etc.

And, first of all, the reason that you can be so romantically attached to low-brow, heavily commercial art in the way that you are without feeling utterly absurd about it is Marcel Duchamp's Fountain and the works of Andy Warhol, so maybe have a bit more respect for them and their place in history if you are going to romanticize commercial art production.

Second, because it is those things that are threatened, defenses of human art against AI tend to have this kind of implicit view that the things which characterize commercial pop art are the most important characteristics of art. There is something about this that kind of bothers me for reasons I have trouble bringing up.

Okay, like, one I just watched a YouTube video where the creator said, more or less, "Can you imagine a world where people are so alienated from the production of art that instead of learning to produce it themselves, they type 'woman painting a picture' into a box on a computer and something just pops out?"

The video background was stock footage of a woman painting.

You have this really obnoxious trend of people who make monetized YouTube videos out of other people's copyrighted clips (Claiming "Fair use") talking about how awful it is for AI to "steal" other people's works, and people who fill their videos with stock footage and library tracks talking about how crazy it is that anybody would want to outsource this stuff instead of learning to do it themselves.

But also, beneath that, there is a kind of picture of "What's important about art" that is being built purely out of commercial concerns but masquerading as belief in something higher, and that really bugs me. Stock footage is elevated to the highest of human endeavors purely because it is commercially threatened by AI production.

[justafanaticalhuman]

YouTube is getting greedier and greedier with their ads bc why the FUCK am I watching 2 unskippable ads before the video starts, and then as soon as I can watch the video, and I need to skip to the relevant tutorial part, I get another 2 parts. WHY IS IT WHEN I SKIP AGAIN, I GET ANOTHER 2 UNSKIPPABLE ADS. WHY AM I WATCHING 8+ ADS ON A SINGLE VIDEO YOUTUBE YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

[orangespottedgiraffe]

So

[gibbearish]

alrighty im doing my best to reply relatively nicely because while your response is so deeply fucking condescending and rude that I would be justified in immediately blocking you just for being an asshole, it's also clearly coming from a place of misdirected frustration over your husband's job struggles so im trying to give you the benefit of the doubt

nowhere did i say that i expect internet employees to work for free to serve Me Specifically or that they "don't deserve to pay their bills", that is something you projected onto this. yes, i do believe the internet should be free, AND i believe the employees should be able to live, and i think a system that makes that impossible is indeed fucked up and am allowed to express a desire to want a better one. you said "you can bemoan capitalism but it is the structure we currently reside in" as a cop out but like. yeah, it is the system we currently reside in, and i do think that sucks ass so yeah i am gonna complain about it, that's what this post is, it's me bemoaning capitalism. i'm sorry that in your brain that translated to "the other victims of capitalism don't matter to me as long as i get out on top" but once again that is your projection, not what i said.

and yeah, you're right, even if it's not what i was doing the revolution doesn't start by demanding free labor of others. you know what else doesn't start the revolution though? saying anyone who is frustrated with the way things work now is inherently selfish and infuriatingly self centered just for wanting things to be free. when you say "yes capitalism is bad but theres nothing we can do about it so don't complain about the way things are" you are the crab trying to pull me back into the bucket, you said i "want to be the rich capitalist myself" but of the two of us, only one of us is arguing to keep around the whole "everything must cost money" thing here and it sure isn't me lol

like overall i think the lens youre looking at this post through is "this is my husband's job, it's what he's paid for, therefore anyone saying they want it to be free is saying he shouldn't be paid, and therefore they are advocating for money to be taken directly from us so that they can live it up like kings" which is an understandable pov but takes a LOT of leaps. now to be fair i didnt actually include an asterisk on the post saying i aggressively support UBI and even further think the entire concept of money and paying for ANYTHING should be destroyed so that employees wouldnt HAVE to work at all, but i also think autofilling that nonexistent asterisk with "by the way i don't think anything else about the world should change, just that internet employees should work for free to serve me personally:)" is a big stretch. and to be fair i think at some point you realized thats what i was saying which is why you added in all the "you can be mad but its The Way Things Are soooo" caveats, the system sucking is such an obvious answer that in order for me to still be the villain trying to personally steal your husband's money, you have to preemptively cut it off. which is even funnier considering in the post you say "What do you mean free? For whom?" and then continue as if i had responded "for me and me alone, let the peasants be crushed beneath my heel on my way to ad free youtube" without stopping to think i might just maybe possibly mayhaps have meant free for everyone. so to be perfectly clear:

- i think the internet should be free for everyone

- i think housing should be free for everyone

- i think food should be free for everyone

- i think money should not exist at all

- i think capitalism is evil

- i think no one should have to work to survive and want all work to be voluntary

and finally:

- i think your husband should like. join a union or get a better job so that you're not so stressed about it that you take a random post very personally and proceed to be excessively rude and condescending to the poster while completely misunderstanding the point they were making.

what's interesting abt all this too is despite all the excuses you make for capitalism here, that's really where this anger should be directed. me making a silly one paragraph tumblr dot com post is not the cause of your husbands shitty pay or shitty hours or shitty work conditions, capitalism is. but as you said we can't really /do/ anything about capitalism individually so it's much easier to want to direct your anger at something different, and "blogger who said a thing that sounds kind of like 'your husband shouldnt be paid while everyone else still is' if you squint really hard" is as good a target as any so i do get it to a certain degree. again, SUPER couldve done without the intense condescension about how fucking dumb and selfish do i have to be to dare to want free stuff, but i can at least see how you got from point A to point B

anyways. tldr no i do not think society should be divided into "the rich people with free everything" and "the unpaid peons who suffer and die to make the rich ppls stuff free" nor is that what i said, and "that's just the way capitalism is" is not the bulletproof shutdown you seem to think it is. i know that's just the way capitalism is, that's why i want it to change. i think that's a reasonable desire even if i personally can't just snap my fingers and fix it, and trying to shut down arguments for ways things could be better with "but thats not how things work right now" is actively detrimental to progress because it's saying we should just lay down and accept the current circumstances rather than making a fuss. you can do that if you want, however you cannot demand other people do the same (see what i did there)

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider���and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ��Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[yeyinde]

stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.

the message comes up halfway into your "show."

it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pink—cliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyes—and discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.

but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party games—hide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.

tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.

but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.

Simon says... go lock your door.

you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.

you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."

another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.

your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move on—"

Simon says... open your door.

he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.

it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you off—"

you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.

the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want to—

creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your way—

Simon says... let me in.

you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonder—hopefully—if maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.

your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched

no. it's fine. you're fine—

"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.

your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the door—

you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried inside—

back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.

you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.

there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i just—"

something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.

what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.

the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on it—

another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?

there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunks—

a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.

"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for help—

your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, but—

(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were me—)

this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking police—

but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.

you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietly—

"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:

"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little reward—"

[pawtism-party]

Goddammit. Now there's a new one. Those asmr ads for the new quiet place movie. I cant even express how upset at it for being a remake/cash grab/whatever when the gross fucking whisper noises make me want to take a sledgehammer to my tablet.

(obviously, i don't hate the voice actors for these ads. im mad at the advertisers who thought of this, and at spotify for playing it three times in a row.)

Dear advertising agencies: STOP PUTTING SLURPING SOUNDS IN AUDIO ADS! I wanna chuck my brain into the sun every time I hear some gross throat noise in a soda ad. This can’t just be a misophonia thing right? Other people have to at least find it gross, right?

[koolades-world]

Headcanons of the obey me brothers with a GN!MC who doesn't have much money and can rarely buy things they likes?

hi! sure thing!

i think i might've done something similar to this, but even if i have, i'll do it anyways!

enjoy <3

Mc who doesn't have a lot of money

Lucifer

his brothers get an allowance

but you? you get the special treatment

he gives you your own card with access to his account

anything you could possible want and need, he promises to cover for you. and don't even think about paying him back!

Mammon

he's guaranteed spoiling you

if you look at something for too long, suddenly it's sitting on your bed

he can scale it back a little if you ask him to

but sometimes, he just sees something he knows you'll just love and can't help himself

Levi

if you even remotely express interest in a new game coming out

mysteriously, it'll come into your possession along with game merch

however, he always comes up with a new excuse each time on why he had it

you could try to ask him; if you want him to be red for the rest of the night haha

Satan

anything you could ever want, he will get

he's got connections practically everywhere

of course, if what you want is a day with him, he can get you that too

anything to see you smile <3

Asmo

he makes sure you're invited to every party he throws

however, if that's not your thing

he's got fancy dinners with your name on it!

he wants you to feel spoiled !

Beel

if you ever need to vent to him, he's there to listen

and. of course, he's going to help you solve your problems

who would he be if he didn't?

whatever he can do to make you feel better, he will

Belphie

to him, the luxury is in the little things

so, he makes sure you have those things that make everyday life just that little bit better

if you're not convinced though, he's going to get you to test drive his premium pillows and blankets

you're more than welcome to test them for the next week if you'd like. he wouldn't mind

[talkdutchtome]

Do you know this tiktok trend where girls tell guys about paying at the mechanic's for premium air for their cars 😭 could you write a fic where y/n does that prank to Max?

"Premium Air?" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . fluff )

wc . . . 825 words )

read my other work . . . here )

request something . . . here )

“Oh Maxy, I was supposed to mention, I took your car to be serviced. I know you’ve been so busy lately I thought I’d do that and give you one less thing to worry about” You said to your boyfriend, trying your hardest to suppress any giggles that wanted to escape. Your phone sat propped up on the bookshelf, strategically hidden so Max didn't notice.  

You had been seeing so many videos on TikTok where girls would prank their boyfriends or husbands by convincing them that they had bought “premium air” for the tires of their cars; and you decided that since so much of Max’s life revolved around cars, it would be the perfect way to prank him. 

“Oh, thank you very much baby, that’s kind of you, everything okay with it?” he said, never lifting his head up from his phone. 

“You’re welcome, yeah everything was okay they just said something about low tire pressure or something? I don’t really remember but I sorted it.” You said, fighting the mischievous grin that is trying to take its place on your face. At your words Max finally lifts his head up and looked at you, his brows furrowed. 

“Really are you sure? They seemed to be fine last time I drove it” his voice has a hint of concern lacing though it, clearly unsure where this is leading.  

“I’m not sure, that’s what the man said anyway. But I got it sorted. I even sprung for the premium air for you!” Your excitement was clear and the second the words left your lips, Max put his phone down, his full attention now on you. Confusion was etched on his face, his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed tightly in a fine line.  

“Premium air?” he questioned 

You nod enthusiastically, maintaining your poker face. "Yeah! It's the latest thing. It makes your car run smoother, improves fuel efficiency, and who knows, maybe it even adds a few extra horsepower."  

Max looks at you like you’ve got two heads and you come so close to ruining the whole prank and bursting out laughing.  

“Premium air?” he asked again, like he couldn’t find any other words to respond to your ridiculousness. “How much did this premium air cost you?” he asked with a bemused smile, that smile however, dropped as soon as you answered his question. 

“Oh, it was a steal! Like €150 a tire.”  

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "€150 per tire? Are you serious Y/N? There's no such thing as premium air!" 

You feign innocence, "Oh, come on, Maxy, it's a special service they offered. You can't put a price on a smooth ride” Max sighs, a mix of frustration and amusement on his face.  

"Baby, I think you’ve been scammed. There's no such thing as premium air. Next time, let me know before you spend money on something like this." 

You play dumb, widening your eyes in mock surprise. "Scammed? But how could I buy it if it doesn't exist?" 

Max laughs, shaking his head. "You're too precious. Next time, let me come with you to the garage, okay? I'll make sure you don't fall for any tricks." 

You're left feeling a bit confused. Most of the prank videos you’ve seen end with frustration or annoyance, but Max seems more amused than anything else. 

As you sit there, still feeling a bit bewildered by Max's surprisingly lighthearted reaction, you gather the courage to ask him the burning question. "Hey, Max," you begin cautiously, "why aren't you mad at me?" 

He looks at you with genuine confusion. "Mad? What do you mean?" 

You take a deep breath and decide it's time to come clean. "The whole premium air thing—it was a prank," you admit, pointing discreetly at the camera you had strategically placed in the room to capture his reaction. 

Max's eyes widen in realization, and he breaks into a hearty laugh. "You got me!" he exclaims, playfully pushing you. 

You can't help but smile at his reaction, relieved that he found it amusing. "Seriously, though, why aren't you mad? Everyone else in those prank videos gets upset." 

Max wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. "I didn't want to make you feel bad," he confesses. "You were just trying to do something nice for me, and I didn't want to ruin that by getting angry over a harmless mistake” You look up at him, touched by his understanding and kindness. "But I wasted money on something that doesn't exist. You could have been really mad." He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Money comes and goes, but you trying to make me happy means the world to me.” 

"I love you," you say, a mixture of gratitude and affection in your voice. 

Max smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too, baby. Just remember, next time you decide to prank me, I'll be one step ahead." 

[quarterlifekitty]

shower thought that made me laugh

imagine the CoD men making a playlist for sexy time - my immediate thought was Simon forgetting ads are a thing on Spotify and ten minutes in you get blasted with some guy and his smooth voice advertising stuff. I know Gaz would buy premium immediately, and something in my gut says Nikolai has a physical CD or something

Man I’m gonna be honest. I think Simon has been listening to the same library of songs downloaded to his phone for the last 12 years. Man is not using Spotify.

I have no justification for this, but in my mind Simon puts on the silent hill 2 original soundtrack for sex. And no we are not skipping the scary songs.

Gaz and Soap have Spotify duo.

Nikolai is a cassette tape man in my heart. Half of the beauty of his tapes is seeing the title in sharpie, written neatly in Russian Cyrillic for him, and a little less neatly in English for you.

[hairyjocktf]

The Bear Brew

Jake was the star player of his university’s hockey team, and with two successful championships under his belt he was captain for this next season. He’d practically been raised for this position. His parents had put him in hockey lessons as soon as he could stand up, and every moment through his childhood and teenage years had been dedicated to practice. He was the star player at his high school and given a scholarship to play on the university team. He’d been told not to let all that go to his head but he knew he was the best player on the team. Every match there would be throngs of fans in the stands chanting his name after every goal, wearing shirts with his face on them, and begging for pics with him after. His life couldn’t get any better.

His teammates, however, were over it. They’d made him captain just to shut him up after he’d been talking their ears off for the past three years. It helped that issue but only inflated his ego even more. Jake had somehow gotten even more obnoxious this season, becoming combative during practice and not taking any criticism about his play. The guys were sick of it, and while Jake was off stroking his ego by chatting with his fans, they hatched up a plan to get back at him. They’d found this beer called ‘Bear Brew’ that promised to put some pounds on anyone that drank a can. They knew Jake would never turn down grabbing a drink to celebrate a victory, thinking himself the one responsible. They weren’t sure exactly how effective it’d be or how long it’d take but they just hoped it would take Jake down a peg.

Two days later, after another decisive victory, it was time. Another player named Eric interrupted Jake’s victory lap.

“Hey bro, wanna grab a beer with us and celebrate?” He asked.

“Finally ready to celebrate my accomplishments, huh?” Jake retorted, “Sure dude, I’m down for a couple rounds, you’re buying though.”

“Deal,” Eric said through gritted teeth. He knew it would be worth it to see this through. They both returned to the rest of the team.

“I heard you chumps are buying me a beer tonight,” Jake laughed as the others wore forced grins. “Let’s hit the bar bros, I’m thirsty.”

On their way to the nearest sports bar, one of the players slipped Eric the Bear Brew so he could give it to Jake. He hoped Jake wouldn’y pay too much attention to the label or read the fine print, but Jake already wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so it’d probably be fine. They entered a local sports bar that had a decent crowd.

“Alright Eric, first rounds on you bro!” Jake announced as he slumped back into a booth along the wall. Eric glared as he made his way to the counter, the rest of the players trying to seem normal and hide their excitement. He brought back a whole armful of cans, passing out beers to the team, making sure to hand Jake the Bear Brew. “Alright boys!” Jake announced to the group, “To victory and my next championship title, you better back me up!” He took a huge sip of the beer. “Damn this shit tastes kinda weird, the fuck did you get me Eric?” He laughed before taking another sip.

Eric chuckled nervously, “Just thought I’d get you somethin’ premium bro.”

“Damn straight you did, I like that kinda talk,” Jake responded, luckily not putting any more thought into the matter. He kept on sipping at the beer, making obnoxious jokes and trying to hit on the waitresses walking around. He felt more buzzed than usual from one beer, and noticed an odd feeling in his stomach. He ignored that for the moment, yelling at the team, “Another round bros! Gotta treat me right tonight.”

Luckily, the team had planned for this and brought extra beers for Jake in case he asked for more. Another player went up and ordered beers for the team, brought them back and handed Jake the Bear Brew again. Jake started chugging the second beer, and he was really starting to feel odd. He was almost feeling drunk from just two beers, and his stomach was queasy in a way he’d never felt before. He took a couple minutes to just lay back against the seat and close his eyes to give it time to settle. But settle it did not, and the feeling eventually became uncomfortable to the point he couldn’t ignore it. He put his hands on his stomach to try and comfort it, but immediately he felt something very, very wrong.

Jake opened his eyes and looked down at his stomach. He nearly gagged at what he saw. Instead of his chiseled abs he now had a pudgy stomach, and it only seemed to be getting bigger. His defined muscles were disappearing behind a thick layer of chub. He was speechless, watching his defined pecs inflating with fat. It looked like he’d been binging beers for years! His perfect workout routine was vanishing before his eyes as his entire body gained 5, 10, 20 pounds. A round belly now stretched his shirt to its limit, with sagging tits to match. It looked as if he’d been dirty bulking for years on end, and Jake was mortified. He glanced around at his teammates hoping no one had noticed his inflating body, feeling his face as a double chin began to form under his formerly tight jawline. He was panicking, trying to keep cool and maintain his cocky bravado while hiding his growing gut.

He could feel every part of his body growing plump and soft, threatening to burst out of his tight clothing. His feet were pushing against his shoes, and even his hands were growing larger. Jake felt sick to his stomach, and without attracting attention he got up and made his way to the dingy restroom in the back of the bar. Out of breath, he put his hands on the counter and stared at his bloated reflection in the mirror. He could barely recognize himself, having put on years worth of weight in the last few minutes. As he watched himself, he noticed some dark spots appearing on his face. Upon leaning towards the mirror, he realized with horror that thick, brown hairs were starting to poke out of his face. They popped up around the sagging edge of his jaw, and began spreading across his puffy cheeks. His upper lip was quickly buried beneath a thick, unkempt mustache as the hairs took over. They crawled down his fat-laden neck as well, reaching down towards his collarbone. His mouth dropped open as his face was in an instant coated in thick wiry hairs. There was no way he could go back out to his team now, what would they say? He barely looked like his old self anymore. 

Jake reached up to feel his newly grown beard, the coarse hairs scratching against his fingers. He tried to come up with a plan, but the several beers had dulled his mind down. Those thoughts were cut short as a sudden itch arose on his chest. Jake started to scratch at it, clawing at his chest before he felt something that filled him with horror. He felt stubble. He tore off his shirt and looked down to see more hairs pushing out of his soft chest, starting between his former pecs and blossoming outward. They grew dense and thick, giving his chest a respectable coating as it stretched out, encircling his nipples. The hairs climbed up his collarbone, connecting with the beard hairs that had claimed his neck already. A line of hairs shot down from his chest to his navel, spreading a new field of hairs on his stomach. His torso itched up a storm as a thick pelt was growing in, but Jake felt a mixture of horror and pleasure as the sensation felt unnaturally good. He groaned watching the hairs grow longer on his chest, curling and tangling with the others.

As he reached up to feel the growing hairs, Jake saw a flash of dark under his arm, somewhere he had kept shaved before. He lifted his arm up and saw thick brown hairs worming their way out from the previously smooth skin. At first it was just a few but as he watched the tuft grew thicker and bushier as the hairs multiplied. The hairs even spread out to connect with the rug on his chest, completely visible even with his arms at his sides. A few seconds later the smell hit him. Those hairy pits reeked! It was eye watering, and he could see the sweat dripping down the wiry hairs as they kept growing longer. The hairs began crawling outside of his pits, wrapping around his shoulders to blanket them in the same thick fur. He looked like he was wearing a hairy shirt, barely able to see the skin under the growing hairs. His new fur continued to spread, as Jake felt the itching engulf his back. He turned in the mirror to glimpse the hairs popping up across his shoulder blades, making their way towards the middle where they met and grew into a thick fur. That fur sprouted down his spine, completing his coat. Above his ass it had grown in particularly thick, suggesting more to come soon. His arms were next, hairs sprouting down his thick biceps, and burying his forearms in a rug of dark hairs. The backs of his large hands were also coated, thick hairs popping up even on his knuckles. 

Despite feeling horrified at what he was becoming, Jake was overwhelmed by immense pleasure from the changes. Every hair that sprouted produced a euphoria like nothing he’d experienced before. He could feel the follicles pushing through the skin as they covered him in luscious brown fur. Something was distracting him from that sensation though, and it was in his crotch. A burning and stretching feeling was occurring down there, and though his heart sank, Jake pulled down his waistband to peek. His previously trimmed bush was pushing out, dark hairs erupting from his groin as they spread like wildfire. The hairs sprouted and grew thicker and curlier as they multiplied, traveling from the base of his cock all the way up and merging into his thick stomach hair. The bush spread outwards onto his thighs, and he felt his balls expanding as they began to hang lower. They too were buried beneath the fur that was taking over his groin, with thick wiry hairs growing all over his enlarging balls. Jake moaned in ecstasy as his pubes kept sprouting, growing longer and bushier. It felt wrong and disgusting but his body was overtaken by hormones and endorphins, the sensation of pleasure was undeniable.

The hairs continued taking over his smooth skin, traveling from his bush down his large thighs, popping up and growing dark and curly. They coated his legs, growing dense enough to darken the shade of his skin as hair sprouted all over his thighs and calves, before reaching his feet. Jake pulled off his shoes that were ripping at the seams, exposing his now size 15 feet. He watched as hairs wormed their way out across the tops of his feet, even sprouting on his toes. His entire body was now coated in thick brown hair, and Jake rubbed his hands through the newly grown fur as he moaned from the sensation.

His moment of pleasure was cut short by someone banging on the bathroom door.

“Hey Jake, you all good in there bro?” It was Eric, eager to see if their plan had worked.

“Uhh,” Jake hesitated, brought back to reality in a flash. “Yea dude, just a little sick to my stomach it’s no big deal, I’ll be out in a sec,” he replied with a shakiness in his voice. He looked at himself in the mirror. What would the rest of the team think? He looked about ten years older and fifty pounds heavier, not to mention the hairy mess he was now. He was unrecognizable as his past self, not to mention that his clothes didn’t even fit anymore. He struggled to put his shirt back on, leaving his hairy belly exposed, before cramming his huge feet back into his shoes. He took a deep breath, and then unlocked the door and walked back out into the bar.

His teammates had gathered around the door, waiting to see what had become of Jake. They gasped in unison as he opened the door, quickly changing to a howling laughter. 

“BROOOO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“No way it actually worked! I can’t believe this”

“JAKE YOU’RE SO FAT AND HAIRY”

“GET OWNED DUDE”

“That Bear Brew really did a number on you man!”

Jake was taken aback, his transformation had been potted by his teammates! He was stunned into silence, standing there with his half-fitting shirt on as he was laughed at voraciously. Slowly the laughter cooled, and Eric came up and slapped him on the back.

“See you at practice tomorrow dude,” he said with a chuckle.

The rest of the team left Jake and headed out of the bar. He stood there grappling with the reality of his life now, how was he going to go back to everything like this? In the face of overwhelming stress, he decided to put it out of his mind for just a little while. He walked back to his table, picked up another can of beer, and sat down. His life was a problem for tomorrow.

[saijspellhart]

Guys, buy physical media it’s dying. They are taking it from us.

My local Meijer (a regional variant of Walmart) has stopped selling physical media. Like outright. It’s now gift cards for streaming services, and online shit. They are phasing out physical video games too. They are phasing out laptops, DVDs players, blueray players.

I know, I know, streaming services are so easy and convenient. But like, you don’t own it. You are at the mercy of the services. Once they kill physical media completely they can hike up the prices as steep as they like, $30, $40, $50 and more a month. Because it will be the ONLY way (short of pirating) that you can watch shows and movies. They will make it cable and satellite premium levels of expensive. And you won’t be able to stop them. They’ll hold your favorite shows hostage behind paywalls and micro transactions. They’ll vault up shows and movies and make them unavailable for long periods of time. You’ll have to have 7 different streaming services all costing $40 bucks a pop to watch the things you want.

You’ll have access to NOTHING without paying a premium. And remember, you already pay money to have an internet connection. Are streaming services really as affordable as you think? Internet price + the price of each service? That adds up. And they keep raising the price, and will keep raising the prices, because they know you’ll keep paying.

Having physical media means you get to watch your favorite shows and movies anytime. With or without internet connection. Broke as fuck? You can still watch it, because it’s yours. Did they lock up your favorite show or movie to make it more exclusive? You can still watch it with physical media because you own it. Want to let your friend borrow it? You can lend it to them, or burn them a copy. No need to fret about stupid services cracking down on password sharing. Want to watch the movie or show with online friends? You can stream DVDs over Discord so friends can watch with you.

(Am currently streaming Teen Titans the original animated series with my best friend over Discord. It’s mine, so neither of us pay anything to watch it together.)

Companies are writing off physical media as unprofitable. They are culling it. Taking it out of stores, making it less accessible.

People around me talk about all these movies and tv series they’d love to watch, but have to buy another streaming service to access it. And I offer to let them borrow the DVDs or Blueray, and they straight up tell me they don’t own DVDs or dvd players. Why?! WHY!? They subscribe to 4 or 5 different service instead forking out $50+ a month. But they put themselves at the mercy of these services, at the mercy of internet connectivity and access. They can’t even borrow a movie or show from me, because they are so dependent on internet and streaming.

Did you know there are literally ways to save your movies digitally and take them on the go? Streaming should be a neat little thing that’s convenient, it has its perks and uses, but it should NOT the only way to watch media.

Save physical media.

Buy a dvd player.

Buy movies.

Buy shows.

Own your media.

Stop renting it. Streaming is just glorified rental.

Stop renting it.

Because soon that’s all you’ll ever be able to do.

[aloesarchives]

JJK Drabble #2

Tw/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Fluff, Fluff Brainrot, Domesticity, Family Man Toji, Usage of Wife and Mom, JJK Oc added

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Reader: Female, Usage of Wife and Mom

AU: Modern/"Toji Lives" Au

(A/N): I'm back! Well, kinda of. Long story short, dealt w/college stuff and had a health scare that kept me away from writing. Also had a mini burnout too. More is explained here!

Thinking about Toji taking up crocheting and knitting because he saw how expensive yet cheaply made certain items like blankets are made. So he buys a simple set to try it out, following Youtube tutorials and watching videos for ideas. Once he masters the basics, Toji is LOCKED IN once again. Making full on hand-made blankets, scarves, hats, mittens/gloves, stuffed animals, covers/cases, bags, scrunchies, even damn rugs. Anything you ask him for, he’ll make it. This ends up being very practical to Toji because he saves so much money by just making them at home himself. It has to be the premium, natural, good quality type. Organic cotton, wool, cashmere, alpaca/llamas, silk, linen, mohair, bamboo, hemp, all of that. Tell him about polyester or something and he tells you to put that shit back. He buys the premium yarn nearby, locally, or gets them imported internationally. Gets every and any colors because he never wants to be limited when making his projects.

There was a throw blanket you wanted for the couch but it was expensive and the size was a lot smaller than you hoped. The next day, you come home to see Toji making it for you. The same color but better quality and inexpensive, and it was the size you wanted too. You were happy and amazed that he made it within a day. Living off your praise and approval, Toji just makes everything. Since he can’t get carpal tunnel or arthritis, his hands and wrists never get tired from working. Though, his posture does get bad and his back aches from being hunched over. The blanket in your bedroom with Toji? He made that shit with fucking love and care. He actually made multiple ones depending on the weather and season. 

Man has even made throw pillows, regular pillows, water bottle cases, table cloths, coasters, bags, cushions, and made your own curtains. I mentioned before that everything in your home was either made, customized, or renovated by Toji. This stays TRUE because almost all the pillows and blankets in the house are his creation. The blankets and pillows that cover Megumi and Tsumiki’s beds? All Toji. Both pillows and blankets match each other and are in respective colors for the two. Megumi has one at his dorm because it gets cold over there and he hates sleeping in the cold. 

If you are a stuffed animal fiend, like me, you ask Toji to make you any stuffed animal you want. Definitely make squishmallow dupes for you if you asked him. In your personal room/office, there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the corner from Toji that you pluck one from the pile and hold it while relaxing or walking around the house. The ones he loves to make are bees, dragons, whales, dolphins and dogs. And they’re so soft and huggable, you squeeze them all the time. Toji just grins to himself knowing the things he makes brings you and the kids happiness.

Toji “Anything my wife wants, my wife gets. No questions asked” Fushiguro

It’s normal for you to come home to see Toji crocheting/knitting away at something. You either find him in three places at home: the engawa in front of the courtyard and garden, the family room with the shoji doors open, or in his personal room/office. Mostly, he sits outside sitting on the engawa working away at something. It makes him work better, or so he says. Makes his own needles and hooks because of his big hands. Megumi still has his crocheted stuffed puppy when he was younger, still going strong even though it’s been worn down from love. Tsumiki has all the Sanrio characters knitted/crocheted as gifts from Toji.

Tsumiki always wears her hair up in a ponytail, Toji makes her scrunchies in her favorite designs and colors. Her favorite cardigans and pullover sweaters that keep her warm during fall and winter were made by Toji because he wanted to try making outerwear. Luckily it worked in his favor. Tsumiki asked Toji if he could make her a tote bag because she needed a bag for outings. She comes home from school one day to see three of them in different sizes. She has those cute little flower keychains on her school bag and outing bags too because she asked Papa Toji for them. The massive white and blue circle rug in her room is from Toji.

Megumi’s winter scarf, earmuffs, and hat are made by Toji too. Megumi will never admit it out loud but he appreciates that Toji made it for him. They keep him and he doesn’t feel the wind chills nipping at his face. Megumi also appreciates his dad for making his stuffed animals. I’m projecting here but Toji made a set of plush stuffed animals after his shadows. His divine dogs, all of them. Megumi keeps them on his stuffed animal net in the top corner above his bed. Megumi wears a jacket and hoodie made by Toji all year round because of how versatile they are. In general, they’re Megumi’s favorite clothes to wear too.

Thinking about asking Toji to make a present for Nobara and Yuuji on their birthdays. You asked Nobara what her favorite color and style was while Yuuji said he wanted a new hoodie. Toji makes them pretty fast and the two are in love with their gifts. Nobara is wearing her bag EVERYWHERE, and I mean, EVERYWHERE she goes. Yuuji, like Megumi, ends up loving his hoodie that you always see him wear when he’s in casual clothes. Since Nanako and Mimiko grew up with Megumi and Tsumiki, one of Nanako’s cardigans and a pair of her socks are made by Toji while Mimiko only has a random plushie Toji made for her when she was younger because Suguru had to clean the other one.

Not me thinking about how Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi(JJK OC) baby blankets are handmade by Toji himself with their own individual design and patterns. Megumi and Tsumiki’s are still in good condition even though they were lovingly used by the two throughout their whole life. Their baby hats, socks, and certain outfits were all made by him. He keeps them all in individual boxes to not lose them. Gets sentimental and nostalgic that you catch him staring as he holds the small clothes in his big hands. Reminiscing about Megumi and Tsumiki being babies and small children, now realizing that they are growing up before his eyes.

God, all of it is thoroughly well knitted and crocheted that people thought you bought it from a store. “No, actually my husband made it for me. Isn’t he skillful and amazing?” Your friends and co-workers lowkey ask you if Toji is willing to take commissions for them. They’ll pay for it obviously but they want good quality home-made items Toji makes which gives you an idea. You asked Toji if he considered making orders for other people besides his family. He did think about it but he said he would get overwhelmed when receiving orders and packing them up. You asked him if dealing with the orders and packaging them would help him change his mind. So you unintentionally set up a small business with Toji. His shop consists of blankets, bags and baskets of any kind, pot holders, rugs, coverings, and pillows. It runs where one week is for receiving orders, one month is for making them, and another month to send them out. Making a spreadsheet/list for Toji to show what he needs to make. Probably gets finished with all the orders in two weeks or something.

For some reason, Toji wears eye-glasses when he knits and crochets. You don’t know why but it makes him more handsome that your brain rots/short circuits every time you see him working away. He got you all flustered and down bad it’s insane(but absolutely valid). But you don’t understand why he would need them since he already has better vision and eye-sight than 99% of the population.

“Honey, since when do you need glasses?”

“I need it so I don’t strain my eyes when working on them?”

“Can you, like, squint? You already have 20/10 vision. You don’t need glasses when you have superhuman vision, Baby.”

“Doll, just because I have good eye-sight doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t as sensitive. My eyes are still bugged by light, shit hurts and gives me headaches. Anyway, can you pass me the blue yarn in front of ya?”

Megumi and Tsumiki always see you with their Toji. You’re chilling and minding your own business with their baby sister napping away while Toji is working away at a rug because he is bored. Even though he’s been doing this since they were young, the two still can’t get over how their dad can make a king-sized blanket(start to finish) in four hours. Or when they come home from school and see Toji finishing up on a big and long green dragon, turning to Megumi and Tsumiki asking them, “Do you two think your mom would like this?” Or they could be chilling then Toji asks them to try on the projects he finished to see how they look. Tsumiki and Megumi are his main critics, you are too but you aren’t bothered by certain details to criticize Toji’s projects so he leaves it to the kids.

Mayumi(JJK OC) is chilling by Toji as he’s working away, either sleeping away or playing with her stuffed animals close within sight. Being the three year old she is, she sometimes hides underneath the unfinished blankets and pops up from under to surprise Toji. Papa Toji gives his iconic DILF chuckle that has you  GEEKING and GIGGLING like a damn school girl when you get the chance to hear it every time. He just pats her head, calling her a little rascal or princess, then resumes.

I’m projecting once again but you know those cute crochet dolls? Like the ones with the big black eyes, big head, small body, and no mouth? Toji made those of the entire family. There’s one of himself in his iconic black compression shirt, white sweatpants, and kung fu slippers. He added a little scar too where his mouth would be. Then there is your’s, all pretty and pristine with your iconic outfit. Toji getting your colors and features down to the bone. Next is Megumi and Tsumiki, literal carbon copies of their real versions. Toji said Megumi’s hair was the hardest part to make lol. Then Mayumi’s doll is later added once she’s born. The mini Fushiguro Doll set sits on the top shelf of a pristine black display case, next to the tv, in the family room. 

He’s the type of guy you wouldn’t expect to be good at a skill like this then later found out he’s an absolute master and god among men. Toji doesn’t parade around craftsmanship because he knows how some guys have fragile egos. But he won’t shy away when people ask him about his work. Pulls out his phone to show people the things he made with two needles, one crochet hook, and a shit load of yarn.

Satoru, being the shitter he is, tries to tease and bully Toji about it. To which you reprimand and scold him for it. But Toji doesn’t care about dealing with his antics because it’s a practical skill and keeps him out of trouble. Then you remind Satoru that his winter scarf he always wears was made, the one you gifted him for his 18th birthday, was made by Toji at your request. Satoru never wore any scarf because he thought you made it for him. But for you to tell him Toji actually made it for him, Satoru shuts himself up and doesn’t shit on Toji anymore.

Toji loves it when his family uses/wears the things that he made. Usually wears a goofy smile or grin on his face to conceal his prideful yet satisfied self, knowing his creations are appreciated and loved by his family.

Tag List:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tag List(@ w/ no links):

@szillx @g0th1xac1d @SleppyAnn @kneelarhmstrung

[lemmetreatya]

OK but the urge to be milked by Farmer!Reiner is STRONG. I would moo for that man.🐄

farmer!reiner x fem!reader

this req was all the way from jan and i only got the motivation for it now <3 so enjoy

contains: established relationship, dom!reiner, semi public sex, m!pen, squirting, self-masturbation, spitting, cumshot

farmer!reiner; who everyone loves to buy their premium beef from, but nobody wants to purchase filtered whole milk through.

not because it was bad quality or anything! — farmer!reiner’s crates of white dairy were always thick and creamy and an absolute joy to drink from! it’s just…certain tell-tale rumours had gone round that within the stables, where farmer!reiner milked his cows, were the same ones where he occasionally milked his wife.

whether they were rumours or not? well.

“ooooh, baby. t-they gonna talk again!”

your cries are sobbish as you hold onto a wooden beam of the milking stable, one leg raised ontop of farmer!reiner’s shoulder whilst your other foot is flat on the ground to sturdy yourself.

farmer!reiner only grunts as he fucks into you sideways. the hold his hands have on your waist grips into your plump skin as his dick rams against internal ridges you didn’t think could be reached.

“let em talk. like i give a fuck.”

you can hear the annoyance in your husband’s voice but it didnt matter if you did or not, because it already translates into how harsh he fucks into you.

you let out a whine but farmer!reiner doesn’t like it; he knows its because you’re still thinking about the many rumours that had been spread about this very habit you both had, rather than it being from him pleasing you.

farmer!reiner makes a hughck, twp! sound as he spits out the farmer’s gum he had within his mouth onto the mesh floor. he then readjusts his position which results in him bending you forward into the wooden beam. finally, he’s getting the whines he wants out from you and that greatly pleases him.

“sod what they think.” he grumbles but the contrasting smirk on his face is sick.

he brings one arm round to hold onto your stomach as he presses down onto it, which he knows causes a rise out of you.

“i can fuck my wife.” plat, plat. “on my land.” plat, plat, plat. “where’ver the fuck i want.

farmer!reiners hitting all the right spots so you can only nod in numb and dumb agreeal. the feeling of your husband always left you full and you couldn’t help but let out a low and long throaty moan. it’s inevitable! that budding pressure at the base of your stomach is staring to feel so tight and you can’t deny that all of the feelings surging within you feel so bright and so fuzzy and so fuck, you were gonna—

“oouuhhh…”

unexpectedly an ooze of liquid squirts from between you and farmer!reiner as you cum onto his dick. your pelvis, slightly lifting from his wet length, posses you to rub your clit and spray your love over him — every ounce of shame is no longer your concern as you bare an obscene sight within the stables.

farmer!reiner can only groan as he uses one hand to hold you steady and the other onto the base of his length as he messily taps it against your squirting lips.

“yeah, that’s it darlin’. all over my cock, juuuuust how daddy likes it.”

your body jolts as you go through the lasting dregs of your orgasm. once the after effects wash over, you’re suddenly feeling slump and palpable.

farmer!reiner holds you upright as he can feel you coming down from your high. his eyes are beady as he looks over you to gauge your condition. but regardless, he slightly bends down to place a warm kiss to your jersey sleeve before affirming your exploit.

“god, i love ya. did so well. always do so well fa me…”

you let out a tired reply, mumbled and lazy as all you want to do is now snuggle with your husband in bed. however, farmer!reiner continues to stroke his still red and tall standing dick; the length of it shiny wet and slick from your juices.

he shivers once he feels a small gust of wind wisp over his sensitive slit but it doesn’t dwindle his need. if anything, it amplifies it.

“but…” farmer!reiner places another kiss along your arm. “imma need you ready to go again.”

“again?”

the whine is evident in your voice but farmer!reiner doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, hes reentering your spent cunt and you can only let out a desperate mewl.

“yes, again. you already know big daddys gotta cum inside that pretty cunt of yers. nothing new.”

despite your protests, your body takes no problem in remoulding itself around your husband’s cock. if anything, he slips in so easily that you cant help but comply. arching your back, you beckon upwards with a lax mouth and outstretched tongue and farmer!reiner already knows you’re on board.

spitting onto your moist muscle, farmer!reiner doesnt leave his saliva there long before hes enclosing his lips around your tongue for him to suck on — you keen as your husband nurses your mouth and moans into a dirty kiss and almost forget that hes now balls deep inside of you again.

farmer!reiner kneads his fingers into your arm that hes holding you upright by and the action is tender, but his thrusts come out erratic as he works to achieving his nut.

“mmm, you feel so warm.” farmer!reiner speaks into your skin as he lets go of your mouth to kiss along and into the crook of your neck.

you moan at the affection your husband is pouring into you because you know hes close. reaching back your hand, you hug around farmer!reiner‘s neck so that you could bury him deeper into you, encourage him to indulge and devour you.

“you always fuck me s-so good.” a wince forms onto your face as you feel your hand dig a bit too deep into the pillar stem but it doesn’t matter.

“mhm. gotta…gotta fuck you. make feel good.”

your juices from before now feel cold against your leg as the squirt starts to dry up but still, the wet squelches of your husband fucking into your cunt dribble down your thigh and you can’t help but feel so erotic.

“ahhh, im gonna come, im gonna come, im gonna co'm. im gonna…nrrgh.”

farmer!reiner only lasts a few more thrusts before hes pouring his milk into you, a muffled moan leaving his mouth as his face is still buried within the crook of your neck.

you slightly curse underneath your breath because you never really think you could be any fuller once impeached with your husband's cock, but yet here you were, letting out a half choke as you react to being completely stuffed.

"sh'i...baby"

farmer!reiner's grip is tight on your arm as he tries his best to not lead his whole body into a physical combustion. he's aware that he's carrying most your weight whilst still being buried to the hilt inside of you and therefore can't just flop down like he usually would in bed.

with haggard breathing, you weakly bat the man's chest and instantly he gets the message. farmer!reiner slowly pulls out of you with a plop but not before he's kissing the base of your neck.

"rei..." you weakly sigh, and your husbands letting out a weak chuckle.

"i know, darlin'. we gon go getchu cleaned up and then go check on the stack import, okay?"

"ohh, but i'm too worn out for dealing with hay and numbers!" you whine as you turn to lean your back against the pillar and farmer!reiner's only chuckling as he zips up his pine coloured breeches.

"i promised hoover we'd pass by today. id go on my ones but you now how his littlens get when they see me but dont see you."

yes, you do know how the hoover's kids get when they don't get to see you, but that's not really your worry right now.

with a complain-y moan you look up at your husband with wide pleading eyes because you really dont want to be doing house visits right now. but farmer!reiner, knowing how you are, can only let out an airy laugh before he leans down to deliver you a sweet kiss.

"do this one thing for me and i promise the rest of the day's yers." he mumbles against your lips.

you almost decline, but the sudden feeling of farmer!reiner's slightly cold fingers caressing against your swollen pussy lips as he gathers the leaking cum from around your folds and scoops it back into you, makes you reconsider.

with a bite of your bottom lip, you caress your cheek against his.

"mm. fine."

(not even several hours later, an anonymous account posts several pictures to your online community which clearly depict you and farmer!reiner's earlier escapades. when your husband sees them, he laughs with boisterous vim.

"well, at least they got our good angles!" he'd say, his eyes unable to look away from the content)

[solxamber]

1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”

Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”

You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”

“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”

“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”

“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”

You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.

“…How much are we charging?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”

“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”

“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”

Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”

By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.

You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.

The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.

“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.

With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”

You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”

“Okay, and?”

“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”

You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”

“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”

“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”

“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.

When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.

“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”

Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”

You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”

“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.

“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.

He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.

Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”

“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.

Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”

Riddle’s death glare answered that question.

“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”

Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”

Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”

The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.

You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”

Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”

You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”

“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.

You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”

“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.

Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”

Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”

“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”

Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”

“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”

“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”

“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”

The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.

“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”

“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”

“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”

The orb started vibrating violently.

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.

You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”

When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.

“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”

Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”

Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”

Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”

You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.

“This should work,” he said cheerfully.

The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.

“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”

Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”

The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.

“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”

Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”

Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”

“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”

“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”

“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”

“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”

Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”

You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”

A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”

“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”

“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”

“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”

“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.

Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”

“But of course!”

“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”

“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”

“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”

Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”

“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”

You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”

“Anything!”

“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”

“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”

“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”

The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.

“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”

Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.

"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."

You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"

"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."

Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"

Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."

Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"

You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.

Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.

Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.

"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.

"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.

It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.

Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.

It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.

"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"

Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.

"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."

But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?

He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."

"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.

Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."

"Shut up, Jamil."

It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.

As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.

"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"

"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"

"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.

Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.

The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.

“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”

“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”

Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”

Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”

“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.

Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”

“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”

You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”

“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.

Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”

“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”

The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.

Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.

You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.

Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”

“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”

Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.

Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.

“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.

“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”

Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”

When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”

You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”

Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”

Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.

Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.

But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”

Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”

He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.

Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.

“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.

“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.

“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”

“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.

“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.

The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.

You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.

You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.

Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.

Wait, what?

You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—

Oh, no.

“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”

You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”

Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”

Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.

“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”

Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”

“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”

“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”

He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”

Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.

After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”

You froze. “What are you saying?”

Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”

You stared at Malleus in horror.

“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”

“Precisely.”

“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”

You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.

You groaned. “I’m going to die.”

And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.

“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.

Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”

The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.

For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.

Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”

Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”

He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.

He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.

“Run!”

You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.

And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:

I want this forever.

Masterlist

[artsekey]

I really hate how ads have taken over the internet. On one hand, I know that hosting a website costs money, right? And ad revenue is one of the simplest ways for free-to-use websites to cover their operating costs.

My question is-- and I would genuinely love an answer-- is this ever going to stop? Tumblr ran for a long time without ads. So did Youtube. I know that the cost of hosting so much media has gone up, but there are a lot of users on these websites that make the content that drives people to use the service that don't see any of the money generated by this revenue. On Youtube, there's at least a way for creators to make some money from what they do. For most, it isn't much, but the opportunity is there. On Tumblr, well... the ability to convert the visibility of my blog into any financial gain practically nonexistent, though they did at one point promise that users would be able to make money from ads run on their blogs (whatever happened to that, Staff?).

"You can pay to avoid seeing ads!" Tumblr says, as if the views on my main blog alone over the past few years have not generated more than enough ad revenue to cover the price they're asking me to pay, the person who is actively making content that brings eyes to their ads.

I'm not mad at Tumblr for hosting ads. I get that it has to happen because it's the easiest way to keep the site free, and honestly, I imagine Tumblr's staunch opposition to monetization has been a real obstacle for the team building Tumblr. But at the same time, it feels like yet another small concession in the usability of the site. I'm tired of ads that auto-play with blaring audio while I'm scrolling. I'm tired of adds that, if I touch them while trying to scroll past them, take me to an external site. Outside of tumblr, I'm tired of looking for information online only to get a webpage that's 95% ads and otherwise illegible. Hell, I recently got an ad on Discord. Was it unobtrusive? Maybe. But it was there, for the first time, and I know that won't be the end.

I know the first reply I'm going to get on this is "use adblock", and yes, that's a solution, but think about how much the landscape for media has changed in just ten years.

Popular forums are basically gone outside of reddit.

Youtube, without Red, is ad hell. You can't watch more than 3-4 minutes of video without getting sent to marketing hell.

Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter-- it's terrible. I firmly believe they've manufactured a worse experience through the implementation of ads to convince you to buy into their premium services.

Just Check out this video of Penguinz0 trying to watch a video on a third-party site.

There's discussion of putting ads into video games.

Remember when games didn't include micro-transactions? Blizzard is charging $70 for one mythic skin. You could almost buy Overwatch 1 twice-over at that price-point.

Influencers make a living by making their lives into advertisements.

Youtube has retaliated against users using ad-block on non-chrome browsers by artificially inflating the load times of it's videos.

What can we do about this? I imagine companies see it as an infinite money hack; users can't stop companies from hosting ads, and the action they could take to voice their displeasure-- leaving the site, using other competitive services-- has been all but obliterated thanks to the homogeneity of popular social media outlets. If someone is truly so incensed about ads, well-- it isn't like they have to engage with them, right? They can enroll in a cheap, auto-renewing service to get rid of ads entirely. Well, wait, the price of premium might just have to go up. Don't worry, it's auto-renewing! You won't even notice it. Oh, no, it's got to go up again, you won't even notice it.

There's no incentive for them to cap this behavior, and no way for us as users to pressure them to do so. We create these spaces; we fill them with color, art, activism, community, and the companies that ride on the tailcoat of the spaces we create tell us to give them more. What comes next?