#peasant club don't @ me

[goldustwomun]

bags (s.h.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?

warnings: (unedited) angst angst angst, best friend robin and nancy but also lovers <3 robin and nancy <3, swearing, drinking, clubbing/partying, self-deprecating thoughts and a stubborn reader, steve is kind of an asshole despair and dread lol, this went a route i hadn't expected but i'm feeling achey and sad tonight so :) enjoy :) and don't hate me!

wc: 2.2k+

note: i hope this isn't entirely ass lol i just want steve harrington to break my heart but like i cant put my ideas into words and its SO FRUSTRATING but whatever :’)

Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse Walkin' out the door with your bags

You should’ve known it’d end up this way. His back, coloured shades of blue and purple as dusk kissed at his skin, retreating into the distance and down the very road you’d just stumbled up only moments earlier. Maybe if you had listened a little closer, noticed a little more, the way he grabbed at your waist, squeezed your palms, held you close, you could’ve avoided it all. The shock and heartbreak and unbearable yearning only to turn up empty and desolate all over again.

Because you loved Steve Harrington, in more ways than he would ever know, but it had taken days, months, years, even, to get over that initial infatuation and belly flutter you’d been plagued with as teenagers. He was King Steve and you but a peasant, a shadow, one of many, that flocked to his side when he waved or smiled or tripped you up.

You loved Steve Harrington, but you hated him for waiting so long to work up the courage to just say it. I love you; I’ve always loved you, you wanted to say, but the words refused to pass the seal of your lips and instead you were left gaping at an empty spot on the ground, a Steve-shaped hole in your heart.

It’d been days since you’d seen him last, mourning his absence but refusing to sit around like you might’ve done if you were still seventeen. But no, you weren’t seventeen, you were a twenty-something independent that went out and did things and met people and kissed them if you wanted, maybe even take them home to your one-bedroom that would be otherwise empty without Steve plastered to your sofa, a hand stuffed into the popcorn you kept around because he once said he didn’t entirely hate it.

And that’s what you had done, convinced Nancy and Robin to leave the haze of their never-ending honeymoon phase to take you dancing. The drinks hadn’t stopped coming. Every time you gulped down a shot, another would be shoved into your hand before you’d had time to comprehend the reality of what you were going to do. To sleep with a stranger in the same space you’d watched Rocky with Steve only days earlier. You’d called and asked and begged him to come over, to join you, Nancy and Robin, but he’d bit at you in that way he sometimes did. The harsh edges of his teenage-self making itself known in ways you’d have liked to forget.

“Stop it, babes. I know what you’re doing,” Robin scolded, frowning at the dip between your brows and the lost look in your eyes. You forced a smile then, and she scoffed at the minimal effort you put into hiding your feelings, always having excelled at letting them take over your features even when you didn’t mean them to. Of course, every knew, everyone could see it in the way you trailed after him, like a lost puppy begging for an ounce of attention. Steve was cruel with the crumbs he handed you, but he didn’t know any better.

Everyone knew and everyone could see but Steve had always stood out, the most handsome, the most fit, the most clueless. And maybe that’s why you were perfect for each other because you hadn’t known either, had you.

“Come on, up you get!” Robin urged, pulling you from your chair with Nancy already clinging to her side, shuffling the three of you with what little sobriety she had left in her to the dance floor, pulsing lights and thrumming bodies none-the-wiser to the way you heart was cracking open.

So, you jumped and danced and bounced to the beat in ways you didn’t know you were capable of. Free and without regret and it wasn’t until someone was staring at you from across the room, watching your every moment with a fascination you’d never been subject to, that you stopped, pressing past Nancy and Robin with a tip of your head that assured them you’d be back.

He, whoever he was, surged into action, coming behind you at the bar where you were busy asking for a glass of water. You turned and smiled, stomach dipping, because he was attractive and strong, and he had these kind eyes and soft lips that looked like they’d be otherworldly against your skin. He introduced himself but the music obscured his words, so you nodded and pretended and wondered why you were dreading this conversation when it had only just begun.

He pulled you into a somewhat quieter corner after you’d gestured it was alright, and really, he seemed as surprised as you were when you all but pounced, mouth meeting his, open and desperate. He hadn’t complained, had probably seen it coming in the quiet desperation of your eyes. Of course, he didn’t know it was because of the way you wished it was someone else kissing you into the wall and not some all-consuming lust you were fueled by.

The next thing you knew you were huddled into the backseat of a cab, then stumbling across the gravel to your front door.

And that’s when you saw him. Sat on the bottom step of your apartment’s front door, gaze focused on the way whatever-his-name-was smirked into your neck, having probably thought you had stopped for a smooch and not because the man you had loved, unrequited, for close to a decade was staring at you like you’d stabbed him right in the chest, and twisted.

“Steve?” you whispered, loud enough to prompt Harrington off the step and marching across the short distance to you. “What are you—” but you never had a chance to ask him before he was swinging a left hook right into the guy’s jaw.

“Steve!” and you were shouting now, pushed to side as the stranger retaliated out of instinct, socking him in the nose. Steve looked like he was grinning, blood dripping into his mouth, like he was enjoying the feel of getting the shit beat out of him. “Stop it! Steve! I said—” you yanked him back, shoving him behind you as you rushed forward to-- fuck. You still don’t know his name.

“I’m sorry— Jesus Christ—” you swore when you noticed how his eye was already bruising as he shook you off. “I don’t know why he did that. I—I’m—"

His words were bitter when he responded, shooting daggers at the looming figure you were keenly aware was still behind you before meeting your pleading eyes. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, squeezing your hip as he moved past you to leave. “You should talk to your boyfriend, you know, before you bring anyone else over.”

“I’m not—He’s not—” but he was gone, and you were still reeling from what had just happened, what Steve had just done. You turned, anger coursing through you so violently your hands were shaking. “Fucking hell—Steve! What the fuck are you doing here? And what the fuck was that?!”

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asked plainly, bluntly, shirt pulled to his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. There was still that wild look in his eyes, a flush to his skin, like he too was dazed and confused.

“What—I--- how is that any of your fucking business?” you answered back, shoving a finger against his chest. He was immovable though, only grabbed at your hand and held it until your palm was flat against the front of him. You could feel, now, the reckless thrum of his heartbeat, and you asked yourself how you’d gotten here in the first place, pushed up against a bloodied and bruised Steve Harrington.

“Just tell me. If I hadn’t been sat here, would you have fucked him?”

And you didn’t completely understand it, didn’t know what answer he was looking for—the one that was acquiesce him enough to explain himself or at the very least go inside and forget about all this ever happening—so instead you answered honestly. “Yes,” but your voice cracked at the end, so you snatched your hand back, cradling it to yourself like an injured bird you hoped to keep cocooned in your warm. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I would have slept with him. And if it hadn’t been him, I would have found someone else.”

He nodded, looking as if he were pained but you were certain, now, it wasn’t because of the punch he’d taken to the face. “And if I had answered your call, met you there, got drunk and kissed you, would you have fucked me, too?”

You reeled at his words, feeling entirely as though you were the one in the midst of a fight. “Where is this coming from, Steve? Why are you saying these things to me?” you begged, pleaded, tired of whatever back-and-forth the two of you had gotten into the habit of.

“Look—” and he was determined now, steely gaze pinning you to the ground. His bruised knuckles brushed through his hair, scattering the strands across his forehead so that your fingers tingled with the urge to brush them out of his eyes like you’d always done. “—I should’ve said this ages ago. I just—I never could because it was never the right time, and I didn’t really see you in that way, not when I knew you did—” and really you wanted to stop him there, let the Earth swallow you whole and spit your bones out to be buried far from here. “I knew you had this—this thing for me but I ignored it but then we became friends and we—I mean, we watch movies, and we cuddle on the couch and sometimes I think I’d like to do that with you all the time and—

“Steve, please,” you whispered through the tears flooding past your irises, looking anywhere but at him, cheeks flushed with humiliation. He’d always had this tight grip around your heart and maybe he didn’t know that with every word he spoke that grip tightened, and tightened, and you were sure your heart was going to burst if he didn’t shut up right then.

“Just listen—I want to do those things with you always, sweetheart, I really do. I could’ve—I mean, I should’ve communicated my feelings earlier, I know I should have, but I didn’t want to lie to you. Not when you mean so much to me and I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” He looked at you then, expectantly, reaching forward to pull you into his embrace but you stumbled back, wanting out of the hold he had on you in more ways than one.

“Am I meant to thank you for looking at me differently now?” you bit out, exhaustion coating your syllables like rust on a nail.

His face fell as he stuttered over his own words. “I mean—no, sweetheart, no, of course not, I just thought—”

“You thought because I’m pathetic—because I’ve always been fucking pathetic to you—stumbling after you since high school that I’d just be, what, waiting for you? That I’d welcome your change of heart with open arms and gratitude?” you scoffed, gaze narrowed as you watched that wall of his build itself back up. Your ego was bruised and you were too stubborn to admit it, because you thought he had been clueless, and that thought had kept you safe all these years as you curled into his side every weekend.

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that” he cautioned, temper rising. If Steve Harrington was anything it was beautiful, and if he wasn’t beautiful, he was angry, stubborn, a pot ready to boil over.  

“Come on, Steve. You said it yourself: I’ve had a thing for you since freshmen year. I followed you after we graduated, and I’ve followed you again, here, now. It took me years—fucking years—to get over it, to accept that I’d never be more than a friend, if that, and now, after you’ve been dodging me for days, you turn around and confess some sort of miracle feelings for me?” You were panting, out of breath from the way the words spilled out of you, thoughts you shouldn’t have kept to yourself all this time.

“Well what should I have done!” he roared, and a few curious lights blinked on from the building behind him. “Should I have not befriended you when you turned up to the same college? Should I have, instead, fucked you ten years ago when it would have meant nothing to me?” And you flinched at his words.

“You should have let me be, Steve,” you sighed, defeated. Because he was right, but you hated him for prodding at wounds you were still trying to heal.  “You should have kept it to yourself and let me be.” But really what you wanted to say was you’ve been lying to Robin and Nancy because you weren’t over him. You loved him; you’d always love him, but you were afraid, if you told him the truth, that he’d slowly fade from your life until he wasn’t a part of it anymore.

He nodded, face slipping into that mask of his you’d dreaded seeing. “Right. Got it.”

He pushed past you, and you wanted to thank him for the slight brush of his skin against yours, but you kept quiet, like you always had.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed <3

[sulumuns-dootah]

What WHB characters would wear in the human world: Niflheim

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

    ༺☆༻

Bold of you to assume he'd get dressed for going out

So if he has to go outside, he'll just sleep in normal clothes and be ready to somewhat go

Oversized and comfy clothing

With the whole edgy thing, he'd absolutely love the 90's nu metal fashion (as well as the music)

    ༺☆༻

Oh look, another demon wearing a suit

But who's really complaining since they all look hot in it, right?

Whenever he's out with Belphie, he looks like a father with his angsty son

Actually, I don't think he'd change up his suit that much

    ༺☆༻

As much as I love the whole grey shirt look he's got going on I need to see Gusion in the onesie from his original design in color ^^

And yes, maybe the Gusion we have now wouldn't wear much gamer stuff, but he's just lying to himself

Tell me this man isn't partially tired from losing MLBB games because his teammates are idiots

Also thinking about it, he's giving 707 from Mystic Messenger vibes

#BringBackTheOnesie

(There's literally zero good pics of men wearing cute onesies >.>)

    ༺☆༻

Our moon boy absolutelly loves the darker academia/witchcore aesthetics

While looking up references, I found Klaus from The Umbrella Academy and his look from the ending of season 2 (or at least i think) is definitely it!

A lot of moon imagery

Another member of the looking-like-a-dilf-while-hanging-out-with-a-friend club

I can honestly see Beleth and Bathin drop Belphie and Stolas their teen and toddler off at a playground and go drinking and gambling to the bar right next to it

    ༺☆༻

This poor baby can't actually see, but his style is always on point

Same as Beleth, why make him stop wearing a suit when he looks so good in it?

Andre is, however, very picky with his fabric textures and only the finest fabric usually passes

So don't be surprised if his single suit costs more than your existence

Hell, some of his suits could cost more than Bimet's designer statement pieces

    ༺☆༻

Ooh, dramatic cape moment for a dramatic ex-king

Flashy everything so everyone can make him out in a crowd

Will always be wearing a crown on his head

Ofc all the "peasants" will look at him and look for a camera bc who dresses like that on the daily

    ༺☆༻

Why was my first thought that "thought they were giving nonbinary slay, turns out it was just a priest" twitter post?

Either way, to feed into Agares' delusions, Vassago wears a matching suit and sometimes carries the cape so it doesn't get too dirty

Sometimes even the Hades nobles can get envious over how nice his suits look

[angelsrcute]

⌗ GOOD LOOKING. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Tartaglia + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: modern au,fluff, hurt to comfort, protected sex + use of lube, praising, body worship, drunk sex, teeth-rotting fluff, Dad!Tartaglia is the dad of the year.

꒰ † ੭ — Part 2 of 7 weeks and 3 days, this is also a lyric fic! mixed up the ideas I had, some crdts to @xschizoe and anon. Hope this feeds you all!! (unfortunately scara didn't get hit by a car)

The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all.

How did you both get together? Long story, not that you'd complain. He's an absolute sweetheart, Tartaglia, Scaramouche's best friend. Frequent dates, showering you with gifts, spoiling the shit out of your kid. No wonder your kid doesn't listen to you anymore, just listens to your new boyfriend. You swore that you'd never let the walls in your heart down, but it did, for him.

I thought I'd uncovered your secrets but, turns out, there's more, You adored me before. Oh, my good looking boy.

Tartaglia would always give you looks when you were with scaramouche, that screamed out ‘he's not good for you, leave him.’ You never really paid any attention to them even if it was true, scaramouche was hurting you. So one night while you were working your part time job at a club, due to desperate measures– you saw him.

You both talked for hours, catching up on eachother, you broke down while talking about scaramouche but he comforted you, apparently tartaglia got a very good job. To celebrate, he ordered some expensive wine even though you refused, he assured you that he wouldn't mind.

Play casino holes of my eyeballs, Roll the dice on my thighs.

The night was a blur, all you remember drinking too much and crying, your head hurting like hell, Childe saying something. Now, you're here, in his bed. In his fucking bed. No clothes on. Tartaglia cuddling you to sleep while burying his head in your hair. Well, after you both were sober enough, he apologised, he didn't mean to sleep with you without proper consent but he just did due to the moment.

Back to the present, Childe coming into your life was the best thing that's happened in your life. You don't really mind that your child looks a bit like his father, Scaramouche nor does Childe. He'd sometimes bring his siblings to play with your child, they enjoyed every moment of it.

You stopped for breath and I sped up, Just to impress you.

You couldn't help but laugh as your husband played with your child, he currently had makeup on his face, his short hair tied into a ponytail, stylist in the making, you think.

“You look fabulous, sweetheart, you should go walk on the runway!”

“Gosh, Y/N, don't tease me like that–” Laughing together as your kid laughed too, in his arms.

Some whining before he finally put the little demon to sleep. Coming out of the room as he hugs you, prepping light kisses to your face. Leading you to your shared bedroom, “The kid is asleep, we finally have some alone time.” He whispers as he leaves trails of kisses down your chest, worshipping you like his goddess.

“Until the little demon gets hungry and calls the peasants for food!” You reply back, giggling.

“Oh cmon, Y/N, I might die of laughing too much, you'd be at fault. Also did I say Scaramouche was at the bar we hooked up in? You should've seen the look on his face!”

“What..?”

“Anyway, in the mood for a quick sex, darlin’? Wouldn't mind another little demon running around in the house.” He says while he places another kiss to your stomach with that stupid smile he charmed you with.

Oh, my good looking boy.

Taglist : @xschizoe, @iruma-chan,

@whoooismkeee, @t0matensalatxoooooo,

@tartagliaboo, @magica-ren

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Hey! Could you do a vampire marquis one shot where he meets the reader that looks like the love of his life from a past life but passed away from old age. Now he’s determined to make the reader a vampire so he doesn’t lose them again. Could be cute, could be angst, could be yandere, your choice!

I'm gonna do this in more than one part, not sure how long it'll be but here we go.

PART ONE: When your friends don't know best

"that rich guy is staring at you." Your friend Annie told you as she glanced his way, and then back at you.

You quickly looked in the direction she had sent her eyes and you instantly met an intense stare from one of the most beautiful men you'd ever seen. Snapping your eyes away, you blushed when you saw Annie's huge smile. Feeling as tho you'd been caught doing something, you should not, you didn't allow yourself to look back at the gorgeous man. "How do you know he's rich?" You asked her. You didn't really go out often, and never to an exclusive club like this, so you were in over your head. You'd never been afraid to ask questions though, so you patiently waited while your friend, danced in a circle to get a sneaky peak at him once more.

"ok first thing you look at is the watch. He has an extremely expensive one on. You need to learn high end watches. Next you check his shoes which are obviously high end, and then look at the fit of his suit. His suit fits so well, on his unusually tall frame, that there's no way that's not a custom tailored suit. Add to that he's at the most expensive, nicest table with the best view in VIP, and he has his own security with him. The head host was sucking up to him earlier, and if all that isn't evidence enough for you, the man screams money and power. He's probably some blue blood or has some archaic title."

You nodded in agreement with all her observations. "Well that's too bad. He's so gorgeous, I might have danced with him if he asked me to." You shared as you shrugged your shoulders.

Annie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What am I missing?" She asked, still looking lost.

"he is tall, gorgeous and wealthy. There's no way that he's not full of himself, and likely doesn't know how to treat little peasants like myself. He's probably unbearably conceited and is from such a different world than me, we'd likely struggle to understand each other. Plus if he isn't an absolute man whore, then his other half is most definitely a super model or heiress. I'm an American girl spending her summer in France, staying at the home of our exchange student who lives on a farm I might add." You laughed as you grabbed her hands and began to dance together.

"you could be a supermodel if you weren't such a bookworm." Annie confidently stated like it was a fact.

"I hate taking pictures and modeling seems like it'd be torture. Getting all made up for a few pictures that they pose you in various ways, before stripping everything away and starting over and over and over. Hurry up and wait, and then some weirdo tries to fuck me at every turn. No thank you." You shouted to your friend over the music.

It was so loud that even though you were in close proximity to her, you had to shout as loud as possible.

"not a man whore and don't have another half."

Eyes going wide, you whipped your head around and found none other than the gorgeous man, standing right in front of you. Unable to think of what to say, you turned to Annie with a look of horror on your face.

Seeing you were about to have a panic attack, Annie took it upon herself to introduce herself and you too. The man politely introduced himself as the Marquis de Gramont, and you nodded along dumbly as though you knew what the hell that meant.

At first you had decided that he was trying to get with Annie, since they talked so easily and Annie was beautiful and magnetic. She had grown up wealthy, so they'd likely have stuff in common too. Resigned to the fact, he wasnt interested in you, you felt more comfortable and were able to dance and have fun. When you and Annie went to the bathroom tho, she told you he was obviously into you.

You didn't think it was that obvious.

As the night wore on, you had this foreboding feeling you couldn't shake. Maybe you just were socially awkward. Never had anyone paid such close attention to you. He hung on your every word, and stared at you with such intensity, that it would have been terrifying if he wasn't so gorgeous. Even when you had needed to use the restroom, he'd escorted you there, and waited on you to be done. Even though the club was packed with people, he somehow was able to create a bubble around yourselves, that no one dared enter.

When you decided it was time to go, he had insisted that you let him drop you off at your friend's hotel. After a bit of back and forth, you gave in and followed him outside, where a two toned black and white Rolls Royce was waiting.

Slipping inside you were awe struck by the luxurious vehicle and failed to notice the Marquis soaking up your innocent wonder painted across your face, as you explored the vehicle.

Too soon you arrived at Annie's hotel, and the Marquis walked you up to her room. Taking your hand in his, he brought his lips to your hand lightly and asked if he could see you again. You agreed to see him again, not believing you actually would, but it was fun letting yourself believe this perfect guy liked you as much as he seemed to.

When you closed the door behind you, Annie screeched in excitement and swore that you'd met your very own prince charming. As she planned out your life together, you fell asleep when she's been trying to decide what your future twins names would be, and whether they'd enjoy horses as much as their older brother.

You woke the next morning to a knock at the door. Crawling from the bed, you figured it was housekeeping and wanted to tell them to skip this room today. Swinging the door open, you just stared at the enormous bouquet of long stem red roses like you expected them to speak.

"Delivery for you mademoiselle. Where would you like them?" The delivery man asked you from behind the enormous bouquet.

Directing him to place them on the bar, he placed an envelope in your hand , and was gone before you could even find your purse to tip him.

Although you were flattered, something just didn't sit right with you about him. You had been taught that anything too good to be true, was.

"who was that?" Your tired friend asked as she stumbled on the living area. "Oh my God! Are these from him? You fu king whore!"

She spotted the letter in your hand and demanded you read it to her as she made you both some coffee.

"to the most beautiful girl in the world, now before you think I am crazy, understand that I realize this is moving quite fast however, I am throwing a charity function for a children's charity that I run that is near and dear to my heart this evening at my estate and I would be honored if you and your lovely friend would join me. I understand that this is short notice, and so I have a driver downstairs waiting for you in the black and white Bentley that will take you to any fashion house in Paris to choose something to wear this evening. My treat for both of you. And don't you dare forget purses shoes and some jewelry. The media will likely be there, so a lot of these photos will be published and I want you girls looking your best. Also I've never invited any women to anything for many years so everyone is going to be very interested just to warn you. I hope that you are free this evening and would like to see me again as much as I would love to see you." You read. Looking up at your friend, you could see she was about to explode with excitement.

You really didn't want to see the Marquis again. Something about him just didn't sit right. while it had been flattering at first that a rich, powerful, attractive man seemed to be enthralled by you, you just couldn't get past the feeling in your gut.

Noticing you're lack of response or enthusiasm, your friend put her hands on her hips, and commanded "you are going in that bedroom and you are getting some clothes on and we are going shopping. I don't care what kind of craziness you've gotten in your head but this man is beautiful, powerful, rich, and even cares about children or something. I will not allow you to mess this up young lady!"

You rolled your eyes, and sighed dramatically, but listened to your bossy friend. When she walked in the room to get dressed as well, you informed her that if you two got kidnapped and sold into slavery, she was doing all the work.

If only you'd known how close to the truth that soon would be.

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2,714

warnings/notes: n/a

Chapter 3: From the Gamble to the Carriage

Lord Austin Butler rose, his height casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room, the light catching the icy determination in his eyes. "You owe me nothing," he said with measured calmness, though there was an undercurrent of danger in his voice that made even Rat’s hardened associates shift uncomfortably in their seats. "However, you owe Miss Everly here the courtesy of not treating her as chattel."

Violet's heart skipped a beat at his words. The notorious Lord Butler, known equally for his ruthless dealings and his unexpected bouts of benevolence, was intervening on her behalf? She dared not let hope flicker too brightly, for fear it would be snuffed out just as quickly.

Rat's gaze flickered between Violet and Lord Butler, assessing the situation with a serpent's calculating eyes. "And why would you care about this girl, my lord?" Rat asked, his tone dripping with disdain. "What is she to you?"

Austin’s lips curled into a slight smile that did not reach his cold blue eyes. "Let's just say I dislike debts being settled through such... unsavory means," he replied smoothly. "Release her from your clutches or find yourself with an enemy you do not want."

Rat hesitated, weighing his options. He knew better than to cross the Butler family, and the debt he was owed, as large as it was, paled in comparison to the weight of their ire. Reluctantly, he let go of Violet's wrist. "Fine," Rat spat out.

"But don't think this is the end of it, Butler. I'll remember this."

Violet felt her wrist freed from Rat's greasy grip, her skin burning where his fingers had clung. She rubbed at the red marks silently, not daring to meet anyone's eyes. The ominous echo of Rat’s threat hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud promising a storm yet to come.

Austin didn't respond to Rat's parting shot; instead, he turned his attention to Violet. Violet's throat tightened. What could Lord Butler possibly want with someone like her? Was this another form of debt, one more personal and potentially perilous? Yet, what choice did she have but to accept his offer? The alternative—remaining under Rat's watchful and undoubtedly vengeful eye—was far worse. As the ruckus of the club resumed, a cacophony of raucous laughter and clinking glasses attempting to mask the tension that had just unfolded, Lord Butler's hand extended towards Violet.

"Come," he said, his voice a low command that brooked no argument. "Let us leave this place."

Violet hesitated, her mind racing with the possible consequences of trusting this enigmatic man. Yet as she glanced back at her father, who was now engrossed in a heated dice game, oblivious to her plight, she knew she had little choice. Swallowing hard, she placed her trembling hand in his. Lord Butler led her through the throng of bodies, his presence parting the crowd like a ship cleaving through dark waters. They stepped out into the cool night air, and Violet drew a deep breath, feeling as if she could breathe for the first time in hours. As they walked down the dimly lit cobblestone street, the cold night wrapping around them like an unwelcome cloak, Violet's mind swirled with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Lord Butler's steps were sure and silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic drumming of her own heart.

"Why did you help me?" she finally mustered the courage to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. She could not rid herself of the notion that every kindness must have its price, especially from someone of Lord Butler’s known reputation.

Austin paused, turning to face her under the faint glow of a street lamp. His features softened somewhat in the dim light, yet his eyes remained inscrutable. "You looked like you needed a way out.”

His reply, simple as it was, carried a weight that hung between them in the cool night air. Violet's eyes searched his, looking for any hint of deceit or malice, but found none that she could discern. She was not naive enough to think this marked the end of her troubles, but for a fleeting moment under the flickering streetlamp, she allowed herself to feel a semblance of safety.

"Where are we going?" Violet asked after a moment, her voice steadier than she felt.

"To my estate," Austin stated, his tone suggesting that further questions might not be welcome. "It’s safer there—for now."

The word 'safe' echoed in her mind like a promise too precious to trust. But what choice did she have? Going back was not an option; moving forward with this enigmatic lord was the only path left open to her. As they continued to walk, Austin's silence enveloped them as effectively as the fog that began to roll in from the river. The fog seemed to cloak their movements, a spectral shroud that masked the uncertainty of their destination. Violet's thoughts churned as violently as the river beside which they walked, each step taking her further away from a life of misery yet potentially closer to a new kind of danger. Lord Butler's stride was purposeful, his posture erect with an authority that commanded respect—even fear—but his silence was a puzzle she could not solve.

The fog seemed to cloak their movements, a spectral shroud that masked the uncertainty of their destination. Violet's thoughts churned as violently as the river beside which they walked, each step taking her further away from a life of misery yet potentially closer to a new kind of danger. Lord Butler's stride was purposeful, his posture erect with an authority that commanded respect—even fear—but his silence was a puzzle she could not solve. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder, as if to ensure she was still there or to check that they were not being followed. The tightness of his jaw and the occasional narrowing of his eyes spoke of concerns he did not voice, adding another layer to his already enigmatic persona.

Violet's mind raced with questions about this man who had appeared so unexpectedly in her life. What drove him to intervene on her behalf? Was it merely distaste for the unsavory dealings of men like Rat, or was there something deeper, more personal at stake for him? His world was one of power and privilege, so far removed from her own experiences that she found it hard to believe their paths were meant to cross in any meaningful way. Yet here she was, following him into the unknown, driven by a desperation that made her cling to the fragile hope he offered.

As they approached a carriage waiting at the end of the street, its doors opened as if by magic, revealing a plush interior lit by soft lanterns. Violet paused, her heart pounding anew—not from fear this time, but from the sheer otherworldliness of the scene before her. Austin, noticing her hesitation, offered his hand once again, his expression unreadable.

"Trust me," he murmured, the words barely audible above the distant rumble of the city nightlife. The invitation was simple, yet it carried the weight of an unspoken promise—a promise that Violet found herself inexplically wanting to believe, despite every reason she had to doubt. Tentatively, Violet placed her hand in his once more, stepping into the carriage while trying to suppress the fluttering in her chest. The soft cushions enveloped her as she settled into a seat opposite Austin. The door shut with a definitive thud, sealing them together in this moving sanctuary from the outside world.

As the carriage lurched forward, Austin leaned back against the upholstery, his gaze fixed out of the window, lost in thoughts he did not share. Violet watched him covertly, studying his profile—the sharp jawline, the furrow between his brows that spoke of concentration or concern. He seemed both part of this opulent world and yet isolated from it. Her curiosity deepened, entwining with the threads of apprehension that wove through her mind. What lay at the end of this unexpected journey? What awaited her at Lord Butler’s estate? These questions spun in her mind like a whirlwind, leaving her dizzy with uncertainty.

The carriage wheels rhythmically hit against the cobblestones, a steady and hypnotic sound that seemed to echo the pulsing of her own heart. As they traveled further away from the life she knew, the streetlights became scarcer, plunging the carriage into periods of shadow interspersed with bursts of light.

Breaking the silence, Austin finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "You must have many questions," he said, his voice calm and somehow reassuring despite the situation.

Violet nodded, her throat tight with nervousness. "Yes, sir. I assume you bought me for your own…personal uses.”

Austin raised a brow trying to keep a smirk off his lips. “Personal uses?”

Violet narrowed her eyes. She didn’t enjoy him acting sly. She was not stupid. “Personal pleasure, my lord. That is what my father sold me to Rat for.”

He could no longer hold back his chuckle which made Violet even more angry. “You are rather blunt, Miss Everly.” Austin moved his gaze directly to hers. There was a teasing nature in his eyes that made Violet lean away from him slowly. “My intentions are my own. But I can assure you, they are not what you think.”

The assurance did little to quell the tempest inside her. Violet's eyes flitted away from his, focusing on the darkened landscape rolling past the carriage windows. Each word he spoke seemed layered with meaning she couldn't quite decipher. She was painfully aware of the close quarters, the way his presence seemed to fill up every inch of the space.

"If not for your pleasure, then what?" Violet's voice was steady now, edged with a quiet defiance. She needed to understand the web she was being drawn into, regardless of how tangled it appeared.

Austin paused, regarding her with a look that mixed amusement with a hint of admiration. "You're full of fire, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone lighter than the heavy atmosphere that filled the carriage.

Austin's smile faded as he considered her words, and for a moment, the playful spark in his eyes gave way to something more somber. "Fair enough," he conceded. "I am not in the business of buying souls, Miss Everly. Nor am I interested in such mundane transactions as those suggested." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I needed to remove you from a dangerous situation."

Violet remained silent, her mind racing as she processed his words. The carriage rolled onwards, the sound of the horses’ hooves a steady beat against the cobblestone, mirroring the tumultuous rhythm of her thoughts.

"Why me?" she found herself asking again. The question had been burning inside her since the moment he'd intervened between her and her father.

Austin's gaze softened. "Sometimes," he started, pausing as if choosing his words carefully, "we find ourselves in positions to make changes in others' lives. And sometimes, we are compelled to act upon it."

"But why? What is in it for you?" Violet couldn’t help but press further. Her life had taught her that nothing was done without some gain sought.

Austin looked out of the window for a long moment before turning back to face her. His expression was unreadable. "Let’s just say I am settling a debt of my own," he confessed softly. His cryptic admission hung in the air, dense as the fog that crept silently around the carriage wheels. Violet felt the weight of his words, each one laden with hidden meanings she could not yet decipher. She sat back against the plush seat, her mind awhirl with possibilities and fears.

"What kind of debt can be settled by involving a stranger?" Violet asked, her voice low, almost swallowed by the creaking of the carriage and the distant calls of night creatures.

Austin's face remained impassive for a long moment as he pondered her question. Finally, he turned to her, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity. "The kind that weighs heavily on a man's conscience," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Sometimes our pasts are riddled with decisions we wish we could undo. Helping you might be a step towards redemption for me."

Violet absorbed his words, turning them over in her mind like stones pulled from a riverbed, smooth and opaque. Redemption. The concept was foreign to her — a luxury far beyond her reach. In Violet's world, survival was the only moral code, and every day was a battle against despair. Yet looking into Austin's eyes, she saw a flicker of something relatable — a shared understanding of pain and regret. Perhaps, in his own tangled web of guilt and redemption, there was a thread she could hold onto, a thread that could lead them both towards something resembling salvation.

The carriage rolled on, enveloping them in the cocoon of its silent progress through the night. Violet found herself drawn into the rhythm of their journey, the steady beat of hooves syncing with her own tumultuous thoughts. Austin was an enigma—a man cloaked in privilege yet burdened by unseen chains. Could she trust him? Trust was a luxury scarcely afforded in her world, and yet, as the miles unfurled behind them like a ribbon in the wind, she sensed an inexplicable bond forming—an invisible thread pulled tight by circumstances.

"Lord Butler," Violet ventured cautiously, her voice a tentative whisper against the thrum of movement. "If redemption is what you seek, what role am I to play in it? Am I merely a pawn in your path to absolution?"

Austin turned his head slowly, fixing her with a look that melded wariness with an odd sense of respect. "Not a pawn," he said softly, correcting her with a firm tone. "Consider yourself more…an unexpected ally."

Violet processed this label, rolling it around her mind like a puzzle piece searching for its perfect fit. Ally—not captive nor servant, but a co-conspirator in a game the rules of which were still unclear to her. The shift in perspective was both empowering and daunting.

A small smile played at the corners of Austin's lips—an expression that transformed his usually stern features into something unexpectedly tender. "I promise all will be made clear in time," he assured her. "For now, rest and gather your strength.”

Violet nodded, though the concept of rest felt as elusive as the changing shadows outside the carriage window. She was too wound up with a mix of caution and curiosity. Every fiber of her being vibrated with the need to decipher Austin Butler, to understand his angles and anticipate his moves. As the carriage dipped into another shadow, Violet glanced back towards Austin. He was looking out the window, the profile of his face caught intermittently in the flickers of light that breached their isolation. There was a ruggedness to him that she hadn't noticed before—a weary battle scar here, a tightness around his eyes there—marks of a man acquainted with troubles she could only guess at. She found herself wondering about the demons that haunted him, about what grievous past actions could drive a man of his stature to seek redemption through the aid of someone as inconsequential as herself. It seemed implausible and yet, here they were, wrapped in layers of dark secrets and moonlit confessions.

The carriage creaked on, and Violet felt her eyelids grow heavy against her will. The rhythm of their travel lulled her into a reluctant drowsiness. Before she succumbed completely to sleep, she made herself a promise—not to let her guard down, not even in the comfort of this luxurious carriage or the intriguing company of Lord Butler. No matter how gentle his tone or how sincere his words might seem, Violet knew that survival meant never fully exposing her vulnerabilities.

As sleep claimed her, her mind spun with a collage of fears and fragmented dreams. She dreamt of dark corridors and whispered promises, of escaping shadows that morphed into comforting arms, and always, always, there was Austin—his piercing blue eyes offering both salvation and sorrow.

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me

[darkbluekies]

How would the yandere's react to a reader who gets propositioned/asked out alot ? Lol i can imagine their reactions being funny and terrifying at the same time.

Warnings: a lot of jealousy, threats, death, rude Hedwig :O

Silas: 

His jealous ass wouldn't be able to stay calm in front of you. Everytime he brings you outside or around people there's always one who has to approach you. He’ll grimace and roll his eyes in annoyance. He’ll pull you close and kiss your neck while death staring your suitor in the eye. Thankfully, one look at his gun and a threat about hiding their corpse and they’ll most likely run.

“You prick. This one’s mine, asshole, and the longer you stare at my partner, the longer your punishment will be. Trust me, I don't go easy on the ones trying to steal my things away from me. Especially not my partner. Y/N, stay back, this person doesn’t seem to understand what’s best for them. I’m going to break their bones until they get it through their thick head. Afterwards, we’re going home, I’m sick of people looking at what’s mine!”

Dr Kry:

He tries to keep his jealousy at bay, knowing that you’re not a couple. He’s not allowed to be jealous when people come up and ask you out, but it’s happening so often that he sees red. He tries to make you stay in your room, but if you’re not coming to them … they come to you. He chases them out and closes the door after himself to make sure that you won’t have to hear his threats.

“Listen, I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you’re not going to come close to my patient ever again, got it? I’m caring for them and they’re not in any condition to play around with you. If you don’t want to end up in the morgue, you better run back to whatever facility you came from and stay there. Otherwise you’ll leave this hospital in a body bag.”

King Edmund:

Jealous ass number two wouldn’t be able to keep his composure in front of you. The people in the castle know not to come in contact with you, but people outside … they’re not so lucky as to know what measures to take when they see you. Edmund will have his knights grab the people who talk to you. He’ll spit at their shoes in disgust.

“How in the entire world did you think that it’d be a good idea to ask out my dearest? I’ve had enough of these thoughtless peasants! I’ll behead them all! Starting with you. Then maybe people will start to understand that Y/N is mine. As for you, my dear, you’re not leaving our bedroom for a long, long time.”

Jerry:

At first, she would laugh upon seeing people approach you because of how uncomfortable you were, but when it happened again and again … and again, she’d be sick of it. She’ll walk up to you and give your lips a warning kiss, although none of this is your fault. 

“It seems like I’m not the only one who has opened my eyes for you, baby. You seem to be quite the catch here. Ah, what a pity … I liked this club. Now we can’t come back. Go outside. Wait for me there. I’m going to create a bullet rain to make sure that no one leaves with impure thoughts about you in their heads.”

Hedwig: 

Hedwig’s neediness will shine right through when you’re talking to a classmate, rejecting them politely. She’ll cling onto your arm and wait impatiently, eventually kissing your jaw and cheek. The classmate doesn’t seem to get a hint. It’s not the first time. Hedwig’s never rude or impolite, but she’s had enough of people eyeing you like this. Before she claimed you, no one came up to you, but suddenly people see you. It’s infuriating. 

“Are you blind? I’m their girlfriend and I’m right here! But you’re oblivious to that, aren’t you? The only thing you can think of is to get my sweetheart's number. They’ve already rejected you! Leave, I’m losing my patience. If you’re still here in two minutes I’ll call my father. You’ll never be able to come back here again and your parents will lose their jobs. What are you waiting for? Leave!”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 1

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

“It's so nice to finally meet you in person!” Melinda beams as she holds out a bright drink. The layers of blue and purple make you wonder about its contents.

“Yeah, so awesome,” Faye hollers as she sips from a yellow cocktail. “Must be lonely working from home.”

“Oh, uh, not really,” you sway, trying to avoid the bodies around you. Your throat scrapes as you have to yell over the pumping bass. “It's…quiet.”

“Quiet!? Carly giggles, “then It's good you got out! This merger is going to be lit.”

“Lit?” Melinda, the eldest of the trio rolls her eyes, “you young ones.”

You wade with them through the crowd, the heat of the clubgoers catching beneath the wool of your sweater. You feel out of place in your dowdy pullover and long peasant skirt, especially as sequins and bright prints refract in the rainbow of lights. Even your coworkers belong, blouse sleeves rolled up and blazers handed over to the coatroom.

“Hopefully they're still down for work drinks!” Faye trills.

“Bigger and better. Work mandated cocktails should just be a thing,” Carly guffaws.

“Mmm, and what about work mandated flings?” Faye ogles past you.

You crane to follow her eyeline. You see several men, striding through the crowd with ease. Tall and not bad looking by common standards. You see nothing especially alluring but you understand what people look for; good posture, nice eyes, broad shoulders.

“Erm,” you look back and taste your drink, giving a face. “Is there alcohol in this?” You call over.

“Duh!” Carly laughs again, “oh my god, you're so adorable! Oh, you know what, you should start coming into office. We do lattes on Friday.”

“I er… don't mind….”

You don't finish your protest as the tempo shifts and Faye squeals, “oh this is my song, girls!”

They throw an arm up each, balancing their drinks in their other hands. You sniff the glass and try another gulp. You cough and hide it behind your hand. They barely notice you. No one really does, you're tiny and dressed like wallpaper.

As they shimmy and swing to the music, you don't know what to do. You wiggle awkwardly, but you don't dance and have no rhythm. You find yourself downing the drink out of anxiety.

You feel an odd sensation in your eyelids and a ripple in your brain as you get to the bottom of the drink. You copy Carly and leave your empty glass on a table. Another song and the heat beads on the nape of your neck.

The flashing lights and wall of sound makes you dizzy. You shouldn't have finished the drink. You don't feel right. You look at the others and how they giggle and joke. You don't fit in. Just like always. You know your coding and you know how to be alone.

You sidle close to Melinda, she seems like a mother, well, she kept mentioning her kids. “Is there a bathroom here?”

She laughs, amused by your obvious question, “over there.”

She points through the crowd. You see the top of a sign but not enough to read it. You smile and wave to the other girls, fleeing as they barely notice.

You get caught between a couple as you try to squeeze by. You squeal and get knocked around by a large guy on the other side of them. You're caught in a tidal wave of people as you peer desperately at the neon blue sign.

You can't get there but you need to get out of here. Your skin is on fire, your vision is streaming, and you can't breathe. The air is hot and humid and putrid.

You claw before you, forcing past the crush around you, stumbling towards the entryway. You trip out the door and heave in, gulping down cold air, trying to get your head straight. Your chest hurts and you're shaking. You need help!

You look around for anything. Anyone. The bouncers are distracted with those seeking entry and those in line don't seem to see you. You lean on the corner of the building and put your hand on your sweater.

You clutch the wool and shake your head. It's been a while since you felt this. The world spirals around you as you struggle to steady yourself. You keep your other hand on the wall and murmur. You're going to pass out.

You shouldn't have come here. You knew this would happen. But they didn't give you a choice. The email said mandatory. You need this job. What are you going to do? Everything is falling to pieces.

“Pardon me, are you alright?” A lilting voice startles you. You part from the wall, nearly falling against it as you teeter on your feet, “oh, woah, watch yourself.”

The man catches your arm, keeping you from tipping over. His touch surges in you but you know you can't stand on your own. You gulp and gurgle, fanning yourself.

“S-s-sorry,” you pants, “I just… I can't breathe.”

He leans in as you can barely speak. His blue eyes are intent on you as he keeps you upright, firm but gentle. He nods as he listens to your staggered words.

“I… too hot… inside…”

“Oh, dear, yes, I agree,” he smiles kindly, “here, why don't you…. lean here, yes,” he eases you against the brickfront, “catch your breath,” his accent is soothing, “and…” he looks around, gesturing to the bouncer, “Pardon, yes, would you fetch some water for the lady?”

The man grumbles but glances inside the club. He must know the stranger before you, “you have some water and it'll be just fine. Hmm? Will you count with me?”

You give him a bewildered look but he's already counting, “one, two, three…”

[sailorsenshishitposter]

The anti Gojo fan club

"Are you sure you belong here?" Asked the oversized bouncer. Standing before him was a young teenage boy with pink locks and a school uniform.

"I think you'd be more comfortable at that place." He then pointed over to the club down the road (Weenie Hut Jr.'s).

"I think you have me confused with someone else. I'm pretty sure I'm on the list."

The bouncer then looked down and noticed four glowing, red eyes. He gulped and tried his best not to shit himself on the spot before moving aside and letting the boy in. Sighing in relief, the man let himself regain composure. It was then that he heard the most terrifying words in his life.

"Kenjaku, I told you that you were in charge of snacks! Honestly, I can't count on you for anything. It seems that I'M the one who has to do everything around here! Hey, you! How would you like to be apart of our dinner service instead of guarding that door?"

Sukuna said apart of as in literally. Everyone dragged the man in as the king of curses got his tools ready.

"Domain expansion, Malevolent Kitchen!"

______

Uraume was now busy cooking. They had a number of dishes in mind such as skewered intestines, "finger" sandwiches and some roasted thigh to name a few. As they were preparing the feast, the meeting began.

"Welcome, lowly peasants! Today marks our third annual villains assembly (totally not the bad guy version of AA that Gojo had forced on them). I see we have some new faces here. Care to introduce yourselves?"

A scrawny man stood up.

"M-my name is Ijichi and I joined because I can't tolerate Gojo's abuse any longer! He keeps spouting something about how "he's the 'honoured' one", and that's the reason why he's allowed to put kick me signs on my back and keep ding dong ditching my doorbell all night!"

The man then started to have a nervous breakdown and began to sob.

"There, there. You are among friends now.  You see, everyone here has a reason for hating the six eyed bastard."

"Not me. I'm just here for the free coupon tickets!"

Sukuna sighed.

"Who is the guy again?"

"My name's Reggie Star! I've been on TLC's extreme couponing! Why does everyone forget I exist!?"

"Reggie, we've been over this. This is solely for those that hate Satoru Gojo. If you can't abide by our clubs rules then feel free to leave."

Suddenly Kenjaku began to choke himself. Sukuna gave him a curious glance.

"Sorry, you know how my vessel likes to act up."

Sukuna nodded in agreement.

"We need to end this meeting in two hours or else the brat will wake up and spoil the fun. Now, is there anything else worth mentioning? Speak now."

"When do we get to play board games?"

"Damn it Mahito, you know well enough that those festivities don't take place until after everyone has eaten!"

"Hey, what is that!?"

Everyone started to notice a figure that was clearly trying to hide behind the throne but it was useless.

"I can hear your mosquito like voice already, Yorozu! You know the rules, no girls allowed."

The girl then popped out and began to pout.

"Then why do Mahito and Kashimo get to be here!?"

"For the last time, Mahito is a curse who has no gender and the consensus was that while Kashimo "looks female enough", he is indeed still male."

Mahito then decided to taunt her.

"Yeah! What's so cool about girls anyway!?"

"Didn't you wear a school girl uniform while fondling breasts you created?"

"That was one time Jogo, and it wasn't even canon!"

"I've had enough of this. Someone escort her out!"

Yorozu screamed and thrashed so Kenjaku released Kurourushi outside. She immediately ran after the cockroach so she could study it.

"Dinner is ready."

______

After everyone had finished, Mahito asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.

"Which tastes better? Humans or curses?"

Kenjaku then appeared."Let me help answer that."

Kenny then began to drag a screaming Mahito towards his palm and then proceed to vore him down.

"Thank you! He was getting on my nerves."

Kenjaku began to savor the taste of Maximum Uzumaki and then proceeded to vomit the curse back up.

"I'd have to say humans. How did my vessel put it? You taste like a rag used to clean up shit and vomit."

Sukuna then joined in.

"So it matches his personality?"

"Correct."

Mahito was now trembling on the floor when the king of curses looked down upon him.

"Kenjaku, won't you be a dear friend and put on some karaoke for the entertainment? I want to sing skyfall."

Jogo lit his pipe up and started getting blazed. He had been waiting for the curse to get his ass beat.

"This weed is so good Hanami. Where did you find it?"

".ti werg I"

"Nevermind..."

______

"Wherever you go, I go. What you see, I see."

Mahito was now running for his life as Sukuna walked towards him. He thought about hiding in the bathroom but then remembered a word of advice he read on Yoshihiro Togashi's twitter account. "Never shit alone, for if you do, the horny clown will come to decapitate you!"

"Why did Gege have to put me in Shonen Jump!?"

Something then grabbed him by his collar.

"Found You!"

"Look, if this is about all those times I cheated when I was the banker in Monopoly, I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

"Oh, we're not killing you."

______

Mahito was now placed inside a pet crate.

"What's going on!?"

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Nanami?"

"I didn't expect to see you here Ijichi. I'm here because I was told that there was a curse that needs to be euthanized. Fortunately, I'm kind hearted and believe that even the worst animals have a chance at being reformed. It just takes proper discipline..."

The cage began to rattle.

"NOOOO! ANYONE BUT HIM! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!"

Kento then picked up the handle of the carrier.

"Expect to be eating out of a dog bowl and being kept on a leash once we get home."

Everyone failed to realize that the two hour window had passed and Itadori began to wake up.

"Huh? What's going on? Am I dreaming?"

The crowd wasn't sure what to do until Kenjaku stepped up.

"Hello, son. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I am your mother."

"Okay, I really am dreaming then. Something that crazy could only happen in my imagination."

"You're my special. You were the only one I didn't abort."

"Huh? No offense mister but you're really creeping me out. I think I'm just gonna head out."

After the boy left, Kashimo spoke up."

So how big was he?"

"Gross!"

Everyone knew that the god of thunder had a thing for the king of curses.

"All I'm saying is that they were identical twins right?"

"I've had enough of this filth! Youngsters these days!"

Out came a disgusted Gakuganji. He was clearly the biggest Gojo hater but it seems that he couldn't tolerate the crudness of today's youth. The club would never hear his guitar covers of Jimi Hendrix again.

[tired-hellowl]

brandon rogers is actually surprisingly a very good writer. while his shows/stories have the same humour as HH/HB, the writing is actually coherent and the plots make sense. the timeline is VERY confusing but its actually made with care and does make sense once you look into it. he seems like a decent dude other than being friends with vivziepop.

Hey my first ask thanks friend!

I want to preface this by again stating that I do not watch or indulge/engage with any of Brandons' writing or content whatsoever. Being passively recommended some videos and only minimally looking into them, the surface level surrealism of basic drag for his comedy skits and fundamental low level quality of crude and routinely 2010 meta humor of 'Shit bitch fuck cunt whore my dick!'- I can't attest if he has changed outside of some videos I've got sent since like 2014 so feel free to correct me if he hasn't changed but-

Even if he's an actual gay man or whichever sexuality aside from straight, or even if he's a straight man trying to act gay for views and comedy purely to make fun of 'being a fagboy. [[PREFACING: This is still my personal interpretation, if he has changed past this persona of making fun of queer stereotypes while leaning into a gay persona or if its genuine thats still, yikes...???]]' it just makes no sense to me wht Vivziepop chose HIM out of any YouTuber out there with Voice acting roles or any different form of content from the million subscriber milestone club that originally built up YouTube stories to become infamous YouTubers now [I.e. Markiplier, Anthony Padilla, JACKSCEPTICEYE]] out of all the choices I don't understand why you would go out of your way to find someone just as hyper and crude as Viv is, hence why I've never been interested in Brandons' content nor ever will be.

It seems that you think that the Helluva Boss writing actually seems genuine and from a place of kindness instead of realizing that Brandon and Adam only want to make Blitzø scream dick jokes in every episode while Viv actually tries to make her dark yaoi prince/peasant slowburn hurt/comfort in every episode before realizing that the two and two aren't going hand in hand and neither can write for the characters. :/

[madhatterbri]

Hell | J.W.

Summary: "The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," Jack Sparrow. Pirate AU.

Author's Note: As always, shout out to @bullet-clubs-bitch for allowing me to use the pic. Kind of dark.

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @hotgirlgraps @magicalbuttertarts

Jay White looked up at the two sniveling men in front of him. Drenched from the downpour outside, it made them look even more pathetic as they begged for mercy. The Captain's eyes darkened. There would be no mercy tonight. Not after what they did.

One was a lowly cockroach for a human. Someone that was caught up in the mess of the other's lies. Jay never really dealt with him. He saw him as some sort of peasant. He showed his alliance to the other man, though. He was going to pay.

The other was going to suffer a lot more. Caught in a lie and too much of a coward to respond, Jay knew the only way to get him to talk was to kidnap him. His men exceeded his expectations. They were able to deliver them to him quickly.

"Miles," he spoke and laughed. "You had nothing to do with this, but you gave me all the answers I needed,"

Miles gulped and looked down at the ground. Jay stood up from his wooden throne. He walked around the room. His knife fiddled in his hands. Thoughts of a suitable punishment ran through his mind. Finally, a perfect one flashed before his eyes.

"Boys, show Miles here what happens when they stick their nose in other people's business," he announced. His boys grabbed the struggling Miles. To add clarification, Jay placed the knife to his nose to show them to remove it.

"You," Jay laughed as he heard the screams outside. "You got me good. Led me along. Ran all the way to Lincoln's Marsh didn't you?"

The other man shook like a leaf. They weren't going to speak. The poor man didn't like confrontation yet caused a whole bunch of headaches and heartaches. No more of that. Jay was going to see to it personally.

"You like to use that tongue to speak lies and those fingers of yours to wrote lies, don't you? Let's save a little trouble for the next person, aye?"

The Gunns stepped back into the room. The second man struggled, yet he was not going to be a match.

[sgiandubh]

Más se perdió en Cuba 

Whenever a stupid, annoying and predictable thing happens (the three criteria must simultaneously be met), somebody fundamental to me does an eloquent, unique eyeroll and lashes out with gusto: más se perdió en Cuba. The precise English translation of it being "worse things happen at sea".

Mordor's horrified reaction at the sight of S sporting recently a nice cigarillo, while holding the Belgian flag, is hilarious. Until it isn't. This is at best gullible, at worst parochial - you pick your side - and it goes to show how easily people spit on something completely foreign to their world, without checking for context or meaning.

Presenting yourself as a cigar aficionado is a deliberate marketing choice. It enhances the image of a grown-up, sophisticated man-about-town, flaunting Old World charm and an access to gentlemen's clubs worldwide. Most of which feature humidor rooms, where profitable networking and business conversations happen. In 2023, this hobby is akin to what fox hunting was to the Victorians: an occasion to meet and greet, stay relevant and keep up your social standing. It is also what remains of that Bond dream, shaken and stirred and long lost: but let's not scratch a wound that didn't properly heal, yet.

Lo and behold, the Naysayer Brigade quickly gathered speed, on Twitter and Tumblr: oh dear God, Mary, the Apostles and all their spoons, this is pure insanity, he is doing it again, how could that be, the Viking God is smoking like a mere mortal, good grief did you think of the ozone layer, what a stupid peasant, how dares he encourage such a VICIOUS THING?

In an effort to calm the menagerie, Miss Marple herself gave us her usual smug two cents, writing confidently something like "my favorite would be he does not inhale". This is where I parked my drone and laughed and laughed and laughed like a drain.

YOU NEVER INHALE A CIGAR, MEVROUW. EVER.

But you can do plenty of other fun things with it (don't be dirty, don't think Lewinsky). You can plunge the uncut tip in brandy, let it dry, savor the new complex aroma, cut and go for it.

I know I do. Not everyday, but from time to time. And it's glorious.

[reine-du-sourire]

Ranger Gathering 16: Game

"Hello and Go Along, apprentices! It's ya boi R4NG3R_G1L4N coming at you live today, diving back into the epic world of my new favorite game... the one I've been playing so much recently that it feels like I'm really living it... Ranger's Apprentice!

"Quick recap: our scruffy mentor's off on a little enforced vacation in Gallica after the Bridge Incident, so our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to track down the notorious Foldar. Yep, Mr. I-Killed-My-Parents-Over-A-Horsie himself. Here we go, accept the mission... I've got my trusty bow, my cloak, and my loyal horse, Blaze. Let's ride!

"All right, we’re starting in bustling Highcliff Fief. Look at those pixelated peasants! Living their pixelated lives... I mean, these graphics are actually pretty good, but I digress. Anyway, we’ve got a lead on a recent robbery, and you know what that means! Time to put on our detective hats- I mean cloaks- and suspiciously eye every NPC. First suspect on the list? Philip, the seneschal. Let's see...

"Okay, let's have a little chat with Baron Douglas. Baron, Baron, Baron... let's click on 'ask about recent robberies'... wow, my guy, not very helpful! Apparently, bandits are just a nuisance, and Foldar is a figment of our collective imagination. Thanks a lot.

"Looks like we're in luck! Maeve's got the inside scoop. Oho, looks like Philip's been racking up gambling debts. Big surprise. Apparently, he’s also been visiting the village at night... probably not for the clubs, I bet. Only one way to find out. Stealth mode activated!

"Here we go, keeping a safe distance. Just a ranger and his horse, blending into the night. No biggie. Aaand there's our guy. Look at him, sneaking out with that sack of money... bingo! That’s the payoff. Let’s follow him back to the castle and set our trap. Gotta tail him...

"Hold up! Ambush time! Crossbowmen at twelve o’clock! And these guys have the aim of stormtroopers after a night at the tavern. Just... stand still for a second... gotcha! And hey, would you look at that! There he is, the man of the hour, berating his goons. Nice going, Foldar, love the haircut!

"Timeskip! Nice. All right, guys, let's get some double bluff action going on here. We’re setting up a fake tax convoy... gonna need some archers for this. Let’s recruit!

"Hmm. Setting up our archers here... here... and here. Aaaaaand... here we go! Convoy’s on the move! Time to ambush these bandits. Go go go, guys, c'mon, give 'em all you got! Yes! Bullseye! Look at them scatter. Wait a minute... Foldar's making a break for it! Yeah, that's not happening. Quick, Blaze, let's get him!

"C'mon, c'mon, I've got him in my sights- time for some serious Power Ranger action. Aaaand nailed it! One, two three, and… wham! Down he goes! Game over, Foldar! That is how you take down a notorious villain while looking incredibly cool. Another mission done successfully. Just gotta head back to spill the beans on Douglas now. Speaking of beans, I could really go for some coffee after this...

"Anyway, thanks for joining me, apprentices! Don't forget to like, subscribe, and always keep an arrow nocked and your cloak handy. This is R4NG3R_G1L4N signing off. Go along, and see you next time!"

[mnkiss]

A quick list of animes I watched and don't want to forget 3:

Satsuriku no Tenshi - perfect for halloween, it was a short story with an easy to forget plot and characters I could root for. Tbh it hooked me with the never ending suspense and Zack. And I'll never forget the heartbreak at the end. So toxic and broken and tragic. The horror elements were fun, sometimes scary even so 7/10! Demon slayer - Its a bingeable shounen. The story is mid, the animation is cool, the MC is kind and likeable + i love how they show us the difference between "city japan" and "rural japan" (especially technology and behaviour-wise), but the constant screaming and second hand embarrassement is just too much. And besides getting stronger and using better techniques there are no character arcs (as of in S2). The boar + thunder kid just ruined the whole series for me t_t And the mountain peasant/animalistic superpower schtick is boring as hell after an episode or two. 6.5/10

Samurai Champloo - y2k graffiti/breakdance meets samurais. Boi, what an A-M-A-Z-I-N-G anime! The AV, OST, art style, all the fight scenes and character design... all of it is 10/10. Of course the found family trope can never be trumped, however the story itself was adventurous, not repetitive (except for them never having money lol), captivating, witty and emotional when it needed to be. Also the episodes tie into each other a lot, which makes the storytelling natural (+ its not just episodes put in order). The MC's are all 3D with weaknesses, believable behaviors and distinct manners + they have easy to remember names and styles. Watching the messy trio's friendship come to live is something I want to witness again for sure.

Konosuba! - A surprisingly bad and adorable parody of the isekai genre that I could only watch all the way through after the 3rd attempt. Most characters are completely helpless/stupid/naive but in an oddly charming way. The MC is ofc a pervert neet that is insufferable, but his oversexualized companions are cute, their friendship is cute, and their boobs are huge. Watch it while having dinner 6/10

Ouran highschool host club - light hearted and stupid and has some second hand embarrassement, but its a must watch! I wish the artstyle was different tho :/ 8.5/10

The Apothecary Diaries - Sherlock Holmes meets chinese historical romance fanfic. Beautiful, captivating and rewatchable. Very dreamy (but i have a feeling that theres going to be a lot of drama and sadness in the future? idk i havent started the light novel yet) 9/10

Midnight Occult Civil Servants - its so much more worth it than ppl think! Yes, the power of friendship is strong in this one, buuuut 1) its not overdone 2) the story is not sugarcoated and there are some interesting philosophical topics that we touch throughout the episodes 3) even though the MC is a naive and ridiculously hard working boy, he learns a lot from his mistakes and kinda grows up. His friends are lovely too! I just wish that their design was a bit more detailed, the animation got a bit more budget and that we could have gotten a bit more chapters... 8/10!

Mignon - a korean BL manwha adaptation. Each episode is around 5 mins so the story isnt too complicated. It has vampires (why dont we get more of them nowadays??) and sexy man-love. 6.5/10

Golden Boy - It is a golden comedy (and educational) anime and it's so humorous that I actually laughed watching it. At first it seems annoying/ridiculous but from the end of the first episode I understood the premise and the point of the anime. The boy doesnt learn much, but the women around him do. 7.5/10

Kamisama Kiss - I loved it at the beginning and then felt really let down by it, cuz 1) I learned about the end of the story and got pissed off (because ***SPOILER ALERT who the fuck thought that giving up your occult superpowers and long life is romantic? WHO?***) and 2) it got so rushed at the end. The art style is not my favorite ad some of the frames looked cheap, but I loved the comical use of expressions and some of the designs were really cool. 6/10 (and -100/10 because of the ending of the manga. Seriously. Fuck that.)

[aboardthescheherazade]

Inspired by @professorcalculusstanaccount's timeline posts, it's Roberto Rastapopoulos through the years! No little Greek boy don't grow up to be a massive shithead--

Rasta is a very difficult character to understand in canon, because so much of his lore is left unknown to the viewer. However, there were little bits and pieces, some in Herge's tertiary studio notes; over time I've wrung some water from that stone, and put together this timeline in my head. I went with a more condensed range than ProfCal (i.e. pre-canon up to canon, rather than into post-canon), since Rob does technically "die"/disappear by the end of the (finished) comics.

Headcanons and details under the cut:

According to speculative official notes, he was born in the 1890s in Leros. It's a beautiful island but also one with a turbulent history, as when little Roberto was born, that part of Greece was under control by the Ottoman Empire. His father was a sponge diver, which was a very viable career at the time. (Decades later, the industry would be ruined when the area's sea sponges were over-harvested by bigger diving operations.) His mother is basically unknown...many official outlets say Rastapopoulos is part American, so I imagine his mother was of Greek-American heritage who either met his father abroad or in America.

There were two real-world figures who influenced my timeline: Aristote Onassis and Aleister Crowley. Onassis was one of Herge's later inspirations when writing Rastapopoulos, and for good reason; much like Rastapopoulos's own immoral dealings, Onassis indiscriminately sold warships during WWII and can easily be considered an arms dealer who profited off of human atrocities. On the other hand, Aleister Crowley was my own connection. All the pseudo-Egyptian mysticism in Cigars of the Pharaoh and the Kih-Oskh Brotherhood seems to be a reference to the very real trend in the early 20th Century where the upper crust of western society became fascinated with esoteric beliefs. (Seances and the Ouija Board were also created during this era.) Crowley rose in infamy during this time, too, as a spoiled debutante who spent his inheritance on journeys through the MENA region to perform rituals and "adapt" Eastern religions for his own belief system. With Rastapopoulos making up an entire pharaoh and emblem for his secret trafficking club, it reminded me very much of Crowley's own endeavours, and the commodification of MENA cultures and iconography during this era.

Child (1897) - Canonically, he has three brothers and two sisters, so l envisioned him as the middle child amidst all that. Little Roberto was spoiled when he was little, but when his youngest brother was born, it left Roberto feeling like the attention had been stolen from him.

15 (1906)- The other siblings hoped Roberto would be just as enthusiastic as they were about the family diving business, but alas, he'd always been more interested in reading prose and classical plays. His favourite play is Gounod's Faust. Some days, he daydreams about what a deal with the devil could get him, thinking he'd be able to outsmart the devil and win his riches for free. Roberto was at a rebellious point in his life, and sadly, he'd come to be ashamed of his background, deciding sponge diving was "peasant work" and that he'd rather tell others he was British or American. Eventually, it became easier for the whole family to just send him to a boarding school. Deep down, Roberto's parents hoped he might become an actor, a writer, or some sort of scholar...but the night before he left, Roberto secretly took down his whole family's banking information.

20s (1910s) - Roberto is now in his "Aleister Crowley's world tour" phase. He throws around mysteriously large quantities of money, often putting it into investments, and taking many journeys through Egypt and India. (I also like to imagine he met the Fakir and Colonel Fuad around this time; maybe Zloty too). Rastapopoulos is an insufferable, preening dandy at this time, trying to carve out his own place among the societal elite. His Greek identity is only flaunted as a way to make him seem more "exotic" to strangers. He tries not to think about the bank accounts he's leeching from.

30s (1920s) - Several of his investments actually flourished. His shares in Arab-Air and Flor Fina yield enough profit to let him buy out the companies, and his decadence only increases as he reaps even more profits. With extra money going around, Rastapopoulos finally decides to foray into the movie industry...as a movie producer. His passion for theatre never died, and if he can't become an actor himself, then why not produce the kinds of stories he wanted to be in? By the time the Great Depression hits, Rastapopoulos has amassed more than enough wealth to stay afloat...and the drug ring he's started with a few good friends sure helps, too. He's more concerned with holding onto every millimetre of his receding hairline.

40s (canon) - By all means, Rastapopoulos could have disbanded the cartel and retired comfortably. Maybe he could have invested more in his own movies, and focused more on Cosmos Pictures's internal operations. And yet, he didn't. Bigger numbers are better, so Rastapopoulos kept amassing his dirty money, thinking he was too big to fall. He got messy and left behind some viable clues, which some Belgian kid happened to stumble across...

50s (1940s-early 50s)- "Roberto Rastapopoulos" may be out on bail and facing decades in prison, but "Marquis Dante di Gorgonzola" is just some mysterious financier with an offshore bank account. Some of the other societal elites recognize him, but they find the alter ego funny and play along; "Oh, here comes "the marquis"...! He's due back in Hong Kong!" He can't make money through drug trafficking anymore, he can't show his face in Hollywood, and he certainly can't go back to Greece. Unfortunately, some of his associates introduce him to a different kind of trafficking, one even more immoral, but just as lucrative... It's the climax of the Rastapopoulos family tragedy: the son of hard-working commoners has ground his family's name into dust thanks to his pursuit of power and decadence; he has now resorted to deceiving those same sorts of commoners, dooming them to unknown fates just so he can buy a boat. Later, he begins resorting to harebrained schemes and petty crime just to maintain that lifestyle. His Greek identity has long been buried in favour of a vague, exotic cultural identity meant to explain away his quirks and twitchiness.

I've long been torn on whether or not Endaddine Akass is Rastapopoulos's final form. Herge's notes do consider him surviving Flight 714 to Sydney by waking up in the tropics with some degree of amnesia...perhaps this is near Jamaica, where he'll meet Ramo Nash under a new identity. It also feels the most theatrical - Rastapopoulos is playing yet another role, and he has a grand finale planned for Tintin's murder. Additionally, the mysticism Akass totes in Alph-Art is inspired by the alternative religion fads of the 1960s-70s; Akass is evocative of some of those many cult leaders, like Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh or Father Yod.

And yet, I almost find it more fitting for Rastapopoulos to survive Flight 714 to Sydney with full amnesia. He only knows himself as some middle-aged vagrant, and he decides he just has to pick himself up, and find some odd jobs to make a living. He gives himself a new name; his family history has been wiped clean. He struggles to make ends meet, much like the family he bankrupted, though he'll never know just how ironic his life has become. The rest of the world knows Rastapopoulos as a bombastic, flashy debutante who died a pitiful death during a police standoff. Tintin feels like he saw him one last time, but it feels like a bad dream he had during a flight layover. The man who always wanted to be the biggest and best died quietly in the sea, his true fate unknown, his body forever missing.

I think that's why I find Rastapopoulos so fascinating as a character! You can either make him into Tintin's greatest scourge who fights to the death to maintain his status, or you can rip all that away and doom him to a humble existence.

[shiveringgroovy]

PART 3 HC ASKS

WHAT KIND OF COMPUTER DOES EVERYONE USE ipads/tablets are allowed im extending this to like phones and stuff i've just decided

errrm HEHEHE !! gonna do my favs for this :3

Sheogorath

not a big computer guy. probably has a fuckass nokia phone and has hit computers with golf clubs before.

haskill gives him a tablet to watch shitty youtube videos on

i know he fucks with really bad yt shorts

probably invented them tbh

Atsushi

has a phone and that's about it

uses agency computers for work and kinda hates operating them (they also kinda suck so yk)

Sotha Sil

INSANELY FAST RUNNING SETUP

like 500 monitors and LEDs and a see-through tower and a fucking gaming chair

blender king

probably built it all himself

he's insane

the electric bill is through the roof.

Fyodor (i actually despise him but it's funny)

so he canonically has the worst most diabolical evil fucked up setup known to MAN please get him to touch some grass i'm begging you

freaky ass medieval peasant that introduced HIMSELF to goreshit

discord is running somewhere there. trust me

Relmyna Verenim (did you guys know i like her)

also has multiple monitors, not as many as sil but yk

probably runs like super slow and she has to resist the urge to snap her monitors in half every time she tries to open up any program

minecraft girlie (i also hc her as trans she's very loser scientist transfem coded)

she spends most of her time in the field but she likes her computers to write down her stuff

Yosano

has a tablet and a phone

uses them sparingly, but talks to ranpo a lot over texts

Vivec

has the newest phone models. always buys them instantly.

they're a prick

probably has a fucking typewriter rather than a computer because he's pretentious

Ranpo

has a tablet and a phone, uses them much more often than yosano

he seems like he prefers to read on screens than books imo

it also makes more sense, he doesn't like carrying a bunch of stuff around so having a tablet would be convenient

will text people while sitting directly across from them

Dagoth Ur/Voryn Dagoth

has a flip phone and that's it

Jouno

bc he's blind, he's not a fan of technology all that much, but uses screen readers and speaks to type.

more of a phone guy!!

has cut a laptop in half before

Nerevar

doesn't believe in computers

Kenji

also doesn't believe in computers

Lucien Lachance

owns a laptop but never uses it

written mail type of guy

Q/Yumeno

would go apeshit on a tablet.

probably a really big art fan, so really uses them for drawing and games and stuff

someone introduce this kid to a pc with a drawing pad

also loves music, would be the only normal technology user on this list istg

Haskill

owns something for every situation

nothing too fancy tbh

has a home pc, a laptop, a phone, and a tablet

uses them all for his job and has them all labelled and everything

has games on his phone for sheogorath

Ivan Goncharov

it's cause you're always on that damn rock

hates typing with every fiber of his being

smashes shit. has absolutely crushed pushkin's phone before and pushkin almost shot him

uses laptops and pcs out of necessity, uses walkie-talkies for communications because he just likes them

Ocheeva

biggest spreadsheet fan of all time

has a laptop that flips into a tablet

she loves organizing things and presenting them to the rest of the dark brotherhood

they don't listen to the immense power of a girl with a spreadsheet. like fools.

Bram

mp3 player or a phone just for music purposes

pays for every music subscription known to man

last.fm ass bitch

[hetagrammy]

Do you have your own take on the cardverse AU? What is it like?

Way back in 2019 I had a Cardverse AU planned, and there was a lot of inspiration from @kyokyo866 's own take on Cardverse! It was very centered on the NA Brothers, with the basic plot being they were both born with King brands to the King of Diamonds (Francis), and Spades lacked a king, so Alfred was married off to prevent a future succession crisis in Diamonds and to satisfy a succession crisis in Spades.

The concepts I had for it have changed a little since, and I'd definitely change a lot of plot stuff if I ever went back to it, but some aspects have stayed the same. I'd keep magic as more of a rarity rather than a commonplace skill/aspect of society, but still present. I think it would keep the vibe a bit more fairytale-like, where magic isn't impossible but just remarkable enough to be a surprise. I kept to the whole brand/birthmark thing that's still pretty popular in fanon, but each kingdom has a slightly different system and culture surrounding it:

Spades has a prominent, traditionalist noble class with little upward mobility. The nobles send representatives to court, and the Queen and Jack are traditionally noble. However, the King is selected and found via prophecy, and thus could be born a commoner. The Ace is chosen by the King, and therefore could also come from a lowborn background. Spades' whole culture revolves around ideas about fate, prophecy, and superstition.

Diamonds also has a prominent noble class, but is more flexible with mobility. There is a distinction between old and new money, but financial success is what determines social status. A friend of mine once came up with the idea that the wealthy of Diamonds have something of a social contract, in that they are expected to provide public works and benefits in exchange for their power. Their power is derived from displays of wealth, which can cause dynastic chains and changes when it comes to the King/Queen.

I also have to credit my friend with an idea for Hearts which I absolutely love, which is the concept of love being part of a greater religious obligation. She came up with this idea of Hearts having a relic that is the literal heart of the first Queen that can offer guidance to the country via a high priest (the Ace in this case). It's all about the pursuit of love and happiness, but there's a big emphasis on the sacrifice inherent in that as well. The King and Jack come from this long line where the Jack has always been raised to be the King's loyal vassal, with a bond possibly stronger than that of the King and Queen (who is chosen by the King of course). Generally, your brand is based on merit, because again, that idea of sacrifice or love for the nation/lord is prevalent. This is why military officials typically have higher ranks there.

Clubs is where the ranking is most direct, with the King being selected from amongst the leading boyars in Clubs upon the death of the previous King. The King may also be challenged, or boyars may challenge each other to a duel for the kingship. The Ace and Queen are typically chosen by the King, in the Queen's case usually after a lengthy process of selecting from among the boyar families. The Jack is typically raised from a peasant position, as it ensures they will be able to advise the King and run his household without favoring any of the boyar families. Those born without marks are considered society's lowest, making up a serf class tied to a ruling boyar and their land.

I don't know if I'll ever come back to writing for this AU, but if you catch me drawing it on occasion, those are some of my general thoughts!