#who else could afford your appetite

[dandydemidoesfandoms]

The Moment Team Realized He Was A Sugar Baby

Momentary gasp and shock before the sass is back.

Between Us (2022-2023) Ep 10

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on billy joel's 1977 album the stranger . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

working too hard can give you a heart attack .

we all fall in love , but we disregard the danger .

for just this once i hope that looks don't deceive .

the sinners are much more fun .

get it right the first time .

i know that everybody has a dream .

i'm not much good at conversation .

yeah , i might get up the nerve .

all that i could give you was a reputation .

i search everywhere for some new inspiration .

i don't believe in first impressions .

i want you just the way you are .

this is my dream ; just to be at home , alone with you .

just let me pull myself together .

you didn't count on me when you were counting your rosary .

though you can see when you're wrong , you can't always see when you're right .

gonna have to make the first time last .

a word from you can bring a better day .

they say there's a heaven for those who will wait .

i can't afford to let it pass .

what purpose would that serve ?

i never was much good at coming on real strong .

i don't have time for true confessions .

if all it takes is inspiration , i might have just what it takes .

you might've heard i run with a dangerous crowd .

i don't know how to say those first few words .

you've done it . why can't someone else ?

you'd better cool it off before you burn it out .

i've gotta give it one good try .

i suppose it's now or never .

you can't be everything you wanna be before your time .

it all depends upon your appetite .

only the good die young .

come out , [ name ] , don't let me wait .

dream on , but don't imagine they'll all come true .

don't you know that only fools are satisfied ?

they didn't give you quite enough information .

it's always the same in the end .

they never tell you the price that you'll pay for the things you've done .

things are okay with me these days .

i'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints .

we ain't too pretty , we ain't too proud .

we might be laughing a bit too loud , but that never hurt anyone .

slow down , you're doing fine .

take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile .

i didn't know you could look so nice after so much time .

sooner or later , it comes down to fate .

i took the good times , i'll take the bad times .

you've got so much to do , and only so many hours in the day .

if you're so smart , why are you so afraid ?

don't change the color of your hair .

it's alright , you can afford to lose a day or two .

you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need .

i just want someone i can talk to .

don't go changing to try and please me .

is that all you get for your money ?

i couldn't love you any better .

we never knew we could want more than that out of life .

you can never go back there again .

don't be afraid to try again , everyone goes south now and then .

it seems such a waste of time .

you've never let me down before .

though we share so many secrets , there are some we'll never tell .

good luck moving up , cause i'm moving out .

i'll meet you any time you want .

you should know by now , you've been there yourself .

once i used to believe i was such a great romancer .

what will it take 'til you believe in me the way that I believe in you ?

you always have my unspoken passion , though i might not seem to care .

i would not leave you in times of trouble .

i don't want clever conversation , i never want to work that hard .

though you drown in good intentions , you'll never quench the fire .

did you ever let your lover see the stranger in yourself ?

we all have a face that we hide away forever . we take them out and show ourselves when everyone is gone .

[monkiesimp]

Hi can I request a macaque wukong x fem Neko reader

Reader is a baker and she loves to bake and she’s housewife material i just wanna see the reaction of them to see there s/o so sweet that she would do nice things to them

MACAQUE

• You went to visit his dojo where he apparently lived for the first time and oh man, does he even clean up?

• Anytime you'd visit you'll just get distracted by the place and start cleaning up, Macaque didn't really like it because he didn't think it was that important, plus he didn't want you doing his work he ignored.

• Macaque mostly spent his time wandering around, he wasn't home that often and he didn't know why cleaning was so important.

• After that, he would make sure to clean the house up himself before you came so you two could ACTUALLY spend time together without you getting distracted.

• When he saw you cooking for the first time, he took one small bite without you noticing and... Oh, wow. It was actually so good.

• This man eats nothing but noodles, just buying anything he can afford, he didn't try any other stuff but once he tried your cooking it was like a whole new world opened to him...

• Nonetheless he'd still be poor to afford anything.

• So he just stole all the goodies you made and portaled away somewhere, still in your house but out of your view.

• He didn't do much when he heard your grumbling from afar, probably realizing he took everything away.

• You were definitely pissed and scolded him afterwards for it.

• Since noticing he doesn't eat anything much but some simple stuff, you began gifting him food you made sometimes, you didn't mind sharing.

• Macaque never said it but he definitely loved anything you'd make, you were very good at cooking.

• He was starting to become very flirtatious towards you, often being close and coming in behind you while you were baking, placing his hands on your hips and whispering words into your ear that would make you shudder.

• You knew he was just messing with you, but geez.

• He enjoys the little reactions he drives out of you very much, also the way your cheeks and ears flush red when you get flustered.

• Oh, he's definitely going to have a lot of fun with you.

WUKONG

• When he saw you with Mk, he saw you as a friend but he wasn't too interested in you. At first, anyway.

• But after knowing you cook, which his own protege told him, he was a little interested...

• He can't cook himself, he burned down the entire kitchen when he tried. All he eats is his own hair and peaches, so why doesn't he try to learn from you? Yeah! That would work!

• ...

• He accidentally burned down your house.

• So, that didn't go very well and you're definitely never teaching him to cook again.

• Your house wasn't completely destroyed, luckily, just needed a little repairing. Wukong felt very guilty so he invited you to stay with him for the meantime, as to which you agreed to. What else could you do?

• You had lots of fun at his mountain, tons of it! You played with the monkeys, petting them and they loved you. You gave a few of them names, the ones who stuck with you the most.

• But it bothered you greatly the fact that you could eat nothing besides peaches... Not that you didn't like peaches, but you can't go every single day eating just one fruit and nothing else.

• And you definitely WERE NOT going to eat his food made out of hair.

• So you decided to bring some ingredients from your home to his mountain (Which Wukong helped by with flying you there ofc) to make something.

• You made a peach cake, and offered Wukong to try one too.

• When Wukong tried it he was in love, he never tasted anything so heavenly in his life before.

• He nearly ate all the cake, well, more than half of it, he really liked it.

• You were honestly quite concerned by how fast he was eating, he looked like he was going to choke on it. He did, just once.

• Since your appetite was small you weren't bothered by it.

• When you had nothing to do you'd usually clean his home when Wukong was away.

• About a few days later, your home was back to it's normal stare and you could go back! Yay!

• Of course, you grew attached to Wukong so you'd still visit his mountain from time to time, bringing him food. Poor guy eats nothing but peaches and his own hair, he needs to try something new.

[whenthedeeppurplefalls]

Late Shift

A ltww fanfiction.

Can be interpreted as gen, or Waldo X reader. Also a little bit of Waldo x detective in there.

You sigh, drumming your fingernails against the counter. Yet another late night spent closing after all your coworkers have gone home- no doubt to cozy beds, hot dinners, welcoming loved ones and lovers- and here you stay, sweeping the floor for the fourth time this evening.

You glare up at the clock, willing it to move faster. There’s still another four hours left in your shift, and with your luck, each minute is going to feel like eternity. Worse yet, it’s a slow night. The only customers you served were a giggling pack of preteens, arms loaded with chips and candy, and a really sad looking middle aged person in a trenchcoat who bought cigarettes and nothing else.

Scanning the storefront and noting the distinct lack of customers, (no one comes into this shithole past five anyway.) you take out your phone. You’re well past the point of caring if they catch you leaning instead of cleaning. (At least your manager is chill.)

You mindlessly scroll for a few minutes. Your feed is chock full of the usual- pointless, junk content, ai generated slop, depressing news, and hateful bastards spewing out the most vile rhetoric their pea-brains could conceive. You definitely don’t need the added mental stress of reading it, what with all your current troubles- rent being late, your cat and her recent appetite problems… (she needs a vet trip, and you definitely can’t afford it.)

So in other words, nothing new. You swipe over to another app, flicking through your notifications, snorting at a meme here and there- when you have the distinct impression you’re being watched. You glance up instinctively for a moment, expecting to see nothing there- just your imagination. Instead, you’re greeted with a long, lanky torso perhaps six inches away from your nose. Clothed in a bright red and white sweater, nonetheless.

You flinch back, completely stunned by the intruder. How in the world did they get so close without you noticing-? Especially in an outfit like that?

“I-“ you stutter out, too startled to compose yourself. You drop your phone in the confusion, then mentally curse yourself. You sure hope the screen didn’t crack. “I’m so sorry- uh, sir.” (He’s a customer, after all. You should be polite to him.) you look up at him, offering a friendly customer service smile, then falter. First of all- he’s almost unnaturally tall, and gangly as a scarecrow. Weirder still is the grin he wears- broad and straining, as if seeing you made his day. (And he’s carrying a walking stick… who carries a walking stick in this day and age?) His hair is black and greasy looking, thankfully hidden by a hat that matches that abomination of a sweater.

He cocks his head at your words, grin somehow stretching further.

“It’s no trouble.” He says. “So sorry to interrupt your break.” He bends to pick up your phone off the ground before you can get to it, and holds it out to you. You take it, noting with some relief that the screen is in one piece.

“Oh- no, no, I wasn’t on break,” You clarify, embarrassed to have been caught slacking. “Just… uh… figured, since no one was here-“

He chuckles a little. “Oh, I see how it is… boss makes a dollar, you make a dime…”

You laugh nervously, praying this guy doesn’t tell on you. “R-Right, yeah… again, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

He watches your face intently, as though you were a particularly interesting little bug.

“I’ve never understood the fixation on technology,” He says, not unkindly. “It makes it so hard to… notice things. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You have to admit, he’s right. “That’s true… I have a bad habit, I guess.”

He winks, eyes sparkling with some mischief. “So do I.” You have the feeling you’re being left out of some big secret, and cock your head, a little confused. Still, you smile and nod at him.

“Anyways..” You stutter, “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

After a moment, the strange man pulls something out from behind his back, holding it out to you. Upon further inspection, it’s a red envelope. You flip it over, noting the lack of postage.

You look back up at him. “Is this… for me?”

“Yes… but not quite. I have a strange request, you see.” Tilting your head, you let him continue.

“Someone very… special, comes in here every so often. They buy a pack of cigarettes?”

Well, very few people come into the shop nowadays, and you can count the number of people who buy cigarettes on one hand, so you nod. “Um… okay?”

“You’ll know them by their trench coat. Dark circles under the eyes.” A sort of spell washes over him. “Strong, commanding voice… well spoken… distinguished grey to the hair… a scar on the ring finger-“

This is getting weird. It sounds like he’s describing his ideal date, really. “Uh… right…” the description sounds familiar, anyway. You’re certain one of your customers has to be the person in question. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I think I saw them earlier.”

He looks satisfied with this, and steeples his fingers together, walking stick hooked over his elbow. “I was wondering, then, if you would do me a little favor.”

“A… favor?”

“You see,” He continues, “Most of the time, I would find a bit of… dangerous cancer in the area to pass on messages for me. But the powers that be have told me to abstain.”

You blink.

So.. working the night shift does tend to bring in an odder brand of person now and again, and this isn’t your first time being rambled to about some weird subject matter, usually from the depths of the internet… but this is new.

However, you’re no stranger to being polite to weirdos. So you smile, nod, and act like he isn’t being crazy. “I see.”

“So in that case… I need someone to pass on a message for me.”

…You have a bad feeling about this. Even as he holds the red envelope out to you, your heart begins to pound.

“In return… I will give you…”

Oohhh fuck. Yeah, this isn’t good. Here it comes.

His other hand reaches out. Oh god. It’s probably a bomb.

You instinctively brace for it as you reach out and take the red envelope, cringing as he holds out his other hand to reveal…

A neat stack of bills, bound together by a rubber band?

Incredulously, and with some hesitation, you take it at his prompting. Looking up at him in shock, then down at the money, you flip through it with your thumb. It’s a stack of twenties, over an inch thick. There has to be over a thousand dollars here-

“That should cover, oh, a month or so of rent I’d assume?” He asks, breaking you out of your trance. “I’m not familiar with the local economy in these parts.”

“I-It’ll cover… it’ll cover all of it.” You stutter, totally astounded. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You thumb through it again. They’re not fake. You can tell at this point. In disbelief, you grab the counterfeit pen by the register and swipe one. It’s real. They’re all real. “Oh my fucking god-“

“So, that’s sufficient, then.” Waldo clarifies. Shocked beyond words, you nod.

“Good. I was beginning to think I’d wasted my time with that stockholder I encountered…”

You’re not even going to pretend to understand that. “And… and all you want me to do is just… give this person the letter?”

He nods. “More specifically… the next time they come in to buy cigarettes, give them that instead.” After a moment's thought, he continues. “I’d like them to kick the habit… it’s such a filthy thing, really… not that I can point fingers. I have a few filthy habits of my own.” He chuckles, amusing himself.

“And I’d like them to be around a while longer. You know how it is, don’t you dear?”

Blushing slightly, you nod. As he’d spoken, you had counted through the stack, surmising it’s actually more than you expected- there are a few hundreds stuffed in there. Not only will it cover at least two months rent, you can pay for your cat's vet trip.

You have no idea what to say. This random guy decided to change your life for a letter? A letter he could have easily sent in the mail. Whoever he is, this guys great in your book.

Seeing that his task is finished, he pats you on the head (to your immense confusion, it feels like being pawed at by a lion. There’s a lot of strength behind that thin, wiry hand.) and taps his cane on the floor. You feel bad for judging him earlier. Slightly embarrassed, you blurt out- “I-If you ever need any more letters delivered, uh- just let me know, okay?” You blush, but it’s true. You’ve done worse jobs for less money.

He smiles at you, as if noticing a particularly unique rock, or some other interesting natural formation spotted by a well seasoned traveler. “I’ll consider that.” He says with a grin. “Of course, I have to keep my dear… ‘friend’ on their toes. But who’s to say? You could be useful down the line.”

Practically vibrating with excitement, you nod eagerly. “Whatever you need. I’ll be here as always.” And you’re going to make damn sure you get this letter to this person. Anything to stay in this guys good graces.

“That’s excellent.. I’ll thank you again. But now, I’d better be on my way.” He looks up, as if scenting the air. “I have a good feeling my friend will be back here. Very soon.”

You raise your eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they were in here earlier. They already bought a pack.”

He snickers. “They smoke when they’re stressed. They already- I mean, I’m sure they’ve probably finished it by now.”

Wow. From the sound of, they do need an intervention. “Well, I’m happy to help.” You look down at the red envelope. “By the way, what was your name-?” You go to look up at him but-

He’s… gone?

You look around, totally disoriented. How did he leave so quickly? You crane your neck, but you can’t even see him walking out in the parking lot.

Another thorough glance at the wad of cash indicates you’re not hallucinating, and this isn’t a dream. So what the hell-?

You’re startled again by the bell hanging over the door chiming as another customer enters. You snap out of your trance- especially when you see the familiar trench coat.

Your grip tightens on the red envelope, and you smile in preparation.

You have a good feeling you’ll see the strange man again.

[femmefeedist]

In the end, you got what you deserved. I'm glad you got fat, it serves you right.

It wasn't fair to everyone else that you had such a perfect body for all those years. Being thin and pretty sure made you a lot of friends, but it earned you just as many enemies.

Who wouldn't be envious of that hourglass waist? That naturally slender figure with toned arms and long, smooth legs? It's not like you even had to work for it. Your high metabolism blessed you with it all, and you could afford to indulge now and then.

With such a perfect body came natural athleticism, earning you spots on teams other girls wish they had the stamina and coordination to play in. Were you even grateful for what you had? It doesn't really matter anyways, that's all gone now.

Was it a little evil to take pleasure in the first signs of your downfall? Maybe. But there was something so satisfying in watching your tone melt away. Seeing your old active lifestyle fade into the past brought new feelings of glee. It happened a lot sooner than expected, you really let yourself go didn't you? It really didn't take long for the muscle to stop showing up. Your body just didn't even try to cling to the athleticism it once had, maybe because you never really even worked that hard for it in the first place.

But that was only the first stage, lack of exercise only one half of the torrent unleashed on your physique. The eating is what got to you the most. Where did that hunger come from? Its like one day you woke up starving and nothing could satiate your appetite anymore. Sugar became your best friend, carbs your secret lover. You know very well where the consequences of that eating ended up. Fatter ass, doughy thighs, back fat rolls, flabby arms, and an adorable start to a double chin at certain angles.

What really got me was the gut. The pooch, that not so little tummy that appeared. Here was the skinny popular athletic girl with an undeniable potbelly poking out in front of her only a few years after abandoning a healthy lifestyle. Former abs softened into a thick fatty dome of buttery, pudgy padding. It just looks so foreign to someone like you, who used to be so different. But at the same time that belly looks comfortable, like it isnt going anywhere any time soon.

It feels good to see you bulging over a waistband, stretching out shirts, popping buttons, straining pant legs, and squeezing into sleeves, all of which used to fit you.

I love it when you get out of breath, when you feel weak, slow and sluggish, when your ruined body struggles to perform how it used to.

It's so nice to see you getting fat. Because you fucking deserve it.

The thought of someone having schadenfreude because I'm getting fat is so hot 🥵

[pure-garbage]

Oil And Water! Brawls Of The Cook And The Swordsman

Zoro and Sanji were always at each other's throats, but lately it was getting to be too much for Lana to stand.

"Dinner is served! Nami, Robin, Lana!"

Sanji's voice rang out across the Merry, calling all hands... or at least, it should have been all hands. Crew members started assembling at the mess. Lana couldn't help but notice that Zoro's frown was even deeper than usual and his hands were shoved firmly in his pockets.

"Are you a cook or a damn rooster?!" he demanded of Sanji the minute he set eyes on him. "Who told you to interrupt my nap with your crowing?"

"Who said you had to wake up and bring your sour attitude to dinner?" Sanji snapped back. "If you're tired, crawl back into whatever hole you were napping in and get back to it, you lazy sack!"

Zoro grumbled back but took a seat regardless. The table was as rowdy as ever. Robin was the exception, still skimming through her book as Sanji served her. He heaped food on her plate and flattery into her ears, drawing even more of Zoro's ire.

"What a sap... pathetic..."

Lana caught a bit of Zoro's mumbling and sighed.

'I used to enjoy meals,' she thought dolefully.

"... and for you, Lana sweetest..."

Sanji made his way around to Lana. She afforded him a tight smile while Zoro's scowl grew ever deeper.

"Do enjoy," Sanji smirked with a parting wink.

"I don't see how she could enjoy anything at this table, seeing as it's all covered in drool from your shameless gawking!" Zoro growled.

"What was that?!" Sanji was quick to confront Zoro and the two were quite literally butting heads in the blink of an eye.

"What, you got fuzz in those big ears of yours? I need to repeat myself?!"

"You've got some nerve, you know that?!" Sanji fumed. "If anything's dampening the ladies' appetites, it's your nasty attitude!"

"My attitude?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Nami knocked their heads together, silencing them except for their continued complaints of pain. Lana, meanwhile, finished her food in what must have been record time for her.

"Alright, done! Thanks, good night!" she called on her way out.

Robin watched her flee with mild interest.

"Aw, she ate all her food before I could even ask if she would share her fish," Luffy mourned past a full mouth.

Robin looked on as Zoro huffed, turning his focus to his food. He even ignored Sanji's sly digs, not raising his eyes from his plate.

Robin had been nursing a theory for some time. Few things pleased her as much as forming a hypothesis that proved to be correct. The time had come, she felt, to test this one in the field.

"If you'll excuse me..."

"Sweet! If you're done, I'll take that!" Luffy delighted, reaching to grab her plate before she was clear of the table.

"Aw, Robin dear, is something the matter?" Sanji moped.

"Great work, fellas, you've managed to drive off all the decent company!" Nami fumed.

Robin left the liveliness behind, following Lana out into the open air of the night.

"Food not to your liking?" Robin asked playfully.

"Nah, the food's as good as ever," Lana sighed. "I just can't take any more of Zoro and Sanji's bickering!"

"They certainly have been locking horns more than usual."

"Ugh, right?! I was starting to wonder if I was imagining things."

"Not at all. Everyone's noticed by now."

"Morons. Why do men have to be such idiots?"

"It all comes down to motive. Once you know the cause, everything else starts to make sense."

"You say that like you know the cause," Lana observed with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it's only a theory," Robin teased.

"So? Spill it."

"If you insist... I'll start by saying that I've observed a pattern to the boys' tiffs. Surely you must have noticed that it's usually the swordsman starting the trouble?"

Lana thought it over, recalling a string of recent incidents.

"Come to think of it, yeah. I have noticed that."

"So the next natural assumption would be that our dear cook has been doing something to cause bad blood between them. Any thoughts as to what that could be?"

"Uh..."

Lana racked her brain, but nothing came to mind.

"You got me on that one. If Sanji's acting differently, I can't say how."

"No, Sanji's the same as ever. If my theory is correct, the only change has been in Zoro."

"Now I'm confused. I'm not half the detective you are, Robin," Lana sighed. "Please don't make me work too hard for these answers."

"It's simple, really. Sanji hasn't changed at all. He's as flirtatious and cloying as ever."

"Yeah, he doesn't know when to give it a rest," Lana agreed.

"He may not be capable of giving it a rest," Robin chuckled. "In any case, Sanji's behavior hasn't changed... but the way Zoro feels about it has."

Lana caught on suddenly, realizing what Robin was getting at. It felt like a light bulb going off over her head, illuminating the entire murky situation.

"Oh my god! You don't mean... Zoro's pissed off over Sanji's flirting because... Zoro's got some kind of crush, or something..."

Robin nodded along coaxingly.

"... on Sanji?!"

Robin blinked rapidly a few times, then stared her crewmate down, unable to comprehend how Lana could have reached such a ridiculous conclusion given the evidence presented to her.

"Of course, it all makes sense now!" Lana cried, her expression desolate. "Zoro can't stand to see Sanji flirting with the girls because he's consumed by jealousy... he wants Sanji all to himself!"

Lana looked so dejected Robin thought she might be on the verge of tears.

'I'd better correct her before she starts crying.'

"Well, you're half-right," Robin tsked. "Zoro does seem to have developed quite the little crush... but not on Sanji."

"W-what? Really? If not Sanji, then... who?"

"You mean to tell me you really don't have a clue?" Robin demanded, disbelief beginning to creep into her tone. 'She's nearly as dense as Zoro.'

"You don't mean..."

Robin's true assertion showed through in the suggestive expression she flashed. Lana's cheeks flushed as she received the message and turned her eyes away over the bow.

"Robin, look, I... I think I see where you're going with this, but... please don't."

"What do you mean?"

"A theory is one thing. Speculation never hurt anyone, I guess, but we all have to keep sailing these waters together. Theories are fine, but as far as the heart is concerned, there are some things best left unsaid. Me and Zoro... I like that we're friends now. I don't want to risk souring that."

"Hm. That's very wise, Lana... and very cowardly, don't you think?" Robin observed chidingly.

"Maybe."

"Aren't you curious about what could be if you two ever had the nerve to speak the unspoken?" Robin went on, hoping to sway her.

"Who wouldn't be?" Lana admitted. "But it's my gamble, right? My heart on the line. My swordsman that I stand to lose if things don't work out."

"Of course," Robin sighed. Theory confirmed, she was content to concede for the time being. She thought Lana was making a mistake, but that was something the lockbreaker was likely to discover in her own time. "I'll leave you alone with your thoughts if that's what you want."

"No, I... I'd actually love some company, if you're not busy," Lana ventured.

"Well, this book isn't going to read itself," Robin teased. "But it's not going anywhere either."

Lana's smile reappeared.

"Thanks, Robin. And... thanks for sharing your theory with me. I hope I didn't let you down too badly."

"Only a little, but you're right. It's your life, after all," Robin smiled back graciously.

The next morning at breakfast, Sanji greeted the women of the straw hat crew with his usual barrage of flirtations and as usual, Zoro was in no mood to listen.

"Keep up the crap and I'll shove it all back down your throat, you sorry excuse for a cook!" Zoro snarled.

"What was that?! You moss-headed lump of-"

"Hey Zoro!"

Lana's voice cut through the blossoming argument, drawing the attention of both men. She raised her mug, beckoning.

"I know you're not one for coffee, but give this a try?"

"Huh? Oh. Thanks, but no thanks," Zoro replied, walking away from Sanji to take a seat next to Lana. "I can't drink that stuff."

"Really? You hate the taste that much?" Lana wondered.

"It's not that, I just can't deal with the side effects," he explained.

"Side effects? What, like.. from the caffeine?"

"I guess. Whatever it is, I'm not a fan. I get the shakes and my heart starts pounding. There's a lot of sweat too."

"Sounds bad. Maybe you have a sensitivity or something. I used to know a kid back in the town I was from who was like that."

"Could be. Whatever it is, it's never pretty," Zoro sighed.

Sanji chose that moment to break in.

"As opposed to you, Lana sweetest, always and unfailingly pretty. Marmalade?"

"Grr..."

The sound Zoro made was the closest Lana had ever heard a human come to actually growling.

"I'm good, Sanji. Too sweet for this early in the morning. But... I'm sure Nami would love some," Lana grinned. Sanji swept away at once.

"Naaaami..."

Lana glanced back at Zoro, still seething even though Sanji's attentions had shifted to their navigator.

"Hey, Zoro..."

Lana leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He listened closely, eyes growing wide as she went on. A smirk spread over his face, culminating in a laugh that he held back with his palm.

Robin smiled too, even without knowing what had been said. Even if Lana was too shy to reveal her feelings to Zoro, Robin got the sense that it woudn't be long before they came to light anyway.

______________________________________

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== First Chapter ==

[theresattrpgforthat]

My friend is trying to make Sun and Moon from security breach as a dnd character but it is definitely not the right system. is there a game that would work better with animatronics and stuff like that?

THEME: Dual Personalities

Hello friend, so I have a few routes that I’ve gone with this prompt. Finding a FNAF game is a bit of a tall order, but I think the most important of Sun and Moon’s dynamic is the switch in personality - with Moon being an inverted, terrifying version of Sun’s personality. There are two common tropes that exist in fiction that have that same dynamic - werewolves and the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I took those as leads, but tried to find games where the setting might be flexible - or hackable. I’d also love to hear what other kinds of games other folks suggest!

Eat God by @prokopetz.

Eat God is a game where you take on the role of a small gremlin-like creature. Though you're just as much a person as anybody else, the setting's dominant human culture tends to regard your kind as clever vermin, which means you don't get a lot of respect – but it also means you usually aren't seen as a threat, which may occasionally work to your advantage.

Unfortunately for the people in charge, you're not just any clever vermin: you and your companions are God-eaters, wandering practitioners of an esoteric discipline – part existential philosophy, part martial art – which affords you a limited capacity to bend the laws of reality to your will. As its name suggests, the God-eater's creed also has serious objections to authority in all its forms.

Eat God is still in playtest, but there’s one character option in particular you might be interested in - Polycephalous. This gives your character a second face - and this might be a second personality, a second head, etc. It allows your character to attempt certain things that might usually require two people. Combine this with something like Fast Feet (that help you scuttle very quickly) Languorous Lure (which gives you glowing eyes) and you’re well on the way to having a double-personality.

A Modern Prometheus, by Mitchell Salmon.

A Modern Prometheus is a gothic horror roleplaying game for 2 players based on the Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands framework by D. Vincent Baker and Meguey Baker (Lumpley Games).

Players take on the role of a scientist dabbling with dark forces at the edge of the natural sciences, and the creation that they bring to life as a consequence. Together, you and your partner will discover through play who is human, and who is monstrous.

This is a game where the relationship between the “Sun” character and the “Moon” character is the whole point of the game. The creation of the monstrous is explored through play, and the highlighted themes are vengeance, humanity, and rage. The game itself uses mini-games that you can order in whatever way you like - create a story of horror together one step at a time.

The Monster Within, by Felipemuky.

The Monster Within is a duo RPG where players play a human dealing with their monster within. They must fight for control of their body or cooperate to survive.

One player will be the Human, a person tormented with a monster living in their body, an the other is the Monster, a creature eager to take control of the body to satiate its appetites.

This game brings rules to emphasizes the conflict between the two parts and the tension of losing the control in difficult times. 

This is a game for one game-master and two players, or two players using an oracle to facilitate GM-less play. It’s a one-page zine game, with some simple rules to and a few basic traits to determine for both the Human and the Monster. The players can fight each-other or work together to confront challenges, with the default state being that the human is in control, and the monster is trying to take control of the body. There’s no rules as to what the monster looks like, so if you were to pick this up, you could attach some Moon-like attributes to the monster character, and perhaps change something about the setting to make it make more sense for the kind of characters you want to play.

Cypher System (and Expanded Worlds) , by Monte Cook Games.

The Cypher System is the critically acclaimed game engine that powers any campaign in any genre. You may have heard of it as the system that drives the award-winning Numenera roleplaying game. Lauded for its elegance, ease of use, flexibility, and narrative focus, the Cypher System unleashes the creativity of GMs and players with intuitive character creation, fast-paced gameplay, and a uniquely GM-friendly design.

Cypher System characters are built from the concept up. A descriptive sentence provides not just an easily-understood overview of the character, but also the mechanical basis for skills, abilities, and stats. And the Cypher System gives players amazing narrative engagement, rewarding player-driven subplots and giving players resources to bear on the tasks and situations they most want to succeed at.

The base rulebook for the Cypher System has a character option (dubbed a focus) called Howls at the Moon which is typically a were-creature concept, but I think it could be used to create a threatening-yet-powerful alter-ego that has nefarious motives. There’s also an option in the Expanded Worlds supplement, called Changes Shape, which changes your physical form, without taking away your ability to think for yourself. Even if neither of these foci aren’t exactly what you are looking for, the Cypher system gives you tools to help you create your own custom focus that replicates the dual personality that Sun and Moon embody.

Apocalypse Keys, by Sword Queen Games.

The Doomsday Clock is ticking down and emotions run high as you and your team of DIVISION agents struggle to find the Keys before the villainous Harbingers unlock the Doors of Power and bring about the apocalypse.

As an Omen class monster, you are the only thing capable of holding back the apocalypse. Combat occult threats and investigate supernatural phenomena alongside your team of supernatural agents working for the shadowy DIVISION. But in a world that shuns monsters like you, only your deepest, most heartfelt bonds can grant you the power to stop those who seek to unlock Doom’s Door.

There’s a couple of different ways I think you could replicate Sun and Moon in Apocalypse Keys. One way could be to embody the Hungry, a character who houses a hunger for blood, souls, or something more. You could personify that hunger as an alternate personality, that surfaces every time your character has to feed. I’ve also seen something similar done with the Surge and the Fallen playbooks - with the Surge, the player could create an alternate personality that arises when they use their power, or use the Ruin move My Dark Patron to give their alternate personality more power over your character. With the Fallen, another playbook, the alternate personality was a fallen god, housed in a human shell. I think there’s a lot of untapped possibility in this game, as all of the characters are wrestling with a monstrosity that has great capacity for harm, but also empowers them to solve problems that threaten the world they all live in.

[celestetcetera]

Fun thing about the shinisapiens: They evolved to live in some place called the shroud. Which is toxic to a lot of vivisapiens and sort of alive, the landscape inside can rearrange spontaneously in ways that should be impossible. So you know what their survival strategy as a species was? Commit to the adaptability of being human. Just. Have no inhibitions. People who hesitate die. Be ready for something to happen and upturn literally everything that matters right now. Ready to abandon whatever you are focused on at any given moment and commit to some other course of action. Have no restraint at all, be blunt with people, be brutal even. Neither of you can afford to assume you have time for anything else. If you see a resource you want be greedy with it. You dunno when you’re gonna get a chance to get it again. You have to learn to seize any opportunity to indulge your appetite. Going overboard is less of a risk than not getting enough - which is very easy to do. Vivisapiens tend to see them as less evolved and closer to animals because of this, despite them being extremely well suited to their environment. Very clever to be maneuvering and problem solving on the fly the way they do. Capable of even maintaining traditions and culture there which is not something we probably could.

So unintentionally, I also created a species that looks like it could have been modeled after Edward Hyde. I promise I hadn’t heard of him at the time. My intention was not to make a whole fantasy culture developed in circumstances where his behavior would actually be correct.

Ohhh I love that lore tho!! That's such a cool way to have them evolve. I also love that the shroud is alive?? :O Locations that are a little bit alive are so interesting to me!!

[whump-me]

Ashes: Chapter 19

Chapter 19 of Ashes, a dark and extremely whumpy Cinderella retelling where the handsome prince is a sadistic villain and his former bride is out to get her revenge… before he can choose a new victim at the ball.

Masterpost | Read the complete novel on Patreon

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With nothing else to do while she waited for the prince to finish his mingling, Elle enjoyed the novelty of being in control of her own time. That, more than the beautiful dress or the opulent surroundings, was the true luxury of this night.

She circled through the room, doing a little mingling of her own, introducing herself to people she had once known in her role as Alexandre’s bride. She danced when she wanted to dance, and refused invitations as she pleased. She gorged herself on apple tarts and miniature cherry pies. No one told her to get her filthy hands off the food, or to control her appetite, or to wait until everyone else was done eating and be grateful if any scraps found their way to her plate.

When she overheard a woman driving her daughter to tears by lecturing her about not doing enough to capture the prince’s attention, she waited for a lull in the conversation. Then informed the woman that her dress was not only hopelessly out of fashion, but accentuated all the parts of her body that least needed accentuating. No one changed her words, nor did anyone punish her for speaking them.

She never would have said any of that when she had been the princess. Now she wondered why. Why had she not cherished the freedom to say what she pleased, when she pleased? Why had she not made better use of it?

It seemed hours later when Torin came up behind her again. “What are you doing?” he asked in her ear. “You have more important things to do than eat and mingle and fling insults.”

Only people who regularly had enough to eat could afford to place food low on their list of priorities. But she didn’t say that. “I’m waiting for Alexandre.”

She turned to see Torin’s scowl. “Have you forgotten your promise to rescue my sister?” he asked in a low tone.

“Of course not,” she said, matching his volume. “Your sister will be free when Alexandre is dead.”

Torin shook his head. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Wasn’t it? I believe I said those very words.”

“You said if I got you here, you would rescue her,” he said. “I’m not willing to wait to find out whether you’ll succeed in getting your revenge. If you fail, Alexandre will know I helped you, and then Liora will be punished for it.”

“I won’t fail.”

“Stop wasting time,” Torin said. “Find her. Save her. Now.”

“Alexandre’s attention is on me now,” Elle said. It was true—even as he mingled, his eyes kept finding her again, as if magnetized. “I can’t risk him seeing me sneaking around the palace.”

Nearby heads turned to look at them. They were both being careful to speak in voices too low to be overheard; nevertheless, their scowls and angry tones must have started to draw attention. Elle glared at Torin, silently blaming him for starting this. He straightened and gave her his stoniest look, clearly blaming her for the same.

“I’ll talk to you later,” said Elle with a chilly smile. “There’s a gentleman I promised a dance.”

Torin leaned in, his mouth to her ear. “Find her,” he repeated. “Save her. Or I’ll undo everything I’ve done, and you’ll find yourself in the middle of the palace ballroom in rags.”

A chill swept over her at his words. Even though he wasn’t making the walls and floors grow hands to hold her in place, even though he wasn’t changing her words in midair, her ability to control her own actions was an illusion. Here, as at home, she was at Torin’s mercy.

“If you do, Alexandre will wonder how I got here,” she said. “Eventually, he’ll figure out you had something to do with it.”

“For my sister,” Torin said, drawing back to hold her gaze, “that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Elle imagined a knife sliding between Torin’s ribs. Hot blood spilling down over her fingers.

She didn’t know how her face changed, but whatever Torin saw in her eyes made him take a step back.

She forced her gaze away from Torin and onto Alexandre, who was dancing with one of the women in peach. The sight of his smile honed her resolve to a knife-sharp point. He was the target. She needed to remember that.

She turned back to Torin. “I’ll do what you want,” she said. “But we need to move quickly, before Alexandre comes to find me again.” She weaved through the crowd, away from Alexandre’s questing eyes, motioning Torin to follow. “Let’s go. I know all the back ways.”

---

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[helenaheissner]

A Dream of Summer Rain: Chapter 31

Another day died. Outside, the rain refused to relent. The whole county would flood if this kept up. She needed to get out of here, if for no other reason than to stop the whole place from ending up under water.

And also, to finally not have to hear Merab talk any more.

“-So anyway that was how it went down with me and Pericles, the Prince of Tyre. He was a sweet enough guy, but he just couldn’t match my voracious sexual appetites. After that I tried dating this ghost girl from Japan with bangs all in her face and she and I had similar views on things sure but like… No physicality, you know, because of the whole ghost thing, so she really couldn’t keep up with me either-”

“Has it occurred to you that you need to slow down instead of expecting everyone else to speed up?” Lacy said. She’d gleaned a bit about this alleged ghoul princess during flashes of lucidity between dissociative episodes.

The ghoul-girl sat in the same chair she sat in all day, every day. The only times she left were to take showers once a day, and when she came back she was always in full makeup and dressed like the happy little goth she was. When she left, a replacement came in, always a different, stern-looking ghoul whom Merab called by name, all of whom kneeled as soon as they saw her. Maybe she wasn’t lying about being a princess- there was a certain level of reverence she seemed to command without even trying to. Today she wore a black gown covered in equally black frills and lace, her hair up in twin buns on the sides of her head. She had a glass of blood and a plate with what appeared to be a human-belly sandwich with people-bacon on top placed on the floor next to her. She hadn’t gotten to either of them yet- she’d spent most of the day doing her black nail polish. “Well, look who finally offers an opinion.”

“I got bored,” Lacy said. That was somewhat true: she was bored now. The past few days, however, she’d kept herself busy drafting a plan, step by step. It was just like dealing with bullies back in school- if you didn’t have the element of surprise going into the fight, then you needed to be unpredictable, and you needed to keep your opponent from thinking too clearly. Five steps needed to be implemented if any of this had any chance of working.

“How flattering. What do you mean by ‘slow down?’”

“I don’t wanna get into this with you,” Lacy said. Every time they talked, it nearly pushed Lacy back into the blackness- she couldn’t afford to dissociate right now, she needed to think clearly. She needed to get out of here, and she needed to put a stop to all this.

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything, silly!” Merab giggled. “You ever thought about going blonde? It might suit you, considering the whole… I was trying to look for a word besides ‘dumb’, but I can’t find one? So the whole ‘dumb’ thing that you’ve got going on- you’d make a great dumb blonde.”

“Thanks,” Lacy said dryly.

“You’re welcome! So anyway, what do you mean by slow down? I’m honestly quite curious to hear your take on it-”

“Look, forget I said anything,” Lacy said. “I have no dating experience whatsoever, you should not be taking advice from me.”

“Really? No guys after a cute little thing like you? That’s hard to believe.”

“I’m a lesbian.”

“No girls after a cute little femme like you? That’s even harder to believe.”

“I’m not cute, I’m disgusting.”

“Seriously, you need so much therapy.”

“I’m not taking life advice from you, Merab!”

“Hey, that’s Princess-”

“Princess, right, of course, how could I forget. Hey, here’s a question for you: if you’re the rightful heir, why’d they all follow Alistair?” Lacy asked.

“Hm? Oh, because he took my father’s Star. That’s why he has two.”

“Makes sense. So what, you had to earn it? And he-”

“No, not quite,” Merab cut her off. “Stealing a Star has some prerequisites- you’re supposed to eat a Starbound in order to steal their Star. Alistair killed my father, then put the body on ice just in case he ever decided to cash that check. Which, after a few years agonizing over it, he did. Me and my loyalists weren’t able to get to the body in time to stop him.”

“And so everyone just fell into line as soon as the new king rode into town? Even after what he did to the last one?”

“They can’t all help it,” Merab said. “That Star connects the King to all ghouls, puts him in their heads. It’s called the Ever-Song. The more feral you are, the harder it is to resist his will. And there are lots of feral ghouls out there. And even a lot of the non-feral ones, frankly, the upper classes… Well not all of them liked my dad, and some of them just didn’t want me to be in charge. Apparently I’m ‘flighty,’ or some such nonsense. So when Alistair took the Star, all that he actually needed was the small chunk of the upper classes that would’ve fallen behind anyone else at all.”

“And you would’ve done better?” “Well at the very least I wouldn’t be plotting world domination,” Merab said, blowing on her nails and then taking a sip of blood. “I’d be happily keeping us in our caves, eating the odd stranger here and there-”

“Causing disappearances every year, sentencing innocent people to death, enforcing what sounds like a pretty hardcore caste system-”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be in a cage right now, and your hometown wouldn’t be occupied by domestic terrorists. That’s gotta hold some appeal.”

Lacy rubbed her temples. “Ask you something?”

“Why stop now? I’m loving that we’re finally having a real conversation.”

“If Alistair were to die, how confident are you that you could get the troops to pack up and leave? If you could have even just a little nibble of him?”

The princess opened her mouth, tilted her head, and was finally at a loss for words.

The door opened, and Mrs. Woodrow stood on the other side. She was clad in her Sunday best, a light green dress with a cream colored coat and a wide-brimmed hat like she’d used to wear to church. She led a young boy, who couldn’t have been past elementary school age, in handcuffs in front of her, and held a trench knife in her sinister hand.

“I don’t believe I need to explain what happens if you make a fuss,” Mrs. Woodrow said.

Lacy, in spite of herself, gulped.

“You’re dismissed, Merab,” Mrs. Woodrow said curtly.

And then, with a flicker of agitation, Merab stood up, looked directly at Lacy, and said, “Very confident.”

“Offer is on the table then,” Lacy said.

Merab smiled as she left.

Step 1: instill chaos in the ranks. Undermine the leadership, Lacy thought.

Mrs. Woodrow went over to the glass, laid a palm flat on it. A red glow pulsed over the wall, through which Lacy squinted and saw a doorway manifest. “Now then, come on. And don’t try anything. You need to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?” Lacy said, not yet getting up from her cot.

“For family dinner, of course.”

Lacy creased her brow, but relented when the heiress to House Koenig waved her knife at her young hostage. Lacy stepped out of the glass cage, and the hideous grip of the red rune loosened. Her pulse relaxed, and the dull throb around her temples lightened. Her Star hummed inside her, desperate for release, but she couldn’t risk it yet.

Still, it was what she thought it was- the rune only dampened her power, not nullified entirely. There was a limit to how much of a cap they could put on her, and it poured outwards into the environment when she couldn’t release it. That meant there were limits to the ghouls’ defenses, to this Entropy magic of theirs. Filing that away for later, she thought.

Mrs. Woodrow led Lacy down the spiral stairs to the third floor of the brick mansion, and into a bedroom. “Take a shower and put on something nice,” she said. “And don’t try anything- there are cameras in that room, and I’ll be outside with my friend here just in case.”

Lacy grunted in response as the bedroom door fell shut. She looked around and saw what was by all accounts a normal girl’s bedroom, leftover from one recently departed for the adult world. A bed with a purple comforter over it, golden-yellow wallpaper, a blood red rug covering the floor. But the walls were bare of posters or pictures, and the bed looked like it had never been slept in once. There was a desk in the corner by the window, with a makeup mirror and a lamp and two framed pictures. One was of Danny and his mother, and the other included Alistair, Danny at about fifteen, and a girl the same age as Lacy was now. She had white hair and gray eyes and an angular face.

Elaine.

This was the bedroom of the girl Lacy had killed.

She probably hadn’t stayed here very often, based on the sheer lack of effects, the strange aura of a bedroom seldom used. But this was hers, the dead sister’s room. In the closet were her clothes, which her family expected Lacy to put on.

Lacy started with a shower in the bathroom off to the side, savoring the long-forgotten feeling of being clean. She didn’t deserve it, but she took it anyway. After that, she set about the grim task of finding something to wear.

Searching the closet was like wading through a sewer rooting around for something valuable. She parsed through for a subjective eternity, until finally she found something that fit her: a solid navy blue dress with long sleeves and a skirt that went below the knees, then applied a light coat of makeup.

When she was ready, she stepped out into the hallway, where Mrs. Woodrow waited with her hostage. “You look lovely,” she said, running a hand through Lacy’s damp hair, cupping her cheek. A twinge of discomfort shot through Lacy, but she tried not to flinch. She couldn’t afford to show any fear, no matter how much dwelled within her.

Her jailor led her into the outdoors for the first time in weeks, beneath an umbrella into the pouring rain. Night gripped the town of Dresden like a bear trap, and the air was cold and wet and sharp. Woodrow Manor was a half-mile from town square, and street lamps illuminated the vein of Main Street. Ghouls stood in the rain, and none were in even a remote state of decay. Lacy heard some heartbeats in the houses and shops on Main Street, but not as many as there should have been. She didn’t wanna think about how much of the town was left, or if Coldwater and Cleaver had met the same fate yet. Lacy gritted her teeth as she walked side-by-side with the woman who had moved to this town with her family, had settled into it like a weed and overrun the whole garden. Spreading her roots through the soil, not letting anything else grow.

Town square unfolded like origami, Saint Cecilia’s Catholic Church providing the backdrop. A tarp was spread over the street, with four heat lamps beneath the four corners. At the center was a round dining room table, and with its back to the church sat the King of the Ghouls.

Lacy was seated to Alistair’s left, and Mrs. Woodrow to her left. Directly across from her was Danny, who looked even shittier than he did before. He was cleaned up now, showered and shaved, clad in khakis and a red button-down and a black blazer, but he was somehow paler and more haggard than his erstwhile, argumentative self.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Alistair said as raindrops fell from the tarp and sizzled atop the heat lamps. “But you needn’t worry- none of your food is human meat. Only mine own. I would never force someone to eat it, to join me in so.”

Lacy squirmed in her seat. “Then, uh, what are we having?”

“Fish,” Mrs. Woodrow said.

Lacy’s stomach lurched.

Danny snorted.

“And eggplant,” Mrs. Woodrow said.

Danny visibly winced.

Two ghouls, utterly human in appearance- try not to think about it, try not to think about it- brought platters of food. The fish smelled of freshwater, probably something locally caught, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too fishy.

Lacy served herself and took a bite. No such luck. Danny took a bite of eggplant and struggled not to gag. Lacy tried to eat the eggplant and the fish at the same time. Her stomach’s sheer emptiness was the only thing keeping it down.

Alistair was given its own tray of what looked like sausages.

They were sausages, in fact. Sausages made of…

Of…

Try not to think about it, try not to think about it-

“So,” Alistair said, “How are you both? I feel I haven’t had proper time to talk with you two, to simply chat, since we all returned home. Everything has been all business of late.”

A heavy silence, underscored by the rhythm of rain and the seer of steam.

“Well?” Alistair asked, cutting into its sausage with a fork and knife.

Danny sighed. “Well Dad, I’m detoxing. So I feel like I’m dying. Constantly.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. But you are my son, and so you shall be strong enough to persevere.”

“How reassuring.”

“Lacy, what about you? How are you feeling?” Alistair asked.

Lacy blinked rapidly over her half-eaten food, and then burst into a maniacal cackle. Alistair and Caroline stared at her in confusion, and Danny with sullen frustration. Lacy stopped when she realized, once again, Alistair was being serious.  “I…,” Lacy started, then looked around, past the falling rain in the darkened town. What was it her parents had always gone on about, whenever any of them were in a mood? “I don’t wanna spoil this nice dinner by complaining.”

“Hm? Very well,” Alistair said.

Mrs. Woodrow beamed with a wide smile.

Lacy shuddered. She choked down a bit more of her fish, trying not to make a face.

“How are you both finding your accommodations?” Alistair asked.

Lacy waited for Danny to answer first, who was evidently in turn waiting for her to do the same.

Alistair finished its meat, and set its cutlery on its plate. It took a long sip of a red liquid from its wine glass, then exhaled when it finished. “Ah. This is Rosé, mind you. I’m fortunate enough that while diminished, the pleasures of alcohol are still afforded to me in small quantities following my transformation.”

“That’s nice, Dad,” Danny said.

“Is that sarcasm in your voice, Daniel?”

“Yes, Dad, yes it is.”

“Daniel, honestly,” Caroline said. “I went to the trouble of cooking all this, the least you could do is try to get through the meal without showing that nasty attitude of yours.”

Danny’s shoulders went slack, and he stared down at his food.

“And you, Lacy? I assume you’re pleased with your new room?” Alistair asked.

“New room?”

“Yes, the one you were led into earlier. Where you acquired that lovely dress.”

Lacy stared directly ahead at nothing in particular.

“Well?”

“It’s… It’s great,” Lacy said, her dress a coat of ants crawling over her skin. “I love it.”

“I’m glad. I do hope you find the accommodations nicer than at your old home. Such an ugly place. I attempted to burn it to the ground, but the rain prevented that.”

Lacy dropped her fork and knife.

“I’m still rather famished,” Alistair said, looking down at its empty plate despondently, shaking its wine glass in its hand.

Mrs. Woodrow stood in the air and called, “Reginald?”

A ghoul with dark yet sallow skin, clad in a leather jacket and blue jeans and a beige beret, stepped forward from the line of ghouls surrounding the dinner table. “Yes?” Reginald said in a rich vibrato.

“Fetch my husband some more meat, will you? Don’t be afraid to replenish the stocks if you have to.”

Lacy blanched. She gripped her dinner knife tightly in her right hand. They were willing to- no, they would- no, they already had and would continue to do so. They had to feed their army- it kept their animalistic urges at bay, kept their Entropic magic charged. So in a way, their use of hostages to keep her in check was an empty threat- they would kill and eat the people of Dresden, and presumably Coldwater and Cleaver, regardless of what she did. Focus, Lacy. Focus on Step 2: throw a wrench into whatever plans they have. Force them to adjust as they go. That’s how you get out of this. That’s how you get justice.

“Admiring our work?” Mrs. Woodrow said. “Woodrow knives provided all the cutlery you see at this table. And might I add I’m glad to have had you two as employees- you two moved more units than any other two-person team we’ve had in some time.”

“Great. I’m real fuckin’ proud of myself,” Danny said, sullenly picking at his food..

That was when Caroline slapped her son across the face.

Deja vu, Lacy thought.

“That’s enough, Danny, honestly,” Caroline started, “I-”

She stopped when she noticed Lacy standing up. That was about the same time Lacy noticed herself standing up. “Don’t do that,” Lacy said.

Alistair frowned. “Something the matter, dear child?”

“Talking to your wife, not you,” Lacy said, glared fixed onto Caroline.

Caroline glared back, while Danny slipped into a thousand-yard stare. “I hardly think you’re in a position to be giving orders-”

“And you are?”

“Yes, Lacy. I am.”

Lacy smirked. “Well, you’re wrong. You guys need me to cooperate. Or at the very least, you want me to. So don’t go spoiling dinner, Caroline. I know you worked hard on it.”

Caroline’s smile bloomed wide and predatory. She grabbed her son by the hair and slammed his head into the table, making him bow. “And what is it you’re objecting to exactly? My hurting this boy who betrayed you?” “On your orders.”

“He’s an adult. He could have refused if he wanted to. He’s simply loyal to his family.”

“He’s still your kid.”

Danny groaned.

His mother’s grip tightened. “Is it that you’d like to do this yourself? Would you like to take a crack at him? Is that your condition? If you’re hoping I’ll offer up my son for you to brutalize, let alone to kill, you’re mistaken. That is not your right.”

Time to commit to a really bad idea. “I won’t lie, I’ve been thinking about that. A lot,” Lacy said. “But he’s a small fish in a big pond. He’s nowhere near the top of my kill-list.”

“Then who is? Me? Do you want to punish me for harming this treacherous little worm?”

“No, actually,” Lacy said. She turned her gaze on Alistair, who had begun working on a new sausage. Its eyes went wild with delight.

“Lacy,” Danny said, “Don’t-”

“Not everything’s about you, Danny,” Lacy said.

“Then whom is it about?” Alistair asked. “Me?”

“You and me, me and you,” Lacy said. Step 3: implement prison rules.

Now it was Alistair’s turn to cackle, though Lacy suspected that was just how it laughed normally. “I must confess, dear girl, that I don’t quite understand you.”

“Then lemme break it down real simple for ya: I’m a monster, and you’re a monster. I don’t wanna have to deal with you anymore. So I’m gonna kill you.”

Caroline let go of Danny’s hair. He buried his face in his hands, looking through parted fingers at the display before his eyes.

“Fight me,” Lacy said. “One on one. To the death. Those are my conditions. If you win… Well then you can dig in, I guess.”

Alistair stood up from its chair, loomed tall and proud, beaming with more happiness and pride than Lacy had ever seen on her own father even once. It extended its left hand. “Deal. The day after tomorrow, you and I shall duel. I look forward to it. Know this, however- your fight shall not be over if I should fall. There is still the rest of the Sovereignty to contend with, and an army of ghouls all loyal to my cause.”

“Yeah, I know. I just really wanna tear that smug fucking smirk off your face.”

“And I respect that,” Alistair said.

Danny muttered under his breath, so quiet only Lacy could hear: “Oh God he means it.”

“Reginald!” Alistair cried. “Another glass of wine for the table. None for Danny, of course. But the rest of us, the more able, must celebrate.”

Reginald nodded and snuck away.

“My dearest Alistair,” Caroline said, a measured tone exerted over each syllable. “Are you certain this is the best course of action? Was our plan not to convince her to join our side? For our family’s sake?”

Step 4: keep everyone on edge.

“Yes, but it’s clear by now that is not one likely to succeed. Look at this girl? Can you not see she despises us, utterly and entirely? And why would she not? We murdered her family, we occupied her home, we tormented and isolated her? She has due cause to hate us, and her hatred is pure. It is something that is deserving of respect, this kind of unprocessed, justified rage and hatred. It is pure conviction, the kind our other children lack. She deserves a chance to act on it, if nothing else.”

“But dear-”

“That’s enough, Caroline. Don’t spoil this nice dinner. We were all having a grand time.”

Caroline twitched, but then, like a light switch had gone on, she wore a contented smile. “Of course, dear. Of course.”

Reginald brought over a fresh bottle, topping off Caroline and Alistair’s drinks. He saw then that Lacy hadn’t touched hers, and she gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t thirsty.

Danny’s hands were still wrapped around his face.

“Can I say one more thing?” Lacy asked.

“Certainly!” Alistair said.

Step 5: tell them what you’re gonna do. It’ll make them more likely to underestimate you, and it’ll make the look on their faces when it happens that much sweeter.

Lacy snapped her fingers in front of Danny’s face a half-dozen times, until finally he tore his hands away and met her gaze. “Listen up, asshole, and listen good: I’m gonna kill your dad right in front of you. And when I’ve done that, maybe you’ll understand a fraction of how I feel.”

He laid his hands flat on the table, heaved a heavy sigh. “That’s the problem right there, Lace. I understand perfectly.”

***

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[glaciiermonarch]

The poetic picture that Aang painted of spending time alone on a beach together pulled at heart strings that had been getting too much of a workout in recent months, ones that had felt frozen over for many years. The peace and quiet that was typical of their Taka's home, set to the backdrop of the wind and waves that she missed and craved up here in the far less forgiving (to the Aussie's, anyway) climate of Alaska. The companionship, as much as it left Takaharu wanting, craving, laid bare beneath the crushing weight of the endless sky far and wide— Gods, the could-bes, what-ifs, but-thens of it all squeezed Takaharu's very heart in a vise, until it crumbled away into their gut, leaving butterflies and unease and nausea that they didn't often experience in the face of the unknown.

—but really, how unknown would it be?

Fathomless eyes cast downward as gentle fingertips swept over his skin, guilt curdling in their stomach. It was difficult to pinpoint the source of the guilt most days; but she'd been able to surmise it was from the feeling of taking advantage of Aang, almost as if she was paying for his attention. Which was fucking stupid, Aang was his own person; but caught up between never having wanted so fucking hard in her life, and too many hours pored over philosophy texts that still swirled the drain in her brain, it had cooked up that sickening mess.

Want, want, want— Takaharu always gets what they want, often simply taking it for themself, so why were they so damn hesitant about it now?

He deserves better, he deserves better, he deserves better, he deserves someone less fucked up, someone warmer, someone good, someone less selfish, someone so much better...

"Think I'm a halfway decent teacher," they managed finally, affording a smirk. "Could probably get even your clumsy arse riding some of the baby waves, no?" A glance to the side, rewarding himself with Aang's visage, and lips pressed into a pensive line. Of course you miss me, the cocky, confident side wanted to say, the one that most people saw, the one that drew in even strangers, the one that made everyone want her or want to be her. But why would you miss someone like me?, screamed out the tiny voice beneath it all, the one that craved contact after so many years of being ignored, tucked away because of its weakness.

"Adelaide's alright," Taka finally managed, monotone as ever, rarely betraying the warring emotions inside of her. "You'd probably like it. 'Specially the botanic garden, or the ol' state library. Think you'd get a kick out of it all." He tapped his toes on the grass and gravel beneath the table. "Maybe one day, when I'm less...distracted—" when the old hag kicks the bucket and she's no longer the only thing I think of when I think about my hometown "—then I can take you there, yeah?"

An appraising look, that could have felt like a glare to anybody else who wasn't as familiar with the musician's quirks. "You worry too bloody much," Taka told him for probably the millionth time. She was better at recognizing when her body felt hungry now that she wasn't abusing it so badly with substance, though Aang hadn't known those days. Their appetite ebbed and flowed, unpredictable, often waning, however, when they were feeling distracted and emotional, and/or buried in creating something new in their studio. "You remind me of my auntie in Higashimiyoshi, always trying to force snacks on me." The missing element was, of course, in Taka's time staying with their aunt in their early twenties, they'd still been unhealthy and wracked by addiction. "You'd deffo like it out there, in the Iya Valley, in my ancestral home. Beautiful forests and gorges. Think I wouldn't be able to get you to leave, to be perfectly honest." She'd never been to where the other half of her bloodline originated, Scotland, where her maternal grandparents had come from—nor did she ever care to. "Higashimiyoshi is a couple hours from the Scarecrow Village."

"mnhm." the agreement escapes from his pleated lips as ine laps up the crumbs from his open palm, making them disappear in no time. she’s off his lap within seconds, and her human father methodically wipes his hands clean of saliva and other remnants with a moist antimicrobial towelette. his countenance reflects deliberations of what salt water might do to his restless pores. “you know, i’ve never camped on a beach. i think it would be perfect actually—after a long day of learning to surf.” his voice threads through the tapestry of memories he wished he had, memories they were destined to create if he had any say in their shared future. “making a bonfire for grilling and sitting close while the fire crackles.” the roasted s'mores were only a dream away. “the waves soothing our ears and our eyes on the stars.” he was such a romantic, painfully schmaltzy and sentimental, and perhaps oblivious to the amounts of sand this would actually require. yet, he couldn't help but envision the pair wrapped up in a sand-crusted blanket as the ocean air kissed their noses. “you do owe me a surfing lesson, don’t you?”

he advances swiftly, his set of slender fingers brushing against taka’s skin to move a thicket of bangs away from her umber eyes. mirrored in their reflection is the hesitant housekeeper, careful as he tends to what he considers home, tucking hair away from his countenance as his fingers linger to caress the spot at their temple. he seesaws—teeters on that edge of safety, fearful to traverse the bounds that tether them to each other, worried that those threads could catch fire and fizzle out in a moment's notice. don't take too much, aang, he warns himself, despite approaching the next topic of conversation. “i wouldn’t mind visiting adelaide too.” a notable wince in his tone wavers from a lack of confidence. “i can never stop thinking about you when you leave. i worry—a lot. i worry that maybe you lose yourself in taking care of everything—that maybe you forget to care for yourself.” it was his job to take care of taka regardless of what the other thought.

crowing over the playful reproach and affectionate title, he accepts this answer, “fine." though aang was still intending on cooking, and as for zenki, now that t had put her foot down, he would not be gaining any more treats from aang despite the cute wagging tail. "you don’t have to eat now. we can have something later for supper. you'll need your strength after all this paperwork.” each glance, each touch, was charged with unuttered confessions and unfulfilled desires, yet this one voiced that concern and care that distended beyond job roles and friendship.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

A tommy with a wife with a big libido part two please? Or perhaps a story of them rather than a headcanon?

Dear Anon,

This is a story one. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Description of shit parents, Reader getting bruises from being held too tightly by her mother. kinky office sex during a party. Slight dom/sub vibes.

Tommy hated seeing his wife in such a state. It was the unfortunate time of the year when an obligatory visit with the inlaws was unavoidable. Her parents were…. Complex. Always loved to brag about the man her daughter married all the riches, fancy parties, and massive house, but when they would come around as family it was a very different story. 

Always rude about Gypsy traditions, hesitant to touch the silverware, and always comments about her weight. They learned a couple years ago not to talk about the children in his presence. Doesn't mean she doesn't call you up to give you nonsense advice. This was not the house for modern ways. 

He watched as you hosted the small gathering. His eyes caught the look on Esme’s face as your cousin tried explaining something in a shrill voice. He almost laughed at the dead expression on her features, she was a lucky find for the family. For a moment he thought about how she was always at your side no matter what. A small pang of guilt for how he had treated her in the past. 

Bloody woman making me turn soft. 

He shook the thought off as your father approached. 

“So Thomas.” He was a plump man with an awful mustache. The tone of distaste in his voice never faltered when addressing him. “Looks like it was another successful year.” 

“That’s generally what happens when you're willing to work hard, Harold. How did the deal with the Carrey family go?” He asked in his usual uninterested tone despite knowing the answer.

“They decided to go with another idea. Pity really, but not everyone can afford the best.” He puffed out his chest. Thomas wondered why he decided to make this relationship so difficult, especially on his only daughter. 

He watched you remain tense in your mother's grip. If it were anyone else's hand on your arm holding you in place he would have cut their fingers off slowly. Your father seemed to have something better to talk about with one of your relatives, leaving him in peace. 

“She’s going to lose circulation in that arm.” Polly sat down next to him looking thoroughly pissed off. “Are we not enough for her? Doesn't make sense to carry all this dead weight.” 

“Pol. It’s her family, it’s hard for her.” 

“As someone who looks on her the way a mother should, it's even harder on me.” Polly lit a cigarette. “Don’t just leave her to the rats!” She hissed giving his arm a shove. He finished the last of his drink and got up. 

Walking over across the room, his eyes wandered along your backside. Perhaps that’s the reason you were both so tense and tired? Your usual physical appetite had been pushed aside over the tremendous weight of this awful party. Maybe he could find a way to help you out....

He came to your side sliding his arm around your waist, forcing your mother to release you. 

“If you’ll excuse us.” He said gracefully pulling you towards the hallway. He didn't give a reason or an excuse because they didn't deserve one. 

“Tom no! You promised me there would be no business” You whispered and he kept his composure guiding you down the hallway. 

Once the door was shut behind them you really started to kick up a storm. 

“I swear to God Thomas I will burn this house down.” He kept guiding you back to eventually press up against his desk. “I will ruin your life I swear it, whatever this is it needs to stop right now.” 

He lifted you up to perch on the top of his desk. Hands sliding up the outside of your thighs. 

“Oh no, not this again either! You're not hiding some special magic key or code or letter on me again. Last time it was a complete - Oh.” 

You rambled on until his mouth was between your legs. That soft “Oh” caused your whole body to tense up. He didn't need to look up at you to know that you were fighting a losing battle in your mind. Your body had gripped him tightly holding him where you needed him. 

He stopped fucking around and finally opened you up properly and dragged his tongue over your clit.

“Fuck” You ground down against him and he felt like a bit of a genius thinking this up. He picked up the pace eating you out. His fingers slowly pushed into you and for a moment he thought about making you cum like that. Make a right proper mess of his outfit, but he new there would be a heavy price for that brief moment no matter how explosive it would be. No, instead he kept a slow pace, easing your body into what it was desperate for. Not until your breath was ragged and your thighs were like a vice did he let you win.

“Please don’t - it - ah - won't be enough” Of course, it wouldn't be enough. Not for you anyway. He kept you there on the edge of bliss weighing his options. He decided and got up and undoing his trousers. 

“Be quiet” He commanded mostly just to watch your eyes get hazy. Slowly he pushed himself inside you, your body so eager it made a mess of pushing and pulling. Unsure of how to get what it needed. 

“Ive got you.” He whispered and felt the way your body clenched around him while also going limp. “That’s it baby.” He liked being soft with you. You’d say you were all about fast and hard, but when he’d take his time with you, this is when he really pushed your limits. Your breathing was ragged and tears were threatening to fall. 

What you needed in this particular moment was a complete loss of control. Something he was more than happy to give you. He pressed his thumb across her glossy bottom lip into the wetness of her mouth. 

He pulled out before pushing back in slowly forcing your walls to stretch open again. The papers on the edge of his desk were useless with the amount of wetness trapped between the two of you. 

He moved again and you whimpered softly. He knew he didn't have as much time as he wanted he brought his other thumb down to your clit. Your body seized and he started a slow deep pace. Bottoming out with every stroke. 

“You going to help me off? Make up for this awful party.” You were too far gone to answer, he chuckled. 

He picked up the pace knowing your body wouldn't handle much more after going without for so long. 

“You can finish when you're ready, love.” Your body jerked at the permission to go wild. Your whole body clamped tight, legs tense and your teeth dug into his thumb. The tightness of your heat gripping his cock was enough to spill inside you. 

“Good Girl.” He smirked amazed that his plan worked. He grabbed some tissues from his desk and cleaned you up before pulling your panties back into place. 

“Fuck” You swore softly. He assumed you’d be rushing him out the door and cursing but instead, your slender arms pulled him close. He cradled you tightly, hating the marks already appearing on your arm. He was going to have a long talk with you later. 

“I don’t think I can keep doing this.” you sounded so broken it made him wish he could put both your parents in the ground. 

“Then don’t.” He answered simply. “You’ve been very reasonable over the years, they are the ones deciding not to change.” 

“I love you.” She breathed.

“Love you too” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Let's go rescue the family before Polly shoots someone.” 

“Good plan.” Once straightened out they re-entered the party. He kep his arm around her tightly pulling her past where her mother was. For the rest of the night she kept her seat inbetween him and Polly. If people wanted to talk to her they would come and take a seat across the coffee table. A safe distance away and they said the types of things one would when being started down by Thomas Shelby. 

[ladyandthewalrus]

Social Class and Income Levels of IDV Characters

I’m back again with a long, intensive IDV post, this time regarding the quality of life most of Identity V’s characters would likely have led before coming to the manor. This list is not definitive and is based on a little guesswork in some areas, and also doesn’t include every single character, as I couldn’t find relevant information for every career, but I think provides an interesting look at character backgrounds, the sorts of resources they would have access to, and what life was like in the 1890s.

This post assumes that the vast majority of the characters live in the United Kingdom and that most of them were born there. As discussed in an earlier theory post, Oletus Manor is 100% in England and the DeRoss Couple and their daughter were English aristocrats. It also refers to fairly readily available information that can be found in various characters’ deduction systems, seasonal events, background and official videos, and birthday letters.

Lots- and I mean LOTS- of info below. 

First, a few notes about the class system in the late Victorian United Kingdom:

- Class was highly stratified, and moving up the social ladder was extremely difficult.

- Class was not necessarily just tied to income. Upbringing, family background, etc were just as large a determinant, which is why you might have an impoverished aristocrat with tons of property but no income who would still be welcome in elite social circles, whereas an up-and coming business owner bringing in £3,000/year would be shunned. Class was who got invited over to dinner; class was whether or not you’d been educated, and if you had to work with your hands.

The Upper Class/Aristocracy/Nobility:

- The top of the class system under the royal family (boo). Men might hold political positions, but members of this class would not have careers, as such. These characters likely have a passive income from investments or land owned and generational wealth. hey own one or more homes and employ extensive live-in household staff, including maids, butlers, drivers, cooks, gardeners etc.They can travel widely and partake of various entertainments, having time to cultivate talents in the arts.

Mary: She is, or believes herself to be (??), Marie Antoinette, an Austrian princess and the Queen of France. Antoinette was infamous for her lavish lifestyle and voracious appetite for fashion.

Joseph: He is referred to as a Count, but French nobility does not actually use that exact title. It’s possible he is a Comte, which is the equivalent of an Earl/Count in England. Either way, this is a middle of the ranking noble title. In the 2021 Christmas Event, he mentions his family owning several manors, so the Desaulniers family has, or had, a considerable amount of property.

An interesting thing that makes me wonder if his family’s wealth is depleted is that he consistently dresses in extremely outdated clothing, but I believe that speaks more to his sentimental obsession with the past than anything else.

Chloe/Vera: The real Vera had the capital to open a store front to sell Chloe’s perfumes. There is no mention of either daughter working prior to this, and the family employs several maids. Presumably, Chloe’s perfumes were a good money maker, as the 1890s marked the “Golden Era” of perfume production and sales. It is unusual, but not impossible, that an upper-class woman would own a business.

Melly: A successful social climber who began as a maid before marrying her employer, who owned a manor. She is well educated, to the extent she has been invited to lecture at a college or university.

Edgar: Edgar does not paint to generate income. His family was able to afford a long-term art tutor for him, and he is not interested in the prize money offered by the manor because his family’s wealth is more than sufficient. He is squarely in the aristocrat category, and enjoyed a lifestyle most of the other characters could only have dreamed of, at least in a fiscal sense.

Galatea: Another individual who pursued art as a passion or hobby rather than actual trade.This would simply not be realistic for anyone outside the upper classes.

Memory/Alice DeRoss: Her father possessed the title of Baron. Her mother is depicted in TOR with an upper-class English accent. Her parents own Oletus manor, which they were able to purchase, and employ two known servants (Burke and Bane). Running such a large estate would require an army of maids, cooks, gardeners, etc, who are not directly mentioned but implied.

Keigan: In her background video, we see her family in very formal dress at a large, lavishly set dinner table. Her brother holds the position of judge at a major court, which brought with it a great deal of respect and import. The average clerk made very little money, but it’s implied she is acting as his unofficial assistant/helper due to sisterly obligation, and does not want for money.

Jack: a bit of conjecture, but Jack at least played at being an artist, and takes on the role of a gentleman. It does not appear he needed to work to support himself.

Annie: Her father is a painter of some note, and her mother was a noted society beauty who left her a considerable inheritance that her father and fiancé conspired to get their hands on.

Luca: A fallen aristocrat with a mother of noble birth. His interests include piano, books, and experiments, all of which point to a privileged upbringing. Only someone with resources could run experiments and futz about with specialized equipment, which is why so many scientists from past eras came from upper class or even noble backgrounds. His father, Herman, blew through their fortune, and after Luca’s incident with Alva, he would not be a socially accepted individual.

The “Educated” Middle Class:

-Individuals or households with an income up to around £1000/ year. The wives do not have to work, but see to the home (oversee staff) and partake in social obligations, plan parties, and help educate the children in the arts. Daughters may become teachers or governesses if they don’t marry or prior to marriage, or in wealthier families, not work at all. They own their home and have live-in staff, such a cook and maids. ( see model yearly  budget for a man making £700/year here.) Vacations, domestic and abroad, and high-end entertainments are accessible. They have some time for hobbies, and probably play a musical instrument if also from a culturally upper-middle class family, such as a piano, violin, harpsichord, etc. Guitars, flutes etc would not be counted here, as they are more “common” instruments. These individuals might move in some of the same social circles as the aristocracy.

Emily: A well established Doctor working in a city hospital could expect to make up to £1000/ year, putting them at the upper end of the middle class. However, an independent Doctor would make much less, and in rural areas, would often be paid in food or services. Given Emily’s difficulties keeping her clinic open, she lingers in the border between being a member of the middle class “culturally”— we know she came from a middle class family and is educated— but she struggles with money and lacks for stability like some of the folks in the lower middle and many in the working classes. Despite a low income, her education would mean she’d be welcome in polite society.

Freddy: A top-payed Lawyer could make £1,200/ year, but Freddy is a bit of a failure. His actual financial status cannot be determined, but he is, like Emily, culturally middle class due to his education and white-collar job.

Aesop: Aesop Carl? relatively loaded, actually. The Victorian era was great for the funeral industry. The elaborate rituals surrounding mourning meant that those in adjacent careers were always busy, and it was fashionable to send off a loved one in great style. The lower classes imitated the lavish funerals of the wealthy, often bankrupting themselves in the process, because it was considered shameful to be unable to lay someone to rest properly, and reputation and respectability were of vital importance in the Victorian United Kingdom. 

As with today, there was an outcry about the funerary industry driving up prices and taking advantage of grieving people to line their pockets even more.A nice funeral, modest but respectable, cost about £11, and embalming services were an additional £10. A funeral with all the bells and whistles would fall at £21. A skilled Embalmer is capable of tending to several corpses in a day. Even if Aesop and Jerry only handled 50 corpses a year, they’d be making £500.  A modern mortician handles about 150 bodies a year, so that’s a cool £1500/year for them. This would mean a nice house with a garden, a maid, and a cook at the very least, presuming Jerry risked having staff around that could possibly catch him on his bullshit. (Though I guess he could just kill them too and replace them with someone who didn’t know better. Fucking Jerry). At least even if he was emotionally starved and groomed into becoming a murderer, he was still eating well, could have nice clothes, and take vacations? 

Another downside though is that then as is often true now, people did not want to socialize with someone who worked closely with dead bodies, and funeral industry workers were often ostracized, making his position here a little tenuous. 

His mother’s family appears to have been upper or middle class, as suggested by Aesop’s dance emote, in which he performs a pirouette. Ballet was an upper-class entertainment, and formal dance training would not be accessible to children of poorer families, and I doubt Jerry was enrolling him in a lot of extracurriculars, meaning he must have learned while still in his mother’s care.

Jose: A First Officer could make around £900/ year. His family was employed by the Queen, and once had a stellar reputation. Although sailors worked with their hands, a high-ranked officer on a ship was seen as fairly respectable.

Orpheus: Some conjecture here. Orpheus is, like Melly, someone who successfully moved up the social ladder, first being adopted by the aristocratic DeRoss couple and then making a name for himself as a novelist. His Survivor version is well-dressed in neat white clothes that would require maintenance and be antithetical to manual work that would dirty them.

Luchino: As a professor, he is educated and respectable, even if his methods are unconventional and his manner of dress hardly appropriate for the classroom.

Alva: He was a student together with Luca’s father, Herman, at an institute of higher education, meaning he is most likely from a family who could afford the expense of educating him.

EDIT: @ivy0309 pointed out that in the Mandarin version of Alva’s first deduction, the language states he comes from an impoverished place, meaning he was probably granted a scholarship and is another case of a successful social climber.

Ann: Ann’s deductions mention she wore exquisite and ornate mourning clothes after the deaths of her parents, suggesting her family had the money for funerals with pomp. She is also left land and at least two houses after her father’s passing.

Manually Laboring Middle Class:

Income wise these careers are middle class, being able to net £1000/year, but there was a difference between enjoying a good quality of life and being socially accepted. Iif you worked with your hands, no matter how skilled you were, you were still a laborer and seen as lacking in culture.

Tracy: A clockmaker made up to £400/year, which jumped to £840/ year if they also worked on watches as well. Her father, Mark, would have netted them enough money to fall into the working middle class, and this is before Tracy’s mechanical genius became evident. If Tracy’s life had gone differently, it is possible she could have become what was known as a Master Mechanic, a skilled worker who could earn £1000/ year, guaranteeing a high standard of living. 

Demi: As a Barmaid alone, Demi would make about £150/ year, which would be difficult to survive on; however, she and her brother own their establishment. Their bar could make about £1000/ year, giving them a comfortable life in terms of amenities, but Barmaids were not respected and often suspected of being easy; many young women in major cities who worked in shops and restaurants took up sex work to supplement their meager incomes.

Leo: At one point appears to have owned two factories, both his initial textile factory and the doomed arms factory. 

More or Less Stable Working Class

Emma: A gardener would make, at a maximum, £400/ year, and a young gardener like Emma would certainly not be able to earn that much. In her previous life as Lisa Beck before Leo made a bad investment, she was likely very comfortable, as Leo did own a presumably successful textile factory. She may be especially nostalgic for her childhood with her father because her situation changed drastically very rapidly, going from living in a pleasant environment with two parents, plenty of toys, good food and clothes/household with a steady income, to being placed in a Victorian orphanage and eventually becoming a manual laborer.

Helena: She wishes to attend college, but cannot afford to do so. We aren't exactly sure what her father does for work, but he is likely in the working class, as many middle class families could reasonably afford to educate at least one of their children, and Helena is, to our knowledge, an only child. They seem to have enough money to provide her with certain accommodations, like spectacles and her cane, though these may have been gifts from Sullivan.

Kevin: the lifestyle itself would be rough, but he could make  around $480/year (sorry for the currency change, but he lived and worked in the USA, and England did not have cowboys).

Bane: A game keeper often had a relatively low income and would by that definition actually fall into the below category, but housing was almost always provided to men who held this job, taking a stressor off his plate. Steady employment/staying at a position for several years was also common, providing general stability.

Working Class and Extremely Poor:

-Families or households often struggling to scrape by on under or around £300/ year, sometimes with individuals making as little as £25/ year. A frugal family at the top end of this budget would overlap with lower middle class and would be able to employ a maid, putting appearances first and sacrificing other luxuries. There is less money for entertainment, and almost all of the income goes to food and housing. Little or no savings. The vast majority of the population falls in this category because things never change, with only 7.7% of workers making £340 or above, and 42.9% £192 or under.

Norton: Coal miners earned around £260/ year. Norton was looking for gold and gems, but it’s safe to assume his standard of living would have been about the same as a coal minder. Compared to some jobs, this wage may have seemed decent, but mining was brutal and incredibly dangerous. Miners typically lived in housing camps operated by mine owners, and had to buy their daily essentials from in-camp stores and commissaries. 

Victor: I had to conjecture a little here, but senior postal service employees were making around £200-300/ year, and newer employees a starting annual wage of £90 so we can guess Victor falls around here as well. We also do not know about his family’s class background.

Andrew: Andrew probably wishes he really was a Train Conductor. In that job, he could have made £900/ year, granting him membership the middle class. Being a Grave Keeper or Grave Digger was an awful job, physically demanding and badly compensated. Cemeteries often stank of rotting bodies, and Grave Diggers had a low social standing because they worked so closely with corpses. I could not find concrete information about how much he would have made, but it would definitely fall below the £300/year mark that is the ceiling for entry into the lower middle class, given that the other Survivors with physical/ unskilled labor jobs seem to peak at the £200ish range.

Worth noting though not necessarily tied to class is the common misconception that Andrew is illiterate, which he certainly isn’t. His dedications include a diary entry he wrote in which he tries to justify to himself his bodysnatching activities, and he also received letters from Percy’s assistant. He might have a little trouble with small print due to his bad eyesight, but he can absolutely read and write. Most people, even the poorer classes, were at least somewhat literate in this period in the United Kingdom.

Outsiders/I Have No Idea

-These are characters with either extremely vague and mysterious pasts or who have extremely unconventional professions.

Patricia: A Voodoo practitioner, it is unclear if she performs the work of a Voodoo priestess, which could be lucrative. Marie Laveau, on whom she is allegedly loosely based, was very financial successful, but to be honest, I think the IDV writers have a very shaky grasp on actual Voodoo practices and beliefs (as do most folks probably who have no idea that a lot of practitioners are also Catholic. It's a syncretic religion so yes, Patricia’s nun costume actually makes some sense.)

Fiona: It is openly stated she comes from an unknown class. There aren’t really historical precedents I could find in my research for occultists of her stripe earning an income, as there’s no indication she goes around giving exhibitions or overseeing seaances. Many Victorians dabbled in the arcane as a hobby, but those who were able to fully devote themselves to their studies tended to come from very comfortable backgrounds, such as Helena Blavatsky and Aleister Crowley.

Kreacher: He is a thief. Nothing else to say.

Eli: Another character with an ambiguous background. We have little information about his family life, but he is considered in his write-up by the organizers of the manor games to be unemployed.

EDIT: @ivy0309 informed me Eli is listed as coming from a middle class background in the official setting book.

Ganji: He is likely extremely poor. I could not find anywhere what a professional athlete might have been paid, but we do at least know he cannot afford travel home to India.

William: He is presumably from a middle class family, given that he attended university. As with Andrew above, I have a seen of lot people claiming William is less intelligent/educated than he is, when he’s actually at least one of the most educated characters in the game. He may have made a poor decision drinking the poisoned wine and come off as a muscle head, but he is far from a himbo. I don’t know what his current social class could be considered, as professional athletes in the Victorian era were not the same was they are now, but William does appear based on his clothes to be a rugby player more or less full time?

Performers/Entertainers

-This is another tricky group to get a handle on, because the role of the entertainer in society meant that one could be exalted and idolized while also not being welcome in polite society. I cannot speak to actual income amounts for these characters, but can provide a few general notes of interest. Also worth noting is that a top-billed musician like Antonio would be treated very differently than the Hullabaloo performers, who were certainly seen as impolite and indecent.

Margaretha/Natalie: Female performers were often characterized as promiscuous and sexually available, and therefore sneered at. Margie is wearing the costume of an exotic dancer (for those who may not be aware, this doesn't meant actually foreign or exotic, it explicitly means a dance intended to arouse or excite). She is not doing well fiscally after Sergei’s death, and is implied by the description of her animal tamer costume to dance/busk for tips.

Her uncle and aunt who raised her lived in Lakeside, and Natalie is described as wearing a cheap cotton dress in a photograph of her  living under their care. Her background then would likely fall under manually laboring/working class.

Mike: Mike is one of the circus’ most popular performers, so he makes more than Margaretha, but that's all I can guess.

Joker: He is less popular than Mike and Sergei, but is allowed his own tent because either he has enough status in the Hullabaloo or nobody wants to room with him.

Violetta: Her family abandoned her, and she was seen as an asset by Max. Likely has little to no money of her own.

Servais: He at least considers himself middle class and respectable, and his dress does suggest he is financially solvent.

Antonio: A musician welcomed at court who played for upper-class audiences. Antonio was raised to be a money-maker by a stern father and did receive royal patronage, but based on his personality traits I am willing to bet he has poor money management skills. His real-life inspiration, Niccolo Paganini, died in debt.

Murro: Treated as a possession by Bernard and then living on the run, it's hard to imagine he had any way of earning money after fleeing the circus, nor the necessary knowledge to exist within society.

Willis Brothers: I believe their situation would be similar to Violetta’s. Disabled sideshow performers could occasionally have quite lucrative careers, but this was rare.

This is far from comprehensive, but thank you so much for taking the time to read this far! If you have any questions or wish to discuss anything here, please feel free to talk to me!

A great resource for approximating the income ranges used above is this database,  this is invaluable for looking at things like average wages, housing costs, price of goods in different countries (mostly the US, UK, and Western Europe) across decades and eras.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Safe House: Night 3

A series of drabbles about Sierra Six. In this part, Six returns but doesn’t offer answers.

Warnings: these drabbles will containt dark content, including blood, violence, possible rape/noncon, and my usual fare. Your content consumption is your responsibility. If you proceed past this warning, you are consenting to reading sensitive content.

As per usual, I would love feedback. I didn’t expect to write this character so for this, I’d love to know if anyone wants to see more.

Your apartment is dark as you enter. The light paper bag swinging from ribbon handles is lighter than it should be for the price. Your co-workers encouraged the mindless purchase and you can't help the excitement, even if you'll regret it come rent day.

You enter the kitchen in the deep blue of the evening and flip on the lights. There's a plate beside the sink, an uneaten crust left in a litter of crumbs. You put the bag down and go to the doorframe that looks out into the living room.

He's there, one ankle hooked over the other against the arm of the couch, which his arms folded under his head against the opposite end.

"Hey, sweetheart, how was your day?" he asks without opening his eyes.

You cross your arms, "I didn't think you were coming back."

"Neither did I," he opens one eye to look at you, a slant to his lips, "or do you mean, you didn't want me to?"

You shrug, "well... I don't really know who you are. I don't exactly like having a stranger in my space."

"Trust me, sweetheart," he lets his other eye open and sits up, turning his legs over the edge and stretching his arms above him, "you don't want to know."

He grunts as he stands, a wet stain oozing through his tee shirt. He's unaffected by the injury but just the hint of blood makes you grimace.

"Yeah, um..." you turn away and go back to the kitchen. You open the fridge and take out a bag of salad.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," you utter, "the way you talk, seems dangerous for you to keep coming around."

"Ha, sweetie, your the safest you'll ever be with me here," he scoffs as he comes to stand in the crook of the counter. "What's for dinner?"

"You're still hungry?"

"I worked up an appetite."

You sigh and reach up to the cupboard, "well, I was just gonna have a quick salad but I could do it up with some chicken?"

"Whatever you're serving, I'll have," he slides the bag over to him and peeks inside, "what's this?"

"Nothing," you lie and reach for it but he swipes it away. You cringe and scratch your neck as he reaches in, pulling out the sating red dress. You were going to return it anyway, it's not your style. At least, you couldn't do it justice.

"Oh? Special occasion?"

"No, I just... like it," you try to snatch it but he holds it awake from you, tilting his head as he dangles it from his fingers as if trying to imagine it on you, "gimme it."

"You try it on? It look good?"

"What do you care?" you his and finally get a grasp on it, "I can't afford it anyway. I'm gonna take it back."

You tug it away and stuff it back in the bag. He chuckles.

"I think you should keep it."

"You do? And what does that matter? You'll be gone tomorrow."

"But I'll be back," he grins.

"Why?"

He raises a hand in an indifferent gesture, "no where else to go. I told you, you should bring strange men into your apartment."

🚪

You yawn as you spread the blanket over your bed, still messy from that morning. You mourn your day off as another day of work looms, though you can't help but be impatient for the morning to come. Then he'll be gone and you can pretend everything's normal until he decides to drop in again.

You change into the loose tank patterned with little pink bows and the matching shorts, a ridiculous set but you got it for a steal. And it's light enough to sleep in.

You pick up your phone and check your messages. Mandy's already bitching about work. You text her back, a creak drawing you around.

Your doors open. The faulty latch never quite catches. You cross the room and peek out. You see the hue of the TV playing from down the hall. You tiptoe out at the noise of explosions from the speakers.

He's sat in the centre of the couch, eyes closed as he leans his head back. He wears nothing more than the dark boxers, the scars across his torso illuminated by the TV, the new gashes dark across his pec. His head lolls to the side and he gives a start before he can drift off.

You back against the wall and hide, waiting until he groans and you hear the couch make a similar noise as he stretches across it. The click of him exiting out of the movie marks a silence and he browses for something new. The intro of some documentary begins and you use the chance to retreat.

You go back to your room and close the door. You push on it until your hear the latch slide into the slot. You'll never be used to his visits.

🚪

You drag your feet across the tile groggily and into the hall, taking the few steps through your door and blindly finding your way back to bed. Your damn bladder.

You fall across it, hooking your leg over the edge of the blanket as your shorts ride up your ass. You grumble and hug the pillow as you sink back into the hazy slumber interrupted by the weighty urge.

You linger in half-doze as you hear yourself snort and wiggle to get comfortable. You murmur as you bend your leg higher, revealing more of your ass as the elastic of the shorts slips up your stomach. The fan blows across your back and cools you.

You hear a whisper, like a breath and roll onto your back. You glance at the door and see his shadow, the curved edges of his muscled arms and his startling height. He grips the frame as he watches you. You don't know what to do so you turn back over and pull the blanket around you.

He hums then his footsteps slowly depart, padding down the hall, leaving the door open and you exposed.

[brunchable]

Chapter II - Recognition || Garden of Eden || Surgeon!S.S. x Nurse!Reader.

Words: 5.5K Genre: Hospital Romance, Love Triangle/Square, Sexual Tension. Warnings: Mild Violence. Medical Scene (Cardiogenic Shock) Pairings: Stephen Strange x Reader, Nurse!Chris Evans x Reader. A/N: I totally just made up the code blue in this scene but of course with a bit of research, I am not a doctor so this scene may be inaccurate. ***Strictly do not: claim, repost, copy, translate my stories anywhere else*** Reblogs, comments and hearts are very much appreciated &lt;3

Previous || Next

Chris outdone himself tonight, he actually made a three course meal, cooked with passion and effort; you could taste it in the food. You weren't a huge seafood girl but the entrée, the prawn jamon souvlaki, definitely got your appetite going and his fillet mignon with garlic butter? it tasted like heaven in the mouth, cooked to perfection that had you shutting and rolling your eyes at each bite, especially when Chris opened his best wine.

"Mmmh," you moaned softly as you popped another piece of steak into your mouth. 

Chris couldn't help but watch you eat with a big amused smile plastered on his face. He was feeling very proud that you were eating so well and enjoying his food, especially knowing the fact that you can be a picky eater. If he could describe how proud he was, he'd describe it as if he won an oscar award. Back in college, your indecisiveness with what to eat during break time was his source of stress.

"I love how you're eating so well," He chuckled, now looking down on his plate while cutting his steak, "It's making my night."

"Your food is making my night, since when did you learn how to cook like this?" 

Chris looked up to think, "It's been a while, I took cooking lessons since I'm so sick of healthy bland food." 

You snorted into a laugh, "Sick of your broccoli and chicken breasts?" 

"Hey! Those broccoli and chicken breasts helped me build the muscles I have now. The disrespect–" Chris acted offended as a joke, causing you to laugh more, "I still eat it sometimes."

"Oh gosh, I'm calling the police." You playfully rolled your eyes.

Chris dropped his jaw at your response with a chuckle, "Excuse me, Miss? What has my broccoli and chicken breasts ever done to you?"

"Chris eating that flavourless meal everyday made me think you couldn't afford condiments and spices. Who do you think brought you all of those flavourings that magically appeared in your dorm cupboards?" You explained to him, trying not to laugh as you drink your second glass of wine.

Chris threw his head back and erupted into a boisterous laugh, placing his hands over his chest like he always does when he laughs. Better yet, he lifted up one hand and slapped his knee. You pressed your lips together, quietly laughing to yourself when a certain memory clicked for him.

"Wait, wait—That was you?" He asked through laboured breathing and wiped a tear from the side of his eye.

You nodded, "Yes, Chris. That was me." 

"Oh my god–haha. How embarrassing." He paused, "I thought that was one of my roommates taking a piss at me."

"No, it was me. I was feeling bad for you." You shook your head as you eased yourself to stop laughing, “Chris I have a question.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Have you ever met the chief executive of the hospital?” 

Chris lifted his head from his plate, “Um once or twice, why?”

“What is he like as a person?”

“Hmm. I think Doctor Palmer is a good person—he values the people working under his organisation. You know our hospital is the only facility that rewards their staff?”

You tilted your head slightly, “Really? Did Charlotte get her job because she’s the daughter of the chief?”

Chris furrowed his brows at your weird assumption, “Uh, no… first of all that’s illegal, she needed to be part of the usual interview process—”

“But she had an advantage because she’s the daughter right?”

Chris opened his mouth but his thought process seemed to be delayed, “I failed her twice, (Y/N). If that’s the answer you’re looking for—why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

You keep your lips shut while you cut the steak into smaller pieces and then put one of them in your mouth. You needed to have the security and the upper hand if you were going to report what you witnessed while working. If Chris is speaking the truth when he says that the chief executive was a wonderful guy, then you wouldn't need to worry about losing your job. However, his view on it alone isn't enough; you required more information than that.

“(Y/N)?” Chris called you as you got lost into your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Nothing—just curious cause I heard that she’s the daughter of the chief so…”

“Are you sure?” Chris asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. He could feel that you were only telling him part of the truth. 

“Yeah. A hundred percent.”

After dinner, you walk over to the sink with the stack of plates while Chris excused himself to take a phone call. He told you not to clean up but you weren’t brought up into a strict household for nothing. Chris was standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing, talking on the phone, and appearing rather serious until he saw you staring at him from the kitchen and smiled at you. You were staring at him from the kitchen. The seeming inconsistency between his outward appearance and his personality fascinates you. In your perspective, he is nothing more than a wholesome dork.

A few minutes later you were halfway done with the dishes, you glanced at Chris as he walked around the kitchen island.

"Scooch shorty." He gently pushed you sideways and took the dish that was in your hands.

You shook the excess water off your hands and stepped aside without a word and leaned your back against the counter, sighing. You drank your fourth glass of wine without saying a word. You were contemplating whether or not you should notify Chris. The warning that Strange gave you has sunk in, despite the fact that you tried very hard not to accept it. Your train of thinking was broken up when you became aware of Chris standing in front of you.

As he ensnared you, he took a little step back and placed his hands on the counter. While his elbows locked, the muscles on his forearm became more visible as they stayed on either side of you. He then brought his face into alignment with yours. You make eye contact with him, and it surprises you to find fire in the adulation that he is displaying in his angel eyes.

Chris heaved a sigh. The music did not help the way you stared at him, which gave the impression that you were anticipating something, and it made him want to kiss you so much, but he understood his boundaries. When you were in college, you made it quite plain to him that you would never date a friend of yours.

“What’s bothering you (Y/N)?” He asked after hearing you sigh, “You’ve gone awfully quiet—” 

“Nothing.” You looked directly at him while shaking your head in response.

“You’re a bad liar.” 

You wetted your lips with a chuckle and you just kept shaking your head, “Still seeing through me huh?”

“Please. You literally can be anything but a liar.” The instant your hand touched his unshaven face, his blood began to boil. His facial hair hid the fact that his skin was slightly flushed. 

“How can you know me so well?” You asked as you study his face, “Damn it Chris—If only we weren’t friends—”

“Then pretend we’re not.” He said, a little wicked twinkle came to his eyes. Now you weren’t so sure if it was the alcohol or the way Strange has left you feeling frustrated by his actions, or it’s just Chris who is looking so hot right now—or all of the above, “We’re not friends.”

Chris moved his head to kiss the palm of your hand, which gave you an intense shiver before leaning in for a long and supple kiss, where he luxuriated in the sensation of your soft lips against his.  After pulling you closer to him and closing the distance between you both, he gave you a kiss that was so tender that it made your knees go weak, and you ended up collapsing on his chest. He had a firm grip on you while at the same time taking in the scent of your hair and sliding his fingers down your spine.

However, despite your best efforts to deny it, thoughts of Stephen kept popping into your head all through this and you hate yourself for it. It was almost as if your body was trying to communicate with your brain that it wants to relive the way Strange made you feel when he stole your breath away. His charisma, charm and degree of confidence are dangerous and disarming. He uses it quite well, almost as if it were some kind of weapon that he had refined to perfection. If you hadn’t stopped Chris from stepping out of that elevator, it would’ve been game over—at least that's how you would imagine things would end up.

You break the kiss, just in time before you could have the chance to feel the stiff bulge inside his pants, “No–we can’t.”

Chris came back to his senses after you gently pushed him away with your hands on his chest, "Y-Yeah…you’re right this isn't good."

"My kiss was bad?" You asked.

"What?! No! It was amazing, you're an amazing kisser—Geeze. What am I saying?" Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and heard you chuckle.

“I think it’s time for me to go home.” 

You retraced your steps back to the lounge, where you had previously placed your bag. Chris let out a sigh to himself, expressing some measure of self-regret for what he had just done; he was concerned that it would make things awkward between the two of you.

"Let me drive you home." Chris made the offer as he followed you towards his front door, but you declined his invitation with a shake of your head. You made the right call by deciding not to drive expecting that you were going to at least drink.

“I’ll be fine. You get some rest, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” You declined his offer, caressing his cheek, “Thank you for the lovely dinner. Next time it’ll be my turn.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

You have been awkwardly and deliberately trying not to get in Chris’ way since your kiss with him last night. You thought you were being covert about it, but nothing gets past Strange's sharp eyes. You and Chris would often be seen going into and out of one another's offices, but today has been different since you've chosen to keep to yourself. You had a terrible sensation of remorse for visualising Strange when you were kissing Chris. 

Throughout the day, you spent your time standing at the nurses' station doing paperwork for a new graduate while evaluating his clinical performance. You felt Strange’s presence beside you and looked around; you sighed and muttered under your breath, “Oh, great.”

Strange positioned himself so that he was leaning against the tall counter and crossed his arms. "I'm thinking you opted to keep your lips shut?" He asked about it in light of the fact that nobody had shown up to talk to either him or Charlotte.

“I haven't decided anything yet. Is there anything with regards to medicine that I can help you with, Dr. Strange? If not, move along.” 

“You can feed my curiosity because there is something I’ve been dying to know.”

“And that is what?” 

“Either something went wrong, or something went really right. Which one is it?”

You fiddled with your necklace without realising it, and you opened your mouth to say something, but you quickly shut it again when you realised that he was talking about you and Chris, “Which one is it? Hmm, I’ll go with it’s none of your business.” 

“As far as I know, I was there in the elevator when the conversation occurred. It's only reasonable for me to be curious about what took place, right?” Strange shrugged, “Don’t leave it up to my imagination, or else I’ll get jealous.” 

“Jealous?” You snorted, “You don’t look like the type.” 

“But I am.” 

You scoffed at him and whispered in his ear while leaning in close to him with a proud grin on your face, “Actually, you want to know something, Doctor?”

Stephen arched his eyebrow and smiled inquisitively along the side of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“I don’t even know your name.” 

“Maybe we can keep it that way, I love it when you call me Doctor.” Stephen shot with an immediate retort. Your grin vanished as quickly as it arrived when that unexpectedly backfired on you, "Gotcha," he chuckled in response to your reaction.

"Ugh. Bye." You tried your best not to stifle a smile as you gathered your belongings from the counter and made your way towards your office.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 

You and Mikey walk into Mr Wallis’ room where he needs to do another set of vitals. Mikey begins to ask the patient's consent before proceeding but the patient doesn't reply.

"Mr Wallis? Can you open your eyes? Squeeze my hand. Bryan! Open your eyes."

You and Mikey exchange glances and you step closer towards the bedside while he attempts a trapezius squeeze for a pain response but still, nothing. 

You leaned down facing your ears above the patient’s mouth to look, listen and feel for his breath, “Patient unresponsive and not breathing, Mikey what does it say on the resuscitation plan?” You pressed the emergency button and then pressed the CPR button under the bed causing it to abruptly fall flat. You jumped on the edge of the bed preparing to perform CPR.

Mikey flicked through the chart, “Full resus. Provide all cares.” 

You start chest compressions while Mikey checks the vital signs, "One, two, three, four…"

"(Y/N) he's hypotensive to 79/40, heart rate of 39, oxygen 79, 80 percent."

Within seconds the team arrived with the Resus trolley, along with Strange, Chris and other nurses. You look at Mikey who seemed to be panicking a bit, “Patient is not breathing! Chris, please take over for me.” You pleaded loudly as you near your 30th compression. 

Chris took over for you and started performing chest compressions while the other nurses were simultaneously intubating the patient, applying the pads to the defibrillator, and performing an electrocardiogram.

“Report?” Strange asked as he briskly wore gloves. 

“Walked in on the patient unresponsive and not breathing, blood pressure now is 80/35, heart rate 39, sats still 79 percent room air. Had carotid endarterectomy a few days ago for severe plaque build-up but you’re probably aware of that already.” You reported to Strange as he read the print out of the heart’s electrical activities. 

“This man’s gone into cardiogenic shock. I need 12.5mg of Dobutamine and 12mcg of Norepinephrine STAT, I’ll trust you to prepare it.” Strange cast a sidelong glance your way from across the bed, and you responded by giving a small nod and beckoning Mikey to come with you, “I need to get blood tests and ABGs, can someone pass me the needles? And will somebody call the damn cardiology team!” He commanded through all the chatting as you walked out to prepare the medications quickly.

“Are you feeling okay Mikey? Is it your first Code Blue?” You asked as you swiftly grabbed the inotrope and vasopressor in the medication drawers and prep it for an IV infusion.

“Y-Yeah, just feeling a little bit overwhelmed.” 

“That’s okay, we’re all here to support you. Come to my office later, we’ll talk about it, for now just watch and observe.” You smiled at him, “Check please.” You passed the IV medications for a cross-check. 

Mikey followed closely behind you as you made your way through the throng of medical professionals and nurses. You quickly reach up to hang both of the lines, and then you set it up into the pumps as quickly as possible.

“Doctor ECG is still reading VF. Shock is advised, everybody step away from the patient now! Increasing charge.” The team leader yelled as he prepared to charge the defibrillator. 

Stephen secured a firm hold on your arm and pulled you backwards, away from the patient, Strange came up behind you and took the position in front of you. It happened way too quickly for you to react to it but you realised that they were about to shock the patient so you just stayed behind him.

Strange focused his attention on Chris, who was standing on the other side of the room and watching him as well. Stephen's mouth turned up into a smile as Chris's eyes burned through him for touching you.

“Top clear, middle clear, bottom clear! Step away from the patient! Delivering shock!” the team leader yelled and delivered the shock, "Re-commence CPR." 

You went straight back in to set up the medications in their machines pumps with Strange working closely beside you, assisting you in attaching the line to the patient, "Dobutamine and Norepinephrine now running!" You told everyone.

"How many minutes has it been? Has anyone heard back from the Cardiology team?" Stephen asked the scribe.

"10 minutes Doctor, they’re on their way—oop they're here."

The patient began weakly groaning as he regained consciousness. You noticed this and with a loud voice you called out to him, “Bryan? Hello, can you look at me please? Hey—you’re alright.” You took the patient’s hand and held it to comfort him as he looked around, probably disoriented, “You’re okay, you’re still in hospital—can we get another set of vitals please?”

The cardiology team approached the patient and began introducing themselves and with that you stepped aside and allowed them to do their job while you turned to look up at Strange, "Is there anything else you want me to do Doc—Strange?"

Stephen formed a broad smile when you disregarded his title, "No. I'll see you at the debrief…" 

"Okay." You gave a short nod and then turned to leave the room, but Stephen stopped you by calling your name.

"Oh and (Y/N).... great work." Stephen praised you in front of everyone, which caused the other people in the room to exhibit shocked expressions.

Your eyes wiped across everyone's faces, "Just doing my job…" you muttered and quickly left the room, "Let's go Mikey."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You had gotten a lot of compliments for your quick action by all staff members, it was nice to be recognised and it felt like you’ve proved yourself even more to the people of your ward—proved to them that you are more than just an educator who sits in the office majority of the time.

The word that Strange had praised you in front of everyone had gotten around and thanks to everyone’s loud mouths, Charlotte eventually heard the news; it was the first thing she heard when she came in for her afternoon shift. 

During the huddle you could tell she was giving you burning glares—in which you felt unfazed by but you did feel irritated at how immature you thought she was. You presumed that she was going to eventually approach you and now, here she is, in your office, acting as if she owns the place.

“If you have concerns Charlotte, better start talking now, I don’t get paid over time.” You firmly stated as you glanced at your watch. 

“Well I do have a few concerns...” She began, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“And that is?” 

“You know something that others don’t know about—”

You chuckled at the fact that she finally brought it up, “What? You making out with the doctor in the storage room? As much as it shouldn’t be happening, people do that all the time, yours isn’t that special.”

“Oh really? You sound like you got a lot of experience yourself.” Charlotte raised her brows, dropping the fake kindness she was putting up.

“Actually, no. Stuff like that doesn’t excite me.” You openly answered the girl as much as you disliked talking about this kind of thing with someone you don’t know.

“I bet being praised by Stephen Strange does.” She raised her chin, eyebrows arched and head slightly tilting to one side. This girl was trying to corner you and she was bad at it, “Do you really think you can just walk into your new job and target my man? You think I don’t know about your little chats with him?”

“I don’t need or give a damn about his praise, Ms Palmer. I did what I had to do and I did it exceptionally well, which is to save a life. Call me a narcissist but I don’t chase after men, they chase after me—and if your man happens to be one of them, then that’s not my problem.” You retaliated by leaning against the table and giving her the same condescending attitude that she had given you, but this time you offered her an innocent grin, which you could know infuriated her.

Charlotte gritted her teeth, eyes flaring with infuriation, “You’re best to know that you better start to tread these waters carefully, Ms. (Y/L/N).” 

“Why? Are you going to threaten to get me fired over some affair you have with him? Sounds reasonable." You replied sarcastically, "I heard you aren't the only one he fucked with, are you going to get them fired too?"

"You better watch your mouth." Charlotte got to her feet and made a finger pointing gesture in your direction.

"And you better watch your 'man', Ms Palmer, very closely, because there's nothing more that excites me than to watch girls like you cry. Now, if you'll excuse me, my shift is over." You rose up, gathered your things, and led her to the exit while keeping a ferocious gaze on her as she left the room. After leaving, you made sure the lights were out and the door was secured behind you. You stroll past Chris's office, which was already shut, so he must have completed everything on schedule.

You huffed as you stood alone in the elevator asking yourself, ‘What the hell was I thinking saying those things to her?’ You just knew you just dug yourself a bigger hole for taunting not only Strange but now his fling—but the look on her face, it made you want to laugh, she looked so pissed at you. Your sister would be so proud of you for standing up for yourself her way.

‘Ah fuck it. If I get fired then it’s their loss.’ You keep talking to yourself in your mind as you walk towards your car—you halt your tracks when you notice a couple of suspicious looking people loitering nearby your car. You hoped that they hadn’t noticed you but it was too late. 

‘Shit.’ 

As you whirled around again with your heels, you held your bag while searching for a way out of the area. You chose to disregard their attempts to communicate with you, even though they were now following you. You picked up your speed to get away from the danger, but you weren't headed somewhere in particular. The echoes of your footfall were barely audible above the pounding that you could hear in your ears from your heart.

A strong grip wrapped around your arm which you yanked out of with all your might, “Don’t touch me!” 

“Wow. She’s Feisty.” You felt one of the hooded men say under his smirk while they surrounded you. You couldn’t see their faces clearly but you could tell that they were a bunch of junkies, they reeked of alcohol and smoke, it almost makes you want to gag.

“What do you people want?” You glared at them one by one, trying to act as if you weren’t scared out of your skin.

“We just want to talk, baby, but you kept ignoring us. That’s really rude.” 

“Sorry, but I am not interested.” You try to push past them but they block you.

“You’re not going anywhere, little bird.” 

The knot within your chest was starting to tighten and you glanced down, unwilling to let them see the terror in your eyes. You felt a chilly stroke across your face and you furiously smacked his hand away, “I said don’t touch me!”

The next thing you knew, you were slapped back-handed on the side of your lip, the ring on his finger splitting it open, and you were falling into the cement floor in the centre of the driveway. You held onto your face, the initial hit didn’t hurt, it was more after when you started feeling it.

“Who do you think you are bitch?” The one you smacked shouted out of anger. 

A loud honk from a car echoed followed by Stephen shouting at the junkies, “HEY! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Mind your own business, hot shot.” 

“I don’t fucking think so.” He muttered under his breath, reversing the car and revved its engines before speeding towards the men and you. The guys dispersed and fled, calling Stephen a madman as they went; his lamborghini had halted precisely the proper distance from you.

“(Y/N)?” Stephen jumped out of his car after realising it was you.

“Let me see.” He gently grabbed you by the chin and examined the cut you obtained from the slap, “We need to get you to emergency.” 

“No way. I’m not going to emergency.” you refused and pushed his hand away. 

“You’re injured!” Stephen argued, wanting to shout some sense into you, “You need to report this as well!”

“I’ll handle it myself.” You replied firmly and stood up slowly, dusting yourself off. 

“If you won’t go to emergency then allow me to clean up your cut. I feel uncomfortable letting you go alone.” Stephen remarked, giving you an insistent glance. While you are considering the situation, your eyes travel towards your car and then back to Stephen. This time, it seemed like he was trying to help you out, so you decided to give in.

“Fine.” 

“Your house?” He asked straight away. 

“No way. Your house.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The trip to Stephen's apartment was utterly quiet, just as Stephen had anticipated it would be. He was taken aback by the fact that you did not seem to mind the rapid pace at which he drove; maybe you were too preoccupied with your own thoughts, mentally reliving the event over and over again. This will be the first time that a woman has set foot in the location where he truly resides. He has never brought anybody here for a variety of reasons, most of which can be attributed to the lessons he has learned from his past mistakes; he never wants to see his hook-ups sitting on his doorsteps imploring him to come back.

"Let's get you set up," he said as he placed your bag on the floor next to his huge kitchen counter while he looked at your face in an attempt to decipher how you felt about his apartment.

It was completely in keeping with his character to try to divert his attention to something physical. You were standing firmly on the ground one moment, and the next he was lifting you off the ground and placing you on top of his kitchen counter. He'd carried out the deed without any conscious thoughts. At least up to the point when your gorgeous lips opened wide in shock as your butt met the surface of the counter. The sensation of your waist continued to linger on his hands, and at that very moment, he was most certainly thinking of things he shouldn't have been. 

Stephen retracted his hands and grunted loudly while clearing his throat. He went to the side so he could access a cabinet, and then he took his red first-aid kit out of the cabinet, “Are you okay?” 

It was a distinct possibility that you had a blow to the head that was severe enough for you to wind up having a sexually explicit dream with Stephen Strange. This would be the very first time, not that you would ever acknowledge anything like that in front of a court. Or even to your sister. It was just impossible to compete with the subtle emissions he put out that screamed, I’m good at sex. Like, really, really good. You had no chance of winning the fight against it. The thing was, it was also true for every other woman he spoke to or interacted with in any way. However, you have no intention of becoming one of the thousands—well for as long as you can resist him.

You cleared your throat as well and then opened your mouth before closing it again, “Yeah I’m fine… although I don’t know whether I should be thanking you because you almost ran over me.”

Stephen chuckled, “There was no way I would win a fist fight with those men—call it critical thinking.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a sidelong glance as he lay out some gauze, cotton wools, and antiseptics. You suddenly became aware that you were looking into space as you recalled the first time you saw him and how his deft fingers delicately removed food from your upper lip. Stephen took a step closer, soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic, and pushed the hair back away from your face before pausing for a split second before proceeding. 

Your gazes met and danced away quickly, “This might sting, don’t cry.”

“What am I? Five?” 

“Just warning you.” He dabbed the wound with cotton, and his stomach seized up whenever you hissed an air hiss. “So? How long have you known Chris?” he blurted it out as a means of shifting his attention away from the fact that he was giving you discomfort.

“Since college.” You answered plainly and breathed a sigh of relief when he removed the soaked cotton ball, “We always wanted to work together but we got into different hospitals—so now here we are.”

“Which college did you go to?” He asked.

“We went to Columbia University.” You watched him sort through the bandages, he was deciding which one to put on you, “What about you?”

“Same.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, “Really? When did you finish residency? You look way too young to be a consultant.”

Stephen snorted, “I finished my degree in record time, finished my five-year residency at New York hospital, became a consultant at the age of twenty-nine which was what? two years ago?”

“That’s funny—I did most of my placements at New York hospital when I was a student.” You chuckled.

“Oh you did?” When his eyes met yours, it caused spots of blush to appear on your cheeks, and you looked away quickly. Blushing. Jesus Christ. He went back to searching through the bandages before he reaches out to test the warmth with his fingertips.

You nodded but said nothing and kept right on saying nothing as Stephen applied another antiseptic ointment to your cut and laid the small pieces of leustrip on top, smoothing it with his thumb. It seemed strange that he didn't lean in to kiss you while you were just a few inches away from him. Had he ever been this close to a woman other than his mother without the goal of clamping both of their lips together? As he flipped through his memories, he was unable to zero in on a certain period in time. On the other hand, he was unable to remember all of the occasions that he had kissed different women. Not in any way that is clear.

“Your girlfriend came to talk to me today.” 

“Girlfriend?” Stephen furrowed his brows, huffing as if you said something impossible.

“Charlotte?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Really? She seemed really upset at the fact that you praised me in front of everyone.” You told Strange, it seemed appropriate enough to tell him, considering the fact that he was the subject.

Stephen sighed, “I’ll speak with her when I come back to work on Monday.” 

“Please. I’m here to support the staff with professional concerns and not handle their jealousy—anyway, thanks for this. I should go home.” You carefully slid off the counter, miscalculating the distance between you and him. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? You’re already here.” Stephen trapped you the same way Chris did the other night and you bend your back slightly to create some distance between you and him.

“No thanks. I’m not hungry.” You blurted out, in which your stomach betrayed you at the same time. 

A broad smile appeared on Stephen’s lips when he heard the growling of your stomach, “Your stomach begs to differ.”

“Alright fine, I’m starving—but I’m going home after.” During the decisive comment you made, you maintained a steady gaze on him.

“Let’s order some take-away for tonight, it’s much quicker than me cooking. While we wait, I’m just going to take a shower and you’re free to make yourself feel at home—unless you want to join me?” His smile twitched, his gaze raking over your face.

You straighten your posture just so you can reject him closely, “No.”

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[soxcietyy]

Dollhouse

In a world where females are not commonly born you are kidnapped and taken to the kingdom of Valgore to be sold off to whoever can afford you. The General of the knights Yuta Okkotsu who isn’t sure if he wants a wife, takes you in but you arnt going to make his life easy by submitting yourself to him.

Tw: bad language, violence, drinking, beating, woman being mistreated, abuse, murder, rape, things that may trigger people.

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Days of you being stuck in the house passed. Not being able to step further than the garden at any moment. It was a shame you couldn't go out anymore but nothing could be done with guards also watching the gate. He had picked a few of his most trusted workers. Itadori being one of them. He would stand Infront of the gate most of the day. Sometimes you would sneak outside and make noises to mess with him. That now being your definition of fun. Soon the sun came down making it time for dinner. Dinner was silent like always. With you glaring at him the whole time. You sat in a long table with you on one end and him on the opposite. The table full of different delicious food. You could see him shuffle awkwardly in his seat trying to avoid your gaze. He knew you where upset with the new rule. He had guilt written all over his face.

He knew it was something unfair but it's what he had to do too keep you safe. He closed his eyes for a second inhaling deeply to help himself feel at ease. He had to remind himself that you where probably scared about the situation. He had to stand firm and look like he knows what he’s doing. Opening his eyes he sees a silver object fly past him. His eyes widen as he turned to look back to see a sharp knife sticking in the wall. Maybe she was more furious than scared. He thought to himself looking back at you. You haven’t touched a piece of your food yet. Instead you moved the piece of stake around the plate. "Not hungry darling?" He asks cutting his steak into pieces. 

"Lost my appetite the second you walked into this room." She pushed her plate to the side. Yuta frowned internally. "You should at least eat something. It's not healthy if you don't eat." He said putting his utensils down. 

"Can we talk about something else? What are my plans for this week?" She asks. 

"You just have a few things to do. I'll have a teacher come by and we have a doctor coming to check your fertility." He mumbled the last part as he continued to eat. He knew she was going to go off in any second so he hoped you didn't heard that. 

"Yuta, I'm not getting that done. What do I look like to you? A rag doll that you can do anything too?" she crosses her arms. 

"Y/n every woman gets their fertility checked when they come of age. Even the queen and princesses have done it." Yuta said looking at his wife tired. He has had a long day today and he did not want to end it in an argument. All he wanted to do was relax in his chair and fall asleep like always. This was probably enough for today, standing up he pushed his plate and fixed his shirt. "It was nice eating with you but I'm afraid I have to go. I have lots of paper work to attend to." Yuta avoided your eyes and walked away leaving you alone. 

Walking down the quite hall he approached his office. Pushing the doors open he was met with his cold dim office. Sitting down a butler came in and placed a drink down. The smell of green tea beside him fuming into the air. He had few minutes of reading and signing papers until he heard the door crack open. He waited for the person to come in but no one entered. He decided to pretend like he didn't hear anything and with more time that past the more the door opened. 

He could feel his heart trace a bit. He didn't know who this was but he had to play it safe. He reached his hand to the top drawer on the right. Opening it to reach his hand inside and pull out a gun. Resting his hand on the chair he waited for another move. While he did he continued to read what he was reading. It was an invitation from the royal court. They where hosting a ball and he was invited. Looking more into it he saw that it was going to be held tomorrow. He mentally smacked himself for reading this a bit too late. Hopefully he would be able to get you something to wear. Looking up eventually he noticed his wife standing at the door with her arms behind her back. She wore a medium length pink dress with white socks. He sighs in relief and set the weapon back into its place. 

"Ist it late for you darling? Or can you not sleep?" He asks watching you approach him. He closes the drawer slowly as her body moved slowly towards him until she stopped and sat in the chair in front of him. He was a bit surprised seeing that you actually wanted to watch him work. Unless you wanted something. Not that it was something interesting enough to look at. But he didn’t argue. Yuta watched how you sat quietly and looked down at your hands that played with each other nervously. 

"Do you want to help? Here look at this paper. I'm quite not sure what this means." He says handing her the same invitation he just read. She grabbed it gently out of his hands and looked at it intensely. She looked like she was trying her best to understand the cursive letters. Something Yuta couldn't blame her. By the looks of it it was Rikas hand writing and it was not the best. 

"It's a love letter," she eventually spoke out. Yutas eyes widen in confusion. "No darling it's from the royal court. They wouldn't send something like that to me. Keep trying." Yuta said as he took out another paper to read. He signed what seemed like hundreds of papers and you where still on the same one. The one he gave you was decorated in cold flowers and black hand writing. It even had the royal symbol on it. Eventually Yuta fell asleep in his seat as y/n continued to read. She managed to somehow get past the first 8 words with just sounding it out. She might not know how to read but she does know her alphabet. Commoner women in general would not be taught how to read and write. Only nobles and royals had that ability. Women were seemed as only as a reproductive source. They didn't think it was necessary for them to learn. But you managed. "Dear Yuta I'm sending you this invitation to..." 

"To invite you and whoever else you please to a party I'm hosting soon. It's to calm the people down from the current situation." Someone finished off where you left off. Turing around you saw it was your butler Haru. "I see master Okkotsu fell asleep. I switched his green tea for ginger Turmeric. It helps with Insomnia, seeing that master doesn't get enough sleep as he should." Haru says unfolding a blanket he brought with him. 

He then hands it to you so you can place it over him. And that's what you did. You walked behind him and covered his back with the white fluffy blanket. "Why doesn't he sleep in bed? Ever since Iv been here he's always fallen asleep here." You asks while making sure he won't get cold at night. Stuffing the blanket under his chin and arms, anywhere you saw potential cold air sneaking in. 

"He's busy working all the time. He's out all day in training and patrol and at night he's looking over paper work. He's currently 2 days behind on it. They say your going to be taught how to read and write. So you can help his with some work. From what I know he only plans in letting you look over invitations." Haru grabbed the cup of tea and proceeded to leave. He must be clocking out right now due to him not having to stay all night anymore. Now he worked from 7am to 1am. Which was awful in your point of view. Sitting back down you look at his face. He had a relaxing look on his face. Some dirt on his cheek and a few cuts. He slouched on his chair to reach the desk. Meaning he had awful posture. Something you hate in people and certainly hated if your husband developed a server case of it. "Yuta, come to bed." You say but no response came from him. "Yuta!" You shake him violently until he awoke. 

"Yes love?" He asks looking at you confused. You roll your eyes as you dragged him out the office and into your supposedly shared bed. "Darling I don't think any of this is necessary." He says watching you take his pins off. "As much as I dislike it I am your wife after all. I’m going to have to accept that sooner or later." You worked until everything was off. Then you moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it down to remove. Opening it you could see the form of his abs and a few scars on them. Your faced flushed and you shut his shirt. Maybe you wernt quite ready for this yet. "You okay?" He tilts his head. You nod repeatedly and walked to your own side of the bed to sleep. "Let's get some rest," you say laying down next to him. He doesn't protest and falls asleep immediately.

A few hours had past and you have yet to have a wink of sleep. This was cause of the rule he set in place about you not going out anymore. Being in the house had become so boring that you took naps throughout the day. Their was no way you where falling asleep now. Standing up you turned around and have an idea. Surely he wouldn’t mind you giving his a free skin care. Walking into the bathroom you take out a few new products. Most of it being herbs and fruits that could be mixed together to creat a beautiful solution. Bringing them out you take it to the bed side table and hop onto Yuta. Pushing his hair up slowly so his hair wouldn’t be in the way. Then you grabbed your mixing bowl and and put ingredients together. For example Honey, avocado , and yogurt. When finished you apply it onto his face. This was the most fun you had in a while. Even though it didn’t seem like much. His eyebrows would knit a few times but other than that he wouldn’t make a single movement. That was until after 20 minutes later you were wiping the mask off. You suddenly see his eyes flutter open. You freeze scared of him maybe getting mad at you. You looked at each other for a few seconds until he started laughing. "I can see it wasn’t intentional. Thanks for the early wake up though." He smiled moving you off his lap. 

"What wasn’t intentional?" You ask. 

"Oh nothing," he says walking to the bathroom with a half face of the mask still applied. 

Authors note: still can’t reply to comments </3

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