#btw that 'i will depart in two days' is real

[goldfades]

LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW

part two!!!

for this request!!

─ summary | you and father charlie share a bond that goes beyond the confines of your church duties, with your public image as a nurturing servant masking the frustration and resentment you harbor privately. when nun megan grows suspicious and begins spying, she uncovers the intimate, vulnerable side of your relationship, catching a moment where emotions boil over into something more forbidden

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 6k

─ warnings | few kisses, kinda angsty, pretty wholesome though, nun megan being nosy AF, mentions/descriptions of being longing to be a mother + have a family, forbidden love, ends on a cliff hanger (part 2 coming soon, i just couldn't fit everything in one part)

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). again this turned out very wordy and self-indulgent, my apologies

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, the wisps of smoke curling upward toward the stained glass windows, where muted beams of light filter through, casting the nave in shades of gold and crimson. The church is quiet now, save for the soft rustle of robes and the shuffling feet of the last parishioners as they take their leave. You remain rooted to your spot at the front, hands clasped in front of you, your gaze lowered in practiced reverence.

You’ve spent years perfecting this image—a serene, dutiful figure in service to the church. The warmth you offer is genuine, but it's also an armor, a shield from the world beyond the altar. You can feel their eyes on you as they depart, expecting grace, expecting humility, expecting nothing more than what you’ve always given them.

But beneath the surface, you can feel the stirrings of something else. The long hours, the endless work, the weight of expectations—it grinds against you, slowly wearing away at the image you’ve created. And no one sees it. No one, except him.

Father Charlie stands beside the altar, his back turned to you as he speaks to one of the deacons, his voice low and calming, as it always is. There’s something about him—something steady, something real—that draws you to him. He’s the only one who understands the pressures you both face, the only one who sees through the veneer you maintain for the sake of the church.

As the last of the congregation filters out, a wave of relief washes over you. The doors close with a soft echo, leaving the two of you in the lingering quiet of the empty church. You allow yourself to breathe, to let go of the tightness in your chest. It’s only in moments like these, when the others have gone, that you can finally be yourself—unburdened by the expectations of the flock, free from the eyes of those who can never truly understand.

But you sense it, don’t you? That something else is watching, something creeping at the edges of this sanctuary, waiting for you to slip.

You feel a prickle of awareness, an instinct, perhaps, that you’re not as alone as you think. But you push it aside, telling yourself it’s nothing—just the remnants of the day clinging to your thoughts. After all, in the safety of the church, what could possibly be wrong?

You step forward, closer to Father Charlie, your voice dropping to a murmur. “They never stop looking, do they?”

He turns toward you, and there’s a softness in his expression—something that tells you he’s been thinking the same thing. “No,” he says quietly, “they never do.”

You exchange a glance with Father Charlie, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He sees the cracks in your facade, the weight you carry, but you don’t speak of it yet. Instead, you let the stillness of the church settle over you like a heavy cloak.

From the corner of your eye, you notice a figure lingering near the back of the nave, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. Nun Megan.

She’s always watching, isn’t she? Always hovering on the fringes, her gaze lingering just a second too long whenever you’re near Father Charlie. At first, you thought it was nothing—just her usual vigilance. But lately, you’ve felt her eyes more than ever, probing, curious. She’s never said anything outright, but the suspicion is there, woven into every glance, every pause when the two of you are together.

Today is no different.

She lingers by the back pew, her hands folded in front of her, eyes flicking between you and Father Charlie, as though waiting for something, anything, to confirm what she already suspects. You can feel the weight of her judgment, subtle but ever-present, like a shadow you can’t shake.

Father Charlie hasn’t noticed her yet, his focus still on you as he speaks softly, a reassuring tone to his words. “You know we can’t let this consume us. What we do here… it’s bigger than us.”

His words are meant to calm you, to pull you back from the edge of frustration, but your thoughts are already racing. You glance toward Nun Megan again, just in time to see her quickly avert her gaze, pretending to adjust a candle on the altar. She’s watching—of course, she’s watching.

You wonder if she’s been watching longer than you realize.

“I know,” you say, your voice low. But the bitterness creeps in, twisting your words. “But sometimes I think we’re expected to be more than human. How long are we supposed to pretend we don’t feel anything?”

Charlie’s eyes soften, but before he can respond, you see him glance over your shoulder—finally catching sight of Nun Megan. The tension in the room shifts, subtle but palpable. He straightens, his face smoothing into the calm, composed expression he wears so well. “Sister Megan,” he calls out, his voice gentle but pointed.

She steps forward, her smile small and tight, her eyes darting between you both. “Father Charlie,” she says softly, inclining her head in a show of respect. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just… making sure everything was in order.”

Her words hang in the air, innocuous enough on the surface, but there’s something else there, hidden beneath her polite tone. You can see it in her eyes—the doubt, the questions she doesn’t dare ask.

Not yet, anyway.

Father Charlie offers her a kind smile, though you can tell he senses it too. “Everything’s fine, Sister,” he says. “We were just finishing up.”

But even as she nods and steps back, you know this won’t be the last time. She’ll keep watching, waiting for the moment when your guard slips. And when it does, she’ll be ready.

As Nun Megan retreats to the back of the church, your pulse quickens. You’ve held your composure for now, but the unease gnaws at you. The walls feel tighter, the air more stifling. She’s already too close, and it’s only a matter of time before she sees more than you want her to.

Father Charlie steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “We have to be careful.”

You nod, but inside, you know it’s already too late. Megan’s already seen enough to suspect—and suspicion, in a place like this, is dangerous.

───

You lay on Charlie's bare chest, still breathless from the earlier exertion. The warmth of his skin radiates beneath your cheek, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the scars and soft ridges of his chest. The room is quiet, save for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the muted sound of your heartbeats thrumming together in the aftermath of what you’ve just shared. The intimacy of the moment feels stolen—like something you shouldn't have, but neither of you can resist.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself sink into the softness of him, the way he smells of incense and something darker, something distinctly him. This is the one place where the world falls away, where the weight of your roles within the church, the expectations, the endless eyes watching your every move—they don't matter here. In these stolen moments, you’re not the pious Mother superior they expect you to be, and Charlie is not the solemn priest. Here, in the seclusion of your shared quarters, you are simply you and him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to anchor you to him, to the present. You shift slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, the usual veil of composure lowered, revealing the tenderness he reserves only for you. There’s a question in his gaze, though, something unspoken yet palpable, like a prayer hanging in the air between you both.

“Do you think she suspects?” you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as though even here, in this hidden sanctuary, you’re afraid to speak too loudly.

Charlie’s hand stills for a moment in your hair, and he hesitates before answering. “She watches,” he says softly, his tone measured but tinged with a hint of unease. “Megan always watches.”

You bite your lip, trying to push away the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Nun Megan’s eyes have been everywhere lately, her presence lingering in corners, her footsteps echoing in halls where no one should be. You can feel her judgment even when she’s not there, like a shadow creeping just behind you.

“What if she knows?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. “What if she’s already seen too much?”

Charlie’s hand cups your cheek, drawing your gaze back to his. “We’ve been careful,” he reassures you, his voice steady and soothing. “But even if she suspects, we won’t let her tear us apart. Not here. Not now.”

His words should comfort you, but they don’t. There’s too much at stake—too many risks. And yet, despite everything, you can’t pull away. The bond between you both is too deep, too powerful to sever. You close your eyes again, letting the quiet blanket you both, willing the worries to dissolve into the stillness.

But somewhere beyond the walls of this sanctuary, you know Nun Megan is watching. Waiting. And it’s only a matter of time before the veil of secrecy slips, and the forbidden truth of what you share is laid bare.

The silence between you and Father Charlie feels heavier now, like the air has thickened with all the unspoken words and the knowledge that your time together might soon be fractured by someone else’s gaze. You shift your body, propping yourself up slightly on his chest so you can look at him fully.

His brow is furrowed, but he wears the same soft expression he always does when he's with you, the kind that calms your nerves even when the weight of the world presses in on you. You reach out and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You can’t be the one to carry all the worry," he murmurs, his voice deep and soothing, laced with that unwavering faith that you’ve come to rely on. He places his hand over yours, his thumb tracing circles against your knuckles. “I can see it in your eyes—you’ve been holding too much inside.”

You want to deny it, to say that you’re strong enough, that you can bear whatever comes next, but you know he’s right. There’s too much weighing you down—too many people to answer to, too many demands, and far too many secrets.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. “Not just of Megan… but of what happens if we get caught. What they’ll do to us. What they’ll do to you.” You lower your gaze, the vulnerability of the confession hanging between you like a leaden weight.

Charlie exhales softly, his hand moving to your jaw, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet his again. There’s something fierce in his gaze now, an intensity that reassures you despite the uncertainty swirling around you both.

“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice firm, “we’ll face it together. They can’t take that away from us.”

“What if it’s not enough?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “What if this… this thing we share, this love—what if it’s not enough to save us?”

The church is supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of peace and solace, but lately, it’s felt more like a prison. You can sense the walls closing in, the tension rising between the expectation of holiness and the very human desires you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Charlie shakes his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It is enough,” he insists. “Love is the one thing that can’t be tainted by fear or doubt. What we have—it’s sacred in its own way. Even if the church sees it differently.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. His words wrap around you like a protective shroud, and in this space—this room, away from the watchful eyes of the others—it’s easy to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. That what you have can survive the scrutiny, the judgment, and the dangers that loom just outside these walls.

But as much as you want to cling to that hope, the doubt is still there, lurking at the edges of your thoughts.

You don’t say anything else, instead letting your head fall back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. The sound is calming, a tether to the present, to this moment you share together.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that time is running out. That soon, Nun Megan will step beyond suspicion and into certainty, and when she does, the fragile world you’ve built with Charlie will come crashing down.

Outside, the wind howls against the old stone walls of the church, a reminder of the world waiting for you beyond this small sanctuary. But for now, for this brief and precious moment, it’s just you and him—together, against whatever comes next.

───

The sun hangs high in the clear afternoon sky, casting a golden light over the open field where the annual church picnic is in full swing. Children run through the grass, their laughter ringing out like tiny bells carried on the breeze, while the adults gather around tables laden with food, exchanging pleasantries and stories. You stand near the edge of the field, watching as a group of children pulls you into their game of tag, their faces lit up with joy and mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart light as you chase after them, the stress and fear that have weighed on you for so long melting away, if only for a moment. The children's energy is infectious, their innocence a brief but welcome reprieve from the gravity of the world you usually inhabit. They dart around you, giggling and shrieking with excitement as they narrowly avoid your grasp, their small hands brushing against yours in passing.

You catch a young girl in your arms, swinging her around in a playful twirl before setting her down. Her laughter is so pure, so unburdened by the weight of the world, and it stirs something inside you—a long-forgotten lightness that you’ve almost forgotten was there.

From across the field, Father Charlie watches you, his eyes softening as they follow your movements. You are radiant in this moment, free from the burden of secrets and suspicion, your face bright with genuine joy as you interact with the children. His heart swells at the sight, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

He has always admired your strength—the way you carry so much, how you stand tall even when the weight of your responsibilities threatens to break you. But here, now, seeing you like this, surrounded by children, laughing freely, Charlie feels something different. Something deeper.

It's more than just admiration. It’s a longing, a quiet ache for something more than the life he’s chosen. Watching you with the children sparks a warmth inside him he hadn’t known he could still feel, a yearning for a different kind of closeness. One that he knows is forbidden, yet he can’t help but dream about.

You twirl around with another child, your smile wide as they tumble into your arms. For a brief second, you catch Charlie’s gaze from across the field, and your eyes meet. There’s something in his look that makes your breath catch—a tenderness, a softness that you’ve rarely seen outside the privacy of your hidden moments together. His lips curl into a small, almost shy smile, as though he’s caught himself staring but can’t quite tear his gaze away.

For a moment, it feels as if the rest of the world fades away. The laughter of the children, the hum of conversations, even the sounds of nature—all of it dulls into the background as you stand there, frozen in that quiet exchange with Charlie.

It’s a connection you feel deep in your chest, one that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but is now rising to the forefront, too powerful to ignore.

The children pull you back into the game, and the moment is broken, but the warmth of Charlie’s gaze lingers with you. As you chase after the little ones again, you feel a blush creep up your neck, knowing that even here, in the open, with the church congregation all around, there’s something between you that no one else can touch.

Charlie tears his eyes away, his heart still beating a little faster than before. He forces himself to join in the casual conversations around him, but his thoughts remain with you, and that moment. He’s always been good at keeping his emotions at bay, keeping his desires hidden beneath the layers of duty and faith. But now, watching you like this, he feels those walls crumbling, just a little.

And for the first time in a long while, he allows himself to wonder: What would it be like to have this warmth—to hold onto it, to let it fill the hollow spaces inside him? What would it be like if the life he’d chosen wasn’t a barrier but something that could coexist with the connection he feels with you?

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. But they cling to him, persistent, like the warmth in his chest that refuses to fade.

As the afternoon wears on, and the children slowly tire out, you make your way back toward the picnic tables where the rest of the congregation was. Your cheeks flushed with exertion, your hair slightly wind-tossed, and you catch Charlie watching you again, and this time, there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter—a promise, perhaps, or a confession yet to be spoken. Charlie begins making his way over to you, a warm smile on his lips.

One of the little girls run up to you once again, practically tumbling into your arms. You giggle, grabbing her waist and pulling her into your lap.

"Mother Y/N, have you ever wanted children?" she asks.

Her question catches you off guard. The little girl's innocent eyes peer up at you, wide and curious, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. You feel Charlie’s presence nearby, his footsteps slowing as he hears the question, and your heart skips a beat.

You smooth the girl's hair back gently, buying yourself a second to gather your thoughts. Children… it’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to think about much, not with the path you've chosen. Being a mother in the literal sense feels like an impossible dream—something meant for another life, another version of you.

Still, the warmth of the child in your lap, her trust and affection, tugs at something deep inside you.

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. “I suppose I have,” you admit, your voice gentle. “There was a time when I thought I might have a family of my own one day. But now... I think my place is here, taking care of all of you.”

The little girl tilts her head, a frown crossing her face as she processes your words. “But wouldn’t you like to be a real mama?” she asks, her small hands gripping your arm as if to anchor you to the moment, to the question.

Before you can answer, you feel a presence behind you—Charlie has arrived. He crouches down beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder in a gesture so natural, so easy, that it almost makes your heart ache.

“The way you care for everyone here,” he says softly, his voice warm and filled with admiration, “I think you’re already a mother to so many.”

You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his, and there’s something in his gaze—something gentle and understanding, but also deeper, more personal. His words resonate in a way that goes beyond the roles you’ve both taken on within the church. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine it—what it would be like if things were different, if you and Charlie could have a life beyond the confines of the walls you’ve built around yourselves.

The girl beams, nodding in agreement. “See? You’re like a mama to us already,” she declares, then wraps her small arms around your neck in a tight hug before hopping off your lap and running back toward the other children, her energy renewed.

You watch her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. When you turn back to Charlie, he’s still crouched beside you, his expression softened by something you can’t quite put into words.

“You handled that well,” he says quietly, his smile reaching his eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I was prepared for that kind of question, if I'm being honest.”

He chuckles too, and for a brief moment, the world feels lighter, the weight of everything you’ve been holding inside lifted by the simple connection between you two.

But as the children’s laughter echoes around you and the other parishioners continue with their picnic, you feel the weight of reality creeping back in. This quiet moment with Charlie—this glimpse of what could be—feels like a fleeting dream. You know the path you’ve both chosen is far more complicated than that. Yet, as you stand together in the warm afternoon sun, you allow yourself to linger in this feeling for just a little while longer.

Charlie’s hand brushes against yours, lingering for just a moment, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever challenges come your way, you won’t be facing them alone.

───

The last light of day has faded, leaving the courtyard steeped in a deep, quiet twilight. You stand by the fountain, your fingers tracing the cold, rough surface of the stone. You try to breathe deeply, but frustration gnaws at your insides. On the outside, you wear the same mask you always do—calm, nurturing, and devout. But inside, there’s an ever-present storm, growing louder by the day.

Your thoughts drift back to Father Charlie, to the comfort he offered earlier. His words felt like a balm on your wounds, but they didn’t erase the resentment. The weight of expectations presses on your shoulders—constant demands, endless servitude, all while suppressing the truth of who you are.

Your gaze flickers toward the chapel, half-hoping to see him stepping into the courtyard. But the figure that emerges from the shadows isn’t him.

Nun Megan.

Her steps are silent but deliberate, and her eyes are as sharp as ever. You’ve noticed her watching lately—her gaze lingering on you and Father Charlie, suspicion glinting in her eyes.

“Out late again, I see,” she says, her voice carrying a quiet accusation. She stops a few feet away, her gaze fixed on you, unblinking. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time in Father Charlie’s company.”

You stiffen at her words, but force yourself to remain composed. You know how to wear the mask—how to keep the perfect image intact. “I seek guidance, Sister Megan,” you reply, your voice measured. “Father Charlie offers wisdom.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her expression hard. “Guidance, is it?” There’s no mistaking the suspicion in her voice now. “We all seek guidance, but you’ve been… close.”

The accusation hangs in the air between you, cold and heavy. You feel a flash of anger rise within you, but you suppress it, keeping your voice even. “We are all called to be close to God. To each other, Sister.”

Megan steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Perhaps. But eyes are everywhere. You should be careful. It’s my duty to protect the sanctity of this place.” Her words are a thinly veiled threat, warning you that she’s watching.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Sister Megan.”

You turn at the sound of Father Charlie’s voice, relief washing over you as he steps into the courtyard. His presence brings with it a sense of calm, as if the storm threatening to engulf you has momentarily eased. His gaze flicks between you and Megan, though when his eyes land on you, they soften.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his tone neutral, but his eyes hold a silent reassurance.

Megan stands a little straighter under his scrutiny. She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with challenging him, but her suspicion remains. “No, Father,” she says finally. “I was simply offering our sister here a reminder of her vows. It’s important we maintain propriety.”

Father Charlie’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course, Sister. We all must uphold our vows. You may return to your duties.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think Megan might push further. But then she inclines her head and turns away, her steps sharp and purposeful as she leaves the courtyard. The weight of her presence lingers, like a shadow refusing to lift.

As soon as she’s gone, you exhale, tension slipping from your shoulders. Father Charlie steps closer to you, his voice low and steady. “She grows more suspicious.”

You nod, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The mask you’ve worn for so long feels suffocating now, the weight of expectations unbearable.

Father Charlie’s expression softens, and when he reaches out, his fingers lightly brush your arm. “You’re not alone,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

His touch sends a spark through you, and for a moment, the weight of your burdens eases. But as you stand there, alone in the darkness with him, you know that the road ahead will only grow more difficult. Still, with him beside you, it feels less daunting.

You stay silent for a long moment, standing there with Father Charlie. His presence should be enough to calm you, but the weight of your thoughts has become unbearable, pressing down harder than ever before.

“I never wanted this life,” you finally whisper, eyes fixed on the fountain’s surface, the soft ripple of water reflecting the sky. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of something else.”

Charlie says nothing, letting you speak, his silence a kind of permission.

You take a breath, the memories flooding back. “I used to imagine myself far away from here—away from society, the rules, the eyes always watching. I dreamed of having a family, children running through an open field, laughter filling the air. I wanted to be a mother,” your voice wavers slightly, “to nurture my own, not just serve others.”

The words feel strange as they leave your mouth, like a confession you’ve never dared to speak aloud. Even though you’ve lived in service, dedicating yourself to this life, there’s always been a gnawing ache inside you for something more—something that belonged solely to you.

“I imagined a small cottage,” you continue, your voice growing softer, “with a garden, flowers blooming. Somewhere far from this place, where no one could judge me, where I could be free. I wanted to love, to build a life that was mine.”

Father Charlie shifts closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours, offering silent support.

“But instead… I ended up here.” The words hang in the air, heavy with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing this path. I thought it would bring me peace. But it didn’t. It feels like every day, I’m giving up more of myself—burying my real desires so deep I hardly recognize them anymore.”

Your throat tightens as a tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. The picnic earlier flickers in your mind, how for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel happiness. Real happiness. Sitting under the sun with him, laughing, letting your guard down—it had stirred something in you, something real and raw, a glimpse of the life you had always wanted.

“That picnic…” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in so long, I felt alive. I didn’t feel like the person everyone expects me to be. I felt like… me.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he doesn’t pull away when you step closer, his presence like a steadying force. “It’s not wrong to want more,” he says gently. “You deserve to feel whole.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I’ve given up so much already. What’s left of me?”

He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, and in them, you see the same conflict, the same struggle that mirrors your own. “There’s still time,” he says, his words a quiet promise. “There’s still time to find yourself.”

Tears spill freely now, and before you can stop yourself, you collapse into his arms, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the walls around your heart crumble, and you let yourself feel the ache of all you’ve lost—the life you could have had, the dreams that seem so distant now.

“I wanted a family,” you whisper into his shoulder, your voice breaking. “I wanted to be a mother, to love, to be loved. But instead…”

He tightens his arms around you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are loved. In ways you may not see yet.”

Father Charlie holds you close, his arms steady around you as your tears soak into his robe. The dam has broken, and there’s no holding back the flood of emotions anymore. You cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling beneath your feet, each sob rising from a place so deep it scares you.

“I thought… I thought if I buried those dreams long enough, they’d go away,” you murmur into his shoulder. “But they haven’t. They’ve only grown louder. I see families, mothers with their children, and it’s like a knife in my heart. I want that—so much it hurts.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his face for understanding. His brow furrows, concern etched into every line. “I feel trapped here,” you continue, voice cracking. “I’ve spent my life giving and giving, but no matter how much I give, I can’t find peace. All I ever wanted was a simple life, with love. But instead, I’m… this.”

Father Charlie’s hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “You’re not alone in this,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “I see your struggle, and I feel it too. Every day I ask myself if I made the right choice. If this is what my life was meant to be.”

The vulnerability in his words makes your breath hitch. You’ve never heard him speak like this before, never knew he had the same doubts gnawing at him. It’s both terrifying and comforting at once—knowing that even someone like him, someone who always seems so sure, is just as lost as you are.

“I don’t know how to keep pretending,” you admit, your voice a fragile whisper. “That picnic, earlier today… it felt like a glimpse of the life I could’ve had. And for just a moment, I was happy. Truly happy. But then it all came crashing back—the guilt, the expectations. The life I chose. It feels like a prison.”

Father Charlie’s thumb pauses on your cheek, and he lets out a slow breath. “I understand,” he says quietly. “More than you know.”

The air between you feels heavy, thick with unspoken truths and shared pain. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a longing that mirrors your own, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s wrestling with the same thoughts—if his dreams have also been sacrificed for a life he’s no longer certain of.

“I never thought…,” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. “I never thought I’d feel this way, here of all places.”

His hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Feelings are complicated,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sometimes, we think we’ve made peace with our choices, but deep down, our hearts tell a different story.”

A silence stretches between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. There’s something raw and honest about this moment, like the two of you are finally shedding the masks you’ve been wearing for so long.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice barely audible. “I feel so lost.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he leans in just slightly, his face close. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to face this alone.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a blanket, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to carry this burden on your own. Maybe there’s room for something more—something real.

Your heart races in your chest, and you take a shaky breath, eyes locked with his. The closeness between you feels electric, every nerve in your body attuned to his presence, to the quiet intensity in his gaze. It’s dangerous—this connection. You both know it.

But in this moment, it’s all you have.

───

The church bells have just finished ringing, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. You stand outside with Father Charlie, your heart still heavy from the morning’s sermon. The congregation begins to disperse, everyone offering quiet blessings to one another as they leave. You and Father Charlie remain, lingering by the old stone archway. It’s quieter now, the sacred stillness of the church grounds wrapped around you both like a secret.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and familiar, and you can feel the pull between you—stronger now than ever. The unspoken connection that had simmered all week after your vulnerable conversation feels unbearable in its intensity.

“I shouldn’t…” you start, but your words falter as he steps closer, the warmth of his presence radiating into the space between you.

“I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicker from yours to your lips betrays his struggle, mirroring your own.

Before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. The world seems to disappear—just the two of you in a moment stolen from time itself, as your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

The kiss is both a comfort and a confession, a silent surrender to everything you’ve been too afraid to say. You clutch the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidness of him, to anchor yourself in this forbidden moment.

But then, a gasp—a sharp intake of breath that slices through the intimacy like a blade. You break apart, breathless, and turn to see Nun Megan standing at the edge of the churchyard. Her face is a portrait of shock and disbelief, eyes wide, hand clasped over her mouth as though she cannot believe what she’s just witnessed.

Your stomach drops, cold dread flooding your veins.

“Goodness…” she whispers, her voice laced with horror, “what have you done?”

Father Charlie immediately steps back, but the damage is done. The air is charged with accusation, and you can see the betrayal written across her face. The weight of your actions crashes down around you, guilt mixing with panic.

“Megan, it’s not—” Father Charlie begins, but there’s no stopping her now. She turns and rushes back toward the church, her steps frantic as if she’s running to report what she’s seen, to stop the corruption before it spreads further.

You and Father Charlie are left standing in the aftermath, the kiss lingering on your lips, now tainted with the knowledge that everything is about to change.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[frmulcahy]

Listening to an episode of the @antiquesfreaks podcast where they cover the costuming in The Terror and here are some amazing moments:

"But Ken, are you the only one of us that put themselves through reading the book?" "I did. Because John Bridgens was trapped inside and I had to get him out and if I read the book good enough, perhaps I could save him"

"If you don't tell these men what to wear, they're gonna look like straight up hoochies."

"As we see in the later episodes of The Terror and discipline does break down and Dundy just starts showing up to command meetings with his suspenders out! Slattern that he is!!!

"Victorian Navy: one to one analog to working at present day Target."

"I heard they flog you at Target."

"I was press ganged into working at Target."

"It's Victorian times. Everyone's wicked fucking repressed and they're about to get wicked un-repressed whether they like it or not, and they're going to show that through their clothing."

"a blur of muttonchops"

"I pre-gamed the show for 5 years with gifsets on tumblr to makes sure I would be able to tell at least the major speaking roles apart, and I still could not tell Little and Jopson apart until I figured out they had different eye colors."

"And now I'm Pilkington SpottingTM as a hobby"

calling JFJ a "fashionable boy" with his "nippies out" because he doesn't button up his coat all the way like Franklin and Crozier

The two regular hosts repeatedly comparing themselves to a delinquent class that their guest is stuck substitute teaching

"I think my character would be hitting a fat doobie right about now"

Discussing Jared Harris being obsessed with his own costuming details like all the mending on Crozier's clothes

Jopson's first appearance - "he's normal and they're normal and everyone's having a normal time here on this completely routine expedition." "It's so normal. Do you ever fall in love with your boss???" "It couldn't have been more erotic if they had just had gay sex."

Stanley and McDonald's button grouping on their uniforms to denote rank

THEY TALK ABOUT THE ICONIC JFJ GANSEEEYYY

Also Irving's Sanquhar scarf :')

"the red sweater of tenderness" sobbing screaming throwing up

"I think The Terror would have been improved if all of the marines had Boston accents for no reason"

Also marines vs normal sailors

comparing sailor's clothes to fast fashion because it's not very tailored lmaooo

The canvas overcoats being period inaccurate but still neat because they're referencing later polar expeditions like what we see on the guys in the Shackleton expedition etc

They talk about irl Goodsir's letter about clothes and the many many shirts!

Nive having to wear a cooling vest under her costume since it was real caribou fur and her coat being patched with sail cloth later.

They go into Yup'ik masks which is super cool! As well as have a conversation about the ethics of visuals/information/knowledge about indigenous artwork being shared with folks outside of those communities.

Repeated! Dan! Simmons! Roasting! As! They! Should!!!!!

Reapted! Nive! Nielsen! Praising! As! They! Should!!!!!!!!

Sophia's "oceanic color theme"

"They let the dresses have colors. The dresses have colors. The dresses have bright beautiful colors, and it's great."

"They had invented aniline dyes and they were about to make it everybody's problem!"

Lady Jane in more solids vs Sophia in more patterns

"'A woman could never possibly understand polar exploration' meanwhil Silna's up there doing it better than all of them."

Clowning on how other period pieces never use bonnets and always fuck up in the hair and makeup department

"I found Harry Goodsir's fursuit btw"

"On a scale of Calypso's Birthday to Fitzjames's Carnivale, how's your impromptu nautical drag ball going?"

"It's actually exactly like The Purge." "It's like a little Victorian maritime Purge."

"As far as metaphor and literary analysis and whatever, scurvy understood the fucking assignment."

"I punched in Scorbutic Nostalgia so that I could remember to read about it later." "I have some literature for you if you want." "Yeah fantastic! I love disease"

"CGI bear expensive"

"This episode comes with a heavy caveat of 'go to Terror Camp'" amazing.

THE DRESSTM

Tozer's Hotspur costume and Dundy's Henry VI costume and their relevance

"This is the last we see of Party!Dundy"

(About Little) "Every day he gets emails :("

Bridgler and Apollo/Hyacinthus stuff fuuuuuccckk

"Hodgepodge, my boy"

"Oompa loompa doompity dacticals, don't indulge your morals over your practicals"

"Rip Hickey you would've loved Joker"

Not a silly quote but just a really fantastic one: "That is what the best historical designers do, is they find these nuggets of information that allow them to tell a story with authenticity, both in a way that is historical but authentic to the characters as well." EXAAAACCCTTTLLLYYYYYY

"Whomst among us has not Joplarped to get through the workday?"

[queenofallimagines]

oh good gods pls your luciferian hcs made me YELL they’re so good lmao i was side eyeing my altar and space for lucifer the WHOLE TIME

do you think you could do a part two? and if possible, nsfw? if not thats more than okay!! thank you and i hope you’re doing so good!!!

🕷️anon

Absolutely 🕷anon! AND LMAO YEAH I COULD FEEL HIM SIDE EYEING ME ACROSS THE ROOM AS I WROTE THESESGSHSJS asking the old man “why are you like this” whenever lucifer in game does something corny😭 ik he’s sick of me

Lucifer:

- Okay so since part 1 was when you arrived this will be more about day to day life in the next term

- Right off the bat I’m imagining minor petty spats that the other brothers are like…. Wtf is going on here

- Like y’all have been glaring across the table at one another for 30 mins and haven’t spoken a word

- WAY more picky w offerings lmao

- Is literally going to be super extra about it for no reason other than to bother you

- For example! When you give an offering to oshun( African orisha they’re like the HR in the heaven department just above the angel hierarchy) you have to eat a little first bc she was poisoned once so it’s like to show you’re in good faith

- Lucifer will ask you to do that w food you don’t like

- “Eat some”

- “I got this for you-“

- “And I want you to taste some😌”

- “….. do I really I have to???”

- “Are you telling me what to do w MY offering🤨”

- MAKE FUN OF HIM PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY!!

- A lot of people ( white peoples I fear😔) be talking about he only accepts blood offerings and you have to sell your soul or whatever and stuff but literally this man will be giddy over a red candle w gold glitter

- Write all your assignments in sparky pen so when he looks at them he can’t hold back a smile

- As a joke you leave crystals associated with him in his coat pockets but he will never take them out

- Congratulations you played ya self

- You doing the stuff you do for him out of habit will fluster him if you say it

- “Why are you waking up so early to get ready?”

- “Hm? For Lucifer”

- “No im not gunna drink this tea it’s an offering🙄”

- Please don’t tell his brothers he will lock himself in his office💀

- Whenever you google “what can I do for Lucifer” 9/10 the first thing will be taking care of yourself

- So when your self caring w asmo and you go “oh I do this bc Lucifer likes it”

- The house will expose in chaos

- Mammon demanding you tell him your card numbers “for him” LMAO

- They’re all super jealous

- Gotta tell em its nothing personal he’s just always been there for you

- Whew if he reached out to YOU?

- The silence in the house REAL LOUD😭

- Belphegor waking up and going “ik you fucking lying!!!”

- You’re all confused like???

- “…..you said Lucifer… reached out to YOU?”

- “??????yeah????”

- “As in… he ASKED you to work with him?”

- “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about his name and he showed up on my door one day”

- Lmao belphie and mammon are the LOUDEST FR

- “YOU CHOSE A HUMAN?? MR I HATE HUMANS BECAUSE THEYRE WEAK??📸”

- OH SO THERES MORE THAN ONE FAKE BITCH IN THIS HOUSE HUH?”

- lmao he’s sitting there red faced clenching his fist like

- “Listen I can explain”

- He cannot explain😭

- Can’t even say he did it on a whim

- “He really picked me up like a wet cat lmao”

- “Mc I am literally begging you to shut the FUCK up”

- Oh maaaaan diavolo will get a Kick out of this!!

- Solomon is very salty

- “But I can’t get a pact😒😒”

- He’s literally going to double down and bother him more

- “Lucifer you never told me you were taking on disciples🥺”

- “I didn’t think it was that important lord diavolo simply to pass the time”

- Simeon is laughing but internally having the feels bc he’s like 🥹 “even after all this time you still choose to be a guardian angel”

- Will tell you embarrassing stories about him he is now super close to you

- “Lucifer being the lords favorite was also the best one at singing👀 he loved music”

- That’s tru btw lmao Lucifer was like one of the angels who liked singing the most thats what makes humans and angels so alike- love for music and dancing-

- Call him your morning star and he MELTS

- Back to why were really here😌

- Call him that during sex or when you first wake up and he’s on cloud nine

- FUCK HIM DURING GOLDEN HOUR🗣🗣

- He’s literally he rises in the morning for a reason!!

- He will deadass purpose bc imagine riding him as the sun stars peaking over the horizon

- He’s under you moaning looking up at you w the most glazed over love struck eyes

- The sun filtering through the window and hitting him juuuuuuuust right

- That it looks like he has a halo again

- Breathlessly calling your name as you grind down on him

- He barely manages to get out that he’s close before you caress some of his hair out of his face

- “Cum for me then my Morningstar”

- Time freezes for like 16 seconds and his eyes are getting teary

- He hugs you close as he starts rutting his hips into you harder

- Will cum and keep going until he’s about to pass out

- Holding you like a lifeline

- When you can finally breathe and think straight he pulls you in for a kiss

- Literally stealing your breath away

- Will say I love you in the most honest voice ever while smiling at you with teary eyes

- probably won’t stop touching you all day might as well just spend it in bed

-is embarrassed by body worship calling it now

- be HE can do that but if YOU sink to your knees behind his desk and hold eye contact he’s getting nervous

-“just showing my devout gratitude💕”

- embarrassed how fast he finishes

- if you keep doing to overstimulate him he’s putty in your hands

- this man is very soft he will crack at the slightest sign of domestic romance

- bring him coffee when he wakes up?

- he’s already selected a wedding venue

- I always thought it would be cute if he gave you his ring

- HILARIOUS IF HE DOSENT TELL YOU LMAO

- You swing by the celestial realm and it’s crickets and you’re like ??? Fuck is y’all starring at??🤨

- Simeon hums and says that nobody expected lucifer to get married much less to a human. How he was never one to put anything above his responsibilities

- Excuse me?

- “You’re wearing the right of light,yes? He doesn’t just give that to anyone dear. You two are bonded for life now🥰”

- “HELLO????”

[squib-2006]

Dr pt2 spoiler warning

This was a fantastic set of episodes

• Kai and wyldfire are everything. Kai having to deal with someone who acts like he did in the earlier seasons is poetic justice and funny as hell.

• I also like how they kinda tried to explain why Kai seemed calm after sea bound and nyas seaifcation. I guess Kai meditating with wu would make him calmer. At least it confirms that Kai was upset (even if they didn’t show it)

•I am kinda upset that nothing from skybound was brought up with the Djinn. I personally don’t really like skybound but I still find that it could be used more than just oh yah that happened right wink wink. I mean we had to suffer through skybound for something right?

• I actually really liked sora and nyas whole plot with the Djinns curse. It was fun and had a nice conclusion.

• Coles return is great I love his little gang in the land of forgotten things. My favorite has to be the skeleton girl (I forgot her name probably cuz they only say it like 2 times) she’s funny.

• I do wish there was a scene where nyas like btw I found Cole and the other ninja react. I mean she does mention it at the end but no one except Zane has any real reaction.

• Beatrix going off the rails was really funny. It felt like someone gave a teen with daddy issues an insta death weapon.

• rapton switching sides kinda came out of left field for me. Like the guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box I think it would be more likely for other characters to switch sides. Also how did he recover from being tased so quickly? Man was out cold and not two minutes later he was up and walking around.

• kinda felt that the whole being sucked into non existence should have had more lasting effects (totally not because I want to traumatize or brutally injure Kai no why would I want that /s) tho fake out deaths are pretty par for the course with ninjago, this one actually didn’t make me feel all that much cuz I knew the moment wyldfire got pulled in that this was a fake out. They wouldn’t kill one of there new characters that quickly.

•so wus just legitimately fudging dead. Never thought we would see the day when this old mad would just peace out. Also ghost wu legit looks like he’s slowly loosing his form or something cuz in the first half he appears with his full body but in the last scene he’s in he’s just a chest and a head. It might have just been a stylistic thing tho.

•I’m not mad jay only showed up for around 30 seconds (this just might be my bias tho cuz jays probably the ninja I care the least about, not that I hate him or anything he’s just not that interesting to me) it’s kinda refreshing for me cuz nya gets to be her own character for a bit and not be completely attached to Jay and Jay gets to take up less screen time (if I am being honest Jay had so much focus in the wild brain seasons it kinda got annoying to me personally) idk if he’s actually lost his memories or if that leak is wrong cuz it would make sense cuz he has not searched for the ninja (specifically nya cuz that man is a simp for his gf) Arin missing him by a second is hilarious to me.

•not sure about how I feel about Lloyd being the linchpin for the entire thing. Part of me thinks that it would have fit the shows themes better if all of them used their elemental powers or something else to power the cores to fix everything. But another part of me understands that Lloyd get main character privileges cuz he’s the son of ninjago god.

•still kinda frustrated that they are changing how elemental powers work. Originally they were from the first spinjitzu master, but the whole source dragon being the source (for lack of a better word) of the elemental powers, it completely retcons and nerfs the first spinjitzu master. It would have made more sense if they still came from the powers of the fsm and were gifted through the source dragons to people.

•the implication of the cursed realm merging with the rest of the realms brings up the question if the departed realm merged to? Does that mean no one can die??? Or is there some sort of force that still keeps the departed realm separated from the rest (like how the people in the land of the forgotten can’t leave) or can some dude just wander in to the departed realm and see like there dead grandma chilling with the fsm having tea or some crap like that.

•Lloyd going I forgot there are two of them now towards Kai and wyldfires antics is peak writing. And all the arson and explosions the two created is just beautiful.

•I think the Kai and wyldfire duo should be called like the arsonist or the kaboom duo

•THE HUGGG!!!! My boi was so happy looking when the tackle hug was done.

•I just cant get my brain to shut up about these two. They give off tired dad who sometimes gives in to his old chaotic ways he’s sworn he’s grown out of and living embodiment of chaos and fun daughter who drags her dad into crazy things.

Tdlr I loved this second half and had a few issues with it but it was still really good.

[pancakeke]

you KNOW what I'm bitching about under the cut

today at work my boss emailed our development team with me on CC and asked if they had updated something that altered system lead times for components. our department (procurement) was called out as the source of delays but she believed our scheduling program wasn't factoring in extra time for us to request quotes. this isn't something the scheduler has ever done, I don't know where she got that idea.

I had zero prior knowledge of any issue until reading this email btw.

anyway she cited a component part number in the subject of the email only and said an order using it was slated to ship from our facility before the component was received. she did not bother providing the order number, or any other links. the body of the email ended with a number that didn't resemble the component PN or order number and when I looked it up there weren't any results.

a developer replied saying nothing had been changed and asked her to provide concrete evidence by giving him an order number. he did not bother looking up the component number (though I guess it was in a stupid place, and there wasn't a link to hand hold). if he used that he would have seen that it was only used by one order. it takes 2 clicks to reach an order from a part page.

I checked the order and saw that our sales team (who decides the reasons for order fulfillment delays) edited this order yesterday to remove one component and add the component my boss mentioned. they did not, however, update the order's ship date or notify my team via either email or ticket. the new component had a longer lead time than the original, so this was a problem. this change and the creation of a delay was not my dept's fault though, so blaming us for it is total bullshit.

now if you're keeping track: of the 3 parties involved here, all 3 have failed to do their due diligence, 1 has provided insufficient details, and 1 has entered false information and failed to communicate any details entirely. the developer is not off the hook yet though.

I checked out the math that determines the date this order ships from our facility. all steps from procurement to shipment are laid out with the amount of time each should consume, and then at the bottom the number of days for all steps are added together and stacked on the order entry date to get a ship date.

except there are two of these sections, one that shows everything as it was the moment the order was first entered and one that shows everything for the order's current form. the current form had one accounting processing day included (standard for all orders) but the this was listed as 0 days for the original form section.

this means the order's original form, which sets the ship date for an order, is always 1 day sooner than current (and real) ship date calculation. sales has to manually adjust set ship dates or they will not update. so development did break something after all. the guy in this email thread was either unaware yet confident enough to make a statement claiming otherwise or made a knee jerk response saying they didn't do anything.

no one looks. no one reads. no one communicates. everyone makes judgements despite all those things. I'm going to start throwing bricks.

edit: btw I replied to the email with all the info I found including numbers, links, and screenshots. I am responsible when it matters.

[magicicephoenix]

Hoax - The Ink Demonth 2024 (Day 3)

In which a particularly heavy rumor takes the studio by storm. And they take… interesting measures in the face of it.

ao3 link

-----------

went for more of an "audio only" type style here, mostly for my own sanity ^^' and yet this still ended up rather long for a day-long prompt… oh well. had a blast writing it, at least!

btw this takes place in my The Silent Demon AU, which is essentially just: everyone is happy, the studio is thriving, and Bendy is alive! he's also mute and deaf.

enjoy!

----------

"Another special? So soon? Honestly, Joey, it's like you want everyone to quit."

The sound of papers being shuffled. "C'mon Henry, it'll be great for business! I mean, it's not my fault that Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all go in a row!"

"But it is your fault that Bendy, Boris, and Alice are celebrating all four." An amused huff. "Couldn't we just do a short for New Years or something?"

"But the vision! The prestige!"

"Now you're just saying words."

An offended scoff. "I'm just saying, this'll be good for the studio! A step up against the competitors!"

"And the best way to do that is to work everyone to the bone?"

"You know I'd never let it get to that point."

An acknowledging hum. "Alright, fine, whatever, you're the boss. But you better not get any ideas about Valentine's Day."

"Ah! Now that you mention it—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm leaving."

"Wait, but- Henry! You haven't even heard what I was going to say!"

"Nope. I'm not hearing another one of your far-too-complicated ideas today. I'm making like Wally and getting outta here. For real this time!" The sound of decisive shoes on wood, a door opening.

A pause—skittering of hidden footsteps rushing away, staying unnoticed—and then… the laughter of two good friends joking around.

The shuffling and bustling of employees on break.

"Did you hear? We're starting another special."

The crinkle of a lunch bag opening. "Geez, again? What's this one about?"

"New Years."

"And we need a whole special about that?!"

"Jesus."

"Mr. Stein reacted the same, I heard."

The thump of a cup being put down. "Really?"

"Yeah. Told Joey something about quitting if stuff like this kept happening."

Stirring of a spoon in a bowl. A laugh. "Mr. Stein would never quit."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Are you kidding? He'd never leave the studio. Not to mention Bendy."

A chuckle. "Ah, you're right."

"Then why'd he say he was leaving?"

A spit take. "What?!"

"Who told you that?"

"Overheard. He said he was leaving, for real."

"No way."

"Yes way. That's exactly what he said!"

"That can't be true."

"He'd never actually leave!"

"You've seen how exhausted he's been recently! What if this was too much for him?"

"…he has been here longer than anyone else."

"And Mrs. Stein would be happy that he'd stopped working late."

"Where do you think he'd go, though?"

"Doesn't matter where he'd be going, what matters is that he might be leaving!"

"The department wouldn't be the same."

"Yeah, it'd be so empty!"

"We'd have to get another department head!"

"Augh, it'd be so weird reporting to anyone other than Mr. Stein…"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"But… it's only a maybe, right?

"I mean, I guess. But what if it's true?"

"I can't imagine what would happen if he left for good…"

"Then let's just hope he won't."

"Yeah, fair enough."

A door slamming open. "Henry might be leaving."

The crash of a chair falling down. "He's what?"

"Wait, what-"

"Heard it through the grapevine."

"Susie, you can't just believe every hint of gossip that comes your way…"

"No, no, she's right."

Another chair hitting the floor. "She is?!"

"What, you're tellin' me that you haven't felt the stress from the recent specials? Imagine how brutal it must be in Animation!"

"Ugh, even thinking about all that drawing makes my hand cramp up…"

"He's been working late more often, too. What if he's reached a breaking point?"

"Henry doesn't have a breaking point. He's crazy when it comes to work."

"Everyone has a breaking point."

"Well, of course you do, you break just about every day, you perfectionist."

A scoff. "I am not a perfectionist."

"Oh, yes, when you scream at the band every day, that's not due to any undiscovered need for only the best take possible."

"I do not scream, I instruct, and it's only because all the fools on the instruments don't understand the basic principles of—"

"All I'm hearin' is that you have unreasonable standards."

"Well, Joey hired me for a reason—"

"Ladies, ladies!" The rush of banter dies down. "Calm yourselves. We have a problem on our hands, and we're going to address it."

"So what do we do about it then, Susie? Beg him not to leave?"

"Well, hold on. If he's already decided, there's not much that can change his mind. He's stubborn as a mule."

"Linda could!"

"If he's leaving then Linda knows and approves."

"…right."

"But he hasn't decided! It's only that he might leave."

"So we have a chance to stop him."

"Exactly."

"So what's the plan?"

"Maybe we guilt trip him."

"Norman!"

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well, actually, he might have a point."

"What? Guys—"

"How would we, though? If he's really thinking of this seriously, he must've already considered all the factors."

"True… so what else can we do?"

"What if we can't do anything?"

A somber silence.

"Well, then… we plan long term. Just in case he leaves. A safety net."

"I guess that's… reasonable. But I still think we should—"

"Who would be the next head of Animation, do you think?"

"Eugh, tough break. No one's as good as Henry."

"But someone'll have to step up!"

"What about Bill? He's been around for a while."

"Really? I don't think he's management material."

"Maybe Phil, then."

"Oh, that's not a bad thought. He can handle stuff in a pinch, for sure."

"Yeah, he helped time the frames for the latest song, you remember? When Henry was busy fixing the misplaced lighting debacle."

"Don't you dare speak a word about that, I swear to God, animators in here every second of the week—"

"Wait, hold on, everyone shut up." Everyone does. "We're thinking too complicated. Quick answer, what's going to happen if Henry decides to leave?"

"Um, Animation will lose a capable artist?"

"Joey Drew will summon more demons."

"Sammy'll blow a fuse."

"I will not— "

The sound of someone stomping their foot. "Ugh, honestly! You men are so dense. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"Maybe for some of us."

"Hey!"

"I didn't say it was you. What, you outin' yourself?"

"I- You annoying—"

"Bendy, you guys, Bendy! What'll happen to him?"

"What'll… happen?"

"Yes! If he can't be by Henry's side all the time, where will he go? What will he do?"

"Who will he choose instead, you mean."

"Well- I mean yes, obviously."

"Won't he just go with Joey?"

"Maybe if you think simple. Don't you realize? This is our chance!"

"What are you talking about? He already spends plenty enough time here."

"Playing piano with you, maybe, but the rest of us are woefully starved of Bendy time!"

"Bendy time?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Um, I honestly don't think this what-if warrants this level of—"

"So you're sayin' there's a chance of him pickin' someone else?"

"I think it's in the realm of possibility."

"Then we'll have to figure out who."

"And how will we do that?"

"I'm sure I could think up a few contests… see who he picks…"

"We'd have to go get him first."

"Well then, let's do that."

"Guys, seriously! Can't we just… I don't know, talk to Henry before jumping through these crazy hoops?"

A pause.

"Stick to lyrics, Jack."

"Yeah, Jack."

"Alright, let's do this, team!"

Amid the clambering of shoes leaving the room, there's a long suffering sigh. "I'll be in my office, I guess…"

"Did you hear? Henry might be leaving."

"Really? Always thought he'd stick around 'til the business sank."

"So did I!"

"So, see, the Music Department's been running around addressing things. Possible concerns."

"You'd think Joey would be the one doing that."

"Nah, haven't seen him all day, actually. And I have a script waiting for review…"

"Anyway, they've been gathering everyone in the band room."

"Everyone? What, they're doing a concert?"

"Bendy's in there. Norman says he's 'up for grabs.'"

"…what?"

"Bendy's super attached to Henry, right? So they're trying to figure out where he'll stay if Henry decides to leave."

"Isn't Joey the obvious choice? I mean, he is the guy who created him."

"I guess… but maybe he'll choose someone else."

"I don't think 'up for grabs' is the best way to put that…"

"Don't blame me, Norman's the one who said it!"

A pause.

"I mean, we're going, right?"

"Oh, of course."

The sound of a door easing open. "Hey, Mr. Drew?"

"Ah, Buddy, yes, hello! Come in, come in! What's on your mind?"

"Um… you're wanted in the band room."

"Oh, alright." The scratching of a chair being pushed back. Footsteps on wood. A door closing. "What am I needed for? Did Sammy finish that theme I asked him for?"

"Um… no, sir. It's for a contest."

"Pardon?"

"A contest. Everyone's there in the band room waiting for you. All the animators and writers, too."

"I… why are they there?"

"That's where Bendy is. And people are hoping he'll pick someone new to follow around."

"And they're hoping this because…?"

"Because Mr. Stein might be leaving."

One pair of footsteps stop. "…what?"

"Mr. Stein might be leaving."

"I… Henry isn't leaving."

"He isn't?"

"Of course not. Whatever in the world gave everyone that idea?"

"Um… it's what everyone's been saying, sir."

"I told you, Buddy, you don't need to call me sir."

"R-right."

"Anyway… do you know where they heard this?"

"Someone said they overheard him talking about quitting. And he's been working late a lot, so maybe he's tired."

"That… doesn't sound like Henry. I-I mean, I know things have been stressful, but not that much. Right?"

A noncommittal hum. "That's just what I've heard."

"Huh…"

An anxious silence.

"W-well, they still want you in the band room for comparison."

"I… comparison?"

"To see who Bendy likes more."

"Ah… I-I see… so they think this is really happening?"

"I guess so."

An unnerved clearing of the throat. "Right… well then… I suppose… it only makes sense…"

"Are you alright, Mr. Drew?"

"J-just peachy, Buddy. C'mon, let's get going. There are many, many people waiting for us!"

"Hey, Henry?"

Silence.

"Henry."

"Oh, hey Abby. What is it?"

"You’re not leaving, are you?"

"Leave- do you need help with something? I can stay. I was just finishing up with—"

"No, I mean… leaving. The studio. Y'know… quitting."

"What? Of course not. What gave you that idea?"

"Everyone’s saying it. Joey, too."

"…Joey thinks so?"

The rustle of a nod.

A long sigh. The sound of a pencil being put down. "Oh, man… alright, where are they?"

"Band room. They’re doing a contest to see who Bendy will take to if you leave."

The sound of a chair scraping against wood. Another sigh, this one more fond. "Of course they are."

Everything goes silent when Henry Stein enters the room. Everyone freezes on the spot, stuck with their hands in the cookie jar. Well, the cookie jar that is an elaborate mashup of toys, instruments, and other objects in an attempt to get a certain cartoon demon's interest piqued.

Bendy is the first one to move, of course. He jumps down from the table he’s been placed onto and weaves through the crowd of people to get to Henry, to whom he raises his hands expectantly.

In a clean movement, Henry bends down and scoops Bendy securely into his arms. He surveys the room silently, taking in a range of emotions from surprised, to confused, to worried, to amused. Then he sighs, exasperated, like the weight of the entire studio is on his shoulders. "I’m not leaving," he announces, much too tired.

The room erupts in noise. Disbelief and accusations hit the air, with everything in between ringing out into the big space. Above it all heaves the loud, mirthful laugh of someone who knew this all along and played into the insanity, and the similarly loud but very different cry of someone who knew and dreaded this very result from the start. And, quieter, between the shouts and yells, there's the blessedly relieved exhale of a man too paranoid for his own good.

In the chaos, Henry looks down at Bendy. Bendy blinks back, completely out of the loop, and Henry chuckles.

"Don’t worry, bud," he says, even though he knows Bendy won’t hear it. "I’ll never leave you. No way in hell."

----------

thanks for reading! :)

after this Henry has a very long talk with the entirety of the studio about jumping to conclusions. and a separate, more stern talk with Joey about letting his doubts get the best of him. and then another talk with the entire studio about just talking to him if they hear rumors like this, jesus christ.

[merbear25]

Can you give me some Caesar Clown headcanons themed around toys? Of course, I mainly mean the adult toy kind, but there may be other things he considers to be a toy, like certain chemicals or creations. Maybe he sleeps with plushies, or a body pillow of his crush, who knows?

I'll start with my own headcanon: he is deeply afraid of rejection, and he'll either never ask y/n out and stick to using sex toys or masturbating to images of y/n, or he will force himself on y/n and make y/n a prisoner before anyone has confessed. Both of these originates from the same fear of rejection and abandonment. Several people on ao3 have used the tag "Caesar Clown is bad at feelings" and I think it describes him well.

- 🍬💉anon

Hey, hey! I really like this 🙈 He for sure is bad at feelings... Look at him! He's a mess when it comes to that department, but it's one of the things we love about him 🤭 Btw I love the headcanons you added. Hope you like it 💜💜

CW: NSFW, MDNI, headcanons, sex toys, gn!reader, male masturbation, perversion, wet dreams, capturing reader, some angst

Flooding thoughts (Caesar)

There’s no way he wouldn’t be obsessive and possessive in the most depraved way imaginable.

My mind immediately went to him keeping some type of fleshlight in his drawer that matched the skin tone of that special someone he was fantasizing about. With that would come lots of lube, specifically a kind that he’d made that sends that sought after rush through him much more intensely.

He wouldn’t just lay on his back each time either, instead positioning it in ways he’d imagined having his way with you. So, with this in mind more than one model would be necessary to suit whichever craving wrapped itself around him.

Little audio clips would be kept so he could listen to them if you were away for too long. There were certain ones that got him hot and bothered, spending the rest of the time rubbing one out to the sweet sounds of you.

He’d most definitely have a stash of photos of you, some of which would be kept buried in his desk drawers because of the disgraceful state of them. There may be one innocent photo of you he kept on him either in his pocket or close to his chest.

Since his mind was flooded with thoughts of you, there was no avoiding you visiting him in his dreams.

The first wet dream he had of you sparked an idea to have a body pillow that reminded him of you. He made sure to get a perfume of your scent just right and sprayed the pillow with it regularly, so you filled his senses as he cuddled it.

There were many nights when things stayed more or less innocent: wrapping his arms and legs around it and imagining you were hugging him back.

However, he couldn’t hold himself back when the day had been filled with sparks he felt between the two of you. This led to the inevitable—shameless grinding until the pillow was doused with copious amounts of cum. Your scent mixing with his made him bite down on the abused fabric while he groaned and squirmed against it.

Any poor soul that was suspected of getting too close to you was made a target. He’d firstly remain in the shadows, examining your dynamic and jumping to the conclusion that you preferred them over him. 

Forcing himself into situations with the both of you would be the first attempt at putting a wedge between you. However, if he caught wind of any real threat, they would be eliminated. Washing his hands of the trash he took out, he could go back to fantasizing about him being the only one for you.

With how suspicious he is of everyone, his heart would remain guarded if you were to ever find out about his dirty little secret. He’d convince himself that you would only view his actions as dangerous, repulsive, and that you’d try to flee no matter how much you denied it.

But, he couldn’t let that happen. You still had a stranglehold on him, and whether you liked it or not, it wasn’t loosening.

Every breath you took that resounded in mutual desire was met with a shake of his head. 

No one would just accept this type of behavior, let alone be turned on by it. You were lying. These echoed in his mind as he tore down any attempt you made to reassure him that you were just as crazy about him.

It wouldn’t be impossible to convince him, but doing so would need to be done tactfully in order to scale those barbed wire walls.

Confliction punctured his typically sound logic, making him act on emotion, more specifically the rising fear of never seeing you again. He’d rather hold you against your will than risk watching you walk out that door and never hearing from you again.

He wanted you to be happy with him, although he was reluctant to believe you ever could be. The yearning only escalated when you were forced to stay with him.

You were so close he could reach out and touch you just as he'd been dreaming of, but he recoiled and retired to his bedroom alone each night.

In many ways he felt safer this way. The image he had of you could never do him wrong and the toys, pictures, audio, and pillow he had of you brought on an illusion of comfort and security that he wasn't quite ready to detach himself from.

[thepictureofjune]

The Tortured Poets Department of schloss einstein ; the anthology

part 1 here and now we continue except the nitpicking gets more crazy the closer you look.

Enjoy :]

The Black Dog - Ava Eilers (Staffel 27 post 1065)

I am someone who until recent events You shared your secrets with And your location, you forgot to turn it off And so I watch as you walk Into some bar called The Black Dog And pierce new holes in my heart You forgot to turn it off And it hits me I just don't understand how you don't miss me

So Ava revealed that Patrick actually really hurt her and to this day, it still seems to be something that drifts them apart yet Patrick seems like he doesn’t know anything about it, perhaps doesn’t even see it as a big thing. Yet to Ava, this was everything. (written pre 1067 btw)

imgonnagetyouback - Leon und Simon (Staffel 27 post 1066 u 1067)

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back Whether I'm gonna curse you out or Take you back to my house, I haven't decidеd yet But I'm gonna get you back I, I hear thе whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice You'll find that you were never not mine Small talk, big love, act like I don't care what you did I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch Then ran and hid

this is mostly here for shigs and giggles and bcs we got a Limon l-word bomb before we got Nolin so yeah

How did it end? - Noah Temel (Staffel 27) 

And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign Come one, come all It's happenin' again The empathetic hunger descends We'll tell no one Except all of our friends We must know How did it end? (...) Say it once again with feeling How the death rattle breathing Silenced as the soul was leaving The deflation of our dreaming Leaving me bereft and reeling My beloved ghost and me Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G It's happenin' again How did it end? I can't pretend like I understand How did it end?

To me, this is Noah being an outsider in the divorce of his parents, being just a child as his parents kept fighting, kept moving on and throughout all of this, he has no idea why it is happening nor how it came to an end like that.

So High School - Marlon und Nesrin (Staffel 27) 

I feel so high school every time I look at you I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you And in a blink of a crinklin' eye I'm sinkin', our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me (...) Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two (...) Truth, dare, spin bottles You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Don’t think I need to explain this one. 

I Hate It Here - Maxi Zielenski (Staffel 27) 

I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to, the only one is mine I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child No mid-sized city hopes and small-town fears I'm there most of the year 'cause I hate it here I hate it here Nostalgia is a mind's trick If I'd been there, I'd hate it (...) I'm lonely, but I'm good I'm bitter, but I swear I'm fine I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life  and I'll get lost on purpose

Okay I think we’re all aware that Maxi probably hates every place she is in. Her home felt foreign and now at the school, the only reason she is there in the first place is her grandmothers treasure and it is said that as soon as that’s gone, she wants nothing more than to leave. 

thank you aIMee - Joel Lucas (Staffel 26 u 27)

And then she wrotе headlines In the local paper, laughing at each baby step I'd take And it was always the same searing pain But I prayed that, one day, I could say All that time you were throwin' punches, I was buildin' somethin' And I couldn't wait to show you it was real Screamed, "Fuck you, Aimee" to the night sky as the blood was gushin' But I can't forget the way you made me heal Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman But she used to say she wished that you were dead I pushed each boulder up the hill Your words are still just ringing in my head, ringing in my head I built a legacy that you can’t undo

We meet Joel as someone who would rather have success than friends, who doesn’t seem to care for other people but who also is sad whenever things don’t work out for him. Makes you wonder why, no? Why that kid came to the school not caring if he made friends. Why he always felt like an outsider in every social intersection with everyone he ever talked to. How such a kid went from not caring about other people to doing everything he could to keep his best friend. (need to get started on that joel analysis already I have too many thoughts about him)

The Prophecy - Mikka Lund-Mayr (Staffel 26 u 27)

Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo the prophecy? Cards on thе table Mine play out like fools in a fablе Oh, it was sinking in Slow is the quicksand Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand (...) And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven 'round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate No sign of soulmates I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige Spending my last coin so someone will tell me it'll be okay

Mikka is canonically lonely if I may remind you of that. He doesn’t have his best friend anymore and somehow even when he tries to become friends with Reena again, it doesn’t really seem to last all that long (also because the writers literally forgot about him but yeah). All he has is his inventions. 

The Bolter - Simon Reuter (Staffel 27) 

By all accounts, she almost drowned When she was six in frigid water And I can confirm she made A curious child, ever reviled By everyone except her own father With a quite bewitching face Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless Excellent fun 'til you get to know her Then she runs like it's a race Behind her back, her best mates laughed And they nicknamed her "The Bolter" (...) She's been many places with Men of many faces First, they're off to the races And she's laughing, drawin' aces But none of it is changin' That the chariot is waitin' Hearts are hers for the breakin' There's escape in escaping

Simon is wasted potential on all accounts because you’re really going to tell me he is proud and fine and happy with all the trophies he wins? That there isn’t mayhaps the need to always succeed because it’s what is expected of him? And he seems like he likes every girl at the entire school but cannot pull any of them simply because? Not because maybe he is trying to find the one that makes sense, the one girl that maybe makes him feel a little better about himself, because love is supposed to reveal our true selves and Simon has always been someone else his entire life? 

(i’m trying to give him the depth that the writers failed to bcs wdym he is just some guy who likes sports and girls?) (update nach 1066: nvm I think they really just gonna leave him with being everyones no.1 nuisance)

Robin - Chiara Dorn (Staffel 24 und alle danach eig auch)

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness (...) You got the dragonflies above your bed You have a favorite spot on the swing set You have no room in your dreams for regrets The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness

This song references a lot of childish demeanor or behavior that is only known for children, trying to keep the illusion of innocence alive for someone who is too sweet to learn about all the cruelties of the world. For me, this is Chiara.

And we're done. (and now we can get back to over-analyzing kids that aren't actually sad but could very well be!)

— june🪐

[pattwtf]

Questions tag game

Aaaaah! Thank you my babies, @sawymredfox and @katareyoudrilling for the tag, I love this games!!

Do you make your own bed? Nope, BUT there is a reason. Boyfriend wakes up later than I do, so he makes it 😏

Favorite number? SEVEN, don't know why, since I was soooo young I loved it, and later I heard it's like the lucky number or something like that? Yeah, 7 :)

What’s your job? It kinda thrills me cause Kat answered she's a virtual assistant and I'm something similar in the Admissions Department in a university.

If you could go back to school, would you? I would, if I knew all I know now and I was as mature as I am now (which is not much more, but... lol)

Can you parallel park? Uhm, ok, here it comes... I DON'T DRIVE. No driver license here (American people might be screamin rn, but I don't need it where I live, PT works quite well here and it takes me exactly where I need hahahaha)

Do you think aliens are real? it would be too pretentious of us to think that, in an immense universe, we are the only kings of the party.

Can you drive a manual car? I can drive a bumper car. That's all.

What’s your guilty pleasure? reading filth all fucking day HAHAHAHA

Any phobias? Spiders, don't like clowns at all either....... And small spaces if I know I can't move (a stuck elevator or things like that, you know)

Favorite childhood sport? Used to be an urban dancer, and quite good, btw, so... DANCE was my fav sport.

Do you talk to yourself? I talk to myself a bit too much

Tattoos? Two, and another one this Friday!!!

Favorite color? Violet

Do you like puzzles? Not that much, I'm too impatient... My sister, tho, is such a freeeeaky puzzle girl, and she's sooo good at it

NPT (but I'd love to know you a bit more, guys!) @alwaysmicado @beardedjoel @pedrospatch @tuquoquebrute @elliespuns @adhdprincess and anyone who feels like spending some time answering these questioooons

Love you all

[inmyfxith]

A Tale of Two Worlds - Part. II

Pairing: Jake Sully x f!reader

A/N: I voluntarily changed the plot of the movie Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness.

Warnings: NSFW / Soft Smut (My mind tells me that in real life it's okay but when in doubt I put it on anyway! Btw this is the first time I'm writing a scene like this…🫣)

Words: 3k5

-> Requested

Part. I

After the war, the skies of Pandora cleared and the planet was at peace once more. The sky people were forced to depart, yet not all had to leave. Jake, in his wisdom, permitted a select few scientists, who were respectful of the ecosystem, to remain and continue their research. Among them was Spider, a young boy, whose parents had fallen in the final battle. Due to the dangers of cryonics, he could not be sent back to Earth and thus, grew up on Pandora, learning to live as the Na'vi did.

Despite initial reservations, the Omaticaya gradually came to accept the presence of a witch among them. They sought your counsel on various matters, yet often disregarded your advice. Each day, gifted by Eywa, was spent in the company of a towering, stubborn Na'vi. Despite your pleas for him to return to his human form, Jake had chosen to reside in his avatar, becoming Toruk Makto, rider of the last shadow, chosen by Eywa herself. Your meditations allowed you to connect to the collective consciousness, yet something felt amiss, an inexplicable yearning in your heart. You couldn't have been happier, yet the feeling of incompleteness lingered.

As the warm afternoon sun cast its rays upon the forest, you sat under the boughs of the Voice Tree, practicing your magic. The gentle laughter of a child caught your ear, and you rose to investigate the source. There, you stumbled upon a sight that took your breath away - Jake, perched upon a mossy rock, carefully whittling away at a branch with his knife, as Spider frolicked around him, laughter spilling from his lips.

You stood there, entranced, your heart overflowing with love as you watched the two of them. Spider approached Jake, a bouquet of radiant wildflowers clutched in his small hands.

"Look, Dad!" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with joy. Jake's face softened, a tender smile gracing his features as he took the flowers, ruffling Spider's hair affectionately.

"These are beautiful, thank you Spider," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy's head.

The scene was at once heart-wrenching and heartwarming, as memories of the countless times you had held the little boy in your arms flooded your mind. Though he was not your biological child, you loved him as if he were your own flesh and blood. And yet, you could see the same love mirrored in Jake's eyes.

As tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, you retreated, your heart heavy with longing. Kneeling at the base of the Tree of Voices, you implored Eywa to grant you the ability to become a Na'vi for just one day, to love Jake freely, without reservation. But the wind blew through the tree, and your prayers seemed to dissipate in its wake.

Beneath a sky bursting with stars, you and Jake lay entwined in the lush grass. The gentle caress of his hand running through your hair, lulling you into a sense of peaceful contentment. As the silence stretched between you, you turned to him, a solemn expression etched upon your face. "Jake, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," you said. "It's about our future." Sensing the seriousness of your words, he looked at you, pulling away slightly so he could catch every expression you were about to present to him.

"What is it, love?" he asked.

"I know we've been together for a long time now, and I love you more than anything," you replied. "But I thought, maybe you'd like to start a family. Do you want kids?" You could feel the weight of your question settling between you, could see the longing in his eyes, the way his heart leaped at the thought of raising blue-skinned children and sharing the beauty of Pandora with them. But he also knew the harsh reality, that as humans, the possibility of having children of your own was not meant to be.

"I have thought of it," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But my heart is already full with the love I have for Spider, he is like a son to me, and I could not ask for a more precious addition to our family." He looked at you with a tenderness that melted your heart, his gaze full of understanding for the longing you felt. "I know. And I love him, too. But I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. Like there's a part of our future that we can't have."

"I understand," he said, taking your hand in his, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you. "We have each other, and that's all that matters. And we have Spider. He's our family, and that's more than enough for me." You smiled, your heart overflowing with the love you held for him, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek. The stars above twinkled in the sky, as if in agreement, as you lay in each other's arms, content with the love you had.

As you drifted off to sleep, your mind wandered to the possibility of shape-shifting magic. Though you had resigned as Earth's guardian wizard, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much to learn. And so, under the pretext of settling business, you returned to Earth and sought out the former supreme wizard, Doctor Strange.

Upon emerging from the portal, you were met with a sight of chaos. The streets of New York City were in turmoil, as an unseen creature wreaked havoc upon the city. Cars overturned, buildings crumbled, and screams echoed through the streets. But, just as you were about to conjure magic circles to defend yourself, Strange appeared like a beacon of hope, his sorcerer's garb adorned upon his frame. With fluid grace, he erected protective shields and summoned giant hands of magic to battle the creature. You couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration for your former master as he fearlessly defended the innocent. You joined him in the fray, your magics intertwining as you fought side by side. He sliced through the creature's tentacles with precision, while you levitated debris to hurl at the beast. The creature was revealed to be a one-eyed, tentacled monstrosity from another dimension, known as Gargantos.

The battle was fierce, and at times you found yourself thrown back by the creature's might. But Strange was relentless, and together you emerged victorious. The city was saved, and the creature lay defeated at your feet. As you approached him, Strange praised your bravery, but you had come with a purpose. You asked him about shape-shifting magic, and he warned you of the dangers and the high cost of such magic.

Disappointed with the trip, disappointed with his answer, you waited some time before returning to Pandora. No one was stronger than Strange, or at least you had never known anyone more powerful than him. As the days passed and your journey through the multiverse neared its end, your thoughts turned towards home. The memories of familiar faces and places, a comfort in the chaos of the unknown. Just as you were about to take your leave, a portal opened, and out stepped Wong, his face etched with concern.

"Your assistance is needed once more, come with me.”

You stood amidst the ancient halls of Kamar-Taj, the mystic arts pulsing around you, Doctor Strange and America Chavez by your side, a sense of wonder and trepidation gripped your heart. Strange's words, heavy with urgency, rang in your ears, "Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, seeks to take America's powers for her own."

Just as he finished speaking, the cacophony of chaos magic erupted, Wanda's relentless assault battering against the protective shields of the courtyard. Strange's commanded echoes through the halls, "Fall back, we cannot stand against her." The shields began to falter, the cracks deepening with each impact, and with a final burst, Wanda broke through.

As the Scarlet Witch closed in on America, ready to siphon her powers, an unwitting act by Chavez opened a portal to the multiverse, a tempestuous wind whipping around you, pulling you all into its swirling depths. You hurtled through the void, an infinity of realities flash before your eyes, each one a kaleidoscope of possibility and peril. Your senses reel, weightless and disoriented, unsure of how long this journey will last. And then, suddenly, you landed in a reality unlike any you've ever known. You turned to Strange and Chavez, both mirroring the same look of amazement on their faces. Strange's voice, tinged with awe, spoke, "We have landed in one of the infinite realities that make up the multiverse."

You traversed the endless expanse of the multiverse and found yourself in an alternate New York with Strange and Chavez, desperately seeking a way out of a battle that was not meant for you. On Earth-838, you were brought before the Illuminati, a powerful coalition of individuals once united by the Stephen Strange of that world to safeguard their universe from the most dire of threats, such as incursions and powerful beings. With the other members engaged in battle against the Scarlet Witch, you turned to Professor X, in hopes of finding a solution. He greeted you with a sober expression, as you cleared your throat and posed your question, "Professor, is there a way for me to change myself, to transform myself?"

His eyes met yours, the weight of his knowledge and experience etched upon his face. "It is impossible, my friend," he said solemnly. "The power to change one's shape, to alter one's form, it requires immense magic, magic that is often dark and corrupting."

You nodded, understanding dawning upon you. "I see, so there is no other way."

Professor X shook his head, "No, there is no other way. The path of true transformation is one that is fraught with danger, it is a path that leads to the abyss. It is a path that only the bravest, or the most foolish, would dare to tread."

With a sense of purpose and determination, you stepped away from the sanctuary of Professor X's presence, towards the battleground where the Illuminati had locked horns with the powerful Wanda.

As the dust settled and the destruction caused by Wanda's attack came to an end, you stood with your hands raised, surveying the scene before you. The members of the Illuminati lay dead at your feet, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. Wanda had once been a friend, and to see her now as the enemy was a difficult pill to swallow.

Wanda's eyes met yours, and you spoke in a voice that was near to the pleading. "You were once my friend," you began "I know you understand my pain. I just want to be able to procreate, to have a family of my own. But my powers, my past as a hero, they make that impossible. I can't see myself as a mother, not with the threat that I pose to my family."

Wanda's expression softened, and with a wave of her hand, a thick crimson smoke enveloped your mind. The images that followed were of yourself, surrounded by children, your children, with Jake by your side, living a happy life in a different reality, one where you were able to overcome the limitations of your powers and be the mother you had always dreamed of being.

Amidst the vibrant hues of Pandora's verdant landscape, you and your love, Jake, sat entwined in a serene embrace, surrounded by your little tribe of blue-skinned offspring. As you gazed upon their playful gallopings and heard their melodic laughter, your heart swelled with boundless contentment and joy. A lifelong dream fulfilled, you now basked in the warmth of familial love, with Jake by your side, and a clan of your own.

With a smile that lit up his rugged features, Jake clasped your hand, his grip a testament to the boundless fortune that was yours. "It is beyond belief," he murmured, "how blessed we are, to have found one another, to have stumbled upon this paradise, and to have formed a family in this magical realm."

You nestled your head against his shoulder, your spirit overflowing with gratitude and happiness. "Indeed, my love," you whispered. "It seems as though every step of my journey led to this very moment. To be here, with you and our children, is all I could ever desire."

As the little ones scampered towards you, their wide eyes and toothy grins evoking peals of laughter, you couldn't help but feel a sense of proud adoration. Though they may be a handful, your heart swelled with love for each and every one of them. Scooping them up in your arms, you tickled them playfully, relishing in the symphony of their giggles and the sensation of their tiny bodies pressed against yours.

The weight of Wanda's manipulation heavy on your heart, you were torn between empathy and conviction. The longing for a family, the desire for something more, it all warred within you, clashing with the destruction and death that Wanda had wrought. But, as her anger and frustration burned in her eyes, you knew in your heart that you could not give in to her manipulation. You could not let her use your own vulnerabilities against you. With a steady voice, you spoke, "I am sorry, Wanda. I cannot let this continue. The destruction and loss of life caused by your actions is too great. I cannot stand idly by."

And with a final flare of chaotic magic, Wanda disappeared, leaving you alone amongst the rubble, the weight of responsibility heavy on your shoulders, uncertain of what the future may hold.

The chaos magic swirled around you, but you stood firm by America and Wong, determined to put an end to Wanda Maximoff's quest for power. In the heat of battle, you watched in awe and fear as the two powerful men battled it out, their powers illuminating the darkness.

But when Maximoff's hold on the Darkhold began to waver, you stepped forward, your voice resolute. "Alone, she may be too powerful for you, but together we can stop her."

With your combined strength, you and an undead Strange fought Maximoff until she was finally brought to Earth-838, where the true horrors of the Darkhold were revealed to her. Seeing the fear in the eyes of her alter ego's children, Tommy and Billy, Maximoff's heart broke and she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. In that moment, she realized the true weight of her actions and knew that the Darkhold must never again fall into the wrong hands. With a determined look in her eye, Wanda turned to Chavez and said, "I will not destroy the Darkhold. But I will give it to someone who can use it for good." And with that, she handed the ancient book to you.

You held the Darkhold in your hands, feeling the weight of responsibility and the promise of power. With this ancient tome, you knew you could shape your own destiny and create the family you had always aspired to. As you left the ruins of Darkhold Castle, quickly passing through a portal to Pandora, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Wanda. For in the moment of her greatest regret, she had given you the greatest gift of all: the chance to live the life you had always dreamed of.

Wrapped in a canopy of vibrant emerald leaves, you stepped through the Pandora forest, your new form awakening your senses to a world of undiscovered smells and unheard melodies. Your desire to surprise Jake with your transformed beauty was stronger than ever as you sought him out. He was leaning against a trunk, his eyes closed, his dark locks swaying gently in the breeze. You couldn't help but smile, your heart fluttering with love.

You moved closer, lightly brushing your long, bluish fingers over his arm. Startled, Jake sprang to his feet, his hunting knife in his hand, confusion written all over his face. But as soon as his gaze met yours, his eyes widened with amazement.

"Oh my god," he said in a whisper. "It's you."

His admiration of your new appearance was palpable as he ran his hand over your bluish skin and bright eyes. "How did you do that?" he asked, mesmerized. You simply grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and shrugged, claiming it was all a bit of magic.

The desire to be closer to him was overwhelming. The embrace was a thing of beauty, a desire to be as close as one could be. You nestled into his chest, feeling his heart beating in perfect harmony with yours. His gentle fingertips danced around your body, exploring your curves with delicate caresses. Your breath quickened as his touch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

Lifting his hand, you guided it to your waist, then pulled him closer and kissed him with all the tenderness in your heart. Never had you felt such rapture, and the sensations were dizzying. With a gentle rhythm, he moved his hips against you, pushing you ever closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your eyes closed as a cry of pleasure escaped your lips, and he moved faster, driving you to the peak of pleasure. You cried out his name as you shivered with joy, quivering in delight.

The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, and you felt as if you were soaring on a cloud of pure bliss. As your bodies slowly calmed, Jake pulled you closer to him, brushing his lips against yours in a deep, savoring kiss. You lay there, entwined in each other's arms, until sleep took you away.

As you sat on the lush, green grass of Pandora, surrounded by your two young sons, Neteyam and Lo'ak, and Spider you couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming love and joy. You and Jake had always wanted a family, and now, here you were, with two beautiful children of your own.

But as you looked at your hands, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Your fingers had begun to turn black, a side effect of the dark magic you had used from the Darkhold. You had been using it to protect your family, but now you couldn't stop the corrupted thoughts from creeping in. The world of Pandora, which had once been so beautiful and peaceful, now seemed like a dangerous place, filled with threats to your children. You started to use your powers to destroy the plants and animals that you believed were a danger to Neteyam and Lo'ak. Jake tried to stop you, but you couldn't see the harm you were causing. You couldn't see that the Pandora you knew was disappearing right before your eyes.

Your mind became more and more consumed by the dark magic. You couldn't see that you were the one causing the destruction, that you were the one endangering your family and the planet they called home. The darkness took over, and it was too late to stop it.

Jake and the Omaticaya clan tried to intervene, but you were too far gone. The once idyllic world of Pandora was left in ruins, and your family was left to pick up the pieces of a life that was destroyed by the power of the Darkhold.

A portal of mystic energy opened, and out stepped the former Sorcerer Supreme, Doctor Strange. His eyes surveyed the ruin that was once the beauty of Pandora, his demeanor resolute.

"I have come for the Darkhold," he declared, his voice a force of conviction. Your heart raced as you heard his words, for the Darkhold was the only thing that had kept you and your family safe from the dangers that lurked in your mind. You couldn't let him take it away.

"No," you spoke, standing tall in defiance. "I need it to shield my loved ones."

But Strange was not swayed by your plea. "The Darkhold is a dangerous artifact, it must be destroyed," he replied. You felt a sense of hopelessness wash over you, for you could not let the former Sorcerer Supreme take the ancient book, the only thing that protected your family. As you stood there, locked in a battle of wills, the fate of the Darkhold, and your family's safety hung in the balance. A battle between protecting your family and preventing more significant harm to reality itself.

Tag -> @oyasumimosura

[leqclerc]

for fanfic WIP game - "want"

This is all from the same WIP. I guess it's one of my more frequently used words. 👀 The basic premise here is that Seb and Charles meet when Charles moves to England for a one-year student placement at one of the F1 teams (a real thing btw, went down a research rabbit hole for this fic and it's been very fun so far), which Seb also happens to work at, albeit in the engineering department. The two grow closer as Charles struggles to adjust to life in rainy England, so different and so far away from everything he knows and loves...

With a resigned sigh, he grabs the pizza and tosses it into his basket, the sound echoing in the empty frozen food aisle. It’s not what he wants. 

What he wants is the smell of freshly baked focaccia from the local bakery back home, or the taste of ripe tomatoes tossed with olive oil, basil, and mozzarella. He misses the slow, lazy evenings, and the dinners hosted outside on the terracotta-tiled terrace, bare arms brushed by a coastal breeze that carries the faint smell of brine and burnt rubber; the sound of his brothers’ uninhibited laughter, his mother’s voice chastising them with no real heat as she tosses the salad. 

*

Seb waves off his protest. “I want to,” he insists. “Besides, it’s not every day you turn—what, twenty-two?”

*

Charles blinks, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not wanting to make a fuss. He’d assumed it would just pass by like any other day.

-> send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

[mudinyourshoes]

More thoughts on Novoland! I'm up to ep 9 and:

-Ji Ye winning the martial arts contest was brutal to the point of being hard to watch. Not just physically, but also emotionally. He publicly shamed his dad - I don’t think that was what he was aiming for but it was the result - and in the process made his rawest emotional wounds public. (Btw I’m sure he’s going to pay for doing that to his dad. His family sucks). And then he’s abandoned. Neither his family, nor his fellow soldiers, nor the servants of the king he (theoretically) just won glory for come to help him, even though he’s bleeding and staggering. The people in the stadium don’t cheer his victory; none of them help him either. Only Asule and Yu Ran cheer and only they follow and help him. He’s met Asule and Yu Ran two or three times! Their friendship and their kindness seem to me like pricks of light in an otherwise bleakly dark landscape.

-Yu Ran has a crush on Ji Ye. She could not stop looking at him. Asule definitely noticed her looking and I wonder if he’s clocked the crush or if he’s too young to understand.

-I do not ship Yu Ran and Asule. I’m surprised by this because I expected to ship them and to be heartbroken on Asules’ behalf, but no. I really like them as friends. They should be bff’s but I can see potential and room for romantic growth in Yu Ran and Ji Ye’s relationship and I don’t see it with Yu Ran and Asule. I feel like Asule needs someone who can match him in the “still waters run deep” department.

-The bit where Ji Ye is told that a spear is not like a sword because it can be drawn back but not sheathed?! Ominous, especially when taken with the advice that Asule was given in the first episodes - that the real sheath for his sword was his heart. Yikes for Ji Ye?

-The contrast between the king debating his advisors and ordering, like, 12 people around while trying to control the outcome of the contest and IMMEDIATELY losing control of it vs. Asule quietly interfering twice (once when he stops Ji Ye’s peers from beating him up and once when he orders his sworn brother to lose the fight) and controlling the outcome of the contest without anyone knowing. Also the king was fixated on the outcome of the contest (ie. short term gains) while Asule, in addition to trying to repay a kindness, was thinking about long term relationships and fostering the growth of Ji Ye’s potential.

-The entire display of Asule’s nascent puppeteering abilities makes me rabid at the thought of him being a king one day. No idea if it’ll ever happen, but if it does I will be frothing at the mouth.

-Asule’s confrontation with his uncle - where he does not reveal the orders he gave about the contest, but instead confronts his uncle about “kin slaying”. This. Omg. This is not a conversation about Asule’s sworn brother. This is Asule calling out his uncle for killing Asule’s adopted dad and also - I think - pointing out that if anyone has the right to be kin slaying it’s ASULE. Because I’m pretty sure, based on was he’s said about vengeance killing, that Asule would be within his rights to kill his uncle in vengeance for his dad. Omg wtf. THIS SHOW.

-I ship the soft spoken, peace loving general and the wise but terrifying Lady Su. The minute I realized they had some kind of star crossed lovers thing going on, I became convinced one or both of them were going to end up dead. Now I’m waiting for it the tragedy to unfold.

-Asule has precognition in his dream sometimes?

-Lady Su’s asshole son seems to think he’s about to have more power than the king. So…he’s planning on killing the king? Or doing something related to the Bare Teeth or the Heavenly Samurai that he thinks will give him more power than the king? I hope someone unleashes hell on him. Not even being Lady Su’s son can save him from my ire. Honestly, I’m kind of startled she’s that attached to him because thus far he has zero redeeming qualities and she doesn’t seem like a “love is blind” type.

[burdytheoneandonly]

Lore?? For lore: Hunter is a mutant turtle breed, they was created by a project used to find new species, called (not real btw) A.D.D. Artificial Discover Department. When it was logged they had the intelligence of a human they were tested on, noises being one of his main triggers, they were dubbed "Hunter" because of how violent they were toward staff and would hunt them, they have caused 2 deaths and 12 different injuries, they have three sets of teeth in their mouth, the back row is herbivorous teeth and the front two rows are carnivorous, hence they are an omnivore, they also have poisonous bites, so watch out! After going through that hell for 5 years they escaped after breaking through the vents (sus imposter? 🤨) they ran for a few days, then ran into new York and is currently taking care of themselves, living on the streets and in alleys, they have seen the turtles but haven't approached, hence due to their past they only trust themself and it's hard going to others for help, also they doesn't have a full shell, they have hard scales on their back that protects his back mostly, it's like a shell but put into peaces and goes down their back and onto their tail a bit, but stops there, it also goes to the back of their head. They are the age of 7 currently now too, due to their mix of two small species and cold blooded animals (turtle and lizard) they are about the size of a big tall toddler, they have golden yellow eyes that glow dimly in the dark, I hope that you enjoyed this! Have a good day, if theirs anything you want to ask that's not on here then ask away in the comments or from my ask me button! Loves y'all! ♡

Take a muffin for your lore. I love this. This is magnificent, this made me feel better then I was feeling at the moment ngl. :]

[roy-sillyturtle]

Lore?? For lore: Hunter is a mutant turtle breed, they was created by a project used to find new species, called (not real btw) A.D.D. Artificial Discover Department. When it was logged they had the intelligence of a human they were tested on, noises being one of his main triggers, they were dubbed "Hunter" because of how violent they were toward staff and would hunt them, they have caused 2 deaths and 12 different injuries, they have three sets of teeth in their mouth, the back row is herbivorous teeth and the front two rows are carnivorous, hence they are an omnivore, they also have poisonous bites, so watch out! After going through that hell for 5 years they escaped after breaking through the vents (sus imposter? 🤨) they ran for a few days, then ran into new York and is currently taking care of themselves, living on the streets and in alleys, they have seen the turtles but haven't approached, hence due to their past they only trust themself and it's hard going to others for help, also they doesn't have a full shell, they have hard scales on their back that protects his back mostly, it's like a shell but put into peaces and goes down their back and onto their tail a bit, but stops there, it also goes to the back of their head. They are the age of 7 currently now too, due to their mix of two small species and cold blooded animals (turtle and lizard) they are about the size of a big tall toddler, they have golden yellow eyes that glow dimly in the dark, I hope that you enjoyed this! Have a good day, if theirs anything you want to ask that's not on here then ask away in the comments or from my ask me button! Loves y'all! ♡

[icarus-suraki]

Music Asks! Ask me things!

5: A song that needs to be played LOUD Hhhhhhhh there are so many though… Okay:

Motörhead, "Ace Of Spades"

The jam session part of "Freebird" is also good for playing loud, though I know Skyyyyyyynyrd are kind of controversial. But, man, get out your lighters.

And there are a bunch of songs that I, personally, like to play loud because that's my own taste but it's a bit idiosyncratic. Like, I will play Eurobeat anything loud as hell. I will play Techpara anything loud as hell. Anything from Rage Against the Machine gets to be loud. I always turn up "Someone to Love" and most Yes songs if one comes on the radio. (I am a bit of a radio addict and I have been vastly disappointed in what's passing for pop music in the last few years, let me tell you. Save us, Fall Out Boy.)

I will play "Never Gonna Give You Up" loud if it comes on the radio. Because I like to try and Rickroll the other cars around me.

17 :A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke I have a lot of solo karaoke songs but a duet? Not so much...

I dunno, can I say "Leather and Lace" in honor of the drunk couple who were singing it in the stairwell of my apartment building at 4am years and years ago? When I left for work a few hours later that same day, I absolutely had to check for any abandoned bottles and I was hoping to find something half-way decent. I would have forgiven them for waking me at 4am with their duet if they'd be drinking something more or less interesting. But no: it was fucking Miller Lite, the kind that came in the bottle-shaped cans. I was disappointed in them. You're gonna get smashed on light beer and then wake me up with your singing at 4am? C'mon.

If I can find someone to harmonize with me, we could annoy everyone with "Hotel California" in polyphony. Actually, we could do a lot of bluegrass and mountain music with harmony like that (I have Thoughts for Mumford & Sons about their lack of harmony in some of their songs). The thing is, a lot of bluegrass and mountain music is better for groups of singers where everyone just kind of finds their note (my mom raised me on folk music of all kinds). At that point it's not karaoke though.

It's gotta be something not-quite-a-real-duet, though. Like, we gotta do something Simon and Garfunkle or Hall and Oats, where there's technically two people but it's not really a duet the way "I've Got You Babe" or "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" are.

On second thought, anyone wanna sing some Babymetal with me? That'd be fun.

23: A song that you think everybody should listen to This isn't a specific song so much as a concept: I think everyone should listen to a song from a genre they never thought they'd listen to.

Find a genre you don't know anything about, maybe even a genre you hate, and go read up on it a bit, find a list of the "top 10" or "most recommended" songs for that genre--Wikipedia will probably mention several bands in an article on the genre.

Then go listen to a song or two. You are under zero (0) obligation to like the song or the genre. But I think it's worthwhile to at least listen to a couple of songs from a genre outside your usuals. Even if you hate it, try to understand why fans might like it. Look at it from an "art" perspective: what's going on here? What is the musician thinking or communicating? See if you can break some stereotypes you have about the genre.

I've done this more than a few times, though I know I may be an outlier adn should not be counted because I like nosing around in music (despite all the names I mentioned here being really fuckin' basic). I had the best time working in the music department a B&N. Even if the guys in the department were kind of snobs about music, they did know about a lot of obscure groups and genres that I definitely did not yet know (they weren't interested in what I knew though, so fuck those guys; one is in prison right now, btw). So these guys were pretty pleased to show off what they knew about math rock and the Black Heart Procession and I got to get a sense of what these styles or groups were about. Some of it I hated but I don't think I ever would have heard of or about this stuff if someone hadn't played it for me. So hopefully this is the next best thing.

Go listen to some fuckin…idk, bossa nova or something. Go figure out why you've always said "I love all kinds of music--except rap and country." Go explore shoegaze or original grunge or beach music or read about how "Pet Sounds" is actually a really significant album.

So it's not one particular song I think everyone should listen to. I think everyone should listen to a song they might not have otherwise listened to.

[charmed-asylum]

Idk when and how but Andy got it bad for a jolly jolly girl. For real bet he was thinking about that experience with her for days R. Like way she look at me and her attention was on me 😍 I have to see her she has to be mine . Again he seems the nicest but two things if he hangs w a guy like Ransom and coming to u way he is w a wife. Boy bad news !! Cute interaction but mm mmm mm . ( clap hands together and do a slip to the left , BAD) still still still I know I’m gonna regret this but girl I do love their interaction.

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

Like again if I didn’t know better I would have thought this one one other time would be those cute encounters u see in ROM COMS still its cute for now.

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don't know what to say that won't agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

Then YOU CALL ME STUPID he says looking into a mirror 🪞 HANSEN boy got so much mouth and sas but can’t even tell how to work a battery operated clipper and u call out girl stupid really really. Okay dumb fuck. As a gal who work retail I hate it I hate it when u told to do things away then the ones tell u switch it up like what 😳 but it’s true . Honey Roo BOO HONEY U CAN DO way u did those type of customers is perfect bc lets me realistic those three men are a good and fair representation of what to expect. And lastly Ransom I swear this boy so tight to be so slow can’t be both gotta be one. 1st of all why every time u gotta flaunt your money sorry grandpa money which btw if he was their and heard her he probably take it as a compliment and take the deal but no stupid ass cock this one. Like u come to a department store and buy stuff if u sooooo fancy get a hire to do it . Like dang

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”