#Good Boy Audios fanfic

[starlitangels]

If It’s a Lie (I Don’t Care)

So. If y’all haven’t read my Bastard Warrior high-school-English-style essay (<- link), you’re probably not going to be aware of what musings of mine inspired this... maybe go give it a read? (The TL;DR is that Albus’ subconscious put him in a fantasy instead of his happiest memory, like Devlin was in, because Albus doesn’t have happy memories. I was confused why Faithful didn’t feature in the fantasy considering he’s so in love with her and knew exactly how to make the fantasy even happier for him) 5.8k words (holy sh!+ this one got away from me. I was expecting 2.2k)

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“Alright, I know you don’t really need to hear this from me, but… please, be careful,” Devlin said, eyes flicking between me and his younger brother lying on the medical bay gurney. “I’ll keep an eye on everything out here.”

I nodded and set the Key against Albus’ forehead, feeling the sinkhole of psychic power drag me into unconsciousness.

—

Quiet grunts and a gentle sigh were the first thing I heard as I emerged into Albus’ mind. My eyes were closed and I was pleasantly warm. Everything around me was soft and I was lying down.

“Good morning, princess,” a familiar voice said quietly.

My eyes flew open.

“Albus!” I whisper-shouted, scrambling to get over to him, realizing I was under sheets and blankets, before throwing my arms around him as best I could.

“Oof,” he muttered as I impacted against him, holding tight. “Is… everything alright, darling?” He held onto me in the hug, but slowly released me, leaning back to look me in the eye, and I started to take stock of where we were.

Albus was lying beside me, shirtless, in a bed of white sheets and fuzzy blankets. His hair and beard were tidier than I’d ever seen them before—and the scars on his face were gone. Instead he sported a new one on his left temple that wasn’t even half the length of his real facial scars. His warm, dark eyes held concern in them, but none of the anger I’d come to recognize every time I looked at him. They were more open and honest than I’d ever seen them. There were no walls. No guards he had in place between him and the rest of the world.

His bare chest and arms had a peppering of small scars too, but not the ones I’d patched up from the demon when we first met, or every injury I’d bandaged since.

I realized I wasn’t wearing anything either. Not even a nightdress or a slip. The sheets covered my modesty but I could feel them against every inch of bare skin that I usually kept covered by clothing. My heart started pounding.

“Everything’s… everything’s fine. I’m just happy to see you,” I said.

He scrunched his eyebrows. “You saw me last night when we went to bed,” he said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to politely point out something obvious. He lifted a hand and pressed the back of it to my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

I shoved his hand off my head. “I’m fine,” I retorted. Then my eyes caught sight of a flash of light.

There was a bright gold ring on his ring finger.

His left ring finger.

He smiled at me when I shoved his hand away. “There she is,” he said. “There’s the woman I love.” He removed his wrist from my hands and trailed the backs of his fingers down the side of my face before moving them to trace idle patterns over my shoulder. “You had me worried for a moment there.”

I looked around, taking in our surroundings.

What… what was this? Where were we? I was in his head, sure, but this place looked and felt real. When I’d delved into Devlin’s mind, I’d seen… glitches. Wavering in the scenery. Tricks to reveal the workshop was just a memory.

But this place looked nothing like anywhere in our world. The architecture was wrong—I’d never seen wood the shade of the planks used to make the walls. This wasn’t a reflection of our home-world.

This wasn’t his happiest memory, as Devlin’s had been.

“Where… where are we?” I asked tentatively.

His eyebrows knitted together again. “Our… bedroom?”

Our?!

I didn’t say that out loud, but I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from arching in surprise and confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Why are you acting like this is new?” Albus sat up just enough to perch on his elbow and look down at me. I’d seen him shirtless before when I’d patched him up a few times, but this time with him actually conscious I tried much harder than usual to not stare. The conspicuous lack of the Bastard’s Mark over his heart was throwing me off just as much as everything else. “Darling? Are you having nightmares again?”

My first instinct was to snap at him to cut it out with the pet names—but the words died on my tongue. The concern on his face—the way his eyes looked at me…

Visceral memories of Knight-Captain Bran threatening me at the Wall of Dawn and the terror on Albus’ face shot through my head.

I swallowed and hid myself under the white sheet. “Kind of,” I said quietly, still trying to figure out what was happening.

With some shuffling, Albus climbed under the sheet himself.

“There’s no ‘kind of’ with nightmares. Either you are, or you aren’t,” he said sharply. And for a moment, the softness and tenderness vanished, leaving behind the rough, sarcastic tone I was used to. Then his eyebrows twitched and the rest came back. “I… I don’t know why I said that. Forgive me.”

Before I could say anything, heavy pounding resounded off the door. “Do you two plan on getting up while it’s still morning?”

At this point, I’d know Devlin’s voice anywhere—and that was definitely him.

Albus rolled his eyes. That much, at least, was familiar. He rolled over to face the door. “We’re already awake, brother!”

“Well then how about you consider getting out of bed and—”

“Dev, are you really going to interrupt a husband and wife who finally get a lazy morning to themselves?” Albus snapped.

A who and a who?!

I looked down at my hand. Albus was wearing a ring, I’d seen that. I wasn’t though.

I didn’t know how to describe the noise Devlin made. It was almost akin to a squeak. “O-oh. Well. Then. I’ll… leave you to it. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

Footsteps thudded down some stairs nearby.

Albus sighed and glanced at me, both of us still under the bedsheet like children playing in a blanket fort. “I know it was my idea to live at the inn and help my brother run it but if I’d known he was going to be this nosy, I probably wouldn’t have ever suggested it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said automatically. But also because Albus apologizing felt weird.

“Still. Feel like I should.” He inhaled and then slowly breathed out. “So… kiss and then get ready to head downstairs for the day?”

Kiss? Kiss?! First the husband and wife thing and now—

“Yeah.”

Maybe it was better to play along for the moment? I didn’t know how long Albus’ body had back in the real world and whether time moved slower here—the way it did in dreams. How long could I put off the reality check?

Albus shuffled over the mattress to be closer to me. I tried to relax into the kiss, but couldn’t.

The second he pulled away, I rolled over so I was facing away and peeked out from under the sheet at the floor beside the bed.

Oh, thank the gods, I thought.

My usual clothing—that I did recognize from home—sat in a pile on the floor.

I slipped out of the bed and started pulling on my underthings first. Keeping my back to Albus and trying to keep my modesty as covered as possible.

I heard the blankets and sheets get thrown off and then Albus’ chuckle. “Trying to hide, princess?”

I scowled.

“C’mon. We’ve been married for a year. There’s no need to be modest,” Albus said. There was no sarcasm in his words. Just gentle encouragement.

I scooped up my shirt and temple tunic, pulling them on one after the other. Under them sat the necklace chain with the shiny ring Albus usually wore but I’d put on after the heartripper attack. I slung it over my head and tucked it down the front of my tunic. It brushed against my shirt’s lace ring with a metallic shing!

“Did you say something?” Albus asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Mm. Strange. Thought you did.”

More shuffling of fabric behind me and I heard feet hit the wooden floor. I widened my eyes at the ground and made a point of not looking behind me as I shimmed my socks up my legs. Once they were in place, I was fully clothed. So I went to the small vanity in the corner of the bedroom and fixed up the rest of my appearance with the tarnishing mirror, taming my bedhead and then making sure my hair was taken care of the way I usually had it.

Albus wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his nose in my neck and inhaling deeply. “You forgot your ring,” he said. One of his hands twisted so his palm faced upward and revealed a gold ring with a small, vibrant blue sapphire set on it.

I took it from his hand and slid it onto my finger. It was a perfect fit. I stared at it for a moment, ignoring his bare skin in the reflection of the mirror. “Thanks,” I said softly. I slipped out of his embrace and headed for the door. “I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Yeah. See you downstairs.” He sounded a bit confused but I dodged out of the room before he could ask any more questions.

I stopped halfway down the stairs, hand on the railing, and blinked hard several times.

There was no way I’d be able to keep up any charade—and Albus needed to come back. He was dying and I had to save him. This little fantasy was just that—a fantasy. And Devlin and I needed him back in the real world.

I sucked in a deep breath and sighed before finishing my path down the stairs.

Where I spilled out into a tavern. Mostly empty, apart from Devlin behind the bar.

“Oh. Good morning. I thought you two were going to be another hour, at least,” he greeted when he saw me.

I bit my tongue for a moment. “Nope,” I said.

He hummed, looking a little red around the ears, wiping out glass steins with a towel in his hand. His… his hand.

“Your hand,” I said quietly.

“What about it?” He looked down at it.

“It’s flesh and blood.”

“Of course it is… why wouldn’t it be? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I’m getting a little sick of being asked that this morning.”

Devlin arched his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. You’re just acting a little strange.”

“Compared to what?” I asked snappishly.

“Well, you and Albus have been living here for nearly a year. I think I have a fairly solid idea of your usual behavior.”

I’m sure you would if you were real, I thought. Instead I just rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I muttered. I went to the bar of the tavern and leaned against it, watching Devlin’s normal hand—not his forgemaster prosthetic—wipe down the glass. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled above his elbows. There were a few scars on his knuckles and freckles all the way down his arm.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs. Albus emerged, stretching his arms and back. “Morning Dev,” he greeted.

“Good morning,” Devlin replied blithely. “Sorry for interrupting your morning… activities.”

I dropped my head to look down at the bar with wide eyes, pursed lips, and the fire of embarrassment burning everywhere at the implication—while Albus burst out laughing. I heard his boots click against the wooden floor and he draped himself over my back. Wrapping his arms around me and planting his chin on my shoulder. “You weren’t interrupting anything like that, promise,” Albus said. “We were just talking. Enjoying the peace and quiet for a while. Right, princess?” He tilted his head and planted a kiss in the spot where my cheekbone met my temple.

“Mmhmm,” I muttered.

“Aw, Dev. You’ve embarrassed her,” Albus chided playfully.

“Apologies. I was trying to be delicate,” Devlin said.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled.

Albus chuckled again and gave me a squeeze. “So, darling. Day off for the two of us. What do you want to do with it?”

I spun around in his arms to face him—completely unable to break his grip if I tried—and paused before I could cut to the chase. I’d never seen him in any colors other than blacks and greys. The creamy off-white linen shirt and brown trousers made his dark hair stand in much starker contrast than usual.

It was actually quite the fetching look on him.

I stared for a few solid seconds, eyes roaming the way the shirt clung to his shoulders and arms but the laces up the front were open halfway down his chest.

A slow, smug smile crept its way up Albus’ face. “Mm. Should we go back to our room after all?”

Devlin, to his credit, turned his bark of laughter into a cough.

There was that fire of embarrassment again. No time to think about that now, I thought sharply to myself. Shoving all the mortifying thoughts down.

“Actually, Albus,” I started, “I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

Albus sighed. “Okay. I’m all yours,” he said.

“Let’s go sit down.” I wrapped his forearm in both my hands and tugged him over to a corner booth in the otherwise-empty tavern. He followed me without resisting. But instead of sitting opposite me like I indicated, he sat next to me. “Albus… this is going to… to be hard to hear. But there’s no point in me pretending.”

“Darling, what are you talking about?”

“Just let me explain, alright?” I asked entreatingly, trying to curb my attitude. I set my hand on top of his on the table and threaded my fingers between his. The calluses weren’t as thick or hard here as they were in the real world. “This… this is a dream. None of this is real. We’re from a place called New Tennessee. You and I haven’t been married for a year. I met you about a month ago in a region called the Far Eastern Faithlands.”

Albus’ eyes widened as I spoke and he shook his head. “Don’t… no. Don’t do this to me. Please,” he breathed. His hand tensed under mine.

“I’m sorry, Albus. I have to.” I blinked and felt a pair of warm trails slide down my face as tears fell. “Where we’re really from, we’re both paladins. You’re a warrior, I’m a temple attendant. And… and in the real world, you’re a bastard…”

I kept explaining, watching denial stitch itself into the lines of Albus’ face.

“You’re lying,” he said when I was done. “I just can’t figure out why.”

“Then what’s the truth?”

“I’ll tell you. I was born in Trents. My father taught me to fight when I was a kid and my mother taught me to keep my nose clean. When I was old enough, I joined my brother’s platoon and journeyed across Queria until he decided to take up work outside of combat. I was his right-hand at the time so I was given the position of knight-captain. We settled here, and that’s when I met you. I courted you for just under a year and then just under a year ago we got married and we’ve been living here helping Devlin run this place when I’m not out on patrol.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes with a sigh. That sounded like a nice life. The kind he deserved after all the pain he’d been through. The pain I’d put him through, and whatever he’d experienced before we met that he was so reticent to talk about. But it wasn’t his life. Not his real one.

“I… I’m sorry, Albus. But I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. I… I have lied to you before. I didn’t tell you that my brother had kidnapped a child at first. But I would never lie about something like this. Please, Albus.” I squeezed his hand gently.

“No. No—stop it!” He ripped his hand away from mine and shoved out of the booth, stumbling across the tavern floor and nearly crashing into a table. The motion of him pulling away jerked me after him. I hissed in pain—and when I looked up, Albus was staring at me. Wide-eyed. His gaze was on… my chest?

I looked down. No. Not my chest.

His ring had fallen out from under my tunic with getting yanked forward.

“What is that?” His voice went hard and sharp. “Where did you get that ring?”

Promising. “Have you seen it before?”

“Yes. But I… I don’t know where.” He kept staring at it.

Devlin was watching us from the bar, but was no longer pretending to wipe out steins.

I swallowed to try and steady myself. “Do you want to hold it?” I asked gently.

Albus blinked finally, but there was a glaze on his eyes. Almost like he was entranced. “Y… yeah.”

I slung the thick, heavy chain off over my head and held it out. Albus took the chain first, and carefully lowered the ring onto his hand.

The lights in the tavern all darkened to near-blackness before flaring back full force as a pulse of energy rippled out from the point where Albus’ hand touched the ring’s bright metal.

Albus lurched backward, letting go of the chain. My hand lashed out and snatched it from the air before it could fall. A reflex I hadn’t actually expected to work. But was pleasantly surprised when it did.

“Albus? Albus, what’s wrong?” Devlin’s voice demanded—but over Albus’ shoulder, his body faded and vanished as his voice got softer and further away.

Albus whirled to see the last vestiges of Devlin disappearing. “Devlin—Devlin, where did you go?” His looked around wildly, as if Devlin would just pop up elsewhere. The tavern shifted—losing some of its luster, almost going grey. The light dimmed a bit. “What—what’s going on?!” He shot a look at me. “It’s you, isn’t it? This is your doing!”

I slid out of the booth. “Albus,” I said placatingly, holding my hands out, palms toward him, in a gesture meant to show I meant no harm. The chain of his necklace was caught between my thumb and around my forefinger. “Albus, please.”

He jerked and recoiled farther away. “No—get away from me!” He shoved away from the table he’d stumbled into and ran for the front door of the tavern, nearly ripping it off its hinges in his haste to open it.

Despite the sun still streaming through the windows, there was a solid wall of stone blocking the door.

Albus stared. “A wall,” he said. Bitter amusement in the scoff that followed. I didn’t move from where I’d stood from the booth. He didn’t bother shutting the tavern door. Just looked at me. Pain echoed in those dark eyes. “Don’t do this to me, darling. We—we’re happy here, aren’t we?” His gaze flicked between my eyes and the ring on his hand.

I closed my eyes. “Albus, please just listen to me,” I said.

“Listen, I don’t know what it is you want from me, but I want nothing to do with it!” His voice got louder until he was shouting. “Do you understand? I’m no one’s slave!” Shock and confusion creased his eyebrows. “Gods above. I don’t even know what I’m saying! S-slave? Is that what I am? Or—or what I was—to you?!”

Before I could tell him no, never, he shook his head hard and shoved his hands into his thick, dark hair.

“No. That’s not it—that’s not it, right? I… I… I’m in love with you, aren’t I?” He swallowed. “That… that hasn’t changed. I love you. I do.” He met my eyes. “Darling, please. Make it stop. All of this—please.”

“I wish I could. This is such a beautiful life. It’s the one you deserve. Even without me in it.”

“No—no, I… I want you here. I’m happy with you, here. We have a good life together. We’re happy. We’re in love. I don’t—stay back!”

I froze where I’d taken an entreating step forward, but kept my hands low with my palms out.

“Don’t you know who you’re talking to? I’m Albus York! I’ll kill you just for looking at me funny!” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists in his hair, pulling at the roots but not ripping them out. “Wait. That’s not who I am. I—” He looked around the tavern before his dark, heavy gaze landed on me again. “Stop, please. Whatever joke you’re playing on me, my princess, stop it. Oh gods—I can’t remember!”

He stomped around the tavern in a tight circle before marching over to me and cradling my face in both hands.

“Sweetheart. Please. Whatever’s happening—just stop it. We can stay here. We can be happy. Together. Just you and me being—” He laughed, but it was sorrowful. “—being annoyed by Devlin on a lazy morning. I love you. I don’t—I don’t want—I can’t lose this.” He stared pleadingly into my eyes.

I reached up as though to take his hand in mine and he pulled away again. “Don’t come near me with that ring! It’s evil! I want nothing to do with it!”

“Do you remember where it came from?” I asked.

“No. No I don’t! Don’t even try to—” He bent double, eyes slamming shut, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, I found this ring back in my training stash… no idea where it came from… not sure what but… it felt special to me… so I kept it…” He shook his head like he was trying to dislodge his brain out his ears. Grabbing at his head and recoiling. “Stop it, stop it, stop!” He panted and I wished I could help him, but didn’t want to aggravate him further. “You can’t do this to me. Please, darling. Don’t make me lose this. Don’t… don’t make me lose you.”

“Albus…” I whispered, moving to reach for him and faltering as I caught sight of the ring still dangling from my hand. Albus stared at it.

“It’s like it doesn’t belong anywhere… it doesn’t fit in…” he whispered. I remembered the words from when we were at his mentor’s grave. “Why—darling why? Why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt me?” He kept holding his head, digging his fingertips into his scalp.

“I don’t want to hurt you. But I need you to come home! This place, this life. It’s not real.”

“Not… not real? What are you talking about? This place is very real! The air, the atmosphere, these tables and chairs—the bar! I can touch them. They’re all real!”

“I wish they were. I wish this was the life you had. But it’s like how dreams feel real while we’re in them. And then we wake up and see everything not right about them.”

He made a face of utter contempt. “Sticking to your story, are you? Fine. Maybe I believe you, huh? Maybe—maybe none of this is real. But I don’t care!” There was a gleam in his eyes of terror and sorrow and anger. He was breathing hard. “The world we come from—from what little I remember from it—it… it… it runs on lies. And blood!”

His hands balled into fists and snapped downward, smashing against a table.

“But this right here. This… this lie you found me in. There’s no blood here. There’s nothing here—there’s none of that! There’s just you and me and my brother—and all of us are happy.” He unclenched his fists and cradled my face again. “Darling, I don’t want to go. I beg you, on my knees—” He dropped to his knees as hot tears ran down my face. “—please. Just let me live this lie. Let me be happy here, with you. Let me fall asleep and wake up beside you, even if it’s only a dream. Let me laugh with my brother. Let me stare at you while we both hide from the morning sunlight under the bedsheet.”

He sniffed hard and blinked a pair of tears from his own eyes.

“For the first time in my life I… I finally… felt… I finally felt like… like I wasn’t a monster! Like people wanted me around! Like they weren’t ashamed of me! Tell me, in that other world, who’s got my back, huh?” My mouth hung agape, unsure how to answer. “No one! Not even you! And even if somehow you did, I’d push you away. That’s who I am in that world, isn’t it? The kind of man who has to distance himself from everyone because… because I’ve been hurt! So many times!” His head fell forward, almost giving him the appearance of a knight kneeling in prayer before going off to battle. But far more desolate and hopeless. “What kind of life is that?” His voice had gone soft. I doubted he’d shouted himself out yet, he was just losing the energy to care.

“Albus…” I knelt opposite him, tucking the ring into the pocket of my clothes so it wouldn’t be visible anymore. I held his face in both my hands, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone.

He met my eyes. “Please, please, darling. Please don’t take me away from this. Let me live this. Here. With you. Even if it’s not really you. Please.” His body started to shake with sobs. I wiped a tear with my thumb on another pass over his cheekbone. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine. I tilted my head so our noses could touch.

“Would that I could,” I whispered, sniffling against my own falling tears.

The electricity in the lights crackled and the sun through the windows faded. The whole tavern grew dim as Albus flinched in surprise, retreating away from the contact of our heads to look around. “What was that? Why are the lights dimmer? What’s going on?”

“Albus, you’re…” I didn’t know how to say it. I closed my eyes, pressing out more warm tears.

“I’m dying. Aren’t I?” he asked. I nodded. He huffed. “That’s why you’re here.” It was a statement, not a question. “You came here to… to save me.” He lifted a hand and cupped my cheek for just a moment before his eyes looked at where his ring had disappeared from his finger and his hand fell back to his lap. He slumped to the side so he was sitting rather than kneeling. I copied the motion. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly grateful. It seems I have to choose. Between living in Hell, or dying. What kind of choice is that?” He swallowed. His breath shook in and out of his lungs. “Maybe I should just die. I wouldn’t have to deal with this pain anymore.”

I gasped quietly.

“No… no I…” He swore sharply under his breath. “I can’t bring myself to do that. I can’t die. Why? Why—what’s holding me back?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said honestly.

He met my eyes again. “Tell me, in that other world… is there anything—anything—that keeps me going? Is there anything I’m fighting for?”

I stared into his eyes. My shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug. “I don’t know,” I repeated, barely a breath.

He scoffed, and then laughed bitterly. “My gods. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time—fighting for a reason to live and that’s it.” He huffed. “It’s cute. You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Me neither, to be honest.”

“Please come home,” I whispered. “I don’t know how much longer we have.” I looked around at the dimly-lit tavern. “I don’t know how much longer you have.”

He sighed. “I get it. You can stop trying. I’ll come back. But… before I do…” He met my eyes. I was waiting for him to say something about having a drink from this fancy bar, but he just stared.

“Before you do… what?” I prompted.

He lifted his hands to cradle my face again. His calluses were softer than they were in the real world. He swallowed thickly, holding my gaze with those deep, dark eyes.

“Tell me you love me—I don’t care if it’s a lie.”

The smile on his face was heartbroken and sorrowful and his eyes were still shining with tears.

“Albus…”

“No one will ever have to know. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll even remember any of this if-slash-when I wake up—”

I cut him off by lurching forward and planting my lips on his.

He made a noise of surprise before I leaned back to meet his gaze again. His lips were parted and his eyes widened. We were both breathing heavily, staring. I was a bit shocked that I’d done that, and I was even more shocked that he’d let me.

Our eyes flicked to each other’s lips at the same time—

And we were crashing back together. Grabbing at fistfuls of one another’s clothing in a desperate attempt to pull each other closer. One of his arms held me around the shoulders, the other my waist. Mine wrapped around his neck and my hands slid into his hair. Softer than I would have expected.

We kissed on the floor of the tavern until our heads started to spin and I withdrew.

“I love you, Albus,” I breathed. “I don’t know if that’s a lie or not, to be honest.”

“I don’t care.” He pulled me close for one more kiss. This one soft and tender. Gentler than I had ever seen him. I sighed into it. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. “It’s not just me. He does too. The other me. He won’t tell you that, so… I’m gonna do it for him.”

I remembered the manic look on his face when he told me that after he shot himself out of a broadsword cannon. “He’d be so angry if he found out you told me,” I said softly.

He smirked. “So what if he gets mad at me? What’s he gonna do, give me a stern talking-to?” He snickered. Then his face went serious. “But, uh… yeah. He loves you. A lot as well.”

“How much?” I could have asked something else, but couldn’t think of anything else.

He smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you.” He cupped the side of my face and brushed his thumb gently over my cheek. “He looks at you… and he sees an angel. And he won’t make a move. Because… he’s unworthy of you.”

I closed my eyes. “That’s not true. You’re worthy of so much more than you think. You’re worth so much more than you think. I care about you. I can’t lose you.”

“You’re a lot stronger than he or me—whatever I am.”

“That’s not true either. I can’t… I can’t even fight.”

“You don’t have to fight to be strong, darling. Being strong is sticking to your beliefs no matter what. Which makes you stronger than Albus. Bastard can’t even die right.” He sighed and pressed his forehead to mine. “Maybe this fantasy is no way to live after all,” he whispered. He lifted the ring out of my pocket by where its chain had been dangling out of it and slung it on over his head.

A sob shook his body. “I don’t want to go back. I know I said I would but I—I don’t—” His breathing shuddered. “I don’t want to—” He stumbled over an apology.

“Hey. Hold my hand?” I asked.

Without protesting, he slid his fingers between mine and brought my knuckles up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. A tear fell on our intertwined fingers. “Oh gods above—I’m such a baby,” he hissed.

“There’s nothing wrong with sorrow, Albus. It was given to us by the gods so that we’d also know joy.”

He shook his head with a sharp inhale and glanced around at the tavern. “This place. It’s nice. Lot of good memories here. Though I suppose none of them are real.” He sighed. “This life with you. This dream. A… a fantasy of the both of us being in love and married… could you, uh… could you do me a favor? Remember it for me, please? I don’t know if I will.”

“I don’t know either. But of course I’ll remember it for you. This is a beautiful life. Maybe you’ll find something similar to it, one day.”

“Just maybe not with you?” There was a hint of his sarcastic teasing in that tone.

I blinked a few times. “You never know. But I’ll remember this for you.”

“Thank you. In that case, let me give you something to remember me by.”

He pulled me close and we shared another kiss. Tender but desperate. I threaded my fingers of my free hand into his hair and held him close to me.

Albus pulled away first. “I love you, my darling.”

“I love you too, Albus.” Still wasn’t sure if I was lying, but knowing he needed to hear it.

A touch of mirth danced in his eyes. His lopsided smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll see you soon, faithful.”

A tear fell out of my eye at the nickname I never thought I’d miss.

—

I woke up with a gasp, sitting up from the chair next to the gurney Albus was in. The heartrate monitor was still beeping.

“Sister? Are you okay?” Devlin asked. I nodded, a bit breathless. Devlin sighed with relief. “I was worried. It looks like his vitals are stabilizing. You did it, sister!” I tried to smile, but my mind was still back in that dream. “So… I… hesitate to ask but… how was it? Were you safe?”

I thought about the tavern. The soft bedsheets and the morning sunlight. A pair of gold rings glinting. The kisses. “Better than I thought,” I said wistfully.

“Well, that’s good at least. I really am glad you’re safe, sister. Having you around… it really makes me feel a lot stronger. Just something I noticed when you weren’t around. I wanted to say something sooner but… well. You know. I, uh… I was wondering… if we—no, when we—get out of this place, maybe we can—”

“Ugh. If you’re gonna start making out, can you do it somewhere else?” a familiar, gruff, grumpy voice grumbled.

“Albus!” Devlin and I exclaimed at the same time, whirling to see him trying to sit up.

—

Tagging the GB peeps who I think would enjoy: @palilious @gwenifred @zozo-01 @halscafe @ryn-halo26 @staplesmainbitch @miloeveryday38

[nexischillin]

(Takes place after bvz 6 dream when Karmor wakes up)

Static slowly fizzles out of his ears as Karmor wakes up with a start. "That stupid fucking Crow! What kind of stupid dream was that?" His hands cover his face, dragging down it as if that would help him forget what he was just shown. Especially Hipswitch's own. After all he didn't sound all that ba- Focus! He could barely look Hipswitch in the eyes as it is. How was he going to do it now?

An annoyed groan fell from Karmor’s lips as he hit his head a little, trying to make the memory go away. "dumb fucking dream, dumb fucking crow, dumb fucking trial." He's going to kill the bird when he gets his hands on him. The Crow was probably laughing his ass off right now. Karmor can almost hear it in the back of this mind. The laughter mixed with a mocking voice and snide remarks. Yeah that stupid bird is probably having the time of his life right now.

( I'm a bit embarrassed about how long this took the type up, but it's kinda hard to write about and character that doesn't necessarily have a set personality. You can't necessarily mischaracterize them, but you also kinda can so eh.)

[ezekielonlysleptfor2hourd]

Oh there’s a baby

A silly story of Bastard vs Zombies. Featuring: Kamor being turn into a baby. Hipswitch on baby duty.

This is part one.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The morning was off to a chaotic start. The sound of clattering eggs echoed through the small kitchen as Mahatma fumbled to regain his grip on the frying pan. He swore under his breath as he scrambled to pick up the broken shells.

“What the hell, Mahatma?!” Albus barked, his face twisted into a mischievous grin. The warrior, always unpredictable, had jumped out from behind the kitchen door with a loud “RAWR!” and startled the doctor. It was clear he found the whole thing amusing, but Mahatma was less than pleased. “I didn’t mean to!” Mahatma protested, wiping his hands on his apron. “I swear, I was just trying to cook!”

“Yeah, well, maybe try cooking without making a mess next time, huh?” Hipswitch drawled, stepping into the kitchen. The robot cowboy had one hand on his belt. He looked at the chaos unfolding in front of him with disapproval. “What did I tell ya about being careful in the kitchen?”

Albus scoffed, clearly amused by the scolding. “Maybe if Doc ain’t so jumpy”

Kamor, who had been quietly observing the scene from his usual spot on the stool in the corner of the kitchen counter, sighed softly. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, a soft shake of his head, clearly indicating that the antics of the group were nothing new to him anymore. His fingers brushed the surface of the stool, a silent indication that he wasn’t going to get involved. Instead, he simply tilted his head toward Albus, giving the warrior a pointed look.

The tension in the room hung for a moment as Mahatma muttered something about needing a new frying pan, while Albus shrugged with an exaggerated, “Eh, it happens.”

But Kamor’s gaze remained steady on Albus, his lips curving slightly into a smirk. He was used to this madness. But there was something comforting about it too—no matter how messy the mornings got, they always found their way through, somehow.

ˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎ

The marketplace was a chaotic swirl of activity as the group made their way through the bustling crowds. Stalls were filled with everything from fresh produce to handmade trinkets or stolen goods, but the only thing on their minds today was a new frying pan. Hipswitch, led the way through the narrow streets.

“Come on, partner,” Hipswitch called over his shoulder, his voice carrying through the market, “we’re almost there. Gotta get ya a pan that won’t crack under pressure.”

Kamor followed close behind, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he adjusted his scarf. His heart was a little too loud in his chest as he walked beside the robot. The way Hipswitch called him partner—it sounded so natural, so friendly—but Kamor’s mind couldn’t help but twist those words into something deeper. His gaze lingered on the bounty hunter’s tall, broad frame, the way the sun glinted off the metal parts of his robotic body. But Kamor stayed quiet, opting to keep his feelings hidden. He wasn’t sure how to handle the way his heart fluttered every time when he’s near Hipswitch. The cowboy didn’t seem to notice, of course. He never did. Hipswitch thought he can’t have emotions—at least not in the way Kamor did. He was a machine, after all. A bounty hunter machine.

Ahead of them, Albus was busy at one of the stalls, grinning broadly at the woman who ran it. His voice was smooth, laced with charm as he flirted effortlessly.“Well, well, what do we have here? You selling these fresh apples, or are you just trying to steal my heart?” Albus leaned in, a glint of mischief in his eye, while the stall owner rolled her eyes and smirked. “I’d be careful with that, stranger,” she warned, holding up an apple like it was a weapon. “I’ve got a sharp edge.” Albus chuckled, clearly undeterred. “I like my women dangerous.”

Meanwhile, Mahatma was grumbling under his breath at another stall on the opposite side. His eyes were scanning the various frying pans hanging on display. As he reached for one, a voice rasped from behind him. “That one’s crap, Mahatma.” The voice came from Attila, Mahatma’s other half.

Mahatma sighed in nervousness, feeling the sharp, invisible presence of Attila, like a weight on his shoulders. “I don’t know Attila, this one seem.. okayish?” Attila scoffed. “You don’t know the first thing about good cookware, do you? Just grab the one that looks most useful and don’t make it a bigger mess than it already is.”

Hipswitch, still leading Kamor towards the next stall, glanced over his shoulder and shook his head, oblivious to Kamor’s quiet sigh. “Albus is gonna get us kicked out of here with that nonsense,” he muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to keep the warrior in check. “It’s always the same with him. Can’t go anywhere without him flirting with everyone.”

Kamor’s lips twitched into a slight smile at the mention of Albus, but it quickly faded. He didn’t mind the flirtation; Albus was just that way, always seeking attention, always playing around. The group was nearing a stall that had a row of pristine pans hanging in the sun, each one polished to perfection. Hipswitch clapped Kamor on the back, an entirely friendly gesture. “See, partner? There’s the good stuff.”Kamor glanced at the pans, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened when he turned back to the cowboy. He nodded once, a subtle sign of agreement.

The peaceful hum of the marketplace shattered as a loud commotion erupted near the center of the plaza. A deep, guttural voice rang out, echoing off the metal and sandstone structures.

“Everybody down! Ain’t nobody move, ya hear?!”

A towering brute stood in the middle of the street, waving a Ray gun erratically. His armor was rusted, his clothes torn, but his eyes burned with reckless confidence. The people around him cowered, scrambling to hide behind their stalls or ducking into nearby alleyways. Hipswitch’s head snapped toward the source of the chaos. His movements were swift, practiced—his hand darted to his hip, fingers curling around the grip of his revolver as he stepped forward.

Albus, ever the reckless one, grinned. “Finally, some excitement.” With a flourish, he unsheathed his massive sword, the weight of the blade heavy in his grip. He rested it on his shoulder, cracking his neck as he eyed the brute. “Alright, big guy, let’s not make this difficult.”

Meanwhile, Attila had already grabbed Kamor’s wrist and yanked him back behind an overturned cart. “This is not our fight,” Attila hissed, pressing his back against the cart. Kamor’s brows furrowed as he peeked over the edge. He wanted to fight. He wanted to prove himself, to stand beside Hipswitch and Albus, but he wasn’t ready—not yet. His hands tightened into fists, frustration bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” Mahatma voice shakily. “You go out there, you’re might be another corpse waiting to happen.”

Out in the open, Hipswitch’s metallic fingers twitched over the trigger. His voice remained steady, calm. “Put the gun down. Ain’t gotta do this the hard way.”

The brute let out a barking laugh. “The hard way’s the fun way!” He fired a wild shot toward the sky, sending a pulse of energy crackling into the atmosphere. The already-panicked crowd screamed, scattering further.

Albus rolled his eyes. “Great. One of those guys.” The brute’s gaze landed on them—on the cowboy with the gun and the warrior with the oversized sword. His grin widened. “Oh-ho! Bounty hunters, huh? That mean there’s a price on my head?” Albus smirked, shifting his stance. “Not yet, but I’m happy to change that for you.”

Hipswitch, ever the tactician, adjusted his aim. “Last chance, pal.” The brute just grinned wider. Then, without warning, he swung his Ray gun toward them and fired.

The fight was on.

The marketplace was a storm of movement—Hipswitch fired off calculated shots, his revolver spinning in his hand between blasts, while Albus swung his massive sword in broad, devastating arcs. The brute, despite his lack of grace, was relentless, firing his Ray gun wildly, sending erratic beams of energy ricocheting off metal stalls and stone walls.

Then, in the chaos, one of those wild shots veered off-course. Mahatma barely had time to react before Kamor shoved him aside, taking the hit square in the chest. The energy pulse crackled on impact, wrapping around Kamor in a brilliant flash of light before—

POOF

A pile of clothes hit the dusty ground. For a split second, everything seemed to freeze. Hipswitch’s mechanical fingers twitched over his revolver. Fear—something he didn’t think he was capable of—coiled in his circuits. Albus, normally cocky, suddenly looked pale. Then, from the bundle of Kamor’s clothes, a small, dazed noise emerged.

A baby?

A baby who looked exactly like Kamor. A stunned silence fell over the market. Even the brute, who had been mid-laugh, now stood slack-jawed, his grip on the Ray gun loosening. He blinked at the infant, then back at his weapon. “What the—” Albus exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “Oh, hell no. Did you—did you seriously just scam yourself into a baby gun?!”The brute, still staring in shock, gave the Ray gun a violent shake. “This ain’t what I paid for!”

Hipswitch, still processing the absolute insanity of what had just happened, finally holstered his revolver and took a slow step forward. His glowing eyes darted between the infant Kamor, his discarded clothes, and the still-confused brute. “Well,” he muttered, “that’s somethin’ you don’t see every day.” Albus saw his chance. With the brute still distracted by his own stupidity, Albus lunged forward, bringing the full weight of his claymore down on the man’s head—

WHAM

The brute hit the ground with a satisfying thud, out cold. Another long pause. Then Mahatma, still crouched beside baby Kamor’s abandoned clothes, let out a nervous chuckle. “O-Okay! So, uh! Kamor is a baby now! That’s—that’s not great!” He hesitantly reached down, picking up the tiny, confused infant. “Oh, wow. This is so weird. Kamor?, you’re, uh, adorable but this is very not ideal.”

Attila’s voice, sharp and unimpressed, grumbled. “Perfect. Just what we needed. A useless baby.”Mahatma frowned. “Attila!” Hipswitch slowly approached, staring down at the tiny Kamor, who blinked up at him with big, familiar eyes. His robotic fingers twitched slightly—hesitation. “Well, partner,” he murmured. “Ain’t expectin’ this one.”

The baby hiccuped. Albus, finally regaining his composure, let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. So how the hell do we fix this?”

─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ───

[penumbra-mayhem]

i feel joy and oh how it burns (pt. 2/2)

Tank opens up to Milo about their relationship with Sam.

part 1 // hurt/comfort // 1.1k words

(I hc Tank with a stutter, more on that here.)

——————————————

“Stop hogging the popcorn,” Milo whined, reaching blindly for the bowl with one hand while his eyes remained glued to the screen. 

“St-top t-t-taking all mmmmy kills,” Darlin’ retorted, shielding the bowl from Milo’s grasp with their body.

“Well, if you knew how to aim—”

“Fuck off!” Darlin’ cackled.

Milo beamed at the sound. As he killed two more zombies, he asked, “I’m gonna get something to drink, you want anything?”

Darlin’ shook their head. “N-No, I-I’m g—fucker, that wwwwas mmmmy kill!! ”

He paused the game with a bark of laughter. “Not anymore! Alright, I’m going. There better still be popcorn in that bowl when I get back,” he teased.

As Milo got up, Darlin’ made a playful show of stuffing a handful of popcorn in their mouth. Milo gasped and snatched the bowl from their lap, exclaiming, “Y’know what? I’m taking it with me!”

He scurried into the kitchen with a titter as Darlin’ made popcorn-muffled sounds of protest from the couch. Milo grabbed two bottles of Jarritos: guava for himself and lime for Darlin’ because he knew that if he didn’t as soon as he sat back down Darlin’ would be all puppy eyes and regret and he’d have to get up again.

When he re-entered the living room, though, he found them glued to their phone looking…concerned?

“What’s up?” Milo asked as he set the bottles on coasters and placed the popcorn bowl equally between them.

“N-Nothing,” Darlin’ muttered. They stuffed their phone under their leg, eyes glassy and unable to meet Milo’s scrutinous stare. 

“T, you look…” like you’re about to cry “…upset.”

They waved a hand. “It-It’s n-n-n-nothing, just Sam…”

“Sam?” Milo’s voice hardened, fear flashing in his eyes, “What’d he do?”

Darlin’ looked up at the sudden change in Milo’s tone. They backpedaled as they realized their mistake, “WWWait—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“N-N-N—”

“Don’t lie to me, Tank—”

“I-I’m n-n-n-n-not!” Darlin’ blurted, “N-N-No. Sam wwwwould n-n-n-never.”

Milo sat back, hackles lowering. “Then what is it?”

Darlin’s gaze lowered and they balled their hands, as if the words were inked onto their palms. They couldn’t explain. Milo wouldn’t understand. They barely even understood.

Suddenly, a piece of popcorn hit them square in the face. 

“Hey,” they retorted, glaring at a gleeful Milo. 

He threw another piece. 

“St-top,” Darlin’ whined, throwing a piece in retaliation. 

“Tell me what’s going on and I will,” Milo countered as he pelt Darlin’ with piece after piece of popcorn, “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. C’mo—”

“Ok-kay!!” Darlin’ exclaimed, hands held up against the savory barrage. They dug their phone back out and pulled up their conversation with Sam. 

“It-It’s just the l-l-l-last mmmessage…” Darlin’ mumbled as they passed the phone to Milo. 

He took it gingerly and read Sam’s most recent text:

Thinking of you, I hope you’re having a good time at Milo’s. I thought maybe later we could get dinner at Finch & Presley’s and then get gelato at that place you like on the corner. Thoughts? No rush, take your time baby. Have fun!

Milo reread it, certain he had missed something. When his third scan still gleaned no clues, he handed their phone back and admitted, “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

Darlin’ shoved their phone away again. “He…he’s…so…good.”

“…go on.”

Darlin’ chewed at their inner cheek. “He mmmmakes mmme hap-p-py,” they admitted, “MMMore than I-I thought I-I c-could b-b-b-be.”

“And that’s bad?”

They nodded. 

“How come?”

Darlin’ looked away, shutting themself down again.  

Milo raised his hand slowly in response, popcorn at the ready. 

Catching the movement out of the corner of their eye, Darlin’ sighed in surrender, “WWWhat if I-I don’t mmmake him hap-p-py?”

Milo’s popcorn-loaded hand lowered in confusion. “What?”

Darlin’ shrugged; it was stupid, they were being stupid.

“Hold on,” Milo said, tossing his unthrown popcorn into his mouth before fishing his phone from his pocket. As he searched his screen, he explained sheepishly, “I uh…I like to take candids of the people in my life…and then I keep them, just for me to look at—where is, ah! here we go.”

He thrust his phone into Darlin’s hands.

They were met with a photo of them and Sam on the first night of the Solstice, laughing together in a corner. Darlin’ glanced back up at Milo.

“Go on,” he insisted, “I’ve only met him a couple of times, so I just have a few, but I think you’ll get the idea.”

Darlin’ furrowed their brow but acquiesced.

Sam and Darlin’ at the Solstice the following evening, snuggled together by a fireplace. Sam and Darlin’ on a double date with Milo and Sweetheart, discussing appetizers. Sam and Darlin’ at the most recent pack meeting, chatting with Asher.

They looked back up at Milo, their face and ears a pale pink. Milo secretly took some delight in Darlin's flustered appearance. It was a pleasant change from their usual scowl or worried frown.

“You know what all of those have in common?”

Darlin' shook their head. 

“Sam is smiling. In every single one.”

Scrolling back through, they found that Milo was right. In each photo, Sam had his eyes on Darlin’ and a smile on his face. Sometimes it was small and soft. Sometimes he was beaming, his whole face crinkled in joy. The pale pink deepened to red.

“Sam doesn’t look like that when you’re not in the room. You make him so happy,” Milo murmured, “And for what it’s worth, you make me happy, too.”

Darlin’ handed Milo back his phone and quickly rubbed at their eyes, hoping Milo wouldn’t notice. But, of course, he did. 

“Hey,” he whispered, scooching closer. 

“S-Sorry…” Darlin’ sniffled, wiping the tears from their flushed cheeks in growing frustration.

“You don’t need to apologize, T. You’re allowed to…” be weak “...show how you’re feeling.” 

Milo moved the popcorn bowl and cooed, “C’mere.”

Darlin’ lifted their head to see Milo’s arms stretched out towards them. They hesitated. Milo was sure they’d reject the offer, but then Darlin’ surprised them both as they crawled into his embrace.

Burying their face in his shirt, they whimpered, “WWWhy d-does it-it hurt?”

Milo sagged. In a sense, he’d been right. Sam was hurting them, but it was the one kind of pain Milo would allow. And the only kind he didn’t know how to ease. He tightened his hold on Darlin’, taking a moment to breathe before answering:

“Warmth can sometimes feel like burning when you’ve been cold for long enough. I think maybe it’s the same with joy. But it’ll get easier. It’ll hurt less, eventually. Just give it time.”

[jacks347]

When's the last time I gave Makkaro some love, I can't remember. Unacceptable, I must fix this immediately

(This genuinely took forever fucking HELL)

~~~

It cost his life, took more than he gave

Now he watches from the grave

Makkaro knew he was never going to see the gates of heaven. He knew better than to expect any misgiving of his to be forgiven after all he'd done. He had made his peace with eternal flames and torment.

But this...

This was different. This was neither.

An endless chasm of darkness, devoid of anything other than him. Well, him and a massive window playing his memories. Over and over, making him watch his rise and fall on loop for an eternity without any way to change the outcome.

How fitting for him. A trial of insanity until he overcame it or lost himself in it. Only this time, there would be no reprieve from his mind tearing itself apart in the sweet release of death. It was only right for him.

Saw his hand built kingdom burn

Misses home and can't return

It wasn't his fault. He hadn't meant for it to get so out of hand. He never wanted her to be caught in the middle of this. She swore she would always stand by his side, that was what she'd promised him! What she had vowed to him! It wasn't his fault if she decided to walk out on those promises.

He didn't need her, he never did. Sure, her cause was the spark that caused the flame but now that he had things burning he had no use for her simple-minded desires anymore. No, he had much bigger plans. He was going to tear this city down and cleanse it in vengeful fire. He'd build it back up the way it was supposed to be the entire time. And he'd do it all himself.

All by himself.

All alone.

Always alone.

So very lonely.

When did it get so cold-

No, he couldn't think like that. This was his masterpiece, his life's work, the thing he'd given up everything for. He had to see it through. If he didn't, all that sacrifice would be for nothing. So what if he had skewed so far off the original path that he no longer recognized the destination he was going to? So what if the woman he'd sworn to do this all for had tried to pull him back from going too far? So what if he no longer recognized himself in the mirror with all the blood on his hands? So. What.

None of it mattered. It couldn't matter. If it mattered, it would mean he was wrong and he couldn't be wrong. Not after he'd gone this far. He was long past the point of no return, having doubts now would end in his death. This was his cross to bear.

But he missed her.

Gods forgive him, every heartbeat was a reminder that it beat for someone who was no longer with him. Every second without her ached like a wound that wouldn't heal; scabbing over and granting the relief of numbness until something reminded him that she was gone and would rip it back open, bleeding with the agony of loss again.

He wanted her back. Her sweet eyes, her kind smile, her forgiving heart, he just wanted her back. He wanted their simple life back, the house in the woods where they hid their love from the world, that place where it was just the two of them. Not a princess and a detective, not a runaway and a wanted criminal, not anything the world was expecting them to be. Just Makarro and Gienne, husband and wife.

And he had pushed it all away. The best thing that had ever happened to him and he decided he didn't need her. But that couldn't be further from the truth. He needed her like oxygen, he needed her to keep him grounded in reality. He was losing his mind without her, he'd never survive without her. He had to fix this. He'd go crazy if he didn't.

He just didn't know how.

Says he's happy, he's a liar

Blame the arson for the fire

Where had it all gone so wrong? Actually, he knew exactly where it went wrong. The day she'd showed up with that child of the woman tyrant, there to stop him. The day he'd looked into her eyes and saw them set against him instead of standing with him. Somewhere deep in his heart, he knew then that something was horribly wrong. That he was horribly wrong. But he couldn't admit it, not now, not after everything he'd done to get here. But she was right there. She was back. If he reached out, he could touch her, and she wouldn't vanish like the delirious visions he was so familiar with when sleep evaded him for days. She was there. His darling had returned to him.

But at the same time, she wasn't. No, his darling's eyes never held such brokenhearted contempt for him. His beloved never looked so tired because of him. His wife never stood opposing him like this. But here they were. She was speaking but the words weren't reaching him. He could only process the sound of her voice, like a choir of angels that had all had their wings clipped. He could only stare at her, caught between his lonely heart's relief and his crazed mind's anger. How had he gotten this bad to where he could possibly be angry at the one he held so dear? At a different time, he would've balked at the mere idea of actually turning his righteous anger against the one who had caused it in the first place.

But this was not a different time.

And he was not that same man.

"All of this...I did all of this for you. My entire life I dedicated to you and this is how you thank me?!" He spat the words like they tasted bad, venom lacing his tone.

"I never asked for this, Makkaro!" She shot back like driving a knife into his chest. Makkaro? When was the last time he'd heard her call him by his name? Where had the warm, soothing nicknames that had tamed his worst fears and soothed his every worry gone? Had he driven them away?

He heard himself laugh, an ugly, bitter sound. It didn't sound like him. "No one asks for war, princess. But if it's change you want, then it's war you get. Every royal decree has a price in blood."

No...what was he saying? He felt like he was watching someone that wasn't him puppet his body. A monster, set on death and destruction no matter who or what stood in his way. A monster that would sacrifice the wife he held so dear simply because she dared to challenge him. Was this how far he had fallen? Was this who he had become?

No, it couldn't be. It was the necromancy talking. That dark, perverse power that fueled him had possessed him. That was it, that had to be it. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't even him. It was this power that corrupted him. This power that made him push Gienne away, gods forgive him for the sadness he saw in her eyes she never deserved it, the power that made him fall so far that this was what he became.

It wasn't his fault, he couldn't be blamed for this. It was this power, this uncontrollable urge to destroy.

Maybe if he kept saying it, he'd start believing it.

Maybe if he kept saying it, he'd start believing it.

Maybe if he kept saying it, he'd start believing it.

That phrase kept running through his mind, even as he lay dying in the ruins of everything he'd built. What could he blame now? His fortress was reduced to rubble, his cause was in tatters, his spirit was broken. He could only stare up at the acrid sky in defeat, left to ponder where he'd lost his way.

"Makkaro!"

What was that?

"Mak!"

Was someone calling for him?

"My love, please!"

It sounded like an angel. Was one coming for his soul?

"There you are!"

A figure came into his line of sight, dropping by his side and beginning to check over his injuries. She looked so familiar but it couldn't be. No, she would never come back to him, not after all he'd done.

"Darling...?"

"I'm here, my love, I'm here." Gienne soothed, lacing her hand with his as she pulled his upper body into her lap. "Oh, I was so worried, I thought I'd lost you."

She'd actually come back for him...

She hadn't left him...

She still loved him...

"Darling...I'm so sorry." He wheezed, the words scraping his throat raw.

Sorry wasn't enough. She deserved so much more than sorry. Regret racked every fiber of his being, sorrow pounded against his skull like a drum, defeat weighed so heavy on his chest it was hard to breathe. But he didn't have strength for anything more than sorry. He could only hope she knew he meant so much more than sorry.

"Shh, I know, save your strength and stay alive." She fussed, moving the hair from his face. He could only stare into her eyes, memorizing the color he'd taken for granted for so long. Had they always been that beautiful or had he just not been appreciating them enough?

He wasn't going to make it. A piece of him knew it from the start but now he knew for sure. He was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only solace he could take was that he was dying in the arms of his wife.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her he loved her before he lost all strength, but he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't break the gentle silence that wrapped around them like a shield. He just stared into her eyes, hoping his held all the love and regret he felt. She smiled down at him, that perfect smile that warmed his very soul. "I forgive you, Makkaro. I can only hope you learn to forgive yourself."

His vision slowly blurred until it faded to black, taking in the last vestiges of the woman he loved. How could he ever forgive himself for betraying her? How could he ever rest knowing what he'd done to her? This wasn't right, it couldn't be over until he made it right.

He had to make it right.

He had to rewrite his ending.

He just didn't know how.

But someone did. Someone who was always listening. Someone who had an idea.

If he wants to cleanse his blame

He'll have to invoke my name

"So you wish to return, is that it?" The voice was coy, knowing it held his fate in it's hands and relishing in it. He couldn't see the person's entire face, only from the mouth down. And the amused grin they held made his stomach churn.

Makkaro swallowed hard. He had one chance to get this right. If he messed up here, he risked erasing his entire existence. "Yes. I wish to go back. I want a chance to fix things. I-I realize what I did was wrong, I need to fix this I can't lose her-"

The voice laughed, leaning forward to rest their chin in their hand. "Oh? Is that what this is about? Her? The fact you betrayed her for power? Pushed her aside for your own plans instead of the ones you made together? Abandoned everything you promised her for your own selfish reasons?"

Makkaro winced with every reason they gave, each one like a further knife twist in his chest. "I messed up, I know-" "Messed up? Is that what you're calling it?" "What do you want me to say?" He asked, exasperated. "What do you want from me? Do I need to grovel, beg for forgiveness, must I languish myself for you to accept that I know I am broken and selfish and unworthy of her love? I know I am undeserving of her and she had every reason to leave me but I have fought my way to you for a second chance. Isn't that enough?"

The person paused. He couldn't see their eyes but he could feel them watching him, scorching his skin with a stare that judged his every action.

"Fine."

"Wait...what?"

"Fine. I'll let you go back and try again. But not like how you came. If you really want to earn your happy ending, you'll have to find someone else's first."

Someone else's happy ending. Live another's life until he could return to his own. "Will I remember before? My previous life? What I'm fighting for?" "Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know until you get there." The voice had regained its teasing lilt. "So, we got a deal?"

Makkaro contemplated for a minute. If he went though with this, he'd be stuck in someone else's life for gods know how long and he wouldn't even remember what he was living for. If he screwed up again, he'd never be able to see his precious darling again. Gienne and her story would be lost to time forever.

But he had to.

He had to see her.

"Deal."

The smile widened, knuckles cracking before coming to rest on the familiar keys. "Then you know what to do."

He did. He took a breath, reciting a prayer he didn't even realize he knew until the words began to spill out of him.

"Great weaver of stories I invoke you, change my fate from the cruel hands who brought me to ruin. Give me the ending you so desire in a hope of one better than reality."

"And a new ending you shall receive." The hands started to move, clicking away on the keys as they rewrote his fate. His vision blurred and faded, falling into the darkness as he heard an excited giggle. "This is gonna be fun."

One way to absolve his crime

A different form, a different time

"Crow? You still with me?" Raven's voice snapped Crow out of his daze. "Yes Raven, I am here. I did not go anywhere."

Raven raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure? You seemed pretty in your head there. Whatcha thinking about?" It was an interesting question. What was he thinking about? He honestly couldn't remember. But he couldn't shake the cold feeling of fear and dread in his chest. Memories at the very edge of his consciousness that seemed just out of reach, not that they felt like his to remember anyway. "It was nothing. Old memories. They are gone now." Raven stared at him for a moment before letting it go with a shrug. "If you insist. Now come on, we've got work to do."

Crow followed behind Raven, the cold in his chest melting into warmth. Something told him this time would be different. He'd protect her this time. No matter what it cost.

[grim-has-issues]

i love tumblr.

its the only place where I can openly go insane and say things that i would never tell my therapist and a stranger on here will be like, “same/mood”

and then you all move on with our day

if thats not real community

idk what is

[copsecore]

guys i’m in my angst era (adding the inversion into Playing With The Boys)

[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

[pokimoko]

The One-Way Waltz of the Moth and the Wild Flame (and the Incident of the Authorial Intrusion) - A Good Omens Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: ~25K

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Nina (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s)

Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Original Characters, (who is technically not an original character but I've got to keep some secrets ;) ), Nina (Good Omens), Background & Cameo Characters

Summary: A story in which Crowley does not prevent forest fires, a radio sends out thoughts and prayers, an angel misuses the emergency contact, the local duck population invents socialism, trees are threatened to varying degrees of success, a waltz is indeed played, and an author considers the nature of tragedies.

Tags: Ineffable Divorce | Aziraphale and Crowley Break Up (Good Omens), Post-Break Up, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel Friendship (Good Omens), Angst and Humor, Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Canon Continuation, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Episode: s02e06 Every Day (Good Omens), Pre-Season/Series 03, No Aziraphale Slander Here but it is also Crowley's POV so expect at least some Thoughts, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Running Away, Both in the Emotional and Literal Sense, Because You Don't Have to Deal with Your Romantic and Personal Issues in Washington State. Obviously, (incorrect: you very much do), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), (even if he won't admit it), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), (another thing he won't admit), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), They're just being stupid, Not A Fix-It, References to God(s), Romantic Angst, America, United States, Fire Lookout, Remember Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires (Unless You Are Anthony J. Crowley), hey is it healthy to repeatedly relive a past trauma to deal with a breakup? asking for a friend, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Fire, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Isolation, When You're Trying to Cope Badly in the American Wilderness but People Keep Talking to You, Radio, Inspired by Firewatch (Video Game), Character Study, Crowley and the Woes of Being In a Narrative That Won't Let You Go, (Fleabag voice) This is a Tragedy, But oh? What's this?, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending

[lorepossum]

The Briefest of Respites.

Spoilers for episode 13/14 of MotH.

Fandom: Magic of the Heart (Goodboyaudios)

Ship: Makkaro/Darling

It was the sun that woke Makkaro. Well the sun, and the smell of fresh baking that hit the back of his throat and nearly made him choke on the sudden rush of saliva it caused.

By Rion he was hungry.

Makkaro blinked, groggy, glancing around. It was his bedroom, just as he remembered it. His own bed with sheets and comforter rumpled from a night of rest. Two hampers at the foot. One— his own, with his clothes neatly deposited within, the other with a colorful collection of clothes messily tossed near to it but rarely actually inside it.

The sight made him smile.

Stretching, he groaned slightly as several of his joints popped. There was a slight ache in his limbs that wasn’t entirely normal for him nowadays. Maybe he’d slept wrong. He had found that sleeping consistently actually did make him feel better overall. In opposition to the brief naps and infrequent intervals of sleep he had been used to taking at work before.

Before he’d met them.

His Darling.

Who— peculiarly, was not actually in bed beside him.

This was odd, his darling was not one to wake up early. Usually it was him coaxing them out of bed with the promise of coffee and a new case to help him with.

Although he supposed the smell of cooking had to be coming from somewhere.

As he made his way out of their bedroom the smell only got stronger. Heady notes that spoke to homemade jam and flakey pastry. Makkaro’s mouth continued to water like that of a man who had not eaten in weeks.

How long— in Taurus’ name had he been asleep for? Surely he could not be this starved after only a night of rest. A frown pulled at his lips slightly as he tried to recall what they had had for dinner the night before but found he couldn’t.

Troubling…

Sure he was often busy, they both were and with his Darling’s case still open and danger around every corner waiting to strike he could have simply forgotten. Even if he was trying to make an effort to be more present…

It tugged at the back of his mind like he’d forgotten something.

Troubling indeed…

Rounded the corner into the kitchen however paused any troubling train of thought he might have had.

There stood his Darling in all their glory. Hair still messy from sleep, pulled back into a cascading ponytail down their back. Dressed in one of his nicer house robes that was just slightly too big for them, meaning it draped off of one shoulder artfully framing the blooming evidence of their previous night at their neck and shoulder. Their honey eyes were focused on the coffee they were brewing.

He smiled. His chest blooming with warmth as he looked at them, how comfortable they appeared in his home. Seeming to fill the space with something he had been missing for so long but had no words to understand.

His Darling had helped him find the words. Reminded him of his lust for life and what was important.

He couldn’t be more grateful.

A slight smile still on his lips he slid forward wrapping his arms around his muse’s middle and slotting himself against their back, face nuzzled into the crook of their neck.

“Good morning Darling.” He rumbled against their soft skin.

They chuckled, lightly, but still enough to fill the small kitchen with the glorious sound of it. An airy giggle Makkaro would never get tired of hearing.

“My, my Detective, so forward” They cooed, leaning back into his pressure. “Do you greet all your clients like this?”

It was his turn to chuckle now. “Only the ones half undressed in my kitchen making us both breakfast” he quipped.

“Who said you were getting any?”

Makkaro groaned and rolled his eyes. Really, how they managed to be like this at any given time of day was astounding to him. Even if he wouldn’t have them any other way.

“Come now Darling, have mercy. I didn’t sleep well and this is how you help me feel better?” He lolled his head just enough to be able to catch their eye and give his best pouting expression.

That he had had a bad night was almost as much news to him as it was to his Darling, but thinking about it, it did seem true enough with his aching bones and foggy mind. And it was leverage so he let it slide.

The body in his arms shifted, turning to face him. Makkaro was given a moment to appreciate the perfect beauty he was lucky enough to call his as their hands came up to cup his face. He met their now scrutinizing gaze with a gentle one of his own.

“…no wonder you were still asleep when I woke up” they finally said, after a thorough examination. “I usually never wake up before you.”

“Yes, quite odd isn’t it” he murmured, not really a question at all as he pressed a kiss to one of the palms against his cheek. Making his beloved’s face break into a gentle smile, eyes sparkling knowingly.

“Good thing I made you a surprise for breakfast then.”

Makkaro’s eyebrow raised. “Did you now?” He asked, glancing behind them to the baking oven, glowing slightly with heat. “You’ve actually managed to make me something?”

That one earned him a light slap to the upper arm, which he supposed he had earned in part. But to be fair his darling had only recently managed to successfully bake something more complex than a cookie without his guidance so perhaps not entirely so.

Still it made him laugh as the body in his arms turned away from him, trying to extricate themself from his grasp, pouting all the while.

“So that’s the thanks I get? I go through all the effort to make your favorite and you insult me” they said. Full of false bravado and offense which made Makkaro laugh still further. Continuing to hold them close despite their struggling.

“My favorite?” He inquired, trying at least for the sake of his pouting beloved to quiet his mirth in the crook of their neck. “Did you really, my darling?”

He felt them relax back into him as his voice dropped into the lower register, cooling their temper as he settled his humor.

“I did.” They said softly. “Loaded pastries, just like the bakery you like makes them. I even made the jam myself.”

His heart swelled tight in his chest. God he loved them.

“You never cease to make me the happiest man alive my darling.”

They snorted, slightly, but still leaned up on their toes to kiss his temple as a small chiming alarm went off near the oven.

“Don’t say that yet, you haven’t tried them.”

With another laugh Makkaro finally let them go, allowing his dearest to scurry across to the oven, gathering gloves to carefully slide a tray of fresh golden brown pastries from the oven and onto an awaiting rack to cool. Turning off the alarm with a brief flick of their hand and a flair of phaina.

“Well… they aren’t burned” They said finally.

Makkaro smirked, “and for that I am grateful. We don’t have another cinnamon roll debacle on our hands.” He said.

It earned him an oven mitt thrown at him and the return of that adorable pout as his Darling half glared at him. “Oh hush! Just eat the damn pastry,” they said. Picking up one of them carefully for themself.

“Oh I will,” He said, a playful edge creeping into his voice even as his stomach growled almost unnaturally loud.

Hands slipping back around his Darling’s waist he pulled them (and the pastry they held) close again. Despite their pout, his darling laughed as he leaned in to steal a bite…

————

An alarm.

Louder this time, much louder.

Shrill.

Painful.

Makkaro opened his eyes.

There was no sun.

The room was windowless.

He was not at home. He was not holding his Darling.

His body ached.

His stomach growled persistently again. Aching for the food his mind’s eye had summoned in the dream.

He was in a foreign land, with no more hope or ideas to his name.

Numb.

He didn’t even have the sound of Frank a cell away from him anymore.

He was cold. The last of the dream-sun’s warmth leaving him bereft and wanting.

Wanting for food, wanting for his home, wanting the security of his love in his arms.

The room smelt of hot filth, and human misery.

And in it he was utterly alone.

[maramirror11]

Reminiscences of the past

This is my Darling's POV throughout those 3 years they were separated from Makarro. Thank you @haradasaya for being the beta reader!

TW: Slight mentions of eating disorders.

I hope you enjoy it!

Pronouns: They/Them

As I was washing the dishes, I realized that it has been a week since I last saw my husband. The day after the feast, he left to continue his work. Now, the Guardian is locked up and there is no one capable of interfering. Nonetheless, I'm worried.

He hasn't come home nor contacted me at all. I know he can lose himself in his work, but not like this. I know him, he hasn't been taking care of himself.

I have this feeling that something is wrong. So, I'm writing them down to help me understand.

Lately I wonder why I am going along with all of this. It's not like I don't want my throne back, but it feels like he's hiding something from me.

I need to remember when all of this started…

… 

It was an awful full moon night. I got the new evidence after my case became cold. Even if it was a trap, we needed to try. My dearest Makarro said we'll reunite at the shipping yard. I ran as fast as I could but someone followed me.

When we got reunited with my dearest, we finally solved our case. My brother Kayble admitted that he was responsible for my threat letter and the senator hired the assassins. 

Since we found out about this, Kayble sent Makarro to a place called Black Site. He was being sentenced for kidnapping and high treason. I tried to explain that I escaped and took refuge with him. But Kayble didn't listen. As he was taken away, we both promised we'll see each other again.

My brother knew if the citizens found out about the real story, the government reputation would fall. So, he wanted to make sure no one could speak about this incident.

"Don't take him away" "Let him go!" I kicked and screamed as I was dragged into the carriage.

As always, my orders were ignored. After a year and a half, I was going back "home".

It felt like an eternity on the ride back to the castle. We arrived a few hours before the sunrise. I stayed in a cell until Kayble finished the preparation to spread the news. 

Early in the morning, he announced my arrival at the castle’s balcony in front of all the people present.

"Dear citizens. As you know, the heir of Manas disappeared a long time ago. Our hearts prayed to the Guardian for their safely return to us"

"As your prince, it was my duty to find and bring back my sibling…"

He narrates the story of how he found out I was kidnapped by an evil wizard and bravely rescued me.

I was behind him, inside the castle, during his speech. As he finishes, Kayble turns around, extends his hand and makes a gesture for me to come out.

At first, I decided I wouldn't go out. He took everything I loved, why would I follow his plan?

Suddenly, I heard the cheers from my people, happy for my safety. They were screaming my name and begging me to step out. I couldn't refuse to see them. Slowly, I went outside smiling and waving my hand.

I carefully chose my words.

"My dear citizens, I'm sorry for upsetting you but thank you for keeping me in your prayers. I'm honored to be able to see you again. May the gods bring us a better future for our great nation"  As the sound of applause got higher, I went back inside.

It wasn't hard, being part of an aristocratic family, acting was a basic skill. But, I wasn't aware that would be the last time I'll feel like I had a choice.

Afterwards, my brother escorted me to my new bedroom. When we arrived, all my stuff was already there. My bed, bookshelf, jewelry box, etc. Except that something was bothering me. Why would he change my room?

When I stepped inside, I heard a click sound behind me and realized the door was locked.

“You should be thankful I even let you live. Enjoy your stay, dear sibling”. Then he walked away.

I immediately tried to open the door with all my strength but I couldn't, not even shouting and hitting would do something.

It didn't work before but I needed to try. While I was away, Kayble built this room and prepared it to prevent any possible escape. Yet that didn’t stop me.

After that day, I had many escape attempts. But, there was little I could do with just one small window and a door with locks on the outside. It was me against the entire castle guards and servants.

I wanted to test them at first, so I tried the predictable ones. Run away whenever they open the door, carve my way to another room, convince others to help me, and more.

Then, I started to create more elaborate plans, but never got too far. Later on, the security knew practically all my strategies and made it impossible for me to come up with new ideas.

In the end, I decided to take some time to observe and analyze any new opportunity instead of rushing it.

… 

I was in that cell, or bedroom as they called it, all day. The only exceptions were when I needed to be present for an event and then back to the same place. Just like an animal you take out of their cage for display. A big cage filled with precious items, but a cage nonetheless.

What bothered me the most was that I barely had people visit me. I got used to having someone to talk to and be my real self. Then again, I had to be on high alert.

Servants came from time to time. They'll come to clean and bring me new clothes or food. However, they were ordered not to talk to me nor give me anything else, they were being watched all the time.

The only one who stayed enough time was Kayble, but his visits weren't exactly pleasant.

"That's the summary of the last reunion. You know you could've left this place a long time ago, right? All you need to do is follow my instructions"

"..."

"Since you insist on being so stubborn, I guess you need more time alone”

Then, he’ll leave me again. 

My father never said anything, when he wanted to see me, I'll go to him. I'm not sure if he knew about this or not.

I don’t know how I kept myself sane. I was left alone with my thoughts all day.

How did we end up like this?

After everything, how Kayble, my own brother, could do this to me? How couldn't I see this coming?

Was my dearest all right? Was he even alive at this point?

Would he like to see me again? It’s my fault that he’s in prison.

HOW can I LEAVE this place? Can ANYTHING GET BETTER after this?

My routine was sitting on my bed and trying to find answers. However, that only made it worse. So, I tried to keep my mind occupied.

“Alright, I’ve finished reading my book today. I couldn't have predict the ending, it’s just the fifth time I read it”

“The sun is already going up? I’m just halfway through my writing”

“Talking to myself isn’t that bad actually. Still, I wish I was with my dearest, at least we’ll find a more interesting topic than guessing clouds shapes"

Sadly, everything became dull after a while.

Even when my body was occupied, I had this persistent question on my mind.

How did my little brother turn into this monster I don’t recognize? 

The coldness in his eyes when I was captured was terrifying. I've never seen him with so much hatred.

He used to be so kind. After our mother died, I practically raised him and taught everything since our father was occupied with his duties.

"Are you free to play a match of wingball? Father said he's too busy"

"Of course Kayble, but don't be mad at me when I win. You know I'm a great player"

…

"You won again?! You'll see next time, I'll win for sure!"

I'll give everything just to play a match with you like the old times.

"One day I want to be like you!" He used to tell me. I can't help but get emotional every time I remember those moments.

Even as grown ups, we had our differences but we got along well. He always looked down to himself, unable to see how amazing he is and looked for validation from others. 

Unfortunately, he found it with the other leaders when our family took the position of heirs after Mazzel died and all her children escaped.

Even with that, I still can't believe he was ready to make me paranoid. Be afraid to die at the hands of assassins if that means I’ll do what he wants.

There was a small part of me that hoped we'd get along again, but everyday Kayble shows me how impossible that dream is.

I wonder if we were a normal family, everything could've ended differently. 

…

My life took a drastic change when I became the heir of Manas. I am from an aristocratic family, our title had a lot of weight in Tyrannis.

I was trained in everything an heir needed to know. Etiquette, how to walk properly, what to say to get my way and infinite resources to do anything I want.

Even so, I felt that I could do more to help others. That’s the reason I specialized in healing magic and potions. At that moment, it was the only thing I was able to do. Now, I had the opportunity to make a real change.

But my problems started when I worked with the other leaders. We’ll have our differences, they want to continue the traditions which means they are afraid of the new possibilities outside help can provide.

Mazzel's consequences are worse than we thought and we really need to ask for outside help. However, my words, despite my title, were irrelevant. I was alone with my beliefs, no one was brave enough to go against the prince.

...

It was destiny that all the events that happened after the reunion. Receiving a threat letter was the best and worst thing that happened to me.

On one hand, I was aware of the real intentions of someone I worked close by. On the other hand, if I didn’t escape, I wouldn’t have found the love of my life.

I knew I couldn't trust anyone inside the castle for help. Then I remembered these rumors about a brilliant detective who wasn't associated with the MCPD. Since I had nothing to lose, I went looking for him.

Even with his rude introduction, he didn't look like he had bad intentions. I can judge people pretty well, he seemed like someone I could trust. His name is Makarro Aetherward.

I ended up staying in the detective’s house while we investigated the case. Surprisingly, we got along and quickly it became my home as well.

It was unreal how happy I was there, it felt like someone took a huge weight from me. Sure, I needed to learn how to cook and clean for myself, but I was free.

No more being bossed around by the others nor be worried about pleasing everyone. I could truly be myself.

Also, Makarro's company was pleasant. The best moments of my day were when we could spend time together, mundane things turned out as fun experiences.

Cooking became my new hobby, making food and then tasting it with him is something I couldn’t trade for anything. How his face went from faking a smile to actually enjoy it, was enough to try my best the next time.

“Do you like the new recipe? It's from my books”

“This is really good, I'm surprised” His face lit up when he put the spoon in his mouth.

“Oh, so you didn't like my food before? You were lying to me?” I put my hand on my mouth as dramatic as possible.

“No! That's not what I-”  He quickly shakes his head. 

“Oh, you are so gullible” I couldn’t contain my laugh any longer. He can't do anything but look in defeat with a smile.

“Don't worry, I know my cooking wasn't the best. Honestly, those spices make the difference”

When I felt comfortable enough, I started to re-decorate the house. It screamed “I don’t live here because it feels lonely” and didn’t feel like a home someone would like to return.

I started with some plants, not flowers because I’m allergic to pollen, then vases, paintings and my own stuff. Even if I barely got outside, hanging out together at home felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up. 

I went outside mostly when I helped with cases but I enjoyed myself every time, even when we ran for our lives from the assassins. Normally, it'll be scary but I felt safe with him. I knew together we'll find a way out.

Later on, he told me I brought color into his life, and so did he to mine. After a couple of dates, we got together officially.

My favorite ones were when we went to dance, both outside and inside the house, it was just us in the world.

For that year and a half, I forgot how cruel it was back at the castle, what it was like to be invisible. Sometimes I wonder if it was better if I never ran away, at least you could've been safe...

…

I thought I could handle being alone with nothing but my thoughts but I was wrong. 

There was nothing I could do but to walk in circles in my tiny room.

After a while I started to feel that they’ll try to eliminate me again, despite doing everything right. When I thought I was being paranoid, I remember that they, in fact, tried to kill me.

I had nothing but my brother's empty words, with the promise to keep me alive. At the end of the day, their mission is the same. As long as I live, they can’t do what they want. 

Perhaps they will be more cautious, the next time it could be an “accident”. It is easier to tell people I died because of food poisoning. Also, everything I eat is served by them.

I ended up eating less and less until I stopped eating all together. At the same time, I asked the staff to stop coming to my place. I couldn’t take any chances, so I cleaned up myself.

It kept me occupied for a while. Maintaining my room clean and organized felt like I cleansed my own mind.

…

I got weaker and weaker with time, my hopes of going outside were fading. I could barely get out of my bed and I didn’t have a reason to do it either.

The dust started to pile up, my wrinkled clothes stayed on the floor and the window was covered with a curtain.

I could only hear the sound of my own breathing and sometimes, a few steps outside. There was nothing new to experience, even the hunger couldn't bother me. There was nothing but my thoughts. 

And suddenly, I got the realization that nothing will change even if I get out. It shattered the few sanity I had left.

All these negative thoughts plagued my mind until the idea of finally doing what they wanted crossed my mind. Tears slowly fell down on my face as I accepted my defeat.

Being a puppet for someone was my greatest fear and it was closer to becoming inevitable. After many months, I still couldn't find a way out and staying locked up wasn't a great plan either. 

I was thinking of explaining to my brother my change of mind, when a sudden breeze moved the curtains. The sunlight came right to my face, interrupting my plan.

Reluctantly, I got up and slowly approached the wall.

"I don't remember the sunlight being so bright"

When I was about to close the curtains, I stopped and looked outside. I could see the city, people doing their normal routine.

They still have hope for the future even with the war scars on them. They deserve it and I know for sure my brother won’t give them that. No one in this castle cares for them.

But I do.

I care and CAN make that future happen.

I felt a boost of motivation. I took out the curtains, cleaned my bedroom and organized my stuff.

At that moment, I swore, even with my last breath, I’ll do my best for them. Not only that, also my dearest is still looking for me.

I need to get myself together, we’ve promised to see each other again and I don't break a promise.

I needed to be stronger, I wouldn’t let them down. But, in order for me to do that, I had to start eating once more. Still not everything on the plate, but enough to give me energy. Just one step at a time.

…

Who knew three years went by until I got to see my love and freedom again. It was like any other day, I was sitting on a chair reading when Kayble visited me.

Once again he tried to convince me to follow his story. Then he dropped the phrase that I feared the most.

"I most definitely HATE YOU"

At that moment, my heart shattered, I knew there was no going back to how we used to be.

But I couldn’t show him my emotions, I had to keep my ground. My unwavering gaze stayed focused on his eyes as I desperately tried not to cry.

When he left, I heard a familiar voice. It came from the shadow next to my window.

It was my dearest Makkaro! I could barely believe my eyes. I was ecstatic, he was alive! I wanted nothing more than to give him a big hug. 

But when I tried to approach him…

"Wait, no, don't move"

I stopped. Wasn't he happy to see me?

"Did you betray me? Was my love a game to you?"

I couldn’t see his face, but his voice was enough to know his feelings.

At first, I was in shock, does he really think I'm capable of that?

Then I realized, the story my brother created probably traveled to the place he was trapped.

"It's not true, my dearest" "I love you… I really really missed you" I could barely contain my tears.

He sounded relieved. Despite that, I couldn’t get close yet. It was until he got into the light that I understood. To say that he looked horrible was an understatement.

He had bruises, scars, burn marks. WHAT did they do to him? I was looking at an undead. He was more dead than alive. 

At the moment, he just said they did terrible things to him, and even cried. 

I couldn’t do anything to comfort him, still, what could I even say? He suffered because of me and no amount of words could take his memories away.

He told me how learned necromancy and escaped. That was impossible, necromancers lose their minds almost immediately and yet he sounded mostly like he used to be.

Finally he mentioned the Karmic Touch, a curse upon necromancers. Anything in contact with skin, it melts. The only exception is a protection spell.

He asked me if I could accept him like this. I didn’t even think twice and made the protection spell right away.

I immediately ran to him and we hugged tightly. It has been so long since the last time we could be together, I didn’t want it to end.

I could feel how slim he was. I have no idea how he could keep himself standing.

Suddenly, we heard noises from outside and were brought back to reality. We weren’t safe and he offered to escape in his own way. He asked if he could kidnap me. My dearest has the worst choice of words in the worst moments, and I love it. 

"Are you asking me to marry you?" I said with a grin and tears of joy.

He confirmed. 

"I'd love to"

Then we made a vow. I’ll take any chance to be with him again, even if I need to leave everything behind.

I won’t abandon him again. Besides, there is nothing left for me here. He is my new home.

After that, we teletransported to a safer location while destroying the room with fire. We arrived at this place far away from the castle when I saw it, a talking skeleton. 

Certainly, I should've expected that but nothing really prepares you when you see it. His name is Frank, a friend of Mak. Despite the way he talks, he seems trustworthy.

And my new life began.

…

After writing down everything we went through, I remember. We've been through hell to get where we are now. There are sacrifices we need to do to get what we want. 

I know necromancy surely will take over my dearest someday. But this is the reason, even if it's just a small chance to save him from this and get enough strength to change the future of my city, I’ll take it.

But the uneasy feeling hasn't gone away completely. 

I should check up on him.

The End.

[piffany666]

Ok sooo at the start of the summer I made a list of my "first ever fan fics" that I wanted to get written before the end of summer and I have finished....2 of them....sooo I'm gonna just leave this here to talk about future plans I have I'm terms of my writing.

- children of the stars- a space pirate au where arkov has siblings and has a....complicated relationship with them - I have been working on this one the longest and its nearly finished. I'll be posting this on a03 and THEN tumbler

- nor love nor death discriminates between the sinners and the saints - a fic (co written and proof read by @darlin-collins where the guardian compares mak and darling to them and magrios - you know when you imagine yourself doing something and then you think that you dud it? Yeahhhh that's what happened with this I will finish it and then post like within 2 weeks....I'm really sorry ':)

- one wearwolf's trash is another vamps treasure - tank gose through their old stuff from when they were with quinn and decides to give it to bright - I'm close to finishing this one

- ok just one more punk progeny won't hurt~- a fic inspired by a post that @darlin-collins made (and will proof read if they still want to) where William takes in bright eyes as his progeny (bright will be a trans man in this fic)

- honey not viniger- a fic where its revealed that tank and honey used to be friends before the whole quinn thing (and also before honey got surgery as honey will be a trans woman in this one)

I don't know how to make a masterlist! Somone please teach me how to do that thing where you just tipe the name of the fic on top of a line that looks like this "_____" and then you just tap it and then boom! Your taken to the fic!? Somone please help me I'm new here!!

Also I'll only be putting long-term series's on a03 .eg. the children of the stars and the ones with bright eyes (I might change my mind later tho)

[gemaesteria]

Hualian ASMR RP Podfic: The Voyeur

🎧 Listen here. 🎧

About Gem's AMSR Roleplay - (RP Audio "Fics") Series

Welcome to my new series of ASMR fandom-inspired immersive audio roleplays I script, inspired by Danmei ships (and likely more fandoms once I get out of Danmei hell)! Writing full-fledged fics has never been my strong suit (not enough spoons) but as someone who primarily podfics, I've become curious with writing my own short-form scripts I can voice. Whether you crave the smoldering commands of your stern shizun or the tender gasps of your beloved, I'll slip into any guise. Gege, jiejie, disciple, lover—allow these audio gems to put you to sleep or something else ;) In this series, you'll find: - Single character first-person POV, where you insert yourself as the listener/character/whatever you desire. (The occasional collab might pop up). - A focus on immersive sound including ambient noise and FX. - Audios ranging in 2 - 10 minutes in length (playing out story scenes instead of reading a complete fic word for word). - Scripts. There will be a theme to every audio but since this is ASMR, my goal is to empower you to fill in the gaps with the audio you're listening to.

[messenger-of-stupidity]

I'm writing this from my phone so format is gonna be wonky because I don't have enough energy to do anything else.

ANYWAYS WELCOME TO TWO LITTLE EVENTS THAT I THINK OCCURED ON THE SHIP

As always, this wasn't proofread.

GBA Masterlist

-------

Faithful had many ideas about what was wrong with their two travel companions. Of course one was worse than the other, but their point still remained. Both men had their own issues. Anyone in their position could see that clear as day.

"it's not that big of a deal, little brother." Albus said. Faithful's gaze switched over to the bastard from where they sat on the ship deck. They had abandoned their temple robes to wear a shirt and trousers with the legs rolled up to mid-calf.

"not a big deal?!" Their other companion practically squawked with indignation. They bit back a smile. "You DRANK some of the engine fuel!"

-----

The stars were far more visible when you left the city. Sometimes the sky would clear for a bit back at the temple. But not very often. If they ignored the danger their surroundings presented, Faithful could imagine they were back home, sneaking onto the roof to look at the stars.

They tugged the blanket alongside them, brow furrowed with focus. They could hear soft snores coming from where their companions rested, although who the snores belonged to, they weren't sure. Faithful didn't really care right now either.

They brought the blanket onto the deck, laying it out before sitting on it. Their face tilted up towards the sky and they watched the clouds over head shift. Milky silver moonlight splashed over the deck like paint.

Sure, they were headed somewhere horrible to save a poor child from horrors unknown. But for now, they were in peace. How odd.

[importanthingsthatiforget]

Yesterday, on the live stream, someone asked if Makkaro would be a good dad.

I don't know what the answer was :( I was trying to find like a mad man, someone please answer the question for me aaaa

[jacks347]

(Is this stupid enough to be considered a crack fic?? Idk, we're going with it)

To say Hipswitch was surprised to see a woman sitting in his base next to Albus would be an overstatement.

Now, to say he was surprised to see said woman be so...dressed while sipping a cup of tea, that was accurate.

He'd never seen the demon bring back anyone who wore so many layers. Hell, now that he was really thinking about it, he hadn't really seen Albus bring back anyone at all. From the headscarf covering her hair to the skirt that brushed at her ankles and all the fabric and layerage of jewelry in-between, Hipswitch was getting warm just watching her.

The woman turned, smiling politely at him. She was rather pretty, warm brown skin with dark green eyes. Not necessarily someone he'd consider Albus’s type but everyone had their exceptions. "Hello there. You must be Hipswitch." Her voice was quiet and flowed like honey. She reminded Hipswitch of the ladies of the church in town, always speaking softly with inviting smiles. Definitely not Albus’s usual type. What, had he really gotten that bored?

"That I am. And who might you be?" Hipswitch took a seat across from the odd duo, eyes darting between the two in bewilderment. Albus huffed out a laugh, wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders. "This is Faith. She a, ah, friend of mine." The woman, Faith, rolled her eyes with a small chuckle. "Mm, sure, friend. Let's go with that." She hummed as she took a sip of her tea.

Hipswitch nodded slowly, still going back and forth between them. It was very strange but he couldn't say he didn't appreciate the change. Hell, he welcomed it. Faith was polite, she was far more dressed than he expected, and she seemed very sweet. It almost brought a tear to Hipswitch's eye. "Well it's very nice to meet you. I've gotta say Albus, she's certainly a might better for you than the others from the whore house."

There was an audible beat of silence before it was broken by both a roar of laughter from Albus and a rather impressive spit take from Faith who was now coughing like mad as she tried to regain her composure while Albus was nearly doubled over in hysterics. Hipswitch was left rather confused, not exactly understanding why what he said had caused such a visceral reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

The statement only made Albus laugh harder as Faith finally recovered, her cheeks flaming red and her face a heavy mask of embarrassment before kicking Albus in the shin. "Stop laughing! I've never been so mortified in all my life." She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head before pulling herself back up. "How do I put this lightly..." Faith mumbled as Albus’s laughter finally petered off. "Oh Switchy, Faith is a sister paladin." He corrected, making Hipswitch raise an eyebrow in confusion. "A what?"

"A nun." Came a surprised voice, making Hipswitch jump as he turned to find the source of it. "Hey Doc, how long have you been standing there? Almost gave me a heart attack. And how do you know that?" The doctor leaned against the doorframe, staring at Hipswitch with a wide-eyed expression between shock and horror. "When Albus came on I decided to do some research on the medical practices of New Tennessee. Maybe there would be something there to help better treat Albus if I needed to. And well, most of the information was from or about the sister paladins. They're the main form of healthcare, they're essentially priestesses who learn medicine to take of the knight paladins. But they're known to treat anyone who comes to their temples." The realization slowly dawned on Hipswitch, his eyes widening as it did. No wonder she reminded him so much of the women of the church, she was one of them! Oh he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

"So, in case you missed it in that grand fucking speech, you just called a nun a hooker directly to her face." Albus clarified, though he really didn't need to. Faith sighed, the initial embarrassment fading into a kind of indignant rage. "Can I slap him?" Albus snorted a laugh, flashing a sly grin at Hipswitch. "Oo, watch out there Switchy. She's got a mean backhand and I'm almost willing to let her do it. You kind of deserve it." Hipswitch wished he could disappear. "I-I am so sorry ma'am! I would never think of implying you would be that kind of woman, I just assumed-" He spluttered an embarrassed apology, making Albus burst into another round of hysterical laughter as Faith cut him off with a shake of her head. "Don't apologize, I know you didn't mean it. You worked with what you knew, I can't blame you for that. Though I do still want to slap you. And you do kind of deserve it."

Faith got to her feet stiffly, fixing the layers of her outfit and narrowing her eyes at a still laughing Albus. "I think I've seen enough of Maya for one day. I've got to pick Kerano up from school." She leaned down to poke a finger into the warrior's chest. "Don't make me come back out here to check up on you. Had me worried sick for nothing." Albus’s laughter faded as he lightly smacked her hand away. "Gods, yes, I know. I won't, I promise." She nodded with a satisfied huff before turning to the doctor. "I'm glad I could help with your research, you know how to reach me if you have any more questions." "Of course! Thank you again, Sister. It's been very insightful having you here. I should go continue to look over those notes." He turned and headed back into his office as Faith turned to Hipswitch. "And you." Hipswitch gulped, expecting the worst. Maybe that slap Albus had warned him about. "Maybe actually talk to someone before assuming they're some kind of common hooker. I take my faith very seriously and even if I didn't, I'd be far outside of his price range." She smiled warmly before turning on her heel and heading for the door. "See you again boys!"

Albus’s head dropped back onto the couch with a snort. "Outside my price range, she's crazy." He muttered. Hipswitch quietly got up and moved closer to punch Albus in the chest, making the demon wheeze out a breath as his head snapped up to glare at him. "Fucking hell, what was that for?" "For not warning me! I made a damn fool of myself in front of a nun because of you!" "Well, she's not really a nun, she's a priestess." "Regardless! She's a woman of faith and I disrespected her in the worst way possible!" Albus waved his concerns off. "Ah don't sweat it. Give it a week, she'll be laughing over it. It was damn funny." "You're actually the worst, you know that?" "Oh I am well aware Switchy. You're not the first to notice." Hipswitch could only roll his eyes. Why did he have to care about this idiot so much? "Okay but tell me one thing." "Whatcha got Switchy?" "Have you actually slept with her?" "Would you be jealous if I said yes?" "Albus..." Albus chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Sorry Switchy, this is one time I don't kiss and tell. That's up to you to figure out." He confessed with a shrug. "Out of all the escapades you've rambled on about, this is the one you keep quiet about?" "Faith is different, okay? She...she deserves to not have her story told. So I won't." He defended. Hipswitch sighed in defeat, stepping back. "I'll never understand how your head works." "Good, I don't either. So looks like we'll both be confused."

(...idfk how to end this so this is what you get. Yes I made this entire thing because there is a non-zero chance that Hipswitch would assume Faith is a hooker the first time he met her and that was so damn funny to me)