#iswm angst

[themagical1sa]

oh now, holding this pain just like on the day I left you alone

the pain grows more every day endlessly before me, like deja vu

hi. my name is Isa Capi and I refuse to sleep once again lol my brain is so weird for wanting to be depressed on a rainy November night like tonight. in the Philippines. it’s the perfect kind of night to get cozy and sleep. if I didn’t want to sleep, I would have rather worked on some college assignments, but my brain doesn’t want to work either! what the heck 🧍 well, since my brain doesn’t want to sleep nor work and I don’t want to be depressed, I am now making a compromise by making something my brain and I can agree on: writing a vent-comfort drabble. this has happened before with my first Tagalog-written drabble and it worked well as a distraction from Being Mentally Ill™ lmao without further ado, here is the drabble.

⏳ WRITING START : 11-17-2022 ⌛ WRITING END : 11-28-2022

#️⃣ WORD COUNT : roughly 2.1k words

🏷️ TAGS : post-ISWM, Captaineer (The Captain/Head Engineer Mark), angst to comfort, holy shit veeery angsty now that I think about it, the Captain is Tired, we have Impostor Syndrome and it's Horrible, I am once again reiterating angst to comfort

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS AND HEADS-UP :

dabbles into what having a horrible and intrusive mental state feels like with impostor syndrome.

colored text (particularly colored red and blue) has been utilized for a visually immersive reading experience.

reader discretion is advised. in other words: read at your own risk.

“Good work today, everyone. You are all dismissed.”

You watch as everyone leaves the conference room, satisfied smile still enduring on your face. Once the last of the head officers and their assistants have left, you finally let yourself collapse slowly to the floor, barely leaning on the wall as you did so.

You’re tired.

You are so overwhelmingly tired — exhausted, even.

Then again, who wouldn’t be, after jumping through countless of lifetimes and endangering countless lives?

Who wouldn’t be beyond exhausted carrying unfathomable guilt while leading the first human colony outside of your own solar system and galaxy?

Good God, you didn’t think it would come to this.

You didn’t even think you’d even be here at all.

You curl into a ball from your previous sitting position, hugging your knees to yourself as you close your eyes.

How did you get here?

A lot of thoughts zoom by your mind as you sit there in the conference room, alone beside the door while contemplating your life decisions.

You were given this role of Captain because the world’s authorities thought of you worthy, but were they right to trust you with the Invincible?

Do they know about how much you had managed to screw up the multiverse?

How did you even get here?

Did you even deserve to be here?

You couldn’t trust your own mind at this point. Intrusive thoughts become louder by the second, making you hold your head as you shake it. “No, no, shut up,” you whisper to yourself. “I deserve to be here. I worked so hard and so well that I was entrusted here. They saw me fit. I deserve to be here.”

You reassure yourself, but your attempts feel futile as the intrusive voices in your head speak ever louder and more erratically. No, you don’t, they retort. You just faked your way into becoming Captain like the impostor you are. You’re a fail YOU FAILED!– failure and you’re undeserving of being Captain. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY? They should have put you down when they had the chance. You shouldn’t be here– who are you to be here?

You’re very aware of how it’s becoming worse — you should be having this breakdown in your room, in your personal space. You want to berate yourself for not having left the conference room earlier, but you decide against it as you try to get up, leaning on the wall for support before moving forward to the long table in the room. Your mental state has worsened your breathing, your once normal rhythm now quickened into panicked breaths. You try to take a deep breath before turning to the door–

“Captain?”

–where you see your Head Engineer, looking at you with worry clearly showing on his face.

“Mark,” You try to smile, but you’re self-aware of how it isn’t quite hiding your pain. “I was just about to leave. Did you forget something?”

Mark blinks as he looks around the empty conference room before worriedly looking back at you. “No, I– I was looking for you, Cap. Are you okay? How long have you been here?”

You softly (and yet, bitterly) chuckle at Mark’s response about finding you. You shake your head slowly as you say, “I’m fine, Mark. I haven’t been here too long. I was just about to leave.”

You mentally pick yourself up — it feels like carrying more than one dead body for you, and this is just you picking yourself up — and you try to make it seem like you’re not slowly staggering as you exit the conference room, but then you hear Mark say,

“I remember, Captain.”

You stop just at the doorway.

“…what do you mean you remember, Mark?”

You are now turned to him, seeing his face darken with trauma and regret.

“Everything,” Mark answers, his voice deep with remorse. “I– I remember how we kept jumping into universe from universe, and I– God, I thought it was you, but I– it was all me, Cap. It was me–”

“No,” you sternly interrupt him despite your current mental state. “It wasn’t just you. You may have built the Warp Core, but I was the one making rash decisions. I was the one who put everyone in the multiverse at risk. I put everyone on the line and I was the one who hurt everyone, including you.”

Mark is baffled with the way you’re owning up to what happened. “But you–”

“But I’m nothing!” You suddenly burst out, unable to stop the tears beginning to flow and stream down your face.

This takes Mark back, baffled and shocked as you unravel in front of him.

“I was the one entrusted with the lives of every single person on this ship,” You continue, “and that’s including you! Do you know how that feels, carrying that responsibility?! I was supposed to keep everyone safe, and I was supposed to make sure we all get through the journey unharmed, but I– but I–!”

You stop. You realize you’re unraveling.

You realize that you’re unraveling in front of your Head Engineer.

You realize that you’re unraveling in front of the only other person who knows about what happened.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this, not when you’re the same person who continuously looked for him; not when you were the one who persevered through lifetime to lifetime, hopeful that you could stop him from repeating his same mistake that destroyed the multiverse and trapped it into a destructive loop.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this at all.

In fact, he shouldn't have to see you, his Captain, unraveling so messily like this.

You scoff; and then, you let out a bitter laugh.

“Ha… haha…” Your voice resounded, broken and unsure as your eyes darkened with your bitter smile. “I’m… I apologize for my outburst. That was… that was really unbecoming of me. I should go now.”

You turn to finally leave, but you feel a hand hold yours, halting your departure once more.

“Don’t…” Mark begins, trailing off. “Don’t go yet.”

You don’t move. You don’t even turn to look at him when you say, “Let me go.”

“No.” Your Head Engineer deadpanned, voice solid and stern. “I’m not letting you go.”

You turn your head a little, as if leaning to look. You don’t, however, as you refuse to see him.

“Let me go, Mark.”

“No. I’m here, Captain. I’m here, holding on to you, and I’m not letting you go.”

You suddenly remember when you held him back from the wormhole.

He was begging you to let him go, to let him fix what he thought was your mistake — but you knew how it was all him, and that even his older self knew he needed you to stop him. You spent lifetime after lifetime letting him slip through your hands until you finally, finally got ahold of him and never let him go.

It seems the tables have turned.

“Why…?” You weakly ask, voice barely above a whisper. “You know. You know how I put everyone in the multiverse at stake. I put everyone at stake and I treated it like a game. I was horrible for that and you know it.”

Mark could only shake his head, beyond baffled at what he was hearing from you. “What?! Captain, no! I don’t think of you that way, not anymore. Nobody thinks of you that way–”

“Well, I do!” You finally admit, turning so quickly to him that you feel a little dizzy. “I finally realize why you and Lady resented me so much, and– God, I didn’t see it, but I killed so many people– so many dead, and it was all because I thought we were just starting over!”

At this point, you’re sure you look much like a mess. Your hair is unruly from the way you held your head earlier, and your eyes are flowing with tears — tears that have long stained your cheeks and flowed until they drop to the floor. Snot is beginning to run down your nose. You’re sure you’re far from pretty and/or handsome.

You’re far from pretty and/or handsome.

Even so, Mark can’t help but love you more anyway.

“I thought…” You speak again, catching his attention once again. “I thought that… I thought if I find you, if I find you and hold on… I thought it would stop. And I was right– older you was right, even– and we restored the multiverse.”

Your eyes drop to the floor, closing them as you remember all those bodies — all those corpses — that came out of the wormhole for every time you died and/or jumped into another universe.

All those corpses.

All those lives.

All those people– dead because of you.

“We restored the multiverse, Mark,” you state to him, but your voice has become more broken as you hold back a sob before looking at him in the eyes.

“We restored it, Mark, but what did it cost? What did my foolishness cost?”

You couldn’t stand anymore — not when you’re already falling apart. You had half the mind to lean onto the wall before sliding down to the floor again. You don’t care about appearances anymore; it’s just you and your Head Engineer, anyway. You try to take deep breaths as haunted memories flash in your mind. You close your eyes and put your gloved hands over them as an attempt to stop seeing such flashbacks, but you can still see it all like a waking nightmare.

The fact that you can still remember almost clearly makes you whimper.

You don't feel it at first, but Mark had crouched to level with you, hands reaching to your shoulders. Before you know it, you find yourself in your Head Engineer's arms, wrapped in his warm embrace.

Mark hugging you feels very comforting — grounding, even. The voices in your head begin to die down, and the intrusive nightmarish distortion of your memories start to fade as your mind relaxes. Your breathing slows, and you find yourself leaning more to your Head Engineer as he carefully cradles and comforts you.

His voice is soft when he speaks.

“You know, Captain,” he begins somberly, “I'm really glad you held on to me.”

What he said makes you look at him with your tired, cried-out eyes.

“...what makes you say that?”

Mark sighs as he gently strokes your hair, closing his eyes as he thinks back to the loop. “Well, I was just making the same mistake after all,” he reasons out. “I remember catching wind of that.”

You remember when his older self realized it back in the diner, telling you that you had to stop his younger self. “Oh... you remember that, don't you?”

He chuckles bittersweetly. “Yeah, somewhat...”

You chuckle with him, subconsciously glad that you can recall the events of the wormhole without your mind twisting it maliciously.

“I kind of remember when I hoped that you'd stop me,” he admits, voice soft as he recalls the time. “I don't think I was consciously hoping, though... but that Warp Crystal always found you, didn't it?”

What he just said makes you think.

For every loop reset, you come back to a sabotaged ship. You recall when you do reach the door to the Warp Core Chamber and how the Warp Core was looking for a suitable host and how it always said suitable host located when it scans you.

“With that said, Captain,” Mark begins, taking you out of your reverie. “You're not as horrible as you think. In fact, I believe you really are the best of us, because you never gave up on your crew — you never gave up on me.”

Your Head Engineer gently takes your face by the chin, making you look him in the eyes as you sniff. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying, cheeks stained with all the tears that have been flowing. You're evidently vulnerable, and Mark takes it upon himself to take care of you for the time being.

“You never gave up on us, so don't give up on yourself, Cap,” he softly states, “because I believe in you just as much as you believed in me.”

You feel your heart ache and you cry even more — but now you gratefully smile.

“Mark, thank you,” you say, voice weak and cracked. “Really, thank you.”

He reflects your smile sincerely as he chuckles. “I should be thanking you, Captain. But yeah... you're welcome.”

The both of you stay there, cuddled up together on the floor as you steady yourself and your breaths. You lean onto your Head Engineer's shoulder as he cradles you, hugging you and holding your head. Your intrusive thoughts have all died down now, and all that's left in your headspace is a sense of comfort and contentment. You finally feel at peace with yourself.

Whatever had happened is all in the past now, and you've never been more glad that you experienced it all with him.

P.S. I really meant to utilize the colored text more specially to simulate the Captain's headspace post-ISWM. I like to think that post-ISWM, they build their new colony, they start having doubts about themself, which slowly and eventually leads to nightmarish distortions of their memories. It then develops into a horrible state of mind — hence the red and blue. You can say they're like… glitches. Errors, if you will. Oh, and you know how, in a distant place in the multiverse, we are part of an amalgamated being that glitches red and blue? How their red is often passionate rage, and their blue is often a calculated calm? Yeah.

Anyway, writing this helped me feel better, even if for a little bit. I've been feeling horrible about myself lately (hence this entire fic lmao) so it's nice to let it out somehow. This was cathartic. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading this.

The divider used in this is a cropped photo of steil egil liland's Blac Blue and Green.

[rivtictics]

I'm cooking angst for y'all

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

duality of my favourite ships :)

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

[Google and head engineer]

Google doesn't like y/n

[moonymoonsiplier]

A Growing Sense of Resentment...

[bubblesbinxs]

i may have some fanart + animation ideas abt him…

[theknightmarket]

"We've made it this far."

In which the Engineer and the captain are released from the effects of the wormhole, as they've always wanted. TW: cursing, angst, slight reference to gore Pages: 26 - Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

“Please, just hold on.” 

After dying so many times, it was weird to be on the edge of it. You’d tossed yourself off the cliff enough to memorize the feeling of falling, of becoming weightless and letting everything go – like a kind of acceptance, even if you were going not of your own volition. It had always been okay, though, because you’d come back seconds later, spat back up from a raging ocean with salt and spray into the arms of that cryo-pod. 

“I can get you out of here, don’t worry, I can do it.” 

But this time, you were looking down, your feet on the ground and the water seeming so far away. You had to make the choice now, of staying on that crumbling cliff, battled by the wind, and forced to stare straight at the fate you were faced with, or letting your feet shift and lose traction. 

“Come on, please, I know you can do it.” 

In theory, it was an easy decision, but you didn’t want to have to work for it anymore. You had done the hard part, the surviving at the peak, and now, you knew that this would be the last time. It wasn’t as though you could take a step back; you would always be watching the tips of the waves snap at you. You didn’t want to watch anymore.

You croaked out a simple, “Mark…” 

Your faithful engineer, kneeled at your side, likely for the last time. He wasn’t going to fall. He couldn’t. 

“No, no, please, don’t do that, just a little longer,” his pleads reached your ears well, but you forced yourself to ignore them, “our medics will be here, just wait.”

“Mark, I can’t.”

“No, you can, you have to!” Guilt tapped at the edge of your mind, you didn’t let it in, and it stayed right where it was. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. You were. You really were. 

“Come on, the- the colony haven’t said goodbye, the crew…” His thought went unfinished, but you understood him. You always did, even when he didn’t understand himself. You were half sure he didn’t know what he was saying, the panic and dread overwhelming him in a fight for majority. 

You assured him, “They’ll be fine.”

“Not without you.” 

“Mark, look,” a cough wracked your upper body like an earthquake, “look at it all, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You were so damn proud of him, of the whole ship, of everything. You never told him directly, so you could only hope he knew. It would make this whole thing easier if he knew that you were proud of him, that you trusted him. He’d be easier on himself.

“Not far enough! We still have more to do, we- we can’t do it without you. You’re our captain.” A distant memory from just a few days before floated to the forefront of your mind. It was hazy, corrupted by the pain, but it was there. “You’re my captain.”

A deep breath in, as far as the pressure would allow you, before you whispered, “You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.” 

And suddenly you wished that you hadn’t been able to take that breath – that you had stayed silent and let the moment envelop you. The spark of realisation that you cherished in Mark’s eyes dug a pit in your stomach. 

“No,” was all you could say with what little energy you had left.

“But—”

“Uh-uh. Not this time.” 

You couldn’t, he couldn’t, neither of you would be able to handle another round of what you went through together. That quality of stubbornness you both possessed would surely fail you, abandoning you to the madness of eternity, worse if you failed.

“Why not!? I know how to do it, and we know how to fix it.”

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

Shit. That little energy was becoming smaller and smaller, but neither did you have it in you to let Mark create another wormhole. You couldn’t live with yourself if he gave you a second chance. 

“I’m not losing you,” you muttered, “and, yeah, I know how ironic that is.” 

You wanted to laugh, but all that burning the candle at both ends was catching up to you. The numbness that had crept up on your legs hours ago was lurching onto your torso. It wouldn’t be long before it was biting through your arms and neck, and you wouldn’t be aware of it when it reached your temple. 

“So, hey, just… just give me this. Please?”

The look in his eyes washed away. Leaving Mark like this was not your plan, but when had the universe ever listened to you? You could be thankful that you hadn’t gone insane in a place lightyears from your home, that Mark was not leaving you. You admitted that it was a selfish thought, but you didn’t think you could keep going if you lost him. You’d fought hard, but now you were done fighting. You knew he could do it for you.

And so did he. It was a cold admittance that he wouldn’t be the one to save you, this time. It felt all too much like giving up on the person who had sacrificed themself time and time again for him. Although it left a poor taste in his mouth – bitter, unwelcome, downright painful – you had proven to be steadfast in your decisions. There was going to be no convincing you.

“I love you.” If Mark was given a do-over, no strings attached, that would not be the first time he was saying it to you, aloud, just the two of you, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

And maybe he would have gotten to hear it from you just once. 

Your final breath cascaded against his knees, a waterfall that seemed eons from growing dry but dripped slowly into the grave it dug for itself. There was no sound, no last rites read, except for the heartbroken sob that broke free from Mark’s chest, echoing around the cavern walls.

Seeing the sun after so long in space was strange. Of course, you could look out of one of the many windows that Mark had installed and see a sun, but to stand in the rays of light from the sun of this galaxy? It made you want to brush off your duties, it made you want to throw your jacket off and run into the forest, it…

It made you miss Earth.

After exploring space for so long, you were always surprised that, wherever you landed, you felt homesick in the bottom of your stomach. The feeling slept when you were in transit and reared its head when you started to set up a colony, but it never truly disappeared after that. Hell, not even the visits back to your birth planet fixed the issue. The best thing you came up with was bringing little pieces along for the ride. 

But you didn’t have the time to reminisce. Just as you’d mentioned earlier, you had a colony to establish, and it was well on its way already. A dozen sectors sketched out, concrete paths linking each one to the other. There were still a majority of people left in their cryo-chambers, those that weren’t necessary for building or planning, who were being looked after by Celci. Gunther was on observation for threats – a duty he often groaned about – and Bert was waxing poetic while the rudimentary power generators were being built. So far, everything was looking good. As in, nothing was going to blow up immediately and force you back on that ship.

No, instead, there you were. Standing in front of your growing colony, the sun glinting off the metal of the parked ship, your feet on the ground of a healthy, new planet. How could you not let a prideful smile work its way onto your face underneath the helmet you had yet to take off? You had made it, and, if you squinted, you could practically see the bustling city this place would become. Stores on one end of the street, restaurants on the other, further down would be a sector of houses with a public park and a fountain. Young families would walk to their parents’ house, the group of teenagers would have no problem just talking to each other during dark nights, old lovers would duck from the rain into shaded alleyways to share one last kiss before heading home for a warm bath.

You caught the eye of your head engineer leaning against the head of the ship. 

And not that you knew it, you had also caught his eye, only that was a gross underestimation. Mark had been with you every step of the way on the ship, he’d seen what you could do, what you had done to save the crew and colonists. You’d long ago seized his admiration, and, soon after that, his affection, leading to where he stood in that moment; watching you as you ordered everything that needed to be done to be done, waiting for his own set of instructions that he would carry out perfectly.

Until you made eye contact with him, smiled, and then began to walk away. Mark’s feet were moving before he could process what was happening, and if he started to jog after a few steps, that was between him and the ship wall that he pushed off from. He slid to a stop when he was close enough to you, an unsure half-grin on his face.

“Hey, Captain,” he said as he fell into step beside you.

“Is everything alright, Mark?” was the only reply he got, though that was likely because of his expression more than any doubt you held.

To ease your concern, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was nervous. 

“Yeah!” The barely hidden voice crack did not help, but he continued anyway, “Yeah, it is, I mean- is there anything you want me to do?” 

Requesting work was difficult for him. Not because he naturally took things easy, but because he had been on his feet for the last he-didn’t-know-how-long. Hours, days, he hoped not weeks. It didn’t feel right to not do anything. 

“Why don’t you take the day off?” 

Panic struck him like a physical force. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, you could have still been angry about the whole incident, but he thought everything had been cleared up on the ship’s bridge. Had you already given him a job and he hadn’t been paying attention? Well, could you blame him if he wasn’t? 

It was in this train of thought that he realized you were waiting for a response. So, you weren’t mad. That was good. 

“Is now the best time?” he asked, “It’s your decision, of course, I just think—”

You stopped short of the next sector, some grid for farming, “Look, you’ve been to hell and back—” and hell and back and hell and back and hell and back, as you were both well aware, “—I think you deserve some time to yourself.” 

‘Time to yourself’. He didn’t want time to himself, he wanted… well, he wanted a lot of things and, to put it bluntly, he wanted some time with you, but you weren’t about to take a rest anytime soon, so neither was he.

“And while I appreciate the offer, Captain, there’s a lot to be done that I think is more important than having a break.”

You watched his face for a second, looked up and down as he started to sweat underneath the layers of his uniform. “Repeat that for me.”

“And while I appreciate the offer, Cap...”

His trailing off made clear the realization he came to. You sent him a knowing look, as he groaned like a kid told he couldn’t have another cookie. Of course, it made you smile, too. His dramatics were the highlight of your day when it wasn’t his stubbornness and jokes.

Today, he was vastly leaning into the former. “Only five minutes!” he demanded, scrolling through his arm-piece to set a timer.

“Ten.”

He scrolled slightly further. “Seven.”

“Fifteen.”

And slightly further. “Twelve.”

Your bout of laughter echoed through the trees around you. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” Mark’s arm was tugged away from him as you swiped through the timer yourself. He might have argued about it more if he weren’t so preoccupied with being close enough to kiss you right now if he had the gall to lean that slight bit towards you.

And, you were his captain, obviously, who was he to challenge your authority?

“Take the day off, Mark, and that’s an order from your captain.” You left him with a pat to his shoulder, luckily not noticing the vibrant blush spreading on his face that was too strong to blame the sun for.

He muttered to himself when you were a few steps away, “Pulling rank isn’t fair.” And he was certain that it wasn’t. It was a trump card, some ex-machina that you had no right to use on him. 

But he had his own little trick up his sleeve, or, rather, on his belt. You insisted on using some of the old-world commodities, even by Earth standards. The communicator on his hip with the antennae and grating would be his ace in the whole for your dumb day off punishment—

“And no using your walkie!”

“Damn it.” 

You were tired. Really tired. You’d slept a day and a half after the whole wormhole incident, and yet here you were, looking at every slightly level surface with literal bedroom eyes. You constantly had to remind yourself to pay attention, but that just made you think about paying attention and not listen to the person you were talking to – who, in this case, was Celci. As such, you were half sure it was important to the whole colony, relying on her reputation, mostly, because again, you weren’t paying attention, and you were actually imagining lying down on that rock you’d seen half an hour ago with the moss and grooves.

You weren’t listening, again.

“Or I could send you the report for you to look over later?”

When you snapped back to reality, you were none the wiser as to what that report was about, but it gave you time to figure it out. “Oh, yeah, that’d be great, Celci, thanks.”

She gave you one look and then asked, “Captain, is everything alright?” 

The half grin took most of your energy, so you promptly dropped it when you remembered that she couldn’t see your face. “Am I that obvious?”

“If you need a break, I can go and check the excavation site and one of the techs can do the propane levels. I’m sure I could get Mark—”

You immediately rushed to cut her off, “No, no, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought but I-I’m fine, really.” Jostling your body and comically widening your eyes, you made yourself as presentable as you could with a quarter of your fuel in the tank. You dusted off your suit and cleared the screen of your helmet, extremely thankful for the metal that made it a one-way mirror. “See?”

Celci hummed at you. Not a good sign. She was arguably the most responsible on the ship, and if she thought you were putting yourself through the ringer, she would do everything in her power to get you to relax. The only problem she faced was ranking, and it was the only thing protecting you from being forced into a nap. You had to get away before she could figure out how to circumvent your title.

“C’mon, Celci, don’t you think I know my limits?”

Disapproving silence. Even starting to walk away from her, you knew how little she believed you. 

“We only have to get through another three hours of work, and then everyone’ll be able to finish up; myself included.”

“Well, Captain…” And there was the crack you needed. Hesitation. 

“Besides, if we get the thermos running, we’ll be able to house some of the colonists and you can focus your efforts on the desert habitation.” That was her little pet project. When you’d scanned the surface, you found two nearby biomes that would barely receive any rain but stayed in the negative fifties for your entire surveillance period. It was backhanded to bait her with the idea, you knew that, but if it got you out of a glorified grounding, you were willing to do it.

Especially since it seemed to work, if Celci’s sigh and hands on her hips were anything to go by.

“Alright, Captain, as long as you finish as soon as the day ends.”

You exchanged a nod with varying degrees of satisfaction with that encounter, before going your separate ways. In fact, you did get a little jolt of energy out of it, as you waltzed along the concrete path. Any thoughts of taking a break were washed out of your mind by the torrent of work you still had left to do; all the sites to check out, all the staff to organize, all the paperwork to send back to the headquarters. The latter was always the worst part, but it was the price you paid for independence on the planet. Free reign was only yours if you played by your boss’ rules.

“Captain!”

Speaking of boss’ rules, as if on cue, Mark jogged to your side from wherever he was before, falling into step quickly next to you. You wouldn’t deny that seeing him gave you another boost of energy, which you immediately used to pat him on the back.

“How’s your break going?��

“I’d rather be doing actual work, but it’s fine. I appreciate it.”

“Good.”

And it was. You were glad he was taking it slow today. He was important to you, and the colony, and you didn’t need your head engineer passing out in the middle of an important task. Or passing out in general. Or doing anything else bad for his health that you could readily prevent.

He appeared alright, for now, although that wasn’t going to get him back on a job just yet. “Actually, I was wondering if—” he started to say, but a crew member cut him off with the crunch of their boots as they rushed towards you from out the surrounding woods.

Their report was normal enough, a few more pieces of information about the excavation site. They’d found another source of aluminum in the caves, which you noted down in case your supplies ran low. Mark waited at your side while you spoke to the person, half-way between listening and grumbling to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you dismissed the crew member.

“Sorry, go on,” you said. The pair of you continued to walk, heading nowhere in particular aside from in the vague direction of the housing project.

He did as you prompted, getting out, “Well, I wanted to know—” before someone else called for your attention. Given you were nearing the first constructions of houses, it made sense that a builder caught up to you – despite that, you noticed Mark’s pout as he averted his eyes from the conversation you’d been drawn into. Just a material substitution you needed to sign off on, it was nothing to get worried about, but it was obvious that wasn’t what he was annoyed by.

You gestured with a grin for Mark to continue. Mouth only somewhat open, he paused and looked around, then rounded to your other side to cut you off from the majority of the workers. It was a futile effort, given that you were fast approaching the mass of houses, but it amused you either way. A combination of that drama and humor you were so fond of.

“I think, considering what we went through—” There was barely a crack of a twig in your ten-foot radius when Mark grabbed you by the hand and ran off the path. He didn’t know where he was going, and you definitely didn’t, but you were going regardless. His boots carved a line from the housing district all the way back to the ship. Hardly anyone was there anymore, only a few cryo-techs were loitering around to survey the colonists, so it was his best bet to get you alone, however creepy that made him sound. 

You weren’t given time to question him when you eventually skidded to a stop in a quiet area behind the ship itself. Mark was talking even before you caught your breath.

“I think that you should take some time off too because you went through the same things that I did, and, yes, I know you’re the captain, but having some time to recover from it all would be just as good as me taking some time, even better, because you made all the decisions back there, so you should just relax and I have some suggestions for how you can do that.” 

By the end of his little speech, neither of you were breathing at a steady rate. You both sucked in as much air as you could handle and then let it go again, minds catching up with the situation. For you, it was processing his words and what he wanted from you – for Mark, it was realizing just what he’d spouted and how utterly unconvincing he was.

It was another challenge to understand that you accepted. “I’m listening,” you said, simply, as if you couldn’t say anything else.

Mark spluttered, not thinking he’d get so far but being so far that he had to continue.

“I say we should take some food packs from storage, find an empty room, and have a proper lunch. We won’t talk about work or duties to be done, or anything else, and we’ll lock the door so nobody will interrupt us.” That last bit came from the depths of his soul, Mark grimacing as he spoke. “The colony will be there when we get back. And, if you think about it, getting some rest will help you make better decisions in the long run.”

“Okay.”

Okay. You’d said okay. You’d okayed it. You were going with his plan. Pride overwhelmed him against his mind’s efforts to keep up with his heart and stomach’s backflips. His body froze in response, giving you the concerning impression that you’d broken him with a single word. Lucky for you, he rebooted himself in a few seconds, though he was still unable to curb his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Yes! Alright, let’s go.”

Mark went to reach for your hand but quickly noticed that he was still holding it from when he’d dragged you with him. Instead, sheepishly, he smiled at you and started to walk towards the ship’s entrance, you chuckling to yourself in tow.

If you were going to take a break, you might as well be taking it with your favorite person. What did you have to lose?

“I’m hoping for cool fish.”

“Nope.”

Within half an hour, the both of you were settled on beanbags, eating soup out of Styrofoam bowls, and drinking the champagne you had left over from the salute at the start of the trip. To you, it was the height of luxury, especially now that you were out of your stuffy uniforms and into more casual clothes. The only ones you owned were your workout gear and nightwear, but you opted for the less sweaty version of a tank top and shorts. You didn’t think it was so bad, but Mark had spent the first ten minutes of the lunch break looking anywhere but you. It didn’t help when you went to get your helmet and jacket because he immediately jumped to push you back down into your seat. Not that you – or, though you were unaware, Mark – was complaining.

Still, you kept the outer layers of your uniform close by in case of an emergency, the chances of you being notified as minimal as they were with both your walkie-talkies having been switched off. It was you who pushed for them to be present, but the compromise made them pretty much useless.

Yet not even the potential of a natural disaster pulled you out of the relaxed state you had entered. Slipped down halfway into the beanbag, spread out as far as you could get, you felt calmer than you’d ever been before. Mark would say the same, had he not been seeing your face for the first time.

By the sun, moon, and stars, you were… downright gorgeous. He never liked relying on rumors, so he had taken the stories of you being handsome and/or beautiful to be one weird game of telephone. Now, though? He was regretting not asking to see your face sooner, but you were still in front of him, and he was going to relish the view for as long as he could, emergency be damned.

“First chance I get, I’m throwing you in an ocean,” you promised, taking a sip from your champagne flute.

“I’m taking you with me.”

“I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find a fifty-foot-long eel with three sets of teeth and mandibles on its face.” 

“You’ll find some cool rocks and suffocate before you could even see the thing.”

Dammit. Just like that, with one sentence, Mark smothered the banter you had going. His jaw clenched, your shoulders heightened, the mood was thrown out the window – poor choice of words, again. He had meant it to be playful, but certain recent events tainted the very concept of losing oxygen, of holding your breath for longer than a minute. Gallows humor had yet to set in, and, based on the glazed-over look in your eyes, he couldn’t help but think it never would.

But you were the one to break the silence. “So, what now?” you asked as you placed the flute gently on the floor, glass clinking even as it stood straight.

“Cap,” was the only mumbled answer you received, though it didn’t deter you.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed, “we can’t not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

Your gaze shot to meet Mark’s eyes, ready and raring to argue, to question how he can deny it. The flame died the second you saw the look. The watery film that threatened tears dumped dirt over your fury. It made sense that he would want to leave it behind. You had the colony to think of now, instead of the death after death after death you’d both faced in the wormhole. You understood that want to ignore it all, but you couldn’t fall into the trap. You couldn’t face another night with it hanging over your head. The bags underneath those wet eyes of his told you he couldn’t either.

Shakily, you whispered, careful not to set him off, “Because it happened. And it was a serious moment in our lives that we can’t ignore. And- and what if it all goes wrong again and we need to prepare to deal with it?”

“Then we’ll do what we did last time.”

“Get stuck?”

“Get through it.” Distantly, you wondered why you were the one to make that first speech. You were the captain, sure, but Mark made you believe him with just one incomplete sentence. He made you trust him in three words, no matter how much your mind fought to tell you otherwise, your heart did indeed trust him. “I mean, we’ve come this far, how hard can it be?” A weak chuckle. “I’d wager getting Gunther to not shoot the first thing he saw when he got off the ship was a lot harder than what we did.”

You didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, talking about the crew, it made you feel… something else. An intangible well of guilt and shame. You could get through another wormhole, but everyone else? What if they got caught? What if they started to remember all the death and fire and pain? You wouldn’t be able to help them, not like last time. If they remembered, they’d be at the edge with you, staring over the side. How many of them could take it? The crew or the colonists themselves? You would have failed them all. You might not have killed them, but they’d be casualties, nonetheless.

“Hey.” Your head snapped up to see Mark at eye level with you, leaning over to bring a hand to your upper arm. “We’d get through it. I know we would.”

But you still looked forward, unblinking, and it only took a second for Mark to realise he was wrong. If he wanted to be scientific about it, he would have just called it trauma bonding – if he wanted to be emotional about it, which he didn’t but he was going to be, he would have thought that all your time together brought you closer, not only because of the danger you experienced, but the comradery. Seeing you in action, seeing you take care of everyone, seeing you be the captain you were meant to be; Mark was sure he understood you. That meant he could see that guilt and shame as clear as day in your eyes.

He let himself fall forward to flop down next to you in your beanbag. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable, pressed against the strangely stiff surface, he stayed right where he was. Nestled against your side. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“I don’t understand why you do this.”

“It’s one of my charming quirks.”

You still didn’t feel like laughing, not even at your own poor joke, so you dropped your gaze to Mark. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You pretend like you aren’t the captain.”

“Do I?” Plead the fifth or whatever it was people said, and you didn’t care about the irony of you being the one to deny now.

He narrowed his eyes, barely shifting closer but shifting closer regardless. You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he pushed as the hand that was on your arm circled around to the other shoulder. You resisted the voice in your mind that told you to bury your head in his neck, whether that was to avoid hearing him or to relish in his closeness that you never had the chance for.

You didn’t though, head remaining held high, so you were forced to listen when he continued, “You tried to get a smaller crew, you go in on the explorations yourself, you ignore the medics who try to help you.”

Another voice in the back of your mind perked up to rebuke it all, but you silenced it. What would be the point of lying? Mark knew you, you knew he knew you, there was no reason to fight it.

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know.” Your voice was small, smaller than you or Mark had ever heard it, but the admittance felt like it was enough to send a shockwave through the cabin. The jacket that showcased your title to everyone on the planet seemed to blaze in your mind. “Am I really their captain yet?”

“’Yet’?” Mark parroted you, and that was the go-ahead you needed to spill your thoughts.

“I missed the construction of the ship and the selection of the crew. The hour that I got onto the thing, everything went to shit, so many things went wrong. I- I don’t know if I deserve this, being the captain, when I didn’t spend any time with the people running the ship. Hell, even without the whole wormhole thing, we were going to be in cryo-sleep for the entire journey. I wasn’t needed.” The flood of words tumbled out with reckless abandon and then stopped like crashing into a wall like a bike going eighty. You didn’t think you would go through with it otherwise. Inner voices or a sense of decorum threatened to overtake you.

And yet, even though you got to the end of your rant, red-faced and breathless, you were knocked more off-balance by Mark’s question. “How many times did you die?”

“What?”

His eyes were trained on you. “How many times did you die?”

“I don’t remember, maybe thirty?”

“So, you died thirty times for yourself?”

Indignation sparked within your heart. “No, I did it for the ship,” you stated bluntly, “the crew and the colonists.” You weren’t certain what his point was, but if you had to use your authority-voice on him, you were going to.

“Repeat that for me.”

“I did it for…”

That was his point, then. Your shoulders relaxed, though you didn’t notice that you’d raised them, and your eyebrows unfurrowed. In return, Mark’s smile brightened, like he’d caught the canary. Caught you, more like. 

You stared deadpan down at him but brought a hand up to card through his hair. Without his beret, it was looser, more befitting of him as a person instead of the head engineer. The corners of his mouth perked up even more. “See, I don’t like it when you use my own tactics on me.”

His laugh reverberated through your own bones, especially when he dropped his head to your collarbone. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, you were soon chuckling along with him at his happiness more than your joke – it felt natural, but you were still aware that this was the closest you had ever been. Relaxed into the beanbag the two of you now shared, trying to avoid knocking over your flutes of champagne, practically cradling each other in your arms. If the wormhole had been like this, maybe you would have appreciated it more.

“Someone who doesn’t deserve to be captain would have left the ship to explode and taken an emergency pod back to the nearest planet.” His speech, like his trailing off giggles, shook your muscles as sparks of electricity. “They wouldn’t have died for them, and you did. You are their captain.”

Hesitation. You saw it as bright at the sun of your new home in the sky. You saw it rise in Mark’s eyes, you saw it crescendo, and you saw it dip into the horizon.

“You’re my captain.”

Whatever thought ran through his mind, it was gone by the time he pushed through the final inch between you, leaving barely a breath in the interim. You could feel the puffs of hot air bat against your jaw, nose and lips. The role he gave you meant more than the legislation, the rule, the empty title. Now, it was trust. Him in you, and you in him.

For a moment, you thought he might bridge the gap, but his mouth opened before anything could progress. That didn’t mean either of your minds had strayed from the idea. He whispered under his breath, as if it would escape the room had he spoken any louder, “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“As in a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Mark could feel his heart beating faster. He could have denied it and represented it something like the scenario you were in now. There was a part of him that thought he should have; it shied away from the very possibility of rejection and cowered in the clasp of regulations and human resources. But he had already taken the leap, the words hovering in the air. It would be a proper date – with candles and music and something better to eat than soup in a Styrofoam bowl. You’d talk about whatever came to mind, plans for the future instead of the past, and you’d share a bottle of wine as you spoke. The flicker of flame would highlight you from below and he would see exactly what he was describing in your eyes. His future. If the night went well, you’d clear the table together, strangely domestic against the memories of the journey over, and then, with the candlelight still dancing on the table before the fire was snuffed out, he hoped to share a kiss together. He could almost feel it already.

While his imagination was a thing to behold, it could not take credit for that sensation, but while Mark was so lost in his prospects, he failed to notice that the future was coming to pass. Or some of it, anyway.

You weren’t sitting at a table, a glass of wine and wax dripping onto the table; you were closer than before, with your lips pressed against his and your eyes closed.

Mark was knocked breathless. The sensation was nothing he could have predicted; the pressure was soft, gentle, like a silk ribbon, but the texture exposed how you would bite the same places when you were worried. Worried? What reason did you have to be worried? You were the greatest captain he had ever heard of, let alone known. He wanted to tell you just that, but he was preoccupied, for obvious reasons, with pushing you down against the hill of the beanbag. Maybe he was bias – your groan reverberated through his skin – but he didn’t really have a choice – your fingertips skimmed across his hair – and he was sure that you were objectively the best anyway – your teeth grazed over his lips – so it didn’t really matter. He brought one of his own hands to hover over your jaw, barely making contact until a particular hum had him brushing his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into it, as if it were a military ration, and he supposed it must have felt like that. Roles like yours didn’t tend to come with company.

Inwardly, he pledged that he would never let you feel alone again.

Outwardly, in an ill-fated scuffle to reposition himself, a dull thunk and something spilling onto the floor caused the two of you to slowly, begrudgingly, part. A few puffs of air settled between you as you turned to see Mark’s semi-full glass that had fallen over.

With a laugh, you settled your head against Mark’s shoulder, both to stabilize yourself and spare him the embarrassment of a steadily reddening face.

“So, that date tomorrow?” Despite the last five minutes, Mark couldn’t help but be shaky in asking. Either that, or it was aftereffects of his heart going 210 instead of the normal 60 beats per minute.

“As long as,” you whispered before grabbing your own champagne for another sip, “we get to find a large body of water tomorrow.”

“That sounds a lot like an ocean, Cap.”

“Well, if you insist, we can find an ocean.”

With your final poke at his expense, enough to wave away the remaining fog of tension no matter the nature, you downed the last of your champagne and settled further into your beanbag. For once, you didn’t regret taking a break, and you were sure you would need another breather after the excavation the following day.

“It’s my project, it has my name signed on the documents.”

So far, the day had proven successful. Three more biomes were scouted out, one of them being a potentially perfect site for farming, and the first real town had been built. At the beginning, it had looked like one of those places built to test nuclear weapons – but then, just two hours ago, they had moved the first colonists into their houses. You had been there to greet them, shake their hands and pass them the keys, but you had to leave before they could get fully settled. Besides, that was Celci’s job. The whole transfer from cryo operation was under her jurisdiction.

However, now that the residents were all making beds and organizing cupboards, Mark had to deal with her. And by deal with her, he meant argue, because there wasn’t another way the situation could ever turn out.

Presently, the pair were standing outside a section of the colony, Mark’s section, with blueprints in hands and scowls on faces. A slap against the paper was followed by Celci’s gesture towards the energy source.

“That means you were the one who started to involve cryo-tech, and that means I need to have some input.”

Mark scoffed, even though he knew full well that she was, technically, just barely, if you looked at it a certain way, correct. Just the word cold was her full job description, but he assumed he would get away with it if she were busy with other things. How wrong he was. Ever the eye for detail, Celci had searched through all the project applications, filtering for anything below 30 degrees, and then promptly set up meetings with all the leads. She wasn’t aware that it was Mark heading this one until she walked up the concrete path. Mark wasn’t aware that it was Celci he was meeting with until he heard her groan.

Go figure, they had made no progress.

“You know, I would love to prove you wrong on this,” Mark hissed, “but, unlike you, I can’t spend all day arguing about this.”

Was it backhanded to boast about your date and use it to get away from an argument, which he totally wasn’t losing, in one sentence? Probably. Was he doing it anyway? Yes.

However, Celci wasn’t one to give up that easily. Mark barely got two steps backwards before she took one toward him in return. “No, you know I’m right, so you’re running away.”

“Actually, I have a date tonight.” The pride and amazement took over the scowl on his face. For a moment, he forgot he was talking to someone and that he wasn’t just staring into his mirror, trying to convince himself it wasn’t a dream while he picked out an outfit.

“Who with? Your Roomba?”

In any other situation, he would have leaned into the mockery, tried harder to think of a better comeback, but the truth worked well enough. With a grin, Mark corrected, “The Captain.”

A flurry of emotions danced over Celci’s face that Mark was so glad he was able to see. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her confused before, much less shocked, though there were plenty of times she looked at him with endless doubt. They rolled over and over like a broken projector before she finally landed on a stranger expression – bemusement.

“Finally.”

It was his turn to look confused.

She tutted and looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t think that nobody’s seen the love-sick puppy look you give them when they’re nearby.”

The splutter was hard to contain, despite it being very obviously undignified, but it was harder to get back on his feet. So many questions swirled around his mind, most of them trying to preserve whatever image he thought he presented, but he came up blank. It was, annoyingly, likely that she was once again right. But it wasn’t his fault, not when you were, well, you. Of course, he wouldn’t call it love-sick, though that didn’t stop it from being accurate. 

Mark’s lack of response was enough for Celci to know she’d caught him red-handed. Just typical. With the upper hand, she continued, “But I happen to know that your dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives us five hours for you to see reason.” He tried to protest, opening his mouth to ask how she actually found that information out, before she held up a hand. “Or, what, does it take that long to get your hair like that?”

Inwardly, Mark cursed her. He lost his way out of the conversation, and, in doing so, was welcomed by the colony’s rumor mill. What a prize. At least things weren’t spun out of proportion, but he would have preferred the date to be private at first. He could only hope that the crew had enough sense to leave them alone for the night.

Right now, however, he still had to prove to Celci that he didn’t need her supervision.

“I just don’t understand why you want to get involved with this!” he groaned.

“Because it’s a safety issue if I don’t.”

“It’s not gonna explode.”

“You’ll find a way.”

“I’m not doing anything outside of regulations, it—”

A crackle. Something like a fire burning. His heart rate piped up. Celci started to spin, but Mark was quick to grab at his belt. The walkie-talkie was stirring from its sleep in one of the pouches. He preferred the tech they’d designed for the mission, but he wouldn’t deny you your pieces of Earth. Plus, the stickers were always a bonus.

He drew Celci’s attention as he pressed the button down. Silently, he waved away her own smug grin – the one that told him he looked exactly like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Cap, everything alright?”

You never stuck with the whole over and out thing. It was the compromise given they had replaced it with a light to show when the other side’s button was pressed down. To Mark, it made more sense and improved efficiency. What was concerning, though, was that the light was on, red and blazing, but you weren’t talking.

He pressed it closer to his ear. 

Just breathing.

“Cap? Captain, are you okay?”

He was struggling to keep his smile.

Especially when your voice whispered through the machine, gravelly and choked, as if there were hands wrapped around your neck.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Captain.”

“I’m, uh—” You were broken apart by a cough, “—prob’ly gonna be late to dinner—” Another cough, “—tonight.”

It sounded like your lungs were being ripped at the tubes and emptied. Mark’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence. The shards cracked further and refracted the light into searing flames through his veins. Just as sharp, he brought his gaze up to Celci.

“Where is the Captain right now?”

“Didn’t make a copy of their schedule?”

It was meant to be banter, a little poke at their relationship, something to get a deadpan look and an eye roll.

Mark looked more scared than she had ever seen him.

“Third excavation site. North.”

And, at the final word, he was gone, sprinting down the concrete path. The wind carried him in subtle support while some of the crew watched the storm rush past them. They had no clue what was happening, but neither did Mark. He only knew that he had to get to you, no matter what. He had to be there for you.

The walkie felt like it was burning in his grip. An omen and a promise at the same time. He pulled it to his mouth, as though just hearing his voice clearer would let him understand everything. “Cap, Cap, come on, what happened?”

Nothing. Silence outside of his body, which itself sounded like a zoo set loose. It was the eeriness of a broken submarine. He could hear the crunching of the water against the sides as it threatened to ball the metal up with the ease of a wad of paper, but there was still a dismal quiet in the meantime.

“Captain!”

And he couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Some of the pressure released when he heard your whisper, “Cave in.” It was decorated with crackles and pops, but he heard it crystal clear, every single one of your words its own speech. “Do-don’t come, Mark, don’t.”

His footsteps picked up impossibly faster to match his heart rate.

“I swear, I will,” you choked for a second before you were saved with a cough, “I will pull rank on you.”

“You can do that later. When you’re not crushed under rocks. You can do it at dinner.”

“Mark, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are!”

He swept round a corner. The danger signs for the excavation site came into view. Just a little longer. He didn’t know if you had a little longer. Your breathing was already ragged when you called, and it was getting worse. He knew he should have been pouring all of his energy into getting to you – for once, he admitted it would be better for him to shut up and focus – but he couldn’t handle the silence.

“Okay, okay, pull rank on me,” he pleaded, “just keep talking. Please.” You yielded to his request with a smile that he couldn’t see. “You named the colony yet?” His job. Technically, it was supposed to be the captain who named the colony, but you had given that duty to him. You’d argued that he was the one to choose the planet, so he should have been the one to name it. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was too early for delegation, you didn’t need to do it yet, and there would be no reason to later because you would be alive and well. You’d do your job and he’d do his. There would be no exchange because a role couldn’t be filled.

But the declaration was fueled by doubt even in his own mind. 

“No, I was waiting for you,” Mark answered.

“You should name it.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Another cough, as if your own body was working to supply your point. “Can’t wait forever.”

“I won’t be.”

The lack of response stirred something horrible in his gut when he slid into the entrance to the rock site. He pushed past the gates and tape, snagged protective gear from its place hanging off the fence, and immediately rushed to the directors. They were shambling about with checklists in hand and smiles on faces. Mark wanted to laugh, cry, freeze still in his boots. Everything looked so optimistic. This was advancement for a colony of a size like this.

Days later, when the clock would strike midnight and Mark would lay in his bed with the sheets askew and pillows scattered, he wouldn’t remember what he said to the workers he spoke to. Whether he interacted with them, or they interacted with him, it didn’t matter. His words were lost to him in the haze of overwhelming urgency and underwhelming panic. Medics arrived and excavators were called over. He only knew that because a few of them went in with him to the mouth of the cave – if some kind of legal body was contacted, he wasn’t aware of it because they never showed in front of him, and they weren’t helping him find you.

One detail he did recognize though was the tug at the walkie from one of the directors that caused Mark to pull back like a feral cat. They seemingly decided not to risk it, and simply slipped another walkie in his belt. Of course, you’d given the rest of the crew those things, instead of the highly modernized tech that would have stopped this entire thing from happening in the first place – but he couldn’t be mad at you. It wouldn’t have been you otherwise. 

They backed off quickly when they were done, and he held the original close to his chest until he was well within the tomb- not tomb, cave. A normal cave.

He had to find you.

The team he entered with was small. You always liked close-knit things, he supposed that was why you went in by yourself. Something about comradery. You were too old-fashioned for your own good.

He would tell you that at dinner, give you a light smack on the wrist and a kiss on the cheek.

“Mark, are you still there?” Your voice through the walkie reminded him of where he was. Where you were. You sounded terrible, considerably worse than last you spoke, but that was to be expected. 

Focus.

“Of course. I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you."

His heart would have melted had he not been so hyped up on the rush of adrenaline and intangible fear.

“Can you describe what you can see?”

“Lotta rocks.” Your laugh turned into a gravelly groan. “I see a light.”

“Don’t go towards it.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Mark was blissfully unaware of your joke because he was also blissfully unaware that your legs had been mangled by rocks splitting apart your bones and muscles, pulverized like the aftermath of an old blender fed with sticks and banana. You were glad he was.

He was able to, instead, drop down off a ledge deeper into the cave, which was very quickly becoming more of a cavern. It had the distinct feeling of being trapped in an ant hill, with some spaces widening and then others trailing off into sharp points. Wherever you were, getting out would be a problem, too, but seeing a light meant that you were either incredibly deep or just by the surface. He was hoping for the latter.

The next drop down was not promising.

Neither was the walkie startling to life again with your voice. “You know,” you croaked, “when we were in the wormhole, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“It’s not ending like this.”

You let the words sink into metal grating of the machine before you spoke again, “I thought I’d be shot in that noir place or stay frozen in a cryo-chamber for centuries, I didn’t think I’d just be, uh, crushed.”

The way you phrased it was so inelegant that Mark nearly snorted. However, the reality didn’t let it breach neo-daedism territory.

“Seems a bit boring, in comparison.” He couldn’t tell whether you were mumbling for comedic effect, or your lungs were giving up on you. Uncertainty impaled him like a spear through the chest.

Swallowing, he sighed. “But at least it’s not in the wormhole.”

“At least it’s not in the wormhole.”

It felt too much like a goodbye. A final salute to the ship that sailed off into the distance. Firing the arrow onto the raft. It shouldn’t have given him hope.

But it did; the cavern was bathed with the sunshine from a hole in the ceiling, and the light on the walkie was off.

It didn’t take long to spot you, upper half sticking out from the rubble of a dozen large boulders and even more smaller rocks dusting your back. Frantically, he rushed to your side, barely dodging standing on the discarded walkie a few feet in front of you. You held another to your cheek. Mark wished he had more time to tease you about keeping a whole communicator just for him, then you’d tease him about his own, and then you’d win the argument when he decided to just look at you all alive and active and not steadily dying in a cave. He did not have more time.

He hooked the walkie for the director out of his belt and called for assistance, giving a description of the route he took and then turning it off to pay attention to you.

Your grin was bright but shaky. “You come here often?” 

“Captain…”

“Sorry, bad timing.”

“No, perfect timing.” The chuckle that dripped out from his mouth was tainted by tears brimming in his eyes. He took your hand and tried to ignore how cold it already was. If he had come sooner, would you have more of a chance? Would you have survived? Oh, but you were going to survive anyway, you had to. You were the captain. You were his captain.

“Mark, don’t- don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Or what?”

“Oh, you know.”

He wanted to beg for you to continue the joke. His grip tightened as he brought your hand to his lips. He held it there, waiting, not breathing a single puff of air. The fear of disturbing the scene and being the little bit of wind that a rock needed to jut further into your back was buried deep in his bones.

“Please, just hold on.”

“Mark…”

No.

“Mark, I can’t.”

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he saying words?

“They’ll be fine.”

Just a little longer.

“Mark, look… look around, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His mouth was moving, he was sure of it, but the crackle of the walkie filled his ears in place of his own words.

“You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

The warp-core. He had done it once before. What’s to say he couldn’t do it again?

“No.”

All that pain, all those deaths, he would do it again.

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

He would do it for you.

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

If you would just let him, he could get you back. He didn’t understand why you were resisting. It would be so easy. You would get to live and lead the colony and be the captain that you always wanted to be.

But he couldn’t deny that it was a lot of woulds. And he couldn’t go through with it without your support. The tears in your eyes were not from pain but from fear, and not even for yourself. You were scared for him. Your head engineer.

“I’m not losing you—” Mark snapped back to the present, “—And, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Not only this situation, but that the two of you, as a pair, had gone through so much together, only to get separated when things had finally calmed down. It was as though you had grown so used to danger that you couldn’t survive without it. Domesticity was not for you, nor was it for Mark. In this lifetime, you would never get a break. And that was one of the two certainties he found.

“So, hey, just- just give me this. Please?”

The other certainty?

“I love you.”

Mark kneeled on the dusty ground of the cave with your hand in his. It was just as cold as the air around you, your breath visible as you sighed a single, “I-…” that trailed off before you could get anything out. The words died in your lungs as your eyes dropped shut.

Mark’s sobs echoed throughout your tomb.

[Did you know this started out as straight fluff? Also, I will forever be scared of the leviathan from Subnautica]

[lostcybertronian]

prompts 5 and 34 for engineer mark please?

Love me some angst. Post-ISWM pt. 2

---

Prompt: “I can’t sleep. Can I sleep here?” / “It’s just you and me.”

You didn’t go down to the planet like the others, preferring to stay on the Invincible II where you could see it and protect it. It had been some days since you’d last seen a wormhole, but the creeping feeling that you’d be sucked into another dimension at any moment had yet to fade. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t sleep. But you could pace the bridge, staring into (literal) space, pretending you were okay.

“Captain?” 

You turned. Mark stood at the door, refusing to meet your eye. He shifted his weight back and forth, shuffling his feet. “I can’t sleep,” he blurted out, when you didn’t say anything. He gestured to his cryopod, just to the right of the door. “Can I sleep in there? I’m . . . more comfortable there.”

You kept your expression carefully blank even as a maelstrom of thoughts crashed into your mind; Mark here, for decades, entire lifetimes, with nothing but himself and the ship, looking for a solution. Looking for you to be a solution.

“Captain?” Mark asked, and you cleared your throat; you’d been silent too long.

“Of course,” you said, hoping your voice was steady. “You can sleep wherever you want.”

For a moment Mark looked so intensely grateful that you had to avert your eyes. You heard his quiet footsteps as he plodded to his cryopod, and thought even those footsteps were exhausted.

“Do you ever-”

You turned. Mark had the cryopod door open and was half-in, leaning out to talk to you. 

“Do you ever think about how it’s just you and me?” He asked. “Just you and me who know, I mean. What happened.”

Of course you did. It was all you thought about.

You paused a moment to compose your answer. Mark’s stare remained on you, unwavering. 

“It is just you and me,” you said carefully. “But it is you and me. You’ll never be alone with what happened because I know, too.”

For the first time since you’d destroyed the universe, Mark smiled. “Thank you, Captain.” He said. “That makes me feel better.”

He climbed fully into the cryopod, its interior glowing faintly as it booted up. As the door shut and latched you turned back out to look at the massive planet below, glad Mark found your words comforting but wishing you felt the same.

[soupgoose]

I’m Right Here

Summary :  After weeks, the  Captain of the Invincible had still not woken from their Cryopod. And while most of the crew has lost hope, Mark, now as Acting Captain still held on to the thought that they would. Was it denial, or a foolish hope that his beloved Captain would wake up? Possibly. But whatever was going on in his head wasn’t going to change their fate. And Mark hadn't left their side. No one wanted their Captain to stay asleep forever, but in this state, they weren't really alive either.

Genre : Hurt/Comfort, Angst (with a happy ending)

Word Count :  2500 

Paring :  (Sort of) Head Engineer Mark / [Gender Neutral]Captain, Captaineer

TW: I’ll add these since there is mention of being in a comatose state and self-blame but that’s it!

A/N: I'M BACK BABY

No jokes, I have returned from my unofficial hiatus (cough-burn out-cough) and I am ready to write again! First time writing 2nd person for a fic, so please let me know how I can improve. Slightly shorter than how I prefer my writing, but I didn't want it to drag.

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! As always, if you have any ideas or critiques for how I can improve in the future, please let me know!

Happy reading! -Soup :D

  “Hey, Mark? ‘You in here?” Gunther called out from the doorway.

The engineer sat alone in the small break room, hands in a fist held in front of his face. His expression was difficult to read as most of the lights were turned off. A few emergency lights at the corners of the room dimly lighting the man's figure.

“Mark…” Celci spoke quietly, a contrast from how she typically spoke to him.

Only receiving a quiet sigh from him, she exchanged a nod between herself, Gunther, and Burt. Burt stepped in, flicking the light switch by the room’s entrance. Mark winced at the sudden brightness, covering his eyes with his hands. He sniffed, turning his head towards them, “I’m guessing nothing new then?”

The man's eyes were glossy and red, now shimmering under the fluorescent lights. There were marks left from tears that had fallen from his eyes, leaving only the path that they took down his face.

“Well, they’re vital signs are stable, but they’re still sleeping.”

The corners of his mouth fell into a deeper frown, his eyebrows furrowed as he closed his eyes. His knuckles rested against his forehead as his thumbs pressed at the space in between his brows.  

“We know that that’s not the news that you wanted to hear, Mark. But at the very least, they are still healthy…”

His brown eyes looked focused at the table in front of him. Only looking up when Gunther came over to stand next to him. He looked wordlessly at his friends, all sharing the same worries he had. “They’ve been “healthy, for almost a month.” he started, “What if-” he fought hard against the knot that formed at the base of his throat, “-What if they don’t-” stopping himself, he turned away from them as he attempted to clear his throat.

The four knew what he wanted to ask, even though he had already done so many times before.

Even when he already knew that their answer wouldn’t change. He just didn’t know what else to say.

He took a moment to collect himself before clearing his throat, “It’s been three weeks… how much longer do you think we should wait?”

Celci gathered a breath, “We don’t know. It's- we're worried that if we force them out of cryo sleep, their vitals and brain functions would suffer. But then again, if we wait too long, we aren't sure if they’ll be able to- ehhem- We’re not sure how much damage Cryo is doing to them as it is.” Her voice began to falter. Celci was known as a hard and calculated person, though she had her moments, but her mood had taken the same turn that everyone else’s had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After arriving at their final destination, while every other crew member had woken up to begin work on starting the new colony, their Captain remained asleep.

In the beginning, no one was particularly worried. Cryo sleep can often be difficult to emerge from, especially taking into consideration how long the individual had been out for.

However, as days began to pass, more and more of the crew began to grow concerned. The Captain hadn’t shown any signs of progression in waking up. And their vital scans remained consistent with how they were when they had first entered the cryo pod.

The only distinguishable detail was that they'd showed a small spike every so often, similar to when a person enters REM sleep.

After 5 days, the leads from every division of the crew had gathered for a meeting. Without the guidance of the Captain, they decided that the four main crew leads, Mark, Celci, Gunther, and Burt, would take over leading the building faze of the colony, until the Captain emerged. Since Mark was the head engineer, and had been in charge for the creation of the Invincible 2, he was appointed as the temporary Captain. While the other three had to be involved in all decisions, his word was final.

Two and a half weeks have passed since then.

Was it denial, or a foolish hope that his beloved Captain would wake up? Possibly. But whatever was going on in his head wasn’t going to change their fate. Mark hadn't left their side. His coworkers had found him multiple times asleep leaned up against the cryopod’s door. The three had tried to convince him that he should try to let them go, but he always refused. No one wanted their Captain to stay asleep forever, but in this state, they weren't really alive either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m going to go see them.” He said, getting up from his spot.

“Mark… I- We know you don’t want to think about it, but the longer we wait, there will only be a higher likelihood of there being more damage.”

Ignoring them, he began to walk past.

“Come on Mark, we need to talk about this.” Gunther spoke firmly, grabbing him by his sleeve.

“I just need a second!” Mark's eyes had an irritated gleam to them. “...Please.”

Burt placed his hand on Mark’s arm before looking back at Gunther. Gunther’s hand dropped back to his side with a sigh.

“Another few minutes won’t change anything. I just need to collect my thoughts, okay?”

The group hesitantly let him go. They needed to decide soon. And they needed Mark to be the one to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their Cryopod had been moved to a quieter, more isolated and sterile part of the ship. An old additional medical bay was preferable to the front control room. With less foot traffic, the Captain’s attendants could better maintain and focus on taking care of them.

The room was a bit darker as well. So long as they didn’t leave the monitor screens on full brightness.

Mark found it to be… comforting? More relaxing, maybe? As the acting Captain, he found that the crew had taken an interest in talking and meeting with him more than they used to. He would probably have enjoyed the extra attention, if it weren't for the current circumstances.

On top of having to run a growing colony and managing all of the new affairs of his current job, he was bombarded with questions, including the ones that he didn’t have answers to, and the ones didn’t want to answer. “Mark, are there any updates on the Captain’s condition?”

“Have you and the team come up with a plan?”

“Are they dead?”

But here, as grim and morbid as it may be, he found an ounce of peace. Even though it was accompanied by a deep and profound sadness.

“Hey, Cap’n…” He greeted them quietly. Although there was no response, he still paused for one.

He sat with his back pressed against the wall adjacent to their Cryopod, so he could maintain a close distance to them, while also being able to see the cold blue doors.

“Now I get why you don’t like all of the crew's attention. I mean yeah, some of it’s nice, but all of the time? I understand why you like being alone.” He said before chuckling to himself briefly. He could almost hear their laughter.

As he did everyday, he relayed any updates and reports there were. Including any funny stories if they happened. He felt that it was his duty, since he wasn’t really the Captain. He needed to keep them up to date on what was going on with their colony. That roll still belonged to them after all, they had earned it.

He sat with them for a long time in silence. Well, kind of silence. Their heart and oxygen monitors, along with the various other beeps bops, were present in the background.

Eventually, he continued,

“C.C and the team want me to come up with a decision. I just, don’t think I can. I don’t want this to be a lost hope yet. I want to believe that you’ll wake up one of these days, and then everything will just go back to the way things were…”

“But… I don’t know how long that will take, Cap.” His voice wavered, and he forced out a hard sigh.

“I don’t know how to do this without you. I trust you more than anybody, more so than myself… I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have tried to blame you. I- I shouldn’t have tried to be the hero…I was so reckless…now you-"

He brought his knees up to his chest as tears started to well in his eyes.

He scoffed, burying the quiver in his voice with a brief cough.

He looked up at one of their monitors. From what he had remembered it was one of the ones that showed some of their brain functions. He had asked to be present though the majority of the Captain’s "check-ups". While he denies it, there wasn’t anything that he wasn’t there for, despite the crew’s suggestions for him to “Let them do their work in peace.” He never really left the Captain’s side so long as he could help it.

Through that he had gleaned a bit of an understanding of what all the peaks and dips meant on the screen. He watched closely at the lines, taking note of what he believed to be them entering a state similar to REM.

"I wonder what you're dreaming about Cap." he started, "I hope it's something nice. Like a quiet beach or a cabin, where nothing matters… just peace…"

A small smile almost broke through his frown, imagining his dearest friend somewhere peaceful for the first time in multiple eternities.

Then reality hit him again. “It's my fault, isn’t it?” He asked in a quiet voice. “Everything we went through- It was my fault. The warp-core…The loops… It was all my fault. All you did was try to clean up my mess. You believed in us, you believed in me, and all I gave you in return was nothing but blame and hate.”

“How could you forgive me?”

For a while after that, he sat there, quietly sobbing into his knees. Out of every person on the Invincible, no one wanted the Captain to wake up more so than himself. He needed to apologize to them. To talk to them again. Face to face.

He didn’t need them to forgive him. Frankly, he wouldn't care if they never wanted to see him again after that. He just needed to know that they were alive. That all of their efforts had mattered.

From inside, unknown and unnoticed, a new movement stirred. Their stiff and sore body rose from its rest, their muscles trying to stretch within the limited room. They let out a stifled yawn, rubbing the sleep away from their eyes. Their hands moved to rub small circles into their neck, wincing every so often when finding a particularly sore spot.

Confused, they tapped at the screen in front of them, after having gotten used to the monotone voice waking them up, the quiet was unnerving. Through their slight shiver, they heard a very muffled and desperate voice from beyond the blue walls.

As they reached for the door they stopped abruptly.

“C-captain… I’m so- so sorry Captain. I should have trusted you more. I just- I need you-I need you to wake up, tell me what I should do…”

They were taken aback, surprised at hearing him sound so upset. Especially over them. How long had they taken to wake up? Why was Mark so desperate for their advice? Had their plan worked? Was all of this finally over? Were they finally free from the constant repeats and agony?

Continuous questions raced through their mind, only halting when they heard Mark speak again.

“We need you back, Captain. I need you….”

Their voice was hoarse, just barely able to call out to him as the words scratched against their vocal cords.

He hadn’t heard them.

“I can’t keep going like this- you’re supposed to be the captain, not me. I didn’t sign up for this. I never thought that you wouldn’t be able to lead. Why would I-”

They tried to call out to him again, a little louder. They tried the door, pushing against it, but their body still hadn’t regained all of its strength. It was still not enough

A few corridors down, Celci and the other cryo-engineers received a shocking notification.

"Holy shit."

"Please wake up…" his words were weak and desperate. "Captain please, just wake up."

Frustrated, they reached up to hit the emergency release latch, and the Cryopod door swung open.

Their knees almost hitting the ground before catching themselves. They squinted at the brightness from the screens flashing with warnings. Sterile air hitting their lungs as they caught their breath. Though heavily disoriented, they heard a small voice from behind them.

“Captain?”

The captain turned to look at their distressed partner. He looked so small, so… hopeless.

The flashing lights illuminated the streaks of tears that followed the curve of Mark’s face.

He was speechless, his eyes wide with shock. Unsure if he was dreaming this, or if all of his wishes suddenly were answered. Their face looked unscathed, their features just as he remembered them from when they first arrived on the Invincible. No bruises or cuts, they looked… alive.

He was expecting anger, hate, something to lash out on him at any moment. And the longer they stared, the harder he braced himself. Whatever was coming, he felt he deserved it.

After what felt like an eternity, they moved, taking a small step towards him.

“Mark?” the captain asked in a voice just above a whisper, “Is that you?”

As they inched closer, Mark instinctively brought his hands up, almost on guard.

He wanted to answer, but every word that came to mind got caught in his throat.

Only able to whimper, “Captain. I am so, so sorry…” He couldn’t stop more tears from pouring over and down his face, and a river of emotions raged. “I am so, so, sorry. I-I thought I- I thought you weren't going to wake up. I thought I had ki-”  

“It was all my fault.” he sobbed. “I don’t care if you never want to see me again, I just needed to know that you were okay. So, please go ahead. Yell, scream, just do something! I can take it-” he stopped mid-sentence.

The Captain looked horrified. Years of memories and trauma lingered at the forefront of their mind, all of it pointing at the respective catalyst. Everything they went through, each ounce of pain should have made them so terribly mad at the engineer. It would have been so easy to let it consume them, let all of that rage take control and let loose on the poor man…

But they couldn’t.

Mark wasn’t aware of the opening door, or the gasps from the doorway. He could only feel their warm arms, and the steady sound of their heart-beat coming from their chest. Caught off guard, it took him a solid few seconds for him to react. The way their arms wrapped around him, the way they held the back of his head to their chest… They weren't mad at him at all.

Holding them back tightly, and burying his head deeper into their chest, he felt so relieved.

They were alive.

Through his shaky breaths and sobs, he heard the voice he realized just how much he had missed.

“I’m right here, Mark."

“I’m right here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

YIPEE I FINALLY GOT THIS THING OUT OF MY DRAFTS!!!

In all seriousness, thank you for reading. I know I’ve been absent from tumbler lately, however, I’m planning on hoping right back into writing! I have quite a few more WIPs that I plan on posting relatively soon (wink wonk) and I can’t wait for you all to see them!

If if you have any ideas or critiques for how I can improve in the future, please let me know! Thank you again. 

Happy Reading!

-Goose :D

[zee-stars]

Okay, first time doing this so uh- hello!!

OKAY!

For space Mark, imagine like, after Captain tosses the crystal into the wormhole and Mark yells at them, he hears like soft sobs, and realizing that it isn't him he snaps back into reality to realize that it's the CAPTAIN crying. Which is like- really ooc for them because they're always so set on being strong for everyone else and making sure to support their team, so hearing them break down really hits kinda hard, and he realizes that they're just as much of a victim to this as everyone else is.

Like, angsty fluffy stuff because it's cute and captain needs love too

Uh yeah I hope I'm doing this right, GN Captain, can either be platonic or romantic!! ^^

Omg I love this idea so much!! I'm sorry it took so long for me to write this😭😭

But this is such a good idea and tbh... this was my genuinely reaction to Mark yelling at the end lmaoo

But thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy!!

Let it out

Space mark x Gn!reader (not specified if platonic or romactic)

"What did you do?" Marks voice breaks the silence that has been filling the room. His words were quiet, like they just happened to slip through his lips. He speaks again, but this time, much harsher.

"What did you do!" This times his voice is filled with anger and rage, something I am not used to hearing, especially directed towards me. I tear my eyes away from where the wormhole once was, the place my eyes had been glued before. I look at his face and it has an expression I am not used to seeing. He's angry, furious, and he looks at me with a scowl on his face.

"I- Mark I-" I try to form words, but they fail me as my eyes start to water up, invisible to Mark due to the helmet on my head.

"You destroyed everything! I spent an eternity in hell, rebuilding this machine and you threw it all way!" He slowly steps closer as he yells and I try to move away but my feet feel glued to the floor. "I don't know if you're evil or just stupid!" His last words are filled with venom. It feels like daggers are flying out of his lips and stabbing me in the heart. Suddenly my legs feel weak and the tears slide from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I try to speak but all that escapes is a loud sob. And I break. I break like I was made of glass and just hit me with a bat.

Marks face softens, he stops speaking and his arms slowly drop back down to his sides. He is unsure of what was it he heard. It sounded like a sob but he hadn't made any noise. His cheeks are dry and no tears are escaping from his eyes. Then he notices the Captain. Their legs are visibly shaking and their hands are formed in a ball. Their chest is quickly heaving up and down and not a word is coming from behind their helmet. He slowly raises his hand to rest on their shoulder.

"Captain?" He asks quietly, trying to see if it was them who made the noise. Suddenly the sound of sobs is all that can be heard throughout the quiet room. He doesn't know what to do. He caused this. He shouldn't have yelled at them, they were trying to help...

"Captain, I-" He pauses a loss for words, "I'm sorry..." Quickly the captain moves, so quickly Mark is barely able to see what their doing until it's already done. The captain pulls off their helmet, reveling their messy hair and tear stained face. Mark is shocked, never once has he seen the captain without their helmet. In any universe, every situation, their face had always been hidden. He is just disappointed it was in these terms that he say it.

The captain forces themselves to sit down, their legs feeling feeling too weak to be able to stand. They bring their hand to their face and fully let go. Getting out all the stress, sadness, grief, loneliness, and everything else they've been keeping in. Mark stands above them, unaware of what he should do. Once their crying has started to slow down, the tears don't fall as quickly and their breath is slow and hollow, do they finally meet his eyes, face to face for the first time.

Mark feels tears well in his eyes as they look up at him, cheeks still wet, eyes red and hands shaking still. "Captain... I'm so sorry... I should have never yelled at you.." He finally says, sitting down beside them.

"It's okay, I messed up... lots of times..." They let out a dry laugh. "And I failed.... as a captain.." They head drops downwards.

"What? No you were the best captain, you were brave and strong and pushed through to do what was right... and you saved me... and fixed everything." He rambles, looking over at the captain with a faint smile. They continued to look down, avoiding eye contact. Mark takes this moment to admire their features he had never seen before. Their hair, slightly messy from being kept trapped up in that helmet all this time. Their eyes that are slightly difficult to see at this point from where he is sitting. He sharply inhales before wrapping his arms around them. There is only a brief pause before the captain wraps their arms around him in return.

Mark lets out a soft sigh and one of his gloved hands rest on their head and the other at the middle of their back. They sit in peace, glad that they finally have a minute to breathe, and even more glad that everything is over. Mark goes to pull away but stops when he notices that the captains body is now leaning more heavily on his.

"Captain? Are you sleeping?" They jump a bit before pulling away from him.

"Sorry! It's just been so long since... I've gotten a moment to rest." They admit and Mark just smiles back at them.

"I agree. Once everything goes back to normal, I promise you can sleep as much as you need." He says with a friendly smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's the end! I hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry I'm so bad at endings lmao

Hopefully I can stick with this writing thing :)

[leighsartworks216]

Your Captain

Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Requested by Anon:

"Sweet! Can i request a angst and fluff fic with engineer mark? Where captain overworks themselves, not taking care of themselves at all, marks sees it but doesn't want to bother them too much about it

And eventually they get really sick and collapse infront of mark

With angst prompts #12 and #17 thank youuuu"

12. "You could have died."

17. "No, no, no, you can't close your eyes right now!"

Tbh this fic started as a completely different concept but I think it fit really well with this request so yah

Warnings: loss of identity, mentions of the warp core events, mentions of death, overworking, exhaustion, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 3906

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The realization is slow. Not in the way a predator creeps on an unsuspecting victim. Nor in the way an illness would, slowly taking over your body and mind until you can no longer ignore your decreasing abilities. No. It’s not even noticeable at first. Little hints here and there, indicative of something bigger.

And then it dawned on you. Suddenly. Like a spark igniting a rampant fire.

It happened when you looked up. The sky was different here. Strange. Nothing like Earth’s. There were no constellations - at least not yet. Two moons circled and twirled around the planet. Your new home.

You had neglected to look up since you landed. You couldn’t blame anyone. There was simply too much to do - buildings in need of building, resources to discover and study, maps to draw up of the surrounding area. Not only that, you joined your leads wherever you could.

You assisted Celci as she and her team revived colonists. You welcomed each new citizen with a smile and Welcome to our new planet! All 100,000 of them. Celci told you to take a break, get a nap, eat something. You would argue that everyone deserved to be welcomed, and it helped you get a grasp on just how many carpenters, engineers, scientists, medics, gun hands and others there actually were. She gave you a worried and disapproving side eye, but she couldn’t do anything to stop you.

Gunther worked to set up a perimeter where the first buildings could be set up. You helped to plan out which buildings went where, and exactly where your borders should be laid. And when he started setting up armed droids to keep an eye out for raging wildlife that could threaten your new beginnings? You were all too happy to put yourself to work, hauling the heavy automechanicals to each designated spot. If he made a comment about exerting yourself, you ignored it and kept on working.

Burt, with the lack of necessity for warp-core engineering (the thought made you flinch), helped out in home-building. He acted as foreman, making sure each sheet of metal had its place. As the framework finished, he and his team went in to affix lights and other electronic necessities. A few engineers even took plumbing jobs. (There was, unfortunately, a lack of those sent over from Earth.) Quiet as he was, the only time he pointed out your willingness to dive head first and help build foundations, framework and walls, was in a poetic waxing after a rather large building neared completion. You said it was a beautiful poem, but you didn’t quite understand its meaning. (You did.)

And Mark. Oh, god, Mark. With each new job you threw yourself into, he was always right there, running around like a headless chicken trying to help. If you were building a wall, he was right behind you (sometimes even right next to you, holding the metal in place as you bolted it in), keeping you up to date with the progress of the colony, messages from Earth, and other such things. He worried over you the most out of anyone else.

You couldn’t blame him, honestly. After the… adventure you both went on, you wouldn’t give yourself the time of day to even close your eyes. Once dark settled in, you threw yourself into paperwork and managerial nonsense. You couldn’t stop.

It had been one of these nights when you realized. You just finished talking to Celci, discussing the discoveries being made. The scientists just started working with the security crew to go out on excursions to study the flora and fauna. They just brought back a strange plant that they believed could be medicinal. It was exciting, truly.

But Celci had been short with the discussion. She had her arms crossed the whole time, shutting down branching topics with quick retorts. You need rest, she’d scolded. She shoved a protein bar in your hand and sent you to your tent, with orders not to do any work tomorrow. When you tried to protest, she enacted a rule that stated she - as lead officer for medical - could confine you to your quarters if you were not at your peak health, physical or otherwise. You couldn’t argue with her, and so trudged like a pouting child toward the temporary camp of tents everyone was staying in.

That’s when you looked up. You stopped, staring at the unfamiliar stars, the strange moons that lacked craters. The Invincible could just be seen, hovering in the atmosphere. You were waiting for orders from Earth to know what to do with her. You refused to dismantle the grand spaceship. Most likely, it would continue to remain high above the planet, run by a skeleton crew. Forever up there. Alone.

That is when the realization overcame you.

It was slow. And then it all came crashing down over top of you like a tsunami. A growing sense of guilt filled your chest. Was that it? Guilt. No, maybe it was… loss. Yes. A powerful sense of grief within you, bubbling to the surface.

Maybe it had always been there. You couldn’t rightly tell. But it was powerful. It grew, bubbling like a thick paste within you until it reached your tear ducts and buckled your knees. The ground was warm beneath you, and the sky full of strange new stars blurred into a swirl of watercolors. Maybe this was how Van Gogh saw the world. Through tears.

“Captain?”

Your lip trembled. You couldn’t look at him.

A warm body knelt next to you on the ground. His dark eyes burned into your skin, searching desperately for answers. Why were you crying? Why were you sitting out in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky? When he glanced up, following your gaze, he caught sight of the Invincible. He mentally damned the ship.

Was it because of the ship that you were crying? Far too often to be healthy, he, too, stared up at the ship. He remembered the warp core. The mistakes he made, and the ones he caused.

He had no idea what you saw up there. You never spoke about it. Now he wished he had. He wished he asked. He wished he knew what worlds, what alternate realities, what different timelines you’d witnessed. Maybe then he could understand what was wrong.

“Cap…?”

Your eyes were red now. Your face crinkled with grief and sorrow, fighting back the onslaught of tears. You gasped in a shaky breath. Out came a whisper. He thought, perhaps, you would tell him about the things you’d seen. You witnessed thousands of deaths; he had, too. But that was not what came out of your mouth.

“I don’t remember my name.”

Mark was stunned. Shock and confusion overtook his body. Your name? Well, of course, your name was… It’s…

Confused and frustrated, he remembered the IDs on file for every single crew member. He sifted through so many every day, trying to keep track of who was who. It took a few taps on his wrist pad to pull up your ID. He skimmed it for himself before holding out his arm to show you.

The image was fairly recent, only from a few months ago. But you looked… brighter. Hopeful. Determined. Your hair was a little shorter then, too. The bags under your eyes from rigorous study weren’t as prominent as they were now. You looked like a hollow shell of who you once were.

And, yes, that was your name. Or… was it? Was it really your name after everything that had happened?

No. That was their name.

You shook your head and furiously wiped at the tears on your cheeks. Every crass name, criminal title, and disparaging nickname flooded your mind. No. They didn’t have those titles. They didn’t deserve the hatred and vitriol that followed you through that wormhole. They were not the Captain. And you were not them.

“That’s not my name anymore,” you croaked. You shook your head again. You looked like a child having a breakdown in kindergarten over a broken toy. “That’s- That’s not me anymore.”

Mark couldn’t say he really understood why. The image of you, all crooked grins and academy-fresh confidence, was you. He remembered you gushing to him over flying your first airplane, and going through the rigorous training of outer-space flying. He remembered because it was you who gave him the idea for all those stupid windows. When you gushed over being so close to the night sky you felt you could reach out and pluck Polaris right out of the inky black.

But when he looked from the picture to you? He was reminded of the hardships. How you jumped from universe to universe, wracking up casualties, just to save him. And he started to get it. You went through too much to be even near the same plane of existence as your young, naive self.

“Who am I, Mark?”

When you fell to press your face unceremoniously into his shoulder, he wasted no time wrapping you up in his arms. The ID flickered away as the screen turned off. He tried to hold on tight enough to physically stop you from shaking with your sobs, but it was impossible.

“You’re our Captain.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But they were the only words he could find.

Anybody who passed by pretended they didn’t see anything. He hoped, anyway. He couldn’t meet their eyes. All he could do was hold on, as you had done for him once. Your sobs turned into stifled cries, and then only whimpers. He wasn’t concerned at first. In fact, he was a little relieved you were beginning to calm down. Until you became completely limp in his hold.

Even then, he still paused a second, before pulling you back until he could see your face. Had your skin always been so dull?

He shook you slightly. Maybe you were just sleeping, right? Your eyelids didn’t even flutter. Panic shot through his heart.

He shook you again, harder this time. No response.

“Captain?” Another shake, perhaps a little more vigorously than he intended. Your body was a rag doll, flopped in his lap. “No, no, no, you can’t close your eyes right now!”

His mind, scared and jumping to all the worst conclusions, raced to figure out what to do. He laid you on the ground and pressed an ear against your chest.

…

……

Okay. There’s a heartbeat. A little weaker than he thought was normal, but it was there. And your chest was moving, albeit slowly, with each breath. He pulled away. His hands, calloused with years of fiddling with wires and heavy machinery, floundered in the air. He didn’t know what to do.

Desperate cries for help, for Cici, for anyone were ripped from his lungs. He was gasping for air by the time half the camp rushed out to see what the commotion was. He couldn’t catch his breath until you were safe again.

He just needed you to be safe.

-

Word spread about the Captain’s health quickly. Mark couldn’t say he was surprised. Actually, he was sort of embarrassed.

That night - almost a week ago now - Celci had rushed to his side. She was the rational and cool-headed one. She commanded medics to grab a stretcher, to ready an IV, prepare a bed and equipment. All the while he screeched like a banshee, whaling for his old friend.

Uncharacteristically, though, she didn’t say a word about it. Nobody did. (Or, at least, not when he was within earshot.) She grabbed him a chair, some water and snacks, even a blanket. And as he sat by the Captain’s side, a permanent frown etched within his features, she kept him up to date on your condition and on the colony.

He knew his fears were wholly rational. After jumping through wormholes and witnessing first hand what consequences it brought, it was only natural for him to fret over the permanence of life now.

How stupid he’d been. Really. How many times did he grab your hand and jump back into the wormhole? More than he could count on one hand. The way he would be torn apart by a black hole or exploded by a supernova, and still step out of that pod with a giddy little grin, asking, almost begging, the Captain to jump in again. And again. And again.

Vaguely he remembered an airlock.

Neither of you were immortal now. Honestly, he hated immortality. It seems to amazing in theory…

He drags a hand down his face with a sigh. His shoulders are hunched. He leans his elbows against the edge of your bed.

He’s tired. Not like before. This wasn’t an exhaustion fueled by some silly false heroics or nonstop building of a catalyst to all your issues. No. He was exhausted with worry, and fear, and- God, emotions he didn’t even have words for. It all sat heavy in his soul.

Guilt, he decided to call it. But different. Guilt if it was slightly to the left.

Celci told him you just passed out from exhaustion and overworking yourself. Maybe he felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner, or for stopping you before it got so bad. It’s not as if the bags under your eyes were invisible, or that the way you carelessly rushed in to help every single person in need was subtle. He should have noticed.

Maybe then you would remember your name. Or, he thought back to your ID, believe you’re still you.

He wished his mind could shut up, for once.

A distraction. That’s what he needed, yeah.

He dragged his eyes from your face to your monitor. He was never very good with medical stuff. The numbers were odd. Was that blood pressure normal? Too high? Too low? Hell if he knew. Was your heart beating fast enough?

He contemplated for a brief moment the components that went into a monitor like that. The wires, connectors, screws, bolts, etc. And then he remembered this machine was making sure you were still alive. The idea of dismantling it was no longer appealing.

He turned to the IV next. A slow, continuous drip of fluids, hooked up to your arm. Needles always gave him a bad feeling. He felt nauseous looking at it.

Strange flowers caught his attention next. There were no roses or tulips or irises out here. Just… Well, they didn’t have names yet. The exobiologists were working on formulating latin names, genuses, and everything else that came with cataloging different flora. They were still beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. Bright orange petals with neon blue stamens that glowed at night. Razor-leaved stems that started as purple by the bloom and morphed into an odd black hue. They looked poisonous, actually. He was sure they wouldn’t be allowed in here if that was the case.

Paper was becoming a luxury at this point. Not that it mattered much, with everything accessible at the press of a button on their wrists. Still, they thought it would be best to ration out the remaining scraps throughout the colony. And everyone, seemingly unanimously, decided to use the rare material to write get well soon cards.

The little folds of parchment filled every possible surface. With 100,003 people writing get well and thank you, at some point the excess of good will notes had to be tucked away in a bin to be read later. He caught a nurse, once, rotating out the cards.

His frown softened when he thought of the very human way in which they cared about you. How human to utilize a precious resource just to say Thank you, wake up soon. How human to see something beautiful in nature, and to display it tenderly next to you. We found something beautiful, it made us think of you. How very human for those who stopped by, who saw him ever at your side like a steadfast protector, rested a hand on his shoulder or patted him on the back. You are not alone in your pain.

He wished, desperately, that you could be awake to witness the love humanity so freely handed out. Maybe then you could rediscover who you were.

“You look like shit.”

Mark startled awake. When did he fall asleep? Ah, dammit, it was dark outside. He must have been out for hours. He scrubbed at the exhaustion crusting his eyelids shut.

Wait…

His body froze. He was too scared to breathe. His heart was racing.

He couldn’t have heard that. He couldn’t have.

Heart in his throat, he slowly removed his hand from his eye and dragged his eye along your frame, still tucked safely under the blanket. Sure enough, when he finally reached your face, there was a smug grin waiting for him.

And with a jolt, his body came back to life.

You watched, half-amused as Mark threw himself from his chair to press a Call Nurse button on the opposite side of your bed. His eyes were wide and frantic. His hair was a mess. Bags under his eyes carried the weight of the world, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

“You’re- You’re awake!” he croaked. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your shoulders. They were trembling.

You tried to reach up to hold onto his shoulder, maybe even his face to feel his concerning amount of stubble, but it felt so heavy. You held onto his forearm instead. “How long-?”

Celci came storming in, looking about as frantic as Mark, but better put together. Once she saw you were conscious, her expression morphed to be somewhere between joy and fury. Uh oh.

“Captain!” The only freedom from her intense stare came when she checked your vitals. Mark backed away so she had plenty of room to do so, but he kept a hand on one of your shoulders. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet. “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you this was going to happen if you kept pushing yourself so hard!”

“What exactly happened?”

The cryonics lead faltered. Mark gave her a pleading look. She realized, for the first time since stepping in here, that he had been- no, was crying. She had never seen him cry before.

Celci sighed and tapped a few things into her wrist pad. “I’m assigning you to bedrest and low-effort work until you decide to put your needs before those of the colony.” She leveled you with a concerned stare. “The colony needs you, Captain. You can’t be everywhere at once, helping with every last fiber of your being, no matter how much you want to. Let the rest of us carry the responsibilities we were sent here to carry.”

Mark turned away to wipe away his tears before she could glare at him next and give him a lecture, too. She huffed, nodded to you with a Captain, and left.

The air was thick. Things unsaid hung around in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam - everywhere you look and hard to ignore.

Mark didn’t look at you as he tried to gather himself together. The motes would continue lingering until he was ready to answer your questions.

Deciding to give him some space (as much as you could while bedridden), you looked to the side. The hordes of cards was utterly overwhelming. Each one was different from the next. Some had Captain written on the front in neat cursive, heavy-handed scrawls, or chicken scratch. Some people did their ‘C’s differently, or slurred their writing together in their plain-text handwriting. Other cards simple said Get well soon! or Feel better! You could see small paragraphs of writing inside the folds.

A rush of warmth flooded your chest. All of the command leads, all of the colonists - everyone thought about you. Maybe the idea of being thought of was just so foreign, but you didn’t think in any earnest capacity that this many people would care. The Leads, sure, you spent so much time with them up on the ship (more than they realized), but the most contact the vast majority of the colonists had with you was the simple welcome you gave them as they were thawed. And yet. Despite it all. Everyone had left a card.

Everyone cared about you.

The warm feeling in your chest turned sour as you remembered your conversation with Mark last night. (Was it last night?) The way the stars glimmered back without a care for you. The way you squeezed that protein bar so tight it became mush in its package. The way Mark held you.

I don’t remember my name.

Who am I, Mark?

You squeezed his arm, as much as you could in your weakened state.

You’re our Captain.

Reddened eyes met yours. His eyes were so dark, but they held a thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas behind them. You remembered looking into those eyes, as you held onto him, refused to let him go even as he called you hateful names and ripped the crystal from your palm.

“You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sniffed. His hand trembled as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cici said… You were overworking yourself, pushing yourself past your limit just to be there for everybody, and you weren’t taking care of yourself like you should have been and she said-” He swallowed thickly, fighting to speak through the lump in his throat. “You could have died.”

Oh. It had been that bad? You couldn’t recall feeling weak. Though, maybe it was from the endless running you did during the warp core fiasco. How long had you been awake during that endless nightmare? Your body had recovered once the cycle was broken, but your mind…

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. His shoulders fell. “I didn’t…” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft to be a whisper. As if you were afraid to say what was on your mind. “When we were in the wormhole, I was so tired. We both were. But it’s like, I don’t even know what it’s like to feel tired anymore, because nothing compares to what happened.”

You looked up at him, like a child seeking approval. In your eyes, he saw universes colliding, supernovas, and someone who never gave up hope. For the briefest hint of a second, he saw that same determined graduate from the ID.

“Does that make sense?”

He nodded without thinking. His hand left your shoulder, following the length of your arm to hold your hand. You didn’t have gloves on. It was… odd. He ignored the calloused scar that brushed against his palm. “I feel the same. I remember building the… it. I didn’t sleep at all, then. And now that I can, it feels… wrong. I’m not tired, but I am. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“I think we both need a nap.”

He huffed. It was nice to see him smile again. “On your orders, Captain.” His grin flickered, eyes darkened. “If you’d like, you can choose a different name. It wouldn’t be too hard to change your ID.”

“No,” you said. You smiled. “You were right, all along.”

“About what?”

“I’m your Captain.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

@cryptidjester

@your-voice-is-mellifluous

[conceptuma]

For your au does captain dark also gets bad endings where he gets decked in the face by engineer

Yes, I've decided that is possible, right now, because I love that idea. It's hilarious.

If cpt dark can throw hands, head engineer can throw hands too. Though unlikely due to his doormat personality...

We can see the pillow ending is that Engineer was eventually pushed to enact violence out of resentment of the Captain. Maybe in some other AUs he is pushed that far, but in a different span of time or method, too. Or maybe he catches onto how much of an asshole the Captain (Dark) is (whether only sometimes or all the time depending on the characterization being plural or singular- We as a viewer can be an asshole or a decent guy, so you can see either of those paths as Dark being an asshole or Dark being manipulative (or... a decent guy... I guess?)) And even better- in the ending of part 2 we see Engineer get violent with the captain. So by then, he's definitely convinced (whether it's true or not) that the captain is a bad guy. Adding my AU ontop of that is interesting, because in canon Engineer realizes the Captain isn't a bad guy, so in my AU it would be that the Engineer was (partially) deceived by this "Hero act" that isn't quite all true due to Dark's presence and ulterior motive. (motive being getting the warp core for the AHWM box, and whatever other multiverse power he might want for whatever AU reasons... a motive can change, too, I'd like to think Dark wanted to get rid of Mark until he realized this Mark isn't "really" Actor- not that he'd necessarily hesitate because of that- but that on top of him being Unable to kill him thanks to the paradox. haha)

I enjoy some darkhenge angst- the kind where they've genuinely become enemies over time. I mean, it's canon, both in ISWM (as explained) and in other adventures, except it'd be Actor and Dark instead. I haven't thought much of the idea of a pure bleak angst, but it's a really fun idea.

"Bad endings" is an interesting way to put it. I think Dark is already undead and exists metaphysically, unkillable, like every other character in this illusory theatric space. (especially Warfstache, the viewer, and Actor Mark- I think awareness/acceptance of chaos makes you more unkillable.) So, in that logic, Darkiplier can just... Respawn. I mean, we see it happen in ISWM... so my explanation here is kind of redundant, haha, it's not even AU- it's canon. Fun trope! But I do like to think about it in the context of my AU. I like to reminisce upon Homura Akemi when writing how Cpt Dark experiences ISWM.

[gaymingintrovert]

“Oh, you’re awak-Captain?”

Mack x Captain

Warnings: Angst

Pronouns: They/Them

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Look I love hurt/comfort and @iamlivinginsideyourwalls wanted this so here. This took way too long because of scheduling

————

You wake up in your cryo pod again. You groan softly and lay your head back, hoping this was a bad dream this time. After a few minutes, the computer throws you out into the bridge, and you collapse to the ground. You hear a familiar voice that you wished to never hear again. “Oh, you’re awak-Captain?” You look up at Mack, expecting an insult or lecture, but what you see is a concerned looking engineer. He forcefully pulls you up and drags you into the empty life support room. “Captain, what’s wrong?” You pull your hand away from him. “Tired.” Mack sighs. “Well, we have a little while until we land, so…talk to me.” That sounded more like a demand than anything. “I’m just tired.” He shakes his head. “Captain, tell me. Let me be nice for once.” You sigh. “I-I’m so tired…” He sits down and pulls you down with him, being surprisingly gentle. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.” You can’t hold back anymore, and you burst into tears. “I-I’m t-tired of b-being shoved into different universes. I-I keep being b-blamed for things, but I-I don’t know what I did! I d-don’t remember the last time I slept! I-I just want to go home!” You hug your knees to your chest and sob. Mack listens intently, not sure what you meant at times, but understanding you need comfort. “Captain, I’ll get the crew to make a makeshift bed for you in an extra room. I…I don’t show it, but I care about you. But-uh-don’t tell anyone I said that.” He blushes a deep crimson. You open your arms, silently asking for a hug. The engineer pulls you close and lovingly strokes your hair. “I’m here for you, captain.” You hold him tightly. Mack suddenly gets an idea. “…this might be a horrible time to ask, but, when you feel better…we could have dinner together? O-or just coffee or something. Whatever you want, really.” You kiss his cheek softly. “T-that sounds nice.” He pulls you a little closer. “I can’t wait.”

[bookwormscififan]

I (Don't) Wanna Be Free

Read on AO3!

A/N: Was there ever a time before we met him that Yancy wanted to be free? Mayhaps it involved a certain murder man?

--

Dear Y/N,

Have I ever told youse why I didn’t want to be free?

Not the musical, not the song and dance, not the dumb things I said to youse when we first met.

Did I ever tell youse the real reason I didn’t want to be free?

Well, it all started when I first got a new cellmate…

“Hey, Ohio! You’ve got a cellmate,” Murder-Slaughter called, opening the door to Yancy’s cell and ushering someone inside. The prisoner looked up from his book, sizing up the newcomer with a bored gaze.

“My bed’s top bunk,” was all he said that day, watching the new man settle in silently.

“Are you not even going to ask what I did to get in here?”

It had been a week since Yancy had received his new cellmate, who had been respectfully quiet until that moment. Yancy held back an eyeroll, putting his notebook down and leaning his forearm on it.

“Let me guess. Youse murdered someone.” He didn’t suppress his grin at the newcomer’s shocked expression, “They usually try to lump a murderer in my cell with me. Because I killed some people too.”

“I’m Murdock,” the man stated, offering a hand after he’d recovered from his shock. Yancy snorted, taking Murdock’s hand and shaking it firmly.

“I know. And youse know my name too. Yancy.”

“So…” Murdock trailed one night, lying in his bunk, staring at Yancy’s mattress above him and waiting for his cellmate to sigh before continuing, “Who did you kill?”

“My parents. Youse?” Murdock closed his eyes, wishing he had his trademark gloves or glasses to cover his face.

“Many, many people.” He rolled onto his side, yearning for the feeling of his knife in his hand again, listening to Yancy shuffling around above him before falling asleep.

“Hey, Murdock, youse wanna break out with me?” The mass murder frowned into his bowl of slop, looking at Yancy as the musician sat opposite him at the cafeteria table.

“Why would anyone wanna break out?” He mumbled, shovelling another spoonful into his mouth. He paused when Yancy slid an item across the table to him: a pair of black leather gloves, creases showing signs of wear, with a familiar black ‘M’ embossed into the bottom edge.

“Where did you find these?” Murdock whispered, slowly reaching for the gloves as if afraid to touch them, afraid they would disappear.

“I know a lot of secret passages in this place.” There was no denying the smug tone in Yancy’s voice, and Murdock snatched the gloves off the table before he could think twice.

“And if I do agree to break out with you,” he began, voice low, “What’s in it for me?” Yancy grinned, leaning forward on the table and pushing Murdock’s bowl away from him.

“I’ll make sure youse never get caught again.”

It didn’t take long for Murdock to figure out his own escape route. It took even less time for him to devise an escape plan that didn’t involve Yancy, and no time at all for him to execute the plan.

Yancy woke up to find the bunk under him empty. While not an unusual occurrence, this time Yancy had woken earlier than usual, expecting to wake Murdock and drag him out himself.

Instead he found a crumpled piece of paper sitting atop Murdock’s pillow.

Will come back for you.

Yancy held onto that written promise like a lifeline.

He never came back, Y/N.

Never wrote.

Never called.

Disappeared, just like that.

All of my being was waiting for him to come back and get me out of Happy Trails, but he never came back.

It took a lot of time and effort, but eventually I got back on my feet and decided the penitentiary was the place for me. It was better to be somewhere that wanted me, than to be waiting on someone who wasn’t showing.

What’s that song from that band? How’s it go? “Waiting on a train that’ll never come”? That was me and Murdock.

If and when I ever find him again, I’m going to show him what he did.

My review’s coming up soon.

We’ll see if I get parole.

Yancy.

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

Part 1

Google and his dad, the universe where captain left

(Yes, google got his glasses from head engineer)

[melancholypancakes]

I can’t stop thinking about traumatized fem!Y/n who’s tired of all of the timelines, her previous life, not being able to save the other viewers and Mark’s bullshit mind games.

Even though it’s over for y/n doesn’t mean it���s over for the rest of the viewers in her previous position.

She doesn’t mean to be vulnerable or cry but she ends up doing just that in front of dark.

Y/n:….*hugging herself as she shakes*

*Y/n crumbles to the floor*

*Dark kneels in front of Y/n just worried*

Dark: Y/n? What’s wrong-

*Y/n whimpers as water fall tears fall from her rose cheeks*

*Y/n whales in frustration, anger and tiredness*

*Y/n leans on dark for comfort*

Y/n: I’m so tired! I just can’t take this! I can’t sleep without thinking about those horrible things and those the others in that hell hole, I can’t save them and I—I

*Dark slowly wraps his arms around Y/n small form as her cries are muffled in his shirt*

Dark: it’s okay…just let it all out…everything will be fine. We’re here for you. I’m here.

*Y/n cries until she feels a headache and rests her head on Darkiplier chest*

Darkiplier: it’s okay to rest now y/n….I’ll take care of everything and soon Mark won’t be a problem to us anymore…I’ll be here when you wake up.

Y/n: okay…..

Y/n mumbles as she grows tired from her tears and headache, soon darkness takes over til the next morning…