#in space with Markiplier fanfiction

[clemblog]

wawawa captaineer short fic writing

You Can’t Catch Him Now

There’s blood on the side of the ship.

The Captain stood in shock, having watched Mark. Their best friend. Go flying out the window of the ship. There was no time for mourning. The ship was crumbling. They couldn’t save him. They needed to save everyone else.

There’s scratches all over the floor.

They brushed past the markings on the floor where he’d tried to hold on but had ultimately failed. Fixing lift support went off with a breeze.

Shadows of us are still dancing.

They ignored his name on their tablet as they paged the other crew leads. This needed everyone’s assistance.

In every room and every hall,

They promised they’d tell the group what had happened to Mark once the ship was safe. It was hard to focus when they saw him everywhere. Let alone recount what had happened too..

There’s tears falling over the ship,

They explained what had happened, tears rolling down their face under their helmet. Gunther looked like he was going to cry. So did Burt. And Celci. And Tyler. This was hell. This was a nightmare.

You thought that it would wash away.

The group had worked in a sad silence as they got the ship prepared to dock at the nearby habitable planet. Working didn’t make anyone feel better about what had happened.

The bitter taste of his fury,

The Captain laid awake in bed. Tomorrow the rest of the crew would be awakened and they’d have to explain what had transpired on the ship. And who they’d lost. They feared the level of grief that’d run through the ship and any anger that may be directed towards them. They hadn’t saved him…

And all of the messes he made,

They felt guilty for stepping into his quarters. It was an organised mess that was so Mark. They just needed something.. something of his that’d get them through this day.

Yeah, we think that he got away,

It was an emotional docking day onto the planet. The engineering team was a wreck. None of the other crews were much better. They’d only just managed to pull it together to get a camp together on the planet.

But he’s in the trees, he’s in the breeze

The Captain stared fondly at the night sky, the trees covering them mostly from the breeze that played with their hair. They liked this spot. The plantation was a dark red here. Mark’s favourite colour.

His footsteps on the ground,

They found their heart beating a little faster at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them. Reminding them of Mark. But it was never him. Always just an animal. Or a passing crew member. But more often than not, it was Chica. Their newly adopted doggy daughter.

You’ll see his face in every place,

People with dark hair. Soft brown eyes. Overarching enthusiasm. It was so Mark. They missed him so much. And seeing said individuals made them hurt so much more. But you can’t charge a person for looking like the man you loved. Yeah… The man they loved..

But you can’t catch him now,

They sighed fondly at Chica charging around a field. The Captain held a bag on their hip full of her dog toys. Ever since Mark had… passed… She’d much rather chase the breeze out in the fields and bark at the wind. She never seemed able to catch what she was wanting however. She’d pad back over to them a little downtrodden but with a new determination each time they went back out to play.

Through wading grass, the months will pass,

Chica would slowly start to play with her toys with the Captain, the two wading through the long bladed fields together. When the Captain grew tired however, she’d go back to chasing the wind.

You’ll feel it all around.

Looking after Chica and their crew was slowly healing the Captain’s wounds. Accepting help and giving help was always rewarded with slow walks in the fields and kisses against their skin from a gentle breeze, wiping away their sweat from a busy day.

He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere.

It was a never soft day snuggled up with Chica under the night sky for the Captain. Staring up at the sky that had taken Mark away from them. It was so cruel. Yet so beautiful. It was so… Mark.

But you can’t catch him now.

They hoped wherever the universe had laid him to rest, that he was happy there. Maybe laid in a bed of flowers. Coated in a blanket of leaves to act as the coffin he’d never get.

No, you can’t catch him now.

He was something the Captain didn’t think they’d ever get over until the day they died. Their heart ached for him everyday. But it’d finally stopped hurting at least.

Bet you thought he’d never do it.

The pain had quelled so much that they opened Engineer Park with a fond smile on their face. A statue of their beloved, stood smiling in the centre announcing him as the beloved creator of the Invincible II. The man who’d achieved the impossible. And brought them all home.

Thought it’d go over my head.

They also headed and sorted through his belongings. A lot of it they’d keep. Some would be given to friends. The rest was gifted to colonists who needed it.

I bet you figured he’d pass with the winter.

With the statue in its prized position, every colonist and crew would remember Mark and his story. Children were given first and middle names matching the great head engineers, in hopes of inspiring the same charm and intelligence in them. The Captain was glad he was held so highly in their new home. It was what he deserved after everything.

Be something easy to forget.

The Captain would chuckle fondly, looking at the list of first generation children they’d mentor with M related names. The children’s eyes were filled with wonder that they were ready to nurture and enlighten. To help them find themselves in this new exciting world.

Oh, you think he’s gone cause he left,

There would still be hard days but the Captain would just walk out to the field with Chica, their old girl. And they’d always feel better.

But he’s in the trees, he’s in the breeze,

Time would have its ups and downs. Especially when Chica finally grew too old to play in the field, the two opting to just relax out there instead. It’s where she’d eventually be laid to rest. The Captain would find the wind up there a lot stronger after such, like there were now two breezes passing through instead of the usual one.

Our footsteps on the ground.

The Captain would follow their beloved dog and dear head engineer not long after, being buried alongside their furry friend, looking up at the sky where the love of their life rested. The three united together at last.

You’ll see their faces in every place.

If you sat out in that lonesome field, you’d feel anything but alone as three separate breezes passed by your face and amongst the flowers.

But you can’t catch them now.

[faeriescorpio]

I've Never Been In Love, I've Been Alone

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45855814

The Captain has ended the time loop, but this doesn't feel like a happy ending. Maybe it's all a dream. Maybe the Captain's asleep, but there's someone out there who can't remember the last time they've slept. And they're so awake and angry.

-----------------

It goes like this:

The universe gets saved. The Captain and Mark get their happily ever after.

But it doesn’t feel like it.

-

The planet below looks beautiful from the window. The coffee in the Captain’s hand is delicious and warm. Too warm, actually. Burning into their hand.

Mark is smiling at the Captain like they’re the sun he revolves around. He used to look at them like that before everything, too.

No. Something was different.

Mark used to look at them like the moon revolving around the earth. This is the earth revolving around the sun. Bigger. Brighter. The pull stronger.

It took Mark a thousand lifetimes to start to doubt the Captain, lifetimes of the Captain hitting him before he hit back. It’s different now. There was no infinity that could break his devotion to them.

The Captain could torture Mark to death and he’d think they were doing what was right. What was necessary. He wouldn’t even fight back.

-

Maybe the Captain has tried it before. In another universe.

-

Mark’s eyes meet the Captain’s in the control room. He acts like nothing has happened, but guilt is heavy in his gaze. If the Captain were to punish him, he thinks he would deserve it.

-

The Captain was angry. So angry.

They bit the thick leather of their glove, the hand that didn’t have the crystal in it, and screamed. It didn’t hurt, but they wish it did.

-

A hand lands on the Captain’s shoulder. A man smiles down at them.

“It’s time to wake up, sleepyhead,” He laughs.

The Captain stares back, listlessly. The smile begins to fade. The Captain closes their eyes.

-

“Captain,” drawls out Gunther. “Are you ready to see the coolest explosion you will ever see in your life?”

The Captain nods. It’s not that cool. They’ve seen bigger. But they smile back when Gunther looks at them for approval.

Mark whoops in excitement. His eyes are glowing with youthful cheer.

It makes the Captain’s smile grow.

-

“Captain?”

-

“I told you to wake up!” Something shakes them.

-

There’s a crack in their helmet where Mark hit them with the fire extinguisher.

It was on their helmet before it happened, lingering through universes, appearing one day after a random reset.

When the Captain had first seen it, they tried to patch it. They didn’t know where it came from.

Mark had seen it and given them an uncertain smile.

“It adds personality,” He said, and so the Captain left it alone.

The crack was bigger now.

-

The colony was set up on the ground now. The Captain had known what to do, of course. They’ve succeeded on getting to the planet before, on building the colony with or without the help of Mark. They had it handled with ease.

The respect in the crew’s faces grew.

-

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everything has to end, so that everything can begin again. Move on already. You don’t get to stay after you reach the happy ending!”

-

The Captain sits up. Some sort of nightmare. They can’t remember it anymore, already fading away like most dreams do.

But they can’t find it in themselves to try to go back to sleep. They get up, get dressed, and go look for Mark. The Captain doubts that Mark sleeps much these days either.

Speak of the devil, Mark is indeed up, working away at a generator with a focused energy that reminds them of the warp core. The generator helps power their city. It’s small, but rapidly growing every day, more buildings than even Mark can help with and more lives than the Captain can watch over.

“Awake so late?” They tease, and Mark almost drops his wrench, spinning around.

“Captain?” They wave him a greeting, but he stares at them, shocked.

“You can speak?”

-

What?

-

SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG-

-

Awake? They sign, but Mark has his back turned to them. The Captain taps their heavy boot against the metal flooring to catch his attention, and then signs again.

“Yeah,” He chuckles sheepishly, putting down his wrench to rub at the back of his neck. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s awake at this ungodly hour, huh?” He looks at them meaningfully.

Tell you what, They sign at him. If you go to sleep, I’ll go to sleep too.

Mark shakes his head. “I can’t sleep,” he said sorrowfully.

-

“I can’t remember the last time I slept,” Mark said, raggedly, face full of sorrow as the warp core room shook around them.

-

The Captain shakes it off, but their ears are ringing. Mark doesn’t seem to notice.

-

“Go back to sleep. You deserve this happy ending,” someone rumbles in a deep voice. It soothes them.

-

After some more idle conversation, where Mark keeps trying to herd the Captain back to their tent to sleep without actually agreeing to any sleep himself, he sighs and gives in.

“If I go back to my tent, will you go back to yours? He asks. “We can’t have our Captain disoriented from lack of sleep.”

We can’t have our Head Engineer disoriented either, the Captain points out, and they allow Mark to herd them back to their tent. They step inside their Captain’s tent, pause, and then poke their head back out just in time to see Mark try and sneak back to the generator. They snap their fingers disapprovingly at him, then invite him inside their tent.

“What?” Mark flushes, but the Captain has none of it, ushering him inside their tent. They lay down on the Captain’s bed together, the mattress large enough that their bodies don’t touch. They both lay on their sides, staring at each other, breathing quietly in the darkness.

“You don’t take your helmet off when you sleep?” Mark asks.

The Captain frowned. They’ve never taken their helmet off. But their Head Engineer is right. Why wouldn’t they take it off to sleep-?

-

They both lay on their sides, staring at each other, breathing quietly in the darkness.

“Good night, Captain,” Mark says at last, and rolls over so he isn’t facing them anymore.

The Captain closes their eyes.

-

WAKE UP. YOU DON’T GET A HAPPY ENDING, WAKE UP-!

-

The Captain wakes up. Mark is still in their bed, the gentle morning light inching through the tent door and turning his hair into a shade of brown. He looks beautiful and peaceful. The Captain suspects it’s the most peaceful sleep either of them have gotten since the warp core was fixed. They check their communicator. They still have a few more hours left before they need to get up. They close their eyes again.

-

They both lay on their sides, staring at each other, breathing quietly in the darkness.

“You don’t take your communicator off when you sleep?” Mark asks.

The Captain frowned. They’ve never-

-

WAKE UP-

-

Taken their communicator off when they sleep-

-

The Captain wakes up-

-

“Go to sleep, I’ll go to sleep too-

-

VERY WRONG-

-

“Awake so late?”

-

A hand lands on the Captain’s shoulder. A man smiles down at them.

“It’s time to wake up, sleepyhead,” He laughs.

The Captain stares back, listlessly. The smile begins to fade.

-

SO ANGRY-

-

A hand is tapping their face. The man is frowning down at them. “I told you,” he said angrily, “You don’t get to stay after you reach the happy ending!”

-

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

-

“You deserve a happy ending,” The deep voice says again, but whoever they are, they sound a bit desperate. “Let yourself be laid to rest, please-”

-

“If I don’t get a happy ending, neither do you!” The man shouts down at the Captain, and suddenly the Captain is awake, so very awake, and so angry. But mainly, they are tired. They grab the man’s hand. He looks like their Head Engineer, but even more tired than the man who said he couldn’t remember the last time you slept.

“If you go to sleep, I’ll go to sleep too,” The Captain offers, and the man stares down at them, his anger wiped away by shock.

“What?” He whispers, and looks so very lost. “I…” He shakes his head. “I can’t, I don’t know how to anymore-”

“Mark,” The Captain rasps out in a voice that hasn’t been used in ages, and the man stops speaking again. Yes, they remember now. This isn’t their head engineer but this is Mark. “It’s time to go to sleep.”

The fight leaves the man’s body.

“Okay,” He says quietly. “Okay.”

The Captain closes their eyes.

-

“Captain?”

The Captain wakes to their head engineer standing over them, worry plastered onto his face. “You were sleeping pretty deeply there,” he says. Neither your communicator nor I could wake you. It’s time to go do our daily jobs.” He frowns. “Maybe you should keep sleeping. I’m sure I could take care of-”

The Captain shakes him off. They’ve never felt more rested.

They feel good, actually. Better than they have in ages.

Maybe this is their happy ending, after all.

[buc-eebarnes]

confessions when one character thinks the other is sleeping prompt pls omgggg

cheezy homie i always see u in my notifs and of COURSE i had to go all out on this !!!! sorry if it's late jfsdkljfsdkj jet lag got me conked out as soon as i landed but here it be! (unbeta'd tho 🥲 also trying out a different format 👀)

conversations with myself (about you)

pairing: head engineer mark x the captain

tags: confessions, sleeping, fluff and angst

rated G || 1469 words || read on ao3!

You huff out a sigh of relief. You'd been trying to chase Mark down all day, but his assistants kept telling you that he was in different parts of the base.

You should've known to check his office.

But there he was, slumped over the table with his head resting on top of folded arms. He must've tired himself out from all the projects he was micromanaging. You squint at the laptop to see what he was trying to work on.

It's a progress report. Multiple, actually. You stifle a sigh and look down at his sleeping figure. "Oh Mark, what are we gonna do with you?"

He doesn't stir at your words, which is a testament to how tired he is. You keep your voice low regardless.

There's a folded blanket on the couch, and it smells of him, a weird mixture of pine, oil, and the soap rations they brought from Earth. The couch must be where Mark crashes all the time, which pulls a frown on your lips.

You drape the blanket over him, securing the folds over his shoulders. He's gonna have a crick in his neck in the morning, but he'll thank you later, probably.

He looks so peaceful, sleeping. 

You observe him for a while. The constant furrow between his eyebrows is gone. He doesn't frown in his sleep, but his lips are parted, and you can hear the soft puffs of breath he releases. His hair is a bit of a mess, as if he'd run his hands through it multiple times throughout the day, and you find yourself wanting to do the same.

"When was the last time you knocked out like this?" you mutter. Your hand touches a strand that's fallen in front of his eyes before you could stop it.

Reflexes kick in and you jerk back, but he doesn't stir. The only thing that changes is that his brow furrows slightly, but his breaths remain constant, and you relax your arm. You hesitantly take off a glove, and, before you can chicken out, reach forward to tuck the strand of hair behind his ear.

That then motivates you to run your fingers through his thick black locks, and it's as soft as you imagined.

You chuckle lightly, amazed. "Whaddaya know."

You continue the motions, and eventually, the wrinkles between his brows disappear, his features peaceful once more.

You drink your fill admiring him. Wide nose. Strong jaw. Big ears that stick out. Beard's getting to the point where it would break regulation but you're the highest official on this base and what Earth doesn't know won't hurt them, anyway. You look down at the fold of his arms, contoured by muscles. His hands, his fingers, that are so deft, made to create and fix what's destroyed. Why does everyone put you on a pedestal about looks when Mark is literally right here, sleeping soundly and looking sculpted by the gods himself?

"Everyone's blind," you mumble. "I don't hold a candle to you."

The urge to hold his hand is incredibly strong. You could do it—thread your fingers with his until he wakes, blinking blearily up at you with trusting eyes and whispering "Captain?" in a sleepy voice, and you suddenly feel small and unworthy about every single time he followed your lead without question.

And you feel the weight of infinite universes on your shoulders. Not once did you initiate anything more than friendship with Mark with all of the chances you've been given. He was always the ballsier one, more impulsive, more outspoken. As someone who has taken the mantle of a captain of a spaceship, you are an incredibly timid person.

"I wish I had your courage. Your tenacity. Your ability to take charge." You let out a humorless chuckle, and your fingers twitch against his scalp. "Countless universes, countless timelines, and we end up right back here. If only I wasn't a coward. Maybe I could finally ask you out on that date, y’know? To not worry about being a captain. Just someone going on a date with the person they like."

He doesn't respond, but you think you could see his breathing stop for a moment. It's a minute thing, barely there, but it's enough for you to cease running your fingers through his hair.

Did he hear you? Panic wells up in your throat. Oh god. "Mark?"

He doesn't answer.

"Are you awake?" you whisper.

He still doesn't answer. His breathing resumes again, slower this time.

You bite your lip, waiting for ten very long seconds, and you slowly pull your hand away.

You swallow down whatever feelings bubbled up to the surface and leave his office, quiet as a mouse. You lean against the door and close your eyes for a moment, wondering if you'd fucked up a friendship you'd spent these past few months trying to mend.

The trek back to your quarters is long. You get ready for bed and end up staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

Was he awake? Did he hear everything? If he heard everything, then he definitely felt you with your hand in his hair.

Sleep takes you, eventually, but the sun is starting to rise when it does.

-

"—and that concludes today's meeting. Please consult Summers for the minutes if there's an item you have a question about. I'll see you all next week. Dismissed."

The morning following the whole did-Mark-hear-did-he-not-hear dilemma is strangely anticlimactic. Mark greets you with the same gusto he does every other time he sees you, which is, to say the least, minimal. He doesn't give an indication that he heard you last night, or that he was disgusted by any of your actions. Frankly, it seems like he's avoiding talking to you, which is already the norm for your relationship these past few months. You chalk it up to your paranoia and gather up your datapad, shutting off the holographic projection on the table when he says, out of the blue, "I don't think you're a coward."

You jump nearly three feet in the air. The room had mostly cleared out, and any stragglers were busy talking amongst themselves, oblivious to the sheer terror running through their captain's veins.

"Jesus Christ, Mark! You scared me."

He raises an eyebrow. "How? I've been right here this whole time."

"It was unexpected, alright?" you huff, clutching your heart. "Give a person a warning, would ya?"

There's a fond smile on his lips, one that rounds his cheeks and narrows his eyes in a good way. That's when what he said hits you.

"Wait. What did you just say?"

"I said I've been right here—"

"No, no. The first thing."

"What, about me not thinking you were a coward?"

Your jaw drops, and every single cell in your body is screaming to run. He fucking heard you last night. He knows. He knows.

"I don't think you are. I never thought you were. I still stand by my opinion of you from the first time I met you."

You don't know what to do. He tilts his head down so that he can look you in the eye, and strangely enough, you find yourself unable to pull away.

“Captain, I’m going to be very presumptuous for a moment.”

Your mouth mimics that of a goldfish. “E-excuse me?”

“And I will go ahead and repeat myself again. You’re the bravest person I know. I don’t think you’re a coward. And even if you were, I wouldn’t think any less of you.”

You maintain eye contact, but you find yourself at a loss for words.

He steps closer, and there’s no malice or anger on his face. All you see is your head engineer, smiling at you like he always has, but there’s something clearer about it. Open fondness, affection, adoration. He tentatively takes your hand, interlocks your fingers together.

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much about being a captain. And I should probably take my own advice and not worry too much about being a head engineer. It’s a hard thing to adjust to when it’s the only thing you’ve known for so long.” He swallows, looks down at your hands. “But I’d still like to see what it’s like to not do that. Just someone going on a date with the person they like.”

It finally hits you.

You close your mouth, and you feel your features morph into something incredibly hopeful.

“I think I’d like to see that too,” you beam. Then, “Would you like to go on a date with me, Mark?”

The answering grin he gives you is blinding, and your chest is aflutter.

“Yes,” he squeezes your hand, saying your name. It sounds wonderful coming from his lips. “Yes, I would love that.”

buy me a coffee!

[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]

[samuel-is-an-idiot]

Hello people, so I have like 0 influence but this is tumblr so y'know we never know.

I was rewatching some old fangames videos from @markiplier and I decided to stop on Markiplier's Aventures 2 (here's the link to the video:

AND after it I decided to look for any updates from JeffKyler14 because the game is very touching and I found out that he was struggling heavily with the release of the game because life and his team let him go.

So I just wanted to try and get at least one person to go look at his channel because he's passionate but he is loosing hope and his dream is starting to feel impossible to him!

He needs HELP from code monkeys, from game designers, support, financial support. He made a game that impacted @markiplier, and that impacted all of the fans who watched the videos, as a community even as a community of fans of some youtuber we should stick together in some way and if not to help John then to help Mark see that even after years; We are still a community, we still love him and we still show him that.

I honestly think that Markiplier's Adventure 3 would be the best way to show him that, because it already has, and even though Mark is growing and our community is growing but the roots remain!

TLDR: Get Markiplier's Adventure 3 back in the works and help someone see that his work and talents are not wasted and that his dream is ABSOLUTELY at his reach

Here's a link to JeffKyler14 ' s youtube channel:

(I don't know if I'm still up to date, I'm hoping I am, but the game is important)

[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.

[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

[drunkonaheistinspace]

three almost kisses and the one time nothing could interrupt

originally published: December 3rd, 2023

Pairing: Illinois x gn!Reader

Rating: General Audience

Tags: fluff, friendship, first kiss, slight angst

1

When Illinois proudly announced that the two of you would be attending an auction again, flashbacks from last time hit you like a tsunami. Luckily for you, you were informed of his plans two weeks in advance and not hours in advance like last time, giving you plenty of time to prepare.

The first thing you did was insist that you wear your outfit from last time and he didn't have to buy you a new one. You accidentally found out how much he paid for it, which nearly gave you a heart attack. The only reason you still had it was Illinois's argument that it was a birthday present and you didn't want to be rude. And yes, you even kept the overpriced ring that could possibly be an ancient relic. The second was to find out more information about the auction. This time it was about a deceased collector whose collection is being liquidated so that the family can pay off the mountain of debt that the deceased had left them. It looks like you might even find it this time as the deceased specialized in ancient artifacts and judging by the thumbnails were the kind of artifacts you're after.

The sight of Illinois in a suit was something you could never get used to. It was just wrong. But it gave you the opportunity to tie his bow tie, which in turn gave you an excuse to get close to him. "Let's go over the rules again," you said as you straightened the bow tie. "Why are we going to the auction?" Illinois sighed. "To find potential pieces for my collection." "What don't we do?" "Do not purchase artifacts of unknown and/or questionable origin." "And?" "And don't give my partner any gifts that cost me more than fifty dollars." The fifty dollars was still a compromise. You wanted to go lower than ten bucks, after all he was still your boss and after all he was obligated to pay you and he paid you well above average, which is why you didn't see the point of expensive gifts. But he insisted that there should be at least fifty. He referred to this as a bonus for excellent work performance.

A look out of the window told you that the limousine had already arrived and was now waiting for you. You went to grab your coat, but Illinois grabbed your arm. You looked at him in surprise. “After the auction...would you like to go out for dinner afterward? It doesn't have to be expensive! We can also just make a detour to McDonald's and get something there.” A gentle smile graced your face. Illinois was always so cute when he was shy. This was a side of him that only you got to see. "I'd love to have dinner with you." You stood in absolute silence for a moment, looking at each other before Illinois slowly walked towards you and leaned towards you. You closed your eyes in anticipation but your lips didn't touch. Instead, you were startled by loud impatient horns. "The limo is waiting," you said, heart racing, and grabbed your coat. "Yeah, we should go now," he agreed, running his fingers through his hair.

In the end, the auction was canceled because two idiots broke in and took a large part of the collection. Instead, you spent the night in the parking lot behind a McDonald's watching the stars while sharing a helping of chicken nuggets.

2

You had asked Illinois for a single day at the beach several times in the past. Just to relax. Well, your wish has finally been granted after a long time, but unfortunately not in the way you would like. Yes, you just found yourself on a beach at sunset, but instead of sipping colorful cocktails and enjoying the view, you were stuck on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with a treasure map that made no sense.

"I give up! The map is useless!" you called to your boss who had climbed up one of the palm trees hoping to get a better view of the island. You, on the other hand, had the map in your hand and tried to make sense of the scribble. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Illinois admitted while clambering down the palm tree. "I'm not even sure if we're on the right island anymore." You sit down on the sand and bury your face in your hands. The adventurer sat next to you and fanned the cool air with his hat. "At least we can enjoy the sunset." With a sigh, you looked up and you had to admit that the sunset here was particularly beautiful. At least there was a nice moment you could share with Illinois. "We should take a vacation and just go somewhere that isn't dangerous," you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder. Illinois said nothing and just silently took your hand and gently squeezed it.

You just sat there and watched the sunset without saying a word. You couldn't remember who turned around first, but suddenly you were looking at each other and your faces got closer and closer. Your lips were only a few millimeters from touching. You were just a head movement away from what you both longed for. At the same time, a cannonball hit the water just meters in front of you, drenching you both in seawater. You looked up in surprise and saw a ship on the horizon.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is," you moaned in annoyance and frustration. "Captain Magnum," Illinois confirmed. "Maybe we should flee inland before he actually hits us." As if on cue, you saw another cannonball being fired and you ran into the dense jungle hoping to escape the pirate.

3

You ran through the dark maze-like corridors. You've been running for quite a while and you're not exactly sure where you are right now. Everything looks the same and the fear that you've been going in circles the whole time overcomes you. The worst thing about the whole thing, however, was the fact that you didn't even know who you were running from or where exactly you were going. The day started out so harmless.

It was a beautiful summer day and you and Illinois were “on vacation” so to speak. Maybe vacation wasn't the right word. It was much more of a break between adventures because your plane broke down and your flight was delayed by two days. You were in no hurry and instead chose to take this as a sign that you really needed some time off. This included sitting in cute little cafes, drinking coffee and talking about possible new goals. Buy new work boots. Arguing with Illi about why you don't need a 200 euro jacket. In the end you decided to visit an art exhibition.

The exhibition included several different pieces by well-known local artists. You didn't know any of them, but that didn't stop you from marveling at the countless works. Illinois seemed to feel the same way because he would stand in front of a work for a long time complementing both the composition and the technique and all you could do was listen in silence and marvel at how much this man knew about art.

Then it happened. Illinois was laughing. Everything was good. Everything was wonderful. Then he noticed something in the distance. His laughter stopped. His smile vanished. He looked like he had seen a demon. Then everything happened quickly. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the exit, but something forced him to change direction and you ran deeper into the gallery. You couldn't see who or what was doing this to Illinois, but you were sure of one thing. You've never seen him so scared. Eventually he drags you through a door with a staircase leading down. Once you got to the bottom you saw two hallways and Illinois turned to you with a worried look.

"Listen to me. We have to split up! He's most likely after me and I doubt he'll hurt you as long as you stay away from me!" "But-" you tried to protest, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you. "No buts! For once, I want you to listen to me and do what I tell you. This is solely for your good.” He removed his finger and instead took your face in his hands. “We will find each other again. I promise it." You wanted to protest again, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't accept any complaints. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I trust you." He gave you one final affirmative smile before you walked in different directions.

And so you found yourself in the endless dark labyrinth that sucked every hope out of you with every passing second. Your legs hurt from running and you were exhausted, but you couldn't afford a break. Not unless you knew where the adventurer was. Every step you took felt like you were pulling a heavy load behind you, and a tightness that settled in your chest heralded the onset of a panic attack. It was difficult for you to see in the dimly lit hallways and you felt like it was getting darker with every step. How much time has passed since you broke up?

You turned a corner and instead of finding another endless corridor ahead of you, you ran into what you initially thought was a wall. Only the wall was warm, muscular and difficult to breathe. Two strong hands rested on your shoulders, providing the necessary support that kept you from collapsing like a cheap folding chair on a hot summer afternoon. "Thank God! You're fine!" did you hear the living Adonis statue say You were too exhausted to say anything. Instead, the hands moved away from your shoulders and you were pulled into a tight hug. "I know I have some explaining to do, and I'll do it once we get out of here," Illinois still held you tight, afraid someone would pull you away from him. “I promise you that we will then be a month – no, two months! oh you know what Let's take the rest of the year off and just relax!" The support that the adventurer gave you finally let you relax and catch your breath. Over time, your mind became clearer and the hallway you are in became brighter. You take a deep breath. The familiar smell of leather and linen gave you another piece of security. Your limbs were heavy as lead, but you somehow managed to raise your arm and squeeze Illinois' biceps, after which he released you.

You didn't realize your vision was blurry until you tried to look the adventurer in the face. You feel his warm hands on your cheeks and a light pressure on your forehead. You blink a few times and as your vision cleared you noticed his forehead was pressed against yours. His eyes were closed, his sun-tanned skin was glistening with sweat, and you could smell the faint whiff of coffee on his breath. "I promise nothing will happen to you," he whispered more to himself than to you. “You survived until now. You survived longer than anyone else." He opened his eyes. "You mean too much to me to let him take you away." You stared into each other's eyes for a long time. The corridor was long forgotten. All your senses were taken over by him. The warmth radiating from him. The smell of him clouding your mind like a potent drug. His breath on your face. His eyes that looked straight into your soul. It was like a spell that you couldn't break.

Slowly he closed his eyes again and tilted his head. His lips were only a few millimeters from yours. You inhale his breath and close your eyes. This was the moment. But before you could lean forward and fully surrender to the spell, a door next to you was violently thrown open. You both jumped aside in shock and panic. Was the door here all along? "There you are!" exclaimed Wilford. You both looked at him in horror, but neither of you was able to say or do anything. “You two are extremely late for your interview! Well, come on in!" Wilford grabbed you both by the wrist and yanked you through the door.

You didn't talk about what happened in the corridor. Neither of you could.

+1

It's mid-August. The sky was painted yellow and pink from the setting sun. Illinois kept his promise. Since the Gallery incident, you've stayed away from adventures and settled in a small town. He gave you you room to breath by giving you a small house on the outskirts of town. Under normal circumstances you would insist on getting an apartment, but since the incident you just needed some alone time. Time to think. Time to understand your own feelings. His house wasn't far. A few minutes walk. He gave you a key. You were welcome at any time. And yet you haven't seen each other in two months.

Those two months were the first time you could really think. Overthink. Losing yourself in your own mind. You realized three things: 1. The carpet in your living room was exceptionally soft and perfect for staring at the ceiling for hours. 2. You miss the smell of leather and canvas. 3. Illinois' entire existence was like a siren song and you struggled every day to resist it.

You only now realized that you had been under his spell since the first time you met and every time you tried to leave, you somehow found a way back to him. You had lost your heart and it was now part of his collection. The only thing that stopped him from possessing both your body and your soul was a single kiss.

One kiss and there will be no turning back.

A kiss to seal the deal.

A kiss to become his holy grail.

Every time you opened your front door and looked out, you could see his house. So far and yet so close. There was nothing standing in your way except your own pride and sanity. But today you were weak.

You didn't bother putting on shoes. You looked up at the sky and noticed that the colorful play of colors from before was replaced by dark rain clouds. You felt the first drops on your face and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for the light drizzle to turn into a storm. The rain soaked your clothes and your hair was wet and stuck to your face. This was the perfect weather.

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you down the street until you stood in front of his house. Lightning and thunder joined the rain and the wind became more ruthless. But you didn't care. Three steps and you were standing at his door. You take three deep breaths. You knock on the door three times.

You heard the footsteps behind the door. Your heart was racing and you felt the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You heard the door unlock and you held your breath. The door swung open and you took the first step. Illinois didn't have time to react as your arms wrapped around his neck and cold lips pressed against his. He stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against a wall. Only when he realized it was you kissing him did he allow himself to close his eyes and return the kiss. Only when he wrapped his arms around you and felt how wet your clothes were did he force himself to break the kiss. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away. You were surprised at his sudden abruptness, but the sight that greeted you made every bit of anger in you fade away. His otherwise perfect hair hung over his face, his cheeks red, his lips swollen and his eyes dark. You wanted to lunge at him once more and steal another kiss, but his grip was iron, keeping you at arm's length.

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to keep you at a safe distance. “Why are you wet?” “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you replied while breathing heavily. "I need to see you, feel you, you..." “And that’s why you walked through the rain?” He looked you up and down again. “And that barefoot?!” You rolled your eyes. “How dare I walk barefoot in the rain! This is worse than the time I had to jump off a cliff into the sea! Or the time I had to fight a mutant killer bunny!” Now it was Illinois who rolled his eyes.

You felt his grip on your shoulders loosen and you took the opportunity to approach him again. He didn't do anything to stop you and so you wrapped your arms around him again and hid your face in his neck. Strong arms wrapped around your wet form, pushing you closer to him. “I want to be more than your partner,” you whisper into his skin. In response, he kissed you on the temple. “Were you thinking about a spring wedding or would you prefer fall?” You gave him a light kick to the leg. “Not so fast, my dear! We haven’t seen each other for two months and we have to make up for that time first.” “Whatever you want, treasure!”

[faithiplier]

there is a billboard of @markiplier that is claiming he is a gr00m3r and using his face to represent one. PLEASE SPREAD THIS SO HE KNOWS AND CAN POSSIBLY DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!!

[infinite-infinite-stars]

“How- how long have you…?” Mark breathes, gesturing between the two of them.

Yona sighs. “You’re going to think I’m completely mad.”

Mark chuckles quietly. They’re still close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. “I think I’ve learned how to handle a little madness by now.”

Yona watches his thumb go back and forth across her hand for a moment. “Well,” she says, at length. “I suppose it sortof crept up on me…”

She glances back up at his face. “I mean, I’ve always been fond of you. That shouldn’t be surprising to hear~. But I think what really, you know. Did it, for me, was… the fact that you built the warp core.”

Mark blinks a few times, his brain taking a moment to reboot. She was right, he thinks she’s mad. Or maybe he’s just trying to decide if he heard her correctly. Either way, eventually he manages to squeak out: “...What…?”

Yona offers a slightly sheepish half-smile as if to say ‘see, I told you.’

He squeezes her hand. “The– the warp core, but that– Captain, we’re still talking about when you realized you loved me, right?”

“Yes, Mark,” she confirms. Her hands settle on his shoulders and she takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “Look, I get why you’re confused. I know you consider that to be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”

“Well– yeah, it was,” says Mark, still looking lost. “It was the biggest mistake anyone’s ever made. In history. I’m not even exaggerating, it was literally–!”

Yona puts a finger up to his lips and fixes him with a solemn look. He gets the message: shut up and let the Captain speak. So he does.

“You don’t need to tell me how much damage the wormhole did, darling, I was there,” she points out, gently. “You already know I don’t blame you for any of it, don’t you?” 

Mark nods, hesitantly. “You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“But you still blame yourself.” It’s not a question; it’s an observation. Mark doesn’t even need to nod again for Yona to know that it’s true. “You look at yourself and you see an idiot who wouldn’t listen to reason and almost destroyed reality. I’m telling you right now, that’s not what I see at all.”

“What… do you see, then, Captain?” Mark ventures, his voice whisper-quiet.

She reaches up and cups his cheek, wanting him to look her in the eyes again. “I see a man brilliant enough and resourceful enough to build a device that could bridge dimensions all on his own, with nothing to go on but his own memories of how it worked. A man who only ever wanted to do the right thing. To save as many people as possible, the only way he knew how. Even if it meant enduring an eternity in hell. Even if no one would ever know about the sacrifices he made.”

Mark’s eyes glisten with tears as she speaks. He sniffles once, but doesn’t interrupt.

Her other hand moves to his other cheek. Now she’s cupping his face tenderly in both her hands. “You want to know how I could love you, even knowing you built the warp core?” Her thumbs brush his cheeks and wipe the tears that have gathered in his eyes. “Darling, that’s entirely the wrong question. The question is, how could I not love you? How could I witness all of that and not realize what a rare and noble and extraordinary person my Head Engineer is~?”

[colby-jac-cheese]

Cringe is real but shame is dead! I made cover art for my fanfic series of connected one shots!

Take!

Fun details!

Whyin (the district attorney aka Y/N) has no shadow! This is on purpose to show their simi-separate from the others! Their pose is also simi-lifted to show they are more puppet like than the others! The eyes behind them have 3 specific lines of sight! First is actor himself, then is themself and CM, and then is the viewer!

CM (copy mark) is front stage with them as Co-Star on all adventures! You can tell he plays many roles because of his many branching shadows! (Aka: Yancy, Illinois, Engineer, Barrel and Date Mark) his expression is a more welcoming mirror of the actors, because he is everything the actor pretends to be! he's beckoning the viewer to join him! As always!

Actor! His skin is more of a yellowish hue because he took over Damian's dead body! There's also the ball of red string to mimic the branching looping Timeline of the series! It's done in a cat's cradle to show he's weaving it by hand! The strings controlling the others all come from him!

Dark is attempting to choke actor out, but you can only see his hands because he always works from the shadows! He's also reaching through the silhouette of the mirror frame!

[faeriescorpio]

It Wouldn’t Make A Difference

ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/45856459

tw: character talks a lot about suicide and kinda does it at the end in an implied sense but its In Space With markiplier so dying doesnt mean dying

Summary: The Captain gets a little too cavalier with killing themselves to move on to new universes. Mack gets a bit of a scare.

-------------------------

It's a quiet night. Well, all nights are quiet in space.

You sway to music that even you can't hear, arms out and dancing to an invisible partner.

You're getting kind of tired of this loop. Mark's not here this time, it's Mack. You've had him as your Head Engineer before. This time, you were a on top of it, activating protocols to help the ship instead of opening his pod so that by the time he stepped out of the pod, you had done everything but wake the crew leads. Mack rushed to take action, to take control, of course, but by then you had already placed yourself in a position where you had proven your worth. He couldn't take over so easily, and it left him visibly fuming.

He was likely to find some way to take control by the time you were up tomorrow. You spun your nonexistent partner, catching a blurred glimpse of the glass of the control room that led out to the beautiful stars.

You think that maybe tomorrow morning when you step out of your cryo pod, instead of listening to Mack, you'll just throw the fire hydrant into the window. A quick death that will let you move on in the right direction toward your real head engineer.

"Captain?" You turn to find your head engineer watching you from the hallway, confused.

You thought he was in his cryo pod. Oh well. You suppose it makes sense that he'd be awake. He needs time to start scheming how to take control, doesn't he?

You keep dancing to your nonexistent song. You sway to no tune. There is nothing in your head. It's more like practicing dancing steps than any real moves.

"Captain," Mack says, strangled. "What are you doing?" There's no such thing as embarrassment when no one remembers your actions but you. Still, something drives you to at least acknowledge him.

"Dancing." Impulsively, you turn and reach out a hand. "Care to join? It's not like you'll remember."

"What?" He steps closer despite himself. "What are you talking about?"

"It's okay to dance with me," You repeat. "No one will see. It wouldn't interfere with your plans to take over." Mack makes a startled noise, no doubt surprised that you know about his plans. "Oh shush. As I said. it doesn't matter. You won't remember any of this."

"Why wouldn't I remember this tomorrow morning?"

"Because I'll kill myself," You explain, and the blood drains from his face, and he stares at you. "Then I'll go off to another universe, no doubt one where Mark is head engineer."

"Mark?" Mack looks pale. "Who- who is-"

"None of that." You grab his hand and pull him closer to you.

"Captain!" Mack yanks himself out of your grasp. "Explain yourself!"

Fine. So you tell him some of it. You don't make the mistake of mentioning Mark again, though. You're not quite ready for this universe to break and send you away yet. "The warp core is malfunctioning, and it's going to destroy every universe if I don't stop it. This-" You gesture to the warp crystal in the palm of your hand, and Mack leans forward to see it- "allows me to travel across the universes to try and find the warp core. Sometimes I switch universes randomly, but if I die it always takes me to a new universe."

Mack looks at you, a glimmer of fear in his eyes. "So you've just been killing yourself? Over and over?"

You shrug. "Sometimes it's faster than waiting for the portals to appear."

He grabs you. "Captain," He says, voice low and desperate. "I know that cryo sleep can cause strange dreams, but you can't kill yourself."

You ignore the first part of the statement. It's not the first time someone hasn't believed you, and it won't be the last.

"You need a scapegoat that badly? No thank you." You pull out a small knife you obtained from the murderer version of Mark you met. "It's quite easy. Injuries don't follow me into the next universe. Blood doesn't stay on my clothes. I just-" You raise the knife and Mack smacks it out of your hand.

"No!" He shouts. The knife clatters across the control room floor noisily. It's the loudest thing around.

You follow it with your eyes, and Mack steps in front of your gaze, staring at you intently.

"Captain, please," He says, voice rough, and you look at him. He's sweating, and scared. You don't understand.

"What?" You demand, and he grabs both your hands.

"Please don't kill yourself," he begs. "You- I-" He swallows. "You mean a lot. To- uh. To the crew!"

"To the crew." You say flatly. Sometimes it's true, you suppose. Sometimes the crew remembers what you've done, and they eye you with respect and awe. You're saving the universe. The last time Mack was head engineer, they watched you with hatred. They remembered all the wrong things. You have a certain confidence to you that when you fix everything, they won't remember it at all. Which is good, you suppose. You've been acting a bit like a fool lately.

"To me," Mack amends, and you turn your attention to him, surprised that he would admit it.

"You care about me?" You ask, disbelieving, and he steps closer and instead of saying anything else, he begins to dance with you, following the steps you had been taking with your imaginary partner. How long had he been watching?

It doesn't matter. He won't remember. You dance with him until your feet hurt, and then you keep dancing. Pain isn't real to you anymore. But Mack looks more and more discomforted as you continue, and you think of the fairy tale where people danced until they died. You slow to a stop, then put your hands around his waist.

"What are you doing?!" He yelps as you lift him up and set him down on the main monitor.

"Rest your feet," You reply, and Mack stares at you for a long moment.

"You... you don't feel a thing, do you." His voice sounds miserable.

"No," You confirm. He looks more upset.

"Please don't kill yourself, Captain. You mean a lot to me." Some part of him sounds resigned.

"I can't stay in this universe." Mack hangs his head down, and you almost feel bad. In the dim lighting, with the sweaty shine in his hair, he doesn't look too bad. He looks rather handsome, you admit to yourself.

Eventually, he slides off of the monitor.

"I won't remember any of this?" He asks quietly, and you nod. You're not sure if he actually believes you.

He steps forward anyway. "So I won't remember this." He brings his face closer to yours, hands moving up to cradle your face. His lips meet yours.

He's surprisingly gentle for someone who's going to become a dictator in the near future.

Your eyes flutter shut as the kiss deepens. Eventually, you pull away. Some part of you is disappointed. It might be the most amount of emotion you've felt in quite a while that wasn't a tired determination.

Mack stares at you some more, as if he's trying to commit you to memory. It won't work but you let him try.

"I better see you in the morning, Captain. That's an order," He says, and he steps into his cryo pod. You nod your head and turn to your pod. You don't hear him close his door until you've started to step inside your cryo pod. He must've been waiting. It doesn't matter. The moment you hear his pod close, you step back out of yours and pick up your knife.

You raise your knife.

You were originally going to end this loop early to avoid Mack hurting your feelings.

You're doing it now to spare his.

You've never given thought as to whether you leave some sort of body behind when you switch universes. You're pretty sure you don't.

You pray you don't.

[jokingmisfit]

Bro, bro, bro!

I went back, and was rewatching the 10th anniversary stream that mark did for YouTube, where he explains in space with Mark plier, and I was watching the scene where he was like, "if you guys want Yancy to have magical changing tattoos, you can have that," and all I can think of now is like, if he falls in love with somebody it's like their initials, plus his initials in a heart tattoo appear on his arm, so he has a really hard time hiding when you have a crush on someone, and I thought that was a really cute idea (just like him).

[simpofmanymen]

Would you guys be interested in markiplier ego lore amv/lore edits? Like videos with music that also have the story/lore explained

Eg.

Just a random one might not be exactly what there like but a nice idea ya know

Ps. Does anyone got any tag tips? I’m not sure how to tag on tumbler I’m expecting it’s like TikTok and instagram

[buc-eebarnes]

go in as a green light

He clears his throat. “Hi. Um. The crew told me you hadn’t gone to the mess hall to eat yet. I was wondering, if, uh…” he waffles a bit putting his words together, and when he’s finally able to speak, it’s a rush of, “D’youwannagetdinner?”

pairing: captaineer

tags: first dates, second dates, the romance route egos appear but it's comical, post-iswm, hold on ending

rated T || 4275 words

“Ah,” you glance back to where you had crackers and a hastily wrapped block of cheese on your dining table laid out. You’d been feeling sluggish all day and hadn’t wanted to leave your room. “Real food would be amazing right now.” The corner of his lips quirks up, and it changes his sheepish expression. “There’s something really good in the kitchen tonight. Chef says it’s your favorite.”

read on ao3 || buy me a coffee!

[writtengalaxies]

New Year's

Characters: Head Engineer x GN!Captain

Word Count: 467

Spicy Rating: I...had to write a new year's kiss. I know I should wait until New Year's Eve to post it but...the cute hit me hard.

This was going to be the first big celebration on the new planet.

The terraforming and construction had gone smoothly, as well as adjustments to the new climate and the colonists settling into a new life. It almost feels unreal, how quickly things came into place, and how the elected committee had gotten planning for today, and tomorrow, done.

Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of not just finding this home for you all, but the first act of settling down. The first New Year.

Traditions from all over Earth came together here, with everyone starting to share old traditions and create new ones. Even Gunther got roped into the hubbub, discovering they needed his particular skills to help with the fireworks show that was being planned. Parties had been going all day, and you knew it wasn't just at this main settlement, but from the lights you could see in the distance, each of the nearby smaller settlements had their own festivities too.

It was...bittersweet, in a way. It wasn't like anything you had before, but it was new. Special.

And what was this all but a new start?

The parties were too much for you, too loud after a day full of them, and you needed a break. Mark came with you, the two of you just enjoying the quiet company of each other as you stared up towards the night sky. Things, no matter how loud or hectic they got, were always so much easier to handle with him. Then the counting started, loud enough to be heard this far away, meaning nearly everyone was chanting.

10!

You started to laugh, leaning a little more against Mark.

9!

You could feel how he nervously wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

8!

You turned towards him, giving him a smile, watching his nervousness fade.

7!

He gave you that smile, a special one just for you. Soft. Knowing. You loved it.

6!

Maybe this would be the year you tell him.

5!

The settlement was far enough along that you could start to relax.

4!

He deserved to know how much of your heart he held in his hands.

3!

Mark shifted, turning towards you a little more fully.

2!

He looked so handsome haloed by starlight.

1!

He surged forward, catching your lips with his so fast and so lightly, you could have sworn you imagined it. You felt your face slowly heat up, building into a blush that was warming you more than his proximity. No, he...he couldn't have, could he?

"I've always wanted to kiss someone at midnight," Mark whispered, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. "I'm glad it was you, Captain."

You smiled at the squeak he gave as you hauled him forward to kiss him much longer this time.