#slight angsty

[voidfanatic]

See no evil (No veas el mal),

Hear no evil (No escuches el mal),

And speak no evil (Y no hables el mal).

Eng: I was thinking, "woah, imagine three drawings of the Grunt kiddos representing the Three Wise Monkeys as a pretty obvious metaphor to their situation in the family", so here it is 🥰

Esp: Estaba pensando, "woah, imagina tres dibujos de los niños Grunt representando a los Tres Monos Sabios como una muy obvia metáfora a su situación en la familia", así que aquí está 🥰

[lets-try-some-writing]

Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

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Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

[cyxnidx]

SWEETNESS !

character: neuvillette

content: fluffy & a lil angst.

a/n: just reminding neuvi he matters & worth ur love. kinda short - jus haven't been in the writing mood lately. if we end up getting headcanons / mini scenarios for a while yk why <3.

"do you love me?"

that was the question neuvillette uttered moments ago.

and now, he was a crying mess in your lap while it rained. the rain matched his mood, occasional lighting strikes hitting the grounds surrounding your home due to his anger.

"i just don't," he paused, "just don't feel like m' enough for you. i don't deserve you, and-"

it hurt your heart to see neuvillette like this. his head buried in the plush of your thighs, however tears are falling from his eyes. he sat down in a praying position, head laying on your thighs as he tries to explain what was wrong without choking up on his own words or making himself cry more.

"and i just feel like it's stupidly selfish and idiotic to even think such a thing, but i just can't.. i can't just stop." he looks up to you, eyes all red and puffy from the past 10 minutes of crying. a lightning strike hit, a bit closer to your house this time. "it's hard to make it stop - darling, they won't stop."

it was hard to comprehend just how bad things had gotten for neuvillette to be in this state. and moments ago, you two were simply existing together - on the couch, with the tv playing despite neither of you paying attention to whatever was airing. instead, you were doing your own thing and he was as well - coexisting.

and then, that's when he broke the silence, with a question you never thought he'd bother to think.

were you not showing him enough love? were you not paying enough attention to him? were you not doing enough? had you subconsciously stopped certain habits since the two of you've been together? has these thoughts been racking his brain for who knows how long? just how long had he waited to tell you?

there was no clear answer.

"of course, i love you, neuvi." you tell him softly. "you're the only thing i've loved for a while."

he blinks at you, eyes slightly puffy and skin turning pink from crying and rubbing his face against the pants you wore.

"why wouldn't i love you?" you place your forehead against his, "you're practically all i've ever wanted. all i've ever known, the only thought i've ever had."

he brings a hand up to his cheek, wiping away the rest of the forming tears. "m' sorry,"

"don't apologize." you say softly, kissing his forehead. "have i not been doing enough for you?"

he shakes his head frantically, eyes tearing up at the thought of you thinking you haven't been enough now. "you've been perfect, i promise."

"so have you, neuvi. there's no reason i'd stop loving you."

he sniffles, a self-pitying chuckle leaving him for a moment. "i jus' didn't think i deserved you, with all you do f'me, and then i think about me, and," he pauses, his throat closing as he begins to get more emotional once again. "and i couldn't fathom a reason you'd be so patient with me."

"because you deserve it, neuvi. every inch of love and affection i give you, you deserve. you're worthy of it all." you begin to kiss around his face, wiping any drying tears from his cheeks once again. "you're so sweet, you're a sweetness i can't stray from."

[eating-figs-here]

Oh my stars I need to gnaw on bones and perish in the woods because. Because some people believe Wanderer/Scaramouche has gone through an entire redemption arc. No!! He is at the beginning. He is taking his first steps forward!!! He is STICKING with the Good Guys (TM) because it's the most optimal thing to do!! It's not out of character, he knows how to play the cards he's been dealt! And y'know, overtime, he should begin to grow to care for the people of Sumeru and the region itself!!! Like that's the point!!!! He isn't there yet!!!!!! He isn't supposed to be a good guy yet!!! The reason this "redemption arc" feels "unsatisfying" is because he isn't a fully converted good guy yet!!!! Aaaaaaaa!! :(

I have my thoughts below- and uh, it's a bit long

And to those saying Hoyo should've killed him off? Please, I do want to hear why you believe that killing off Scaramouche would've been more impactful than keeping him alive. I, personally, believe that killing him off would be a disservice to what the story has been trying to get across as Sumeru's version of wisdom.

And to explain what I believe the story has been trying to get across about wisdom: Wisdom is, to Sumeru, the celebration of individuality interwoven with the celebration of community. Greater Lord Rukkhadevata says that dreams are the fruit of human wisdom, and dreams are reflections of a person's raw joys, anxieties, sorrows, and examples of the bottomless creativity the mind produces. Those combined dreams power the Akasha, which helped Rukkhadevata repel forbidden knowledge and is considered an incredible piece of technology in Teyvat. (That's a lot of weight and power they're putting into dreams!!)

Wanna see another example of how starkly different individuals come together to beat an imposing foe? LITERALLY THE SUMERU CAST. Wonder why when you played throughout the Sumeru quest line it felt a tad bit like found family?? Because that's the point!! The narrative spends time fleshing out the bonds between characters, whether old or new! We see characters like Cyno, Dehya, and Alhaitham grow to trust one another despite their tense start! We see previously established relationships like Dehya and Dunyarzad or Tighnari and Cyno! They all get closer to the Traveler as well! It is INTENTIONAL!!

Okay, now back to this puppet, Scaramouche is someone who has consistently had his own personhood denied, with his right to exist as an individual played with. His own perceived abandonment from Ei and the Fatui orchestrating the destruction of his only support group (the people of Tatarasuna) in order to be used for their own gain hammers that point home. He rejects himself by ignoring his own humanity in favor of becoming something he THINKS he's supposed to be! The Harbingers do not trust one another, and they are ready to stab their colleagues in the back from their own gain. (Which he does!! What sense of community here?? None!!)

Do you see? Scaramouche, in this state, is the antithesis of Sumeru's wisdom. Which is precisely why he fails. He fails and he falls due to the wisdom of the people of Sumeru and the joint efforts of the Sumeru cast. He, a shattered puppet once more, is forced to reckon with the fact that who he believes he should be is not who he is. And to make that realization have meaning, he must live.

There is a reason why the nation of wisdom is also the nation of dendro. To grow, adapt, and change are its core principles. So why wouldn't the Dendro Archon extend her hand to someone denied what she had been recently given- support, companionship, community. Wouldn't it be much more impactful to see a sickly sapling turn into a tree rather than letting it die? With Wanderer, we will (eventually) see the harvest of Sumeru's ideals. From rocky start to the nebulous finish, Wanderer will embody the adaptation and growth that marks Sumeru's wisdom as he steadily grows into his own individual- with many characters we know accompanying him on that journey.

I dunno how else to put this, I literally just think that having a character actively being shaped by what makes Sumeru.. Sumeru after a total rejection of it is neat. Because.. Y'know. Plants? Nurturing and growing?? I am being SO real I do not think narratively cutting off a character's ability to grow would be Sumeru's jam. Sorry for this mess of a rant, I hope my thoughts got through.. and this isn't even talking about the nuances of other characters (especially Nahida!!) but I am. Tired. So tired :')

[ooeygooeyghoul]

Ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｂｕｒｎ， ａｎｄ ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｈｕｒｔ．

[yinastra]

✩ A Silent Heartbeat ✩

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Xiao x gn!adeptus!reader

Summary: Xiao has never noticed the beauty of the world around him─ or of his "partner", either.

TW: Self depreciation, survivors guilt

Cws: Xiao talks down on himself a lot, angsty, hurt/comfort(??), sun and moon trope(if you squint)

Wc: Around 4.3k (I've gone insane)

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Xiao's pants come in heavy as he stares at his surroundings.

This ruin guard factory had been becoming more and more active, something he couldn't allow to continue.

There had been a small girl who was almost harmed under his watch by these very ruin guards. Unforgivable, he thought.

How could he, an adeptus sworn to protect the vast lands of Liyue, allow a small child to feel such fear for her life? Unforgivable.

His face is expressionless as he removes the Yaksha mask, placing it back upon his waist.

His work done, he sets out to retire back to the inn for a while to gather his bearings. Then, he shall set out again on his nightly patrol of Liyue.

He appears where he always does, on the roof of Wangshu Inn. There, he sits. He has not the right mind to admire the way the stars shine, nor the crisp night air on his tongue. Instead, he fixates on the scent of bloodshed still lingering on his person.

He notices footsteps on the balcony of Wangshu Inn coming in rapidly. Looking down, it's..

Them.

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An adeptus of fairly negligible background, they serve as a mere worker at Wangshu Inn. However, not long ago..

they were to be assigned as Xiao's personal healer.

Xiao never took care of himself well. Any wound he received he'd brush off as a "flesh wound", not paying much attention. He was an adeptus, how could he protect Liyue and uphold his promise to Morax if he would allow such 'small' wounds hinder his ability to carry out his duties?

Of course, as an adeptus, naturally, the wounds would heal. However, it was no secret that adepti could still feel pain. Even of 'flesh wounds'.

This was made apparent to Zhongli─ Morax, by them.

In turn, Morax summoned Xiao. Without question, Xiao returned to Morax's side, awaiting orders, when─

"Xiao. I'd like to introduce you to your new partner." His deep voice resounded through the walls.

Xiao looks up from his bowed position, eyes piercing and sharp.

There, stands another adeptus, their person adorned with many medicinal herbs utilized for mortal use.

"Useless," He thinks. Mortal medicine doesn't work on him. He's an adeptus, he's meant to be above these material things. He's meant to protect mortals, not waste supplies they need. It'd be undignified of him.

They introduce themselves. Their name, their occupation. "Herbalist," they said. "Doctor," they said.

Useless.

An herbalist? A doctor? A partner?

How useless.

Xiao had no need for those things. He was simply..

he simply..

No matter. He had no need.

However, Morax was persistent on the topic, and who was he, really, to deny Morax's orders? Nobody. So, Xiao 'accepts' this 'partner' of his, with no intentions to further a relation with them.

It began small. Instead of the chef of Wangshu Inn leaving the food for him, they did it. It began with them simply being the one to deliver the almond tofu, leaving it in the night's solemn embrace for him, to them sitting near the balcony's table, carefully setting down the plate for him in wait.

The weight of Morax's expectations pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, each silent command a heavy burden upon his shoulders.

With a resigned sigh, he begrudgingly accepted their presence, feeling the weight of duty pulling him down. He sat in stoic silence, his jaw clenched tight, unwilling to indulge in conversation but willing enough to endure the oppressive silence that hung between them.

..did not deserve.

At best, he'd spare a few words for them. They did this a while, until he learned..

he was specially reserving parts of his day for them. For that very moment.

And then..

He'd reserve for them parts of him. For that very moment.

For that very moment they meet under the moon's gentle glow, as friends, as colleagues, as..

Partners.

It used to be a chore to speak even a few words to them, to even sit at the same table as them. Yet, now..

He craved it.

He wanted them to listen. He wanted them to hear what he had gone through.

Maybe..

Maybe they'd accept him.

What a foolish thought. Incredibly irresponsible─ how could he disregard the fact that his karmic debt would still chip away at their very being, their soul.

So he strays away from them. He sits on the roof longer, peering down at them.

He observes how they deflate when he's late. When he doesn't show up at all.

How their eyes fall down, as they fidget with an accessory on their person, and as they huff to see their breath in the cool night air.

He can't help himself from feeling..

incomplete.

Without their presence, without their listening ear, without their calming voice, without their soft chiding and scolds, he's..

missing something.

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He looks down as they sit there, still waiting for him. As the moon reaches its peak, he realizes they won't leave.

He could just take the almond tofu and leave, right?

He couldn't have anticipated this.

His arrival is immediately met with their warm embrace. He was surprised, startled even.

Dealing with the vicious beasts of Teyvat was usual for him. Not even the most abominable creatures and monsters could make him cower anymore.

And yet..

These mortal feelings, this mortal warmth..

It shook him to his core.

Quickly, they pull away, apologizing for the sudden intrusion of his 'personal space'.

This.. was not a feeling familiar to him.

They apologize profusely, placing the almond tofu on the table and leaving quickly.

He sits down by himself, bringing the almond tofu to his mouth.

Tonight..

The stars seemed to shine brighter.

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The next night he returns with a gaping gash on his arm. He hadn't slept in days, causing his guard to falter for a moment too long.

He grits his teeth as the pain meshes into the strings of karmic debt, pulling and pushing at him constantly.

Without thinking, he jumps down to the balcony.

They seem startled, but the surprise is met with worry as they see the large gash on his arm. Immediately, they stand up, assessing the wound.

Without hesitation, they take his other arm and throw it around their shoulder, holding him up with their own arm.

They lead him to his room, setting him down carefully onto the bed.

"What did I say about sleeping? Even adepti must rest," They chide, carefully wetting a towel and dabbing the spot, causing him to hiss.

"I have to need for mortal activities. I live only to kill, and to kill alone. Sleep is unnecessary." He speaks out gruffly, looking the other way, towards the window.

"This wound speaks otherwise. How are you to protect Liyue if you can't even protect yourself? I require you to rest for at least 3 days before you return to duty." They say, running a hand along the wound.

The wound closes up partially, courtesy of their healing abilities. They open up their medicine bag, pulling out some herbs he's never seen before.

"Mortal medicine won't─"

"This isn't mortal medicine," They interrupt him before he can finish speaking, some of the leaves in their mouth as they place some others in the mortar and pestle to crush into a fine powder.

After a few moments, they add in an herbal base, mixing the two together. They lightly apply the cool paste to his wounded skin. He grits his teeth at the sudden sensation.

"This is adepti medicine. I have specially cultivated it myself. It should help with the pain." They explain, seeming unphased as they crush up another bundle of leaves.

"This.. this will induce a restful sleep. I require you take this every night before the moon reaches its peak." They clarify, holding out the paste that has been mixed into a tea-like base.

He opens his mouth to protest stubbornly, to again, state how he, an adeptus, could not leave his position for such 'useless' rest. However, he, again, is silenced by them. This time..

by their unfaltering gaze.

Eyes swelled with worry, no doubt had he never seen such emotion within an expression, just..

just for him.

He quiets, accepting the treatment.

"...and adepti must eat. Before I send you off to rest, I shall bring you your almond tofu. Don't move too much, that wound isn't completely healed yet." They say, leaving the room, leaving him with his thoughts.

The wind howled outside, a symphony of nature's fury as it swept through the trees, rattling their branches and sending leaves swirling in a chaotic dance.

He looks until he sees his reflection in the window, faintly.

He's pathetic, he thinks. Requiring help as the sworn protector of Liyue, he.. he..

He really didn't deserve this.

How could he have survived? All the other Yaksha..

Why was he the only one left?

Xiao's gaze drifted to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. Memories of battles lost and comrades fallen flashed through his mind like shards of glass. He wasn't the strongest Yaksha, that much was clear.

Each defeat weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of his inadequacy. The thought gnawed at him like a festering wound, twisting his insides with self-doubt. As he looked up at the star-filled sky, he couldn't help but wonder: how could anyone love a warrior who had failed so many times?

He shouldn't have survived. He shouldn't have lived to see this day. And he really shouldn't allow himself the luxury to even.. enjoy these days.

He did not deserve this more than the other Yaksha did. He did not deserve peaceful days, he did not deserve compassion, he did not deserve love and care like the other Yaksha did.

The other Yaksha would have surely treated them better.

Unlike him, who treats them with unwavering frigidity.

Unlike him, who acts indifferent to their acts of service.

Unlike him, who craves their voice, their touch, but will never speak of it.

Unlike him, who is unworthy.

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Footsteps are unheard throughout the halls. He can sense them as they make their way back to his room, a plate of almond tofu in hand.

This was not the plate on the balcony before. This was a new plate, plated differently and made differently from that of the usual; this was not made by the hands of the chef of Wangshu Inn.

"I've decided that the almond tofu on the balcony wasn't tasteful anymore. Here. I've made it myself. I apologize for any mistakes made, the chef wasn't present at this time." They speak quietly, sitting near his bedside and passing him the plate as he sits up.

With his good arm, he raises the mortal utensil to take a bite of it.

It tastes..

It tastes just like a sweet dream.

"..please take the medicine on the bedside. It will help you sleep. If you require anything of assistance, I will be in the room over. Please call my name." They stand up, gathering their things, before a hand clutches their wrist.

He wants to ask for them to stay, just for a while longer, he wants to tell them all of these complicated human emotions, but he quiets these thoughts.

"Thank.. you." He manages to mutter, before quickly releasing them.

They give him a small nod and leave.

That night, he takes the sleeping medicine.

The dreams it induces are..

sweet.

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The next morning, he awakes to the sound of the morning birds singing, the sun filtering through the shades of his room.

Sitting up, he feels his head pound. No more than a side effect of the medicine, he assures himself.

Waking up this way was.. new.

It felt so.. tranquil here.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the herbalist walking into his room. They sit down near his bedside once more, holding the back of their hand to his forehead to check for temperature.

"Good morning, Xiao. How do you feel?" They ask, rummaging through their bag for something.

"..Fine." He replies curtly, unwilling to elaborate.

"Alright then. I suggest you stay in bed for today. Tomorrow, you should be set to start moving again, but still no combat or sharp movements, you hear me?"

"..This is unnecessary."

"Do you hear me, Xiao?" They reiterate again sternly.

He paused, knowing they wouldn't let up until he agreed.

"..yes." He murmurs begrudgingly.

"Perfect. I'll have Smiley Yanxiao prepare your─"

"Can you.. please.. do it.." He manages to rasp, his voice caught in his throat at the prospect. What was he doing? Why would he say that? They were already taking such good care of him.. something he truly didn't deserve. So why.. why was he asking for more? Why did he crave more?

They pause.

Were they going to deny his request? To have his request, spoken so brazenly be denied was to be expected, he thought. He said to himself, "Why would they ever do this for me again? They'd be better off with nothing to do with me."

"..Of course." They reply.

"Stay here. It'll only be a moment. And remember; no sharp movements." They remind, leaving the room, and leaving Xiao breathless in the process.

Breathless from the sheer effort it took to mutter that request.

Breathless from their reply.

And breathless from them.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The moments pass as Xiao stares down at his lap. Xiao: bedridden, helpless, at the mercy of another adeptus.

The other Yaksha would never humor this idea of him. After all, he was always so cold and brooding, who would ever think of him sitting in bed, with only his thoughts to accompany him? And with..

A companion, to boot.

This time, he doesn't sense their presence before they walk through the door.

He let his guard down again. And he wasn't even tired.

How foolish of him. What if it had been some kind of creature? He couldn't begin letting his guard down like this. This would be detrimental to his role as protector of Liyue. How could he be so weak? How could he be so foolish?

But it wasn't. It was them.

"Xiao?" Their voice snaps him out of his thought.

"Here you are. Please take this time to rest. Liyue needs its protector, but no living being is simply a machine. Liyue needs its protector to be in his best condition, alright?" They say, folding some of the towels by his bed.

"..right." He mutters, mouth full of almond tofu.

"I'll be off today. I must tend to my fields." They stand up from their sitting position.

"Just call my name if you ever need me, and I will be there." They say, as their footsteps trail out of the room, their presence disappearing soon.

That day, he takes his time looking out at the world. The sun had begun to set, the air beginning to change into the sharp night he was all too familiar with.

He never noticed the beautiful oranges, yellows, and pinks before. When the sun sets, it paints such a beautiful picture. Much unlike the sight of bloodshed he usually observed. The blood staining his clothing, the blood staining the ground around him.

He took the medicine on his bedside, slowly drifting off to sleep as the sun followed suit.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The next time he awoke, they were already there with a plate of almond tofu for him, made fresh. His arm certainly felt better, he noticed.

The sun seemed brighter than he'd ever noticed, the trees lush and the flowers seemed to prosper under its watchful gaze.

He sits up in bed, hands in his lap.

"May I touch your arm?" They ask.

He's surprised. Nobody has ever asked him before. They might have noticed how his demeanor changed with physical contact. They..

worried about his comfort?

..Inconceivable.

He slowly nods, holding out his arm. It surely felt better than it did the day before, but it still slightly hurt to hold out.

They trace two fingers over his wound, helping the scarring swell down. After, they apply the cooling paste once more.

"It looks like you'll be alright," They begin.

"You'll be able to get out of bed today. Just no fighting. And no sharp movements, as the wound could still open." They conclude, standing up to leave after their assessment of the situation. They must be going back to tend to their fields, something Xiao had no experience in. He doubted he could be helpful, and him, a merciless killer, tending to delicate plants and herbs? He could never. But still..

"May I.. come with you?" He chokes out. "To.. to your fields." He clarifies.

A slight expression of surprise surfaces on their face as they think for a moment. They seemed perplexed.

"I.. I understand if─"

"..You can come." They nod. "I don't mind some extra help. And it's good to get some fresh air."

"You mean.. I can.. come?" He asks, mouth running dry.

"Of course. Would you be ready to come now? I can wait a few moments."

"Y.. yes. I can come now." He quickly says, sounding more.. eager than he meant to.

"Great. Would you like a change of clothing? I'll have your current clothes washed."

"A change of clothing? I don't own any other articles of clothing."

"..ah. I see. Not to worry, I'm sure there are some basic articles of clothing in here." They say, walking over to the dressers and rummaging through them. Not a few moments later do they return with some basic clothing─ a brown shirt that clasps in the middle and pants that are tapered at the bottom.

"I assume you don't need help with dressing?" They ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"No. I have not lost my ability to dress." He speaks, looking away.

"Good, good. I'll be outside of your room should you require any assistance. Feel free to come out once you're ready." They say, leaving the room and shutting the door.

Once dressed, Xiao takes in the feeling of the common clothing.

He's never been in this clothing before. It felt.. different. The cloth felt strange on his body. This.. was mortal clothing. He should never be seen wearing mortal clothing. It was unbecoming of someone of his status.

Walking out of the room, he catches a glimpse of them in the kitchen, helping Smiley Yanxiao with the influx of orders. Their moves are quick, nimble, and he finds that they are skilled in cooking. Their hands are delicate, most likely due to the skill required to pluck plants and herbs from the ground without damaging them.

They look up and see Xiao. Smiling at Smiley Yanxiao, they wave a goodbye to him and walk over to Xiao.

The pair set off not a moment later.

Walking on the stone path, a silence covers the two. The hot sun was at its peak, leading the herbalist to pull up their sleeves.

Soon after, they arrive at the plot of land. As far as Xiao's eye can see, the fields are filled with various different types of herbs. They harvest this.. all by themselves?

"If you'd like to help, go and grab a few of the baskets. We'll begin with 3, and then we can get more if needed." They instruct, leaving him to find the baskets.

Doing mortal chores in mortal clothing, how idiotic of him to partake in such activities, he thought to himself as he moved through the fields, trying his best not to trample any of the plants.

As he makes his way back, he finds they they've already plucked many herbs from the ground. They must be used to this by now.

He leans downward, trying his best to pluck the herbal leaves. He's confused when the leaf crumbles in his grasp. Perhaps this was just a testament to his murderous nature, unable to appreciate beauty and preserve it. Perhaps he really was only meant for murder, killing, and war. Perhaps─

His thoughts are interrupted as they seem to notice his struggle, crouching down next to him. Beckoning him to look and observe, their hands gently pluck the leaves without haste. This leaves it pristine, looking as if it had been untouched.

His breath hitches. He could never do that. His work was based on haste and power. He could only ever destroy beauty, this was a fact he knew rang true. But as they took his hand, gently ran his coarse fingers across the leaves, and plucked it with such care, he wondered..

..was he capable of being.. gentle?

He discarded the thought.

As he worked alongside them in the fields, a sense of tranquility settled over him, the burden of his duties momentarily lifted by the simple act of tending to the earth.

The torturous strings of his karmic debt still tore at him, body and soul, even if he should have been at peace.

Who was he angry at?

That night, he lies in bed, staring out at the window to catch a glimpse of the moons glow. He never noticed how bright it shone, even if the sun proved brighter.

The moonlight beamed down, coating the world in a fluorescent white. The world stands still, the world stagnating into a cold blue as the night ran its course.

He closed his eyes.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The next time he opened his eyes, the dawn was still young. Looking out to the window, he took note of the warm sun that blanketed the landscape, protecting all in its light.

The reflection of himself in the glass of the window was more apparent, almost like the stained glass in an art piece.

The door creaks open, revealing them in their usual form.

As per usual, they come in and inspect his wound, checking for any changes.

"It should be almost fully healed by now. I do advise you take it easy for today, however, you're ready to get back on 'duty' tomorrow." They nod, staying in their sitting position.

They mutter something to themselves before turning to the bedside table, handing Xiao a plate of almond tofu.

Xiao silently takes the plate, bringing the spoon to his mouth for a mouthful.

Within their presence, he realizes, time.. felt endless.

The days that have passed were simple days, filled with menial, useless tasks.

So why did he feel..

So fulfilled?

The other Yaksha wanted to become as the mortals did once the archon war ended.

They all wanted to live what he was living now.

He, at that time, had no interest in the mortal lifestyle, even after the war.

..did he?

But even so, he had no business feeling fulfillment of any kind.

He who was worthless.

He who was unworthy.

Yet, that day, he stayed in bed without protest.

He sat idly instead of stubbornly requesting release.

And he spoke with them.

A long while.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

By the end of it, the wounds imbedded into his psyche were very evident.

They paused, pursing their lips a moment, before responding.

"...I apologize. My expertise.. is in the body, the flesh. I have no resources to heal the wounds of the mind."

"..Perhaps.. you are capable of much more than you believe." He replies, not quite understanding what his own words meant.

That night, as they left his room, he came to a conclusion.

The one he was angry at had always been himself.

Angry for surviving.

Angry for being so powerless.

Angry, for everything.

And yet, with the presence of his 'partner', he noticed the way the grass would bend to the breeze, as the tides would rise and fall with the moon.

He noticed the will of the mountains, unwavering and steeled.

He noticed the blooming of the flowers, resilient in their passage.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The sun rises to light the path and protect, even if he doesn't realize it.

The moon rises to set the path for rest, its cold tones readying the world for the suns warmth.

The sun burns so bright to give hope and strength, but even the sun must rest, lest the sun burn itself to the core, unable to shine once more.

The moon may not shine as bright, but even so, it will always serve as a light in the dark, a symbol of rest.

The sun doesn't realize his capacity for warmth and love.

As the sun guides all others, the moon will slowly guide the sun unto the path of peace.

Where, on that pier,

he may finally look onto his reflection,

and accept who he is.

[shroommush]

A puppet who's outlived its usefullness.

[kens-ramblings]

i’m back on my singer tim drake au bs(sue me he’s my current fixation and im always obsessed with music so take it or leave it).

okay so after the bruce quest he decides he can’t do the vigilante bs anymore, and bruce will be back so WE can be ran remotely until he’s got it again. he leaves gotham not long after the ra’s thing. he picks a new alias and decides he will finally use the vocal lessons his parents made him take when he was younger. and he starts a band, some how cassie, bart, and kon(since they are also back from the dead and cult shit now and if that’s not the timeline,,, it is now) find him while he is in the beginning stages and they are like fuck it let’s be a band. they blow up and fast, bc plot  convenience. so it’s only like a year after bruce quest, bruce has taken WE back and the batfam has just been busy. they are vigilantes shit never stops for them; they just got their dad back into fully working order, they are still acclimating dami, there is some shifting of suits and responsibilities happening. all this meaning the fact that tim never came back just,,,, got lost in the shuffle. so now that everything is slowing down they are like,,, wtf,, where is tim? they spend a while searching for him but the trail goes cold bc aliases and tim is damn good at hiding when he wants to. they eventually have to put it on the back burner. but then one day, maybe now it’s been about another year since they started looking for him, and dukes favorite band is coming to town. the wayne’s all decide to go, even jason is gonna go under the guise as a body guard for the fam. and color them shocked when they see kon settle behind a drum set, bart come bouncing on stage with a guitar and cassie grinning with a bass. they’ve all been missing for just a couple months less than tim. and then their breath is stolen as they see him. it’s fucking tim,,, walking right on stage as if he hasn’t been the center of a bat hunt for the past YEAR, smiling with a microphone in hand and asking the crowd if they are ready to get going. even more shocked with the first notes of a song starts playing and he makes direct eye contact with each and every one of them and calmly says, “this songs for you, you know who the hell you are.” and starts singing. I like to think the song is “love from the other side” by fall out boy. there are just so many parallels to parts of tim’s story(the fannon ver. anyways, im still working on the comics) and lines in the song(i’ll expand in the comments this is already long as hell)

and they are taken aback, why the hell is he so angry. and then dick specifically is reminded of how he treated tim right before he left. how at the time he thought tim was going to fine, and dami just needed him more. so tim just fell to the wayside. a running theme recently. and from the few times they had to deal with ra’s while looking for tim, it sounds like he went through some shit, and then he left. and they are at a loss. struggling with wrapping their heads around it all. and then the concert is over, and they are left scrambling, hoping to talk to tim before he’s gone in the wind again.

[pigeonpeach]

Too little too late <3

Summary: Diluc vs Jean x fem reader!

Did he really except you to wait? You had spent your life with the knowledge you would marry Dluc Ragvindr when you were of age. You grew alongside him and grew to like him. You two were close and you didn’t mind the arrangement and neither did he. But on his 18th birthday much happened to destroy those plans. His father died, he left the knights, he ran away with no explanation or even a note left for you his now worried fiancée. No answer when he’d come back or if he wouldn’t. To say you were stressed was a understatement.

That’s the thing about relationships, you’re not supposed to ditch your partner because you’re overwhelmed. You take a breather and talk to them about it. You had told him he could always talk to you about anything no matter what. And you advocated for him to do so, but he didn’t. He didn’t send you a letter in those 4 years he was gone. But who did was Jean Gunnhildr. Your parents rescinded the arrangement, they worried Diluc was too unstable to be wed currently. All without notifying him as they had no way to do so. Who was there to comfort you? Not Diluc but Jean. Jean who was already dealing with the fallout and such herself. Jean let you vent and cry in her lap as she visited you regularly. You two had always been close friends. You even joked you wished you could marry her instead. As a year passed with no word from Diluc you gave up your dream or expectation of his return. It was heartbreaking but necessary, you took the promise ring and gave it to Adelinde as you wished to focus on yourself rather than burden the worries of a man who wouldn’t even let you know if he was okay or not. Maybe it was wrong to hate him but the man left you high and dry with no explanation or anything to go off of! You had no choice but to assume you just weren’t important enough for him to even consider he was leaving you behind. Your heart was in pieces and you had to fix it yourself.

Come 4 years and Diluc returned to Mondstadt no longer recognizable as the man he used to be. A stoic and emotionless expression with eyes that made him seem bored more often than not. He didn’t blame you for not waiting for him. But he did notice how Jean seemed to accompany you alot now. Far more than ever. Even as she got busier would you accompany her to go out in town, your arm wrapped around hers. Maybe its wrong for him to be jealous but… he can’t help it. There’s even talks that you might end up her wife instead. Your parents don’t seem against that idea either. To them Diluc is a good businessman but Jean is slated to be the next in charge, which is a big upgrade. She’s proven to be devoted and steady even in the face of change and battle. Perhaps they consider him a coward, that is definitely cruel but they also saw how you desperately tried to reach out to him to no avail.

As for Jean however she’s always loved you. She always envied Diluc for the fact he’d get you someday. She grew up gritting her teeth in a smile each time she heard him mention your future wedding with him. She bared it for you, to stay close to you and stay your friend. When he left she swooped in to console you. She didn’t expect to earn your heart but she wasn’t complaining. She also worried about diluc even though he was her competition all these years. She couldn’t help but be upset at how he left you though. Sure the first months were understandable but he should’ve tried to at least clarify he was okay or something at some point. She can’t help but pull her darling closer when he tries to talk. She’s finally proven herself as a option to them and she isn’t going to back down now.

Its quite a predicament to be in.

[lemontartmart]

They are so coworkers ever 💖

[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]

[xxlady-lunaxx]

I don't want to | {ShinoGiyuu}

Theme: Fluffy angst?

Note: Prompt—"I can't fall in love with you. I don't want all the pain that comes with it." I love angst prompts- This one fit Giyuu well sooo

Manga spoilers kinda 🤩

and i think yk what that means~

Giyuu was in love. For the first time in so many years. And he couldn't seem to get himself out of this stupid thing. Whenever he saw her, his eyes would light up and butterflies lit up his chest, beating his heart faster than it should be. He tried suppressing it, tried everything.

He tried writing out everything annoying about her, everything he hated, but he kept drawing blank after writing the first word, not knowing anything about her that was negative or bad. 

He tried ignoring her but he found himself constantly wandering back to her, gazing at butterflies because they reminded him of her.

He tried convincing himself that love was a waste of time, it wouldn't help. He made himself think about everything that could go wrong but his mind wandered back to the fact that he loved her—he loved her too much to care.

It was hard.

He wanted her. Too much. 

But he couldn't have her. He didn't want... to endanger her. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

So all he could do was try—try—to not gain her love back. He wanted it so badly but he couldn't bring himself to do it. If he couldn't fall out of love, might as well make sure she didn't love him.

So he ignored her. Acted cold, uncaring. Even went out of his way to talk to every other Hashira except her. Even Sanemi. 

But... she kept coming back. She was persistent. 

Her smile was curious and asking, wondering why he wouldn't talk to her. She would ask him questions, pester her day after day, not caring that he wouldn't talk back to her. Because he never told her to leave. Even if he acted like this, he'd never once told her to leave. 

He didn't want to. He couldn't make himself shout at her, or say anything mean. So he stayed quiet.

And yet she persisted. She didn't stop. Never did.

He loved that about her. He wished he didn't.

And one day... one day, she told him something. Something that made him freeze up, his mind drawing blank, scared. No, not scared. But his heart raced and his face flushed and he turned to look at her, actually, physically acknowledge her. 

"What?" 

She smiled. "I like you." She said it so simply but to his ears it was a melody, a song. She spoke like an angel, her smile and her eyes and her... everything. It was angelic.

He didn't know what to say. He stared at her for a long time, trying to think of something. 

But then she turned, humming to herself, and skipped off. She didn't seem disappointed by his lack of response. 

Perhaps his appearence had been obvious that he repricated her feelings.

And he was left there, by himself, staring in wonder at the girl he loved so dearly. The one who had just told him that she loved him.

He found himself falling deeper in love.

When she spoke to him, he would give her a slight smile or a nod. Would respond to her questions with a short assent or a shake of the head. He wanted her to be happy. He didn't want her to think he liked her, though she probably guessed. So he didn't speak. He only... acknowledged her. 

Which seemed to be enough for her for she began talking a lot more, eating lunch with him when she could and taking her time to give him things, small gifts.

He began giving some back, feeling almost guilty if he didn't.

They wrote letters. 

He kept his short and careful, not wanting her to think anything of them. Hoping she wouldn't mind if he didn't write anything so elaborate or exciting as her own. 

It was something he began looking forward to. 

She noticed. 

She asked him, one day, something. Something that made him freeze so similarly to that one day but in a way that wasn't quite so wonderful. 

"Do you like me?"

He couldn't say yes. He couldn't nod. If he did, she was bound to die. Everyone he got close to died. Because of him. He was always so incapable of helping. Saving.

Somehow, he saved people's lives. Everyone's lives except the people that mattered most to him.

He just stared at her. And for a long moment, he didn't know what to do. 

She looked confused, not able to read his expression.

And then she left.

She looked disappointed. Her posture wasn't the lively one it had been the other day.

It was almost sad, confused.

She stopped seeing him as much.

She began eating with him less and less. Her gifts were less thought out and she just handed them to him with a short, "Hello" and then a "goodbye."

Her letters drew shorter and shorter until they were only a few sentences. 

He didn't know what to do. He'd fucked up somehow and he didn't know what the hell he had to do.

He tried talking to her more.

His letters were filled with apologies, his gifts were flowers and chocolates suddenly, little notes of 'I'm so sorry,' again and again and again. 

When he got hurt, Aoi was put to the task of helping him.

She never did it anymore. Her previous smiles and laughter and talk weren't given to him anymore. He would try to offer them back to her but his attempts probably seemed pitiful compared to how wonderful she'd been. She still was. But not to him anymore.

He would catch her smiling as she spoke to someone else. But as soon as her eyes landed on him, her whole expression seemed to melt away. She would suddenly look weary, tired. As if she didn't know what to do.

He felt like as she always looked around him too. 

And then something happened.

Something that made him realize that he should've told her. Should've explained everything.

He stood above her grave.

It was raining; fitting to his mood. At least it hid his tears. 

He stared at the stone with her name etched in it, looking stupid and horrible compared to her lovely smiles, her beautiful looks.

But they were all gone. All of what was left of them were in his memories, replayed over and over, each day getting dimmer and dimmer with age.

He placed the flowers he'd brought down. Wisteria. Purple like her eyes. Representing the flowers she'd constantly use when she'd been alive.

And then roses. Red like the love he'd felt for her, red like the danger that flashed before her a moment before her death. Representing the flowers he'd given to her as he'd tried to get her to talk to him again.

He stared at the plants. They were dead too. He'd cut them off of their original bushes and now they were dead. Because of him.

He sank to a crouch in front of her gravestone, his eyes fluttering close. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words he'd spoken and written and begged of her to understand for weeks before her death. "I'm so sorry, Shinobu."

{Word count: 1193}

Anyone notice how I didn't use their names at all except in the very first word and very last?<3 

If you did then wow bc I was half way through writing this when I realized I'd not used either of their names throughout most of it-

I loved writing this :0

dk why LMFAO

i rarely write ShinoGiyuu so

[yupthisisshe]

For What It’s He’s Worth - Neville x gn! Reader

A/n: warning - negative self-talk (Neville talks badly about himself but reader quickly tells him how wrong he is); gender neutral reader; reader and Neville are not dating but reader is in love with Neville (they are def mutually pining in my head but reader doesn't officially know that in this piece and its not really hinted at on Neville's part); this is mostly just one poignant moment between the two and practically no other plot; its angsty fluff (I think?)

“But maybe that’s all I’m good for. Forgetting and being forgotten.” Neville says with such acceptance that your heart cracks in two because you can tell he has considered this too many times.

“No!” You exclaim, nearing a shout.

“[Y/n]…” he says quietly. Unsure where you are going with this, but understanding how heartfelt this moment is.

“I won't let you talk about yourself like that! I won't!” he was the melancholy one, but you were the one nearing tears.

“But it's true,” he says with the saddest smile you’ve ever seen. The tears became harder to hold back just looking at him. How can he believe this?!

“It’s not! You're not forgettable! Neville, you are so unforgettable that from the moment I saw you I've never been able to forget you! Not even for a moment!“ you couldn't tell if you were being hysterical but you didn't care. He needed to know, to truly understand that he was not forgettable. He was so much more than he gave himself credit for. You didn't care if you had to scream it from the astronomy tower or coddle him nightly while whispering it into his ear like it was the only words you knew besides “I love you.” Three words which you weren't sure you had the courage to say just yet, but you could tell him this: he. Was. Unforgettable. And nothing less.

“[Y/n]…” was all he could say. He didn’t know what to think. No one had ever said anything to him to indicate that he was anything but forgettable. Not everyone made him feel that he was, but no one had ever told him he was, in fact, unforgettable. He couldn’t believe it. Was he truly memorable after all?

Both of you stood there, unspeaking. Tears began to seep from your eyes. You couldn’t hold them back anymore. Neville still didn’t know what to think of himself, but he did know that he had to show you how much he appreciated your words and how much he appreciated you. He knew what it felt like to feel and be ignored and unheard. He never wanted you to feel that way. He rushed to embrace you and you returned the motion. The two of you remained that way for a while, not saying anything, but feeling it all.

From that night forward, whenever Neville felt forgettable, he remembered that moment with you, as well as all the other moments he has spent with you. He remembered you and the bond he shared with you and he knew: He was worth more than he gave himself credit for. He was not forgettable. Even if he didn’t feel it, in your eyes, he was indescribably amazing and utterly unforgettable. And as time went on, he not only knew this, but began to believe it, and to live and breathe with it as the truth. Because it was, and he could feel that now.

[teecupangel]

This is kind of odd and very specific but idea:

Desmond in either Ezio or Altaïrs time (and I know which one you have a bias towards) and he’s just a normal guy except he’s moving at x2 speed. He can’t turn it off. The whole everything for him is just at x2 speed (as in he’s faster). And it’s not like super speed where he can still talk and stuff at normal speed, EVERYTHING is x2 speed.

I was thinking how this would impact Desmond because the entire world would look like it’s 2x slower than him. And how would it even look like if he talks? Like his entire face is moving normally while the rest of his body is faster? XD

Desmond would probably be grabbed by Altaïr or Ezio (and yeah, we all know who I would pick) and they’d be like “Stay still, Desmond.”

The only way to have a conversation with Desmond without being distracted by his… everything… is when he stays still.

But if he sees the world slower, doesn’t that mean he hears everything slower as well?

That sounds like the kind of nightmare we will ‘give’ him affectionately, to be perfectly honest.

In combat, he’d definitely be the best and even during missions.

But conversation-wise, it’ll take a lot of time getting used to.

Unless…

His ancestor is the one to adapt to his needs and starts to speak faster.

It makes it harder for the two of them to be understood by others but this is the best way for Desmond to understand him and he’s willing to make such adjustment to make Desmond feel normal.

Also…

Does this mean that Desmond’s metabolic rate and sleeping habits are sped up as well?

Does this mean Desmond would burn through what he’d eaten faster and he would need to eat more frequently?

Does this mean that Desmond’s sleeping pattern is shorter but more frequently?

Because what is part of the ‘stuff’ portion of the ‘he can still talk and stuff at normal speed’?

His body moves x2 speed.

Doesn’t this mean that his body, in general, is aging faster???

[spoopy-nevermore-dump]

Hey pssst hey. Have you ever considered: Montada?

I hate it, and it nearly killed my hyperfixation

But I understand my opinion on this may affect others, and many may be hurting from this episode soooooooooo

Art requests open

[pomstr4wberr]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 INLOVE WITH THE KNIGHT꒱♡ ⌎ ˊᗜˋ

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍭 ꒰ GN reader - they/them ꒱♡ ⌎

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥛 ꒰ Fluff/kinda angsty??꒱♡ ⌎ ˊᗜˋ

NOTE : Silver x Reader [so reader is married to malleus, but inlove with Silver] It's kinda implied with angst??? Silver feels bad (I love malleus too but gonna show love to Silver. <3)

MARRIED TO him, it wasn't bad, but you didn't love him. You felt trouble that you were married to the dragon prince, Malleus.

He was sweet, but he didn't belong in your heart. You wished you were brave enough to say no.

You were sad at the fact that he was so sweet towards you, you felt so o' trouble when you feel inllive the silver haired knight.

He was sleepy but he was so beautiful, he had helped you i mean of course he did he is a knight after all but it felt different when he did help you with stuff.

You didn't feel that way towards the other knights but only him, you couldn't help but fall inlove with him.

You would look outside the windows staring at him train, even though it is very creepy to watch someone through the window.

You would go outside the palace when he would be asleep. It was a beautiful moment, his lovely face and his lovely hair. You did woke him up because it was weird to see you married to Malleus standing over watching a knight sleeping. Totally smitten was weird.

Today is the day, as he fell asleep once again. You walked over to him and sat down near him. His aura was calming. It was a nice feeling. You felt like you belonged there, it felt warming and love.

You look over to him and smile.

"Silver, wake up. It's time to train" you let out a chuckle as he didn't move until a few seconds later. He was slightly moving around just barely.

You just smiled and heard a sound. You turn your head and saw some animals. You smiled and waited for the animals.

You noticed the animals would stay with him while he was sleeping. You couldn't blame the animals, you would stay with him as well.

He had a good feeling aura, you were jealous by the animals. So carefree and aren't scared to go to Silver, staying around here...

You sighed and turned to wake up silver once again, well trying to do so. Before you do a loud voice is heard.

"SILVER!" The loud voice could only be from the loud mouth green haired knight. He would compliment Malleus very much. He seemed to idolized Malleus very much.

Malleus was like the older brother, and Sebek would be the younger borher who idolized his older brother or role model.

Though he could be annoying, his loud voice would hurt your ears. You were glad that he didn't scream into your ears. You would be deaf.

Sebek bounced you and bowed down. "HELLO! SPOUSE OF WAKA-SAMA!" There was the reminder again. Married to him, and it pained to hear the name spouse of Malleus.

You just smiled and waved to Sebek. "Why, hello, Sebek?" He bowed down once again. "EXCUSE ME, BUT I HAVE TO WAKE UP HIM FOR TRAINING!" It was obvious he was talking about silver. You noticed that it was a one-sided rival we.l that seemed like to you about Silver and Sebek.

You just nodded and left. Maybe one day you can finally be brave enough to divorce Malleus and confess your feelings to Silver.

You can only hope that it can go well...