#angst tw

[cloudseeker14]

Pink in The Night (Scaramouche x Fem!Reader)

Summary : After Teyvat had been wiped clear of the memories of the sixth harbinger, the Wanderer heads towards a place of thoughts of reminiscence; hoping to find the only one who'd ever understood him.

Genre : Angst, Romance

Scaramouche walked ahead, trodding a path of moss and grass. Squirrels scurried away with every step he took with his wide hat fluttering in the wind.

He had escaped from the Fatui, left behind his dire thirst for vengeance and was now a shell of the harbinger he had been with only memories of his exploits. Memories that only he would remember for the world has spun ahead without him.

He was a lone Wanderer, the nature was his humble abode. He had no name, no home and didn’t have anyone’s arms to go running into as the night grew cold.

Well, no one except her.

He could see a harbor appearing before him, huts rising beneath the clear night sky. Pin pricks of light shone as families slumbered inside, lost to the land of dreams.

Scaramouche hurried beneath the archway, his pathetic excuse of a heart growing warm at the thought of seeing her.

At the thought of hearing her laughter.

At the thought of feeling her touch as soft as the silk flowers that filled the air with their scent.

He turned around familiar alleyways, a path that his feet had lead to countless times; a haunting melody of his past.

Would she remember him? Remember the nights that they spent together and the rough kisses shared beneath the moonlight?

Scaramouche was afraid to find out the answer.

At last, he arrived at a house with rose vines that crawled along the rooftops, their alluring fragrance drawing him in.

Scaramouche took in deep breaths and cleared his throat, ignoring the way his chest seemed to tighten at the thought of seeing her face.

He knocked on the door thrice, loud and clear in sharp contrast to the flurry of questions flying across his head.

Does she still remember the love she had for me?

Scaramouche needed her to, for the notion of not being the object of her affections left him in a cold sweat. If she looked at him like a stranger even after holding him close to her chest at a past which seemed like it was an eternity ago, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

The door swung open with an ear piercing creak and there she stood, the woman that had once melted through the cold defenses of the sixth harbinger, locks of hair falling across her face.

Scaramouche gazed into her eyes, waiting, yearning and even pleading within himself for a sign of recognition.

Yet nothing came, only a look of confusion.

Y/N stared at the man before him, the way his blue eyes seemed to twinkle like the stars in the sky and the billowing clothes that adorned his frame.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" She asked, wariness evident on her features

It felt like a hole had been ripped open in the place where Scaramouche's heart should have been. Screams threatened to rip from his throat as memories of small hugs, shared chuckles and the way her hand had felt in his flashed past his eyes.

They were being set aflame, falling apart to ashes.

"Sir?" Y/N asked, eyebrows furrowed "Do you need anything?"

Scaramouche swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up his throat before replying. "I'm just a traveller and I'm very tired after my long journey. Do you know where I can find a place to rest?"

Please, laugh in my face right now and tell me you're joking. Tell me that you obviously remember me.

I can't lose you too, the only thing that made this tapestry of lies worth living.

"Just keep walking ahead and you'll find the Crescent Inn, it's a very comfortable place, I'm sure you'll like it."

He looked down, tears welling up at the rim of his eyes. His lips trembled as he forced himself to stare at the ground at his feet.

"Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water?"

There it was, that familiar concern that had drawn Scaramouche to her in the first place.

He met her questioning face. "No, it's just been a tough day. Thank you and I'm sorry if I bothered you."

Y/N smiled weakly before slamming the door on his face. Scaramouche turned around and left through her house's gate. The ground beneath him seemed to be tumbling down with every step he took.

He'd made it past her house before collapsing onto the ground, bellowing curses to the wind as tears ran down his porcelain face.

He damned the gods, their lies and torments and how with each of their intervention, they'd ripped apart any chance for him to hope in this world and had forced him to leave a trail of regrets.

Scaramouche had scoured marshes, crossed deserts and climbed the most ruggedy of mountains to find Y/N, only to lose her yet again.

"Scara, look at me."

"Why do you even care for me?" He asked haughtily "A mere mortal like you, do you really think you could satisfy me?"

"You and I both know you aren't fooling anyone with that rude act of yours."

Scaramouche stepped closer to her, brushing the hair from her face with his slender fingers. "Fine, then can you love a puppet, a broken creation like me? I don't even have a heart to give you."

"I love you just as you are, you're more than enough for me." Y/N held his hands, slowly caressing his palm

"Even if it meant tearing Teyvat apart, you're the only one for me. No one else could ever compare to you in my eyes." She continued, a light hue of pink sprinkled over her face.

"I'm not a good person, Y/N. I've killed so many people and I will have to keep doing so. I could harm you, maybe even ruin you and I don't want to do that to you."

"Scaramouche." She muttered, holding onto his hands even more tightly.

“Even my own creator, my mother didn’t want me. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of loving you to extent you deserve without a heart.”

“Enough.” She pulled Scaramouche into a tight embrace, engulfing him in her affection. “I don’t care about your mother or what the world would think of me if I stood by your side, all that matters is that I get to spend a lifetime with you.”

Scaramouche stiffened, muscles tensing as Y/N wrapped her arms around him. “A lifetime would never be enough for me. I would consider your death as the utmost betrayal.” He said, straining his voice to keep its composure.

The darkness of the night couldn’t hide the hurt that flickered on Y/N’s face.

“But at least let me have this.” He whispered, voice soft and vulnerable as the facade of the powerful harbinger shattered into pieces like shards of glass. Scaramouche buried his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzling against her soft skin.

"We can stay like this for as long as you want." Y/N hesitantly placed her hand atop Scaramouche's head, running her fingers through his hair. "As long as an ounce of life exists in my body, my heart will always beat for you."

The sixth harbinger pushed away, the thoughts behind those blue eyes unreadable as he allowed his gaze to wander. "Do you promise that?"

Scaramouche knew promises were worthless in the face of the monster known as time, but he still wanted to hear it.

"Of course I do." She smiled and with such a simple gesture, she managed to completely untether the course of Scaramouche's world.

He didn't know if it was the way the moonlight shone of her face or if it was the alcohol making his mind fuzzy that allowed him to even consider the daring thought that entered his head.

Perhaps he had lost his mind because he placed his lips upon hers, as tender as a fleeting butterfly.

She tasted like honey and Scaramouche allowed himself to drown in the feeling of her body against his and the way his hands fit perfectly against her waist. He’d never been a believer of the gods but at that moment, he couldn’t help but pray that this would last forever.

Scaramouche wanted to laugh at the wind, at the irony of it all. He certainly hadn’t grown wiser about trusting mortals after three betrayals.

Three betrayals and he still wanted to go crying into the arms of a human.

Three betrayals and he'd still allowed himself to let her escape from his grasp.

Every leaf and bird of the forest seemed to sing the words that Scaramouche had been terrified of saying when he was somebody that she used to know.

The breeze seemed to whisper in his ears, taunting him with the three words which if he'd said, might have changed everything.

I love you.

But it was too late and those words would forever remain sealed within Scaramouche, shut within the fortress of his unspoken desires.

#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin reader insert #Genshin #genshin impact #Angst #Romance #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin scaramouche #scara x you #scara my beloved #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche angst #kunizukushi #wanderer angst #Genshin impact fanfic #angst tw #angst imagine

[gingerreggg]

Alternate Universe where Caesar is uh.. plagued by visions

Part 2

#my art #jjba #caesar zeppeli #joseph joestar #battle tendency #angst tw #blood tw #gore tw #long post

[veinsfullofstars]

🪞 Fallen angel... who do you see staring back from the Mirror? 🪞

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Galacta Knight and my personal interpretation of his Mirror World counterpart. GK hovers above facing slightly to our left, his feathery wings spread wide, shaded in lilac and tipped with gilded wing talons, a swallow-like tail visible. He holds his shield forward in his left hand (our right) and his lance to the side in his right (our left), a single magenta eye leering at the viewer through the visor of his mask. A halo of heart spears floats and shines angelically behind his horns. Below him, M!GK hovers in the same pose but flipped horizontally and without the halo. Visually, M!GK has mostly the same features as GK, with his color palette being darker and less saturated (dusty purple body, dark gray armor, gray mask, maroon lance, rose-gold horns and weapons accents). His eyes are not visible in the shadow of his mask, but there are signs of erosion running down the metal surface in rusty orange lines, almost like tear tracks. Instead of feathery wings, M!GK has wings composed of jagged shards of pink crystal, glittering and lit from within by a luminous glow. A few pale feathers can still be seen peeking out from his back. END ID.)

Hey, so... what if... I went a little insane for a minute? What if I just... concepted a character... for the sequel... to an AU... I've told no one about... and haven't even finished writing yet? What if I then... pulled the salt shaker labeled "ANGST" out of the pantry and just... unscrewed the cap all over this poor lad? Oh, and Galacta Knight's here, too, I guess.

Sketch started 02/21/24, render started 03/01/24, finished 03/06/24.

#veins art #veins ocs #veins fanart #fanart #kirby series #kirby #galacta knight #original character #oc #kirby oc #my ocs #mirror galacta knight #<- (note that I don't claim to own the concept of M!GK itself - just this specific interpretation of him) #AU #kintsugi au #<- ('cause apparently I needed to lose my mind in yet ANOTHER au rather than finish any of the others) #I'm having Ideas(TM) #me concepting: “hmm...how could I possibly hurt him more?” #“oh easy. by taking away his wings and putting his own crystal prison in their place! :D” #me realizing I have to actually draw said wings: *suffering* #I mean I guess they came out alright in the end but *frustrated artist noises* #regular GK still gets to be the Bastard of All Time tho - at least in this version #he also can be a li'l extra and have some gold wing claws as a treat :3 #how many eons do you think it takes to cry through your own mask? #*pounds fists on table* Rose! Gold! Horns! ROSE! GOLD! HORNS! #buh okay I need to stop looking at this thing for a minute - I'm gonna conk out now see ya'll tomorrow honk shoo mimimi #swallow tailed galacta knight #<- (inspired by @starflungwaddledee) #angst tw #veinsfullofstars

[kittyamore0]

HEY IVWAS WONDERING IF YIU CAN WRITE y/n is pregnant with Ethan’s kid and Quinn had stabbed her in the stomach not knowing and when he finds out in the theater with Tara, sam, his dad, and sister he feels bad for what he’s done. But y/n is furious with him and heartbroken. AND YOU CAN ADD MORE IF U WANT IF NOT ITS PERFECTLY FINE!!

A/N: me wanting to beat Quinns ass now A/N: IM CRYING....

My sweet baby...

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RATING: SFW

FANDOM/GENRE : Horror, dark romance, scream 6, ghost face, angst

TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul

POV: 2nd person

WRITING STYLE: one-shot, angst

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x Fem! Reader

REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy or steal my ideas! READER: You will not be called 'Y/N' you will be called '[Name]'

CW: Blood, murdering, stabbing, knives, fractured fetus, crying, angst, fem! Reader, pregnant reader, mentions of unprotected sex, pregnancy test, passing out, vomiting, etc..

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You felt such a rush when you found out just 2 weeks ago. You had been experiencing stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, cravings, late period timelines, tiredness, all signs of pregnancy.

Thats when you took a pregnancy test. It came out positive. You were both happy and worried, afraid for the future, but just excited for it as well. You knew who the baby belonged to. Ethan Landry, your boyfriend for about 3 years.

You only slept with him, and recently, you both had unprotected sex. It had to be his, so you got a DNA test. He wasn't aware. You weren't going to tell him just yet, and with the ghost face impressions? Hell no. You didn't tell anybody, which is what you should've done.

Maybe then, would Ethan warn Quinn to be so careful with you, but no. The world had to curse you.

You felt so heartbroken when Quinn, detective Bailey and Ethan turned out to be ghostface. It wasn't supposed to be that way. No.

You were supposed to catch the fucker with Tara, Sam, Anika detective Bailey, and everyone else...Then get your happy ending by telling everyone you're pregnant and it was your boyfriends, Ethan.

But all those plans were dropped when you felt a sharp blade force its way into your stomach, where your baby laid.

Quinn had stabbed you in your stomach, due to the way she saw you hold your stomach. Not thinking too much about it, she thought you had an easily disturbed stomach so that stomach became her number 1 stabbing spot for you.

"[Name!]," Tara shouted. "Not one step, Tara," detective Bailey pushed her away., to which Sam caught her.

Ethan winced at the sight of Quinn stabbing you. "Quinn, maybe you should " Quinn cut him off. "Not now, Ethan!" She chuckled and twisted the knife in your stomach. No...no...no, no, no, no!

"Pay back for stabbing me in the shoulder, bitch." Quinn's smile grew further, and with all your strength, you pushed her back, causing her to loosen her grip on the knife and stumble back.

You let out an ear piercing shriek, to Quinns satisfaction. Ethan felt otherwise. He felt sick. His own girlfriend, getting stabbed right before his eyes. It felt...wrong.

You sobbed and pulled the knife out of you, dropping down to the ground in an instant while muttering, 'No, no, no, no, no's...'

Though, Quinn didn't expect you to drop down like you're giving up after putting up a hell of a fight, and muttering, 'no's'

She expected you to scream, scream at her, Ethan, anything, but you seemed more focused on your stomach. Why? She shook her head along with the thoughts too.

She grabbed the knife and moved forward, not wanting to waste any time killing you. Ethan had other plans, but both of them halted their movements when they heard your shouts.

"MY BABY!"

What..? Did Ethan hear that correctly? Did ALL of them hear that correctly? "My sweet baby..." Sam stepped forward, detective Bailey didn't stop her though.

"You're...pregnant...?" guilt struck Sam, Ethan, and Tara. "I found out 2 weeks ago. Oh, god...no..." you continued to sob even more as you rubbed your wounded belly.

Ethan pushed Quinn out the way and tried to make his way towards you. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He flinched away. Sam pushed him, and he tripped on his feet, landing his ass on the floor.

"YOU FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF A BOYFRIEND. YOU COULDN'T EVEN NOTICED SHE WAS PREGNANT?" Quinn seethed with angry. "Don't talk to him like! " Tara banged the nearby metal. "Shut the fuck up! You're the one who stabbed her! Our friend...WHO IS PREGNANT!" Tara screamed, shutting Quinn up quickly.

Detective Bailey just stand there in shock, trying to process the fact that you were pregnant. I mean, he doesn't care. He still wants to kill you, but the shock just hits him.

"The fact you're the fucking father too.." Tara sneers at Ethan while tears build up in his eyes. He never meant to hurt you. He told Quinn to be careful around you so many times. She didn't listen, always calling him a 'pussy' for simply asking her to be more careful with you.

Now not only had he hurt you, the love of his life, but his child too. "Im sorry...[Name]...i i really am...im so sorry..." you just shake your head, which he starts sobbing to at your response. Quinn scoffs. "Why should you be sorry for this bitch! " Quinn falls back when Tara's fist comes straight for her face.

"I trusted you...I let you into my home, let you touch me...I was happy to have your baby, but now, NOW THAT CANT EVEN BECOME A POSSIBILITY!" Ethan sobs even more, averting your heart broken gaze.

Sam's by your side rubbing your arm. Ethans on his ass sobbing. Tara and Quinn are fist fighting, and detective Baileys still standing there in shock like a slow dumbass.

"I hate you..."

Your words hit him like a bullet, shattering every part of him. "No...no...no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO!" He sobs even more, a cry that would usually be so pretty, but now so ugly when his tainted true colors show. "Tha thats a lie! it has to be...!"

"Im sorry, Sam, Tara," You leaned into Sam as black dots danced in front of your vision. "[Name], stay with me. please!" Your body went limp, eyes closed, your breathing slowing down.

The last thing you heard was Ethan screaming your name.

˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚

Your eyes flutter open. Police sirens stung your ears, while a crying Tara and relieved Sam hovered over your body. "Wha....what happened...?" Tara smiled sweetly. "The doctor said the baby was very protected, and that the knife didn't hit the baby...!" Your eyes lit up and you looked down at your stomach.

"The baby will be okay, as for Ethan, Quinn, and detective Bailey...Quinn, and Bailey are dead. Ethan...he helped us after you passed out, but he ran away after, and told us to tell you that he said he loves you."

You hummed and closed your eyes, while a lazy smile was placed on your lips.

Thought, you do wonder where Ethans might've ran off to. That was...until you got a note , and a phone call 9 months later...

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#ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ghostface scream #scream 6 #scream movies #scream #quinn bailey #detective bailey #anika kayoko #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #angst tw #pregnant reader #female reader #reader x character #reader fic #reader insert #horror movies #horror #pregnancy

[quitealotofsodapop]

I like to think that it takes a but before Wukong and DBK end up having a much needed conversation about Wukong's pregnancy and the reasons he'd kept it hidden. They didn't hold off on it until Revenge of the Spider Queen, but I don't think Wukong was exactly eager to talk about it.

I also think that Wukong ought to have had some hidden resentment not even he had been aware of at the fact his big brother, who definitely is the sort to swear he'd protect Wukong no matter what despite Wukong not needing it, hadn't been able to keep his promise when it came to Wukong's capture, torture, and imprisonment. Being thrown into a Furnace for nearly 50 years and then buried under a mountain for 500 more isn't exactly something you just 'get over', and that's just a small part of what Heaven had done to Wukong. Like... he doesn't blame DBK because there's no way he could have known... but also DBK had broken his promise to keep his baby brother safe and presumably the first interaction they had after Wukong was freed by the mountain was presumably DBK asking Wukong for help with his toddler son who was hurting himself with a power he could not control and Wukong was probably hurt by that. And he was definitely hurt by the fight they later had.

Basically, there's a lot of bad stuff that happened with the journey and the events that led up to it and I think Wukong was suppressing a lot of that trauma, and it came out in ways he didn't really notice. Part of that comes to a head during their first heart to heart when DBK is told why Wukong had kept the fact he was pregnant a secret. He still didn't know exactly how long he was pregnant, that it was indeed during the Journey and not something that came about after it, but he knows Wukong had been pregnant when he was sealed under the mountain and Wukong had knowingly kept that from him. The rest of that only came out while they were in the web, which onky served to infuriate DBK even more because he'd thought he'd HAD this conversation with Wukong already and he comes to find out that Wukong had kept even more from him.

Basically it be like,

DBK: Why are you being so secretive about this? A child is amazing!

Wukong: There's a reason I don't want this getting out, DBK! Could you imagine what would happen if work got out that the 'Great Sun Wukong' was pregnant and vulnerable!? What would the Jade Court do!? The thousands of enemies I've made over the years!? I'd be lucky if they didn't start lining up at my door to try to take advantage!

DBK: I would have protected you! You're my little brother, you could've have told me!

Wukong: Oh, like you protected me so well during the war when I got thrown in a Furnace and trapped under a mountain!

Silence, as Wukong realized what he said, and that he hadn't meant to say that aloud. He'd thought he'd gotten over that tbh.

Another thing to consider;

Wukong also missed out on 500 years of life back when he was captured. 500 years of being unable to make amends with his mate. 500 years unable to defend his people from the Fires and the hunters.

And DBK spent all that time free, married, getting invited to parties, and generally having a life while his younger brother rotted under that mountain.

From Wukong's perspective, DBK forgot about his little brother. And that def stirs up some resentment once the two reunite after DBK's release.

But the full truth is even uglier than that.

As Sun Wukong and DBK's arguing escalates, I can see DBK finally breaking down into tears.

DBK: "I wanted to save you xiandi! I truly did! Azure and the others claimed you a traitor but I Knew you would never surrender without cause!" Wukong, angry tears: "Then why didn't you try freeing me from the Furnance?! Did you just sit around for all of those 49 days!?" DBK, voice raising accidentally: "IF I DID THEY WERE GOING TO KILL TIESHAN!" *covers mouth in shock* (The room goes silent. A long-held secret having just been revealed. As if the demon king had expended all his magic to break a verbal geas/spell that had tormented him for centuries) Wukong: "...t-they? Who's they?" DBK, shaking with tears and anger: "Many. Not just Heaven... if I moved to help or defend you in any way they'd... they threatened to... "take away what I had conquered". They treatened it long before you even surrendered to the Emperor." Wukong: "Wh-who? Who would threaten that? Who knew you'd defend me even if I had surrendered-" *goes quiet at a realisation left unsaid* "No..." DBK, eyes saddened: "Yes." Wukong, now angry-crying: "But... why?!" DBK, unsure himself: "I believe... some of them suspected that it wasn't truly Heaven we would have surrendered for. We are too much alike in many ways..." Wukong, taking in a deep breath: "The Emperor he'd- He said he'd- I'm sorry..." DBK: "I know he threatened to take Liu'er away from you. Anyone with a brain could deduce that." Wukong: *nods mournfully* DBK: *deep sigh* "I suppose I could have at least visited you... buddha knows Macaque did." Wukong: "Wait, you know about that?" DBK: "Of course! He visited your mountain nearly every year on the dot. Mostly to plant peach trees and sunflowers in the soil outside and pray for your swift release. Odds are he did not reveal himself due to your falling out- Xiandi are you ok!?" Wukong, realising that Macaque still loved him even then: "NO!!!!"

I love emotionally tormenting these characters. >:3

#slow boiled stone egg au #sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk aus #jttw aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #journey the west #jttw #angst tw #shadowpeach

[darling-i-read-it]

Hi, i hope you're doing great. Can I please request headcanons where chris redfield is really stressed out from work and he comes home and accidentally lashes out at the reader and tells her she's too much or amth? The reader feels bad and distances herself from him because she doesnt want to annoy chris anymore. Sorry if this is too long.

Have a great day!

hi love! I hope you enjoy this, I always love writing for chris and i think him being overwhelmed and stressed is a nuanced topic that leads to a lot of his not so fun behavior. it's really realistic and i love him with my whole heart so i will write him in every scenario i can

angst tw :(

Chris was often overwhelmed at work. There was no way to actually describe what he goes through on a day to day basis because it's so insane always and he's constantly on the move.

Because of this, he always has no life when he comes back to you at home. He's killed people in his day job and now he's back and he just wants to go to sleep.

it's hard. It's extremely hard. On both of you.

How can he give you a life when he hardly has time to give himself one? How can he realistically be your life partner when he's never around? Should he just let you go and deal with that pain?

But you are his selfish part, the piece of him that refuses to give you up because you're the light of his life. A soothing touch when he comes home, a person who has a smile on their face and tells him silly stories and explains things to him when he's half listening.

But some days he just couldn't take anything other than that. you had to be perfect, otherwise he couldn't' stand it. He would rather be alone

He came home and the door shut behind him loudly. You perked around the corner, having come home tired from your own job, but happy to see him nonetheless.

He slid off his shoes, tossing his jacket to the side

Your smile was gentle as you got up, going to greet him at the door. You had bags under your eyes. You were tired too, sometimes he forgot about that

"Good evening," you muttered as you approached. He gave you a glance. Nothing else. Though it hurt, you tried to put yourself into his shoes as much as you could. He was taking lives everyday, how could you even begin to fathom that? "How was work?"

"Fine." The curt answer stung. You pushed on.

"I have dinner in the fridge. Nothing fancy, just breakfast for dinner." He walked past you to the kitchen. He gave you a kiss on the forehead as he went by but that was the only thing to prove he had actually seen you. You followed behind him. "Anything weird happen today?" He shook his head. He opened the fridge, leaning over it. You cleared your throat. "I had a long day. I had to deal with these shitty customers," you muttered. You sat at the dining room table, watching him. "I haven't been able to talk about it. They're so entitled you know? It's never ending, the people who think they can have whatever they want and that I'm nothing but a robot to them, doing what they need." You huffed. "I was glad to be home."

"Mhm." He grabbed the plate you had made him.

"Was your day alright?" "Can you just give me a moment?" he snapped. He turned to you, face frustrated. "I'll be here all night. There's no need to muzzle me the second I come in the door. You're not a dog."

Your mouth parted in surprise.

You got up and you left the room, apologizes slipping from your lips. You retreated back into yourself, suddenly feeling even worse about your day.

A dog?

Did the think you were like a dog?

Loyal to no fault, always happy, never asking questions...

You shut the bedroom door behind you, grabbed some clothes to sleep in and got in the shower. You stayed in the shower till you pruned up. You thought maybe Chris would knock on the door, ask if you were okay, demand to get in the shower but nothing came. You heard no sounds outside of the beat of water against your back.

When you finally got out, you were met with him already in bed, asleep.

You slept on the couch, feeling miserable.

When you woke up it was to the sound of him getting ready for work. It was familiar. Ruffling of the keys, boots hitting the ground, coffee pot being turned on. You opened your eyes, remembering the pain from the night before. The lack of apology.

He came into the living room. Your eyes followed him, still sleepy. He sat by your feet.

"Are you awake?" he asked quietly. He was up so early, the sun still hadn't risen. You nodded. He didn't look at you. "I didn't mean to snap at you yesterday," he breathed. His voice was so quiet to the morning air.

"Do you think I'm a dog?" you asked.

Your voice was so childlike that it pained him. He tried to remember what kind of pain he had caused you just by saying something he would quickly forget.

"No. No, I'm sorry I said that. I was tired and exhausted and it was a hard day." He finally looked at you. He hated seeing that look in your eyes, the pain. "I'm so grateful to have you here when I get home."

You were silent. He hung on your words.

"Stay." He paused. "Stay here with me," you whispered.

"You know I can't." "Yes you can. They'll live without you for a day," you promised. You sat up, propping yourself on your elbow. "We can't keep meeting at moments where neither of us have the wherewithal to talk." You were right, of course you were. He had been thinking about it too. "We need a break." He was silent a moment. He looked at the clock. He was going to be late anyway.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Can you come back up to the bedroom?" he asked. His voice was quiet, vulnerable. You nodded. Your head was still clouded. All you could really think about was how happy you were to have him home with you for the day. He took off his boots as you sat all the way up, grabbing your blanket and holding it around you.

He followed you upstairs. He shed his work clothes so he was back down to something to sleep in. You crawled into bed, happy to be back.

when he climbed into bed with you, he was holding you tightly. He whispered that he was sorry again. He kissed you and his lips felt like home. You could deal with the bigger things the next day. Right now you just wanted to go back to sleep with him.

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield headcanons #chris redfield x fem!reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil headcanons #angst tw

[tadc-ragatha]

Congratulations on 50+ followers and may you gain many more!! 🎉

You truly do deserve it with your detailed writing style and I absolutely adore the writing you did for my request! If you don’t mind me requesting once again and if you feel motivated to, may you please write for Kinger and a character of your choice with 🌠🎠

May you have a well day/night and don’t forget to take care of yourself! :)

-⚜️Anon

Starry-Eyed Carnival Date

TW: Abstraction/"death"/going insane, memory loss, guilt/self-blame, angst

Type: Fic; romantic-related, platonic. Emoji details: 🌠 (Shooting Star) Stargazing, 🎠 (Carousel Horse) Amusement park activity. Game link [x].

A/N: "Kinger reminisces on his date with Queener." No reader. Kinger x Queener. As of posting, only pilot has come out.

Thank you!! I'm very flattered and glad to know my writing style is being received well! You're absolutely allowed to request again, don't worry about it! I love knowing people loved my work so much they came back for more. You get a special Queener appearance because I liked this idea so much (she's not in the game, so please don't request for her otherwise guys)! I took some time to make this because I wanted to make it well.

Also, petition to name the Kinger x Queener ship Chess-Rule-Shipping? Or something adjacent to that? I think it's cute, anyway.

Each week would end with a special activity. Usually, this meant a longer, more in-depth one outside of the tent. This week, Caine had chosen to send the crew on a night activity at the carnival.

The purpose of the activity was to go on a scavenger hunt and collect as many puzzle pieces as possible and complete the final puzzle before the others. There were twenty-five in total, and three different puzzles for the three different groups. As such, each group was to consist of a pair. Each pairs' puzzle pieces were at different locations in an attempt by Caine to stop others from sabotaging the experience.

Walking through a path lined by food stalls, Kinger and Gangle looked down at their clue. It was a scrap piece of paper with the words typed on with a typewriter. Held in Gangle's free hand--the other one kept busy with her broken comedy mask--was the clue. Kinger kept the six puzzle pieces they had collected in his. So far, the pieces presented sections of very colourful oblong shapes.

Kinger read over the clue again, "'circular eye of the carnival. Red.'"

"It must be the Ferris Wheel, right?" Gangle turned to look at him. Kinger nodded, walking off ahead of her through the crowd of NPCs.

Looming above them was the Ferris Wheel. Its frame was a plain white, but each carriage was painted a different colour of the rainbow. At least fifteen carriages were suspended.

"We have to wait for a red one," Gangle said. As if on cue, a red carriage stopped before them. Kinger stepped aside and put his hand out to his left.

"After you." He gestured to the door.

Stepping inside the carriage, the two looked around. Under the seats, over the seats, and between the bars; they found nothing. Until Gangle grabbed onto the seat itself and tried to pull it up. It worked, revealing the next clue of the game and puzzle piece.

Kinger congratulated, "Oh! Good work, Gangle. Now, we better get going." Turning to exit the carriage, he found the door slammed in his face. Gangle gasped as he paused for a moment. "Oh."

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Well, I guess we just wait for the ride to be over," he replied. Sitting down, he looked out the window as the ride jolted to a start, swaying the two back and forth.

Outside, they could see the lights of the carnival below. Yellow and warm, they filled the atmosphere of the digital world with a strange yet familiar feeling. Different food stalls of different colours were busy with customers, the scents of their products wafting through the air. Up above them, the fake stars shone and twinkled.

Kinger sighed.

Gangle looked over to him, asking in a timid voice, "what's wrong?"

For a short moment Kinger didn't reply. Instead, he continued to stare out the bars of the red carriage, out into the sky. Finally, he spoke up.

"I like the colour red," he said.

"What?" Gangle responded.

"I said, I like the colour red."

"What--what about red?"

Another moment of silence. She looked between him and his view of the stars.

"My wife was red," he said. "I like my wife."

"Oh...Um..."

He continued, "she liked the carnival, too. I remember I took her here on our first anniversary."

"How--how long had you been together?"

"Oh, many years." He cocked his head back with an unseen eye-smile that quickly faded. "I don't remember much about what we did now." Leaning against the bars, he looked up to get a better view. "It was a night just like this. Lots of stars."

An awkward silence passed. Or, Gangle thought it was awkward. To her, she could not tell what Kinger was thinking. All he did was continue to stare, not a single discernible emotion in sight. Yet there was still a sadness to him. She fiddled with her ribbons.

Kinger sighed again, "Queener loved the stars. She had the stars in her eyes that night."

The Ferris wheel was nearing a third of the way through its rotation. Deep down, she wished it would end sooner. The silence was deafening. So much so, she mustered up all her courage to ask a question.

"What was Queener like?"

"Queener was great." He didn't look back at her. "She was all work, no play. But she was nice." Another pause. "I miss her."

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

"May--maybe we should focus on something else." She looked down. The carriage was at its peak.

"I think that's why she left," he said. Gangle looked over at him quizzically. He didn't need to look at her to know her expression. "She couldn't remember anything. It's hard not knowing your name, but then she forgot what she looked like, and her family, and our pets..."

"You had pets?"

He smiled with his eyes again, replying, "oh, lots of them! I don't know what they were, though." The smile disappeared. She could definitely see tears in the bottom of his eyes.

"Oh."

"But...Queener was always too hard on herself. She always thought she was too strong to ask for help," he gave a sad chuckle. Twitching his eyes around, he tried to stop himself from giving in as the tears slowly dropped down onto the floor. "I think she didn't want to talk to me because she didn't want to hurt me."

"I think--"

"I didn't talk to her, either. I didn't want to stress her out. I...I thought maybe she'd be okay if she just had time. I thought--"

"Kinger--"

"I...I miss my wife, Gangle!" he sobbed. The tears were full-flowing as he cried into his hands. With her ribbon, Gangle tried to put a reassuring hand on him.

"Kinger, I...I--"

"It's my fault!" he wailed. "If I--if...If I had just said something, then she would've still been here!"

Gangle didn't say anything.

"I loved her and it's my fault she's gone!"

She shook her head, saying, "no, it's not."

"It was!"

"No, it wasn't. I don't...I think...Nobody really--nobody really gets out of here." She shook her head. Kinger looked over at her. His wailing had stopped for a moment, replaced with red eyes and sniffles.

"What?" he asked.

She said, "I don't think it was your fault. We all go eventually." The carriage halted again. Looking down, she could see it was near the end. She continued, "we don't--if she was...Someone would have left anyway." Tears were streaming down her own face.

Kinger didn't say anything. He simply looked down at the floor where the pool of his tears was. As the carriage reached closer to the ground, the light became brighter. Soon, they were both flooded with the yellow warmth of the lamps.

Kinger dried his eyes with his hands. Standing up, the Ferris Wheel came to a halt as he picked up the puzzle pieces. Meanwhile, Gangle took her broken mask and the new clue. Watching him intently, she could see him staring down at the ground, seemingly unresponsive to his environment as he walked out the carriage door.

#amy's writing #⚜️ anon #50 follower event #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc spoilers #death tw #mental health tw #memory loss tw #angst tw #guilt tw #self blame tw #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc queener #kinger x queener #tadc headcanon #tadc gangle #tadc abstraction

[stardustshimmer]

Loyal Little Knight

#kirby #kirby fanart #kirby art #kirby oc #my oc #stardustshimmer’s palette knight #drawcia #kirby canvas curse #my art #tw bright colors #angst tw

[creature-of-pizza]

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT I CAN BE

SO CLOSE TO BEING A NORMAL PERSON

TRY AGAIN BUT I’M WORSE THAN LAST TIME

#alright this is the last post for today! #my art #pizza tower #fake peppino #body horror tw #eye contact tw #eyestrain tw #angst tw #angst? in MY pizza tower? #yeah what about it jhdksskdhg #my interpretation had a hard time coming to terms that they’re not the real peppino #song: no normal - black dresses #pepp

[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]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #one shots #x reader #head engineer mark #engineer mark #engineer mark x reader #iswm #reader insert #in space with markiplier #angst #heavy angst #angst tw #I can't describe how angsty this is #cursing #slight reference to gore #don't give me the tools to make angst if you don't want me to make angst

[gingerreggg]

The future is inevitable.

Part 1

#my art #jjba #caesar zeppeli #joseph joestar #battle tendency #angst tw

[veinsfullofstars]

In a harsh world, at least we have each other.

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Shadow Kirby and Dark Meta Knight providing each other with small comforts. Top right - DMK flies off with an injured SK on his back, tattered wings outstretched and fists clenched at his sides. Middle left - SK sits crying on the ground, and DMK gives him a gentle pat on the head. Bottom left - DMK removes his mask and sets it on the ground beside him. SK, looking concerned, places a hand on the knight’s face just beside the scar over his left eye. DMK simply looks back at him, resigned or maybe just tired. His wing hovers near SK as if to wrap around him. END ID.)

Part 1 (here!) | Part 2

Just stewing in my Mirror World headcanons, don’t mind me. I imagine DMK’s not the best when it comes to displaying kindness or affection, but he tries his best, dangit, and Shadow Kirby can have at least one edgelord dad. As a treat.

Also soft shading this time because I’m eternally indecisive when it comes to rendering, yay.

(Psst, hey, if you’re craving some more sad times, I added a little bonus dialogue for the bottom right one below the cut. Because the inner writer demands comics I simply do not have the stamina to make right now, so it’ll have to make due with snippets instead.)

UPDATE 3/1/24: Changed SK's eyes to be purple instead of blue.

Started on 11/06/23, finished on 11/08/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 11/08/23.

---

SK: Poyo?

DMK: Hm? Oh, this. No, it’s fine. Long since healed. Don’t worry about it.

SK: Poyo po.

DMK: That’s just because it’s a newer one. It’ll fade like the others, I assure you.

SK: … Poyo?

DMK: … No. Not anymore, at least.

SK: … Poyo.

DMK: Don’t be. It’s not your fault. This is the result of my actions, not yours. Remember that.

SK: …

#veins art #veins fanart #fanart #kirby series #kirby #shadow kirby #dark meta knight #dark metadad #(a tag I don't see nearly enough of tbh) #friendship #(also not technically part of the kintsugi au since the scar dialogue doesn't quite fit there - but the boys bonding is a shared element) #angst tw #<- (it's pretty light but I'll tag it anyway just to be safe) #sad kirby tw #veinsfullofstars

[lushlovers]

Jamie, J Burrow

summary; he just misses her.

warnings; heavy angst, alcohol abuse, swearing, mentions of bars and driving under the influence, talk of loss of loved one's. all around sad stuff.

word count; 1k

note; this is inspired by one of my favorite songs at the moment, Jamie by Zach Bryan ft. Charles Wesley Godwin, feel free to listen as you read for the best experience. i did cut it short because i'm not killing off joe, sue me.

please let me know if i missed anything in the warnings and if any of the warnings mentioned above may even slightly trigger you, please skip this work. there will be a fluffy one-shot of the burrow's coming soon for those who choose not to read. <333

There ain't much a war when it's 4:34 With the man you were before that bar door.

This Joe wasn't who he used to be. Drowning his sorrows in whiskey or any hard alcohol he could get his lips on was never his way of grief. Never had he ever been such a heavy drinker in all of his time in this world. He doesn't even like to drink. But love drives people to do the unimaginable, unfortunately for him, Joe Burrow was no exception to that fact.

No one loves you enough to give you a ride and your cars sittin' right outside, Oh, Jamie

Given the time no one was answering his calls and he wasn't in the right might set to find any friends who were willing to go with him and be the designated driver. Joe's made a few mistakes in his life, drunk driving was never on the list of those. He learned from a young age that was never a good decision.

Keep your tires between the ditches And your eyes peeled on the road.

Unknowingly, Joe swerved the expensive BMW that used to belong to his wife, driving it gave him a slight sense of relief. He used to always drive it, never alone though, she always in the passenger seat. She never liked being away from him, always loving just being in his presence.

There's two more minutes before you're back home.

The bar he chose to drown his feelings in drinking at was just seven minutes from their his expensive home. Going back there was always dreaded, especially knowing the one he once loved wouldn't be snuggled up in his clothes waiting on his arrival. He's not sure how he's driven the five minutes, his minds more clouded by liquor than it's ever been.

Don't 103 feel so free? You always loved the revelry Oh, Jamie

His wife was always one to get him out of his comfort zones, introducing him to new things. One thing she could never get him into was partying. She always used to tell him about the parties she had went to when they were back in high school, Joe never could imagine jeopardizing his nearly spotless career, so he settling for story telling.

The flashing red and blue in a cracked rear view.

"Goddammit," he murmured, pressing his foot down a bit harder as the cop's light flashes along his clammy face. As if his life could get anymore difficult, the last thing he needs is a DUI charge against him. The cracks of her rear view mirror obstructed his line of sight ever so slightly, he remembers the call he got from her stressed about the crack in her mirror. He was quick to reassure that it was the cold or something.

He remembers the smile he once owned.

Joe used to be the happiest man on the planet. He had a great upbringing, the perfect wife, a baby on the way, anything a man could ever ask for and then some. There was almost never any complaints from him about anything. He was simply content all the time. He used to smile until his cheeks would hurt, now the only expression he made was when the burn of his drink of choice hit him.

But he ain't gonna stop for any cop, from here to damn near Wichita County.

If he gets caught in this act. his excuse'll be that there was no where to pull off. There's no way he could pull him over in this area, maybe he'll understand how close he is to the neighborhood? What Joe couldn't seem the grasp was the fact that he was driving so dangerously, the cop who saw him to he was out of his mind and needed to be stopped immediately.

I'll go tonight, boys. I don't mean no harm. I just miss my lovin' lady and layin' in her arms. (2x)

The only thing his mind was on was her and the baby girl who he never got to properly meet or hold. His girls.

'Cause there's a tombstone hidden in a place that he don't visit.

Every time he took the tiny dirt road back to the secluded place he chose to lay them, his heart broke impossibly more. Life could never be the same for him, everyone knew it. The funeral gutted him from the inside out, seeing her their completely lifeless made his breath catch. Panic set in pretty quickly and all he saw was black.

Where the love of his life was laid to rest, he'll make it there by dusk that is where they'll draw their guns, Oh, Jamie.

He felt heavy, like he was carrying burden on him at all times or maybe he was the burden. His eyes blurred with tears that he was quick to wipe away. The blue and red lights followed him the entire way to his destination, no shock there though.

Cause this life ain't worth livin' if the love that you've been given is taken before you are.

There was nothing left for him. No one to come home to, no one to call his own, no one to run his mouth about to his friends. nothing, just a canyon in not only his heart but his soul. Nothing could fill this, no amount of booze or therapy could fix the pain he felt at this time. He's tried it all and failed every single fucking time.

Now Jamie is dancin' and spinnin' around his baby in the stars.

He had this analogy. That they were watching him, dancing around in the clouds and painting every sunset to keep him going. Even the simplest of tasks felt impossible in his situation.

I'll go tonight, boys. I don't mean no harm. I just miss my lovin' lady and layin' in her arms. (2x)

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow #joe burrow x you #nfl #nfl fan fic #lushlovers #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fan fic #lushlovers fic #im so sorry for this #tw drinking #angst tw

[candythechocolatelabrador]

I rlly wish we saw more of the potential angst between Vigi and Peppino here tbh, like OOUGH I got a dynamic in mind and this shits been plaguing my mind for weeks.

LIKE, Vigi was using guns, flamethrowers, bazookas, all against a man with PTSD from the WAR. You can't tell me that didn't do a number of Peppino mentally, definitely reopened some old wounds i'm sure. Now imagine when the tower collapsed and Vigi found out not only about Peppino's PTSD, but also the fact that Pizzahead tricked him into doing all that to someone innocent. Vigi would be consumed by guilt, I imagine he'd go right away to seek Peppino's forgiviness, wether Peppino would forgive him or not is up to y'all but really I can't see it happening, at least not right away. With trauma that strong being forced back into Peppino's current train of thought, I imagine he'd hold a pretty big grudge against Vigi, like, not as much as he has with Pizzahead but a grudge nonetheless. Vigi I imagine would carry this guilt with him forever either way, making him much less willing to do his job as well, a vigilante. ANYWAYS AAA IM SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR AGES I NEEDED TO SPEW IT OUT.

#pizza tower #pizzatower #candy says stuff #peppino #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower peppino #pizza tower vigilante #the vigilante #headcanons #rambles #IM SORRY THIS IS SO RANDOM BUT AAAAAA #angst #heavy angst #angst tw

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong had been holding Xiaotian when his strength had left him, and he lost consciousness. Had Macaque not quickly moved, some instinct warning him to grab the baby, the cub would have been dropped. Even so, his attention was only on Wukong. On how his breathing stopped and his heartbeat slowed, his arms and face became limp as the light in his eyes became dull and faded as they closed. He watched as his Sun began to set and fade away as the Queen Mother and fellow gods began to panic as reality set.

The babe was born safely and healthy, but the mother was at risk! Wukong had warned them of the risky nature of his pregnancy, but in their celebration of the new life they had forgotten. And now they may lose the Monkey King if they don't work fast! For a time Macaque was silent, numb to the world with only the weight of his newborn cub to ground him, but then Tieshan gently took the cub from him to shush the baby and continue where Wukong had left off in little Xiaotiansm's first feeding and Nez Ha tried to carefully move him out of the way.

That had snapped Macaque from his trance as he let out of scream, roaring his grief and terror to the heavens and beyond as he begant to struggle against the Lotus Prince and Erlang Shang as they tried to drag him from his mate's side, screaming for Wukong. For his Peaches!

They'll be forced to sedate him, the grief of the shadow monkey and his thrashing proving too strong for them to handle. Nobody blames him, especially with how he had acted when he'd heard or seen someone insult his mate. The Six Eared Macaque and Great Sage Equal to Heaven were devoted to each other, that much had bern certain way back when the king had roared similar cries of grief the day Macaque had first died all those centuries ago, and it's clear now with Macaque unknowingly copying his mate.

Once he's stabilized, Wukong is placed in a comfortable room with Macaque laid on a cot next to him. The shadow monkey doesn't leave that room again unless it is to fetch his cub and care for him.

Referering to this art of a certain scene in the Century Stone Egg au;

Pretty much the entirety of Heaven panics, but none more than the Monkey King's own mate. Macaque is so distraught that while his instincts scream at him to be at his mate's side, he also snarls and bites at anyone who approaches to help.

The fact that it took the combined strengths of both Erlang Shen and the Third Lotus Prince to subdue the Six Eared Macaque spreads across the Realm over the next few days. Lao Tzu was forced to administer a sleeping drug strong enough to knock out a bull rhino just to get the shadow monkey to stop thrashing around.

Soon both The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the Great Sage Informing Wind are both confined to a recovery room created within the heavenly home once built to house a new orchard attendant. Their baby tended to by both the returned Princess Tieshan and Bodhisattva Guanyin, both women considering themselves family to the couple.

When the Six Eared Macaque awakens, he merely pushes his cot closer to the King's recovery bed. Spending hours just watching his mate's breathe and listening to his heartbeat. The only time he seems animated is when he rises to care for their newborn - a tiny cub deemed to be their "Little Heaven".

Over the next few days, only the Sage's found family are allowed within the sanctum of the recovery room. A mix of demons, mortals, and dragons. The only celestials allowed beyond the doors is Prince Nezha, the afformentioned Princess and Bodhisattva, and the Queen Mother herself - the one who had ultimately greeted the monkeys' infant into the world.

Subjects from the King's island manage to find their way into the Heavenly realm (likely on the wheels of the Lotus Prince) to leave offerings of fresh fruits and lively flowers. The Macaque finds it a bit too similar to the offerrings left for the deceased - though he quickly discovers that their cub happily pulls attention away from the slumbering king onto themselves.

Every being in the Three Realms await with baited breathe for the Monkey King to reawaken once more.

#century stone egg au #angst tw #lmk aus #qi xiaotian #shadowpeach #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk #lego monkie kid

[demisofphoenixdrop]

Emmalyn is one of the people who goes to the Irene Dimension. Nana is not. That is fifteen years of life gone by. Moving on, changing. Even if Nana is single when they finally return, gods Enmalyn would be nothing but a bittersweet memory. A lost love. And here she is in the flesh and gods. Gods she looks exactly the same. As if she was plucked right out of Nana’s memories. And the thing is...that’s not a good thing. Nana is fifteen years older. She has changed and grown and she is not the Nana Emmalyn remembers. That Emmalyn knows. But she is the Emmalyn Nana knows. And gods what a divide that is. She is not the woman Emmalyn loves, and Emmalyn is the woman Nana loved (and oh boy just imagine throwing in married to Dante, or to keep it sapphic mayhaps Lucinda, with a whole ass daughter)

You...

I like you.

#aphmau #aphblr #minecraft diaries #aphverse #mcd #angst tw #tw angst