My soul pours out without end, like melancholy water,
Éphraïm Mikhaël, from Poems; “Florimond,” written c. January 1879 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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@twopips
My soul pours out without end, like melancholy water,
Éphraïm Mikhaël, from Poems; “Florimond,” written c. January 1879 (via violentwavesofemotion)
trip. *
❝ am i now? ❞ a chuckle falls from reddened lips ( whether shaded by the cold or the alcohol, who could tell? ), head craning over the smaller man’s form to look at him with a grin. he has to admit, that joke – while not the best – is certainly CUTE. the commander shifts to allow malcolm to lean comfortably against his side, a sigh parting lips & his arm closest to the other reaches out to wrap around shoulders. they need to share body heat to survive, after all —- what more effective way than to cuddle?
❝ glad ya’ve finally ‘warmed’ up t’me, lieutenant. ❞
smaller man gladly curls up under the engineer’s wing, the sound of a heartbeat pounding against his ear as a cackle spills from chapped, pallid lips & bottle is momentarily forgotten as stiff arms are pressed against trip’s ribs — to share body heat, of course.
❛ damn! if i’d known you were this much fun when drunk i would’ve gladly had a drink with you under less dire circumstances. ❜ a weak smile graces itself upon a rosé visage & former mirth begins to dissipate as the weight of his words begin to sink in.
❛ do you think we’ll make it, commanduh’? ❜ voice is soft as a primal fear seeps from a frozen & aching body. a weak puff of a laugh is expelled. ❛ i can just imagine the look on my fathuh’s face when he hears his son suffocated & froze to death in the void of space. ‘the boy would have never met such a fate on the seas! he would’ve had a death worth remembering!’ ❜ tone shifts as he makes a rough & drunk rendition of his own father’s accent, disdain tensing his body against the other’s. ❛ hm, maybe he’ll actually think about me after i’m gone. ❜
Your lips are on my lips, spirit to spirit, in a crystal darkness.
Eda Lou Walton, from “Like Low Insistent Calling of Thunder,” wr c. 1924 (via violentwavesofemotion)
Passionate, enchanting, alone, rose-golden,
Zbigniew Herbert, from “The King of the Ants: Mythological Essays,” c. 1999 (via violentwavesofemotion)
h
Being alone for so long, things get kind of empty. You feel this strange need to just be held. To hold someone close. To be touched in any way. It’s a need that eats away at you.
Do u ever not realize how starved for affection u are till someone hugs u a bit tighter than normal and you find that you really don’t want to let go
sim. *
he is frozen entirely still where he stands, brows creased harshly as he endures the wrath of the man before him with a silent stillness & raw sense of defiance. it bubbles in him, malcolm’s anger fueling his own, & hands ball into fists at his sides as he steps back, heading for the doorway with tears staining his face as well —- but something stops him, a personal conviction, & he turns back to face the other with a trembling mouth as he speaks.
❝ why don’t i deserve a life, malcolm? why should i die for him, when i never even asked for any of this? why can’t i have what my mind is tellin’ me i should have, since it all feels so goddamn familiar! —- ❞ his eyes don’t meet the other’s, too cowardly to dare it.
❝ i —- i can do everythin’ he can! maybe better, even, y’know! does my life mean nothin’ t’anybody? ‘cause it sure as hell means somethin’ to me! why can’t i be part of this crew? i have trip’s memories, i look like him, think like him … i can be him, i can be! ❞ his voice raises an octave, finding his footing in this argument as he inhales a deep breath to steady himself.
( an inept child you are, so defiant when you know you’ve been beaten. but all you want is to matter, don’t you? that’s why you want his life so bad, that’s why you’ll hurt the one you love in the process of it. )
❝ i ain’t givin’ my life up just ‘cause y’want me to. i didn’t ask t’exist, i didn’t ask for someone else’s memories & feelings. think about that a minute before y’go hatin’ me. ❞
arm lowers quickly as he watches the intruder begin his exit, all the life & strength draining from malcolm like a broken faucet. he turns around to lean his full weight against the desk behind him, blue eyes screwed shut as he fights another wave of tears threatening to spill. it is when sim dares voice his opinion once more does the troubled brit freeze in near fear.
( you know better than to turn your back on the enemy! you’ve given him a clear shot! )
knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the surface, body still as he listens to the similitude of his lover speak with a defiance & conviction that nearly reminds mal of trip. the thought sickens him to the core. eyes open & his hard copy of ulysses catches his eye & he has to fight the urge to chuck the damned thing at sim to shut him up.
❛ because you’re not him! it’s that simple. ❜ he still doesn’t turn to face him -- doesn’t know if he’d be able to keep his hands to his side & they need sim in one piece, for trip’s sake.
❛ your name is sim, you are a symbiot, you have a lifespan of two weeks, you weren’t supposed to have trip’s memories & feelings, ❜ he feels his voice lowering, feels his body curling in on itself -- the need to hide crawling back up his throat & suffocating him.
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍.
form trembles & for just a moment the only sound in the room is the soft patter of teardrops on a metallic surface. grip shifts on the desk & he’s turned back around -- fire in his eyes.
❛ you think just because you have his memories & feelings you can just -- replace him? become him? you might have all of trip’s knowledge but you lack any of his wisdom! if you were even half the man trip is you would know better than to be doing any of this! you’d have the understanding to leave me the hell alone! ❜
voice begins rising like the tide again & he pushes himself from the desk, now daring to close the distance between himself & this poor excuse of a copy of the man he loves. there’s scarce a foot of breathing room separating the pair & chin lifts to maintain eye contact with sim.
❛ you have thirty seconds to exit my quarters on your accord. after that i am calling security & you shall be escorted back to your own quarters with a detail posted at your door. am i understood? ❜
[fractures my knuckles on the wall with one swift joint-destroying punch] ohh ahh crunchey
sing of corvo attano, muscles raw from grief, heart corroded like his lost love’s. even now he would go shaking and cold at the sound of chains. maskedsin. by jacob.
sim. *
the hostility in the space between them is almost enough to make him cower, lips pulling into a strong frown as brows crease in contemplation. hands fall to his sides, fingers sliding over one another in a nervous tic —- a difference between him & trip! just one of many that have been developing recently, just another thing to make sim hate himself more than he already does. everywhere he turns, looks of disgust & discomfort follow him – the only friendly presence he’s seemingly found is phlox’s, a man who considers himself sim’s father. the young man supposes that’s true, but it provides no comfort in the face of such a daunting task.
❝ —- yes. ❞ he speaks it abruptly, finally lifting his head to meet malcolm’s gaze. it takes every bit of resolve he has to not look away again, & his mind lingers on the frustration he holds at his own lack of confidence ( trip is so confident! why am i not the same? ). steps are taken forward, only a foot or two closer to malcolm —- it’s an attempt to make this conversation more personal, to convey sim’s sincerity. he knows that the action will be met with refusal & anger before he even commits to it.
❝ i —- i’ve been gettin’ these … feelings. more intense than anythin’ i’ve gotten before, & they ain’t goin’ away. they just keep gettin’ stronger & stronger, & then —- then i got a flood of memories. more of ‘em, with you —- you & him, except they feel like they’re mine. ❞ a pause as a hand raises, settling on his temple as the other finds his hip. he’s confused, frustrated perhaps —- a shake of his head when he looks away, but he finds his eyes drawn back to malcolm’s face in a matter of seconds. to look away would be to lose whatever moments he can grasp of viewing him —- the subject of his growing affections that threaten to drown him before he can be MURDERED anyway!
❝ it’s … more than it was before. the feelings. i’m —- i’m in love with ya, mal. & i just thought that y’deserved to know. ‘cause —- ‘cause i can’t hold ‘em in anymore. i needed to tell ya. ❞ he inhales deeply before chest falls in a sigh, shoulders rolling as he straightens his posture. he decides in this moment to take a risk far greater than any other he’s taken in his short lifetime.
❝ i got a memory of the proposal. under that —- that special tree at yer grandma’s, mal. ❞ voice is softer now, & sim’s gaze is intense. this is a mistake, & he knows it —- but he’s nothing if not impulsive, & the drive he has to make himself known is far too strong for him to ignore. ❝ remember that? ❞
( how foul of you to bring up something you know hits him deep! how disgusting, to try to step into another man’s shoes. you claim to love him & yet lack the mature compassion to keep your distance? )
𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 -- 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒.
body trembles & lungs gasp for air through flared nostrils as uncontrollable tears roll down a pale face. he takes two steps back, mostly for sim’s sake, & balled fists fall to his sides as posture straightens & ocean eyes are once again filled with life. he knew this was going to happen yet was unprepared for how jagged the wound would truly be.
❛ you have no bloody right to say that you’re in love with me! ❜ voice booms like the blast of a shotgun & suddenly the smaller man is in the symbiot’s space, a trembling finger nearly touching an upturned nose. ❛ i have spent the last week of my life living a nightmare! the absolute love of my life has spent that time lying in sickbay in a coma & you think you can just come into our quarters & confess that you’re in love with me?! you inept & naive child! ❜ words are spit like a cobra’s venom & suddenly his body turns -- face down as palm presses against his eyes, battling the migraine that has plagued him since this all started.
( you feel you are bursting at the seams! a star ready to supernova & you fear your rage shall consume & destroy you in one fail swoop! )
he feels the cool metal of his engagement ring against his burning forehead & he wants only to open his eyes & find trip standing there! not some terrible & painful joke of a copy. ❛ those aren’t -- those aren’t your memories to have. that isn’t your moment to enjoy -- this isn’t your relationship to experience! ❜ face turns sharply to stare up into baby blues & overwhelming nausea makes his head swim. body leans against the nearest wall & he spends a split second wondering how far away he truly is from trip in this moment -- hours? days? he knows phlox & archer both told him when the surgery would occur but in this moment he finds it cannot come soon enough.
❛ why do you hurt me like this? ❜ cold anger stares up at sim. ❛ if you truly loved me then you would never have come anywhere near me. if you were 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 like the man i love you’d bloody understand how much your existence tortures me! ❜ voice rises back to a careening height & with it comes his strength. this is his home -- sim only an intruder in it. pushing himself from the wall he stands before this 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 -- disgust radiating from every pore of his body. teary eyes boring into sim -- daring him to question malcolm.
an arm is raised & a single forefinger points to the doorway.
❛ 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓! ❜
pictured: katy & i as we subject y'all to this
“I loved ya long before y'knew.”
here have some soft / @threepips
mischief twinkles in sapphire eyes & a small smirk breaks across a normally stoic expression – head cocking at a bit of an angle as chin rests in clasped fingers supported by propped elbows resting atop his pillow, a soft laugh bubbling to the surface.
❛ did you now? are you implying that i was oblivious to your feelings – or that my boyish charm knocked you off your feet before i could notice? hm? ❜ tone rolls in exaggeration & he must refrain from attempting to push off the rather serious comment even further. instead – he leans forward to plant a soft kiss on his lover’s lips, lingering close.
❛ i’m glad we both eventually came to our senses – even if it took almost dying for it to happen. i’m so happy with you. ❜
holy fuck
sim. *
he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know what he was doing. every day that passes allows new memories to surface, new emotions attached to them —- they aren’t his, he knows that. but they feel like it & they look like it inside his head ( that face is so familiar: his but not his, there but not there ). the feelings that attack him all hours of the day are difficult to decipher, difficult to locate —- are they mine or are they his? & does it even matter, when they sit so heavy on his chest & his heart, seeming so very real? so very recent, so very raw —- captivating.
the clone’s thoughts cannot move past the ocean - eyed armory officer who so vehemently ignores him, & the sharp pain that he feels at the thought that he is unwanted by this crew & especially by malcolm is perhaps worse than the thought that he was simply created to die. so despite the fact that he should know better, sim resolves to pay the man he longs for a visit; his heart races the entire journey to his – their quarters, the halls of enterprise something he knows like he’s been living on this ship his entire life. of course, he has – but in a more abstract way, it feels familiar. an other he cannot place.
after he hits the chime, he doesn’t expect an answer. he expects to be ignored, to have to shamefully stalk back to engineering afflicted & sorrowful. sim’s head snaps up when he’s greeted by a voice so familiar & calming, a smile spreading across his face for a split second before he realizes the forlorn thought that this will not be a pleasant interaction.
❝ hey, mal. ❞ he shouldn’t say it & he knows it, yet it falls from his lips anyway —- a nickname that is not his to give, despite it feeling like it belongs to him. ( it doesn’t. you’re not him, you will never be. you lack his pips, his achievements, his friends, his fiance – you are nothing more than a mean to an end. ) a beat passes before he shifts, rolling a lip between his teeth nervously & clearing his throat before he speaks again.
( you have to look away so as not to flinch from the sheer disgust you see in the face that you love so much. )
❝ uh – we need t’talk. i got somethin’ i really need t’tell ya. ❞ it’s hopeful, expectant even. sim still refuses to look malcolm directly in the face, instead focusing on his boots & then something right past the other man’s presence; tongue rolls over teeth, knuckles crack beneath anxious fingers before he realizes he’ll have to make his case far better than that to be offered any amount of privacy with the lieutenant.
❝ i know why you’ve been avoidin’ me. ❞
he feels a suffering too terrible to name as trip’s nickname ( something you cherished & found comforting when coming from that man’s lips -- ) slides from the doppleganger’s mouth like a shard of glass in between the third & fourth rib -- straight into malcolm’s heart. grip on the doorframe tightens & mind races as it searches for an appropriate response to the most inappropriate of situations. stormy eyes blinks once -- then twice, as he fights the insatiable need to run -- to hide from this imposter that dares act like he belongs here. but, if he knows how stubborn trip can be, then he also knows how stubborn sim is capable of being.
so -- instead, he shall take a deep breath, swallow down the lump forming in his throat & quietly take a step to the side. ( you feel wrong -- allowing this falsehood to enter the most sacred of locale. you wonder what trip would think of this -- if he would be disappointed. ) gaze does not falter as it focuses in on sim -- waiting for him to have the gall to return that small favor.
( if he does not even have the courage to look you in the eye how does he think he will have the courage to say he loves you? )
❛ do you now, ❜ voice comes out as a cold snap, the naturally emotional man now finding it difficult to keep his upset at bay. he moves past sim & deeper into his quarters. ( you mustn’t let him touch anything! else he taints this holy ground with his unholy presence. ) arms fold over a wide chest & he stands there -- ready to face his demon head on.
❛ have you suddenly realized something? ❜ he feels like an interrogator -- the way impatient digits dance uncomfortably over a taut bicep. he wants this to be over with -- wants this nightmare to end. he wants trip back. he needs trip back.