#drowning mention tw
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dreamerfms · 2 months ago
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“ i, uh, actually don’t know how to swim, ” she admits with a tinge of embarrassment. so many things in her life she had perfected, yet a skill that seems so vital was something she’d never even tried, through no lack of her own desire. “ my mother always said that chlorine would ruin my hair. salt water too. i guess in her eyes, that’s a fate far worse than drowning, ” she teases, faint smile as she unintentionally reaches up to make sure her hair is pristine. old habits hard to kick. closed. ft @wanderersfm
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nothingleftofyou · 4 months ago
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there was no water in stefan's lungs. he was breathing, he was breathing, he was breaking -- the glass in his hand. crap. "that..." what was worse, admitting something was wrong or looking like an asshole who didn't like his drink? "there was a crack, i think." stefan said instead, though it came out as something of a murmur. "guess i don't know my own strength." he did, of course. hello, vampire. but that needn't be broadcasted to the other patrons.
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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 1 year ago
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Primetober Day 5: Life By The Sea, with all three additional themes (Drowning, Puking, and Sick fic)
Canon compliant. Dream finds Tommy in Exile not only barely crawling onto the sand, but also with an obvious fever. He finds he quite enjoys caring for his protege-in-training. Warnings for illness, vomiting, abuse, referenced drowning, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.
ao3 link
— Dream’s stomach dropped when he couldn’t find Tommy in Logstedshire.
He hadn’t run. He couldn’t have run. Dream had trained him too well, been far too kind for him to stupidly run off. So that meant one thing- Tommy had been hurt and couldn’t make it to meet him.
Poor thing. The idea of Tommy hurt and alone was something Dream never wanted. Well, not unless he deserved it. There was a difference between his fair punishments and the cruelty of the world he tried his best to spare him from.
He wasn’t in the log cabin or his tent. Dream was about ready to tear the whole world down to find him when he noticed a trail of footsteps leading to the beach, barely noticeable in the dirt and sand. He silently thanked the Primes as he followed, glad that Tommy hadn’t escaped or anything, until he came across his collapsed form.
Tommy was pallid, pale even where you could see the pink of sunburn peaking out. He was on his hands and knees, shaking violently, as he vomited out what looked like a lungful of salt water. As Dream got closer, he could see how wobbly he seemed, even outside of the shaking, unable to get a firm grounding and looking about ready to fall into the ocean.
“Tommy?” Dream kept his voice gentle, calm. He tried to keep any hints of concern out of his voice, lest Tommy think he was in trouble. Any punishments would come later, even for the infractions not yet corrected yesterday. Dream was a patient man, and he wasn’t an idiot. Tommy looked so frail that laying a hand on him could tear him in two, and he certainly wasn’t lucid enough for a lecture. “Are you alright?”
Tommy coughed violently, the last of the water out of his system. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to speak, but no sound came out. Shakily, he tried to at least sit, only to faceplant into the sand pathetically with a whimper.
Seeing Tommy in such a state in any other situation would have been hilarious, but now? What if Tommy had hurt himself badly? He wasn’t allowed to die, not until Dream decided to. He was Tommy’s God, in all ways that mattered, and he wasn’t going to let whatever this was take that control from him.
Helping the poor thing up, Dream couldn’t help but notice how clammy Tommy’s skin was, his temperature burning bright hot. That was the only warning he had that the kid was sick before, a split second later, he vomited all over Dream, a mix of seawater, blood, and what little food he had eaten.
Tommy shivered, weakly trying to pull away and failing, settling for turning his face away from Dreams. “M’sorry,” he muttered, a hint of terror in his quiet, hoarse voice. “I din’ mean to. Please, don’…” He was cut off with more gagging, this time onto the sand.
“Oh, Tommy…” Dream gently ruffled Tommy’s hair. “I’m not gonna get mad at you for being sick. That’s not your fault, is it? Shh, let’s just get you somewhere comfortable, okay?”
Tommy groaned as Dream picked him up. He was so light, probably even more than the heavy weight of a netherite axe, and Dream found himself mixing with a bit of concern- maybe he should make more effort to get Tommy to eat- and a weird sense of protectiveness rushed through him. Tommy was so fragile, so small, so young. So much lesser than him. It made Dream feel like a God.
Tommy lay completely limp, clearly exhausted, as Dream carried him towards the cabin the ghost had built sometime early on, the only valuable thing he’d ever done. Lying him down on the mattress inside, patchwork yet sturdy enough to hold his minuscule weight, Dream knelt beside him.
“Okay, let’s clean you up first, okay? Then you’ll need to eat a little, and then you can sleep.”
“B-but wha’ about puttin’ my items in the hole?” There was a genuine terror behind Tommy’s tired, dull eyes. “Don’ wanna get in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that, Tommy. Just stay in here until you feel better, okay? I’m not having you die on me.”
“I’ll be fine, man-“
“I’m not risking that.” Dream’s voice must have come off harsher than he intended because Tommy flinched upon hearing that. “I don’t want you to make it worse, Tommy. I know I work you hard, but it’s to teach you. I’m not gonna make you do that when you’ve got a fever. Your orders until you’re not puking all over the place and fainting are to let me take care of you, do you understand?”
Tommy nodded slightly, looking incredibly nauseous at the effort.
“Good,” Dream mumbled absently, looking through the mess of his inventory to grab a bucket of water and soap. Thank the Primes he had those on him whenever he visited Logstedshire- he couldn’t stand the feeling of the dirt and sand digging to him, so he rubbed his skin raw to get it off and feel pristine. Cleanliness was next to Godliness, after all.
Tearing off a clean piece of his cloak- he couldn’t bear to keep it knowing it had been dirtied, the idea made him feel like he’d be sick instead of Tommy, so he might as well make it useful- he dipped it into the warm water and started gently cleaning the mess off of Tommy’s face and hair. Thankfully, it looked like he didn’t get his clothes dirty or anything, so it was fairly quick, though Dream made sure to double and triple-check, both with soap and without.
“M’ sorry,” Tommy mumbled halfway through, seeming half-conscious. “For bein’ a burden an’ shit.”
Getting the sense that Tommy probably wouldn’t remember what he said back at this point, Dream decided, stupidly, to be honest. “Don’t worry, Tommy. I love being able to take care of something.”
Plants, animals, a server. Throughout his entire life- and that was a lot, lot longer than he let on- Dream had taken joy in nurturing and little else. Some things dulled the void of painful memories other than that, of course. The adrenaline of a Manhunt, or the thrill the game of politics gave. A casual friendship, trying to swallow the burning feelings of betrayal whenever the other person left his side, left his brain to be tormented by loneliness and nightmares. Those worked for a while, maybe a few years, and then they dried up, leaving Dream stranded with all the pains of the world on his body and mind, phantom agony ripping through every possible part of him.
And Tommy… Tommy was so in need of guidance. Young, still naïve, yet too defiant and stubborn. He was a handful, and that was perfect, keeping Dream’s mind occupied and preventing waking dreams of things he would not speak. Tommy was safety in a world Dream knew would turn on him the second he showed weakness, do unspeakable tortures out of pure spite for love and happiness. And having Tommy so helpless, so in need of caretaking? The feeling of comfort, the knowledge that there was no way the world could twist things around and leave him crying in pain on the ground again and again, the fact he was essentially a God in every way that counted?
It was intoxicating.
Tommy didn’t react, eyes starting to flutter shut. Poor thing must have been exhausted. Still, he needed to get something in him. Then, he could sleep as long as he needed to.
“Tommy?” Dream gently shook at his shoulders, causing his eyes to slowly open a bit. “Tommy, you can’t go to sleep yet.”
“Wha- sorry,” Tommy murmured, barely intelligible through how it slurred from exhaustion. “I- you c’n hit me first, or wha’ever…”
“Prime, Tommy, no!” Dream couldn’t help a little bit of horror slip into his voice- yes, he needed to be cruel to be kind, and he certainly couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it, but he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t going to hit Tommy when he was so ill; he didn’t want to kill him. Not until he was ready for the experiments, anyway. “You need to eat something, that’s all.”
“I’ll just sick it up. An’ I’m not hungry.” There was a spark of defiance in Tommy’s half-opened eyes, just a tiny spark, and Dream couldn’t help but grin at that. He was still the same old Tommy, it seemed.
“You won’t get better if you don’t have a full stomach to heal on. Unless you wanna be sick forever, you gotta eat.” Dream snorted. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but you don’t want to rely on me forever, right?”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “Fuck no.”
“Then eat.” Dream got a small bowl of soup from his inventory- he was going to eat it, but he’d go without food for a day to help Tommy. He wished he could do kind acts like that more often. “Do I need to spoon-feed you, or-“
“No!” Tommy shook his head vigorously, and shakily grabbed the bowl, sipping from the side like a wild animal instead of waiting for a spoon. It was disgusting, but if it got Tommy to eat at all, Dream would swallow the icky feeling in his chest as Tommy slowly managed to finish most of the bowl. When he looked about ready to collapse into it, Dream took it from him and put it to the side as Tommy collapsed back into a fetal position, hugging himself as he shivered.
When Tommy started snoring, Dream pulled the patchwork blanket over him and tucked him in before feeling his forehead. He was still warm enough that Dream couldn’t help but cringe- he should bring some potions to make sure this fever didn’t get any worse, because he didn’t want a corpse on his hands until he knew he could fix it- but he seemed a little less clammy, and as Dream did it, a small smile crossed Tommy’s face.
“Hi, Tubzo…” he muttered, delirious, and Dream bit his tongue. He might hate the ram, but he’d let the kid believe whatever if it would get him to sleep. He’d punish him once he was better, for that and for whatever other slights he’d make while ill. He wasn’t going soft or anything, but he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t pointlessly cruel. This was all for the betterment of everyone.
Besides, it let him sit by Tommy’s side, watching that oddly peaceful and serene expression on his face, and Dream wouldn’t give that up for the world.
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theshadowrealmitself · 2 years ago
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Humans go to another planet where the intelligent species there is what we would describe as mermaids and it turns out that by their standards Humans are absolutely enchanting and much like we have horror stories of mermaids dragging loved ones to the depths out of joy not realizing they are drowning them, the “mermaids” have warning stories about staying out of water too long because the captivating Humans are excited to talk to them and don’t notice the negative effect the air is having on them
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marsdenlee · 9 months ago
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Synopsis: Ryden reveals a plan to help Mars with his auditory hallucinations. Trigger Warnings: auditory hallucinations, murder, disturbing imagery, drowning mention
Since Ry had texted Mars, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else, which left him in a very unfortunate situation of slowly getting filled up with anxious thoughts which only fueled the curse within him. Festering voices echoed back the worst possible options that were getting harder and harder to disregard the longer they went on. He’ll get hurt. He won’t come back. He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving. You’ll be alone. Alone. All alone. You deserve to be alone.
Mars did his best to distract himself from these voices he couldn’t shirk but they were a veil of sticky spiders webs and he a fly, the more he struggled the more he was ensnared, giving life and validity to the voices and their whispers. 
He shoved Airpods in his ears and blasted music to drown them out but they were not subject to outside forces, the voices came from within and he could still hear them, screaming, whistling, poking and prodding, only it was nonsense now, even the music was nonsense, just notes and a convoluted mess of incoherent sound and that, at least, was better. He sat on the floor with his legs stretched in front of him, Maria Elena crawling over them like the obstacles they were while she laughed her bubbling laughter he couldn’t hear and Tux was rubbing himself against his back, occasionally pressing front paws with sharp claws to his back, wanting to climb upwards but Mars would just flex his shoulders to prevent it. He could only tolerate being a jungle gym to one being at a time. 
Work at the car shop finally done, Ry came home with two kinds of extra large pizza boxes and plenty of drinks to wash it down with, easily carrying stuff in his arms although putting the key to the lock had required some juggling. Slipping inside, he made his way to the kitchen first to leave all of it on the counter before he toed out of his boots and tossed them back into the hallway to be put away later. Then he made his way into the living room, first to say hello to his two favorite people in the world and then he’ll think of a shower, to wash away all the grime, sweat and stains of the car shop off himself. He found his man on the floor as he often sat, playing with the little toddler who was the first to notice him, a piercing squeal of delight followed by a blabber of multiple versions of dada blurted excitedly in a single breath while the scaredy tuxedo cat immediately found an opportunity to dart away and escape the big bad wolf before it got him. Not that Ryden ever forced affection on Tux, he was aware of the sort of effect he had on most animals. Still, Ryden making a conscious effort to ignore the feline didn’t make it any more accepting of the wolf. 
Plopping down next to Marsden so their shoulders touched, he exhaled tiredly, watching Maria Elena try to crawl over the siren’s long legs so she could get to the other pair of limbs stretching out next to her father’s. Ryden leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to a bony shoulder in a silent greeting, having noticed the Airpods in Mars’ ears and leaving it to the siren to take them out in his own time.
Mars didn't realize Ryden had come home until he noticed Tux dash away to some hiding place which was unfortunately something the oft coy cat did even though Ryden had been living here for some time now, and before long he was joined on the floor with shoulders touching and a sweet kiss applied to his shoulder. The siren leaned into him, turning his head to press his own lips to whatever part of the werewolf he could land them on, the side of a jaw. It was now that Mars removed the Airpods, squeezing the little things so the music stopped playing from them and he carefully stuffed them into the pockets of his sweatpants because leaving them out was a choking hazard for the little toddler who had successfully crawled over both his legs and was now in Ryden's lap to give him a greeting of her own which constituted of a lot of babbling because she must of course tell him all about her day. It brought a smile to Marsden's lips, looking at her interact with the other man, a sweet scene that contrasted the unheard screaming in his mind.
Ryden snorted in amusement as he watched the little girl struggle to get to him, not helping because he believed this was good exercise for her and she was getting stronger by the day, climbing her own little mountains and making it to the next ones on her way, surmounting each obstacle and coming up victorious, constantly growing, always giving them both new things to look forward to, surprising them beyond their expectations. Although it often saddened Marsden to see her grow out of her baby clothes and shoes, to see her now demanding to zoom around more than to be carried, to see her growing up and get more independent with each passing moment, it brought joy too because slowly but surely she was becoming a person, each day a bigger one than she was the day before. As she settled into Ryden’s lap, the wolf raised a fist for her to bump in greeting but she only knew how to slap her tiny hand at it, doing it over and over again as she babbled away about her day. But even that was a tiny miracle because up until recently, she would either ignore or just grab it with her always sticky little hands. Now she actually kind of sort of got the gist of it and it made Ryden chuckle. 
He scooped her up with a little groan of effort the action didn’t really take, lifting her above head and giving her a little toss, this sending her into a wiggling spasm of excitement, her baby laughter filling up the room. “Guess wha’ we got for dinner…?” He said to her in an exaggeratedly mysterious tone, lowering her just enough so their noses booped. “Pizza!” And again he thrust her into the air, her giggles exploding like fireworks above them.
"Woah, pizza," Mars returned with enthusiasm, "Ain't we lucky, 'er what?" He nudged his shoulder against Ryden's, looking at him quietly, thoughtfully, ignoring the whisper of voices that promised bad things were just around the corner. It was with the point of his chin against Ryden's shoulder that Mars started to say, "Ya kinda stink but in a good way. Lemme get a better whiff of ya," and nuzzled his face into the werewolf's neck while inhaling deeply. 
Stop that. 
"Sorry," Mars found himself responding reflexively out loud to a voice no one else could hear but it sounded like Ryden even though it wasn't. The voices were good mimics. "Ya wanna shower an' I'll feed her first?"
Lowering the baby back onto his lap because it seemed like she would soon be done having fun with him and would probably want to continue whatever her baby brain was up to before Ryden’s arrival interrupted her, he let her slide off his lap on her own to go get whatever she was after, which was probably some random toy or two that were littering the floor, which she would abuse until she got bored of it then move onto the next one. Both of her adults were back in one place, so she could rest easy, going about her baby day without a care in the world. 
“Yea, I do.” Was what Ryden actually said but perhaps that was exactly why the intruding fake Ryden voice fit so well into the context. If he thought anything about the apology he didn’t expect or ask for, he didn’t reveal it. “I can wait. Let’s sort her out first. She didn’t nap yet?” As he spoke, he slipped a hand into Marsden’s, fingers intertwining. It felt rough and dry, Ryden having already used the harsh chemicals in the shop to try and get the car oil stains out before he was home.
"Mm she did but only fer about a half hour or so," he waggled his fingers until they fit snugly between the digits of the other man, not minding the dry skin but still he moved to lift their entwined hands up to pepper the back of Ryden's knuckles with kisses if the action was not prevented. The voices turned incoherent once more, a low babble of background noise, whisperings of a conversation he was no longer party to but was forced to overhear just enough of. "She wanted to play an' I think she was missin' ya. Like me. Was missin' ya."
“Aw, damn. Was kinna hopin’ she didn’t, so I could run us a bath.” Ryden sighed, though he was only mildly disappointed. He’d long started to grin at such little obstacles in their way. Never once had he actually thought of Maria Elena as bothersome for taking priority though he did sometimes feel sorry for their lack of alone time together. Of course he allowed the kisses to his hand, smirking softly at the gesture. “Missin’ ya every day too, moonbeam. Both o’ya.” He switched their hands over so that he could deliver a few kisses atop Mars’ knuckles in return.
"Can try to put her down again," Mars hummed lowly, keeping his eyes on Ryden's lips as they pressed against his own knuckles now, watching to match the movement of them to any words he might hear so he would know for certain it was him talking and not someone else, "Mebbe after she eats somethin', get her belly full, mebbe she'll get tired an' den we can soak.. an' talk."
“Eh, if it happens, it happens.” He shrugged, breath ghosting over much smoother knuckles than his own. “I’ll take wha’ I can git.” And with that, he dropped Mars’ hand so he could playfully make him bow his head, fingers digging into raven-dyed hair to push his head down just enough to lean in and take a good though gentle nibble of the back of his neck. Whenever this spot got exposed, whether from Marsden peering into his notebook to doodle or leaning over the sink or bending over to pick something up, Ryden got this inexplicable urge to just pounce and deliver sweet love bites to where his hairline met that place. 
Chuckling victoriously, he made a quick escape, standing up to get the ball rolling and settle the rest of their day. “Gunna prep her plate real quick so ya can feed ‘er. Got anythin’ else that needs doin’ b’fore?”
Mars offered little resistance to Ryden when he felt the pressure of his hand on his head, pushing his head down, only letting out a sea of his own laughter at the unexpected action which caught him off guard and only pretending to fight back just enough to make it fun and for the victory of the werewolf to be all the sweeter because it was also a victory for himself, feeling teeth at the back of his neck sent a satisfactory shiver down his spine. The siren tried to swipe a hand at the ankles of the quickly retreating werewolf but was too slow and his fingers only reached air. "Ya quick fuck," Mars chuckled, rolling onto his stomach as he laid on the floor and looked up at Ryden. 
Maria Elena took an interest at the fun they were having and came over to collapse roughly over top of his back, eliciting an 'ouphe' from the siren. "Dishes an' laundry. Never endin'," he pulled his knees up beneath to lift himself and her for she was now riding on his back with her hands curled into tight fists at the back of his shirt to keep her from falling off, "I'm just a work horse, neigh neigh neigh," he let out a silly nonsense song as he crawled on the floor, Maria Elena giggling wildly, singing in her best attempt to match him, neigh neigh neigh. So too did the voices, neigh, neigh, neigh.
As he walked back towards the kitchen, Ryden did a pretty good impression of Marsden doing the finger guns for the siren. “Dishes, gotcha.” He was going to be in the kitchen anyway. It made him laugh how Maria Elena practically threw herself onto Mars’ back, making the two quite an adorable little pile, but he had to turn around and walk into their kitchen so he could do what he could for them, help take care of them both as best as he could by putting that supernatural werewolf stamina to good use. Even after a long day at the car shop, he still had enough fuel to power him till the end of the day. That didn’t mean that he was avoiding the talk. He was just building up to it, attempting to get things comfortable enough for Marsden to listen and talk about this at length, so they could take their time and not worry over the little baby picking up any awkward energy from them that might also stress her out. Because even kids this young soaked up vibes like little sponges, especially from adults they relied on.
Thus the offer to get the chores out of the way first, to handle the kid as the number one priority, the nice yummy food that awaited although they’d probably have to microwave it later and doing something both of them enjoyed together later on, where being alone in a space where no one else could intrude might help Mars open up comfortably, knowing that he was safe and listened to. Ryden was never a subtle man but he was loving, and for love he could be careful. For love, he could do anything. And that was exactly what this talk was going to be about. Doing anything, for love.
Mars played along with Maria Elena, pretending he was a horse and she was some valiant princess on an adventure to the kitchen, or rather the island counter that doubled as their dining table since the apartment didn’t have a formal dining table, only stools lining the island counter and where most of their meals were eaten or in the living room. Once the kitchen was reached, Mars gently rolled to encourage Maria Elena’s dismount so he could get a drink for her and as he passed by the other man, gave him a quick kiss and a “Danks, starshine.”
It sounded like the kettle was going off and his eyes kept flicking toward it, even going over once to double check the stove was off and the kettle was empty, saying nothing about it once he confirmed this and just resumed getting a drink for the little toddler. “Whaddya wanna drink, baby? Juice?” Mars asked the little girl who had been walking between his legs and all around, singing a song about pizza. “‘Er mebbe water. Less sugar,” he mumbled under his breath as he got a cup out for her and topped it with a lid and straw so she wouldn’t spill it. “Both hands, take dat, nice,” he said to her softly as she grabbed the cup. 
Washing his hands one more time in the sink, Ry leaned in for the kiss in the passing as if on a cue, the two already having learned to work as a team on a daily basis - where Marsden left off, Ryden would pick up, the two becoming really good at working as a tag team. Where one lacked, the other added up, when one was down the other rowed the boat but at the end of the day, they completed each other and got through whatever the day brought together.
Ry prepped the plate for Maria Elena, some boiled carrot sticks and sweet corn, soft chicken and a little fruit salad mix of bananas, kiwis and mango pieces all nicely cut up and, of course, soft pizza crust she could enjoy, all pieces easy for her to grab with her little baby hands and easily stuff her mouth with at her own pace without making too big of a mess. Leaving it up to Marsden to watch her while she ate, he did the dishes and would then proceed to do the laundry too and whatever else along the way he’d noticed and had some time for.
Mars would take the plate of food for the little one and bring it back over to the living room, Maria Elena following closely along beside his legs like the shadow that she was and he helped settle her in his lap so he could direct her to start eating because she was still at the age where eating wasn't all that interesting and unless it was paired with some sort of game then she wasn't going to do it. She'd eat a few bites then get distracted and start doing a lap around the living room, running around and Mars would need to call her back over, helping to encourage her to use a fork instead of her fingers and naturally giving her a lot of praise along the way. "Yer a natural," he'd usually end up saying, "No one would ever know ya never did dis before." 
Once the event that was dinner ended for it was usually always an event, Mars took both baby and plate of food to the sink to give the plate a quick rinse and to wash her hands and face. Then with her under his arm like she was a sack of rice, he toted her to the nursery to attempt putting her down for another nap so the two men could have some precious alone time. Luckily, the full meal helped and in conjunction with a story that he weaved out from his own imagination, the little jelly baby would soon be fast asleep curled up in her bed between a pile of all her favorite plush toys. It was peaceful, watching her sleep, few things gave him greater joy but he couldn't enjoy it in the way he used to, whispering voices ruined everything. 
He would leave the nursery in search for Ryden, rubbing his fingers with chipped black paint against his pulsing temples.
Ryden could be found folding the freshly washed and dried laundry in the bedroom, the new batch dumped on the bed before the wolf tackled it, having his own way of doing it. He rolled up articles of clothing rather than folded them, so they took up as little space as possible, unless they were the sort that needed to be hanged. But everything else was now either a little ball or a pancake roll ready to be put away, which was exactly what he was doing when Mars walked in in search for him, except for Maria Elena’s stuff, which he would bring to her room to store away once she was done with her nap 
He looked up from an open chest of drawers where he tucked the stuff in, noting how slim fingers rubbed in circles against Marsden’s templates. “Headache?” He asked casually. “Wanna pop a pill?” Of course he meant some pain relief, having some for werewolf use to offer though he’d probably have to dose it for Marsden.
"Not sure it'd work," Mars said back with a sigh, helping to put away what was left from the bed and into a drawer or hung up to expedite the chore. 
You're doing it wrong. Mistake. You're a mistake. 
Mars frowned as he hung up the last thing in his hands. "Oh, yeh, she's asleep," he said as an afterthought, not remembering if he'd already said it or not. "Wanna do dat bath? I could use it."
All done with putting most of the laundry away, he left the few bits and pieces still to be put away to Mars so he could observe the siren as he moved about, not commenting much just yet. He nodded at the announcement that Maria Elena was asleep, stepping quietly closer to the man so he could watch him more carefully. In the end, he simply took his hand, with the intention of guiding him out of the bedroom if he would follow.
Mars did follow, no resistance at all for he would go wherever Ryden wanted to take him. He just wanted to be with him and then nothing else mattered as much, not even the whispers still plaguing his mind.
Fingers wrapped around the other’s hand, likely fever-warm in comparison, Ryden took Mars to the bathroom, only dropping his hold so he could actually run the water in the tub. “Bubbles or no bubbles?” He asked casually, not minding it either way. He wouldn’t mind the salts he’d bought for the siren either - as long as he got soap and water, Ryden was good. “Wanna give me a shave too?” He suggested, an absent rub to his cheek already able to feel stubble growing there, the werewolf DNA giving Ryden some trouble in that department since he preferred his face cleanly shaven. If the wolf decided so, he’d probably be able to grow one luscious, thick beard in practically no time.
With his hand freed, Mars leaned against the counter in the bathroom that housed the sink, watching as Ry ran the tap to fill the tub with water. "Bubbles," he confirmed, usually preferring plain salt water because that helped the most with hydration but bubbles were fun and distracting from time to time. "Mhm, love to," his own fingers came to graze across his lips and chin where he'd felt the lingering trace of gentle abrasions of the werewolf's kiss. A kiss he wanted to feel again so pushed away from the sink in favor of leaning in for the other man, "Kiss me sweet."
“Mmkay.” He popped a bubble bath bar out of its packing and dropped it into the tub to foam up as it filled up, dipping his fingers in to check the temp, knowing the siren’s preference well by now. When Mars leaned in, Ry turned, sitting onto the edge of the tub to pull Mars closer, looking up and awaiting for the kiss to land, fingers encircling slim wrists. “I feel like sandpaper tho.” He warned before they would collide, thumbs pressing into the backs of Mars’ wrists, feeling his pulse there, keen ears listening to the rhythm of his heart - a neat little trick he’d learned ever since his supernatural hearing revealed that he could also pick up on heart rate and beat to gauge someone’s state of stress, or even when someone was lying or hiding something. Though involuntary reactions like these could be interpreted in many ways, combined with observations of the person’s behavior, their expressions and gestures, Ryden had found ways to get pretty good at it. He was pretty certain that something was going on with Marsden, something beyond the usual stress of the day, something that caused the headache and a slightly irregular rhythm in his chest. How could Ryden not be aware when the other half of his soul was suffering? It was impossible to overlook.
"I'll survive," Mars would say back before their lips met, coarse stubble of facial hair tickling his chin and the edges of his mouth, it really was surprising, especially at first, how quickly it seemed to grow. Oblivious to the keen tactics which Ryden was employing to determine his current state of being, he never quite knew how the other seemed to know it but he always managed to him out. Marsden attributed it to something cosmic because that's what it felt like for him, something unexplainable. 
He heard a cry and broke the kiss to groan, forehead falling against the werewolf's shoulder, "She woke up," not their precious moment already being disturbed, but there was no cry, not a real one, only the one he could hear in his head.
Just when his eyes had fallen closed against the kiss, Mars broke it, distressed over something that did not happen. Ryden would be able to hear Maria Elena even over the rush of water into the tub behind them. But he didn’t. The baby was sound asleep and if the werewolf really focused, he would probably be able to distinguish the sound of her even breathing in the other room. He shook his head, the movement probably more felt than seen as the siren dropped his forehead into the curve of Ry’s neck. “She didn’t, baby. She well asleep.” He pressed his cheek against the side of his face, soft baritone in Marsden’s ear. “They talkin’ to ya again, luv?” He inquired tentatively, keeping his hold on Mars’ wrists, thumbs now drawing soothing circles over the inside of them.
The voices were very convincing but Ryden was more compelling. Rationally, Mars knew that the werewolf's hearing was far better than his own, if Maria Elena really did wake then the wolf would know it, he wouldn't lie and say she hadn't if she did. For a few silent -- almost silent for he never had pure silence these days -- breaths the siren did not reply as the weight of the reality started to sink in. It was easier to give in to the hallucinations, to believe that to be the true reality, to break away from the other man completely to go back to the nursey and peep through the door to confirm for himself. It was harder to fight against that compulsion, to force himself to keep his feet rooted in place, his wrists twisting only so that he could encircle his arms around the other man's body, an anchor to keep him from floating away.
"It hasn't stopped," he admitted quietly, "Since dat day."
Ryden sucked in a breath, a slow, moderated intake through teeth. ‘Since that day’. That was a long time to struggle with this. A long time to battle a demon all on one’s own. Ryden knew all about battling demons, especially when they were a part of you. When they were you. He let go of Mars’ hands, letting the siren do whatever he wished, embracing him in return, holding him back with equal force in hopes to keep him right where he was and not lose him to the demons he was fighting. 
“Baby. I’d like to go and try sumtin’. See if I can git ya help. S’what I was gunna talk to ya about. Mm? Whaddaya think ‘bout dat?” He began, palms pressing at the base of siren’s spine, feeling for the hem of his shirt so he could dip fingers beneath it and work his palms up over bare skin under it, pulling the fabric up with the touch.
"Road trip," Mars said back, sounding like nonsense but it was a call back to their text exchange where he'd suggested the same, of course, that was before knowing the details and Ryden had mentioned it was more than just a road trip but for simplicities sake it was how the siren voiced that he did remember their prior conversation. The werewolf's hands against the bare skin of his back felt so very warm, he was always so very warm and Marsden always usually one or two degrees on the colder side, byproduct of his slim physique and siren nature. 
He's leaving you. He's leaving. Alone. You'll be all alone. They'll come. They're coming. When you're alone.
More crying that wasn't real but he still turned his head, looking instead of at the door to the side of Ry's face, if Ry did not alert at a sound then it wasn't really there, rational thoughts Marsden focused on. "Can't do it here?" 
“Mhmm.” Ryden confirmed with a soft hum. He persisted in lifting the shirt over Mars’ back until it reached his shoulder blades and would go no further unless the siren put his arms up and allowed it to be taken off. “There are a few things we can check out ‘ere. I asked around.” He answered truthfully because there were. Greywood held plenty of options too. It was only a matter of which ones Mars wanted to explore. However, by the system of elimination, Ryden had decided to go for the big prize. It just sounded like it hit multiple flies with one stone. At least that was how it seemed to Ryden, after thinking it through logically.
“Wanna go and check on ‘er if it’s gunna make ya chill out a bit?” He asked, not minding the interruption at all. Whatever would soothe the anxiety Mars was very likely feeling now.
Mars lifted his head off of Ryden's shoulder at the same time that he lifted his arms to help facilitate the removal of his shirt, exposing a long lean torso decorated with a smattering of tattoos. "Mmm," the siren hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head, he would not go check on her even though he wanted to, giving life to the voices wasn't always a good idea, sometimes it's what they wanted. He didn't actually know if they had plans or things of that nature, it just felt like they did, always knowing what was going on in his head, knowing his weaknesses and just where to push to send him over the edge. 
"Tell me," and since Ryden had been so very kind to remove his own shirt, Marsden's fingers now pulled up at the bottom of his shirt as well, willing it to be removed as he lifted it up from the sides. "'Bout da road trip one," he asked since that was the one it seemed like Ryden was most interested in, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned it.
Letting Mars’ shirt drop onto the tiled floor, Ry left his decision to not go check on his daughter without a comment. It was a thing entirely up to Marsden. No matter how Mars decided to handle the voices in his head, Ryden would support him as best as he knew how. Whether it meant they’d both sink or swim, Ryden would go down or rise up with the other man, taking whatever the road ahead of them put on their path. 
Ry helped Mars with the shirt, pulling it over his head so it joined the siren’s in a pile that would likely be growing soon. Deft fingers now moved to work on Marsden’s zipper, intent on getting his pants off too. The tub behind them would soon be full, bubbles rising like snow-covered mountains. “I’d hafta go to Colombia. Dip into the fuckin’ Amazon forest. How awesome is dat, eh?” He grinned sharply, his attempt at making light of it. “There’s dis tribe there, they do some voodoo shit, I don’t know. M’still askin’ around. But apparently they can put magic into yer skin. So I was thinkin’ of testin’ it on me, see how it goes. And mebbe if it’s the good stuff, ya can go next time, do it too. And mebbe it’ll help, yanno?”
"O'yeh?" He couldn't stop himself from appreciating the shirtless tattooed torso of the werewolf man before him, blue eyes caressing with their survey over well explored territories, letting Ryden assist in the removal of his pants though he was capable of it himself, he just got a little jolt of pleasure from feeling the other man's fingers following the zipline of his jeans. "Mm, magic in yer skin," he echoed back, nodding slightly in vague understanding. He was getting distracted, whispering voices and an attractive physique in front. 
"How dat work? What's it do?" He asked, pushing his pants down past his hips and leaning slightly to tug the tight garment off from his ankles.
“Mhmm.” Ryden hummed out a confirmation, glad to see that the siren was following him, as best as he could given the situation and what Ryden was sure was a pretty lame explanation. But in his defense, he had some more research to do. He just hated hiding things from Marsden, so the reveal of what Ryden had been pondering over ever since he saw Marsden lose it that day had been a little premature. What Ryden wanted to make sure of from here on was that every step of the way was something he shared with Mars, every little tidbit of info he’d come across, so the siren was always aware and in the loop. 
He held Mars by the arm as he leaned over to pull his pants completely off, not because Marsden really needed the support but because the gesture mattered. And because touching the siren in any way was just a thing Ryden always wanted to do. When Mars stood upright again, socks and underwear the only clothing left, Ry wrapped his arms around his waist, his seat at the edge of the tub making the height difference between them even more obvious. Cheek pressed against Mars’ chest, top of his head fitting snugly under the siren’s chin, he listened for the other man’s heartbeat, an echo of a life loved to its every little atom.
“Guess they’ll be tattooin’ it on me. The bloke I asked about it said it blocks magic. A magic that blocks magic, f’dat makes sense.” He spoke against the pale skin of the siren, right above the line of text covering the upper left side of his chest. Undoubtedly there was a tensing of Ryden’s middle beneath his jeans, an involuntary reaction to the man in front of him that Ryden didn’t care to hide or calm down, even if the evening might not lead there because there were other, more pressing matters to attend to. Yet it was there nevertheless, because this glorious man moved him in all the right ways, without fail, every time. If he could just press him into himself until he melted in, that would be good.
Mars immediately noted the word choice of the other man, his arms naturally wrapping loosely around the neck and shoulders of the one who was holding him around his middle, blue eyes looking down to the top of the perfectly styled hair. “It’s already decided?” He asked, taking the way Ryden phrased it as a certainty, they will be, as if it was already sorted and all he needed to do was be there and it would happen. 
He can’t wait to leave you. Worthless. You’re worthless. Silly papi. So silly. Shhh..
“When d’ya leave?” Mars asked quietly, his fingers rubbing at the back of Ryden’s neck and smoothing over a firm shoulder blade then back up again, fingers raking over the closely cut hairs at the back of Ryden’s head, trailing a tender path with his fingers. “Mm an’ d’ya mind lookin’ at me when ya talk? It’s kinda loud in here,” not referring to the rushing of the water as it filled the tub to his own mind, chattering anxieties that didn’t stop, they only got quieter or louder.
It felt like a jab at him, at the fact that he’d come to some decisions alone. It was true, Ryden was much too used to pulling everything alone, ever since childhood. Even while a pack was a group of people, he still held a position in it alone. He was used to making decisions alone, doing things alone, taking action alone. Guess Marsden got him there. Ryden’s lips pursed into a pout and he buried his face further against Mars’ chest, hiding from what he felt was an accusation coming from the other man. 
A simple shrug was given to Mars’ question because when he would leave was certainly not decided on yet,The tender touch of his fingers helped though, stopped Ryden from defending himself without thinking things through first. At the request however, he immediately looked up, steel-colored gaze meeting the ocean blue. “What’s it sayin’?”
"Ya know I trust ya," he said to the wolf. He too knew the other man with the well known intimacy that came from knowing someone over the span of many years and ways, they knew each other as friends, as more than friends, as partners through life, the only thing they hadn't ever been was strangers. He recognized the way Ryden had buried his face instead of replying, he was hiding, "More'n myself sometimes." 
"Nothin' good," the siren replied back, leaning over to press his lips to the top of Ryden's forehead when he turned his attention up to him, back arching to maintain a close proximity and a meeting of metal of ocean.
“I can’t sit an’ do nothin’ while yer goin’ through shit.” He didn’t need to hide to say that, he would say it loud and clear any place, any time, and he said it to the blue eyes that looked down at him, with trust Ryden knew Mars always had for him. It wasn’t that he doubted himself either. If something needed to be done, Ryden would do it, and there was only one force in the world that could stop him. But he had become so sensitive to the man he held. If Marsden so much as breathed wrong, it disrupted Ryden’s entire world. Ever since the day they officially moved in together, he realized that. He couldn’t bear to know that Mars thought less of him, couldn’t bear having him mad or disappointed at him, could not bear not doing right by him. Not becoming a better person for the siren or his daughter would be the greatest failure of Ryden’s life, of all the failures he’d been so far, and he’d been many.
“It’s lyin’. Wha’ever’s it sayin’, it be lyin’.” He squeezed his arms tighter around Mars’ waist, as if he could maybe squeeze the poison that were the voices out of him too. But he didn’t dare squeeze too hard. “What’s the fucker lyin’ ‘bout?” He asked as Mars leaned away from the kiss to his forehead. His arms dropped from him then, so he could briefly turn to stop the tap from running. If he left it much longer, the tub would overflow.
“I know, I’ll just, yanno, be missin’ ya,” but he wasn’t upset that Ryden had come to this decision on his own, or had already made some plans. Ultimately, Marsden trusted that anything Ryden decided would be beneficial. There was no one he trusted more. If Ryden felt this was the right thing to do then Marsden believed it too.
The siren sighed and even let out a low and wry chuckle from the squeeze, “Ya really wanna know?” With some space made when Ryden turned off the faucet, the siren used his toes and feet to remove his socks while still standing, kicking them off to the side once removed. Thumbs dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, holding there for a breath before he started to slide them down, naked and vulnerable in more ways than one. This garment too joined the growing pile on the bathroom floor as he stepped into the warm water, peaks of bubbles grazing against his legs. “I’ll tell ya, if ya really want, but it ain’t good things,” he warned again.
“When I go sumwhere, it jus’ means I’ll come back.” He reassured, as best as he knew how, which was probably not the most comforting way. But it was the most truthful one. What Ryden lacked in subtlety and gentleness, he made up with honesty. He scooted over while Mars undressed, to give the other man some room to slip into the tub. 
“Yea. I wanna know wha’ever ya know ‘bout it.” And there was not a shadow of a doubt in Ryden’s mind. It would simply be better to know, if he was going to help.
"Ya better come back 'er my landlady will flip with all dese changes to da lease and I'll tell ya," Mars asserted, dipping his hand into the water and now flicking some bubbles and water at the werewolf, "but ya better get in here too cuz it's cold in here," a playful taunt to ease the mood of an otherwise unsavoury discussion. The water wasn't cold at all, it was pleasantly warm but it lacked a certain warmth that only the wolf could provide and to get through this talk the siren would need firm arounds back around him anchoring him in place.
“Oh yer landlady’s gunna flip?” Ryden parroted, letting some playful bitterness seep into his words, flinching away a little as Mars flicked bathwater at him. He got up to get his shaving foam and a razor, in case Mars did decide to shave his face like he’d said he would. Leaving those on the side of the tub, he made quick work of taking off what was left of his clothes and got in, lowering himself into the water on the opposite side of the tub from Mars. The siren had mentioned that he needed to see his face while they talked, because of the voices whispering in his head. Better to face each other for this.
The tub was pretty spacious for one person, but with two broad, tall men squeezing in, it wasn’t the most comfortable. However, neither of them ever minded that. Ryden leaned back, slipping his legs under Marsden’s, helping him maneuver his longer ones atop, since it would probably be more comfortable for him to keep them bent a little. He sighed at the feel of warm water and ticklish bubbles around him, easing his body into the warmth to release the remnants of tension from a day of hard work at the car shop. With one employee less again, he had to pick up some slack. But his eyes remained on the other man, ready when he was ready, hands slick with water and soap running over what he could reach of the siren’s legs.
Marsden elongated his arms in front of him, fingers trailing up from the wolf’s wrists and along firm forearms decorated in tattoos and bespeckled with foamy bits of scented soap bubbles, he was aware of the eyes of the wolf on him but he for now kept his gaze following the path his hands were making. 
It may not be visually obvious, but Marsden was quiet because he was listening, not to anything that the wolf could hear, something deep that plagued his mind, a burdened weight of voices he carried with him. The siren’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side, eyes still lowered so his dark lashes ghosted over the tops of cheekbones when he blinked, with a flick of blue he looked up and met the metal gaze of the wolf in front of him, “Ya hate me. Ya wanna leave. Ya can’t wait to get away from me. Ya won’t come back. Yer gonna get hurt. Maria Elena is crying. Someone is screaming. You hate me. I’m worthless. Someone will take her away. Dey’re coming. Dey’re here. She’s crying. I’m worthless. I deserve dis. I’m worthless. Stupid. Silly me, thought I could be happy. You hate me. Everyone hates me. I can’t make it stop. I’m a m –” he stopped, voice caught in his throat. Murderer. 
He knows. He knows. He hates you. He’ll leave you. They’ll come. They’ll take her. They’re coming.
Blue eyes flooded with horror, awash with cold and hot fear shot straight into his heart that clamored chaotically in his chest as the auditory hallucinations started to feel real. “Dat’s,” he blinked hard and gulped even harder, hands started to withdraw from their place on the wolf’s forearms, “Dat’s what dey’re sayin’.”
Ryden gave him time, as much time as Marsden may need to open up about this and tell him what’s been going on in his head, give the voices a voice outside of him so Ryden would know what they spoke of. Unlike the siren, whose eyes followed at first what his hands did, Ryden’s remained on the other man, watching and waiting, committing the gentle swoop of Marsden’s eyelashes over his cheekbones to dear memory. When Mars looked up at him finally, he was ready to meet his gaze. 
He noticed him withdraw in the face of the horrible words the voices filled his head with, curl into himself and into the terror of it all. Ryden would not let that happen. He refused. Grabbing Mars’ forearms in an anchoring grip, he leaned forward and closer, pulling the other man to him, the action made easy by the slick ceramic the tub was made of and the soapy water that made the siren’s weight lighter. Wet palms pressed into Marsden’s cheeks, smooshing them, Ry getting their faces only mere inches away. He looked into the crystal blues as if they were a well he’d dropped something into. 
“M-what? Monster? Madman?” He questioned, deep frown setting in as he peered into blue portals to the soul most dear to him. “You’re Marsden Lee. Yer My Man. Yer a badass Motherfucker and yer Mine. M- what else? There’s nothin’ else. Fuck anythin’ else. Ya hear me?”
Tell him. Tell him. He'll leave. He'll hate you. He already hates you. You're nothing. Worthless. Murderer.
The voices railed inside of his mind, against the rough reassurances of the other man before him, contradicting everything in way that made more sense to him than anything else because how could he be so silly to believe this was real. The siren tried to shake his head, to back away further but firm hands kept him in place, unable to look away from the ferocious silver steel eyes that ran him through, piercing and unyielding. The only thing Ryden would see in the center of his oceanic eyes was terror and a storm and it wanted to be released. He could almost hear the thunder. 
Tell him. Tell him. Murderer. Murderer. 
Shaking hands grasped the backs of Ryden's, wanting to pry between the fingers that held either side of his face but just clung to him instead.
“No.” Ryden shook his head, keeping his hands on Mars’ face, not letting him get away. “Nope. Not gunna happen.” He leaned in even further, pressing their foreheads together, his gaze never wavering away from the other’s, no matter what he saw in them. “Come back t’me. This is where ya belong. To me. I ain’t lettin’ go.” He insisted, voice not rising but remaining firm, piercing. “Ya hear me? Hear. Me. Stay here. With. Me. Breathe.” He was demanding it now, palms pressing over Marsden’s ears, Ryden’s lungs taking in a deep breath and exhaling it through pursed lips against Mars’ face. “Breathe.”
Weak. Weak. Weak. Worthless. You're nothing. Make it stop. You can't make it stop.
The voices were right, he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him but he wanted him, didn’t want to lose him, would fight against the very marrow of his bones to keep him. It was an ever cyclical curse, filling his head with all his worst nightmares and making them come true, forcing him to do terrible acts, forcing him to kill in order to satiate the curse which would only further rationalize the voices once they returned, screaming horrible truths that he couldn’t deny. It would have been easier to ignore them if they spoke lies. But he was a murderer and he didn’t deserve this kindness. He was worthless. He would be hated and when the truth came out they would take his daughter away from him and Ry would leave and he would be alone and shunned as the murderer that he is left only with the voices who ruined him.
Drown him.
Mars took in a shuddering breath, trying to mirror Ryden's deep breath and ground down on his teeth, the ocean of his eyes encircled with flames of determination from an inward battle he didn’t want to lose, "Ry, I’m scared. I can't make it stop. They tell me to hurt people, to drown them to make it stop but I can't -- don't wanna do it anymore and I’m terrified of myself – of what I’m capable of. I’ve killed people." The storm broke, crash landed in his chest, torrential downpour from his eyes, “I’m a murderer.” He couldn’t keep looking at him, shut his eyes so tight he could see lightning behind the storm clouds in his eyes.
Everything in Ryden froze, like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him suddenly. This could not be. Anything but that. Not Marsden, this couldn’t be happening to him, not to him. The final ultimate cruelty of murder and being the one guilty of it, an irreversible guilt one could do nothing about but take it to their own grave. Not this, Marsden did not deserve this pain, this regret. Ryden’s expression broke and he shut his eyes too, for a moment his own pain for the other man too great to keep looking at it. He shook his head. Not this, anything but this… 
His hands moved to grip the back of Marsden’s neck, for a better hold onto him for dear life, so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise his face because he clung on, he clung on desperately now, clung hard enough to maybe hurt. His heart was shattered glass full of love for the siren, bleeding red for being broken but never letting an ounce, a single drop of that love spill.
“Look at me.” His voice cracked, actually cracked when he spoke again, eyes rimmed red but dry when opened. “Let me love you anyway. Look at me and let me love you anyway.”
Damp lashes fluttered open on command, his own grip leaving crescent moon prints against the wrists of the werewolf, desperate to hold onto him lest he try to draw away from him, he couldn't bare it, not an inch of separation. He took the bruising strength of the werewolf's hands to the back of his neck gratefully, would take all of it as long as he didn't let him go. 
What came next went against everything in his head, against every cruel thought and whisper of malice and rendered the siren frozen in the face of it. If he hadn't been staring at the man when he spoke he would have thought it was fake, another voice, trying to play tricks on him, telling him lies to make believe all would be well, giving him a false sense of security before taking it all away but he'd been watching the mouth move, the words that tumbled out of them, the break in the wolf's voice when he said them. 
He's lying. He's lying. He's a liar. He hates you. You're a murderer. No one will forgive you.
The voices didn't like being proved wrong. Horrible screams filled his head, dying gurgles of final breaths, reminders of the lives he had ended with the same hands now holding onto the wolf, the same grip that didn't let go until the final bubbles of life had left empty throats. Even if it wasn't real, even if it was fake, Marsden didn't want to let go of this love, the privilege of not being cast aside and reneged as a murderer was not to be taken lightly and he surged forward, a crashing course to connect, riptide of water and bubbles splashing around their bodies in the cramped ceramic tub. Only him. Only he could take the terror in his heart and turn it into love.
The relief of having Marsden look at him again, hear the words Ryden spoke despite whatever atrocities were echoing in his head, trying to silence everything else, telling him all the terrible things about himself, others and what crimes against his own being to commit, was like a stone dropping off Ryden’s chest and into the sloshing water around them. He could not allow a day when he would not be able to pull Mars out of it, when he would lose him to the curse and those despicable voices. This could not, would not let it happen and it only fired up the determination Ryden already had. He would search far and wide, high and low for what would bring the siren peace, for what would stop this once and for all. He would not stop until he’d found it. He would not stop until Mars was happy and safe.
He let the siren crash into him, arms wrapping, grabbing whatever they could reach, all of him, everything, holding to never let go. Marsden was the dearest, most beloved, his and his and only his and he would probably never know just how strongly Ryden could love. And he will love him, until he was safe, until he was protected, until the voices were dead and buried and gone. He would love him until nothing but love was left. If an embrace could tell a tale, Ryden’s would be telling this one - of one holding the other until nothing but love was left.
Marsden left room for nothing between them, squeezing himself impossibly close, chest to chest so every breath and beat of hearts could be felt, speaking a truth, unraveling a secret language known only to them that was stronger than any curse, louder than the hissing voices in his head.
He turned his head, lips intent on colliding against the other, to mold mouths together and deliver another truth through the exchange of breaths, I love you. I will love you forever. Come hell or high water.
Ryden kissed back, an air-tight press of lips, hands returning to the side of Mars’ face, wet fingers slicking back black hair, combing it away. Every touch was loving, every move of his lips was a confession Ryden was too clumsy to make with elaborate words. He didn’t stop there, he kissed elsewhere too - the bridge of Mars’ nose, his cheeks, forehead, chin, temples, then brought the siren’s long fingers up, kissing knuckles and wet palms. He placed them on his own face, so even if Marsden might not be able to hear him over the voices, at least he could feel him, that he was there and not gonna go away. And when he was done kissing, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him over as he leaned back, brought the siren down to rest against his chest, held tightly and safely above water, so he could float away on Ryden like on an emergency raft, paddling across whatever ocean sunk Mars’ boat. The bubbles were almost all gone, the water would soon get cold but Ryden couldn’t care less. He would hold him like this until he was ready to face the outside world again, where they would keep on fighting and searching for a cure for this. But in the meanwhile, he will be a raft in the high water.
He didn't realize it was possible to love him already so intensely only fall in love with him again and again all within the span of a few seconds, each pressing kiss another confession renewed. Stubble against his lips and fingers reminded Marsden that there was still a life to live outside of this moment, outside of the water, outside of this kiss he didn't want to end, oil and grime that still needed to be properly washed away, facial hair to be shaved. 
Without a word, Mars started to shift, leaning away from the impossibly close embrace they'd managed to maintain within the cramped ceramic tub, water sloshing quietly along the sides, microbubbles of the soap fading. The voices were still there, they were always there now, no less quieter than they were before but he ignored them, red rimmed eyes tunneled with focus as he cupped his palms into the water and raised them up to trickle water over the wolf's head, wetting his hair to begin the process of cleaning him. The least he could do would be to wash his hair, scrub his shoulders, and shave his face.
He released a deep sigh, and for a moment, grey eyes were glued to the ceiling, watching wisps of steam rise up with what was left of the water’s warmth. For now, he was blank, though later at night when Mars falls asleep, he would replay this moment over and over again, think it up and down, think it backwards and sideways, think it stupid in silence and secret until he found a solution to everything. Until he’d found at least an idea of a fix, while sneaking out of their bed to smoke at the living room window, thinking how perhaps Sarah’s ghost was watching over him still, thinking of how his own bloody hands, unworthy of a good deed, should somehow perform goodness that held promise of elusive happiness, mindful not to wake up the precious little baby that wasn’t his but he loved her as if she were while he gave her all that love his own child never got a chance to receive. While he waited for a faceless man to appear in the light of a single lamp post below the window. While he told the wolf to quiet its impatient howl. While he thought of mum far away and alone. While he thought it all stupid.
One thing at a time, Ryden Bolt. One thing at a time. His eyes fluttered closed as water trickled over his face, and he blinked it away, looking down at the man he held. A lazy slanted smirk quired his lips. “Ya tryin’a water me, baby? Am I a flower?” His voice was hoarse for no reason. Maybe because his throat was closed up before he finally spoke. 
Mars did not respond right away, his actions slowed but didn't stop, a slow blink away as a lingering tear slipped out, "Mhm," a hummed confirmation as he put shampoo into the center of his palm and started to rub and massage it through styled hair, gently breaking down the gel and products kept to keep it in place during the long hours of the day, raking long fingers across the soap foam and against his scalp. "My lotus." His own voice equally hoarse and low.
“I blossom in your care.” His grin widened as his eyes closed to prevent water from trickling into them,bowing his head so Marsden could reach it better, release the products that kept Ryden’s hair back and straight and from curling up into soft ringlets if left to their own devices. “I’ll never walk away. Even if ya do, I won’t walk away.” He said, seemingly randomly, with the same casual tone he’d joked with about being watered. “I’d sleep like a mutt under yer window. Or on yer door mat. I’ll guard yer gate even if ya won’t let me into the house. Yer my person. I’ll stay with ya no matter what. Cause dat’s how it is. I don’t make the rules.”
The siren's massaging fingers came to a pause as Ryden spoke, his words once again in direct contrast with the cursed words hissing in his head, injected poison for which Ryden held the antidote. Lower lip caught between teeth, tongue pushing against the old piercing hole, his hands lowered to the water, rinsing away the shampoo suds, soap foam joining with what was left of the bubble bath. A heavy breath inhaled that lifted his bare shoulders and when he exhaled he seemed to sag even further, head lowering until it hung heavily and the top of his head pushed forward to rest gently in the middle of the wolf's chest. He remained here for another series of long breaths and when he finally lifted his head again, his eyes filled with fresh tears that slid silently down the slopes of his cheeks and disappeared somewhere in the corners of his lips, filling his mouth with the taste of salt. 
Mars cupped water in his palms again and poured it out over top of the wolf's hair, rinsing away the shampoo, resuming the tender task, smoothing his hands across freshly washed hair, pushing the strands to lay flat against the top of Ryden's head. "Our house," he said back quietly, emotion always turned his voice into coarse sand, "can't keep ya out of it. It's yours," he picked up the can of shave cream and dispensed some onto his fingers, "mine," he started to spread the cool foam along Ryden's jawline, covering all the areas that grew facial hair which would be attended to, "ours." 
Ryden peeked through squinted eyes, wary of any droplets of water and shampoo potentially falling into them cause he hated that burning sensation whenever it accidentally happened. A wet hand came up to pinch the back of Mars’ neck, the tense skin and tendon of his favorite spot while Marsden was bowed and resting against his chest. “Aww. Ya feel sorry for me, moonbeam? Me sleepin’ on yer door mat makin’ ya feel sad?” He joked, knowing very well that was not it. He wanted to reach for Mars’ face again when he raised his head, to wipe off fresh tears that slid down his cheeks but the siren wanted to resume washing his hair so Ry closed his eyes again, shielding them from the water. 
“Yeah?” He asked as he lifted his chin, to give the other better access to the areas that needed to be shaved, which was Ryden’s almost entire lower face. “Ya okay to take a stray in? Is dat why ya givin’ me a bath? Cause ya wanna keep me?” Maybe if he was the one who doubted and Mars was the one trying to convince him, maybe the siren would end up believing his own words, believe that they both weren’t going anywhere, that they were exactly where they wanted to be.
With a finger covered in shave cream, the siren dabbed a dollop of excess onto the point of the wolf's nose before rinsing the shaving cream from his fingers so he could rub at his eyes to clear away the remaining emotions that filled them, washing away the salt from his tears with a couple of swipes of wetted hands before taking up the razor. "Mhm," he said softly, carefully using one hand to angle Ryden's jawline before laying the blade of the razor against the skin and making his first swipe, feeling the short strands of facial hair grate away beneath the blade, "I'm keepin' ya. You're mine."
Ryden chuckled at the feeling of a finger painting his crooked nose with shaving foam, letting Marsden get away with it this time. He would let him get away with anything right now. Besides, he had to sit perfectly still while a razor was applied to his face, only moving when Marsden angled his face to. He tried not to smile although he wanted to grin wide at Mars’ words. “Kay. Keep me, then.” He said simply, closing his eyes against the feel of Marsden’s careful hands, which said a lot. Ryden was the kind of man who never sat with his back turned to an exit point. The level of trust he had in Marsden was astronomical.
Marsden took his time, being careful as he maneuvered the sharp blade against his beloved's face, taking mindful strokes and doing his best to get as close a shave as he could manage, testing out the smoothness of a freshly shaven cheek by applying a tender kiss to the corner of Ryden's mouth. "A thing of beauty," Mars started to say, voice a low intonation like he was saying a prayer as he recited poetry, "Is a joy forever," he tilted up Ryden's jaw so he could reach the space beneath, "It's loveliness increase. It'll never pass into nothingness," his tongue peaked out the corner of his lip as he moved the blade carefully over the curving slope of the underside of his jawline, "but still will keep a bower quiet for us," he rinsed the blade and returned, cool wet fingers gently coaxing Ryden to turn his head to the other side, "and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing."
Ryden was having one of those heavenly moments, those that involved long glances directed Marsden’s way as they drove anywhere, the siren in the passenger seat looking out the window and Ryden scanning the outline of his profile. Or in the mornings, just before they would get up to start their day, when Ryden’s rough fingertips ran gently down the length of Marsden’s spine as he took his time waking up, up to the neck than down again and then the same motion repeated. When they had dinner Ryden had cooked, and Marsden gobbled it down, humming and chewing and complimenting his skill with the food. When they played on the floor with Maria Elena and it drew Marsden’s silliest side out. When he gave in to the quiet of the room, focusing with a bent neck on his doodle notebook. All heavenly moments like this one.
Goosebumps raised the hairs on Ryden’s skin everywhere. He barely understood a word aside from knowing that it was poetry and that he loved how Marsden’s voice recited it, even if he could not decipher the meaning. But he could feel the emotion behind it, the loving carefulness with which the words were said and it melted him into the tub, his whole person like clay in Marsden’s hands.
Mars continued on with the verse and shaving the facial hair from Ryden's face until the skin left behind was smooth and clean and the siren finished the first stanza of the poem because the first stanza was the extent of his memory, "...an endless fountain of immortal drink, pouring unto us," he wet his hands and cleaned away the last remaining traces of the shaving cream from the sides of Ryden's face and neck, carefully and meticulously ensuring no specks were left behind, "..from the heaven's brink." 
The siren kept his hands on either side of the wolf's face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his palms, long fingers weaving behind toward the short hairs at the back of his head and neck and brought their faces closer together so he could fully appreciate the finished product, nuzzling his cheek against the other, trailing lips along the angled slope of his jaw and to the corner of his mouth where he would press a deep and languid kiss, filling him up with as much affection as he could for there were simply no words to describe just how deeply he loved him, not even this kiss would be enough.
“That’s real pretty…” Ryden sighed out lazily, so perfectly content. At some point, he had gradually slid further against the side of the tub, arms draped over the back of it, a leg hooked over the edge and dripping water onto the tiles below. He was drifting pleasantly between wakefulness and sleep, the siren’s relaxing touch and meticulous way he did something so simple and mundane like shaving Ryden’s face lulling him into a rare state of ease, where he thought about nothing in particular, just existed in the moment to enjoy it to the fullest. 
“Feels good…” The job Mars did with the razor, the touch, the affection, the kisses, their cheeks against each other, everything, all of it just felt so good that Ryden thought he would doze off right then and there and then just float away. “Want me to wash yer hair too?” He offered and although he looked like he’d rather never move again, he’d gladly do it for the siren if he wanted him to.
Mars smiled, his lips turned upward as they left caressing kisses against Ryden's face, "Only if ya want. Ya look like yer about to drift away, starshine." Things had grown a little bit quieter in his head, the voices no longer screaming, they'd taken a step backward and turned into low chatter like a radio in the other room that was left on too loud but low enough that he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, only knowing that they were still there.
“I want, I want.” Ryden forced his heavy eyelids to open, clearing his throat to jolt himself awake and sitting up straighter in the tub. He reached for the bath plug, cracking it open just a bit to drain some of the cooling, used water from it, turning the tap on at the same time so new clean fill would replace it. He’d grabbed one of Maria Elena’s little buckets off the floor, the ones she liked to play with while she had her baths, the plastic cute ones that were usually taken to the beach. This one was green and shaped to resemble a little turtle. He filled it up with clean, warmer water straight from the tap, then poured it over the top of Mars’ head carefully, his free hand on the other man’s forehead to shield his eyes from the trickling water even though he probably didn’t have to. 
He was likely not as careful or gentle as the siren, hands clumsy and unused to these tasks, but he tried really hard to be considerate. Once the raven hair was thoroughly soaked, he left the little bucket to float around in the tub and worked the shampoo into the slightly longer hair strands than his own, careful fingertips massaging the scalp until the product foamed up. Then he proceeded to give the siren a mohawk, rolling individual strands into spikes and although most refused to stand perfectly straight, he did a good enough of a job. “Was thinkin’, mebbe if I go, it’ll be next month?” It was a question rather than a declaration, the wolf now finding it safe to return to the previous topic, a frown of focus wrinkling his brows as he shaped Mars’ hair into the silly ‘hawk.
Mars remained still as Ryden poured water of his head, still smiling a little when he had shielded his eyes from the water to prevent it from going into them, his hands naturally finding a place to rest on top of the other man's legs. His smile started to fall away as the topic resumed, his blue eyes unfocused but directed in front of him at the tattooed broad chest of the other man, watching the patterns the ink near his shoulder and arm move as he scrubbed and massaged at the shampoo in his hair. He could feel his hair being manipulated to stand on end and squeezed the werewolf's thigh endearingly, "Look good?" Asking after the hair then immediately following up with a response, "Next month," not really a confirmation or a negation. "How long will ya be gone?"
The wolf nodded, admiring his work. Too bad he left his phone in the living room. “Couple’a weeks I think.” Was his response, followed by a shrug. “But I ain’t really sure. I dunno how everythin’ will go.” Because it was his first time going on a quest like this and he didn’t have all the necessary info just yet. He felt things getting tense again, or perhaps it was just him, he was unsure if he was picking up on Marsden’s energy or was anticipating his own fears there. “Close yer eyes tight.” He instructed, about to ruin his own work to rinse Mars’ hair off. He picked up the little bucket, filling it up with clean tap water. “But we can go for other things too, yanno. See f’they do sum good first.” He made another suggestion because if something else worked, then maybe Ryden wouldn’t need to go away. 
The problem was, they needed to be very careful in the town. No one could find out what Marsden just told Ryden. This pretty much made a few options go down the drain. Because they may require someone else to know the details. And Marsden had revealed that some of the details the two would just have to take to their graves.
Mars did as instructed now and shut his eyes so the water could be poured over his head and the shampoo soap rinsed away, he kept his eyes shut even after it was safe to open them. "Like what sorta things?" He didn't say it but he had the same thoughts, that what was shared in this tub and in this moment could not be shared elsewhere. If it got out, if anyone else found out then surely this perfect little life they created together would get obliterated.
“There’s a ring I’ve found in an antique shop in town that f’ya wear it an put it to yer temple, it allows only one thought at a time. Blocks out everythin’ else. Not ideal but, like, in a pinch… Uh, the hospital offers them like uh acoustic treatments. They put ya in a sealed box and ya float in this super salty water and they mebbe release sum sound waves in there, I don’t know. Calms sum sirens down. Uh, there’s dis witch that brews sum nasty teas with sum effects. We can also try an exorcism? Uh…” Ryden trailed off, revealing that he pretty much looked into everything imaginable that could be found in town. Having rinsed the shampoo out of Mars’ hair, he ran his fingers through it, combing it back and squeezing out excess water. Tucking wet strands behind the siren’s ears, he shrugged. “Wha’ever yer up for. We’ll go do it t’gether. Jus’ give it a go f’we see dat it can’t hurt.”
Mars kept his eyes closed, luxuriating in the feeling of Ryden's fingers as they threaded through the wet strands, raking gently across his scalp to ease out any excess water that dribbled down the sides of his face and back of his neck, listening as he spoke of a few options. His features twisted with amusement when Ry said they could try an exorcism, opening up one eye just a crack to peek out at the wolf as the siren smirked, "Think I got a somethin' in me 'er somethin'?" 
“Oh now yer jus’ beggin’ for me t’say sumtin’ stupid.” Ryden chuckled, having stroked pretty much all extra water out of Mars’ hair that he possibly could but still ran blunt fingernails over the siren’s scalp, just enjoying the contact. “Yer on yer own with that one tho, prolly not smart for me t’git one. I’ll jus’ watch.”
The siren hummed softly, unable to keep himself from leaning his head more into the wolf's hands, "Voyeur," he teased, "I always knew ya liked to watch." He gave the other man a taunting look paired with his signature catlike grin, full of silent laughter but the expression looked painted, genuine but false at the same time with the memory of his tears still hanging around his eyes and reddening the point of his nose. He let out a breath through his teeth and sighed, "Ya think it'll work though?" A pause before he clarified, "Da tattoos?" Not the exorcism. He didn't think that would work.
Ryden shrugged humbly at the teasing accusation. “Never said I wasn’t.” At some point he’d stopped running his hands through Marsden’s hair and now just had a palm resting against his cheek, thumb rubbing away any droplets of water that dared to slide over. He reached to turn the tap off and re-plug the tub, now re-filled with hot, clean water but none of the bubbles really remained. “That one’s my best bet. S’why I mentioned it first.” But that was it, just a bet. Maybe none of it will work. That only meant Ryden would have to keep on looking, nothing else.
Mars touched his fingers against the back of Ryden's hand that rested against his cheek, tips of his fingers trailing over the bumps and valleys of his knuckles, tracing a prominent vein felt over the skin on the back of his hand then up the individual lengths of each finger until his palm landed against the back of his hand and his fingers pushed between Ryden's. "Risky business," he commented softly, pushing his cheek into Ryden's warm palm, the blues of his eyes trained on the other man, adoration in every blink. 
He tried to think of any other questions he might have but the bottom line was that he just wanted Ryden back already and he hadn't even left yet. He was missing him already. "You'll call me when ya can?"
Ryden gave him a one shoulder shrug. “Will do. Whenever I can. But when I don’t, jus’ know it’s prolly cause I ain’t got no signal. That’s all.” He warned, knowing that he will not be going somewhere with easy access. Radio silence was possible. He leaned in then, giving a damp eyebrow a little kiss. “My man. Don’t yer eyes ever git tired o’bein’ so big, beautiful and blue?” He cooed softly, tilting his head as he gazed into the siren’s oceans. “Ya gotten pruny? I got a lil pruny. Wanna rinse?” He offered, not minding it either way.
Mars wasn't entirely happy with that response, his lips pursed into a slight frown, about to begin pouting in disgruntled indignation at how it seemed Ryden wasn't going to be missing him all too much when the kiss to his brow and the compliment of his eyes served as ample distraction that turned the frown upwards back into a smile. "Nope. I got magic eyes that ain't never get tired," and he blinked a fluttering of lashes at the wolf. "Yea, we can rinse. Prunes are nice in moderation but too many prunes ain't so nice."
Of course he’d noticed the little pout, even if it was short-lived. It did some warm and fuzzy things to the inside of his chest, to see this strong, beautiful, independent man pout like a little brat over something Ryden may or may not have done. “Yer magic all o’er. Better than magic. A miracle.” He delivered one more kiss to Mars’ forehead before he stood up, turning the shower head above on. “You was gunna say sumtin’ weren’cha? Get the bath plug while yer down there, by the way.”
Mars tugged at the plug with the crook of his finger, releasing the water so it would slowly drain down the bottom of the tub as he rose to stand, needing to take hold of Ryden's leg and then his hand and the side of the wall as the place was quiet cramped and he didn't want to slip, "Mm, was I?" Mars pondered innocently, now standing in front of the other man. "Whaddya think I was goin' to say?"
“Oh, ya didn’t? Sorry. My bad.” He shrugged, playing dumb, helping Marsden up only to give him a little, careful push against the chest and make him step under the warm stream of the showerhead.
As water cascaded down from the crown of his head, he collected some in his mouth and squirted it out in Ryden's direction.
Ry snorted, not even bothering to defend from this attack. “Jerkface. Hurry up and rinse. M’hungry.” He leaned away to grab some shower gel to lather up first.
"Ya rushin' me?" Mars hummed, turning to face the stream as hands pushed back water slicked hair, the stream hitting his chest, "Imma take my time, not like we only have a month or so before ya leave for some wherever place dat has no signal."
“Yea, yea, like m’goin’ dere t’put a lime in a coconut.” He rolled his eyes, scrubbing up real quick, paying special attention to his hands out of habit. He extended his arm then, fingers a mere inch away from Mars’ very exposed and ticklish nipple. “Ya sure ya wanna git all sassy with me? Hell yea, m’rushin ya.”
Mars immediately started to flinch, his arms curling in defense against his chest, one hand covering his exposed nipple and the other ready to smack Ryden's hand away if he got any closer. "Don't ya dare." 
“Then don’t git sassy with me and jus’ tell me to tell ya m’gunna miss ya. Punk.” He retrieved his hand, carefully making a move to get out of the tub, all soaped up still. “Fine, wha’ever, take yer time.”
"Noo, come back," Mars whined, wrapping his arms around Ryden’s body to keep him from leaving, his cheek pressing firmly against soaped up skin. "Tell me you'll miss me, dat ya don't wanna go, dat even if there's no signal you'll try to call me anyway." He held onto him tightly, so tight, not wanting to let go and leave the shower because that would mean it would get them closer to a tomorrow where one day they would say goodbye. "We talk everyday and see each other every day. I dunno what to do when we can't do either."
Ryden smiled, but not triumphantly as he usually would whenever he got his way with things. It was a different sort of a smile, a gentle one, perhaps even bittersweet. “I’ll miss ya baby. More than the air I breathe. But I wanna go, cause I don’t ever wanna lose ya. Never wanna ‘ave what’s in yer head take ya away from me.” He squeezed what he could reach of Mars’ arm wrapped around him. “And I’ll call every day, even if there ain’t no signal, I’ll check every hour if it’s back.” He lowered his voice then, to a tone so strongly determined and dangerous. “Them whispers in yer head ain’t got no business interruptin’ our every day talks. I will fuck them up. I swear it I will fuck them up. You will not cry for nothin’, baby. Not under my watch. Not ever again.”
The siren stepped away, loosening his hold on Ryden’s body and both pulling and pushing the wolf’s body, if he did not refute the action, to encourage him to stand now beneath the stream of water so he could rinse off the soapy lather if he wished, and to also get him further away from the shower’s exit. “I’m a greedy fuckin’ bastard, ain’t I,” he said, posed a question though it wasn’t really and he didn’t expect a response, “but I love ya,” he slid his hands down tattooed forearms until Mars could loosely lock his fingers with Ry’s, “...and,” he started by looking at Ryden but his gaze and head soon dropped, unable to maintain eye contact, “I really…” Mars sighed softly and brought his eyes to lock onto his, “Yer probably gonna tell me I don’t gotta say it but I do, baby. Thank you. I mean it. You are more than I could ever hope to deserve and ya do so much fer me. Ya hate magic but yer willin’ to get magic tattoos done and… it’s a lot. I know it is… and I love ya,” then the edges of his lips turned upwards into a wry slant, “Vehemently.”
He stepped into the stream of the shower, now absently rinsing himself off as he listened to Mars speak, until the siren slid his hands down his arms to lock his fingers around Ryden’s. He held his hands back, letting the water falling down on him do the rest. His serious expression shifted to return the wry grin he was getting. “I know what dat word means now.” He said with a hint of childish pride. “Ya ain’t greedy. Yer jus’ right for me.” He reassured, slipping one hand out so he could wrap it around the siren’s neck, pulling him in for a wet forehead kiss. “And I also think we’re exactly what us two deserve. So ya can thank me moonbeam, but know I’d do it either way. Cause I love ya. And that’s what’s done when ya love sumone.” He let them both rest for a moment in this half-hug under the shower before he released Marsden, finishing up the rinsing. “Okay, now I’m really a prune. Gettin’ out.” He warned before he actually made a move to leave the tub first.
"Yea ya do," Mars returned with full adoration for his man, wry smirk turning into a dreamy smile at the affectionate kiss to his forehead. He loved that and lingered in the half-hug for as long as Ryden allowed before he released him and started to move that he was going to leave the tub and shower. "I'll be out in a minute," he said to the other man, now taking up the body wash so he could lather himself up and clean up the important parts that needed it and would rinse himself off shortly, not wasting too much more time in the shower since they had spent an awfully long time in there already and even though he was a siren who thrived in water, there was a life outside that needed living.
@wolfontheloose
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mvsicinthedvrk · 1 year ago
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post-event 15 pei ming & shi qingxuan // @irresistiibles
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He'd seen Shi Wudu's younger brother on the list of casualties-- drowning, that's rough-- but here she is, walking around just fine. Pei Ming wonders if their brain is scrambled either right or wrong, since getting killed seemed to fix him but it also seems to go the opposite way around. "Asking for no particular reason," he says warmly as he approaches the other, "but have you seen your brother lately?" Either Qingxuan is going to say that they don't have one, in which case his question will be answered, or he'll get information about how to track down the Water Master. Or he'll get directions to some random person who isn't Shi Wudu at all, which-- at least it'll give Pei Ming something to do for the afternoon, he supposes.
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fallout-fucker · 2 years ago
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For fanfic: Travis, isolation, whatever setting you want. Thanks!
Travis Miles - Isolation
Note: Hey! I know it's not very original to just use the Confidence Man quest, but I truly know nothing of Travis outside of that. I understand the companions better and wasn't expecting a request about a different NPC. Sorry if you were expecting something more original but I hope you enjoy this regardless. Also, sorry it took a while to get this out. Uni, ya know?
Travis didn’t know what drowning felt like. If he had to guess, he would say it felt like this.
The burning, sickening sensation spreading throughout his body. He imagines this is what it feels like when water- Seemingly thick as tar in those moments of panic when someone tries to thrash towards the surface- makes its way into their respiratory system. Forcing its way into their nose, leaving it scorching with a metallic taste flooding into its victim’s mouth, scratching its way down their trachea. Filling their lungs. Drowning them. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn't speak. Not that there was anyone to speak to.
Aside from the burning of loneliness came the numbness of isolation.
Travis Miles thought he was used to isolation. The static of the radio. The same twenty-something songs scavenged as some of the last remaining pieces of evidence of a bygone era that had long since been buried in ash. Speaking into a microphone, essentially to one’s self, and never receiving an answer back, as if his words only ever found themselves echoing into an abyss of sorts. Travis Miles had thought he knew how isolation felt; tucked away in a forgotten part of Diamond City, in a trailer he assumed everyone forgot was there, the creeks of its metal paneling his only company. Now, he knew differently.
He thought he had been brave. He thought he was finally putting himself out there, getting an edge towards being a confident man. He sees now that he was just foolish. Foolish and naive. Naive enough to think that a radio host, who barely even had the courage to have a voice, could actually step his foot towards that edge.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Travis barely processes the words that Sole is saying to him. In his response, he feels the promise rush from his lips before he even knows what he’s truly promising. “I’ll get a gun-” He didn’t even have a gun. Who doesn’t have a gun? He was always too afraid he would mess up with one. God, he was hopeless.
Foolish.
Naive.
Scared.
“I’ll meet you there-” He thinks he sees concern flicker through the rising General's eyes. Even they don’t believe he can make it there by himself, and he can’t blame them. It’s because of him that Vadim was taken. It’s his fault. He let someone who is arguably his best friend be taken all because he wanted to be more confident. 
Drowning.
Lonely.
Numb.
“We’ll settle this.” There’s the promise. The promise he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep. Regardless, he leaves the Dugout.
The gun he buys is cold against his still burning fingertips. The breath he takes is shaky and turns to mist in the chilly November air. It only adds an icy burn to the already fiery one inside of his tar-sick lungs. The radio equipment gets switched off. The trailer gets locked up.
Travis makes his way to the edge of the city, where the gate opens for him. There it is again, the edge. He doesn’t think he can step over it again, not when he knows the consequences this time. This wasn’t about him this time, though. Even if it means speaking out into that staticy-abyss alone once more. He prays he gets a response this time.
He glances up at the gate as he crosses under it. A part of him cries out to stay in the city, surrounded by walls and safe. The rest of him knows he can’t hide this time, even if it's the first time he actually did wish he was as unnoticeable as he had always felt.
Travis Miles steps over the edge and into the Commonwealth with nothing but a single gun. All alone.
Isolated.
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nicawlette · 2 years ago
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👀 + don't you want a break from everything? 🙂
👀 + HONEST ANSWERS
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The question is like a breath of fresh air— no, like the first desperate, painful gasp one takes upon breaking the surface of the waves they were drowning beneath.
Nicolette releases it from her lungs and then inhales immediately after, sharp and shaky. In and out. Her entire body wracks with small tremors until she digs her heels into the ground and presses clammy palms to red-rimmed eyes. She seems to be grieving, though it's probably impossible to tell what from an outside point-of-view. Calm as she tries to appear on the surface, Nicolette knows she's failing, but the fallen angel makes no move to rush. He seems content without a response at all. She gives him one anyway.
Don't you want a break from everything?
And some of that calm shatters with the way her voice, wrecked and guttural, cracks around a harsh whisper. A growl. ❝ Yes. ❞
That single word, desperate like a prayer and full of surrender. Yes, please, take this pain away. She has reached her limit, yet attempts to grasp that offered hand like a final lifeline as she hangs over the edge. The serpent has always been capricious with his choice entertainment. He is not a moral or benign God, but then again, when have they ever done anything for her? Belial has always bestowed to her a mercy of his own making, and she needs it now, more than ever.
Perhaps there is safety in the divide between them. There is nothing about the nature of their relationship that he gives her chance to misinterpret. A line, clear-cut and deep in the sand. She cannot cross it unless he allows, and there is nothing to question about that. Instead, she simply waits on the other side where he comes and goes as he pleases with a kind of freedom to be both envied and admired. Belial always answers her prays. He accepts every jagged, broken piece with twisted glee and flays himself to the bone like it is his great privilege to do so.
She only hopes this will not be the moment he decides to turn his back on her as the cruel God he so despises has seemed to.
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❝ Please... ❞ She laughs pitifully and seeks foolish comfort in his arms, resting her forehead against the bare expanse of his chest. ❝ I'm tired, Bel... won't you take me to Heaven? ❞ Won't you accept me as I am?
Won't you help me forget?
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tragcdysewn · 1 year ago
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@mcrcki asked: ❛  are you bleeding?  ❜ - james and marlene
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"i don't even know." he mutters, brushing his hand over his cheek. he's sure that at some point in the panic that came with trying to resurrect sirius, he could have easily scraped himself on something. james absolutely hated that he has to tell her what happened, so soon after what had happened to esther, but her finding out from the news is worse. "leeny... sirius... he drowned this morning. i found him in the river... he's gone..."
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If everyone sees you as their death... what did Sonic see?
I saw his mind, and even I can only guess.
Perhaps he saw your deepest oceans.... and a vengeful creature within, eager to drag him into its depths.
Perhaps your manmade satellite.... a place of imitative creation.... a punishment he briefly lost someone to.
Perhaps an arrow, burning with the force of his own heart.... writhing ever closer to its wick.
Or, perhaps.... he only saw light. A pulsating violet light, blinding his eyes.... before erupting from his core.
Truly, only he can tell you. Although, knowing him.... he would rather take it to his grave.
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constellationcrowned · 1 year ago
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@magioffire
The half-blood pauses in his trek monetarily; his head first cocking to the side and then bowing low as his eyes slip closed as the youth enacts a series of gestures that would be familiar to anyone who knew him: He’s listening. It’s not the stars, he knows that for a fact, but he listens all the same. He’s waiting for a way-marker no matter how obtuse and eventually one comes. That sense from before—the one that made the inside of his nose burn and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end—comes back in a rush which causes the young man’s head to snap up as rich hued eyes quickly scan their surroundings.
Nothing…..yet. It wasn’t the stars but he felt DRAWN TOWARDS IT ALL THE SAME. Something was here—someone was here—and the STARS WERE TRYING TO LEAD KARIOM TO THEM DESPITE THEIR UNCHARACTERISTIC SILENCE.
“Alright then. Lead.” He murmurs to the chorus of beings that had settled around him pretty much since the moment he was born, “GUIDE ME, LIGHT.” He resumes his brisk pace then; with each step taking him simultaneously deeper into and further away from his home towards some unknown.
He knows the landscape for most of it—the colors, the sights and sounds and the dangers lurking in-between—until there’s a shift. It starts in the back of Kariom’s head and crawls down his neck and back, it’s invisible fingers skittering over the moons and stars that adorned the mantle he wore, down towards his steadily stretching shadow and sinking in deep.
Something was here. Someone was here. Something or someone was creeping close by and this---this shift---IS HIS ONE AND ONLY WARNING. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back right now, shantow. But he can’t; of course he can’t, and he refuses to give up. If something or someone wanted to stalk him they’d have to catch him first. Gritting his teeth he breaks into a run; one so fast that his legs have no time to protest, he runs and runs and runs. It’s the run of prey that knows it’s scented but knows it might not—no, cannot—be caught, not by snare or claw or jagged tooth. Catch me if you can. Catch me if you dare.
The ever deepening interior of the Flat rushes by; the greens and browns of it shifting into blacks and grays until he seems to be the sole example of those now bleeding colors. The trees overhead knit closer together and the wood of said trees groans audibly underneath his hands and feet as he runs and climbs and maneuvers his way through. Grass becomes thin and patchy and the water that made up who knew how many rivers thickens visibly, and still he runs onward, deeper into the Flat, deeper into the ink, until the very air thickens around him. If he were a full-blooded mortal possessing bellrings they’d surely be broken by now. Turn back, shantow, turn back before it’s too late.
He stops only one more time; panting lightly as he reorients himself as best he can, each breath tasting of the ink of the Flat—the VERY LIFEBLOOD OF HIS HOME AND HIS PEOPLE—as it coats his tongue and mouth. At least the sound of his pursuer—pursuers…?—had fallen away for the time being, but he knew not to stop for too long.
“Heh…Can’t catch me after all, huh? Too bad.” His hands wrap round the Theater and draw it out from underneath his cloak allowing the dim light it seemed to always emit penetrate the encroaching living darkness. Oddly enough, underneath that thin, shining light, he could almost see the colors that would be here if the ink hadn’t seeped in so completely. “Okay, where now? There has to be something…”
Moons and stars wink despite the fragile light of the Theater as the half-blood glances around, eyes squinting against the darkness. If it was this dark here what would the Depths be like? Maybe it was good he didn’t need to go there…. There had to be something; come on, come on, come—
“…Huh…?” Kariom’s gaze widens as his catches sight of something; a hue of color amidst the living canvas of blacks and greys he found himself in: Violet. It was almost indiscernible but he could see it and it looked like….. “….Blood?” He approaches the oddity and wastes no time in kneeling down and; gingerly as if the liquid might gain sentience and lash out in some way, swiping his finger through it. The digit comes back wet with the color now staining it looking incredibly vivid within the Theater’s halo of light. Fresh—it’s fresh blood. Fresh blood meant fresh wounds. Re-energized at the discovery despite the gory implications he quickly looks up from the splatter of blood and deeper into the forest and his keen eyes are all but instantly rewarded with the sight of more blood, with this new trail marker still dripping off of some foliage. That way, then.
And once he’d spotted the first two the rest of the signs practically rushed to meet him as Kariom plunges towards the source and away from the danger still stalking close at his side: smashed foliage, scratch marks lined with violet across the trunks of trees, swathes of disturbed mud, on and on. There had been a struggle—and A MIGHTY STRUGGLE AT THAT—with something weighty behind it if the impressions where the thing had fallen into the dirt and mud were anything to go by. He doesn’t have time to ruminate on what —or who—it could be however, as the sounds of whatever had been pursuing him breaks all affectation of stealth and rushes forward and, unsurprisingly, ahead of him off to the right.
“Oh no you don’t—!” Kariom snarls at the still shivering woods as he puts on a burst of speed—if the mud currently sucking at his feet and legs weren’t so deep he’d be flying—but he can’t give up on the trail or the goal itself. Disjointed signs had become continuous now; splotches turn into streaks, scratches into gouges, impressions into actual holes. Here. Here. Here. Here I am so please— “Ah—-!”
The half-blood let’s out a startled gasp as his flight is finally broken by something at his feet that almost sends him sprawling head first into the mire but he catches himself at the last second; his panting breaths punctuated by the foliage rustling a few feet away, but even that inevitability seemed further away then it actually was as the dark haired youth turns to see what had tripped him up and another gasp escapes him. His eyes are immediately drawn to the prone but still sinking figure’s red coat—it reminded him of FLYNN'S TIGLA-DERA COAT—and then to their enduring twisted expression of pain despite their unconscious state. The sudden flare of color reminded the half-blood of a bonfire SLOWLY BEING SMOTHERED TO DEATH. At least they’d had the presence of mine to wrap their arms around something solid otherwise….
No—there was no time for that, Stryhas dammit….!
“Hey—! You need to wake up!” Kariom doesn’t bother keeping his voice down now; because right as he reorients himself to be half crouched on a nearby log and walk wading in the ever deepening mire a growl sounds from over his shoulder. His ‘friend’ had finally caught up to him and now it had two types of prey in its sight. He needed to move fast---as if he hadn’t been doing that already. Still yelling for the stranger; with the immortal’s speech as it leaves his mouth sounding more guttural than usual due to his exertion, Kariom grabs at the other’s still visible shoulders and pulls.
He was right about one thing—this person, whoever they are—was heavy and something told him that it wasn’t merely because they were sunk up to their chest in the mud. A sheen of sweat was really appearing on the youth’s exposed skin now; with the heat of it immediately being stolen away by the oppressive surroundings. Going in the direction of the wolves—he could see them now, three of them stalking towards them at a decidedly leisurely pace NOW THAT THEIR HUNT WAS OVER—was a mistake Kariom wasn’t stupid enough to make and so that left only one option. The grasp of his fingers turn into determined claws as he hauls the other to freedom as best as he can. There’s a thick sucking sound as the ink saturated mud pulls just as hard causing Kariom to almost lose his grip and worse, fall in himself. “Come on—! Wake up Stryhas damn you!! You have to wake up!!”
His considerable strength; a thing that often surprised others given his lithe build, was fueled by desperation and adrenaline in equal measure—If I didn’t let you catch me before I’m not going to let you catch me now, go on and try! Just try it!!—seems to double in response to everything and with a snarl of effort real progress is made as the half-blood hauls upwards, off to the side and then back, moving his own body and the stranger’s prone form back towards the way he’d come. Back towards safety. Back towards his clan. Back towards Flynn and Bo. There’s a kind of angry gurgling sound as if SOME UNKNOWN BEAST WERE BEING DENIED ITS MEAL—and for all intents and purposes it was, and more than one beast at that if he could be fast enough—as the stranger’s chest is freed and then his waist, his legs—
“Come on, come on, come on—! This would be….so much…easier..if…..if you just…woke up…! Ha…” He’s panting hard now, his teeth bared to the air in the exact same was as the wolves closing in behind him heedless of the treacherous landscape. Kariom somehow manages to get the stranger propped against one of his shoulders as he staggers to his feet, the additional weight of the other making him hunch and almost fall flat. He couldn’t give up, not here, not now. He was going to get away no matter what. Both of them were. He could barely run—what he could do now with the added weight was closer to a stuttering, limping jog, but it was better than feeling the wolves’ teeth which were getting closer and closer by the second. If he could just reach a place where the ink wasn’t so stifling then maybe, just maybe….
Ah….ah…it was too far and he knew it. If he dropped them he could make it but that was something he refused to do, not after everything. HE REFUSED TO ABANDON ANYONE, STRANGER OR OTHERWISE. “Stars…! Stars help me….! Wake this person up—!” Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Stars please help to wake this person up before it’s too late.
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mischiefxmuses · 1 year ago
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closed starter for @wvsteria (Mia x Percy)
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Percy was going through it, whatever this darkness was it was getting worse. The nightmares getting worse, he couldn't make out the faces of the people lying dead at his feet in those dreams, but the feeling of blood, feeling like he was drowning was becoming suffocating. He'd weak up in a pool of sweat. He was trying to get some of the stress out on the punching back he had set up on his balcony. He was so hyper focused on the bag that he hadn't realized Mia had let herself in. His coffee table was gone after the other day when he went flying into it, a new gun he had made on the counter. It was a beautiful weapon but something ominous and dark about it.
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naz-ozdemir · 1 year ago
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for: @amyinnile​ location: allied beaches
Naz might have been still new to the whole siren thing, and group itself, but she was trying her best to get to know the pod members of the Le Sirene’s Children. After speaking with one woman, talking about the small changes she had noticed and about the tides, Naz felt even more overwhelmed by everything. She had never cared about the stars or how effects the moon had on the ocean but now it felt pivotal for her to know it and understand. It was a strange thing, she felt compelled to go into the water but she also feared it still. 
In the back of her mind, there was still moments where she hesitated, thinking that something lurking under the water would pull her under and she’d never claw her way back to the surface. Lost in her own thoughts for a moment, Naz shook her head. She put a smile onto her face, trying to do what she always did which was ignore how she felt. Taking a few more steps, she paused before another woman, one she hadn’t met. “Oh excuse me,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m sort of new, I guess. I’m Naz,” she said, trying to stop herself from rambling on.
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impider · 1 year ago
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⇀ ⋯  ❛ you're the first person i've told . . .  ❜ lorelai jones / @spidersiren
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an  inhale  breathes  life  into  his  chest  ━━  a  sharp  reminder  that  he  has  been  holding  his  breath  for  far  too  long  .  it  is  an  instinct  to  having  his  head  below  water  ,  both  literal  and  figurative  ,  as  there  is  water  in  her  eyes  too  .  deep  ,  dark  ,  somber  waters  that  come  up  to  his  neck  ,  paired  with  a  soft  frown  that  pulls  him  under  by  his  ankles  .    he  doesn't  look  away  .  his  hand  comes  up  to  provide  a  palm  for  her  to  rest  her  face  against  ,  a  thumb  to  rub  patterns  on  the  wet  curls  that  decorate  soft  skin  and  ,  before  he  knows  it  ,  he's  holding  his  breath  again  .     "  thank  you  .  "  it  comes  out  as  a  breathy  sigh  from  him  ,  still  catching  his  breath  from  having  to  cough  the  water  out  of  his  lungs  minutes  before  .  he  sits  on  the  concrete  she's  pulls  him  to  ,  rakes  a  free  hand  through  his  own  wet  hair  and  clears  his  throat  .  there's  so  much  to  thank  her  for  ,  it  overwhelms  him  as  he  tries  to  make  sense  of  which  of  her  heroics  this  gratitude  is  for  .     that  same  free  hand  touches  her  shoulder  in  effort  to  bring  her  closer  in  the  water  and  further  into  his  lap  where  hands  brace  his  thighs  .  "  thank  you  for  trusting  me  .  "  ━━  ' with  this '  ,  would  be  fitting  but  is  dropped  from  his  whispered  words  .  voice  low  and  fingers  twirling  in  the  dark  hair  against  her  cheek  and  shoulder  blade  ,  he  leans  forward  to  press  his  lips  against  her  forehead  .  less  kiss  and  more  resting  them  there  ,  needing  to  feel  ,  to  let  her  know  that  he  is  there  .  living  ,  breathing  ,  holding  her  secrets  without  turning  away  (  without  disappearing  below  the  depths  of  the  ocean  or  even  her  eyes  )  .     he  moves  his  face  to  rest  his  cheek  on  the  top  of  her  head  ,  holding  her  in  this  small  embrace  .  "  i  guess  that  makes  me  special  .  "  he  teases  with  a  small  smile  .  "  thanks  for  that  too  .  "
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altrxisme · 2 years ago
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@swordofthreekings // cont. 
Had she not pushed away the younger Crownsguard away, he would’ve sustained more severe injuries than someone like her who had more protective gear on. It still didn’t make it less painful when the Behemoth knocked her against the tree, her consciousness slowly dimming. She could faintly hear the yells of her Glaive comrades once she hit the water. 
Fear seized her as her vision ebbed underneath the surface of the water. Panic took a hold of her as she struggled to breathe. Black spots began to fill her vision and the pain in her body fought with the falling unconsciousness. 
It wasn’t until she felt someone take a hold of her that muscle memory took over and her arms immediately wrapped themselves around her savior’s neck while they went up. Johanne rested her forehead onto his shoulder as she did her best to steady herself.
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mvsicinthedvrk · 1 year ago
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@flyaboveitall and @masqce said : [visual aid] – describe [xie lian’s] attire, general appearance, smell, etc at this point in the maze, after they’ve been here for days and/or weeks on end. have they been keeping clean or do they look like they’ve gone through hell? feel free to add images if you like.
xie lian unfortunately ended in a number of the "messy" parts of the maze... he'd be covered with dried mud from neck to foot, the only positive being that he ended up nearly drowning in the river after one of the two mud adventures, but as a negative result, his socks will literally never be dry after this. and then he ended up in the blood section as well, so just absolutely covered in mud and blood by the end of it.
@masqce and @mcrcki said : [superlatives] -- out of [xie lian's] friends and family, who are they pretty sure is going to make it ouf of here without dying, and why? who are they positive is going to end up getting themselves injured or killed, and why?
ever the optimist, he would hope that everyone lives! mu qing, feng xin, san lang, sophie, xiao lanhua, shen qiao, shi qingxuan-- they'll all make it out fine, surely 🥰 he believes in them.
@masqce and @apothmuses said : [avoidance] -- is there anyone [xie lian] DOESN’T want to run into, in the maze? why would they want to steer clear of this person? 
qi rong. because while he still doesn't remember or recall why his cousin hates him and annoys him so terribly, every second he has spent in the other's presence has been grating, so if he can avoid the man, that would be great.
@irresistiibles said : [unphased] -- which of the maze options, if any, would [xie lian] not actually be bothered by in the slightest? why are they so chill about that particular thing?
there are a lot of maze options that he would almost find pleasant, like the croaking frog section or the tiny creatures with pumpkins for heads. even in part two, the giant pit, or the judgmental sunflowers, i think he would have been okay with. xie lian's prone to not worry about a lot of things that he probably should, so there are a number of maze options that wouldn't have phased him.
@apothmuses said : [document] -- for at least 3-5 tweets, instagram photos or captions, or generic social media status updates of your choice that [xie lian] would make during the maze, if they had the time (and the phone service)
a blurry photo of the teeth-ground, or the flocks of bats, with some innocuous caption like "look at this!"-- or status updates along the lines of like "shi qingxuan if you see this please reply and let me know you're okay! :)" because mostly he'd be on social media during the maze situation only to reassure others that he's fine and to check to make sure they're fine, too.
@masqce said : [dream team] -- who would [xie lian] want on their side, to fight these creatures in the maze? pretend they can assemble a team of around three people, either people they know in their lives or fictional characters they’ve heard about in stories/books/movies etc. who would they trust to help them out? 
only three people?? mu qing, feng xin, sophie. honorable mentions to shen qiao and hua cheng.
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