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4 yrs ago
Current The only blue lives that matter are Smurfs and they're already on thin fucking ice. ACAB
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ɴ ɴ ɪ ɪ ɴ ʟ
𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 11:40 AM
te amo


interactions: [@gothelk] x [@icy hot] collab mentions:@fledermaus@smarty0114


Between Vulcan’s arrival and their untimely exit, Mars had made a terrible mistake. Perhaps it lay somewhere in the many glasses of wine he’d offered to someone standing in the midst of a volcano. Time not being on his side, Mars forwent the self-flagellation for finding the woman caught in Janus’ well placed eruption.

A hand through his hair, Mars felt the brisk cool of October sweep over him. He didn’t feel it pertinent to question of Venus’ whereabouts, just kinda let his feet take him. She couldn’t have gotten far when Mars fell just behind Jupiter’s steps. Pride cracked in his chest knowing his own responsibility in her actions, however small they may have been. It hurt to know what Janus had done and Mars hadn’t raised a finger in retaliation or defense for a woman who had captured his heart in years past. She still had it, albeit in a different way, today, which Mars prided himself in. He kept those he trusted with something so precious dangerously close to his chest.

Mars clenched his fist, feeling the wave of a breeze brush through his hair. The chill of Seattle burned him far hotter than the Italian summer heat. It coursed through his bones to remind him of the ache of loss, one that connected him to Venus far more than his other siblings. The bitter failure of caring for a friend sliced harder at the reminder.

Venus had only made it as far as her bottle of wine took her. When it’s contents were drained, her motivation to stumble over her own two feet quickly dissipated into a cloud of frustration and sadness that hung over her. The bottle slipped from her careless fingers, shattering upon impact with the concrete below her and drew an exasperated groan from the drunk goddess.

“Littering is bad Venus... Pan will hate you if you ruin anything else, and the fan club is getting slim.” Venus’ volume was louder than it should have been for someone talking to themselves, but given the location and scarcity of cars passing by, she’d be spared from stares and whispers. Not that she’d care about them anyways.

With her focus on the small and large glass pieces, she crouched down, balancing herself on her expensive heels and leaning her chest into her bent knees. With the sun peeking through the clouds, the fragments of glass glittered, “Just like the sea views from home…” Her heart pangs for the loss of her home, her thoughts were drifting again as she picks up the pieces of the mess she created, “why am I always making these messes of myself.” Her voice has gotten small, her hands trembling as she stacks pieces her open palm, there is a wetness on her cheeks she has convinced herself is rain, despite her shoulders being dry.

Seattle noise fell out, replaced only by the crinkling of glass and the crunch of shoes to the concrete. Mars stood in the light glare of the sun above Venus, complexion rigid and the taught line of his lips faltering. The numbness Venus subjected herself to all those years allowed the pain, the emotions, all of it to simmer in its own icy pressure cooker until it exploded. Mars witnessed it all fall apart before him as Venus crouched to pick up those pieces alone.

Mars bent to her level to rest a hand on her shoulder. ”Would you like help with that?” he asked. Pushing someone on the edge didn’t appeal to Mars and, knowing Venus, he was rather certain she’d more appreciate having a choice in the matter or not. ”Let’s get you something to eat. Something less haughty, hm?” Mars said, soft as the breeze while a finger lifted her chin. With a handkerchief retrieved from his inner jacket pocket, Mars dabbed away at the tears on her cheek.

”Funny, didn’t think there was rain in our forecast today,” Mars joked, giving Venus a sad smile, ”Well, can’t be helped. What is Seattle without its rain, after all.”

Venus blinked slowly; she wasn’t surprised to see him standing in front of her, illuminated by the sun behind him, he looked like the angels loved by Hollywood. But the Roman in her heart knew his godly name was worth more than that, the Father of Rome had always been her rock when they were lovers and even now as friends. However, her current state of mind did not have the capacity to follow down the path of optimism. Instead, she questioned herself. For all Mars had done for her in their long existence, what had she done for him out of her heart’s goodness or even as repayment?

The thought made her jerk back from his gentle affection, she wanted to thank him and yet her words were thrown out as hasty barriers to protect her heart, “I-I… I don’t need help, I’m almost done.” Her brown eyes returned to the ground as she picked up the last of what she could. When she stood she didn’t meet his eyes, delivering a quick, “I’ll meet you at your car,” before seeking out an appropriate place to dispose of the broken shards in her hands.

All Mars provided was a nod as he stood. For a moment, he watched Venus stroll away, staring after her with a pinch in his brow. What could he provide her now in their fragile states? Would he be doing this for the sake of their friendship and their past, or did Janus again tug the strings in his favor?

Mars clenched his fist. It didn’t matter what Janus did or wanted. That was something to worry about later. It wouldn’t do Venus any good for Mars to mull over the implications of their own circumstances and the consequences of such manipulations. So, Mars carried himself to his vehicle, folded his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the dark maroon of his car.

Lucky for them, the food at Canlis remained cold, and Mars’ stomach empty and grumbling. He could use a fucking burger right now, and he supposed Venus would prefer to stuff her face with something just as gross and greasy as he wanted. To shed away sensibility and decorum for good ass food and the sound of life cascading around them.

The view of the scenery just past the parking lot makes her return to his side easier. The weight of the world she placed on herself melts away as she times her breaths with the trees’ sway and the caress of the breeze on the surface of the lake. The warmth spreading to her fingertips is an indication of her still very inebriated state, but as her feet carry her forward she feels truth wiggling between the binds of sadness that grip her heart. There’s a brief pause in her steps as she awkwardly bends over to release her feet from her heels but once they’re gathered in her hand she’s running towards the man waiting for her. Patient and stoic like he’d always been.

Venus drops her shoes when she’s close enough to wrap her arms around his waist, ignoring the arms he has crossed over his chest. The thoughts from before don’t plague her as the truth echoes in her mind, encouraging her to lean into his warmth and rely on his strength. Love was unconditional and immeasurable; it was not about huge moments of sacrifice but the consistency of showing up when no one else did. In that sense Mars was infallible, and treating him like he’d ever been the cause for her broken heart wasn’t fair or honest, “I’m sorry-” Venus’ voice was muffled but the sincerity of her tone not lost in the fabric of his suit coat. The smell of crisp citrus and blazed Cyprus eased the remaining tension from her chest, her arms squeezing around him a little tighter as if he’d fly away in the moment.

Surprise overtook Mars, feeling the sudden warmth envelope his lower torso. A wave of nostalgia crept into him, seeping into his bones in remembrance at their heightened glory. Yet that came awash in the tide of a better time, full of smiles over coffee that swept the numbness away. Love graced even the gods in a number of ways and the one shared between them they’d wrought in the stardust that burned into the very fabric of this star, stalwart beneath their feet.

The imprint of her against his suit jacket creased his forehead and tugged his lips into a frown. ”No apology needed,” Mars stated. He leaned down to press his lips against her head and wrapped her tight in his arms. The words from his throat fell soft, like the hum of summer air through the trees. ”Your words may have bit deeper than I expected, but that doesn’t mean they don’t carry truth to them,” Mars said, ”I lament the apathy I’ve carried for Rome, for it needs and desires the fire and compassion that burns in your chest. The ashes of our hearts serve no purpose to an empire, and none to those we care for especially. I’ll have my cake and eat it too. Jupiter can shove his up his ass.”

Mars added, after a pause, ”Janus, too, as a matter of fact.”

Venus giggled at his choice words for their brothers, nuzzling her face in his chest for a moment before gently pushing her palms against him, the warmth of his comfort reflected in the pools of honey that met his gaze. A soft smile pulled up at the corners of her mouth, there was a lingering sadness she still needed to deal with, but she undeniably felt better. “In vino veritas, and my truth happens to be-’ the aggressive rumble of her empty stomach interrupts her words, and her cheeks gain a tint of pink as she chuckles at herself, “that I need something Joseph would never put on the menu.”

Stepping away from the safety of his arms, she feels lighter and appreciation for Mars brightens her smile. Venus scoops her heels up and walks around to the passenger side of the maroon car, leaning forward a moment to gaze at his handsome face. “thank you, and te amo.” The gentle words float in the passing breeze as Venus situates herself in the plush leather seat, her thoughts already moving on to deciding what size shake was appropriate for the amount of sad she had conquered.

Only Venus, among a few, could force Mars to chip away at the stone that held his face together. Presentation mattered to the man, but in good company that concern fell away. To which Mars gladly bared teeth in a smirk as he spun on his heels to open the door. ”Tonight is a wonderful night to clog our arteries,” Mars said.

The engine roared to life with the burn of Mars chest. To be reminded of what Rome stood upon, the pillars set there by two stalwart souls, gave Mars what he needed to earn the heart he so carelessly tossed aside.

The question arose that night, even through milkshakes and burgers: what did Rome need?

...what did he need?

POSEIDON
POSEIDON
ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ɴʏᴍ'ꜱ » ᴘᴏꜱᴇɪᴅᴏɴ'ꜱ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ
ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴠᴏᴍɪᴛ?


𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉s
𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕
𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔
𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆
———————
———————
Moments of weakness came a dime dozen to Poseidon, dumped in alcohol until the wave of it slammed him into the ocean floor. Excuses couldn't lift the mountain that sat atop his shoulders, so he didn't make any. He merely showed up at the lobby door, flashed a smile at the greeter, and tumbled from elevator to bed sheets.

It's what he wanted, what he needed. Beyond knowledge or grief, Poseidon yearned for company. That's what the hot hands against the nape of his neck were for. The bites that sank into his shoulder. The purpling bruises against his thigh, his back, all over his neck. He sighed into every caress, ever hard hand, every pull against his skin. There'd be no other feeling than being cared for in a way only he'd allowed himself.

Perhaps Poseidon would get used and tossed aside and he'd tell himself he didn't mind. Until the next morning when his therapist called him over the phone wondering why he'd missed a session.

"Don't worry, I have free time this afternoon. Lucky you." She'd say. Lucky him indeed.

Walk of shame and all that, maybe a few lingering lips that would later burn to touch. A quick one that didn't end up being quick at all. Then off to work.

Which was where Poseidon found himself now, staring into the abyss of fried clam strips lifted close to his face to the point he now smelled of them.

"Dude? Peter. Peter, dude. DUDE?" A voice called from behind him, murky in the fog of his mind until it ripped him from those marshes.

"Wuh-?" Poseidon looked toward one of the cooks, Daniel, with wide eyes.

Daniel pulled his face into an expression of stupor, mimicking him, "WUH? Dude, you've been looking in a buddhist mind trance for like 15 minutes. Can you tell my dad I said 'fuck you' for me if you're still stuck in fried clam hell, Dante?"

Heat filled Poseidon's cheeks. Had he been staring for that long? He shook his head and set the dish down on a server platter before rushing out toward the table he'd intended to wait. With an apology on his tongue, Poseidon set the family's meal down and shuffled immediately into the back where air conditioning would greet his burning face. For a moment he wanted to dunk his head in water, maybe the sea that laid just outside this greasy, fast food hell. Instead, he settled on grabbing his phone from his pocket and quickly gathering his things.

He needn't say anything, Daniel already waved him out. "Get better dude. Maybe down a few cold ones. Or ten. Dunno. I'll tell the captain you threw up again or some shit." He winced at that, but waved in thanks nonetheless.

———————

In the peace of his apartment, which mostly consisted of a number of large tanks filled to the brim with different assortments of fish and honestly nothing else of import, Poseidon allowed himself the respite of a shower. When the heat steamed the nervous panic from his brow, wiped the cold sweat of his ever present dread, Poseidon relaxed until he laid as dry as he could against soft linen. His hands grasped the sheets, wrapping it around himself to the nose and for a moment he simply stared at his ceiling to let his mind empty out.

Closing his eyes, Poseidon breathed deep. He counted his breath in, held; he counted it out, held. He chose to stay like this for what felt like hours until he finally allowed his eyes to open and his hand to reach for his phone.

Barely past eleven.

Time stood still for but a second with Poseidon's hand hovering over a name on his phone. Augustus. He bit his lip. Things started to get tricky for him as of late, but that wasn't something he couldn't deal with. It wasn't a surprise to Poseidon, especially when looking at his past which he never truly did too closely. A cursory glance.

Then it all came crashing to the rocks. His hand pressed the button, flying to tap words to fill the screen.

To: Augustus Kingsley
I know you're probably insanely busy but uh.... you mind if we had a chat? Maybe over lunch or something. I think there's a few things we need to talk about.

He nearly wrote 'my treat' but then remembered that day they actually did go for dinner and Poseidon bulked at the amount of numbers one could fit on a receipt. He'd choked on his wine that night, then choked on something else.

With a blush tinging his cheeks, Poseidon stood to queue up the edited episode for the week (a segment on the Philippine's own Bakunawa), then went off to gather whatever nice clothes he could find. Preferably ones that didn't smell like fish or grease, or both

———————
Interactions: Jupiter @fledermaus




HYPNOS
HYPNOS
ʜʏᴘɴᴏꜱ' ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴄʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ
ᴊᴜꜱᴛ... ᴡᴏᴏᴘꜱ



There could be no surprise for Hypnos that he'd miss a number of things that day. Why had he gone to the Conclave anyways other than to potentially get his ass chewed out by the Morrigan. Lucky for him when he'd awoken, tugged Kore awake, and fled, the goddess had her hands full with a phone call.

Still, to be filled in of the events held there didn't sit well with Hypnos. He should have at least been present to assist. Of course, all he could do now was feel guilty and sad... and sleepy. That's all he'd ever feel, usually in that order.

Deep dark met him that morning. His hands curled over the heavy duvet, tugging at it until the sheet covered the bridge of his nose. Ink danced against the backdrop, like hands reaching from the depths of a slow, calm river. He wanted to reach up and touch them, grasp their fingers in his until they melted into softness, into poppy petals that sank between the lines of his sheets. A sigh left him like mist into the void.

From darkness, Hypnos stepped into dim light where the sun would peak just between the fibers of his curtains. They'd settle softly, gentle against the hard, wooden floors rather than harsh and blinding. Between the sunspots on his floors, Hypnos glided toward the keyboard settled against the wall where the vines of a plant hung just above and pictures of quiet forests settled in frames against his cream walls. With no other urges that gripped him, no responsibilities beyond letting those he cared for know he still lived, Hypnos descended against the keyboards with soft eyes, half-lidded to the morning, but welcoming with a smile nonetheless and a familiar song on his tongue—not his, but still lovely.

True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree / Willow dancin' on air before covering me / Under cotton and calicoes / Over canopy dappled long ago...

Sweet and airy, honey dripping from poppy for the earth and the air around him. It came and went like the birds on his windowsill, like the fall that bit at his heels, and the pang in his heart at starry nights in poppy fields, hands dipped into the river, a sudden person shaped void in his life in godhood and mortaldom. What he wanted to hold in his hands, yet never gave himself the chance to. That wasn't his to take or receive, he knew that. He knew that as hard as the guilt that ate at him. Until his song left him, keys pressing softer and softer until the melody flew to the rafters on wisps of his own terrible melancholia.

He needed something else that the keys of his piano wouldn't provide him.

To: Bringer of Dahlias
care to grab some tea? i... dont think i wanna be alone rn
i think my poppies are dying
no wait that's just me 😭

Even if Kore wanted to be alone or simply didn't answer for reasons Hypnos would understand, he still needed the backdrop of Seattle noise in his mind. It was too quiet up here and his own voice filling room didn't help that.

Oops, he forget a shirt and pants. The older gentleman across the hall gave him a look, brows a fine line against his forehead. Hypnos gasped, folding in on himself before he slunk back inside to retrieve his clothing.



Interactions: Kore (Text) [@Icy Hot]

JÖRMUNGANDR
JÖRMUNGANDR
ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴɴɪʙɪꜱᴛʀᴏ
ꜰᴇʟʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ




There, beneath the toiling seas tossed in waves beneath a blackened sky, a beast lay dormant waiting for the day he could feel his poison seep through the earth if only to hear cacophony of voices cry out in terrible pain. Poisonous serpent; god-ender; fearsome deep.

Italian food and marijuana connoisseur?

What can he call himself beyond a terrible serpent? A brother looking for a family he lost to time and fate. That what the letter trembling in his hands told him. His thumb swiped the stain in the corner. Odin confessed all his sins so long ago, yet bitter memories of that day came swirling up. Hate never came easy to him these days. Maybe as a serpent, staring to the heavens to pear through the stars at the branches of Yggdrasil, hoping that the Allfather took that moment to look down and lock his gaze with baleful eyes.

That wish vanished. His rage puttered out, deepening into longing for a home and a family to call his own again. They seemed ill-inclined to that. So, Jormungandr kept to himself, mingled with other gods, allowed his father in his life when murder and vengeance weren't at the tip of his tongue.

Yet, the past left still much to say and his fingers couldn't quite follow his mind fast enough.

...drunken night had me on stage the next morning with the wildest headache and many, many lines to memorize. I would not wish learning a Shakespearean play in less than two hours upon any poor soul. Suffice to say, Will did not let me warm his bed any longer...

Perhaps he rambled, but stories piled up, adventures needed telling. If he could just tell his sister directly, straight from the orator's mouth, he would. Yet, his words on a google doc would have to do.

...should have seen the look on the lady's face when I told her what I wanted to name my high end restaurant-slash-marijuana-dispensary. You know, if you're ever stressed or just wanna chill for a moment, you're always welcome here. Shit slaps, sis. I've done a shit ton of drugs, let me tell you, and due to my natural immunity to any and all toxins most of them did nothing for me, but weed works. Like really, really works.

Anyways, like I was saying the look on this lady's face when I tell her I wanna name this classy place Cannibistro was absolutely priceless. But, hey, if you sniff at a name like that, then maybe a chill ass environment just ain't your cup of tea, y'know?

He needed to cap it off somehow. Maybe ask a question himself. Jormungandr stared at the blinking line. Too many questions swirled in his head. Thousands of years worth of questions. It burned in his head because all of them needed answers. Knowing that he would likely not get most of them throttled his chest. It ached knowing how close someone he loved came, only for that person to erect a barrier between them — to widen that barrier until she became a blip on a map.

The morning sun baked against Jormungandr's chest. All he could think about as he stared into the light bouncing off glass was how unfortunate it was to wake up to that blinding, hot ray any time he desired a scroll through his laptop. Those mornings usually ended in finances for the restaurant, taxes and shit. That just made shit worse.

Jormungandr pressed a hand to his face. He didn't want for much. No, that's a lie. What Jormungandr wanted, what he desired, fate denied him since birth. Impossibilities lay in the face of a serpent whose only goal in life allowed him to live in peace with the family he never knew. It seemed that for some the Colossus was destiny shoving a middle finger up their ass. To Jormungandr the Colossus signaled a bone throne his way, but each time he reached out for it, his jaw would snap shut on air and the bone would tug further and further away.

Fuck it.

I know this is asking for the impossible: but come by in a week or so, please. I just want one family dinner. You, Fen, dad. I wish I could cook something that could remind us of home, but I know that's not something we really want to remember. Which is why I want to make something for this home, so we can make it a thousand years from now and remember that we were a family, even if it was just for one night.

I know you'll say no. I'm walking against a hurricane. But, please consider it. That's all I could ever ask.

The Great and Mighty World Bro,
Jormungandr

Print. Send. Wait.

And while he waited, maybe he could find something to do. With the letter on its way to Hel, Jormungandr let his feet (oof, odd things) take him wherever they wanted to.

Maybe a walk would get his mind off such existential terrors.


——————————
Mentions: Hel @Legion02




MARS
MARS
𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 10:47 AM
ᴍᴏʀɪᴀᴍᴜʀ ᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀʀᴍᴀ ʀᴜᴀᴍᴜꜱ




Earthen leaves burned orange against the ground, mingled with the sent of pine that bit the skin of his nose. He willed that smell into his sheets, yet it remained absent; it refused to even lie subtle beneath the waking morn of his tousled hair. It simply never existed upon the twisted sheets of his bed. Even as it grounded itself, rooted itself, inside the moors of his mind that's where it settled — intangible and ephemeral.

That felt unacceptable.

Yet that absence followed him through morning. It lay as a cloud in his coffee, bitter and roiling. Each person parted the path Mars marched along, careful to not run under foot. The partnership had been announced early the morning after his meeting and buzz still rolled through his ranks. It upset him in the most irrational way.

The downpour of his own misery fled the second he raised his voice in front of Hebe upon returning home to leave Virtus. She never liked the stuffy meetings his brothers held. He could tell by the drooped face that it bored her canine sensibilities to near madness. So, he determined that she'd go with Hebe as a right apology for allowing his mood to project in such an unprofessional way. There'd be no forgiveness for him if that anger were to find its way toward Hebe.

Mars was a patient man. He didn't need to go about acting like a child when mattered didn't move fast enough for him. Plus, the denial would make things all the sweeter.

Thus, when he arrived at the designated meeting spot, Mars had stowed away the rumbling anger and replaced it with the default statue representative of his regular attitude. When Canlis greeted him, Mars merely nodded. Though, his eyes slipped into a glare at the man's assertion, "Two of them are already awaiting your presence. I hope you have as wonderful a time as you did at Altura, Mr. Salvius."

"That is entirely in your hands," Mars replied, "Make sure not to crush it." As much as he liked humans, their tendency toward gossip grated on him more than their naivety. Mars straightened his jacket, posture rigidly upright, and marched away.

"Insulting of you to use his human name when lacking mortal presence, isn't it, brother?" Mars walked in nearly on Jupiter's heels. He did so with a tug at his lips — a remnant of a smile. "Dominus vobiscum, Janus. Unless that isn't the kind of Roman you're looking for," Mars said in jest as he carried himself toward one of the chairs settled on the table.

In his brothers' presence, Mars shed the frivolities that consumed his mind beyond the doorway. Though, he'd be hard pressed to call his recent encounter a frivolity; he'd like to think it set Rome further ahead on its path to reclaiming lost glory. Even if he'd say so red in the face and with a pinch in his brow.

Of course, before his brothers could monopolize all of his attention, Mars slipped his phone from an inner pocket in his jacket. He had a favor to ask of a few gods. While Rome was his home and his glory, Mars knew the benefit that other pantheons could afford them.

To: Detective Natalia Steele
I would do this in an e-mail, but time seems of the essence: I formally request your assistance in a matter that I think you'd find of utmost import.

Details are forthcoming.

How he achieved fishing out a Seattle detective's phone number without her knowing is for Mars to know and face the consequences of later. An e-mail had been scheduled that morning to send within the hour, anyways. He would rather give Athena the heads up now, however.

With his phone slid back into its pocket, Mars turned his attention back to his brothers. They'd receive it undivided until the end of their meeting, both to Mars' delight and chagrin. That contradiction was only ever possible in the presence of his siblings and he wouldn't dare ask the universe why.



Interactions: Janus [@Icy Hot] & Jupiter @fledermaus; Hebe @Danvers
Mentions via Text: Athena @metanoia
Moody Thoughts About: Pan @smarty0114

NOT A LUNCH DATE
NOT A LUNCH DATE.
ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ » ᴀʟᴛᴜʀᴀ
ᴘᴀɴ & ᴍᴀʀꜱ




[ᴘᴏꜱᴛ-ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋ]

Awash he came in fields of wheat, bathed in the brilliance of the sun as it set alight the waves of Roman land that stretched far into the mountains. Yet, it was not Rome that he smelled but the heavy bread, the smell of sweat over a fire, the liquid wine that ran down throats. He saw her people along the streets, smiling, talking, weeping.

Yet, that was but an instant and, coming to, Mars gazed upon the room with his stone settled face. Rome and her people had fled his mind, replaced by the toils and troubles of these deities now. Mars found their dramatics unbecoming of them and the information provided lacking as he stared the Morrigan down. At least she provided something. An unnatural death, something she hadn’t fallen upon before. It brought more questions to mind that he’d have to divulge to his brethren.

Well, they’d simply have to wait. A fitting punishment for throwing him into the flames without second thought.

Mars fished his phone from his pocket. Time would be on his side yet and he whistled to Virtus as he began his exit. He turned toward the Morrigan in pause, however, first.

”If you find anymore information, let me know,” Mars requested, straightening his jacket, ”I’ve been conducting an investigation of my own that I think you’d be interested in. Keep in contact, Mor."

With that he pushed past the other deities and back out into less musty air and brighter surroundings.



Business meetings to a CEO of a vast and wealthy conglomerate were a dime a dozen. Negotiations would be set, compromises struck, underhanded dealings dealt with. It was all par for the course.

Yet.

Mars breathed in. He hadn’t asked for help in quite a long time, nor did he trust someone to aid him in such a way in even longer. Of course, there were his brothers, but he felt it unfair to count their dealings when it was mostly expected of them.

Beside him, Virtus opened her maw to pant with a wide smile directed at the mighty god of war. Mars let his fingers dig into her fur to ground himself. He just had to remind himself this was a mere business meeting with someone who was, by all intents and purposes, a rival company, though their domains didn’t truly converge. At some point, he just wanted to be mad at their young, conniving mogul and yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to reach beyond impressed.

Still, Syrinx had what Mars needed and he’d get to it one way or another. He just prevered it be mutual with no mask or tricks to hide beneath. Just honesty.

Mars stepped out of his car, Virtus following suit and made his way toward the restaurant’s front door. It was a small establishment, but its quantness only aided in its beauty. Mars huffed a breath as a waiter showed him toward a small table near the corner. The nod to Italy was much appreciated and the ingredients here were as fresh as possible, like eating from Rome’s own farmland.

With Virtus settled beneath him, Mars gathered what he needed for the meeting in the small bag he’d carried with him. Papers seemed awfully wasteful these days, so Mars settled for a tablet that contained all the necessary information as well as a harddrive that Pan would be more than welcome to take. As he set them to the side of the table, Mars allowed himself to relax, breathe in and take a gander at their hopefully authentic wine collection. Though, his eyes kept flickering toward the glass doorway in hopes to see a spry young man waltzing through.

And waltz he did. It was an apt description of Pan’s graceful fluidity as he came in off the street, clipping his sunglasses to the front of his shirt. A hostess opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand and she grew silent. His eyes scanned the tables until they fell on Mars, attempting to simultaneously peruse the menu and watch the entrance. He grinned, and nodded to the hostess before striding over to take a seat.

Pan wasn’t sure what to expect from this meeting, but wherever the chips fell, he’d remain unfazed. This was business now, not the childish games he’d once enjoyed. Mars had been at it a lot longer than he had, and it would be foolish to underestimate him, or let their family’s rivalry stifle a promising partnership.

“I was wondering when you’d come calling,” Pan said. He sat comfortably in his seat, though his posture could hardly be considered high-society. It was proud, uncaring, leaning back in his chair as if he was completely untouchable. He was confident in his position, that much was clear in the relaxed tone he took on, as if this was just another Tuesday.

“Don’t suppose the Conclave was any fun?”

Prompt. That’s not something he expected from a trickster god. Mars grinned, setting the menu down as he straightened himself. He held his gaze on Pan for a moment, staring him down until he gave a slow blink and narrowed his eyes. ”I’m not sure I’d call Ares brandishing a weapon fun,” Mars said, ”But eventful? Quite. One of your own, Hephaestus, was murdered and conclaves are presumably becoming more frequent.”

Mars, however, didn’t let Pan digest the information. It was a slightly crude tactic, but, at least to Mars, Pan didn’t seem the type to bear any strong feelings toward his own pantheon. The news would be his own to dissect; Mars was here on business. ”Unfortunate as that may be,” Mars started, turning the tablet on and sliding it toward Pan, ”You’re here for a different reason. My company requires assets and you have those assets.”

“Well, I am known for my assets,” Pan smirked and picked up the tablet to begin scrolling through the information Mars had compiled for him. He stowed the news of Hephaestus’ death away for later, happy to talk business first. He remained silent for a moment as he examined, though his eyes betrayed his surprise at what awaited him. Mars, once a champion of the industrial age, was looking to go green, and he wanted Pan’s help. The screen displayed plans for engineering projects that could change the world, if done right. Shaking his head in awe, he set the tablet down and crossed his arms.

“Well, I’ll be honest. This has caught me by surprise, and that is very hard to do.” His eyes ran over Mars’ frame, looking for the slightest hint of what the father of Rome was thinking, to no avail. The uncertainty might’ve worried a mortal but for Pan, it only invigorated him. This was starting to get fun. “What’s with the change of heart?”

”I aim to exceed expectations,” Mars let a corner of his mouth tug up as he reached over to retrieve the tablet. He took a second to pull up a few more things, then handed it back. Not one to reveal too much of himself, Mars let his face fall just slightly, pinched with his lips pursed. ”As you can see, agriculture, particularly agriculture geared toward feeding livestock is an extremely large contributor toward climate change. You knew that, of course. That means I’m a colossal contributor toward a number of unsavory environmental hazards and changes.”

Mars let his head fall to his lap, eyes locking with Virtus at his feet. She whined and tilted her head. For a second, Mars let his posture fall as his hand raised to scratch at the back of his head. ”I’m a war god, but I’m also a protector of my people and by extension the land they inhabit. There’s no reason to prosper at the expense of the earth we live on and it took me awhile to see that. Symbiotic relationships are far and away more preferable to parasitic ones, I’m certain you’d agree,” Mars explained. He straightened, cleared his throat and gestured toward the tablet.

”I suppose I personally owe you an apology before extending my hand in partnership.”

“These plans are a good place to start,” Pan said. He cocked his head, and while it might have appeared like he was debating the pros and cons of the proposition before him, he’d already made up his mind.

A partnership with Mars gave him access to funds that he couldn’t dream of as Peter Oakley, even after Syrinx’ rapid rise to relevance. It wasn’t a secret that Triarii Corp. was bigger than Syrinx and in a better position to enact the change Pan wanted to see. Add the ever stoic Roman across the table and Pan had never truly considered declining. “I’m in. But just know, I’m not selling you that little start-up back, and you come to me with environmental issues from now on. And I’m not signing until I get my lunch.”

Of course there would be conditions to his proposal, Mars just didn’t expect those conditions to be easy to accommodate. That Pan would agree so readly did surprise Mars, but Trarii had an amassed pool of wealth and resources that would be hard to pass up. He just expected there to be a lot more hoops to jump through than simply having to consult Pan on any and all environmental issues. To say Mars minded that arrangement would be a lie, one he’d be hard pressed to deny.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting down to watch Virtus plod toward Pan’s side. She lay at his feet, huffing slightly before letting her head fall to her paws. Mars scratched at the hair on his jaw. ”I would say you won that start-up fair and square. Not many people could give the slip like that without my notice. I can only applaud you for that.”

With that said, Mars signalled for a waiter to come. ”As for your other requests, Syrinx will be the sole provider for any and all environmental needs that Trairii requires. I’ll even personally inquire you about any issues I and my company run into, if that’s fine by you,” Mars said, thanking the waiter as he set down a few menus for the both of them. He spread it open and peered over the top at Pan.

”This isn’t an opportunity I’m willing to pass up, so let’s get to that lunch, shall we?” Mars smirked, ”Do take all the time you need. I cleared the rest of my schedule to ensure these negotiations go as smooth as I can make them.”

Pan leaned over his chair to scratch the top of Virtus’ head once he realized that she’d come over to his side of the table. He diverted his attention to her for a moment, always a sucker for an animal, especially a cute dog. “Clearing your schedule just for me? I am important, aren’t I?” Sitting up, he took a look at his menu, eyes flicking up to the god of war every so often, eyes running down his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders. There was a magnetism there, plain and simple. He felt it with many people, a lust-laced attraction that he couldn’t shake. He shifted in his seat, and did his best to send his mind elsewhere. Oh, the woes of a fertility god.

“What did the Morrigan tell you about Hephaestus?” Pan asked, setting his menu down and taking a sip of water from his glass. It wasn’t concern in his words, more of a fascinated curiosity. This was not the first, nor was it the greatest tragedy he’d endured. “I’d hope she’d have more to offer than just that.”

Business didn’t typically entail any kind of pleasure, nor did Mars truly hope for it. This had to be one of the rarer times he’d actually find himself enjoying a partner or client’s company. There was a chilly confidence to Pan, one that made Mars stare at the man’s smaller build and lithe frame a little too long. Youth still tickled the sharpness of his jaw, belying the ageless being waiting beneath. A slyness, ever enigmatic and biting, lay hidden in dark eyes and Mars stared harder, drawn to the clarion call of a deep, endless forest abyss.

A cough slipped from his mouth and Mars straightened himself. ”I have a feeling I shouldn’t feed that ego of yours,” Mars said, with a smile tugging his lips. His eyes roamed toward Pan, ”Why, I wonder, would I feel the desire to do just that?

The server came at that time, to which Mars simply pointed to what he wanted without his gaze leaving Pan’s. ”To your question about Hephaestus: Morrigan stated that she knew of his death merely by the string of fate attached to him. She’d spoken of it having been cut clean, rather than unspooled as she is used to. I take it to mean that his death was unnatural and not simply a desire to wander outside of the Colossus range. Other than that, she gave nothing of import,” Mars revealed, leaning back with a sigh, ”Though, I suppose I have my own investigations to worry about and a business to run, of course. Still, it intrigues me more than worries me and I assume it will do the same for my brothers.”

Pan followed Mars’ lead with the waiter, pointing at his desired meal and handing the menu off. His fingers tapped out a quick rhythm against his chin, eyes narrowing while he pondered the ramifications. “I’ll second that. If I know my family, one of them’s to blame, and I think you’ll agree that they aren’t quite their old selves.” Pan chuckled at his own jab, drinking in the atmosphere. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Mars’ interests were even more closely aligned with his own than he’d thought. He smirked. Wouldn’t that be something.

“What have you and your brother’s been doing all this time? Aside from polluting the earth, of course,” Pan added, his smirk betraying the good nature behind his jests. Anyone who wanted to get to know the Great God Pan would come to enjoy, or at the very least endure, his humor.

Cheeky little bastard. Mars grinned, though, taking a sip of his water. ”I’m not sure we’ve had time outside of our busy schedule accelerating the heat death of the universe, or at least earth’s,” Mars threw that smirk right back, ”I’m sure you’ve been too busy throwing your wild bacchanals and diving headfirst into sin and debauchery. Oh, and apparently stealing what isn’t yours.” Mars couldn’t very well call himself a successful business mogul if he wasn’t keen enough to throw his own punches.

Still, his smirk turned into a small smile. ”My brothers have their own agendas outside of wanting Rome back. Janus has been doing his usual: curing cancer, making vaccines, starting world wars. Jupiter has been busy being an ass. The others, I’m not so certain outside of their regular businesses,” Mars pondered, pursing his lips slightly. He turned his attention toward Pan again, wondering at his own plans outside of restoring earth to its former glory? He was still uncertain, but something in him craved to learn more.

”What of you? What has the trickster got up his sleeve?”

“I try to keep my sins carefully calculated nowadays, thank you very much,” Pan said, flashing a coy expression at the man who was starting to seem like a very intriguing sin indeed. He sipped his water and leaned back once more. “I’ve been here and there, doing what I do best.” Many would debate what exactly it was that Pan did best. “Who do you think convinced the hippies to try and levitate the Pentagon?” Pan said. “For a little bit, I was running with an awfully dedicated group of mortals, but you can only hijack so many oil rigs before you realize you have to start playing a different game.”

Of course there was more to his centuries on Earth. There were stories that clawed at his lips, begging to be set free so that they might leave their impression on the god of war, but Pan held them in. These weren’t stories told over five-star meals. These would be whispered in the dark, between tousled sheets, when everything had fallen away. “Once we got here, I became this,” Pan gestured to himself, hands running down his frame as if he was trying to sell a ring to a gullible buyer sitting at home. “I take it you know the rest of that story.”

Mars allowed an eyebrow to raise. Of course a god such as Pan would have a number of tales to tell upon entering the mortal realm, though, like any deity worth their salt he likely had a number more pre-fall left untold by mortals. He was left intrigued by what Pan left unsaid and caused Mars to lean forward, eyes roaming down the god’s frame with Pan’s motion. Water couldn’t quench what parched Mars now and only Virtus could hear the quiet growl vibrating Mars’ throat.

”I can say that I do, but I wouldn’t deny knowing the intimate details of your story,” Mars said, ”Or rather all of your stories.” There he felt a hint something sparking lining the words spoken, but Mars wanted to drag more out, unspool the things unsaid until either one of them came undone. Mars gritted his teeth.

”I’m sure you could be convinced to let a few more of those adventures of yours slip out,” Mars tapped a finger against the table, staring at it before locking eyes with Pan, ”As could I, if you’re willing to part with something I find of import.” While the god of war preferred to be direct, he occasionally let mischief play along the tip of his tongue.

The rapport sent jolts of electricity bolting through his nerves, a tightening in his gut that was unmistakable. Temptation was no stranger, but today he’d come to play. “I’m older than the trees they cut down to carve this table. I’ve got stories about wars and orgies and everything in between, but I’m not quite sure which would interest you more,” Pan said. There was a thrill that came with teasing and denying the Roman, watching those dark eyes smolder with an intoxicating intensity. He bit his lip, before yielding a story lost to the passages of time.

“Years ago, when we were in Paris, I snuck into Versailles.” The waiter chose then to reappear, placing their plates in front of them and scuttling off, though not without stealing a glance over his shoulder at the two men. Unfazed by mortal stares, Pan continued. “It was one of Hera’s parties, when she worked for that one king? You know, the one that got the,” Pan mimed a beheading, but otherwise didn’t pause, animated by his memories. “Now, the French didn’t need any help throwing a party, especially back then, but well, the alcohol flowed, and I ended up more than drunk.”

Pan’s story wound through the castle gardens, the stables, and the Hall of Mirrors, infused with his signature splendor. “Finally, we’ve collected all her friends, we’ve found a bedroom, clothes have come off, and we’re getting somewhere good. And then, Hera walks in.” Pan punctuated his sentence by slamming the table, and letting out an exuberant laugh. “Turns out, it was her bedroom. Gods was she livid,” Pan managed to gasp out between laughs. After a moment, and a few sips of water, Pan calmed himself, and met Mars’ gaze. “Are you amused?” he asked, smirking.

Mars held Pan’s gaze for the entirety of his story, keeping a stoic face throughout. Underneath that exterior bubbled an instinct to stake his claim. To grasp a god as slippery as Pan, however, would not likely end well for him. The desire to chase grew in tandem and Mars straightened himself in his chair once more. As Pan’s laughter and story died down into a question and a smirk, Mars hummed and took his time to gather the necessary utensils for his meal. Something simple: baked rigatoni.

With his gaze trained on Pan, Mars chewed his first bite. He allowed himself a grin. ”A story befitting a god such as yourself,” Mars said, truthful as he ever was, ”I find myself disappointed that I could not partake in this Pan you spin tales for, yet…” Mars set his utensil down, taking a drink of water without averting his stare. ”While I find myself intrigued with your plunders and your spoils in your past, there’s nothing more exciting to me now than seeing what you’ll do with this newfound direction. Fun and debauchery is amusing to reminisce about, but something tells me that you bore of it. Why else have you come here? To a man who doesn’t indulge in those frivolities? For as much as they amuse me, I have different needs.”

Mars paused for a moment, setting his food aside as he leaned forward. ”What is it you crave, Pan?”

Pan leaned forward, close enough that he could smell the expensive cologne that wafted off of Mars. “I crave a great deal. Success, power, freedom.” You. The spaces between the lines were bursting at the seams. “What needs do you have, Father of Rome?” Pan’s smile never faltered, even as the space between them seemed to grow smaller and smaller. He could sense the wolf closing in, anticipating the pounce, welcoming it.

The smell of earth washed over him, told him a number of things: desires, wants, needs. His, of course, and he was tempted further to close that gap. Yet, he grinned with a finger at Pan’s chin to tilt the man’s head up while Mars tilted his own to the side. His eyes fell from Pan’s, toward the other god’s jaw, then his neck for but a split second. ”I need prosperity. I need thrill. I need to see myself ushering this world into a new era.” I need the smell of earth and grass tousled into my sheets. Mars nearly growled, but held it for a lip curl instead.

”There is nothing else you would ask of me, before you sign your life away?” Mars pressed, flashing a canine as he smirked. His finger slid down Pan’s chin to his neck, fingers barely hovering over skin. He could bare them like fangs. Mars wondered, looking at Pan now, if the mighty forest god would let him.

Heat against his chin, running across his jaw. The flames lapped at him, heat running to his core as he fought against the urge to succumb to his basest instincts. To give in to temptation was his nature, and this was a most advantageous temptation. “Just one thing.” He flashed a smile of his own, as sure of himself as ever.

”Just one?” Mars asked, just barely above a whisper. His eyes flashed down to lips he could almost feel and heat burned in Mars’ chest. Hunger gnawed at him, a wolf with its jaws ready to snap shut, and Mars nearly allowed it to consume him. Yet, he held on as tight as the fingers that gripped the table and as coiled as the ones against the thrum of Pan’s neck. ”Enlighten me. Perhaps I’d be willing to accommodate,” Mars hummed. His head tilted and he breathed deep one more time.

The tightness that gripped his throat thrilled him, invigorated him. His nerves were firing non-stop, begging him to give in. He leaned in closer, increasing the pressure on his neck, bringing his lips up to Mars’ ear and whispering his next words softly. “When you usher in that new age? I want to be by your side.”

Fingers tightened even further, fully wrapping around Pan’s neck but stopping just before the blood flow constricted. This time Mars truly did growl, guttural and rumbling in the deep pits of his chest. ”You’ve already wrapped me around your finger haven’t you?” Mars grinned as he huffed his whisper. His teeth sank into the lobe of Pan’s ear as he leaned forward ever closer. ”I’ll take that in writing.”

A gasp slipped past Pan’s lips, followed by a slow chuckle, both distorted by the fingers around his throat. “Have I? I hadn’t noticed.” Grinning he leaned back, his heart pumping much faster than it had been a moment ago, cheeks flushed. He grabbed the tablet off the table, and scrawled his signature across a dotted line, and set it back down. “What next, partner?”


Collab With @smarty0114 & [@Gothelk]

IMENTET
IMENTET
ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴊᴏʀᴀᴍ
ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ʙᴀ ꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ



A tree, strong and sturdy, stood towering above the Nile, watching carefully and bowing reverently to the Necropolises to the west where the sun set and the underworld yawned open. While that tree no longer stood stalwart in the desert reeds, at least she could recreate it little by little. A piece of her home clung to her like the heat of a raging sun.

Like wind against water, Imentet flowed across her second home in wisps of yellow fabric, clinging to her in a palm tree fronds. Her air smelled of dates and jasmine that wafted across the counter tops, the tables, through the legs of her chairs. It was no longer a tree, but Little Marjoram would remain an oasis within the cool Seattle air; it bloomed a desert flower, dipping her toes in the salt filled waters. It was hers and hers alone, looking out across the bay to watch the sun meet the horizon, the amenti. If she squinted hard enough through the tinted glass, she could see the Underworld expressing its awakening with a rumble of its maw.

Perhaps that's what she wanted to see, willed herself to see.

With her hands against the counter, staring at the purpling sky, Imentet sighed. Then, with resolve, she stood straight and tidied her shop for opening, hands smoothing curtains, watering the many flowers and plants that laid themselves against the shelving. It was her desert paradise and a reminder to a lost home with its desert plants in their containers of sand and stone. The warm, dim light carried that coziness she so craved and offered freely to her many patrons. It etched itself into her smile, into her food, into the tea that wafted its sweet aroma across the shop.

Imentet breathed deep and settled herself into the cushions upon the seat of her window, waiting for the day to open and the patrons to shuffle in. Little Marjoram kept itself quaint with a number of regulars making up the bulk of her clientele, but it was never too crowded, too noisy, to full. She loved that everything remained just right, balanced along the tip of her finger.

With a book opened, she let her eyes roam to the clock on the wall. A few of her employees had already made her patrons their teas as she rose from her seat. The Conclave likely buzzed to life with unbearable heat, one she was more than happy to avoid. Yet, it was likely to end soon and with that she'd have her friends shuffling in to slump off the day's burdens. That required a little more than tea to soften.

"I'm setting the bottom room up for a small party this weekend, if you need anything please don't hesitate to call for me," Imentet notified one of her baristas, stopping at the front of the door, "Oh, and if you see a weirdly fashionable man sleeping in my dumpster just toss the trash on him and notify me later."

With that, Imentet moved outside toward the building's second entrance that lead both upstairs and to a small storage basement turned into a second cafe of sorts. Here the magic lay, like dawn to dusk the veil lifted and the stars shone against the backdrop of her sheer cloth sky. It made Imentet smile to see wayward souls wandering through her walls taking respite where they could. This provided the perfect place for a small gathering as the dead could not whisper her secrets nor would they want to.

As Imentet slid behind the small counter to prepare the assortment of teas she'd need, she took her phone out to check the time once more. A small slipped over her lips as she sent a text to her fellow Egyptians.

To: De Nilers
I know y'all busy, but bottom room will be ready Saturday for good destressing and decompressing. 😌🍵 Felines get free treats and drinks 'til closing.


Once sent, Imentet went to work cleaning and organizing everything. The Conclave likely wore her fellow deities out, as well as a fe likely cross-pantheon friends. It'd be nice to have a moment just to themselves. Hopefully, Anubis would allow himself to release some of his tension for just a moment. By the stars in their pretty little sky did she know he needed it.


Mentions via Text: @Rockette, [@Icy Hot], @fledermaus, @Akayaofthemoon

POSEIDON
POSEIDON
ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ
ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɢʀᴇᴀꜱʏ, ꜱᴛɪʟʟ Qᴜᴇᴀꜱʏ



𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔
𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒘
𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎—
𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔
———————
———————
Oh, his ears pounded.

Was that fish sandwich bad? No, that's just the denial speaking. Just like he denied the Morrigan having outed him entirely in front of everyone else. That aching gnaw like he'd just failed again croaked at the back of his head as Zeus ushered him aside. Poseidon supposed that all his questions had been answered and rather promptly, actually. That favor definitely didn't go unnoticed, even if the sting of cowardice shook him.

Then, like a Rube Goldberg contraption from Hell, everything ticked right into place. From the atom bomb delivered straight from The Morrigan's mouth to his sister wailing, to the Roman with his dog at his heels, to Ares doing the only thing he's ever been capable of doing, to this very moment in time.

Poseidon sat up straight, the color already drained from his face returning just slightly. His cheeks rose in temperature and his brows knotted together.

"I know you're still mad at me," Poseidon peered over the top of his newspaper to stare at the man pressed against the train's window, "You can act it all you want, but those eyes love to betray you." A smirk played along Poseidon's lips as he folded the paper back up and slid against the leather seats. It'd only been a day and some change, so the effects hadn't yet gripped him fully; they were returning home, after all, from Edinburgh, two hours into their journey.

The man turned to look at him, lips pursed in a slight pout. His hair was smoothed perfectly against his head, though one stray slid down to poke against the bush of his eyebrow. The forest called to him in those eyes, soft greens peaking out against the bark like a meadowlark's song. Poseidon's breath hitched as he stopped against the wall of their cabin and the smirk fell slightly agape at the indignation etched in his lover's face.

He smelled of honeysuckle and oats, dried in the soft rays of an autumn sun. He could feel the wood burning against his cheek, could smell the orchids that bloomed in rebellion against the biting air.

"I'm not pouting," The man said through bitten teeth.

"Roger," Poseidon slipped forward, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. A canine pressed against the flesh, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Peter. I'm not pouting," Roger replied as indignant as before but fighting the fire of a grin and the hint of a giggle that bobbed in his throat.

Poseidon slid between his legs, hands against the tops of Roger's thighs as the sea god's chin poked against the man's folded arms. The smell wafted off of Roger. It flowed through him like a breeze, wiped the sweat of condensation from his brow with a kiss. Poseidon breathed deep lungfuls of it. Committed it to memory. Burned and seared it into his mind for when the inevitable would take him. For when the tide rolled back out, sucked it all into a wave that would slam him against the wall of a cliff.

"Peter, why're you crying?"


"I'm just..." Poseidon opened his eyes to the staring face of his brother and he gasped in a breath, paused in his moment, "I'm just... I need some air." At that moment, Poseidon stood and looked around at the mess that had become of this meeting. Maybe this was a bad idea. He wanted so desperately to cling to his family, but the urge to run away again, hide in the shadows came suddenly and strong against his chest.

Damnable love deities and their penchant for bringing up those desires stuffed so deep down until bitter acceptance rendered them toothless. They would shove their hands down his throat to yank it right back up and shove it in his face in full — assortment of brown vests and loose strands of hair and honeysuckle on his lips. Orchids at the tip of his nose. All of it, right within his grasp only for time to reel it all back.

He wanted to hate mortals for daring to make the king of the sea question his every misstep, every sin, every malicious action taken. Therapists were especially to blame, specifically his current one urging to 'rekindle the ties of familial bonds; unburn those bridges, Peter' as if she could suddenly make him erect millennia old architecture at the drop of a hat. Here he came offering that first step and after all of this he just wanted to leave again. He wanted to leave and never, ever come back. And his feet nearly took him past that threshold.

Yet, Poseidon stopped himself, turned to look at his brother and then his sister. That he'd run away when either one of them needed him the most, even if for just a moment. A sigh took him and shook his shoulders. He ran fingers through his hair and let his feet take him to Hera. No words would be able to come to him and perhaps he smelled of vomit and fish and grease, but he still went to her nonetheless.

With all the power he could muster, Poseidon knelt at her side and took one of her hands in his. He intertwined their fingers together and stared up at her. He offered no platitudes, no excuses, no apologies, just his presence. What could one say that wouldn't ring hollow to a mother who lost her child? And like a statue he sat beside her, hand in hand, with the resolve of the earth beneath the sea.

And the smell of greasy fish bits digging their barbs into cotton.


Interaction: @beetlemoth & @smarty0114

MARS
MARS
𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 » 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲
𝐬𝐢 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐭,

𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚




Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,


Blue flooded a void room — white walls, wood floors. Polished and severe. And a man towered above to take the brunt of the light splayed against the obsidian of his suit. A deep, deep frown tugged the hairs of his lip down as they poured into the harsh cut of his jaw. His brows forced themselves deeper than the frown, creasing the lines of his forehead. Light barely trickled from the heavy curtains covering the window into Seattle's cityscape.

children sleep,
exchanging dreams with
seraphim. The city


He could hear their voices asking over the crackle of a phone: "Mars, be a dear," a puff of air in laughter, "or rather a goat, in this case."

How he willed contempt to his mind, yet it vanished into mere frustration like the cool mist skimming the waters of the ocean, sucked to the sea. "Why do I do this to myself?" Mars said. His hand dove for the power button until a few seconds turned bright lights to sleep and he pressed the laptop shut with one final click. Decades had past and yet neither sibling dared change their habits and perhaps he fell to that fault, as well. Perhaps he simply wasn't privy to his own change, yet the irony of a certain sibling lacking that kind of growth brought a smirk to Mars' lips and a sharp exhale from his nose.

Maybe he should blame the Morrigan. No, the only ones rightfully deserving of his ire were too busy flopping their cocks around and laughing into wine. His love for them was immeasurable.

So was his irritation.

drags itself awake on
subway straps; and


He'd suffer many things, often willingly, for his brothers and would suffer them again just for good measure. This, however, he'd have rather shoved down Jupiter's arrogant throat.

Mars paused in his musing as he turned to walk. His footstep fell with a light click against hardwood and his hand, coiled in a fist, pressed to his mouth. Well, if they wanted entertainment at his expense, he'd provide them with a show. A dull one. Hopefully, the Morrigan would be pleased at his spiteful compliance.

I, an alarm, awake as a
rumor of war
lie stretching into dawn,
unasked and unheeded.




"I don't need you to reschedule me, just push the reservation an hour," Mars spoke, turning into the bend of the road, "I've notified him already just pay the restaurant as much as it takes." Irritation still settled in Mars' brow, only further cemented by the ill timing of the Morrigan's conclave. He'd resigned to absence until his brothers came, once again, calling. If his eyes could hold fire they would, yet it was his own fault for accepting regardless of the circumstance. However, he wouldn't tarnish his reputation for reliability for anything.

Yet, reliable or not, Mars still trudged along at a plodding pace. With the car parked, he leaned back into his seat with his eyes on his mirror. One of his hands tugged at the knot of his tie with the other held the tip. He let his eyes wander to his passenger seat, eyeing the tag along who promptly let her tongue loll out with heavy panting breaths.

"Come now, enough of that, you lecherous beast," Mars said. He let his lips curl into a rare grin as he buried his hand in fur just beneath his partner in crime's collar. She barked in return, mouth splayed open as her head tilted upward to allow Mars access to scratch at her best spots. "Let's not keep them waiting, Virtus. Wouldn't want to disappoint, would we?" he called out to his companion and she barked yet again in reply as they both hopped out of the car.

It took all but a few minutes to find the location. Inconvenience would aptly describe the trek there, yet Mars was not wont to rush an event that would test the limits of his own patience. And once he stopped, shoe thudding against the tile floor, Mars parsed the muffled speak of a woman until her voice roared in desperate anger.

Mars' head turned downward, eyes catching Virtus', his sweet pup, as she tilted her own head at him. "I suppose that's our cue?" he asked, raising a brow to her. Virtus merely let her tongue slip out and her maw open in a pant. Mars gave a hum and pursed his lips before turning toward the door.

And just as he opened it the cacophonous voice of a mother scorned tore through the air. Mars paused, letting the door click shut beside him as Virtus sat at his feet and let her head tilt up toward him in a whine. He pressed a hand to her head and quietly sh'd the canine.

With his brow raised, Mars opened his mouth, intent on giving Hera her dues. Yet, his eyes faltered as they caught the look etched on her face. Pain. Regret. Anguish. Juno's face flashed for but a second and his brows furrowed as his lips curled downward.

Father of Rome. His blood ran through the veins of every Roman and yet he only sired them. Their birth was not his to carry and when they each died of battle, of old age, of disease, his mourning was not that of a mother who had carried and lost. Therefore, he did not know Hera's pain and he could never know. Mars was a man, after all, unknown to virtues and grief that a mother could feel.

Thus, he promptly shut his fucking mouth and let the mother mourn her son. He bowed his head to her, hands clasped and jaw tight.

When the others spoke up, Mars cleared his throat to announce his presence. "I would apologize for being late, but I'm clearly not sorry," he stated, turning his attention toward the Morrigan, "However, if what you say is true, would you care to enlighten us, Morrigan?"

Virtus stood as Mars approached the wise goddess, head tilted as he looked down at her. "That was quite a bombshell you dropped in a room full of divine gunpowder. I can feel the atoms buzzing," his gaze never faltered as he stared her down. He ripped it away for but a second to turn his attention toward Athena, "Tell me, Detective Steele. When one approaches a homicide case they first look for whatever evidence grants them leads, correct?"

He looked down at Virtus, smiling for a split second before looking at Morrigan again, "Don't tell me a goddess of wisdom as yourself would present such news without any kind of string to follow? Or were you just planning on letting Hera wallow in her grief while the rest of the Greeks boil over into a wanton rage? You know how volatile most of them are, do you not?" His eyes roamed their faces, hovering over Poseidon first though he looked to have lost all his bite before finally settling on Ares. Mars' face presented cold steel as he stared, lingering on the man before looking at the professor once again.

Mars, however, continued his gaze, watching the man's head spin and turn the news around every which way. A small smile broke his lips to which Virtus stood alert, her ears shooting up and her lips curling in a snarl. "And the gunpowder ignites," Mars said, just as Ares burst and the Roman turned his gaze toward Morrigan, "Would you like to give our friends any kind of lead to go on before they turn your conference room into a crime scene?"

That's when he turned to look at Ares, letting his eyes hold the man for a moment before turning to the Yoruban who, if Mars could put a bet on it, couldn't care less about the gun pointing at his godly head. "Shoot him. Do it. I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Mars said, hushing Virtus as she barked, "However, many of us do. So if you'd kindly stuff your declaration of war back in your knickers and let our lovely Professor divest some of the details she's been withholding, that would be wonderful." He looked at the Morrigan, "You are more than welcome to diffuse this unfortunate chain of events. I'm not so certain I'd rely on Zeus to withdraw a casus belli from an estranged son."

He let his gaze fall back onto the situation at hand, only taking a moment to watch Virtus lay against his feet. He muttered under his breath, "Hm, a white man bringing a gun to an American university. Can't say I'm shocked."


Interactions: @fledermaus, @legion02, @metanoia, @The Ghost Note;
Credit: Awaking in New York by Maya Angelou

ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ɴʏᴍ'ꜱ ʙᴀʀ & ɢʀɪʟʟ » ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ
ᴍᴏᴏᴅ: ᴡᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴇᴀꜱʏ? ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜꜱ




𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖 𝑠𝑎𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑚
𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒—
𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑡ℎ
𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠

𝑑𝑜 𝑖 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒?
———————
———————
"'Ey! Cabrón" Poseidon blinked. Once. Twice.

He looked around with foggy intent before his eyes settled on the dirty apron'd man calling to him over the divider between kitchen and diner. Clinking and clattering hit his ears next, then the small din of quiet conversation and laughter. Poseidon tilted his head, then widened his eyes as he moved toward the swinging doors.

"Why'd you got your dick in your hands, dude?" the chef who'd called him asked.

"Sorry, Danny, I just fell out of it for a moment," Poseidon responded. He scratched at the back of his head and gave a cough. His shift was just about over, yet he still had two orders to slide to the row of two chefs blazing seafood and dunking fries into hot oil. "Oh, how's the studies going, by the way?" Poseidon asked with a pull to his lips.

"What're you my dad?" Danny scoffed, head pulling back with a cringe.

"Ha, you wish he was your papi," a young woman piped up, slapping her coworker's ass with the back of her spatula.

"Please, put that in the—" Poseidon started and she shut him up with a purse of her lips and withering look. The spatula clattered as it fell into the sink. He began walking toward the back, untying his server's apron while he popped the crick in his neck. A light laugh escaped Poseidon's lips as he listened to the bickering behind him.

"Why the hell would you say that, just because..." Danny quickly divulged a deluge of stammering Spanish while his coworker tossed him more ingredients.

"Oooh, duro! Papi Peter!!!"

"Shut the fuck up, the customers are gonna hear you."

Poseidon shook his head, sliding into the back room to hang his apron and unbutton his shirt slightly. When the door swung shut everything drowned out to the quiet buzz of the A/C. He let his back hit the cool brick wall and tilted his head up. How could losing all that godhood suddenly make bones creak and muscles ache more over a long, hard day at work? Even centuries later, Poseidon still didn't understand why mortals would allow turmoil to rule their lives so readily.

Yet, he grinned. Perhaps it wasn't the turmoil that ruled their lives, but the chase of those moment to moment drips of glee. That seemed more optimistic, no doubt.

Gods, was that smell him? Poseidon lifted his arm to press his shirt to his nose. Deep-fried fish with a hint of milk and lots of grease. He cut it close already with his shift today, though. If he went back home for a shower and a nap he'd miss the Conclave entirely.

Poseidon's lips turned up into a contemplating frown. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad — nope. No. No, no.

Push through it you fucking pansy. Poseidon thought hard, eyes squeezed shut and fist clenched. Every part of him tensed and revolted.

He shrugged as much of it off as he could, grabbed his phone and keys from his small locker and barged out of the back room. Danny tossed a look over his shoulder, eyeing the bag and cup on the counter nearest to Poseidon. With a nod of his head, the old god swiped the bag of food and milkshake.

"Don't give the boss too much blood to mop up tonight," Poseidon said. He tossed the two a salute as he hurried out of the diner.





Well, maybe the smell of overpriced fish food and a grease stained button up was just what he needed to come back from the dead with. That's what he told himself constantly on his drive over. And he was starting to believe it until he saw a few students give him a weird look when he passed them by. It was likely because he stepped too close to them and they wondered where exactly that smell was coming from.

Poseidon paused near a lamppost to pinch the bridge of his noise. Once he stepped foot in that conference room with a back of what was likely a fucking disgustingly smelly fish sandwich and a raspberry milkshake there was absolutely no coming back. Which was exactly why he plopped himself down on a bench and devoured his lunch, while ignoring what he assumed to be a volley of pitiful looks from professors and teachers alike. Deep down he knew no one gave even a modicum of a shit about a random stranger eating on a campus bench, but the shame still washed over him.

Every deep chew as Poseidon leaned back, head pointed upwards, throttled his reality further and further into his mind. Decades. Centuries. Millennia gone into hiding. The shadows that hung over him whispered the many lives he lived and lost to the spinning wheel of time. Poseidon had died a long, long time ago in the waters of Istanbul, shriveled up into what was left of Peter Samaras' hand.

It ached. It burned until the beverage dropped onto the bench seat next to him. Poseidon clenched his teeth as it stiffened.

From park bench to full stride, Poseidon weaved through his surroundings until they blurred into a background. The back of his head pricked like needles that road down his spine. With every heaving breath that pulsed his chest, Poseidon fell into a dark corner of the campus where he could press his forehead to the concrete wall.

Beyond the myriad thoughts that plagued his mind, there laid a door he left closed many years ago. All he had to do was step through it. Yet, what would they think of an Olympian falling prey to mortal ailments. They'd question his mental fortitude and wonder at the monumental fuck up that laid bare Poseidon's glory. Where the purpling thunderheads would rain down terror through the endless, colossal waves that speared the Grecian rock face and brought navies to their knees, the racing thought of showing his face again after spending years a ghost forgotten would seize the ocean's spirit and break panic through his mind.

He was making a big deal out of nothing again. Poseidon thudded his head against the wall. Where the was his milkshake again? Oh, in his hand. Ah, it was half spilled.

"Hey dude," a voice called from behind him, "You, uh... you lookin' to score?"

Poseidon's lips straightened and turned to push past the dumbass. He spared the man no remark. He gets his shit at the dispensaries, anyways. And if he was trying to sell him some kind of hardcore drug, he'd gladly pass. He'd leave that kind of coke induced partying to his wayward brother.





It took a solid thirty minutes of wandering before Poseidon found the conference room. He didn't need a map, but he did need a few fingers pointing him in the right direction. Looking around the hall, he puckered his lips slightly. Everything was slightly dusty or grimy with either overuse or under-use. Poseidon couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Still, at least the dress code he'd imparted upon himself matched the location. Apparently so did his smell. He still cringed at his appearance.

It took another five minutes just outside the doorway for Poseidon to psych himself up enough to enter. But first, he had to pace for another few minutes. He clenched the milkshake in his hand still, forgetting the stickiness of his fingers as he gripped it just slightly tighter. He took a long draw until the rattling slurp drew him out of his thoughts again.

"Hey urp... mmnnnn—" Poseidon announced himself, bursting through the doorway with an arm wide in greeting. Yet he stopped himself, burping slightly as something came up his gullet. His face paled quicker than the lights flickered over head and suddenly he'd turned to bend over and upchuck his fish sandwich on a pair of likely extremely expensive shoes.

"Are those genuine Armani?" was the only thing that came to mind when he looked up to stare directly into Zeus' eyes.



ʜʏᴘɴᴏꜱ' ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ » ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ
ᴍᴏᴏᴅ: ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʏ ʙᴀʙʏ




"Mama told us not to go past the poppy field," Hypnos sat in the flowers with a pout on his lips, "Than!" A young black haired boy ran despite the calls. The poppy's swayed like a ripple, parting between the earnest footfalls. He climbed the hill that signaled the edge of their little sanctuary until the horizon swallowed his tiny frame.

Hypnos kept his arms folded, lips pouched out even when his eyebrow pinched in worry. The endless twilight engulfed their realm. Its soft light refused to reach as far as the lip of the twin's cave. Beneath her twilight shroud, a field of flowers sprawled from one end of the valley to the other. Little fingers of poppies grazed the child's pale skin while he moped.

A scream erupted from the edge of the fields and Hypnos shot up to his feat.

"Thanatos?!"

But it fell into a sporadic giggles until he saw a woman rise above the valley's hill with a squirming boy in her arms. Her smile melted the worry and warmed the cold of his little valley. She carried the twilight on her shoulders and swept them up with the dusk.





That erupting giggle carried into from Hypnos' dream. The poppies faded away to inky void. He welcomed it and the warmth that wrapped around him. "Mmmm," Hypnos hummed, husk dripping from his wakened voice. There laid pleasure in always remembering his dreams, one that he let flow into his fingertips and onto the smooth, slippery keys of his piano.

Time didn't allow him that opportunity this time, even with the dusk itched to free itself. Persephone—Kore texted mere minutes ago.

To: Poppy Prince
I hope you’re awake and on your way, sleepyhead! I saved you a spot… well not really but hurry up! <3


If anyone could immediately make his mornings — well, whenever he woke up — that much better it was Kore. Maybe he'd stop by 𝓮𝓷 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓶 with her after the Conclave. Ooh, Conclaves. A pout threatened to bloom from his lips, but Hypnos focused on replying.

To: Bringer of Dhalias
just woke up.
gonna be there in...
gonna be there. >.>
xoxo p.s. im bringing my piano wanna play at ur shop after uwu


With that sent, Hypnos slunk out of bed to immediately stub his toe on his nightstand. He let out a grunt, letting the pain simmer in for a second before using his phone to turn up the lights to a low, orange dim. Hypnos looked down at his phone's clock, lower lip jutting out slightly.

Was there time for a shower?

Hypnos hummed, sighed, and took a quick one. Late but fresh, just how he preferred it.





♫ I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine. I got a love, and I know that's all mine... ♪ Hypnos sung under his breath, melting into quiet hums as he made it up the university stairs. His hair flopped curly over his eyebrows, just above his hooded eyes and ever lazy smile. The people past him yawned as he hummed, adjusting the strap of his keyboard bag over his shoulder.

It didn't take him long to come upon the meeting room. It was small, but Hypnos appreciated tiny spaces more than most. He was the opposite of claustrophobic, but that might be due to his innate desire to be smothered in comfy blankets and pillows while he slept.

Upon entering, Hypnos made a straight line toward Kore, sitting next to her without so much as gazing at the others. There was a tension on one side of the room that he didn't quite appreciate and thus he kept his eyes on his partner in crime.

Setting his keyboard against his chair, Hypnos gave Kore a bright smile before laying his head and slouching completely over the table. He looked up at his friend, "Heya Kore-nation. Wanna take a quick nap before the rest of the crew shows up?" He held his arm up in invitation while he yawned his question.

"Oh!" Hypnos said as tapped away at his phone before holding it up to show her a picture of his little poppy patch on his windowsill, "They bloomed today!" He gave another yawn and let his lips curve into a drowsy grin.


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