i’ve had a bit of a Day so i’ll be on tmrw i promise ! <3
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𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫
there it is ; refusal , which has her seeing crimson and gold , an emotion that has her slightly confused ( for when has the queen consort of the underworld , the mother to her kind ) been DENIED that which she wants ? her hand remains where it is , and gold-flecked eyes do not falter , nor do they shift . ❛ the alcohol , godling . and i will not repeat myself again . ❜ he would do well not to test her patience ; she has seen empires rise and crumble , has lain waste to those who have not paid her tribute , wrecked entire fleets in her FURY . no , it would not do well to poke at the slumbering bear that has not risen within centuries . he is not as selfish , it seems , as those who she would rather die than converse with ( the vain Greeks , who are as insufferable as they are powerful ) but somewhat … refreshing . a mirror of her empire , of her own kind . a roman , she assumes . and with a temperament such as his … the mirror to the concerning dionysus . ❛ i may be cruel , young one , but i would never insult you in such a manner ! ❜ she sniffs , as if in disgust . the nerve ! the gall ! she may skip courtesies , but she has manners . ❛ i am well aware of who you are , bacchus . and you are quite possibly the most tolerable out of all your brethren . ❜
* though young , he’s never quite grasped the respect he should have . nose turned up to his elders , crudity fallen from ichor lips instead of bowing his head & keeping the honorifics tradition has carved carefully into marble . his eyebrows raise , disrespectfully unimpressed with her demand as he tucks the bottle further away & pulls out his aureus coin instead , swiftly & skillfully weaving it through his fingers with a defiant shake of his head . ❛ i made that myself , isis , that’s my alcohol . go make your own . ❜ childishly he replies , even going the distance for his lower lip to jut out just a fraction more than usual . the last thing he needs to do is anger an ancient goddess ( who’s – facing the truth – much more powerful than he is , especially given his recent state of existence ) , but his very nature is written with apathy & mischief . he led the most bloody of parties , he turned a blind eye to his followers taking the lives of innocents – he would not be the smartest one while facing a potentially dangerous enemy . ❛ but , thanks for the compliment . i do fancy myself tolerable , people say i’m an acquired taste , i think perhaps they just don’t have taste . ❜
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𝐡𝐜𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝
the two seem to cross paths more than not, something rosalie picked up on after a few encounters with suhwan. she doesn’t understand what pulls her to him ━ lasting a whole five minutes before the eye roll comes into play and she’s having them go their separate ways. rosalie wants to think what are the odds of the two intertwining their night together like this ━ how could a last minute shift change for rosalie have the two meeting late at night, the rest of the world fast asleep and unaware. it’s something she reads too far into, losing the plot along the way and acting as if suhwan’s ego was a destiny she was meant to be a part of. her gut tells her temporary ━ it won’t be long before she stops hearing from him, the name suhwan a distant memory as she moves on. he’s interesting, but it’s easily overshadowed by how annoying he could be ━ a thorn on her side and he knows. “i’m talking to a strange man right now. i call them like i see them,” she responds with, demeanor cool. she wonders if suhwan’s head is truly that big because it’s desperate to fit his entire ego into it. rosalie is unsure how one person could hold such confidence or an ego so massive it couldn’t fit. “you were waiting for me? well, i’d call that stalking. is that what you were doing?” she raises an eyebrow at him, jaw tilting up slightly while she takes the time to study him. “you call mediocre when i can still look like this after hours of working and still look better than you.” an eyeroll and a shake of her head is the period to their conversation, turning on her heel to make an exit.
* she reminds him of a past life , she has from the moment he laid eyes on her . there’s something in the way she carries herself , in the pure tragedy that’s chosen to take residence on her skin – he had approached in the hopes that she was a familiar soul , but he’d stayed because he had found a human that he liked on her own . rosalie wasn’t a remnant of a lover of the past , she wasn’t a soul that had chosen to be re - birthed in elysium or someone he had ever held before – she was just human ; something he was supposed to hate , that he had gotten so used to turning his nose up at & something he was supposed to shun if she got too close . instead , in the night , he watched her turn on her heel & rose from his seat , refusing to let her slip through his fingers so quickly . bacchus – suhwan , to her , caught up with her in a few long strides , quickly & gracefully bumping her side with his limbs . ❛ maybe i was just trying to be romantic – i’m tired of only seeing you in the hospital , your scrubs do absolutely nothing for you . ❜ though he wears immunity as most gods do , he’s become a frequent flyer of her workplace – showing up with busted lips & cuts on his skin . her touch is gentle , even if her words tend to land poisonously onto him – she’s got the spirit of a goddess , he’ll let her talk to him however she wants . ❛ & that’s a bold statement , nurse myung . you don’t think i look good ? i even tried , tonight . ❜
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@hcneylaced
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[ ooc ; ] i'm feeling just a lil under the weather so i'm probably signing off for the night but if we haven't plotted yet pls comment / im me & we can work smthn out ! sidenote : ur all ?? so talented i'm actually in awe & i love you all sm .
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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫
for the first time in a while , there’s a SKIP in phobos’ step as he walks down the dark , nearly empty path in the park , a cigarette hanging from in between his lips . the full wallet he had managed to swipe from an unfortunate passerby weighs proud in the pocket of his jeans , & with a sly smirk , he reaches down to happily fiddle with the money he found inside . as he continues his stroll forward , phobos can make out a figure under a lamplight , strewn across the bench . he pays them no mind , fully intending on continuing his walk , until he gets closer . there’s a familiarity about the person’s aura that phobos can’t quite put his finger on , all he knows is that they’re powerful & … ROMAN ? this piques his interest , & carefully , he approaches them . — ❝ sure , people . i , on the other hand , don’t really need it , & i’m guessing you don’t either . ❞ he takes a drag of his cigarette , and aimlessly kicks at a rock that lays by his feet . ❝ is this your idea of fun ? getting wasted on a park bench at three in the morning ? classy . ❞
* his hubris is born of the roman empire . bacchus has always worn it with a cruel pride , swift to remind those with loose lips of the might of the mortals that worshipped him . those donned in purple with wreaths upon their heads were his people , those who conquered & left nothing but success in their wake were the ones to build altars to him . his people were of rome & though he lost his love for men the way he used to hold it , he would always hold them ( & himself , his pantheon ) to a higher standard , because they were the best & they would always be regarded as the best . he watches the other being in their stroll , notices the bounce in his steps , the glee that he emanates & the cigarette that’s harmless against his form – bacchus is quick to remember how the eastern lands of greece have always felt to him ( lesser , a thorn in his side , an offense when people forgot him & remembered his greek counterpart ) , but he’s slow to find a response . ❛ ‘s fun , ❜ he answers , faking a yawn . ❛ helps me sleep . haven’t you heard ? the more powerful , the more human you become . ❜
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𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬
;WHILE osiris was gifted a myriad of different luxuries within his eternity of existence, sleep was a luxury that had never come easily to the god who presided over the duat, or the realm of the deceased. the nile in which he was torn apart evidently also stripped the son of the sky and the earth of his ability to rest easily, and he frequently found himself roaming the streets of the city he migrated to decades ago, never seeming to tire from the same scenery of the night. the sweet - tongue and calm expressions which osiris possessed occasionally allowed him to interact with whatever strangers also decided to vacate their dwellings within the night, but he approached a figure who was rather familiar to him, causing a grin to form on the judge of the dead’s face. the scarlet liquid only gave away the other god’s identity further, and a scoff escaped the god’s lips as he studied bacchus. “ people may be more diurnal, but i don’t remember the last time i slept well, ” he responded, his voice confident as it always had been. “ i’m sure you would favor the night, i’ve come to find that most people don’t partake in daytime drinking. or, is there a different reason why you favor the night? ” while this may have been a joke coming from other individuals, there was not a drop of humor within his voice – while he rarely ever intends to appear crude, osiris presents himself with a honest demeanor, causing him to speak blunt truths as he judges the living as he would the dead.
* there’s much more comfort in the nighttime nowadays , the shadows quick to hide anything that’s bared to the world underneath the sunlight . his escapades have often been quick to turn a blind eye to the elements , leading parties of the crazed through the woods no matter the time of day but as he’s sobered up & dared to look behind him despite instruction , he’s been blessed enough to realize that there’s no shying away during the day time . of course , he’s a god – he doesn’t have to worry about mortal consequences . should he want , he’d never have to face the dizzying elation of drunkenness or the weight of exhaustion – he surely doesn’t need to worry about what the men on the street think of him walking down the avenue with a bottle of wine between his fingers . but he’s worried about other things , he’s turned over his shoulders to see rays of light hitting the grotesque faces of his followers , he’s pulled his maenads out of the shadows to witness the red underneath their fingernails & their crimson - rimmed eyes . at least in the shadows , he can pretend he doesn’t see – he doesn’t know what horrors he brings upon himself ( & those around him ) . coward , some would say – intellectual , he’d describe it himself . ❛ they used to – daytime drinking used to be a hit , but apparently – it’s ‘ harmful ’ & ‘ detrimental to society ’ . what a bunch of losers . ❜ he grumbles , complaining about the change that he’s had to witness .
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𝐡𝐜𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝
if rosalie had the opportunity to choose ━ some sort of higher power to get whatever she wants, she currently wouldn’t be walking to her apartment after an intense night shift at the hospital. however, it interests her to see the way the world works once night falls. it’s different than early morning rushes, everyone having a specific destination to get to at a timely manner. when night time hits, the world calms down ━ seems to stop with rosalie being the only living being to grace the world with her presence. she doesn’t think it’s so bad walking home from work, her apartment conveniently close by, and it gave her some alone time to clear her head. it was a peaceful walk home ━ until she suddenly was no longer the only person in her world. “ah, suhwan,” she greets, stepping in front of the other as he lays himself out on the bench. “heard some commotion at work about others passing by a strange figure across this bench ━ shouldn’t be surprised that person was you.” she tucks a loose strand of hair that fell from her ponytail behind her ear, a little too tired to figure out a riddle suhwan seems to be putting out. “last time i remembered, you were people too. doesn’t that mean you should be in bed? or, you know, home?” he favors the night and so does she, another reason she preferred to work mornings to free up her nights. “you got a hot date or something?”
* mankind lost its appeal a while ago , didn’t it ? his first arrival on earth called for what he thought was unconditional love , venus had gifted him with so much of it he had blessed them as often as he could . by his hand they learned his recipes , by his light he had guided them into ecstasy & into lives of prosperity . the glamor wore off quickly with the centuries , every time he blinked he saw them fall more & more from the heights he had placed them at . the gods had handed them wings & he had watched them pluck out their own feathers , witnessed them capture those who refused & leave scars along their backsides . mankind hasn’t called to him in a couple centuries , but the way he looks at her ( without even meaning to , his eyes melt , almost , hues filled with stars he could’ve stolen from asteria ) is remnant of how he used to hold them in his palms . she’s a fading memory of someone who used to mean more to him , her presence alone feels like the rising sun over rome that rests on his skin as he eases men out of a wine induced haze – she’s it , for him , but he won’t be quick to admit it . ❛ that’s kinda rude , rosie , to call me a strange figure . don’t you know who you’re talking to ? ❜ he’s never been the most subtle about his godhood , failing to hide his power from humans who gain his presence more than once . ❛ what would you say if i were waiting for you ? congratulations , you’re my hot date for the night – except , ❜ his eyebrows raise – unimpressed with her attire . ❛ scratch hot – maybe , mediocre date . ❜
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𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫
the thrum of power disrupts the atmosphere of the mundane realm ; it is an entity as old as time itself , made in the eddies of the universe , with star flecked hands and the kindness of the mother , who had given a piece of herself to each of her children … for a god would not survive in this world without POWER . WEALTH . DEATH . it is enough to pique her curiosity , a cat that would better be off dead , but who is she without inquiring ? without seeking to find answers that elude her grasp ? immortality would be different without it , far more boring . and who better to taunt the fates than ISIS herself ? ❛ i find that the darkness of night is more inviting than the light of day . ❜ announces the goddess , her voice bright and ringing . a seat is taken on the bench without hesitation , and she extends a hand . she knows of the drink , and she would prefer some . ❛ what are you ? ❜ she muses . ❛ greek ? roman ? or even celtic ? and lets not lie - - - we must be honest with one another , godling . ❜
* often – maybe too often – he’s run into the seraphic beings that are all too similar to him . ones who walk with a stride of power , ones who hold their heads a little higher than even the most hubristic of men , ones whose eyes hold raw potency that would make kings kneel before them . oh , bacchus is young – he doesn’t hold the same years as his seniors do ; compared to the rest , the roman empire is young , him even younger ( the other gods are constant reminders that he is a child next to them , it isn’t something he favors , though these days , it isn’t something he cares much for ) . he looks at her extended hand , knows what she’s asking for & still stubbornly chooses to hide it despite her amiable nature . he’s selfish , by nurture – not nature . ❛ why don’t you guess ? ❜ immature , is the next thing that comes to mind . ❛ what’s my vibe ? if you say greek , i’ll never talk to you again for at least five years . ❜
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𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝
& . : `◞ winter was approaching thus the night air felt cold against his cheeks . now a slight pink tone due to the soft , fleeting breezes of wind kissing his complexion . it wasn’t unusual for the god to occupy his nights with long strolls with no set destination . he followed crooked pathways allowing the earth to guide him and nothing more . the pizza slice he had in his hand was from his recent destination . with just a few bites left he thought he could savor the greasy pleasure on a central park bench ; like a true new yorker he thought . he assumed the benches would be empty , after all it was late — far too late for anyone with any plans to be out . his assumptions were proven to be false when he saw the young man drinking to his heart’s content . ❝ what are you , my mother ? ❞ he asked in response . he took a seat on the bench and admired what was left of his pizza slice before taking a bite from it . ❝ ah , that’s nice . i was just a little hungry . ❞
* he doesn’t favor it – human food . bacchus often has found his pleasures in whatever else mankind has to offer , most things that aren’t what they use for sustenance . there used to be days where his hunger would lead him to the finest of mortals – souls bright enough to lead them to the home of the gods . other times , his hunger would be raw & insatiable as he searched & yearned for something that he always knew he wouldn’t find among the realm of the mortal . nowadays , his hunger sits dormant ; numbness taking place of the yearn for wine , of the yearn for blood , of the yearn for war . it’s a strange concept for him to grasp at all , in the new age , walking among concrete palaces & humans who’ve turned their backs on the divine . his eyes fall gently at the other ichor being , lips pursed . ❛ do i look like your mother ? you think so lowly of me , don’t you ? ❜ his joke falls flat as his nose almost crinkles at the pizza – almost . ❛ where’d you even get that ? it smells , as bad as the boars did centuries ago – all these years , mankind still doesn’t know how to cook . ❜
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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫
a long time ago , gods were never to be found cleaning ; it was most certainly a MORTALS’ chore . time’s change , of course , and last night persephone found herself picking up the bartender’s shift at elysium after the usual called in sick . she paid it no mind , and continued to clean up the bar ( even finding the mindless activity relaxing ) , while soft music played from her phone . with her back turned from the rest of the club , a dry towel in her hand wiping out the wet shot glasses , & she heard the heavy doors to the club open , and footsteps approach the bar . without turning around , the goddess mentally scolded for forgetting to lock the front doors and called out , — ❝ we’re closed ! i’d say it’s a little to early for PARTYING , right now . you’re welcome to come back at eight . ❞
* two minutes ── an entirely newfound record for bacchus to not complain while he sends her a look of disdain . his footsteps are light , but his presence is made known , limbs bumping into chairs & tables while strained huffs of air fall from his lips . by the time he reaches the bar , he looks ( & sounds ) like a mortal who’s ran a couple more miles than their body can handle . by the time he sits down , ( two minutes after entering the establishment ) his lips have parted in order to land a complaint on the surface of the bar . ❛ KOREY . ❜ the mundane name fall gracefully , though his gradual slump over the bar is far from it . ❛ why would you turn me away ? after everything i’ve done for you ? ❜ he whines . ❛ besides , it’s never too early for partying , you’ve just never had the right entourage – it’s actually quite harmful of you to say that to your patrons , what if they’re morning partiers ? what’s with the stigma of partying & drinking ‘ too early ’ anyway – there’s nothing wrong with that , the earlier the better . ❜ he says it all in one breath . ❛ so ; one shot please , of your best liquor . ❜
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𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ── 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 , to all .
𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ── somewhere ? in central park ?
* dusk has come & gone , leaving him washed in the glow of the darkness . there’s a god for that , he thinks – someone who bestows the shadows upon mankind , someone who painted all the stars in the sky & gifted moonlight to the unworthy . his body is long , draped along a bench as his head rests awkwardly on an armrest ; a lamenting sigh falls from his lips , sitting up as company approaches . he sends them a look , taking a sip from a bottle of deep scarlet that appears from underneath a coat he doesn’t need . ❛ shouldn’t you be in bed ? it’s late out , you know & i’ve learned that people are more diurnal than nocturnal . ❜ he shrugs , hiding his bottle again & comfortably sitting back in the center of his claimed throne . ❛ though , personally , i’ve always favored the night . ❜
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I don’t even know where to begin with this
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[ ooc ; ] sorry for disappearing i had ?? a day FHFSHDFHS, but replies + more dms will come in the morning. u guys r all super talented + amazing, and i can’t wait to write w u all !!
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“I’m not dying for you”
but the minute I said those words I knew they were a lie
because I’ll fight with you
I’ll bleed with you
and the world will fall if I can’t save you
but more than that, I’ll stay with you after
I’ll wash the blood from your skin
and hold you arms like you’re the only oath I’ve ever kept
because the minute I hold your gaze and the universe falls silent
I know that the heart that pounds in this room is not mine or yours
it’s the heart we’ve created with the broken pieces of each other
Unfinished Stories #620 by Abby S (via medusaswrites)
@hcneylaced
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