#ganymede is for Zeus's kiss only

[kdpartworks]

Can I give Ganymede a kiss(on the cheek or forehead)or will Zeus murder me?

Still a Zeus from @neal-illustrator design

[thethunderbringerzeus]

((I saw the message about the hiatus, but I know i'll forget if I dont so i'm leaving this here for when you feel better, I just didn't want it to come off as if I were blatantly ignoring you!))

[A letter arrives, written in fancy caligraphy]

Dearest grandfather, King of Olympus, Lord of The Gods,

It is I, Theatrocles! I have a...favor to ask of you, and before you read on, please consider I am one of your only grandchildren who make an effort to talk to you and be nice to you!

You see I got into a nasty little fight with Selene, you know the moon goddess? The one who killed my father's lover, Ampelos?

Now i *know* my father used to go on and on about how Ampelos was better than Ganymede, so I'm sure there's a bit of animosity surrounding the whole...situation, but surely I am not to be lumped in with the people who cause such animosity! I wasn't even around during that transgression!

Now for my favor! And remember I have been nicer to you than most of your grandchildren, and even some of your actual kids! Could you make up some bullshit reason for Selene to leave Olympus for like, an hour? Pleeeeeease grandfather, she's threatening to CUT MY HAIR!!!!! THE WELL FROM WHICH MY POWERS AND INSPIRATION FLOWS!!!!!

With love, respect, and a heart of loyalty,

Theatrocles, Son Of Lord Dionysus, God of Theatrical Drama (and ass kissing. like seriously that sign off was SO obviously a suck up move. HES NOT EVEN A GOD HIS MOM IS ARIADNE?????)

((OOC: For context, hermes talks shit and adds insults onto Theatrocles's letters before sending them bc of an argument the two had. Theatrocles does not know)

OOC: You’re perfectly alright my friend. Still currently going through it, but I’m still up to respond. As for the context, it is very much appreciated

“Thank you, Hermes, for your commentary.”

*Zeus proceeded to read the letter, taking in the information as he let out a rumbling sigh, the sound much like distant thunder on the horizon.*

{The king of the gods own handwriting was in its own unique and neat calligraphy. The most notable feature being the larger letter at the beginning of each paragraph, stylized to look like the first line was an olive branch.}

Dear Theatrocles,

I would like to state that the situation between my son, your sire, Dionysus, and I have been working on our relationship. Kindly, please do not bring up the comparison of Ganymede and Ampelos again. It is something we are working on in private and I’d rather keep it that way. Especially since it is a sore spot for my Wife and I currently since we see Ganymede quite often due to him being my cupbearer.

Now, another thing, I must ask you to not put down my children again, or any of your cousins for that matter. They hold every right to feel and react to my actions as they wish. I will not shy from my past, but I will not stand for family putting each other down. Especially since I’ve been subject to uprisings before. Pray tell, do you remember how those went, dear grandchild of mine? Not well for my wife or brother, Poseidon. I highly recommend remembering that I am the strongest of my siblings.

He may be the earthshaker and my wife the queen, but I reign above them. I am the king of the gods. My power isn’t to be undermined, dear child.

As of the favor, send me to her. She has no reason to demand you to cut your hair from which you gain your power from.

-From,

Zeus Basileus

*Zeus hands the letter to Hermes with a hardened, but not unkind expression. A low sigh escaped his lips as he went to go check on his brothers in the meantime.*

Basileus is Zeus’ epithet meaning “King”. Made most sense other than his other epithet “Hypatus”/“Hypsistus” meaning “Supreme”. King felt more fitting for this though since he doesn’t tolerate any amount of potential hubris.

[happyk44]

I crafted my own idea on Ganymede and Zeus before looking further into it (had misread/misremembered the initial read of Ganymede's Wikipedia page, to be honest), so my view of their relationship is very consensual.

But coming from the general interpretation of Ganymede as an unwilling underage victim, kidnapped and forced into the position, I'm wondering how Hera would react to the situation. She can't really tell him to set the boy free and she can't free Ganymede on her own. So what if she was just a safe haven for him? He's just a boy. He doesn't really want to be there. It's not the same as it is with most of Zeus's affairs. They're adults, they're willing, they know he's married, they know they're spitting in her face by engaging with him. They do it anyway.

But Ganymede is different. He didn't have a choice.

Zeus isn't mean or cruel. He's gentle and kind, which would normally fill Hera with anger but, for now, it just makes her sad. She's grateful in a way for her husband's softness towards this boy. But she shouldn't have to be. He shouldn't have to be.

He comes to her frequently. His skin always bared to the sun, golden and warm. He flinches at the call of birds above. He misses his family, he tells her. He misses his sheep, he tells her.

He loves her, he tells her.

She cannot return the sentiment. But she cares for him and he cries when she tells him.

"I don't think he's going to let me go," he says after a couple of years of pouring wine and settling at Zeus's side with tensed shoulders and a thin smile. He's aged gracefully. Even when his skin wrinkles and sags off his bones, Hera knows he will still look beautiful and younger than his years.

She knows he's right.

Zeus has only clung to one person this long before. Her.

His obsession with him is evident in his sweetness. Ganymede will stay. A permanent fixture on Olympus, a permanent placement in their home, a permanent presence in their bed.

His beautiful face is wet. She kisses the top of his head. His hair is soft. He smells pleasant. Warm skies and sunshine. He leans into her. His head rests against her collar bone.

There is nothing she can do to change this.

So she holds his hand and lets him cry.

[number1-hera-defender]

Bit of writing I did for a long story I'm writing about Ganymede. TW for implied r@pe Ganymede gasped, tears falling down his face as his chest heaved. He felt like he couldn't take a breath in as he gripped the pillow. His brain was still having trouble processing what just occurred, everything hurt, and he wasn't sure he could move. Zeus on the other hand just got dressed. Ignoring the younger man as he cried in his bed, only turning back to him with a sickening smile on his face. “Oh, sorry love, I was too rough, wasn’t I?” He smiled, rubbing his back, Ganymede flinched at his touch, his heart racing, but he tried to keep it off his face. “Need any help getting dressed?” “N-no, thank you.” He says, pulling away from him, looking worried as the god frowned, “but thank you for offering my lord.” That seemed to placate the god, who gave him another false smile and kissed him on the head. “Don’t act all tough all the time.” Zeus mused, ruffling his hair. “I’m your god. I’d be happy to help you, love.” Ganymede gave a scared smile and nodded before trying to get out of, but he just fell to the floor, his knees and arms shaking as he tried to redress himself, Zeus watching him with an almost concerned look the whole time. After he was finally dressed, he limped out of the room, stepping into the hallway.

Ganymede stumbled forward, looking around and he saw a doorway, he quickly made his way into the room, only to realise he had walked into the chambers of Hera. She seemed to be enjoying herself, drinking wine while Iris fanned her, but she quickly frowned at the sight of him.

He didn't blame her, he looked horrible. His hair was a messy, he was covered in bites and bruises, his clothes where torn and he felt warm blood trickling down his leg.

"I'm sorry." He stuttered out, "I didn't know you where- I'll leave."

He quickly turned around and walked quickly to the door, he felt Hera's eyes staring into his back. He froze as she spoke.

"No. No you don't." She orders, "come here, now Ganymede."

"I'm fine, really…" Ganymede tired to lie, but it died on his tongue, he knew it wouldn't do him any good. He went quiet looking to the door before he slowly walked over to her.

He felt like a scared and pitiful child, but then again, that's what he was. Ganymede looked scared of her, and she seemed to know this as well, she hadn't exactly been kind to him in the past.

"Iris." She ordered, her handmaiden perked up, her kind eyes full of pity. "Go fetch Panacea and Panacea alone."

"Yes my lady." Iris nods and quickly leaves the room, while she turned back to face Ganymede, who found his feet more interesting than the goddess stare.

"Sit." She ordered, "no ands or buts. And no dear, I don't care about you bleeding on my chairs, sit."

He did as she asked, flinching when he did. He wanted to cry, but held back his tears, not wanting to be ridiculed by Hera. But to his surprise, she gave him a hug.

"I am so sorry child." She said softly. "You can cry if you need." Ganymede's body shook before he started to cry, hugging Hera as he sobbed in pain and fear.

[ask-ganymede]

[Another fancy letter arrives, once again from Theatrocles, but this time it's addressed to Zeus]

Dearest grandfather, King of Olympus, Lord of The Gods,

It is I, Theatrocles! I have a...favor to ask of you, and before you read on, please consider I am one of your only grandchildren who make an effort to talk to you and be nice to you!

You see I got into a nasty little fight with Selene, you know the moon goddess? The one who killed my father's lover, Ampelos?

Now i *know* my father used to go on and on about how Ampelos was better than Ganymede, so I'm sure there's a bit of animosity surrounding the whole...situation, but surely I am not to be lumped in with the people who cause such animosity! I wasn't even around during that transgression!

Now for my favor! And remember I have been nicer to you than most of your grandchildren, and even some of your actual kids! Could you make up some bullshit reason for Selene to leave Olympus for like, an hour? Pleeeeeease grandfather, she's threatening to CUT MY HAIR!!!!! THE WELL FROM WHICH MY POWERS AND INSPIRATION FLOWS!!!!!

With love, respect, and a heart of loyalty,

Theatrocles, Son Of Lord Dionysus, God of Theatrical Drama (and ass kissing. like seriously that sign off was SO obviously a suck up move.)

((OOC: For context, hermes talks shit and adds insults onto Theatrocles's letters before sending them bc of an argument the two had. Theatrocles does not know)

Theatrocles. 

Do not write to me for such trivial matters. I am not just your grandfather, I am your king. If you are to make such silly requests, do it after having arrived on Olympus yourself, while in my presence.

I will not be casting Selene down. Your demand is unreasonable and petty. Only the love I hold for my descendants is what is keeping me from sending towards you a punishment right here and now. 

The Lord of the Skies, King of Gods

Zeus Chronodes

[nectaric]

@kallistcs asked: "Look at this." Ganymede smiles as he looks up from where he's curled up on the couch with a book, tipping it forward over his knees in clear invitation, but not offering it up. As soon as Zeus is within reasonable reach, he stretches up and kisses their cheek, still smiling. /since someone talked about wanting kisses for their muses ;)

curiosity carried zeus' feet across the marble floor, none the wiser to ganymede and his tricks. their eyes had only just fallen upon the upside down words of ganymede's novel when he launched his surprise attack, catching zeus off guard.

though hardly in an unpleasant way.

a smirk tugged at the corners of the king's mouth, leaning back up to their full height as arms folded across their chest. "is that so? lulling me into a sense of security and then attacking when i least expect it? you are a crafty one, aren't you?"

zeus bit back a laugh. "i will return in kind, i can assure you of that."

[w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l]

Zeus often called his lover back on Olympus his dove and hadn’t even realized that he’d shared that lovely term he used to only use for Ganymede with a mortal. This change of position was perfect for him, wanting to look his lover in the eye. His moans were low and hungry, enjoying the feeling of his hands on his chest. He kissed the squirming boy roughly, enjoying the taste of him as he just kept pounding into him as if it was he was an animal in need.

9a from Enj at @sessy-timesforcharlo

Zeus had no type when it came to women he took as a lover, but for men it was not as broad. His taste in men was simple: beautiful, skinny, blond, and typically from well-off families. That being said, it was no surprise when he found himself drawn to Enjolras and now the pair of them found themselves in Zeus' private suite with the older man standing behind the younger and kissing at his neck as he held him close, kissing him with a desperate hunger. It wasn't long before the pair had found themselves naked with Zeus behind him yet again, his massive erection pressing against the other.

[littlesparklight]

Sprawled out on the grass in Ganymede's garden, under the shadow of the nearest tree, Ganymede frowned. Shoved himself up from where he'd been laying on top of Zeus, hands on the god's very nice chest.

Which he'd normally appreciate but he had something far more important to say. Zeus grunting in displeasure, one hand heavy on his ass and the other, even heavier, on his back, ready to push him down, was ignored.

"I can't believe you basically gave bride price for me," Ganymede said, accusing from the squint to his eyes to his grumbling tone.

Zeus, arching an eyebrow, shifted the hand from his back to caress Ganymede's cheek instead, pushing a couple curls away, behind an ear.

"Kusata can be given for men as well as women, my Ganymede," he pointed out, so mild he was definitely teasing.

Ganymede huffed, shaking his head and lightly, as would never have happened more close to when what they were talking about had happened, smacked the chest under his hand.

"You didn't give kusata, piḫaššaššiš."

"I suppose I forgot the most important part," Zeus agreed, knuckles stroking Ganymede's cheek again. Smiling - and not smirking, despite the earlier tease - he twisted his hand and presented a necklace of several eagle pendants clutching golden disks in their claws to Ganymede. "The promise gift."

Ganymede would have pointed out that this all relied on actual agreement from the father, struck before even the first gift was given. Something which Zeus had definitely not gotten, but to be honest, that hadn't been what this half-protest had been about. For a moment, Ganymede forgot what the protest had been about at all, sitting up so he could snatch up the necklace, staring at it.

It gleamed in the sun as if it'd been newly made, but it was most definitely of mortal make, not something Zeus had asked Hephaistos to make in the style of the culture Ganymede had grown up in.

"... Where did this come from?" Ganymede asked, ghosting a reluctant touch above the gold, because if he'd end up guilty over it coming from a museum collection, he'd want to give it back. And then he'd be upset about having to give it up. It might not be from Troy, but he didn't have that many pieces and things from what still felt the most like home.

"A storage box in someone's private collection," Zeus said, the smile now sliding over into the full bloom of the earlier promised smirk.

Ganymede didn't care about some rich person losing a piece from their private collection. Probably bought illicitly, too. Clutching the absolutely priceless - and not for the reasons most would think of, nowadays - necklace to his chest, he might have cried.

"Zeus---"

"Pleasing enough, beloved?"

"Yes---" Shaking his head, Ganymede groaned. "That doesn't make it any less something given in promise and preparation for marriage!"

"Indeed," Zeus agreed, sliding his hand in among thick, dark curls, the spring sun already having begun to bleach gold into the locks. "Something that isn't only the purview of young girls any more, at least in some places."

An eyebrow arched again, Zeus' gray eyes a glowing swirl. Once, a long time ago, he wouldn't have said something like that. Would barely have been able to acknowledge, not the importance of their relationship, but how deep it went. Not that what Zeus was vaguely referencing was something that could happen, and Ganymede had forgotten it was indeed possible in some places nowadays, since it was so recent, but that he was saying it at all...

The pleased smugness colouring Zeus' expression softened into warm pleasure as Ganymede blushed. Even mortal strength wouldn't have been needed to be applied for Zeus to pull Ganymede down so he could kiss him, never mind divine solidity.

It was a funny how slightly different circumstance made something Ganymede had been embarrassed and aggravated about for so long seem like a gift, instead.

[nerdygaymormon]

John 13:23 - John, whom Jesus loved, is laying against Jesus’ breast

Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved.

————————————————————

In first century Judaism, it was regarded as a Jewish male’s religious obligation to marry and have children, and best if he does so while in his teens, or at the latest before he is age 25. It’s surprising that some of the most prominent people connected to the beginnings of Christianity were unmarried Jewish men, including John the Baptist (forerunner), Jesus (founder), and Paul (Saul) of Taursus (apostle).  

Jesus’ lack of marriage or any romantic connection has caused some to wonder about the sexual orientation of Jesus. The New Testament reveals little on the subject, and this has led to speculation and theories.

————————————————————

Straight

Some people suggest Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. There is nothing contained in the New Testament to suggest this, such a possibility is never discussed, never mentioned, not even once. 

There is a non-canonical 3rd-century text known as the Gospel of Philip which describes Jesus' relationship with Mary Magdalene. The Gospel of Philip shows a close partnership but there’s nothing to suggest they were married or that there is a romantic component to their relationship, other than one passage. It says that Jesus frequently kissed Mary Magdalene on the [this part of the parchment is missing]. We don’t know if he was kissing her on the lips (implying a romantic relationship) or on the cheeks (a common greeting among males, implying that she was regarded as equal to his male disciples). 

In the Bible, there is a time when Mary Magdalene and Jesus are together alone. This is in John 20 as Jesus appears to Mary weeping beside the empty tomb: “Woman, why are you crying?” Christ gently says, “Mary”, she replies, “Rabboni” (teacher), which sounds like a mentor/disciple relationship.

Early Latter Day Saint Apostle Orson Hyde taught that Jesus was a polygamist who was married to Mary Magdalene, Martha, and Mary of Bethany, and fathered children with them. He also taught that the marriage at Cana was Jesus' own wedding. This idea is not official LDS doctrine and there’s no scriptural support for it, but it has become part of Mormon folklore as it helped justify the LDS practice of plural marriage, explains how Jesus can be exalted if marriage is required, and can be used to reject same-gender marriages.

There’s nothing in the Bible to suggest Jesus was married or is what we would call straight or heterosexual.

————————————————————

Gay

The Gospel of John makes references to the disciple whom Jesus loved (John 13:23, 19:26, 20:22, 21:7, 20). John identifies himself as the Beloved Disciple.

This closeness and repeated declarations of being loved has caused many to wonder if their relationship is more than that of mentor & disciple.

King James I of England, who authorized & paid for the King James translation of the Bible, used the relationship between Jesus & John to defend his homosexual relationship with the Duke of Buckingham. "I wish to speak in my own behalf and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus Christ did the same, and therefore I cannot be blamed. Christ had his John, and I have my George."

Prussia’s King Frederick the Great similarly wrote about this relationship, describing John as Jesus’ Ganymede. In Greek mythology, Zeus fell in love with Ganymede, a beautiful Trojan young man. Ganymede was the only one of Zeus’ lovers ever to be granted immortality. This story of Zeus and Ganymede was seen as a model for pederasty (sexual activity involving a man and a young man) in Greece and Rome.

Over the centuries, other well-known philosophers, playwrites, painters, and theologians have also explored this possibility of a romantic relationship between Jesus and His disciple John, but mainstream Christianity rejects this possibility. 

The first miracle by Jesus recorded in the Bible is when He turned water into wine at a wedding in John 2:1-11. Who is getting married isn’t mentioned, but some have suggested it could be Jesus and John being united. This is based on the apocryphal book Acts of John which states that John broke off his engagement to a woman to “bind himself” to Jesus.

At the Last Supper, John (the Beloved Disciple) is reclined next to Jesus, resting his head on Jesus’ chest, snuggled up to Jesus. John has to lean forward to hear Peter’s question, and then falls back onto the chest of Jesus and tells Him the question. This is an example of affectionate intimacy that the Gospel draws our attention to.

When Jesus was crucified, John was there but none of the other male disciples were present. From the cross, Jesus entrusted care of His mother and of John to each other (John 19:26-27) and that they are family (did they already consider each other family due to their relationships with Jesus, or is this new?)

26 When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! 27 Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.

John was the first male disciple to see the empty tomb. He also is the apostle who recognized the risen Christ on the shore as they were in a boat fishing the waters of the sea of Tiberias.

Chris Glaser points out that the homophobic modern church is so uncomfortable with how close and loving that Jesus and John are shown to be in the Bible that “recent translations have distanced the Beloved Disciple, believed to be John, from Jesus. In the King James Version “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is ‘leaning on Jesus’ bosom.’ The Revised Standard Version describes him as ‘lying close to the breast of Jesus.’ But the New Revised Standard Version and the New Jerusalem Bible have the Beloved Disciple simply ‘reclining next’ to Jesus. As the Beloved disciple moves farther away from Jesus with newer versions, I imagine in the next translation he will be in another room!”

There’s far more in the New Testament to suggest a close, romantic relationship with John than there is to suggest Jesus was hetero.

—————————

Jesus made a point when He held up the gay Centurion as an example of faith. He knew what kind of relationship the Centurion and his special slave had and it didn’t phase Jesus, perhaps because Jesus was involved in a similar relationship

—————————

The Gospel of Mark has a curious detail. When Judas betrays Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, "A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they [the Temple guards] seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind." (Mark 14:51–52). This text of the naked youth is puzzling. It raises questions for which there’s no answer. Who is he, why is he naked, and why is he following Jesus? It just doesn’t seem like the kind of thing straight bros do.

————————————————————

Most Christians prefer to picture Jesus as asexual. 

It does seem suggestive when asked about divorce, Jesus went out of His way to say that eunuchs (which in context seems clear to include men not attracted to women) are exempt from marriage between a man and a woman. Curious thing for Him to include if this type of arrangement wasn’t on His mind. This would make sense if Jesus is gay or ace/aro

————————————————————

At a minimum, Jesus doesn’t seem phased by queer relationships, even if He wasn’t in one, nor of such an orientation to desire such a relationship

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Adonis (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Don by the people of Olympius

Captain Hottie Pants by Aphrodite

Age- 17

Location- Arcadia Heights, New Olympus

Personality- Even though he's known for his "godly" good looks, sex appeal, & being the latest boy toy of the goddess of love, he's surprisingly humble, kind, friendly, and is all around a decent person.

He's the only child to his parents- his dad Phoenix & his mom Alphesiboea (nicknamed Bea). Adonis was born and raised in the state of Cyprus, having a comfortable middle class upbringing- as his parents owned a farm (mostly tending to pigs, boars, & hogs).

He has a good relationship with his parents. As a kid, Adonis was taught the art of archery by his father and they would go on hunting trips together. With his mom, he wouldn't complain when she'd ask him to join her with the gardening, but Adonis would always look forward to when they'd go surfing and sailing. He also enjoyed joining her in the kitchen- making some of their favorite sweet treats like tres leche cake, maiz caquiao (cracked corn pudding), & buñuelos de yuca. They'd also make savory dishes like tostones, sancocho, and asopao de pollo (a hearty chicken & rice stew).

Adonis' first kiss happened at summer camp with a girl named Nina. They were both 11.

His best friend growing up was another mortal kid named Giles. They even managed to end up at the same high school.

In his high school yearbook, Adonis was voted as "Best Smile."

Adonis ended up trying lotus dust for the first time during his prom's afterparty. He also had sex for the first time with his date (& longtime girlfriend) in a hot tub.

After graduating, Adonis was kind of lost, not knowing what he wanted to do in life. Giles didn't go to college, soon becoming an escort for wealthy older women. One day while Adonis was at the mall with his parents, he was approached by a scouting agent who suggested that he had what it took to make it in the modeling industry. He left him with a card containing the address & contact information of a well known modeling agency. Curious, Adonis ended up contacting an old school friend (a girl who was an aspiring photographer) to snap some semi-decent pictures of him for his portfolio. His meeting at the modeling agency was a success!

Adonis' first runway show was for Zeus' fashion brand Platinum Alchemy. He also models for Bow + Arrow (Apollo's brand), Cerulean Stone (Poseidon's brand), ViVoTrack (Hermes' brand), and Maison du Drame (Ganymede's brand). Adonis knew he made it when he saw a billboard of himself for Cerulean Stone (modeling swimwear with a bunch of other nereids) in Acropolis Square. He was also in Modern Olympus' 'Hottest 20 under 20" list.

He's currently dating Aphrodite (goddess of love & beauty). They first met at a ViVoTrack photoshoot where she was also modeling for. The two cracked jokes together during their breaks & exchanged phone numbers afterwards. During an event at NOFW (New Olympus Fashion Week), he surprised her backstage with a bouquet of anemone flowers. Aphrodite asked Adonis out & their first date was quite the spectacle- a ride on her private jet to Shimmering Tail Island where they partied it up at a popular nightclub. They ended up having sex in a private booth. He really likes her outgoing personality and confidence. An unfavorable trait he's picked up on is her jealousy- especially if he's doing photoshoots with other women.

In the modeling industry, he's good friends with other popular models like Thetis and Pandora. Narcissus was standoffish towards him, but Adonis remained polite. He also has a great working relationship with Ganymede (god of homosexual love & desire) and Hermes. Adonis is friendly enough with his girlfriend's friends like The Graces and thinks that her mother Dione is "too much trouble!"

Adonis was proud of himself when he bought a much bigger house for his parents to live in. He also bought them new cars- a truck for his dad & a sleek silver car for his mom. He splurges on himself from time to time as well- his favorite so far being the sleek black sports car. Aphrodite gave him a pair of aquamarine cufflinks.

He now lives in a stylish condo in the Arcadia Heights neighborhood of New Olympus.

In his free time Adonis likes visiting his parents, working out, playing video games, basketball, surfing, archery, reading, clubbing, & watching TV.

Adonis once shaved his long soft satin curly locks for charity- for a company that makes wigs for kids going through cancer. The event was live streamed on Fatestagram. He now wears his hair as a top knot with the sides shaved.

Seeing a great example for how a loving relationship should be (his parents), Adonis hopefully wants to get married someday and have a family of his own.

His favorite frozen treat is the Cocktails on Ice beer caramel ice cream.

"Some of the most beautiful people in the world have the ugliest personalities."

[justaz]

Thoughts while reading COTG

if you even care 😔

Percy’s new school being set in a former elementary school???? Sobbing.

“Down every hall, I could find cherry reminders of the school’s former childhood - smudges of finger paint on the walls, unicorn stickers peeling off the fire extinguishers, the occasional ghostly whiff of fruit juice and graham crackers.”

Literally a metaphor for the audience. We’ve grown with the books and the stories and characters are a reminder of our childhood even as we enter or figure out adulthood

God I’ve missed the silly goofy chapter titles

Jumpscare. I thought Rick upped the rating for this book.

“If you’ve concluded that Poseidon is a ‘hands-off’ type of parent, you win the chicken-dinner award. I didn’t even meet him until I was in middle school, when (purely by coincidence) he needed something from me.”

My eyes caught the word “purely” in parenthesis and I thought Percy was calling his dad a pussy.

DEBT FOR EXISTING?????? Broooooooooo…..I’d pull a Luke wtf are y’all talking about. I’d be PISSED

The fire escape being their happy place>>>

“It was hard to be sad when I’m with Annabeth.”

Whipped

THE WHOLE FIRE ESCAPE SCENE!!! I’m crying they’re so cute

Damn Percy, checking out Ganymede then asking him out then calling him pretty AND THEN checking out the barista’s muscles?? Gay ass

THE NOSTALGIA FOR CHILDHOOD??? Back to my first point, literally a reference to the readers, to us, I’m going to cry again

Grover being a third wheel LMFAOO

His history teacher being named Mr. Christ…………Literally Jesus Christ I will not be accepting any criticism. It makes a bit of sense for Jesus to work in a school, I guess. Anyways I know in my balls that was Rick making the Christian pantheon canon. Bye.

THE BOOMER BURN LMFAOOO GET THEIR ASSES PERCY

Grover headbutting Percy <3

Percabeth can’t sing. Soulmates

“Inside I still felt eight years old and ready to cry” Maybe it's because I’m turning twenty soon and aging and whatnot, but this whole theme of childhood and growing up is getting to me man

AC + PJ STOPPPPP

Why did she mention Luke?? That came out of left field honestly

Damn Annie, he falls off a cliff with you and you push him off one later. Harsh 😔✊

Oop, Percy’s getting maaaaddd, can’t wait to see how this goes down

LMFAO Annabeth making him skip, she’s so

Zeus striking Percy’s kite with lightning 😭 He’s such a hater

“‘Farewell, my friends,’ I told them, ‘Be good to one another.’ Then I ascended…‘Greetings, earthlings,’ I said…’I have a message for Annabeth Chase,’ I said, ‘I love you.’ I tried to give her a kiss, but it was difficult, because she started laughing…Grover cleared his throat, ‘I’m fine. Thanks.’” I’ve missed these nerds so much

Grover being scared and upset about his best friends leaving him,, don’t touch me

Annabeth only marrying Percy to have Sally as her mother in law. So real bestie so real

ESTELLE MY CHILD HELLO WELCOME

Awww, poor Ganymede. I love how badly Percy wants to help him.

Is it Chronos?

Ahh, I see

oh GOD

Embracing aging, embracing the fact that you’re growing old and looking forward to it. Stop I’m emotional

Okay, look, I love the new book and I love that Rick is feeding us, but, babes. Percy used Annabeth’s cap before, in The Titan’s Curse, he shouldn’t be surprised by the creepy crawlies or they shouldn’t exist at all 😭 but you know whatever pop off love the balance, you go invisible but you’re incredibly uncomfortable

Also the little bit about Percy getting grey hair before Sally. I swear to God I remember one of Sally’s first character descriptions was a woman with a lot of wrinkles a few stray grey hairs but Percy never thought of her as old. I wanna say it was in The Lightning Thief

OPEN MIC HOT POETRY WITH ERATO????? RICK????? HELLO???

Athena pulling thu,, i see u 👀 bonding with ur future son in law 😽

Awwww Groverrrr “‘Nothing is scarier than watching your friend struggle and not being able to help.’” ☹️☹️

PERCY AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMING IT WAS PAUL NOT POSEIDON WHEN THE SECRETARY SAID SHE WAS SPEAKING TO HIS FATHER!!!!!! DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME

Potential future Poseidon demigod? With Margaret the secretary? Pop off I guess

“Getting noticed for being anything like my mom, though…that’s a compliment.” MAMAS BOY

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO FOCUS ON BUT THEIR WHOLE IRIS MESSAGE AT THE END. BRO THEYRE SO KDBDIBDALSB

EDIT: wait i'm writing this fic and i was going to mention annabeth's dagger before i remembered that she lost it and got a drakon bone sword instead in tartarus. but i remembered that in chapter 12, page 91-92 of cotg, it says "She put her dagger across her textbook to mark her spot. I wasn't sure what her roomie thought about the knife, either." did she get a new one or is this another case of richard forgetting his own writing lmao

CHALICE OF THE GODS ACQUIRED !!!!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Chris Beck with a baby?? Like maybe he gets roped into babysitting with y/n and it's the middle of the night and the bb is having trouble sleeping so he carries them around and stands by the window talking about the stars and his plants on the window sill until bb is sleeping and y/n is so soft when she wakes up and finds them asleep in the chair in the living room

chris was excited to spend his first work free days with his girlfriend

not to sound like a workaholic but ever since they started dating, none of them had actually had time off work; between y/n’s research project, chris’ constant space missions along with teaching new recruits, all the time they had was afterwork cuddles whenever y/n didn’t decide to write papers from home

but no, he was on holiday meaning he could properly court his girlfriend, starting with taking her to the space museum and then a romantic dinner maybe some flowers

y/n on the other hand was dealing with the fact her younger sister had just dropped a 9 month old baby in her arms and before she could even question why her newborn nephew was in her arms, she was alread going off with her husband

she looked down at the baby who giggled at her, hand raising up to grab her hair “you’re lucky you’re cute”

chris returned home around 5 o’clock only to find that his cozy living room somehow looked more cozy as y/n had thrown blankets all over the floor creating a much more soft surface

his girlfriend was clumsy but he didn’t know she had reached “covering all harsh surfaces” level 

“chris? is that you?” “yeah baby, where are you?” “kitchen”

chris placed the flowers on the coffee table going over to the kitchen to see what he didn’t expect to see - y/n bathing a baby in their kitchen sink 

“y/n, i love you and this is why i’m asking if you have stolen a baby.” “my sister and her husband are off to a second honeymoon so baby will is staying with us” “for how long?” “i don’t know but hey we have a baby and i didn’t have to birth it” “what about our holiday?” “chris, our holidays are always here.” “at least he’s cute” “that’s what i said”

chris had to admit he was a bit upset their date night was ruined but he also had to admit he had never seen y/n act the way she did around babies

they were busy professionals with incredible love for what they did and most of the time it was their career they talked about interfering with their relationship.

they had however never discussed having children other than the funny remark about having babies in space but seeing y/n being so soft with her nephew made him think about the future

in all honesty, it had ended up being a rather cozy and quiet night with will mostly napping on top of y/n’s stomach while she cuddled chris while watching a cheesy christmas movie on the hallmark channel

“you should go to sleep, stardust. you still need to work tomorrow” “but it’s your first day off” “we’ll have plenty of time” “i’ll just go put the baby in the basinet”

they were fast asleep when at 3 AM a loud cry came from the guest room, y/n’s torso immediately raised from the bed, a sigh of tiredness as she prepared to leave the warmth of her cuddle/night session

“i’ll do it, stardust.” “chris it’s your holiday, you need to rest” “it’s okay, you rest. i’ll do it”

she gave him a look that looked ready to defy his choices but he was faster off the bed than her 

chris walked slowly into the guest room, spotting the baby in his basinet moving his arms around and crying as much his vocal chords allowed him too. he slowly and gently cradled the baby in his arms but that didn’t seem to calm him down.

“i get it, little man. this is our ugliest room in the apartment. me and you aunt haven’t had the time to decorate it yet” the baby continued to cry and chris decided to go with him to the balcony not to wake up y/n

as he slide the window which led to their little apartment balcony, he noticed the starry clear sky  “aw look at that little man, we can see aquarius tonight”

the baby stopped crying and cooed out of interested as chris pointed the constellation in the night sky “you see aquarius means cup carrier, or water carrier. mythology says aquarius represents ganymede, a very handsome man who became cupbearer of the gods. in turn zeus granted him eternal youth and a place in the night sky. it’s your aunt’s favourite constellation”

william was silent looking at the sky “it’s gorgeous isn’t it? the night sky is the only thing that reminds me of home when i’m up there. it’s just beautiful from space and beautiful from earth”

chris was too busy yapping about the night sky to notice that the baby had moved his attention from the night sky to his plants, extending his arm to grab hold of his strawberry plant “woah, woah little man, we’re not gonna destroy my plants are we?”

the baby ignored him pulling on the red fruit “ok ok, we’ll pick some for you”

the morning quickly came lightening the room but y/n found herself in an empty bed

quickly she jumped off her mattress, wondering if something had happened to him

instead she found him laying of the couch, baby william on his chest as an old nasa documentary played on the tv

she watched with a soft mindless smile on her face, grabbing one of the blankets from the ground and putting it over to the two of them, kissing chris’ temple

it was a good morning

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

23 for 🍊 🍈 if you please

23. “Can you keep a secret?”

This dreamscape is not a beach.

They’d started on the beach, sure, as they always do. It suits both of them--the sun, the sand, the sound of waves pounding on the rocks, the smell of salt and seaweed. The beach is a peaceful place for them.

But after the initial greetings are past, Kouta says, “Hey, can I show you a little of what Helheim looks like now? Like. I won’t take you there. I mean I can’t take you there, not physically. But I can show you? If that’s ok?”

Takatora feels bad for hesitating, but he can’t deny that he does for a moment before saying, “Sure, if you’d like to. I’d love to see what it looks like now.”

Kouta grins, and the dreamscape changes, and now they’re in a grotto covered in moss as thick and soft as a bed. Its entrance is shaded by trees blooming with flowers in the most extraordinary colors, and birds are singing in a place where birds never sang before. Helheim is no longer the eerie, empty place of Takatora’s nightmares. It’s alive.

Without hesitation this time, “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“There weren’t birds here before.”

“You like them? We spent almost three weeks just doing bird stuff. I think they turned out really well.” Kouta turns towards him, and in this warm sunlight the red eye and the gold have become natural things, native to this place, not a marker of anything otherworldly and terrifying. “I’m glad. I worked on this spot thinking about you. I grew a lot of this rock formation myself.”

Which is, itself, an otherworldly and terrifying thing to say, and all Takatora can think of is how extraordinarily lucky he’s somehow become, that a god who molds worlds has shaped part of one solely for his benefit.

And then it hits him, and he lets out a stifled laugh. “This rock formation that looks suspiciously like the couch in my office?”

Kouta wiggles his eyebrows. “Trust me, it’s way comfier than the couch in your office.”

“Oh, it is, it is? Can you prove it?”

Even in dreams, Kouta’s kisses taste like juice. “Only if you want me to.”

Somehow, either because this is a dream or because of some incomprehensible exertion of divine power, the moss-covered rocks are much more comfortable than the couch in Takatora’s office. They’re also larger, wide enough that, some time later, Takatora is able to stretch out at Kouta’s side with his head on Kouta’s shoulder while they talk.

The conversation drifts to absent friends, and then into silence, until Kouta says, “What are you thinking about?”

The scenery has been stirring something. Takatora says, slowly, “Can you keep a secret?”

Kouta blinks. “Um. I’m not, like. Known for being especially good at it. But I also don’t have a lot of people I’d tell.”

“I don’t know if it’s how much time has passed, or something else, but sometimes I find myself missing Ryouma.”

“The professor?” An awkward pause, and then, “Right, you guys were...really close before. Stuff happened. Why, uh, why do you mention it?”

“Well, he was a great collector of art, and there was a painting he had a print of. The Grotto of Neptune in Tivoli. He was very fond of it. This, the, the space here made me think of it, suddenly.”

“Really? That guy was into collecting art?”

“He was an artist and a classicist himself, I know you know he designed most of the armors. That’s how he became so fixated on the idea of...fruit, as well. Studying world myth.” Takatora sighs. “He wasn’t a good man. But...”

Kouta nods slowly. “But sometimes you miss him anyway. I get that.”

“Oh, man, I was going to surprise you guys but it sounds like I interrupted something serious.”

Takatora freezes, looking up, and is briefly mesmerized by the grass stains on Mai’s feet where they dangle in the air before he manages to look up at the rest of her, perched on the lowest branch of one of the flowering trees. “Ah. Um. Good afternoon, um...Takatsukasa Mai.”

Mai, golden-haired and gowned in white, says, “Hi, Kureshima Takatora,” and waves. “I just wanted to figure out where Kouta had wandered off to, he kind of left his body behind on a branch of Kaito’s tree and Kaito was mad about it.”

Kouta groans. “He’s mad about everything. I’ll apologize to him when I wake up.”

“That’s not fair, he’s not mad about everything now, he’s just a grouch. You’d be grouchy too if you were dead. Kouta, why is your boyfriend staring at me like I’m going to eat him?”

“I don’t know.” Kouta looks down at the top of Takatora’s head. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

Takatora feels his face go red and curses the unfairness of this over-realistic dream world for being one in which he can still blush. “I. Ah.” He gestures nervously at Mai. “She. Well.”

Mai peers at him from her seat on the tree branch. “Ohhh. Are you freaking out because I walked in on you being naked with Kouta? Or because of what you were talking about?”

After a moment, Takatora says, decisively, “Yes.”

Kouta’s forehead wrinkles in very charming confusion. “Which one?” Their clothes are also abruptly back on, which Takatora supposes is one of the advantages of a dream world. “Also, what, why?”

Takatora sits up and buries his face in his hands. “Please forgive me, Miss Takatsukasa.”

“For what?” A hand brushes feather-light over his hair. “Missing someone you loved? You’re allowed to miss people you loved, even if they also kind of sucked. You didn’t make him cut my heart out.” The ghostly hand tips his chin up so that he’s looking up again, at Mai on her tree branch, golden eyes glowing as she smiles. “And as for the other thing, do I look like Hera or something? I’m not gonna smite you or whatever. Kouta and I have forever together, I’m not gonna get jealous if you get him for a while.” Her nose wrinkles. “Anyway, you’d make a terrible Ganymede. Like, you’re cute, I guess, but you’re way too old and dignified. Also, Kouta would make a really bad Zeus, he’s not shitty enough.”

Takatora lets out a startled chuckle. “That’s what I said too.”

“I still haven’t looked up those references,” Kouta says irritably, “I have no idea what you guys are talking about.”

“I’ll explain later when you’re awake,” Mai says drily, and Takatora starts laughing for real. “Anyway, I’d wondered why you made this rock formation look like a couch, you didn’t tell me it was a sex couch.”

“It’s not a sex couch, it’s the couch in Takatora’s office.”

“Which you have sex on.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t make it a sex couch.”

The dream world is starting to dissolve at the edges, and Mai says, “I think you need to let your boyfriend wake up now, Kouta,” and blows them a kiss before vanishing. Her voice leaves after she does, with a final, “Kaito’s gonna be really annoyed if you keep leaving your body in his tree.”

Kouta groans. “She’s right, Kaito’s going to yell at me.”

Takatora coughs. “Yes, ah, I thought he was. Dead.”

“Oh, he is, he’s super dead, he’s just also on Helheim, he’s doing dead-guy things, it’s complicated. Mai’s right, though, you should wake up.” Kouta kisses him. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you.”

Takatora says, “I love you t--” and wakes up to a bedroom disappointingly free of moss.

[hearteyes-candyskies]

bitter blooms (yandere aizawa x reader)

a/n; retelling of hades and persephone

1.8k words

-------

The sun glints in your hair the first time he sees you, casting a halo of light on your otherworldly face. It blinds him. 

You’re playing in the field with your attendants, nymphs that could never hope to be as lovely as you. Flowers bloom beneath your feet- literally, white rosebuds and zinnias and little daisies that stand proud.

He watches for hours, until the whole field is covered in fragrant blooms and the sun has started its slow descent down. He didn’t think you could get anymore beautiful, but as you stop to watch the blood-red sky, ruby light illuminating youthful features, his heart stops. 

He decides that he cannot live without you.

On the other side of the field, unaware of your secret admirer, you decide you cannot live without the sun.

In both of your fierce desires; one selfish, one innocent, the ground in which your love will bloom is salted, condemned to death.

-------

He watches you for six moons, watches as the warm spring sun brings pure joy to your face and leaves sweetpeas in your footsteps, views the soft white of Eucharis lilies trail after as you revel in the never-ending heat of summer. 

Below, the world of the dead slow to a halt as their king spends his days yearning after a goddess with a warmth so unlike his own, wondering if they might be able to bring warmth to his cold, dead realm. 

Hades decides he has to find out. 

------

The bright yellow blooms of Narcissi are the bringer of your doom. You cannot help but reach for them- so lovely and unlike any other flower in your arms, but with the first brush of velvet petals against soft skin, the earth rumbles and a chasm forms. 

An abyss of darkness chases after your nimble feet, but even graceful leaps are unable to save you, soft soles unused to running, unused to danger. As you fall into the never-ending void, you wonder if this will be your end. 

Gods can’t die, you know that much, but to endure an eternal descent in pitch-black would be close enough. 

Your lids flutter closed, assured that the soft rain of bright petals above you will be the last thing you ever see. There is a warmth to this darkness, almost like the brush of robes- 

Strong arms catch you, and the darkness takes the form of a man, solemn and somber with eyes like Chaos itself. The antithesis to your world of light, and yet you cannot help but think that he is more beautiful than any flower the sun could give you.

That does not mean you stop loving its warmth.

-------

You cling to your light robes for a week, until they are tattered and worn, gossamer fabric dirty with your own sorrow and fear. The marble palace is not cold, per se, and yet you find yourself shivering every time its lord leaves you. 

The hatred you feel at the warmth he gives you is only eclipsed by the cold fury of being separated from your home. Picked flowers die, stems growing soft, petals withering; you know that much intimately and from experience. 

He has not dug you carefully out of the ground, roots intact, and transferred you to another home; no, he has snapped your stem in blind ignorance, caging you in glass for his own admiration, both knowing and unknowing of your slow demise. 

Petals fall, colours fade, and yet he still cannot see that it is he who kills you. 

‘Shouta’, is all he has said when you had gotten to your knees and begged the lord of the Underworld to set you free. 

‘For you, my name will never be Hades, only Shouta.’ He holds you as he says this, salty tears seeping into the cool black fabric of his robes. Your skin burns where he touches you, but it is not like the anger of the sun. When mortals die of cold, they begin to feel feverish, overheat, and in their final moments all they can do is strip to escape the oppressive, imagined heat before the ice takes over.

You are in your final moments, stripping away parts of yourself as the incandescence of Shouta’s love burns you alive and freezes your heart. Orange lilies turn to candy tufts, and the world above has a taste of its first winter. 

-------

When you tire of locking yourself away in cold marble rooms, you begin to wander your new home. Sometimes you sit on the small black throne next to Hades himself, listening as souls petition the cold king for mercy, for another chance, another life.

You want to shout at them to go, to stop wasting their never-ending breath and eternal time, because you know better. Shouta will never let you go, not until the end of your long, immortal life. He has tried his best to give you a poor approximation of one, but it means nothing when he has stripped your former life away himself. 

Still, time goes on, and it becomes tiresome to carry such rage. It grows weary, when there is no sun to measure the days and years mean nothing to a god. Sometimes, you sit on his lap, wrap your arms around him and tuck your face into his neck. 

Flowers are beautiful, and you are grateful for your ability to create them, but they do not lend themselves easily to power. Hades makes you feel unstoppable.

‘Shouta’, you whisper into his ear, eyes half lidded and body languid against his. ‘My lord.’ The shudder that runs through the god of the Underworld at your words is as sweet and heady as any ambrosia, and brings a warmth so different than that of the sun.

Petunias bloom in your wake, strange and lifeless in this cold, unfeeling world. Your anger and anguish at being torn from youthful innocence is a raw wound, and though it is Hades who caused it, it is Shouta who soothes like a cool balm against fevered skin. 

Your imagined heat drives you mad with thirst, and Shouta is cool water, a fresh stream trickling through the snow. 

-------

His flesh is cool against yours the first time you let him into your bed. Warm hands trail up the hard plains of muscles carved from marble, and when your touch lingers for too long, it is as if he steals your warmth for his own. Selfish even in his most basic of functions.

It’s been who knows how long, and though you are not mortal, you fall prey to human cravings. Pleasure can be found in the most undesirable of places, and as soft praise spills from hated lips, your heart wrenches. 

Hades, no, Shouta, is your jailer. He is your lord, your king, your husband by decree of Zeus and he is the one that holds the keys to your prison, who lets you rage and sob and bury your face in his robes all the while looking with eyes of immeasurable sadness.

He kisses sweet apologies up the flesh of your thighs, devours you like Tantalus seeing food, drinks you in like you are nectar from Ganymede’s cup. Surely someone who brings you to such heights of pleasure cannot be as bad as you think?

You think of Hera, condemned to a loveless marriage to an unfaithful husband, love turning rancid to hatred like sweet wine to vinegar. At least your husband will never leave you; has sworn on the river Styx that his love for you will never run dry, that he will never let you go and your snare of his heart will never end.

That is more than most can ask for, you know. Love does not come easy to ever-living beings, when hundreds of years pass in the blink of an eye and personalities remain unchanged. No room for growth, no roots for love to bloom. 

The earth of your love has been salted, but it is earth nonetheless. Hades’ soft, mournful love nurtures the delicate petals, and you do not forget your love of the light.

You cannot live without the sun, but Shouta is your sun now. 

Shouta cannot live without you, so you will never leave.

-------

When the spirits that crowd into the throne room become more and more skeletal, eyes gaunt not just from lack of life, you know something is wrong. Your mother’s name falls from restless lips, angry and resentful, and you know. 

The land above you is dead, as barren as your mother’s heart without you. Shouta cannot live without you, you cannot live without the sun, and your mother cannot live without her daughter. 

She is playing her last, desperate card; an eternal winter as cold as Zeus’ refusal, as empty as his mind when he promised a child to his brother. Soon, the dead outnumber the living, gods starving as sacrifices stop while Demeter roams barren fields lamenting the loss of her love. 

Unbalance is rife within the world, and Hades is no fool. On the fifth year anniversary of your disappearance, Shouta takes you by the hand, guilt written clear across his face, eyes filled with such bleak despair that your heart aches for the man who kidnapped you. Your heart aches for your husband.

When you reach the destination, tears well in your eyes, tears of joy and tears of sorrow. You know not to eat the food of the Underworld; lest you bind yourself eternally to the land of the dead. Yet, perfect and whole, a small pomegranate tree stands proud, flesh as red as the rubies which litter your husband’s kingdom. 

‘I- I am sorry. A choice, for when you had none.’ You’ve heard the whispers; Hermes will come on behalf of Zeus to negotiate for your freedom, for the survival of the gods. Your freedom is on the tip of your tongue, close enough to taste, and yet all you can dream of are the tart burst of blood red arils. 

With shaking hands, you split the crimson fruit, taking six perfect seeds in the palm of your hand. Your choice- six months in the sun, reveling in the memory of lost innocence and childhood, and six months here, ruling the dark land of the dead at the right hand of your husband. 

You look into the eyes of the man who stole you from your life, who gave you power when you had none, who looks at you like you are more precious than all the gold and gems the Underworld has to offer, who offers you the keys to your prison five years too late. 

There is sweetness to be found in sour moments, you think. You strip away the final piece of clothing, expose yourself to the cold, core burning bright, and embrace the cool kiss of death. 

Shouta’s lips are warm against yours, and you wonder when you began to steal the warmth back from him. It does not matter- your white rosebuds are long gone, petals dried and dead, and there are only tulips now, yellow as the flower that first pulled you in. 

Salted land still bears fruit.

[captainlordauditor]

300x3 7:02

300 words 3 times a week etc

I wrote this Tuesday and then just..completely forgot to post it. This is I guess the thing I’m gonna be poking at when I need a break from earth 988 but I’m staying in Batman? It’s basically the same concept of messing around with the timeline by moving up a character’s birth several years but with Jason, so I’ve labeled it earth 488. Timeline’s not super worked out so the ages are subject to change. 1729 words.

Warnings for brief mentions of drugs, CSA, etc, standard Batman warnings I guess

The kid’s in college when Bruce first meets him, or rather he should be; instead he’s hotwired the Batmobile and taken it for a ride, and Batman finds him several streets away from where he left it, grinning fit to burst, classic rock blaring out the open windows. He slams the brakes when he sees the local cryptid in front of him and stops just short of hitting Batman, but he doesn’t lose that grin the whole time.

“You gonna turn me in or what, Batsy?” His eyes are a rusty blue green like the water in the bay in the summer, and Batman sees a reckless storm in them. His eyes are like justice; his eyes are like liberty.

He should be angry, should be fuming, especially tonight, but he’s not. He laughed himself stupid when he found the car missing and it’s a struggle to keep himself from laughing again when confronted with the thief. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tilts his head, easy, like he’s having the most casual conversation in the world. “Wanted to see if she drives as pretty as she looks.”

Batman sighs, watching him. “You must be very good, to get past the security measures.”

He shrugs. He’s too thin, too small, his jacket hanging off of him like Batman’s cape. “I do alright.”

The Bat glides over to the drivers side door. “Show me.”

He tries to drop the kid off at the only group home in the neighborhood, but the kid laughs his head off when he sees the building. “That’s my grandma's place,” he says. “Taught me all I know. She’s running a museum heist tonight, you know that?”

Batman’s heart stops. He turns his head, watches the thief in the seat next to him, his head rolled back against the seat. His red-black hair is mussed from the wind, his eyes are sparkling with laughter. He looks godly; he looks obscene. Batman wants to see him like this again.

“Goes to show, right?” says the thief. “Everything good in Gotham rots.”

Batman releases the parking brake. “That’s not true.”

“Sure it is. What’s rotting you, Batsy?”

“Which museum?”

He sees the thief again the next week, walking the Bowery without a shirt under his jacket. He saunters over to the Batmobile and drapes himself against the door, displaying his skinny bare chest for Batman to admire. Batman thinks of what it would be like to wrap him in the warmest blanket in the manor. “You finally here to rot with the rest of us, Batsy?”

“I thought you were a thief,” Batman says. 

“I’m whatever you want,” he replies, and Batman doesn’t know why he was so much more attractive stealing a car than when he’s openly flirting. “I can even be your Robin for the night, if that’s what you’re after.” He tilts his head, smile fading. “Is that what’s rotting you, Batsy?”

Batman’s jaw twitches as he clenches it. He’s heard the insinuations before, and he’s never liked them. “I’m looking for Two Face.”

The man’s face turns from contemplating the edge of anger to a hard determination. Batman decides he likes it. “Yeah, I know where he is.”

Batman doesn’t know what it is that makes him unlock the door and say, “get in,” but he does.

“I’ll miss work if I do that,” he says. He leans in closer. “Or I could give you a discount. Call it two hundred for the whole night.”

In this area, Batman’s sure that’s not his usual pricing. “I’ll pay you after we catch Two Face.” Last week he ran off before Batman could talk to him; he doesn’t want to lose another chance for conversation.

He opens the door and settles in the car, sprawls on the seat, opens the window, lights a cigarette. Virginia slim. “Heard his guys talking plans two days ago. Were in the next room over from mine for the night. Said they’re hitting the Lucky Dollar Casino.”

“That’s in Bristol.” Bristol has looser gambling laws. It’s an effort to control vice, send it out of the city. Batman can’t say it works.

He shrugs, watching Batman through heavy lidded eyes. Batman thinks of what it’d be like to take that cigarette from his mouth and kiss him gently. Instead he says, “If Robin smells that on the seats, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He laughs, a quiet genuine snicker of amusement, nothing like the shrieks of thrill and irony he gave last week. Batman wants to hear that sound again. “Where is he, anyway?”

“It’s a school night.”

He gets his wish. “You’re a wonder, Batsy. Didn’t know you cared so much about that punk.”

“He’s not a punk.” Alfred used to say he spent too much time in the past; maybe so, because this is still his reflex when people use that word, even if he knows it’s not what they mean.

“He’s out here running around with you, isn’t he? Beating up robbers in a pair of booty shorts.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and Batman looks at him and wonders that he knows what he just said.

“It’s a leotard. Acrobat’s gear.” He ignores the thief’s snort.

Two Face gets away, but Batman gets the hostage he took, so he considers it a half successful night.  He comes back to the car where the other man is waiting, his feet up on the dash. He finished his first cigarette around the time they got here, but he’s already halfway through another one.

He taps his knuckles against the window, bounces his leg. “I know you said you’d pay me after you caught him, but I’m not waiting until tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay you tonight.” Batman starts the car. 

His name is Jason; he’s nineteen years old. Batman’s glad of that, because from his height and build, he thought Jason was younger. He feels less guilty about looking at him now.

He eats steadily, watching Batman like he knows the food won’t disappear but thinks Batman might. He doesn’t, not yet; he’s finding he likes Jason when he’s not acting a part, or at least when he’s toned it down. He has a good brain and a quick wit, even if his humor is a little raw. 

“Can you only steal cars?” 

He shakes his head, licks ketchup off his thumb. It’s not sensual at all, just a habit gained from starvation, eating every scrap of food, and that makes it all the better. His eyes meet Batman’s over his hand. “M’not so good with safes, but I can do windows and pockets fine. ‘M a pretty good shot. Can do explosives okay, if you give me a gun I can probably fix it. I know how to dilute coke and what to do if someone ODs on Harry.” He takes a long drag of soda through his straw, not looking at Batman. It’s the first time he’s avoided eye contact. 

After a moment, he looks back up. “I can conjugate German and translate Latin. Read the Odyssey a couple times. It’s better in Greek.”

His brain, unbidden, supplies him with the image of Jason laid out before him like a god, Bruce and poetry against his mouth. He would do for this Jason what Medea could not do for hers, he hopes, and win his loyalty.

 He banishes the thought. No, this is not Jason; this is Ganymede, and Batman will not be as Zeus. “Why work the streets then?” He asks instead.

He pauses, looking at his food and then back at Batman. He’s leaning forward over the table and there’s barely a foot between them. “I like it,” he says. It has the straightforwardness of honesty. “If I do drugs or enforcement I’d have to work for someone else. There aren’t any gangs here I like enough to sign away my soul. Not yet.” He slides his leg forward to brush up against Batman’s under the table, so lightly Batman’s not sure he’d notice it if it weren’t for his training. There’s no shock, no static, but it feels electric nonetheless.

“There are options,” he tells Jason. He doesn’t dare move his leg.

“I haven’t been to a proper school since I was ten,” Jason retorts. “What options do you mean? Drown in debt to get through college so I can get a job above the table? A corporation’s just the same as a gang, except you can’t snitch and send them to jail when they treat you like shit. Besides,” he leans back, doubling the distance between them, stretching it into an infinity, slips his leg away from Batman’s. “You arrested Maroni. You took apart the Blackgaters.”

Batman looks away. Those eyes are piercing him, bearing down on him like the god of justice come down to judge him. It’s a rude reminder, that he doesn’t always do good; a stab in the gut that his choice removed that of somebody else, somebody with greater stakes in the game. 

But Jason is right; Batman did arrest Maroni, and he did take apart the Blackgaters, for the most part. It’ll be a month or so before the void is filled where the fence was before, when the rest of Gotham is sure he’ll lose the trial. The Blackgaters will follow, only once they have a place closer than Penguin to sell the parts off the cars they steal.

And in the meantime, Jason will walk the streets. In December.

Batman never thought he’d feel guilty about arresting someone for a crime he knew they’d committed, but here he is. How many other car thieves are in the same boat? He almost wonders if he should let Two Face go, but then he remembers the shots fired and the hostage held tonight, and scolds himself for thinking such a thing.

Maybe Jason’s right, everything good in Gotham rots. Sometimes there are no good choices, no good answers.

He gives Jason his two hundred, in eight twenties, so it’s easy to break, tucks the lone fifty in his wallet over it and calls it a tip. Bruce Wayne may carry hundreds to give to the homeless like candy, but Batman doesn’t. He leaves it on the table beside the wrapper for a burger and when Jason goes to throw out his trash, he vanishes.

[littlesparklight]

Cytherea’s Gifts

Aphrodite comes to Helen waiting for her in her bed.

Afterwards, with Helen curled up against her, one leg thrown over Aphrodite's hip and one of Helen's slim, graceful hands lazily tracing out the curve of one of Aphrodite's breasts, one of the goddess' hands in the rich, heavy waves of Helen's hair, the girl looks up at her, star-eyed and wanting.

"I want adventure," she whispers, so quietly only dreams and the Deathless Ones would hear her, as if she's afraid they will be overheard, or her saying this might cause her new husband to burst inside the bedroom. "I want something like this, like you're giving me, Kypris, but not hidden--- Not that it doesn't need to be! I know... I know it has to."

Yes, sleeping with one of the blessed immortals isn't something to boast loudly over, as Anchises, after so long being quiet about it, have found out. Aphrodite is still torn between frustration at her former lover, still held tenderly in her heart despite how it began, and anger at Zeus. At least Anchises is still alive.

"Marriage is an adventure, sweet Helen," Aphrodite whispers, but the young woman scrunches her nose, her bow-shaped, full lips pulled into a moue, and Aphrodite laughs, then kisses her until the wedge between her brows has smoothed out.

She's glad she went to see how this whole business with 'the most beautiful woman in the world' getting married would play out. It means she got to see Helen herself, it means she approached her to talk with her about what she thought of the whole involved and quite ridiculous process. (Aphrodite almost wishes darling Ganymede had been born a girl, to see how that would've played out. How many countries would've gotten involved?) It means she gets to be here, now, enjoying Helen's lovely mind as well as her body, trying to ease her into her marriage in her own way. Aphrodite really doesn't doubt Helen will become enamoured of Menelaos - he's certainly one of the best choices out of the lot, with Achilles just a shade too young to participate in the fight for her hand. But Helen's desire for something else, something more daring and wild and instinctive, is one she is deeply familiar with.

Does not such a precious, lovely girl deserve exactly what she wants, when she's so dear to Aphrodite's heart?

That thought is what comes to Aphrodite first when she steps up before Paris. He's sitting stiffly alert and clutching the golden apple like a lifeline, but even that alarm can't hide the fact that he is young, and beautiful, and terribly, sweetly naive. A quick, deeper look reveals him to be soft and romantic and, certainly, ambitious, if not willing to literally take to arms for his wants.

Well.

Aphrodite smiles with the grace of her nature, with the pleasure of being able to give a gift... no, several gifts, and with the vicious smugness of being able to continue avenging herself on Tyndaerus for how he forgot her. He would pay, she'd decided, back then, and Timandra has already strayed. Clytemnestra will surely offer some opportunities with what will come from this, no matter who the apple falls to. And Helen, sweet, beloved, darling Helen, will get what she’s wanted for so long while Aphrodite will as well.

Because even as Aphrodite has been shown to be correct - Helen has come to love Menelaos, and she loves her sweet little daughter by him, too - Helen still yearns, in the deep, secret darkness of her heart. And what does not Aphrodite know about such secrets, as well as how to make them become reality?

"If you gift me the apple, Prince Alexander, I will give you the most beautiful woman in the world to wife."

* (The version on AO3 has a more mature first paragraph, but that’s the only difference between these versions.)