molded memories

“It could be worse.” Ganymede probably should have kept his mouth shut, because, no, it definitely couldn’t get any worse than being 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞 by Zeus. In fact, if that were to have been the case for him, he’d have likely resorted to nothing but immense sadness and a feeling of worthlessness beyond any compare. 

“Well, honestly sleeping in a bed of garbage with a mortal does sound like you deserve some sympathy.” 

“You… left.” Julian shook his head, words coming out a bit breathlessly. “You can’t just come back– especially around Reagan– you can’t just be in and out of her life.”

if it were the first time, perhaps she wouldn’t have been met with those words, but the 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 in her dreams called her to 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 once more. her need to feel like a mother would always come first. yet 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐲 would burn in her heart along with sympathy for the six-year old little girl without her own mother. “It’s not what you think.” 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰, both julian and reagan deserved explanations but speaking of her adventures always turned others away . “Here–” she’d begin to rummage into her bag for a vial of 𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 from the faeries of 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 “I brought gifts.”

open to: m/f/nb situation: your muse orders a love potion and things go awry.

     gather up the baby’s breath, and the thyme, and the lavender– the fennel and the sage and the garlic, and the foxgloves. gather up the mint, and the lemon balm and henbane– the mistle toe and mandrake, the poke and the night shade. anointed is the offering, lock of hair, drop of blood. murky black concoction bubbles on an old stove top. a cluttered kitchen turned potion-crafting workspace is bustling with quiet sounds as the boy works. the mixture smells foul at first, but a slender witch opens his palm to let a delicate chain dangle free in the air, and at the end is a small red crystal which glows strangely the more energy he focuses into it. taylor draws a slow circle over the boiling pot with the rare stone and all at once the froth mellows, and the dark vapors steaming into the air turn light and fragrant. peony and vanilla, comfort and familiarity. a love potion. he’s made hundreds in his short career as a witch, this one’s no different from any other– and he kills the heat underneath the pot, honeybrown eyes glinting up to the cabinet above his head before he tugs it open and begins sliding ceramic aside in an effort to find a bottle worthy of transport. there we are– clear crystal glass, round bottom, slender neck, and stopper. he funnels the shimmering liquid into it and tucks it aside for safe keeping.

knock at the door. his head perks up and he pads through the small apartment, turning the knob and pulling. “you’re here a lil’ early, but it’s done. come in.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. it was for his boss, and she would likely use that brew upon a suitor of whom she’d use in every way she could. she was a succubus, often taking all she could and Jasper wondered why she would need a potion to ensnare others in the first place. –especially when she had a devil’s smile to chill any bone. she could, after all, make him travel from Milan to the meet this famed witch. bruised, purple knuckles rapped against the oak door as twilight glistened in the reflection of fangs. the hood covering his hair would be removed as he asked, “What’s that smell?” before taking his first foot forward. 𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧. to the comment of being early– “I have a couple of other errands the 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐫 has asked of me. You’re not my first stop.” the question was at the tip of the tongue even before he’d enter the cozy apartment, “I don’t mean to shit on your parade, but this shit can’t actually work. I’ve been trying to tell Cruella she’s being scammed, but–” with a roll of his eyes, he’d place the proper placement upon the table which housed a vase of lavender brush, “It’s her money. Ain’t it?”

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨: any and all !

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ( x )

He’d often fill cups to their brims while other Olympians made smart of their words. He’d smile and think of his lifestyle, his choices, and 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 to fit the mortal fantasies he’d so often crave in the tiniest of times. He’d try and reflect upon those cravings with his head against the brightest patches of grass while staring up at the sky. –𝐁𝐮𝐭 there was always one of those pesky sheep to come and flick a tongue across his face. A nap was almost futile given the animal’s attempts in garnering his affections.

“I’ve told you already, Sidetes. I’m not in the mood.” With eyes shut to combat the bright sun as it hung over that pasture, he’d mindlessly pet the wool of the sheep and try and lay his head more comfortably upon another as the sounds of footsteps approached. He’d no sooner turn his attention but continue to speak to his friends, “It’s too much of beautiful sunny day than to do anything but rest.” Sidetes, the sheep, would, of course, bleat to bring attention to the other newcomer, of which Ganymede was still trying to ignore.  “Hush, you, or I’ll be certain a Rain or Water God somewhere depletes nutrients for your grass– oh but then where would I lay my head?  Must I pet you when I don’t wish to–?”

“I get drunk and pretend that I’m over it…” Alexa explained, awkwardly. “But as soon as I see that look I’m clearly not over it.”

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫– not with his words, but with a tiny shake of his head. it was meant to be slight disapproval of her choices. he was terrible in communicating, but even worse were his attempts in showing others that he cared. he didn’t think she would get over things so easily, but he had hope that she wouldn’t do this to herself. “You should stop drinking. Alcohol is a downer– it makes you sadder.” 

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨: any and all !

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: he’s a storybook character who can hear fragments of a story that seems familiar.  ( x )

sounds of billiards knocked in harmonies on felt tables littered with blue fingerprints from cue chalk. the round was over for the two of them in the small tournament and the game was a fair match. if he were more competitive, he’d have put in more of an effort to win, but the smoke in his hair and on his clothes were enough to illuminate a bright smile in the thick haze of that bar. there were others still playing, but eric was packing his gear to take his leave, but first–

“𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?” seemed like a valid question, for he couldn’t remember the face before him in other tournaments from the past. “Where’d you learn to play so well?”

I’d like to introduce a couple of new characters I’m bringing to the dash ( 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦, & 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 )  these pages are giant work in progress, but some of them are variations of muses I’ve had in the past and their information will be updated soon, I promise !

If you’d like to plot with any of them please feel free to im me ! 

I’ve posted a couple of guidelines for rping as well which you can find here: ( x )

I’m going to be trying to hit the indie tags today, but after that I’ll likely be taking an off weekend for the fourth of July depending on how brave I feel visiting family–

I’d typically try to fill my queue with a little something but I noticed yesterday? the day before? that one of my replies was deleted from there and now I don’t really trust it. I have a couple of things scheduled today for a little test but I’ll definitely be back on monday for some more reply action.

I hope everyone has a fun weekend ! 

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 || ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ

a trail of blood would follow footsteps of heavy boots as he tirelessly made his way towards the light of fire in the middle of the forrest. his vision was giving out and given the lack of strength, he’d need to feed to merely stay conscious enough to meet her quip. the bear of which he was trying to best was a lot stronger than he could take on. but Jasper Lee was a complete dumb ass with the need to over-achieve as if to prove himself worthy.

falling to the ground seemed much more simple in that moment, for a squirrel had frozen at the sight of him. the poor furry fellow would soon become a meal for resuscitation, though hardly worthy of even coming close to that. fangs sunk deep into tiny animal, veins were drained dry, and he’d finally meet the woflie grin of little red riding hood. he’d lie through blood soaked teeth.

“Goldilocks gets the house to live in while Jazzy’s roaming the forests.” 

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 || ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ

the belongings were scattered at his feet. he’d kneel with slight trembles to recover the items and attempt to place them in his bag. the tattered and torn shoulder strap would, however, and unfortunately render that satchel useless either way. the darkened sky and lack of starlight was due to the heavy tree branches that would hinder any more light. luckily enough the other grimm, his friend, Ophelia would emerge a flashlight in her hand would help illuminate the other items he was reaching so cluelessly for. 

she was so nice, and thus greeted with a smile and salute from his chin. 

“Thank you.”

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 ||   ❥ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: ɴᴏɴᴠᴇʀʙᴀʟ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

if he could have, with his mortal hands, he’d have ended every life, every human, every beast to have ruined Arthur’s and Guinevere’s wedding. the glower in his face had not yet left since he’d realized how he’d missed such an opportunity. the glory and gore he could have inscribed in history books was given to the cursed gods of which he’d so warred with. 

he was fueled with rage even as he sat guarding the door from where the king rested. elbows lay upon his thighs as heavy armor weighed him down creating a haunch in his stance which enabled the sight of the footsteps. 

he’d instead listen in on soft footsteps and instinctively growl– a warning to turn the other away, “𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.”

though a captivating scent would cure the mood he felt. once eyes landed upon her his features would soften and his gaze would drop to her own wounds. a heavy chin would bow to her before he’d rise to his feet. 

“My lady- 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧, forgive me,” she alone would hear his weakened tone that often crept among them in torturous evenings he’d make for himself. heavy arms would instinctively wrap around her for he hadn’t the chance to see her not since her own wounds were tended to.

eyes would search for claw marks first, then her features, and then he’d lose himself in a set eyes which crippled him further. and instead of gracing her with more jumbled fragments of poor speech, he placed a kiss upon her forehead. lips would nearly graze a crown once his actions were realized. he’d take a step back in brief panic if it weren’t for the sentiment behind the actions– he was so glad to see her, finally. 

“Let me move out of your way so that you may see your husband.” 

The sight of his love bloomed warmth in his heart, a delight in his eyes unmatched with anything one had seen in the eyes of an animal before. Garant wings folded behind him before his frame morphed into what was his human form, stark naked as he stood before the shepherd of his desire, beauty unfaltered despite the time that had past. “I have come as you have called, at last.” So many night had he listened to Ganymede pray for him and in his heart, Zeus had done the same. Tanned muscle reached forward, a hand grasped for the young man’s arm to pull him close, no hesitation given as he wrapped the mortal up on his embrace, fingers caressing the soft locks upon his head and lips graced the crown of it with a loving kiss. A heart as strong as the angels was beating rapidly in his chest, making itself known and exposing the kings feelings right then and there. “I missed you as well, beloved little prince.” Rough hands found themselves on smooth cheeks, caressing the heat as silver eyes met the deep darkness of the other’s as he sunk into them. “A kiss should be placed where desired most and I find my palms to be occupied with holding you, refusing to ever let go.” Zeus had a plan, a proposal of sorts although in his stubborn ways he might not even give the other a choice. It was even harder now that he held him in his arms again to find the strength to let him choose, so for now his lips remained silent about what was on his mind as instead he observed those beautiful features that outshone any other living creature. “Ganymede, keeper of my heart and soul, you may have the freedom to embrace your god not as a subservient but as the apple of my eye.”

a tiny and dizzying intellect would take the words given and trust them with his entire heart. he was a follower and full of devotion. allowed was only subservience? right? eyes would glance above the heavens for such an answer, yet his own ears could hear sweet proclamations. the butterflies in his stomach hoped for more as arms wrapped themselves around him. oh, how ganymede relished in feeling so weightless in Zeus’ arms. a single rugged exhale would quake in his tiny chest as to signify a final sob for which he could leave on the mortal plane. tears seemed silly now that he could hear that heavenly voice and graze the shoulders of that first embrace. he’d take in as much as he could, should the deity have to return soon. “If arms should be occupied to never let go, I shall press my lips elsewhere.”

he dared with plenty might and a lack of purity, first pressing his nose against his majesty’s. fingertips would, then, curl at the scruff on a divine jaw, and finally lips would press a smile against the god’s lips. chastity would turn fervid if not for the sound to escape his mouth– a titter of contagious elation. sounds of delight and pleasure would escape as lips parted in a beam. “Could I ask you to promise to never let go, for I wish for no other arms to hold me as yours do.”

he’d speak with his forehead inching closer towards Zeus’s. “If I am keeper of your heart and soul, I promise the same. Words cannot describe my adoration for you, but until my dying breath and even in eternity when the soil covers my mortal coils my love for you will still burn for there are none like you, and there will never be any like you.” he’d chuckle once more, at the term apple of my eye, and try his best to bury his expressions in the sight before him. fingertips would inch to shoulders to caress biceps. swirling memories would once again churn butterflies in the stomach. “But just to see you is the greatest joy you could gift me.” 

Strain was on his shoulders, a different kind from usual. When it came to politics, war and strategy, even economy, Zeus had mastered such tasks long ago and made for a fine ruler that kept his kingdom prosperous and striving. But there were personal issues that weigh heavy on him, his own personality often in the way of a harmonious family environment and figuring out all the flaws to straighten them out was a task yet to be fully achieved, with heavy efforts. The more so did this promised meeting call for him with the prospect of some relaxation and exchange of affection to forget all the worries, letting feet carry him swift over marble floors before the grant doors to the terrace opened and a smile finally came to tense features upon the sight of his lover. “Ganymede.” It was a gentle call with family arms stretched out to welcome his beloved in their protective embrace. Meanwhile the scent of precious flowers filled the air, coming from one of the baths that lead to the terrace as well, bringing a gaze of surprise to silver eyes that gazed down to his lover with pure affection. “Precious boy, of course we may. But I am much interested in what you have to say instead, I doubt my worried thoughts should rest on your conscious.” Leaned down, lips placed a gentle kiss to such flawless skin of the younger deity’s forehead, big hands stroked down the curve of a smooth back before eventually a rush of enthusiasm had him lift Ganymede into his arms. “But what is the smell I perceive?” Once more leaned in, the tip of his nose brushed along the warmth of a lean neck. “What have you prepared for me, my sweet angel?”

the constellations would be nothing compared to the stars in his his eyes as a silver gaze met one of amber and awe. jumbled words would meet an end with a sigh of release in being in such strong arms. a shiver would tingle sweet skin as breath was graced from a nose along his neck. given the difference in height, Ganymede would sway on tip-toes in his lover’s arms for a moment longer. “It’s a surprise.”  the voice whispered and carried in aromatic air which would would mix with the cool breeze of the darkened night. eyes alight with affection would travel towards the poor attempts of Ganymede’s surprise. “But a surprised ruined.”

“It’s meant to help you relax.”

the scents and and dried leaves were some he had asked the attendants about. they were carefully picked together in order to help soothe ganymede’s own worries and doubts. they were often hard to overcome given how loud the echoes of Olympus walls could be. there seemed to be discord, of which he wasn’t supposed to hear. even now, Zeus seemed as if he were protecting him from those realities. by why live in reality when fantasies were so much sweeter?