#divinesons

Grant was never really a close follower of Greek myth, but if he had to predict which God would be cosmically assigned to him, it would've been Hephaestus. God of craftsmen. He did, of course, identify as a carpenter by trade. He worked with his hands. He made things. Why wouldn't be be a child of Hephaestus. But the pantheon —Demeter specifically, apparently— had other plans.

Maybe it was that part of himself he saw in Raphael and identified with. Or maybe he had a sixth sense for fellow men in denial about their sexuality. Raphael said he wasn't gay, and Grant believed him. He wasn't gay either. You didn't need to be gay to jerk off other men, particularly ones you felt bonded to. Mutual handies weren't gay.

Raphael's cock was bigger than Grant would've expected, given the younger man's diminutive size. (Grant towered over him, which made for a visual gag.) Small, but arguably more muscular and toned than Grant himself. They were a study in contrast. And in delusion.

At first, yes, he'd been riding the high of victory, feeling his oats, whatever description somebody might apply to him actually enjoying a party for a space of time. Smiling, laughing, maybe having a drink or two, just... Feeling it for a bit. And then the adrenaline wore off, the battle high died down, and he was very quickly reminded that no, he still didn't like this many people constantly colliding with him near the centre of the party, or just in general, and everybody's voices were so loud a-

Okay, no, breathe, because you haven't had a panic attack in the middle of a party since university. It's at least the closest thing to a stern voice he can pull to the front of his head as he makes to beat a strategic retreat. He wasn't running. Nope. Not running away. Proud Son's of Athena took tactical retreats. Of course, that was immediately cut off by barging face first in to a firm body, provoking a brief sound of surprise, and eyes quickly lifting to meet whoever he had bumped in to.

"Sorry, wasn't loo- Oh, hey, Cir-" Too fast. Thoughts not fully connecting. Rabbit heart in his chest ticking too quick.

While it may have been a few years since he first arrived on the island, it wasn't something you just got accustomed to. The island felt like a living, breathing thing of its own and every time Ozzy ventured out beyond their little settlement, it felt like things were constantly shifting and changing. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, even when he lived along the edge of the Amazon.

Even if it was dangerous, Ozzy always felt at home when he ran through the thick trees that whispered in his ears. Spring was just around the corner and life was starting anew, the snow had melted beneath his feet and the green of the isle began to blossom once more. This was easily the time of year when he felt the most alive.

Grabbing onto one of the vines that hung from the tall trees from above, he swung through the air before landing on top of a branch.

"Oh, hi." he cocked his head when he saw someone else was already there. "Didn't realize anyone else came this far out."

So, what do you do when your sparring partner is twice your height? You can't let it stop you? Of course you can't. In Matty's case he actually looked forward to the opportunity to fight (play fight) Griffin. From the short glances he'd taken of the godman over his time spent on the island, seeing him train, and fight, and just like exist while being hot. Mateo was impressed, thoroughly. As vain as he was someone staying in constant sight of him meant he had a preference for them. Rosado, pinky by name -was trying hard now- not to get blushy as the older man had him so close and glared at him like a bear wanting to ruin his picnic. Doing a little boxer skip with a chuckle. Trying his best to not come off as too too serious while Griffin and on lookers watched. Brown eyes never once leaving one another's. Holy eye contact, this guy was serious. And Mateo was in for a real challenge today. As he actually wanted to throw a few punches and practice his fighting skills. But the charmer in him couldn't help but tease.

The son of Iris was lost in a crowd that was washed over in hues of violet and blue, bodies clinging together as the music vibrated off the walls. There was a mixture of sweat and cologne that filled the room and heat radiated off his body as he danced away with whatever strangers seemed to catch his attention. He almost didn't notice the figure who came up behind him and grabbed him, someone tall but familiar. One of the other demigods back from the island. 

Words didn't need to be spoken as he wrapped his arms around them and started grinding against the other, the music blurred together with Axel's divinity that beat in his veins and it felt like the rest of the world melted away. It was just him and this man, who now had the son of Iris wrapped in his arms. 

“You wanna find somewhere more private?” he leaned forward, so they could hear him over the music that was blaring.

@divinesons

While ghosts had been a presence in Poe's life for as long as he could remember, it was something that he learned how to tune out after awhile. No longer were they friends who wanted to play with a lonely child. Most of them were loud and wanted attention or simply wanted their presence to be seen and recognized. While this was his new normal, the ghosts of Tokyo were… different, a little harder for to tune out entirely. 

“I'm not distracted,” his attention returned to the beautiful man who was currently sitting in his lap who he brought back to his hotel room. “The ghosts here are… unruly, but you're the only one who has my attention.” Not necessarily scary, both of them had faced far worse enemies more times than Poe could count but the chilly presence clung to the walls like syrup. Peeling shirts off, Poe's fingers felt the warmth under his flesh. An anchor and reminder that he was still alive, even if the medium thought otherwise sometimes. 

“Let's not let them ruin tonight.” Poe cupped the others face, before leaning in to steal a kiss. Any excuse to feel connected to another person.