wild world

richard regulus johnson, 29, owner of tartarus, titan mob boss, son of cronus. “...and you, you better run because i'm going to destroy you for what you've taken from me.”

[atlasjohnsons]

bvstiens:

“Garbage deserves her name and you can never tell me any different. I’m still not convinced she’s not some sort of demon or gremlin that someone left in a trash can for me to find because I did something to piss off whatever gods are out there.” Bastien hummed under his breath, scooping the little black kitten up and rubbing behind one of her ears. She immediately scream-meowed in his face and then tucked herself under his chin. “What’s the plan now?” Bastien’s voice was soft, his eyes distant as he continued to pet the kitten. “Are we just going to keep picking at them? Ryan’s getting restless, and I’m worried about what might happen the next time you let her loose.” Disappointment rang out in his voice, bitter like too-strong coffee. He had still not forgiven Ryan or Richard for what had happened with Dante Fontaine. It had been too much. A message had been sent, alright. One that painted them as monsters.

“And yet, you don’t love her any less despite how troublesome she can be.” Richie nodded, fully understanding. While Bas seemed to be attracted to homeless felines, he gravitated more towards people like the one standing before him... And dogs, it seemed as his new puppy squirmed in his arms. Setting her down and quietly watching her as he sank deeper into his thoughts, he couldn’t help but to clench his jaw in reflex of Bastien’s tone. “I told Ryan to make an impression and she did, don’t hold that against her. If you’re going to be angry with anyone, it should be me.” He snapped back, quick to come to the defense of any of Titans. Quickly recovering from his temper, he cleared his throat and returned to the topic at hand. “We have to figure out a way to disable their resources... And I promise, nothing violent this time.”

[atlasjohnsons]

ixpetus:

“Friends? Presumptuous, for a man who didn’t even bother to bring coffee.” Regardless of what he’s said, he still steps aside, deactivating his security protocol before opening the door in full. Perhaps he ought to protest the others presence - he never could get anything done with the man around - but he’d been up over twenty four hours and climbing. A break would do him well. “Do you come making requests?” He hums, starting back for the stairs. “Or is this social?”

“You look like you need sleep more than coffee, I wouldn’t enable you like that.” Richard shot back with a knowing look, stepping through the doorway as soon as Sam allowed him to. Shutting the door on his way in, he shrugged despite knowing the other man couldn’t see him. “A little bit of both, really. I just want to see what you’ve been tinkering away at and making sure you’re actually getting sleep.” A frown quickly replaced his smile as he sighed in disapproval. “How long have you been up?”

[atlasjohnsons]

ixpetus:

It’s particular work, his line of work - particular, meticulous. Personal. As much as Sebastian didn’t mind a visitor or two, he did like to know when - and why - they were coming. A knock at his front door and a glance at the security camera has him in a mood - not a bad one, per-say, but friendly would also serve as a poor modifier. Nonetheless, he stands and makes his way out of the laboratory he’d made for himself on the second floor of the formidable structure and down to the door.

“I do hope your reasoning for paying a visit at such an - inconvenient - time is of some importance.” He says, not altogether unkind as he cracks the door open, surveying his guest with an understandable wariness.

If there was one thing that Richard knew about Sam in their years together, it was that leaving him alone to his devices was key in developing something truly deadly. Another thing he had learned over the years, however? He would also likely forget that a breath of fresh air was good for the soul if he spent too much time wrapped up in his cave of sorts. In the span of their friendship, he was often times sure he bothered Sebastian far too much for his own good, but he hadn’t been shut out quite yet and he would continue to do so until he was.

Grinning at his apprehension as he stood at his doorway as though Richie were the sun and Sam were a man with a hangover, he craned his head. “Aren’t my visits always important? Are you going to invite me in or are we going to continue standing with a door between us like we’re not friends or something?”

[atlasjohnsons]

yasminnajm:

It was hard to Yasmin to tell if Richard was pleased to see her, or downright annoyed by her presence. Perhaps she had developed a bad habit of overanalyzing their interactions, but she couldn’t help but care about what he thought of her. He was, in a strange way, her family. At least, she wanted him to be. Perhaps she was an idiot for feeling that way; she was not blind to the fact that, like anyone affiliated with the gangs, he had a complicated history. But he was also Harvey’s son; after losing so many people, he entered into her life. Maybe it was just coincidence, or a bad omen, but Yasmin wanted to believe that a door was being opened. A new family member, a new (happier) chapter of her life.

His response was amiable enough, and Yasmin took that as a good sign. “Don’t undersell yourself so much. The last guy I spoke to was drunk off of two mimosas and wouldn’t stop talking about this app he was developing. I’d happily talk to a crab at this point, but you’re a good alternative. And if your outfit is any indication, I’d say you’re perhaps one of the more fascinating people here.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with my outfit?” His retort slips out from him almost instantly, a little glad that the shift in topic wasn’t towards something having to do with both of their histories both within and outside of Harvey. Though, most of his interactions had nothing to do with him as they were something he actively avoided. Talking about his deceased father to those that he hardly knew was difficult, but talking to those that he trusted about him was nearly impossible. If his relationship with Yasmin tiptoed along that line for the rest of the time that he would know her, that would be absolutely fine with him. That being said, it was just as impossible to ignore someone like her who not only sought him out but made an effort to attempt to get to know him. Her compassion was something truly of rare form in their world and worth appreciating, a part of him even wanting to know what made her this way.

“You don’t like tiger-backed shoes and the color coordination I have going on? Do you have any idea how expensive these are?” He asked, his gaze flying down to his shoes that he had left on despite being on a beach. They were undeniably filled with sand and he would likely never wear them again, but he could hardly admit that. “I’ve gotten plenty of compliments about them back there, are you telling me they were all lying to me?”

[atlasjohnsons]

medusaivatco:

Threatens to destroy everything you know.

Octavia was all too familiar with the concept of destruction. It seemed everything at her back was left in rash ruin, crumbles of stone or piles of ash, and none of it had ever been on purpose. The Midas touch was an ambiguous myth - some took it glass half empty, poor Midas left all alone, some took it glass half full, lucky bastard surrounded by gold. She left the glass in shards at her feet, the whole thing empty and the whole thing torn to shit. Octavia was all too familiar with the concept of destruction, because her whole life she’d been that destruction.

Her eyes were misty for only a hair of a second, blink and you would’ve missed it, and without a long enough second having passed to take a breath of air, Octavia finally turned her gaze towards him, as classically sharp and narrow as ever, and while it was evident that his tone had been lacking humor, she made sure her voice was drenched in it’s bitter cousin, sarcasm. “Me? A reputation?” It was gasped, over-dramatized shock.

Octavia’s gaze had the power to be just as perceptive as it did steely, and it was clear that Richard had no intentions of playing games with her. Straight to the point. Serious in the face. No joking tone, no glinting eyes. Medusa planned to strike his opposite, to be coy and elusive, offer nothing but grins and games. She rounded on him, turning from the ocean to cock her head at him and dawn a slow growing smile.

“You have such a cute ass. I couldn’t help myself from following it all the way down here. It’s irresistible.”

In a world filled with serious people such as the ones she often spent her time with, the last thing he had expected was for Octavia to throw him a bone with her sarcasm and wit. Her tone was filled with an unexpected bitterness that he should have expected from someone with the moniker of Medusa, but it was something that he could identify with. After all, he had far too much wishful thinking in his life. The difference was that Richie was still trying, clinging to the stars and hoping they would fall to meet him or he would rise to become one. He would not let the mistakes of others shape him into something mangled and resentful enough to give up (even if he blindingly had already).

“A hell of a reputation, if you ask me, but nothing you can’t come back from if you wanted to.” It was like a switch had been flipped instantly, welcoming the playful teasing as though she hadn’t been met with apprehension. His tone was light as he spoke, turning only his head to give her a good and long once-over as a smile slowly rose. Richard wanted to laugh, but the last thing he wanted was to misread the situation. The only thing he could truly do was test the waters.

It might have been stupid, to play this game with her, but the reward on his end was entirely beneficial. He wasn’t easily swayed by a honey voice and a beautiful face to match, not when he had been told his entire life that most things in life were only superficial and not much lasted in the face of relationships that were meant to be filled with love.

“Is that a habit of yours? Following cute butts anywhere they go? I’m certainly on board with it.”

[atlasjohnsons]

ofxhera:

You don’t get to take this from me. Deep underneath, beneath thickened skin and sharpened weapons, lay an undeniable truth - that without this life, this world and this power - she was nothing. Her life had been spent in an odd sort of lull, a place of unbelonging. She had been too sharp for the pageant world of her mother and too ugly for even the corporate world of her power. Her fantasies had been too dark, grotesque as the shadows. People are drawn towards a beauty they can understand. Hers defied classification - a shame to be hidden. All until she met Marco and was introduced to Harvey. The rest, as they say, is history. The man before her might have had a legacy to fight for - but she had a life worth living. Death would have been a better fate than being forced out of the game. The only one she had ever truly been drawn towards, one easily mastered. Something told her this was a man who knew cruelty - and one who would condemn her to the most desperate of sentences, a living nightmare of boredom. A renewed fighting spirit ignited inside of her, she found the strength to ignore his taunts, her face stone.

“Wait until you see my bite.” Said by way of sarcasm than a serious threat, Victoria didn’t even bother to meet his eyes. He wouldn’t have liked what he saw. But what more was there to say? The sides had been drawn up, the gauntlet thrown. Each knew that it was the other that stood in the way of what they wanted - and that there were no limits when it came to getting what they desired. All that was left was to call up the armies, disperse their ranks and begin to fight. She couldn’t wait. Electrified and alive, she would be bolder and brighter than they ever could have guessed, a Goddess by more than name alone. The ancient Hera had never flinched - so why should she? “Honestly? He’d probably tell you to fuck off back to Germany.” His voice radiating inside her mind, she almost laughed. Sure, there would be a hell of curses down on her shoulders - but no one would be spared from his wrath. That was a spirit she intended to embody. “But since he can’t, I’ll do the honours. Fuck. Off. Go now whilst you can still scrape some pride. Because let me tell you, by the end of it all, you won’t have any left.”

“Then, bite me.” His voice full of challenge, any semblance of friendliness dissipating quickly as his disdain shown through. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that Victoria Cartwright often let her lackeys do the work for her. Whilst she was the master planner, a million tricks up her sleeve, the possibility of actually leaving her darling little bar and pushing those plans into action were minuscule. That was where Marco often times stepped in, the both of them sitting high and mighty on their thrones. Richard, on the other hand, was the type to make sure the job was done himself, often times accompanying the people he had trusted on missions. As unusual as it was for someone in his position, he enjoyed the thrill of it and he treated people as if they were something more disposable. Though he clenched his jaw at the thought of his father telling him to “fuck off”, he remained just as stoic in the face of a snake that would undoubtedly strike at the first sign of vulnerability. His only response was a humorless laugh, taking heart in the fact that she refused to meet his eyes in the face of such a threat.

“You know what? I think Harvey was wrong about you,” he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re not Hera, you’re Medusa. Being Hera implies you’re the queen of something and as far as I can see, you’re just a garden snake in expensive clothing.” Richard pressed on, wanting to hit her where it hurt the most as she had done to him. He had one more thing left in his arsenal to bruise her ego, but that was something best left for a rainy day. Zeus’ indiscretions were something he was sure she was entirely familiar with, but he also knew Marco was too prideful to admit that Atlas was also a notch in his bed post, a conquest in all definitions of the word for Richie. Leaning closer, he couldn’t help but to taunt her in a voice low enough that only she could hear him despite the bustling event around them. “Dante was just the beginning, a disappointing beginning. I heard he begged for mercy at the end of it all, which is quite frankly pathetic. I’m not going to stop until everything that you hold dear is gone, until the things that you love most leave nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth.”

[justrpmemesandmusings]

Send me a faceclaim and I’ll tell you who they’d be in my muse’s life as a NPC

[atlasjohnsons]

cerberusfelicia:

Felicia wasn’t really here for gang business, even though it may have seemed that way. Sure, she was to stand on guard in case anyone else tried something funny (or maybe the other bruisers were here to keep her in check), but as she slipped her business cards in the hands of soon-to-be-single husbands, she knew her realization from a year ago was true: she can play high society, on her own terms. Being approached by people who were just dying to let her represent them was hilarious, how did she manage to pretend to have her shit together that well that she could fool some rich billionaire into giving her his money? He’ll get away with fraud again, and Felicia may later give him a beat down-just because he was an asshole. It was kind of her routine, and she was pretty content. 

But content was never her style, and pretty okay wasn’t her thing. It was her thrill for danger that set her apart from the relatively tame people here, but that was where she blended in with the others. The party should’ve been labeled “Day and Night” to symbolize the people who were ignorant, and the people who were involved. Syrus can believe he’s trying to keep the people safe all he wants, Felicia knows the real truth, and that is why she still spends time with the likes of Atlas. Or at least, she didn’t know who he’d become when they were younger. To him, he was Richard, but now he’s the thundering force that has shaken Olympus to it’s core. Felicia wasn’t worried, however. She was simply… curious. Curious enough to get closer and sit besides him to get a better look at his face, curious enough to stay seated as he went on his very Richard way. Removing her sunglasses, Felicia raised an eyebrow before smirking slightly. “Polarizing? Now I thought it was me who had the bigger head out of the both of us.” 

The familiarity of her presence was something he hadn’t quite anticipated as she sat down next to him, their current predicament was a far cry from who they were when they first met. She was just Felicia back then, not Cerberus, and he could hardly believe that she had simply traded one blinding loyalty to her family for another. He was just Richard back then, not Atlas, with the weight of hundreds of deaths on his shoulders and the threat to tear down what she had grown accustomed to. The years had clearly changed their beliefs and who they were, but it hadn’t changed the way Richie felt about someone who he once considered a friend. As bitter as he was that he hadn’t reached her first, pulled her into this world because he had felt as though she had deserved better than this life, he was surprisingly relieved to find someone he had known once before sitting beside him.

“Are you here to kill me?” Richard remarked, his flourish for the dramatics never ceasing as he turned to face her. His own eyes studied her, taking note of how much older she looked in comparison to years before when they had last shared a drink together. Still, she looked like the same Felicia, just a little rougher around the edges. Leaning to bump his shoulder with hers, he grinned at his old friend. As surprised as he was, there was still something pleasant about seeing her despite knowing they now sat at opposite sides of the figurative table he had inserted himself into. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got the heavens on my shoulders over inflating my ego now.” He replied, winking as he swallowed down his laughter. “It’s really good to see you, Felicia, but are you here as a friend or as an enemy?”

[atlasjohnsons]

bvstiens:

“The day I let you take care of yourself Ryan’s going to end up burning down a block and you’ll end up shot.” Bastien rolled his eyes, grinning a little. “You had to know I wasn’t going to go anywhere unarmed. It’s disconcerting. Of course, I could use this guitar if need be; and hey, the ocean is right there if we need to get rid of any bodies.” Bastien made playful finger guns at his friend, brows wiggling, before he pulled the guitar up and off of his body and left it beside his shoes. He was wading further into the water when Richie’s words reached him, and Bastien paused. His hands slid into his pockets, eyes on the horizon, on the skyline of the city.

“Growing up for me, I didn’t have a whole lot of love for this country. I still don’t. This country lets its people starve, get beaten and raped- No one except rich white men get to live and be free. Freedom is supposed to be a right but it’s not. It was supposed to be. But now it’s an excuse to get drunk and shoot fireworks.” As if to prove his point, someone off in the city sent off something that sparkled and cracked before dissipating into smoke. Bastien shook his head, sighing. “I miss Germany,” he said, just barely loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Is this your undying promise that you’ll stay with me forever? If so, I accept, obviously. Besides, Ryan wouldn’t go on a rampage that public... I hope.” Richie rolled his eyes at the jab, having taken care of himself just fine before Bastien had been with them. Still, he appreciated the concern and the level of dedication when it came to holding both Ryan and him back from doing needlessly reckless things. He watched as his best friend walked further out into the tide, another fond smile morphing his features into something soft and light that he could only reveal to those that he trusted. Kicking his shoes off, he quickly drifted to a place beside Bas.

His smile quickly tipped into a frown as he listened carefully to Bastien’s thoughts, a world that painted what Richie could have been a part of if he had stayed in New York. Clasping Bastien’s shoulder, he gave a firm squeeze as he watched the lone firework light up the sky for a moment before he sighed. “I miss it too, I miss not having to watch our backs as often and I promise we’ll go back, one day. I’m sorry if being here is harder on you than I thought, but I need you.”

[atlasjohnsons]

bvstiens:

“Hyas is more loyal to you than I am, Rich. You’ll never have to worry about him feeling like you’ve abandoned him. And I’ve heard that it’s good for older dogs to be around a puppy; it can give them more life in their final years, give them a purpose. He can teach her how to play you like a gigantic violin. A viola.” Bastien snorted at his own, incredibly stupid, joke, and then glanced up at Richard. His face was soft, and he reached out to gently touch his friend’s arm, giving it a squeeze before his arms crossed over his chest again. “No name, because she’s not mine. I wanted to leave that honor to you.” Bastien hummed quietly, his lips curling into a smile as Nemo rubbed against his leg. “How are things looking, by the way? On the business end of stuff?”

“I’m not really ready to come to terms with the fact that Hyas may be gone within a few years, not yet. Besides, this little girl has already got me strung around her little paws, don’t you?” Richie cooed as he pressed tiny kisses against the puppy’s head, nuzzling his nose gently against her while he rocked her in his arms. His attention was quickly swept away by Bas’ gentle touch, his grin fading only slightly as his brows furrowed in thought. “I’ll think about it and I’ll let you know when I name her, but I can definitely tell you I won’t name her Garbage or anything like that.” He chuckled, thinking of all the trouble his cat had gotten into. “All’s quite on the western front, but I’m sure it won’t be for very long.”

[atlasjohnsons]

mishrafreddie:

Extroversion was a gift, Freddie thought, as he slid from person to person at the party. It was situations like this where he thrived; a strong handshake here, a charming smile there, and suddenly, almost like magic, he had a small stack of business cards in his pocket. For him, that was the real fun of the party. It was comforting to know that, despite his recent endeavors, his skills had not suffered. He considered from a moment that his father would be proud of him, but quickly shook that thought away. This wasn’t the place to be thinking about him.

He almost missed the man who had split himself off from the group. Luckily, he’d spotted him him just as he was slipping away. Freddie followed after him, drink in hand. It maybe wasn’t the best plan, but he was curious–who was this guy, separating himself from the crowd? He gave up on sneaking early, simply jogging to catch up with him. “You caught me,” Freddie said, a little out of breath. “Your personality? Magnetic. Literally. Can’t get more than…ten feet away from you. It’s going to be an adjustment for both of us. Do you mind dogs?”

Despite the man having nearly chased him from the party, there was still something endearing in the way that he spoke and it prompted a small chuckle from Richard. He, of course, was still slightly alarmed at why someone at a party full of people who’s pockets were lined with both money and power would follow someone who broke from the crowd. If he was a thief or an assassin, Richie certainly wouldn’t make it easy for them. He was also sure that he had the faithful eyes of his Titans around him to make sure it was nearly impossible as well.

“You’re funny, I like that.” He replied, his tone genuine as he shook his head as though he were humored. Eyeing the drink that the boy still held in his grasp and his face, Richie turned his gaze away once more to the ocean. “Lucky for you, I love dogs. Though, I don’t think my current one would appreciate another new addition to the family if you don’t manage to find another owner. Trust me, he’s a biter and as much confidence as I have in you, you’d definitely lose.”

[atlasjohnsons]

syrvses:

if he were to be honest, syrus would admit that he believed richard’s claim to the throne to be flimsy. it was of no matter if he held some claim of birth right. as was ingrained into syrus all his life, dna never quite equated to family. richard’s features were certainly reminiscent of the late cronus, but that did not grant him infinite access to cronus’ establishment. this was particularly the case when a portion of richard’s dramatic entrance was heading an attack on the hotel, a feature that dated back to cronus’ empire. 

blood had no correlation with inheriting hand me downs of a dead mob boss. skill did. tactics did. ability, morality, organization prowess, the capability to know and care for a mob–all was associated with the right to wear the crown. syrus was not completely aware of the capabilities of richard or his manner of thinking; no, not nearly as well as he did with his dear old friend, zeus. but, richard was competent. if pride weren’t a factor, syrus would be able to admit he was nearly as competent as him. if potential ostracization wasn’t a factor, syrus would be able to admit that battling the man who held the heavens on his shoulder was enthusing.

“oh, richie, i’m so glad that you still feel the same for me,” he sighed, sarcasm overwhelming the mood. the knowledge that his opponent likewise had a sense of humor despite the coldness that marked both of their features was also rather enthusing. “dearest, i’ve already rented the horses. why walk when we can ride into the sunset? unless, of course, you’re more old fashioned with your means of transportation.”

richard had observed syrus over the number of years that olympus had split into two gangs, searching for something that told him that he was competent in ruling that had compelled those around him to follow under the thumb of someone much younger than zeus. though he and the man known as hades were only a year apart, they both had something that screamed an infinite amount of years of dedication and wisdom. richie supposed that they had a lot in common, which is something that irritated him to no end. he was not here to find the similarities and nitpick the differences between all of them, to find what cronus had deemed them worthy and not him. no, he was here to tear it all down.

still, if he were to create an alliance, richie was more likely to side with the likes of new olympus rather than old. zeus was foolish, far more reckless in his actions than richard liked, though his own titans were more prone to danger than zeus himself. syrus seemed to know more about self-control, according to the rumors that surrounded them. though, the likelihood of him ever admitting that he saw syrus as more of an ally than an enemy were slim to none. not yet, anyway.

“why ride off with horses when we can take a private jet to anywhere for our honeymoon? anywhere and everywhere could be our destination, darling.” he pressed on, banter often times the thing he enjoyed most in conversations. though, there was clearly something on both their minds that needed saying. “our wedding can wait for another day. spit it out, why are you here?” 

[atlasjohnsons]

metamorpheus:

Marcus’ thumb hovered over the sparkwheel of his lighter as he glanced over his shoulder. It took a less than a second for the face to stick. Just like with Hades, it was the casual clothes that made the recognition slip for the slightest moment (and even then, Johnson’s beachwear was hardly ‘casual’) when every picture he’d studied was dressed up in a suit. Marcus hesitated, hid the pause in following through lighting his cigarette, let his eyes find the ocean instead of the man behind him. Reality was always different than pictures, but he trusted his memory enough to tell him it was Atlas. The uncertainty didn’t lie in his knowing the other man, but the mob boss knowing him. Even strangers, Johnson’s words conveyed a warm sense of familiarity. 

Whoever sent out the invites for this party had to know something. Marcus turned to him fully, the sea breeze stealing the smoke from between his lips before it could settle around the two men; he would stay at a comfortable distance, keep a safe neutral expression – he could do this all by the book: be unremarkable, relatively pleasant, entirely forgettable. And if somehow, Atlas did recognize Marcus for one of Hades’ men.. well, he’d gotten good at improvising. “It’s a little beach for a big party,” he responded, putting on something almost apologetic,  “Promise I’m not stalking you, just didn’t see you before. You mind a little smoke?” 

The man next to him with five dollar swim trunks was a far cry from the man who had allegedly killed Eddie’s beloved Eurydice, a feat he had believed to be done by someone far more professional. To say Morpheus was unimpressive would be an understatement in his mind, Richie had done years of extensive research on both New and Old Olympus and this, by far, was his biggest disappointment. In fact, he very nearly felt bad for the man beside him. He had no doubts that Marcus could try something on this beach, no matter how nonthreatening he looked in his cheap shorts and shirt to match, but he also knew Syrus had more sense than that. A public scuffle was cheap, a drowning on the shores outside of neutral territory even cheaper and the last thing everyone wanted was to put these three gangs on the map in front of so many influential people.

“I don’t mind the company or the smoke, you seem much better than most people there.” Richie replied, gesturing at the party behind them. At least with him, he was sure that Marcus was a little more down-to-earth than the egos of those who thought they ruled the city. Even if his clothes were meant to blend into that crowd, pretentious as it was, he quickly grew bored of the superficiality of those around him and craved something a little more real. He craned his head towards him, giving him a good once-over before smirking. “I’m guessing that party isn’t exactly your crowd either?”

[atlasjohnsons]

ryvnlee:

She smiled at the nickname. The little killer. She remembered the sight of him walking into that empty warehouse just outside of Berlin. She had been alone, then, all of her boys locked up or dead. He had found her though, with her bleached blonde bob and boots stained black red with blood, and stretched out a hand and that name. Born out of whispers in the dark alleyways of Berlin, traveling from dying lips all the way to the little King himself. 

She had so many names now.

One, given to her by herself, rebirth and remade and redone. 

One, given to her by the streets, fear and loathing and wrath incarnate.

One, given to her by him. The light, shining so bright the world goes blind.

“Oh, was that subtle? I’ll have to be much more straightforward next time.” She gave him a once over. His sense in fashion really was tragic, she’d have to find Bas and tease him until dawn about it. She laughed, lifting her hand to flick spray water at Richie’s face. “Are you saying my sudden appearance hasn’t already brightened your day? I can feel my heart breaking in light of this realization.”

Richie groaned at her puns, clearly a jab at the name he had bestowed on her when he had finally initiated her into the Titans. Though Hyperion was truly a far cry from who she really was, it had always suited her nicely. Ryan was the angel of death, with a radiance that surrounded her as she drew people with her magnetizing looks, only to swallow them whole with the darkness she held within her. He, however, loved her all the same, just as drawn to the dark as people were to the light.

They were, in a sense, the same. He just hadn’t succumbed to those thoughts yet.

“You need to get better material, your puns stopped being funny two years ago.” He replied with a roll of his eyes, despite the begrudging smile that twisted at the corner of his lips. Wiping away the salt water from his features, he quirked an eyebrow. “Are you afraid to get a little wet?”

[atlasjohnsons]

blessedaphrodite:

There was a fine line between the balance of silence and chaos, and at the party, Alex soon felt himself walking that line. The buzz of alcohol in his bloodstream and the sun and warmth on his face left him feeling more open than he normally did, yet talking to anyone else left him feeling just as closed off as usual. Wavering on his feet slightly, he slipped away from the crowds, just looking for enough room to breathe and a chance to escape the horrible music that seemed to follow him wherever he went. 

Noticing the footprints in the sand, it was clear that he was not the first person with the idea, as he soon came across the other figure, their back to him - though they soon turned. “Ah, that is a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” Alex started, looking out towards the water. He tilted his head curiously, before turning back to meet eyes with the other. “It’s a fairly small beach, after all - and this was the only path to get here. Just coincidence of circumstances. As dazzling as your personality might be, I’m afraid I can’t speak to it. Yet,” he pointed out. He took a sip of his drink, before eyeing the other out of his peripheral, trying to put a name to a face.  pressed his lips into a thin line before looking down to sand underneath, drawing a line with the toe of his shoe. 

It was definitely nice to step away from the rest of the party, a reprieve from the chaos and the incessant craze of people around him. But there was something about the other presence that made Alex feel unsettled, the light tone leaving him feeling on edge that it normally wouldn’t. “Have we met before?” he questioned, before turning his head back up to look at the other. 

Of all the people Richard would have thought would recognize him, Aphrodite ranked higher than most on his list. After all, it was no secret that Alex had a past with the old Ares. It was also no secret that Dante’s demise was partially Richie’s fault as well. He may have not have pulled the metaphorical trigger, but he was the one who placed the gun in Ryan’s hand in the first place. Still, it was quite a delight to see his confusion, forcing himself to swallow down the smile that threatened to overtake his features.

Richard knew he had to tread carefully, Alex would surely find out who he was, it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t dumb enough to pry for answers here and now and he was sure the other man was not foolish enough to give them to him either. The best he could do was play with him for a bit, plant the notion that Atlas wasn’t as seemingly threatening as everyone thought he was. “Yet, you’re still here. My ego isn’t big enough to promise you that you’ll find me interesting from one conversation on a lonely beach, but I can sure as hell try if you’ll let me?” He offered, his head tilting to meet the eyes of Club Nyra’s most popular attraction.

“I don’t think so, I’d remember someone like you.” His words don’t come out flirtatious, but rather curious as he scanned the man’s features. Technically speaking, they’ve never met face-to-face before and the thought entices Richard’s lips to twitch into a humored smile. 

[mae-martin]

[atlasjohnsons]

ofxhera:

In every moment, she searched for signs of Cronus inside of him - traces of the man who had come before, the legend with few weaknesses. In all their time together, she could find only two. He liked to collect people - proteges who would emerge immortal, craftier and better than the one who had taught them. She had been one - encouraged forward by Zeus all those years ago - and turned from a demure (or slightly more demure) gilded princess into a witch, a heretic who burnt everything she touched. Zeus was a second. Syrus another. In all that time, he had never seemed to have time for his son. She wondered if it ate at him. She wondered if he even knew that his father had burnt one set of roots only to sprout another - faster, better, stronger. His second weakness was his affection for Starbucks coffee - and a morning routine. It was that which had got him killed. An unpredictable mind sees the thorn growing on the rose - and trims appropriately. Now, she was more thorn than petal. It felt natural.

“I don’t need a backup.” She said her piece perfectly sweetly, a smile stained across her face - all sugar and honey, as if she were perfectly assured in her position. It wasn’t that she was afraid (in a battle of wits, she had few who could match her - and war had become a second nature), but apprehensive was perhaps a more polite term. She would have been a fool not to. They had stormed onto the scene and burnt her home to the ground - and The Warehouse. That made it personal. She caught his inferences, reading between the lines. Zeus. And to think, all of this came because of a will. Once again, she kept her disposition sweet, no sign of any inner turmoil or doubt. Fingers to her chin, she pretended to ponder her response, before meeting him straight in the eye. “Hmm…no…no, I think it’s all on you.” Stepping closer, Victoria dropped any pretense of politeness. “After all, I was there at the hospital, as the life faded out of him. It wasn’t you he asked for. It wasn’t your name on the will either. I guess blood really doesn’t mean anything.”

In a battle of mental chess, Richie had no doubts that they were evenly matched. In fact, he was more than humble enough to admit that Victoria could actually defeat him if she tried hard enough and he was having a particularly off day. Their first encounter, however, was nothing something he was willing to budge on. Unfortunately, he knew little of her other than the things he had heard whispered through the grapevine. She was a predator, quietly stalking her prey for a perfect moment to strike, claws wanting to sink deep into his skin and to find some purchase there that would allow for her to fester and take root. He was hardly phased, however, he had spent years preparing for moments like these. Richard could do more than just talk, he had actions to back up whatever left his mouth. Victoria only had the cruelty of her words and her pride, undoubtedly over inflated with her rise in power as Marco’s right hand woman. Shame, a crying shame that it had taken her to find an unfaithful man in order for her to climb this ladder and still be stuck under the likes of Zeus.

Richie listened carefully, however, pretending to absorb her words as he refused to meet her eyes. He looked as though he was a man haunted by his past, his smile slipping from his lips as though to fully process the power of her words. He wanted her to think that she had an effect on him, he wanted her to feel as though she had won this fight for a second. It was only after a beat of silence that he looked into her eyes once more, a toothy grin spreading across his features slowly before he blatantly laughed in her face. Though her words held a gravity within him, the last thing he wanted to do was to let her know that it did. His father may have not asked for him in his last moments, but his memory of him was already tarnished under years of neglect. “I like you, you’ve got quite a bark.” He spoke, before taking an added step towards her as well, a mere few inches between them as he looked down at her. “It’s a shame to think he had so much faith in you, I wonder what he’d say now, knowing that you haven’t gotten anything accomplished in the past five years aside from running that quaint bar you have. Thank you for inviting us in, by the way, I had a blast.”