#*sveinn

[dionysusxmp]

if i could do it all again (i know id go back to you) || w/that motherf*cker

i missed you

@mpsveinn

If Dionysus had been mortal, like he had always been meant to be, he would have been the sort of person that people write heartbreaking poetry about, and very much the sort that people name storms after. The ichor of wind and lighting personified flow through his half-human veins and the human parts of him burn with the energy of it. And at some point, his half-human body can’t contain the tempest and it explodes out of him with gales and static that had eventually turned the god’s apartment into the approximation of what the inside of his head look like at the moment. It isn’t so much that things are broken - of course there had been some collateral damage, a shattered mug here, a splintered chair leg there, scattered bits of ripped paper like snow - as much as things are all over the place. All the right things are there, but nothing is quite where it belongs. 

Like Dio’s mind, as he stands there having torn apart the place he calls home. He looks ever inch the son of his wrathful father, and he knows it, and he hates it. Yet he stands there, eyes bloodshot and glowing a venomous purple and leaking a torrent of fury and pain that he tries in vain to wipe away before they can betray his weakness. But Dionysus knows he is weak. He knows that Sveinn knows he is weak. And he hates it. He hates all of it.

(Almost all of it.)

Looking halfway to a betrayed and vengeful Medusa, newly lengthened hair whipped into a frenzy, Dionysus stands and waits for...something. He waits for Sveinn. He can’t even find it in himself to flinch as the fingers begin to cradle his face. He can barely find it in him to move. But move he does, just a little, the creases of drunken rage smoothing as Sveinn gets closer. The tears don’t stop - there never has been and never will be any hope for Dionysus as anything besides a crybaby. Sveinn knows that. He knows that Dio will make a mess of things. Hell, Dio is a mess of things. He’s a god with a human heart.

With a throaty, broken, child-like whine, Dionysus takes a hesitant step forward. Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face into the crook of Sveinn’s neck and releases a final sob, a quiet and aching little thing.

“I want...you...to stay...”

Yes, that’s technically true. But there’s more there, isn’t there?

“I want...you back.”

[dionysusxmp]

dinner&diatribes || w/sveinn

@mpsveinn

[ txt to: Sveinn🍸💕 ]: so i was thinkin and...do u wanna try going on an actual date? or somethin. doesnt have to be a date. 

[dionysusxmp]

@mpsveinn

[ txt to: Sveinn🍸💕 ]: <img.attached> i tried to copy your drawing, how did i do?

[dionysusxmp]

Breakdown | The Second Time

Or, the first time, continued

“I know.”

Of course he does. Dionysus didn’t have to say it for the statement to be true. He has said as much a hundred different ways at a hundred different times, even in what had to have been their short time together, even if it feels to Dionysus like it had taken up half of his immortal life.

The other half has been characterized by their separation.

Who was Dionysus before this abrasive, unpredictable demigod entered his life?

What is divinity in the face of love?

And yet, what is love in the face of fate?

Dionysus studies the man across from him. Sveinn is little more to him at the moment than an inscrutable Rorschach. He wants to believe that ‘would have’ could be stricken down once again to simply ‘would’, but it would take far more than the god’s own wishes to do that. It would take Sveinn, for one. And as of yet, Dionysus isn’t exactly sure what Sveinn wants. Does he want to reminisce? If that’s all, it was terribly cruel of him to pick Dionysus as the person with which to do that, and as Dionysus has already more or less decided, Sveinn simply isn’t that kind of person. Does he want to apologize? If so, he should just say it. That is his style, after all.

Does he want to fix it?

Thinking about that is almost too much to bear, because what if he doesn’t and Dionysus hopes against hope that he does? That kind of heartbreak Dionysus isn’t sure he could survive, immortal or not.

Dying of heartbreak...

If it’s possible for a god to do so, then Dionysus is sure that one last rejection from Sveinn would be the very end of him. 

Instead of breaking the silence or taking it any further, Dionysus stands and carries the ache along with him as his mind races and his heart throbs like an open wound and his untrustworthy legs save him from the mess he has turned himself into and from the hope that he has left behind. It simply costs too much to keep.

He returns to the rooms where he resides, but he has left behind his home.

[dionysusxmp]

Breakdown | The First Time

Or, the time when I admitted it

What exactly did Sveinn think was going to happen? That he would spill some sweet nothing to Dionysus and time would just rewind? That they could go back to the way things were before Sveinn disappeared off the face of the planet, out of Dio’s life without a word, without a text message or even a fucking postcard? Sveinn was a lot of things, most of them varieties of ‘strange’, but he wasn’t stupid. Not like that anyway. Stupid when it came to Dionysus, maybe. The wine god couldn’t deny he could be stupid where it came to Sveinn. But this wasn’t that.

Could it have been cruelty? From everything that Dionysus knew about Sveinn, that didn’t seem like a particularly likely option. The fact that Dio couldn’t 100% rule it out, however, felt like swallowing acid that ate at his throat and sat burning slowly through the lining of his stomach. Sveinn’s words had put most of that fear to rest. But not all. Previously, Sveinn’s radio silence had been playful, something to joke about - or to play dumb about - when next the two met. Again, this wasn’t that. This was radio silence and physical disappearance like only the memory of smoke. As if Sveinn had never existed in the first place. The only thing that kept Dionysus from thinking he had imagined all their time together was the memory of Sveinn telling him that he could never feel entirely settled in a place. Dionysus understood wanderlust. He understood thrill-seeking better than anyone. But to disappear without even a single word? That was harder to swallow.

After those words were spoken to him by the man he had loved and probably should have known better than to trust, Dio’s plans for the day melted away. The words - and, moreso, the voice speaking them - refused to leave his head. There was no working after that, no playing around with friends or messing about on his own. All that was left was wandering, step by step, until eventually the god found himself in the residential district facing a particular apartment building. Part of him, the part that he would have preferred to lean further towards, hoped to look up and find himself standing before his own apartment building where he would go home and spend the night drinking and who knows what else. The other part, the one that knew him better, wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the Norse building towering before him. It was so predictable, he almost sighed.

Dionysus followed his gut then, stepping through the doorway, entering the elevator and pressing the familiar cold metal of the button for Sveinn’s floor (he didn’t trust his legs to take him up the stairs, not now), and leaving the cold chrome coffin to walk through a hallway that looked so much like his own and felt so much like home. He wanted to hate that it felt that way. He wanted to.

Before his mind could change itself, Dio found his knuckles meeting the door in a sharp but quiet tunk, tunk, tunk. He almost expected the sound to echo in the empty hallway, but it died almost as it hit the wood. As each moment passed, the god felt more and more like he was watching himself move, seeing the knocks and the way he shifted on his feet more than he felt himself doing them.

Then all at once he was sitting across from Sveinn, staring into the demigod, staring through him, then avoiding the man’s form altogether. It was like living in a memory. Dionysus wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. He doesn’t think about the words before he says them, allowing the pure swirling aubergine chaos of his emotions to take control. That was how he was meant to be, after all.

“Tell me,” Sveinn says.

And he does.

“I’m right here,” Sveinn says, and Dionysus wants to scream, but his throat has tightened and thickened and the treasonous flesh probably knows what’s better for him anyway.

“You don’t have to miss me.”

But he does, gods, he does, and if he doesn’t he thinks he might just burn alive.

[dionysusxmp]

❛ you were everything. ❜

Rather than try and continue the conversation, one that Dionysus has seen coming for some time now, the god simply walks on by his past lover. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now. Even after all the time he has spent thinking about what he could possibly say to Sveinn, his brain turns to frantic patterns of color and not much else when he finally sees the man.

It has taken Dio several agonizing moments to realize that the shapes in his head will not condense into thoughts, into words. In this time he has stared into Sveinn, stared through him as though only the thought of him stood before him. But Dio can’t pretend forever. The blissful existence of a ghost living his own life is over.

Now it’s time to deal with the fallout.

Or at least, it will be.

Soon.

[dionysusxmp]

so what are we now? || w/sveinn

@mpsveinn

Most of the time when it comes to their dates, the two simply agree on a day and time and then one of them (usually Dionysus) figures out something for the two of them to do, or else they just drive from place to place as their whims take them around the island. Sometimes they go shopping, a lot of the time they go to places where they can see art, flowers and plants, animals, or otherwise just wander and mess around and entertain themselves.

So far it has worked out pretty well for them.

Today, Dionysus has decided he wants to go to the amusement park. He’s not really sure how Sveinn feels about roller coasters, but if he hates them then there are plenty of other things to do there. Maybe Dio could win a stuffed toy for him, like in a cliched date. The idea actually makes Dio smile, since he loves doing things that seem cliche but are also actually genuinely fun and nice things to do, especially with Sveinn. Which leads him to another thought.

They’ve been going on dates for a good little while now. What did that make them exactly? Dating? Going steady, or whatever it is kids call boyfriends these days? Probably not, since they had never agreed on anything like that. Not to mention the fact that the two would go on a date, then spend the next two or three days inseparable, but then there would be radio silence for a week or two before the cycle repeated. Is that what people who are dating do? It’s not really like Dio knows much about dating. He resolves to ask Sveinn about it today.

On his way to the Norse building, Dio picks up a bouquet of white lilies, damask roses, and little multi-colored peonies, supplemented with grasses and other tiny flowers to fill in the spaces. The florist has done a wonderful job on it, but Dio pays them well enough that they are more than happy to oblige with his regular stupidly intricate requests for bouquets. When he finally shows up at the door and knocks, after it opens and he gets to smile once more at Sveinn’s familiar face, Dionysus opens the dam in his mind that unleashes a pounding wave of thoughts that had been brewing behind it.

“Hey Sveinn, let’s go to the amusement park. Also, are we, like, dating? Or something? What are we? Oh, and these are for you.” Dio hands over the bouquet. The last question is an obvious reference to the meme, but the rest of the questions remain nonetheless serious and Dio waits somewhat impatiently for Sveinn to answer, whatever that answer may be. Then they can go to the amusement park and eat junk food and have a fun day. Or one of them will storm off. It’s always impossible to foresee when it comes to the two of them.

[dionysusxmp]

flee – sveinn breaks out of dio’s arms mid - hug

~With the weather getting too cold for any decent trips to botanical gardens, Dionysus had ended up inviting Sveinn to a warm and humid greenhouse that was home to all sorts of exotic and tropical plants, including carnivorous ones, water lilies, and countless others. The climate inside the greenhouse is decidedly more pleasant than the cold early winter air outside, and Dionysus hopes that his selection for a date is as acceptable to Sveinn as it is for Dio.

As Sveinn pauses to admire a particularly intricate and vivid flower, Dio moves in to wrap his arms around the other’s waist and nuzzle into his neck, almost as if attempting to tickle him with just his nose. As soon as he’s comfortably wrapped around Sveinn though, the other man breaks out of his embrace and goes over to another part of the greenhouse with just a vague “Oh, look at that” by way of explanation. How very like him, Dio thinks to himself.

The god follows a bit like a dejected puppy after his date, a pout accompanying the crossing of his arms as he stands a bit of a distance from Sveinn and then sticks his tongue out at the plants the other is admiring. “Rude ass.”