#dionysusxmp

[exmpsveinn]

❛ please, don’t go. ❜

angst sentence starters ,, accepting

it’s ... not what he expected to hear. after all; dionysus hadn’t particularly seemed pleased by his appearance, and yet he’d walked inside - left his shoes at the door as always - and draped the shirt over one of the chairs. the apartment still looks the same, so much like he remembers, and it’s a crazy thing still how much he remembers exactly. they weren’t together long, but the moments spent in dionysus company are memories he can’t easily erase. then again; there aren’t many people that forced him to grow two entire trees in a split second, so perhaps that has something to do with it as well.

still he couldn’t do more than return the shirt, and look at dionysus, and the man’s looks are still strange and new to him, a weird thing that someone can just look entirely different just like that. on the other hand plastic surgery does much the same, and the god’s scent is still familiar no matter how the rest of the total picture seems off.

but what is most familiar, more so still than scent or looks or words or anything else between them, is the vulnerability that unfurls in dionysus’ voice, tugging at sveinn’s heartstrings, urging him to stay, to give in, to keep his feet rooted in place and never set them differently again. what is most familiar is that feeling dionysus rises in him, and it’s been over a year but it hasn’t changed at all.

so he turns around, to look at the man who had seemed just moments before like he would have been capable of throwing the entirety of him out the window, and he knows dionysus is still capable of it, but he still keeps moving, closing the distance between them, and his hands are hidden away in the long sleeves of his hoodie, his blonde hair peeking out from beneath the soft pink fabric, but he lifts them nonetheless, fingers reaching for dionysus’ face, touching that soft skin ever so gently, like how he’s always been gentle with this god.

“i can stay if you want me to,” he says softly, tentatively, an offer he’s not sure he’ll enjoy having rejected, but that seems like the most logical part. what else is there between them than the heart he broke by doing what he told the greek god way in the beginning that he’s wont to do? what more is there between them than the fact that sveinn loves limitlessly, endlessly, but has learned to tuck those feelings away again because once he leaves a place he’s never allowed to come back? it won’t surprise him if dionysus chooses to protect his own heart first. and yet he still allows his hand to slip further out of the sleeve, so that the entirety of his palm can rest against dionysus’ unfamiliar cheek, and he can feel that care he used to feel blossom in his chest just the same way it always did.

so he smiles, softly, one of those warm little things that dionysus has had the chance to see before, because sveinn allowed himself to smile like this more often in the past around this god. and then he says the words that he thinks are perhaps the most important, or maybe they’re just the ones that are the most true. right now, but all that time ago as well. words whose truth he thinks the god should know, but then dionysus has always shown him that insecurity, and he has always been the one to soothe it before it could take root inside.

“i don’t want to go.”

[exmpsveinn]

[ txt ]: ❛ you can keep the shirt. ❜

angst sentence starters ,, accepting

he’s only recently returned from getting some water and curled up under his blankets again when his phone buzzes and he sees the by now long unfamiliar name light up his screen again. he’s not entirely sure what he feels when the pixels show that remnant of a long lost time to him again, but he remembers the days it was used freely quite fondly. he’s not sure if it’s the time of night, how tired he is or the fact that he’s been faced with dionysus several times now so shortly after each other, but he finds himself suddenly yearning for the ease they used to have with each other, yearning for the familiarity of dionysus’ arms wrapped around him and the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

he would reply to the text, only he doesn’t know what to say at all. which shirt, is his only thought, and it’s a nagging one so he gets up from his bed again, turning on a light just so he can look through the clothes on the rack. eventually he comes across a button-up shirt that he knows is not his, not particularly because he wouldn’t wear it, but more so because it’s the one he unbuttoned partway in order to make dionysus resemble that drawing sveinn made of him. it’s been over a year but somehow he still remembers that perfectly, remembers it all perfectly. too perfectly. too many details.

this time he’s the one calling himself a cab, but at least he throws on a hoodie before leaving his apartment, and tucks his feet into a pair of shoes as well. it’s winter now, after all, not the much gentler autumn it was that very first time. what a strange comparison to make, he thinks, then and now. what an utterly strange world to live in, to find himself moving through like he has a place to go to; like he’ll be welcome on the other side.

he picks his phone out of his pocket, deciding to reply to the text rather than letting his mind spiral further down into whatever this is.

[ to: diabetes ] it’s one of your best shirts [ to: diabetes ] don’t be ridiculous [ to: diabetes ] i’m bringing it over

he should be sleeping.

[exmpsveinn]

❛ this was all a fucking game to you. ❜

angst sentence starters ,, accepting

he honestly doesn’t know why he is facing all of this now. it’s been over a year since he left and a good six months since he returned. time in which he didn’t hear a peep from dionysus, hardly ever even spotted the greek god. and now he’s walked into him on the street, had him over in his apartment and gotten a random call in the middle of the night all in the span of the same week. is it something about the new year that entices the greek god to try and deal with his past, or is it something in the air?

in any case, dionysus’ voice is a little slurred. not the type of slurred where the person is ten glasses deep into hard liquor, but more the kind of slurred where the emotions are boiling over and spilling into the words spoken without filter. the kind of slurred where he knows this comes straight from the heart, from the depths of the god’s chest where perhaps his heart still lies a bit bruised - is it perhaps even broken? sveinn doesn’t know, has never had such a window into dionysus feelings. he wonders if anyone ever did.

“are you drunk?” he asks softly, not like an accusation, but more like worry, perhaps. or maybe he’s just trying to make sure he understands what is going on. he squeezes his eyes closed a bit more so he can glance at his phone without the light hurting his eyes too much, and then he brings it back to his ear. “it’s four in the morning, dio. are you okay?”

what he expects is to be yelled at that ‘of course i’m not okay’ or something of the sort, but the reality is rather different, because a moment later he hears something strangely like a sob, and when it repeats he realises dionysus is, in fact, crying. this wakes him up more than anything else ever could, and he sits up straighter, focusing his gaze on the light outside his window, breathing in slowly but quietly. “just answer me,” he’s told after another moment and he looks down at himself as if the right words are written down on his stomach somehow.

“it wasn’t a game to me,” he says just as slowly and deliberately as he’d answered the god before. “i did not...” he pauses, considering, weighing his words. “i did not plan any of it beforehand. not meeting you, not getting involved with you, not leaving either. i just... had to.” his voice is unwavering, the same calm composed as it always is, and he thinks that’s what probably sets dionysus off, because the next thing he hears is the click of the phone connection breaking.

he slowly lowers his hand, looking at his lit up screen with the artful background for a moment or two, before he puts his phone down on his nightstand and gets up to go get himself some water. sleep will probably not come back to him again tonight anyway.

[exmpsveinn]

[exmpsveinn]

❛ i would have done anything for you. ❜

angst sentence starters ,, accepting

“i know,” he says, and it’s completely genuine, because he does know this, does remember the way dionysus walked into his home with flowers and then apologised for not thinking straight, but asked him face to face what they were to each other. he remembers the places he was taken and the amount of times dionysus let him just do as he pleased even if that was leaving a place as soon as he entered it. he remembers fine, even if he hasn’t particularly thought of it anymore since he left. 

still what does he say to this? it’s a knowledge that doesn’t bring them much further in the entire conversation, because it is the past, as is made clear from the way dionysus phrases it as well. and the past, as sveinn has come to learn as well, usually remains right there. he doesn’t fully understand a lot of people’s issues with it, as he has never regretted a single thing he’s done, considering he’s never done anything that didn’t feel right in that moment. but others don’t seem to think that way.

he has no idea how dionysus thinks.

he has no idea what he’s supposed to do in this situation either. it’s clear that his answer doesn’t sit well with dionysus one way or the other, but sveinn isn’t a mindreader nor a person with skills in figuring out how another person feels when they don’t say it themselves. it’s why he prefers straightforward people like himself probably.

and so when eventually the silence is broken again, it’s because dionysus gets back up from his seat, and he’s not even sure if something else is said or not, because the next moment the god has left his apartment again already, and sveinn is left smelling the faint hint of grapevine leaves and ivy blossoms that he’s long come to associate with the greek god as whatever this could have been passes him right on by.

[exmpsveinn]

❛ is it too much to say, i miss you. ❜

angst sentence starters ,, accepting

he did not expect to find dionysus in front of his door today, especially not after the way the god had looked at him like he was smelly air personified and then just walked right on when they came across each other last time. it’s not like he’d given his apologies for the time he was gone, but he’s learned a long time ago that once he follows that urge in his gut to get to somewhere, there’s no point in trying to go back to the people he left behind when he can’t find it. no one waits for him, no one seems to understand that the urge is stronger than himself. maybe that’s because he’s never told anyone about it, either, but then how do you tell the people who care about you that you don’t feel like you belong? anywhere. ever. not even with them.

in any case; he stepped aside, allowed the god into his apartment that probably doesn’t look any different from the last time the god was there, and then just given him a glass of water - a barb? maybe. - and sat down across from him to hear where this was going.

silence turns out to be the biggest factor in this supposed conversation; the two of them just sitting there looking at each other, sveinn sipping from his glass of water occasionally, dionysus staring seemingly into the depths of his soul and then suddenly changing to looking anywhere but at him. just as uncharacteristically as he always seems to have behaved around the greek god, this is what makes sveinn’s uncaring façade melt away and he puts down his glass of water, elbows resting on his knees, hands folding together.

“tell me,” he says softly, as gentle as he’s always been in those moments shared between just the two of them. as gentle as he always is with people who seem to need it from him emotionally. it takes a moment or two more, but then the first words out of dionysus’ mouth are a hesitant confession, and he can’t help that his expression shifts to one of warmth and acceptance, because no, he doesn’t think it’s too much at all.

“i’m right here,” he says slowly, though he knows that is not what dionysus means, but it is also a fact that he is right there, and if the god needs him he will try and do what he can. a lot of people think walking out means you’re done with someone, after all, but to sveinn it has long stopped meaning anything like that. “you don’t have to miss me.”

his words are followed by silence, as dionysus seems to take his words into consideration, or maybe the god is just trying very hard not to murder him right where he’s standing - he’s not entirely sure. either option would be understandable, really, and so he just sits and waits, and allows dionysus whatever time he needs to come to some sort of decision on how he feels about the words. and sveinn sits with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands folded, his gaze focused on the god but not piercing.

[exmpadaline]

✮ caller id

with @dionysusxmp

Admittedly she should have maybe thought this over better, but when she read Dionysus name under the owner of a bar in the city, all she could think about was that he would be one of the most if not the most interesting Greek god to ask about the pantheon. Dr. Feelgood’s didn’t sound like too bad a name for a bar either, and so she’d jotted down its address for when she had some free time.

Now, with the doorhandle still in hand and a single look directed inside of the bar that was awash with all types of people she didn’t think her father would ever approve her being around, she thought perhaps she should have read the bar’s information a little better. Over in the corner she can see tempers rising and it feels like a fight might break out any moment in this bar.

Taking a moment to consider her options, Adaline then steps inside after all, beelining for the bar. She asks the current bartender - not Dionysus is all she can tell - for a pen and then quickly scribbles down a note to the owner and her phone number onto a stray piece of paper. “Can you give this to the owner, please?” She asks the bartender, tucking it into his hand and - upon his agreement that he would - quickly leaving the place again.

Mr. Dionysus

Text me! I want to talk!

[exmphades]

Touch | Dionysus & Hades

@dionysusxmp

He is not sure why his feet have led him to Dr. Feelgood’s until the door opens for him and he steps in to see who’s behind the bar. He doesn’t need to recognise the face the god currently has wrapped around himself because he knows the soul inside, that frail thing imbued with a power it wasn’t meant to have; a plaything of gods that touched upon things they should never have put their fingers on.

He’s always been a little soft for this particular nephew of his; heart in the right place yet endlessly tortured by what others had thrust upon him. It feels familiar, that struggle, only he himself had been immortal from the start and so all of him had been slightly better equipped to handle it all. Not to say Dionysus isn’t handling it alright now, but he presumes there are many things about the young god that would be a lot easier for Dionysus himself to handle if the gods hadn’t toyed with him as they had.

Ah, to descend from powerful immortality is a cruel fate indeed.

“Dionysus,” he says when he reaches the bar, his face slowly shifting to a smile. He disregards the part where behind the bar is not usually a place customers are allowed to be and simply rounds it so he can walk over to the other god. Perhaps they are not so close that it is appropriate, but he thinks they could be. Or maybe the soul inside his nephew calls out to him. Because he finds himself simply stepping closer until he can slip arms around the young god, pull him in and wrap him up.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, hand lifting to run over the back of Dionysus’ head, then further down, fingers curling around the back of his neck, coming to a rest there almost solidly, like a reassurance or a comfort. “How are you?”