MIRACULOUS

please, fall with me (SHE WANTS TO SEE MY INSIDES) please, fall with me (SHE WANTS IT, SHE ONCE SAID) I'm not what you want (SHE WANTS TO SEE MY INSIDES) what you want is a lover (SHE WANTS IT, SHE ONCE SAID) I'm not what you need (SHE WANTS TO SEE MY INSIDES) what you need, is a brother.

[sammy-bryant]

MICHAEL TREVINO Photographed by The Riker Brothers | SEPT 2020

[weltenwellen]

Forugh Farrokhzad, tr. by Sholeh Wolpé, from “Captive”, Sin

[unholyrod]

tellmeinstorms​:

the soberness passed – the blitzing lights capturing their eyes once more. as he looked skyward, he wondered if rod felt out of place here the way he’d felt in the underworld, but a swift glance at the other made him believe otherwise. it seemed as though rod could mold himself a home anywhere.

a small laugh escaped credence a few moments later. “that makes me feel like i missed out.” he pocketed the offered cigarette back, and then leaned into the other’s thumb to light the one between his lips. it was an elegant movement, poised. the wind whisked the smoke away quickly. “so, how have the settling-in thing been?” he arched a brow.

whipping winds did, in fact, wipe away any lingering skyward trails, keeping their view free and clear. it also had rod zipping his vest up the rest of the way, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“next time I’m stuck bent over, I’ll call you,” he joked, before settling further against the railing. “and I found a spot quick enough. winter like this, hot healing hands seem to have some demand. pushing life back into blue-lipped satyrs and centaurs.” maybe this year was colder than normal, or maybe the denizens were naturally reckless. or, maybe -- maybe they weren’t, and he was just the man on hand to handle it. “don’t see much of the others, really.”

but he took it in stride, as relaxed as (almost) always. “I’ll figure out what I’m doing here, when the time is right.” those last words were more of a muttering, offered to the winds. then, a bit louder, “don’t stay up here too long, or you’ll be the next guy on my table.”

[unholyrod]

arinowicki​

it’s been a difficult few weeks for the man who worked so hard at being alright, for being a beacon for those finding their way back to camp. all ari wanted to do was make it work, to bring the team through hell and brimstone to succeed by any means necessary, that’s just the type of person ari had always been.

but something about the now had been so difficult for the demigod, usually the challenges he faced in life hadn’t felt so diminishing but they more he learned, the less he felt competent and capable of destroying a goddess. 

thankful for the reprieve, he shot rod a quick look in surprise as he settled back into Olympus with an enthusiastic yawn. “ Oh, shoot. Are you going skiing? I actually brought my stuff too, would love a rest day if you’re down to wait 10 minutes. ”

to the question, rod raised what he had under his arm. “m’gonna board, but I grabbed my spare skis for you.” he couldn’t keep from grinning at the next part. “you seemed...more like a skis guy.” the dig is there, veiled enough, but clear for another regular to get it.

with ari needing to head back, rod was curious. “take me with you.” a question, posed as an offer. “haven’t seen the other houses yet, spending more time in voithos burning out hypothermia cases than I should.” whether ari agreed or not, rod followed him back to his house -- hovering at the entryway, to see whether or not he’s allowed inside.

[unholyrod]

godkillerkeaton​:

keaton nichols was a lot of things. ‘intense’ was most certainly one of them. his trainers back in ‘the real world’ knew that whenever he was in the gym, he didn’t mess around. all of the demigods that trained with him knew that to be true as well. he didn’t hold anything back or pull any punches. rod was simply the next in line to learn that fact. “hmmm……you did manage to make it all the way through…..” he thought about it for a moment before gripping the upright arm. in a smooth motion, the son of hades is up and in the other’s arms, bridal-style. “better?”

there was barely any time to flail before he was in the demigod’s arms, hefted like he was nothing. (rod knew he weighed more than that.) rather than fight it, he just...relaxed, there. held on keaton’s arms. his side pressing against the other’s warm, solid chest. it’s nice, really. he let his head fall back, eyes closed, selling the picture of catastrophically injured. (or just tired as hell.) “man, at least tell me where we’re headed?” he teased, through a grin.

[teamlockwood]

[unholyrod]

enviedillusion​:

“is this a i’ll show you mine if you show men yours situation?” brett asked, a small smirk tickling the edge of his mouth. his eyes trailed along the other’s magical, glowing bow that seemed to pop into existence out of nothing. it was still so new to brett that he had to take a second to catch up to reality.

“uh, anyway,” he blinks as he pulls out a rather bland looking longbow from sitting crossed on his shoulders, “a bit plain in comparison, but it gets the job done.” 

the smirk slowly made its way back onto brett’s features.

at first, rod’s grin widened. but he balked when the other drew his regular weapon. the hellfire faded from his hands. “oh-- I mean, I got one of those, too.”

then crouching to the side, rod grabbed his own longbow. “I meant, like, your power. does it work with your bow, or is it all separate?” rising back to height, he looked over at the other. “maybe it’s a house thing. the fire bow heals guys, if you believe it.”

[unholyrod]

when someone said something about ‘the big three’, rod didn’t know what to think, at first. was it too-big a role to fill? was it a seat of power, of respect, of authority? did it mean anything? then, looking at the other two in the position--

rod knew credence better than viktor, only seeing the latter (re; larger) in passing. but both appeared so wound-up, so interwoven among the camp, such focal points. maybe that was what ‘big three’ meant. 

maybe that came with time. maybe that came with presence, with power, with personality. but rod knew he could make it from one end of the camp to the other, barely turning a head on his way. it’s quiet, almost as quiet as his life before was. there were friends here and there, but if he didn’t show up tomorrow, then life would go on. it’s an odd position to be in. were the other sons of hades touch-and-go, did it leave a transient mindset behind? do they look at him and see another soon to go?

rod could dwell on it, or he could find his own meaning in his new existence. he’s joined a story somewhere in the middle, leaving it up to himself to find the plot. there was one try, a shot on the dark, but maybe he was thinking too small. maybe he wasn’t practiced enough. maybe the ghosts looked at him the way other demigods might. but that wasn’t a bother; he wasn’t on a timer here, no loans that might collapse his family under their weight if he failed to obtain (and maintain) extra support, in time.

the only life on the line was his own. and he had no problem taking that into his own hands.

with items and tools in use the way morgan had shown him, rod didn’t set up at a ziggurat. he placed himself in the tomb of demigods, a hall of etched names of those who fell from grace. the call didn’t go out to the sons and daughters of hades -- rod reached for any of divine blood that fell against the goddess they call eris. it’s a beacon. a boon. a pathway. for those who were stuck, those who were left behind, those who didn’t know what to do.

“tell me,” he whispered. “show me,” he asked. “and I will guide you home.”

and so he listened, for tales of the goddess’ villainy, of heroism, of horror. he watched, for final stands, for attacks in the night, for deals made and promises paid. and he felt; for and hands, paws, or hooves reaching for his own, that he might guide them across, himself.

he himself was alight, an aura of hellfire and thinning veil surrounding him. whether it reached to the building? the names, the spirits, the whole of the tomb itself?

that would depend on his power, and his reach.

[imakarmabutterfly]

[unholyrod]

tellmeinstorms​:

something in credence wright made a frown at not having to prove himself because said belief had long made up the paving stones of his path, laid down the thick mortar. he always had a thing to prove.

it was a whisper when he said, eyes downcast, a soft “huh. never thought of it that way.” and everything within him rebelled against it, marked the idea ludicrous, meaning it was the right idea. him not having anything to prove was a novelty so new it confused the ruthless soldier inside.  

after all, a weapon knew itself as only a weapon.

rod’s next words lightened the air and he was grateful for it. revelations made for moving melodramas, but credence would hate to get one now. “you said it, not me.” the sly smirk from before returned. “plus, it made you look very funny in my drunken eyes that night. i remember holding my laughter.” a snicker, then credence reached into his pocket only to pull out a cigarette and offer it to rod. 

“not laced,” he assured, smirk intact. “don’t take the ones from the satyrs though—theirs might be.”

it’s like turning the lights back on, when the mood shifted. a more green-y green than his own, showing through the clouds above them. brightening the air, the space between them. dusk into day.

“you shoulda laughed.” leaning back, putting his focus on the aurora once more. “I mean, I was. shoulda seen the guys grabbing my hips to yank my butt outta the door I got stuck in.” he glanced briefly at the offering -- and kindly shook his head. “nah, air’s thin enough for me up here.” but he held his thumb up, topped with blue hellfire. “you need a light, though?”

[unholyrod]

baggressive​:

He wasn’t completely sure how or why but Joshua sure did end up in Voithos a lot. He didn’t even pay too much attention to its halls and those who might be traveling through it along or in the opposite direction of them. He did scrunch his nose a little the second the smell hit him. Not because he didn’t like it. It was just… not what he was expecting at all.

Josh snorted, not bothering to wait to start disrobing. He was a lot of things but one of them wasn’t shy. It only took a few moments until he was down to just a pair of boxer briefs and climbing onto the table, full skin to the wind.

his hands went up at about the time those firm abs were exposed, whirling around with a laugh as josh got started. sure, what he saw was nice, but he didn’t turn back to him until he heard the sound of limbs hitting wood. from there, it’s squeezing his condiment bottle of oil between his hands, clapping them together to start warming it up -- both hands catching with teal fire.

“if you liked the ghosts, this should be better,” he offered, flexing his now-slick fingers, laying them on josh’s upper back. aligned with his shoulder blades, ready to push. “heat gets too much, just let me know.” and with that, he began. working fingers and soothing flames lightly into that firm, muscled back to start -- growing deeper and more intent once he’d soothed through the layers. with fingers digging into the meat of the demigod’s shoulders, rod whistled. “--damn. big axes are killer on the upper body, huh?”

[unholyrod]

scaledmedic​:

Julian was as dutiful as ever with the infirmary. While he fell back into the rhythm of his time at hospitals, the recent string of portal-near-deaths had him vigilant as ever. He was writing down their current stock of gauze and bandages when Rod rushed in. The other didn’t have to speak; he knew something was wrong. Julian’s eyes launched themselves onto the shivering form in Rod’s arms. Blue eyes softened and he strode over in quick, effective steps. “Shock? Good thinking with the fire.” he said.

He grabbed a heated blanket and offered his arms to take the girl. “She needs to be monitored and slowly introduced to warmth. Fire’s helping but we don’t want to over-expose,” he nodded to Rod with an assuring tone. With the girl still in Rod’s arms, he offered her a soft smile. “You’re safe here, mija. We’re going to get you nice and warm so your parents can see you.” 

it was a dead sprint from the start. he’s running on fumes, but he can’t fall over until she’s good, she’s safe. and his toes’re tapping since he wants to set her down, he burns from the waist down, but julian leaves her nice and safe in his hold.

so he has to hold.

the fire coats him entirely. soothes him, eases the searing in his calves, his shins, as he burns through his divine reserves to hold physically up. “gotta set her down,” he grunts, finding one of the beds before he heats her up too fast. setting her down, it’s with a small flame wavering over her, a little beacon -- while he himself was fully ablaze, stepping back to stumble, fall on his ass, barely catch himself with his hands behind him. “you-- you take it from here. gotta take a breath.” turning the room blue, as he burned from the floor.

[unholyrod]

btchcrft​:

kian keeps his gaze focused on rod as he begins. even when the eye contact is broken and rod stares at the table as if he could summon the mountain here and see it. there’s something in rod’s voice that keeps kian captivated. this slope was something in his past he always wanted to conquer but couldn’t for one reason or another and, for a man who seems like he’ll roll with the punches, this is something that obviously still weighs on him. 

“we should go down it.” kian says to fill the silence after the confession is out in the open. “you don’t really need a medic now that you can,” he waves a hand at rod before his fingers trail down his arm and then rest on the table. “you know, heal yourself.” 

the question posed for him is more lighthearted and kian has his answer almost immediately. “my dad’s homemade carne guisada.” his mouth almost waters thinking about it. “the ‘gravy’,” he holds his fingers together, brings them to his lips, and kisses them. “the spices?” another chef’s kiss. “i don’t know what he does that i don’t, but every time i try to make it it’s never the same. i miss his cooking. home cooked food was always the best. i’m gonna have to figure out if we can get the ingredients and try it now.” he lets out a small laugh with the shake of his head. 

he drums his fingers against the table before he locks his gaze with rod’s once more, thinking. the silence between them is comfortable, like a blanket wrapping around them. “what’s your greatest fear? something that you think about and it feels like it’s going to punch a hole in your chest.” 

rod swung his head wide, side to side. “nah. that’s old life.” swinging back to kian, “if I go back on that, it’s like. popping the seal. what about all the other stuff I’ll get hung up on?” still, he grinned.

and that grin grew, watching kian go on about his father’s dishes. “see, there’s something right there. those of us that had full families. or-- as full as they could be, with good memories.” hands on his knees, “why’d we leave?”

but it wasn’t his turn. “fears. I mean, once you take death off the list, it’s kinda chill. not heights, not monsters.” with a frown, “maybe it’s, that we go through with all this, and one day, we look down. look in.” his head bops to the side. “and a flash hits, we don’t know who we are.” his upper lip scrunched up under his nose, a bit. “last question to you, though. why’d you leave all that good cookin’ behind?”

[unholyrod]

twinnhorned​:

After a breath, Morgan digressed, “Don’t worry about it.”

There was no need to get overly technical about the matter. Rod wouldn’t ever be an acolyte himself, what spurred Morgan to offer this was his wards interest to learn. That wasn’t the most common trait in demigods. The tiefling huffs a short laugh, “I’ve no intention of keeping you at the alter so long. Unless you want to stay. Consider this a tour.”

As they walked, Morgan listened for more of Rod’s specific questions. Some, he wasn’t so prepared to answer. “I believe most of us keep a personal alter… or many.” He smiled at the thought this caoxed up. “Hera’s acolyte, Jassin, could turn a smoke break into his time to convene.”

“whaaat, you got me here for like, the rest of my life, man.” rod reached out, shoved at the likely taller tiefling’s shoulder, his hand warm. “take some responsibility.”

his arms folded across his chest as his acolyte went on. “jassin -- gotta meet the guy, then. seems chill.” his eyes moving to the side, “not like I ever smoked, but still. maybe there’s a mentality about it. turn a massage into a talk with my long-lost dad. or a run down a slope.” rod kept his eyes open for the altar, whatever form it would take. “you get along with the other acolytes?”

[unholyrod]

baggressive​:

He opened his mouth for a moment before thinking better of what he was about to say and closing it. He was mostly surprised at the blatant honesty and didn’t really know how to respond to that. He considered everything for a second before trying again. “Best case scenario, I come out of it healed and you got a better clue on how your stuff works. Worst case scenario, I get a message and messages are like pizza. So I guess…” He motioned at Rod. “Lead the way.”

“can’t tell if you really like massages, or really like pizza.” though, it just as easily could be both. “got a space set up in the infirmary, and that’s not just in case I hurt someone. it’s for privacy.” the elaboration came without intrigue, without insinuation. just open and clear. “come on.” waving the other to follow, turning towards voithos.

once arrived, he’d take josh down a corridor or two, into a dimly lit room with a faint haze of incense. “I don’t have scented oil, and this stuff was just laying around, so...making do with what I’ve got, I guess.” pushing up his sleeves, he slapped his hands down on the table. “however’s comfortable for you, man. I’ll step out to let you get ready.”

[theladyandthewolves]

I know I’m not made in your likeness You’re not made for my darkness I know I get lost in the process I do try but I’m hopeless

[unholyrod]

tellmeinstorms​:

“pretty sure the one before you did, if that’s anything to go by.”

credence turned until his spine kissed the railing and a wind tousled his dark locks all over his face. from his pockets, he extracted a cigarette stolen from yves’ chambers and perched it between two lips, unlit, as he looked at rod again.

“my path’s to face whatever storm’s coming my way.” literally. a force that dwelt in the murk and depths of him had told him it and credence felt the certainty of it the other way he felt his own storm heart’s howling. the path ahead laid indistinct but if he focused, he could see the paving stones, the curves, the length. “i’m not trying to be a hero, though, don’t get the wrong idea.” a tiny, playful snort escaped him. “more of a general maybe, someone who makes sure we’re on the right track to win this war.”

when credence’s eyes gleamed at rod, he caught the tail end of the spectral smoke uncurling from his eyes. “you’ll grow into it. when i first got here, i accidentally blasted a few guys with lightning—happens to the best of us.” an arch of his mouth curved up in a smirk, but it quickly vanished under the smoke from the cigarette credence lit up using a finger-gun that shot a blue spark.

and then the smoke vanished too, chased away by the wind. “i do miss the fox costume,” he spoke after blowing out another trail of smoke. “looked cute.”

rod shook his head.

he might’ve asked the prior sons and daughters of hades their advice, but their paths were theirs. rod’s was his own. whatever burden the last son carried was his to carry on, carry off, maybe he bear it well.

credence started explaining, and rod listened, sure, but waved him off afterwads. “you don’t have to prove it to me. that’s the best part, man.” it’s back to the sky, where the lights were bright enough to catch through the clouds. “you don’t have to assure me, to prove it to me. its your path. just you walking it’s gonna be enough.”

the advice in return is noted, not that rod could’ve harmed anyone with his power upon arrival. even his hellfire seemed more intent to soothe. but he had time to grow. to walk his own path, as it were, even if it was lined up with the paths of so many others.

pulling off the wall, rod turned to look at credence again, his grin half-cocked. “easier to deal with me when I’m cute and stupid.” an elbow to the cigarette-bearing arm, not that he could pull it from the other’s mouth. “easier than this, I’d bet.”