hades is the smell of the cold winter mornings, the smell of the pavement after it has rained, and the lingering scent left on your clothes after a camp fire. he holds your hand as you cross the street, watches the moon with you, and is sitting beside you on long car rides. he is both the coldness of your room at night and the warmth of your bed after a long day.
aphrodite is the smell of rose petals and your newest fragrance. she is the smell of the fog after a nights rain and the odour given off while romantic sex is taking place. she is the taste of your lovers lips and the feeling of your own skin after a shower. she is the butterflies in your stomach, and always has your name on the tip of her tongue. she is the one who sends you your next relationship and ends the bad ones.
poseidon is the smell of the moist air as the water rolls over the rocks near a lake. he is the smell of the mud in a play ground and the scent of your newest body wash. he’s the one who stares back at you as you stare beyond the horizon of the sea. he is the feeling you get when you jump into a pool after being in a hot tub or sauna.
apollo is the smell of breakfast cooking in the morning and wet wood. he is the split second of pain in your eyes from the light after being in the dark for long periods. he is the summers day spent at a park, and the excitement of remembering lyrics of your new favourite song.
artemis is the natural smell of your hair. she is both the smell of bark on a tree and your fingers after picking up a wet rock. she gives you grass stains on your pants, and blows your hair in the wind. she finds your favourite places to go and guards your place to sit.
ares is the smell of your sweat. he smells like sand and is the scent of your father. he feels like slate and the pain of a bruise. he is the one who pushes you that one extra step, and forces you to lose your cool.
zeus smells like fire. he smells like the cold wind and your freshly washed sheets. he is the one who makes your heart pound and is the one who triggers your anxieties. he is the booming of loud music and the cracking of the floor boards at night. he watches you as you walk home in the rain.
Aphrodite laughs, head tossed back with stars in her hair, ‘We are immortal. We are ageless. We will never die.’
How do you kill a God?
Hera sighs, ‘You rob them of love and loyalty. They will be alone and unhappy, and eternity will seem like a punishment, but it is not death.’
How do you kill a God?
Zeus declares, rather confidently, ‘You deny them their power. Poseidon nods his head in agreement. ‘They will be weak and defeated, perhaps even chopped up into pieces, but it is not death.’
How do you kill a God?
Apollo closes his eyes. ‘You strip them of their senses. Their eyes, and they cease to see. Their ears, and they are rendered silent. They will be in the dark, conscious and cut off for millennium, but it is not death.’
How do you kill a God?
Hades whispers, though still his voice carries, ‘With another God. An immortal for an immortal. Era for an Era. A celestial being to strip another’s soul. He pauses, the rest are silent. ‘A God for a God.’
the bruises of love bites left by lovers on necks and thighs; smudged lipstick from hasty kisses; blood red roses with their sharp thorns still intact; the way you hug someone you love when you reunite after a lengthy separation
polished instruments gleaming, held like the most precious of jewels by their owners; a sunny day with a clear blue sky where there are no clouds in sight; the rough script of poems penned out on scraps of paper or napkins before they're forgotten; when music is so loud that you feel it reverberating in your bones; the pale lines of fading scars
the hands of a fighter, short finger nails and bloodied knuckles; split lips that have scabbed over; the smooth and intricate lines of old weapons you see mounted on museum walls; deep trenches dug out from the earth; the way barbed wire contrasts against whatever it surrounds
loose braids with wild flowers slipped in; the majesty of tall trees stretching up endlessly towards the heavens; the wide and captivating eyes of wild deer; cloudy nights where the moon is just barely peeking through; the colorful fletching of arrows drawn back to rest upon cheeks and along jaws
the straight and steady way a soldier stands at attention; fingertips smudged with ink; a stack of books to read piled on the floor or a nightstand; eyes gleaming with the glow of new ideas; the quiet and contemplative aura of museums and libraries
the way sunlight catches dust motes in the air through the gaps in the leaves of the trees; the feeling of life you get from standing in the middle of an orchard with bees buzzing around you; crocuses and snowdrops peeking through the last dredges of winter's snow
the bleached bones of animals in the forest when moss has begun to engulf them; the way that graveyard angels look like they're weeping in the rain; the solemn aura of old churches, citadels, synagogues, temples, and mosques
the pleasure of holding something you've created in your palms; the soft glow of heated metal; the intricate beauty of cogs and gears fitting together precisely and working in tandem; the smooth and polished surfaces of high-rise business buildings
the lacy white of flowing wedding gowns; the way a couple's hands look clasped together; pairs of old wedding rings that are scratched from years of use; the feeling of surrealism that comes from looking at old family portraits; getting used to sharing a space with someone else and then seeing the mannerisms you've unknowingly adopted from them
the way that the low beam headlights of a car touch the roads that stretch ever onwards at night; old maps yellowed at the corners from their age; the way that things rush past when you look out the window of a car or train; quick hands slipping deftly into pockets and taking what they find
the light and protection of street lights in an otherwise dark city; the warmth of your bed on cold winter mornings; the heat of a fire as you sit around it with people you love; the comfort of a home-cooked meal
the way light looks when you're seeing it shine down from deep underwater; the effervescent colors of cresting waves; the eery beauty of shipwrecks; the ripples created when you trail your fingertips through still waters; dust clouds kicked up by the passing of strong hooves
the way that storm clouds darken the edge of the horizon; silhouettes framed against the sky by flashes of lightning; the splay of feathers of a bird's outstretched wings; the polished and tarnished brass of old fashioned scales
Tbh I always thought that the whole “I have eaten the fruit of the land of the death” excuse that Persephone gave her mother was kinda convenient so consider this:
Hades “kidnaps” Persephone, but what he’s really doing is helping his real live actual girlfriend escape the clutches of emotionally abusive/toxic mom Demeter (see “I can’t talk to my daughter for six months so I’m gonna mope and make the rest of the world suffer with me”)
Super clingy mom Demeter shows up and demands her daughter come back with her, using her own emotional stability and the fucking FATE OF THE WORLD as a guilt trip
“I would totally love to mom, but wouldn’t you know it, I ate this one pomegranate seed and as a result I’m stuck here forever so you should probs just leave and forget about me because it looks like I’m dead forev–”
Zeus shows up.
“Nah man, as king of the gods I can totes negate the effect of those pomegranate seeds, and let you go back to the real world with your mom.”
Cue frantic head shaking and silent pleads from Persephone & Hades from behind Demeter’s back for Zeus to shut the fuck up man, that is not the plan. Zeus catches on instantly.
“But only for half the year, because, uh the laws of–you know, biology or some shit?”
The goddess of flowers and the queen of hell quietly contemplates what she will plant on Zeus’s grave after she murders him.