ar cool

ghost
is what they call you;
soldier
weapon
asset-

entropy
is what you are;
volatile
disorder
chaos

—  they should concede to call you Ares | s.m.

The combination of two ‘fakes’, makes a real; Davehalsprite^2  ◥▶◀◤
- Shoutout to @jaboody for introducing me to just about the saddest character and @davspriite for ‘creating’ him. I’m in love. *robotic caw* ;y

trouble will find you, but it’ll hurt less than this.

511 words.

I was just really in the mood for Hephaestus and Ares, so I wrote this thing about Ares being angsty for all the usual reasons. 


“Hey,” said Hephaestus. “You know what sucks?”

Before he answered, Ares took a long drag of his cigarette. He wasn’t sure he was in the mood for this conversation.

Finally, exhaling a sigh of smoke, he said, “What?”

Hephaestus thought a minute, shrugged. “I dunno,” he said.

Ares took another drag. “Cool,” he said, sarcastically.

Unconcerned, Hephaestus took Ares’s free hand and started unwrapping the bloody white tape from his knuckles.

They were waiting for Aphrodite to pick them up. After an evening at the bar, Ares had decided to go looking for trouble.

Instead, in a turn of events shocking to nobody, trouble had found him, and gotten a lot more than it’d been expecting.

Ares was still riding the post-fight high. The adrenaline was gone, but his knuckles ached, and blood oozed from a cut above his eyebrow, and there was a distinct possibility that one of his ribs had been cracked. In the orange glow of a streetlamp, Ares bared his bloodied teeth in a smile.

“You know,” said Hephaestus. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Beat those dicks up for me.”

“They made fun of your wheelchair.”

“No, yeah, I know. I’m not saying it wasn’t the right thing to do. I just mean, I coulda taken ‘em out myself.”

Ares snorted, and Hephaestus grinned at himself. They both knew that, even if Hephaestus did have working legs, he couldn’t take down one spook, let alone five. He liked people too much.

They sat in silence for a while, Hephaestus in his chair, Ares on the cool rough streetcar in his bloody t-shirt and jeans, flexing the fingers of his untaped hand to feel his knuckles protest.

“I feel alive,” he told the empty street, because he did—more than he had in centuries.

“How so?” asked Hephaestus. It took Ares a minute to find what to say; he was not a man of words.

“Holy,” he said. “Divine.”

Hephaestus lifted his brows, though his attention was fixed on the tape he’d removed from Ares’s hand; he was twisting it into new, intricate shapes, ever restless with his hands, always itching to make something.

“Like the old days?”

“Almost.” So close. Ares could feel the shadow of that old power in his veins—something that could only be achieved through worship, or a good uppercut (given or received).

He brushed the cut on his forehead and inspected his fingertip, daring to hope—

But his blood had run red for a while now, and it was stupid to think that one fight could change that.

He told himself he didn’t care, even though that was always a lie. He cared so damn much about everything, that it hurt, all the time, no matter what.

He wiped the blood (his blood, but not really) on his torn up jeans and said, softly, “I miss it.”

And even though Hephaestus was a man of words, he didn’t say anything, just put a hand on Ares’s shoulder and left it there until a silver BMW pulled up to take them home.

anonymous asked:

(Same as last anon) also, the Penumbra Podcast is amazing if you're looking for more professional quality. Also Death at a Low Price (and the rest of the herbarium podcasts) are really good, DaaLP hasn't released their first episode yet, but they have minisodes out and it's amazing so far. Also, Ars Paradoxica is pretty cool, and The Bright Sessions is really really good

Ooooh thank you so much for all the suggests I will look into them soon 😊