pearlsofbeguilement

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Trying to bring this muse back? lol.

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Apollo

iliostheos

Always preoccupied in claiming Aphrodite as a prize more than a lover, Apollo is will forever remain a snake who the Goddess cannot trust. Were it not for his snide comments and the thorn of betrayal thrust from his hand to her ever-fragile reputation, they might have been passionate and graceful lovers, the envy of all Olympus in their beauty and divine glory.

Instead, they remain wrapped in a spiral of hate and unfulfilled lust. Aphrodite would have it no other way, than seeing the God flounder in his own pathetic need to chase, to woo, and to love. 

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Apollo plucked the strings on his lyre artfully, with an expert skill that remained unparalleled for millennia. He crossed his legs as he sat under the goddess' balcony, singing an old Athenian folk song of a farmer who loved a princess and died in vain, living his life only to impress her. As the ballad came to a close, he waited patiently for her to come outside. "Will you bless me with good spirits this time, or shall you leave me here until I repose?" He called.

Where the God might have taken her silence for indifference, Aphrodite sat quite content before her vanity, brush in hand. Each musical note danced in the air and left caresses like fluttering lips upon her bare skin, and the Goddess responded in time with a throaty and delightful hum never meant to reach his ears. Finally, when his ballad rolled to a trembling climax and an ever smooth resolution, Aphrodite set the brush down, flipped her jet black curls behind her shoulders. Clad in a chemise the color of a dusted rose, Aphrodite padded to the balcony, slipped through the billowing curtains that had so cruelly separated his gaze from hers. 

       What would the Sun God think of her, as the wind picked up about her frame and sent the chemise into a delicate ripple, exposing the upper parts of her thighs and the shadowed cradle that lay between? One delicate hand stroked along the banister, her fingers tracing swirls of musical notes and patterns into the white edifice. "Have you nothing better to do than to chase a dove who has no intention of being caught?" 

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Recommend a character that you think the mun would be excellent at roleplaying!

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My faise though. It doesn't deserve the thing that is being the mun of Aphrodite.

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      Aphrodite lay in bed, tired eyes peeking out from beneath a mountain of soft furs and throw pillows. For once, the place beside her harbored nothing but a cold emptiness, an abyss shaped not unlike the unfulfilled gap in her restless mind. 

             A knock on the bedroom door roused her not--surely it must have been one of her children come to seek affection the Goddess was all too willing to give. A sparkle of hope tugged at her heartstrings at the prospect of her favored lovers paying an unexpected visit.

        Yet Aphrodite moved not at all, save to further burrow her naked form into the depths of tangled sheets--her heart and mind proved far too restless to warrant her typically unbridled confidence in the presence of another.

           "Come in." 

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Greed: a headcanon about something your character hordes or collects

There is no doubt in question that the Goddess born of Foam loves the sea, for both the King who dwells beneath and the wildlife and Zephyros's winds that turn the ocean's breeze warm.  Her Cyprus dwelling stands on the water, with a private section of her own beach. It is here, and in the comfort of her old Baths, that Aphrodite collects seashells. Pearls, cowries, tulips--only the prettiest catch the Goddess's eye. One of the easiest ways to earn her affection is to bring her a jewel of the sea--especially a cockle shell. 

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SUCH MISCHIEF, MUCH FOLLOWERS.

As a thank you to all of whom have followed me over the course of this account’s existence, I am flamboyantly swan diving onto the bandwagon and sponsoring a giveaway. The rules are simple:

You must be following me.

Immediate unfollows will be disqualified and grounds for me frowning loudly in your askbox.

You may reblog this as many times as you please!

Likes do count.

I will use a random number generator to choose the winners.

Prize Disclaimer: Some pairings are easier to write/create than others so please keep that in mind. I will do my best for you, of course, but some things may require researching/time. ♥

First Place:

2000+ word drabble of a pairing of your choice.

3 gifsets of a pairing(s) of your choice.

A [feeble attempt] at a graphic/photoset of a pairing of your choice

A promotional link on my blog for 4+ weeks.

Second Place:

1500+ word drabble of a pairing of your choice.

1 gifset of a pairing of your choice.

A [feeble attempt] at a graphic of a pairing of your choice.

A promotion link on my blog for 2+ weeks

Third Place:

1000+ word drabble of a pairing of your choice.

A [feeble attempt] at a graphic of a pairing of your choice.

A promotion link on my blog for 1 week.

Other Random Prizes:

I will choose an additional 10 blogs and promote them individually once.

I will create a massive promotional post with all winners on it.

This ends November 25, 2013 at 11:59PM CST. 

I will be contacting the winners via ask box if I don’t have them on Skype so please have either your ask box or fanmail on. Should 24 hours pass and I am unable to contact you, I shall choose another winner.

This is me saying thanks to each and every one of you for all the fun that’s been had since I joined the tumblr RP community. I neither know how nor why I have the number of followers that I do, but I am grateful nonetheless. Thank you all for making my roleplaying experience what it’s been and for aiding me in the development and understanding of the beautifully (and frustratingly) complex character Loki Laufeyson. I wish I could make grilled cheeses sandwiches and cupcakes for you all, but this giveaway will have to suffice.

❤

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Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

Submitted by noahczernny.

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vingthor started following you

     The Goddess of Love set her sights upon him as though leading a target into uncharacteristically hostile crosshairs, her gaze fiery and delicate nostrils flared with rage. How dare this lesser being, this heathen, look upon her without shame and approach her without the grace and deference she so deserved? 

Ares would have been proud of such a display, were he present to witness it. 

    Aphrodite lifted the cool glass of mimosa she had ordered with her cafe-side meal of linguine and white clam sauce, her tongue quick to peek out from behind full lips and catch a drop of dew  left behind. Not unfortunate enough that the Norse creature approached her at all, he'd felt the need to approach her in the midst of her lunch hour, no less--a time meant for relaxation and indulgence, not impatience and breaths wasted upon discussion this barbarian had no mind to hear.  

             Glass set down with a harsh clink onto an immaculately white tablecloth, Aphrodite crossed her legs, revealing the lining of gartered stockings as the material of her skirt bunched and slid against creamy skin. "I trust you have something incredibly important to tell me. " 

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--So it seemed the love of that treacherous Psyche corrupted him after all. Eros' assimilation into the mortal world made him weak, blinded him with the will of his own arrow the way any human might obsess over a short-term fling. 

Yet this disastrous coupling escalated into more than a simple bout of rutting here and there-- Aphrodite found herself grandmother to their children. Children. After she'd warned him to keep his distance, time and time again, Eros assisted the blasted the woman with trials meant to destroy her fragile humanity, and what had her favorite child done? Betrayed her council, scampered to the God King and appealed to his vanity. 

          And left Aphrodite, his mother and teacher, his companion and loyal counselor, 

                           a l o n e. 

   Aphrodite lifted her shoulders in feigned disinterest, looked down her nose at him, and allowed for her full lips to tremble in a way few knew how to resist. "Am I not your mother?" she whispered, and extended her fist with her palm upturned. Fingers opening to reveal a single, sizeable pearl within her grasp, the Goddess pushed the gift into Eros's own hand. 

     "Come, darling. Your love for Psyche was never meant to be. Pricking oneself upon their own devices does not make for the most romantic beginnings, does it?" 

"Yeah… but one kinda gets the idea stuck when one hears it more often than not…", he smiled a little unease, her pulling him felt odd and unwelcome, he could not and would not let the past repeat itself, he had changed much during the last century and that time was as good as any to let her know just that, "wait… not that easy… I have some things I wanna tell you before we can do whatever you want us to do…", he licked his lips to make them more moist and pushed his hair back.

"I won’t be staying for dinner, I’m going to have dinner with Psyche and our children…but we can talk if you listen… ‘cause if you don’t, I guess this whole reunion thing of ours will much short lived", it took him thousands of years to be this straightforward, to be as assertive as he had become, Eros was one to be bullied and pampered by the love goddess in one day and he would always stand up and defend her to anyone, because of who she was for him, his mother, his mentor, but he was no longer the same winged boy always after mischief and adventure, he was a man, a father, a husband, he had his own family and his own priorities and if she were to be in his life again, she would need to know exactly what his priorities were.

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        His voice, a deep baritone of a murmur, never failed to grate her nerves,  where his brother's might have instead set her alight. So much like Ares, the clashing of searing metal against itself that echoed within Hephaestus's tone was not unfamiliar, yet one unwelcome all the same. The stride with with Ares took his legacy forged itself in glory, in battles merciless and chaotic against his opponents until it consumed all around him, while the monster of his brother hid away in his grimy cave and pretended to contribute to the cause. 

      Where Ares was fire, Hephaestus merely wielded it. Where Ares tasted of blood and passion and fury unhinged, Hephaestus tasted of filth--cowardice, the unrelenting tang of metal, a self-deprecation that seeped from his pores and turned the Goddess's blood sour and her kisses hard. 

              And yet, for all of her indignation, it was Hephaestus who stood beneath her balcony now--not her beloved Ares.

         Her full lips made to curl upward in derision, but Aphrodite could bring herself only to grimace, mouth trembling as tears flooded her eyes. Could this descent of her status be so cruel, that the only god willing to set eyes upon her was her husband, deformed and unworthy?

     The wind of Zephyros whispered about her frame, bringing with it words of advice from a long time friend: to show the pathetic creature beneath her the love she once willed the Forger to accept, to help Hephaestus know compassion,

                        just once more. 

   "Hephaestus," she breathed out, and the title brought a faint tang of bile to her tongue, "was it not you who found more interest in your metallurgy rather than the love of your wife?" 

        Aphrodite waited not for a response, retreating once more within the shelter of her home. The balcony's doors shut with a snap, and all fell silent to the outside world and her intruding guest. It would have seemed she had chosen comfort and the delight of her home over the attention Hephaestus offered--whoever expected that she learn to love this disgrace? 

   The Goddess of Love appeared moments later behind parting curtains of the patio entrance. Though her body screamed apprehension, her eyes and her heart both begged to be loved; with a meekness that would have been granted the audience of no one else, Aphrodite stepped out onto the poolside, glided toward her Hephaestus with bare strides and twirling skirts about her frame. 

                  Delicate hands wrung together before her. Her breasts quivered beneath the cover's sheer material. "Why have you come, Husband? Have we not shamed each other enough?" 

He could feel her sadness, even now. It did not match his own, on most occasions, as there had always been someone to comfort her. Hephaestus had always comforted himself, hammering away at whatever project it was that had his attention. His metal did not laugh has he walked, or cast him away. He supposed that was why the metal had not only occupied him, but it became him. His heart remained cold and solid, because he punished himself for the simple ‘crime’ of being born.

Hephaestus was hesitant to step into her vicinity, to call out her name and risk rejection yet again. His fear was deep rooted and irrational, but she was the person who made him the most uncomfortable.

Because he cared about her.

However, he had never been able to show it. He masked his desire for company with indifference, because showing love meant risking being laughed at again. She was the single most beautiful being to ever exist; what right did he, an ugly craftsman, have to ask for her heart?

The bristled hair upon his face covered the red that flooded into his cheeks as he stepped forward, his cane echoing loudly as it hit the floor. He winced; he wasn’t very embarrassed of his limp—unless it was Aphrodite who saw it.

"They have spread out, Lady Aphrodite." Hephaestus replied, not truly looking at her. "We no longer spend our days together, feasting and laughing. We have all been seeking out our own interests."

Slowly, he raised his gaze and settled it onto her face. “It…has been quite some time since I have visited the mortal world, myself.” Now that everyone had left Olympus, he was able to function in solitude. He didn’t like to be alone, but the fear of not being alone was far greater.

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I do not match length.

I write however much I feel is best and that aids in the interaction— I don’t ramble on and on if I think only two paragraphs is enough as opposed to six. That being said, I can also write a heinous amount.

Please keep this in mind and do not be offended if my reply isn’t as verbose.

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That saying about all fairness in love and war rang hollow in her ears, yet Aphrodite was certain of two things: Apollo did not love her, merely lusted for her body, and two, the idiom was a painful dichotomy, as the "fairness" referred to the its entire lack of such an idea at all. Life could be cruel, as could love--love, that was all consuming and violent, possessive and torrential. How could Apollo ever believe her, the Mistress of Love and Desire, to be a passive trinket which he might keep on his shelf for all to see? 

Aphrodite listened to the God's rather unconvincing rant for the tenth, hundredth, thousandth time, and those glistening gems of eyes rolled about behind her fluttering eyelids as his voice turned into a sound far too grating to be considered bearable. 

But then Apollo's whining insinuated that he somehow deserved her unadulterated affection--and why? Because he was just so beautiful that she should swoon at the mere sight of him? Because his flesh shimmered like the sun at any hour of the day? Absolutely not--Aphrodite's gaze turned dark, hateful. The Goddess approached swiftly, stilettos clacking hard against the hardwood floor, and in a movement unforgiving and flourished like a most dramatic gesture, Aphrodite flung the remaining contents of her wine glass into Apollo's face. 

Those full lips trembled, skin heated until it flushed as though with arousal, and eyes that typically mirrored a calm before the storm turned rocky, disastrous, containing a typhoon of spite that she dared not release, lest the God return her fury with his own. 

Aphrodite turned on her heel, that black curtain of hair waving about her shoulders in a whirlwind, malicious and maligned, and made to stride from his presence. 

He did not deserve to keep her company. 

@ pearlsofbeguilement

A single silent ‘oh’ left his lips and he let his tongue run against his top teeth. Yeah right, there was that.

"In my defense," he began standing from where he stood. "I happen to be a very testy romantic. When I don’t get someone I want I get angry and react without thinking,” as he spoke in that melodic tone of his. Apollo stopped at a mini bar and poured himself a drink during the pause enjoying his little moment more than should be appropriate. His eyes danced over her form, appreciating what was before. Such a shame, he thought. When she didn’t speak his lips puckered and like a child he groaned.

"You do understand the predicament you had put me in. To be denied by the goddess of love, oh I needed retribution! It was only fair - besides you know I can’t lie, even if I want to. I was asked and so I told. Had you played fair that whole fiasco could have been avoided.”

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"As I recall, it was your loose tongue that cast the net over our fate in the first place. Simply because I would not bed you." She sneered, baring teeth that shined like pearls and seemed sharp as the arrows shot from Anteros' bow. "You are pathetic."  

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"Oh ho! Not two minutes and already I’m being insulted. Tsk tsk Aphrodite, here I was playing nice and hoping we could be friends. Honestly, You make one joke about a net and suddenly I’m your most hated Olympian.”

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