“I’m thinking about starting my own fortune-telling business.”
“Aye or nay?”
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@alexikakcs
“I’m thinking about starting my own fortune-telling business.”
“Aye or nay?”

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Gods and Goddesses | Apollo [x]
APOLLON (or Apollo) was the great Olympian god of prophecy and oracles, healing, plague and disease, music, song and poetry, archery, and the protection of the young. He was depicted as a handsome, beardless youth with long hair and various attributes including:–a wreath and branch of laurel; bow and quiver; raven; and lyre.
GOD MOODBOARDS: Apollo; god of the sun, music, and poetry
SITTING at the counter, gaze fixated on the small screen of her cell phone, Hera shook her head at the utter disregard so many mortals had for their own life. Surely the fool who allegedly overdosed on this mysterious drug was mortal; they were just about the only creatures lacking in intelligence and common sense — although some of the deities from her own pantheon came pretty close. “What a dolt,” she sighed, thinking it a shame that there didn’t seem to be a cure for asininity.
“Who? Who? Who?” A boyish grin stretching across his lips, Apollo PEEKS over the woman’s shoulder to see what doltish thing has caught her attention. The fact that it’s Hera makes the question even more difficult to answer — it could be anything. Strange though it is to willingly be hanging around a woman who once wanted them dead — she once thrashed Artemis, so badly she crawled into his lap and cried herself to sleep; he still hasn’t forgiven her for that — he can’t help but derive enjoyment from the thought of annoying the queen bitch with his delightful presence. “Oh, I don’t know, stepmonster. Mortals come up with some pretty nifty, high-riding drugs. You could probably benefit from a few.” Turn a negative into a positive.
potniaxtheron:
Apollo was the king of Vaudeville. He knew how to spin a good tale - knew how to trick and coerce in order to get his way.
More than familiar with her twin’s flair for the dramatics - he’d always called it his right as an artist - Artemis knew better than to take his words at face value, ridiculousness and all. “Ah, so that’s where all my apple juice went.” She gave the other god a disappointed look. “Do you have any idea how much apple juice costs these days?”
As he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the familiar weight of it bringing a smile to her lips, she leaned into his embrace, relieved to be reunited after all this time. “I haven’t been here all that long … But I knew you’d find me eventually.” Twin telepathy, they called it. Well, they weren’t half-wrong. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his neck, sincerity coloring her tone. “I didn’t mean to make you worry … What of you? Are you okay?” He looked fine, but appearances could often be misleading.
“That’s what we have black felt pens for,” Apollo COUNTERS teasingly, relieved simply to have her in his arms again — uninjured and looking just as beautiful as he remembered; perhaps even more so. The golden brown of her hair shimmers in the sunlight, urging him to TRAIL gentle fingers through the strands — and he does, a grin forming on his lips at the silky feel of her hair brushing against his skin. “If you don’t initial it — welllllll, finders, keepers ...” Childish though it may seem, that’s how they’ve always done things. Unless she specifies as to what she wants to keep all to herself, it’s his for the taking if he so wishes.
“That goes without saying,” he murmurs into the thickness of her hair, TIGHTENING his arm around her — as though afraid she’ll disappear if he’s not careful. “Don’t sweat it, moonshine.” Far as he’s concerned, an apology’s unnecessary. It’s not her fault they were forced APART all those years ago, and it’s certainly not her fault that they haven’t seen or spoken to one another until today. “Me? I can’t complain. Besides, you know me — very little can keep me down.” And now that they’ve been reunited, he’s finally complete. Gods, but it feels great.

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xkerberusx:
IF he’d had a tail, Cerberus would be wagging it at this point, excited that someone had recognized him without him having to shout to the heavens who he was and how much fun he was having with opposable thumbs. “I WISH I HAD THREE HEADS, BUT IT’S KIND OF NICE NOT HAVING TO FIGHT OVER EVERY SCRAP OF FOOD.” When you had three mouths to feed, what did ya expect? “WEIRD. WHENEVER I BITE SOMEONE, THEY EITHER GIVE ME AN ODD LOOK AND SLOWLY BACK AWAY OR RUN AWAY SCREAMING. EITHER WAY, THEY SCAT.”
“How’d that even work anyway?” A contemplative frown GRAZES his lips as images of Cerberus’s original form flicker through his mind. “Did you flip a coin to see which head had the privilege of chowing down on that night’s cocktail or something?” Better yet, did they telepathically communicate their desires to one another? ... Is it odd that he finds the idea intriguing? “Is that before or after they gave you opposable thumbs?”
pagan archetypes in modern teenagers: apollo
the hellenic god of archery, the sun, music, poetry, art, prophecy, plague, medicine, truth, light and knowledge.
❛ — MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE, ❜ Huginn reads aloud, dark gaze narrowed on the bin of tiny bottles marked for sale. ❛ IS THERE A MESSAGE LENGTH REQUIREMENT? ❜ He picks one up from the bin, wanting to take a closer look at it. ❛ HOW LONG DOES IT USUALLY TAKE FOR THE RECIPIENT TO RECEIVE ONE OF THESE … IMPOSSIBLY TINY THINGS? ❜ He mutters to himself, already half-convinced that the task will most likely prove impossible given its size.
“If there is, you’d most likely find it typed in indescribably tiny letters somewhere on the bottle,” Apollo INTERJECTS and reaches for a bottle himself, an amused grin curving his lips at the seriousness the other male displays while studying the bottle. “Oh, give it about a month,” he adds, striving to emulate his seriousness but unfortunately coming up SHORT due to his inability to stifle his grin. “And if you haven’t heard anything by then, better check with the authorities — who knows what could have happened to that poor recipient?”
Untamed, we are godless & malformed. We unearth & fight our whole lonely, our despicable traumas, in curses & slammed doors & we shun & shame & fuck & surrender
potniaxtheron:
“There’s no such thing as hypothetical situations where you’re concerned, brother dearest.”
“But I can’t deny a sense of relief seeing that you haven’t changed.”
“Oh, how you wound me, Arty. I’ve been a good boy this year — staying out of trouble, flying under the radar, drinking lots of apple juice. You know, the usual.” Whatever CONSTITUTES for usual, of course.
But then his eyes light up with relief and pleasure when he suddenly realizes that after weeks of trying to find her, she takes it upon herself to throw herself into his path. It’s just like her to make the first, deciding move. “Where’ve you been, sis? Do you realize how long and hard I searched for you?” He casually SLIDES an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for an affectionate hug, finding comfort in her familiar scent — of the woods and pure, untamed femininity. “It’s your goal to drive me into a ragged state — wracked with worry — isn’t it?”

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inamatxs:
“HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING?” She pins the god with a disbelieving look, more than familiar with his proclivity toward … unwelcome house guests. “PERHAPS, WHEN THEY LEAVE YOUR HOME FOR THE DAY, YOU SHOULD CHANGE ALL THE LOCKS AND MAKE SURE THEY CAN’T FIND A WAY BACK INSIDE.” Changing the locks is a sure-fire way to show them that they’re no longer welcome on the premises.
“What? You don’t believe in hypothetical situations?” He QUIPS, refusing for the moment to admit any of this really happened. As far as he’s concerned, it’s all conjecture at this point. “Change all the locks? Why, Dite, that’s awfully sneaky of you. But I bet it’s also super duper effective.”
xkerberusx:
“BITE THEM,” he supplied helpfully, dark eyes gleaming with earnestness — biting had always worked for him, so why shouldn’t it work for others?
Apollo BLINKS, an amused chuckle slipping free at his advice. “Now that’s liable to send the wrong message.” And can potentially lead to some dangerous situations. He may never get rid of her at this point. “And that’s also something Hades’s massively three-headed, too-excitable guard dog would say ... Cerberus, that you?”
paxvictoria:
“That depends, do you want to be nice and polite about it, or just make them go away, hypothetically of course.”
“Right. Hypothetically, I think I’d like to avoid any unnecessary drama — and from my own personal experience, politeness just doesn’t seem to get the right point across.”
Completely dumbfounded, the former goddess of the harvest looked around her, not quite believing her eyes. The leaves had already lost the fresh beauty of spring, an indication that the season of winter - a time of great sadness, at least for her - had fallen upon them, and there was a distinct chill in the late afternoon air. The changing of the seasons should have only occurred during the time in which her very reluctant agreement to permit her daughter to journey into the underworld, where her bastard husband waited for her return, took place. But this time - and all the times before it, when she’d been held captive by the mortals - was different.
“Does this mean we’re no longer needed?” She whispered, finding that notion disheartening. Because this year’s season changes proved that her influence over nature was not nearly as strong as it used to be.
— “You shouldn’t so readily embrace negativity, auntie,” Apollo interposes, arms FOLDED across his chest as his cognac-brown gaze takes in the winter scenery spread out before him. Brown leaves. Brown grass — tipped with white, a pristine hue that will have disappeared by morning. Because, apparently, snow rarely sticks to the grass, melting before it even hits the ground. “The world could certainly use more women with your fashion sense,” he POINTS out enthusiastically, gesturing toward the beautiful white sweater, speckles of gold interwoven throughout most of the white threads, and navy blue classic flare pants, which accentuate her gracefulness and elegance perfectly. “What is there to be upset about?”

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MYTHOLOGY: A R T E M I S & A P O L L O
children of leto
elysianxfields:
Queenie. It’s a name that can either be taken as an insult or as a compliment— and Kore chooses to think of it as the latter. “Is that your favorite holiday tradition?” She quirks an amused eyebrow at him, holds folded behind her back as her attention returns to the tree. “Did you know that mistletoe was once considered a pest, one that killed trees and as a result devalued natural habitats?” She gives a slight shake of her head, a little saddened by that thought. “But alas, it has finally been recognized as an ecological keystone species, thought to have a disproportionately pervasive influence over its community … ” She rattles off the information as though reciting it directly from a book — or the internet.
“Is that a threat?” She quips, completely entertained by this stranger — more than she should be.
— “Is it?” He SHOOTS her an innocent frown, a perplexed expression on his face. It’s obvious he’s putting up a good show, or at least trying to — but just because something is obvious doesn’t mean you want to acknowledge its duplicity. “Hm — I really can’t say.”
Can’t say?
More like won’t say.
But when she starts rambling on about the greatness of the mistletoe, Apollo tries hard not to give into the urge to chuckle ... but fails, a ripple of amused laughter soon filling the courtyard as he ADOPTS her stance, standing with his back facing the tree. “Now that’s an evergreen I can fully appreciate — both functional and highly entertaining ... But Lady P,” he continues, his tone dropping an octave. “Won’t your other plants get jealous if they find out you favor mistletoe?” That’s what HAPPENS when you nurture plants all your life. They grow attached and expect to be your number one for as long as they exist.
Kind of like children.
“Would I, of all people, dare threaten such a fearsome queen?” Palm splayed against his chest, he ROCKS back on his heels and gasps, aghast that she would ask such a thing. “The answer’s no, in case you were wondering.”