Andulka
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No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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occasionally subtle
hello vonnie
Peter Solarz
$LAYYYTER
Janaina Medeiros
Cosmic Funnies
shark vs the universe
YOU ARE THE REASON
JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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taylor price
titsay
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from Chile
seen from United States
@p-phobos-blog
✌ + ❤ {baha}
3:47AM
[ sms :: boogeyman ] hey buddy!
[ sms :: boogeyman ] lsiten i jst wamted to twll you ypy’re a vwry special fella
[ sms :: boogeyman ] sprry fcuk
[ sms :: boogeyman ] fcuk
[ sms :: boogeyman ] fcuk!
[ sms :: boogeyman ] FCUK
[ sms :: boogeyman ] FUCK
[ sms :: boogeyman ] FONALLY
[ sms :: boogeyman ] anuways thnks fir bein such a goos friend. mwans a lot tp me it relly does
I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.
Shana Abé (via bourbonandpearls)
Wake up FB || Khione&Phobos
“Shut up, you moron.” Khione hissed at him as they walked, not missing another chance to slap his bicep. “It’s four am, you don’t want all the crazy women around here to start throwing stuff at us.” Brooklyn was quite a place and even though there were a few fishy guys around that could easily pull a gun on you, they didn’t bother Khione nearly as much as the women did. “If something flies towards us because of this, I’m totally slaying your tires.” She grumbled as she climbed into his truck and flashed him a grin as he slammed the door shut. The drive wasn’t too long, but it was more than enough to put Khione back to sleep. Once they parked, she groaned again before rubbing her eyes and getting out of the truck. She followed Phobos in silence before they entered the warehouse and the mixed smell of everything in there hit her. For a moment she intended to make a comment about it, but she was interrupted by the drop of his heavy arm around her shoulders. “Wow, grandma, if I knew all of this was so exciting I would have brought a second pair of pants in case I wet myself.” she rolled her eyes at him before a grin formed on her features. It was so rare to see him this excited and it was quite contagious even if she didn’t act like it. “Just so you know, I’m not carrying anything.” she laughed before taking a sip of her own coffee and gesturing with her free hand for him to lead the way.
Phobos couldn’t help but be highly amused. He rarely showed anyone the deeper, and homebodied sides of himself. Calling him grandma was proof enough Khione knew exactly how he was under all the ingrained layers of being a soldier. Phobos could torture a soul until they sang every bit of information he desired-- but how he could also prepare and cook a beautiful pork tenderloin. Hand butchered himself typically if he could travel to a farm up north the city. Phobos forever a hunter, a predator in his own roots came with perks and traits most didn’t see beyond his aggression.
“I would never expect you too,” he said genuinely, Phobos actually really happy she decided to humor him on this because he was genuinely exciting about showing her. He moved them through the small gathering crowds, the warehouse more filled than anyone would expect at this time of day. The sun hadn’t even peaked it’s bright face on the horizon yet, and yet all seemed as energetic as Phobos. He grabbed a couple paper bags with thick handles on them, walking up to the first vendor who was dumping freshly caught mussels.
“Look though-- I have an ulterior motive here,” he admitted, checking each one while he tossed a dozen in his bag and handed the guy cash. “You know I found my twin Deimos in this life,” he said quiet enough for them to hear. “And I dunno-- yall should meet or something. I have always wanted you too. He’s pretty hot in this life-- well every life. He’s always gotten the looks in my opinion-- me I am always thrown into these big bodies with long hair like it’s my birthright.”
Red Waters || Phobos&Melinoe - part2
Iona returned Egil’s kiss with a fervorous heat, already feeling the blood lust rising within her. His message was well received and returned with a silent look as their lips parted. The women only lagged behind slightly, taking her own turn with the children. It was with them that Melinoe’s softer side revealed itself in this life, and she always hated parting with them as much as she loved what she knew would face her once she did.
Falling in behind Phobos, the group of vikings already present parted for her path as if they knew that wherever there should be death, there she would be. There was a strange aura about her now. Not quite as strong as if her prey were to be human, but present all the same. Something about the way she carried herself, and her focus on the task at hand all screamed of foreboding.
Mind on the mission at hand, Iona gave a nod to her husband. “Follow me along that dune, we’ll stay low until we can get a good view of how best to approach. The further in he is the better, so we an keep upper ground; so stay patient.” Crouching slightly, Iona moved forward along the dunes, not bothering to look behind her. She needn’t do so to already know that Phobos would already be there.
The polar bear was a massive creature in these parts. Phobos finding them worthy predators to their clan when they got hungry and wanted to risk invading their food stores. They needed the animals pelt desperately, this winter was a dangerous one, and they had more children in camp than usual. But there was beauty in just watching them wander through the terrain alone. This ronin warrior without another to watch it’s back. Phobos was never entirely alone-- not in any life, instincts always dictated he find a clique, clan or crew of people immediately because it dictated survival.
Following his wife’s instructions, he would take her lead on this capture, and fight. Iona was the most skilled in this particular hunt-- and he recognized even from a mortal standing how important it was this bear didn’t run but be provoked to attack. He pulled his large weapon off his back, chilled fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt as they moved across the upper dune. Following the bear as it traveled and contemplated their walls where fresh food cooked on fires, and teased to lure him for a quick meal.
“I can block it’s path along the north wall, stand in its way and present it a chance to attack me,” he suggested when they stopped to monitor it’s movements. “It’s only direction is towards you or me at this point. You want the high ground?” He laid the quiver of arrows, and strongly made bow next to Iona, if she agreed than he would move immediately to get into the position she ordered.
To Be The Hunted - Hades.Deimos.Phobos
Stealth was important in the game of crime and mishaps, whether others seemed to appreciate it or not. There were soldiers on the field that ran into battle with their weapons raised, war cries screaming from the pits of their throat, their bodies taking bullets yet their minds forcing them to push forward, eliminate the threat. There were commanders, like his brother, who enjoyed the stampede just as much as any other goon and he, too, ran head first into battle, wanting to feel the taste of blood on his skin and soak in it as if it were a nice bath. There were the presidents, who sat heavy on the other line barking orders and saluting their men as they came home wounded, but alive, and rarely did these men see the plight of battle anymore…rather, they remained cooped in their kingdom, praised and worshiped, for good causes.
And then there was him; a strange mix of soldier and background noise…the cleaner. The hums of battle were an echo by the time Deimos came to a crime scene, and he could only relive the moment according to the angle of the blood splatter or the bullet holes penetrated into the opposing walls. He was not a magician, and he could not make anything disappear permanently, no matter how often the clutter of Hades’s underground army believed it to be true. But to clean it up, to hide it temporarily until something bigger came across the desks of the overworked NYC crime-labs, until the people who perished in the battle were long forgotten and no one was exactly looking for them anymore…that was Deimos’s long-term plan. Patience, and stealth. Because getting caught at the crime scene was not particularly the endgame. No…in the end it was all about placement, subtly, illusion…
And saving his fucking brother.
Deimos left all coherent thoughts of stealth behind him as he plowed through the city with Hades riding shotgun, and when he pulled up closer to the docks he could smell the shift in atmosphere from the various vendors that sold their stinky fish at the crack of dawn, and even in the middle of the night they were beginning to set up their stands…oblivious to what was going on, that there could be a dead body hanging out nearby ready to taint their meat. Bi-standers were never an ideal part of the plan, but Deimos decided in the moment that pulling some con to get them away from the docks would be more suspicious then acting like he belonged.
He parked his truck and stepped out, flinging the duffle bag across his shoulders…hearing the guns within rattle and clang together. He double checked the strap around his ankle holding his smaller piece, the holster under his jacket carrying twin pistols, the hunting knife attached to his belt. Inside the bag was a sniper and a few grenades, and other AK’s in case a more violent and demanding approach was needed. The god of terror looked over at his boss, exchanging a wholesome and energetic glance that spoke a thousand words unsaid; if Phobos was hurting so was he…he could feel it, like sparks of chaos reaping the blood from his veins. And no one understood that more than Hades.
He didn’t have a plan. All he knew was that his brother was here, somewhere. And he’d rip the spine out of the man that stupidly decided to place a finger on him.
The car ride there was silent; the words already said at his apartment and anything else had been portrayed through body language. The cavalry was coming for Phobos, and regardless the fact that these two were rarely in the frontlines– heads would roll unless they got what they came for. Hades was a mess, guilt ridden of what happened with his daughter, and now for anything that was coming, and had come, Phobos’ way. He told him he’d be fine, he knew he would be. Yet his phone had gone unanswered in the twin’s time of need.
The truck rolled to a stop near the docks, cop cars riddled throughout. Just what they needed– authorities getting in the way. An agitated sigh escaped him as he plopped down to solid ground. Well, this just got a hell of a lot harder– but far too determined, they would never turn back. Hades turned his glance to Deimos, getting one last look before scanning the area for someway to go unseen and get the clues the were searching for.
Cautiously walking forward, he spotted the crashed vehicle, even from here he could see a few bullet holes. They must have been the ones taking the guns… why didn’t you just let them, Phobos he though to himself before pointing to the far right; cargo containers they could weave through and get a closer look without drawing the cops’ attention.
Luck was on their side, the uniformed men examining clues rather than on the lookout of two heavily armed men. As they inched closer, Hades spotted three body bags, one beside the truck; the driver, and two that were foolish enough to take the god of terror. With one glance it was easy to defer that Deimos had no strategy here, no plan… just rage.
Snapping to grab his attention, Hades mouthed ‘focus’ before returning to his scouting. Following the trail, painfully slowly to avoid attention, the King of the underworld smirked as he spotted the place he was sure Phobos would have hidden; the perfect vantage point. After making his way closer, his eyes caught sight of a large pool of blood next to Phobos’ dropped rifle. Examining it further, an extremely faint trail of splattered blood led away in a jagged line. Some sort of cloth must have covered the wound, the pile of dried red liquid almost immediately turning into hard-to-catch drag marks across the docks. This was it; it had to be… this is where they’d captured him and that is where they took him.
Pointing aggressively at the new found track– that had fortunately gone unnoticed so far– Hades caught Deimos’ wandering gaze. He quickly motioned to retrieve the gun and follow the ‘red bricked road,’ so to speak.
Phobos hoped when Deimos got here he managed to grab his rifle. That was the thought woven in his head to managed the pain, this life a filter of moments and passing faces like he was in a manically turning merry-go-round. That rifle had taken more important lives than anyone understood, it was his favorite toy, though he was technically on the run from the CIA, of course they believed him dead. And living in the shadows of Hades empire gave him cover. There was apart of him that wanted his old crew here. For him to open his swollen eyes and see their smug, angry faces.
But it was only these lackies. And he wanted to be disappointed they assumed him so easy to break, as if he hadn’t done worse to other mortals. Phobos very, familiar with torture in this life. Moving broken nails across the familiar knot for a few hours hadn’t provided any results, but it had loosened it enough that he could break his thumb if he wanted too-- but a strong grip under his fallen head had his face turning upward. The rushed scents of rotting fish, and quiet echos of their movements bringing him out of his head to manage the torture and rush forward all that was happening. He grunted as the pain chilled his skin in shock, his heart becoming erratic to the point he knew experience if he didn’t slip away mentally again he was going to pass out.
“What?” he growled out, “I’m obviously not talking, you aren’t experienced enough to make me. Takes the devil. And he’s... coming... for... youuuu.” He laughed. Blood oozing past his lips as a knife was drawn across his forearm, he screamed when they shoved salt into the wound-- the visual delight of Hades coming in here with an army of ghosts, monsters from the underworld breaking soils and concrete to induce a fear unlike the mortals could ever understand. Deimos would fillet them. A thousand cuts that didn’t bleed enough to die by blood loss but from shock. And that was what he was battling now, his body desiring to shelter his mind.
“Tell us what you are!!” was the last thing he heard because he met his brothers gaze across the room. Smiling in that boyish way-- loving him always.
“You’re in trouble now...”
Ares frowned to himself as he retrieved the broom. Keeping secrets from his brother, too. Phobos never kept anything from his brother– or so the war god thought. Maybe that was just what he’d hoped– that none of his children would ever be alone in anything. “And you’re telling me all this to say that you can’t even tell me?” Again, not an effort made to be apologetic. No measures taken to hide the edge. He wouldn’t do that to his kids– he wouldn’t lie to them, even when he probably should. His blood still boiled in his veins, though now it was forced to a simmer. Unsettled and agitated, as was per the norm on the day to day of his life.
“Listen,” Ares began, his frustration clear. It wasn’t that he was frustrated with Phobos– just the situation. And how tempting the offer was. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for a sizable chunk of his pride and his own self-respect riding on OUI, he’d have really considered it. Probably would have said yes. Actually, he definitely would have said yes. The thought of joining his sons once more– to be a part of a team again. That was another appeal of war, the bonds made in the depths of hell. Brothers and sisters and arms joined forever and bound to something horrifying. Being a long agent was doable and freeing but everyone needed someone watching their back. He’d missed that. He’d really missed that. That didn’t mean Ares could have it, though. Not when he was so close.
“I love you, alright? Love you and your brother to bits and pieces, but don’t think that love cancels out all the shit that you’ve got going on. I know I only know as much as you want me to about—“ he waved his hand around, “—whatever you’ve got going on here or with Hades. Your mother is worried fucking sick over you two, and I do my best to defend you—which is hard when you don’t tell me anything. Friendly reminder that I’m not a child—“ Off track. Ares twisted his hand around the broom (how much force would it take to break this? how hard did he have to bend for the rod to snap in his hands? how hard did he have to hit someone?). “But. I don’t feel the need to pry into your life or Deimos’s and you know why? Cause I trust you.” He wanted to, but that wasn’t a need.
Moving himself between the stove and his son, Ares drew himself up a bit taller. Just to meet Phobos’s gaze. Ages and appearances didn’t matter to Gods, but that wasn’t what this was about. This was him trying to convince his son of something: his own capabilities.
“If I’m gonna stand by your choices ‘cause you seem to think that they make sense, why don’t you give me a little fucking faith and stand by mine? I appreciate you looking out for your old man, but I know exactly how much I’m worth and that’s what matters. My father’s empire is mine, kid. I just need time and your support.”
Phobos was elated. A boyish high all consuming, showing easily in his expression and more his stance. He folded his large arms across his chest, listening to his Father speak so passionately made him hungry. How he wanted him to throw a punch at his face-- to shove him and burn his arm in the hot grease-- to charge at him and scream his commands and frustrations as if Phobos was the only thing that could get him what he needed.
HIs pupils dilated widely, and he bit his lip around a sadistic smirk. Inhaling sharply through his nose while that heated gaze met his. It was invigorating. And truly no one knew Ares as well as the Twins because they were the ones on the battlefield for him. There was a difference being yelled at by your Father, and being commanded to listen. And how Phobos loved him for this right here. His Pa something misunderstood and simply spectacular. Chills burned his skin and he could only lean against the counter, offering an inappropriate-- erotic shudder to how this entire night was coming out.
And Phobos knew exactly what he wanted from his dad tonight. To feel this was a drug-- it was why he stirred Enyo into torturing with him. Why Deimos let him ride shot gun so he could run into a building with the best back up. In why he sought dangerous deals for Hades so he could inhale it-- CONSUME the essence of all he was on a primal level.
“Yes...sir,” he said with seriousness, without a hint that he was being sarcastic or aiming to be disrespectful. But his dad knew that Phobos wouldn’t stand down once he was called-- and if he needed him he was a call away now. Mayham a promise Phobos wanted more than anything. Moving to remove the burger and slid the buns towards his old man he smiled then. Slapping his hand hard on Ares back.
“Eat-- you need more protein in your diet,”
Desert Heat || Prometheus and Phobos (Flashback: Iraq 2002)
The glasses of water came to him with two cubes of ice in them. Two cubes each. He thought to complain, but figured it was best left alone. He picked up on of the glasses and rubbed the cold bottom up against the back of his neck. The condensation of it soothed the heat that he was sure would soon become a red sunburn.
He looked around for a while, scanning the faces of men all around him for his clients. Suddenly, he heard the voice of a man standing before him.
“طاب مسائك,” the man greeted in the Arabic language. Prometheus greeted him likewise. “Our business partner should be here any second now, sir.”
They sat around waiting for a few more minutes, small talking to each other about their families, the weather, typical conversation matters when they were met by the American. Both men who had arrived before extended their hands to him, greeting and smiled with the best smile they could muster. “Please, Mr. Roberts,” Prometheus began. “Have a seat. We’ve got important business to attend to.”
Phobos growled. This wasn’t how it was suppose to be today, their intel must have been wrong or this was a different deal than what was expected. He walked around the side of the building, scanning for guards, or anyone else that could be undercover but it seemed clean.
“I’m going to have to walk up to the table,” he said quietly to his officer, “there weren’t suppose to be so many people meeting with him. What’s the count down.”
“10 seconds, 9--8--,”
Phobos slipped his hand into his inside jacket, walking towards the table as the countdown rattled in his head. He timed it perfectly, 3...2...1. The landscape under the building shook violently like a sudden earthquake-- everyone screaming to take cover while tables cleared of meals and cups. The fireball from the oil line miles out igniting the sky in a mushroom of burned petroleum. Sirens filled all the city streets than, and at the exact moment, Phobos had walked behind their target, pressing a silent pistol to his back and pulled the trigger. Putting a deadly accurate bullet through his heart. With only a glance around at the table-- his orders told him to clear out loudly in his ear.
But a familiar draw lured him to look at the table-- when he should be running he wasn’t. And he could only stay long enough to meet the American’s eye before he smiled a cocky bold grin and took off running.
cities of the world aesthetic series – new york city.
agarfield:
…But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
Wake up FB || Khione&Phobos
“That’s not the question here, Phobos. The question is when the hell did I ever make it seem like I was one hundred percent serious about going with you to the fucking fish market.” Khione rolled her eyes before lightly slapping his bicep with a kitchen towel. “I’ll start notifying you when I use sarcasm from now on. Wouldn’t want you to take me seriously again and come at 4 am to take me to the fish market.” Yeah, neither one of them would forget this one for a while. “Boo hoo. I have two jobs and you don’t see me complaining. And you wouldn’t dare.” she glared at him as she watched him pour coffee. At least he was somewhat useful. They fought like an old married couple, but if they weren’t this grumpy, this would have actually been funny. “Thanks.” she mummbled as she took the coffee from him and grabbed her bag from the hanger before following him out the door and locking the apartment. “Oh yeah, you found my soft spot. It’s fish. I’m just gonna die with glee when we get to the market. You’re gonna have to drag me back home from there.” Arching her eyebrow at the word dinner, Khione suspected Phobos will be grandmothering everyone again. “If people make it out alive.”
“FISH! ITS FISH!” he screamed loudly walking the down the hall and onto the street. "Natalia’s weakness is FISH everyone! Buy it up– woo her with her demands–“ His own sarcasm was a hair mean, but he found great enjoyment in shaming people. Even ones he liked. And his smirk wasn’t nice, though he hulled open the door to a truck for her in manners.
Driving there didn’t take long, Phobos parking a ways down so they could walk into the market easier through a side door into a warehouse. It wasn’t just fish they were selling. Bundles of vegetables and flowers littered the floor in great bins and covered in plastics to keep the damp, chill off their delegate skins. Phobos tossed his large, heavy arm across her back shoulders. Moving his hands dramatically as if it aides to paint the view before her.
"Look at all the food– take it in. Freshly pulled from the gardens– flowers clipped minutes ago– fish unloading from the boats right there see?” a boyish excitement caught his tone, Phobos so rare to enjoy the spoils of his help with business. He took a great sip of his coffee, offering her a honest, highly amused smile around the lid.
