#pphobos

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

[ text ] you'll have to do something about that [ text ] i gotta go

[ text: unsent ] I can’t do that if you’re not here. [ unanswered ]

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

[ text ] told you id hide from you [ text ] should have sent me that pic

[ text ] That would’ve ruined the game B([ text ] Are you even here?

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

[ text ] how late are you staying at the party?

[ text ] until the game isn’t fun anymore probably. [ text ] where are you?

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

[ text ] if I let you find me ;) [ text ] send me a picture

[ text ] you can’t /let/ me find you. That’s no fun either. [ text ] no.

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

[ text ] what are you wearing to the party [ text ] I won't tell anyone else

[ text ] a mask. It’s a masquerade. [ text ] it’s no fun if I tell you. You have to try to figure it out when you get there

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

Love. Well. It's the same feeling I get in a fight. It's hot. Fierce. Consuming. Dangerous. It's understanding that to love, you get burned. It feels real good-- passion is hot, loyalty tempered, but it can hurt too. It can leave you as ash. It can destroy you...but it's worth it.

Explain the concept of ‘Love’ to my Muse.

...but it’s worth it.  That’s what he forgot every time.  That’s where he always messed up, thinking even for a second that it wasn’t it worth it.  That it hurt too much and he didn’t want to hurt anymore.  Yet time and time again he fell into the trap anyway, and he supposed he should have understood then that it would always be worth it.  And it was hearing that, having it explained that made him really understand why Melinoe would have been so upset with him, for him to act as though she wasn’t worth it when she was.  She was more than worth it.  If only he’d understood all that sooner.  

“Love it weird,” was all he said in response.  A lot less profound than the words Phobos had to offer, though not said in any way indicative of whether he thought weird was good or bad.  Just facts.  Easy facts...that’s what Thanatos understood easily.  Love was complicated so he tried to avoid it.  But if he got hurt either way, wouldn’t it make more sense if he stopped trying to fight it?

[peacefuldeparted-blog]

@p-phobos

“All you have to do is touch it right…here…”

Phobos said carefully putting Thanatos’ finger on the trigger of a rifle, fixing his position to better cheat and line up the shot, a strong hand on his back shoulder blade so he would be ready for the recoil. “Now pull it back– hold tight and let’s see you win me $100 from your dad.”

Thanatos did as he was told, feeling a bit of a thrill he hadn’t expected at the prospect of shooting a gun...and a sort of nervous excitement at doing something so out of sorts for a man like him ( all in the name of scientific inquiry of course.  The god knew all about guns and bullets as far as what they did to human body--why shouldn’t he know what it felt like to shoot one? ) But Phobos’s strong hand on his back, surprisingly delicate given who he was and what he did, was oddly reassuring and calming to Thanatos.

Tightening his grip on the rifle, he made to pull the trigger, but paused at the man’s final words.  “What did you bet him?”

[ofbeautyandlove]

♬ = singing to them .

They were immortal -- perfect beings high above earth, ruling over the less fortunate weaklings, those she manipulated to love. She was the most beautiful goddes on mount olympus, the one men fought and waged wars for. In the end they’d all just lose themselves by the attempt of keeping her forever -- no one could, maybe one -- but everyone else was bound to fail, was just a chess piece on her board. 

The goddess walked around her sunny home near the water, always standing in contact with her element. She’d been tired for the past two days, recovering from childbirth of her twins, Deimos and Phobos. Luckily for her most other gods were avoiding her, leaving her enough space to enjoy the time alone, to spend her days with her newborn twins underneath the sun, but high above every other peasant. Her hands softly touched Phobos’ belly which she started to rub just a little bit. They were both so beautiful, so identical and strong. She wondered if they’d ever find out about what both of them had done right after being born, but Aphrodite would probably keep it to herself. Other gods avoided the Ares&Aphrodite clan because they knew just too well which powers the twins possessed. Dread and fear slowly found its ways into the heart of other mortals underneath them, already manipulating them into much crueler wars, the most cruel Aphrodite had ever witnessed. Yet, after everything, after representing such negative traits and representing their father and much less their mother, she loved them with all her heart. Her beautiful, sweet boys ---- 

Aphrodite smiled down at them, watching them play with their hands, both watching her curiously. Did they already knew who she were? Would they remember her? Ares stood outside the building, watching yet another war in his armor, his feet spread and his muscular arms placed against his hips. They both started crying, almost as if they’d realized she wasn’t paying attention to them. Aphrodite giggled, knowing that she probably would’ve been the same as a baby, but luckily she was already born a full grown woman without a mother, but a very old father, Uranus. “Hush little ones. Mama’s here.” she started to sing a lullaby, slowly and gently rocking the cradle left to right. The twins were together in one single cradle because she knew separating them would’ve been a mistake. Her voice echoed through their home, which was made of a beautiful stone Hephaestus created for her. They’d enough space and not much furniture, which made the room look almost empty, resulting into an echo. The sweet melody calmed both of them down, leading to her giggling out of joy. The twins held hands, probably didn’t understood what just happened or why their mother laughed at all. “I love you, Phobos, Deimos.”