#yoinks .

[evilaffable]

what kind of herb are you? dandelion.

You grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don't ache. Your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. You are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that's the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. You are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you're grown now, you're stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you again. You're so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you're okay, that you're self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. You are the sea in tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. You are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring.

tagging: @fayruns, @faerus, anyone interested !!

[minotaurus-archive]

where — theseus’ quarters when — red dawn rising, middle of the night with — @goldentheseus

He can hear it in his ears, his heart beating, his blood pumping and he almost has to wonder if his eyes are red. They might be — he’s been crying, he thinks. He can’t quite the confines of his body at present, when he shoves a Pontius security team member aside to keep walking when they’re supposed to be on lockdown the sound is hard. This is primal, familial rage. It’s not denial: that step has been moved on from long ago, abandoned in his own room. 

Death was always on their heels. He just always expected it to get to him first.

Mino knocks on Theseus’ door, or perhaps bangs is the better word. If Pontius was made of anything less strong, the hinges would creak, the wood would budge, he might even consider breaking the thing completely. But soon enough he’s there, whipping the door open and Mino stares at him, then pushes through, past him, shoulder blade against shoulder blade. There’s none of the usual warmth in this touch, . The door’s kicked shut, eyes trailing through the room and then he looks at Theseus when he knows they’re alone. “Did you do this? Theseus, I swear to Chaos, tell me you didn’t do this, that you didn’t go this fucking far —” What would he say? That Ari killed them, in a way, because Ari had taken their futures? What would he say to justify his own greed, this time? Mino inches close, his height used to its full advantage. (He knows how to intimidate, after all: that’s what he does best.) “You kill him? Did you kill my brother?” Maybe, distantly, he wonders if this is a miscalculation — but Mino has cooped up his anger for half a decade and now it is white hot, blinding, nothing else he is able to see.

[grimesucker]

[grimesucker]

       anyone else having this problem where , like , drafts aren’t saving .

[grimesucker]

                                                                                    5H17 .