#couragebore

        BETWEEN TWO BREATHS YOU SHARE EACH INTAKE AS YOU DO CONSPIRACY. often they talk of the fantastical; anything and everything under the sun that had nothing to do with the game they were about to play. exy had been a way to kill time for andrew ━ she was not so sure if that was the case anymore but she knew better than to ask (  it would be an honest reply though wholly unnecessary  ) instead of brimming hypotheticals they jog in silence various scenarios poised on the goalkeeper's tongue but they stay quieted. ANDREW  MINYARD'S VULNERABILITY WAS EVERY BIT A FOX; WITH ITS  TEETH AND SWIFT RETREAT. if you were to catch it you had to wait with open palm and risk the bite. 

 ✱ andrew  (  @couragebore​  ) caught in rare display of unprompted admittance, ❛ i’ll keep saying i hate everybody, but maybe i don’t . ❜ and it hangs in the air, a startling hopeful thing, with wings rather than claws.

      ❛ because that is what's easier to confess to. ❜ despite her spiritual inclinations, religion did not often come up in conversation between them. though this time it was difficult not to draw a line between what was occurring and confessional. ❛ i hate you; three little words that hug you tight as a blanket ━ it's familiar. ❜ she would know, she had enough of it caged within her chest to flood this whole court. her mother was more like a wound than a person, she used faith to staunch the bleeding but no amount of prayer had yet to stop her from seeing red. I HAVE A LOT OF POORLY WOVEN SUTURES ,  JUST LIKE YOU. if she were to twist and turn in a certain she risked tearing herself asunder. 

send  me  🍒  +  a  url  and  i  will  write  some  positivity  for  them.

sorry this is for mutuals only </3 i don't know a neverafters :/

you know what? okay. this new blog is all about good vibes and that means a lil self love so something positive about myself? (okay yeah, i could literally only think of flaws so this self love thing needs a little work i guess fdsjhfdsfds buT) my slides are cool. sometimes i can make pretty things on photoshop. i'm starting to study people's writing more, which helps me see where my strengths and weaknesses are. i think i'm better at like dialogue and getting inside my characters head, but do not try to get me to write prose. i try to be kind?? and supportive?? and this is really hard but i said a lot of okay things about me so now i'm gonna talk about you hA

@couragebore​    liked   for   a   one    liner.

@couragebore​    liked   for   a   one    liner.

    Leo didn’t see Jason for two days after that.

    No one did, which was of course reason to worry and put up an overall fuss that should’ve made Leo feel better since the attention was off him and his blunder, but. Just when he thought he couldn’t feel worse, the gods laughed and gave him this to deal with. His bitterness came from two different places. One was the obvious guilt again, the obvious blame he pinned on himself that festered all the more now that his friend had just gone AWOL and no one had the faintest idea when—or if—he’d return. And the other…?

    Leo almost didn’t want to admit it to himself, immature and unfair as it was to think or feel. But as everyone else on the ship went into a tizzy at the son of Jupiter’s absence, a small shred of Leo pondered whether they’d even care if it had been him. He was the one who had messed everything up, after all, right? What did it matter if their bothersome little repair boy vanished into the night in the same fashion? It didn’t, he knew. Each time he caught that poorly disguised glint of distrust on any of the other demigods’ faces—particularly that Percy guy—Leo believed it more and more.

    He hated thinking the only reason he stuck around was a protectiveness of the Argo II, or maybe just the thought that he was the only one here with the best knowledge to handle it (and hopefully not cause more problems). But the more likely reason was that he personally couldn’t just fly off like some people. He didn’t know where he’d go, what he’d do. And as soon as Piper connected the dots of what happened that night—namely, Leo had been the last one to speak to Jason before his disappearance—he had a really hard time abandoning her when she looked so miserable and desperate for more of an explanation.

    Did he give her one? Not really. He didn’t tell her about Jason’s outburst. He didn’t tell her Leo had pushed him too far. He didn’t tell her that Jason running—or, uh, flying—off was probably at least eighty percent his fault. Leo just, without making any amount of eye contact, said he’d be back, that he needed alone time—that was all. He couldn’t guarantee that. It was a lie, of course. But if he said it enough times, maybe he’d eventually convince himself, too.

    Leo hid away in the machine room most of the time: his own means of being alone and ducking the interrogative questions for even a few hours. Frankly, it wasn’t like he had a ton to work on specifically, but he always managed to find something. Even if that meant taking something perfectly fine apart just to reassemble it again. When Jason found him, that’s where he was again. Tucked in the walls, surrounded on all sides by machinery, because at least in there, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.

    Jason could’ve been there for a few minutes or an entire hour. When Leo emerged from the ship’s skeleton, mumbling a steady stream of mixed English and Spanish (like he used to as a kid: before he realized they were two different languages), it took him another beat to notice his rigid and motionless friend waiting nearby. Then, he nearly jumped out of his skin. A mix of a yelp and a swear that might’ve been in the latter language burst through his lips as he dropped his wrench (on his foot, naturally) and staggered sideways.

    He wasn’t given too much time to recover before Jason began talking like he wasn’t just away for a couple days—almost jarringly normal, if not quieter than usual. Jason apologized. Not even waiting for any form of a greeting back, he just leapt right to the point, and Leo was so stunned—both by his presence and his words—that the cogs in his brain screeched to a halt in contrast to a racing heart. He couldn’t tell what his own emotions were doing, but for some reason… Why was he suddenly more bitter?

    And was it at himself, or…?

    “Everyone’s been worried about you, man,” he said first, almost offhandedly as he picked his wrench up and stepped around Jason to set it on a worktable. Leo chose to ignore the mention of this not being his fault; he himself wasn’t quite ready to see it that way, but he wasn’t about to try arguing with his friend again after last time. “Do they know you’re back?” Probably not, considering no one was making a huge deal of it like they would otherwise.

    His jaw set, and he feigned immense interest in a collection of blueprints for any excuse not to meet Jason’s eye. Leo sure as hell was not strong or mature enough for that. But he did manage a humorless snort as he considered the plea for forgiveness because… c’mon, dude. How dumb did he have to be to think Leo wasn’t a complete sucker for him, no matter what he did? He didn’t even have to ask. Leo wasn’t exactly merciful enough to make that clear, though.

"nope. it's none of your business." hylla says briskly, hands balled so tightly into fists that her knuckles have paled. she needs privacy, needs to get away from all of the prying eyes of this stupid camp, so it's only her luck that she runs into jason when she's so close to snapping. she doesn't know how reyna can stand it, being in a place that's swarming with children and other annoyances like this, especially when she had never seemed entirely like a child, herself.

that's always what it comes back to when hylla visits new rome. the fact that reyna is here and hylla is not, and that she would never in a million years want to be. they can be cordial if they keep each other at an arm's length, but too much time together and they almost always end up butting heads. there's too many things still left unresolved, things that hylla doesn't even know how to start to fix, and sometimes she worries that there's no point in trying, even when she wants to.

she doesn't know which part of her behavior jason is referring to specifically this time. it could have been the raised voices and the slammed door, or it could have been the way she had nearly bowled over a group of teens and snarled at them to stay the fuck out of her way, or just the way that she was storming across the grounds looking ready to wipe out anyone who draws get in her path after that. she doesn't really care why he's questioning her, she just knows that it makes her even more angry. reyna talks to him, she knows that she does. she knows in the back of her mind that she's lost her right to be bitter about such things, but she still is.

"unless, of course, you can make reyna stop being such a brat about things. what did she expect me to do, spend the rest of my life waiting on her hand and foot? all these years, and she's still being ridiculous. i'm not her fucking parent."