I feel in incredibly stifled at least once a month…. Now is that time. I just want to scream. Ugh.

mortisia:

viα okayopheliaArchetypes | ARIADNE + THE MINOTAUR

Theseus knows immediately when he comes to her, still covered in the blood of the Minotaur, carrying the broken horns from its head that he had raised for the screaming, chanting mob. He asks her how, screams in his rage, how she could have loved the monster. She stands before him with salt tears on her face and lightning in her veins, shaking with the power of what she has done with a simple ball of thread from her sewing box and the love raging beneath her breast. She wonders how can she begin to explain that the kingdom was a cage, that the Minotaur was the dark beating heart of its power, hidden away in the labyrinth so nobody would have to look at the ways his monstrous flesh was near-human. That she knew this, because she had hidden the beast in her body away behind a labyrinth of lace and charm and beauty. That she loved the Minotaur because she saw him in the dark behind her closed eyelids, would dream of carnage and growing horns, because she felt her soul snarling like an animal beneath her thin shell of humanity and would muffle her screams with cushions in the night while the roars of the bull would echo throughout her bedchamber. How to explain to this beloved and brightly shining martyr prince, who loves her for her honour and her beauty, that she loved the monster and hated him as she loved and hated herself, and that they were both trapped here by her father like beasts. And how they aren’t anymore. That the Minotaur was hunger and she is love, and in their raging, divine extremes there was no difference there at all. She raises her lips to Theseus’ to taste the blood. ‘He was my brother,’ she whispers, and doesn’t tell him a thing.(x)

Q

Anonymous asked:

I want to make love to you.

A

Hey, I still got it.

notapieceof-art:

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