If You Start A Ship With Me I Go From 0 To SIGN ME THE FUCK UP In No Time Flat.

if you start a ship with me i go from 0 to SIGN ME THE FUCK UP in no time flat.

gay bugs . you agree . reblog

he’s a bishounen but

Agent Three has appeared! ━ What to do?

Punch Worship Ask to leave Throw drink

// i'm gonna kill god to get this header to the right size i swear to CHRIST

❝ you do, don’t you? you take me for a fool. ❞ makaria to zagreus, maybe?

His body was a shaking reed against the cool-hot wind of a heavenly place and his own resurrection, as the fields of Elysium burned at his coal-like heels and the mocking soil ran a rivet where the head of his spear would drag; the spear that was not his, but he was intended to wield. the way violence finds violence, the way blood finds blood, the way fools find fools.

is that what we are? — the unspoken question under the weight of a prison he will always seek to crawl out of, battered, but breathing. only for now. ( the fight he didn't get before boiled down into him now ; he will never give up )

— another in his way? always another ( he doesn't know you yet, never told, never so simple. unaware of his own life in these suffocating, chiselled walls. o goddess of blessed death, o sister, will you be kind to him? ; he finds himself doubting it. )

" Oh no, not at all! I don't think we've met before, but you seem plenty sharp. " Zagreus' answer is careless, but sweet in sincerity as he shifts to better stand, head held high despite his own garnet blood running down his legs from wounds of the fights prior as if to give the Goddess her proper respect. Equals, aren't they? Father always taught him to respect and be respected. Ah, it wasn't like he listened much to the latter, anyhow…

" But, ah, very sorry if you're going to try to stop me, miss. I've got places to go, you know? Not your fault. " He shifts the spear to his other hand, rolls his shoulders — a terrible crack echoing from them where the bones had been broken, mended, and broken again — and shifts his feet. Warlike, in his precision, already ready to fight for his life. His gleaming footing remains casual, regardless, conversational until it is deemed otherwise, where blood is to break out on the soft grass ; warlike, human. Zagreus would fight, but he always found better odds in the conversation, regardless of his pride. o prince of hades, how far to go, again & again.

A small part of him wonders where he's seen her before, something in his stomach like a seed that turns itself into a boulder so often cut out of him, but no less advocates familiarity. He can't remember. Must not be important.