+- Court of the Fallen (https://cotf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: Out of Character (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=26)
+--- Forum: Important (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=27)
+---- Forum: Archives (https://cotf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=38)
+---- Thread: fuck that shit let's start a riot (/showthread.php?tid=10602)
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-23-2025
[say]"Careful..."[/say] Danta warns, wincing as he sees Asta try to move his left arm, relaxing only once he abandons the effort. Though the butcher doesn't speak, it's a testament to how well they know one another that the Maverick can almost feel his self-loathing through their touch, and he drops another few kisses to the crown of his head. [say]"I'm sorry too,"[/say] he whispers. [say]"I should have let you work through it and waited."[/say]
As bad as it is, though, it doesn't seem to bother Danta enough to move away from his lover, and instead he lets his bleeding arm drop so he can gently take hold of Asta's left hand, squeezing his fingers as if to bring some life back into them. [say]"You took care of me that first time we were in Haulani together, even though I almost beat the shit out of you with your own cane,"[/say] he reminds him. [say]"And you helped when I was out of my mind with bloodlust - and I bit you that time. And you brought me back home yesterday when I couldn't move."[/say] It's a surprisingly easy list of things to admit, one that pride alone would have protected against not too long ago.
[say]"So I'm allowed to be here now. And you're allowed to let me, Asta. Okay?"[/say] He noses into the soft midnight of his hair, letting out a long, tired sigh.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-23-2025
The kisses feel as much like burns as they do absolution, and the butcher doesn’t know what to do with it. Relief that he isn’t pushed away, cursed for the fact that he’s unable to do much of anything in this state. “[say]You shouldn’t have to. I should be better about it. It’s been years.[/say]” He protests before promptly shutting his mouth to let his lover speak, trying to parse it between the thundering in his ears.
The reminders, while nice, also feel like a cop-out. A way that he had tried to soothe Danta for all of the transgressions the butcher had done in the past. Like it didn’t mean he should have to deal with this scotch taped up fragility that the butcher has mastered.
But there’s no room for argument, despite how desperately he wants to, aching and hurting in so many ways that he feels fractured and not at all like himself. Not even like when he slips away into Ferrox. This is new, and this is bad.
Nerves surge with static sharpness at the tips of his fingers as Danta brings life to them, the blood still staining the both of them and their sheets. But at least the tears have stopped. “[say]Okay.[/say]” He says, defeated and slumped, still internally berating himself.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-23-2025
[say]"Astaroth."[/say] It's a gentle scolding, one that doesn't take away from the enormity of what has happened and the state the butcher has worked himself into, but equally won't stand for should'ves. [say]"Don't talk about the man I love like that."[/say] Reaching up again to wipe(ish?) more blood and tears from his face, his hand lingers there for a few seconds, thumb brushing across his cheek, before Asta is finally acquiescing, however much it might be lip service.
[say]"Okay,"[/say] he echoes back to him, pressing one last kiss to his hair before he's gingerly peeling himself away, steeling against any protests from the wound at his back until he can clean and bandage his arm and make them a very heavy cocktail of drugs. Drawing the drapes back from their den to let in the pre-dawn gloom - and so Asta can see where he is - Danta coaxes the fire up higher and spends a moment there to clean off the blood with a mix of flame and water, apply some ointment from one of the butcher's comprehensive first aid kits, and bandage it up tightly.
By the time he returns to the den, he's started making them tea and is carrying a glass of cool water and a cocktail of the delightful medicines the nurses from the Temple had provided. [say]"All of them,"[/say] he urges, offering them out to Asta. [say]"You ripped the muzzle right off. Your shoulder must be killing you."[/say]
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-23-2025
Gods he hates it. But the gentle scolding very nearly has him flinch – has him twitching with the gentleness of which Danta says it. The shuddery exhale leaves him and he finds that the blood still in his mouth begins to taste like ash the longer he goes berating himself in the interim. His head tilts up, dark gaze red and puffy and swimming as they glance to his lover’s face, so fragile and small compared to his otherwise daunting appearance when he agrees. Concedes.
Gives up.
He watches numbly as Danta slinks out of the bed, his jaw working hard enough he can feel the smooth edges of his molars grind against one another before he grits his teeth in another flurry of pain. He only stops when the flicker of light occurs, the drapes pulled back enough that the butcher can glimpse the smooth dawn encroaching, and it gives him enough light to see what he’s working with.
A towel is snagged from the side table, dabbed at the drying bloodstains in the sheets before left to try and soak as much as possible. And in this time, before Danta returns, the butcher’s back is pressed against the headboard, the broken and numb arm cradled against his chest and his lap, his forehead pressed up against drawn knees.
He can hear Danta’s approach, and he forces himself to look up, so silent as his dark gaze flits from the cocktail to the water, slowly unfurling himself enough to take the pills and swallow them down with the water before he sets it back and nods stiffly. “[say]Yeah. It’s.. It’s bad.[/say]” He admits, still with that too much Whitebrim tone to his voice, but at least the face beneath it truly is the butcher. Especially as he glances toward his lover's arm to see it bandaged and better than bleeding out as it had been before.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-24-2025
Smiling a touch to see Asta's attempts to clean up the blood from their sheets, only after he's accepted the water and the medicine does Danta pull the blankets back entirely to shove them off at the end of the bed. They have plenty of others, the Maverick already dragging them down from a little built-in space within the den they've made; all of this moving around has him a touch pale and clammy from both pain and blood-loss, but fuck if he plans to stop until they're both comfortable.
Dragging the fresh, clean blankets over the bed and the butcher - one of them is weighted, something he hopes might help if only a fraction - Danta takes a second to sit, his fingers flexing a little as the adrenaline starts to wear off and he begins to properly feel the bite beneath the bandages. [say]"The painkillers are strong,"[/say] he tells him, as if to reassure him that for as bad as it is, they should take the edge off soon.
[say]"While we wait, though..."[/say] And then the Maverick is off again, slower this time but still determined to get around the room, returning with their tea, and then with a bowl of warm water and a few clean cloths. [say]"I can clean you up, but first would you mind...?"[/say] He gestures to himself - his arm is clean and free of blood, but he has no idea what the rest of him looks like. And he gets the impression that Asta needs something to feel as if he's not entirely useless.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-24-2025
Glad for the help with the blankets, the butcher only unpeels himself as much as necessary. The weighted blanket is surprisingly nice, pressing against his legs with a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. But he doesn’t comment on it, nor does he react, instead he simply shifts enough to help his lover while he works, looking unsurprisingly pale.
It has his jaw set tighter, exhaling slowly through his nose as he silently hopes that the drugs start to kick in soon. He nods a short nod to the Maverick at the announcement, before his lover is tittering about again and the butcher takes a moment to try and slip the sling back on, finding some amount of relief in not having to hold his other arm against his chest.
By the time Danta returns, the butcher’s emotions have calmed, quelled enough for him to sit forward toward the blonde, peering at the bowl of warm water and the cloths. He blinks slowly at the offer, and gods if Danta doesn’t know him so fucking well.
He latches onto the task, forgoing any more self deprecation in order to reach out with the good arm, scooting closer beneath the weighted blanket to Danta, dipping it in the water and wringing it out in his fist. “[say]I can do that.[/say]” He says belatedly, voice thick and rough, reaching up to clean away the blood from Danta’s chest, where he’d smeared his blood and tears. It’s slow going but he ensures it’s warm, and the distraction works to let the drugs take hold, relieving the pain in his arm tenfold.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-24-2025
[say]"Thank you."[/say] Smiling warmly and scooting closer as well, although Danta hasn't slipped himself back beneath the blankets yet (he fully intends to, he just knows better than to even pretend at the idea of going back to sleep right now), he's as close to the butcher as ever, holding the bowl of water steady for him. As an added bonus, the heat of the cloth against his chest does feel amazing, the Maverick letting out a long sigh and sitting still and quiet to let Asta work.
Having also partaken in the potent cocktail of drugs, Danta knows to speak up only because he's also beginning to feel a hundred percent better in himself, blinking open eyes that have slipped shut to tilt his head to the other man. [say]"I'll send out a note to the Temple in a bit,"[/say] he decides. [say]"Have one of their healers with the fancy magic come to see us. I don't know about you but I wouldn't say no to being less injured."[/say]
Reaching for another of the cloths and rinsing it in the warm water, he reaches out to start wiping the blood from Asta's face and neck in turn, each movement slow and careful. [say]"This will never happen to us again,"[/say] he says quietly, sounding determined, and he isn't talking about lightning punches or broken shoulders. [say]"We'll both make sure of it. Okay?"[/say]
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-24-2025
Humming a note in lieu of you’re welcome, the butcher’s focus is heavy on the swaths of rust and red that cling to Danta’s pale and scarred skin. Chasing them until they’re gone, he trails it up to his face, tracing the handsome sharp panes of his cheekbones and jaw. And even if there isn’t anything to clean up here, he imagines based off of the long sigh, that it feels quite good.
Lowering his hand to dunk and rinse again, he smooths it over his lovers shoulders now when he speaks next, heavy dark eyes focusing on his lips. “[say]That sounds good.[/say]” He hums softly, defeat lacing through his tone as he hands over the cloth and stills, hand dropping into his lap and twitching his fingers over the blanket. His eyes slip shut as he works on clearing away the blood and tears against his face and chest.
And it’s a long few moments before he decides how to respond to Danta’s words. “[say]What else can we do?[/say]” He asks quietly, as if the Maverick has a silent plan he can’t fathom yet. Which only leads the butcher to think of Dygra as his last resort. Perhaps she can make him something to help him sleep at night without being woken like a spooked, abused dog.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-24-2025
Thoroughly distracted by the feel of the cloth against his skin, Danta has to force himself to keep concentrating on the man before him, swiping away blood and salt from his handsome face and away from his throat and chest. Only once he's content that they are both clean does he set the bowl and the rags aside, reaching out to take Asta's hand between both of his own, giving it a squeeze. [say]"We can do better, for a start,"[/say] he says, bringing that same hand to his lips to kiss his fingers.
[say]"I've been a fucking idiot, assuming that I'm the exception to your nightmares whatever the situation,"[/say] he admits with a soft scowl. [say]"It's not fair on either of us. But you've never once started having a nightmare without managing to wake me up - so from now on I'll do the safe thing and give you space to come around and work through it."[/say] It won't be fun to witness, and it will likely be even worse for Asta, but it's better than the bite taken out of his arm.
[say]"I wonder if there's something that could give you a dreamless sleep, too. Not just a sedative."[/say] Something to think about, certainly.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-24-2025
He wants to argue back immediately. To ask ‘better how?’ because just saying it doesn’t give him any semblance of how to fix it. But if he had, he wouldn’t have the time to hear Danta’s plans, the understanding that lingers in his gaze shortly after what had spurred this to be so bad this time around. That, and the slow realization that he’s always woken him up.
Frowning lightly, he nods slowly, the movement easier with the dulled pain in his shoulder. “[say]They are never about you.[/say]” He admits softly, though still adamant. “[say]It’s always before I became an Ancient.[/say]” Which is probably why his magic wasn’t on his mind in his slumber. He hadn’t had it then to use it, and reliving those nights, he feels exactly the same as he had before he’d been saved.
Weak, small, helpless. All things he’s made a point to not seem ever since.
Unless it’s today, apparently.
“[say]Maybe Dygra can help me with that too, now that the cane is complete.[/say]” He murmurs softly, taking a moment to brush his knuckles affectionately along Danta’s cheek. There’s still the shadows in his dark gaze but it seems more open, more broken, flayed to the morning dewy light.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-24-2025
[say]"I would rather hope I only gave you sweet dreams, selfish though it might be."[/say] Danta says with a wink, pressing a few further kisses to Asta's fingertips before succumbing to the butcher's fuss, leaning into the hand that brushes across his cheek. [say]"I understand, though. Whatever they're about, it was still egotistical of me assume something like this wouldn't happen at some point. I'll keep my hands to myself now, until I know you're yourself again."[/say] Lesson very much learned.
Nodding gently at the idea of bringing Dygra in to assist, Danta can't help the smile on his lips; once upon a time Asta wouldn't have even considered his wellbeing to be worth their goddess's time. [say]"Maybe we can also get you some better straps for the muzzle. Ones you can't rip off so easily?"[/say] he suggests; after all, if Asta hadn't been able to escape it, things would have likely been much different.
Straightening a fraction, Danta catches Asta's gaze almost by accident, and before he knows it he's tumbling forward to press a slow and gentle kiss to his lips, as if that alone might make it all better.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-24-2025
Thankful, eternally, for how Danta leans into his touch despite all the harm he’s brought upon the blonde. And for all of it, there’s built trust there, trust that Asta desperately never wishes to break and yet somehow always toes the line. Always somehow reverting to previous coping mechanisms to revert to his basest sense — survival. Regardless of who or what is in the way, even if he consciously not aware of it.
“[say]Maybe we should get a bell..? And no, before you ask, not a cowbell.[/say]” There’s a flicker of flat humor, trying to push away his own feelings in favor for trying to get his lover to relax, too. Or maybe it’s just the drugs taking his mind so far away from it he can tease and jest.
Brushing his knuckles along his cheek, the butcher nods slowly. “[say]Yeah, that would be a good idea.[/say]” He murmurs softly. He doesn’t know where he’d launched the muzzle, but that explains why the back of his head felt somewhat sore. He might have taken a few strands of hair with it too.
All of those thoughts are ones that die instantly when Danta surges forward, colliding with him in a gentle and slow kiss that distracts him from thinking to search for the muzzle. His arm slips around his neck and he selfishly keeps him close, pressing back into it with an apologetic kind of greediness. As if saying he doesn’t really understand why Danta hasn’t pushed him away because of how much work he is, but appreciating not having to be alone all the same.
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Dantalion - 01-24-2025
His mouth falling open in delight - of course Danta has considered a cowbell - he's promptly disappointed, though there's amusement dancing in his eyes even through the pout he puts on, nuzzling obnoxiously against his lover's hand. [say]"It's not a bad idea,"[/say] he admits, even if he hasn't been able to win Asta around to the merits of the cowbell. [say]"I'll see what I can find. Maybe we can train you to wake up to the sound of it."[/say]
Before he can ponder about the muzzle more himself, Asta's arm is slipping around his neck and Danta finds himself shifting to sit astride the butcher almost without his own permission. Careful of his injured shoulder and the sling, he returns his affections with just as much greed and reverence, smoothing his fingers through dark hair made messy by sleep and the abrupt awakening.
[say]"You're mine,"[/say] he whispers into the fraction of space between them when, finally, he's forced to take a breath. [say]"Every bit of you. Even the parts you don't think are worth seeing."[/say]
RE: fuck that shit let's start a riot - Astaroth - 01-24-2025
It was worth a shot, honestly. To wake up to the peel of a bell rather than an arm in his mouth. It would help him feel less volatile, and when it comes to getting Dygra involved in the process — well, the butcher has reached a point where it seemed vital. It was unrealistic for him to not sleep, and it was against everything their goddess stood for if he refrained from indulging in his very nature.
It just makes sense, doesn’t it?
Settling back where his back can press against the headboard, allowing him more availability to wind his one arm around Danta’s shoulders to keep him close, the butcher hopes it doesn’t make his back hurt worse than it likely already did. The fingers through his hair, soothe him more than he thought they might, and when Danta pulls away, Asta can’t help but to slump slightly against his lover as he catches his breath. “[say]What did I do to deserve you?[/say]” He asks, the question falling from his lips in such brutal honesty that he can’t take them back now or pretend it was a light joke of a sound.