run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Sleep is a fitful thing for the butcher these days. But with the turns they take, he’s succumbed to being more like a graveyard shift worker. Up all night and part of the day to sleep for the evening and any opposite times where Danta was more awake.
It’s one of those times where it’s the midafternoon and he’s finally settled — curled up in the den under their multitude of blankets, his knees drawn to his chest as he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. It’s fitful at best, and he finds himself rolling over with a soft huff of frustration, burying his face into the dark furs to try and black out everything else.
It’s one of those times where it’s the midafternoon and he’s finally settled — curled up in the den under their multitude of blankets, his knees drawn to his chest as he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. It’s fitful at best, and he finds himself rolling over with a soft huff of frustration, burying his face into the dark furs to try and black out everything else.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
