now i am the violence, i am the sickness
won't accept your silence
won't accept your silence
“We both know that would not work.” Asta hums softly, though not without the amusement flickering in the panes of his face. It had been impossible to keep them apart before, he imagines this would be no different. Even if it is intentionally done – because he’d had to travel a bit while doing his quest and he hadn’t gone with the Maverick and they still had both slept like shit apart.
Nodding, and about to tell him how it would likely be the next day because today is for them, the butcher only lets out a small huff of a sound as he’s dragged over Danta – his spidery appendages helping him to not crush Danta immediately before he can get his legs and arms and tail all into position for him to drape against his lover. “Tomorrow, likely. Or the day after, we shall see.” He hums softly, before he presses a kiss to Danta’s collarbone, before propping his bearded chin against his lover’s sternum, blinking up at him.
He'd nearly forgotten about the House of Midnight, with everything else going on, and so it’s with an increasingly growing smile that the butcher hums his agreement. “I would love to. Perhaps we can go after I speak with Thal?” He suggests, wondering if rather than spending Danta’s birthday in the rage room this year, if he can swap it to the House of Midnight and the room could quite literally be whatever they wanted to think up.
Of course, barring the moments where he’d promised to show Danta what it was like where he’d grown up.
Nodding, and about to tell him how it would likely be the next day because today is for them, the butcher only lets out a small huff of a sound as he’s dragged over Danta – his spidery appendages helping him to not crush Danta immediately before he can get his legs and arms and tail all into position for him to drape against his lover. “Tomorrow, likely. Or the day after, we shall see.” He hums softly, before he presses a kiss to Danta’s collarbone, before propping his bearded chin against his lover’s sternum, blinking up at him.
He'd nearly forgotten about the House of Midnight, with everything else going on, and so it’s with an increasingly growing smile that the butcher hums his agreement. “I would love to. Perhaps we can go after I speak with Thal?” He suggests, wondering if rather than spending Danta’s birthday in the rage room this year, if he can swap it to the House of Midnight and the room could quite literally be whatever they wanted to think up.
Of course, barring the moments where he’d promised to show Danta what it was like where he’d grown up.
Astaroth
beg me for forgiveness
