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
“Mhm, that is what I thought.” He grins, all sharp teeth on full display – deepening the wrinkles already formed on his face, but the grin is wide enough to reveal the dimple on his cheek. Just one, of course, because two would be simply too perfect.
Warming up with the hand on his knee and the blanket draped just right, he sets the cards down with a quiet chuckle. “I think you have a deal, darling.” Glancing over toward his lover with a glitter of amusement in his gaze, he reaches for the tin of Nightcap, opening it to find perfectly sectioned out satchels of tea so there wouldn’t be a use for the steeper. Plucking one from the tin and setting it in one of the mugs – this one designed in all black and red with white little ghosts dancing up the sides – he drops the second into his own mug, a near mirror image of Danta’s but rather than it have white ghosts, it’s fully red with little black shadows dancing around the outside. Then, pouring the tea in to let it steep, it steams nearly immediately upon hitting the cool ceramic of the mugs. “Morning can be whenever we wish it to be, darling. It will still be dark and dreary outside even if the sun rises.” He laments, as if he’s so over being wet lately.
Warming up with the hand on his knee and the blanket draped just right, he sets the cards down with a quiet chuckle. “I think you have a deal, darling.” Glancing over toward his lover with a glitter of amusement in his gaze, he reaches for the tin of Nightcap, opening it to find perfectly sectioned out satchels of tea so there wouldn’t be a use for the steeper. Plucking one from the tin and setting it in one of the mugs – this one designed in all black and red with white little ghosts dancing up the sides – he drops the second into his own mug, a near mirror image of Danta’s but rather than it have white ghosts, it’s fully red with little black shadows dancing around the outside. Then, pouring the tea in to let it steep, it steams nearly immediately upon hitting the cool ceramic of the mugs. “Morning can be whenever we wish it to be, darling. It will still be dark and dreary outside even if the sun rises.” He laments, as if he’s so over being wet lately.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
