[ … The figure across from him steps onto the stage, the light shining down on him, with both hands in his pockets. He’s dressed in his usual all black attire, hoodie drawn on his head with his bandages peeled off his face to reveal the black fangs poking out from his skin.
His shadow seems to twist underneath his feet until it takes the form of a woman smaller than him; arms coming to encircle around his neck in a protective, almost motherly, nature. ]
I’m not here to torture you.
[ That said, he draws his hand out from a pocket and promptly cracks his knuckles one-by-one. ]
no subject
His shadow seems to twist underneath his feet until it takes the form of a woman smaller than him; arms coming to encircle around his neck in a protective, almost motherly, nature. ]
I’m not here to torture you.
[ That said, he draws his hand out from a pocket and promptly cracks his knuckles one-by-one. ]
But don’t just lie on your back, you bastard.