xxthis-is-greatxx

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

I’m sorry you met me.

Im sorry for every waking moment I’ll keep trying to push you away, your the best thing that’s ever happened to me and a light that graced my shadowed field of a heart and allowed the flowers and vines to bloom and return once more, the deers have sweet grass to graze because of you. The bees have pollen to collect and the lady bugs have leaf nymphs to eat. But I’ll keep trying to shove you way feeling so undeserving of such a sunshine. I haven’t been nothing but mean to you in the past, I’ve always just been so afraid. Terrified I’ll lead such a good person down with me. So nervous to do and say the wrong things, that you’ll turn and scorch my meadows just like the rest of them. But you don’t. You won’t I hope

I’m sorry you met me.

I’m sorry for every distasteful comment. I’m sorry for all the distance I’ll try to shove between us to keep you safe. I’m sorry you have to deal with my ugliest moments and feelings that leak out of me every chance it gets to overflow and overwhelm me. I’m sorry you met me. I’m sorry I lash my tongue out of my rotten throat without thinking about what the words truly mean. I never been much of a smart guy, but I do my best to act that way. I’m sorry I won’t let you in even after your countless pleads and gentle reminders and soft reassuring words. I don’t mean to be this way, the only way I’ve gotten around was to be mean, sharp yellow teeth snarling at any person who gives me the wrong glance or impression. I’m scared. I know how it always ends and I don’t want us to end that way.

I’m sorry you met me, my sweetheart, my closet brothers and friends.

I’m sorry you had the unfortunate experience of meeting me

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

now more than ever 🏳️‍⚧

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

This Is You On Drugs (Strade/MC BTD fanfic)

Strade doesn’t like drugs because they can change the way someone acts… But what if he shows them later how they acted?

Contains: Drugging, Filmed Violence, Canon typical violence, blunt force mutilation, gore gender neutral MC, Strade.

Food and drink in Strades house were safe. Strade wasn’t the type to poison people, it was too quick and didn’t give him time to see any reactions he craved.

Drugs would change or inhibit how you reacted too much. He wanted you to be yourself. A true king of encouraging self love and confidence.

So food and drink was safe. Water from the filtered jug in the fridge was safe. The cheese was safe. The cut up bits of steak were safe.

You had no reason to not eat in his house. If you tried to starve yourself he’d eventually force you to eat.

So when you woke up in the middle of the afternoon with a pounding headache, dry mouth, and chronic dizziness you just had to believe you were sick.

You had to be really sick. That was why you couldn’t remember falling asleep in the first place, or even waking up in the morning. You must have slept through the night and well into the day.

Getting up was hard. Your legs felt like cement. But you needed water. Your mouth was so dry.

Stumbling down the hallway, groaning in pain the entire way. It felt like your head was detached from your body, floating on its own towards the kitchen.

The light of everything was too much. You were forced to shield your eyes just to make it to the kitchen, squinting so much your eyes were almost closed.

Actually closing your eyes as you opened the fridge as the cold air hit your face, along with the fluorescent bulb’s shine feeling more like a needle to your skull.

Reaching in, blind, but knowing where that water was, you curled your fingers around the plastic handle.

“Don’t drink that.” A sudden voice, the fridge was closed forcefully. You looked up at Strade, he had a smile on his face… Like he was in on some joke you didn’t get. You rubbed your eyes, frowning.

“I’m thirsty.” you said, a fact made obvious by how dry your voice sounded. A chuckle, and he was pressing something cold into your hands.

You looked down. Bottled water. He never bought bottled water. That’s what the filter on the jug was for.

You didn’t ask questions, you cracked it open and began to chug it. You had been really thirsty. You felt better with every gulp of water.

Strade kept his eyes on you, his grin widening the entire time.

“Feeling better?” he asked, as you finished off the bottle. You nodded.

“Head still hurts… I think I’m sick.” an arm around your shoulders,

“Bet you need some rest then, huh? Come on, sit on the couch with me. You can relax there while I show you something…” He was pushing you towards the living room, still grinning widely.

“Strade…” your voice came out in a whine. “Can’t you show me later? I’m tired…” nothing sounded better than crawling back into bed, maybe with another bottle of water or two.

“Oh come on, Schatzi.” He sounded almost hurt. “This won’t take long!”

You sighed, giving up. Nothing would convince him otherwise when he got pushy like this.

He was admittedly gentle with you, guiding you to the couch, sitting you down against the throw pillows after making sure he fluffed them up a bit.

The TV was on, but for now the screen was black. Strade got comfortable next to you, arm around you again, leaning against you. Despite how terrifying he was, his solid warm form was a comfort you indulged in without restraint. Loving how soft and comfortable it felt to be nestled against him.

He lifted the remote, and pressed play. The screen fizzled a bit, then the picture became clear.

The basement. You jerked in his grip. One of his homemade films.

You definitely couldn’t handle this kind of thing right now.

“Strade-“ You began to protest.

“Hush. Just watch.” he shushed you, smiling at the screen.

A woman was on the ground, slumped against the pole. The camera moved towards her, accompanied by footsteps. It hit you that Strade was actually holding the camera. He usually had it up on a tripod-

“Okay Schatzi! Are you ready?”

You couldn’t recognize the voice responding at first.

“Yeeeaaaahhhh” They dragged out the word, ending it with a bit of a giggle. “You sound like… an ant.” The camera moved over.

It was you. You were wavering on the spot, eyes unfocused. A silly smile plastered on your face.

“What?” the you that was sitting on the couch began to speak. No, that couldn’t be you. You would never stand like that, talk like that, hold a giant sledgehammer like that.

The woman on the floor was beginning to beg, scream, writhe in place.

The Strade behind the camera began to laugh, backing up a bit.

“Go ahead then! Just like I told you! It’s just a fun game, like the ones you play with Ren.”

You sat in fear, disbelief, as you lifted the sledgehammer and began to approach the woman on the floor.

“No.” You said as you began to lift the hammer up. The you on film didn’t hear you, or maybe they just didn’t care.

You could only watch in horror as the hammer came down.

Ankle shattering, skin ripping apart. No. You shouldn’t be strong enough to do that much damage. As the woman on the floor let out an ear piercing scream, blood splattering across the floor, staring at her mangled foot in horror.

“Stop!” You yelled, trying to get up, to turn off the TV. Strade kept a grip on you, his spare hand was unbuckling his belt.

“Don’t be like this, Schatzi.” His voice was in your ear. “You looked so happy, it was almost worth the price of the drugs.”

Drugs. Drugs that he hated. It made you stiff with fear.

Drugs that had altared you, made you not yourself. The kind of thing he never wanted.

You could only watch as the you that was apparently hopped up on some horrid mix began to lift the hammer again.

Kneecap was next, the sound of bone splintering, skin turning into ground beef, your stupid fucking voice continuing to giggle.

“That’s… funny…” The you on camera knelt down, shoving your fingers into the freshly destroyed leg. How easily they slid into the torn tendons and pulverized muscle.

You pulled out a shard of something. The gross sound of wet suction and the woman’s breath hitching between her screams made you want to vomit.

“Uh oh…” You sounded like a complete dunce, looking at the shard of bone in your hand. “I broke it…”

You seemed to be referring to the piece of patella in your palm, staring at it. You dropped it onto the floor, now looking at the camera (or perhaps Strade?) in dissapointed.

“I wanted… Something to give you.” The woman at your feet was breathing heavily. Strade was laughing.

“It’s okay, Schatzi. You’ve given me so much already.” He was cooing, and you hated how it made your slack face light up in a grin.

The woman on the ground seemed to find her voice now.

“YOU’RE A MONSTER.” She wasn’t looking at Strade. She was looking at you.

She was right.

“A SICK FUCK.” Your smile had dropped now, using the hand that wasn’t on the hammer to cover an ear. It made your heart pound, watching this.

The you on camera shaking your head as she continued to yell insults at you. It was comforting, knowing that even while not in your right state, you didn’t want to be called those things-

“SHUT UP.” The drugs were speaking. They had to be. “YOU’RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE.”

No, the drugs were. Realize that. You were begging yourself to realize that as the hammer rose again. The woman was still yelling.

“STOP.” The both of you yelled at the same time. You were frozen in place, but they weren’t. The hammer swung down.

Wet thump, horrid cracking, teeth coming loose. A scream of pain turning into a wet gargle as blood and muscle filled her throat.

Another swing, an eyeball popping open, the inside oozing all over her face as her skull caved in. There were no more screams.

Another swing. Brain exposed, flying from the safety of the cranium, hitting the wall and floor.

You were breathing heavily as you dropped the hammer. Legs shaking, hands twitching, you were looking down at yourself in horror.

“Oh no…” The you on camera said, before looking back at Strade. “I got… really dirty.”

Your front caked in shards of bone, blood, bits of gore and more. You doubled over on the couch, retching.

Strade was laughing next to you, laughing on camera. It echoed and bounced, it was everywhere.

You were dirty. You were filthy. You were diseased.

Strade had turned off the TV as you sat there, rocking back and forth, gagging and trying not to vomit.

“You put on a good show, Schatzi!” He sounded genuine, rubbing your back.

And you hated how it made you feel just a bit better right now.

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

I want to go back to when times were quiet.

But that doesn’t exist in my world, it never did. everything was a loud blaring alarm that woke me up riddled with anxiety and fear. Made me repeat the same crazed phrase that made me feel better but it never did. It was a bandaid on a stab wound, and it fucking hurts.

I want to go back to times where I didn’t care, but I always did care. The moments where I didn’t? I couldn’t, I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything anymore. I don’t want to feel but I do. I want to feel it all but I wish it didn’t fucking make me bleed out so effortlessly.

I want to go back to when I was loved, but truly that never was there either, figures of beauty I painted were simply my imagination to the mold and scum that stood before me and lied to me time and time again. Like a rat to its own trap. Like a fly to a glowing blue, ever so welcoming, light that led me right into a bug zapper. I want all of it and none of it.

I want my friends to not have to also feel the weight of the world and our own misfortune fall upon on us time and time again. Every plan burned from under us, every ambition shredded in the jaws of malice and ill intentioned freaks that desperately want us to fall and crumble into nothing, or turn and crawl back.

“I want to go back” I cried to myself for the first time in weeks. But there is no going back, and there’s nothing for me there. The smell of rotten tomatoes, basil, shit and cat piss flood my nose with the most mournful nostalgia.

You can’t tell me how I should feel, how I should worry, how I shouldn’t worry, I fucking know that. I want it all and I want nothing. Truly a beautiful mix of indecisive mindsets lead me to right here. A bashful and thoughtful neutral in all my personal agony.

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Going through life is such a strange experience, sometimes you forget, this is everyone’s first time being born too. They don’t know any more than you do.

But, they also know as much as you, and you’d think peers would have the same emotional maturity but, sometimes they don’t.

And that closure you decided for yourself is never promised based on the fact that, it doesn’t rely solely on your words of felling but rather the others.

Watching you fade into something I can’t understand is so gutting. Seeing you turn into a monster I’ve never met before and my only solstice in the end, after hours of my heart being poured onto paper, text or a canvas for you, is “okay✝️”

What did I ever do to deserve this type of life. Did I make you feel like a dirty sinner who needed to scrub way the filth I had left on you? Am I nothing but a rotten soul to you who’s fallen from grace? But that’s not who I am. Maybe I am, but that’s not who I am. I’m a disheartened person just like everyone else, the point being loss at every turn. I tried too hard to build you up into a person that you’ll never be. Remembering all the words or phrases that still hurt my heart will forever leave a scar that I’ll curl up to at night and make my brain feel like it’s going to explode.

You ruined everything like I let you in to do. Flooding everything and leaving me with the mold and water to clean up. I’ll never forgive or forget you, all I want to do is just shred you apart. But I chose to walk away. You became someone I don’t even know. Who I don’t care to know anymore. I want to replay every moment for you just like my brain does every time my eyes open in the morning, I want to blame you for every single wrong thing that happens, I want you to be the reason I never want to love or lose someone again. I will never allow myself to let someone in so close and raw to my heart. You can cry to your Christ all day and night but nothing will change the fact of who you really are. A disheartened lost sinner in the eyes of your own god. But that’s the live you chose. And I pray, you’ll never get your happy ending just like I never got mine. Hopefully god can also save you from being a shit person.

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Feeling so strange in my skin once again. Trying so many diffrent things to run away and hide behind away from my own thoughts and emotions. Feeling stupid for all the moments I look back on and think “why did I allow myself to endure that?” And then realizing, I didn’t allow myself into that. I didn’t allow these people to hurt me so deeply and so far in that I never even showed them. I have been hearing their voices in my music or videos, or in my ears as I awake before the sun, seeing their faces and piercing eyes in crowds of people who vaguely outline them. I feel the hands gripping at my jaw and stealing the innocents from my lips and eyes. Holding on to cold hands that don’t have any love left in them for me is my hellscape.

Thinking on all the memories and times where I felt uncomfortable but familiar. The sense of safety in their words painting their portrait to others as a beautiful masterpiece only to have the paint melt and run off to my feet leaving me with a beast that gnashes its teeth at me for every mistake or distasteful thought to them. Being quietly pushed away or stepped over seems to be my only redeeming quality.

I don’t want to bite or hurt them, I just wanted to be loved and felt safe again, I want to feel safe in my own skin and heart but it seems, that’s not the plan for me. That’s not what my life was written out to be, it’s been years and years of built up suffering and hate that now I feel like if I don’t thrash and think I’ll drown under the own weight of my skin. I feel foolish and pitiful but, I looked to these people for comfort and care, and they showed me their cold blade before shoving it into my back. But I’ll be okay, I know I will wake up and they will also wake up, and we will walk with our own lives. I plead with anyone in the same heartache and woe to simply, take it day by day, enjoy your little moments of watching the sun come up softly over the hills, or smelling some fresh brewed coffee or getting a really good sandwich. Sometimes you just need small moments like that to keep yourself breathing,

Of course there are moments where you pour rotten creamer into your coffee. But that’s not yours or anyone’s fault, not even that damned rotten creamer knew any better

Keep going even if it feels like you can’t <3

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

When is it my turn to have love so as deeply as this? (It will turn to rot and sour before I can even let go, there is no point in trying to build a steady, and close enough relationship to anyone as I am not even sure I am good enough to even begin to feel like someone deserves to put up with me, how low must that be? To have to beg and plead so desperately for someone to be there and take care of me as often as I am there to take care of them so deeply, letting them dig so deeply into my chest only to allow them to rip my heart out and make me bleed over and over again, and for love, for knowing someone loves me, I’d do it all again. I’d allow myself to be ripped to shreds for just, a, “I love you” without any malice or resentment built up behind it. It’ll never happen, it always changes, but it never gets better)

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Guess who’s back online after his life fell apart again :3!!!

Basically, life update had a gf for abt a year, had a lovely time and then she iced me out and now is emotionally cockblocking me and wanting me to hate her, but shit happens

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

YKMET Progress

I've been rather quiet about my work lately haven't I? Well, I'm happy to report that I've just finished the coded script for Strade's remix [ YKMET ]. This means that the game is basically functional- but of course there's still a lot of work to be done! I'm about to begin with the sketch placeholders for the art, and the art always takes the longest for my games.

The script came out a bit longer than I anticipated. I knew it was going to be somewhat larger, but the script is more than twice as long as Strade's original path already, and I haven't even put in any of the image coding. I still have some framework coding to be done as well, things that will be easier once I have some artwork in place [ like the CG gallery for example ].

I can't provide a release date this early in the process yet, but I hope to get the next phases done in around a year- but it really depends on how much art I'll ultimately need and how long it'll take to draw it all.

But in general, I feel like production is going very well :)

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Animatic que pude terminar yipee

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

This is so strange but I remember so vividly of there being a dick size chart for the BTD guys, I cannot find it ANYWHERE am I insane or do you happen to know where it is???? Or have it????

FUCK I know EXACTLY what you're talking about and I thought I had it but I don't 😭 I'll update this post if I find it tho

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Appraisal (Reupload)

Derek's Dad pays you a visit!

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked

Contains: Oral, Non-Con, mentions of canon typical violence, Mr. Goffard.

You roused yourself from your exhausted state as the door to the room opened. You'd long since lost track of time since Derek had brought you here, payback for stabbing him.

No matter how loudly you protested, pointing out that he was going to KILL YOU, he still felt for some reason that he had the right to do so. You were just supposed to sit back, and resist, but let it happen.

You just hung limply in the chains around your wrist, staring at the floor. He no doubt was here to use you again. However... whoever entered had a strange, eerie calmness in the way they walked. Something Derek failed to have. You lifted your head to look up at the man.

He was much older than Derek, but, he looked sorta like him... His dark brown hair was meticulously styled and gelled into place, his beard trimmed and combed so not a hair was out of place. His eyes narrowed down at you, staring. It struck with you that this must be Mr. Goffard. Derek's dad.

You let out a "grrk!" as with surprising quickness, he grabbed you by your face, squeezing your cheeks together. Uncomfortable, but not painful. He twisted your head around a few different directions, staying silent. You felt a prickle up your spine. You were being evaluated, like a horse at auction.

"Open Up." He stated. His voice was calm, but held power that Derek could never dream of mustering into a few simple words. Without thinking you opened your mouth, not making eye contact as he prodded a few fingers in your mouth. They tasted like a mixture of expensive cologne and paper documents.

He let you go, giving you another once over, and you swallowed down the taste of his fingers, feeling yourself cower despite his lack of violence towards you. He hummed for a moment, then gave a simple nod.

"You're a pretty little thing. Now let's see how you perform"

Your mind went blank, not even noticing as he leaned forward, unlocking your wrists from the chains. Any instinct you had in you to ask "what?" or even make a noise had been beaten out of you by Derek. He didn't like it when you talked without permission.

You sat up on your knees, rubbing your aching wrists as you looked up at Mr. Goffard through your eyelashes, no doubt looking like a dog begging for scraps at the table.

He was making quick work of undoing his belt, unzipping his expensive slacks. He was already hard, you could see it straining through his underwear. Unlike his clean shaven son, he allowed his hair to grow, though it was kept neat, a trail of brown hair leading down to his cock as he pulled it from it's restraint.

You weren't stupid, nor still in shock from the sudden release. You'd long learned that behavior was punishable. You wet your lips, understanding what he wanted from you, inching closer-

A hand on your forehead, pushing you back. If you weren't mistaken there was the beginning of a smile on his face.

"Eager? Good. Let's see what my idiot son has taught you." He let you go now, procuring from his pocket a small, fancy looking box.

You couldn't focus too much on what he was doing though, you had a task at hand. You hesitated for a moment, wondering where to start, before deciding it would be best to just go for it.

He made no noise, no movement as you ran your tongue of the tip, then began to slide yourself down it. Derek liked forcing you to take all of his at once, grabbing your head, skull fucking you, panting and grunting about how slutty you were.

You honestly kind of preferred it. Derek was easy, you knew what he liked, what he wanted. Mr. Goffard wasn't giving you any hints, just watching you bob your head up and down, taking him further with each move, until your nose bumped into his pubic bone.

You flinched as you heard the sound of a lighter, was he going to burn you? You began to work faster, gagging softly as his cock hit the back of your throat a few times. 

“Ugh, filthy.” You looked up at him, mouth full of his cock. He was… smoking a cigarette. A very fancy looking one, a gold and black wrapper. He exhaled, a cloud of smoke coming out. 

“You’re getting your spit everywhere, do you know how much these pants cost me? I doubt even one of your kidneys would sell for enough to  cover the cost. Derek really has no idea what he’s doing with you.” 

Your face flushed red, realizing how much of a mess you were. Saliva was dripping down your chin, all over his cock, getting ready to trickle off onto his slacks and leak onto his shoes. 

Your apology was muffled, knowing that speaking out of turn would probably mean punishment. But you needed to say it, and you should probably show it too. You did your best to swallow around his dick, taking off any excess spit. 

You needed to be careful, more refined about it. You could smell his cigarette as he continued to blow smoke down at you, making your eyes water. You harshly blinked your tears away, no crying, no tears. That would make it even messier, it would make him even more unhappy. 

You stopped as you felt a hand on your head, his fingers curling into your hair, keeping his cock buried as deep in your throat as he could. You used your tongue as best you could, feeling his cock twitch, cum hitting the back of your throat. 

More things that could make a mess, you didn’t want to upset this man. In a lot of ways… he scared you more than Derek. You had no choice but to swallow, digging your fingers into the plush carpet to hold yourself in place. You didn’t want to risk clinging to his legs, messing up his pants, angering him. 

Once his hand had relaxed, letting you go, you pulled yourself back, shivering under him and his softening cock. 

“Hold out your tongue.” he commanded, holding his depleted cigarette out. Scrunching your eyes closed, you did as you were told yet again, preparing yourself. 

You heard the sizzle first, of embers going out on your tongue, before pain blossomed. You held back a hiss of pain, only letting out a single long keening moan. Your tongue shot back into mouth the moment he took the cigarette off. 

“Ah ah, no. Let me see.” he said, his voice low. Slowly, you stuck your tongue out again, whimpering as he grabbed it, pulling it. He inspected the burn mark for a moment, before giving another simple nod. 

“You may put it back in.” You tasted burnt flesh and blood as you clamped your mouth shut, hoping he wouldn’t make you do anything else. 

You simply watched as he straightened himself out, and zipped himself back up. 

“I will leave you unchained. You performed… a bit better than I thought. Take it as a reward. Don’t leave the room.” 

“Yes sir.” you whispered, not lost on how your reply mirrored that of the man who made you his captive. You just sat on the floor, staring into nothing as the man left. You could only wonder what that was all about. 

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

A Tempting Offer (Re-Upload)

Strade receives a message from a fan!

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

Contains: Strade, mentions of Asphyxiation

If Strade was asked to be honest about the reason he truly streamed on the dark web, he would have to admit it was not for the fun of entertainment. It merely provided him a way to obtain an income whilst doing what he loved. And hey, they said if you loved what you do for a living, you’d never truly work a day in your life. 

He lived by that rule, though he couldn’t deny that sometimes it annoyed him how his viewers saw his “guests” as just a piece of meat to torture. How rude they could be to the shivering college girl or the loud mouthed trust fund brat. He put up with as much as he could though. He depended on that money after all. And some of them donated very generously to see him gut a poor sucker.

In his “office”, he cracked open a beer as he booted up his computer, sipping on it slowly as it slowly turned on. Thus was the cost of being so entrenched in the dark web. Special software in order to access it was quite bulky. Devices that moved his IP to some other random place in the world often, making him untraceable. Especially useful for his line of work. Couldn’t have someone tracking him down. A heavy stack of RAM, SSD, and other type things so that he could host a stream on his own network, not tied to the garbage low quality that many of these sites offered. 

B3GCRY knew his way around computers, and he knew how to keep himself anonymous. He didn’t exactly go out of his way to seem approachable on streams, which was for the better. He didn’t need people bothering him “off the clock” for silly requests. Or dick appointments which they naively thought would not end in them being eviscerated. 

Which is why seeing a little red number pop up on his host site. A direct message. A rarity, but was probably spam. He hovered over it, expecting to see a “Fuck a HOT MILF today!” or “Buy Drugs” type message, instead, it started simply. 

“Hello :)” that little emoticon seemed to stare into him. Narrowing his eyes, Strade sighed, taking a deep swig of his beer now. He clicked on it, ready to block them at the drop of a hat. Something he usually did with anyone who messaged him. It was better for them if he blocked them. 

He was met with a quick, yet to the point message. 

“Hello :), Uh, I stumbled across your stream the other day. I have this fantasy of being on camera in that kind of situation. I could pay you. I just kinda wanna die, lol.” 

Now, that was something he hadn’t seen before. He had the odd silly girl saying she was into freaky stuff, asking him to cut her, choke her, etc. Or that one weirdo who’d asked for a sperm sample. But someone coming to him asking to be killed? It intrigued him. But it could also be another silly person, thinking it would be a kinky little game and they’d be able to go back home. He could never let anyone who came into this house leave alive. 

He pulled his keyboard close, setting his beer down and typed a message back. 

“What did you have in mind?” he asked simply, leaning back. He was surprised to see them begin responding almost immediately. 

“Oh! You replied! Oh, well. See, I’ve always been into hangings… I’ve never seen you do one, closest thing was when you choked out that one guy while you fucked him. Let me get to the point. I’ll offer myself as a sacrifice. You can torture me on camera for money, and then hang me at the end.” 

Strade had to read that several times over, what kind of masochist had he found? He watched as they began to type another message. 

“No one else knows this about me. I’m living a lie, it feels like. So I may as well go out being true to myself and my desires. My life savings would be yours, I can convert them to whatever crypto you prefer.” 

Strade’s mind was racing, as he thought it over. This could be a fun victim to play around with for a while. See how they’d react to different stimuli. Maybe he’d bring down Ren to suck him off while they perished. He sat up though, as reasoning came into play. 

This would mean telling someone where he lived. Having them drive or book a flight out here. Telling others where they were going. 

He had spent too long covering all his tracks, ensuring he was untraceable, moving out of his home country, to be caught like this. 

His mouse hovered over the block button again.

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Drawing I did for my bestie thank you tumblr for the quality drop @thebunnyhasfangs

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Got my keychains from gato shop (as a commission/trade by the amazing @thebunnyhasfangs) and I’m absolutely IN LOVE with them, they are so awesome and amazing quality, don’t expect anything less then beautiful from the epic @gatobob ! They really are perfect

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

Drawing I did for my friend @thebunnyhasfangs :D my fav part is bunny :)

[xxthis-is-greatxx]

I wish groomed pubic hair was way more in style

Bare can be sexy but it's basically the default and it's sooooo boring (not to mention makes people feel bad for having hair).

I love hair & feel like a lot more people who dont wanna be au naturale would be more apt to neatly trim and groom their bush than straight up shave or wax it off if it was more popular