Basic fucking bitches. Everywhere. Your upper lip curls in disgust as the trifling masses pass you by. You are working, for once. A simple case, a boring case, a basic fucking case. Cheating quadrant cases always spike after mates day. You should be grateful, not that you need the money. You need fucking entertainment.
Following this yellowblood and his maroon mistress is a waste of your talents. Those talents being: stalking INTERESTING trolls, sleeping, being fine as fuck, and making bitches cry. You snap a few more pictures and recaptcha your camera, lifting the hood from your face you make an abrupt left and run head on into…
Who the fuck is this? Your dark purple eyes scan the troll in front of you. No style motherfucker, your head cocks to the side, not bad looking though.
"Watch your step fool," you hiss, teeth baring in a snarl, not unlike the feline that raised you.
Look at you. Out on the fucking street for once.
Though rather than your former hobbies of picking fights and… oh, how had you put it to your former kismesis? ‘Trolling for dick’? You’re stalking back toward the pad that’ll take you hive with an armload of groceries.
You’re on your way out of an admittedly high-class shop with some fancy fucking food shit to make your pretty matesprit a classy dinner—bags full of vegetables and herbs that you’re currently shoving into your sylladex. A bottle of wine that you’re not exactly sure is nice enough. Wine’s never really been your thing, after all, when it comes to booze the cheaper the better in your eyes. But this is more for Saevus’ benefit than yours, and you weren’t about to ask the snooty-ass clerk for suggestions. She looked at you like you were trash when you first came in. Sure, you’ve got fins, but that apparently don’t count for much. Not when you’ve got broken horns and torn jeans.
But she sure changed her tune when you lifted your head and she got a look at the tyrian eye you’re now sporting~
An eye that narrows in disgust when someone all but plows into you. “Yo, motherfucker better watch his step.” Nevermind that you had your eyes on this shitty bottle of chardonnay. You glance up. … /up/, because this asshole, like most, towers over your skinny 5”7 ass.
holy shit tho
Anyway makin a junk food run bbs
✝where you at?✝
i’m so done with this lmao
aibell just constantly texting t’li :I
I actually hate this now that it’s not 3am but yo
I’M BEGINNING TO FEEL LIKE A RAP GOD