give me that poo


Deep in an alleyway in New York, near central park there is an edgy, short skeleton. He’s dressed in mostly black, except for a red shirt that reads “with the right price, I’ll do anything.” There’s a dark and ripped leather jacket over it, as well as the pants to match. He takes out a vape, exhaling a sweet cherry cloud. His right eye is partially closed, no pupil inside, and a scar across it. It seems like he’s blind in that eye. His teeth are canine sharp, one of them golden. He waits for someone to come along and to give him “work.”

(Anything except for poo anyway. Message me, not reblog, to continue the Rp!)

“We are not your enemies, Feyre,” Lucien pleaded. “Things got bad, Ianthe got out of hand, but it doesn’t mean you give up-“ "You gave up,” I breathed. I felt even Rhys go still. “You gave up on me,” I said a bit more loudly. “You were my friend. And you picked him - picked obeying him, even when you saw what his orders and his rules did to me. Even when you saw me wasting away day by day.”
—  A Court of Mist and Fury (Sarah J Maas)