#motorscuttlebabe

[psychcsexual]

@motorscuttlebabe replied to your photo: MISTAKES WERE MADE. ��✂️ �� @levwierectus.

idk i think it looks reaL cute smdh

THANK YOU SIMP. 😊🥰

[purrbeasts]

[]@motorscuttlebabe here you go!!![]

[trollonfire]

>

She’s been tracking this bitch for days, it feels like. Every time she gets a lock on her, she somehow has a new name, a new look, and a new day to slip out of your line of sight. It’s not like she’s even seen her pursuer, which is uniquely ˆfrustrating in a way that just really grinds Polypa’s temporary gears. But She’s got her now. Followed her all the way to her hive, for once. The penalty for imitating a cerulean might be high if she gets caught, but that’s if she gets caught, and you don’t exactly give off much of a thermal signature tonight. Polypa presses flat to the chimney of the house that faces the back of the troll’s Hive - Elwurd, she’s learned. Elwurd, no last name. Good enough. Polypa’s job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to kill trolls who piss her clients off, and it’s to do so before someone catches wind that she’s after them and poaches the job off of her. 

She waits, only moving to account for exposed skin to the rising sun, until even a cerulean of the more alternative disposition would be heading for bed. And then she gets moving. Silently, onto the scorching grass, across near-molten pavement, and up to the window. There’s a display warning her of superficial burns on her feet and skin, but she feels no pain as she effortlessly approaches one of the windows. 

Don’t break these ones, Pol, it’s sloppy. 

Taking her time despite the increasing warnings of burning on her exposed skin, she struggles with the lock before forcing it to open, smoothly sliding the window open.

“alright, gaegrl,” she murmurs, to herself, a slightly tinny edge to it, “let’s see what made you so competent you got a hit on you.”

@motorscuttlebabe

[takeme2clurch]

motorscuttlebabe replied to your post: chahut, holding her first out.

gay fist meets clown fist,,,,,

“...”

“hey.”

[artiiiiste]

> Last night’s outing? Awesome.

> It’s not every day Remele has an accomplice to her crimes, but that night it wasn’t a stealing spree for herself - it was for another pathetic cerulean who really seemed to need some cheering up. She don’t ask why or any kind of details - she’s cool like that. Or maybe she doesn’t care, but who’s counting?

> This other cerulean meets Remele with her arm in a sling and a very silly looking double pistols, but Remele meets her with her own pistol AND a wink. She’s kind of familiar, and after some chatting, she thinks she remembers her from the party at Gorjek’s place. She introduces herself as Elwurd. Maybe this won’t be so bad, Remele decides, but she makes a point to say that she’ll be doing all of the talking.

> They go to Claire’s first. This is wiggler shit, but Elwurd isn’t in proper form for Grand Theft Scuttlebuggy, and she isn’t exactly prepped to rob a museum or a hive with the smaller troll. A casual shoplift is just the sensible choice if they’re being honest. Nothing here is real gold or real quartz or even real stainless steel, so no one will even care to stop them, not even the bored-looking olive who watches them from behind the counter. They do perk up once they realize what Remele is doing, but she holds up purple packaging to Elwurd’s ear to see how it looks before either dropping it into her sling or putting it back onto the racks nonetheless. She doesn’t even react to whatever facial expression it is Elwurd is making and continue shopping around like a good little consumerist upper-middle-class blueblood, completely serene and just happy to be taking up space. El gets to be her accessory - like a purse, or a criminal enabler!

> Man, Remele muses. If I didn’t seem to attract so many uppity low bloods, I’d probably be a perfect high blood mate. That’s what she’s thinking while she gives the olive shop keeper stopping her the best annoyed-yet-smug expression she can muster.

“Oh, wow,” She sneers, putting her hand on Elwurd’s immobile shoulder to keep her mouth shut. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll handle this. Do we have a problem?”

> The olive starts to sweat, seeming to realize that they were outnumbered but caught between their slim margins and how much they could afford to lose.

“Uh, I can’t let you - ”

“Can’t let us what? Look around your little store and leave without buying? What is this, are you trying to extort us? That’s hilarious. But admirable. I’ll have to let corporate know that you’re doing your job well enough. Even if you were on your palm husk.”

> The other, nameless troll seems to stew in their confusion. “What?”

> Remele cocks her head before laughing boisterously. “Oh, did they not tell you? Those corporate types, am I right? They said they sent correspondence to every store! Maybe you missed it. We’re the quality assurance team. You know, secret shoppers?”

> Their blank, stupid face finally lights up with recognition as Remele spins this yarn in real-time. They seem to fluster, remembering how they seemed to sit on their phone, not greet the duo as they came in - every mistake jumps to the forefront, and the guilt - nay, the fear - breaks them on the spot.

“Oh, uh, I -” They start to stutter and stumble. Remele giggles conspiratorially at Elwurd.

“God, cashiers. Whatever, we’re supposed to make sure you’re protecting inventory, and in return, we get whatever we want out of the store. We take our reviews to corporate and - oh, you know, I don’t want to bother you with all of this shit. It’s above your paygrade.” Remele looks at her perfectly manicured nails. “Anyway, you’re passing. For now. Barely. Get us a bag, sweetheart, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

> God is right. Look at how they squirm and dash off to get them a thin plastic bag. Amazing.

> Remele empties Elwurd’s sling casually right onto the counter and into the bag, smiling to the olive blood, asking so many questions and getting only bullshit answers. “They’ll be reimbursing you in 8 to 10 days” blah blah blah. This troll will be dead in the next three for letting them walk without paying. Idiot.

> Remele carries the bag and swings it back and forth childishly, bouncing to an imaginary beat as they head to a much more high stakes store - the Gucci store isn’t too expensive, but they’re much warier or theft and not nearly as braindead.

> They’re barely out of earshot when Elwurd bursts out laughing. It nearly makes Remele jump out of her skin, but it mostly confuses her.

“Holy shit, girl,” She says as she composes herself. “That was great. You spin a tale like no one's business.”

> Remele’s confusion turns into a beaming grin, eyes squinting smugly with the wideness of her smile.

“I know!”

[purrbeasts]

motorscuttlebabe replied to your post: someday i Want to be a bad ass babe

i’LL teach ya LiL green Lmao

[]elWurd.... i’d be honored[]

[purrbeasts]

[]i’m so glad elWurd is here! i’m getting a ride to the bookhive instead of Walking oWob[]

[takeme2clurch]

motorscuttlebabe replied to your post: you ever look aT someone and jusT Think:...

hahahahahhaahahhahhh……

hey.