#perl-less

“Bellamy Barnes has got fantastic taste in clothes. Cassie Germaine knows precisely who she is, and what she likes, and dresses very smartly and elegantly to reflect that. And so does Dani Savin.” 

“Perl Turing, of course - love her style or hate it, it’s very uniquely her; Teddy Aynesworth knows how to dress himself and has a rather distinct aesthetic sensibility... 

...and that’s the best I can do off the top of my head, really.” 

[TXT] What are you doing ⚡️ ?

[ text ]: I have had my computers set up for 2 hours and you hacked them already????

[ text ]: I told you before that all of the pictures you want are in photo albums and you’re too young to know what photo albums are. Leave most of the files alone. it’s all space stuff and v. important. perl - focus. don’t get distracted because i said important. no you can’t go in and delete things or add in porn files. i mean it this time. this is my serious face >| 

[ text ]: if you leave the computers alone, i’ll introduce you to Nice Rack, Burnaby, and Lady V. I lost Lord V during a jousting match. the knife slipped. that’s what happens when you set up roomba jousting after a night drinking with MIT alumni.

Listen, confession isn’t about getting punishments that you’re going to ENJOY.

Isaiah was lounging on the couch, staring at his cellphone’s screen. After spending long minutes watching ridiculous videos, an idea crossed his mind. He quitted YouTube, and opened his browser, typing in the search bar “how to get a fake ID”. He was about to click on the first link of the search results when a text message popped in.

Above everything else, the place smells like piss. It isn’t surprising for Aran, not really, because all the places he’s been like these always ended up, at one point or another, smelling like it. This time, he knows, it’s because of the kid--the young werewolf, a visitor in town--who had gone down in the first round, and messed himself across the ground-out patch of dirt they called The Ring. The judges, moderators, they’d thrown straw down into the muck and raked it up, and just like that, the fights continued, with a burly looking human taking on another, and winning, without much shock and awe from the audience.

Aran would have guessed: not much caused shock and awe among these types.

When it was Aran’s turn to go, the moderators decided to give him the welcome that the kid had gotten, putting him up against another werewolf (chance, they said, matches were drawn on weight alone) who was steel-cut, towering above Aran’s six-foot-four, all lean muscle, face more scar than smooth flesh. Bark-like. Inhuman. It wasn’t a fair fight, but Aran did better with unfair, and knocked the fucker out in the second round with a blind uppercut to the Ent’s jaw.

It was as he emerged from the ring, eye beginning to swell, that he spotted her, and without asking, calling attention to his actions, pulled the water bottle from her hand and took a swig of it..

..and coughed up half the vodka he’d mouthed, hacking: “--fuckin’ vodka?”