slithers in

elesbreee  asked:

Jamison slid the window nearby open, the wind howling outside behind him in a freezing craze. After slithering inside, he closed closed the glass, shivering with a chill and chattering teeth. Immediately he approached Dasia and held on to her. "Cold." He stuttered. (Have a cute thing, reply when you feel like it! C: )

“Oh my poor dragon-cicle, come here! Why aren’t you wearing more coats?”

Yes those are icicles.

FFXIV Writing Entry: [11] -- [AU]Mercy versus Justice

Decrepit alleys lay awash with the first, autumnal drizzle. Faint flickers tickle the bulbs within the forsaken lamp posts, once-neatly planted along the pavement. Color-bled rectangles shape the course, width and berth of these alleys… And whatever else took to breeding within these hoods, too.

The pounding of the truck’s exhaust leaves little space for thought. It isn’t like for anyone to stroll through these quarters unattended at night… Or, at the very least, sporting desirable attention.

The clock’s long-since struck past the grand, ol’ midnight hour. Wishful thinking, for the city to be asleep… Yet, despite the slithering, ghastly fog and the spectral clouds clogging the heavens above, it never is. Always watching, ne’er resting.

The tires of my pick-up truck flare up in an abrupt burnout–the brakes are locked into place, hindering further movement. Loyal thing, this black beast–served its debt long past what I took for expected. Doesn’t show signs of givin’ in any time soon, either.

The door is the first to unclasp, and swing open. The soles of my boots are met with the watery rancor, hurrying down the tilted, broken tiles of cement paving the alley. A better life for the citizens, healthcare for all, poverty out-the-win’ow…! All those promises, an’ look the squalor an’ what else these people got from ‘em. I pound the heavy door back, offering a firm pat to the hood of the freshly-sprayed truck.

After the key’s secured the hinges of the door, I stuff my palms within the sanctity of my jacket. The winds were, for a blessing, not as tantalizing tonight–making the choice of a long, ebony leather jacket all the more appealing… Not that I wore much else on the side, anyhow. Black, fingerless gloves promised some succor of warmth to my palms… Not that I intended to stay outside overlong.

The back-end to some shoddy, run-down store was to be my rendezvous point, eh… Rightfully so–for deep it lay nestled within the abandoned hood, and gods would know how many stinkin’ mutts piss their territory ‘round here. The tapestry greets one in no kinder spirits–rotting off the wall, exposing solid, cracked brick from what I can only assume t’ be the nineties… And naught more is there, save for one archaic, wooden door to bar–or permit–passage. Try your luck. Or so it goes.

The back of my knuckles soon kissed the hind end of the doorway. I can feel the dense breathing ‘hind it shortly thereafter… Aye, the anxiety seeps from it like vitriol.

“Brought the milk.” I calmly mutter out, stowing my palm away, back into the confinement of my deep pocket.


I recollect my breath calmly, closing my lids as I make purchase of a lofty inhale.

“Whi’er than white, organic an’ so forth.”

The door creaks open, and I accept it as an invitation–or a death passage. Guess I’ll be made acquainted with either soon enough.

Darkness spills throughout the windowless abode–and swiftly does the door seal behind me, the moment I accommodated enough space. So much for decency, and one’s respect for privacy bubbles.

“You’ll ne’er get the code right, eh…?” the opposing voice calls out–some might find it surprising, painted just a few decibels and textures above mine own, with a lighter accent to boot.

“You make ‘em too long.” I retort swiftly, pressing on–idly nudging an empty pizza box out of my path with the aid of my boot. “Can’t be arsed t’ remember ‘em.”

“We’ve gotta be on the same page, bro–communication’s e’erythin’ these days!”

Lots of enthusiasm for someone barely leaving the precious comfort bubble of his makeshift basement… 

…Or whatever this slump was.

Three computer screens illuminated a far-stranded corner of the solitary room. You’d barely make out the riled, unkempt bed from the scarce light, a pile of littering, wasted ramen cups, fast-food delicacies and god-forfend what-else scattered beside it.

“Wasn’t kiddin’, though. Got you some actual food, kid. Now, to try this ‘gain sans useless passcodes,” As we both emerge before the blinding rays of the monitors, the pictures of blueprints come into eyesight. I shove the paper bag into the resident’s own paws, thinking no better of it. “Yo. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

A rather burly, pale hand curls around the helm of the bag nearly suspiciously. I quirk a brow upwards, but again, think no better of the matter.

“Awh, c’mon–won’t let me eat first?”

“First we work, then we eat.”

“Ye’re more of a Sea Donkey than a Wolf…”

“An’ whyssat?”

“It’d gimme an ‘scuse t’ call ye Sea Ass.”

I shake my head near-whimsically, choosing to opt out of the conversation. I really hope the selfsame humor did not run in the family.

I lay the balls of my palms against the desk, leaning onwards to inspect the screen. Lots of print, in blue. Go figure where it got its name from.

“Right’en, partykiller–what I’ve got fer ye t’day is a proper treat, aye. Witness an’ feast upon the greatest find o’ the century, hacked exclusively byyyy~ yours truly~!”

God, the enthusiasm in his narcissistic voice is difficult to weather down. Here’s to hoping that didn’t run in the family, either.

“So… Dhem, I’m lookin’ at…?”

I squint harder, once more, asserting sheer will against floating, glowing pixels on the monitor. They ain’t something you’d encounter in architecture 101, per se.

“The greatest of all finds, Dornn! Sittin’ on yer ears o’ermuch, bro?” He joins the fray, presenting quite… Eagerly to the monitors with his greasy palm. Ask me not whence from that grease came.

Minus the enthusiasm and eyebags-doubling-as-eyeshadow, he ain’t a far fetch from me in appearance. Go figure, having shared the same cradle, as twins no less.

“These are the prints of M’s Onument Tower! An’ funny story there, too.” He began, that acidic pride back within his voice. “I stumbled quite… Peacefully while lookin’ into an operation of “borrowing” cash from one’a their lesser banks… Especially ‘fter last week, when they’ve conquered an’ cashed in from no less than freakin’ 49 whoppin’ percent of the stock market–oddly enough, the competition rose t’ the same amount ‘swell, leavin’ only a measly 2 percent fer the rest’a the workin’ folk.”

“Huh… Guess they did grow big. Yet, you do realize that such a heist might be just a bit o’er our heads, eh? They ain’t one o’ the competin’, biggest Corps’ fer nothin’ these days.” The response came naturally to me–I’m not too eager to go knocking on the vault of M-Corp’s lesser banks, littlealone their main door. Word has it the mayor’s bent to their will… An’ that’s a word I don’t mean to challenge…


“A’ight, but get this–our lil’ un’erground hacker friends–”


“Aye, fine, my lil’ un’erground hacker friends would delight in this lil’ bit of info. Who knows what they could do with this? Per’aps finally expose the lyin’ whoresons fer what they really are?”

“Ye’re not givin’ that t’ them.” I cut in sharply, and a visage befit of crushed dreams dawns on him–irritation swift to follow by the twitching of his brow.

“An’ what’d ye have t’ say we ought’a do then, huh!? Let ‘em puppet-string the cops at their e’ery whim, roll an’ rile up new gangs t’ get the drug flow steady an’ goin’ around the streets, kidnappin’, slavery, human traffickin’–they’re worse than yer common mafia! Consider ‘em forgiven, eh…? Or did’ja forget who put ye in jail in the first place, eh Dornn?”

He’s got this flair in his eyes… The talk of justice often gets him riled up. Always does it manage to ignite his heart, like it once had done to mine own.

I rise my right hand out of my pocket, planting it atop my collar. There, I fiddle with a dogtag slung ‘round me neck, twirling it around me digits. A final exhale follows, as my own heartbeat descends into a chaotic beat.

“Mask yer address, send M-Corps a lil’ worm, a warnin’–posin’ as yer lil’ hacker friends. Keep the tension ‘tween ‘em still hot, can’t ‘ave it grow stale. While they fight it out, we’ll find ‘nother backdoor in their system. Send a copy t’ Big-B, but keep the o’her siblings outta it… ‘Specially Rally.”

“Not like she’d pay attention, or has e’ersince she got that shiny, new job who-knows-where…”

“That’s a matter fer ‘nother time. Get off yer ass, grab yer guns’n’rifle, we’re “goin’ the distance” this time ‘round.” At this, that spark within his crimson hues is embellished with a brilliant glint, as his hand dives underneath the desk, and then behind it–not the most practical spot to store a sniper rifle, but it’d suffice. It kept him alive to this day, so it had to, I’d imagine.

With a few flicks of the wrist, a smack on the Enter button, and an ungodly burp did the tick confirm the message sent. Soon we set out for the door–two guns holstered at the inner flank of mine own trousers, deftly concealed beneath the coat–and one of his own guns following suit on his person, with his rifle strapped across his broad, towering back. Comes with the Roegadyn package.

Within his other palm, a platinum laptop was held hostage–a quirky alien caricature with its tongue out slapped like a sticker across its front.

As the door unlocks, locks and we make for the car, Dhem sets loose a pent-up yawn.

“By the by, how’s the lil’ snake doin’ in ‘er lil’ lair?” He butts in, earning him a upright-bending brow as I climb into the truck.

“By all ‘ccounts, she’s farin’ well. Rivs can ‘andle ‘erself jus’ fine–an’ we’ll pay ‘er a visit to make good on that ourselves. She’ll be… Thrilled t’ hear the next plan, aye.”

“Right, Dornn. Well, plan’s secured, fake-message’s sent an’–” he pauses, a thousand clouds figuratively beginning to pour down on his mood.

“…What now?” I ask, as the engine roars to life–my gaze fixated briefly upon him.

“…I forgot the food.”

The last thing those alleys saw and heard right then and there was the tension of my truck’s tires against the uneven puzzle of a pavement, complimented by their burnout’s smoke–all the while in the meantime, hundreds of laptops and personal device assistants played witness to yet a new scheme of our own make, unfolding at their isolated screens.

[Involves]: @ladyrivienne

Cult Classics that everyone needs to see. 

some of these are big name movies with big followings. some are movies that maybe only a cult of like 20 people love. But they are great. feel free to add more that you like.

Donnie Darko

SLC Punk!

The Crow (only the first one. the other ones were trash)

Rocky Horror Picture Show


Cry Baby

Lost Boys

The Big Lebowski


A Clockwork Orange

Monty Python and the Holy Grail  (an/or) Life of Brian


Time Bandits

Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (and/or) Bogus Journey

Wayne’s World Series

Any Movie From Kevin Smith’s “View Askewniverse”

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Shaun of the Dead

  • Gryffindor: I made a poem
  • Hufflepuff: ok, let me hear It
  • Gryffindor: Roses are red/Violets are blue/ Sugar is sweet/ And so are you
  • Hufflepuff: That’s cute
  • Gryffindor: But the roses have wilted/ The violets are dead
  • Hufflepuff: oh no
  • Gryffindor: The sugar bowl is empty/ And so is your head
  • Hufflepuff: now it looks yours. Congrats. You sick bastard

Man Up

by reddit user Pippinacious

When the bookstore at the mall put up its help wanted posters, I jumped at the chance to put in my application. Between being an avid reader who had practically lived amongst the store’s shelves in high school and a broke community college student taking a semester off to save money, it seemed still customer service.

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