The Portrait of Basil HallwardAs of tonight, Basil Hallward was officialy sick of English society, and of all the dull witted gossips who floated and bobbed about in it like cross-eyed herring.
Basil was seated between two women, neither of whom were particularly pleasant company. There was very little company that would please Basil, in point of fact, but that did not at all excuse the unusual poor choice of arrangements set forth by their hostess. He glared across the table, towards the asymmetrical flower arrangement behind which Lord Henry was seated, occasionally making innocent and bright eye contact.
Basil had been a fool to come along tonight. For a long time now he had been in a state of constant, seeping displeasure with Lord Henry, and they had seen very little of each other in recent years. He only had to look across the spread of plates and napkins to the tapping finger of his lordship to feel that displeasure churn into a quiet acid rage. The flash of silver, he had been informed earlier that night, h
And Not MeSomewhere in New England:
Not quite midnight, at just the brink of autumn. Sliver moon. The air was cool as unsheathed metal, and it curled over Doc Worth's shoulders like the delicate talons of a succubus. This he knew from experience.
And a damn fine succubus she'd been, once you got past the alien eyes and the weird boneless movements.
The doctor blew out a breath of blue smoke, twisting eddies like some nightmare creature feeling its way out of another dimension. He snorted. Clearly, he'd been spending unhealthy amounts of time in Hanna's presence, and if he was smart he'd take this as a sign to invest in a pair of earplugs next town they reached.
"This is incredibly boring," Conrad murmured, arms crossed, leaning back against the stone wall.
"An' whatcha expect me ter do about it?"
They were waiting. They had been waiting for an hour, because the man they were waiting for was mysteriously absent and there was nothing for it except to wait, wait, and hope that their masque
InstinctBlow back the wind of autumn days
Clench your eyes to falling night,
you soldiers of the war that plays
On towers in the evening light.
Here! The call, the breaking note
That rocks the leaves in clouds of red.
Dripping, sticky, how they wrote-
Those spray paint Prophets on the ledge.
Once nights came in flocks to reap
The year and see the murder done-
No one now knows why they weep
And rage against the setting sun.
Come see the shadows walk this eve,
Break the stems that drip sweet tears,
The whispers in the wind believe
That Death is King of all our fears!
Creeping Messiah Complex 6Florida
Eleven Months and a bit after the Treaty:
The truck had a tape-player.
What they really needed was a tank's tower or a grenade launcher, but Hanna got them a goddamn tape player. Doc Worth stuck a finger in the slot and found it otherwise occupied.
"Hanna," he growled, turning back to look over the shoulder on his seat. "Hanna, th'fuck is this?"
The redhead sort of ducked behind his rifle as he climbed in to the back. "It's a tape?"
"I know it's a tape," Worth shot back. "What the hell is it doin' in our truck, tha's what I wanna know."
"Guys," Conrad hissed, from the driver's seat.
"Cool yer jets, Ace. I'm just doin' a friendly last minute interrogation."
Conrad slapped the wheel. "This is not the time!"
Worth looked out through the back window, considering the torches glittering off the army of trucks behind them. Somewhere outside, somebody cocked a shotgun. The tail end of his glance met the pupil-less eyes of Hanna's ne
Creeping Messiah Complex .5Part one
Eleven Months and a bit after the Treaty:
Rule number one of living anywhere, anytime, no exceptions: no matter how hot-shot or bloody or paranoid your life is, mundane business always manages to grab you by the ankles and drags itself along, eventually. Laundry, paperwork, whatever. Even a sheik's got to eat.
Hanna went hunting. The local guys in the house were all gee thanks Mr. Cross, shaking his hand and running around looking for shotgun shells while he stood there looking at his feet, although with the way they eyed the now-useless refrigerator you'd have to have been blind not to have seen it coming.
Doc Worth shouldered his rifle, complements of some guy with a hooknose, and elbowed Hanna in the ribs.
"Wan' me ter tell 'em how ya cried like a baby first time we went huntin'?"
The magician made a face. "Nobody needs to hear that."
"An' ya named the goddamn rabbit waffles an' ya wouldn't let us eat it?"
"It's a goo
As Far as Memes Go...LGBT Quiz
1. How long have you known you are part of the LGBT community?
To begin with, where I'm standing it's not much of a "community". I only know five or so outed queers (is that PC?), and only two of them are friends. The GSA at my highschool was... not my scene. It never worked out. Actually, as of today I know two more. But the point is, any real understanding I have of a LGBT community is that it's something other people have, and not me. But if the question is actually, "when did you know you were different", I'd say it began in sixth grade, watching BET music videos with the sound turned off, wondering if it meant anything that I wanted the girls to take their tops off.
2. Was it a struggle (emotionally) for you at the beginning?
Well, in a way. There were a couple years of hedging around the issue in middle school, literally recoiling every time my mind wandered over it. It's amazing what you can just not think about if you really don't want to. There was paranoi