A Human Animal"Oh, whatever. Get a life." She scowled as she slammed the car door shut and watched the pickup truck speed off. She smelled the familiar burned rubber, she heard the screeching of the tires; felt more than saw the headlights fade away. She didn't stay standing on that curb for more than half a minute, but it was long enough. With gritted teeth, she threw her purse down on the lawn, the likes of which contained a mixture of dead grass, mushrooms, and too-long, off-green grass. She ripped at the buttons on her coat and tossed it over her purse, careless.A Human Animal5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
It was two in the morning, who would be out to steal her purse and coat? Even if they were stolen, there was nothing of real value in there. Nothing that couldn't be replaced. She kept anything valuable on her person at all times. That was the smart thing to do, after all.
With these reassuring thoughts, she bolted across the street, into the construction zone newly formulated there, with loose mesh boundaries she leaped with ease. She
An Apple a Day ...Fall and winter were vamp seasons, for so many reasons. Chief among Conrad's and not many others' was the convergence of nightfall and the operating hours of the Mac store.An Apple a Day ...4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
For half the year, the hours that his favorite spots were open also happened to be the hours he couldn't go outside without risking immolation. That left the one good coffee shop, a host of bars and a vast array of establishments he really didn't want to think about, even after weeks of frequenting Worth's office. Yeah, he could (and did) get the essentials online. But it was never the same, especially when most of these places were a culture unto themselves and had formed a large part of his social life before. And none could compare to the Mac store.
It had been late Fall already when Conrad had been turned, so he hadn't had to think much about the daylight hours issue. When he finally emerged from the initial misery and "oh-god-what-the-fuck-just-happened," he'd gotten an e-mail about some new piece
ColorsConrad is an artist. And despite his grumpy exterior, his obsession with tidinesshis pressed and folded spirit, packed neatly into the wardrobe of his mindhe sees colors and patterns in everything. In this pavement, stretching out beneath him, the cracks are like a spider-web, foggy in their whites and blacks; a delicate weave of light and dark, with traces of green where the moss has started to seep out. The sky is peach-on-midnight-blue, a symptom of the polluted air sliding among the city streets like a disease. The buildings around him cast gold light and when he walks by them, it's like the sun is shining again. They attract him like a moth to the flame, and sometimes he'll lurk outside and pretend that the peach-and-blue closing in above is just an abnormally high ceiling, and that the real outside world is this miniaturized one shining yellow on him right now.Colors5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The town he grew up in was smaller than this, and constantly framed by grey. Silver clouds let a murky glow