If this looks familiar to you -- it should. I'm moving many of my one-shots to this account.
A/N: So I've never been in the LXG fandom before---I'm simply exploring, and I was reminded of why I loved this movie---it was Dorian Grey. I didn't see any Dorian fics (then again, I wasn't looking exceptionally hard), so I thought I'd write one. Here goes! A few references to the book, The Picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde.
All That Glitters Is, In Fact, Gold
How old am I? It's been years, years upon years. Not since my birth, mind you, but since Basil and that bloody potrait. It was only a prayer, a small request if you will, on the behalf of beauty incarnate. And whatever lord there exists answered my plea, and here I am, still the manifestation of artistic perfection herself.
You cannot tell me that appearances are not everything. You cannot attempt to argue that only the shallow judge a book by its cover. Watch the child with her enormous blue eyes glistening after she's done wrong and knows it; I've seen the punishment lessened more often than heightened. You cannot tell me anything about a person's inner being containing his most valuable traits. I've lived long enough to know that this world is corruption, and beauty is above all things.
This world, and all within it, bow before the idols Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty, has set upon this earth. I am one such idol, and so grand the sacrifices laid at my feet. Women; thousands of women have moaned at the tops of their lungs my name, and thousands more shall. Millions of praises as to my "age-surpassing intellect." Ah, the statements of the unwise. I know more than God himself, for I live a life that will end with His. Pleasures, what endless pleasures are mine, and simply because no gallons of wine, no fields of opium, no so-called terminal disease can touch me. I can do whatever comes to my head to please me, and no harm can come of it.
Arrogant? Oh, indeed, I am arrogant. But with right. How can one such as yourself convict me, when you have nowhere near the massive intellegence that I do? Try me at any tribunal, and I will win my case; bring forth any expert and I will make him an ape. How can any man theorize the events of the past when I am present, and I was present at the era he theorizes? I am the time traveler, with an endless memory, and an endless path before my eyes. A path in which I cannot stumble nor fall, for where would I land? There is no heaven, no hell for me. There exists no consequences for my actions. I can do whatever the hell I bloody well want to.
They say all that sparkles is not gold. Yet those that first stated it are dry bones beneath the earth. They did not see my coming. Indeed, I am wrought of the crudest lead; my sins all horrid bumps and jots along my inner self. Yet my exterior---ah, does it sparkle and glint with all the grandeur and breathtaking masterpiece of the purest aurum. Here I am, and you tell me that I am not gold itself? Is not my sentence superior to your own in which you are forced to abide for Heaven above for fear of endless torment in Hell below?
All that sparkles is, in fact, gold. The surface is all that matters in the realm of fools, and this world is a carnival of ignorants. You cannot tell me the inverse, for I am the elitist of man. You appear disgusted? Ah, your jealousy becomes you. It renders itself upon your face. I judged the story's pages by its outer case. And I am so truly correct. Believe me, I know myself, and I know the ways of the human mind. I've been given ample enough years to study, have I not?
So here I stand, the endless man, the perpetual portrayal of youth. I do, in fact, have everything one could possible want in this era, and I'll have time enough to accumulate the desires of the next. I do not regret myself; why should I? If I grieve, I have centuries to overcome it. If I betray someone, I cannot be ended. Who is like me? Not one upon this earth. Here I am, the lead that is gold.