Extracts meme, original fiction

[fan_elune]

And now let's do this for original fiction, in case anyone's interested.

Hell is where the heart lies – yet another story of mine dealing with homosexuality.

You answer to the name of Logan – or was it Laurie? Lee, maybe? Something in L. Doesn't matter; you answer to the way I suck on your earlobe, on the sensitive skin right under your ear, nibble my way down your neck, hands dealing with the rather unpractical pants that stand in my way. You answer to the call of my hands, my teeth, my lips, my tongue, you respond by husky moans and ragged breaths, grip the table you've been backed into and throw your head back as a moan builds from within your chest. It sounds almost like a purr.

Frank was being assaulted by Francesca, Jose and Carla, as Fab had feared. They were asking him something about whether he had bought Fabrizio a corsage and Fab felt his cheeks heat up at the question. Frank simply looked amused, warmth twinkling in his eyes and dimples gracing his cheeks.
"Why, he's quite handsome, Fabrizio," his mother whispered approvingly as they made their way down the stairs.
Frank probably heard her, because he looked up then, and his expression reached a new level of warmth as his eyes settled on Fab. The knots disappeared from his guts, replaced by the good kind of butterflies.

Frank kept talking all the way to the punch and poured them both a glass. Then he stopped and made that strange expression of his that always got to Fab, halfway between a smile and a pout. "You're feeling awkward, aren't you?"
Fab knew how much Frank wanted to be here. "Nah. Well, yeah, but – not too awkward, you know." He smiled a little, his free hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. "It just takes some getting used to."
"We can go if you'd rather..."
"No," Fab answered quite forcefully. "There's no place I'd rather be." If that didn't sound corny... But the smile that graced Frank's thin lips was all Fab needed to be satisfied with having put his feelings in such corny words. He raised his Dixie cup towards Frank. "To my coming-out."
"To tonight," Frank replied, eyes boring into Fab's as their cups touched.

You step back and entwine our fingers again, and we make to go. Only Michael's standing in front of us with a baseball bat, and my heart misses a beat. Sudden fear, and the knowledge that we had it coming. Three other jocks are with him. The tightening of your hand against mine, but still the feeling that we had it coming. Things go far too fast after that.

When Dylan was playing, Fab could totally hear what was wrong with their own performances. When Dylan was playing, Fab could not bring himself to pay attention to his technique. His eyes fixed on Dylan's fingers for a few contemplative seconds, not taking in anything but their movement and life force, then swept up his tanned arms to his broad shoulders. His face was not a mask of concentration, but passed from one emotion to another in the blink of an eye, clear blue eyes gazing unseeingly ahead, strong features half hidden by the few wild wisps of dirty blond hair that had escaped his ponytail. He looked every bit his thirty-something years, but in a good way; he looked as if he had been alive for thirty-something years.
"Got it?"
Fab blinked out of it, realizing the music had stopped.


The Icelandic story, a.k.a. Svana.

Hákon loves you back and that is the reason why you love him so. You see the way Snorri is to Hrafn; siblings don’t have to love each other. Snorri is part of the ones picking on the two of you more often than not. But Hákon loves you back and it makes your heart glow with gratefulness and pride. You know he has secrets from you, he has secrets from everybody, takes after his father in all respects, that one does, says Old Hallbjörn, he’s only just missin’ the bulk of him. It is true that while Hákon seems tall to you, he is not big as you remember your father to be. Hákon is tall and willowy but he still wins the fights because he is faster and smarter than the rest of them. So maybe he is not stronger after all, but he is strong in the way that matters. He can defend you and scatter the other boys with a look and a few words.
He doesn’t seem to have many friends at all, you know that. You can’t fool yourself that much, no one can. He spends so much time on his own, in the forest or further away into the lands, he just rides off where you can’t follow and when you ask him where he goes, he leans in close to you, grins, and answers, “The land of the trolls.” You ask him whether he means to kill them all because you know the frightful stories and you want him to rid the world of them, but he never answers. His smile becomes more cryptic, he tussles your hair, and he walks away. He doesn’t do it often, but you like it best when he calls you little sister in the words that come from the woods. You can’t even say it yourself, you’ve tried but the sounds are too foreign to your tongue. They roll off his easily and sound beautiful and full of love. They are your secret, he told you once, that was why he never said them when someone else was around. His hand was on your shoulder and his violet eyes, the very eyes you are the only one to see such an uncommon shade, were asking for a promise. So you nodded your head solemnly and swore on your blood that they would stay your secret.

“Come and see, little sister.” You take the hand he offers and walk with him to the rock. You don’t see anything now, no movement, and you look up at Hákon’s laughing face with much puzzlement. You wonder for a moment whether he is mocking you, but he lays his hand on the rock and mutters something in the words of the wood. “Can’t you see him?”
You look hard at the rock because you want to see what your brother sees, it matters so much, but you’re squinting as hard as you can and still there is nothing but black, rough stone. Your eyes prickle with tears of shame, you feel bad that you can’t see and that you’re letting Hákon down. You look up at him to apologise and gape instead, because when you turned your head you saw the stone of the rock move again. “It moved, Hákon! The stone moved!”
He smiles as you point at the stone, and his smile is like the sun shining down on you, it illuminates you and warms your very skin and you want to bask forever. “That’s my friend. He’s a dwarf. He lives in the stone.”

The whispers grow excited and you can recognise your brother's name a few times in there. You can't be sure whether there is just one or two or ten people whispering in the bushes, each time you think you see something it vanishes out of sight. You think they do not know your language when all quiet down and another voice, slightly less piercing, speaks. "Take. In thanks."
"Thanks for what?" you ask.
The bushes bristle in a sinister manner and suddenly the curiosity that had overtaken fear is pushed back inside yourself by the sudden appreciation of the evil in the bushes. You do not know how you know it but you do, something here means harm. "Take," it repeats, and the voice is the same and yet deeper, and it grates on your nerves like chalk on metal.


Les Jumeaux – only a temporary title, it's just easier than calling it "that fantasy story I've had in mind for years".

Elle porta une main à son ventre quand une crampe la prit, envoyant une onde de douleur dans tout son corps. Son cœur battait la chamade et son regard fut inexorablement attiré vers un coin sombre de la rue. Quelqu'un se tenait dans l'ombre, il était très important qu'elle le voit, et qu'il la voit, ses intestins se nouaient et son cœur menaçait de sortir de sa poitrine, il fallait qu'ils se voient...
La silhouette qui se tenait dans l'ombre fit un pas en avant.
Ils se virent.

- Tu penses que je peux y arriver ?
Elaïdan prit son temps avant de répondre. Il remplit à nouveau leurs verres de ce vin Faëh à la riche couleur bordeaux et au goût épicé, une boisson dont Sedran n’avait jamais auparavant goûté de semblable, puis but une gorgée. Chacun de ses gestes démontrait une maîtrise de soi et de la situation, semblant décourager tout aléas de se produire.
- Tu en as les capacités. Reste à savoir si toi, tu penses pouvoir y arriver.
C’était tout ce dont Sedran avait besoin. Il ne faisait pas pleinement confiance à Elaïdan, mais assez pour estimer son expertise en matière de magie. D’une façon comme d’une autre, Sedran n’avait de toute façon aucun autre choix que de s’en remettre au Faëh pour ces choses. Il reporta son attention sur l’air autour de la plume et se concentra, visualisant l’air comme de l’argile qu’il devrait pouvoir modeler avec son esprit. Mais l’air semblait lui glisser entre les doigts alors qu’il tentait de le glisser sous la plume, de l’argile trop liquide, trop gorgé d’eau pour être modelé à son souhait. Il se concentra plus encore, souhaitant qu’il s’affermisse sous son toucher. Ce fut graduellement ce qu’il advint. L’air qui coulait sans qu’il puisse l’agripper devint plus tangible et il parvint enfin à en faire ce qu’il souhaitait. La plume s’éleva d’un pouce et, fort de son succès, Sedran poussa toujours plus d’air sous elle afin qu’elle grimpe plus haut.

- Il ne méritait pas cela.
- Il m’a trahi. Cela ne pardonne pas, dans mon monde. Tu le sais.
- J’aurais pensé que tu ferais preuve de plus de jugement !
- Est-ce à moi, ou à toi que tu en veux, Aïdan ? Tu sais que je ne pouvais pas laisser passer cela. Tu connais mon monde.
Ils se fixèrent en silence pendant quelques instants, un combat de leurs deux volontés qui faisait briller leurs yeux d’un éclat dur. Sedran finit par céder et sortit sans un mot. Elaïdan sut tout juste s’empêcher de le rappeler.
Le Faëhn n’aimait pas que Sedran voit aussi clair à travers lui.

- Non, parvint-il à murmurer en enroulant une main dans un pan de la chemise noire que portait Selador. Pas... ça.
- Je n’ai pas le choix, in masen.
- Non, insista Sedran d’une voix ferme malgré sa faiblesse.
Il espérait que la mesure de son refus passait dans son regard, car tenter de repousser Selador alors qu’il était dans son état normal aurait déjà été perdu d’avance. Affaibli comme il l’était, cela tenait du rêve éveillé. Sedran tenta de puiser de la magie dans la terre qu’il sentait sous lui, mais la perte de sang l’avait trop affaibli même pour cela, semblait-il, à moins que ce ne soit Selador qui l’en empêche. La Déesse seule savait de quoi il était capable.
- Je n’ai pas le choix, répéta Selador comme pour demander pardon.


Gaia - Point Being, a.k.a. the Steve episode. (And yes, girls, it will be there soon.)

"And I'm all yours now," Seb declares as he walks out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and ready for our date.
I can't help smiling. "That a promise, honey?"
"Spare me the corny lines or I might just OD of sweetness and rush to the bathroom to vomit," Dan mutters as he stands up and heads for his room, waving a hand as if to say he doesn't wanna hear what we might wanna answer.

A hand on my thigh stops my leg from trembling in nervous anticipation. I look up into Luke's eyes; the kid doesn't have a clue about the effect of those shiny blues. "'Sup, you keep doing that?"
"I must be stressed or something."
Luke purses his lips, then nods in acceptance of my answer. However, I don't have the same luck with Karen, who's sitting on the other side of Jack. She leans forward with an elbow on the table to look at me around the trumpeter. "You might be able to fool the audience but you don't fool me, champ. You weren't in the game tonight. 'n fact, I demand another Things when you actually feel like it."

Achan and I remain silent for a few seconds, I'm lost in my thoughts and hardly pay him any attention. Yeah, I know, rude.
"I wish all bands were as tightly knit as you guys," he breaks the silence after a while, and I look up into his clear eyes. "It would give us better music."
I nod. "I know how lucky we are."
"We all make our own luck."
"You should see us argue, though. We've had some ugly fights."
He looks unconvinced. "It's the price to pay. The cloud for the silver lining."
"You fitted in pretty well, in any case," I change the subject. "They like you."
"Do you?"

I nod. So it's not just me thinking that, and Nicky's in a better position to notice it. It feels good to know I'm not crazy. I wonder whether Dan realizes. I know for sure Seb doesn't want to. "You're cooler about it than I'd be. I'd go out of my mind if I thought Seb was in love with Dan."
Nicky looks steadily away again and there's a tremble in his eyes, unless it's a trick of the light. "I don't have to feel threatened by it. He loves me, too." This last bit is said with such a tone of reverence and awe that I raise my eyebrows. The kid has some major loving going on. It'll be bad if Dan ever decides to act more in character with him.
"What do you love so much in him?"
His steady black eyes come back to me, too steady, too black. His whole face softens. "I don't even know."

Comments

[heikki-cheren.livejournal.com]

So, it's not gonna say "you" all the time, right? Will it switch to "I" or "her"?

Who is the Gaia character I casted? Well, did you keep that choice anyway?

[fan-elune.livejournal.com]

Yes, probably "I." I feel so bad, I feel like plagiarising her. But it's just an amazing stylistic device. Plus, it's not like I say it's my idea.

He's not in that ep. He's called Dave.

[heikki-cheren.livejournal.com]

I've heard she wasn't the only one to have use it. I think.