ext_1481 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
withdiamonds.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2007-08-08 06:46 pm
withdiamonds.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-08-08 06:46 pm
If You Want to Fly by pen (g)
Fandom: popslash
Pairing: None
Author on lj:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pensnest
Author website: Pen's Nest
Why this must be read: This story makes me cry every time, and in the best way possible. It's the creation myth as told by dragons, and it also parallels the real story and it's got the most lovely Lance ever. Times two, really. The imagery is gorgeous, the language is beautiful, and did I mention Lance? There are so many clever touches, details that connect the two stories, I just love it so much.
If You Want to Fly
Pairing: None
Author on lj:
pensnest Author website: Pen's Nest
Why this must be read: This story makes me cry every time, and in the best way possible. It's the creation myth as told by dragons, and it also parallels the real story and it's got the most lovely Lance ever. Times two, really. The imagery is gorgeous, the language is beautiful, and did I mention Lance? There are so many clever touches, details that connect the two stories, I just love it so much.
Several of the dragons were lifting their heads, stretching their long necks and swaying a little.
"They smell us," Gig-Pok said. "Not to worry. Your smell is familiar to them, from the stable. Ah. One comes."
Indeed, yes, a dragon, dark red with black tips, walking—well, skipping, or maybe jumping with a little sidling—towards us. At least I was going to get the chance to see one up close.
Up very close. Very, very close. I swallowed, and stayed still as it sniffed me, starting at the feet, paying unnervingly close attention to my groin, up to armpits—don't tickle me, I thought, for my armpits are exceptionally sensitive—and, ahaha, neck, and I could feel its delicate whiskers tracing across my skin, and its warm breath, ticklish there too, yes, and we ended up face to face.
Such a beautiful creature! Cranberry-red scales gleaming in the sunlight, not hard and overlapping like roof tiles, but sinuous as skin. It had shiny black ridge spines, and black around its muzzle and ears, and the flight-edge of its wide-presented wings (as though it was showing off for me!) and the lashing tip of its tail. The first dragon I'd ever really seen, and I just fell in love. And then, I looked into its eyes, oh, its eyes, brown and bright and full of mischief, and I thought, you're laughing at me, dragon, but you're so wonderful I don't care.
And then this:
There was a dirty white wall with a door in it, and Lance felt his stomach knotting in anticipation, and breathed carefully. There might be a whole new world on the other side of that door.
The new world didn't look that different from the old one. There was a long table at the near end of the huge open space, with three people sitting at it and a couple spare chairs. Lance caught a glimpse of a group of guys in a huddle over to the right, but Lynn led the way to the table, so he followed her.
Lance concentrated on his breathing. This was it, the big moment. Mr Pearlman, a large, genial man with sweaty hands, shook hands with them both, and thanked Diane for allowing Lance to attend the audition, then presented his associates, the vocal coach and the choreographer. Choreographer! What did they have one of those for? Lance had hoped his days of stepping this way and that and waving his arms around as he sang would be over now. Oh, well.
"And here are our boys," said Mr Pearlman, grandly. "Gentlemen, this is Lance Bass."
Four pairs of eyes, assessing him. Lance assessed back, for an instant—dorky kid with blond curls, bigger dork with hair almost as stupid as Lance's own, cheerful guy with long jaw, skinny suspicious one with bright brown eyes—then smiled his biggest, friendliest smile to encompass all of them, and saw with relief that it was working. They all relaxed, and three of them even smiled back.
"They smell us," Gig-Pok said. "Not to worry. Your smell is familiar to them, from the stable. Ah. One comes."
Indeed, yes, a dragon, dark red with black tips, walking—well, skipping, or maybe jumping with a little sidling—towards us. At least I was going to get the chance to see one up close.
Up very close. Very, very close. I swallowed, and stayed still as it sniffed me, starting at the feet, paying unnervingly close attention to my groin, up to armpits—don't tickle me, I thought, for my armpits are exceptionally sensitive—and, ahaha, neck, and I could feel its delicate whiskers tracing across my skin, and its warm breath, ticklish there too, yes, and we ended up face to face.
Such a beautiful creature! Cranberry-red scales gleaming in the sunlight, not hard and overlapping like roof tiles, but sinuous as skin. It had shiny black ridge spines, and black around its muzzle and ears, and the flight-edge of its wide-presented wings (as though it was showing off for me!) and the lashing tip of its tail. The first dragon I'd ever really seen, and I just fell in love. And then, I looked into its eyes, oh, its eyes, brown and bright and full of mischief, and I thought, you're laughing at me, dragon, but you're so wonderful I don't care.
And then this:
There was a dirty white wall with a door in it, and Lance felt his stomach knotting in anticipation, and breathed carefully. There might be a whole new world on the other side of that door.
The new world didn't look that different from the old one. There was a long table at the near end of the huge open space, with three people sitting at it and a couple spare chairs. Lance caught a glimpse of a group of guys in a huddle over to the right, but Lynn led the way to the table, so he followed her.
Lance concentrated on his breathing. This was it, the big moment. Mr Pearlman, a large, genial man with sweaty hands, shook hands with them both, and thanked Diane for allowing Lance to attend the audition, then presented his associates, the vocal coach and the choreographer. Choreographer! What did they have one of those for? Lance had hoped his days of stepping this way and that and waving his arms around as he sang would be over now. Oh, well.
"And here are our boys," said Mr Pearlman, grandly. "Gentlemen, this is Lance Bass."
Four pairs of eyes, assessing him. Lance assessed back, for an instant—dorky kid with blond curls, bigger dork with hair almost as stupid as Lance's own, cheerful guy with long jaw, skinny suspicious one with bright brown eyes—then smiled his biggest, friendliest smile to encompass all of them, and saw with relief that it was working. They all relaxed, and three of them even smiled back.
If You Want to Fly
Sniff...
Re: Sniff...
no subject
no subject
Indeed, yes, a dragon, dark red with black tips, walking—well, skipping, or maybe jumping with a little sidling—towards us.
no subject
no subject