Educational Endeavors - Prologue
Dec. 6th, 2003 12:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonSo my dear friend Lostiawen lured me to the dark side and got me to start writing LOTR RPS fics. I didn't mean to. And I still don't really get why I'm so into it. I don't really think Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen as actual people are all that fascinating. But as characters, they are really enchanting, to me, somehow.
So anyway, I had a plot bunny that grew up. Here it is, since my web pages are so messed up and need revised before I post it there.
Title: Educational Endeavors: Prologue (0/8)
Author: Salix
Email: salixbabylon@yahoo.com
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Archiving: My site and others upon request.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Complete fiction. I am implying nothing about the real sexual preferences of the actors herein. Absolutely no disrespect is meant to them.
Summary: Orli is curious... and you know what they say about curiosity and the cat. Luckily Viggo is around to help.
Thank yous: Always to Cindy Lou. Unending gratitude to Lostiawen for encouragement, education, and betaing.
Educational Endeavors
Prologue
Viggo gave me this diary for my birthday, after months of me asking him what he's always writing in his. It's almost March now, but it seems right to finally be writing in it, because I finally have something that I can't tell anyone else. And keeping these thoughts in my head is really driving me mad.
See, I really can't see telling any of the Hobbits, even though I know they'd understand; they're lively though, and they tease. I mean, well all do; we're blokes. This is more the kind of thing you tell a girl, but that's one thing this crew doesn't have a lot of, girls. No soft cuddly, tell-me-your-feelings understanding and comforting girl. Never missed that until now. Sure, I could always call Sam, but... this isn't right for a sister. And all the other girlfriends (and girl-friends) I've had have drifted pretty far away since I came here.
Wait, I forgot about Liv for a moment (sorry!). She's great; she'd be perfect for this. But she's back in the States for a few weeks and I can't see ringing her up for this.
So no one I can talk to.
Of course if I really wanted, I could talk to Ian. McKellen. Sir. I mean, he's gay and out. But yeah. There's that whole last name and title business, even in my head. So maybe not.
It's not that I think I'm gay and need advice. No, I still wank at night thinking of lasses. I just... Ok, Orli, just spit it out. I just noticed something, a few days ago. Viggo and Karl and Elijah and Dom, to be specific.
They were all having lunch together and I don't know what it was, the sun hit them just right or I really saw them all for the first time or what, but I saw. I saw how vibrant and alive they each were, individually and as a group. I saw skin, smooth and rough, clean and stubbly, four sets of different-coloured eyes all so clear and pure they could
steal your soul. I saw the heat in the limbs, the grace in the movements, the love and camaraderie in their interactions, heard the deep, soft, melodious timbres of each of their voices.
I saw them.
I saw them as sexual beings.
And now I can't stop thinking about them. Wondering what they'd be like in my arms, close up, with lust in their eyes, in their blood.
Fuck me! What's with this poetic shit? Impressive. Should tell Viggo... Or not.
I don't understand how I feel. This is different than knowing your mates are sexual because you caught them wanking or with a girl. This is... more secretive. It's not like I didn't know they were attractive
men before; I have eyes and I can appreciate beauty. But appreciating beauty is different from fancying them. Which I think I do now.
Which is unsettling, to say the least. I'm not a teenager, despite how much the old geezers tease me about being a youngster. I mean, you'd think I'd have noticed this sort of thing in my teens, that I could fancy men. I've even kissed and been kissed by a few blokes. Sure, either
it was just kidding around or on stage, always with an audience, but... You'd think I'd have felt something, yeah? And I didn't.
So I'm straight, then.
But why do I keep thinking of Viggo's eyes and wondering what his scratchy chin would feel like in my palm, or what kind of noises he makes in bed? This isn't idle curiosity. I'm not sure what it is, and I'm not sure I want to know.
And bugger, writing this all down hasn't helped a bit.
~Part 1~
So anyway, I had a plot bunny that grew up. Here it is, since my web pages are so messed up and need revised before I post it there.
Title: Educational Endeavors: Prologue (0/8)
Author: Salix
Email: salixbabylon@yahoo.com
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Archiving: My site and others upon request.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Complete fiction. I am implying nothing about the real sexual preferences of the actors herein. Absolutely no disrespect is meant to them.
Summary: Orli is curious... and you know what they say about curiosity and the cat. Luckily Viggo is around to help.
Thank yous: Always to Cindy Lou. Unending gratitude to Lostiawen for encouragement, education, and betaing.
Prologue
Viggo gave me this diary for my birthday, after months of me asking him what he's always writing in his. It's almost March now, but it seems right to finally be writing in it, because I finally have something that I can't tell anyone else. And keeping these thoughts in my head is really driving me mad.
See, I really can't see telling any of the Hobbits, even though I know they'd understand; they're lively though, and they tease. I mean, well all do; we're blokes. This is more the kind of thing you tell a girl, but that's one thing this crew doesn't have a lot of, girls. No soft cuddly, tell-me-your-feelings understanding and comforting girl. Never missed that until now. Sure, I could always call Sam, but... this isn't right for a sister. And all the other girlfriends (and girl-friends) I've had have drifted pretty far away since I came here.
Wait, I forgot about Liv for a moment (sorry!). She's great; she'd be perfect for this. But she's back in the States for a few weeks and I can't see ringing her up for this.
So no one I can talk to.
Of course if I really wanted, I could talk to Ian. McKellen. Sir. I mean, he's gay and out. But yeah. There's that whole last name and title business, even in my head. So maybe not.
It's not that I think I'm gay and need advice. No, I still wank at night thinking of lasses. I just... Ok, Orli, just spit it out. I just noticed something, a few days ago. Viggo and Karl and Elijah and Dom, to be specific.
They were all having lunch together and I don't know what it was, the sun hit them just right or I really saw them all for the first time or what, but I saw. I saw how vibrant and alive they each were, individually and as a group. I saw skin, smooth and rough, clean and stubbly, four sets of different-coloured eyes all so clear and pure they could
steal your soul. I saw the heat in the limbs, the grace in the movements, the love and camaraderie in their interactions, heard the deep, soft, melodious timbres of each of their voices.
I saw them.
I saw them as sexual beings.
And now I can't stop thinking about them. Wondering what they'd be like in my arms, close up, with lust in their eyes, in their blood.
Fuck me! What's with this poetic shit? Impressive. Should tell Viggo... Or not.
I don't understand how I feel. This is different than knowing your mates are sexual because you caught them wanking or with a girl. This is... more secretive. It's not like I didn't know they were attractive
men before; I have eyes and I can appreciate beauty. But appreciating beauty is different from fancying them. Which I think I do now.
Which is unsettling, to say the least. I'm not a teenager, despite how much the old geezers tease me about being a youngster. I mean, you'd think I'd have noticed this sort of thing in my teens, that I could fancy men. I've even kissed and been kissed by a few blokes. Sure, either
it was just kidding around or on stage, always with an audience, but... You'd think I'd have felt something, yeah? And I didn't.
So I'm straight, then.
But why do I keep thinking of Viggo's eyes and wondering what his scratchy chin would feel like in my palm, or what kind of noises he makes in bed? This isn't idle curiosity. I'm not sure what it is, and I'm not sure I want to know.
And bugger, writing this all down hasn't helped a bit.
