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[amfiguree]

hmm. it's certainly been a while. gacked from xoverau. and hey, spread the news.

If you comment to this post with the first paragraph of a fic, I'll answer each comment with a second paragraph that continues said fic, and so on. If other people than the original writer want to continue from the paragraph I write in response, feel free--we'll each just go off into parallel threads.

I would be competent to continue fics in these fandoms:

Popslash (including BSB, Nsync, sparkly girls, blue, Eminem?)
Harry Potter
Lotrips
Lotrfps
X-men
Smallville (probably)
Charmed (fourth or fifth season?)
School Of Rock! (heh)
Moulin Rouge
American Idol (*snerk* season 2)
MuLan (don't ask... come to think of it, i can do most disney movies. *cheesy grin*)

and also? feel free to throw original characters in the mix.

Comments

Orlando's Opps and Viggo's Mirror

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

(Yeah I was spazzing earlier. Sorry I deleted my earlier post. I'm reposting my first part, yours, and then I added.)

Orlando had these endearing idiosyncrasies. He would do things like color his thumb nail with a marker, then absently insert his finger into his mouth ten seconds later. His tongue would turn black or purple, and there would be those few moments in which he was sure he was dying...

The thing is... Orlando's absentminded ability to trip over his own two feet didn't mean that he was stupid. Conversely, he was in tune enough with Viggo's feelings that he knew that Viggo really wasn't getting the signals at all.

Orlando was waving every flag and gesticulation he knew of; standing on his head and practically screaming it from the roof tops. Where exactly had it gotten him? Oh, precisely 4.2 miles short of nowhere. For the brilliant man that he was, Viggo was playing obtuse pretty fucking well. And this is exactly why Orlando had come to the conclusion that Tuesday night was the perfect night to get smashed, ridding himself of his demons once and for all.

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

He was poised to congratulate himself the ingenuity of his hiding place, when he felt a hand at the back of his neck.

“Orli?”

Orlando swirled in his chair, over calculating, which resulted in planting himself on the sticky wooden floor. He peered upwards, blurry eyed, at the towering man before him.

Viggo offered his hand, and with more effort than it should’ve taken, pulled Orlando to a semi-standing position. Orlando managed to quell the spinning for about a millisecond before he was stepping on toes and achieving point to point contact with an amused looking Viggo. As he looped his hands around Viggo’s neck and told himself it was strictly for balance.

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

Viggo smiles as he leans in and scoops up a now incoherently mumbling Orlando, leaving a few bills atop the bar as he turns. “Who would rescue you had I not just happened to stop here for a whiskey tonight?” Orlando swerves his head around to look Viggo in the eyes.

He manages what could have been an "erm" before realizing he's forgotten the question. Assuming of course, there was one.

“Alright, let's get you home,” Viggo offers, almost sadly.

Viggo all but carries Orlando out into the brisk night air. He looks up and down the damp rain slicked street, and with no sign of a cab, decides upon walking. Orlando secures his arm around Viggo's neck, takes a deep breath.

“Vig?” he sounds curiously less weighted by alcohol all of the sudden.

“Orli... as much as I love you, your 3 a.m. drunken philosophy has never been predominantly inspiring.”

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

"Stay," Orlando whispers at a volume so low, he could later claim the word never even permeated the air between them; should that need arise.

Orlando's arms are encircling Viggo on their own accord, before he even processes what he is doing. He clenches his muscles tightly around Viggo's midsection, trying to expel any air that might hold the word 'no.'

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

Viggo's laugh is a low, raspy, almost self-deprecating sound slicing through the air as he shakes his shoes.

"Oh Orli," he sighs and crouches down, soothingly stroking his hand across the hunched figure's back. "What am I going to do with you?"

Orlando wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sobering.

"Sorry man," whooshes out of bitter lips.

"Shh," Viggo hums, as he continues his ministrations up and down Orlando's protruding spine.

Viggo is a man of hoarded words. Only the absolutely necessary words on full employment, otherwise, Viggo seemed to be more of a bargain shopper in the 'revealing things about yourself' department. He dropped only enough of these things to satiate. The only times Orlando could recall glimpses of his inner dialogue, were those when Viggo seemingly mumbled to himself; thinking the company surrounding him too drunk, or distracted to notice. Words cowered within Viggo, clung to his interior walls, reticent to ever leave. (Really though, Orlando didn't blame them for wanting to stay).

"What about wanting to stay?" Viggo smiled.

"Shit did I say all that out loud?"

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

Hunched over, Orlando inspects a line of ants marching through a crack; escaping, however unwanted. If he were less intoxicated, he's sure there would be some symbolism in that.

"Stay," he repeats for what could be the three hundredth time this evening. "Stay with me. Please?" Arms around Viggo's neck again, Orlando looks at him pleadingly.

Viggo simply reaches and retrieves Orlando's key, showing no sign of acknowledgment. One arm still around him, Viggo somehow manages to scoot them both so he can battle the lock and Orlando's swaying motions simultaneously.

Orlando is still mumbling under his breath, sometimes at a volume and clarity almost intelligible. Viggo maneuver's Orlando to his bed, sets him down, and proceeds to removes his shoes, socks and is looking increasingly like he might go for the trousers.

"Stay Stay Stay Stay Stay," Orlando singsongs.

[sunflwrsinuroom.livejournal.com]

What Viggo tells himself started as a move to extricate himself from Orlando's surprisingly strong grasp on his neck, ends with the two if them clasping hands at Viggo's hairline, and one or both of them leaning further in.

Viggo lightly rests his lips on Orlando's for a moment, feeling the intake of breath there. Orlando arches up and throws a leg around Viggo's waist and draws him nearer. A sudden flush at the contact, and the bandit steals Viggo's breath this time. He has the fleeting thought that he may be entirely too sober for this.

All further contemplation is squelched by circular undulated electricity flowing through Orlando's tongue, to Viggo's teeth, downward along his spine, settling somewhere at the base with a faint almost visible glow.

"My god," Orlando doesn't recognize this tone as one he's used before. He pulls away only the absolute necessary distance for oxygen, and shivers.