Flushed...
An updated list of letters to date is available here.
This entry: Here be both hetsmut and slashy goodness! You've been warned. Arrr! *cough* Sorry.
To: Harry Sinclair < isildur@gondor.co.nz >
From: Bernard Hill < bhill@iceberg.co.uk >
Subject: Re: Your Message
Harold,
I really can't comprehend as to why you persist in this fiction. We both know that you're perfectly aware of what has been going on, and I know you well enough to know that this particular mess has your fingerprints all over it.
If I didn't know better, however, I'd think your machinations were stemming from a recently acquired maudlin streak. But that would be foolish on my part, wouldn't it? Just as it would be foolish for me to presume that any of this had to do with Karl.
Yours,
Bernard
To: Miranda Otto < shieldmaiden@rohan.co.nz >
From: Cate Blanchett < galadriel@goldenwood.co.nz >
Subject: Re: Our Wager
Miranda Otto wrote:
> Cate,
> Remember that wager that we made the day on
> the beach? The one about Dave? Well, it's
> possible that I might owe you dinner.
> Miranda
Oh, really? I am raising a virtual eyebrow, but I can't say I didn't expect it. (Just not so soon.) Well, I look forward to our dinner, love. And all the details, of course.
There's a lovely Indian restaurant just off of Centre St. that I've been dying to try. I don't think it's terribly expensive. Shall I make reservations, or...?
~ Cate
been an interesting day. other than Sean missing Harry and clocking Viggo, that is. although i must say i make a good nurse. one cleaned up Sean, and one safe-as-houses Viggo.
who knew it could get so dull looking after the stricken and the sulky? neither Viggo nor Sean seem to be up for a nice chat. and it must be a universal truth -- there is nothing on television in the middle of the night. nothing. found myself mucking about on Viggo's pc instead. asked him if he minded me using it, and he said "mmph," which of course means "yes."
emailed Mir again. knew she was falling for my devastatingly handsome portrayal of Faramir, but...
she came over for a while. she is beautiful. damn near takes my breath away every time i see her. managed to take my breath away in a completely new way today. very soft lips. lovely, expressive face. makes you want to make sure not to miss a moment. when it was over, she tipped her head forward in order to hide behind her hair. totally unlike her. couldn't help but reach out and brush it out of her face just so i could keep looking. would love to lie back and have that hair fall towards me, blocking out everything except her expression.
told her she'd been holding out on me. she laughed.
left soon after.
Sean finally left his self-imposed prison, went out to the garden after a quick stop with Emergency Room Dave. don't get that guy. digging in the dirt at all hours. but to each his own, i suppose.
also updated Peter and Fran. think i bought Viggo a couple days before full explanations will be needed.
busied myself online again, since there is no sleep for the wicked. the internet's like tv. billions of websites, and nothing to do. poked through Viggo's files instead. he's got a lot of his photography on that thing. should move some of it onto disc, because he's going to run out of room soon. might want to consider buying some more memory too. will have to mention it once he's up and around again.
found a folder very obviously titled BWPhotos, decided to give 'em a look. some beautiful, strange stuff in there. pictures of the cast, the crew, sure -- scenery too. dead things as well. disturbing and striking. after i finished looking at them (with breaks to absorb it all) i tried a couple of the sub-folders. Henry makes a good subject. interesting boy. too bad he can't visit us more often.
found some photos, though, that i don't think Vig's going to put in a show. very... personal. one in particular was very striking -- b&w nude from the back, lit from the front. very nice. subject's head is bowed so you can only see the back of his neck, his ears and a bit of his hair. arms crossed over chest. excellent physique.
didn't realize who it was at first. not until i saw one of the companion pieces, that is. Sean, sitting on the steps of the porch, mug of something in hand, grinning at the camera and naked as a jaybird.
you'd think i would have realized it was Sean right off -- spent enough time staring at his ass in those Sharpe movies.
there's reams of these things, too. i had no idea Sean was such a willing subject, nor that Viggo was snapping away like this. would have come over more often otherwise.
Miranda emailed me while i was looking. offered to bring coffee and pastries. how could i refuse?
sadly, she did not bring crumpets. pointed out Sean-in-the-garden to her, and we sat in the kitchen waiting for him. almost entirely fruitless endeavour.
broke out the danishes. very nice. must remember to excessively tip Wicked Bean folks next time i'm there. too much raspberry filling. got it all over my fingers. lovely Miranda was kind enough to remove the excess. slipped each finger in her mouth in turn. could feel her tongue curling around each as she lapped up the filling. felt it down to the soles of my feet. even caught my thumbs between her lips. funny, don't remember getting much on them.
she had icing at the corner of her mouth, so did the gentlemanly thing. swiped it gently up with my own tongue, lazily licked at her lips (just to make sure she was less sticky, of course), then accidentally placed dollop of raspberry near her collarbone. had to shift the shoulder of her shirt to get at her bare skin, but am sticking to accident story. she curled her fingers in my hair while i was pressed against her neck and made these little whimpering noises in the back of her throat. oh fuck.
and that was when Sean came back in. pfft. he really has excellent timing lately. Mir's eyes went wide. saw them when she pushed me away. didn't matter though. guy's so withdrawn he wouldn't notice if a herd of gazelles was bearing down on him. stopped near Viggo's door, then went back to spare room. he should just bloody well bite the bullet and go in! what's Viggo going to do? snore at him? yeah.
went to check on Viggo. woke him up. still groggy, but making more sense. when i came back, Miranda was sitting in front of the computer, clicking through some pictures. guess i left the files open. oops. she's a very resourceful woman, though, because she found some that i hadn't had the pleasure of seeing. must hook up with her in order to snoop through other people's things more often.
Viggo's a master with the camera, i tell you. amazing angles. i am especially impressed with how he got that wonderful up-close profile of Sean while still remaining in the picture himself. granted, there's no room for daylight between them, but... a timer, maybe? wonder if Sean gets tired waiting for Viggo to set up the camera. does it make it harder for him to stay hard with Viggo fussing with angles and lenses before coming to him? you certainly wouldn't know, looking at these things. would love to be there to see. by the looks of it, so would Miranda. she was very prettily pink when we got to the last file.
she's asleep on the couch now. looks flushed. nice look for her.
~D
Vig,
I hate this fucking journal. No idea why you insisted that I try to keep it, either. I keep wanting to throw it out or use it for note-taking instead of detailing bits of my life that I've already damn well experienced. I don't believe in all this inner-world shite.
I want to please you now, though, probably because I have no hope in hell of doing so. All I want is for the last 24 hours to be erased. You're not going to be able to forgive me for punching you, I know that. Probably wouldn't have forgiven me for nailing Harry if I'd managed to off the bat either.
If I put my ear up against the door to our your bedroom, I can hear you snoring, and it's comforting. I want to open the door and go to you, but I know that I won't be able to keep from asking -- Can you forgive me? Do you still love me? -- and if you say yes, I know it'll lead to other questions that I can't bring myself to ask. How do I ignore the evidence of my own eyes?
Sean
[Journal tossed in trash, spare bedroom.]
This entry: Here be both hetsmut and slashy goodness! You've been warned. Arrr! *cough* Sorry.
To: Harry Sinclair < isildur@gondor.co.nz >
From: Bernard Hill < bhill@iceberg.co.uk >
Subject: Re: Your Message
Harold,
I really can't comprehend as to why you persist in this fiction. We both know that you're perfectly aware of what has been going on, and I know you well enough to know that this particular mess has your fingerprints all over it.
If I didn't know better, however, I'd think your machinations were stemming from a recently acquired maudlin streak. But that would be foolish on my part, wouldn't it? Just as it would be foolish for me to presume that any of this had to do with Karl.
Yours,
Bernard
To: Miranda Otto < shieldmaiden@rohan.co.nz >
From: Cate Blanchett < galadriel@goldenwood.co.nz >
Subject: Re: Our Wager
Miranda Otto wrote:
> Cate,
> Remember that wager that we made the day on
> the beach? The one about Dave? Well, it's
> possible that I might owe you dinner.
> Miranda
Oh, really? I am raising a virtual eyebrow, but I can't say I didn't expect it. (Just not so soon.) Well, I look forward to our dinner, love. And all the details, of course.
There's a lovely Indian restaurant just off of Centre St. that I've been dying to try. I don't think it's terribly expensive. Shall I make reservations, or...?
~ Cate
been an interesting day. other than Sean missing Harry and clocking Viggo, that is. although i must say i make a good nurse. one cleaned up Sean, and one safe-as-houses Viggo.
who knew it could get so dull looking after the stricken and the sulky? neither Viggo nor Sean seem to be up for a nice chat. and it must be a universal truth -- there is nothing on television in the middle of the night. nothing. found myself mucking about on Viggo's pc instead. asked him if he minded me using it, and he said "mmph," which of course means "yes."
emailed Mir again. knew she was falling for my devastatingly handsome portrayal of Faramir, but...
she came over for a while. she is beautiful. damn near takes my breath away every time i see her. managed to take my breath away in a completely new way today. very soft lips. lovely, expressive face. makes you want to make sure not to miss a moment. when it was over, she tipped her head forward in order to hide behind her hair. totally unlike her. couldn't help but reach out and brush it out of her face just so i could keep looking. would love to lie back and have that hair fall towards me, blocking out everything except her expression.
told her she'd been holding out on me. she laughed.
left soon after.
Sean finally left his self-imposed prison, went out to the garden after a quick stop with Emergency Room Dave. don't get that guy. digging in the dirt at all hours. but to each his own, i suppose.
also updated Peter and Fran. think i bought Viggo a couple days before full explanations will be needed.
busied myself online again, since there is no sleep for the wicked. the internet's like tv. billions of websites, and nothing to do. poked through Viggo's files instead. he's got a lot of his photography on that thing. should move some of it onto disc, because he's going to run out of room soon. might want to consider buying some more memory too. will have to mention it once he's up and around again.
found a folder very obviously titled BWPhotos, decided to give 'em a look. some beautiful, strange stuff in there. pictures of the cast, the crew, sure -- scenery too. dead things as well. disturbing and striking. after i finished looking at them (with breaks to absorb it all) i tried a couple of the sub-folders. Henry makes a good subject. interesting boy. too bad he can't visit us more often.
found some photos, though, that i don't think Vig's going to put in a show. very... personal. one in particular was very striking -- b&w nude from the back, lit from the front. very nice. subject's head is bowed so you can only see the back of his neck, his ears and a bit of his hair. arms crossed over chest. excellent physique.
didn't realize who it was at first. not until i saw one of the companion pieces, that is. Sean, sitting on the steps of the porch, mug of something in hand, grinning at the camera and naked as a jaybird.
you'd think i would have realized it was Sean right off -- spent enough time staring at his ass in those Sharpe movies.
there's reams of these things, too. i had no idea Sean was such a willing subject, nor that Viggo was snapping away like this. would have come over more often otherwise.
Miranda emailed me while i was looking. offered to bring coffee and pastries. how could i refuse?
sadly, she did not bring crumpets. pointed out Sean-in-the-garden to her, and we sat in the kitchen waiting for him. almost entirely fruitless endeavour.
broke out the danishes. very nice. must remember to excessively tip Wicked Bean folks next time i'm there. too much raspberry filling. got it all over my fingers. lovely Miranda was kind enough to remove the excess. slipped each finger in her mouth in turn. could feel her tongue curling around each as she lapped up the filling. felt it down to the soles of my feet. even caught my thumbs between her lips. funny, don't remember getting much on them.
she had icing at the corner of her mouth, so did the gentlemanly thing. swiped it gently up with my own tongue, lazily licked at her lips (just to make sure she was less sticky, of course), then accidentally placed dollop of raspberry near her collarbone. had to shift the shoulder of her shirt to get at her bare skin, but am sticking to accident story. she curled her fingers in my hair while i was pressed against her neck and made these little whimpering noises in the back of her throat. oh fuck.
and that was when Sean came back in. pfft. he really has excellent timing lately. Mir's eyes went wide. saw them when she pushed me away. didn't matter though. guy's so withdrawn he wouldn't notice if a herd of gazelles was bearing down on him. stopped near Viggo's door, then went back to spare room. he should just bloody well bite the bullet and go in! what's Viggo going to do? snore at him? yeah.
went to check on Viggo. woke him up. still groggy, but making more sense. when i came back, Miranda was sitting in front of the computer, clicking through some pictures. guess i left the files open. oops. she's a very resourceful woman, though, because she found some that i hadn't had the pleasure of seeing. must hook up with her in order to snoop through other people's things more often.
Viggo's a master with the camera, i tell you. amazing angles. i am especially impressed with how he got that wonderful up-close profile of Sean while still remaining in the picture himself. granted, there's no room for daylight between them, but... a timer, maybe? wonder if Sean gets tired waiting for Viggo to set up the camera. does it make it harder for him to stay hard with Viggo fussing with angles and lenses before coming to him? you certainly wouldn't know, looking at these things. would love to be there to see. by the looks of it, so would Miranda. she was very prettily pink when we got to the last file.
she's asleep on the couch now. looks flushed. nice look for her.
~D
Vig,
I hate this fucking journal. No idea why you insisted that I try to keep it, either. I keep wanting to throw it out or use it for note-taking instead of detailing bits of my life that I've already damn well experienced. I don't believe in all this inner-world shite.
I want to please you now, though, probably because I have no hope in hell of doing so. All I want is for the last 24 hours to be erased. You're not going to be able to forgive me for punching you, I know that. Probably wouldn't have forgiven me for nailing Harry if I'd managed to off the bat either.
If I put my ear up against the door to our your bedroom, I can hear you snoring, and it's comforting. I want to open the door and go to you, but I know that I won't be able to keep from asking -- Can you forgive me? Do you still love me? -- and if you say yes, I know it'll lead to other questions that I can't bring myself to ask. How do I ignore the evidence of my own eyes?
Sean
[Journal tossed in trash, spare bedroom.]