Ripples...
List. Letters. Updated. Here.
Here be slash and hetsmut, all in one handy package.
DeadWetElf: Dom!
ShireSlut: Hey Craigg. Howgoes?
DeadWetElf: I'm good. You?
ShireSlut: notbad. Sup??.?
DeadWetElf: I was wondering if you guys had seen Bean around set today.
DeadWetElf: Apparently he's back early.
ShireSlut: Seriousssly?? Cool. Wecan fgrab himn go out for drinks then .He'll pay.
DeadWetElf: No, no, no, Dom. He's back early, but not for kicks.
DeadWetElf: Liv told Orli she saw him.
DeadWetElf: This morning.
ShireSlut: so??? That happens ni the mornings.
ShireSlut: You see people
DeadWetElf: Just wait.
ShireSlut: heh. patiesnce young KJedi.
DeadWetElf: Liv saw Bean this morning. He didn't see her.
DeadWetElf: He was all bashed up, like he'd been in a car accident or something.
DeadWetElf: Smashed lip. TWO black eyes. All swollen.
ShireSlut: Eseriouisly???
DeadWetElf: Maybe broken bones...
DeadWetElf: Maybe disoriented, I don't know, but he didn't answer her when she called.
DeadWetElf: So, if you could keep an eye out for him. Just in case.
ShireSlut: !!!1!!11
ShireSlut: I gotta tell Bills!!!!
DeadWetElf: Yeah, that would be good. Find out if your bunch have seen him. But try not to panic anyone, ok?
DeadWetElf: Keep it low profile?? Until we know more?
ShireSlut: no WorrieS.
DeadWetElf: I've got to be on set in a couple minutes. So keep this on the Q-T, ok?
ShireSlut: YOu gotit.!
DeadWetElf: Ok. Bye, then!
DeadWetElf signed off at 11:23 AM.
[...]
ShireSlut: hey Bills!!!
FoolOfATook: Sblomie!
ShireSlut: youstil in your trailer??
FoolOfATook: Yep. Coming over?
ShireSlut: Ina minute. Get thise
ShireSlut: I wasjust talking to Craig.
ShireSlut: you'll neveR beliefe what he told me.
ShireSlut: seems he haerd from orli whoi heardfrom Liv...
*click*
Peter here. Leave me a message if the sets are on fire. If the cameras aren't working. If the entire crew has come down with food poisoning. Do not leave me a message if you can't find your Hobbit feet. Or if the lunch special has run out. Or if--
*beep*
Peter? It's me. The Hobbits are all up in arms over something, love. I need to talk to you, see if you've heard anything. Call me.
*click*
*click*
[Philippa] Hello?
[Fran] Hi, it's Fran. Have you seen Peter?
[Philippa] Hmm. Not recently. I think he's in transit.
[Fran] Ah. Ok. If you catch him, would you get him to call me? He's not answering his cell.
[Philippa] *amused* That'd be because he left it here, Fran. I'm looking at it right now.
[Fran] Hmm. Great. The moment I actually need to talk to him, and he forgets his damn phone.
[Philippa] Is everything all right?
[Fran] ...Uh, yeah. Just-- just doing some damage control on a small situation. Don't worry about it.
[Philippa] You're sure?
[Fran] Yes. ...Yes. I'm sure it'll all be fine. But when you see him, tell him to call me right away, all right?
[Philippa] Will do.
[Fran] Thank you. Ta!
*click*
Gardener's Chronicle: A Ten Year Journal of Your Garden's Growth
Plant inventory:
Botanical name:
Common name:
Features:
Average height:
Exposure:
Quantity:
Price per unit:
Supplier:
Location:
Notes:
I did it. I went to Harry's, for all the good it did me. Walked all the way from the damn beach to his place. Fuck. Why did I leave the car behind? For that matter, where did I leave the car?
Goddammit, I think I'm losing it.
No. I'm sure I am.
Banged on Harry's front door for a full 5 minutes. Maybe more. Skinned my knuckles on the wood. I had no idea what I was going to do once he answered, but reasons and intent don't seem to matter right now.
Nobody answered. I peered in a couple of the windows, but I couldn't see much. He could be in there. I wouldn't know. Bloody reflective glass.
Eventually the neighbours came over to see what the fuss was, so I had to duck out. Found myself wandering back down to this same goddamn beach -- no fucking idea why. Maybe it's the smell of rotting seaweed. Reminds me of my relationships. Maybe it's the constant roar of the waves. Keeps me from screaming bloody murder. Doesn't really matter, because it's quiet and secluded, so I can lick my wounds in relative private.
I wonder how long it took Viggo to hook up with Harry after I left. Did he call him? Laugh and tell him how well it had gone off? Did he drive over there, get a front seat while I pounded on the door and yelled my throat hoarse?
Were they fucking on the floor, slick with sweat, Viggo moaning Harry's name as he sank down onto him? Were they like that, Viggo rising, falling, groaning, while I tried to find just one window that didn't simply show me the look on my face? Did Harry hold Viggo's wrists tight and pull him down over him where he would have better access to the hollow of his throat?
Or did Viggo crawl willingly across the floor to Harry, to sit between his legs and lap at his cock? Unzip the lazy bugger's zipper for him, push aside the layers of cloth, stroke him until he was hard? Was he sitting there, mouth full of cock, humming tunelessly while I shouted outside?
I... Fuck, I need to take a walk.
[...]
I should get a hotel room or something. Find somewhere to sleep before it gets dark. I can't stay here all night, now can I?
I wish I'd brought my damn jacket.
Mir didn't take too long to get here after we hung up. guess she can't be parted from my charms for very long. could tell her head hurt from the moment she walked in, though. kept wincing. no luck finding Sean, and Viggo was missing in action as well after flying out of here like he'd been shot out of one of those circus canons. need to get the two of them radio collars or something. send the Department of Conservation after them, track their movements, migration patterns. wouldn't want to be Harry right now, that's for sure, but then i don't usually want to be Harry. involves too much bravado and not enough Miranda.
took her keys from her, made her sit down on that little bench by the door, slipped off her shoes and ran my thumbs along the arches of her feet. seemed to like that.
got her aspirin, as promised, made her take it while she perched on Viggo and Sean's bed so that she could be comfortable while i ran the bathwater. am i good or what? don't forget a thing. mind like a steel trap.
why is it Viggo and Sean can't keep their home medical kit up to date, but they have all sorts of crap for the bath? picked out the least masculine scent i could find (something spicy, although the label had peeled off, so i'm still not sure exactly what it was), and poured it into the water. was foamy. heh.
let Mir get undressed in private, much to her dismay, i'm sure. i know she's cracking. know it.
heard her sigh when she sank into the water all the way in the bedroom. talked to her through the open door for a bit, then ventured in.
lovely, lovely Miranda. hair piled on head, wisps of it floating near her cheeks, her neck. eyes closed, small smile on her face.
sat on the side of the tub, thought about offering to scrub her back. or front. whatever. dangled hands in water instead. drizzled water down the side of her neck with my fingers. watched her.
held out a nice fluffy pinstriped towel when she was ready to get out. even averted my eyes. a bit. ...ok, not at all. not the point. offered up the full-body massage. figured she'd take me up on the offer.
she didn't.
instead, she grinned at me as she pulled the bobby pins out of her hair, then grabbed my hand and drew me out into the living room. made me sit down on the couch. fully clothed. told her she had an advantage over me, since she got the stylish towel. she just laughed. pushed me back into the cushions, told me to shut up. was her turn to talk. don't know what she was implying.
shut up anyway, once she started undoing the buttons on my shirt. have i mentioned how nicely shaped her fingers are? long, delicate, and with calluses in all the right places. love shieldmaidens.
and her voice. her voice! dropped it low, so i had to strain to hear her, told me to close my eyes, and listen for once. trailed her fingers lightly across my lips as she said that. opened my mouth, and she pulled them away. dammit.
told me to be quiet. again.
felt her fingers on my forehead next, across my eyelids while she repeated that i was to keep them closed. grinned, fought back the urge to say "yes'm." she leaned in, brushed her lips against mine. no kiss. could feel her breath, though. made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
fuck.
felt her move onto the couch beside me, then swing one leg over mine, slip across until she was sitting on my lap. felt the towel press against my chest, and then it was sliding down and off. you have any idea how damn hard it is to keep your eyes closed with a naked woman across your lap? yeah. impossible. so i didn't.
christ, i had no idea her skin would be so pale.
that was when she started to talk. and i mean really talk. not sure those sort of words should be coming out of such a soft mouth. all hard consonants, short, guttural vowels. lots of descriptors, descriptions. good fucking christ.
couldn't stop my hips from bucking upward, jostling her just a little bit as my cock twitched. thought she was going to bring me off with words alone. the faint pressure of her hands stroking through the denim didn't hurt either. had to grab her hips at that point, as much to ground myself as to keep her balanced.
ducked her head almost exactly like that first time we kissed. made her hair spill across my neck and shoulders. and that's all it took.
she looked up at about that point, and the expression on her face that said all sorts of non-PG-rated things changed a bit. thought it was me, at first, that had erased that wicked, wicked look.
is it just me, or do all the males in this household have the worst timing ever? granted, this time it wasn't the most completely worst moment possible, since that would have been about 30 seconds previous. but how hard is it to find a little privacy on the couch in the front room of your friends' house while they're out for a little jaunt and expected back at any moment? sheesh. no tact at all, these homeowners.
so there's Viggo, leaning against the doorframe in the hall, watching us. who the fuck knows how much he's seen or when he came in, because he's sure not telling. no smile, no frown, no get-the-fuck-off-my-couch, nothing. out of the corner of my eye, i can see Mir's neck reddening. i wink at Viggo, then grab the towel and wrap it back around her. she slips off my lap, so i stand up, shirt hanging open, feeling rumpled, stained and exhilarated, and say the only thing one can say in a situation like that:
"right. so, anyone want a drink?"
~D
Here be slash and hetsmut, all in one handy package.
DeadWetElf: Dom!
ShireSlut: Hey Craigg. Howgoes?
DeadWetElf: I'm good. You?
ShireSlut: notbad. Sup??.?
DeadWetElf: I was wondering if you guys had seen Bean around set today.
DeadWetElf: Apparently he's back early.
ShireSlut: Seriousssly?? Cool. Wecan fgrab himn go out for drinks then .He'll pay.
DeadWetElf: No, no, no, Dom. He's back early, but not for kicks.
DeadWetElf: Liv told Orli she saw him.
DeadWetElf: This morning.
ShireSlut: so??? That happens ni the mornings.
ShireSlut: You see people
DeadWetElf: Just wait.
ShireSlut: heh. patiesnce young KJedi.
DeadWetElf: Liv saw Bean this morning. He didn't see her.
DeadWetElf: He was all bashed up, like he'd been in a car accident or something.
DeadWetElf: Smashed lip. TWO black eyes. All swollen.
ShireSlut: Eseriouisly???
DeadWetElf: Maybe broken bones...
DeadWetElf: Maybe disoriented, I don't know, but he didn't answer her when she called.
DeadWetElf: So, if you could keep an eye out for him. Just in case.
ShireSlut: !!!1!!11
ShireSlut: I gotta tell Bills!!!!
DeadWetElf: Yeah, that would be good. Find out if your bunch have seen him. But try not to panic anyone, ok?
DeadWetElf: Keep it low profile?? Until we know more?
ShireSlut: no WorrieS.
DeadWetElf: I've got to be on set in a couple minutes. So keep this on the Q-T, ok?
ShireSlut: YOu gotit.!
DeadWetElf: Ok. Bye, then!
DeadWetElf signed off at 11:23 AM.
[...]
ShireSlut: hey Bills!!!
FoolOfATook: Sblomie!
ShireSlut: youstil in your trailer??
FoolOfATook: Yep. Coming over?
ShireSlut: Ina minute. Get thise
ShireSlut: I wasjust talking to Craig.
ShireSlut: you'll neveR beliefe what he told me.
ShireSlut: seems he haerd from orli whoi heardfrom Liv...
*click*
Peter here. Leave me a message if the sets are on fire. If the cameras aren't working. If the entire crew has come down with food poisoning. Do not leave me a message if you can't find your Hobbit feet. Or if the lunch special has run out. Or if--
*beep*
Peter? It's me. The Hobbits are all up in arms over something, love. I need to talk to you, see if you've heard anything. Call me.
*click*
*click*
[Philippa] Hello?
[Fran] Hi, it's Fran. Have you seen Peter?
[Philippa] Hmm. Not recently. I think he's in transit.
[Fran] Ah. Ok. If you catch him, would you get him to call me? He's not answering his cell.
[Philippa] *amused* That'd be because he left it here, Fran. I'm looking at it right now.
[Fran] Hmm. Great. The moment I actually need to talk to him, and he forgets his damn phone.
[Philippa] Is everything all right?
[Fran] ...Uh, yeah. Just-- just doing some damage control on a small situation. Don't worry about it.
[Philippa] You're sure?
[Fran] Yes. ...Yes. I'm sure it'll all be fine. But when you see him, tell him to call me right away, all right?
[Philippa] Will do.
[Fran] Thank you. Ta!
*click*
Gardener's Chronicle: A Ten Year Journal of Your Garden's Growth
Plant inventory:
Botanical name:
Common name:
Features:
Average height:
Exposure:
Quantity:
Price per unit:
Supplier:
Location:
Notes:
I did it. I went to Harry's, for all the good it did me. Walked all the way from the damn beach to his place. Fuck. Why did I leave the car behind? For that matter, where did I leave the car?
Goddammit, I think I'm losing it.
No. I'm sure I am.
Banged on Harry's front door for a full 5 minutes. Maybe more. Skinned my knuckles on the wood. I had no idea what I was going to do once he answered, but reasons and intent don't seem to matter right now.
Nobody answered. I peered in a couple of the windows, but I couldn't see much. He could be in there. I wouldn't know. Bloody reflective glass.
Eventually the neighbours came over to see what the fuss was, so I had to duck out. Found myself wandering back down to this same goddamn beach -- no fucking idea why. Maybe it's the smell of rotting seaweed. Reminds me of my relationships. Maybe it's the constant roar of the waves. Keeps me from screaming bloody murder. Doesn't really matter, because it's quiet and secluded, so I can lick my wounds in relative private.
I wonder how long it took Viggo to hook up with Harry after I left. Did he call him? Laugh and tell him how well it had gone off? Did he drive over there, get a front seat while I pounded on the door and yelled my throat hoarse?
Were they fucking on the floor, slick with sweat, Viggo moaning Harry's name as he sank down onto him? Were they like that, Viggo rising, falling, groaning, while I tried to find just one window that didn't simply show me the look on my face? Did Harry hold Viggo's wrists tight and pull him down over him where he would have better access to the hollow of his throat?
Or did Viggo crawl willingly across the floor to Harry, to sit between his legs and lap at his cock? Unzip the lazy bugger's zipper for him, push aside the layers of cloth, stroke him until he was hard? Was he sitting there, mouth full of cock, humming tunelessly while I shouted outside?
I... Fuck, I need to take a walk.
[...]
I should get a hotel room or something. Find somewhere to sleep before it gets dark. I can't stay here all night, now can I?
I wish I'd brought my damn jacket.
Mir didn't take too long to get here after we hung up. guess she can't be parted from my charms for very long. could tell her head hurt from the moment she walked in, though. kept wincing. no luck finding Sean, and Viggo was missing in action as well after flying out of here like he'd been shot out of one of those circus canons. need to get the two of them radio collars or something. send the Department of Conservation after them, track their movements, migration patterns. wouldn't want to be Harry right now, that's for sure, but then i don't usually want to be Harry. involves too much bravado and not enough Miranda.
took her keys from her, made her sit down on that little bench by the door, slipped off her shoes and ran my thumbs along the arches of her feet. seemed to like that.
got her aspirin, as promised, made her take it while she perched on Viggo and Sean's bed so that she could be comfortable while i ran the bathwater. am i good or what? don't forget a thing. mind like a steel trap.
why is it Viggo and Sean can't keep their home medical kit up to date, but they have all sorts of crap for the bath? picked out the least masculine scent i could find (something spicy, although the label had peeled off, so i'm still not sure exactly what it was), and poured it into the water. was foamy. heh.
let Mir get undressed in private, much to her dismay, i'm sure. i know she's cracking. know it.
heard her sigh when she sank into the water all the way in the bedroom. talked to her through the open door for a bit, then ventured in.
lovely, lovely Miranda. hair piled on head, wisps of it floating near her cheeks, her neck. eyes closed, small smile on her face.
sat on the side of the tub, thought about offering to scrub her back. or front. whatever. dangled hands in water instead. drizzled water down the side of her neck with my fingers. watched her.
held out a nice fluffy pinstriped towel when she was ready to get out. even averted my eyes. a bit. ...ok, not at all. not the point. offered up the full-body massage. figured she'd take me up on the offer.
she didn't.
instead, she grinned at me as she pulled the bobby pins out of her hair, then grabbed my hand and drew me out into the living room. made me sit down on the couch. fully clothed. told her she had an advantage over me, since she got the stylish towel. she just laughed. pushed me back into the cushions, told me to shut up. was her turn to talk. don't know what she was implying.
shut up anyway, once she started undoing the buttons on my shirt. have i mentioned how nicely shaped her fingers are? long, delicate, and with calluses in all the right places. love shieldmaidens.
and her voice. her voice! dropped it low, so i had to strain to hear her, told me to close my eyes, and listen for once. trailed her fingers lightly across my lips as she said that. opened my mouth, and she pulled them away. dammit.
told me to be quiet. again.
felt her fingers on my forehead next, across my eyelids while she repeated that i was to keep them closed. grinned, fought back the urge to say "yes'm." she leaned in, brushed her lips against mine. no kiss. could feel her breath, though. made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
fuck.
felt her move onto the couch beside me, then swing one leg over mine, slip across until she was sitting on my lap. felt the towel press against my chest, and then it was sliding down and off. you have any idea how damn hard it is to keep your eyes closed with a naked woman across your lap? yeah. impossible. so i didn't.
christ, i had no idea her skin would be so pale.
that was when she started to talk. and i mean really talk. not sure those sort of words should be coming out of such a soft mouth. all hard consonants, short, guttural vowels. lots of descriptors, descriptions. good fucking christ.
couldn't stop my hips from bucking upward, jostling her just a little bit as my cock twitched. thought she was going to bring me off with words alone. the faint pressure of her hands stroking through the denim didn't hurt either. had to grab her hips at that point, as much to ground myself as to keep her balanced.
ducked her head almost exactly like that first time we kissed. made her hair spill across my neck and shoulders. and that's all it took.
she looked up at about that point, and the expression on her face that said all sorts of non-PG-rated things changed a bit. thought it was me, at first, that had erased that wicked, wicked look.
is it just me, or do all the males in this household have the worst timing ever? granted, this time it wasn't the most completely worst moment possible, since that would have been about 30 seconds previous. but how hard is it to find a little privacy on the couch in the front room of your friends' house while they're out for a little jaunt and expected back at any moment? sheesh. no tact at all, these homeowners.
so there's Viggo, leaning against the doorframe in the hall, watching us. who the fuck knows how much he's seen or when he came in, because he's sure not telling. no smile, no frown, no get-the-fuck-off-my-couch, nothing. out of the corner of my eye, i can see Mir's neck reddening. i wink at Viggo, then grab the towel and wrap it back around her. she slips off my lap, so i stand up, shirt hanging open, feeling rumpled, stained and exhilarated, and say the only thing one can say in a situation like that:
"right. so, anyone want a drink?"
~D