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Nov. 20th, 2005 03:29 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
blurblely.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliTitle: Without
Author: blurblely
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando/Orlando's detached arm
Rating: Rish
Warnings: Where to start? detached appendages, bad breath, too many commas, not enough self-restraint, slightly manipulative Orli, obtuse Viggo. It's supposed to be sort of absurdly funny. Just think of me as Camus without the talent.
Summary: Orlando's arm fell off one day. What to do, what to do?
Disclaimer: I can't even come up with a suitable disclaimer. To say it's not true and that I'm sorry, sorry, so sorry, doesn't even begin to cover it.
Beta: Obviously not.
Feedback: Please, even if it is to say that I need mental help.
Author's Note: This story shows why I should never attempt dialogue.
*****
At some point during the night Orlando Bloom’s right arm had fallen off. Without warning, without explanation, without a freakish disease as a probable cause, Orlando woke up Sunday afternoon with a detached arm in his bed. He didn’t really know what to make of it. He remembered his mum saying something of the kind to him as a kid that time she caught him wanking. But no, that wouldn’t be the reason; he was always a lefty when it came to grabbing at his danglies.
“Ding Dong” chirped the gay-friendly doorbell.
Shit, Vig! Vig was here. What was he going to do? Orlando had been so befuddled by his detached limb that he’d completely forgotten that he’d agreed to go to dinner with Viggo. Ordinarily he’d be freaking over his appearance, whether his goatee was just so or if his ‘stache was suitable, but right now he’d settle for suitably stashing his severed appendage instead. Viggo. He’d always looked up to Viggo. What would Viggo do in a situation like this? Knowing Vig, he’d probably make it into a modern art piece without batting an eyelash.
“One moment” Orli called out, desperately trying to stall.
Like a lightbulb in Uncle Fester’s mouth, Orli lit up. ‘I’ve got it,’ he thought. He ran to the kitchen, filled the first vase he could find with water from the tap and shoved his dead arm in it. He took a moment to spread the fingers out and arrange the elbow, which was no small feat considering it had already gone stiff. He thought he’d done a rather nice job, what with time constraints, and the nail polish was the color of rose petals, adding just the touch of realism he was looking for.
‘It’s quite lovely, really’ Orli thought to himself.
With that, Orlando skittered to the door just in time to see Viggo about to leave.
“Vig, wait, I’m here,” Orli shouted, nervously.
“Oh, hey, Orli! I thought you’d forgotten me or something.”
'I could never forget you, Viggo.'
“No, no,” Orli rushed to correct him, “I just woke up from my afternoon nap and wasn’t quite dressed when you showed up. Anyway, come on in.”
“Ah, well you needn’t have worried. You look nice....if a little different”
Oh no. Viggo had noticed. Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, everlovin’ fuck.
“D-d-ifferent?” Orli sputtered.
“Yeah, you look, oh I don’t know, a little more tan or something. It’s nice.”
Orli’s heart sped up a little and his grin got just a touch goofier. ‘He noticed I’ve been lying in a tanning bed! Squee!’
“Hey, I brought you something. I know it’s only a few silly wild flowers, but they reminded me of you, of your carefree, wild spirit, so I wrenched them from the earth, roots torn and dangling, and brought them to you. I thought they’d make a nice gift. Do you like them?”
“Oh, you’re so poetic. They’re beautiful Vig, really. Thank you.”
“No problem. Do you have a vase I can put them in?”
Well, it was now or never. If Viggo hadn’t flipped out over his missing arm yet, then maybe he never would. Orlando reached down to finger his ring, the one that said “to wherever it may lead,” for a bit of reassurance but then realized that it was on his /other/ hand. Shit. His oversight notwithstanding, he still felt it was best to let fate decide, so he lead Viggo into the kitchen.
“Yes, sure, um, I mean, follow me.”
Viggo admired his kitchen table. “Oh, Orli, why didn’t you tell me that you already had a flower? Did you sculpt this yourself?”
Viggo still hadn’t figured it out! Score!
“Um, sure, you could say that I guess.”
“It’s great, so original!”
“Coming from you, Vig, that means everything.”
Orlando blushed brighter than his red fingernails. Turning his back to the table, Viggo cupped Orli’s face. “Oh, Orli, you’re really lovely, you know that?” Viggo leaned in, letting his breath caress Orli’s lips before he let his tongue follow. Orli was so mesmerized he didn’t even notice Viggo’s onion-ass breath. Their kiss was passion, it was fire, it was beauty, it was desire, it was.... totally interrupted by Orlando’s severed hand grabbing at Viggo’s ass.
Viggo pulled back with a trail of slobber drooping between their mouths.
“Mmmm, Orli, wait. Do you think we’re ready for that?”
“Hmm?” Orli asked distractedly, sucking the saliva, and thusly Viggo’s bottom lip, back into his mouth. They went back at it for a few more minutes before Viggo felt Orli’s finger working it’s way down the back of his pants, down his boxers, deep deep down his cleft to rub at his entrance.
“Orli. Orlando, stop.”
“What? What’s wrong? Don’t say that my breath was bad, because it's your mouth that tastes like shit,” Orli shouted defensively.
“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just, well, I’ve never been with a man before, and I’m not ready to have you fingerfuck me yet. If it’s all right with you.”
“Viggo. What are you talking about? I wasn’t touching you.”
“Orli, yes you were. I mean are. Your hand is still clearly down my pants.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yes, huh. Look!”
Viggo turned around to prove his point. Well, Viggo had him there. His hand was indeed his hand down Viggo’s pants, just not the one that was still attached, like Viggo thought. How to get out of this one? He had the distinct impression he’d woken up in the middle of a really terrible sitcom starring Don Knotts or Lucille Ball.
Viggo craned his neck back to see for himself, and let out a screech befitting a six-year-old girl.
“Orli, I think your centerpiece just tried to molest me!”
The dumb route. He’d play the dumb route. It’d always worked for him before.
“Wha? Are you serious? Huh. It’s never done that before!”
“Orli, you minx. I can't believe you didn't let on that you knew."
Uh-oh, the moment of truth.
"I can’t believe you sculpted a flower AND made it animatronic! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you that I’m willing to go to bed with you right now. That thing makes me horny.”
“Really? You’d be willing to give yourself to me? Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Oh Vig”
“Oh Orli”
And with that, Viggo and Orli hotyummansexed their way through the rest of the night, the severed arm boldly going places that no severed arm had gone before. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
When Orli awoke to the sight of Viggo, he was bathed in bliss. He knew it was time. This memory was the best one he’d had in years, and he’d never let himself forget it. He reached to the bedside table, retrieving his charms, and added his arm to it.
The end.
Author: blurblely
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando/Orlando's detached arm
Rating: Rish
Warnings: Where to start? detached appendages, bad breath, too many commas, not enough self-restraint, slightly manipulative Orli, obtuse Viggo. It's supposed to be sort of absurdly funny. Just think of me as Camus without the talent.
Summary: Orlando's arm fell off one day. What to do, what to do?
Disclaimer: I can't even come up with a suitable disclaimer. To say it's not true and that I'm sorry, sorry, so sorry, doesn't even begin to cover it.
Beta: Obviously not.
Feedback: Please, even if it is to say that I need mental help.
Author's Note: This story shows why I should never attempt dialogue.
*****
At some point during the night Orlando Bloom’s right arm had fallen off. Without warning, without explanation, without a freakish disease as a probable cause, Orlando woke up Sunday afternoon with a detached arm in his bed. He didn’t really know what to make of it. He remembered his mum saying something of the kind to him as a kid that time she caught him wanking. But no, that wouldn’t be the reason; he was always a lefty when it came to grabbing at his danglies.
“Ding Dong” chirped the gay-friendly doorbell.
Shit, Vig! Vig was here. What was he going to do? Orlando had been so befuddled by his detached limb that he’d completely forgotten that he’d agreed to go to dinner with Viggo. Ordinarily he’d be freaking over his appearance, whether his goatee was just so or if his ‘stache was suitable, but right now he’d settle for suitably stashing his severed appendage instead. Viggo. He’d always looked up to Viggo. What would Viggo do in a situation like this? Knowing Vig, he’d probably make it into a modern art piece without batting an eyelash.
“One moment” Orli called out, desperately trying to stall.
Like a lightbulb in Uncle Fester’s mouth, Orli lit up. ‘I’ve got it,’ he thought. He ran to the kitchen, filled the first vase he could find with water from the tap and shoved his dead arm in it. He took a moment to spread the fingers out and arrange the elbow, which was no small feat considering it had already gone stiff. He thought he’d done a rather nice job, what with time constraints, and the nail polish was the color of rose petals, adding just the touch of realism he was looking for.
‘It’s quite lovely, really’ Orli thought to himself.
With that, Orlando skittered to the door just in time to see Viggo about to leave.
“Vig, wait, I’m here,” Orli shouted, nervously.
“Oh, hey, Orli! I thought you’d forgotten me or something.”
'I could never forget you, Viggo.'
“No, no,” Orli rushed to correct him, “I just woke up from my afternoon nap and wasn’t quite dressed when you showed up. Anyway, come on in.”
“Ah, well you needn’t have worried. You look nice....if a little different”
Oh no. Viggo had noticed. Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, everlovin’ fuck.
“D-d-ifferent?” Orli sputtered.
“Yeah, you look, oh I don’t know, a little more tan or something. It’s nice.”
Orli’s heart sped up a little and his grin got just a touch goofier. ‘He noticed I’ve been lying in a tanning bed! Squee!’
“Hey, I brought you something. I know it’s only a few silly wild flowers, but they reminded me of you, of your carefree, wild spirit, so I wrenched them from the earth, roots torn and dangling, and brought them to you. I thought they’d make a nice gift. Do you like them?”
“Oh, you’re so poetic. They’re beautiful Vig, really. Thank you.”
“No problem. Do you have a vase I can put them in?”
Well, it was now or never. If Viggo hadn’t flipped out over his missing arm yet, then maybe he never would. Orlando reached down to finger his ring, the one that said “to wherever it may lead,” for a bit of reassurance but then realized that it was on his /other/ hand. Shit. His oversight notwithstanding, he still felt it was best to let fate decide, so he lead Viggo into the kitchen.
“Yes, sure, um, I mean, follow me.”
Viggo admired his kitchen table. “Oh, Orli, why didn’t you tell me that you already had a flower? Did you sculpt this yourself?”
Viggo still hadn’t figured it out! Score!
“Um, sure, you could say that I guess.”
“It’s great, so original!”
“Coming from you, Vig, that means everything.”
Orlando blushed brighter than his red fingernails. Turning his back to the table, Viggo cupped Orli’s face. “Oh, Orli, you’re really lovely, you know that?” Viggo leaned in, letting his breath caress Orli’s lips before he let his tongue follow. Orli was so mesmerized he didn’t even notice Viggo’s onion-ass breath. Their kiss was passion, it was fire, it was beauty, it was desire, it was.... totally interrupted by Orlando’s severed hand grabbing at Viggo’s ass.
Viggo pulled back with a trail of slobber drooping between their mouths.
“Mmmm, Orli, wait. Do you think we’re ready for that?”
“Hmm?” Orli asked distractedly, sucking the saliva, and thusly Viggo’s bottom lip, back into his mouth. They went back at it for a few more minutes before Viggo felt Orli’s finger working it’s way down the back of his pants, down his boxers, deep deep down his cleft to rub at his entrance.
“Orli. Orlando, stop.”
“What? What’s wrong? Don’t say that my breath was bad, because it's your mouth that tastes like shit,” Orli shouted defensively.
“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just, well, I’ve never been with a man before, and I’m not ready to have you fingerfuck me yet. If it’s all right with you.”
“Viggo. What are you talking about? I wasn’t touching you.”
“Orli, yes you were. I mean are. Your hand is still clearly down my pants.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yes, huh. Look!”
Viggo turned around to prove his point. Well, Viggo had him there. His hand was indeed his hand down Viggo’s pants, just not the one that was still attached, like Viggo thought. How to get out of this one? He had the distinct impression he’d woken up in the middle of a really terrible sitcom starring Don Knotts or Lucille Ball.
Viggo craned his neck back to see for himself, and let out a screech befitting a six-year-old girl.
“Orli, I think your centerpiece just tried to molest me!”
The dumb route. He’d play the dumb route. It’d always worked for him before.
“Wha? Are you serious? Huh. It’s never done that before!”
“Orli, you minx. I can't believe you didn't let on that you knew."
Uh-oh, the moment of truth.
"I can’t believe you sculpted a flower AND made it animatronic! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you that I’m willing to go to bed with you right now. That thing makes me horny.”
“Really? You’d be willing to give yourself to me? Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Oh Vig”
“Oh Orli”
And with that, Viggo and Orli hotyummansexed their way through the rest of the night, the severed arm boldly going places that no severed arm had gone before. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
When Orli awoke to the sight of Viggo, he was bathed in bliss. He knew it was time. This memory was the best one he’d had in years, and he’d never let himself forget it. He reached to the bedside table, retrieving his charms, and added his arm to it.
The end.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-20 04:15 pm (UTC)That was so funny, I could hardly respond from laughing so hard. It's great,
thank you for sharing this.
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Date: 2005-11-20 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-20 08:41 pm (UTC)That was MAGICAL.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-20 10:56 pm (UTC)By the way, I dont think I've ever reviewed one of your fics but I'm a big-time fan of Chalk Butterfly and 10,000 Moments. I write silly crap like this because I can't write like you.
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Date: 2005-11-21 12:21 am (UTC)oh my god...that was delightful...laughed out loud at the line above. thanks for the giggles!