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http://users.livejournal.com/nixxie_/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2002-08-13 12:32 pm
http://users.livejournal.com/nixxie_/) wrote in fellowshippers2002-08-13 12:32 pm
Fic: Party Animal 4/? Karl/Orlando - R
Title: Party Animal 4/?
Author: Nixxie + Chelle
Pairing: Karl/Orlando
Rating: R - NC17
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship and http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sugar_Britches/
E-mail addresses for feedback: nix@nixxe.co.uk + seans_muse@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: If PJ ever threw a party like this we’re sure Orlando and Karl never did this…though if they did why weren’t we given invites?
Warnings: Real Person Slash – meaning these are based on real people, whether they really do this stuff is up to them... but if they want to share I’d not say no to a nice seat nearby and a bucket of popcorn.
Authors notes: This is written as part of a RPG. Orlando belongs to Chelle and Karl belongs to Nixxie. The POV changes from one to the other. Written in third person with thoughts as ‘//...//’ And emphasis as ‘*…*’
(Party Animal 4/?)
‘One too many, where ego I go too
Looking for the real thing.’
Peter Gabriel: Waiting for the big one
He just nodded in reply, holding up his bottle in return, making brief eye contact then taking a long swig of his beer //Orlando...Jeez! Poor fucker, who the hell lands a son of theirs with Orlando...totally asking for it...no wonder he ends up with such crappy shirts...nice pants though...and not bad contents either...very...Firm...pert. Totally gotta be an Elf...And sorry...my mind was where exactly?…//
"So..." He asked, surveying the crowd, "What are you in the film...I'm guessing not an Orc then..." He flashed Lurid Shirt wearer grin...still trying not to look at the shirt on case it sent him blind.
~~~~~~~~
Orlando grinned back. Well then! Karl-Eomer-Urban was obviously somebody who recognized talent when he saw it. //Must be my dashing fashion-sense// Orlando decided.
"I'm Legolas Greenleaf, Fellowship Elf and Gimli's whore." He glanced at Urban, wondering if the guy had actually *read* the books, and took another pull of his beer.
~~~~~~~~
"Legolas? Must be good, playing a prince and all, even if you do end up a dwarf lover...we'll have lots of scenes together in the second book then...in Rohan." He took another look over at the guy, //not too bad I suppose...that shirt really does distract from his face...and that hair! Jesus!//
"Is there actually a reason for the horrendous hair cut then...or did you just think a mohican would go nicely with _that_ shirt this evening."
~~~~~~~~
He tossed back the last of his beer, set the empty bottle on the bar; ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, fuck, mate!" Orlando said, voice absolutely pleasant. "From cunt to sarcastic dick in less than five minutes. That's very impressive, really." The mohawk had been a dare from Atti, and Orlando was still regretting it occasionally -- but he wasn't about to go making apologies to Karl-Wanker-Urban. He motioned the bartender for another beer, then turned back to Karl. Fixed the man with heated brown eyes, looking at him straight-on for the first time.
"I want to be more than an image or a set of clothes, mate," he said, gaze locked on Urban's -- tone light, eyes hard. "The industry is all about style and hype, and I think that's all goddamn rubbish. It should be about talent, about who you are and what you have to offer
when the cameras start rolling -- not about how well you can jump through hoops for some network ditz with a mic.
"But nobody cares about the 'shouldnt's’, because the media keeps talking trash about who was wearing what and who's shagging whom on the side, and on and on. That's the kind of shit people eat up; I can't change it. But--" He paused, glanced over as the bartender
set down another bottle. Picked it up. Stared down at the label for a second, almost pensive, then looked back up at Urban.
"But I *can* live by my own rules. Which means *fuck* fashion. And if you want to go around making smartass comments about it, fuck you, too. I'm not going to be owned by the media, and I'm *not* going to try to move and dress like every other trendy, broody actor out there." He fingered the collar of Urban's black shirt, flashed a cool grin. "Not for them, and not for some dick with ego issues and leather trousers."
Orlando twisted the top off his beer, tipped it at Urban in a toast, and tilted his head back for a long draw. //Take that, wanker.//
~~~~~~~~
Karl stepped forward a few paces, groin level with the obvious nutcase's hip, chest leaning forward and face a few centimetres away, He put his hand over the man's //more like boy’s// hand and held it still, tight. "I don't think you want to be doing that you know..." He pushed the hand on his collar away quickly, leaning in yet further to growl... "People don't touch me unless I let them...clear..." He half growled, staring down at this jumped up little puppy, who was attempting to drink his beer //that's it...just get drunk, and totter off home with some easy lay...I'm sure it's what you've done countless times before...//
tbc..
Author: Nixxie + Chelle
Pairing: Karl/Orlando
Rating: R - NC17
Archive: Beyond the Fellowship and http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sugar_Britches/
E-mail addresses for feedback: nix@nixxe.co.uk + seans_muse@hotmail.com
Disclaimers: If PJ ever threw a party like this we’re sure Orlando and Karl never did this…though if they did why weren’t we given invites?
Warnings: Real Person Slash – meaning these are based on real people, whether they really do this stuff is up to them... but if they want to share I’d not say no to a nice seat nearby and a bucket of popcorn.
Authors notes: This is written as part of a RPG. Orlando belongs to Chelle and Karl belongs to Nixxie. The POV changes from one to the other. Written in third person with thoughts as ‘//...//’ And emphasis as ‘*…*’
(Party Animal 4/?)
‘One too many, where ego I go too
Looking for the real thing.’
Peter Gabriel: Waiting for the big one
He just nodded in reply, holding up his bottle in return, making brief eye contact then taking a long swig of his beer //Orlando...Jeez! Poor fucker, who the hell lands a son of theirs with Orlando...totally asking for it...no wonder he ends up with such crappy shirts...nice pants though...and not bad contents either...very...Firm...pert. Totally gotta be an Elf...And sorry...my mind was where exactly?…//
"So..." He asked, surveying the crowd, "What are you in the film...I'm guessing not an Orc then..." He flashed Lurid Shirt wearer grin...still trying not to look at the shirt on case it sent him blind.
~~~~~~~~
Orlando grinned back. Well then! Karl-Eomer-Urban was obviously somebody who recognized talent when he saw it. //Must be my dashing fashion-sense// Orlando decided.
"I'm Legolas Greenleaf, Fellowship Elf and Gimli's whore." He glanced at Urban, wondering if the guy had actually *read* the books, and took another pull of his beer.
~~~~~~~~
"Legolas? Must be good, playing a prince and all, even if you do end up a dwarf lover...we'll have lots of scenes together in the second book then...in Rohan." He took another look over at the guy, //not too bad I suppose...that shirt really does distract from his face...and that hair! Jesus!//
"Is there actually a reason for the horrendous hair cut then...or did you just think a mohican would go nicely with _that_ shirt this evening."
~~~~~~~~
He tossed back the last of his beer, set the empty bottle on the bar; ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, fuck, mate!" Orlando said, voice absolutely pleasant. "From cunt to sarcastic dick in less than five minutes. That's very impressive, really." The mohawk had been a dare from Atti, and Orlando was still regretting it occasionally -- but he wasn't about to go making apologies to Karl-Wanker-Urban. He motioned the bartender for another beer, then turned back to Karl. Fixed the man with heated brown eyes, looking at him straight-on for the first time.
"I want to be more than an image or a set of clothes, mate," he said, gaze locked on Urban's -- tone light, eyes hard. "The industry is all about style and hype, and I think that's all goddamn rubbish. It should be about talent, about who you are and what you have to offer
when the cameras start rolling -- not about how well you can jump through hoops for some network ditz with a mic.
"But nobody cares about the 'shouldnt's’, because the media keeps talking trash about who was wearing what and who's shagging whom on the side, and on and on. That's the kind of shit people eat up; I can't change it. But--" He paused, glanced over as the bartender
set down another bottle. Picked it up. Stared down at the label for a second, almost pensive, then looked back up at Urban.
"But I *can* live by my own rules. Which means *fuck* fashion. And if you want to go around making smartass comments about it, fuck you, too. I'm not going to be owned by the media, and I'm *not* going to try to move and dress like every other trendy, broody actor out there." He fingered the collar of Urban's black shirt, flashed a cool grin. "Not for them, and not for some dick with ego issues and leather trousers."
Orlando twisted the top off his beer, tipped it at Urban in a toast, and tilted his head back for a long draw. //Take that, wanker.//
~~~~~~~~
Karl stepped forward a few paces, groin level with the obvious nutcase's hip, chest leaning forward and face a few centimetres away, He put his hand over the man's //more like boy’s// hand and held it still, tight. "I don't think you want to be doing that you know..." He pushed the hand on his collar away quickly, leaning in yet further to growl... "People don't touch me unless I let them...clear..." He half growled, staring down at this jumped up little puppy, who was attempting to drink his beer //that's it...just get drunk, and totter off home with some easy lay...I'm sure it's what you've done countless times before...//
tbc..
no subject
*SNERK*
Please oh please keep going. The tables have turned and now Karl is the snarky bitch. YAY!