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Title: Uh, oh…
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in
brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM/OB/JRD, EW/OB (implied)
Rating: PG, as it turned out, more's the pity...
Summary: Attack of the Cuntebago
Content/warnings: None. Kinky food!porn?
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's ownporno script, populated by the individuals she feels would be ideal to fill the various roles if she ruled the universe if she were ever fortunate enough have the opportunity to bring her vision to the screen. *snortle*
Archive rights: My journals
muck_a_luck and
brainofck. Green Opals, if they're interested.
John was tired, achy, and exhausted. Why was someone ringing his doorbell and pounding on his front door? He wondered if he should take up Viggo's habit of carrying around his character's very realistic axes. They might not take off someone's head (at least not particularly cleanly), but they were quite heavy, and he could use them to bludgeon unwelcome visitors about the head and shoulders…
He opened the front door with his best attempt at a gracious, welcoming smile, though with the state of his skin, he imagined it was probably more of a grimace.
Viggo slipped in (it seemed wrong to describe their Aragorn as "breezing by," even if he wasn’t in costume today) with a grin and a grunt, and the elf came bouncing in his wake. And to John's delight, there was the Man of Gondor, behind the elf, looking somewhat apologetic and stoic, a calm harbor in what appeared to be a brewing tempest.
"Well, hello, gentlemen!" John said to their retreating backs. They seemed to be headed directly for the kitchen. "What can I do for you this evening?"
"Vig forgot the can opener. Back out in a sec!" Orli called back.
John found this announcement perplexing. He trailed along behind Beanie to find that Viggo was indeed rifling through his kitchen drawers. In the middle of one of the clean counters sat a white and red can. John picked it up bemusedly. One loop of pasta bounded cheerfully across the label.
"Viggo. As much as I admire and respect you, I am not going to allow you to feed me canned pasta."
At just that moment, Viggo found the can opener. He advanced on John, reaching for the can. John found the image rather menacing. He was almost relieved when Beanie plucked the can from his fingers and handed it to the artist.
"They're not for eating," Beanie purred in his ear. Why on earth was the man standing so close to him?
His eyes fell on Orlando, who was strangely still and composed. Sort of a cross between himself and his Elf. He was watching them with that intensity that he brought to the set every day. John found it very unnerving to have it focused on himself.
"Lighe taught Orli a thing or two about canned pasta that you would not believe," Viggo said, as he turned to open the can and pour it's garish red and white contents into a bowl.
"The psychological damage that is done to children in the movie industry," Beanie tutted, taking John gently by the shoulders and steering him out of the kitchen toward the stairs. "But in an actor of Elijah's stature, we all benefit…"
Usually, I would include blame in the header, but I didn't want to spoil…
Blame:
green_grrl who posted a Teal'c/My Little Pony crossover fic in my journal, and who also unwisely said, "Even if the warning said . . ."JRD and a can of Spaghetti-O's" . . . I'd still click." Let the crack!fic wars begin! (I'm still working on the Frodo/EW/Teal'c crossover. . .)
All my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Pairing: SB/VM/OB/JRD, EW/OB (implied)
Rating: PG, as it turned out, more's the pity...
Summary: Attack of the Cuntebago
Content/warnings: None. Kinky food!porn?
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own
Archive rights: My journals
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
John was tired, achy, and exhausted. Why was someone ringing his doorbell and pounding on his front door? He wondered if he should take up Viggo's habit of carrying around his character's very realistic axes. They might not take off someone's head (at least not particularly cleanly), but they were quite heavy, and he could use them to bludgeon unwelcome visitors about the head and shoulders…
He opened the front door with his best attempt at a gracious, welcoming smile, though with the state of his skin, he imagined it was probably more of a grimace.
Viggo slipped in (it seemed wrong to describe their Aragorn as "breezing by," even if he wasn’t in costume today) with a grin and a grunt, and the elf came bouncing in his wake. And to John's delight, there was the Man of Gondor, behind the elf, looking somewhat apologetic and stoic, a calm harbor in what appeared to be a brewing tempest.
"Well, hello, gentlemen!" John said to their retreating backs. They seemed to be headed directly for the kitchen. "What can I do for you this evening?"
"Vig forgot the can opener. Back out in a sec!" Orli called back.
John found this announcement perplexing. He trailed along behind Beanie to find that Viggo was indeed rifling through his kitchen drawers. In the middle of one of the clean counters sat a white and red can. John picked it up bemusedly. One loop of pasta bounded cheerfully across the label.
"Viggo. As much as I admire and respect you, I am not going to allow you to feed me canned pasta."
At just that moment, Viggo found the can opener. He advanced on John, reaching for the can. John found the image rather menacing. He was almost relieved when Beanie plucked the can from his fingers and handed it to the artist.
"They're not for eating," Beanie purred in his ear. Why on earth was the man standing so close to him?
His eyes fell on Orlando, who was strangely still and composed. Sort of a cross between himself and his Elf. He was watching them with that intensity that he brought to the set every day. John found it very unnerving to have it focused on himself.
"Lighe taught Orli a thing or two about canned pasta that you would not believe," Viggo said, as he turned to open the can and pour it's garish red and white contents into a bowl.
"The psychological damage that is done to children in the movie industry," Beanie tutted, taking John gently by the shoulders and steering him out of the kitchen toward the stairs. "But in an actor of Elijah's stature, we all benefit…"
Usually, I would include blame in the header, but I didn't want to spoil…
Blame:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
All my stories, in order, from one page. Also, my fiction recommendations.