Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in thalfic's LiveJournal:

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Friday, December 18th, 2009
1:22 pm	Cupcake Author: Thalassatx Notes: A bit of silliness, starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Orlando Bloom. Fiction, obviously. Inspired by Frankie! "Sprinkles? Seriously, SPRINKLES?" Jake sounded annoyed, and Orlando couldn't stop giggling. "You've got them on your arse, too," Orli added happily. At least it sounded happy when it came out between another gale of laughter. "I was all for the cupcakes, and for the icing, but you just had to add sprinkles," Jake grumped. Orlando leaned over and licked the tip of Jake's nose, where a bit of white frosting still remained. "You were a very delicious cupcake," he murmured, before kissing him firmly, letting him taste the sweetness and a bit of saltiness that remained on Orlando's tongue. Jake hummed softly then, relaxing into the kiss. "You're a good baker," he grudgingly admitted. Orlando smiled against his mouth. "Next time, maybe you can be an eclair." Current Mood: amused (Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 26th, 2008
10:27 am	Fic: Lies Your Parents Told You Author: Thalassatx Rated G Notes: The man Orlando knew as his father died when Orlando was four. This is a story of how Orlando might have felt. Archive: Please, if you like it. Feedback is always welcomed. Length: 818 words. Written for Theatrical Muse RPG ( Cut for length: ) (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, March 7th, 2008
3:39 pm	Fic: Missing Him Title: Missing Him Rating: PG-13 Notes: I hope this doesn’t offend anyone too much. I don’t know any of the people in this ficlet, and I have no idea what they love or hate or do in their private lives. Archive at will, and feedback is always always appreciated! Author: Thalassatx ( Fic behind the cut: ) (Comment on this)
Monday, February 25th, 2008
4:13 pm	A ficlet Elegant. Willowy. Lovely. Delicate. All of these, and many more have been used to describe our Prince of Elves. When at court, he is all of these. He is a breath of air in a stuffy audience chamber, when he slips in quietly, gracefully, in a silken tunic of green or silver. His hair always smells of sunshine, and some exotic scent captures your attention as he passes in a narrow hallway. But now, the ladies of the court would fain recognize him. His golden hair is braided back as a warrior, and the tips are dark with dried blood and filth. A black mark crosses his sharp cheekbone, and I know not if it is a wound or the blood of an orc, or some other loathsome creature. I have seen him, teeth bared in a snarl of hatred and fury, and I have seen his dance of death become frenzied as they come on and on in a seemingly endless attack. I have heard his fine voice hoarsened into a howl of pain and of rage, and of fear, for me. He defends me. He protects me. He has given me a vow far deeper than words on a document, or in an oath. He has risked his immortal life for my own, even when I did not wish to be a King. And if we both survive this, if one day we should celebrate the beginning of a new age, he will be the Prince again, a vision of a day long past. But I will remember the warrior, for all of my days. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 14th, 2008
9:21 pm	Nightwatch Author's note: Aragorn/Legolas, PG-13, sometime during their lives. 100 words. By Thalassatx. He loved this time of the night. His lover seemed reenergized by their lovemaking, and he talked. Moreover, he described. Deft fingers described the curve of a favorite bow, the fletching of a particularly fine arrow. A smudge of a thumb, a quiver then. He smiled up at the stars though his eyes were closed. His lover's voice was enough magic for him. "Are you listening?" the soft question came, and he could sense the smile. "I'm feeling." The smile would widen and then the head of silken hair would rest against his shoulder. "Sleep then, Ranger. I will watch." (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 16th, 2008
2:53 pm	Getting Away, part 2 Author note: After Sean's called off the wedding, where does he go to get away? Rating: PG-13 for language, so far Part Two ( Read more... ) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 15th, 2008
11:08 am	Getting Away Author note: After Sean's called off the wedding, where does he go to get away? Rating: PG-13 for language, so far Part One ( Read more... ) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, December 28th, 2007
9:33 am	For Voxmas!! #22 for take_this_waltz: Hands DISCLAIMER: All the fics posted below are just that, FICTION. None of the authors claim to have any idea what's going on in Viggo and Orlando's life, it's all made up and no profit is made at all. OVERALL RATING: PG-13 AUTHOR NOTE:For take_this_waltz, who asked for I'd like to read either some angst w/a happy ending or some fluff (I like fluff, too!), both with plot, but I'd also be happy with a nice PWP, which can (but doesn't have to, if the writer doesn't want to write that) involve light kink (as in mild bondage or light D/S). I prefer Viggo as top, but I don't object to Orli topping either... Setting can be during filming or later (today is great, too). Mucho gracias to illuminated_sin, who read Orlando's palmprint and plays the part of the lovely palmreader in the story. TITLE: Hands ( Read more... ) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, November 8th, 2007
10:29 am	Egyptian tale, part 8 The smell of dust and ancient rot surrounded the two men, and Viggo turned slowly, beaming his light into the shallow shelves that contained bones and wrappings, as well as a scattering of funerary objects, all older than old. "How did you come to find these?" he asked Orlando in an awed voice. Orlando shrugged deprecatingly. "I just walk," he answered. "Come, let me show you my favorite thing." He took Viggo's hand impulsively to lead him, and Viggo had to resist flinching away. He wanted to hold the young man's hand, and more, but he didn't dare get too close for fear of revealing his own desires. He couldn't resist the boy's excitement though, and so he let it happen, and followed him closely through a maze of dark corridors. "Look!" Orlando cried triumphantly, pointing towards an even darker room. Viggo cautiously edged forward, turning the flashlight towards it, then he jumped back, startled as the light reflected off glass. "My God! It's a mummy in there!" Orlando laughed. "Not a mummy. There are no wrappings! Look closer! It's a king!" Viggo ignored the racing of his heart and stepped in, examining the body within more closely. Despite the leathery appearance of the flesh, he could tell that this so-called king had had lighter skin than the mummies they had seen earlier, and as Orlando had said, he was wearing some sort of crown or diadem around straw-like light hair. The body was clothed in faded purple linen that looked as if it would crumble if a breath of air touched it, and it lay on crushed pillows that may have once been made of silk. "Was this a Pharoah?" he asked, not expecting an answer, but Orlando spoke up. "It must have been. See, there is writing like that on the old things!" He pointed out the hieroglyphics carved around the walls. "I cannot read it," he said, looking disappointed. Viggo's eyes had seen something else though, in the gold catafalque beneath the glass coffin. "Greek," he mused softly. Orlando knelt, throwing the light from his torch on it. "Greek?" he asked confusedly. Viggo knelt beside him and pointed out the letters. "I don't recall much of it, but I know those are Greek letters, not Egyptian. I seem to remember the Greeks ruled Egypt for a long time. Maybe this is one of their kings." He looked into Orlando's dark eyes. "Can you show me to a place with books? A library or a bookseller? I need to find out what these letters mean." Orlando's smile brightened the room. "I know a man of learning! He will help us!" Viggo smiled back. "We have to keep this a secret though," he reminded him. "Those treasure hunters would steal this away if they had any idea it was here. I'm sure this is very very valuable." Orlando sombered. "You are correct. And it is not theirs to steal. The dead should be left in peace." Viggo reached over without thinking and put his hand on Orlando's shoulder. "You are very wise for such a young man." Orlando looked down, blushing faintly, then back up through thick eyelashes. "Thank you. I am glad we have found one another." Viggo couldn't argue with that. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 17th, 2007
3:55 pm	Egyptian Tale, part 7 Viggo’s eyes lit up at Orlando’s words. “Catacombs? I’ve never read of Alexandria having catacombs!” He’d studied ancient history in school, and he’d read a great deal about the catacombs under Rome and other great cities, but never in Egypt. “Are you pulling my leg?” Orlando looked curious at that. “Pulling your leg?” He glanced at Viggo’s limbs, then back up at the blue-green eyes. “I don’t understand.” Viggo laughed. “It means are you joking, or telling me a story.” Orlando smiled brightly then. “No! I promise you I know of them! But you cannot tell other tourists. They will all want to see, and then I will have no secrets to show to important people.” His eyes sparkled with mirth. Viggo grinned in answer. “I’m important?” Orlando’s dimples deepened. “Important enough. Now come, you must have clothes to wear for this, and boots I hope. There are places where it is very filthy.” The two men made their way back to Viggo’s room, and the American frowned. “I have to pack everything too. I suppose this would be a good time. Did you think of anywhere I can stay?” Orlando shrugged. “If you do not mind, you could stay with me, on the roof of Tarek’s home. You do not have to worry about rain or cold here,” he said helpfully. Viggo snorted at that, then shrugged. “I would be honored to be your guest,” he said with a little bit of a bow. “Shall we take my bag there first, then? And perhaps I can buy a galabeeyah in the suk to wear on our excursion. You seem quite comfortable in them.” Plans made, it took very little time to execute them, and soon the American was nearly disguised in the flowing robe of the Egyptians. Orlando had insisted on a turban for him of a deep sky blue, saying it was common, when really, he simply loved the way it made Viggo’s eyes look. Viggo wore boots instead of the Egyptian sandals, and he listened intently as Orlando explained how he had first discovered the entrance to the underground chambers. “I was just a young man then,” he described, “and I was often in trouble for one thing or another.” He grinned mischievously and continued. “Of course, I wanted to have a hiding place from Layla. So I often explored the buildings around us, looking for small niches or forgotten closets. The cemetery, Kom El-Shouqafa, was a favorite of mine, because I could find tombs that had been cracked open over the centuries.” Viggo gave him a shocked look, and the young man chuckled. “Believe me, the dead do not frighten me as much as Layla does if I spill a pot of soup she’d been working on all day!” Laughing, he continued. “One day, I had run into a tomb, and I was very hot and tired. I leaned against the back wall, and it began to crumble! I realized there was a tunnel behind it, and so I worked to open it. When I finally did, what I found amazed me. There were miles of tunnels, filled with old burials and memorials. I found things with the ancient writings on them, and even mummies!” His dark eyes were wide with excitement. “I explored there every chance I got and I discovered other ways into and out of the tunnels, but I never told anyone.” Viggo cocked his head to one side. “Until me? Why me?” Orlando blushed a bit. “I do not know. I just feel as if I could share this with you. I believe you will appreciate it without wanting to plunder it.” Viggo nodded, and put out his hand. “On my honor as a gentleman, I will not tell your secret. And I will take nothing out.” Orlando took his hand gratefully with a brilliant smile. “I knew you could be trusted, Viggo!” Orlando led him to an old mosque, and looked in every direction before guiding Viggo into the back of it. “In here,” he whispered. “Stay with me.” Like a silent cat of the desert, Orlando slipped down a hallway, to a staircase leading down into the basement of the holy building. Once there, he took Viggo quickly to a wall with worn hangings. “Here,” he indicated, pulling back the old draperies carefully. “That small door,” he pointed. It was barely a foot high, and blended in with the ancient rock around it, but Viggo could see how to push one side of it to get it to open. A dry dusty scent came from the opening, and it was pitch dark inside. “Light your torch and go,” Orlando hissed urgently. Viggo did so, and disappeared into the hole. Orlando followed, carefully pulling the door back into place behind him. Viggo was standing perfectly still, casting the light from the flashlight around him. “Would you look at this,” he mused with awe. He was standing in what was clearly an ancient ossuary, with thousands of natural rock shelves filled with the pitiful remains of the long-dead. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 9th, 2007
10:17 pm	Just a note from the author I won't be writing anymore on the fic where Orlando was a formerly kidnapped teen. After reading today's story about the real teen, I just can't dishonor him by writing fiction about him. He's a hero. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21206715/?GT1=10450 (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 26th, 2007
10:10 am	Deathwatch Author's note: This isn't my usual stuff. It's G, and gen, and depressing. ( Read more... ) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 25th, 2007
1:53 pm	Egyptian Tale, part 6 Orlando nearly stuttered. "Um, I... I'll think about it." He smiled, but his belly was fluttering. "So, what did you have in mind today?" Viggo looked around them. “I’ve read of the antiquities of Ancient Egypt. I’m sure you know all the tourist spots, but is there something you might show me that isn’t on the Cook’s tour?” Orlando brightened immediately. “Of course! The Englishman’s tours are all of the complete buildings and such. They do not know of the smaller things, the parts that have nearly been covered over!” He found himself nearly reaching for Viggo’s hand in his enthusiasm, but he quickly reined himself in enough that he only brushed the older man’s arm. “Follow me. Do you mind walking, or would you rather hire a donkey?” Viggo snorted. “My long legs on a donkey? Yours, for that matter!” He laughed out loud. “We’ll walk, my friend.” Orlando found himself chattering as they walked, pointing out architecture from various periods, and showing him the palace of the Ottoman Bey. There were mosques everywhere, and the mullahs called out for one of the morning prayers. Viggo eyed him, but Orlando shook his head. “I don’t really practice any religion,” he explained. “I hope you are not offended.” Viggo smiled. “Not at all. My parents were Methodists, but I sort of strayed, you might say,” he elaborated. “I don’t practice much of anything either.” After a few hours of sightseeing, Orlando felt quite comfortable with the American. “We have more to see, but you must be thirsty. Would you like to find a coffee shop?” Viggo thought ruefully of his dwindling finances, and shook his head. “Maybe there’s a place to just get some water?” Orlando looked at him, then said, “There’s a public well, over this way.” He led him to an old cistern. Women dressed in the traditional Muslim veils were drawing buckets to pour into clay pitchers, and naked brown children played at their feet. One looked up and cried Orlando’s name, then they were all surrounding him, babbling in Arabic and reaching to be picked up. He looked at Viggo with a helpless shrug. “The children like me.” Viggo laughed. “I see that.” One lady offered him a drink from the bucket she’d just drawn up, and he was surprised to see how clear and cool it was. Despite Alexandria’s nearness to the ocean, it wasn’t brackish at all, and he quickly refreshed himself and thanked her. By the time he turned back around, Orlando had managed to shoo off the majority of his small admirers, and when he told them he had to work, the rest seemed to melt back into the dust from which they’d come. “When I was younger, I was a bit of a ringleader,” he said sheepishly to Viggo’s inquiry. “I watched after the younger children, and in exchange their mothers helped Layla with my feeding and sewing,” he said with a little grin. “I ate a lot, apparently!” Viggo laughed heartily. “Most growing young men do,” he observed. “My mother claimed we boys needed a farm of our own just to grow enough for us.” Orlando grinned broadly. “Then I will remember to tell Layla that she is not alone in this world!” The two men walked on companionably, but after a while, Orlando paused again. “There is so much more to this city,” he explained. “But we are not prepared to see it like this.” Viggo looked perplexed. “Are we not dressed right?” Orlando surveyed his employer’s clothing. “I would suggest something you do not mind getting very dirty,” he suggested. “And we must find torches.” Viggo’s eyes narrowed. “Torches? Like fire?” Orlando chuckled. “No, like the English have. The lights you carry into tombs and things, where it is dark?” Viggo ahhed knowingly. “We call them flashlights, but I know what you mean. Are you going to take me into a tomb?” Orlando’s smile widened. “Better than a tomb, Viggo. I will take you into the catacombs. Below the city!” (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, August 30th, 2007
10:10 am	Egyptian Tale, Chapter 5 ( Read more... ) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007
1:42 pm	Egyptian Tale, chapter 4 ( In which we learn more of Orlando: ) (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 20th, 2007
4:26 pm	The Life Orlando Never Lived - Surf ( Author's note: ) Orlando grinned at the couple that had just arranged for a day of surf lessons with his best pro. “He’ll make sure you’re good before he lets you out of his site,” he promised the nervous bride. They, like so many others, had decided to come to Cabo on their honeymoon, and had selected his little surf shop for their lesson. Hanging the Union Jack out front had been a impulse ten years ago, but it had done more than serve its purpose. Some people came in just to see why a British flag was hanging in Mexico. Some had hoped to find an English speaking proprietor, which they did. Others… well, he didn’t know why, but for some reason, people always wanted their pictures taken there. Tienda Británica De la Resaca had done well, better than he’d expected if he were truthful. Now, ten years gone, he only surfed when he felt like it, and he had plenty of people trying to get him to hire them to be his coaches. He could stay open all year long if he liked, but usually he’d shut for a month in the slowest time, just so he could catch his breath and get out of the small town he’d chosen as his refuge. He never went to the States, or to England for that matter, but he’d been to Australia, and the Philippines, and he’d toured continental Europe one year. His looks never really faded, so people kept coming up to him for autographs, but he’d laugh and say that no, he wasn’t that guy, and they’d usually leave him alone. He tried to keep up with how that guy looked though, so he could do the opposite. If the actor was wearing his hair long, Orli would cut his short. If he had a mustache, Orlando would be clean-shaven. Whatever it took to be different. Here in Cabo though, no one bothered him. They knew he was nice to the turistas and generally inoffensive, but he didn’t seem interested in friends or lovers. At night, he’d close up the shutters and go upstairs to his apartment, and unless he needed to restock his refrigerator, he wouldn’t be seen until morning. Orlando didn’t seem to mind. He had a cat that he’d lured inside with chunks of tuna once, a few years back, and he had a television. But usually he just sat, looking out at the ocean, even when it was too dark to really see it. He’d open the window and listen to the waves, and remember how small he was in comparison to the sea. Then he’d look up at the stars, and remember how small the sea was in comparison to the universe, and he’d decide it wasn’t important to be lonely. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 13th, 2007
3:21 pm	Egyptian Tale, chapter 3 ( In which we learn more about Viggo's life: ) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, August 11th, 2007
6:08 pm	Egyptian Tale, chapter two ( Read more... ) (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, August 10th, 2007
2:21 pm	Blame this on Amelia Peabody Turn of the century Egypt, Viggo/Orlando, rated G for this chapter at least. Viggo is American newly come to Alexandria, and Orlando is the son of an Englishwoman and an Egyptian. Chapter One: ( An Egyptian Tale ) Current Mood: productive (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 17th, 2007
4:54 pm	At World's End This just came to me after seeing the AWE photoshoot. I wrote it in about 5 minutes, so if it's bad, forgive me. The flesh under his eyes is thin and fragile, and the exhaustion shows there the most. His skin pales, and the freckles stand out, and he doesn’t really care which way his hair is pointing. He has his answers memorized, each question expected, each answer given with the heartfelt enthusiasm he really does feel, at least the first time he’s asked, and he smiles and he changes clothes as easily as he changes characters and he does what he’s asked. Another green room, another fruit and cheese tray, another microphone smelling of someone else’s breath; it’s all the same to him after awhile, and when she prods him gently and tells him to remember to smile, it’s easy enough to brighten up. It’s just like making a movie. He cared once. He still does, somewhere deep down inside, but he’s jaded now, an old hand at it, and if he doesn’t shine quite as bright as he once did, it’s all right, he reasons. He’s aging like something fine, wood or leather or wine, and he doesn’t need to eat as much or sleep as much, but the cigarettes, ah yes, he needs those more and more for his nerves. All the yoga and the stretching and the chanting can’t take away his fears or his knowledge that it’s slipped beyond his reach somewhere along the way, and now he’s simply another cog in a wheel of a machine that is far too big to be stopped. He’s seen the burnouts, the crashes, and the way so many simply fade from sight, and he knows he’s got a one hundred percent chance of it happening to him at some point, and maybe, he wants it to be right now, while he’s young enough to have a different life. Maybe it would be better than waiting until he’s old and has missed so many opportunities to just be a pikey boy from Kent. She looks at him and asks where he is, and he forces a smile. “Just thinking,” he says, and she tells him now isn’t the time for that, he’s got that interview and the car will be stopping soon, and when it does, he’d better be ready because security says there’s a thousand screaming people waiting, so he nods, and he looks out at the city through the tinted windows, and he wonders how he got here, and when he can just go home. 406 words. (11 Comments |Comment on this)