comment_fic 1171-1175: Inception, SN, original
Title: histories
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to human sacrifice and violence; spoilers for Star Wars
Pairings: Mal/Dom, Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 670
Point of view: third
Prompt: Inception, Arthur/Eames (&Cobbs), "We're just friends" is the biggest lie he's ever told Cobbs
"You know Arthur?" Cobb asks, and it's a silly question because everyone who's anyone in their business knows Arthur. (It's a silly question for another reason, as well, and he sees the knowledge in the tilt of Arthur's head, the smile hidden in the barest curl of his lip.)
"Of course I know Arthur," he says. "We go way back, don't we, darling?"
Cobb raises an eyebrow but then Mal is in the room, as delightful as ever, about to pop with her first child.
(He wishes he could warn her, could warn them both. But they're so young, and so in love, and they won't listen, whatever he says. He glances at Arthur, and can see that Arthur wishes the same.)
.
"We're just friends," he tells Mal later, tells Cobb, and neither of them believe him.
It's a lie, anyway. They've never been friends.
.
"I worshiped you, once," Arthur says, resting his arms on the railing, looking out over London like a king of old surveying the realm.
"I know," he says. Those were the good old days, weren't they? "How did you earn such a gift?" he asks, watching a young girl three blocks away get dangerously close to the street. Her mum isn't paying attention, focused on the infant still in the car.
"I killed a god or two," Arthur replies, moving before he can to push the girl back.
"Shall I worship you now, Arthur?" he asks as the girl cries form her spot on the ground, shocked at such a strong wind.
"If you like," Arthur says, and then goes back into the room.
.
"How did you meet?" Mal asks, nursing her daughter while he forges documents for one of his side jobs. "Arthur refuses to say."
He laughs. "Oh, that's not a story for little ears."
.
Once, nations shook in fear at the sound of his name whispered. Once, continents shuddered beneath the force of his rage. Once, entire peoples were wiped from existence because a single one had offended him.
Once, a boy was offered as a sacrifice of appeasement.
There is much that goes unwritten, more that is forgotten.
.
All happens as he knew it would.
.
When Cobb returns to his children and Ariadne begins exploring dreamshare and Yusuf returns to his dreamers and Saito to his empire, Arthur knocks on the door of his Los Angeles flat to say, "Mr. Eames."
"Arthur," he replies.
"Are you going to invite me in?" Arthur asks.
"I dunno," he says. "Are you here to kill me?"
Arthur laughs. "If I didn't kill you then, it'd be pointless now, wouldn't it?"
It would, at that. The old ways are lost, save for what still lingers in the minds of the survivors, and those are very few.
"Come in, then," he says.
.
No one knows where Eames or Arthur came from. Everyone knows they've been in dreamshare since the beginning.
If anyone notices they never age, even though the start of dreamshare is further and further away... well, no one mentions it.
They attend Cobb's funeral, Saito's, Yusuf's, Ariadne's, and finally Phillipa's and James'. There comes a time when no one knows where dreamsharing came from, but by then, there's new technology, new ways to change the world.
"Do you remember," Arthur asks as a new century turns, "how we met?"
"You were magnificent, darling," Eames says.
"I was terrified," Arthur says. "And very angry."
Eames kisses him. "I know," he says.
.
Far into the future, when researchers try to discover just where the dreamshare tech came from, they'll find mentions of Eames and Arthur. But who Eames and Arthur were remains a mystery.
"D'you ever wonder," Eames asks, countless years since they met, "what would've happened if someone else had been chosen?"
"Not in a very long time," Arthur answers. "Quiet, now, this is the best part." He leans forward in his seat, mouthing along as the character in the practically prehistoric film intones, No, Luke, I am your father.
Eames sighs.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place anytime after season 5, AUish, violence
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 250
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel - a desperate situation, Cas promised to protect Sam over Dean... but when it comes down to it, that's not a promise he can keep.
What he realizes, after, is that of course it would always come to this.
.
"Hey," he said, while Sam was showering. Dean was checking his weapons, and Castiel was lurking by the window, and when Castiel looked over, Dean told him, "If things go sideways, get Sam to safety."
"And what of you, Dean?" Castiel asked, his vessel's face confused. It was cute, sometimes, the way he still didn't know how to control the facial features or understand facial expressions, but sometimes it was more annoying than anything else.
"Don't worry about me," Dean ordered. "You make sure Sam is safe."
"Of course," Castiel said, and Dean thought that was the end of it. It was a relief to know Sammy would be guarded by an angel.
.
Things go so much worse than sideways.
.
When Dean comes to, there's an angel bleeding on the ground next to him and no little brother in sight.
.
"You take me to Sammy right the fuck now," Dean snarls, and he's worried about Castiel, of course he is, but Sam is alone and afraid and hurt somewhere, and he shouts, "You promised to save him!" and Castiel reaches out to touch his shoulder and they're somewhere else, where Sam is barely holding on.
.
"Dean?" Sam whispers, hand barely able to grab.
"I'm here, Sammy," Dean says. "Everything's all right now."
He looks up at Castiel. "You get Sammy out. Every time."
Castiel's gaze goes from him to Sam's battered body, and he nods.
Untitled
Warnings: depression, heartbreak
Prompt: Any, Any (+/Any) It's not the end of THE world, just the end of his (or hers).
Every morning, she wakes and the sun is still shining. She feeds the cat, showers, cooks and (mostly) eats breakfast, dresses, trudges to her car, drives to work, clocks in, works eight hours (somehow), and then goes home.
Home, where everything is quiet. The cat makes noise sometimes. She turns on the TV just to hear people talking while she cooks dinner and eats. Feeds the cat. Crawls into her lonely bed. Sleeps.
Every morning, she does it all over again.
Time's supposed to make things hurt less, but it hasn't yet.
Mom told her, and Becca, too, It's not the end of the world, you know. There's more fish in the sea. You'll find someone else.
But she spent half her life in love, wrapped up on someone else-and someone else just... walked away. Like it was easy.
She's living now for the day she wakes and the world is in color again.
So she wakes. Takes care of the cat. Goes to her pointless job and does well. Eats. And again, and again, and again.
Because the world didn't end. And while half of her life so far has been wasted-well, that's not quite true. Not if she learns something from it.
So she wakes, checks that the sun is still shining, and decides, You've taken enough of me, deleting the pictures of that face from her phone.
Title: harvesting
Original, gen, PG13
Warnings for violence/death, creepy as all get-out
Prompt: any, any, hoarding
It started out innocently enough, she thinks, whenever she thinks back. Not often, truth be told. The past isn't a fun place to be, after all. She's long grown, away from that sweet little girl she used to be.
"Oh, do be quiet," she says, wiping her latest plaything's dribble of his chin. "The harvestin' is almost done and then you'll be able to sleep."
That doesn't calm him. She hadn't honestly imagined it would.
.
Isabel collected owl figurines. Danny collected ballcaps. Mama, God rest her gentle soul, had collected mystery novels. Daddy didn't collect much of anything really, she's fairly sure, but it's not like she actually knew the man.
Tess collects... well.
It's a secret, see. Magic. She found it in a very old book in Grandmama's attic, and Tess should probably have ignored it. She'd been so young, then. There was so much she'd yet to learn. So very much she didn't know.
She has time, now. All the time she can harvest.
.
That's the thing, see. It's where so many go wrong.
Children have potential, but potential isn't enough. It's the old ones who are best for harvesting, half a century or more. The experienced ones.
Time is all anyone has, really. Everyone.
People watch children. People mourn children. People search for children, and avenge them. But the old ones?
They're old, you see. It was surely their time.
(It wasn't, in fact.)
.
It has been such a long time...
And shall be longer still, Tess thinks, wiping up the blood.
Harvesting is such a messy business.
Untitled
183 words, first person narration
Prompt: Fairy Tales, The Little Mermaid, she gets back her tail by ripping their throats open and letting their blood drain out into her sisters's waiting mouths.
Now, you listen to me, girl, there won't be no stories about pretty little fish-tailed princesses here, no foolish girl-children dreamin' 'bout them men up on the shore walkin' around. Nuh uh, none'o that here.
Here, we tell that story right. You still wanna know?
Well, then, sit down, girl. Sit down and listen good, now.
You wanna know how the daughter o’the ocean get back home? Wanna know the price of true freedom-'cause that's what the waves are, you know. What the deep is. Ain't no dreamin' of walkin' on the shore with some eye-wanderin' man, no no. Ain't none'a that. That's for those who don't know better, but we, little'un, we know.
So, I'll tell ya, ya wanna hear. I'll tell you what my mama told me, when I came home talkin' 'bout mermaids, 'bout princesses and voices and dancin' with men what don't respect me as I am.
Ain't no singin' here, girl. Ain't no true love's kiss.
But. The choice is yours. Once you hear, you cain't unhear. It's for keeps.
Well then. C'mon, listen. I'll tell ya.
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to human sacrifice and violence; spoilers for Star Wars
Pairings: Mal/Dom, Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 670
Point of view: third
Prompt: Inception, Arthur/Eames (&Cobbs), "We're just friends" is the biggest lie he's ever told Cobbs
"You know Arthur?" Cobb asks, and it's a silly question because everyone who's anyone in their business knows Arthur. (It's a silly question for another reason, as well, and he sees the knowledge in the tilt of Arthur's head, the smile hidden in the barest curl of his lip.)
"Of course I know Arthur," he says. "We go way back, don't we, darling?"
Cobb raises an eyebrow but then Mal is in the room, as delightful as ever, about to pop with her first child.
(He wishes he could warn her, could warn them both. But they're so young, and so in love, and they won't listen, whatever he says. He glances at Arthur, and can see that Arthur wishes the same.)
.
"We're just friends," he tells Mal later, tells Cobb, and neither of them believe him.
It's a lie, anyway. They've never been friends.
.
"I worshiped you, once," Arthur says, resting his arms on the railing, looking out over London like a king of old surveying the realm.
"I know," he says. Those were the good old days, weren't they? "How did you earn such a gift?" he asks, watching a young girl three blocks away get dangerously close to the street. Her mum isn't paying attention, focused on the infant still in the car.
"I killed a god or two," Arthur replies, moving before he can to push the girl back.
"Shall I worship you now, Arthur?" he asks as the girl cries form her spot on the ground, shocked at such a strong wind.
"If you like," Arthur says, and then goes back into the room.
.
"How did you meet?" Mal asks, nursing her daughter while he forges documents for one of his side jobs. "Arthur refuses to say."
He laughs. "Oh, that's not a story for little ears."
.
Once, nations shook in fear at the sound of his name whispered. Once, continents shuddered beneath the force of his rage. Once, entire peoples were wiped from existence because a single one had offended him.
Once, a boy was offered as a sacrifice of appeasement.
There is much that goes unwritten, more that is forgotten.
.
All happens as he knew it would.
.
When Cobb returns to his children and Ariadne begins exploring dreamshare and Yusuf returns to his dreamers and Saito to his empire, Arthur knocks on the door of his Los Angeles flat to say, "Mr. Eames."
"Arthur," he replies.
"Are you going to invite me in?" Arthur asks.
"I dunno," he says. "Are you here to kill me?"
Arthur laughs. "If I didn't kill you then, it'd be pointless now, wouldn't it?"
It would, at that. The old ways are lost, save for what still lingers in the minds of the survivors, and those are very few.
"Come in, then," he says.
.
No one knows where Eames or Arthur came from. Everyone knows they've been in dreamshare since the beginning.
If anyone notices they never age, even though the start of dreamshare is further and further away... well, no one mentions it.
They attend Cobb's funeral, Saito's, Yusuf's, Ariadne's, and finally Phillipa's and James'. There comes a time when no one knows where dreamsharing came from, but by then, there's new technology, new ways to change the world.
"Do you remember," Arthur asks as a new century turns, "how we met?"
"You were magnificent, darling," Eames says.
"I was terrified," Arthur says. "And very angry."
Eames kisses him. "I know," he says.
.
Far into the future, when researchers try to discover just where the dreamshare tech came from, they'll find mentions of Eames and Arthur. But who Eames and Arthur were remains a mystery.
"D'you ever wonder," Eames asks, countless years since they met, "what would've happened if someone else had been chosen?"
"Not in a very long time," Arthur answers. "Quiet, now, this is the best part." He leans forward in his seat, mouthing along as the character in the practically prehistoric film intones, No, Luke, I am your father.
Eames sighs.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place anytime after season 5, AUish, violence
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 250
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel - a desperate situation, Cas promised to protect Sam over Dean... but when it comes down to it, that's not a promise he can keep.
What he realizes, after, is that of course it would always come to this.
.
"Hey," he said, while Sam was showering. Dean was checking his weapons, and Castiel was lurking by the window, and when Castiel looked over, Dean told him, "If things go sideways, get Sam to safety."
"And what of you, Dean?" Castiel asked, his vessel's face confused. It was cute, sometimes, the way he still didn't know how to control the facial features or understand facial expressions, but sometimes it was more annoying than anything else.
"Don't worry about me," Dean ordered. "You make sure Sam is safe."
"Of course," Castiel said, and Dean thought that was the end of it. It was a relief to know Sammy would be guarded by an angel.
.
Things go so much worse than sideways.
.
When Dean comes to, there's an angel bleeding on the ground next to him and no little brother in sight.
.
"You take me to Sammy right the fuck now," Dean snarls, and he's worried about Castiel, of course he is, but Sam is alone and afraid and hurt somewhere, and he shouts, "You promised to save him!" and Castiel reaches out to touch his shoulder and they're somewhere else, where Sam is barely holding on.
.
"Dean?" Sam whispers, hand barely able to grab.
"I'm here, Sammy," Dean says. "Everything's all right now."
He looks up at Castiel. "You get Sammy out. Every time."
Castiel's gaze goes from him to Sam's battered body, and he nods.
Untitled
Warnings: depression, heartbreak
Prompt: Any, Any (+/Any) It's not the end of THE world, just the end of his (or hers).
Every morning, she wakes and the sun is still shining. She feeds the cat, showers, cooks and (mostly) eats breakfast, dresses, trudges to her car, drives to work, clocks in, works eight hours (somehow), and then goes home.
Home, where everything is quiet. The cat makes noise sometimes. She turns on the TV just to hear people talking while she cooks dinner and eats. Feeds the cat. Crawls into her lonely bed. Sleeps.
Every morning, she does it all over again.
Time's supposed to make things hurt less, but it hasn't yet.
Mom told her, and Becca, too, It's not the end of the world, you know. There's more fish in the sea. You'll find someone else.
But she spent half her life in love, wrapped up on someone else-and someone else just... walked away. Like it was easy.
She's living now for the day she wakes and the world is in color again.
So she wakes. Takes care of the cat. Goes to her pointless job and does well. Eats. And again, and again, and again.
Because the world didn't end. And while half of her life so far has been wasted-well, that's not quite true. Not if she learns something from it.
So she wakes, checks that the sun is still shining, and decides, You've taken enough of me, deleting the pictures of that face from her phone.
Title: harvesting
Original, gen, PG13
Warnings for violence/death, creepy as all get-out
Prompt: any, any, hoarding
It started out innocently enough, she thinks, whenever she thinks back. Not often, truth be told. The past isn't a fun place to be, after all. She's long grown, away from that sweet little girl she used to be.
"Oh, do be quiet," she says, wiping her latest plaything's dribble of his chin. "The harvestin' is almost done and then you'll be able to sleep."
That doesn't calm him. She hadn't honestly imagined it would.
.
Isabel collected owl figurines. Danny collected ballcaps. Mama, God rest her gentle soul, had collected mystery novels. Daddy didn't collect much of anything really, she's fairly sure, but it's not like she actually knew the man.
Tess collects... well.
It's a secret, see. Magic. She found it in a very old book in Grandmama's attic, and Tess should probably have ignored it. She'd been so young, then. There was so much she'd yet to learn. So very much she didn't know.
She has time, now. All the time she can harvest.
.
That's the thing, see. It's where so many go wrong.
Children have potential, but potential isn't enough. It's the old ones who are best for harvesting, half a century or more. The experienced ones.
Time is all anyone has, really. Everyone.
People watch children. People mourn children. People search for children, and avenge them. But the old ones?
They're old, you see. It was surely their time.
(It wasn't, in fact.)
.
It has been such a long time...
And shall be longer still, Tess thinks, wiping up the blood.
Harvesting is such a messy business.
Untitled
183 words, first person narration
Prompt: Fairy Tales, The Little Mermaid, she gets back her tail by ripping their throats open and letting their blood drain out into her sisters's waiting mouths.
Now, you listen to me, girl, there won't be no stories about pretty little fish-tailed princesses here, no foolish girl-children dreamin' 'bout them men up on the shore walkin' around. Nuh uh, none'o that here.
Here, we tell that story right. You still wanna know?
Well, then, sit down, girl. Sit down and listen good, now.
You wanna know how the daughter o’the ocean get back home? Wanna know the price of true freedom-'cause that's what the waves are, you know. What the deep is. Ain't no dreamin' of walkin' on the shore with some eye-wanderin' man, no no. Ain't none'a that. That's for those who don't know better, but we, little'un, we know.
So, I'll tell ya, ya wanna hear. I'll tell you what my mama told me, when I came home talkin' 'bout mermaids, 'bout princesses and voices and dancin' with men what don't respect me as I am.
Ain't no singin' here, girl. Ain't no true love's kiss.
But. The choice is yours. Once you hear, you cain't unhear. It's for keeps.
Well then. C'mon, listen. I'll tell ya.