I NEED TO STOP HERE OR IT WLL NEVER ENDseveredscytheJanuary 8 2011, 14:09:57 UTC
It is seven thousand million degrees on a Sunday and Arthur would rather not be at work. In fact, he would rather be shooing his cat off the paper and drinking coffee after a long night of marking, but here he is, shirtless in the heat with a water bottle half his size and a driveway to pave.
“You don’t seem built for this kind of work.” Eames says, and Arthur hates him a little. Eames is, of course. Built for this kind of work. He has muscles under the thin layer of fat around his middle (too many good meals, he says. Arthur thinks it’s too much bad beer.) he’s got tattoos everywhere and enough stubble to grind an edge into a steel bar. Arthur wouldn’t be doing this kind of work if his tutor’s salary paid enough to actually live on. He’s a weekender, of course. More money to be made; time and a half on Saturdays, doubletime on Sundays, and Dominic Cobb is kind enough to give him the work
( ... )
He goes to sleep alone and wakes up with company. Bruce clings in his sleep, his arms wrapped around his waist and his face buried in his shoulder. Batman, by comparison, sprawls. He doesn't cling, he doesn't hold on but he does make sure he's touching him, usually on the leg.
And quietly, Cobb wonders if maybe another amputation isn't in order. Both sides of his personality seem like they should inhabit different bodies; Bruce, the clingy, damaged man and Batman, the confident and tactile superhero. Superman. Super. Thing. Super nothing really, because he really -is- just a man, as flawed and ridiculous and angry and stupid and clever as he can be all at once.
"Right."He’s holed up in a Starbucks nursing a coffee as big as his head when he sees the advertisement in the paper. He can be a secretary; women do it all the time with no training, right? He’s never going to find a pair of heels he likes but he’s good at organizing things, knows how a business operates and can even make his own coffee, when he’s so inclined. So he applies for the job online and scores a meeting. He drags his suit out of the closet, airs it out overnight and turns up well pressed and clean to his interview with his father’s greatest rival. Maybe there’s a bit of rebellion going on (god knows he never rebelled as a kid, he was always seeking his father’s approval too hard for that) but he can’t make himself care. The salary alone makes his eyes nearly bug out of his head, and Saito is
( ... )
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“You don’t seem built for this kind of work.” Eames says, and Arthur hates him a little. Eames is, of course. Built for this kind of work. He has muscles under the thin layer of fat around his middle (too many good meals, he says. Arthur thinks it’s too much bad beer.) he’s got tattoos everywhere and enough stubble to grind an edge into a steel bar. Arthur wouldn’t be doing this kind of work if his tutor’s salary paid enough to actually live on. He’s a weekender, of course. More money to be made; time and a half on Saturdays, doubletime on Sundays, and Dominic Cobb is kind enough to give him the work ( ... )
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ROBERT SAITO AND ARIADNE LIVING IN ONE HOUSE STARTING A FAMILY THEY ARE PAVING THEIR DRIVEWAY Y/N?
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Cobb ponders a second amputation.
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And quietly, Cobb wonders if maybe another amputation isn't in order. Both sides of his personality seem like they should inhabit different bodies; Bruce, the clingy, damaged man and Batman, the confident and tactile superhero. Superman. Super. Thing. Super nothing really, because he really -is- just a man, as flawed and ridiculous and angry and stupid and clever as he can be all at once.
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AU where Fischer left his father's company at an early age due to whatever reason and became Saito's secretary.
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"What would you need that for?"
"Right."He’s holed up in a Starbucks nursing a coffee as big as his head when he sees the advertisement in the paper. He can be a secretary; women do it all the time with no training, right? He’s never going to find a pair of heels he likes but he’s good at organizing things, knows how a business operates and can even make his own coffee, when he’s so inclined. So he applies for the job online and scores a meeting. He drags his suit out of the closet, airs it out overnight and turns up well pressed and clean to his interview with his father’s greatest rival. Maybe there’s a bit of rebellion going on (god knows he never rebelled as a kid, he was always seeking his father’s approval too hard for that) but he can’t make himself care. The salary alone makes his eyes nearly bug out of his head, and Saito is ( ... )
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VULCANS!!!!!!!!!!!!! ^__________^
I still haven't seen Inception. I was too busy seeing Scott Pilgrim
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