First I was on a Thorki spree for 3 days straight and then I came out of it and edited the hell out of my novel and now I am on Tumblr trying to wind down because my head hurts like Death and I have to wake up tomorrow and it’s not helping, I hope I never come off of this JFC it’s like insanity but better.
But I will. In the morning. Stupid life.
I have been sitting on this one for months, just been too busy with life and original stories and shit. Anyway, a happy day has arrived :)
Title: The truth that bleeds, three levels deep
Word count: 7,087 (first chapter)
Six days after the inception job, Arthur’s door was kicked in by MI5 and Eames, the former pointing guns at him and the latter looking like he had not slept a wink since LAX.
“They contacted me and needed the best team. Who was I going to take aboard if not you?”
Arthur wanted to say several things, including but this was supposed to be my holiday, we just got out of that nightmare and you’re trying to send us into another one, you had the fucking nerve to drag Cobb out of the reach of his children, why the hell do you work for MI5, how the hell did you find me, can’t you just go away and why are you staring me like that?
“Fine.” He stood up, braving the fact that he was only dressed in his blue pyjama bottoms. “What do you need done?”
“Wear something less unsettling,” Eames said.
A WTF birthday present to the bestest friend in the world - potentially amusing for anyone who spends a lot of time in Tumblr/internet and has an idea of Thor/Avengers, Supernatural, Inception and Harry Potter.
Title: Soni’s Death Day
Fandoms: All the classic fandoms
Pairings: All the fandom classics
Rating: R for swearing and dodgy semi-sexual content
Genre: Crack, Parody, Humour, Gary Stu, Crossover
Summary: What would YOU do if one morning you woke up with Castiel’s soulsearching face staring at you and Dumbledore telling you that you lost grasp on what’s dream and what’s reality and that Odin put you to sleep so that you would gay up? That’s what happened to Soni, the (now) 24-year-old artist protagonist of this story. Based on true events.
Chapter 1: You wake up and Misha Collins as Castiel is staring at you
Soni woke up with an eerie feeling, like someone was staring at him.
He opened his eyes and realised that, in fact, someone was staring at him.
It appeared to be Misha Collins in full Castiel gear, randomly by Soni’s bedside, sporting the angel’s stiff-back-neck-out soulsearching face and by god and three jesuses, Soni did not know this guy in real life. After all those endless years of comic art and introversion, it was a stretch to say he knew himself in real life.
”Uh,” Soni said and blinked, because surely this had to be a dream. Or maybe a porno that I read? Seriously need to stop that monkey from sending me NC-17 links.
”You probably think I am from that series Supernatural,” Misha Collins said with Castiel’s throat-throbbing voice. ”But we have no time for your confusion. I am here to return you to reality.”
“Hang on, darling,” Eames said when Arthur collapsed against him. “Let’s get you out of here, patch a bit and you’ll be fine.” But he could not get them out, not with the gunfight still going on in the background. So he found the first closet and dragged Arthur in.
“Totem,” Arthur muttered against Eames’ shoulder.
“Sorry, love, this is not a dream. Things went tits up topside. We were made.” Eames closed the door and prepared to lay Arthur down. Just then, he heard it. A sentence, muffled against Eames’ shoulder.
“At least - at least I got to know what you smell like.”
What? Eames rewinded his memory to double check that he had actually heard what he had heard.
“You’re hallucinating,” he said, more to himself than Arthur, and for some reason he would never come to figure out, lifted Arthur’s vest and shirt right there, standing up against the wall, to check the gunshot wound.
Eames found an exit wound from Arthur’s back. The bullet had pierced through the whole body but the shot was so close to Arthur’s side that Eames knew all vital organs were intact. All he needed to do was to stop the bleeding.
“And I got you to touch my belly.” The words were a mere whisper, and Eames’ gaze snapped up just in time to catch the faintest of smiles.
Fuck. He must think I am someone else. Who knew Arthur cared about people touching his belly? For a brief moment Eames wanted to dislocate the limbs of whoever Arthur wanted to stroke him, but he pushed the thought away. It’s Arthur, Eames reminded himself as always. Years of working together had taught him to remember the cold truth. He probably doesn’t like blokes. He definitely doesn’t like you. He has no imagination.
“Eames,” Arthur whispered then, and turned his head until his lips were against Eames’ neck. Eames went still with shock when he felt what could only have been the beginnings of a this cannot be real this cannot be fucking Arthur saying things like this and fucking hell is this a fucking kiss what the fuck and then Arthur’s knees buckled as he lost consciousness.
When Arthur woke up in the hospital a day later, he said he didn’t remember anything after getting shot.
we were speaking over skype with soni and i showed him my new candleholder and suddenly dropbox said that a file had been updated and i found this
so here you go: thorki AND my face omfg
Day 16: Your character is going on a trip. Where to? Who with, if anyone? Why are they going on a trip? Write a scene of them either getting ready or departing on their journey.
Shona had been fine until the moment she opened the drawer under her bed. She had thought it would be full of spare sheets and her mother’s things but what she found was a stack of forgotten toys from her childhood.
She leaned her forehead against the bed and collapsed into silent sobs, unsure why but unable to keep it in any longer.
Read the rest in Livejournal.
Day 15: Your character is upset. What about? How does it affect them? Does anyone come to comfort them? Write a scene where your character is distraught.
When Shona stepped inside, here first thought was that something was wrong. Her flat was empty and exactly as she had left it, but the feeling was – wrong.
Paranoia, she thought and switched on the lights. It was a normal if undesirable side effect of having to deal with ghosts, poltergeists and possessed goddamn kids. She listed the advice in her mind. Don’t romanticise, do something else, switch on the TV to get a feel of normality, eat. Remember that it’s just your fear of unknown and the effect of horror movies that are making you so nervous. There is nothing supernatural, nothing you could not handle.
She sat on the sofa and put on the television, just in time for the midnight news. Flooding, hurricanes, earthquakes. Not exactly a cheering broadcast but at least it was a touch of humanity. Common life. Nothing that –
The sounds went off.
Read the rest in Livejournal (it’s PG)
Continues from Day 7
Day 14: FREE DAY! Write any scene you want!
If Shona had not already felt like her intestines were trying to crawl out through her mouth, she would have vomited out of sheer embarrassment at being held in her bathroom, stark naked and boneless, on top of her toilet. She was too wasted even to aim, so the man was holding her by the chin.
The man that looked like a goddamned movie star.
The vomit tasted sharp like booze, leaving Shona wondering just how much exactly had she been drinking if there was still a bottle’s worth of spirit in her stomach in the morning.
“That’s it,” the man said. “You just let it all out, and you’ll be fine.”
Fine was not the word Shona would have used. Not after spilling her first vomit straight on her blanket and on top of the guy, the second in the hallway. If the man had not carried her into the toilet, she would probably still be refurbishing her bedroom.
Read the rest in Livejournal (it’s PG-13)