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Oct. 18th, 2010 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jennie_nettleAway, anonymity! I discard you, just as I previously cast aside dignity and a balanced diet!
I filled this prompt on the Inception kinkmeme, for which I can only apologise wholeheartedly.
Arthur frowns and folding his sleeves back carefully - this is a bespoke double-vented robe from the King in Yellow's own tailor, okay? - he makes several mystic passes in the approved manner of his mentor, Cobb the Best Sorceror in the World, and intones the cantrip.
There's a moment's silence, before Eames says, flatly, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"You wanted the dragon defused," Arthur says, stiffly. "And it no longer poses a threat. I fail to see the problem here, Mr Eames."
"You turned it into a kitten!"
"Aaaw!" Ariadne coos at the kitten in question. "Are you the cutest thing ever? Are you? Are you? Yes, you ar- Ow! Motherfu-"
"My apologies," Eames says, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "A fire-breathing kitten. Yes, quite clearly the least dangerous thing in the world is a cat with internal combustion capabilities."
"If I could harness the sheer evil of your conjuration," Yusuf says, pausing in his attempts to extinguish Ariadne's smouldering skirts, "I could market it as a weapon. Alas, as I have found to my cost, cats are treacherous little bastards."
"Next time," says Eames, in the truly irritating tone of one thinking aloud for the benefit of others, "you might think of counteracting the threat of dragons by, oh, I don't know, exploding them or wishing them far, far away, a couple of leagues underground, or, here's an idea, not turning them into a fucking kitten that the godsblasted healer is going to want to love and hug and pet and, more than likely, call George."
"George," Araidne says, thoughtfully, pulling a gourd from her pack of gourds and shaking it close to her ear to determine its contents. Arthur doesn't know why she bothers; inevitably the contents of the gourd are revolting and viscous and will leave the patient smelling like rotting squash for days. In a fine show of professional disregard, Ariadne starts slathering her scorched legs with it and says, still staring adoringly at the dragon-kitten, "He looks like a George, don't you think?"
Arthur slants his gaze away and wonders whether or not to tell Eames that the hellbeast is currently attempting to scale his leather-clad thigh and is on course for his crotch. Not that Arthur blames the dragon-kitten entirely; he's had a few thoughts in that direction himself. Before he'd gotten to know Eames as an unprofessional, badly-dressed oaf with the morals of a trickster and the mouth of a courtesan. Arthur blinks and maliciously decides to say nothing. Yusuf has more compunction and politely enlightens Eames as to his imminent de-balling.
"It looks," Eames says grimly, wrestling a grimly determined kitten off his thigh, "like a kitten-shaped cock-up."
Arthur keeps his face expressionless, but silently wishes the clawing, spitting beast in Eames' hand the very best of luck in emasculating him with extreme prejudice.
Brandishing the kitten in Arthur's direction, Eames says, "I sincerely hope that when next we face the mortal peril that is nigh on guaranteed whenever a disparate band of adventurers and underdogs are recruited for a quest that is ostensibly morally unimpeachable but subtextually is ideologically problematic and occasionally skeevy, you will resolve it using a bit of fucking imagination!"
Oho, thinks Arthur, that is the ouside of enough. He's not going to take this from a man who lost most of the quest budget in the first week playing poker with goblins, and who wears a black leather jerkin (which Arthur does not think is dashing or surprisingly well-cut at all) with a bright green baldric. He flings his sleeves back again, and slices at the air, muttering viciously.
"How's that for imagination, Mr Eames?" he says, triumphantly.
It may just be Arthur's imagination - Eames is now very small and furry, after all - but he's fairly sure that Eames shoots him a beady glare that promises a mighty vengeance of murine widdle over everything Arthur has in his travelling pack in the very near future. Of course, it all becomes moot when the kitten becomes aware of Eames' magically delicious change in appearance.
"George, no!" shouts Ariadne, swooping upon what had previously been the terror of men with teenage daughters three counties over, and a dragon. "Bad kitty! Spit Eames out at once!"
Yusuf shakes his head, sadly, and says, "John Dee never had to deal with this shit."
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Gen (implied Arthur/Eames)
Rating: PG13 (for language)
I filled this prompt on the Inception kinkmeme, for which I can only apologise wholeheartedly.
Arthur frowns and folding his sleeves back carefully - this is a bespoke double-vented robe from the King in Yellow's own tailor, okay? - he makes several mystic passes in the approved manner of his mentor, Cobb the Best Sorceror in the World, and intones the cantrip.
There's a moment's silence, before Eames says, flatly, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"You wanted the dragon defused," Arthur says, stiffly. "And it no longer poses a threat. I fail to see the problem here, Mr Eames."
"You turned it into a kitten!"
"Aaaw!" Ariadne coos at the kitten in question. "Are you the cutest thing ever? Are you? Are you? Yes, you ar- Ow! Motherfu-"
"My apologies," Eames says, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "A fire-breathing kitten. Yes, quite clearly the least dangerous thing in the world is a cat with internal combustion capabilities."
"If I could harness the sheer evil of your conjuration," Yusuf says, pausing in his attempts to extinguish Ariadne's smouldering skirts, "I could market it as a weapon. Alas, as I have found to my cost, cats are treacherous little bastards."
"Next time," says Eames, in the truly irritating tone of one thinking aloud for the benefit of others, "you might think of counteracting the threat of dragons by, oh, I don't know, exploding them or wishing them far, far away, a couple of leagues underground, or, here's an idea, not turning them into a fucking kitten that the godsblasted healer is going to want to love and hug and pet and, more than likely, call George."
"George," Araidne says, thoughtfully, pulling a gourd from her pack of gourds and shaking it close to her ear to determine its contents. Arthur doesn't know why she bothers; inevitably the contents of the gourd are revolting and viscous and will leave the patient smelling like rotting squash for days. In a fine show of professional disregard, Ariadne starts slathering her scorched legs with it and says, still staring adoringly at the dragon-kitten, "He looks like a George, don't you think?"
Arthur slants his gaze away and wonders whether or not to tell Eames that the hellbeast is currently attempting to scale his leather-clad thigh and is on course for his crotch. Not that Arthur blames the dragon-kitten entirely; he's had a few thoughts in that direction himself. Before he'd gotten to know Eames as an unprofessional, badly-dressed oaf with the morals of a trickster and the mouth of a courtesan. Arthur blinks and maliciously decides to say nothing. Yusuf has more compunction and politely enlightens Eames as to his imminent de-balling.
"It looks," Eames says grimly, wrestling a grimly determined kitten off his thigh, "like a kitten-shaped cock-up."
Arthur keeps his face expressionless, but silently wishes the clawing, spitting beast in Eames' hand the very best of luck in emasculating him with extreme prejudice.
Brandishing the kitten in Arthur's direction, Eames says, "I sincerely hope that when next we face the mortal peril that is nigh on guaranteed whenever a disparate band of adventurers and underdogs are recruited for a quest that is ostensibly morally unimpeachable but subtextually is ideologically problematic and occasionally skeevy, you will resolve it using a bit of fucking imagination!"
Oho, thinks Arthur, that is the ouside of enough. He's not going to take this from a man who lost most of the quest budget in the first week playing poker with goblins, and who wears a black leather jerkin (which Arthur does not think is dashing or surprisingly well-cut at all) with a bright green baldric. He flings his sleeves back again, and slices at the air, muttering viciously.
"How's that for imagination, Mr Eames?" he says, triumphantly.
It may just be Arthur's imagination - Eames is now very small and furry, after all - but he's fairly sure that Eames shoots him a beady glare that promises a mighty vengeance of murine widdle over everything Arthur has in his travelling pack in the very near future. Of course, it all becomes moot when the kitten becomes aware of Eames' magically delicious change in appearance.
"George, no!" shouts Ariadne, swooping upon what had previously been the terror of men with teenage daughters three counties over, and a dragon. "Bad kitty! Spit Eames out at once!"
Yusuf shakes his head, sadly, and says, "John Dee never had to deal with this shit."
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Gen (implied Arthur/Eames)
Rating: PG13 (for language)
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Date: 2010-11-04 11:12 pm (UTC)