#second prompt meme

[mischievous-thunder]

They say what you do to someone is what happens to you in another reality~

What remains the same is the undeniable tension of different sorts between the two

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompts 14

[harpuiaa]

(person that has never seen saw but has read yugioh voice) yeah? so he traps people in evil puzzle rooms? sounds a lot like a guy i know

[ladysarai]

happy writing! :D

....I cannot believe this fic happened. Sorry not sorry.

~*~

“What’s wrong with him?” Ariadne asks, irritation and hurt in her voice, watching Arthur stalk out of the hotel room they’re using as a base.

“It’s not us, pet,” Eames tells her, calm and patient and utterly unperturbed by the explosion of temper they’d just witnessed.

She huffs, returning to her drafts with vicious intent, feeling like her emotions are boiling under her skin. “Well, something crawled up his ass today,” she finally snaps, unable to keep herself in check. “And if it’s not us, then it’s not okay for him to take it out on us.”

Eames doesn’t say anything at first, and when she finally can’t take his silence anymore, she looks at him and finds him watching her contemplatively. He holds up a hand before she can snap at him, and she swallows it back, scowling instead. Finally, he says, “Today is Mal’s birthday. Was.”

Ariadne blinks at that, and she remembers Arthur’s face, during the Fischer job, the surprise and hurt when he said “she’s dead,” and the look in his eyes, the deep sadness of “she was lovely.” She thinks of the only other time she’s ever seen Arthur lose his temper like he had today, and realizes it was with Cobb, during the Fischer job–”what, with Mal? ‘Cause that worked so good?”

“Oh,” she says finally. Eames is still watching her, reading her reaction, watching her assemble the puzzle pieces. “I didn’t–I know he knew her. I didn’t know they were close.”

There’s a strange, unreadable expression that crosses Eames’s face at that, and a long moment before he speaks. When he does, Ariadne feels a little like the world has tilted on its axis.

“She was his sister.”

~*~

It doesn’t make sense. The puzzle pieces don’t slide together neatly, and Ariadne can’t find a way to manipulate them in a way that works.

Once she gets past the initial hurt feelings and indignation over the fact that no one said one thing during the entirety of the Fischer job (or after), she has to acknowledge that she actually doesn’t know all that much about Arthur’s personal life.

She knows even less about Mallorie Cobb (nee Miles; she only knows that because she went to see Dr. Miles after she returned from LA and saw a picture of her in his office along with children’s drawings for “Grampa” on the bulletin board). She knows what happened to her. She knows about Cobb’s guilt, and what his mind twisted her into, and she knows that what she knows is all filtered through him and his memories, and it isn’t enough.

Ariadne remembers insisting, over and over, that Cobb needed to tell Arthur about Mal, about what he was burying, and now she thinks–of course. Of course Cobb wouldn’t want to tell Arthur what he’d done to Mal, what he was then doing to his memories of her. She thought she was seeing more than anyone else, but maybe she was looking right into the sun and not seeing it.

She promised Eames that she wouldn’t bother Arthur about this–not now, not yet. But she never promised not to try to find out what she can. Google is only so helpful; Arthur is a lost cause. She tried looking him up after they first met, but the name she knows for him is clearly an alias, and no matter how hard she’s tried, she hasn’t been able to find any records or trace of him. (She knows now that he, along with Eames, were involved in those early military experiments he once told her about. She can only imagine that being part of a top secret military experiment must contribute to having an ungoogleable past, and she really isn’t keen on getting herself on some Homeland Security watch list.) She tries googling “Arthur Miles” now, but it’s useless.

She looks up Dr. Miles instead; Stephen Miles, professor of architecture at a long list of prestigious universities. She finds lists of his books and published articles, and reads about how he lives in Paris with his wife Marie, where they raised their daughter, Mallorie.

So Ariadne looks up Mal, using both names, Miles and Cobb. She discovers that Mal had a doctorate–a Ph.D. in neuropsychology, which is not something she ever would have been able to guess based on Cobb’s memories of her. There are lists of her own published articles, most of them related to dreams and dreaming. This was Mal; this was the kind of woman who would marry Dominic Cobb, who would experiment on dream levels with him and follow him to Limbo, who would stay there with him for over fifty years.

Ariadne reads several of her articles, and wishes she could have met the real woman, the one who wrote them.

No matter how much she researches, how much she reads, Ariadne still can’t find the missing piece to her puzzle. She can’t figure out how Arthur fits into the puzzle of Mal, of Mal and Cobb. She can’t fit “ah, so you’ve met Mrs.Cobb” and “she was lovely” with sister and brother.

~*~

Ariadne sets the mystery aside, but she doesn’t forget. She thinks about calling Cobb and asking him, but something stops her. She would rather ask Arthur, but for some reason, she doesn’t. They finish that job (Arthur apologizes the next day for his outburst, and no one says anything about why–and she doesn’t ask), and they keep in touch via email and texts until they work on another job together. She doesn’t ask about it at that job, either.

It’s a good seven months and two jobs later that Ariadne finds herself alone in a rented office space with Arthur and Eames. She’s building a 3-D model of the dream layout, carving into cardboard with an x-acto knife, when Eames announces that he’s going to go pick up lunch. He asks if she wants to come with, but she declines and gives him her sandwich order.

It isn’t until he’s closing the door behind him that she realizes two things. First, he never asks Arthur what he wants; he just always seems to know what to bring him. And second–that Arthur is still sleeping, hooked up to the PASIV, testing out their chemist's newest batch of somnacin. She looks over at him, sprawled out bonelessly on the couch, his face relaxed like she never sees it when he’s awake, and a tiny voice in the back of her mind wonders if she’s ever going to learn her lesson.

Not today, apparently.

She’s across the room and hooking herself up to the PASIV before she fully allows herself to think of the potential consequences.

Arthur’s dreams are usually her favorites. He’s the most stable dreamer she knows of–according to Eames, he’s the most stable dreamer there is–and no one is better at mazes and paradoxes than Arthur.

What she falls into this time is different. There’s no crisp architecture or modern designs, no mazes, no fancy hotels or office buildings. Instead, she finds herself in the middle of a quiet city side street. There’s snow on the ground and the sky is a gunmetal gray that promises more snow in the near future. Ariadne shivers and dreams herself up a warmer coat and some gloves, looking around to try to place herself and figure out where Arthur might be.

She begins slowly walking down the block, keeping an eye out for projections. The ones she passes aren’t bothered by her, and don’t even seem to register her presence. She spots Massachusetts license plates on the cars, and the occasional Red Sox or Bruins flags on the houses she passes. Boston, maybe, or somewhere just outside–this certainly isn’t the downtown touristy part of the city she’s used to seeing on television or in movies, but there’s a realness to it that tells her this is something more than just some random dreamscape.

She sees some figures in the street and hears voices up ahead, and recognizes Arthur’s. She ducks into the alley between two houses, sneaking through a back yard or two until she can creep along the side of a house and kneel down next to a porch, keeping herself mostly hidden behind a bush.

They’re there, standing in the street, looking up at the house behind her. Arthur, hands in his coat pockets, standing next to Mal. Looking at them standing there, both in their dark clothing, matching frowns on their faces… Ariadne sees it, now. The missing piece of the puzzle slides into place neatly. She was his sister.

“Why are we here, Mal?” Arthur asks, eyes still on the house.

Mal glances over at him and gives him an enigmatic little smile. This Mal is subtly different from the Mal Ariadne remembers from Cobb’s dreams; warmer, less threatening, but her accent is the same. “You tell me, mon cher. This is your dream, remember?”

The corner of his mouth twitches in something almost a smile. “You know I hate when you get all self-aware on me.”

She puts a hand on his arm. “Ah, but you never have been good at lying to yourself, now have you, Arthur?” She begins walking toward the house, and Ariadne shrinks back against the building, huddling further behind the bush. She hears Mal walk up the porch steps and stop and after a moment, Arthur follows.

For a moment Ariadne isn’t sure what to do; she thinks that if they went inside the house, she would have heard the door, but if they’re on the porch, she doesn’t dare move in case Arthur sees her. Then she hears Arthur’s voice, and thinks maybe they’ve sat on the porch steps. “I miss you.”

“I know,” Mal says. “But this isn’t about me.”

“Sure, it is.” There’s a teasing note to Arthur’s voice that Ariadne recognizes. “You know, for a memory, you’re really not playing along very well.”

“This is not one of our happier memories. You could have picked something nicer. Certainly something warmer than Dorchester in March.”

He snorts. “I’m testing a compound. I didn’t exactly plan on a trip down this end of Memory Lane.”

“What did you plan on?”

Arthur doesn’t answer for a long time, and when he does, it doesn’t make sense to Ariadne. “I’m glad you grew up in France.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t. We should have been together.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda.” Ariadne has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way Arthur says it.

“I could have protected you.”

Arthur laughs at that, not unkindly. “Mal, I was fine. You were there when I really needed you. Besides, you and Dad would have been like oil and water. I’m pretty sure none of us would have survived.”

“Dom and I will have beautiful children,” Mal announces, and there’s something about her cadence that tells Ariadne that this is Memory!Mal. “And if we ever divorce, I will make sure the children stay together and have the chance to know both of their parents. Even if Dominic does not deserve my benevolence.”

“Fuck, I forgot you said that,” Arthur sighs.

Mal laughs, bright and cheerful, and Ariadne’s heart aches for reasons she can’t name. She thinks she’s heard enough, so she creeps carefully back the way she came and waits until she’s far from Arthur’s childhood home before she kicks herself out of his dream.

Ariadne never tells anyone what she saw, and decides she would rather wait for Arthur to confide in her than go poking about in any more dream memories.

[popcornkwantum]

Swiftli week, day 2

A demon's personal cooler

Summary:

"It's 11:30"

“Why so late?” Taylor asks.

Lincoln shifts his hand to have his palm flat on Taylor’s forehead and answers, “Because you were burning up earlier this morning and clearly still are.”

“You could still have tried,” Taylor crankly mumbles back. He knows it’s a little unfair to Lincoln, but he can’t bring himself to be thankful for sleeping in and having his morning plans thrown out the window.

“I did,” Lincoln chuckles, luckily not taking the offense, “You only angrily growled at me when I came to wake you up at nine.”

Yea that sounds about right actually.

--------

OR:

Taylor is sick with a demon cold and Lincoln is there to take care of him

☆☆☆

And have some additional doodles *.✧

[izzyrarepairkinkmeme]

[IZZY/WEE JOHN + Comfort] Queerplatonic (or friendly) Izzy and Wee John (preferably with aroace Wee John) with Wee John comforting Izzy after or during a PTSD meltdown or panic attack

♠

[astrronomemes]

PSYCHO (1960): STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock film, Psycho. change & alter as needed.

"[Name], I hate having to be with you in a place like this."

"When you're married, you can do a lot of things deliberately."

"You sure talk like a girl who's been married."

"When you can't change a situation, laugh at it."

"[Name], this is the last time."

"It's like laughing through a broken jaw."

"You make respectability sound disrespectful."

"[Name], let's go get married."

"Headaches are like resolutions. You forget them as soon as they stop hurting."

"Aren't you going to take the pills? They'll knock that headache out."

"I don't need pills. Just sleep."

"You can do anything you've a mind to. And, being a woman, you will."

"I'll be perfectly honest with you, [name]. It's not that I don't trust you, but..."

"Or do I have to tell her, because you don't have the guts? Huh, boy? You have the guts, boy?"

"I'm sorry. I wish... people could apologize for other people."

"A man should have a hobby."

"You've never had an empty moment in your whole life, have you?"

"What are you running away from?"

"You know what I think? I think we're all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch."

"If anyone ever spoke to me the way I heard she spoke to you... I don't think I could ever laugh again."

"When you love someone, you don't do that to them. Even if you hate them."

"It's just that, sometimes, she goes a little mad. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"

"I stepped into a private trap back there, and I want to go back, and try to pull myself out. Before it's too late for me, too."

"And I say, insect or man, death should always be painless."

"We're always quickest to doubt people who have a record for being honest."

"I ought to call the police right now!"

"I need to believe something. This is the first time I've ever come up against anything I couldn't understand."

"I didn't think the police went searching for people who weren't in trouble."

"I didn't lie to you. I just have trouble keeping track of time."

"You didn't spend the night with her, did you?"

"I did question him, believe me. I think I got all there was to get."

"Sometimes, Saturday night has a lonely sound. Ever notice, [name]?"

"Patience doesn't run in my family, [name]."

"I don't know where to start... except at the beginning."

"She's not missing so much as she's run away."

"[Name], please, it's just for a few days. Just a few days, just so they won't find you."

"You must have seen an illusion, [name]. Now, I know you're not the seeing-illusions type, but..."

"Maybe I am the seeing-illusions type."

"I wonder if we'll ever see [name] again."

"Some people are so willing to suffer for you that they suffer more if you don't let them."

"Someone was at that window. I saw the curtain move."

"We don't like the look of that sky. Looks like a bad day coming, doesn't it?"

"I've been doing all the talking so far, haven't I?"

"You are alone here, aren't you? That would drive me crazy."

"That would be a rather extreme reaction, wouldn't it?"

"I'd do just about anything to get away. Wouldn't you?"

"I'll feel better when all of this is explained... if it can be."

"When the mind houses two personalities, there is always a battle."

"These were murders of passion, not profit."

"They're probably watching me. Well, let them! Let them see what kind of a person I am!"

[cursedzucchini]

I'm not saying someone should write lbm Danny Filly embracing himself and starting a band with two badly disguised clones (I'm talking about such an obviously fake mustache it hurts and pink cowboy hat, everything else ia the same), but I'm also not saying someone's should not write this.

Oh and also he calls himself Alvin, and first clone is Theodore and the third is Dave. And their band is called Alvin and the chipmunks. And they don't sing, just make noises that will appear in your nightmares, but in a melody of popular pop songs

[fazfacts]

TYKE & SONS LUMBER CO. SENTENCE STARTERS!

feel free to change these as needed.

❝ Well, little [___], the day has come! ❞

❝ No, not the beginning of summer or your coming of age, but me throwing you out on your ear! ❞

❝ That's what my father said to me when I was your age. ❞

❝ No one knows where [they] went. Really weird, if you ask me. ❞

❝ You'll soon be let free from this prison you call "home." ❞

❝ It's time for you to explore the world. ❞

❝ I'm going to be watching you from a safe distance. ❞

❝ I am a professional. ❞

❝ Now, get lost. ❞

❝ This is your time to shine! ❞

❝ Promise to make me a proud [parent], will ya? ❞

❝ This is as important as me teaching you how to walk on two legs. ❞

❝ I need a Mixchiato to-go, quick! ❞

❝ I ordered a Mixchiato, not a regular coffee. You really need to listen closely. ❞

❝ I expected more of you. ❞

❝ For real, if you fail this, I will ground you forever. ❞

❝ I would help, but I'm waaay too busy complaining over the simple things in life. Like weird-tasting coffee. ❞

❝ Now go! Go and make me proud! ❞

❝ The moral of the story is that you can make cocktails, even without the ice. ❞

❝ [___] is going to ruin the whole thing for me. [They] will expose me. ❞

❝ I can't let that happen. ❞

❝ I have to get rid of [them]. ❞

❝ That won't be too much of a problem. I've done similar things before. ❞

❝ I will continue to take care of those who find out more than they need to know. ❞

❝ I'm a mastermind. I can't fail. ❞

❝ Did I just have a stroke? I actually forgot my name. ❞

❝ I'm gonna get you, [___]! ❞

❝ I'm always ahead of you, you little brat! ❞

❝ Tomorrow is another day, where I hope nothing unexpected happens. ❞

❝ Please don't make this difficult. ❞

❝ What's a car? ❞

❝ Move now or I will take out the taser. ❞

❝ [___], do something! ❞

❝ Don't drag your [child] into this. ❞

❝ And that, [son], is how you avoid the cops. ❞

❝ Something isn't right. I really don't recall doing something illegal this time. ❞

❝ We need to get to the bottom of this. ❞

❝ YOU need to get to the bottom of this. Because I'm old. ❞

❝ Who told you that I would actually pay you with money? ❞

❝ Bad things happen from time to time. I'm just happy that I'm still alive. ❞

❝ Go take a look. You will like what's down there. ❞

❝ Listen, I need your help again. ❞

❝ You still owe me one after the coffee incident yesterday. ❞

❝ Go fight the robot. Or make it go away. I don't care. ❞

❝ Something happened that really upset me. ❞

❝ I was supposed to get trashed, yet I am working perfectly fine. ❞

❝ I woke up here in the dump this morning. ❞

❝ You animals wanted to trash me. ❞

❝ Look at my six-pack. I'm ripped. RIPPED! ❞

❝ I am going to crush you. I'm going to smash you to the ground, sit on you, tear you apart, and make lumber out of you. ❞

❝ You think you can stop me? ❞

❝ I knew you could do it! ❞

❝ Overall, a pretty neat battle. I give it a seven out of ten. ❞

❝ I was young once, too. I know what's hip. ❞

❝ I would strangle you if I could. ❞

❝ Nobody can ever know what my deal is. ❞

❝ Ahahahahahaha! I'm so evil! ❞

❝ Where have you been!? I was slightly worried. ❞

❝ I have something interesting to show you. ❞

❝ That's it! You're under arrest for sleep disturbance and murder! ❞

❝ Murder? Since when is that a topic? ❞

❝ Man, we really need a television. ❞

❝ Oh, [___]. Violence isn't always the solution. ❞

❝ That's what your mother would say. ❞

❝ That was a sick move. Good [boy]. ❞

❝ What. ❞

❝ ...they all died...blah blah blah...screams...blah blah blah...magic creatures and all that stuff...blah... ❞

❝ And then I sold them on the black market because the company wasn't paying off. ❞

❝ I don't like unannounced visitors in here. Get out! ❞

❝ I didn't know who was the right person to turn to. ❞

❝ I was tricked, I tell you. ❞

❝ The day would come where I would have my revenge. ❞

❝ That's what actually happened, for real! ❞

❝ We had a fight afterwards and [they] THREW me out of the window. ❞

❝ I landed on my head and they had to give me a new body because I would have died. ❞

❝ I look like a Minecraft Creeper now. ❞

❝ He looks like something that died under my bed and was stored in my fridge. ❞

❝ Agh, I'm just not a bad person. ❞

❝ Oh, boy. I think we're in for a treat. ❞

❝ I do have an answer. Yes, I really do. The answer is very interesting, [___]. The answer is complex. However, I'm not gonna tell you what it is. ❞

❝ We know that we're the good guys, and that counts, I guess. ❞

❝ Good night, and don't let the monsters get you. Hahaha. ❞

❝ Seriously!? How dumb are you? ❞

❝ I came to the conclusion that the best solution was to just lure you down here, and that was easier than I thought. ❞

❝ Don't worry, I won't just kill you off. ❞

❝ You're trapped, after all. What can you do? ❞

❝ I just wanted to experience what it felt like to be the star, for at least a moment. ❞

❝ I've had it with you!!! ❞

❝ Wow! You need to teach me that! ❞

❝ Sorry for being such a weirdo. ❞

❝ It's not like there has been any lore, ever, that took more than five years to solve. ❞

❝ If anyone needs me, I'll be in the underground disco. ❞

[mischievous-thunder]

Give your kidnapper a minute, Logan. He'll be 💯🔥💯🔥 again in a minute!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 168

So. Apparently halfas are like phoenixes or something, which Danny would’ve really liked to know. 

See, usually with ghosts if they’re forced to retreat to their cores they reform as was, but apparently, since they’re still partially living, schrodinger's people and all that, halfas have to regrow their body from scratch. At least that’s what he’s understanding from Frostbite. 

But how come he has to deal with it? It’s Dan’s fault for trying to pull such a stunt! Oh, it’s either him or Vlad? Well fuck, he might have calmed down and is going to therapy in both the living realm and the Zone, but he’s waaay not equipped to raise a child except for like, monetarily wise. 

Well dammit, how long will this core incubation thing last, he has his new job in… let him check which offer he accepted again… He has his new job in Coast City that he needs to finish packing for and then all the rest of the stuff to do. 

What do you mean it’ll take months?! He doesn’t have months?! Urgh, fine. At least being a mortician isn’t that exciting, nor dangerous. Just hand him Dan’s core and he’ll figure things out for the living side of things. He’s sure Tucker and Sam wouldn’t be against helping, if only to try and claim favorite aunt or uncle spots. 

[billy-royalton]

A fill for the IWTV Kink Meme and ya know it’s crazy, because I was already thinking of writing a fic similar to this but oh god, did I have a lot of fun with this prompt! I hope I did it justice!

Strange How the Night Moves | Devil's Minion | M | 3,097 words | Time Travel, Devil's Minion Era Happened, Vampire Daniel Molloy, Young Daniel Molloy, Sexual Tension, some emotional angst for the fun of it

What plays out on the dancefloor before him is intimate. There he is (and it is him, in his twenties and young and he’s gotta be coked out of his mind because, what the fuck), hips rolling against the serpentine body of Daniel’s maker. His maker — Armand, in a well tailored burgundy suit, silk dress shirt half unbuttoned, pawing at this young Daniel’s body with a furious desire, all to a song sung by a fucking porn star. - In which a newly abandoned Vampire Daniel somehow travels back in time to bar in San Francisco and finds himself. With Armand. 

[bropunzeling]

normally i am looking at a scene like is this horny enough? do the gestures convey enough intimacy? and let me tell you it's bizarre to revise a paragraph like no this is too horny and intimate for where they are supposed to be at. we gotta scale back and slow down.

[chiropterx]

Smack that like button for Kirk to assign your muse with a bat! 🦇

[rubydracogirl]

“Where do the shooting stars fall?”

[blackjackkent]

Word prompt ask!

And because I always give you more than one prompt, haha ...

Firefly / Threnody / Wildcard

Whichever catches your fancy :)

(Drop a word in my inbox and I’ll write three sentences of a fic based on it)

:D Eyyyy, thank you!

I receive: prompts You receive: Jaheira content ;)

-----

Firefly

When Rion was six, she would sit on the stoop of the house and catch fireflies in her bare hands in the warm, thick summer air. Jaheira, still heavy in her mind with many losses, watched the little girl’s movements - quick and yet gentle - and smiled a little in spite of herself. It was a reminder that nature existed even in the civilized wasteland of Baldur’s Gate, and a reminder that her child could know the land in these small doses, even among high buildings.

-----

Threnody

“A wailing ode, song, hymn or poem of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.”

It felt as if she lived an entire lifetime in those few moments she knelt on Irenicus’s laboratory floor alongside Khalid’s broken body. The keening wail in her mind had no melody, for she knew nothing of music, and yet it was a song in its way. A crescendo of grief, starting from mute disbelief and slowly rising into deafening anguish; a chorus, call and response, of the attempt at comfort and its screaming denial; a final coda, a dissonant leading chord resolving into nothing but silence.

-----

Wildcard

Jaheira remembered Minsc’s moments of wildness on the road in Amn, the times that Aerie had nearly fallen in battle and Minsc had seemed to become twice his size in rising to her defense. It was an unpredictable sort of loyalty, as dangerous as it was touching; it unsettled her greatly to think that he saw in her something also worth protecting with so much violence and so little forethought. To be a wychlaran of a berserker was a disquieting responsibility she did not wish for, rather like holding a lit firecracker in one hand and deciding in which direction it should be thrown.