blualbino: (you won't be leaving my arms ever)
glen coco ([personal profile] blualbino) wrote2010-09-21 02:53 pm


THERE IS A STORY BEHIND THIS, I SWEAR. Currently I'm writing Inception fic of angst and doom (that you can read a tiny snippet of here if you would like to verify the angst) and to cheer myself up I wrote the most ridiculous thing I possibly could.

So here's 500 words of Arthur and Eames ON UNICORNS.

“Eames, is that a unicorn?” Arthur finds himself asking. He’s never imagined that particular combination of words coming out of his mouth before, but the dreaming business will do that to you.

“Very astute of you,” Eames says, hitching his leg over the unicorn’s back. The violent orange shade of his tie is made even worse by the animal’s teal hide.

“Why are there unicorns in your dream?”

“Because I like beasts of a horned nature,” Eames says, completely unironically as what appears to be a pink rhinoceros strides out of the forest.

“You’re a beast of a horned nature,” Arthur says, because there’s really no other comeback. At all.

“Just excited to be here with you, love,” Eames replies.

Arthur’s steed is an atrocious shade of fuschia, and he climbs onto it silently mourning his suit. If unicorn hair’s anything like horsehair he’ll never get it out.

“Any reason you’ve dropped in?” Eames says casually, bringing his unicorn up to a trot.

“I wanted to see what kind of pornography went on in your head,” Arthur says. Out of the corner of his eye, the clouds appear to be mutli-colored. Dead on they’re revealed to be giant, rainbow jellyfish swimming through the sky.

Someone please shoot him.

“Exactly how much acid have you done, Mr. Eames?” Arthur asks. Everything is so colorful that he feels his eyes slowly becoming unfocused.

“None,” Eames says. “Well, none that I know of. Yusuf introduced me to this dreamscape.”

“... And you return to it?”

Eames smiles. “I enjoy it.”

“... Why?”

Eames shrugs.

They mosey along in silence for a while, Arthur slowly taking in the dream. His eyes keep being drawn back to his unicorn’s horn. It’s covered in dirt but he’s very sure that any attempt to polish it will be misconstrued by Eames. He’s trying to come up with a half-decent name for a unicorn when they’re stopped by a large migration of purple ostriches. By large he means that each ostrich is roughly fifteen feet tall.

“Do you know what animals actually look like, Eames?” Arthur asks in disbelief.

“Are you saying you don’t like my creations?”


“Are you at least enjoying yourself?” Eames asks.

Arthur opens his mouth to say something smart, and pauses. “I am. Surprisingly.”

“You wound me, Arthur,” Eames says. “Would you like to go fishing?”

“What for? Seamonsters?”

Eames just grins.