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crack_van2011-12-13 10:05 am
laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-12-13 10:05 am
I bet Nureyev never had to deal with this shit. by cobweb_diamond (R)
Fandom: INCEPTION
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (non-explicit), Dom/Mal (background)
Length: ~ 21,400 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cobweb_diamond
Author Website: Fic Masterlist on LJ ; Fic on AO3
Why this must be read: Because it's a BALLET Alternate Universe story. Ballet. Just when you think you can't contort these characters into some other world, you read a ballet fic that is so utterly perfect you start to wonder if you missed the tutus and dance sequences in the actual movie.
In this story, Mal and Eames are principal dancers for the Royal Ballet troupe, and Arthur's just been cast as Oberon in a version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, suitably titled Dream. (Mal is Titania, and Eames is Puck). This Arthur has all the grace and reserve of the film's Arthur, and the same fears about making a mistake considering his last major performance ended with an embarrassingly public ankle injury that took him out of dancing for months. Now, ready to make a comeback, Arthur faces trying to fit in with an established pair of dancers who have their own rhythm and chemistry, as well as tamping down on his feelings for Eames as a measure of self-preservation.
Cobweb_diamond writes engaging stories with a lovely balance of humour and tension. She perfectly captures the quirks of people in the arts and I love Eames and Mal's peculiar brand of friendship. Even if you know nothing about ballet, give this one a chance. It's creative, compelling, and the characters are still recognizable even in a setting far removed from canon.
At the end of the second day of rehearsals, Eames comes to watch. Arthur doesn’t know why, but he feels a prickling on the back of his neck and looks up to see him sitting among the five or six students and passers-by upstairs, looking perfectly comfortable sipping from a cup of something hot and wearing a pair of ugly old maroon sweatpants over his leotard.
Arthur falters a little on his entrechat and Dom stops the music, calling out, ‘Again, from allegretto!’
Mal glides over to Arthur, fixing the pins in her hair. ‘Look who’s watching,’ she says in his ear, playful and low-voiced. ‘You’d be lying if you say you don’t want to impress him.’
Arthur doesn’t want to impress him. But he wants Eames to know he’s good. But he doesn’t want to be performing for Eames. But... oh, fuck.
When Dom restarts the music, Arthur grabs the feeling of irritation boiling in his chest and tries to pull it out through his feet and fingertips, letting Titania dart towards him before flinging her back again.
Three seconds is his window for setting down any emotion he wants to put into a piece. After that most of his brain shuts down, operating on a purely physical level as he tries to concentrate on every muscle in his body at once. Pain vanishes, breathing becomes a mechanical force to be churned out at the correct times, Dom and his critical inspection become nothing more than an inconsequential blur in the corner of his eye.
By sheer luck, Arthur’s hands place themselves perfectly along Mal’s ribcage when it comes to their final embrace, and they manage the lift correctly for the first time, Mal soaring over him for a long stretched-out moment. Arthur’s arms and abdominals are aching by the end of it, but he can’t help grinning at her as they drop their mask-like stage-faces and allow themselves to pant like dogs.
‘You keep drifting to stage right,’ says Dom, but he doesn’t sound displeased. Arthur gulps down some water and towels off his face and neck.
‘Arthur is far better than you,’ says Mal cheerfully as Eames lets himself into the studio, uninvited. ‘Your feet are like a duck’s. Arthur has the feet of an angel.’
Eames looks at Arthur, eyebrow cocked. Arthur refuses to be embarrassed. ‘I do have the feet of an angel, it’s true,’ he agrees, deadpan.
‘I’ve been abandoned,’ says Eames mournfully. ‘Spurned. Thrown over. Although quite frankly, who can blame you, Mal?’ He turns his gaze back to Arthur, smirk dancing across his lips. ‘Who knew you could manage such... vehemence? At this rate Titania and Oberon will be tearing one another’s hair out in clumps by opening night.’
‘I told you he’d surprise you,’ says Mal, untying her practise shoes.
‘Oh, I never had any doubt about that, cheri,’ says Eames, and Arthur isn’t entirely certain which one of them he’s talking to. ‘I look forward to tomorrow.’
On LJ: I bet Nureyev never had to deal with this shit
On AO3: I bet Nureyev never had to deal with this shit
It doesn't matter how old or new or (how popular) a story is, authors love feedback!
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (non-explicit), Dom/Mal (background)
Length: ~ 21,400 words
Author on LJ:
cobweb_diamondAuthor Website: Fic Masterlist on LJ ; Fic on AO3
Why this must be read: Because it's a BALLET Alternate Universe story. Ballet. Just when you think you can't contort these characters into some other world, you read a ballet fic that is so utterly perfect you start to wonder if you missed the tutus and dance sequences in the actual movie.
In this story, Mal and Eames are principal dancers for the Royal Ballet troupe, and Arthur's just been cast as Oberon in a version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, suitably titled Dream. (Mal is Titania, and Eames is Puck). This Arthur has all the grace and reserve of the film's Arthur, and the same fears about making a mistake considering his last major performance ended with an embarrassingly public ankle injury that took him out of dancing for months. Now, ready to make a comeback, Arthur faces trying to fit in with an established pair of dancers who have their own rhythm and chemistry, as well as tamping down on his feelings for Eames as a measure of self-preservation.
Cobweb_diamond writes engaging stories with a lovely balance of humour and tension. She perfectly captures the quirks of people in the arts and I love Eames and Mal's peculiar brand of friendship. Even if you know nothing about ballet, give this one a chance. It's creative, compelling, and the characters are still recognizable even in a setting far removed from canon.
At the end of the second day of rehearsals, Eames comes to watch. Arthur doesn’t know why, but he feels a prickling on the back of his neck and looks up to see him sitting among the five or six students and passers-by upstairs, looking perfectly comfortable sipping from a cup of something hot and wearing a pair of ugly old maroon sweatpants over his leotard.
Arthur falters a little on his entrechat and Dom stops the music, calling out, ‘Again, from allegretto!’
Mal glides over to Arthur, fixing the pins in her hair. ‘Look who’s watching,’ she says in his ear, playful and low-voiced. ‘You’d be lying if you say you don’t want to impress him.’
Arthur doesn’t want to impress him. But he wants Eames to know he’s good. But he doesn’t want to be performing for Eames. But... oh, fuck.
When Dom restarts the music, Arthur grabs the feeling of irritation boiling in his chest and tries to pull it out through his feet and fingertips, letting Titania dart towards him before flinging her back again.
Three seconds is his window for setting down any emotion he wants to put into a piece. After that most of his brain shuts down, operating on a purely physical level as he tries to concentrate on every muscle in his body at once. Pain vanishes, breathing becomes a mechanical force to be churned out at the correct times, Dom and his critical inspection become nothing more than an inconsequential blur in the corner of his eye.
By sheer luck, Arthur’s hands place themselves perfectly along Mal’s ribcage when it comes to their final embrace, and they manage the lift correctly for the first time, Mal soaring over him for a long stretched-out moment. Arthur’s arms and abdominals are aching by the end of it, but he can’t help grinning at her as they drop their mask-like stage-faces and allow themselves to pant like dogs.
‘You keep drifting to stage right,’ says Dom, but he doesn’t sound displeased. Arthur gulps down some water and towels off his face and neck.
‘Arthur is far better than you,’ says Mal cheerfully as Eames lets himself into the studio, uninvited. ‘Your feet are like a duck’s. Arthur has the feet of an angel.’
Eames looks at Arthur, eyebrow cocked. Arthur refuses to be embarrassed. ‘I do have the feet of an angel, it’s true,’ he agrees, deadpan.
‘I’ve been abandoned,’ says Eames mournfully. ‘Spurned. Thrown over. Although quite frankly, who can blame you, Mal?’ He turns his gaze back to Arthur, smirk dancing across his lips. ‘Who knew you could manage such... vehemence? At this rate Titania and Oberon will be tearing one another’s hair out in clumps by opening night.’
‘I told you he’d surprise you,’ says Mal, untying her practise shoes.
‘Oh, I never had any doubt about that, cheri,’ says Eames, and Arthur isn’t entirely certain which one of them he’s talking to. ‘I look forward to tomorrow.’
On LJ: I bet Nureyev never had to deal with this shit
On AO3: I bet Nureyev never had to deal with this shit
It doesn't matter how old or new or (how popular) a story is, authors love feedback!
no subject
Did you know that there's a lovely podfic version of this fic, too? One can find it at audiofic.jinjurly.com
as mp3
and
as audiobook
no subject
no subject
no subject