Hello, my name is zafer_aistra (zuh-fur eye-struh), and I'm addicted to fanfiction. (Hi zafer_aistra...) Kudos to whoever uses Google Translate and figures out what that means. Hint: It's two different languages, because if people can speak Spanglish, why can't I write in Lithuirkish....Turkanian. OhshitIjustgaveitaway.
Another hint: I named two of my stuffed animals after those words.
...that's not really a hint.
(On another random note, Spanglish is seriously accepted as a word? I never realized that.)
But, I digress. Often, you will find. It's one of my fine points.
I'm Emily in the real world, but I answer to pretty much anything. Hey You, Kid, Girl With The Face, Pssssst, etc.
I follow multiple fandoms, however I've only been writing for Inception on LJ. I started with South Park on good ol' Fanfiction dot net, but I abandoned two of my major stories, and pretty much said screw it. Time for something new.
And, thus, zafer_aistra was born unto LiveJournal. (Golf claps)
I'm completely and utterly addicted to Inception right now. I totally stumbled across it and I haven't left since. (Plus it gives me more of an excuse to find shirtless pictures of the cast, JGL and Tom Hardy in particular).
Please please please, feel free to friend me. I want to get my work out there, since I'm not new to fanfiction, but I am newer to this domain. It gives me an excuse to read all of your stories, as well, and isn't that what we all want? Spread the love, and all. Comment comment comment! Talk to me, read my fics, give me prompts, anything goes. Please, if you have the urge to create any art, podfics, or translate my fics, go ahead. Just link them for me.
Here are links to my stories. =D Read, review, and feel free to rec if you find anything that suits your fancy. I'll update as often as possible.
List of my Inception Works
I've only put the main genre, character relationship, and a brief summary for each. The links will take you to the stories, where you can view information such as warnings and ratings.
Completed Inception Fics (in order from most recent to...not most recent):
Shattered Like Glass (Inside of You) (Also on FF and AO3)
Angst!Fic, Horror!Fic, Hurt/Comfort!Fic, etc.
(Arthur/Eames preslash, Eames/Mal not romantic)
Mal has a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel inadequate in a way only a dead woman can. So you force yourself to become her, to learn her from the inside out. What a joke.
You go off to make the forgery, to complete the persona change, and she follows you. This isn’t the distraction you need, so you shoot her. But, unlike the other projections, she doesn’t disappear or die or fall over; she simply shimmers. It reminds you of the shards of glass you used to find in the alleyways back home; how they would shine and glow and gleam while reflecting the lights that hit them from all angles. Like the broken windows of the houses your mother warned you to stay away from as a child, you can’t help but want to explore.
It’s almost beautiful, in a heart-wrenching, terrifying way.
For a moment, you think this is what you want.
(For just a moment, it is.)
Angst!Fic, could be considered a slight Origin!Fic, but that's not the focus.
(Arthur and Eames, but not as a relationship)
As a child, Arthur is loud, rambunctious, obnoxious, and easily entertained. As a teenager, he is quiet and reserved. As an adult, he is simply Arthur. As a child, Eames is mischievous, rollicking, and ill-mannered. As a teenager, he is mirthless and spurious. As an adult, he is a stranger.
(“You look like your dad. You have his eyes. And his dimples,” his mom mumbles after she arrives home half-drunk one evening. His father’s eyes are blue. Arthur tells a joke to see him smile. To see the dimples. His father glares. His mother cries.)
There are three basic rules in the household.
Don’t speak. (Arthur speaks. His dad is silent. His mom cries.)
Don’t leave without permission. (Arthur leaves. His dad is silent. His mom cries.)
Don’t complain. (Arthur does, but he does it silently. His dad enforces this rule the most. His mother still cries.)
It starts with a loss. It starts with an apology, a meeting, a handshake. It starts with Arthur. It starts with Eames. It starts with a loaded red die. Like all things, it starts with an idea.
"Everyone needs a totem," someone tells Arthur. He doesn't remember who, anymore. He's sure it wasn't Dom.
It might've been Mal.
“YOU’VE BEEN IN A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH A DEAD WOMAN FOR YEARS. DAMN YOU.”
Dom narrowed his eyes. Ariadne could almost envision laser beams escaping them, but was afraid to let the thought go any further in case it really did happen.
“was that a squint or a glare i couldnt tell well call it a glarint or a sqlare”
“GLARINT.” Arthur agreed.
Dom glarinted at them.
“Damn you and your unborn children.”
“WE CAN’T HAVE CHILDREN, YOU MANSTICK. YUSUF’S CHEMICALS SCREWED UP OUR INTERAL ORGANS. I DON’T THINK I EVEN HAVE A STOMACH ANYMORE.”
“i lost my gallbladder” Eames said sadly.
The Exploits of a Forger and Point Man (Parts 1 and 2) (Also on FF and AO3)
(Prequel to We're All a Little Crazy)
“Why are there boxes of puzzles on my desk, Eames?”
Dom stares over at the forger, who is now looking at Arthur in happiness.
“And,” Arthur continues, straightening up, “I thought we had a talk about your notes.”
“We did,” Eames admits.
“Then tell me why you left me a note that says, ‘So, I heard you like enemas’?”
“Enigmas!” Eames cries.
Humor!Fic/Romance!Fic (Arthur/Eames, one-sided Ariadne/Dom)
(Sequel to The Exploits of a Forger and a Point Man)
The first time it happens, it’s awkward and they fumble a lot and they’re so drunk they forget it the next day.
“Did we have sex?” Arthur asks the next day, lying in bed next to Eames. And Eames, wrapped tightly in the blankets, startles and promptly falls off the edge.
“Shit,” he groans. Arthur continues looking at the area where Eames used to be.
“Did we?” he repeats.
“Are your pants on?” Eames voice floats up from the floor.
Arthur gazes down his body. “Kind of.” One pant leg is completely off his body, and the other wrinkled and creased around his calf. His boxers are dangerously low on his hips. “Kind of,” he repeats.
“Did we have sex?” Arthur asks again, because dammit he wants an answer. Right after he throws up, of course.