#riverlight82

[sixth-light]

riverlight82 replied to your post “I don’t have time for more thoughts now but A Rare Book of Cunning...”

Oh, I didn't catch on that she'd been a librarian herself! Must re-listen!

That’s in The Hanging Tree - “My mum, who’d had a good job at the American library in Freetown, had unfortunately caught jazz off the radio and headed for the bright lights of the city, any city, and had found London and my father.” 

[selfconsciousfangirl]

riverlight82 replied to your post: “I’d very much like to receive a message right about now, if at all...”:

1) Love you, darling. 2) I didn't tell you this when you posted your selfie, but I think you're so pretty! 3) I know it doesn't feel like it, but in my experience things do get better.

Awww, thank you! Your message was just the thing I needed. Today is a better day indeed.

[sibilantly]

#20, your Arthur/Eames & Esther/Jon verse!! WOOHOO.

A/N: The fact you enjoy the ‘verse so much fills me with glee <3 Thank you, bb. As with the main fic, first person POV and gratuitous swearing ahead.

(#20: things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear)

—

I don’t sleep that great when I’m not at home.

It’s something that drives Esther kinda nuts, and it’s one of the reasons we spend more time at my place than we do hers.

(The other main reason: Esther can’t stand being in her house sometimes - too many memories, you know?)

But after Rebecca-the-psycho-kidnapper and the brain harvesting thing—

(“For the last time,” Eames says, when I call it a brain harvesting thing to his face, “no one is going to sell your brain on the black market.”)

—I’m stuck in this motel room, with only the ceiling fan, a piece of shit TV that only shows two channels, and Eames for company.

You can’t blame me for trying to sleep most of the fucking day away.

But it’s like I said. I don’t sleep well when I’m not at home. Every little thing wakes me up. Cars going past outside. Dogs barking. People talking.

This time, it’s Eames talking that wakes me up.

I’m ready to grab a pillow, roll over, and put it over my head (maybe tell Eames to shut the fuck up before I do), until I realise exactly who he’s talking to.

"Really, Arthur, the resemblance is uncanny. It’s like looking at a slightly imperfect forgery of you."

Slightly imperfect? Fuck off. I mean, have you seen these guns? Imperfect my ass.

Arthur snorts. “Yeah. People used to gossip about our parents being in some kind of fucked up foursome.”

Fucking Arthur, man. Hasn’t been answering my calls since the whole Rebecca thing, but here he is, talking to Eames on Skype like nothing’s the matter.

The fuck have you been, man? I wanna say, but if I say anything, Arthur will clam up tighter than a frigid virgin. So I keep quiet instead, listen in.

Eames tsks. “There is nothing fucked up about consenting adults doing what consenting adults do. Perhaps they were all in a foursome.”

Arthur makes a grossed out sound. (I want to as well). “Shut up. And no, they really weren’t. You haven’t met them, Eames. You ever want to see a model of perfect, boring New Jersey suburbia, my family will have you covered.”

Well, la-dee-fucking-da, Arthur. Try sounding a little more fucking condescending while you’re at it.

"You know very well what people do behind closed doors can be vastly different from their public facade," Eames replies. (Jesus, why is he still talking about this?) "Perhaps the propensity for multiple partners has a genetic basis."

Arthur laughs. “Threesomes and being spitroasted are your fantasies, not mine.”

Oh. Okay. That’s why Eames won’t stop talking about it.

I make a face at the ceiling. I’m not so sure now that finding out what Arthur’s been up to is worth listening to this shit.

Eames clears his throat after a while. “Will you be bringing the PASIV along, when you arrive?” He asks, all careful.

There’s a small silence. “Eames,” Arthur says, sounding like he doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or throw up. “No.”

"It’s not like you to reject a kink out of hand."

"I will totally reject a kink out of hand if it involves you trying to create a projection of me.” What? “Knowing how your subconscious works, the projection will turn into Johnny halfway through.”

Seriously, what?

"That might not be so terrible," Eames says, thoughtful, and yeah, no, that’s it. I’ve still got no idea what’s going on, but I’m bailing.

"Eurgh," I say, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it over my head. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

[singlecrow]

riverlight82 replied to your post: So sometimes I’m like, I wish the Gasl...

They are SO SO GOOD. Oh man.

Arrgh, I know, right? I'm always surprised there doesn't seem to be the million vids to them that there ought to be. I guess they're not really vidding songs? But I love them so much, they give me these huge inarticulable teenage feelings.

[selfconsciousfangirl]

riverlight82 replied to your post: I suppose I should commit to a single ...

DUDE what can I do to make this story happen? ?!?!??!?!

Which one? I'm having a hard time deciding which story to finish. Might as well roll some dice and see what happens-

nightanddaze replied to your post: I suppose I should commit to a single ...

1) Those ideas all sound amazing and I’d be into any one of them. 2) I wonder if it’d work if we set up some kind of email or whatever write-off? I’m largely punishment-based in regards to writing, so if I’m not accountable then I don’t do shit.

YES! Let's do that, pretty please?

[selfconsciousfangirl]

Tumblr’s messaging system is awful. Don’t know why I even bother.

riverlight82: Generation Kill or Captain America?