heartsforbuck



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  1. Public Bookmark 42

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    Summary

    Arthur learned a long time ago that he was special, and no one else could see the strings.
     

    Eames is a thief and Arthur likes him anyway. Everything is still the same, but Arthur can see Red Strings of Fate.


    There are moments when Arthur thinks he needs to tell Eames about the strings. He owes him the truth, he thinks, Eames deserves to know. Other times, well.

    Eames knows enough, and he has secrets of his own. Arthur is allowed this one.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    17 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    The string is right there. Connecting them. God, Arthur could cry. Their interlocked fingers are beautiful. He could swear the string is shining. He doesn't know how he'll eventually explain this part to Eames but he will. He will. And on the meantime he promises he won't let it go.

  2. Public Bookmark 6

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    Ariadne’s not good with people, but that’s the first clue, the first hint that she’s missing something. She watches them more carefully from then on, and she starts to see it, all the little things, piling up into something bigger.

    Language:
    English
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    1,024
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    6
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    17 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    The way Arthur smiles, just a fraction, every time Eames wanders over to his desk. The way Eames will toss a whiteboard marker to Arthur when he’s barely even opened his mouth to ask. The way Ariadne walks into the warehouse one day and sees Arthur sitting at Eames’s desk, scrawling something down on a pad of paper. The way they sit so damnably close.

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Summary

    After a near fatal reaction to a bad somnacin mix, Eames wakes up with the ability to see auras.

    Language:
    English
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    4/4
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    17 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Cobb's newest point man's aura was gold.

    Eames had seen golden auras before, on rare occasions, but none quite like this. Arthur's was the shade of burnished honey, but with a richness Eames had once only seen in a hundred-pound-a-glass finely aged Tokay. Whorls of bronze made a graceful marbling pattern through the lighter amber, giving the impression of both depth and competence. And all of it was backlit by a low, almost indefinable glow coming from within.

    For the first time since he had learned to see, Eames wanted to run his fingers through that aura, find how that complex gold felt against his own reflective nature.

  4. Public Bookmark 11

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    Summary

    But he was no Quixote, and she was no Dulcinea. They were grit and blood, and things darker than shadows. They were not fables told to disobedient children, because then society would have to admit things like them existed.

    (Not intended as romantic shipping, but you are welcome to read it that way)

    a companion of sorts to Scavengers

    Language:
    English
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    458
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    12
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    17 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    There would be moments when he would reach out to touch her, just to assure himself she was not the fever dream of a dying prisoner. A caress along her neck, fingers in her hair, a hand on the small of her back, she would never deny him a touch. Some days it was all they had to know they were alive.

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    When it comes to finding Eames, Arthur is the first person to talk to.

    Language:
    English
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    16 May 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Do you realize,” begins Ariadne, cornering Eames in the little kitchenette at the warehouse, as he’s going for the kettle, “that Arthur always knows where you are?”
    “That does seem to be the case,” Eames replies, sounding totally calm about that fact.

    “No, I mean, he always knows,” she repeats. She leans forward a little and widens her eyes as significantly as she can. “Always, Eames.”

    “I know,” he says, gently.

    “Why does Arthur always know where you are?” she asks. “How?”

    “My dear girl, I haven’t the slightest idea. Should you discover how he does it, do, please, share. In the meantime...” He tilts his head toward the sink. “There’s work to be done. And I would like my tea.”