my father calls my mother marilyn munster because she lives amongst the madness

[gyzym]

No, really, he does. True story.

Also, oh my god, you guys, I'm sorry, I am sorry, I am so sorry, I know I'm spamming you today, but I just. I cannot believe this just happened, I cannot even believe this is my family, I swear to god I'll go a couple hours without posting anything after this, dsfhsdkjfd.

Right, okay, so before I tell this story, I have to explain something, lest you all think I am a terrible person: in my life, an extremely intimate family gathering is 20 people. Thanksgiving, when it's on the small side, usually hovers somewhere between 40 and 65, and that's just one branch of the, like, ridiculous empire that is my various and sundry relations. Once you get further out than like first cousins, things get complicated; people are ranked by a complex and deeply inexplicable system based on shit that happened 30 years ago and family politics and who isn't speaking to whom this week. I have third cousins I call uncle and aunts I've never met--there's a large category of folks to whom my only technical connection is "well, they're also Jewish and their grandmother was once friends with my grandmother," but who are more important to me than any number of actual blood relations. And the thing is that when you've got a network of people this big to contend with, everyone just falls under the umbrella of "well, they're family," which translates loosely to, "we are allowed to say bad shit about them, but no one else is, EVER."

This leads to interactions like this one between me and my father before Passover last year (I have changed the name herein; I do not actually have even one cousin Ricky, let alone two...er, as far as I know):

Me: I'm going to order the brisket for Pesach.
My Father: Okay, but you gotta go to a different guy this year, we can't go to our guy anymore.
Me: What? Why?
My Father: Well, you know cousin Ricky?
Me: The one who works downtown?
My Father: No, the other one.
Me: There's another cousin Ricky?
My Father: Yeah, you've maybe never met him, he's--doesn't matter, look, the point is, his son and the brisket guy's son, they were supposed to start a business together, and this kid screwed Ricky's kid out of the deal, so we can't buy from his father anymore.
Me: ...
My Father: Don't look at me like that. It's family.

THE POINT OF THIS ENTIRE LONG WINDED TALE IS: IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT SOMETIMES I RUN INTO PEOPLE WHO ARE RELATED TO ME AND DON'T RECOGNIZE THEM. "Family" is a really broad term for me, okay? JUDGE ME NOT.

Anyway, I told you that story to tell you this story: last week while I was leaving work I had my least favorite kind of interaction, which is one where the other person knows my name and I have NO IDEA WHO THE FUCK THEY ARE. Like, seriously, the woman walks up out of nowhere and is like "OH HELLO HOW HAVE YOU BEEN HOW IS YOUR MOTHER HOW IS YOUR FATHER ARE YOU STILL LIKING WORKING FOR YOUR FIRM" and I was like, "Um, it is...so lovely...to see you! And how are...those people we are mutually acquainted with? Doing well? Ahahahaha, yes, fantastic, buh-bye now!"

It was not smooth. I admit that it was not smooth. She was totally, totally onto me. I'm not even guessing about the fact that she was onto me: she called my grandmother, who called my aunt, who called my father, who called my mother, who called me.

My Mother: Heads up, apparently you're in trouble because you didn't recognize some relative on the street.
Me: Goddamn it, I knew that was going to come back to bite me in the ass.
My Mother: I guess she was at your Bat Mitzvah? I don't know, I'm at the ass-end of a game of telephone here, I don't even know her name.
Me: Wait, wait, we still don't even have the name?
My Mother: I think your father knows it.

He didn't. Neither did my aunt, although she claimed the woman in question is a third cousin and the name would come to her if I gave her enough time. I wasn't about to ask my grandmother and dig myself deeper into the hole, and the point of this is: after the botched interaction, three different phone calls, and getting yelled at by my grandmother, I STILL DON'T KNOW WHO THE HELL THIS WOMAN WAS.

Okay, all of that? I wrote most of it out last week when it happened, and then ended it with the sentence "This wouldn't be a concern, except for how it almost unquestionably means I'm going to run into her again tomorrow." But I didn't post it, because I decided I was being ridiculous and paranoid.

So fast forward to, uh, half an hour ago. Burro's just gotten home for spring break, and he comes to the coffeeshop where I'm writing to say hi, because we're going to dinner with everyone in a little bit and that's great, but sometimes it's nice to talk to him without being interrupted every twelve seconds. And so we're sitting here, right, and this woman walks through the door, and THIS HAPPENS:

Me: Oh my god, shit, it's her, don't let her see me!
Burro: Don't let her see you? That's the one who pulled my hair!
Me: I...wait, what?
Burro: Yeah, man, at somebody's shiva when I was like 16, I don't remember whose--
Me: At somebody's shiva, she pulled your hair?
Burro: I swear to god, we were just standing outside talking, and she walks up to me and goes, you've got such thick hair, it must be a wig! And then she grabbed it and fucking yanked on it, I couldn't make this up.
Me: Oh my fucking god. Where the hell was I?
Burro: I don't know, college? I don't think it was anybody we knew...who died, I mean. Courtesy call type thing, you know how it goes.
Me: Still, who pulls hair at a shiva?
Burro: Who pulls hair, period?
Me: Yeah, okay, point.
Burro: Anyway, what'd she do to you?
Me: Oh, god, nothing that bad, Jesus. I ran into her after work the other day and I didn't recognize--
Burro: Ahahahahaha oh my god that was her?
Me: You heard that story?!
Burro: Grandma was pretty pissed. I would have told her she was a hair-puller if I'd known.
Me: I...I just. What.
Burro: You wanna know the best part?
Me: I feel like you're going to tell me even if I don't.
Burro: I totally don't know her name either.
Me: Oh my god.
Burro: Quick, duck before she sees us!

DEAR EVERYONE: IF MY LIFE IS ACTUALLY A LARRY DAVID PRODUCED VERSION OF THE TRUMAN SHOW, PLEASE JUST TELL ME NOW. IT WOULD BE THE KIND THING TO DO, REALLY.

ETA: Okay, I have to go to dinner now, but somehow this turned into a giant thread about Arthur and Eames and Arthur's family, which you guys should TOTALLY ADD TO WHILE I'M GONE :D

Comments

[onthecount.livejournal.com]

And then in every city he works in, someone from his family or who knows his family or who used to know his second cousin's best friend manages to spot him and call someone who knows someone who knows his number, until he is like, "Okay, here is the deal. We have to go visit my family right now or I will never be able to walk outside peacefully in my life, ever, much less conduct covert criminal operations."

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

And Eames is completely fascinated by this strange family version of Arthur, and insists on tagging along, only he pretends to be different people every time, and Arthur ends up getting this reputation for a heartbreaker that his whole family gets to know about. So his mother calls him to berate him on not finding a nice young man to settle down with already, and what happened to that lovely Eames boy, how can Arthur be so callous, and he has to explain that 'no, no, they're all Eames, oh god, Eames, I hate you so much', and Eames is bent in two laughing in the corner, and then gently takes the phone from Arthur when he's about to start foaming at the mouth, stirs him into his favourite armchair and procedes to chat to Arthur's mom for the next hour, because apparently they talk once every couple of weeks or something, WHAT IS ARTHUR'S LIFE.

[onthecount.livejournal.com]

AND THEN THE PROBLEM ISN'T THAT ARTHUR GAVE HIS DISTANT RELATIVE THE COLD SHOULDER! His mom and grandma and great aunt start calling and asking him why he's leading that nice Eames boy on--seriously, how long have they been dating now, years? He should ask him to marry him already! Arthur, seriously, why haven't you married him yet? YOUR GRANDMA WANTS TO BE ALIVE TO SEE YOU GET MARRIED, ARTHUR.

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

SHE WANTS GRAND-GRAND-CHILDREN, DAMNIT!

[gyzym.livejournal.com]

Only secretly Arthur kind of likes it, right, he can't help but like it, because all his life he's had this place in him that was filled with a hundred people screaming and waving their hands. And for all he loves dreamshare, for all it's the best job in the world, it's hard to reconcile the slide of the needle into his veins in a quiet warehouse with Rosh Hashana dinner, his father laughing over the apples and honey. And his sisters have hated every guy he's ever dated, but Eames is so many different people at once that he fits in everywhere, fits with Arthur, and he knows how and when to be quiet but Arthur's heartbeat feels loud next to him, like he's drowning in it.

And Eames says, "I like your family," and Arthur says, "That's just because next to them, I look sane," and Eames says, "Only in the right light, love," and kisses him, right in front of the world and god and his mother.

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

Ahgjdgfsdhjfgdjhfg


<333333

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

♥_____♥ FOREVER.

[onthecount.livejournal.com]

I AM ABOUT TO TAKE A TEST ABOUT THE GREAT WAR IN TEN MINUTES AND I AM GOING TO BE SMILING LIKE I'VE BEEN DIPPED IN PUPPIES THROUGH THE ENTIRE THING BECAUSE OF THIS :DDDDDD

[oaktree89.livejournal.com]

*chinhands*
:D :D :D

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

::::::::DD


I LIKE YOUR VERSION BETTER THAN MINE

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

And he'll be dragging Eames along because he needs someone sane there to give emotional support, and Eames goes into it with all the dread of, well. A bloke going to meet his signicant other's eccentric family, but as it turns out. Eames completely loves Arthur's craz family and Arthur's grandma is all "LOOK AT THIS YOUNG MAN OF ARTHUR'S HE SAYS HE'S AN ACTOR I WONDER IF HE COULD GET ME BOB BARKER'S AUTOGRAPH"

And his Mother is all like, "YOU SHOULD REPRODUCE, YOUR BIOLOGICAL CLOCK IS TICKING" and Arthur is all "MOM I DO NOT HAVE LADY-PARTS" and she's all "I HEAR ADOPTION IS ALL THE RAGE THESE DAYS I WANT GRANDCHILDREN"

And his Dad is sagely nodding in the background and Eames has this gleam in his eye.


And Arthur is like, "FML".

[gyzym.livejournal.com]

Eames doesn't really want kids, Arthur knows that, because it's easy to tell the difference between what Eames wants and what Eames is acting like he wants; it's all down to the way he says it, the way he acts it out. When Eames really wants something he shies away from it and doesn't ask--he's better at faking emotions than feeling them, always has been. It's one of those things Arthur loves about him, because Arthur's got enough emotion for a lifetime in these people he was born to, and Eames at his heart is actually less crazy-making than crazy, and crazy Arthur can handle.

But his family doesn't know that, doesn't know Eames is just having them on, and they eat it up with a spoon. His mother is practically buying them baby clothes by the time they leave, and Arthur hisses "You know we can't," because it's irritating, it's false hope they're giving here, it's not right.

Eames looks at him askance from the other side of the rental car, his hands playing over the edge of the seatbelt, and sighs. "Maybe not," he says, "but it's nice to think about, hmmm?" and oh, shit, maybe this is something he wants after all.

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

Oh my god.


There is no way you can be allowed to leave this like this, it must be expanded!!!


LITTLE BABY ARTHUR-EAMES. AND S/HIS CRAZY YET ADORING EXTENDED FAMILY.

*dies*

[gyzym.livejournal.com]

I HAVE TO GO EAT DINNER NOW, I CAN'T WRITE KIDFIC, KAFHJDSKFHSDJF. ALSO I AM PRETTY SURE I'D JUST WRITE THEM ARGUING ABOUT KIDS FOR A MILLION PAGES

SOMEONE ELSE!!! SOMEONE ELSE!!! FILL THIS INNNNN IT'S KIDFIC MADLIBS DJSFHJKSD

[beachlass.livejournal.com]

And so it's this thing between them, that Eames won't start talking about, and Arthur doesn't know how to start talking about.

Which is fine until Aunt Carol's cousin's daughter gets herself knocked up in the 12th grade - I mean, who does that, don't they teach sex ed anymore - Arthur wonders. And she doesn't take the quiet abortion and two weeks off school route, and everyone knows but doesn't say that she can't because of the little sister that died of SIDS. So then there's this baby being born that's going to need a family, a baby IN Arthur's family, and it gets talked about at supper and Eames just gets quieter and quieter and Arthur doesn't know what to do.

He thinks of Cobb and all those stupid, desperate months on the run and the way Cobb had risked them all just to get back to his kids.

He thinks about holiday suppers at his grandmother's, with his mother washing dishes while her brother and sister and a couple of nephews dried; because it took four people to keep up with her.

Arthur thinks about family, and he can't sleep. He rolls over and turns on the light, shakes Eames awake. "We, if we do this" Arthur says. And Eames is not quite awake yet, squinting in the light, his hair tousled up on one side flattened down on the other. His tattoos roll across his shoulders and spill across his chest and remind Arthur that Eames knows about permanence.

"If we do this" Arthur says "If you want this, you need to tell me. Not make me guess." And Eames sits up, wide awake now, hand reaching for Arthur.

"Yes" Eames replies, pulling Arthur to him, speaking into his shoulder. "Yes, I fucking want to have a kid with you. You and your crazy family, let's add to it, yeah?"

And so they do. She's so small, Eames can hold her in one hand when they bring her home. Arthur doesn't wear any of his suits for two months after she spits up on one. Arthur's mother comes over on Saturday afternoons to take the baby out in the stroller, and Arthur collapses against Eames on the couch, shoves a receiving blanket onto the floor and this. This is his family.

[seeingrightly.livejournal.com]

!!!!!!!!!!

[stella-polaris.livejournal.com]

I think I just died.


Omigod.


I want to bundle myself around this ficlet and fall asleep with it ;_;

[mad-musing.livejournal.com]

Oh my god. I'm going to add to this, if that's okay because. BECAUSE I can't help myself anymore, oh god.

What is his life, Arthur wonders, that this little girl - this beautiful little girl - could have him so wrapped around her finger? What is his life that he has a fridge full of baby formula and a house full of toys? Or that he spends most of his waking hours trying to figure out what his daughter - his daughter - is trying to tell him with her wailing?

He told his mother, "I have no idea what I'm doing." And "I am doing everything wrong." He said, "What did I get myself into?" and "I just want to do right by her." She had listened to him, quietly for once, and put a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes, when he met her gaze, were misty with tears and there was a proud smile curving her lips.

"That's how you know you're doing it right," she'd said, putting a hand on his cheek. "You'll learn. It'll get easier."

Maybe it has and maybe it hasn't, he thinks, half-exasperated and all-affectionate, as he places the sleeping baby into the crib. She looks so peaceful, wrapped in her blanket with her fists curled by her face, that he almost finds it hard to believe that she has a voice that could rival his mother's. She sighs, then, settling deeper into her blankets, and he traces the swell of her smooth, beautiful little cheek with a finger.

"Hey," Eames says, walking into the dimly-lit room. "You finally got her to sleep."

"Shh," Arthur replies absently. "Took me forever to get her down. If you wake her up, I swear to god, I will end you."

Eames chuckles. He wraps an arm around Arthur's waist, places his chin on Arthur's shoulder.

"She has your temper, that's for sure," he tells Arthur.

"And your never-ending ability to make trouble."

The baby smiles in her sleep and both of them smile with her.

And Arthur wonders what is his life that he spends it in a house that he calls home with a man he will love until he dies and a baby who fills him with such joy.

[butterflythread.livejournal.com]

*___________* <3<3

[samsamtastic.livejournal.com]

This is my life. Ohmygod. I was in the city over once and my step mom called asking what I had been up to because a friend of somebody my grandmother knows had seen me and my friends by the museum and told my grandma who called my dad.

This is perfect for Arthur.

[samsamtastic.livejournal.com]

I wasn't going to do this but now I have to because just all these things keep popping up in my head. Pardon as I run away with your idea.

I can see Arthur's family being extremely concerned that they don't know what Arthur does. He tells them something like investment banking but his third cousin Katie's fiancée is an investment banker and doesn't make as near as much money as Arthur's clothes even suggest. So they're constantly calling him with job offers, so maybe like stella_polaris said, Eames over hears one of the messages and is intrigued, not realizing it's an actual job offer at some business his uncle Louis's old college roommate started a few years go or something.

ohmygod my friend just helped me think of more things. Eames is always wondering where the things Arthur buys when they are abroad disappear to because he never sees them about Arthur's flat when he breaks in during the night comes over. And then one time he decides to find out and sneaks into a shop Arthur bought something in after it's closed and writes down the address and then does his usual background check tech thing (well probably asks Yusuf to do it for him). And it's Arthur's grandmother or something and it turns out that Arthur sends things to all of his favorite family members and because the family is so massive and loving, he sends a lot of things.

Eames should accidentally adopt a little girl from China.

[mad-musing.livejournal.com]

Eames should accidentally adopt a little girl from China.

Oh my god. And Arthur would find out and there would be much "WHAT. EAMES, WHAT THE HELL?" And Eames wouldn't care because...because he took one look at her and he was a goner. But there would also be a lot of panicking because EAMES, WHAT THE HELL. THIS IS A LITTLE PERSON. SHE IS A REAL LIVE PERSON THAT WE ARE NOW RESPONSIBLE FOR, OHMYGOD, ARE WE EVEN READY FOR THIS? Also, how do you even accidentally adopt a child??

And Eames would be all "Darling, look, isn't she PERFECT?" When Arthur looks at her, really looks at her, she laughs and coos and stretches her fat arms out to him and Arthur melts. He takes her in his arms and she grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks, making his eyes water and Eames laugh, and he kisses her forehead because it's the only way he knows how to tell her that he loves her. Suddenly and inexplicably. Just like that.

Then, cue much arguing over baby clothes and diapers and formula. Arthur wants to dress her in simple, understated clothing but Eames is all in favor of calling up his good friend Galliano to have him design a line for their little girl and Arthur says "ABSOLUTELY NOT, EAMES, I WILL NOT HAVE MY DAUGHTER LOOKING LIKE SHE STEPPED OUT OF A TRAVELING CIRCUS."

Arthur freezes when he realizes what he's just said. His daughter. He sees Eames mouthing the word with an awed expression on his face and they both look down at her, their daughter. She blinks up at them, nonplussed, then snuggles deeper into Arthur's arms and falls asleep.

Gahhhhh, okay. Somehow, this turned into Eames and Arthur as daddies and...
and Galliano's clothes are ridiculous but I have nothing against them. Just sayin' haha

[samsamtastic.livejournal.com]

Yes all of this. Ohmygod yes. Arthur would want to give her a good proper Jewish name and Eames will want her to have a traditional Chinese name and eventually they compromise and her middle name is traditional and her first name is like Rebecca or Vida or Tamar because it means palm tree.

And there will be a Bubbie Shanya who knits Arthur an amazingly soft angora baby sling in his favorite slate blue.

AND ARTHUR WILL WEAR IT AND CARRY HER AROUND THE HOUSE WHEN EAMES IS AWAY, TELLING HER FANTASTIC STORIES. AND EAMES WORK WITH YUSUF BEHIND ARTHURS BACK TO CREATE A MUCH MILDER CHEMICAL COMPOUND SO THAT WHEN SHE IS A LITTLE OLDER HER CAN TAKE HER UNDER AND GIVE HER THE WORLDS OF THE STORIES ARTHUR TELLS.

ohmygod Galliano's clothes are ridiculous no joke, I totally agree. The things he does for Dior are okay but his personal branded line needs to just go away.

[mad-musing.livejournal.com]

Ohhhhh! Oh my oh my!

Eames is tempted to burst through the door and proclaim to Arthur what a shit day he has had. Their mark is more heavily protected than they had previously thought and, instead of running into him, Eames had run into the fists of his security detail. He has a black eye and a split lip and a sore spot on his torso where one of the goons had managed to kick him.

He's tempted but it's late, and Leora (because she is the light of their lives) should be asleep by now or Arthur will be trying to put her to sleep, so he refrains.

The house is dark but there's a light on upstairs. Eames doesn't know why he does this but he doesn't turn on the lights, tiptoes through the house. Really, he's just asking for a bullet between the eyes - Arthur has become, if anything, more alert and trigger-happy since Leora came into their lives, his shoot-first, ask-questions-later tendencies coupling with his fierce desire to protect their daughter - but something compels him to creep upstairs all the same.

The only light comes from the nursery, the yellow tint of the dimmed bulb casting strange shadows on the walls. Arthur's back is to the open door and he has that angora baby sling Bubbie Shanya knit for him, for Leora, for Eames.

"The city is made of light," Arthur is saying, "and it pulses with life. The sky is bright, blinding blue and the clouds are white and fluffy. You have wings, Leora, wings that grow from your back, made of feathers and wind and freedom."

Arthur shifts his weight rhythmically from side to side as he murmurs a story of aching beauty. Leora shifts in her sling and yawns, lets out a sleepy baby-murmur and Arthur laughs softly, bends his head and brushes his nose through the black fuzz on the top of her head.

"You'll never be held back to the ground, Le," he whispers. "You'll soar with wings like an eagle's, and you'll make friends with the clouds, sit on the moon and touch the stars."

Eames leans against the doorjamb and watches, hardly daring to breathe for fear of disturbing this perfect, perfect moment. It's a shame that Leora cannot see the world her daddy has imagined for her, a shame that she's too young and too new to understand the possibilities of Arthur's dreams. When she's older, perhaps, Arthur will tell this story again, and she will delight in it as they delight in her.

"Hey, you," Arthur says, looking up at him.

"You heard me, then?" he asks, walking into the room.

Arthur raises an eyebrow at him, clearly asking if he's surprised. Eames chuckles.

"Of course you did," he says, shaking his head. "My Arthur, with the hearing of an owl."

"No, you just walk like an elephant," Arthur retorts, amusement coloring his tone. "Leora, say goodnight to your papa."

Her face lights up when she sees him, her mouth curving into a smile that looks like Arthur's. For all she isn't their daughter, she is exactly their daughter. He touches her chubby cheek and she grabs at his finger, her hand so little compared to his.

"Goodnight, beautiful," Eames whispers, bending down to brush a butterfly kiss to her forehead. She sighs happily and nuzzles into it.

"Sweet dreams."

[oaktree89.livejournal.com]

Don't lie, her name would totally be Jiao Raizel XD

BUT YES OMG and i don't even generally like kidfic, this is killing me with its adorableness