forgereames

[forgereames]

hi guys!

just wanted to pop in and say that i really hope no one feels abandoned or anything. i just don’t have muse for eames right now and i have a TON of muse for bill over on @losersclubleader. i have a discord if anyone ever wants to chat (just im me asking for it!) and you’re welcome to follow and come play with bill. i’m adding some adult verses soon so he’ll be more accessible to anyone who wants to write with him! my drafts are staying right where they are here, so no worries there. i love you all.

[forgereames]

thepointman:

Arthur waits for more, for a smirk or a laugh or even a dumb eyebrow waggle - fucking anything. Anything. Some sort of sign that this is just another Eamesian joke, because he doesn’t think he can survive the embarrassment of assuming sincerity and taking this seriously only to find out that such feelings are merely one-sided. 

He’s reminded with a visceral jolt of their first time together - or rather, within the minutes preceding, the exact moment he stared at Eames and realized the thief’s nonchalance, so direly at odds with his own jittery, chattering nerves. 

How is it that he, at thirty-six, after over fifteen years of being so utterly and unwaveringly capable that he basically has what is as close to fucking tenure as one can get in dreamshare, is still susceptible to feeling horribly naked before the eyes of this one, singular man.

What if.

“Where would we even get married?” Arthur blurts out before his (over)thinking induces an aneurysm. “I mean, the practical benefits of marriage require at least some level of permanent residence in the country in which the marriage license is obtained; half the point of getting married is the legal rights that come with it - and this doesn’t even touch on the nightmare of navigating the fucking mess of fake identities we both have and making sure we get married under ones that aren’t wanted in more than four - no, three - countries,

“Unless you want to use our real ones, which -” would mean that this is real, that this isn’t a joke, and that this is happening. That they have just or are currently, in this exact moment proposing to each other in their own bizarre, incomprehensible ways. 

Arthur looks hopelessly at Eames. 

“Are we really doing this? Right now?” 

Arthur thinks, and Eames waits, and he thinks he just might explode into flames. He’s not usually the type to get nervous or anxious or anticipatory -- whatever will happen will happen, and he’ll deal with it. That’s how he usually handles things. But this? This isn’t like any situation he’s ever encountered, and Arthur has always been his weak point. Arthur, Eames can’t read. So he’s left struggling in the silence, just waiting, wondering if he’s made one of the largest mistakes in his life.

Then Arthur speaks, but it doesn’t serve to ease Eames’ worries. He blinks and frowns; that’s Arthur’s response? He’s worried about where they’ll get married? Of all the responses he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. Arthur starts droning on, and Eames fights the urge to sigh. He suddenly feels fidgety; frustrated. He shouldn’t have gone here; Arthur’s made that clear. Of all the things to worry about... Normally Arthur’s ramblings are adorable or endearing, but now? A perfect indicator of how badly he’s fucked up.

But then... Then, Arthur looks at him, hopelessness in his eyes. Eames realizes with a sudden jolt, that for once in his life, Arthur doesn’t know what he’s doing. And neither does Eames. They’re in this boat together. Except... Except Eames has always had Arthur’s surety to lean on, and now he has none. 

Are we really doing this? Right now? He wants to say no. He wants to take the easy out, and tell Arthur to forget it, and he wants to continue on like nothing has happened. But he’s never been a fan of backing down, and now that the thought’s in his head, he won’t be able to shake it out.

So he takes a step forward, steels himself, and gives Arthur perhaps the most honest look he’s ever given him as he stands no more than a foot or two away, taking one of Arthur’s hands in his.

“Yes,” he says, utterly confident, despite the hammering of his heart in his chest. “Is it really such a crazy idea?” To Eames, nothing sounds crazy. Not with the lives they lead. “Tell me...” Eames says, and suddenly his voice grows quieter, more intimate, light gaze studying Arthur’s face closely. “Tell me that if everything could work out perfectly, it’s not what you’d want, and I’ll forget about it right here and now.” He tilts his head. “But if it is what you’d want, then... Don’t we deserve to give it a chance?” A smirk tugs onto his face then. “You’ve taken plenty of chances on me before. How many of those have you regretted?” 

[forgereames]

thepointman:

[Text: Eames] “Meaner”.

[Text: Eames] What is this, grade school? 

[Text: Eames] I’m eating cheese and crackers and getting drunk off $100 wine, so I’d say I’m having a pretty miserable time, actually.

[Text: Eames] No, nevermind. I found the salami. So I’m actually having a very good time.

[Text: Darling] Mhm. Would you expect anything else?

[Text: Darling] Also...that sounds absolutely miserable. I was going to say it could be worse, but I’m not sure that’s possible.

[forgereames]

                 If we stick together, all of us. We’ll win.

[forgereames]

is this us breaking up

ANNOUNCEMENT

hey guys, i’m super busy with school and on my other blog (@losersclubleader) and i just don’t have time to be over here right now. i hate putting eames on hiatus, but i’m just super into bill rn and am having a blast over there. feel free to message me over there if you wanna chat! i may hop on to do threads with @thepointman and a few others, and i’ll check in regularly. love you guys

[forgereames]

thepointman:

[Text: Eames] That was a terrible play on words. I hate it.

[Text: Eames] I’m pretty sure “the job ran long” is grounds for suing a private employer. This is, of course, secondary to the fact that you’re being contracted for highly illegal activities. Pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well in court.

[Text: Darling] I didn’t ask for your logic. I’d say something meaner, but it’s your birthday. Being mean is against the rules.

[Text: Darling] Please tell me you’re having a wonderful time without me. It’ll make me feel better.

[forgereames]

actually i abandoned everyone else. you are, specifically, the only one that i said i most likely wasn’t abandoning.

ANNOUNCEMENT

hey guys, i’m super busy with school and on my other blog (@losersclubleader) and i just don’t have time to be over here right now. i hate putting eames on hiatus, but i’m just super into bill rn and am having a blast over there. feel free to message me over there if you wanna chat! i may hop on to do threads with @thepointman and a few others, and i’ll check in regularly. love you guys

[forgereames]

ANNOUNCEMENT

hey guys, i’m super busy with school and on my other blog (@losersclubleader) and i just don’t have time to be over here right now. i hate putting eames on hiatus, but i’m just super into bill rn and am having a blast over there. feel free to message me over there if you wanna chat! i may hop on to do threads with @thepointman and a few others, and i’ll check in regularly. love you guys

[forgereames]

thepointman:

[Text: Eames] And I will once again remind you that you’re the one married to and regularly fucking this 15-year-old.

[Text: Eames] Thank you for the birthday wishes.

[Text: Eames] But I’m definitely still mad at you for being on a job during my birthday.

[Text: Darling] Do you always have to bring pedophilia into the mix? It’s really getting old.

[Text: Darling] If I could be there, you know I would. The job ran long. Remind me to sue my employers after they pay me my full share.

[forgereames]

Happy 40th Birthday Tom Hardy

[forgereames]

Happy 40th Birthday Tom Hardy!

[forgereames]

heyyyy i’m gonna drop some threads! i’ll be back on here semi-regularly now, but i just have too many and i wanna get it back under control. thank you for understanding!

[forgereames]

@thepointman

[Text: Darling] Happy birthday, darling.

[Text: Darling] If you thought I’d forget and miss an opportunity to make fun of you for still looking like a 15-year-old, you’re sorely mistaken.

[forgereames]

taking a few days’ break from here to work on my IT blog. check out bill if you’re interested (this is the last time i’ll plug him!!) (that’s probably a lie!!)

[forgereames]

You make the coffee stronger and stronger, but it seems to do less and less.

[forgereames]

explodingpens:

It wasn’t like Quin was a rude person. But he was definitely a creature of habit and while the other man’s habitual presence wasn’t unwelcome it was, he realised, a bit odd. 

They’d never even introduced themselves and it was nearly every day that they were riding this thing together and Quin was very, very bad at these things. Social things. They weren’t his forte, at all. And maybe it wasn’t the not-quite-stranger’s forte, either. Maybe they were doomed to this pattern until one them was either moved or was hit by a bus. 

That - was definitely not something he should say out loud. 

“Shit,” he hissed as the elevator stopped on its tracks. He kept his computer bag close to his side as he pressed his shoulder against the wall to keep himself on his feet. God fucking damn it. 

Quin looked to the other man as he spoke, blinking in surprise. It was more likely that the man could speak than not, but he still found himself - shocked. “Uh, yes, yeah,” he said, scrambling to keep from stumbling over his words like an idiot. Quin reached up to slide his glasses up his nose, sniffing. “Very unfortunate. I hope you didn’t have a date or anything.” Wait. Was that rude? “I mean - not that you shouldn’t, but, you know,” he waved a hand awkwardly to the elevator at large, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. “Fuck. I’m Quin,” he held out his hand to shake because - what else was he supposed to do? “Quincy, but. Quin.”

A slow, amused smile spread over Eames’ face as the man attempted -- and failed -- to make polite, totally-not-awkward small talk. It was amusing, and a little adorable, and definitely endearing, and by the time he got to his name, there was cordial mirth in Eames’ eyes. Quincy. Not a name you heard often, but Eames didn’t think on it much more than that. Eames took his hand firmly, giving it a shake.

“Eames,” he said easily, then amended. “Well, James, but only Mother calls me that.” He said the word Mother with amused disdain; nothing serious, but a clear dislike. He didn’t like his mother one bit, and perhaps that was too much to be conveying to a total stranger, but he allowed to words to pass nonetheless. When better than when stuck in an elevator? They were trapped here; Quin was forced to listen to his babble.

“I’m sorry that it took an elevator stopping to force us to talk,” Eames said, and then allowed his eyes to wander from Quin’s face to the elevator surroundings. The lights had dimmed to half and there was a red button blinking on the top right corner of the control panel; no doubt a sign that help had been alerted, but who knew if help would actually come.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” he asked idly, eyes wandering up to the ceiling. “Days? Weeks?” He was joking, mostly; his mouth curved up in an amused sort of smile. Perhaps he was too calm about the situation, but what use was there worrying? 

[forgereames]

a-kitten-with-claws:

In a move that was most likely inadvisable (given they had only just met) and definitely far too forward, Kit linked her free arm around the one that Mr Eames used to keep them guarded from a further soaking, the other clutching desperately onto her Birkin as if it held the crown jewels. “All part of it’s charm I reckon. I mean, have you tried walking around this city when it’s all sunny and hot? That’s even worse than rain to me. Get’s you so sweaty and flustered…”.

Despite her words, a good dose of sunshine, a few lazy hours at a riverside bar or hotel, downing cocktails as the world passed by, would be excellent. Even if it were just one day to break the monotony of grey. And there she was thinking it terms of alcohol again….she really must stop that!

In a concerted effort to distract herself, Kit asked “What’s your favourite combo of time of year and place? I know you’re well traveled, so you must have had a few moments of bliss on your jaunts?”.

Eames’ brows raised as Kit linked her arm through his, but he didn’t protest. They were becoming fast friends, something he didn’t mind one bit. She was charming, and smart, and certainly wonderful company. All he really looked for in a person, really. Eames wasn’t picky about acquaintances, but friends, he was entirely choosey about. And she was someone he definitely wouldn’t mind being friends with, should circumstances allow it.

“Mm, you’ve a point there. Summer is brutal, I’ll give you that." It didn’t compare to some of the places he’d been, but it was certainly unbearable at times. At the question, Eames’ mouth tugged up in a pleased smile, and he tilted his head as he thought. “Mm. I do love California in the Autumn, when I go to the States.” It was truly lovely, one of his favorite places, and certainly his favorite in the States. 

“And Spain. Barcelona, specifically. Really, any time of year, there.” He smiled, thinking of the time he’d spent there. “And you? Travelled anywhere you like better than jolly ol’ London?”