~ it all seems a horrible dream! ~
THIS LIVEJOURNAL POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY:
- ~DAMON RUNYON~ ~FRANK LOESSER~ ~CHRIS NOLAN~ ~THE FACT THAT EVERYTHING IN INCEPTION FANDOM IS A HIVEMIND~
1. bossymarmalade's FANTASTIC YUSUF/EAMES FIC, "Mine I'll Leave To Chance." omfg omfg Yusuf/Eames like I always want to read about them, hot and intimate and friendly and GUH. and YUSUF HERE, omfg, so insightful and casual and sardonic. I love him so much. YEAH, CHEMISTRY. :D :D : D: D:D
2. a few weeks ago i filled a prompt for the kink meme! and now i will repost it. the prompt was: DICE-SWALLOWING. YES. YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT. :D
gotta have the game or we'll die from shame.
Prompt: "English gambling dens used to have employees whose job it was to swallow the dice if the police arrived."
AU based on this fact!!
The first time, all Eames really registers is that the guy next to him, with whom Eames has been blandly, unsuccessfully flirting for the last four hands, has suddenly grabbed him by the arm and is dragging him away from the table and towards the back door. It takes another moment for him to make out the muffled sound of boots just outside the entrance.
"Oh, so now you want to find some place more private?" says Eames, all the breath rushing out of him when the guy shoves him through the door out into the alley. They're roughly about ten seconds ahead of any of the other patrons, but the mad dash is upon them, and Eames takes a second look at the person who's just enabled his easy escape. White suit, hair slicked back like a 50's greaser, and -- oh, jesus, as Eames watches, he lifts the pair of dice he's holding and swallows them both down, one after the other, without so much as a grimace.
Eames blinks, catches his gaze for a second--fleeting hint of wryness there, after all, and that's good, because jesus, he did just swallow die, he can't be that inhuman--and then they're being shoved out of the way by the mad dash of patrons rushing to leave before the cops find them.
Eames just laughs and strolls away.
Eames' chosen paramour for the night, a rail-thin rat-packer with an acidic voice and an even more acidic wit, has been scanning the room exits carefully for the last fifteen seconds. You don't get to be good in his line of work without recognizing when the game's about to change, which is why Eames casually folds and steps away from the table as if nothing's wrong. He debates going to cash in his chips, but the tables are starting to stir, and the rat-packer has calmly moved around to the table-master. He whispers something low in his ear and then reaches over and pockets the die. That's it. Eames heads for the nearest exit instead.
Eames registers a flicker of satisfaction when his paramour falls into step beside him. "You'll want to take the north exit to the stairwell," he says, and it's bland enough, but Eames doesn't miss the urgency his voice. "Come with me."
There's something vaguely familiar about all this, but at the core all casinos are exactly the same, as are all their inhabitants; and Eames doesn't twig to the fact that something other than adrenaline is spiking in his veins until he casts a sidelong glance at the thin-lipped look of impatience on his companion's face.
"Wait," he says. "Wait."
The rat packer flashes him the shortest grin Eames has ever seen, barely a flicker and then gone. "I knew you didn't remember me," he says, and shakes his head. Eames knows that look well, too--it's a 'seen your type before, all you gamblers are alike' look. And that does get Eames' attention, because if there's anything Eames isn't, it's willing to be written off at first glance. Or, well, second, in this case.
"Bristol," he says. "Grosvenor. You didn't let me make a single move on you. A shame, that."
The suit just rolls his eyes. "This way," he says, and leads Eames past a supply closet into a hallway, where several people are already starting to gather.
"Do you always turn down potential dates and then kick them out into alleyways?" Eames asks, following him through an unexpected laundry room and out onto a loading dock. "Hell of a way to try to impress me, love," he says. "A boy might start to think you didn't like him."
The suit just looks at him. "If I didn't like you," he responds, still without so much as flinching, "You'd be getting arrested right now."
Then he swallows the dice.
Eames blinks. "Who are you?" he says.
This time the grin, though it still lasts only a moment, is real--an all-over dimpled wonder that makes Eames throat feel suddenly tight.
"If you ever see me again, Mr. Eames," he says, "You can call me Arthur."
They're running a bit behind schedule, possibly because Eames has been steadily dragging his hand up and down Arthur's thigh all night, and even though Arthur has barely moved a muscle the whole time, he's also failed to anticipate the onslaught of police hammering down the gaming-hell doors.
Eames allows himself to feel exultant at what it means that he's managed to so thoroughly distract Arthur. It's a short-lived satisfaction, however, when Arthur grimaces, grabs the die with one hand and Eames' wrist with another, and swallows while dragging Eames towards the back of the room.
"We have got to stop meeting like this," Eames says, while Arthur chokes.
Arthur winces, says, "I think you have the easy part," and shoves him up the stairs.
4. "You have got to be joking," says Eames when the raid sirens go off. "Sirens? Honestly."
Arthur, for the record, seems equally frustrated, and a full two or three seconds pass, his thumb lingering on the back of Eames' neck, before he makes a move towards the die. He frowns when he does, and it's not a 'great, more narrow brushes with law enforcement' kind of frown; it's a 'great, the moment's ruined' kind of frown.
And Eames, who knows all about being reckless at casinos, is nonetheless totally unprepared for the shock of affection that hits him then, which is the only excuse he can make for why he bumps Arthur's hand out of the way, grabs the pair of dice himself, and says, "Come along, then," as he reaches for Arthur's hand.
He's gotten familiar enough with the layouts of these places he can practically find his own way towards the furthest exit without assistance, which is probably why Arthur doesn't speak, just slips his fingers through Eames' and fastens his eyes to the back of Eames' neck as they high-tail it outside. Eames can feel his gaze like a low simmer, heating him all over.
So, yes, it's purely adrenaline that makes Eames pop the dice into his mouth and gulp--first one, then the other--once they reach the exit.
He swallows hard, a few times, but--"That wasn't so bad, really," he says, running his thumb over Arthur's wrist.
Arthur snorts. "I didn't say going down was the hard part," he says.
Arthur just curls his hand around Eames' neck again and says, "Hell of a way to try to impress me, Mr. Eames."
It's so conspiratorial, so intimate, that even though in the back of his mind Eames is aware that he should be making a timely escape right about now, he can't resist murmuring, "Darling, if you only knew the lengths I'd go to--"
Arthur kisses him, full and deep.
"We have got to start meeting like this," Eames gasps when he finally manages to drag himself away from exploring the slope of Arthur's mouth.
Arthur laughs, a sharp burst of enjoyment that finds its echo in the warmth spreading through Eames' chest.
He's still beaming stupidly at Arthur when the door breaks down.
3. epistolic FILLED MY GUYS & DOLLS!AU PROMPT AND IT IS SO SO GLORIOUS, I AM IN LOVE. omfg omfg. YOU GUYS. YUSUF IS NICELY NICELY AND ARIADNE IS BENNY SOUTHSTREET, AND IT JUST GETS MORE BRILLIANT FROM THERE, I CAN'T EVEN. L;KJSDDS. *BEATS THINGS IN GLEE* GO! READDDDD OMG.
4. LET'S WATCH STUBBY KAYE TEACH US ABOUT DREAMING. :D
THAT'S THE MOMENT I WOKE UP - THANK THE LORD :D :D :D
oh my god you guys i have like 5 more incredible things i wanted to link but fandom has been so awesome lately i can't keep up WHAT IF I MISS RECCING ALL THE INCREDIBLE THINGS ILU GUYS ILU ALL OK <3
amazingly, i have more to add to this post! because of all wondrous things that wonder, dybji has written an inverse Guys and Dolls AU: The World-Wide Weakness, in which Arthur is Adelaide, and Eames is Nathan Detroit, and it's so marvelous that if I were a bell I'd be ringing.