Tag: mormor

Storytime For Sebastian (Beeblock Fic)

random-ficcery:

Title: Storytime For Sebastian (Also On AO3)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters/Pairings: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran
Word Count: 1,131
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even my usual pairing in this fandom, not profiting, all hail Moffat, Gatiss, and the Beeb!
Warnings: Implications of men in relationships with men, non-graphic references to violence, inappropriate use of scrapbooking materials.
Summary: Sebastian’s in a coma, Jim’s waiting for him to wake up.
Author’s Notes: Lady-Karasu shared This Tumblr Post with me (same as linked above) , and her tags were pretty much a prompt – at least as far as the Muse was concerned. Bearing in mind the fact that she has been slowly infesting – I mean familiarizing – me with many things in the Moriarty/Moran category, I could pretty much immediately see the scenario. Also, I wanted to write it for her; because, even though RL has been kicking her in the shins about as much as it has me lately (if not more!), she has still found the time and the kindness to be a very good friend to me, as well as an awesome RP-buddy. Hope you like it, bebe! *huggaluvs*

Gah! I’d thought I had reblogged this earlier, then I realized it was still pending, so clearly I must rectify this.  Random – oh lovely, dear, sweet Random – wrote me this beautiful fic to cheer me up.  It did brilliantly, and I flailed and loved every moment of it because it’s exactly what I had in mind when the idea first occurred to me, and she rendered it beautifully into text.  Thank you, dear – I adore this. ❤ (and you ^_^)

napoleongonewrong:

Do you remember how many times?

I don’t suppose you kept track…

Of every single time you’ve looked into my eyes, and for one split second, all you could feel was your heart skipping a beat in your chest; because for that moment — at the very least — you were fooled. You began to doubt.

Doubt the man hiding behind my eyes.

I know you did.

Even if you got better at hiding it as the years went by.

But you’d be lying if you tried to claim that it didn’t scare you, excite you, or freak you out to see it.

If I can convince you that I’m not the man you’ve known for so long, or at least put that glimmer of doubt in your mind, then I know I can convince just about anyone.

You’ve known me too long now, though. You’ve seen too many of my acts.

I can no longer pull off a full act for you. You could look at any personality I have to throw at you, and you’d know that it really wasn’t me, no matter how deep it ran in my eyes.

But it still terrifies you.

To think that the man you know, your boss, your lover, whatever you wish to call me, could possibly be someone you don’t know. Someone you don’t understand the way you think you do.

It’s because of that, though, that at this point, it all bleeds together for you.

Did you notice that?

You don’t even see it anymore…

You’ve forgotten how to see past any word.

I couldn’t walk up to you and say that my name was Peter or Charles, that I work in construction or even in a restaurant…

But I can tell you absolutely anything, and as long as I pair it with my own face, that dark look in my eyes, the one that’s been described as ‘the monster staring back from hell’…well, you’ll believe it.

If I wanted a long show, I could convince you that I love you.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

At least for a time.

Until you understood it was just a game, or until I got bored and gave away the truth.

I tell you that I want you dead, your skin across my wall, an elaborate decoration.

You’d believe that, too.

You see, my dear… You’ve become so conditioned to the idea of something huge and obvious that you can see that coming a mile away. But you’ve forgotten about the little things.

You’ve forgotten that every bit of me, no matter how small or big, is all just a thousand little bits constructed together.

Things that work. Things that make sense. Things that fit together.

So even if you do remember, even if you can count all the times you know I’ve fooled you, you’d still be wrong.

Scent

cheshiresden:

A little fic hiyokofreedom who requested something with Seb and Jim and the prompt perfume/scent. Hope you’ll like it. ❤

And sorry, I chickened out when things were about to get steamy. u_u;

*****

Scent

Jim Moriarty’s exterior was always impeccable. ‘Dress to impress’ were not just empty words for him. He knew the power of a tailored suit, matching accessories, a perfectly kempt hairstyle. And of course his scent had to match his ensemble as well.

For this reason he enjoyed ordering the most expensive of fragrances from all over the world. Of course he had his favourites but oddly enough it was not the scent of a perfume that he enjoyed the most when it came to smells.

No, it was nothing that he could buy bottled or that needed to be imported. Nothing that needed harvesting from expensive flowers or rare ingredients.

Actually it was rather simple.

Read More

anoblemindo-erthrown:

“This is what my life is going be like! Because of the pain, and the drugs I take for the pain, and the drugs I take the side-effects of the other drugs…You’ve seen it. And it’s only going to get worse. Life is all up here really, but it takes over. Gradually I’ll slip further into thinking solely about pain. And that’s not worth living for!”

Jim Moriarty has never been one for birthdays, even his own. That’s why, when he announces that they’re taking a trip to the coast this year, Seb’s suspicious. He’d never known Jim to do something without some type of ulterior motive, but he decides to shut up and enjoy the break from work. When they arrive at the beach Jim tells him the real reason that they’re here, and Sebastian doesn’t know what’s worse; the fact that it feels like his entire world had just splintered in two or that there wasn’t one ounce of surprise in his body.