#Sebastian Moran things

[bestdamnshot]

Idk if anyone knows that my brother’s name is actually Sebastian. & well you can imagine what that’s done to us with the Sebastian Moran jokes/references/ nicknames bc yes I’ve called him bash/ basher/bashy since he’s been like 5 🥲 among other Sebastian related variations of the name ofc. & he knows where it all comes from. & I Guess just has accepted it by now bc it’s been a thing for the majority of his conscious existence.

But yesterday he pulled such an obvious reference to Moran that honestly took my brain a sec to compute bc it was super obvious but pretty out of character for him bc he isn’t huge into Sherlock or anything. He was being a dick to my cat & I was annoyed & i don’t even know why I said this but it came out without really thinking.

i told him to leave him alone or I’d bite his nipples off. & without skipping a beat he told me to calm down tiger. Which made me pause bc my brain immediately went to Moran but not in the way he meant. so I asked him.

“wait is this a Moran reference?” & he went. “yeah, you know the tiger that ripped his nipple off or whatever?”

Guys!! He remembered KK & that bit with the nipple 🥹

& in that moment he pulled one over me 🥲

[likesdoodling]

I have a lot of pictures in my 'random stage plays' folder. So here's some stuff from Moriarty the Patriot. Cause I can. And yes. I am avoiding my colouring responsibilities, but lineart is so much quicker~

:)

[cawcawkarasu]

Role Playing

“Hey Fred, do you-” Whatever it was, Moran stopped at the sighting of William and Louis in Fred’s room. “What are you guys doing here?”

Louis looked like he was caught in doing some crime, but William’s signature smile washed his doubts away. “Moran, what perfect timing, may I bother you to call brother Albert here?”

Moran raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief, but obeyed without questions in the end.

After he left, Louis whispered, “Do you think the trick works, Bonde?”

“Don't worry, Fred.” Bonde, who had just finished taking off William's disguise, winked, “We did just fine.”

[antisatiric]

💭 + moran !

thoughts on @tocliimb ( sebastian moran )!

"Haha! Well, he's a real sweetheart when you get as close to him as I have, for starters. I mean it---he pushes back against a lot but I push back too, so, y'know, we're even. But he really is sweet. He's... I know he's dealt with a lotta shit in his life and there's a lotta shit still affecting him, but he does the best he can. And the best he can is actually a lot. I mean, he let me move in with him. He asked me to move in with him, even. No matter how he acts, he's a good guy. And he's fun to pick on. And I love him."

thoughts on characters. / accepting.

[teenbasher]

at what point in his life do you think Seb stop caring if he got in trouble because he knew he would just get sent to another, shittier military/catholic school than the one he was at.

at what age do you think, he had seen every single reaction he could get from his dad/ teachers/ headmasters/ cops even. & just gave zero fucks of what came next bc he had been there enough times to know he would come out of it alive? at what age do you think Seb got over authority figures and became truly unhinged in indulging his darker impulses because he became ungovernable until he met Jim ofc.

[tiger-moran]

Characters/pairings: Sebastian Moran/James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/Dr John Watson, Mary Watson, Inspector Lestrade, Inspector Gregson, original minor characters

Rating: teen

Summary: With Moriarty back in London with Moran, Holmes reunites with Watson and seeks to arrest the murderer of the Honourable Ronald Adair. (In which someone is dead, two people formerly presumed dead are alive, two separated lovers are reunited, Moran attempts to make a point, Lestrade is frustrated and Mary Watson holds the key to Holmes learning that he is still capable of being wrong sometimes.)

Set around The Empty House

Contents/warnings for overall fic: brief references to murder and/or a possible suicide; briefly referenced past miscarriage; brief descriptions of an injury; implied sexual content (but no sex is actually shown in this one); swearing

Notes: concluding part of my Non omnis moriar trilogy

[nanaminokanojo]

I wanna go back to my literary roots and start writing English historical romance because goddammit Sebastian Moran, why do you have to look like a whole ass snack?!

[hergan416]

The lyrics don't actually match listening now, but now that I've been reminded of "Some Nights" as a song, the vibes I've always got off it remind me of Moran.

I really should do more with that man. He's such a good character and I neglect him unfairly. I also make him a 2D sex object when he is honestly so much more than that.

[femboykyo]

My partner and I were doing a cute little rp of this couple(before they date) meeting at a movie of their favorite book series and they talk about how gay the captain and first mate are but are upset that the books had the gay couple marry women in the end. And our rp pair was saying this one scene where the Capitan and first mate had been captured and the Capitan was under the influence of an aphrodisiac. they were thrown into a cell together they were pressed against each other, breathing heavy and their hands were behind them😳...... So anyway I'm writing a story of a captain and a first mate absolutely pining the fuck for each other and that scene will be there😊 Would u want to read it when it's finished?

[winter-steele]

Concerning Jim and Seb, I think this sentiment goes both ways. 

[bestdamnshot]

Having the Dorian plot, makes me think Seb would have silly moments like this with his son in private sometimes. You know he hates the attention outside

@artsymoriarty

[fangirlsovertoomanythings]

Speaking of Moriarty, the fact that Holmes mentions that he had "hereditary tendencies" for crime is really interesting to me. I personally don't believe that a person is cursed to be an eternal ouroboro of one's parents, but the way that Holmes phrases it really makes me think that Moriarty's father was a criminal aswell, and a pretty dangerous one at that, which would almost certainly grant him the gallows as a final destination

All I'm saying is that the three Moriarty brothers (the train station guy mentioned in The Valley of Fear, The Man The Myth The Legend, and the Colonel) could've all reacted differently to his sentence, but also had some certainty that they would never become like him. While that does make Moriarty's descent into crime more painful to the family one they realize what truly happened in Reichenbach, it's still an interesting perspective to see Moriarty hesitate at first once he started flirting with criminal activity

Tying one last headcanon here: this apparent hesitation that could've surfaced in this scenario is what makes me think that, when he met Moran, he was already working as a hitman and the Professor just decided to take him under his service after he learned about the fact. I can not, for the love of me, imagine him corrupting Moran just like Raffles corrupted Bunny, sorry, that crusty old man was already corrupt when they met and that’s why their braincells vibrate in unison

[mormorproposal]

I probably won't ever finish the shards of my aphasia au mormor fic, HOWEVER I still feel like posting it, soooo have at it under the cut, if you wanna read it :)

apha·​sia

(n.) loss or impairment of the power to use or comprehend words usually resulting from brain damage

Your teeth tear up my skin without a single hint of remorse. You simply latch onto me as is your given right. Hands dig into my hips, I relax against the fridge. It isn’t ideal but who am I to negate anything from you ever?

It’s going to bruise. Your palms etched onto my skin like ghosts. We’ve done worse to each other, I know – still, it’s the imprecision behind it all that keeps me up at night.

You used to map my body with delicate rivers plastered on me. Precise. Fine lines, sharp edges, the most complicated brush strokes. I was there to ride out your artistic urges. The new art style needs adjustment to. I’m not used to you being out of control, it sets me on edge slightly.

But it is still you after all, even after everything, so I relax and let you do your personal kind of therapy. Pain and blood is what we always communicated best in, anyways.

You set upon sucking my skin in between your teeth, keeping a rhythm of releasing my flesh and trapping it again. My eyes flutter shut, the hand that is on your back pressing you more tightly against me. Responsively, your nails are scratching at my skin through my shirt. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to and something in me feels like breaking.

“Jim,” I croak. Your eyes wander upwards, meet my gaze, hold it. I want to pick you up, cradle you, keep you safe from harm, bash anyone’s head in who makes you feel small. There’s a quick jab in my upper torso. What?

I exhale a ragged breath I was unaware of ever holding and shake my head slightly. Your teeth sink deeper, drawing blood. I groan. Boss didn’t like that.

Still, you resume your work, searching for another place to bear pain. I do not think about the implications. Do not think about what it means. I certainly don’t think about your eyes. Haunting me, pleading me to take it all away. I stiffen; your left hand clumsily pushing against my side in discontent. I wince. Look up to the ceiling and blink. Do not cry, Moran!

***

The doctor eventually leaves us to it. One last look of sympathy and she’s out of the door. I hate her already.

“You look awful, sir” I say for lack of better words. It feels hollow. You hate small talk and here I am talking away. You simply grunt, disapproval encapsulated in it. I don’t blame you. It’s not every day that you wake up in a hospital room after blowing your brains out. I hate you for that, you know? The thought of what could’ve been if I hadn’t been quick enough gnaws at my insides; I have to watch your chest raising and lowering to keep my own breathing in check.

You could’ve died and that just wouldn’t do. Holmes is dead, after all – I saw him jump myself. I had orders to watch Watson, I know, I know, I know but then there was the gunshot ringing and how could I not look. Surely you know me better than that. You are always my first priority. Always have been, always will be.

“You won, in case no one told you yet.” How could they possibly have? Last time they saw you, you were still unconscious, staining the concrete. I swallow and you watch my Adam's apple bob, something like triumph glinting in your eyes. You open your mouth at that, exhale shakily, and knit your eyebrows together in confusion. Maybe the glint was just a trick of the light. Your mouth closes and opens again; fish on dry land.

I have crossed the room in an instance, press down on your shoulder lightly. “What’s wrong?” The metal of the hospital bed is cool against my triceps and I can’t shake the thought of Everything. “Great” You mutter eventually, nodding to yourself, before shaking your head a small fraction. “Great” You repeat again, facing me this time and smiling. It doesn’t reach your eyes and something in my heart goes terribly cold. Sure, you aren’t in the bestest of conditions but your looming win shouldn’t feel this gloomy. You should be ecstatic, if anything. Bordering on manic. I’ve planned it all out for us, honestly. The restaurant we’d celebrate at. The camera in our room, only waiting for us to shag, a sympathy card for the upcoming funeral.

This doesn’t feel like anything celebratory at all. Hasn’t felt that way when all the doctor had for me was a sympathetic look and a referral to another doc, and certainly doesn’t feel that way now with you actually staying in bed instead of yanking me to you, insisting you shall be out here at once!

“Phon” You manage to mumble near the direction of my hand on your shoulder, then again. “Phon, phon, phon!” It grows more frantic each time, stumbles out of your mouth, tickles the skin on my hand. You laugh. Bubbles out of you, bounces off the walls, rings in my ears. You choke on it, possibly as surprised by the sound as I am. My brows knit together in confusion. The next giggle has panic vibrating through it. “Ligert” You sigh when the shaking of your shoulders subsides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phon, in this context, is supposed to be the word "won" & Ligert is supposed to be the word "Tiger" - both of which faced a common symptom of fluent aphasia (namely: phonemic paraphasia during which incorrect phonemes are substituted or, as for the t in ligert, added)

[shadowstarkanada]

A Betting Man

Louis just wanted to enjoy a bit of tea between first and second sleep.

I did a prompt lol.

Your character, a superhero, is sitting in the kitchen when his partner comes in, their arch nemesis willingly in tow. When the superhero asks what the heck is going on, the partner says: "I won him in a poker game."

[tiger-moran]

Characters/pairings: Sebastian Moran/James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Wordcount: approx. 5,500 words

Contents/warnings: referenced sex (not explicit), mentions of past character death, there's a very brief mention of past child abuse, angst

Summary: Moran is Moriarty's weapon, his guardian, his devoted worshipper. (In which Moran is devoted to Moriarty, Holmes is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths, and there is a waterfall.)

Notes: Because I've never liked the other fics I wrote about what happened at the Reichenbach Falls. And because I think Holmes is mistaken or not being totally truthful about some of the events that happened there.

Also the Holmes/Watson part is kind of a background thing here but it's definitely still there.

[antisatiric]

" is he supposed to look like that? "

"You shut the fuck up right now!"

Twain scowls, letting the poor lizard run free. Being caught by giant, freakish creatures and then being called ugly has got to be a low blow of some kind, so freedom seems like an appropriate repayment for the inconvenience and tanked self-esteem.

"Don't you ever say that about a lizard again. I'll kill you." He reaches out, pokes Sebastian in the chest, and puts on his best stern-or-maybe-angry face. "That was literally my son you just insulted. I birthed him myself. Bet you feel real stupid now, you son of a bitch!"

the mummy. / accepting.