sound and fury signifying nothing


Sebastian Moran, 39. Jim Moriarty's chief-of-staff, bodyguard and sniper.


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15
Jan
Fall, cluing for looks, -SH, hound

FALL: If my muse was about to sacrifice themselves for yours, what would their last words be?

What does it matter? If it got to that point, you wouldn’t be around to hear them.

CLUING FOR LOOKS: What is the most embarrassing thing my muse has done whilst drunk?

Gone home with… a woman.

- SH: What is the most important thing my muse has ever found out by text?

I need you. -JM

HOUND: Has my muse ever been drugged? Who drugged them? Did they know?

You know damn well that you’ve drugged me before, you- sir. I had a suspicion, but better drugged than disappointing, yeah?


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4
Jan

fly like paper

youroldfashionedvillain:

Ooh good, very good. Jim had expected Sebastian to offer some meager form of protest for him to have to waste words on dismissing, and yet there he was, the obedient little soldier boy, all yessirs and near-immediate acquiescence to however flighty a request he could make.

While it was not the immediate intent of the decision to fly away somewhere, the flicker of thought that crossed Sebastian’s face knew that it would become a test of how fast he could think on his feet under duress and at the point of exhaustion. Already he was running calculations on how well he would perform, and setting expectations for Sebastian to either fail miserably or exceed them brilliantly.

His mood was far too manic for him to care overmuch either way, if he was to be honest.

He was never to be honest.

For the moment, his body language read impatience. Sebastian was being far too slow in gathering their things so they could simply leave, and lest he start pacing the foyer, or walking circles into the rug around the neat stack of suitcases, he rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet and back again, eyes darting this way and that to take in every tick of Sebastian’s movements, learning how he moved when he was so exhausted so it might be wrought into plans in the future if need be.

"Where are we going, dear?"

"America," Sebastian replied, much more confidently than he felt.

He finished packing quickly, although he’d only managed to grab the essentials. He could read the warning in the fact that Moriarty was asking questions at all, and his actions became faster, no matter how much he was dying to slow down and slow down until he could rest, doze off, catch up on all the sleep he’d missed. His eyes were starting to sting, and that always worried him. It didn’t help that he couldn’t bring any weapons with him, not even his usual handgun. There was no way they’d get through security if he did, not with how little time he had to organise their movements through the airport.

"Right, after you, sir," he added hastily, shouldering the bag he’d packed and nodding towards the door. "Does getting a taxi to the airport suit you?"

Hailing a cab would save waiting for their driver to get organised and get over here, and someone else driving would give Sebastian the chance to get security at the airport and, hopefully, a flight sorted, during the journey there. He’d picked America because of its balance between being a frequented destination, its relative closeness, and the prevalence of English there. There was the most chance of a flight there being free, and the opportunity of getting a connecting flight to somewhere else in the country once there, it was only a seven hour flight to the east coast, and he wouldn’t have to spend the flight brushing up on some obscure European language.


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11
Dec


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6
Dec


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5
Dec

youroldfashionedvillain:

tas-tic:

Michael Fassbender Photo Set 9 - His Abs

image


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30
Nov


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] Yes it is. -JM

[Text] I called someone to have it done. -JM

[Text] You’ll be paying for it. -JM

[Unsent text] I would rather have

[Text] Cheers. See you in five. - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] The point is to not be at the flat while you repair it. -JM

[Text] Still, don’t be late. -JM

[Text] Dragging me out of the flat on some aimless trek around London - during rush hour - is not advancing the reparation of the flat at all. - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] Hurry~! -JM

[Text] I’m expecting a big reveal of the point behind all of this, yeah? - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] That is your choice to make, darling. -JM

[Text] Ask for me at reception, they will be expecting you. -JM

[Text] Gotcha. - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] I prefer the Savoy, but the Dorchester has particular archetectural choices you would certainly enjoy. -JM

[Text] Choose wisely! -JM

[Text] Choose what you’d like, or what I’d like? - SM

[Text] Neither will give me your room number though, you realise. - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] Half an hour, do you need a hint, darling? -JM

[Text] The Dorchester or The Savoy which one? - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] One. -JM

[no reply]


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

[Text] I’ll give you one. -JM

[Text] London traffic, boss. - SM


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26
Nov

youroldfashionedvillain:

moran-sm replied to your post: [Text] Don’t get fucked off about the smell when you get in, your majesty. It’s just plaster. I’m patching up the bullet holes. - SM

[Text] Sir, there are more than 100,000 hotels in the Greater London area alone. - SM
[Text] You like a hunt, don’t you? -JM

[Text] Give me two hours. - SM


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