Alright, hey all, as you may know, I now have another Sebastian that I'm spending most of my time on. If you don't know, but you follow this blog, go check out @TheSniperMorMor on twitter. He's my newest baby and I've been paying him a lot of my attention because my muse is strong with that one.
I'm doing another ficlet request, and this time, if you want one, you should send me a DM to @TheSniperMorMor and I'll get to writing.
My pairings/ships that I'm willing to write are:
Sebastian J. Moran/James Moriarty (MorMor)
Sherlock Holmes/Sebastian Moran (SebLock)
Mycroft Holmes/Sebastian Moran (MyMor?)
Greg Lestrade/Sebastian Moran (Sebstrade?)
John Watson/Sebastian Moran (Johnstian)
I've already written two Johnstian ficlets, but hey, I'm willing to write more. With your request, send me any inspiration you might like me to get ideas from and I'll get to writing right away. I'll post the ficlet, with a title, and your twitter username or what-have-you in the title.
BRING ON THE REQUESTS~
Sincerely,
The Writer
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Miracles in December (WIP)
[Just a solo, inspired by Miracles in December - EXO-K. Warnings: talk of Major Character Death, suicide attempt, Reichenbach feels, etc. Read at own risk.]
It had been a cold winter this year, harsh and heavy. The snow would come, stay around for awhile, and then it would melt, it'd be warm and sunny for a few days and then the snow would come right back, blanketing the streets of London in a pure white. Children would be out in the streets laughing and playing, having snowball fights, making snowmen. It was a beautiful time of year.
For most.
But for one sniper, alone in a small little flat in the far part of London, the winter was not beautiful. It was depressing, and cold, and suffocating. He couldn't escape it. It was the first one since--He couldn't think of it. It would just cause an avalanche and he couldn't afford one of those right now. He'd run out of alcohol and didn't want to walk out in that snow, didn't want to see the happy looks on people's faces.
While most of London rejoiced the passing of the Consulting Criminal, James Moriarty, there was one man, the lone sniper, who was lost without him. He had no-one in this world. The only person he had who was important, who cared in his own way...was gone, and was not coming back.
Sebastian was slumped on the sofa, his eyes closed, an empty scotch bottle in his hand. It wasn't the only one, there were plenty of bottles scattered around the flat. The ash tray on the coffee table was overflowing. He'd put himself in a stupor again. He would do anything these days to get away from the pain of his loss.
It had been a cold winter this year, harsh and heavy. The snow would come, stay around for awhile, and then it would melt, it'd be warm and sunny for a few days and then the snow would come right back, blanketing the streets of London in a pure white. Children would be out in the streets laughing and playing, having snowball fights, making snowmen. It was a beautiful time of year.
For most.
But for one sniper, alone in a small little flat in the far part of London, the winter was not beautiful. It was depressing, and cold, and suffocating. He couldn't escape it. It was the first one since--He couldn't think of it. It would just cause an avalanche and he couldn't afford one of those right now. He'd run out of alcohol and didn't want to walk out in that snow, didn't want to see the happy looks on people's faces.
While most of London rejoiced the passing of the Consulting Criminal, James Moriarty, there was one man, the lone sniper, who was lost without him. He had no-one in this world. The only person he had who was important, who cared in his own way...was gone, and was not coming back.
Sebastian was slumped on the sofa, his eyes closed, an empty scotch bottle in his hand. It wasn't the only one, there were plenty of bottles scattered around the flat. The ash tray on the coffee table was overflowing. He'd put himself in a stupor again. He would do anything these days to get away from the pain of his loss.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Shooting Off Steam
Sebastian sighed, his blood pumping quickly through his veins, his
adrenaline rushing, his hands shaking, his body feeling cold. He hated
when his temper rose this much. With his rifle bag over his shoulder and
a smoke between his lips, he got out his lighter, pausing on his angry
walk to his favorite building to light up his cigarette. He took a drag,
relaxing slightly, almost instantly at the taste, the feel. He hummed a
bit, breathing out a puff of smoke into the night sky, watching it
trail away into the distance against the dark sky. He closed his eyes,
taking a moment to breathe, to taste the cold air, feel the breeze. All
of it slowly but surely relaxing him so that the shakes would go away,
his adrenaline would calm down. When he felt he was ready to move again,
he put the cigarette to his lips and started up again towards the
building.
It took about 20 minutes to walk there on foot. It was a nice abandoned building, mostly isolated from the rest of civilization. He climbed up the fire escape, his rifle bag not weighing him down as much as usual due to the extra boost from the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. "Fight or flight." he murmured to himself a bit coldly. "Or a bit of both, in this case I suppose..." he added, talking around the cigarette still between his lips.
He made it to the top of the building and set his bag down, unzipping it and quickly getting to work on setting his gun up, mumbling angrily to himself as he did so. Once his gun was all set he picked it up and frowned, also grabbing one of his hand guns, just in case. He headed over towards the ledge of the building, surveying his surroundings, looking for something, anything to shoot at. He brought his rifle up, peeking through the scope to get a better idea of what he was working with. He spotted a bird in the distance and snarled, taking the shot without hesitation. He watched through the scope as he hit his target and it fell from the sky. He set his gun down, taking one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it and stomping it out with his boot. He grabbed another from the box and put it behind his ear. Picking up his gun again he rolled his neck, hearing and feeling a satisfying crack.
Peering through the scope again he continued his search for something worth his effort and time. He wanted to just..../shoot/, but that was a waste of bullets. But then again, were birds really any better? He sighed to himself, putting the gun down and slipping to the ground beside it. He buried his head in his hands a moment, the image of Jim kissing and licking that....His muscles tensed and his finger nails dug into his palms. It was burned into his mind. That image, those images. Eyes open he could picture it; eyes closed it was like it was happening again right in front of him and he just wanted to reach out and kill that no-good mangy mutt. "I'm a pure wolf" he muttered mockingly, the warmth of his breath coming out in puffs on the cold air. "Fucking....twat." he hissed, reaching for his cigarette and putting it to his lips, grabbing his lighter and lighting up again. He took a drag and leaned back against the wall-ledge of the building.
Out here, on the outskirts, you could almost start to see a bit of stars. The little dim twinkling lights above his head. He smiled lightly, remembering back when he first had found this place. It had been where he'd lived until he found Jim's building, and subsequently, Jim himself. The man had hired him, taken him him, treated him like he mattered...and it seemed like all of that was slowly falling apart a crashing down around him. He growled a bit at the thought. "What the /fuck/ am I doing?" he angrily slapped himself, letting his cigarette fall from his lips to the ground. He stood, stomping it out and grabbed his gun again, smirking as he peered through the scope and saw people down below. He hummed a pleasant tune to himself as he pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. Three bodies and two on the gun. He laughed heartily as he watched them run, shaking his head. "Run all you like little mice. The kitty likes when they run~." His words practically came out as a purr as he spotted them in his scope, waiting, waiting...BANG.
"Two in one~" He smirked, watching and waiting.
Sure enough, in no time, a lone police car drove up to the scene and started inspecting the bodies. The sniper up above couldn't help but watch from his nest, smirking and wanting so badly for there to be more. "Mm...I'll get what I'm given, I suppose." he muttered, taking aim at the police car itself, first. He shot twice at the engine, grinning almost wildly as the car went up in flames and the officer below started to panic. Just as he reached for his walkie talkie to call for backup, Sebastian took the shot, hitting the man dead center between his eyes. He stayed standing for a moment, a look of utter confusion plastered onto his face before he fell back.
Feeling.../much/ better, the sniper gathered his things, cleaning up his nest. He packed away his guns and started down the fire escape again to head home. He wondered just what he'd be coming home to. Just in case it was something he...didn't approve of, he had his handgun at the ready in the waistband of his pants, a knife shoved into his boot, a sharky grin on his face. As he reached the bottom of the fire escape, he heard a noise and he quickly grabbed his knife, which was at a better angle to grab than his gun. He whipped around and his eyes widened, seeing another two police officers. They shone their lights on him and started shouting.
"Fuck..." he growled, lunging forward, taking them out one at a time, getting one in the gut with his knife and tossing the walkie, he slit the other's throat, not even slightly startled by the blood spurting over his clothes. He knew Jim might be upset. Scold him for getting his clothes dirty. But then again, with how he seemed to be with blood recently, perhaps not. He rolled his eyes at the thought and took a few more stabs at the police officers, just to get out some more pent up rage before he started heading home, taking the back ways so as not to be seen.
Arriving back at home, he set his rifle bag down in the entryway. "I'M HOME." he called, "Not that anyone cares..." he muttered to himself.
It took about 20 minutes to walk there on foot. It was a nice abandoned building, mostly isolated from the rest of civilization. He climbed up the fire escape, his rifle bag not weighing him down as much as usual due to the extra boost from the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. "Fight or flight." he murmured to himself a bit coldly. "Or a bit of both, in this case I suppose..." he added, talking around the cigarette still between his lips.
He made it to the top of the building and set his bag down, unzipping it and quickly getting to work on setting his gun up, mumbling angrily to himself as he did so. Once his gun was all set he picked it up and frowned, also grabbing one of his hand guns, just in case. He headed over towards the ledge of the building, surveying his surroundings, looking for something, anything to shoot at. He brought his rifle up, peeking through the scope to get a better idea of what he was working with. He spotted a bird in the distance and snarled, taking the shot without hesitation. He watched through the scope as he hit his target and it fell from the sky. He set his gun down, taking one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it and stomping it out with his boot. He grabbed another from the box and put it behind his ear. Picking up his gun again he rolled his neck, hearing and feeling a satisfying crack.
Peering through the scope again he continued his search for something worth his effort and time. He wanted to just..../shoot/, but that was a waste of bullets. But then again, were birds really any better? He sighed to himself, putting the gun down and slipping to the ground beside it. He buried his head in his hands a moment, the image of Jim kissing and licking that....His muscles tensed and his finger nails dug into his palms. It was burned into his mind. That image, those images. Eyes open he could picture it; eyes closed it was like it was happening again right in front of him and he just wanted to reach out and kill that no-good mangy mutt. "I'm a pure wolf" he muttered mockingly, the warmth of his breath coming out in puffs on the cold air. "Fucking....twat." he hissed, reaching for his cigarette and putting it to his lips, grabbing his lighter and lighting up again. He took a drag and leaned back against the wall-ledge of the building.
Out here, on the outskirts, you could almost start to see a bit of stars. The little dim twinkling lights above his head. He smiled lightly, remembering back when he first had found this place. It had been where he'd lived until he found Jim's building, and subsequently, Jim himself. The man had hired him, taken him him, treated him like he mattered...and it seemed like all of that was slowly falling apart a crashing down around him. He growled a bit at the thought. "What the /fuck/ am I doing?" he angrily slapped himself, letting his cigarette fall from his lips to the ground. He stood, stomping it out and grabbed his gun again, smirking as he peered through the scope and saw people down below. He hummed a pleasant tune to himself as he pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. Three bodies and two on the gun. He laughed heartily as he watched them run, shaking his head. "Run all you like little mice. The kitty likes when they run~." His words practically came out as a purr as he spotted them in his scope, waiting, waiting...BANG.
"Two in one~" He smirked, watching and waiting.
Sure enough, in no time, a lone police car drove up to the scene and started inspecting the bodies. The sniper up above couldn't help but watch from his nest, smirking and wanting so badly for there to be more. "Mm...I'll get what I'm given, I suppose." he muttered, taking aim at the police car itself, first. He shot twice at the engine, grinning almost wildly as the car went up in flames and the officer below started to panic. Just as he reached for his walkie talkie to call for backup, Sebastian took the shot, hitting the man dead center between his eyes. He stayed standing for a moment, a look of utter confusion plastered onto his face before he fell back.
Feeling.../much/ better, the sniper gathered his things, cleaning up his nest. He packed away his guns and started down the fire escape again to head home. He wondered just what he'd be coming home to. Just in case it was something he...didn't approve of, he had his handgun at the ready in the waistband of his pants, a knife shoved into his boot, a sharky grin on his face. As he reached the bottom of the fire escape, he heard a noise and he quickly grabbed his knife, which was at a better angle to grab than his gun. He whipped around and his eyes widened, seeing another two police officers. They shone their lights on him and started shouting.
"Fuck..." he growled, lunging forward, taking them out one at a time, getting one in the gut with his knife and tossing the walkie, he slit the other's throat, not even slightly startled by the blood spurting over his clothes. He knew Jim might be upset. Scold him for getting his clothes dirty. But then again, with how he seemed to be with blood recently, perhaps not. He rolled his eyes at the thought and took a few more stabs at the police officers, just to get out some more pent up rage before he started heading home, taking the back ways so as not to be seen.
Arriving back at home, he set his rifle bag down in the entryway. "I'M HOME." he called, "Not that anyone cares..." he muttered to himself.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Johnstian (for @LoyalWatson)
Sebastian lay back on his bunk, closing his eyes. The sounds of the other men around him faded away as he started to drift off into a light sleep. He never slept heavily anymore, not since being kidnapped when he was younger. He was always on guard now, always ready for something terrible to happen. That's probably why he was picked for the job of being the guard for a squad that was to be shipping out soon. Within the next few weeks, a squad was to head out, and this time, he wasn't going to be completely bored out of his mind protecting a bunch of idiots.
Well, no, that wasn't true. The squad was full of idiots, but there was one thing different about this one than one's he'd accompanied before. The medic.
Dr. John H. Watson, lead medic and Captain. He puzzled for a moment. 'Captain Dr. John H. Watson? Dr. Captain John H. Watson?' He chuckled lightly to himself at the second thought, knowing the first sounded much better.
Captain Dr. John H. Watson was a beautiful blond haired man with naturally pale skin, but because of their exposure, it was currently in a wonderful state of looking sun-kissed. He had the most beautiful eyes, they were like magic. Under one light, they were blue, and under another they were brown, and sometimes green. 'Central heterochromia' was what it was called scientifically. (Sebastian had gotten bored one day and decided to talk science with some of the other guys)
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep and the morning sun was shining in through the windows. He had to go in for a check up with the good doctor to make sure he was fit to go out with the squad in a few days. He quickly got dressed, tying his boots tight and making sure every other part of his uniform was perfect. He walked quickly to the medic's tent and took a deep breath before walking in. "Dr. Watson? Er...Captain Watson? Captain...Dr. Watson?" he called, closing his eyes, kicking himself for his stumbles.
A small chuckled came from one side of the tent. "You're going to be spending a lot of time with us, just call me John." the blond doctor said smiling at the sniper.
Sebastian felt his cheeks get a bit warm and he swallowed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "O-Oh...well...J-John, then." he murmured. "Uhm...I'm here for my check-up?" he asked, looking around a bit nervously. He had just remembered that he hated being in doctor's offices, and at this point, not even the handsome doctor was making it better.
John could see the fear in his eyes and the man smiled lightly. "Don't look so frightened, Colonel, I'm not going hurt you, I promise. I don't even have to give you a shot or anything, so there's nothing to be afraid of." he reassured. He helped the taller man onto one of the beds. "Alright, I'm just going to do some general tests to see how your reactions are." he said and smiled gently, trying to keep the man calm.
Sebastian nodded, nibbling his lower lip, calming slightly at the kindness of the doctor, but his nerves were still in knots. But after each thing that John had to check, his nerves seemed to calm a bit more. "You're really good at this..." he murmured, looking up at John quietly. "No wonder you're the one they value most." he chuckled lightly, biting his lower lip.
John reached out and grabbed the man's chin, bringing their faces close together. "You shouldn't bite your lip like that, Colonel, it's not good for your lips." he whispered, brushing his hand along the man's jaw carefully.
((I hate myself for this, but....TO BE CONTINUED.
I'M SO SORRY. MY BRAIN HURTS TOO MUCH TO FINISH. But I will.))
Well, no, that wasn't true. The squad was full of idiots, but there was one thing different about this one than one's he'd accompanied before. The medic.
Dr. John H. Watson, lead medic and Captain. He puzzled for a moment. 'Captain Dr. John H. Watson? Dr. Captain John H. Watson?' He chuckled lightly to himself at the second thought, knowing the first sounded much better.
Captain Dr. John H. Watson was a beautiful blond haired man with naturally pale skin, but because of their exposure, it was currently in a wonderful state of looking sun-kissed. He had the most beautiful eyes, they were like magic. Under one light, they were blue, and under another they were brown, and sometimes green. 'Central heterochromia' was what it was called scientifically. (Sebastian had gotten bored one day and decided to talk science with some of the other guys)
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep and the morning sun was shining in through the windows. He had to go in for a check up with the good doctor to make sure he was fit to go out with the squad in a few days. He quickly got dressed, tying his boots tight and making sure every other part of his uniform was perfect. He walked quickly to the medic's tent and took a deep breath before walking in. "Dr. Watson? Er...Captain Watson? Captain...Dr. Watson?" he called, closing his eyes, kicking himself for his stumbles.
A small chuckled came from one side of the tent. "You're going to be spending a lot of time with us, just call me John." the blond doctor said smiling at the sniper.
Sebastian felt his cheeks get a bit warm and he swallowed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "O-Oh...well...J-John, then." he murmured. "Uhm...I'm here for my check-up?" he asked, looking around a bit nervously. He had just remembered that he hated being in doctor's offices, and at this point, not even the handsome doctor was making it better.
John could see the fear in his eyes and the man smiled lightly. "Don't look so frightened, Colonel, I'm not going hurt you, I promise. I don't even have to give you a shot or anything, so there's nothing to be afraid of." he reassured. He helped the taller man onto one of the beds. "Alright, I'm just going to do some general tests to see how your reactions are." he said and smiled gently, trying to keep the man calm.
Sebastian nodded, nibbling his lower lip, calming slightly at the kindness of the doctor, but his nerves were still in knots. But after each thing that John had to check, his nerves seemed to calm a bit more. "You're really good at this..." he murmured, looking up at John quietly. "No wonder you're the one they value most." he chuckled lightly, biting his lower lip.
John reached out and grabbed the man's chin, bringing their faces close together. "You shouldn't bite your lip like that, Colonel, it's not good for your lips." he whispered, brushing his hand along the man's jaw carefully.
((I hate myself for this, but....TO BE CONTINUED.
I'M SO SORRY. MY BRAIN HURTS TOO MUCH TO FINISH. But I will.))
Another Johnstian (for @LoyalWatson)
After the events at home and his brother Cyrus running away to let him live his own life, Sebastian was lost. He had nothing. His family was gone, his home was gone. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do. All he had was the gun his father had left him.
He lived on the streets in the nearby town for a while and while living there he heard rumors about a war that was going on in Afghanistan. In hearing of this, he decided that he would try to get involved. If he didn't die during the war, he would at least have money afterwards from being a part of the forces to get himself a place to stay.
So after a few weeks, he went to the nearest station to enroll. He had to go through some testing in order for the officers to be sure that he was fit enough to join, and they also tested other things, like shooting. Sebastian by-passed everyone in that area of the training and testing. He had been shooting his entire life, and was a damn good shot.
He was quick to make it up the ranks while at base doing training and drills and other things. Before long he was designated to a team as their guard for when they were supposed to be shipped out. It was during this assignment that they met.
While out, one of the guys on the squad got into a fight with Sebastian, he couldn't even remember what it was about at this time, but he knew it had gotten him pissed off enough to shoot at the man. Not shoot to kill, of course, because he was part of the squad he was supposed to be protecting. But he shot him, all the same, and had to bring him to the medic of the squad.
"Excuse me, you're the medic, aren't you? Er...Watson? Dr. Watson, wasn't it?" Sebastian asked as he brought the injured man into the tent.
The blond man turned around, a small smile on his face before he saw the bleeding man. "Jesus! What happened?!" he exclaimed, rushing over to help the man onto one of the beds that was set up.
Sebastian sighed. "I...shot him, sir." he said simply, shrugging a bit, a cigarette hanging from between his lips.
"You.../shot/ him?! But he's part of our squad! Why would you shoot him, Moran?" the blond man asked, quickly getting to attending to the man's wound, cleaning it and getting ready to close it up. He glanced at Sebastian when he didn't receive an answer right away. "Well?" he asked, looking at the man with a stern gaze.
"I...well...he threatened me, sir." he said, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. "I don't...I'm not really a people person, sir, I didn't...I don't know how else to deal with people..." he added, looking down at his feet.
John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Moran...you know that when you get relieved, you'll have to deal with people in the outside world. And if they confront you, or threaten you, you can't just /shoot/ them! You have to learn how to...how to talk things out!" he said, wrapping the man's bandage as he spoke.
Sebastian nodded, disappointed in himself, and upset that he had disappointed the attractive young doctor. "I'm sorry, Dr. Watson...I'll do my best to learn quickly."
((This one I don't want to continue, but I thought I'd post it anyway.))
(A post from the Writer)
Ships. Pairings. Slashes.
Whatever you'd like to call them, I'm going to lay down a list of the ones I fancy. So here we go:
Whatever you'd like to call them, I'm going to lay down a list of the ones I fancy. So here we go:
Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty (MorMor)
Sebastian Moran/Sherlock Holmes (Seblock)
Sebastian Moran/John Watson (Johnstian)
Sebastian Moran/Mycroft Holmes (MyMor?)
Sebastian Moran/Sherlock Holmes (Seblock)
Sebastian Moran/John Watson (Johnstian)
Sebastian Moran/Mycroft Holmes (MyMor?)
Sebastian Moran/Gregory Lestrade (Sebstrade?)
As of right now, I don't have any other ships with Sebby. If you want a ficlet for any of these pairings, send me a mention or DM request @HisSniperMorMor on twitter and I will write a ficlet based on the ship you ask about.
That's all I've got for tonight, so have a good night everyone and I shall return to you all when I wake up. And with my return, comes Sebby's return.
Goodnight and sweet dreams
~Writer
~Writer
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Escape Route
The last straw was probably when he went into the closed off bedroom and saw the closet of Westwood suits. He couldn't handle the sight and had cried for several hours afterwards. Tiring himself out with crying, he had fallen into a light sleep where he had a dream about the man that used to wear those Westwood suits.
Kicking himself awake from the beautiful dream, he knew it was time to start moving on. It had been 3 years now, after all. He wasn't going to be coming back anytime soon, if he hadn't already, so the sniper needed to get over what had happened, get over his loss.
So, that very day, he packed up all that he could and left the flat, locking it--and the memories that resided inside--up before departing.
He didn't know where he would go, but Sebastian was a smart man. He knew he needed to go somewhere that would keep him distracted and hold his attention for a good amount of time.
Finally, after some internal debate, he decided on going back to China. He was going to reclaim his nickname of the 'tiger sniper'.
Kicking himself awake from the beautiful dream, he knew it was time to start moving on. It had been 3 years now, after all. He wasn't going to be coming back anytime soon, if he hadn't already, so the sniper needed to get over what had happened, get over his loss.
So, that very day, he packed up all that he could and left the flat, locking it--and the memories that resided inside--up before departing.
He didn't know where he would go, but Sebastian was a smart man. He knew he needed to go somewhere that would keep him distracted and hold his attention for a good amount of time.
Finally, after some internal debate, he decided on going back to China. He was going to reclaim his nickname of the 'tiger sniper'.
((Continue later))
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