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.
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