The Good Old-Fashioned Villain @centreoftheweb - Tumblr Blog

(( wow I did a thing. what is happening? ))

#so I guess if anyone wants to rp with me you are always welcome

It had been two quiet months since that first night he met James Moriarty. The first two days he had actually followed James’ ‘orders’ -had it actually been an order, anyway?- to stop smoking, be it with much difficulty. Then he started smoking again, but a lot less than before. After a week or two, he still hadn’t seen or heard from Moriarty at all and decided that he could fucking smoke if he wanted to, and went back to his old habit.

Working for the man was good, although it wasn’t exactly as exciting as he had expected it to be. Mostly, the jobs he had gotten were simple errands any idiot could’ve run, and even those jobs were few in numbers. As time passed, Sebastian started wondering if he had not impressed Moriarty as much as he thought he had. The flat he had gotten started to feel more and more like a cage (Let’s be honest, a very luxury cage at that, more luxury than anything Sebastian had ever had), having to spend most of this time there since he had to be ready to go on a job for his boss whenever he needed him to. He got so bored, that he started to clean all of the weapons he owned on a daily basis (browsing the web and watching movies and stuff like that was only fun for a couple of hours, not days in a row) just to have something to do.

But today it had been exactly two days, and Sebastian had woken up in a particularly bad mood this morning. He was just done with the lame jobs, they simply weren’t a challenge for him and if this was all Moriarty had planned for the Sniper, then he was going to quit. He was just about to leave the flat for a quick run, when his phone bleeped, indicating that he had received a text message.

-22 Millenium Drive. Meet me there at 10. JM -

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So maybe it wasn't fair that James was being so hard on his newest employee. Maybe he even felt a tiny bit sorry for him, the image of a someone as adrenaline-focused as Moran, rotting away in a gorgeous flat. His day-to-day life had gotten back to its not too ordinary routine, but save the few bloodstains along the way, it was obscenely boring. It didn't help that the ex-soldier was always there, in the back of his mind, seemingly waiting for his turn. James was aching to have fun with him, and it had become painfully clear that he wasn't just toying with Sebastian, but with himself, too, in the process. But it had to go as he planned, and as he finished smoothing down the creases a Chief of Staff he'd worked out of his little empire had left there, it was definitely with eagerness that he tapped out brief instructions to the sniper on his phone. He only left at ten himself, making the man wait those few moments longer because he was just that insufferable. Not that Sebastian would be entirely on his own waiting for him, but that was something he couldn't possibly be aware of.

#tigersandguns

(( I really want to give this another go but egh, it's been so long... ))

(( I haven't been on here for a while because I had exams and am now in the middle of very busy, stressful holidays. I'll try to get on here when this is over. ))

tigersandguns-blog

He didn’t look at James Moriarty, stared at the body in the other room, saw the other man take off. He was still -what was it called-…uncertain that he got the right guy. So Sebastian Moran stayed right where he was, motionless and ready to take another shot if he had to, his muscles tensed and his finger still on the trigger. Only when he felt Moriarty’s arm brush against his when the man made his way to the window, he relaxed and looked up in those dark, dark eyes. He could almost feel the other breathe.

He smiled back, polite yet also proud that he had done a job at least good enough to make Moriarty smile at him and tell him that ‘He would do quite nicely’. The shorter man suddenly turned and walked away, as if he just had remembered something important he had to do and now was in a hurry. Sebastian watched him while he pulled his backpack closer and took the black case for his rifle out of it. He would have to clean the weapon later -he doubted Moriarty would appreciate Sebastian taking the time he always took to take care of the weapon- so he started to take her apart and put the pieces safely into the case, only looking up when Moriarty spoke again.

“You could have just asked who to shoot, though, you know.” He froze for a moment, feeling quite dumb for not even thinking about simply asking. “Yes, sorry, sir,” He replied. But then he shrugged. He did well on this, when he got that good of a shot there simply was no time for more questions. The lock of the case snapped closed and Sebastian got up and lifted the heavy backpack back on his shoulders. He was ready to go, to leave this disgusting room, but he waited for some sort of order from the other. Did this mean he got the job? Or was he still going to have to impress James Moriarty, before he had proved himself to be worth it to be hired?

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He studied Moran while the man gathered his stuff. When the other apologised, looking much like a dog being scowled for misbehaving, James' eyes glistened. "So obedient already! Yes, I do think I'm going to like you." He brushed a bit of dust from his sleeve. "I'll have you be contacted when I need you. I don't exactly do working hours, so be ready at any time." He winked, swung open the door to step outside, and calmly began walking down the stairs. Once they both got back to the street, he turned to Sebastian with something of a twirl, and placed a hand on his -quite a bit higher- shoulder. "Oh, and do something about the smoking. It's disgusting," he finished with a hum, disappearing around a corner and finding a car waiting close. Once he got home, he arranged a small, but luxury flat and sent someone to his new employee, telling him he was moving in right away. He regretted not being able to see the look on the man's face, but getting that close to someone wasn't his way of doing things. And if he hummed loudly to himself while walking through his own flat that evening, pouring a glass of wine with a smile, it surely couldn't have been because he was that pleased with his new gunman. He just had good days every now and then...

#tigersandguns

tigersandguns-blog

Sebastian somewhat smiled at Moriarty’s fake impressed expression, still busy with the rifle as he listened to the melodious voice. He paused for a moment as he took in the request. He had to think about that for a moment.

He leaned with his elbows on the windowsill, right beside his rifle, and examined the men while finishing his cigarette. For some reason smoking always helped him think, and maybe that was the reason why many of his former ‘friends’ back in the army smoked too. That and the stress, of course. For a minute or two, Sebastian just stood there, looking out the window, trying to find the correct answer to James’ request. Then, he slowly turned. “I guess I could just put a bullet through both their brains,” he began. “I doubt a man with a network like yours’d even miss one employee more or less.” He grinned at that and shrugged and looked Moriarty in the eye for a moment before he got himself stationed behind the rifle. “But that would just be too easy.” He aimed the rifle with steady hands, completely calm and confident. He could do this, he had been trained to do this, read the body language of both men and hopefully with that figured out which guy he was supposed to shoot. “So I’m gonna shoot just the guy you want to get out of the way.” As soon as he got a clear view of the man, he pulled the trigger. The silencer dulled the sound -better not catch the attention of too many people- and next one of the men in the room across theirs fell down, a hole right between his eyes. Sebastian sat there, the rifle in his hands, not looking at Moriarty. (To be honest he felt quite nervous, what if he had interpreted it wrong?) “So tell me, sir, did I manage to impress you even a little bit?”

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James managed to slip a hummed "Cocky, are we?" in between Moran's words and actions with a small smile before the quite a bit taller man suddenly focused, quicker than he had imagined. His body became even more of a steady force than before, when he had been standing next to him. And then he took aim, and the arrogant prick of an 'art' dealer that had been a growing threat to the network dropped to the ground merely a second later. The other man took off immediately, calmly but clearly still a bit shaken, without even taking as much as a quick glance around the room or out the window. He had to suppress a gasp of enthusiasm, and softly sighed instead. Sebastian hadn't been that certain about his choice, but seemed to prefer straight action over doubt and an extra turn to Moriarty, and he just did. Did what he was clearly best at, better than anyone James had ever seen, confirming everything he'd suspected. His aim was perfect, his motions solid. He seemed twisted enough to weigh his chances and then just take the shot. There was enough he still had to learn, but none of it had anything to do with handling a weapon like that. James was absolutely itching to own him. It was almost painful. He stalked across the room to the window, right next to Sebastian, and brushed sides with him when he moved to lock eyes with him. It was just as inappropriate as he liked, standing just a bit too close to him. A wide smirk spread over his face, a little too genuine for his liking. "You'll do nicely." It was the closest thing to a compliment anyone could get from him in a situation like this one. He suddenly turned and walked away from him to the door, seeming impatient again. Something that oddly enough felt like an adrenaline rush coursing through his veins, though, but there was something the sniper couldn't see. "You could have just asked who to shoot, though, you know." He raised his eyebrows with a shrug and gesture of his hand, quite pleased with himself at that.

#tigersandguns

enochianexample started following you

#enochianexample

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly;

“‘Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there.” “Oh no, no,” said the little fly; “to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.” “I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high. Well you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly. “There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest a while, I’ll snugly tuck you in!” “Oh no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said, They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!” Said the cunning spider to the fly: “Dear friend, what can I do To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice; I’m sure you’re very welcome - will you please to take a slice?” “Oh no, no,” said the little fly; “kind sir, that cannot be: I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!” “Sweet creature!” said the spider, “you’re witty and you’re wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; If you’d step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.” “I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you’re pleased to say, And, bidding you good morning now, I’ll call another day.” The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the fly; Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing: “Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple; there’s a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!” Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue, Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast; He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den - Within his little parlor - but she ne’er came out again!

#things jim likes

tigersandguns-blog

“Impress you, huh,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jim Moriarty. The rusty stairs they climbed croaked and sighed underneath his heavy combat boots, and he was glad he didn't have some fear of heights.

The flat they entered next was actually a lot worse. The place reeked of mold and old cigarettes, and the wallpaper was stained, torn and hanging loose in places. Sebastian wrinkled his nose in disapproval. Sure, he’d been in places worse, but that didn't mean he liked it.

When he looked out the window, he knew what was probably his goal. He opened the window -it slid open surprisingly easy- and leaned out to both get some fresh air and a better look at what was happening in the room in the building across the street. Then, the sniper turned to look at Moriarty. “So, I have to shoot at least one of those two out there, right?” he asked. He searched his pockets for his cigarettes and zippo lighter. “That I can do. Just tell me which one.” He took a cigarette from the pack, put it between his lips and lighted it, then started to station his rifle on the windowsill.

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James snorted softly at the taller man's disgust for the place, though he didn't dare touching anything himself. He close to grimaced at the cigarette. Disgusting habit. He'd have to get that out of the man's system once he'd have recruited him. Something that didn't always go easily. He looked forward to it. The suited man raised his eyebrows in a fake expression of being impressed. "Well done, you." He watched Moran get his equipment ready for a moment, eyeing his body and movements more than what he was actually doing. "How about you figure that out for yourself, too?" It was a bit of an unfair request really, and he was aware of that. He was just curious how the man would react. None of his employees had ever managed it unless out of dumb luck, and it was fine -though still disappointing every time - all the same. He just wanted to see how the sniper thought.

#tigersandguns #look who's still alive

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“Thank you.” She replied, before taking a gulp or two of her drink. She felt no need to ask him how things were going with the ‘business’ of his, and she knew better than to bring up Holmes. Just the slight mention of him had sometimes turned a simple comment into a grenade. There was something different about Jim tonight though. However busy he had been, he seemed quite laid back unlike the last time they had seen each other, though that had been ages ago.

She couldn’t help but continue to look him over and take in every gesture he did. She knew how creepy it might be that she was so fascinated by his simple mannerisms. She just liked dissecting every gesture, every movement. It made her lips curl into a faint grin the way his eyes would change when acknowledging others. “Looking to get drunk?” It was the most playful Molly could get, despite her low heavy tone of voice.

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He turned back at her and answered with a dark, wide grin, eyes almost immediately resettling into an almost-black after they'd lit up at the waiter. "Come on now, Molly, when do I ever get drunk?" His face spoke for itself, though. And what if I am? There had been times in his life, in which Molly had been more than often present, when being sober was more of a special occasion. Yes, he'd seen his lows. But those were different times, he kept telling himself. He was a better man now. In order to rise high, one must hit the bottom first. Or so he told himself. Once his drink arrived, he fished it from the table and carelessly, though quite slowly, drank it all down. Gracious as ever, he placed the glass back on the table and leaned in. Nothing in his demeanor had changed. He was grinning again, but more cheekily now, and placed one hand on the table, sliding it over the surface to the center, and started tapping out a slow rhythm on the solid wood.

#underherknife

asksylar

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Hello Jim.

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Hi~

#asksylar

andrewbunny

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+ centreoftheweb

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Oh, it’s wonderful as always. You know me.

And how’s… whatever I should call this?

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Death? It’s not too horrible.

Not the best way to spend it I imagine though.

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So you did have something else in mind then, Will. I thought this was so very you.

#impushingdaisies

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Molly didn’t move, nor let her gaze falter as Jim leaned forward. she had grown accustomed to these stares and relished them in an odd way. It gave her another chance in the few to examine his face, re-memorize every bone, muscle and movement. He had only gained a few milliliters in some creases. Boring day indeed…more precisely,weeks from what Molly could gather. Late nights, odd flights, but he had played and worked harder than the last time Molly had seen him. He was shipping himself…as he always did. Well, she was fairly content her favor was a light one.

“I’m going to Australia for a week. There is a certain specimen of jellyfish I’m in need of. I just wanted to clear it with you because I know how angry you’d get if you called only to find I wasn't in London, but snorkeling in the Pacific.” The faint music in the background changed to something a little more upbeat, something that had played in a club just a few weeks ago in Soho if Molly remembered correctly, how bizarre.

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Jim let the faintest smile show around his lips. It was one of comfort and almost-peace. He adored Molly's odd little needs and interests. He wasn't unfamiliar with her short trips to wherever. Back when they were around each other more often, he would notice how she always returned a little more optimistic. Even he couldn't always guess what went on in that pretty head of hers and what she'd been up to. And because she was like a family member he'd grew apart from, hearing that she did this still, made a quaint sense of being 'home' wash over him. Little old Molly Hooper. Capable of making Jim feel impossible feelings. "Have fun..." He spoke softly and held her glare for as uncomfortably long as possible before he turned in his seat and gestured at a waiter with a flirtatious look, pointing at Molly's drink.

#underherknife

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She rolled her eyes slightly and took another sip of her whiskey, her lips showing only the slightest curl upon each end for a split second before the hidden smile was gone. “I have a favor to ask.” She sat up straight and darted her eyes like knives right into his, it was a simple thing really, or it would seem that way, but depending on the mood of Jim, things could turn from simple to complicated without mere seconds. Molly could care less, but it was preferred to ask such things as these when she was on his good side and he on hers.

Part of Molly knew that without him she would have lived a meager life and a boring job that would never satisfy the mind of a woman like her. She had thanked it many times for it, saving his hide, and doing things that very few people would do. Sometimes that involved saying no. This time, however, was that rare moment where things were light, that the possibility of ticking off the few moments of complete harmony and even more than just a warmth of strange friendship, could happen. Molly hoped this would be one of those moments.

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He leaned slightly forward, every hint of a smile disappearing off of his face, and looked straight back into her eyes, his own having gone cold and empty. It was what she had done, her posture turning a simple question into a possible threat. He just had to make sure to remind her again that she couldn't just consult him for anything. Even if she was something of a favorite child. "Go on then."

#underherknife