█ RIVETING |╳|

Indie Sel. Priv. James Moriarty

[mordantt-blog]

ewow

[mordantt-blog]

omg whoops

[rpmemes-galore]

Iron Man  {Sentence Starters}

“Are those bullet holes?“

“No, you intimidate them.”

“Oh, I see. So it’s personal.“

“Get down here. I need you.“

“Good God, you’re a woman!“

“I don’t have anyone but you.“

“Am I making you uncomfortable?“

“I thought you said this was safe!?”

“I don’t like it when you have plans.“

“I never said you were a superhero.“

“A little ostentatious, don’t you think?“

“Don’t waste it… don’t waste your life.”

“All I’m looking for is a straight answer.“

“We gotta go. Come on, move with me.”

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.“

“We got a plan, and we’re going to stick to it.“

“I don’t think you could tie your shoes without me.“

“So, you’re a man who has everything… and nothing.”

“The more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt.”

“Just stand down. If something happens, then come in.“

“What are you trying to get rid of me for? You got plans?“

“Three hours! Three hours you’ve kept me standing here!“

“You’re going to kill yourself. I’m not going to be a part of it.“

“I’ve been called many things. Nostalgic is not one of them.”

“Let’s face it, this is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.“

“Don’t ever, ever, ever, ask me to do anything like that, ever again!“

“If you douse me again, and I’m not on fire, I’m donating you to a city college.“

“There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop.”

[cyberdragoninfinity]

friend: i just thought of a new AU—

me:

[yiffmaster]

i think we all have that one follower we’re always subconsciously trying to get the approval of and whenever they like or reblog a post you’re just like

good

i have pleased you

[mordantt-blog]

Toldabetterstory:

                It’s childish; the game you two play — or rather, it would be childish had it not been so deadly. The petty responses are hollow; merely a way to toy with one another before someone takes a swipe. Much like two predators circling one another, teeth bared but respected distances maintained. Except, unlike in the wild — your dances last longer. They could easily last an eternity. You cannot say for certain of the SPIDER shares your sentiment, but for you — the fear of a strike means the game is ending. Once the pieces start to move across the chessboard, it has to eventually reach a finale. 

                   HOW TWISTED DO YOU FEEL??? KNOWING THAT THE END OF THE GAME WOULDN’T BE AS MUCH OF A RELIEF AS YOU CLAIM. You are an addict — the game is your current drug of choice & Moriarty deals in only the best hits. These are thoughts you know you cannot ever express to anyone; except for maybe the man in front of you. You suspect he already knows; but you allow it to remain unspoken between you.

                   Holding your tongue, not wishing to give any more inches to the devil, you merely smirk sardonically. Rolling your eyes as you turn your focus to something else — anything else but him. As if he is so uninteresting, you’d rather focus on inanimates. Perhaps it will seems in a move of cowardice; but that’s part of the game. You never knew what to expect from him. What he will link together and form into conclusion.

                   It’s sickening. 

                   You love it.

It... annoys.

  But the itch simmers into a silent transition to amusement, even if the annoyance is still there, vivid but resting. For him.

 LOOK  AT  ME, he wishes to demand, as if his gaze is an object to possess - only rightfully his [ and, really, shouldn't it be? There is no one else w h o comprehends him like him.  seems only right, its only right ].  Roseate curls upward, even more so at the petulant silence that commences to encompass their forms.

       ' You're looking away," he coos, debating for a second whether he ought to slither into the detective's current visual vicinity - before actually doing so at the end, swift in silent tapping, he [childishly] suddenly sprouts into his vision to be seen, ' and your silence... what a common response."

                  He could do this all day, truly. Speaking for both isn't a hazard to his patience, it won't grasp any fury [ reserved for those others gone unnamed ]. He proceeds in his verbal tantalization, ' it seems like you're trying to purposefully bore me." Edging on.  Waiting.  

            ' It seems... oh, who knew?  Normalcy being contagious.  A disease,' austere his tone grows, as if he were a doctor informing a patient of a terminal illness, ' and you're catching it.  How sad, my condolences."

[mordantt-blog]

Woah, it seems I’m in writing mood.  

                                       Like this for a starter.

[cellotherapy]

friend: “hey how’s that rp reply coming?”

me:

[ramonameisel]

the taste of damnation on your lips

Describe love in less than 10 words | r.m (via rmeisel)

[mordantt-blog]

“I’d rather die than forgive you.” ( @mxran )

            'We can arrange that."

The comment is flippant, covering the festering bother at this turn of events.  It had all been going rather smoothly, but hurt sensibilities had to get in the sniper's way.  Sentiments were a hazard, a drawback to every meat bag     hired.  He isn't a beggar - the day he musters a 'please' without a hint of laughter will be the day he     ceases to be.

What a - bother.

                                                             @mxran 

[softstouch]

i want historical drama plots. i want wwi and wwii. i want vikings taking over a village. i want a family struggling to make ends meet during the great depression. i want a flapper and a wolf on wall street in the roaring twenties. i want arranged marriages. i want 1800s plots. i want pioneers. i want salem at the peak of the witch age. i want pilgrims. i want everything. GIVE IT TO ME.

[mordantt-blog]

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t lead them on.”

The ’ w h o o p s “ he replies with is the equivalent of sorry, not sorry.

A pool of incarnadine is surrounding the still body [ could you call it a body if it wasn’t dead? ], at times twitching in a scarce reflex - absent from connections to the conscious mind.  You can catch the lines and stretches of skin on her face [ particularly the corners of her eyes.. she had a fetching color ]- emphasizing the horror of her future demise. How she couldn’t see, he will never know - it had been so dully evident.

          ’ Oh well, I am sure there are more where it came from.”

It wasn’t a common affair to indulge in more toxic ’skirting’, having too much of a - treat wasn’t an advisable thing.  He turned his head to observe his companion, momentarily taking off his hues from the heaving creature, to scrutinize the woman’s reaction, a mild interest in what she thought.

[mordantt-blog]

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t lead them on.”

            'Don't waste your breath on stating the obvious," he petitions idly, ' doesn't look good on you, really."

He casts the trickling blood a precursory look, not really worried at the blanking skin.  It wasn’t lethal.  And, thus, he glanced away, satisfied.

[mordantt-blog]

“It’s in your head.”

        ' My head," he repeats, an echo voided of connotations in its dry verse.

A chuckle then marks his speech, how stubborn could anyone be.?. Horrid, it would be so much easier if he just... acquiesced, but that wouldn't be stimulating at the end of the day, now would it.?.

               ' How cute, you're intent on denying it. Experiment, since you're so partial to them.  Let's see what it takes for your stolen beliefs to crumble. "

[mordantt-blog]

❛ awesome. wow. ❜

He isn't a fan of the mockery lacing the serrated words spoken, yet he still smiles, amusement absent for once in twisted crescents marring his canvas [ less Jim ].  Yet, voicing out the throes of twisted thorns caving in his mind isn't an inspiring prospect.  

   Come on, I thought you were above such a taunt.  Dutiful digits dance across the cuffs of his bespoke suit, arranging them as he considers.  He was able to cherish hissing insults to his person, but to have someone belittle what his mind formulates [ specially from him - how disappointing.  don't you despite the undue doubt and mockery? ] is -. he can't prove him wrong, for they already both know the reaches of his capabilities [ and... ]

        ' Always so responsive.  Careful, you might start to bore me."

[mordantt-blog]

Woah, it seems I’m in writing mood.  

                                       Like this for a starter.

[mordantt-blog]

Krophv:

     (  @mordantt  /  plotted  )

          DROWSY   OPTICS      saunter   ‘  round   sun   lit   apartment    .     shaggy   robe   dangles   from   lanky   shoulders    .     it’s   cantered    ,     slipping   off   one   shoulder    ,     only   being   held   up   by   opposing   night   clothes    ,     sticking   to   the   fabric    . 

        hand   moves   ,    DELICATE    ,     raising   demitasse   to   sleep  -  chapped   lips    .     it   rests   ‘  pon   upper   lip    ,     about   to   tip   when   gaze   shifts    ,     peering   into   the   kitchen    .     FAMILIAR   FACE   is   spotted    ,     one   of   the   many   he   dislikes   to   see    .

          cup   SLIPS   FROM   HANDS    ,     drops   to   ground   with   a   C R A S H    .     porcelain   SCATTERS   ‘  CROSS   GROUND   in   disarray    ,     hot   tea   permeating   surrounding   wood    . 

                              ❝         —-   moriarty  .  what  are  you   ——   i  thought                                                          you  were  DEAD  .   you  killed  yourself  in                                                        front  of  me  .  .  .    ‘

          HE   SHOULDN’T   BE   ONE   TO   TALK    .     pretending   to   be   DEAD   for   the   same   amount   of   time    .    .    .

Saccharine laced his acrimony - a svelte touch that would never soothe the humiliation of having survived his supposed suicide [ but you didn't perish either and that truly an erroneous and misplaced - bastardized version of what true reality should have been - odious in... breathe ].  And thus, he awaits, with a taunting pride still licking its own serrated wounds at a failed fate.

All these thoughts are swept away at the signals of an incoming creature [ not the doctor, not as loud in his footsteps ].  It is when he adopts a lackadaisical posture, shoulders drawn back while an elbow is reposed against a mahogany counter that the man appears [ its a shock, he can't force him to deny it - cameras don't do justice].

A shorted circuit in the terms of sentiments blanks him, only inserting a heavy tray of amusement at the stupefied expression and dangling actions of the former vigilante [ it was still exciting to get reactions from him ].

He was here to ‘finish’ a job [it was a reset]

                   ' Why, hello there." - voice dulcet, kind - curved lovingly as if savoring the pandemonium with his words, 'no 'honey, I'm home'?"  He tsks, chastising, ' you haven't learned a thing.  You hurt me, really."  The tone is too constant to be taken seriously.

He brushed aside the fumbling query without a given thought.