✗ || THE SPIDER

[poxsonmenace]

POXSONMENACE. ❝ every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain. ❞

AN INDEPENDENT & SELECTIVE JIM MORIARTY FROM BBC SHERLOCK PENNED BY JESSICA | SHE/HER | 25+ | ESTABLISHED 2016 SIDEBLOGS: @sxnnersaxnt (Tommy Shelby) @twxnstars (Morpheus)

CARRD | THEME | HEADCANONS | MEMES

[wordx]

[poxsonmenace]

Tell us about your parents!

❝My parents,❞ he repeated at length, a dullness eclipsing the devious light that usually shone brightly in his eyes. ❝My parents are what I'd call my best-kept secret. No one seems to remember that I have them, and that's exactly how I'd prefer it. They're nothing to write home about. They're ordinary in every way. Massively underwhelming and massively... ABUSIVE. Not a day went by where I wasn't mistreated by my father in some way. Beaten to a pulp because he didn't like my tone, strangled until I fell unconscious because I asked him why he drank so much, struck with a belt because I pulled my chair out too loudly, burned with cigarettes because I looked at him the wrong way. I could go on and on. As for my mother, she might as well have been a shadow, or an echo chamber for my father's hatred. She did nothing. She stopped nothing. Hell, at times she even participated. Egged it on so the ire wasn't on her.❞

There was a long pause, a deep swallow to clear the lump in his throat. ❝Eighteen years... eighteen long years I spent living in absolute FEAR and agony until I found the strength to leave. I loathed them then, and I still loathe them now.❞ More importantly, and what he neglected to admit, was that he still feared his father’s wrath. Even now. Even with all the power and wealth he had amassed, his father’s booming voice alone seized his entire body with panic.

[poxsonmenace]

Talk us through your mind palace.

❝Oh, it’s not a palace. Oh no. That’s Sherlock’s fancy wording. To me, it’s more like London after the bombs. Everything’s on FIRE. Streets change direction when I’m not looking. Doors don’t lead to the same place twice. Music’s playing somewhere, but I can never quite find the orchestra. And every single thing is connected. If I smell chlorine, I remember a swimming pool in Marseille, which reminds me of a politician’s affair, which reminds me of an offshore account, which reminds me of a shipping manifest, which reminds me of a container that’s going to EXPLODE next Thursday. That’s just how it works.❞ He shrugged almost nonchalantly, reclining in his chair.

❝Most people file information away like librarians. I let mine BREED. Every fact mates with ten others. Every memory infects another memory. Nothing sits still. That’s why people can never keep up with me. They’re walking in straight lines while I’m… everywhere.❞ He tapped a finger against his temple, a sneer forming. ❝Everywhere.❞

[poxsonmenace]

🍒

❝Ooh cherries, for me? How domestic. I’m almost touched.❞ He purred, taking the fruit by the stem, giving them a little twirl between his forefinger and thumb. ❝If they’re laced, I’m going to be very DISAPPOINTED.❞

[vizual-demon]

Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.

The Reichenbach Fall (2x03)

[haloless]

The abominable Bride // Jim Moriarty; because doesn’t this remind you of another case?

[poxsonmenace]

" So, how's your night going? Jimbo."

❝It was going spectacularly until you decided to give me that GODAWFUL nickname, now my night’s ruined. I’ll send you an invoice for the damages.❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: a warm slug drags on the inside of Lestat's gut, seizing his breath with each directed rock. The static blood that fills his veins buzzes with another's disorganized evil; a calculated bouquet of poisonous candy that turns into a horrific daydream. He has taken from Moriarty multiple times, and each sip is a drag of the kind of vintage that stays with you like a scar that always bleeds in the winter. Lestat rolls his head around, squeezing his digits around the trapped knuckles to keep the mortal pinned where he can somewhat control his upper half. At the same time, the vampire is tricked into a compromising position. His lips are abandoned, freeing his speech. He feels Jim nestle between his legs, sparking pressure that punishes with a sweet draw of anticipation. If he just sinks down, he will finally get echoing waves of satisfaction to wrap up this adrenaline rush with another suffocating feeling. And yet, Lestat is a stubborn being, just like his counterpart. Jim's preference for the finest things in life are mirrored in the visage of a self-proclaimed God who doesn't writhe from a mere hint of a bucking cock against him. It entices laughter.

Tossing his head back, Lestat erupts into a cackle that cures the dents on his throat and rattles his entire body. On the same beat, he throws Moriarty's seized hand to the side, breaking their puzzle. His parted knee raises to shove Jim's squarely against his chest. "Are you threatening me?" The vampire sneers through his hearty amusement as he rises on his elbows and pushes Jim away. "Have you earned that? I think you are forgetting yourself." The rockstar mocks as he rolls forward to chase after the dismissed human to capture him by the neck in a sweeping, upward motion. Lestat rises to his feet, dragging Moriarty with him to toss the man onto a nearby couch a couple meters away from the soiled carpet. A whole chemical team is going to have to clean up that mess.

Now on Lestat's cushions, Jim is observed like some exhibit as the singer rounds the couch to stand before him. Sinking down on his knee, the rockstar reaches over to grab one of Moriarty's legs to guide it over the Lestat's right shoulder. He leaves the other alone as his talons stroke the top of the mortal's calf, peering at him with a narrowed warning. "We are going to be here all night, mon cher. I won't yield, you won't either." Lestat grins, pressing his lips against the side of Jim's knee. "And I am not quite done," he lowers his voice as his fangs drop again, scraping against skin. "Feeding on you." He purrs, nicking the flesh to capturing a bloody rivulet by dragging his tongue over the curve of the outlined joint, keeping their eye contact unsevered.

[poxsonmenace]

Jim wasn’t bothered by the laughter. If anything, it was expected. Lestat laughed the way other men bled, freely, extravagantly, as though every confrontation deserved an audience. It washed over Jim without diminishing the razor-edged focus in his eyes. He merely answered it with the faintest curl of a smile, equal parts IRRITATION and challenge.

He had been on the verge of surging his hips forward into that tight embrace, determined to reclaim the ADVANTAGE before the moment could slip away. Instead, a sharp knee caught him squarely, knocking him off balance and forcing him back before he could act.

A low, feral growl tore from his throat. The sound had scarcely faded before Lestat’s hand closed around his neck, hauling him upright with INFURIATING strength. Jim’s response was immediate. His fingers shot up to seize the vampire’s forearm, gripping it with enough force to whiten his knuckles as he dug in, more in defiance than desperation.

Jim barely had time to brace. One moment his feet still found the floor, his grip refusing to yield; the next, he was torn sideways. The room lurched into a blur of overturned furniture and shattered glass before his back collided VIOLENTLY with the chair. The impact exploded through his ribs. Air fled his lungs in a single, involuntary rush, leaving only a harsh wheeze where a retort should have been.

For a heartbeat, all Jim could do was sit there, chest tightening as he fought to drag another breath into BURNING lungs. His fingers dug into the armrest as he came round from the disorientation to catch Lestat lowering before him, redirecting his leg onto his shoulder.

❝Show-off,❞ he grumbled as he watched him lap at a fresh droplet that he had drawn without a wince, hooking his leg near his nape to drag him flush so that he might seize him in an all-consuming kiss. Or, more specifically, catch his lower lip between enamel to bite down so hard he drew BLOOD.

[poxsonmenace]

yanno sometimes I think Jim needs to be held captive in a basement somewhere to think about his behaviour, but I fear that would just make him more mad and more delulu

[kosiax]

⚚・・・・・ NO MORTAL IMMEDIATELY GETS IT. KOSIAX tries to gift a benefit of the doubt, but each time, the reaction is really the same. Corporate crime is a classic. Whichever caliber Mr. Moriarty poses himself as is just as good as the next one. He is picked from a raffle of dirty dealers and now offered a negotiation. It is really one in a lifetime experience to be deemed important enough to engage in a conversation, but the Messenger doesn't dally in rewards. Her job is to deliver one thing and make sure it sets circumstances that will benefit the Greater Evil, or the necessary evil. Whatever. His voice is like a wet eel, tilted in suggestion that whatever KOSIAX has is hardly his concern. It should be, if he knows better, but he is a human, a finite thing, so it isn't his fault that he doesn't. Blame is supposed to be assigned to pawns who move the conflict forward. This one has to be an instigator. A great shame she can't threaten him with a gun, it would have been easier, but that's a different Fortress talking. The spy shakes her head.

"No." She declines flatly. "I am giving you an option of time only." It is almost amusing to receive orders from a nobody. Amon would like this one, in his own special way. The demon blinks. "I can return later. At whatever time. At whatever location. At whatever mood you'd like to be found in, but I believe your current obligations will disperse violently enough for me to discover you homeless. You don't seem to prefer a street corner for an office." She cants her head.

""Fifteen minutes now. My compromise, your leisure."

[poxsonmenace]

Threats came in all shapes and sizes. Some arrived wrapped in velvet, others with guns, and some, as this one apparently preferred, drifted into the room disguised as inevitabilities. He’d heard every variation imaginable. 'Your empire will fall. Your people will leave. You’ll REGRET this.' She had simply chosen a more poetic version.

He watched her for a long beat, his expression unreadable, before a quiet laugh escaped him. ❝First you demand my time, then you threaten the very business you’re trying cut a deal with… tsk tsk tsk,❞ he shook his head DISAPPROVINGLY. ❝That’s bad practice, darling. You won’t earn any good girl points with me that way.❞

Jim took an unhurried step closer, stopping well within conversational distance. ❝You know, people are forever telling me what’s about to happen to me. Usually involving fire, bullets, PRISON…❞ his eyes flickered over her impassive face, ❝…or homelessness, apparently.❞ He succumbed to a mocking scoff. ❝And they’re always wrong. If your message is important enough to survive until the end of the day, you’ll have your meeting. If it isn’t,❞ he shrugged, ❝then it was never really meant for me.❞

[dontcxckitup]

"...I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You have quite a high opinion of yourself, haven't you? You are merely a tiny clog in the system. You are meaningless. There are by far more important people than you out there - and more dangerous ones, at that."

[poxsonmenace]

❝Come now Gareth, let's not play pretend. You know who I am, you know what I can do, what doors I can unlock with a pretty please... the IRA really did a number on you, didn't they? I wonder what else they SHATTERED besides your kneecap. Your psyche, perhaps?❞

[poxsonmenace]

♔ DASH GAME ♔

things JIM MORIARTY has done but it gets progressively worse and kind of disturbing:

Purposely closed a door on the person walking into a building behind him, just to watch them collide with the glass door.

Sent a polite “wrong number” text to someone, then used their reply to confirm they were exactly where he expected them to be.

Pretended to forget someone’s name repeatedly, despite remembering every detail about them, just to make them feel insignificant.

Left a coffee cup on someone’s desk with their exact order, despite them never telling him what they liked, just to unsettle them.

Created situations where his own employees competed against each other because he enjoyed watching desperation bring out their worst traits.

Eliminated his own employees when they became inconvenient or a nuisance i.e. because they made a numerical error, or because he found their cologne irritating.

Killed a classmate when he was a child by poisoning their eczema cream with botulinum toxin, causing them to have a fit in the pool and drown, all because the classmate laughed at him.

Created a situation where two innocent people believed they were responsible for each other’s suffering, when the entire conflict had been manufactured by him.

Used a victim’s final moments as part of a message, turning a death into a performance designed to frighten everyone else.

Spent a month pretending to be a shy awkward man working in IT, just to make Molly Hooper fall in love with him so he could get close to Sherlock.

Stole the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London, orchestrated his own trial and rigged the jury to be found not guilty, just to send a message to Sherlock: that in a world of locked rooms, he was the man with the key.

Created the identity of Richard Brook, hiring an actor and constructing an entire fake life to convince the public that Sherlock was a fraud who fabricated his cases.

Destroyed Sherlock’s reputation, carefully feeding the media a story that Sherlock had invented Moriarty, staged crimes, and manipulated the police for attention.

Orchestrated his own death, where he continued to torment the world, Sherlock especially, from beyond the grave.

Indirectly caused the death of his childhood sweetheart by trying to spare her from the dangerous life he was going to make for himself (he actually feels guilty about this).

Tagged by: @kosiax Tagging: Y.O.U

[poxsonmenace]

soooo I haven’t posted a munday since 2019… might as well have one now aye? happy munday folks, roll on friday 😅

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: he should have known, and maybe he does, but somewhere in his frenzy, he makes the decision to keep this back and forth without prying in Jim's mind. It would make things borin, especially now that they are reduced to a collective breath that tenses their muscles with each brush and thrust. Lestat grins at the hand that slips between them, and suddenly the sight of his apartment is a collapsing circle. He gasps as Moriarty changes the course, shoving the vampire down and over to his side until he is back where the started: on his back. His heart beats in identical rhythm with the mortal's, after having a few greedy drags from his flesh. The gasp of air matches a drawn breath, and Lestat digs his heels against the carpet to keep with the brat climbing into his lap. His mouth is stretched into a dirty grin as he softly whispers Fuck.

Of course Jim isn't going to make it easy, even if for a moment, it seemed that way. It wouldn't be a proper interaction between them. Lestat's head rolls as the sore spot on his scalp pulses pleasantly from the assault. His hips answer the weight immediately, driving up to rut against the mortal. A drawn sigh from his throat is crushed by a human hand that squeezes at him. For a moment, a fire of warning sparks in Lestat's eyes, but just as easily, he lets the pyre deflate and twist back into a carnal desire. A vampire draws in a breath through the compromised windpipe to force out a wheeze bloomed into laughter. He is enticed by the game and readily welcomes in.

"No, but one can imagine." Lestat's remaining hand reaches for Moriarty's waist as he turns his head to the hovering face. Poking out his bloodied tongue, the vampire licks Moriarty's lips, curling the tip just under his top lip. He strains his seized neck a little, using his shoulders to dip forward and drawn Jim into another kiss. The hand exploring the mortal's waist draws up to the hand on his throat, capturing the wrist to forcefully pry the hand away. The left bruising dents will heal come morning, for now serving as evidence of accessorized violence. The relinquished hand is moved up to the one currently holding the rockstar's arm down. He collides their palms, threading their fingers at a somewhat awkward angle. His pinned hand squeezes to keep Moriarty in a lock, both voluntary and vampire-guided.

"I think I've earned it enough, baby. Issue is," the man whispers, leaving three limbs tangled over his head while freeing the overworked hand to slither between their stomachs. "I won't mind being here all night if it means you'll get to suffer in anticipation. Which," he palms their shafts together, pumping up against the tactful movement of their hips. "Seems to be a common goal." The vampire sighs against Jim's chin, nuzzling it. "Did you feel it?" He mutters. "When you held my throat. Did you feel our hearts as one?" A tongue drags over the drying blood, teeth nipping against a looming jawline. "I hope it haunts you." He whispers, squeezing them in his hand with a throaty grunt.

[poxsonmenace]

Jim’s mind had always been a dangerous place to linger. Even in moments when instinct threatened to overtake reason, some part of him remained detached; observing, cataloguing, imagining every possible outcome. His hand held the vampire in place, and for a fleeting moment his thoughts wandered down DARKER paths, considering just how easily control could become destruction.

He fantasied about squeezing around the throat so tightly that the man’s lips turned blue, pictured him thrashing in blind PANIC, clawing at him for breath. It was a pretty sight he had seen many times, and in this moment, whether the vampire needed to breathe or not didn’t matter, not when his imagination was so vivid.

It was only then that he felt it. The impossible pulse beneath his fingertips and the fact that it matched his own perfectly. Too perfectly. What that meant he didn’t know, but it was enough to DISTRACT him, and by the time his mind returned to the present, he found his limbs in a tangle, held up towards the one he pinned down.

Jim’s breath shuddered as his erection was palmed at against Lestat’s own, precum smearing from one tip and onto the other, slicking them both. Fuck, the urge he had to shove it somewhere warm and tight was immense, and he bucked into that hand to better feel the friction. As teeth and tongue explored his jawline, he canted his head over, allowing himself to be CLAIMED by that mouth. His lower half moved in tandem, shifting from where he straddled the vampire to slot a knee between his thighs.

❝Nothing haunts me,❞ he whispered, driving his knee up to pry those thighs apart, widening the space between Lestat’s legs so he could slot between them. His erection no longer held but pressing very close to the hole he sought to CLAIM, teasing it by having the wet tip press against the entrance. ❝I'd release my hand if I were you. Otherwise,❞ he pressed against the tight ring a little harder, ❝I'm going to go in dry.❞

[poxsonmenace]

Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text.

MEME | ACCEPTING

[text] You looked unfairly attractive today. I blame you entirely for the fact I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing since.

[text] I hope you haven’t managed to get your throat slit, because I plan to use it later.

[poxsonmenace]

"Oh. You're back. How...lucky we all are." (@dontcxckitup)

❝Mm'n now now, don't be like that, you should be thanking your lucky stars that I decided to return to my old hunting grounds. After all, I'm the one that's keeping the lights on at MI6. Without me, you'd be sat at home all alone collecting dust... like a discarded china doll seconds away from CRACKING it's other knee.❞

[ @dontcxckitup ]