#notasoldierseverin

[i-am-hamishwatsonholmes]

@notasoldierseverin liked for a starter

[text; Posh Boy]: I actually slept last night. After five spliffs and two cups of tea. -HWH

[text; Posh Boy]: And then I had this dumb fucking dream, and you were in it. You kept asking me where the ‘nice forks’ were, and I had no idea what you were talking about. But you kept insisting, and called me a ‘fucking Christmas banana’ for losing them. And then your mother came in, except her face was shaped like a cat, and she was sort of singing? Not like cat noises, more like a whale or something. And you lost your shit and slammed the door. -HWH 

[text; Posh Boy]: It was pretty nice after that, though... -HWH

[ask-john-the-army-doctor]

@notasoldierseverin

“Good morning.”

“So you’re the owner of the shoes I keep seeing by the door.”

[gunmetclgrey-archived]

@notasoldierseverin 💜’d for a thing

SMS [ dick ] ; oi SMS [ dick ] ; a year older but not a year wiser, right? SMS [ dick ] ; may as well call it quits now SMS [ dick ] ; you could say  SMS [ dick ] ; it’s a good day SMS [ dick ] ; to DIE SMS [ dick ] ; HARD

MMS [ dick ] ; IMG8484. JPG

[flight-of-the-thieving-magpie]

notasoldierseverin replied to your post: // If you think Jim doesn’t stalk...

You just know Severin knows, and exploits it.

His selfies have gotten way sluttier lately, and that’s saying something.

[bashertigermoran-blog1]

⊗ bc I'm trash and can't get enough of them??

SEND ME ⊗ FOR 3+ HEADCANONS ABOUT YOUR MUSE AND MINE.

⊗Sebastian would drop anything and anyone he was doing to go if Severin asked him to

⊗More than anything Sebastian wishes he would have taken little Severin when he left the house, he feels like things would have turned out differently for the both of them 

⊗On more than occasion Sebastian has followed Severin when he was out, partly out of jealousy, partly out of concern. Like 10% concern though. 

[blammoran]

For @notasoldierseverin​ from here

    It had been a long fucking day. Not that anything in particular had happened, as such. Work had been fine, and he’d kept on the boss’ good side that day.

But it was one of those days where he just felt bone weary. Tired. His deeper scars and more serious old injuries ached dully and he found himself far too in his own head for his liking. Not sad. No, that was a rare emotion for Sebastian. Just numb, dulled, as though a fundamental part of him was missing or broken.

Perhaps it was.

His flask had been raised to his lips a little too often that day, and the stop off at the pub on his way home had hardly helped matters.

Perhaps it was loneliness. He supposed that would make some amount of sense. Even in his drunken state though, he knew that wasn’t it. That he was only looking for an excuse to go visit his brother.

Fuck it, who needed an excuse? He pushed himself from the bar stool, Severin was a Moran. It wasn’t sentiment. It was family pride. Moran pride. He didn’t push down the thought as he usually would. His mind was sluggish, too dulled down to worry about breaking away from what had been drummed incessantly into his head as a lad.

It didn’t take long until he was outside Severin’s door, banging sloppily, calling for him to open the door. He paused as he heard the dog, and slipped to the floor, pressing his head up against the door to better hear, “Cerb...” his words slurred uncomfortably, “Hey... Heyyy, good dog. Go an’ get Severin, okay?” Christ he loved dogs. They made him think of his own childhood hound. It’d been a bloodhound, used for fox hunting, and pheasant shooting. He wasn’t to ever pet it though. Wasn’t proper for a Moran.

“Sev!” he called out again, “You’ve gotta be in there. I can hear Cerb.” He banged against the door again, having no clue how much he was frightening the other, “Come let your brother in. S’time for some Moran family bonding.” He smiled to himself, clumsily pulling out his packet of cigarettes, jamming one in his mouth unceremoniously, “We can talk about work and how much of a bastard old Gus was.”

[gunpxint]

Escapism

@notasoldierseverin

He sat in his chair in front of Moriarty’s desk, the consulting criminal on the other side. He was bored for now, it always took too long when James scrolled through files on his computer and he always took too long with the final decisions but Sebastian knew - there was always fun ahead.

“Oh, there. That’s the guy, beautiful.” James spoke to himself, printing out a sheet which he slid across the desk and left it for Moran to read. There was no picture on it, no name. Just an adress and a description on how the mission would be scheduled. “What’s that? I don’t get names anymore?” 

“You really shouldn’t care, Sebastian. That’s none of your business.” Sebastian’s frown deepened. He would have loved to know. He was used to shooting guys, to cut them open, to strangle them to death but not even knowing a name was something new and he didn’t like it. “A’ight. How much?” Moriarty rolled his eyes. The consulting criminal kept hoping that his tiger would do the job just for fun but that would probably never happen. “Thirty thousand.”

If Sebastian’s features could have gone any more blank than they were already, they would have done it now. Thirty fucking thousand for this guy’s corpse... that was a load. In fact it was the highest reward on a target ever since he had started working for Moriarty. “Seriously?” he asked, accent thick and oozing slang as always. “Yeah. It’s important you’ll get it done first try. I’m sure the fee will help to motivate you achieve that goal.” Moran nodded, reading the lines. 

“No problem, boss.”

[gunmetalgrxy]

a thing for @notasoldierseverin v; all that glitters |*| (sister + petty crime)

She had a lot of bad habits, but her worst was never being able to ignore a locked door. Once she had gotten into his flat, she’d made herself comfortable with her bag full of goodies by her feet. Most of the time it was just a wallet or two, but some idiot who bumped into her in the coffee line last week had earned himself a spot on her spite list. A little break in, rummage around, pocketing a couple of his watches and then she’d hit the jackpot.

Only she had no idea how to shift it herself.

    “ Oi-”

As her brother walked in she sat up, teasing him was too much fun.

    “ Here -- no idea how many or the weight. Was a bit of a surprise, the city boy had them stuffed in his sock drawer, although can’t see him needing that many...”

She flung the package from her bag onto the coffee table, a clear plastic bag packed like a large brisk filled with capsules. Whatever the stuff was, she could get a price for it and that meant it was worth the trek out to Brixton on the Victoria line. It was a pain her brother seemed to like the seedy section of south London rather than being north or the river, she’d never be able to understand it.

    “ Nice to see you, by the way.”