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Alex The Flippin' Awesome Evil Genius

Hey, lovely person looking at my Tumblr. My name's Alexandra but feel free to call me Alex - everyone does. I'm 20 and living in Toronto, Ontario. Currently I'm attending Brock University in Saint Catharines and studying Business Communications. I also high fived Jeffrey Cranor. Yup.

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Happy birthday, Coti. Everyone’s been making stuff for you, so I decided to do it too. It’s not  much, but eh, have some flirty mormor birthday party for two ;)

The pink cake’s intentional. Totally. Jim did it on purpose. Plus, Seb’s being changeable; from flirty to casual. He’s playing it dirty and Jim will definitely have to retailate for the sexual frustration.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

# MorMor 

Richard approaches Sebastian; worried about his brother. Sebastian ends up lashing out at the other man. It isn’t exactly the easiest of subjects.

# MorMor 
octopifer:


“You’re filthy!”

Moran just wants some lovin’ after a job well done, but Moriarty always has some place to be.
For the Anon who requested my favorite Sherlock Pairing.

octopifer:

“You’re filthy!”

Moran just wants some lovin’ after a job well done, but Moriarty always has some place to be.

For the Anon who requested my favorite Sherlock Pairing.

# MorMor 
# MorMor 
# MorMor 

porn!mormor

porn!mormor

# nsfw # MorMor 

Is it just me or 

merlin-is-his-lionheart:

image

# MorMor # OH MY GOD 
fuckity-bye:

hey mivaae i did it, okay
yeah so basically i can’t draw after 10.30 but whatever
eta: THE PUN IS boffingbyron’s AND mivaae’s; I FEEL YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BEFORE YOU START THINKING I’M FUNNY. OR SOMETHING.

fuckity-bye:

hey mivaae i did it, okay

yeah so basically i can’t draw after 10.30 but whatever

eta: THE PUN IS boffingbyron’s AND mivaae’s; I FEEL YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BEFORE YOU START THINKING I’M FUNNY. OR SOMETHING.

Blargh. This just gives me post-Reichenbach Jim feels
[[MORE]]He was finally pronounced dead; he heard it on the car’s radio. It was announced by that annoyingly shrill voice of the reporter that made him cringe. But all he could think about at the moment was that fucking sniper, his sniper.
Moran.
He watched as the blond man made his way from the hospital. His head was down, hands in his jacket pockets. Jim had the urge to pull up next to him, tell him that it wasn’t over, that he still had a job to do. But he didn’t. It wasn’t like him. He didn’t care about the man, he didn’t become close to him through the years they’ve worked together, and he damn right didn’t like him. No, not at all.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, wanting to stop thinking. But hell, he was James Moriarty, when was his mind ever silenced?
When Moran was finally out of his sight he stared at the place he disappeared behind. Maybe someday he would find a reason to come back to get his sniper. Hah. Wouldn’t that be fun. Maybe he could send him notes, little hints, see if he gets it.
Oh! Wouldn’t it be lovely to mess with his mind. Jim started to brighten up at the thought.
When he sat up straighter in the seat so as to put the keys in, he caught his reflection in the rear view mirror; he already looked different. His hair was different, his clothes were different, he even felt a tad bit different. He shooed away the thought though, he didn’t want to act like a different person at the moment. He just wanted to be Jim, not Richard fucking Brooke anymore. He was dead, finished, gone, done with.
Jim had planning to do; planning for his return, planning to screw with his sniper and the rest of the world.

Blargh. This just gives me post-Reichenbach Jim feels

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# MorMor 

Someone should draw a mini-comic-thing of Sebastian waiting at the gates of hell with his sniper gun strapped over his shoulder and a cigarette between his teeth.

And then Jim’s walking towards him and Seb’s all like “Finally. Thought you’d never get here.”

And then Jim would be like, with a small smirk, “Miss me, tiger?” and then Seb would be like “No. Never.”

And then Jim’s like “Good. We have a lot of work to do down here.”

Imagine if Jim bought a Wii and made Sebastian play Just Dance 2 

He chose the most horrid song in the game - Wait. Wait. Wait. I know how this began!

I think it would be better explained in a short fic.

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MorMor Headcanon #9 

Seb always has to remind Jim to eat.

When he does, Jim snorts and accuses Sebastian of caring about his well being, going back to whatever work he was previously doing. But Seb just rolls his eyes and mutters that he doesn’t want to put up with Jim’s horrible mood or hear him complaining that he has a fucking headache because it gives him a headache.

But he never stops trying to get his boss to eat - even if that means going out of his way to pick his boss up something or taking an hour to cook it.

He’ll never admit the real reason as to why he does it - not even to himself.

MorMor Headcanon #8 

Before Sebastian had moved in with Jim, the consulting criminal had set up security cameras all around Seb’s flat - which the sniper didn’t know about (even to this day he still doesn’t).

Jim told himself that it was just to study the man but really, he liked watching Sebastian. He wasn’t like any other normal bloke that had worked for him before. They were all boring idiots. But, even then, Jim knew this one had potential. So he kept watching him.

Years later the cameras are still there, just in case Seb goes back for a night or two. He knows he’ll never tell Seb but maybe one day he’ll drop a hint or two and see if the sniper catches on.

Title: Where’s My Tiger?  

Pairing: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran
Rating: PG
Words: 1982
Summary: Kid!MorMor. James Moriarty has lost his stuffed tiger, Cyprus, and sets off into his own imaginary jungle to find him. Little did he know the danger he’d get himself into and the friend he would later make.
Author’s Note: I had to write a children’s story for my writers craft course and it sort of turned into a MorMor story. But, I do apologize for the horrible writing and all the fluffyness. Aaaand now I shall stop typing and hopefully let you read it - if you are going to read it, that is. If you’re not going to read it, that’s fine too.

      “I’ve lost him!” James Moriarty muttered to himself as he got down on his knees to look under his bed. He came up in a huff “He’s not under the bed, he’s not under the table, he’s not even in the bathroom!” He rested back on the balls of his feet, staring blankly in front of him, not believing that his tiger was gone.

His tiger, the one thing that he’d had for as long as he can remember - they’d been through so much! He had a scar on his left paw that his Mother had to stitch on because he accidentally got snagged on a branch. The ruffled fur that was rarely washed because he couldn’t bear to be away from it. He couldn’t have just disappeared! He had to be somewhere!

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