#moramori

[tiger-moran]

One thing I still think there does need to be more of is Moriarty having other people working for him, people who are loyal to him, even close to him, just without replacing Moran or 'demoting' him. Because too often in things Moriarty seems to be either more or less entirely alone or when he does have other trusted people around him Moran basically gets kicked out of the equation, like Kurland did that - Moran is never Moriarty's chief of staff and while he does get fairly friendly interaction with Moriarty in one book, it's nothing like the relationship between them in the canon and it's not enough; he spends thousands and thousands of words talking about his original characters over several novels and short stories while Moran gets one proper appearance and one 'cameo role' and that's all. Meanwhile Gardner not only made Moran useless he also had Moriarty kill him off and replaced him with his OCs. Horowitz sort of did it too - yeah Moran's there and they seem to sort of trust each other even but they're explicitly not friends and Moran seems less important to Moriarty than the OCs. Even the Bert Coules' adaptation kind of did this and really cut down Moran's significance to Moriarty. And yeah, Moriarty the Patriot still did this kind of thing too, that still brought in these other characters and then kind of side-lined Moran and totally changed the Moriarty and Moran relationship. And I'm sure other things have brought in OCs and then essentially booted out Moran too.

I like the idea that Moriarty has a select few other people he is close to and who he trusts and who probably do care quite a lot about him even, and that these people would probably be just as devoted to him as Moran is just not in quite the same way or for entirely the same reasons (because Moran is also in love with him as well as working for him). I don't get though why nobody seems to ever want to explore this without somehow wrecking Moran and/or spoiling the Moriarty/Moran relationship.

[eatyourego]

Feel me, completer Down to my core Open my heart and let it Bleed onto yours

[kazukiquartz]

Does anyone remember them

They’re not really popular but the fanfics are good

[vaguemormorvibes]

[polysaccharidegremlin]

So I’ve had this idea spawning I’m my head for a while because I saw someone write SEB as an American and I realised he could be from literally ANY COUNTRY. So I thought, what if he was from Sweden because I’m from Sweden and I thought it’d be fun. So I spent some time coming up with random scenarios (see below) for fun. I hadn’t thought about it for a while until I saw THIS today.

(Excuse the shitty picture) But JIM WOULD BUY THIS AND WEAR IT ALL THE TIME AND SEB WOULD BE SO PISSED OFF AT HIM.

The context I came up with because why TF not:

Sebastian has generally shit parents. He grew up in Sweden where his mum is from but his dad (Lord Moran) would always complain about living there. In the end they get divorced when Seb was in his early teens and Lord Moran moves to the UK while Sebs mum stays in Sweden. He ends up moving between both countries every month (or every other month) which is obviously shorty for him but neither of his parents really wants to take care of him. He meets Jim at some point while he’s in the UK and Jim knows he goes to his mum who lives abroads house about half the time but never finds out what country specifically, it just never really comes up. At some point they run away together and they don’t really talk about their pasts after that. Then years later Jim finds out where Seb is from and obviously they have to go on a holiday there RIGHT NOW.

(Found these T-Shirts in gamla Stan btw!)

[consultingcriminal]

"I lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship"

[fall-safe]

“The nightmares again?” Moriarty asks, and doesn't that just make it worse for Moran? That sometimes the Professor seems to show understanding, albeit somewhat misguided understanding, towards him. If he was simply always cold then Moran could perhaps understand that more and better cope with it. In time perhaps he could even begin to move on from this almost crushing sense that his life amounts to nought without the Professor returning his regard in some significant way.

But sometimes Moriarty at least tries to be compassionate towards him, and somehow that fact makes the pain even worse, because it sometimes comes so close to what Moran craves, yet always at the last moment misses the mark.

“Yes sir,” Moran replies because it's easier to lie than to even begin to try to put the truth into words.

“Well then.” Moriarty stands up and moves to place his own empty glass back on the sideboard. As he passes Moran's chair he briefly pats the Colonel on the shoulder. He does not see the pained manner in which Moran, equally briefly, screws his eyes tightly shut.

- excerpt from We Shall Be Dangerous by @tiger-moran

[grand-taire]

[poetofthefall]

2:34 am, the city (financial district), london, england

Pans and cooking utensils litter Jim’s marble countertops, the beginnings of Seb’s favorite dish from Kabul starting to simmer on the stove. Ghee and sunflower seed oil, and then comes the spiced lamb, except, except.

Sebastian grits his teeth against the strain in his back, trying once more to reach above him and grab the spices he needs from the cupboard. His hand doesn't even make it above the level of his shoulder this time before a sharp bolt of agony shoots through him. He gasps and jerks his arm down automatically. Shite.

It's honestly just a bit of bruising, not something Seb saw fit to bother Jim with in his report, or to mention since his return from Canada. It's always a toss-up whether his boss will react to mistakes with a derisive, mocking comment, indifference, or genuine anger. Sebastian isn't particularly in the mood to deal with any of those things. Actually, all the business trip left him with (beside the line of furious purple-black bruises across his upper back and perhaps a little muscle damage) was the desire for a steaming hot shower and a bite or two of flavorful food.

Which he can't exactly get without the fucking spices, now, can he?

Sebastian slams the cupboard shut, scowling, and turns his attention to the dining room chairs, his last-ditch resort, only to jerk in shock at the wide-eyed face staring at him in interest. “Jesus fuck, Jim! How- what are you doing here?” He sputters, feeling foolish.

“I live here.” Jim replies blandly, tilting his head to the side. He's dressed down today, Sebastian notices, a simple button-up tucked into comfortable-looking slacks, accompanied by dark wool socks. “Having some trouble, Tiger? Has the treacherous spice rack conquered all six-foot-something of you?”

Mocking comments, then. He grits his teeth and holds back a sigh, some subtle noise indicating that the mixture on the stove has started to bubble. “I- yes. Actually. Sorry if I, uh, disturbed you, banging around.”

He flips off the stove, and Jim raises his eyebrows, as if noting the weariness in Seb's voice. The 24 hour place down the street isn't going to be anywhere near as good, but he'll be damned if he's going to stand on top of a chair like a child with Jim Moriarty watching. “Takeout it is tonight, then. Want anything?”

Jim just looks at him, fingers tapping against the polished tabletop soundlessly.

For all that he's trying to hide it, the sniper is moving stiffly, shoulders wound tight as a drum. Usually, he would be done with his routine by this point; arrive home, unpack, shower, eat, clean his guns, seek Jim out. Clearly, Sebastian has been struggling for a while now, and it shows in the muted frustration in his voice. Jim resists the urge to laugh, rising from his chair and crossing over to the counter. “Don’t be silly. You’ve clearly gone to a lot of work.” He replies, voice quiet. Now that Sebastian notices, actually, his shirt is a bit rumpled, and his hair seems more out of place than normal, almost messy. Had he been asleep for once?

Jim brushes a hand across his waist as he walks past, making Sebastian’s stomach flip. It's been months since they first started sleeping together, but displays of affection are still erratic and mostly unexpected. Jim’s almost warm manner is also surprising. He watches, slightly off-kilter, as Jim turns the oven back on and opens the spice cabinet, and feels his mouth fall slack when the criminal picks up the exact spices that he’d needed and lays them on the counter.

“You- you know how to cook?” He murmurs, finishing the sentence there. Not remarking upon the obscurity of the dish, or the fact that he had to have learnt it, memorized it, by watching Sebastian.

Instead- rather more cleverly- he sits silently at the kitchen table, watching Jim pad around the kitchen. A playful, manic hurricane on some days and a dangerous, hateful creature on others, but always powerful, always put together and brilliant and dangerous. And rather soft when he's fresh out of bed, apparently. Sebastian looks down in a halfhearted attempt to hide his smile.

"Get that look off your face, Moran." Jim drawls without turning around. Seb jerks his head back up, only to catch Jim's eye in the reflection of a stainless steel pan hanging above the stove. There's a small smirk on his face from catching Seb out.

"Now. Come over here and finish this pilaf, I'm starving."

[arnesia-a]

totally feeling really down on myself lately can anyone recommend me some good Mormor fluff fics? (bbc sherlock fandom)

[mormormates]

Anyone still out there into Moran and Moriarty? 👋

[tiger-moran]

Happy 13 year anniversary of me shipping these assholes

(Repost of an old manip salvaged from my old blog)

[7perct]

6,8k words featuring yoga, coffee shops and museums, a gun and a really unsatisfying work relationship

[foxrpprompts]

((Vampire/Werewolf Mormor)) The dark club was hardly where Jim wanted to find himself on what was otherwise supposed to be a productive evening. Call him old fashioned but Jim never felt as though a large congregation of his peers was a good idea, especially when they were intoxicated and surrounded by potential food. Recipe for disaster and his client still hadn't made an appearance. Bloody fantastic. Then something else caught his attention. A series of new scents entering that were neither human, nor vampire. Jim shut his eyes and focused on separating the scents, picking up four distinct ones and... No. Before he could get an accurate read on the smell another man clapped his hand on Jim's shoulder, grinning. "Hell of a night, isn't it? Sorry that Dmitri couldn't make it this evening, but I was sent in his place with some wares if you're interested. I realize that wasn't the deal that you two were to make but-" "You led dogs here." Jim replied flatly, catching sight of one in the fray of dancing bodies. His lip curled just slightly as he caught the whiff of alcohol wafting from them. "How do you intend to control them when they find out where they are?" The man winked secretively. "Slipped a special compound into what they've been drinking to dull their noses, and were you to say, choose one as a servant or what have you, we could alter their internal make up to force them to obey. Consider it my company's apology for the missed appointment. You can pick whichever you like?" A bribe. A hideous one. Still, he kept smelling something so... familiar in the air. In answer to the man's offer, Jim slid from the stool and wandered into the crowd, searching.

[aceinthehole312]

Chapter 3 of my ongoing self-feeding fic mixing three of my favourite concepts: BAMF!Sebastian Moran, Nerd!Jim Moriarty and homosexuals in the Outisders. Chapter 3 can be summed up in one sentence: Jim JUST wants to tutor, instead he’s dealing with John and Sebastian. (also, Smarter than BBC gave him credit for-John Watson is another thing I need to see more. So I did it myself.)

[consultingcriminal]

I can't believe I forgot to post this but here's a very late mormor christmas thingy soo yep.