#otherwiseknownaslucifer

[infamousjm-blog]

otherwiseknownaslucifer replied to your post: “You’re blind,” dead panned the older Moriarty. “That’s unfortunate, isn’t it? I would help if I could, Jim. He’s really insistent that I don’t, however.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lucifer murmured. He made a small motion with one hand to keep the smaller man upright. “Careful there. Don’t injure yourself. You could make it permanent.”

"I'm perfectly capable," muttered the other, stabilizing himself on a table, "I wasn't expecting you. Why are you acting strangely, James?" It would have been more reasonable had James been himself--aloof 'mm'subtle arse and all. Jim was unprepared to handle kindness, especially from his 'brother', or at least someone who shared his brother's voice. 

[itstodowithsex-blog]

Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.

 Irene stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair hung by her shoulders, unbound in waves that tickled her bare skin. Her face looked pale in its frame of smooth locks and she blinked slowly. The small object in her hand barely weighed anything, yet it felt so heavy.

She fit her fingers to it and lifted her hand, looking at the metallic tool. The woman could feel it warm to her touch yet digging into her flesh. With a deep breath, she ignored the lump in her throat and began her final task. Everything else was finished, her bags packed and her papers in order. Adler had even vacated her flat already. She had left this to be last. Cutting ties, as it were. Which was a strange thing to be doing while staying a final night at James Moriarty's. But she had needed a place.

The scissors bit their way through her hair, severing the strands section by section. The pins that had once held up her curls were sitting uselessly at the bottom of a bag, tucked neatly next to some cosmetics that she had no immediate use for. The loss of her phone should have been the end of her, and on paper it was. Irene Adler was dead, and only select few would know any different. 

Her host strolled into the bathroom lazily. He was a strange acquaintance, but one that she found useful to keep. The final snip and her hair fell bluntly against her neck. Sliced strands clung together on the countertop as though making a desperate final attempt to stay together. She swallowed and brushed away the few pieces that stuck to her, watching them float lightly down to the rest of them. 

"I'll be out of your-... Gone soon. And I don't think I'll be seeing you in for a while." Her shortened hair swung forward into her face as she looked down to blink away the stupid spots of moisture that gathered in her eyes. It's only hair, she chided herself. It didn't matter, what mattered was that Witness Protection would keep her safe until she could get her own defenses set up once more. 

Squaring her shoulders, Irene faced James. "Want to make the best of it?" 

[thecitybreaking-blog]

Are You There, Lucifer? It's Me, Jim

Every once in a very long while, Jim deemed it necessary to visit his older brother. The two didn't get along at all, of course- James's chaotic personality clashed completely with Jim's more organized violence, but as much of an embarrassment as James was, he was family. That sentiment, of course, meant nothing to Jim, but it was the excuse he'd use if someone questioned his reasoning. James was his older brother, and Jim wanted to check up on him. He definitely didn't visit just to confiscate the man's various recreational drugs, or collect information and contacts in the military.

Now, though, he honestly couldn't remember why he'd set out in the first place. He had most of James's drugs- although he'd no doubt found more by now- and he didn't need any help (Not that he ever needed help from James, of course). But he trudged up to the door and let himself in anyways, as he always did.

Inside, though, something was different. Jim could tell immediately. There was an indecipherable air in the room, as if someone was watching him. Jim froze on the doorstep, looking around warily and calling, "James?"

[infamousjm-blog]

"You're blind," dead panned the older Moriarty. "That's unfortunate, isn't it? I would help if I could, Jim. He's really insistent that I don't, however."

"He? How did you...why are you...?" Obviously, Jim was uncomfortable with the voice suddenly emitting around the den and he nearly tripped. "Why does it sound like you have split personalities?" Choked out the teen eventually with an attempted bite.

[infamousjm-blog]

Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. || Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.


It had been far too long since Jim allowed himself to fully enjoy his time at a party. Especially a university party. All that he knew at this point was that the moon hung low and sleepily in the sky as he stumbled back to his flat in silence, rubbing sore wrists. Perhaps he had let himself get a little too loose. Fucking in some stranger's empty room left him with wonderfully stinging welts down his back, a raw throat, and an aching behind. Oh, but it had been soo long.

He grinned lazily and didn't bother turning on the lights as he entered the flat and pulled on his pajamas before he crawled into his bed and wrapped his arms around an oddly solid pillow and nuzzled into it. Within minutes, he slept soundly, grip tight around not a pillow, but Jim's blind brother, James, who had mysteriously appeared in his flat again like some repeat Goldilocks, and who now was in an iron grip of a drunk brother.