Second Loves First

(Source: ismalizm)

jiminwestwood:

Bonus points if you break the wall this time, Mister Moran. X JM

Challenge accepted.

other-wordly:

pronunciation | al-ha-ra-ca
submitted by | cartografico
submit words | here

(via jookylicious-deactivated2013033)

(via submit-alice-deactivated2012112)

(Source: jovensino)

jiminwestwood:

secondlovesfirst replied to your post: # boss

You are high as a fuckin’ kite. I can’t leave you alone for two hours! SM

It’s been more than two hours! Come home, hmm? When I get like this, I miss you. X JM

I mean…Truffle misses you. Dammit. X JM

I’ll be home soon.  Just… stay still for now.  Have you called anyone else? Is ait an mac an saol…

jiminwestwood:

secondlovesfirst:

The tall, sturdy blond Irishman turned his head, but did not put his back to the bank of windows.  He gave his employer a thorough once-over from head to toe, taking in the gentle, squarish roll at the shoulder that Jim preferred and the detailing of the slightly darker thread at the seams.  It was a sharp suit with clean lines, typical for his style but not identical to anything else that he owned.

He glanced back out the window, then turned his attention to Jim again.  When he spoke, he intentionally dulled down his normally thick Ulster accent,  “It’s a good cut for you, boss, though I think that you’re right and the waist could stand to be pulled in a bit.”

Jim felt a moment of triumph, eyebrows raised in sudden pleasure. Exactly what he wanted to hear…and without any trace of indulgence. It was the little triumphs sometimes. He nodded quickly, looking at his tailor now.

“Yes, take it in. Whatever you think. But make sure it looks good. There’s a reason I’m wearing these things with an Italian cut.” He smirked, turning again to look at himself.

The tailor nodded quickly; he would agree to anything his best paying client wanted.

“Of course, sir. And you’ll be having this picked up on Friday?”

“Mmhmm…I’ll send someone. Before 2, as usual.” He walked away to change back into the suit he’d worn there.

A few minutes later he walked out, phone in hand as he walked over to stand beside Sebastian.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied with a quick but broad smile.  He pulled out his phone to text ahead to one of the men assigned to maintaining security on their active bases in London; he rarely just went home to an empty flat without a quick check to make sure that nothing was amiss.  He wasn’t in any way skittish, but at least some part of his efficacy derived from being thorough.

“Do we need to make any stops on the way home?”  he asked as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. 

He walked ahead of him to open the door for him.  It was a casual movement that managed not to look servile.

jiminwestwood:

Jim Moriarty turned sideways, tilting his head as he looked at himself in the mirror. Though almost every suit he owned was bespoke, and one would think he’d get used to it, every time a new suit neared completion, it was still an event. He smiled at his reflection. Dark blue, so very close to black. A colour he didn’t own yet, not in this fabric. Summer wool, because while the weather seemed to beg for cream and pale grey, he didn’t think he was really making the best impression if he was wearing beige. It just wasn’t quite as villainous as he was looking for.

“Oh, let’s pull it in just a little more at the back, Mr. Isaacs. Do you understand I’ve been eating salad every day for lunch for several months? I want to enjoy it!” He smiled at himself in the mirror, not bothering to smile at his tailor’s reflection. The short man stood beside him, obsequious and eager. Not worth meeting his eyes, though he obviously respected the man’s work. 

He did, however, smile at the reflection of the man standing behind him, and just a bit to the left. Tall, blond, and not quite as relaxed as either the criminal or the tailor. But then, great expanses of windows tended not to put him at ease, though he stood easily. Prepared, not panicked.

“Sebastian, I know you’ll be as politic as possible, but I would love to hear your thoughts on this suit. I’m certain no one’s going to try to shoot me through Mr. Isaac’s window, so look away for a moment, will you?”

The tall, sturdy blond Irishman turned his head, but did not put his back to the bank of windows.  He gave his employer a thorough once-over from head to toe, taking in the gentle, squarish roll at the shoulder that Jim preferred and the detailing of the slightly darker thread at the seams.  It was a sharp suit with clean lines, typical for his style but not identical to anything else that he owned.

He glanced back out the window, then turned his attention to Jim again.  When he spoke, he intentionally dulled down his normally thick Ulster accent,  “It’s a good cut for you, boss, though I think that you’re right and the waist could stand to be pulled in a bit.”