The Man

M!A/Challenge Status: NA

Hello there, love. Ian Adler. Dominant. At your service and pleasure.

((OOC: Not affiliated with BBC or Tom Hiddleston in any way. No gifs are mine.

This is an independent RP blog for Sherlock, but will roleplay with anyone from anywhere! :)

Warning: There WILL be NSFW content, so that will be tagged as such, if that isn't your thing. However, they will NOT be put under cuts.))

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ucresearch:

A view of Halley’s Comet from the Lick Observatory on June 6, 1910

ucresearch:

A view of Halley’s Comet from the Lick Observatory on June 6, 1910


Burning Bright || Ian Adler and Fem!Sebastian Moran 

stalkspreyinthenight:

Come along, Ian, don’t disappoint, hm? It wouldn’t do to have that happen so early in this business relationship. You had to work for Sebastian Moran’s approval, let alone James Moriarty’s. Don’t skip a step, things could turn ever so badly for you.

She chuckled slightly, the silkof his suit brushing against her ivory skin ever so softly. Enough for her to lean to the right, so subtly. Such a tiny movement, but it did placate her so.

“I doubt that, love.”

image

Ian gave the woman a side glance before peering back out into the crowd. “The monotony. The continuous hum of the mindless chatter from masses, all talking about the same things. No substance. Always the same.”

He then looked back at her, seeing her soft yet secretive grin, curious as she stood a little farther from him than he was used to. Most gravitated toward him, and he knew precisely why. He was no fool; he was handsome, successful, and they knew what he could do to them if they truly desired it. 

This woman defied all the norms he had become accustomed to.

"But you," he continued. "You’re different in that way. You are already quite the unique specimen."


tumblgheadovrheels4u:

i-just-rode-up-on-a-unicorn-and:

Here. Have some transparent Winchesters rubbing your blog.

“What the Hell?”
“I don’t Know”

tumblgheadovrheels4u:

i-just-rode-up-on-a-unicorn-and:

Here. Have some transparent Winchesters rubbing your blog.

“What the Hell?”

“I don’t Know”


thestar-inthenorth started following you 

Ian quirked his lips at the young man in front of him, arching a brow. “And who might you be, love?” he asked, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.



Burning Bright || Ian Adler and Fem!Sebastian Moran 

stalkspreyinthenight:

themanwhobeatyou:

image

When the stars threw down their spears 
And water’d heaven with their tears: 
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright, 
In the forests of the night: 
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

—‘The Tyger’, William Blake

Ian never liked parties.

He stood in front of a short, portly man and swirled the champagne around mindlessly in his glass as he tuned out others opinion on the latest financial crisis sweeping London. He looked familiar; maybe another politician or lawyer. He couldn’t be sure.

This was why Ian hated attending these events. They were always the same. The same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. Talk of the latest polo or cricket match, how many homes they have now, what kind of yacht they purchased over the weekend; always the ‘my horse is bigger than your horse’ debate. 

How trite.

Finally getting sick of the one-sided conversation the man was unaware he was having, Ian downed the last of his drink and excused himself to get another. The other barely noticed as he had turned to the woman next to him. No need for his presence at all, it seemed.

In truth, he could blend in easily. Not many knew that he was in fact an operator of one of the largest trading companies in London, as he often had a figurehead stand in front of the cameras for him. He didn’t care. Best stay out of the spotlight lest people recognize him.

Though it was all moot point tonight, considering he was not here to celebrate with the masses. Tonight was far different for Ian. He had gotten a call a month previously from an employee of one James Moriarty, requesting his presence this evening. The man on the line was slightly vague about the technicalities of the rendezvous, only that he would be instructed to meet with a Sebastian Moran to discuss the mechanics and the compensation of what he would be assigned. Ian knew already that his form of ‘services’ would be required, however. That much had been made quite obvious.

Ian swapped his empty flute for a new one as he scanned the ballroom. He’d already spoken to many of the people in the area; most of them being previous clients. He caught the eye of the host himself, whom he had yet to speak to tonight. It was an unspoken agreement, however, that they wouldn’t say much. Ian lifted his glass with a lift of his brow. The other returned the gesture. Ian noticed him blush lightly and gulp before adjusting his collar. ‘Still trying to hide my mark,’ he thought slyly, smirking.

He stood in silence as the voices droned on and on around him. Being a good eye, Ian believed he could find Sebastian Moran, the man Ian was looking for in a crowd of hundreds. But what Ian didn’t expect to find caught his eye at the top of the stairs. Leaning over the balcony with glass in hand, stood the most captivating woman he’d ever seen. Waves of chestnut brown swooped elegantly over one shoulder as her piercing gaze locked onto his, a smirk perfectly etched into her features. Ian caught the sight of her raised glass as she took her final sip. With a grin of his own, Ian swiped a wineglass off a nearby tray and made his way up the stairs, hardly even in control of his movements.

Ian came to a stop in front of the small woman and handed her the glass, refusing to break the connection between him and the sharp blue eyes before him. “Enchanté, my dear,” he stated, giving her an alluring smile.

image

It was all very droll wasn’t it? All this splendour and ceremony, though the reason behind such a thing was surely forgotten by now. If it was ever known at all, the elevated were oft so forgetful. Precisely what made them such simple targets. So benign and naïve, poor dears. If she could be bothered with it all, she may actually pity the things.

Hm. Perhaps later.

For now, she was here for a purpose. As she was the grand majority of the time, but one couldn’t be too careful with technicalities. When one’s employer asked for something, you simply delivered without question. That was the point of an employee, no? Even one such as Sebastian Moran.

Oh yes, she knew her reputation. Knew that if a single one of those around her knew of her presence here this evening, the smiles would be less freely given. Surely not, this wasn’t Moran’s style. He was merely the faceless gunhand, no? The trigger, nothing more.

She did hate when people didn’t do their research. So very discriminative.

Hence why it was no surprise as to why there was no light of recognition in Mr. Adler’s gaze. Though, she supposed she couldn’t fault him, it was a simple mistake to make. However, she had hoped that Ian Adler would be clever enough to eliminate such errors. No matter.  He would no doubt improve when given his task.

If he didn’t, well. Such a shame.

So, the prey approached the predator. As was always the way, hm? He scrambled – with grace, mind – to her side, eyes glinting and smile already so firmly in place. She couldn’t quite help the chuckle that escaped her, fingers curling around the stem of the glass. Careful to avoid his hand. So delightful, such charm.

Try harder darling.

“I’m sure the pleasure is all mine, petal,” she purred, smirk widening ever so slightly. So simple.

image

It was a subtle thing, that little shift of her fingers as they slipped the glass from his hand. Delicate and slender digits curved gently around the basin, but almost as if nervous that their hands should meet. Curious little thing she was becoming. Surrounded by an air of mystery. Light eyes appraised him, slightly crinkled and glinting with humor, a small twitch to her grinning rose-petal lips.. But her eyes contained a dark veil. For what; Ian was unsure. Guarded, knowing and secretive.

Such a strange creature. What secrets do you hide, my darling?

Letting go of the second glass, Ian stood with her as she watched the crowds below. The monotonous drone of the voices buzzed in his ears as he took in every individual, having met with more than half of them once or twice. Funny how the many guests were related on such surprising and unknown circumstances.

Quirking his lips, Ian took a sip before he spoke. “You know, it’s interesting.”


irrevocablysherlocked:

sherfire:

I thought Ben’s purple shirt of sex couldn’t get any tighter

I was wrong

image

that’s the new Star Trek body under there trying to break free


harrystears:

i’m like 97% sure i’d be the best girlfriend ever but no one will ever know



you were never meant for each other.

you were never meant for each other.


Give my muse a ridiculous nickname.