#john mother fucking murphy

[maysileeewrites]

a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something! 

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it! 

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red. 

Blood. 

There’s just so much of it. 

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help. 

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm. 

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. 

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut. 

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp. 

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be. 

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance. 

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter. 

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for. 

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you. 

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression. 

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“ 

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“ 

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“ 

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further. 

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth. 

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver. 

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips. 

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him. 

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ 

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark. 

And fuck. This - this is dangerous. 

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“ 

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs. 

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness. 

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location. 

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location. 

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy. 

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip. 

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing. 

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“ 

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression. 

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“ 

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody. 

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it. 

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest. 

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“ 

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation. 

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain. 

„Let me“, you say, helping him. 

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly. 

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“ 

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze. 

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“ 

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him. 

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up. 

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches. 

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him. 

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“ 

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods. 

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“ 

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending. 

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head. 

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any. 

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“ 

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of. 

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“ 

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything. 

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain. 

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind. 

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“ 

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words. 

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe. 

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation. 

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck. 

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh. 

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good. 

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that. 

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours. 

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss. 

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“ 

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly. 

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again. 

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“ 

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“ 

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again. 

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well. 

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy. 

[bellamysbooklover]

Why is John Murphy so overlooked?!? EVERYONE LOOK AT HIM RIGHT NOW. RIGHT. NOW

That is a baby girl if I’ve ever seen one

Look at his SMILE. Fuck oFF

He’s had an amazing redemption and everyone is sleeping on him. Live laugh and love John Murphy everyone. Have a nice day

[laufire]

This is redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog, returning fire with the character ask game :3

For Jason: 23. Fav picture of this character 24. What character from another fandom reminds you of them? 26. Freebie question! What do you think his complicated opinions about Heathclif would be? (Saw ur tags about that hehehe)

I might come back with other characters, but just Jason for now cause it's WAY passed my bedtime

Fav picture of this character

there are so many options... (see: my header of his hamlet moment). but I'm going to go with this one, from batman annual #25.

I fucking love a character climbing out of his own grave. and that lightning bolt is so frankenstein of him <3

What character from another fandom reminds you of them?

my mind is wired to draw parallels and comparisons, and I happen to be rewatching a tv show (the 100, one of those "it could be so good if it was good" things xD) where sometimes it seems that all my favourite characters have some jason-coded moments and traits lol.

BUT. among all of them, we definitely need to talk about john murphy!!! he's my #1 in that show (with some strong competition), because I love his journey. he really started being... well, what dc regularly tries to convince us robin!jason was: a mean, angry teen, product of his society, who lashed out at people once he could, because he had been wronged himself. this show gave him far more grace about it (even during his messy revenge quest lol), and in season 2 they landed on a really potent love story with him and another character, emori (another outcast in her own society, this time because she was born with a mutation, that survived by stealing from others) that ended up catapulting him to Romantic Hero status in a way s1!murphy couldn't have dreamed of lmao. it was great.

even his backstory (which he's given in the first episode of s2) is. very jason añdslkfjasf. two important things about this gifset is a) the girl here, raven (another favourite), has a similar backstory (alcoholic mother who failed to take care of her, raven would've starved if not for the kindness of her neightbour & childhood sweetheart). she's taunting murphy because a few episodes before murphy shot her in the spine (he didn't intend to hurt her but it wasn't exactly an accident. part of his messy revenge quest against a -barely- adult who failed him lol). she hates him, and yet she clearly can't help but empathise </3. a few episodes later she tries to get him killed to save her ex <3. in a few seasons they'll become best friends <3. as far as I'm concerned she's memori's third <333

a few other things in favour of "jason-coded murphy" are this post, or the fact that at one point murphy had to use sex to survive in a way I personally headcanon jason doing (I've actually drawn some comparisons between that plot and nightwing/tarantula but only stylistic ones; plot-wise it's a very different situation where he displays an attitude closer to what I imagine jason doing).

What do you think his complicated opinions about Heathclif would be?

alñsdkfjasdf I can't believe I'm going to talk more about other characters than about jason but here we are lol.

anyway first of all, unlike many people in this fandom, jason is a smart cookie capable of differentiating fact from fiction, who could recognise heathcliff did some really fucked shit against undeserving people and still appreciate the hell out of him as the fascinating character he is. tyvm. that said, he's also someone who gets very personal about literature xD

one thing about heathcliff is that he does what some people argue jason is doing when he "targets" tim or mia (or damian, but that's bftc and fandom has more or less accepted that it's a mess, and also damian isn't white :))). aka, he's (a grown man!!) viciously, hatefully going after innocent children for the sins of their fathers!! for shame. sorry but that's not even true in bftc or hush (the situations there were very messy and the writers desperately needed medical consultants to make them make any sense, get off his dick xD), but definitely not true for titans tower or seeing red. jason was NOT trying to kill these teens (a few years younger than him at most), he's never wanted them death, and he's never even aimed to caused grievious, irreparable damage. again, get off his dick :P

but it's interesting to me thinking about jason reading the book for the very first time during the lost days era, in particular. he would empathise with heathcliff's desire for revenge, but I don't think he'd ~relate as strongly to him as some people think. yes, there is mistreatment in their youths and the revenge plot (after heathcliff does whateve he does in his own lost days period lol); there's even possible racial ambiguity in common, if we take into account the shiva thing. and he'd half-mindedly draw some links between bruce and earnshaw senior and, if he's feeling ungenerous lol, between dick and hindley, but nothing particularly strong, imo.

but I can see even this faint link being enough to have him pondering his own lines, what he's willing to do once he returns and what he isn't. and it's a fact that jason crossed some of his own purported lines, because he was too in his head about bruce or because they were convenient at the moment or because of all other reasons. and I picture him rereading the book years down the road, and grappling with that fact. wondering if heathcliff had drawn his own lines beforehand or gone all in from the beginning, wondering if he had any regrets. eta: it's interesting that he goes about his revenge in a very different way than heathcilff, who does it by becoming a legitimate (ymmv) landowner himself, one of the privileged, the top dog in a system, etc., and abuses his newfound poewr that way.

anyway. otherwise, he would appreciate heathcliff as the force he is in the narrative, while being utterly disgusted by some of his actions. at the same time he'd be really wary of the unreliable narration (I imagine him thinking nelly gives all the lintons too much grace, even if he obviously would think heathcliff's actions towards isabella and cathy are undefensible). I also believe he's ready to fist-fight anyone that supported the "monstrous" readings of heathcliff as something inhuman, as some supernatural force of nature. heathcliff, to him, is utterly human.

ALSO. jason is definitely that bitch who reads the FUCKING UNHINGED SHIT (x, x, x, x, x) catherine and heathcliff say about each other and be like. why can't that be me 😭. he's fucking unwell.

(and feel free to ask me about any other character you want! or any extra questions about jason lol)

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

NEVER TELL, Chapter Two - a Malevolent AU fic

Arthur discovers he wasn't wrong about his son being weird with golden eyes.

And discovers there may be a cost to caring for him.

What is the price for helping the helpless? It's not a fun thought for a self-centered man to consume.

Listen, we are getting dark. Some body horror. Also horrible non-consensual things, though not too explicit. Dark. Please heed the warnings.

AO3

---------

They sent Arthur home with two babies, a recipe for breast-milk substitute involving malt sugar and cow’s milk, and instructions for diapers that went right over his head (but fortunately someone thought to write up for him). The basket-weave baby stroller was an older model, what they could afford, and supposed to be big enough for two babies. Arthur thought it was already too small.

The whole way home, Faroe cried. She cried as if she missed her mother, as if she knew this fake family was not complete. John never made a peep, but watched Arthur, more steadily than he felt a newborn should watch, but then, what did he know? This was the closest contact he’d ever had with children of any kind.

Faroe just kept crying .

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said to her. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

John huffed.

What an odd sound to come from an infant. A frustrated sound.

“Fuck, I never even had a puppy,” Arthur muttered to no one, and did what he could to soothe her as he walked.

What he could involved making faces (which did not work), holding her (which did, but made handling the carriage too hard), and finally, singing to her.

That worked right away. Maybe Bella had been right, and they’d heard him singing in the womb. They both stared in his direction when he did that; as long as he kept singing, they stayed quiet, so Arthur sang them home.

He stopped in front of his door to search himself for his keys. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

John huffed as if to say, no shit.

“Get used to me apologizing,” Arthur said. Finally, key located, he got their creaky, paint-peeling door open, and wheeled his babies inside.

His babies . He’d thought nine months seemed like such a long time when this plan started; now it didn’t seem nearly enough to prepare for a thing like this. 

He stared at their single-family space. It had already seemed too small with just him and Bella rattling around in it. They were really good friends, and slightly less good roommates, but it would work. It would be fine. It had to.

Arthur looked at the sheet of instructions in his hand again and tried to calculate costs. They already paid $35 for their space in this triple-decker, including utilities, which was a steal. It even had its own bathroom, which was a new and neat thing. It cost about the same amount a month to feed just the two of them. Bella was brilliant and kept their clothes in good shape, so they didn’t have to buy more, but fabric was still a cost; and now this.

Now them. Now all of it. And they’d calculated, they’d budgeted, they’d figured it out, but… Bella obviously was fired once she started showing. The money she brought in now was through sewing, through word-of-mouth, and it was good, but not reliable. There wasn’t any way to predict how much work she’d get in a month.

Arthur’s job was no better. At least sugar was affordable these days. They were very lucky prices had dropped.

Maybe he should give up this music thing. Maybe it was time to stop dreaming and humming and get a real job, something with a steady paycheck. He made one, small sound of pain. To even consider that was…

He couldn’t do it. “I’m selfish, kids,” he said to them, wheeling them through the living room area (which was also the kitchen, which was just damned embarrassing). They had a Murphy bed. The pantry was bigger than the kitchen. The bathroom was just big enough for a tub and toilet. How was this going to work?

Faroe had worn herself out, and was sniffling now in a resigned sort of way.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, scooping her up. “I don’t know how to do this. But I guess you don’t know, either, huh? First time being a kid, right?”

Faroe stopped fussing. So that really was it: she wanted to be held.

His heart did a funny little jolt. He thought it might be a happy jolt. 

These two were dependent on him. That settled in a weird way. A good way. He put Faroe down and picked up John.

John, who just… watched his face.

They were dependent on him. He’d spent his whole life staying away from that kind of responsibility (from what, he’d decided in his early teens, had driven his parents to suicide), but here he was.

It wasn’t their fault, these kids. It wasn’t their fault they’d been born to a selfish man. “I’m gonna do my best for you,” he promised John, and kissed his forehead.

John wriggled.

Arthur put him down. “Heh. Wish I had more arms. I’d hold you both.”

John wriggled as best he could in his swaddling. 

“Okay.” Arthur looked at the paper. “You’ve been fed. Your diapers are fresh. They showed me you were burped, so… I guess… what do we do now? Wait?”

Faroe was fussing again. He picked her up, and she stopped. “I need to write, though,” he told her, bouncing her a little and supporting her head as he’d seen the nurse do. “I can’t do that if I’m holding you.”

John made a sound. Was it fussing? It wasn’t crying. It was a little ha of demand, somehow.

“All right, all right, you get a turn,” said Arthur, feeling a little more capable as he put Faroe down and scooped John up.

John seemed content with this.

“What am I going to do with you two?” said Arthur softly, maybe just a little fondly.

Someone knocked on the door, and he almost jumped out of his skin. “Who in hell…”

Faroe cried. Arthur put John next to her and answered the door.

“You forgot to pick up your milk today,” said Daniel with great disapproval, and held out the sealed jug.

For the first time all day, Arthur genuinely hoped the smell of what he’d drunk had faded. “Daniel! You came!” That two-cent phone call had been worth it.

“I was late,” said Daniel, who, for all his many flaws, at least never denied he had them. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” said Arthur, reminding himself that Daniel had seen the place before, and had never drawn a parallel between it and his own fancy brownstone in New York, and had never directly done anything to make Arthur feel like he was failing as a man, o r that Arthur himself had done anything wrong.

Which he hadn’t. (Except according to society, sociology, the church—)

“Thank you.” Daniel wafted in, smelling of expensive tobacco, and paused taking off his coat. “She didn’t come home with you?”

“She… she’s in the hospital,” said Arthur. “She bled badly. Almost didn’t make it. She can’t come home yet.”

It was always strange to see real emotion cross that vaguely angry face. Arthur had decided three months ago that Daniel maybe wasn’t actually angry; that like a hound dog, his face just did that . Whether that was true or not, the concern there was deeply real. “St. Mary’s?”

“Yes.” The coat went back on; it hadn’t even made it past one freed arm. “Don’t you want to meet them?” said Arthur.

On cue, Faroe squealed. It was the sweetest sound Arthur had ever heard; so happy, so… free.

“Yes, of course, I… of course.” Daniel hurried over. “Oh…”

Arthur came at a slower pace.

Faroe was… well, she was being winning . Wriggling, smiling, one mittened hand against her dimpled cheek,  squealing again as if to say hello.

John was just looking at Daniel.

At least, Arthur told himself, John’s blue eyes matched Faroe’s. What the hell had that gold thing even been?

Daniel’s voice was tight. “They’re beautiful.”

“Do you want to hold them? The diapers are clean, and all.”

“I will go see my daughter first,” said Daniel with dire condemnation (or, Arthur hoped, he just sounded like that). “I’ll return here after.”

Visions of the two of them sharing the Murphy bed briefly made Arthur insane. “What? Here? Now?” He reddened in response to Daniel’s (possibly) chiding look. “I mean, it’s a long trip back to New York, and…”

“I’ve taken a hotel.” Daniel’s tone was wry. “Do you feel particularly prepared to handle two infants alone?”

“No, not particularly,” Arthur said, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ll be back later. Bella has not been an infant for a long time, but I remember some things.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Arthur knew he was being ungracious. “And thanks for picking up the milk. I forgot.”

“On a day like this, I wonder why?” said Daniel, and headed out. “I’ll see you soon.”

Arthur sighed and flopped into one of their two chairs.

Unable to see him, Faroe began to cry. 

Arthur stood and picked her up, then sat again, and pulled the carriage closer so he could rest a hand on John. “I don’t know how to do this,” he told them again. “But that’s not your fault, is it? None of it is. You didn’t ask to be born. We did that. I’m going to do my best for you. I promise.”

John’s head was turned to him. His little face was so grim, but then he did an amazing thing: he reached, and wrapped one tiny hand around Arthur’s index finger.

Arthur stared, mouth open.

Faroe finally fell asleep in his arm, but Arthur didn’t move to put her back. “Guess that’s a deal, huh?” he murmured to John, moving his finger just a little as if shaking hands. “You’ll be the best babies you can be, and I’ll be the best dad I can be.”

John said, “Ah.”

Arthur smiled weakly. “We’ll get through this. It’ll be worth it. I swear to God, it will.”

John huffed again as if to find that oath dubious.

“All right, fine. I swear on my piano.”

That appeared to be acceptable to the four-hour-old child, who huffed, wriggled, and settled down.

Arthur was so godsdamned tired. Maybe it was all right to just sit for a minute. Maybe things would be okay.

#

The dream was a weird one.

Arthur played in his favorite speakeasy. The men here were always ready for a good time, and usually closer to his age than some underground places. The air was blue from smoke and bad ventilation; the low hum of conversation caressed his skin with promise, with anticipation for stress relief, and he couldn’t wait to finish his set and mingle a little (or a lot) before going home.

But something was off. Arthur couldn’t see anyone off-stage. It wasn’t like he could normally make out faces while he played, but there were always shapes—man-shapes, tables, candles on those tables. Servers moving around. 

Tonight, there was only one shape. A single table, with a single male form, sitting there and watching him play.

Well, dream-logic said that guy mattered, then, so Arthur played to him.

Played with slow, crooning passion, played sensual jazz and smoky sounds. The beat he’d picked, the pulse, was fully intentional, a biological rhythm, referencing the easy and steady movement of bodies joining as one.

He played sex, and he hummed it, too, and he aimed it all at that lone table.

There was applause when his set finished. (There always was.) He grinned crookedly at the hands he could not see, and finally descended from the stage. There were people out there, logically; he knew there had to be—but he couldn’t see them, couldn’t feel them. Could only hear them, laughing and conversating beyond his view.

He reached that lone table.

The guy who sat there was white, attractive in a symmetrical way. Brown hair, medium-length, just long enough to look deliciously mussed. Skin that saw enough sun to avoid being pasty. The black suit was mid-range, not crazy expensive, but not daily worker poor, either. 

Arthur couldn’t figure him out. If he was a cop. If he was here for the purpose of this place. If he was safe.

“Aw, I’m not that scary, am I?” said the guy, and grinned. “Sit. Down.”

Arthur sat without meaning to do it at all.

He went stiff. What had just happened?

“You know, you’re not who I thought he’d pick?” said the guy, leaning in, and Arthur blinked, and  Arthur shook his head, because for one fucking second it looked like this guy was covered in blood, but he was not, he was not—“I thought he’d pick the dame, but he picked you. This might’a not been his smartest move, you know? But I guess having a baby brain will do that to a guy. Phenomenal cosmic powers… iiiitty bitty living space!” And the guy cracked up.

This… was it a dream? Arthur was no longer sure. “I… I think I’ve got to go.”

“Aww, and after you tried to seduce me and everything?” The guy clamped down on Arthur’s arm, and it felt like a vice, it felt like a metal cuff, it felt bad. “No, no, no. Not until we’re done. Cute, by the way. That was good stuff. Very catchy.”

“Catchy?” said Arthur, trying to wake up, trying to pull away, trying, again, to wake up .

“Catchy! An ear worm. It sticks in your head, drives itself in. Though I gotta say, Artie, as someone who’s had firsthand experience with real ear worms, it’s an unfair name. Ear worms writhe; they dig deep into the ear canal.” He moaned, and it was the most indecent sound Arthur had ever heard, and his body reacted even as his hindbrain said, RUN . “Biting and gnawing at the flesh… they’re near impossible to get out. It’s enough to drive someone mad!”

Arthur was turned on. Arthur was horrified.

“Mark you down as scared and horny, huh? Sure, sure, I get it,” said the guy.

“Let go,” said Arthur with more confidence than he felt. “This is a good establishment. You can’t just… it’s gotta be consensual.”

“Oh, is it, Artie? Is it? Because it sure seems to me that I can do whatever I want to you right now, and nobody’s gonna say boo .” And his fingers bit in.

Bit in, pierced the flesh, chomped right down to Arthur’s bone.

He screamed. Pulled back, or tried, but got nowhere. 

Blood spilled over the table, sprayed on the candle. Poured out with such force and such volume that part of him knew this couldn’t be real, except he felt it , felt himself deflating, felt like he was going flat as his blood began to rise on the floor.

He whimpered.

“Oh! Oh, that’s a pretty nice sound. Huh. I like that,” said the monster.

“Let go!” cried Arthur, and for reasons he could not possibly understand, tried the weirdest volley ever: “I’m a father!”

The guy did let go. And started to laugh.

The laugh was worse. Worse than the biting grip, worse than the feeling of deflating , worse than all of this had been, and as Arthur tried to crawl away (shocked at how warm his own blood was, splashing up his limbs), the laugh followed like a knife, pounded into the ground on either side of him.

He was suddenly flung to his back, and the guy was right over him, pinning him down. “He picked you , buddy. That makes you fair game.”

“What?” said Arthur, afraid he was going to drown in his own blood. It tickled his chin, rose toward his cheeks, glopped and stuck and sloshed as he tried to get free.

The guy grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close. “Listen up, Artie,” he said, low. “I don’t repeat things, so this is the only time you’re going to hear it: dump the boy.”

Arthur stared at him. Stared, mind stalled silent.

“If you do, this all goes away. We don’t look for you. Nobody bothers you. You live your stupid, human life, short and pitiful, and maybe you make the tiniest ripple, but more likely, you don’t. But we leave you alone. If you don’t dump him…”

And the guy kissed him. Hard. 

It hurt. It was fucking incredible. It was devouring, demanding, brooking no quarter, giving no choice , and Arthur struggled to break away from it and pull the guy toward him at the same time, smearing blood all over the guy’s hair and suit.

The guy broke the kiss, panting, and his eyes glowed fucking red. “Keep the kid, and you will suffer. Oh… oh! You will suffer , more than you knew a living person could. There will be no respite. No safe place. No one to pray to. Keep that boy, and every last second of your life will be spent cursing the day you spurned my favor.”

Arthur gasped, erection hard, heart pounding, trying fruitlessly to get away, unable to pull out of this guy’s iron grip. “Favor?”

“I warned you.” The guy grinned. “That’s how good you played. You earned a warning. ”

Arthur stared at him.

“Ciao,” said the guy.

And Arthur woke up.

Woke with a start, woke with a gasp, woke realizing almost too late that he had a baby girl in his arms, and he kept her, didn’t drop her, but she startled awake at his sudden movement, and the sour odor told him she needed her diaper changed.

Faroe bawled. She’d gotten scared. 

He held her close, standing, walking, willing his erection to go down, willing his stomach not to upchuck, willing himself (without effect) to understand what just happened and to know it was not real.

“I’ve got you, baby girl, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, pacing with her, and glanced over at his son.

John stared at him, face long with fear. He was so still. Frozen. Hands unmoving, no wriggling. And his eyes were solid gold.

Arthur did not need to see a pupil to know that John was staring at him.

He paced, holding Faroe, bouncing her a little, trying to calm her down, but his gaze stayed on John.

This… this moment.

This moment felt bigger than any he’d ever faced in his life, and he didn’t even know why.

It was a dream . A fucking stupid dream , meaningless, born of stress and living a life of lies, nothing more than that.

John’s golden eyes watched him, and his baby’s breath came fast, tiny nostrils flaring.

Faroe had mostly quieted. Arthur kissed her forehead. “Sweetie. I need to deal with your brother right now. Okay?”

She was fucking six hours old and couldn’t possibly understand him, but she did , and sniffled, sort of bapping his cheek with one mittened hand.

He placed her in the carriage and picked up his son.

John was stiff as a board. Scared. So terrified.

That was okay. Arthur was, too.

He didn’t pace. He held John, looking at him. So warm. So solid. So real. “I had a weird dream, kid,” he said.

John’s already short breathing picked up.

“You know that, don’t you? Or you know… you know something happened.”

John whined.

On instinct, Arthur walked to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and discovered his lips looked bruised.

Red. Swollen. Like someone had fucked the hell out of his face.

This did not feel good. He took a slow breath and looked at John.

John was still. John was golden-eyed. John was… helpless. Whatever else was happening here, whatever fucked-up weirdness was going on… John was helpless.

Arthur had been helpless in his life. It wasn’t a good place to be. “You’re scared, huh?” he said softly. “Whatever just… whatever I dreamed, it’s got some effect in the real world. That guy wants me to just leave you outside to die, or something.”

John was beginning to cry, but not like a baby. Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down cherubic and rosy cheeks, but he did not make a sound.

John was helpless.

Arthur had been helpless. After his parents died. When he’d been handed from person to person, and finally over to horrifyingly abusive people, against whom he’d had no quarter, no way to say no , no guardian to hide behind.

Arthur hated that helplessness , more than he feared the guy and the blood and the pain. Far more.

“I’ve got  you, John,” he said, low, and it was a vow. “I won’t toss you out. I don’t know what that guy was saying. I don’t know what’s in store. But I won’t…” he had to swallow. “I will not leave you helpless like I was. Okay? This… this queer guy has you. I don’t have power.  I'm living a lie, and it's all... it's all bad. But whatever I have, it’s yours. I won’t leave you helpless and alone.”

John’s tears kept coming, but they changed. He gripped Arthur’s finger again, tight in one minuscule hand, and his eyes went back to blue.

Whatever this deal was, it had been accepted.

Arthur didn’t know what this deal was. He knew he’d pissed off that guy. And maybe… that was it. Tonight, when he slept, it would be over.

If it was, Arthur understood he would die with the knowledge he’d been true to himself, and what other way to be was there, really? 

He kissed John’s head. “Don’t know much,” he said. “But I know your sister needs a change. Okay?”

“Ah,” said John.

Arthur put him down and got to work learning how to give a newborn a brand-new diaper, and clean up the mess he found inside.

Somehow, that seemed the perfect metaphor for this entire day.

[dearestdaffodils]

Fuck it, I’m gonna do it lol here is my top 100 from 2022, plus a bonus song because Spotify put 101 songs on the playlist

Heat Above - Greta Van Fleet

Numb Little Bug - Em Beihold

As It Was - Harry Styles

You’re The One - Greta Van Fleet

My Way, Soon - Greta Van Fleet

Another Man’s Jeans - Ashe

Music For A Sushi Restaurant- Harry Styles

2 Be Loved (Am I Ready?) - Lizzo

Safari Song - Greta Van Fleet

First Class - Jack Harlow

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) - Edison Lighthouse

Oh My God - Adele

Black Smoke Rising - Greta Van Fleet

Shake Ya Tailfeather - Nelly, Murphy Lee, Diddy

Sweetest Pie - Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa

Cleopatra- The Lumineers

Trip the Light Fantastic - Greta Van Fleet

12345 - Em Beihold

Geraldine - Miranda Lambert

Hammer To Fall - Queen

Broken Bells - Greta Van Fleet

Just a Cloud Away - Pharrell Williams

Freaky Girls - Megan Thee Stallion, SZA

Beer Never Broke My Heart - Luke Combs

Flower Power - Greta Van Fleet

Need to Know - Doja Cat

SOS - ABBA

Sunroof - Nicky Youre, dazy

When The Curtain Falls - Greta Van Fleet

Woman - Doja Cat

Canyon Moon - Harry Styles

Shivers - Ed Sheeran

Light My Love - Greta Van Fleet

Betty (Get Money) - Yung Gravy

Let’s Get Loud - Jennifer Lopez

American Kids - Kenny Chesney

Left Hand Free - alt-j

California Love - 2Pac, Roger, Dr Dre

Alrighty Aphrodite - Peach Pit

Chiquitita- ABBA

Bam Bam - Camila Cabello, Ed Sheeran

Free Ride - The Edgar Winter Group

The Sweet Escape - Gwen Stefani, Akon

Don’t Shut Me Down - ABBA

24/7 - Common Kings

Hot Mess - Zoe Clark

Go To Town - Doja Cat

Lover, Leaver (Taker, Believer) - Greta Van Fleet

Baby, I Love Your Way - Big Mountain, Tom Lord- Alge

Daydreaming - Harry Styles

Vegas - Doja Cat

The New Day - Greta Van Fleet

SOMETHING SWEET - ADÉ, Farman Scoop

Rock Me Amadeus - Falco

Sleep On The Floor - The Lumineers

Sunshine Girl - J Boog, Peetah Morgan

SUPERBLOOM - Misterwives

Apex Predator - Mean Girls Cast

She Keeps Me Up - Nickelback

Nothing - Bruno Major

Hello Hello - Elton John

A Man Without Love - Engelbert Humperdinck

Enemy - Imagine Dragons

Roddy - Djo

Cold Heart - Elton John, Dua Lipa

3 Nights - Dominic Fike

Lollipop- Charlie Curtis-Beard, EARCANDY

Ophelia - The Lumineers

Levitating - Dua Lipa, DaBaby

Top of the World - Carpenters

Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins

Ça Plane Pour Moi - Plastic Bertrand

Sofia - Alvaro Soler

35 - Rob Ruha, Ka Hao

Mountain of the Sun - Greta Van Fleet

Achilles Heel - J Maya

More Than A Woman - Bee Gees

Tuned In Freestyle - Megan Thee Stallion

Sunflower Vol. 6 - Harry Styles

Friends to Lovers - Melina KB

Onipaʻa Ka Pua O Ka Hala - Mark Kealiʻi Hoʻomalu

Megan’s Piano - Megan Thee Stallion

Enemy - Imagine Dragons, JID

Golden - Harry Styles

Revenge Party - Mean Girls Cast

We Don’t Talk About Bruno - Encanto Cast

Clouds - Fin Argus, Sabrina Carpenter

I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) - Whitney Houston

Groundhog Day - Em Beihold

Age of Man - Greta Van Fleet

Best Song Ever - One Direction

Does Your Mother Know? - Mamma Mia Cast

Dandelions - Ruth B

Nobody To Love - Sigma

Heat Waves - Glass Animals

Rock The Boat - Hues Corporation

Lights Up - Harry Styles

It’s All Coming Back To Me Now - Celine Dion

Kingdom Dance - Alan Menken

Dance With Me Tonight - Olly Murs

Late Night Talking - Harry Styles

[boricuacherry-blog]

"I feel like part of me stopped growing at the age my dad left," she said. "I feel like a bastard child, like there's always something missing; there's just this hole. I don't even feel safe around men, because I don't know what their purpose is. All I have is the TV to look for examples. Yes my boyfriend caused this reaction - but it's not really him. It's what he represents.

She continued, "It feels like I don't know God because I don't have a Father. It's like, 'Where are you, Father?' So as a male presence, it's hard to have faith in God when I don't have faith in my own father. And my father's father died when he was 9. Dads are supposed to lay the law down, so growing up without one, you're just lawless. I do shit I wouldn't do if my dad was around. In a sense, we're all hiding from God. A lot of us were raised in fatherless homes, and there's no order, no consequences for actions. That's why the world right now is so fucked up. There's always gonna be chaos - it's Murphy's Law - but there's no balance due to the rejection of the masculine principle in America - the result of fatherlessness. Black single mothers aren't allowed to be weak and don't know how to process their anger, but that's the household a lot of us grow up in. You don't even know what you don't have. But you still need it."

Lauryn Hill spoke out after the Instagram Live from her 20-year-old daughter. Hill addressed the statements and the backlash they caused with a 10-slide Instagram message, where she said in part, "Uhhhh black people, what? Selah has every right to express herself, I encourage it, but she also got the discipline that Black children get because we are held to a different standard [...] if I am guilty of anything it is disciplining in anger, not in disciplining...My children's families on both Hill and Marley sides have been hunted and persecuted for speaking out against and challenging the social, political, economic and spiritual dynamics that require a terroristic fear be put in Black people in order to control them."

She went on to share a list of movies in her final 10-slide Instagram message that included The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day and the 1978 version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, for her followers to watch for context as to how she was "being gaslighted PUBLICLY for standing up to the system" and how she battled the "nastiness" of the world to protect her children.

The Fugees rapper described Selah and her five other children - 23-year-old son Zion, 18-year-old son Joshua, 17-year-old son John, and 12 year-old daughter Sara Marley and 9-year-old son Micah Hill - as "strong-willed and powerful" for navigating through a dangerous world that has publicly attacked them for speaking out against issues while being Black.

[k00295837]

Gallery Visit

6-02-24, RAH, Part 2

The second artist who's work particularly struck me during this gallery visit was John Kindness. In his book, 'The Odyssey', Patrick T. Murphy says that Kindness has an "insistence on a wide vocabulary of styles and methods to create his art", which is evident in the multitudes of disciplines I saw in Kindness' display. He is an admirable artist for having such range and ability to explore his theme in so many different ways. From mosaic, to gouache, to porcelain and even boat oars, he reaches a multitude of media in that exhibition.

Two things really struck me when I was at the gallery, the first being a subtle but sharp sense of humour in Kindness' work. In the first image that follows is a photo of ceramic potato chip bags that say 'Poseidons, Doomed Sailors', imitating a brand name and food product line. The second and third images are photos of 'Death of the Suitors', the second photo being a blown up image of a section in the middle-right of the painting that reads 'Fuck-ing-Hell' in a meat/bacon-looking substance on skewers. The last image is a photo of 'Telemachus's Old Toy: Dad', from the Greek mythology story that Telemachus and his father, Odysseus, killed the suitors of Telemachus' mother and Odysseus' wife upon returning from war in Troy. Written by Robert McDowell in Kindness' book, John Kindness is 'never without a compelling sense of humorous irony and paradox', which I whole-heartedly agree with.

The sly humour in all of these are fantastic to me. My 'Disrupt' project featured a type of humour that I could only hope was paralleled to the whiplash reaction one experiences when admiring Kindness' artwork about an ancient mythology with such niche and slapstick humour. I was left the exhibit wondering if I could still incorporate this element into the current Movement project.

The second thing that occurred to me in Kindness' artwork is the cultural influences. This exhibition is very obviously centred around the theme of Greek mythology and Kindness' influence from James Joyce's 'Ulysses', it is prevalent in almost every single piece in the room. Upon getting a closer look at the collection, I began to see influences from elsewhere in the world. He uses contemporary practice to discuss traditional themes, which I think is a beautiful combination in his case.

This painting, 'Penelope & Telemachus', instantly struck me as having a resemblance to Egyptian relief wall paintings. The layers of figures in the background, the flat painting technique, the way the animals and people are posed all screamed an ancient Egyptian inspiration to me.

[ao3feed-the100]

Boys Will Be Bugs: Odonata Blair’s Field Guide to Surviving Earth and John Murphy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ub8F5It

by dizzydancingdreamer

Odonata Blair— or Dragonfly, depending on who's asking— doesn’t know nearly as much about insects as her mother does, but she knows enough. Well, she knows more than anyone else on the ground at least. That has to count for something. Why else would she be one of the 100? Did one of the ARK’s most promising entomology recruits just happen to also be a criminal? No, that’s not Dragonfly. Or, as John would say, that’s not Bugs. John’s not here, though. Right?

//OR//

The one where John fucks up anyone who’s mean to bugs.

Words: 3462, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The 100 (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: John Murphy (The 100), Jasper Jordan, Monty Green

Relationships: John Murphy/Original Female Character(s), Jasper Jordan & Original Female Character(s), Monty Green & Original Female Character(s), Monty Green & Jasper Jordan

Additional Tags: The 100 (TV) Season 1, The 100 (TV) Season 2, The 100 (TV) Season 3, John Murphy-centric (The 100), John Murphy heals, Original Character(s), Deviates From Canon, I Don't Even Know, Eventual Smut, John Murphy is a Softie (The 100), Protective John Murphy (The 100), okay thats enough tags

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ub8F5It

[agentthirsty]

So with my week off I ended up just watching shit and I would like to share my thoughts on it all. Spoilers below the cut.

Ghostbusters (2016) - I thought it was funny, sue me

Season 4 of The Circle - Such a guilty pleasure of mine. Cringey as always. If I had watched the day it aired, and I was a betting person, I would've won money because I picked Sam in the first episode to win and she did it!

A Quiet Place - It wouldn't be such a quiet place if I was there with John Krasinski if you know what I mean. Loved it though, very suspenseful. I can be quiet but I snore when I sleep so I'd be a liability. Plus, if you have to sneeze you have to close your nose and that makes your ears pop and I fucking hate that so I'd rather just die.

A Quiet Place Part II - I think I like it better than the first? More suspenseful, more dangerous. Cillian Murphy looked the best he's every looked in my opinion. That country, blue-collar, bearded look was DOING IT yes sir

Moonfall - Bad movie. Acting and dialogue was very poor. Story and pacing was too weird. They praised Elon Musk at least two different times. I don't think anyone had a single ounce of passion for what they were doing. I enjoyed the peril though. Halle Berry was Halle Berry; love her. Patrick Wilson looked good. The song in the credits SLAPS. Other than that don't watch it adfasdfa

Everything Everywhere All at Once - Late to the party but I finally understand why it's so beloved and winning accolades and shit. A really imaginative, fun movie with so many different genres coming together to tell a grounded and complicated mother/daughter relationship. Loved it. I wish I could forget it so I could watch it for the first time again.

Bird Box - I love Sandra Bullock, okay? Even when she's calling her kids Boy and Girl. Very much in the same vein as A Quiet Place. Lots of similarities (apocalyptic; beings that wipe out humanity; pregnant leading ladies; raising children in such peril; man that sacrifices himself in the end to save his family; traveling the outside world to find safety in community [Part II]), but instead of having to be quiet, you can't look. And if I was there with Trevante Rhodes there would be more than two kids running around yes GOD

Fantastic Fungi - Documentary on, you guessed it, Fungi. Made me want to take shrooms. Brie Larson was there??? (in voice)

Dune - I thought it was good. Right up my alley. Hey Oscar Issac 😘 Why the name Paul, though? Such a boring, present Earth name. And why Timmy Champagne? I mean he didn't do a bad job, but I don't think he exactly stood out either. I've never understood the infatuation people have for him, but to each their own. Rooting for Paul regardless though. Someone gotta get revenge for Oscar Issac. P.S. Duncan Idaho is one of the worst names of any character in all the pieces of media that I have consumed. Do not talk to me about it

All of Abbott Elementary (so far) - I've been wanting to watch this show because I love mockumentary comedies and I've really needed one to fill in for Parks & Rec. It's hilarious. Ava and Mr. Johnson make me HOLLER oh my god. When Jacob first showed up I was like "look at this gay" and then several episodes later it was confirmed and I looked up like I was looking into a camera like "See?" Vindication. Anyways, new show added to my list

[whitetrashjj]

texts from saltmates ➵ 1/?

[queenshelby]

Oppenheimer (Part 13)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Covid

Words: 2,208

Please interact and comment to keep it going. I always love to know what you think.

Your Father’s POV

“There is really no reason as to why Cillian was put into isolation” your mother overheard your father say to the owner of the studio, still arguing about the Covid Marshall’s decision.

He was annoyed and somewhat angry before, eventually, hanging up the phone, fuming about the fact that production was coming to a stand still.

“Fucking unbelievable” he went on to say just as your mother placed a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, isolating Cillian was the right decision?” your mother asked him quietly.

“What, because they work together? They may as well isolate everyone else too then. The whole fucking cast” your father spat, causing your mother to chuckle.

“I mean, could it be that they are actually much closer with other than you think?” your mother then asked carefully, knowing that this was a touchy subject. Your father had always been overprotective with you in particular as you struggled through school, having been bullied and always being the odd one out.

“What do you mean?” your father asked. He was rather oblivious.

“What I mean is that, what is if Y/N’s and Cillian’s relationship isn’t just platonic or purely work related?” your mother asked, but your father still didn’t catch on about what she was trying to say.

“I am not following you, sorry” he said with curious eyes.

“Jesus Chris!” your mother laughed. “What is if they actually had physical contact, in an intimate way. Cillian most certainly would have to isolate then” your mother pointed out.

“Don’t be ridiculous” your father laughed, not taking your mother seriously.

“Well, there is always a chance. I mean, we met on set thirty odd years ago and fell in love with each other pretty much instantly. It’s not an absurd idea. In fact, stuff like this happens all the time” your mother pointed out.

“But Cillian is twenty years older than Y/N. I doubt that he would be interested in her nor do I think that Y/N would be interested in him considering his age. He’s only a few years younger than me” your father said, brushing off what your mother had to say.

“Y/N isn’t an ordinary 25-year-old woman though. She is interested in intellect and experience and Cillian certainly has that, don’t you think? Despite, he looks much younger than 45. He is attractive and him and Y/N have spent a lot of time together lately. It’s not as absurd as you may think” your mother pointed out but your father still didn’t take her serious.

“There is no way. He wouldn’t. He is too professional to get involved with my daughter” your father said but your mother shook her head.

“Thirty years ago, Chris, that’s all I am saying. I suggest you pay some close attention to the two of them. You may be surprised” your mother responded just as John, the studio’s Covid Marshall, barged in.

“So, you’ve changed your mind and we can keep filming?” your father asserted but John most certainly didn’t change his mind at all.

“Unfortunately not, Mr Nolan. Your lead actor just tested positive this morning and so did his assistant Anna” John explained.

“Oh, for fuck sake. What about Florence?” your father asked concerned since Cillian had a close contact scene with her just yesterday.

“Still negative, Mr Nolan” John confirmed.

***

Later that day, you were growing rather bored and your relationship with Cillian had evolved to sexting.

Isolation bored you but you knew that you had to keep away from each other. Although, did it really matter now? Probably not.

“I am super bored and super horny” you eventually texted him. After all, you had no symptoms whatsoever and wanted to be entertained.

“I’ve got a remedy for that” was what you received back after about five minutes.

“And what is that?” you immediately responded, expecting some wild text messages to follow.

“Come down to my place and I will show you” Cillian responded and this was not what you had expected.

“We are meant to isolate! Separately!” you pointed out.

“We both tested positive so I doubt it matters. In fact, we should just isolate together, watch movies, order pizza, stay in bed all day and…” he then texted you.

“And have lots of sex?” you responded.

“Yes, and have lots of sex and lots of sex. Now come down” he ordered and all you could respond with was a short “Yes Sir!”…

***

Within a minute or so, you left your unit and raced down the fire-stairs.

You took off your mask and stepped into Cillian’s apartment just as he closed the door behind you.

“You look flushed” you told him and, the truth was, that he was running a temperature.

“I am hot” Cillian laughed and, before you had time to grow concerned about his health, he had grabbed hold of your arms and pushed you up against the wall, pinning you down.

“You are hot…very hot indeed” you teased while your heart was beating so hard that you were sure he could see your shirt moving.

“But, are you sure that you are okay?” you asked nonetheless, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow at you.

“I am fine and, like I said last night, I will fuck you through this god damn virus” Cillian chuckled before he leaned his body into you and stared at your lips.

“So, does that mean that you will fuck me for seven days straight now, until we get out of iso?” you asked as you felt your knees weaken.

"Maybe. But only if you are a good girl for me” Cillian said and you loved when he called you this, making you feel like he was in charge.

“I will be a good girl for you” you gasped as you felt Cillian’s growing erection pressing against your abdomen.

“Good” was all he said before crashing his lips onto yours.

Kissing you like it was the first time, he gently explored your mouth with his. His hands moved from your arms to the side of your face so he could hold you in place while he kissed you, assuming his authority over you. Cillian felt your small hands wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you.

He chewed on your bottom lip, drawing a deep moan from your throat. He slid his hands down your body and rested them on your thighs. You were both breathing harder now, and kissing more frantically. You gripped at the bottom of his sweatshirt pulling it and his shirt off in one motion. While Cillian tried to get your shirt over your head, you fumbled with his belt.

You undid Cillian's belt and unsnapped his pants and you hit the kitchen floor with a thud. Cillian lifted your shirt over your breasts and began to greedily suck on your exposed taut nipples. He grabbed your legs and lifted you from the floor and you wrapped your legs around him. You began to grind your moistening shorts into his erection as he continued to milk your breasts. With a moan you arched your back and offered yourself to him while running your fingers through his hair.

Neither of you could speak as you both were so consumed with being with each other. You couldn’t get enough of this man and your heart pounded as your bare back pressed against the cool kitchen wall and your front pressed against Cillian's hard body.

You continued to moan and writhe against him as he moved his wet kisses from your sensitive chest to your neck. He licked and bit and sucked on your neck, marking your as his for everyone to see, and by the noise you were making, you loved it.

"Is this what you want, baby?" he asked as he crudely ground his cock into the junction between your legs. "Tell me. Tell me this is what you want." Cillian continued to slide his cock up and down your slit and you moved in time with his hips.

"Oh god yes…I want you…I want your cock” you panted and Cillian didn't hesitate.

He slid your shorts to one side with his hand, and in one motion impaled you on his cock. Cillian groaned in pleasure as your hot wet tunnel enveloped him, and it took everything in him to try and not explode inside you. He felt right at home. You panted as your mind tried to comprehend the intense pleasure you were feeling from having the man of your dreams balls deep inside you once again. It was much quicker and frantic than usual but you did not mind.

You could feel every inch of him pulsing and moving inside you. You were dripping wet, and were sure you were leaving a mess on the floor beneath you.

"Oh god babe, you are so tight and so fucking wet” Cillian groaned before he felt his knees begin to weaken so he carried you to the kitchen table.

He clearly struggled with the fever he was experiencing but he wanted you so god damn much that he kept on going. He set you down on the table and told you to lie back. He grabbed each leg and raised them towards your head giving him unfettered access to your body. The change in angle caused him to rub against new spots in your pussy making you moan even louder.

He watched as tiny beads of perspiration on your body shook with each thrust and he could feel your body begin to clench around him. He licked his fingers and moved his hand to your clit. As he slowed down his thrusts, he sped up his fingers as they teased your swollen nub. He took you to the edge then stopped moving completely drawing frustrated moans from you. Cruelly he continued this manipulation of your body. He'd push himself into you as hard and fast as he could, only to slow down and play with your clit until you were begging for him to let your cum.

“Cillian, please…please let me cum” you moaned.

“Not yet babe! Not yet! Keep begging me!” he told you as he ground his hips into yours.

He continued the teasing for about ten minutes and you kept on begging until, finally, he relented.

“Alright babe, let go for me. I promise I won’t slow down” Cillian said as he grabbed your swollen pearl and rolled it between his fingers loving the way it made your body respond. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy and you were screaming his name.

Cillian slammed into you as hard and fast as he could removing his hand so his pelvic bone would mash your clit each time their hips met. He could feel his orgasm rising now and this time, he didn't want to wait.

“I am close babe” Cillian grunted and you met his thrusts with your hips and you fucked like you had not been doing it for years.

“So am I Cills…fuck” you moaned in turn.

Knowing how sensitive your nipples were, he rested your legs on his shoulders, and just before he was about to cum, he grabbed a nipple with each hand and twisted. He wanted to make sure you came at the same time he did. Cillian was handsomely rewarded as your pussy began squeeze, milking him for his own cum.

“Oh god yes, don’t stop” you finally moaned as you came hard and fast and, with several erratic thrusts, and a loud grunt, Cillian felt the cum begin to rise from his balls. He buried himself deep inside you as rope after rope of his hot sticky cum shot inside you. He leaned forward and rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around you. He couldn't help but think this was the only place he wanted to be.

“Fucking perfect” Cillian cooed as you both lay on the kitchen table basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

As Cillian's softening cock slipped out of you, he scooped you up off the table and carried you to the bedroom. Gently, he lay you down and climbed into bed next to you.

“You are burning up Cills” you told him, only just noticing how high his temperature had been and, clearly, the fact that you just had sex didn’t help.

“I am fine. I will sleep it off” he told you as he rolled onto his side, and pulled your naked body against his.

“Should I get you some paracetamol?” you asked but he shook his head and told you that he had taken some earlier.

“Well, I promise I will let you rest tonight” you giggled just before he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Good, because I might need the rest babe, sorry” Cillian told you as you rested against his chest and, eventually, you both fell asleep in Cillian’s bed knowing that no one was going to interrupt you for the next seven days.

Tag List:

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[maysileeewrites]

a helping hand - John Murphy x Reader || teaser

AN: this is just a teaser, I’ll link the full imagine (that will be set during 1x10) here once I’ll upload it. I know that people probably won’t care about Murphy x reader in 2023, but please lmk what you think, it would really mean a lot!! 🤍

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it. 

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest. 

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“ 

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation. 

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. Just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain. 

„Let me“, you say, helping him. 

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly. 

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“ 

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 78)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2k words

Warning: swearing, mention of death and violence

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Couple of McCreary's criminals stayed behind with the guards, with a help of Indra watching over them. Meanwhile, I've decided to interrupt Russell with a surprise visit.

I insisted I'd go alone, the less people the better especially knowing that Russell wasn't quite the violent type; There was no way he’d lay his hands on me, I had no worries about him at all. He had killed Clarke because of his greed, I highly doubt that he'd kill more of us out of anger.

Some people disagreed with me, not surprised. Of course Bellamy, Josephine and Murphy wanted to come with me, Jordan wished to tag along too. Delilah being sacrificed for the prime hit him pretty hard, I didn't blame him for wanting to confront him.

As we barged into the lab, we were greeted with a startled look on all of their faces. Simone and Emori instantly looked upset, Abby looked like she was dying for her next fix.

'How in the hell did you guys escape?' Simone cursed, stepping up in front of me.

'It's not very hard, you know. Now would you guys be so kind and give us back the blood you made.' Murphy took out his hand, motioning them to hand it over.

Approaching fast, Emori reached for John's hand. 'John, what are you doing?'

'We can't let them continue to deceive and kill their innocent people, it's not right. Now they got us involved too.'

'Just hand us the damn blood.' I walked over to Simone that had it in her hands, 'Haven't you guys lived enough already?'

Simone chuckled, 'You don't get it do you?'

'What, killing people thinking their sacrificing themselves to false Gods? Of course I don't get it, I'm not a homicidal bitch like you.'

She reached her hand out, smacking my cheek while holding the blood in her other hand. I couldn't react and get her back as Bellamy was quicker than me, grabbing Simone's collar. 'Get your fucking hands off of her.'

'Let go of my wife!' Russell screamed at Bellamy, trying to reach over her but was suddenly distracted by Murphy.

He had snatched the blood off of Simone's hand, laughing as he hugged it in his arms. 'You guys are awfully slow.'

'Do you really think that's a smart move, Murphy?' Russell rolled his eyes. 'One word and the guards will storm in here and shoot you without a warning.'

'You shoot me, I drop this bad boy and the blood is destroyed. You really want to do this Russell?'

He huffed, turned to look at Emori and back to John. 'You fucked everything up, you know? I trusted Emori when she said you were with us.'

'That's your own fault for trusting her, I never agreed to this. I honestly just want you dead.'

'What do you guys want from this anyway? Why do you care what our community is doing? These people believe in us, believe that the Primes store peace and prosperity to Sanctum.'

How can that come out of Simone's mouth? Saying that their community chose to sacrifice their lives for a God that they've made up? 'They sacrifice themselves because they believe in the lies you told them. I care because you're killing your own people.'

'Can we just compromise? Agree to disagree and live on with our lives as we did these past few days?' Josephine tried to be the middle of man of this, siding with her family as well us siding with us.

'I thought I made a deal to compromise with Russell but he chose to betray me instead.' I looked at Josephine, understanding where she was coming from but hoping that she will finally realize that what her family has been doing is completely wrong. 'This outcome is all your father's fault. I didn't want any of this to happen.'

'Whatever happens to me and my people are none of your damn business! What we do does not concern you at all!' Simone raised her voice at me, veins tracing down her face as she seemed angry as ever.

'Now that you're getting us involved, it certainly is. We don't have to make these stupid blood for you, you know that right?'

Murphy's POV;

Y/N and Simone have been yelling at each other for quite sometime now, I'd want to help her but I wasn't in the position to defend her. Besides, she could handle herself well.

Simone's facial expression changed as she heard the words come out of Y/N's mouth, it was as if she had triggered her.

'I've had enough of your attitude already.' Simone screamed as she charged at Y/N, punching her in her stomach.

Before I was able to jump in to help, Y/N grabbed her arm, twisting it to the opposite direction that had Simone scream even louder. Turning her whole body around, she then kicked her back which had her falling next to Russell.

As Simone fell to the ground, she breathed. 'What happened to no violence?'

'You fucking punched me in the gut, I'm not just going to stand there.'

Just as I was about to make a snarky comment at Simone, Abby had snatched the blood from my hand. I quickly turned to her, 'What are you doing?'

Abby wasn't listening and instead ran out the lab. All of us trailed her from behind, ending up next to the airlock chamber. She had locked herself in the chamber, attempting to float herself and the nightblood with her.

Her hand was on the lever, her other arm tightly holding onto the nightblood. Y/N approached closer to her, trying convince her from the other side of the airlock. 'Abby, let's rethink this okay?'

'Don't fucking tell me what to do!' Abby yelled, tears running down her cheeks. 'Why do you care anyway, they lose the blood and you get to see me float myself. Win-win situation for you, I'd say.'

Y/N huffed, shaking her head. 'Don't be fucking stupid. I don't agree with you nor did I enjoy being threatened by you at the bunker but I don't want you dead, Abby.'

'I've lost everything, Y/N!' Abby started to sob, 'Russell killed my daughter, Marcus left me. I have nothing left, what do you know about loss?'

'We've all lost something, Abby.' I approached her also, standing next to Y/N. 'You guys sent us down to Earth when we were only kids, when we barely understood right from wrong. A lot of us lost parents, not that I really cared but some do. I understand that you're angry and frustrated but don't tell us we don't know how you're feeling.'

Y/N had never fully told me what happened down at the bunker, all I know is that Abby had done something to her, something that she will never forgive her for. She never told me the whole story, said that she wanted to forget everything because it was so awful what happened.

Even with all the altercation between her and Abby, Y/N was still trying to stop her from floating herself out of the airlock. I know how much the bunker had messed her up, I was honestly surprised that she was willing to help Abby.

‘Why are you trying so hard to help me? I’m the one that’s responsible for your misery right?’ Abby looked straight into Y/N’s eyes.

‘Like I said, I don't want you dead. I'll never forget what happened but we can always work our way to forgive. We’ve all worked our way through hell, we can get through this too.’

I admire Y/N’s strength, which are one of the reasons why I loved her so much. Watching her fight for Abby made me feel stupid about letting her go, being dumb enough to not say I love you back to her.

Abby nodded her head, ‘You’re right Y/N. You’re right. I’m sorry.’

She opened the airlock and slowly walking out as Y/N rubbed her hand on Abby’s back, trying to comfort her while she continued to sob.

'Maybe it's time to end all this, dad. We've done enough already.' Josephine said, surprisingly. Perhaps all of this have overwhelmed her, finally understanding that it wasn't worth the pain they were causing.

Russell inhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes as everyone had their eyes on Y/N and Abby. ‘Don't be a fool, Josie. It's never over.'

'If that's how you feel, so be it.’ Abby suddenly shoved Y/N to the side, pulling Simone from behind her and yanking her into the airlock chamber with her. Bellamy, having the faster instinct, caught Y/N before she fell to the ground.

‘Let me out, Russell! Help me, please!’ Simone banged on the glass from the other side as Abby locked the chamber again. ‘Anybody, help me out please!’

‘Simone!’ Russell looked at Bellamy, Jordan and then to me, panic all over his eyes as he tried to look for help. ‘Please get my wife out of there.’

Abby shook her head, ‘It’s too late now.’

Y/N pushed Bellamy’s arms out of her way, running towards the airlock as she screamed. ‘Abby, don-’

She was too late, Abby had pulled the lever as if she was committed to do so. Abby seemed as though she was ready to float herself, I doubt that Y/N would've convinced herself otherwise.

Bellamy pressed the button to close the airlock, comforting Y/N as she looked distraught. It was selfish of me to feel jealousy towards Bellamy, when Y/N needed someone to lean on when one of our people had died tragically. I couldn’t help it, I was mad at myself for fucking everything up.

Josephine and Russell on the other hand was emotionless, Simone was gone faster than the snap of a finger. They’ve probably haven’t gotten the grasp of any of this, since they were not familiar with the floating method.

‘What... did you guys do...’ Russell mumbled, staring into space as if he was staring at a ghost.

‘Seems like Abby took your wife for taking her own daughter away from her. Fair trade I should say.’ Jordan said angrily. I didn’t think he had it in him to say such harsh words, even though we all know we were all thinking the same thing.

Josephine shook her head. ‘We did a shitty thing, I know. But was that really fair? How dare you say that, she murdered my mother!’

‘Just how you murdered our friend! Just as how you murdered Delilah, she didn’t know the whole truth about what she was sacrificing herself for!’ Jordan took a step toward Josephine, screaming his lungs out. ‘Your family has been doing this for years, there’s no excuse for that!’

A sudden loud bang echoed, Jordan falling hard onto the floor without saying another word. Josephine screamed, looking at her father with a gun in his hand which was aimed towards Jordan.

Josephine froze into place as the rest of us ran towards Jordan to see if he was alright, but it was too late once again. He was already bleeding to death, bullet going straight through his chest.

'None of you guys move or I will shoot again.'

Everything had clicked; I really should've had killed Russell when I had the chance. I could've protected Jordan, I bet Monty was ashamed of me and all of us that it ended up being this way.

Or maybe Y/N was right, if we just accepted the trade, no one would end up getting hurt. Sure, Russell would still live but he wouldn't be an issue as long as he stayed in Sanctum.

None of this would've happened if I'd just stopped Emori from this, while we were marching back to the ship. I could've said something before we left Sanctum. There were so many chances where I could've stopped this and I did nothing.

And now Russell is unpredictable, all hell broke loose and he had gone insane. His lover was gone, forever and there was no going back. Abby and Jordan were gone and we might lose more of our people, even lose the love of my life because of my stupid choice.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

Round One!

It’s officially time to VOTE for Round One of TROPED Madness 3.0! The structure is simple! Our four writers have been paired up in two head to head brackets, and its your job to chose who moves forward to the final round, and who gets CHOPPED! For the brackets, please select the one (1) fic that best used the prompt {Action/Adventure + character is badly injured + cliffhanger}! The writer with the winning fic will move forward to The Final Round!!

Additionally, we ask you to rank the four submissions in a seperate question! Please rank the four (4) fics, first (1) being your top choice, and four (4) being your last choice! This will help us to decide who is the top of our final bracket!

You can vote here:

https://forms.gle/ReaEwoC4c6YV8oVFA

The four fics that we received for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the theme [Action/Adventure], includes the tropes [Character is badly injured and ...] and [Cliffhanger], and have included the characters [Gaia (The 100) or Julie (JATP)]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other TROPED events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

--------

where you never, never have to worry about grown up things again (Rated M) [The 100 - Clarke Griffin x John Murphy]

Summary: Maybe it should have fazed Clarke that she was currently in Neverland on a quest to save the daughter she'd given up from said daughter's evil grandmother who was currently a teenager. Maybe it should have fazed her that she was on said quest with her daughter's sometimes evil adoptive mother, her own estranged parents who were the same age as her, her ex's almost definitely still evil sister, and fucking Captain Hook. Maybe it should have fazed her that she kind of sort of maybe probably had a thing going on with a certain one handed pirate.

Maybe all of that should have fazed her, but, at this point, it was just another fucking Tuesday.

follow the heart i believe in ('cause in the past it's done me so good) (Rated T) [The Witcher - Jaskier & Yennefer]

Summary: "And why didn't you just go to Geralt with this and move on with your life?" Yennefer asks wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jaskier scoffs at her. "I am not speaking to Geralt again until I get an apology from him. I still have some self-respect, thank you very much."

"So you're going to risk your life protecting his adopted daughter instead?"

"Jesus, I want him out of my life and I want him to suffer. I don’t want his kid dead.”

"But you won't talk to him?"

"Self-respect, Yennefer."

“...You need to take a good, hard look at your priorities."

(Six months after Geralt breaks both of their hearts, Jaskier and Yennefer find themselves in the strange position of being the only people who can protect Ciri's secret identity as a vigilante superhero.)

No Place To Hide (Rated M) [The 100 - Gen Fic]

Summary: What was supposed to be a normal morning coffee run quickly turns into a fight for survival when two men with guns burst in and take Gaia and everyone else in the convenience store hostage. Fear is a given, but amidst the terror Gaia finds a strength she never knew she possessed.

Trigger Warning: This fic depicts a situation in which a store is held hostage by gunmen who open fire. The violence is mostly implied or non-graphic and there is some mention (again non-graphic for the most part) of injury and death due to gun violence. Please take heed of this before reading.

the cold never bothered me anyway (Rated G) [Golden Sun - Piers & Mia]

Summary: The air is impossibly cold.  As Piers takes one wobbling step, then another, clutching his cloak around him and shivering against the frigid air, he can’t help but wonder how on Weyard he got himself into this mess.  His entire body aches and he can feel the pain blossoming in his side but still he presses onwards, his gaze fixed on the lighthouse stretching towards the sky at the horizon.  With the snow billowing around him, rarely settling on the ground, it’s difficult to even register where he’s stepping.

Or: Mortally injured, Piers makes his way to Imil, where Mia can help him. After that, it's only natural to fall back on their adventurous ways

[hisagony]

      ✧       PLOTTED STARTER !       —       @imnobodysson      𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.          that is it.          that is the responsibility he carries and it rivals all others.          he may be the leader that all of these teenagers look to for protection          [      . . . . . .      ]          BUT HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK HE'S DOING.          his one goal remained :      keep the rest of the ark at bay.          that meant shattering wristbands and once he convinced young minds to mold to his way of thinking ,      the rest was easy.          𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙻 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙷 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙰𝙽.          and the culling came to pass. he reminds himself :      𝙄 𝘿𝙄𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍.          it's what my mother would have wanted.          it's the only way he can get through this.          optics narrow and freckles are evident on his cheeks under the heat of the sun.          the soil is still soft beneath soles of boots from the last rainfall      AND NOT A SINGLE DELINQUENT IS ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND.          they were all separated when a grounder appeared in the woods.          𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓. AND NOW HE WALKS ALONE.          with no idea where to even start searching for his sister and without a tracker ,      BUT AT LEAST HE HAS THE GUN.          IT'S LIKE A SECURITY BLANKET ,      especially when he hears muffled chatter in the distance.          he typically walks heavy ,      but now manages to slow his steps and avoid weak twigs and branches as he hides behind the leafy greens of trees and looks on at          [      . . . . . .      ]          a grounder camp. two brawny men push a smaller boy forward.          his hands are bound and      they speak to their captive in that ridiculous language that he doesn't understand.          but he does recognize the captive :          ❛❛      JOHN MURPHY ,      ❜❜          he whispers the name under his breath.          and if they have murphy ,      they might have octavia.          𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷.

[kilibaggins]

J.M ~ Truth Or Dare

Request Rules!

Request: Merry (late) Christmas! I was wondering if I could request a John Murphy x biFem reader? Back on the Ark (if that’s ok) and Murphy has no idea she’s Bi so while playing truth or dare Murphy ask her what’s the one thing she’s never told her and she gets nervous thinking he would accept her but she was wrong. So angst and fluff if that’s fine:)

Authors Note: Hey! So, I assumed that this: "she gets nervous thinking he would accept her" as a typo, and you meant to write "wouldn't". Sorry if that wasn't a typo. Also, Merry late Christmas to you, too!

ALSO ALSO LOOK AT THE PRETTY GIF HES SO CUTE I MADE THE GIF MYSELF AND JUST SISJSNSJEBJ

Warnings: Murphy's Mom is Mentioned, Readers Parents are Dead, Technically Child Neglect because it mentioned the adults of the Ark not caring about kids who are alone, and I think that's it?

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“Truth or dare, Murphy.” You say, sitting back against the wall of his small room. You think of it as his room, because it’s a very small abandoned room on a side of the Ark that barely anyone goes to. He found it a few months ago, and in a desperate attempt to stop living with his mother, he has moved into it. It has the smallest bed known to man, and He barely fits on it without hanging off of it by his limbs. He’s also been known to fall off of it, but he insists it’s fine. He sighs and sits across from you, leaning against the bedside.

“Really, Y/N ?” Murphy asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You scoff and readjust, getting into a more comfortable position. You gesture at him and he chuckles. “Fine. Dare.” He says and you smirk.

“I dare you to... “ You look around the small room trying to think of something to dare. On the Ark, there's really not much that can be done. You think of something simple, yet it’ll annoy th eshit out of Murphy, So it’s perfect. “I dare you to give me some of your food every time you get some for the next two weeks.” You say, a huge grin on your face. He sighs exasperatedly and lets his head fall back behind him on the bed.

“Damn.” He sighs, and you laugh. You watch him for a moment, honestly ready to take it back if he is really against it, but when he moves his head back up to look at you he’s smiling, and that’s all the reassurance you need.

“Alright, asshole, ask me.” You say, smirking. He chuckles, grabs one of his shirts, and throws it at you. You laugh as it hits you and you throw it back. “Fuck you.” You laugh.

“Truth or Dare, Y/N ?” He asks, and you think about it for a minute, before deciding.

“Truth.” you say, and he smirks before leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees.

“What is one thing about yourself that you have never told me before.” He asks, and you think for a moment. You search through your head for anything you haven't told him other than the big secret. At this point, you two have been friends for years, ever since you were kids, Hell even since before Murphy’s father died. So, along the way you have opened up about almost everything.

Except for the fact you’re bisexual, that is.

You look at him for a few minutes, and then at your feet. You know realistically that Murphy is your best friend and he’ll most likely support who you are, but after one kid in the past being extremely homophobic, you weren’t entirley sure. You look back up at him, and he’s looking at you with a slightly worried face. He cares about you. The Ark is merciless, The adults don’t really care about what happens to the kids, especially those with no parents like yourself. They didn’t give any extra assistance and really just expects kids to be able to take care of themselves, even as early as 7. You’ve been alone since you were 12, so it’s been almost 4 years, and in that time the only extra help you got was an extra ration the week your parents got floated, and Murphy. Murphy has been here the whole time, and he has always helped you. It started with his mother helping, but then she started getting too drunk to care, so it merged into only Murphy caring, but you didn’t mind. You know even if you didn’t dare him to give you some food, he would have.

This is Murphy, of course he’ll support me. You think, as you feel yourself sweat slightly. Murphy is still looking at you in worry.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me an-”

“Shut up! I'm working up the courage, I need you to stop talking.” You say quickly, and he smiles softly, having heard the sentence ‘I need you to stop talking’ Hundreds of times. You rub your hands together and look back into his eyes.

“I’m Bisexual.” You say quickly, and then you feel the weight on your shoulders that should be smaller, grow larger. Murphy looks at you in confusion before nodding softly.

“Uh, Okay…” He says, confused. You feel the weight leave slightly.

“Are you confused?” You ask, and honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if he has never even heard of it before considering how isolated he is. He nods softly, obviously feeling stupid about it.

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is, but I bet it’s not as bad as you think it is.” Murphy says, and you feel yourself smile softly.

“It uh… It means I’m attracted to men... and women.” You say, looking at him. He looks at you in shock and then looks like he realized something.

“Well, shit.” He says, his tone filled with laughter. “That’s what it’s called?” He asks, and you nod, confusion taking you over as you wait for his reaction.

“Yeah.” You say, trying not to say much in fear you’ll cry. If he doesn’t support you, your life would honestly be ruined, and others might think it’s dumb to think you rlife is completley ruined if he doesn’t support you, but Murphy is your best friend, and has been for years. He’s one of the only good things up here anymore.

“Me too, then I guess.” He says suddenly, and you look at him in shock. You feel your brain basically short-circuit as you look at him, and you feel your stress tears fall from your eyes. He looks at you in worry and quickly moves forward, wiping the tears away.

“Fuck, did I say soemthing wrong? I’m sorry, Y/N . I uh, Fuck.” He says, wiping the tears, and he turns to grab a bottle of water. He turns back and hands it to you. You smile softly and take the bottle, and put it next to you. You surge up and hug him tightly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You say happily and lean back. “God, I was scared you wouldn’t support me…” You say sadly, and he looks at you sadly.

“Y/N You’re my best friend. The only person I even really care about anymore… I’d always accept and support you.” He promises, and you lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” You say and he nods. He suddenly smirks, as he sits next to you and leans against the wall.

“I mean, Girls are pretty as fuck, so I can’t blame you.” He jokes, and you laugh and push at his arm. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

“Seriously, Y/N. I’m here for you. I support you more than anyone else on this fucking rust bucket could, and I will be your wing-man. No ifs, ands, or buts.” He says, and you nod softly, thankful that you have him in your life.