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incendiaris · 3 years ago

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i dare you to answer all of them for rocket :)

unusual character questions. [ always accepting. ]

what percentage does your muse start charging their phone at?

the moment it drops below around 35%, she's treating it as though it's gonna die any second.

do they drive? what kind of car do they have?

for the most part, she drives a 2019 audi sq8 (dark grey). it has a 4-litre v8 hybrid-diesel engine, adaptive air suspension, a top speed of 155mph, and can accelerate from 0-60mph in 4.6 seconds. rocket likes cars.

what difficulty mode does your muse play video games on?

she likes to start out on whatever difficulty comes just above the default. and then, if there are any higher and she likes the game, she'll try and work her way to the highest difficulty.

what's their go-to drunk / high snack?

lucky charms.

how many pillows and blankets do they sleep with?

four pillows; two for general head support, one to cushion, and one to cuddle. only one blanket, though, which usually gets discarded halfway through the night unless it's particularly cold. she runs kinda hot, especially when she sleeps.

what's the majority of their camera roll (pets, selfies, screenshots, memes, food)?

it's fairly sparse, but the vast majority is probably screenshots of important things that she needs to have easily to hand.

what's their texting style like?

pretty formal. full sentences, proper grammar, nary an emoji in sight. she has, at the very least, fallen into the all-lower-case trap. she likes the neatness of it.

if your muse is pretty chill, what's something they're weirdly high-strung about?

HA.

if your muse is pretty high-strung, what's something they're weirdly chill about?

rocket tends to be fairly chilled out about the media she consumes; movies, books, tv shows, music... she likes a lot of different things, isn't remotely picky about them, and actually sort of enjoys having things recommended to her. which isn't the case at all in terms of virtually anything else in her life.

do they prefer to write with pen or pencil, or something else?

ballpoint pen. preferably black, though she will settle for blue if it's the only thing available.

what's their sims play style?

one sim. needs kept ridiculously high at all times. house always immaculately tidy. that sim only has friends for the sake of climbing their career path. she refuses to use cheat codes.

what's that one story their parents always tell about their childhood?

n/a. no parents, very little childhood.

if there's a tornado warning, do they get to safety or do they go stand on the porch?

oh, she's watching for sure. what's the worst that's gonna happen, right?

how often do they do their laundry?

once a week, religiously. on saturday mornings, unless she has something else on.

if they had to have a side hustle, what would it be?

she's always loved gadgets, electronics, etc., so with a little research and a lot of practice, she'd enjoy running a repair-gig for phones, computers, small electronics, things like that.

do they still have a baby blanket or childhood stuffed animal?

n/a. and also I am sad.

how does your muse think they'll die?

answered here.

does your muse dream at night? what about and do they remember?

the vast majority of her dreams are just vague little fleeting images that she doesn't recall when she wakes up. other times, her dreams will be more like memories. these have a lot more detail; so much so that when she wakes up, it'll be with old surface thoughts that she had otherwise lost years ago. she'll remember little details about the other kids she grew up with that she didn't even know she still retained, for example, or old feelings she abandoned will start to surface.

how often do they actually think about texting their ex?

answered here.

have they ever gotten in trouble at work? what was the reason?

answered here.

do they have a favourite vine or tiktok sound?

absolutely not. vine is dead and tiktok is for children.

...

'road work ahead? uh, yeah, I sure hope it does.'

if they could pick a superpower, which one would they pick?

not the one she has, that's for sure. if she really, honestly thought about it, she'd settle on a variation, though; one where she could use her healing on other people instead of exclusively on herself. it would make her feel so completely fulfilled if she could take away the injuries and the suffering that people go through on a daily basis.

what's scarier to them: the ocean or space?

the ocean, for sure. unexplored, full of horrifying creatures, and close to home. besides, she loves space.

what does your muse call pill bugs (roly-polies, potato bugs, doodle bugs, etc)?

woodlice.

are they allergic to anything? if so, do they still eat it / keep it around?

none. possibly invoked deliberately.

what do they call their grandparents?

she doesn't.

do they like ice in their drinks? crushed or cubed?

ice adds sensation to her drinks by making them significantly colder, and she's not all that bothered about taste, so she prefers ice. cubed, though, not crushed. she's not a child.

how often do they wash their hair?

every other day. more frequently if there's blood in it, obviously.

what is their preferred streaming service?

dis/ney plus. good chance to catch up on everything she missed out on as a child.

could they eat a person if they would starve to death otherwise?

no. she'd be full of bravado about it, but no, she'd rather just starve. or, at least, see if she can starve.

they get three wishes - what are they? all typical rules apply.

1) she'd like the names and locations of the people behind the facility that she grew up in. 2) she'd like the current names and locations of the other people that she grew up alongside in that same facility. 3) she'd like to get rid of her healing factor. this wish would be made after she'd handled the results of the first two.

what's a weird food combo your muse swears by?

sushi and hot sauce.

what is something that they wish they could do appearance-wise but don't have the confidence or ability to (piercings, haircut, clothing style, etc.)?

piercings! tattoos! she would love to just go absolutely crazy with them.

if they have pets, which one is their favourite?

rocket keeps a variety of tropical fish in a purpose-built aquarium. she tries not to have favourites, but she secretly loves her golden barbs the most.

what's their favourite form of media to consume?

books. specifically the kind of trashy, garbage books that people normally only buy in airports. she can't help it; she loves them and she will never, ever figure out why.

do they crack their knuckles?

absolutely. and those babies crack themselves right back.

have they been diagnosed with any diseases / illnesses?

nope, and she's pretty convinced she's never going to have to worry about that. a therapist might say otherwise, but first you'd have to actually get her to a therapist.

how old is your muse and how much younger and older are they willing to date?

rocket is twenty-two. she wouldn't date any younger than twenty, but she'd be a lot more willing to date someone older. perhaps she's into milfs, who knows?

how do they eat oreos?

peel them apart, eat the cream first, and then nibble on the biscuits.

what's a show that everyone's seen but they haven't yet?

bridgerton. most of the hype, as far as she's concerned, tends to be centred around this guy playing the lead. and how sexy and intimate and erotic it is. honestly, it's putting her off more than actually encouraging her to give it a look.

#[ ROCKET. ] MEME.#[ ROCKET. ] INFO.#long post alert lmao.#if you read all of this then i love you.

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peonysimmer · 8 years ago

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#this is like unnecessarily long #but i couldn't figure out how to shorten it #these two are cheesy af #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims #simblr #also haleigh's knuckle tattoos have returned #idk why they disappeared #posting this around mother's day makes me sad tho #my poor bby boy #zack&haleigh

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statement69420 · 5 years ago

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The first time the man had come down to the archive, or at least the first time they saw him, was a couple weeks after Jon had become the head Archivist.

Tim hadn't paid much attention to the man. Not really interested in some person coming to give a statement. And he told Sasha so when she pointed out how odd the man looked.

It wasn't until she informed him that Jon was not expecting anyone to give a statement today. And he hadn't asked to give one on his way in. This made him take a closer look at the man.

He was a little taller than average height, wearing only black, his long hair was also, poorly dyed, black, thought that's not what Tim's eyes were drawn to.

The man's hands were covered in tattoos. All of them were of an eyeball. One on every knuckle.

Him and Sasha watched as the man walked over to Jon's office, raising his hand to knock. He couldn't take his eyes off of the man's hand. And it seemed like it was looking back at him.

He only had to stand at the door for a moment before Jon opened it for him.

Sasha and Tim watched as he walked into the office. And it didn't slip their notice that he didn't come out for a couple hours.

--------------

Martin had been avoiding Jon since what had happened that morning. If he had known Jon was there he would have put pants on.

But he didn't know. So now he's stuck in a very awkward situation. Because he has to tell Jon what he found about one of the statements. It wasn't a lot considering he can't actually leave the institute because of Jane, but it was enough to disprove it.

So he has to tell him.

Martin conjured up all the courage he possibly could and made his way to Jon's office. He was about to knock when a voice told him to wait.

The person talking was a goth man, about the same height as him, with really creepy tattoos.

It looked as though he had been waiting outside the office door. Maybe he was there to give a statement?

"He's recording a statement", The man said, obviously taking Martin's quizzical look as confusion.

"Alright. I'll come back later than", He said, and was about to turn away, but stopped to ask the man who he was.

"I'm Gerard Keay", He said holding out his hand. Martin shook it giving his own name.

"Well, Mr.Keay, if you're here to give a statement, you can either write it down or you can wait in that area", He said pointing toward the right side of the large area they were currently in, and not to any particular location.

"You can call me Gerard. I'm not here to give a statement. Just found a book that I figured Jon would like to see.", He said this while holding up a brown paper bag that looked like it had something rectangular in it, the book.

"Why do you have it in a bag?"

"It's sensitive to lights. You should have seen what happened when I first walked outside with it. Almost lost my hand"

"The book, almost made you lose your hand?"

"Yeah. It's got some pretty sharp teeth"

"It has wh-", Martin's question was cut off by the opening of the office door. Jon stood there looking as tired as he always did.

"Martin, is there something you need?", He said, having not noticed Gerard.

"Yeah. I got that evidence you needed to disprove-", he was cut off again as Jon took the papers he was holding out to him.

"Very good. Thank you", It was at that point that he finally noticed the goth man, "Gerry, is there something I can help you with?"

"Brought you a gift", He said, holding up the bag and smiling as though the item inside wasn't something horrible.

"You found another one?", Jon sounded surprised, how hard was it to find books. Well, books with teeth were probably hard to find.

"It actually found me. Showed up at ou- my flat", Gerry corrected himself near the end, he looked at Martin as though he was waiting on him to say something. But all he did was excuse himself, not really interested in the book that bites.

He could hear Jon invite Gerry into his office as he walked away.

It was only later that night when he realized what Gerry had been saying before he corrected himself. He decided not to dwell on it and try to sleep.

--------------

The next time that he was seen in the archives, was when he wasn't actually in the Archives. He wasn't even in the institute.

It was the same night that Jane Prentiss attacked. He was standing outside the institute, as close to the building as the medics would allow him. Saying something about an infestation and such.

Elias watched as the man stood there. Looking toward the building as if waiting for something. He knew the man. Of course he did. Someone who spent time with Gertrude all seemed to have the same type of despair about them. Also there was no way anyone could forget what this man looked like.

And right now, Gerard Keay, stood there, staring at his institute with a rage that Elias couldn't quite understand. And with every passing minute he became more and more impatient.

He watched as Gerard continuously checked his phone and his watch and back again. Waiting. He eventually got a phone call, or that's what it looked like. Gerard answered the call and took a few steps away from the institute.

This was when he stopped paying attention to him. Which was probably a good thing since Jon was up and going again and demanding everyone's statement about what happened.

The next time he saw Gerard Keay that night, he was helping a very tired Jonathan Sims, get home. He made mental note to look into how they know each other. Elias definitely didn't want them to interact too much. But from the look of it he was probably too late.

Melanie watched as the man entered and immediately made his way to Elias's office. She listened as they both began to scream. Though she couldn't actually make out what they were saying.

When he came back through the archives Martin stopped him. The man turned to face him, the look of anger never leaving his eyes.

"Gerard? Why're you here?"

"Needed to have a talk with Elias", He said, obviously trying to keep his cool, not wanting to blow up on Martin for no reasons.

"Sounded more like a shouting match", Melanie commented from behind him. He turned to face her.

"Yeah. There's no being civil with someone like him", He told her gesturing towards the office he just left.

"Fair enough", She shrugged, "What were you yelling at him about"

"Him framing Jon for murder"

"He framed Jon?", Martin asked

"Yeah. Did you think he actually killed someone?", He asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him", Tim said as he walked past.

"Then you really, really don't know him", He said shaking his head, "I'm done with all of this. I'm going home".

They watched as he walked away. Confused on how this person who none of them knew personally, knew their boss so well. Except for Martin who had a look on his face, making it very obvious that he knew something.

"Martin, who was that?", Melanie asked.

"That was Gerard Keay. I think he's a rare book dealer, and also Jon's flatmate"

"He's what? How do you know that?", He then began to give her the rundown of what happened the last time he had seen Gerard.

-------------

Basira was surprised to see someone rummaging around through the statements. Not that this was odd, it's just that she was sure that he didn't work here.

She was pretty sure she would remember seeing someone like him around the archives before now.

So she made a decision and began to walk up to him, trying not to call herself to his attention yet. She must have been walking to heavy because he turned around the second she got there.

He was holding a stack of papers in his tattooed hands. As she looked up from his hands to his face she could have sworn one of the several eyes blinked at her.

"Hello, I'm just here to collect a few statements", He said, a bit awkwardly as though he wasn't expecting anyone to be there. Which was fair considering how early it was, but it still made her not trust him.

"Yeah, I can see that. But no one except employees can take the statements out of here. If you would like to look over one for research purposes, you may file a request with me or someone else, but you can't take them", Basira said, although she couldn't imagine why anyone would need them for research.

"I don't need them for research. Jon actually asked me to come pick up some. He's in America, as I'm sure you know, and he wanted me to collect these for when he gets back", The man said.

"You know Jon?", She questioned, looking him over.

"Yeah. We're, uh, we're really close. I bet I know him better than you do actually", He said this with so much confidence, the last part anyway, she almost wanted to believe him. Almost.

"I'm sure. If you don't mind me asking, who are you and how exactly do you know Jon?"

"I'm Gerard Keay-", He was about to continue, but she cut him off.

"I know you. You were arrested for your mum's murder right?"

"I didn't do it! They soon realized it! It doesn't matter anyway."

"It kinda does. Not sure if we should have murderer running around the institute"

"One. I didn't do it! Two. What about Elias?"

"That's fair. Now, how do you know Jon?"

"I was trying to tell you. I met him a while back. We were both looking for a flatmate, it's cheaper you know? And he was told about me by a mutual friend, Georgie? Don't know if you've met her. And we hit it off. Have the same taste in music and books, and the same dislike of certain books. So that's it. We share a flat.", He said, all in one breath which was kinda freaky. She took all in and then frowned at him.

"Same taste in music? Really? That's hard to believe.", Basira told him.

"I told you I know him better than you do.", Gerard said, smirking.

"Okay, but how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"There's no real way to prove it. Sorry. Guess you'll just have to take my word for it. Though I'm sure Elias would vouch for me, but I'm sure you don't trust him much either, right?"

"Right. Look, I can't allow you to leave with the statements.", She told him. She had decided that she believed him for the most part, but that doesn't mean she was going to let him leave with the statements.

"That's fine. Is it okay if I stick them in his desk?", Gerard asked, walking over to it, ans not waiting on her response.

"Alright then. Is there anything else you need Gerard?", Basira asked him.

"No. Thank you for the chat, Detective, I'd love to do it again. Goodbye", He said as he left the archive room, only looking back to wave at her. This time she was certain one of the eyes blinked.

-----------------

They all gathered in the archives when Jon came back from America. He had apparently learned about some storage locker that Gertrude used to own.

He was halfway through telling everyone about it when Daisy spoke up.

"I know this is super important and what not, but who's the goth?", She said pointing at Gerard who was standing beside Jon.

"Gerard Keay", Said 'Goth' told her, doing mock how as he did so.

"The guy who killed his mother?", Daisy asked, recognizing the name.

"I didn't kill my mother! I was cleared of all charges! Why does everyone keep bringing that up?", He asked, not really angry just irritated.

"Fine. Whatever. Why is he here?", She asked Jon, over looking Gerard completely.

"He knew Gertrude, and he also knows where the storage locker is", Jon told her. Gerard elbowed him in the side, which is amazing considering the height difference, and gave him a pointed look. Jon sighed, "He's also here for emotional support"

"Emotional support? What is he your boyfriend?", Tim asked.

"That's it exactly it! I guess you were right, Tim is pretty smart when he wants to be. Did think you committed murder, but still", Gerard said.

They all began to ask questions. All at once overtop of each other. Jon eventually got them to stop. He looked around at all of them and frowned.

"The world is in danger and all you guys care about is my love life?"

#jongerry #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #jon archivist #jon sims #the magnus archives #my fic #tma #tma spoilers #sorta #Brooke writes #:)))#i linked this on my main!!?#its not stolen

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momoception · 5 years ago

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List 5 facts about your most favorite Sim of yours and send this to 10 Simblrs whose Sims you adore 🖤💘💞❤💞💘💞🖤

Of course I’m gonna talk about my baby Irena 🖤

1. Irena doesn’t like to say any bad words or insults, but if she gets really mad she will say whatever comes first in her head.

2. She was afraid of needles when Johnny made her first tattoo (the knuckles) after that she lost her fear because “it wasn’t that bad”

3. Many ppl might think Irena loves black because she’s sad or a “gothic” girl, but she actually thinks black is elegant and match with everything

4. Irena’s favorite movie is The Nightmare Before Christmas, her favorite cartoon is Count Duckula (same as her dad) and she’s also a big fan of The World of Stainboy

5. Her biggest fears are to be alone in the world and to fail

I’m so sorry for the late answer, darling, and I appreciate that you like my sims, thank you so much for asking 💖💖💖

#ask #momo answers #saviorhide #kinha402

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surveyhoursss · 3 years ago

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180.

1. it is raining.

2. you can see the sunset now.

3. my birthday is in july.

4. i have been to the movie theater in the past week.

5. i have a test in school tomorrow.

6. people think i’m smart.

7. i am good at drawing.

8. i take long showers.

9. a horror movie has scared me so much that when i’m in the shower, i always have to look outside the curtain to make sure nobody’s there.

10. thunderstorms scare me.

11. i never wear a watch.

12. we have lunch too late in school.

13. i write on everything with sharpies.

14. i am an only child.

15. a bird has somehow gotten inside my house.

16. i have/had a pet parrot.

17. i like frozen dinners.

18. i have curly or wavy hair.

19. i don’t like my hair but i get compliments about it.

20. there is no good music on the radio.

21. i have brown eyes.

22. munchkins are better than donuts.

23. jelly munchkins are the best kind.

24. i like the color green.

25. i have never broken a bone.

26. there is a room in my house with reddish walls.

27. my basement is unfinished.

29. i never paint my nails.

30. i’m using an optical mouse.

31. i have never been to my state’s capital.

33. i hate it when people say your mom.

34. i have not eaten for a day straight.

35. i only do my homework if i feel like it.

36. i have made a fake screen name just to bug someone. (a sibling lol)

37. i have stalked someone.

38. i’m good at playing pool.

39. i don’t need an ipod because i still use my portable cd player.

40. there is a plant in this room.

41. there is a buddha statue in my house.

42. i like making charts and graphs to explain things.

43. i like the font comic sans.

44. i always use the same font.

46. i like screaming as loud as i can when no one is around.

47. i keep track of how many calories i consume daily.

48. i have multiple striped shirts.

49. i sometimes wear skinny jeans.

50. i wear jeans 99% of the time.

51. i have been in a casino.

52. i have won money from a scratch ticket.

53. when websites have counters, i go on and keep refreshing them.

55. buttons are fun to press.

56. i am employed.

57. i have seen a rated r movie in school.

58. i went to a private elementary school.

59. i am terrible at singing.

60. i buy a lot of things on ebay.

61. i don’t like shopping.

62. i hate hollister.

63. when it snows, i sometimes shovel the walkway.

64. i have a notebook just for doodling and scribbling.

65. i have more mix cds than regular cds.

68. i love playing the sims.

69. i don’t like pie.

70. i know the number pi up to 10 digits.

71. i used to live in another country.

72. i know someone from china.

73. i can balance a spoon on my nose.

74. i crack my knuckles a lot.

75. i can crack my back.

76. i take piano lessons.

77. it is some time from 8:00 to 9:00.

78. i wake up early in the morning.

79. there is school tomorrow.

80. i have skipped school because i had nothing to wear.

81. at hotels, i sneak out at night.

82. hotels have comfy beds.

83. i don’t want a boyfriend/girlfriend.

85. i take showers at night.

86. i wear the same perfume every day.

87. my ears aren’t pierced.

88. gift cards are the best gifts to get.

89. i have been to alaska.

90. i hate using mechanical pencils because i never have extra lead.

91. i have seen a shakespeare play.

92. i know how many cups are in a quart.

93. my hair color changes often.

94. i cut and paste instead of copy and paste.

95. my birthday is/was this month.

96. i have a tattoo.

97. i drink 8 glasses of water every day.

98. spongebob is funny.

99. i don’t drink soda a lot.

100. i can’t roll my tongue.

#bolding survey #survey

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searchforthescars · 7 years ago

Text

Little Beast - Chapter 4/?

He can’t believe he’s doing this, but Raven’s the only one he has. No way is he going to ask Bellamy for advice. “I have a problem. With Emori.”

Now she's paying attention, the vibrating phone forgotten beside her hand. “What did she do?”

“Nothing!” Murphy is instantly defensive. He hates his friends’ distaste for her. “It's me. I think I'm falling for her.”

Raven raises an eyebrow, her look of worry turning to an expression of delight. “No shit, Sherlock. We were all waiting for you to figure it out.”

1 | 2 | 3

Also on Ao3

You could drown in those eyes, I said,

so it’s summer, so it’s suicide,

so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

Murphy is still unused to Emori’s quiet presence, her soft eyes, her solid little body curled up on his couch underneath a mound of blankets. He’s pleasantly surprised whenever he sees her sitting at the dining room table. He likes seeing her leaning over the mirror in the bathroom, brushing foundation over the tattoo on her face. On mornings like this, when he stumbles from his room still half-asleep, it warms him in a slow, special way to see her in the kitchen making toast, which she likes with butter and jelly.

“Morning, John,” she smiles at him from the corner by the toaster. “Sleep well?”

“No,” he grumbles, shuffling into the living room to collapse on the couch. He’s not a morning person, and Emori knows this. He thinks she acts so cheerful every morning just to prove a point.

“Ow!” he yelps, now wide-awake and startled, as he stubs his toe on the bag halfway underneath couch. “Emori, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” She pops out from behind the pantry door, crosses the kitchen in a few swift steps, and shoves the bag further under the couch. Now that he’s awake, he sees how adorable she is when her hair is messy from sleep.

“What’s in there?” he can’t help but ask. [Read more on Ao3]

She kneels down, retrieves the bag, and pulls the zipper open. A tangled mess of cords and screens and boxes hides beneath the shadows. “I collect tech.”

“You mean steal it?” He sees the smashed security tag on a laptop box.

“When I have to.” She twists her mouth into a smirk and then a doubtful frown. She thinks he’s judging her, he realizes with a start.

“That’s kind of scary,” he starts, watching her nimble right fingers zip the bag closed again. “But a little badass.”

She smiles. It’s a real, lopsided thing that lights up her entire face. “You think everything I do is badass.”

He fights to keep the smile from his lips. “Maybe,” he drawls.

She laughs lightly and shoves the bag back under the couch. “Now get off my bed!”

Murphy ignores her, instead straightening her pillows and fixing her blankets. He knows he should offer her something better than a couch to sleep on - especially since she’s been living with him for a month - but she’s already made her stance on taking his bed very clear. “We can share,” she had said with just the smallest hint of discomfort. Murphy declined immediately, not just because he’s a stand-up guy but because the thought of sharing a bed with anyone ever again makes his skin crawl.

He wonders if the Blakes still have that ancient cot Bellamy used to sleep on when he had Miller, Raven and Murphy sleep over. It was hideous, but he remembered it as comfortable. It was better than his couch, in any case.

Emori goes back to the kitchen, and Murphy calls Bellamy.

“Yeah?” Bellamy answers on the fourth ring.

“Do you still have that cot?” Murphy asks without much preamble. “The one we used when we were kids?”

He hears Bellamy sigh. “It’s probably around here somewhere. Maybe in Mom’s old room. Let me go look.”

He puts the phone down and, unsurprisingly, Octavia picks it up. “Hey, Murphy,” she says around a mouthful of what sounds like cereal.

“Hey, Baby Blake.” Murphy doesn’t have anything against Octavia, not really. She’s a bit abrasive sometimes, but she has a good heart. “What’s up?”

“How’s it going with your girlfriend?” She asks teasingly.

“Not my girlfriend,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He can picture her waving a spoon in the air the way she does in the diner when Miller says something annoying. “How’s it going?”

He looks toward the kitchen. Emori is standing near the stove eating a piece of dry toast, clad only in a long shirt that falls to her knees. When he catches her eye, she gives him a grin and a little wave. “It’s fine,” he tells Octavia to appease her, though the heat rising in his cheeks tells him something slightly different.

Bellamy presumably snatches the phone away from his sister because Murphy hears a annoyed “Bell!” before Bellamy’s voice is back in his ear. “We have it. It’s kinda dusty, but I can clean it up if you want it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” The word tastes funny. “I’ll come and get it after work?”

He knows Bellamy is about to offer to drive it over. He also knows that Bellamy will bite his tongue against that offer; Murphy hates charity and Bellamy knows it. “Sounds good,” Bellamy says instead. He hangs up, and Murphy chucks his phone onto the couch.

“Bellamy’s bringing me his old cot,” he tells Emori, who is now sitting on the counter with a half-empty jar of peanut butter between her legs and a spoon in her mouth. “If I sleep on that, will you please take the bed?”

She frowns. “I want to see this cot first and make sure it's comfortable,” she tells him, jumping off the counter. “Then I’ll tell you. If it’s not comfortable, you’re not sleeping on it.” She pads off into the bathroom, and, as Murphy puts her jar of peanut butter back into the refrigerator, he catches himself smiling.

He’s learned things about her, things he wouldn’t have bothered to pick up if it weren’t for the fact that she was so damn memorable. She has a weird thing about food; she scarfs down every meal as if she isn’t sure when she’ll eat again, but he also finds her stashing nonperishable foods in her backpack when he wasn’t paying attention. He remembers Luna talking about “resource guarding,” and he idly wonders if that's the case with Emori. Then again, he’s not even sure what the hell that is. He makes a mental note to look it up later.

He doesn’t mind when she takes his food. Two jobs set him up with decent grocery money and he keeps finding worn $5 and $10 bills shoved under his socks or in his jacket pockets. He suspects Emori - who else would it be? - but he doesn’t know where’s she’s getting the money.

She’s a study in contradiction, and he loves chasing after her, even if it might kill him in the end.

When she emerges from the bathroom, hair loose and dripping wet onto her shirt, arms wrapped around her torso to hide her uncovered left hand, he has to take a few deep breaths. Ever since a sleepy June morning when he hadn’t been able to resist brushing dried tears from her cheeks, he’s been trying to choke down the affectionate feelings threatening to overwhelm him.

It hasn’t been working. And it still bothers him that she cries in her sleep, especially since he doesn’t know why.

“You can get in if you want.” She tilts her head towards the bathroom. Murphy shakes his head, reaching for his phone. Her eyes flit toward his hands. “That’s your phone?”

Murphy nods. He pictures her bag of stolen tech and knows where this conversation is headed. “Yeah. It sucks but… Emori, no.”

She kneels on the floor, shoves his legs aside, predictably not acknowledging his cautions, and reaches for the duffle bag. After some careful one-handed rummaging - during which her left hand remains tucked under her thighs - she produces a slender silver smartphone. “Give,” she says, motioning for his phone.

“I’m gonna regret this,” he mutters but passes the phone over because how can he say no to her earnest need to pay him back for whatever it is she thinks she owes him. She pops the SIM card from his phone, inserts it into the new one and grins up at him when the sleek machine starts up with a cheerful sound.

“Much better,” she sighs, passing it over. He turns it over in his hands and grimaces when it starts to vibrate. “Group texts?” Emori asks.

Murphy nods. “We have, like, three.” Upon her questioning look, he elaborates, “One for Raven, Bellamy, Miller and I, one for everyone, and one for the diner employees.”

“Sounds stressful.” Emori picks at the scaly, dry skin on her left hand. It looks like it’s never been cared for. Murphy wonders if she’d let him touch it. She’d probably take off his finger with the thin knife she usually keeps strapped to her combat boot.

“It’s what it takes,” he mutters, then wishes he hadn’t when her clever ears pick it up.

“What does that mean?”

Murphy sighs, setting the new phone down on the table. “I never really belong anywhere. I’m sure you noticed.” The callous bitterness in his voice doesn’t turn her eyes hard. He’s still getting used to that. “They’re better than nothing. They don’t particularly like me, but they don’t hate me either.” He trails off then.

Emori’s fingers are still worrying at her left hand. She’s picked a piece of skin off one of the malformed knuckles. The revealed skin starts to well with blood.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching down for both of her hands. “Don’t.”

He could press his lips to her knuckles. He doesn’t know if she’d like that, though. The sides of his throat throb with a reminder of the importance of consent.

Her face darkens. “What does it matter? No one sees it.”

He runs his thumb over her larger hand. He doesn’t have a ready answer for the self-hatred he sees in her eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll accept the phone if you wear your hand out - no wrappings - in the apartment for the rest of the day.”

She blinks, startled. “Okay,” she murmurs. Her fingers twitch under his. Raven would have a field day with this.

After a moment, she makes a soft sound and moves to stand, slowly removing her hands from his. “I’ll think of something to do with your old phone,” she says softly, swiping it from the coffee table and disappearing into the bedroom. Murphy allows himself three seconds to steady himself, then opens the four-person group chat that has been blowing up his new phone since Emori turned it on.

Raven and Miller are roasting each other and Bellamy is trying to mediate, but the bottom line is that Raven’s infamous fireworks show will be held tonight after dark in the old abandoned field through which the scenic highway cuts.

He can’t help but smile at the thought of showing Emori the fireworks. The subject had come up when one of those seasonal fireworks trailers had rolled into town. She had made a pyromaniac joke, and he had laughed. Then she told him she’d never seen a fireworks show.

“Kids in my old neighborhood used to run around with sparklers,” she had told him. “But they were expensive, and that was before O and I figured out the fastest way to boost and sell tech. Sometimes we couldn’t keep the regular lights on, let alone light up something else.”

He knows that Raven and Sinclair always put on a killer show. He’s counting on it this year. He wants to see her delighted smile again, the same one she gave him when he let her cook dinner for him. It had turned out to be a near-disaster, but it was worth it.

“John!” Emori calls his name from the bedroom. When he leans into the room, he sees her sticking her head out the open window. “What’s going on out there?”

Murphy sidles in next to her, his shoulder pressed against hers. Below them, near the end of the street, Lincoln’s ugly truck is backing into a neighbor’s driveway. Anya is sitting in the back shouting at him. Three other men are raising a pavilion on the other side of the cul-de-sac. The entire process is very loud, hampered by the wind whistling in from the mountains.

Every Fourth of July, the entire town turns out for a block party. Preparations like these start the day before: loud banging and rigging of tents and tables and chairs. Murphy forgot about the festivities and now, were it not for Emori’s watchful eye, he’d roll his eyes at the triteness of it all.

This town is not a nice town. Most citizens live below the poverty line. The schools were all poorly-run and small, taken over by a neighboring district with an actual mayor and city council. The main forms of crime were petty theft and gang holdups and those had only escalating in frequency as Murphy got older. He thinks it’s ludicrous that, for one day a year, they pretend as though everyone is one big happy freaking family.

It’s disgusting.

Emori looks at him as if she’s a curious child. “Can we go?”

“You could go by yourself, you know.” It comes out harsher than he intends. “I don’t need to babysit you.”

Her face falls, her brown eyes darkening. He loves those eyes, how expressive they are, even - and maybe especially - when she’s trying hard not to be. “That’s not- Sorry.” He ducks out of the window and rakes his hand through his hair. She turns to look at him over her shoulder. “We can go together, if you want. But you can go alone. You don’t have to wait for me.”

She frowns, brushing hair from her face, and pulls her head through the window, pulling the screen down but leaving the glass part open. A summer breeze blows through the room, hot and dry. “You’re the only one I know here.”

Murphy blinks at her. “You know everyone: Raven, Bellamy, all them.”

Emori shakes her head. “I don’t know them,” she stresses, eyebrows rising. “I know about them.”

Murphy wants to ask what the difference is, but he knows it’s probably not worth it. “I’ll go with you if you really want to.”

“I’ve never lived in a place like this before,” she says, almost to herself, backing up and leaning against the windowsill. “I lived in cities,” she explains. “Grew up in Baltimore, then lived in Boston, Philadelphia, Charlotte and D.C. Not in that order.” She smirks at him, and it feels like someone’s sticking a knife in his heart. “This is nice. In a new way.”

“I’m glad.” He gives her a smile and crosses the room to his dresser to get a change of clothes. Without really thinking, he shucks off his shirt and pulls on a new one. He feels Emori’s eyes on him as he moves. When she lets out a low hum, drawn from the base of her throat, he feels heat rush to his cheeks; when he looks back, her face is completely neutral, save for her blown pupils.

“What?” He isn’t trying to flirt, but he does want to know why she’s looking at him like that. “It’s not that great.”

Her mouth twists into a tiny smile while her eyes shamelessly look him up and down. “You’re cute when you’re modest.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He straightens his shirt, and asks, “So you and your brother stole computers in all those cities?”

She laughs, almost self-deprecatingly. “No, not only. Boosted cars and laptops, stole from dollar stores to eat, hell, Otan ran guns for six months before the fire.”

“The fire?” Murphy decides not to touch on the gun-running part. He remembers the story Emori told that involved Otan and a rocket launcher and decides he really doesn’t want to know.

She touched her left shoulder with her right hand. “The apartment we lived in had bad wiring. There was an electrical fire that burned Otan’s face. He was all scarred up afterward.” She pulls down the neckline of her shirt to reveal a raised scar, stark white against her dark skin. “I got this from backing into a livewire.”

He jumps up on the bed, crawling near the edge and kneeling so he can get a good look. She hasn’t tied her hair back yet and the loose strands, blowing in the wind from the window, tickle his cheek. The only scent she carries is the scent of his apartment and freshly-washed clothes. “It looks like lightning.” He touches it with one finger. Her skin is pleasantly warm.

She lets out a shaky sigh. He looks up and they’re face-to-face, so close he could press a kiss to her forehead if he leaned forward just the slightest. Her eyes flick down to his mouth, then back up to his face. Without thinking, he does the same, then mentally kicks himself when she draws away to adjust her collar.

“Anyway,” she mutters, obviously flustered, picking at the scar around her left wrist. “I should go get my wrap.”

“You promised!” he shouts after her. She shouts back a curse, but there’s a laugh in her voice. He counts it as a victory.

“Great, you're here,” is how Anya greets them when they reach the diner, her dry tone predictably void of happiness or sarcasm. Half the time, Murphy takes it on faith that she's not angry with him. Her stoicism makes him nervous; it reminds him of another place and time where one wrong move resulted in bottles broken near his head and verbal abuse screamed in his ear. But Anya isn't like that, at least not to his discernment.

She hands Emori her battered laptop while Murphy clocks in, and slides her something that looks like part of a hard drive. “Can you install this?”

Emori blinks at Anya, the computer and the drive. “Sure, but...why?”

Anya doesn't answer. Murphy gives Emori a shrug and smirk before ducking into the back where Octavia is bossing Monty and Miller around.

“Thank God,” Octavia sighs when she sees Murphy. “Can you please be the cook now?”

“I hate tourists,” Miller grumbles as he walks past. Murphy looks out into the dining room and sees three families waiting for their food, plus a group of kids he recognizes from school digging into plates of fries. “They're so damn ignorant.”

“Happy summer,” Murphy snarks back, taking the orders from Octavia and getting to work. “Fourth of July is always a treat.”

Miller groans. “Don’t remind me!”

Between orders and cleaning, Murphy sneaks a peek at Emori, her brow furrowed as she bends over the laptop. She's not wearing much makeup today and the tattoo on her face is just as compelling as the first day he saw it. Beside her, Jasper braces his forearms on the counter and watches her work. Murphy doubts Jasper knows what’s going on, but his interest is sweet.

Compelling. There’s that word again. He hates Lexa for bringing it up, but it’s only because he knows she's right. That's exactly the word for Emori. She’s slowly eating him from the inside out and he can't take his eyes off of her, can't forget her no matter how hard he tries.

He wants to talk to someone about how she makes him feel: terrified, adoring, lost, loved. But there isn't anyone that wouldn't laugh in his face for being such a sappy idiot. Well, Raven, maybe, but he's not sure he wants to risk it.

He ends up risking it. Emori’s still nose-deep in the computer project Anya gave her, so Murphy takes his lunch and goes to sit beside Raven, who’s staring at her phone, a furrow between her brows.

“What's up?” he asks casually, shoving his lunch in her general direction. She takes a bite of his fries and grimaces.

“Why do you always eat these?”

He shrugs. “It’s tradition.” He takes a bite. “Why mess with a good thing?”

She flips her phone over, shaking her head slightly as she turns to him. “What's up, Murphy?”

He can’t believe he’s doing this, but Raven’s the only one he has. No way is he going to ask Bellamy for advice. “I have a problem. With Emori.”

Now she's paying attention, the vibrating phone forgotten beside her hand. “What did she do?”

“Nothing!” Murphy is instantly defensive. He hates his friends’ distaste for her. “It's me. I think I'm falling for her.”

Raven raises an eyebrow, her look of worry turning to an expression of delight. “No shit, Sherlock. We were all waiting for you to figure it out.”

Murphy shoves her with his shoulder. “Shut up.” And then, “help me. What do I do?”

Raven shrugs. “My last relationship went in the crapper. I don't have a clue how to help you.”

Murphy sighs. “Raven.” His tone is almost pleading.

The bell near the door rings and Luna slips in, brushing her wild hair out of her eyes. She gives Raven a little smile, and Murphy can’t help but smirk when he sees Raven’s eyes light up. “See something you like?”

“Fuck off.” She kicks Murphy in the ankle with her good leg. “You want my advice? Just tell her.”

Murphy blinks. “What?”

“Neither of you are good at playing games. Just spit it out, or you’ll regret it later.”

Murphy turns around to look at Emori. As if she feels his gaze on her back, she turns to give her a smile and a wave.

Soon. He’ll tell her soon.

That night, after stuffing their faces with hot dogs and soda at the neighborhood block party, Murphy and Emori follow the rest of his friends to the fireworks show. Signs further down the highway they walk along boast a “scenic view of the Mount Weather range” but Murphy doubts there’s anything truly attractive about it. He thinks maybe he’s just desensitized to beautiful things. Then he looks over at Emori, sprawled out on the blanket they’re sharing for the night, and isn’t quite sure that’s the case.

Raven and her coworkers Sinclair and Wick are across the road, setting up fireworks for the annual display. Bellamy is sitting a little too close to Clarke Griffin, who Murphy rarely sees anywhere near his group of friends - and likes it that way, if he’s being honest. Monty, Harper and Jasper all share a blanket and Octavia is sitting in a circle of lawn chairs with Anya, Indra and Luna. Lexa sits near Miller and Bryan and joins in their jokes about Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane, who are snuggled together on a picnic blanket.

“You’re barely sitting on the blanket,” Emori grumbles, plopping down next to him and tugging on the sleeve of his jacket until he moves closer to her. Now she has a definite scent: smoke from the bonfire Monty’s mom had started in her backyard, a hint of gasoline, and something sweet he can’t identify. “You’ll stain your jeans with the grass.”

He can’t help but smile at her endearing desire to preserve his clothing. “I can always get new ones.” Nevertheless, he kicks at the cot that Bellamy had dropped off during the party and slowly moves to sit beside her.

She hums noncommittally and, before either of them have time to overthink, leans her head against his shoulder. He freezes, sure she can feel the blood go cold in his veins, then relaxes incrementally as he realizes this means as much to her as it does to him. He sees it in her ticking jaw, her clenched right hand. This was a continuance of what happened in his bedroom that morning, the irreversible push-and-pull between them. It was all part of a game that started on the couch in June when he had knotted his fingers gently in her hair and teased her. They had tested one another’s boundaries ever since, but this morning was the closest he had ever gotten to giving into all the feelings he had confessed to himself earlier in the diner.

He has the sudden urge to turn and press a kiss to the top of her head. He ignores that and does the next-best thing: wraps his arm around her shoulder and squeezes. It’s feeble, but he hopes it’s enough to convey something . He wants her to feel safe with him. It’s been so long, he thinks, since either of them have felt safe with anyone.

In a fleeting moment of vulnerability, he considers telling her about Ontari. It might be counterproductive given his feelings for her, but at least she would know. All those thoughts are chased away by Emori’s gasp as Raven’s favorite blue fireworks signal the start of the show.

“I wasn’t planning on living long,” she says matter-of-factly as sparks rain down from the sky. “When you found me, I mean. But I figured if I was meant to live, there would be a sign.”

He doesn’t ask what brought this on. He’s learned over the past month that Emori’s entire train of thought rarely leaves her mouth. She only says what she thinks is important, which is one of her most endearing qualities.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and turns toward him. Her eyes reflect the light of the fireworks and the huge full moon. “You were it.” Before he can wrap his mind around the gravity of those three words, she leans forward, her chapped lips pressing to his cheek.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she whispers, then turns her face to the sky, one tear creeping from the corner of her eye to her ear. Murphy reaches up to wipe it away and realizes his hands are shaking.

They stop when she entwines her fingers with his.

#memori fanfiction #bombshellsandbluebells #lindseysfandoms #dailymemori #daisytachi #amanda writes fanfiction #little beast #i'm really proud of this one okay

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