#murph tag

[thistlerock]

Saved for completely normal reasons

[deadwifecomplex]

i've got to ask did you ever see the article that the creator/writer of yjtv did where he said One Of These Characters Is Gay But We're Not Allowed To Say It. and it was bart

WHAT

[mikanseinic]

I saw this and thought of lmtyf Reg :insert shakey eye emoji:

I need him biblically.

James won’t admit it but he’s genuinely devastated that the long hair is gone like yes ok Regulus looks more like himself now and less like Sirius but also James had very vivid dreams of wrapping his fist around those strands and pulling so hard Regulus’ back arched like a bowstring pulled taut

[outofdaylight]

17. any aftg ship you feel up for :]

hi hi, thank youuu for this, dear murph<33 have something a little emo :) “This is going to hurt.” + kevjean

The silent tension lingering in the air is so heavy that Kevin can’t quite take a full breath. It catches on the shallow inhale, he feels it clog his throat, has his teeth grinding tight together to try to hide the obviousness of it. He doesn’t think Jean would point it out even if he noticed. Jean doesn’t say much of anything in these moments anymore, not since Kevin asked more of him than Jean had wanted to give.

But give he has, because it was Kevin who asked him to, and now here he still sits despite it all —battered and bloody where Kevin stands in front of him, an open first aid kit next to his thigh. 

Riko’s allowed them twenty minutes, that’s all. Kevin wasn’t convinced they’d get any time at all, so he manages to feel the slightest gratitude past the sickly feeling in his gut as he looks Jean’s exposed torso over.

The cuts are shallow this time, but that doesn’t make anything better. Doesn’t make Kevin less tense. Doesn’t bring Jean’s distant gaze back into clear focus. For a fleeting moment, Kevin hopes that wherever he’s gone in his head is good to him. Better than here, at least.

He rips the foil packaging of an antiseptic wipe, the sound filling the gap where soft conversation used to be. Sometimes it comes back still, unhelpable and familiar —a rare comfort in a space that doesn’t leave them many. Often now, however, these granted moments of Kevin getting to briefly take care of Jean in the aftermath of what Riko’s done to him have grown silent. It’s a gap between them that Kevin hasn’t yet fathomed the size of the bridge that is necessary to cross it.

Just as he is about to touch the wipe to Jean’s skin to wipe dried blood away and clean the new marks left behind, Kevin halts, green eyes searching Jean’s face. Jean doesn’t look at him, his jaw clenched and gaze intent on the wall beyond Kevin’s shoulder.

“This is going to hurt,” Kevin says quietly.

Finally, gray eyes fall on him; empty and exhausted. Jean blinks, slow, and one dark brow twitches just barely upward —all the knowingness that he can seem to manage. Kevin waits a long moment for the grumbled ‘you are an idiot’ that would be typical of Jean, but it doesn’t come. Jean turns his focus beyond Kevin again instead and Kevin gives a single, stiff nod of his head before getting to work.

Jean tries and fails to keep his expression from changing but a faint grimace appears nonetheless at the first stinging touch of the cool alcohol wipe to an open cut. He swallows down the pained sound that threatens to escape; Kevin watches the shift of his throat as he works to keep it together.

Trying for comfort, Kevin glances over his shoulder toward the door before he reverts to lowly spoken French as he pleads, “Say something.”

“No.” Immediate. Detached. Kevin avoids flinching but it’s a near thing. Despite his denial, Jean adds a second later, “I am tired, Kevin.”

Kevin nods, eyes intent on where he cleans Jean’s chest, not meeting any look he may be given. “You can sleep after you’re cleaned up. Riko and I will be—”

Jean’s hand lifts, fingers wrapped around Kevin’s and squeezing tight to stop his motions. It forces Kevin to meet the intense look Jean has leveled on him as he repeats, “I am tired, Kevin.”

The words are a physical blow, knocking air from Kevin’s lungs. He knows it’s selfishness that doesn’t allow him to let Jean rest the way he wants to. Knows that his own attachment to Jean, this weak but still there safety net that they have created in one another, helps keep him from losing his mind entirely. Knows that when he thinks I can’t fix this for him, that actually he can with a simple pardon from a not-simple promise, but he’s choosing not to.

So instead, Kevin says “I know.” and meets Jean’s painful gaze for fifteen of the longest seconds of his life before Jean releases the desperate clutch of his hand and looks away from him again as they fall back into their known silence.

[someoctober]

hi hello i am here on behalf of amelia dacuslucy who has one single tiny tinyy wish and that is for u to draw her as a wizard. i am her lawyer in this matter so uhh (checks smudged handwriting on my hand) you get one phone call. buster.

oh my god how did i never respond to this. i did it immediately. also this is an incredible ask murph

[lucyfrankenstein]

I love your beautiful fish it fills me with so much joy.... glub glub 🙂‍↕️🐠

AH MURPH THANK YOU.... means a lot coming from one of my fish mutuals (fishtuals?) 🐟🐟🫂

[goneinsecondsxo]

Still thinking about bodybag at least once a day (threatening)

heheee snippet 4 u <3

Andrew inhales his cigarette, savoring the taste of the smoke and small rush it sends to his head. The club was a bit loud tonight, a bit too much. He closes his eyes to take in the peacefulness of the moment when he hears a low voice say mind if a bum one? He looks over and wonders if he’s made a grave mistake coming out tonight.

“Didn’t think to bring your own cigarettes?” He says sharply, eyeing the redheaded stranger up and down as he shakes another smoke from his pack, handing it over reluctantly.

The man takes it—thankfully their fingers don’t brush—and places it between his lips before leaning in toward Andrew, stark blue eyes piercing into his. It’s startling, the way he looks right through him, and Andrew freezes. Locked in by his gaze until his eyes shift down to the lighter in one of his hands and back up to his face.

Of fucking course. Andrew brings his hand up and lights the man’s cigarette and the moment he leans back against the building Andrew finally takes a breath.

[dacuslucy]

ameleieeeieeie

MURPRRHHHH HIIII IM ABOUT TO GO TO WORK AY PRINCEESS CAMP DO YOU WANNA XOME