Murphy's Law of Sixth Senses
Title: Murphy’s Law of Sixth Senses
Fandom: Boondock Saints
Author:
fictionalcandie
Genre: Humor
Word Count: approx. 240
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13/T
Spoilers: none
Pairing: none
Characters: Murphy MacManus, Connor MacManus
Warnings: Language. Uh, character death? Except not…?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Blurb: Murphy doesn’t know how to be without Connor - but, it turns out, that’s okay.
Feedback: is Love.
Notes: Hiiii it has been years since I’ve written anything BDS. This almost doesn’t even count, it’s so short. But it’s been sitting on my harddrive, and there isn’t any more of it, so I thought I’d go ahead and post it. (crossedswords wants credit as my beta for this, so I'm giving it to her. Because she read it. And agreed that PG-13 was an appropriate rating, Murphy's Law of Sixth Senses worked as a title, and that it was complete enough to post as a ficlet. So, thanks, Sissy. ♥)
Murphy’s Law of Sixth Senses
Murphy can’t believe that Conner is dead. Well, fucking right he can, he’d seen the selfish bastard die, but he can’t believe that Conner is dead.
It’s not right that he has to walk everywhere by himself. It’s not right that there’s empty space on both his sides. It’s not fuckin’ right.
He can’t believe his fuckin’ brother went and checked out of the party early.
He can’t believe he’s alone
He’s never been alone.
Which, come to think, might be why it takes him a while to realize that there’s a voice in his head.
Yeah, okay, that does sound pretty bad, but come the fuck on, it’s not like he’s not used to constant commentary on everything he thinks or does, anyway. Plus, you know, it’s not like he’s just listening to it and doing whatever it tells him to do.
… Maybe that’s not so much of a good defense, though - who’s going to think that arguing with a voice in his head is all that much better than listening to one?
Not that Murphy tells anyone, even after he realizes. He’s not a complete idjit.
Sure ye are.
‘Jesus, you’re a rude fucker. I thought you were supposed to be my fuckin’ conscience,’ Murphy mentally grumbles.
Seriously? Murph, that didn’t even fuckin’ work when I was alive, retorts the voice.
If Murphy could have double-taked at his own brain, he would have.
“Conner?!”
What, Murph?
“… Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”
Fandom: Boondock Saints
Author:
fictionalcandie
Genre: Humor
Word Count: approx. 240
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13/T
Spoilers: none
Pairing: none
Characters: Murphy MacManus, Connor MacManus
Warnings: Language. Uh, character death? Except not…?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Blurb: Murphy doesn’t know how to be without Connor - but, it turns out, that’s okay.
Feedback: is Love.
Notes: Hiiii it has been years since I’ve written anything BDS. This almost doesn’t even count, it’s so short. But it’s been sitting on my harddrive, and there isn’t any more of it, so I thought I’d go ahead and post it. (crossedswords wants credit as my beta for this, so I'm giving it to her. Because she read it. And agreed that PG-13 was an appropriate rating, Murphy's Law of Sixth Senses worked as a title, and that it was complete enough to post as a ficlet. So, thanks, Sissy. ♥)
Murphy’s Law of Sixth Senses
Murphy can’t believe that Conner is dead. Well, fucking right he can, he’d seen the selfish bastard die, but he can’t believe that Conner is dead.
It’s not right that he has to walk everywhere by himself. It’s not right that there’s empty space on both his sides. It’s not fuckin’ right.
He can’t believe his fuckin’ brother went and checked out of the party early.
He can’t believe he’s alone
He’s never been alone.
Which, come to think, might be why it takes him a while to realize that there’s a voice in his head.
Yeah, okay, that does sound pretty bad, but come the fuck on, it’s not like he’s not used to constant commentary on everything he thinks or does, anyway. Plus, you know, it’s not like he’s just listening to it and doing whatever it tells him to do.
… Maybe that’s not so much of a good defense, though - who’s going to think that arguing with a voice in his head is all that much better than listening to one?
Not that Murphy tells anyone, even after he realizes. He’s not a complete idjit.
Sure ye are.
‘Jesus, you’re a rude fucker. I thought you were supposed to be my fuckin’ conscience,’ Murphy mentally grumbles.
Seriously? Murph, that didn’t even fuckin’ work when I was alive, retorts the voice.
If Murphy could have double-taked at his own brain, he would have.
“Conner?!”
What, Murph?
“… Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”