murphbloom

[murphbloom]

It came in waves, his grief. Some days, he felt as though time moved faster, the sun shone a little brighter, and moving on felt possible. Other days— most days— it was a struggle just to get out of bed. To pad down the hallway of an empty home when he'd lived in such fullness only months before. His anger came in waves, too. He would long for the wife he'd had and the life they'd built together. But then he'd remember how that foundation had been built on lies. How he'd been nothing more than a meal ticket picked from a line up. The foil in a scheme.

Today, that anger had driven him into the Summit's Bar. He'd been told once that drinking alone was a sign of alcoholism, so he made it a point to not do that. Or, at least, to do that in the company of other people. Loopholes!

Just as he slid into his stool, a bone weary voice sounded to his right and he looked over, offering up a wry laugh. "That's probably a safe bet," he said, plucking up a cocktail napkin and idly twisting the corners of it like it might calm his nerves. "What's the plan? Wallowing or drinking until we forget why we started? I'm good for both."

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: the summit’s bar, some time before 4pm. 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿: capping at ( 𝟸/𝟹 )

The  Summit's  bar  was  quiet  before  happy  hour  -  a  few  businessmen  taking  calls,  weary  travelers  winding  down  beneath  low  brass  fixtures.  Santiago  sat  half-shadowed  at  the  far  end,  a  pour  of  bourbon  turning  amber  in  the  low  light.  The  glass  soaked  up  the  gold,  swirling  slowly  as  he  marked  the  rim  with  a  thumb  -  a  mechanical  gesture  -  absentmindedly.  He  was  thinking,  though  he  wished  he  wasn’t.

It  had  been  a  day  of  frayed  patience  and  shallow  victories.  A  dozen  voices  pressed  for  his  time  when  he  needed  only  silence  -  meetings  that  went  beyond  their  value,  contracts  that  seemed  almost  ready  to  collapse;  it  was  the  kind  of  day  that  settled  DEEP  in  the  bones  -  the  kind  he  hadn’t  felt  in  months.  It  wasn’t  the  work  itself  -  he  loved  the  chaos,  created  his  empire  with  it  -  but  like  any  job,  there  were  days  when  the  weight  of  it  all  felt  like  a  vice  jammed  between  his  ribs.

He  exhaled  slowly,  longingly.  The  ice  in  his  glass  was  melting,  watering  down  the  bourbon  bite.  But  he  tilted  it  back  anyway,  let  the  burn  carve  through  his  throat  and  pool  warm  in  his  stomach.  None  of  it  mattered  -  not  the  bar,  not  the  drink,  not  the  city  that  pulsated  outside  the  big  glass  windows.  Hell,  he  could’ve  been anywhere  else  in  the  world,  and  today  would’ve  felt  the  same.

Still,  his  dark,  burnt  hues  shot  up  when  someone  came  near.  “Please  tell  me  you  had  a  worse  day  than  mine.  I  need  someone  to  suffer  with  me.”

[murphbloom]

Just enough silence curled its way through the carriage for Murph to realize he was being a little unfair. The door had been opened for introspection— the monster that crept between lapses of conversation— and he knew that it was only his own misery that made poking at Simon feel good.

There were plenty of reasons why their relationship was rocky at best, but right now, Murph was the shit stirrer. He needed to rein himself back in.

So, maybe that was why he huffed out a laugh at Simon's quip, this one with a tinge of actual humor. He sucked in a breath and then let it go, along with the tension he wanted to take out on every other aspect of his life except the part that deserved it.

Which, of course, is why Simon seemed to unknowingly one-up him once again and raise the white flag, offering understanding and experience for a situation that Murph would swear on his life he was completely alone in. Even still, he wanted to dig his heels in, insist that Simon had no idea. But his eyes swept the footwell of the carriage as he nodded silently, sitting with the weight of it all for a few seconds.

He looked up finally, his shutters coming down if only just. "I could probably survive a meal with you," he hedged, even as one side of his mouth curled a little in a peace offering sort of half smile. "I mean, it'll probably be a close call, but I'm willing to take my chances. And if you step out of line, just know I keep a bag of marshmallows on me at all times."

He didn't know his brother well enough to say exactly what was in the laugh, but it definitely wasn't genuine humor. It was wired with a tension that made it mostly humorless, and then it was gone. He'd had not enough bourbon to feel warm, but just enough to make him think. It was probably fortunate, because it kept him from bursting out that sometimes he wanted to be invisible, even for a little while.

The grass is always greener, isn't it? Until you find out it's not.

He'd had too much therapy to get into this just now, so he let it pass. It was way too early for philosophy in terms of both time of night and bourbon consumption and, probably, pretty precarious between the two of them. He may have been late for that realization, but he'd had it eventually. All he wanted to do was change it. But, he supposed, it was easy to be the one seeking change when you weren't the one whose life had just turned upside down.

"That's gotta be what, like, middle shelf?" He quipped, accepting the flask and then the corner of the blanket. It was still cold as fuck but, honestly, he felt a little better. He let his eyes glance over the landscape as they rolled along, inching closer to their destination. He sighed and finally just committed to asking for something, hoping it wasn't too much or too pushy. "I, uh, know this was really weird as far as activities go. Thanks for coming. Now that we've mostly survived this, Kate's out of town for a few more days if you want to grab some kind of a meal sometime. We're obviously not the same, and I didn't live with Monica before we got divorced so circumstances were not the same, but I don't think I had a meal that wasn't liquid for stretches, so... anyway. The offer stands."

[murphbloom]

Murph had started out the day thinking the Snow Frolic was more or less a waste of his time. Not that spending the day inside his mostly empty, gutted house watching YouTube videos on how to repair drywall was any less of a waste, but he could admit he'd been antisocial since he'd moved to Chicago. Before that, too, if he was being honest.

But a meaningless conversation with a perfect stranger about nothing in particular felt like a breath of fresh air. And now he was, if not glad that he'd come, then at least not disappointed with his choice. "You're so right. Admurphation definitely sounds like one of those names that would be snatched right up. I mean, the chances that it hasn't already are so low."

He laughed once a little dryly, shaking his head at himself. He wasn't the charming, make-friends-with-everyone-he-meets type like Simon and this comfortable back and forth with someone he didn't know was definitely not where his strengths lay, but he wasn't not enjoying himself. And he couldn't say for sure, but he didn't think she was either. He shrugged, though, lips turning down a little. "I think you just know the right questions to ask. Definitely a strength."

“Oh, my bad,” Amara said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment with logic. Won’t happen again.” Her lips quirked into a smirk, catching the almost conspiratorial look he gave her. An unspoken we’ll keep this between us, and, well, she could appreciate a good inside joke, even with a stranger.

At his so-pleased-with-himself comment about Admurphation, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Bold of you to assume I’d be out here blindly supporting a brand without knowing the CEO.” She tilted her head, as if appraising him. “But, now that I do have the context… I don’t hate it. Got a real cult-following potential.” Her smirk widened. “Might want to slap a ™ on that before someone else capitalizes on it, though.” She smiled brightly at him, and extended a hand. “I’m Amara, by the way. Figured if we’re out here building brands and forming secret pacts, you should probably know who you’re dealing with.”

As his attention shifted to her, she quirked a brow at his observation. “You think so?” She leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table. “Maybe I just have a trustworthy face.” A pause.“Or maybe people just need the right excuse to spill their secrets, and I just happen to have a face that says, Go on, I’m listening...” She tapped her fingers against her chin, pretending to look all innocent before flashing a grin. “Either way, I won’t question a talent. Gotta lean into the strengths, right?”

[murphbloom]

Time slowed to a stop, the background noise flickering out like a light as he stared at her, blinking hard like he couldn't comprehend quite what he was seeing. Probably because he couldn't.

His memory had preserved her to perfection and his eyes drank her in greedily, like a man on the verge of fatal dehydration, committing to memory the taste of a single drop of water he might never taste again. There had been so many nights in the six months since she'd left that he'd spent awake, conversing with her ghost, trying on conversations he never thought to have until she was gone. Saving up words like he might be able to spend them one day.

But he couldn't think, he could only look. Could only seem to stand there and blink and wonder how in all of the places and times in the world that they wound up right here and now, standing somehow too close and too far. His heart clanged madly in his chest, throwing itself against his ribs like it might leave him too.

And then he blinked one more time and shifted the weight in his feet, reined himself back into his own body. "I live here," he replied dumbly. But it begged the question what was she doing here? Had she known he was here? Had she come here for him? Was this the world's most unbelievable coincidence? He needed to know. "What are you doing here?"

As soon as she walked in, Valley was hit in the face by Valentine's Day. Metaphorically, but also literally when the wind whipped someone's giant heart-shaped balloon into the side of her head as they walked by. She stood still for a second, immediately regretting leaving her bed today. The woman who'd hit her with the balloon apologized, smiling and blushing, and Valley really didn't want to hate happy people today... but she did.

It wasn't their fault. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own that she was alone and miserable on a day meant to celebrate love. She'd had love - a perfect, passionate, silly, safe, indescribable love. She'd found her partner, someone who would always be on her team, and she would always be on his. They were each other's rock, and each other's priority, and they had everything that this day was supposed to be about. And she'd fucked it.

So now the pink and red cupcakes made her nauseous, and the pink and red streamers were blinding her eyes, and she was trying to dodge thoughts of him, but it was like trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour. He was making fun of the streamers with her, and smushing a cupcake into her face, and he was buying her flowers, and making her dinner, and kissing her under the stars, and he was everywhere, all the time.

And even when she couldn't get rid of him, she wished he were here.

That's probably why she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Of course, she'd run into a man who looks just like the love of her life on Valentine's Day. Of course he'd be the same height and build and would be wearing the same cologne and would be buying the same brand of beer that Murph drank. The universe was exactly that cruel.

She was wondering whether this trip was even worth the wine she'd come for, when he said her name.

And it was his voice. And she looked up, and it was his face. And the universe hadn't just given her someone who looked like the love of her life, it had brought him here, to this pink and red grocery store on a February Friday, a million miles away from where either of them belonged.

"Murph..." she said back.

She remembered meeting Simon last week, and searched the memory for whether he'd mentioned Murph visiting. He hadn't, she was sure.

"I... didn't know you were in Chicago," she said. Which was a stupid thing to say to the love of your life on Valentine's Day when you haven't seen them in six months, but... what are you supposed to say?

[murphbloom]

Murph scoffed and rolled his eyes. He tried to be good-natured about it, but there was something about Simon's nihilism that rubbed him the wrong way. Simon Bloom had never been invisible a day in his life. No, that had been reserved for his older brother who was harder to understand or connect with as a kid because he liked to take things apart and put them back together, liked to understand how things worked and wanted to make them better. Because he didn't sail competitively or make friends with doorknobs.

"Simon Bloom invisible?" he asked with a bitter-tinged laugh. "That'd be the day." Perhaps it was because Murph's own life had crashed and burned around him and he was still standing among the charred and smoldering remains, but the drama frustrated him. Maybe it was really because misery loved company and for as hard as he tried to pretend otherwise, he was miserable. But it felt like Simon was making some sort of play at being this tortured artist. He wanted to be doom and gloom but he'd been stitched together with attention and glory.

Okay, now he was being dramatic. Even in the safety of his own mind he knew he was laying on the woe is me a little thick, so he drew it back, rolling his eyes at Simon as he snatched the flask and took a rather large sip— okay, several— before handing it back. "Mmmm, tastes like altruism," he quipped, pausing for a beat before un-burritoing himself and offering up a corner of the blanket.

When Samuel reacted with his face but not his words, Simon knew they wouldn't delve any further into the topic of Kate's family. It was likely, even probable, they wouldn't mention his wife again. It seemed weird that, in the face of trying to rebuild a relationship, or establish one in the first place, they would brush over the topic of someone so important to him. While he may not have fully understood his brother's reasoning for avoidance, he understood his own, and only hesitated for a moment before pressing forward in acceptance.

Maybe someday they would get into it, fully. But that day wouldn't be today. He'd never meant to be the primary cause of such a wedge between them, but it wasn't going to change in an instant.

In the same spirit, he was content to be the butt of the joke. "Oh, we think that's what will follow me for eternity, out of all the available options?" He shook his head. "Maybe I'd be better off in an unmarked grave. A shallow one for good measure. Or cremated, scattered to the wind. Invisible."

He had no idea why people called him dramatic, or how he'd ended up getting lost in sometimes fatalistic literary fantasies. Truly.

Ah, here was the time for his joke. He actually hated this joke. That wasn't going to stop him.

"Nope, saving it for later. Maybe it'll turn into a beard slushie. A booze-i-cicle?" Whatever you want to call it." He barely made it through the comment before he took another sip, much smoother this time now that the carriage was in motion, even if that motion wasn't as smooth as, say, a vehicle of some kind.

He was just about to accept a corner of that blanket when his brother suddenly pulled it away and made him reconsider not wearing jeans lined with something or some kind of long johns. Samuel was definitely not giving him the fucking blanket; he wasn't stupid and he didn't run on faith.

He passed over the flask anyway with an eye roll, remembering his role as little brother almost immediately. "Good faith trade, my ass." He couldn't stop his next words, though they were laden with something years in the making. An acknowledgment, maybe, at least. "Just take whatever I've got. You can have whatever you want."

[murphbloom]

"Yeah, yeah," Murph said, playful sarcasm threaded through his words. "Bring logic into it." He did feel some type of way about the life is short mentality, but that was far too introspective than he allowed himself to be alone, never mind in the presence of a perfect stranger. Instead, he only flashed her a secret smile, as if they now shared a little inside joke. I won't tell if you won't.

A scoff of a laugh sounded somewhere in the back of his throat. Her observations were, again, right near the mark without touching it. And again, he had no intention of untangling the complicated web of his need for attention and why he never sought it out. "Exactly," he agreed with a firm nod. "I was actually thinking of looking into merch. Could call it Admurphation." He was pleased with his own joke for just long enough to realize that he hadn't actually introduced himself yet. That was probably key information for her to appreciate his joke, too. "I'm Murph, by the way. There's some missing context for you."

The conversation shifted to her and so did Murph's attention, head cocking a little as he considered her and her words. "I think you've got a knack for getting people to open up without even realizing it. Maybe that's your brand."

She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her cup as she considered his argument. “Alright, I’ll give you that—sometimes indulgence is self-care. But honestly, I feel like that’s a slippery slope. One second, you’re treating yourself to an extra shot of espresso because you deserve it, and the next thing you know, you’re justifying buying a ridiculously overpriced leather jacket because life is short.” She raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth tugging up into a playful grin. “Not that I’m speaking from personal experience or anything,” she added, almost too innocently.

His stage whisper made her grin wider, and she leaned in slightly, mimicking his exaggerated secrecy. “So what you’re telling me is, you do like attention, but only the right kind. Not the everybody’s watching you kind, just the exclusive, good eyes only kind.” Amara gave him an exaggerated once-over, as if mentally placing him in a high-end club where you had to be on the list to get in. “I get it. Very curated, very VIP. Almost like a members-only club, but for admiration.” She took a sip from her cup, savoring the warmth before continuing. “You’ve got your brand down—now, if only I could figure out my own.”

[murphbloom]

Murph only raised his brows, tilting his head in a silent I don't know, they seem pretty neck and neck to me. He didn't say anything more about it, though. Broaching the Kate subject wasn't nearly as weird as it used to be, but that didn't mean it wasn't still a strange topic to just discuss so casually with his brother. To say something would be to risk being accused of still having feelings for her which couldn't have been further from the truth. There were just things that so blatantly marked the unbalanced childhood they'd both come from.

Like his brother falling in love with his ex girlfriend before she had even been an ex.

Discussing his brother's unfortunate marshmallow allergy, though? Totally fair game. He gave a soft snort, still wrapped up tight in his blanket. "The mighty Simon Bloom, taken out by a handful of mini marshmallows. We'd have to put it on your tombstone. You'd be mocked into the rest of your eternal afterlife."

His eyes narrowed on the flask in Simon's hand, the way it sloshed temptingly. He glanced down at his blanket and considered the trade. And then it dribbled into Simon's beard and Murph found himself pleased at the universe for offering a little bit of Murphy's Law to the other Bloom for once. "You trying to pickle your beard or what?" The quip was only a buy for time while he decided how much of his upper hand he wanted to give up.

After a long, drawn out moment, Murph unwrapped himself from the burrito and held out the excess for Simon to take, snatching it back before it could trade hands. "Make a good faith trade and give me that first," he said, nodding to the flask.

Simon let out a huffy chuckle, just short of a snort. “I’m more worried about my Russian in-laws than I am about our Jewish ancestors.” His parents weren’t even dead yet and he could swear he felt them roll over in their graves at that statement. Regardless, his Jewish ancestors weren’t a present-day threat. Samuel and his in-laws were real, every day, close proximity.

Good thing he wasn’t paranoid. That line of thinking would keep him up at night. Also, they basically never mentioned Kate, for probably good reason, so he had a moment of doubt about mentioning her family, too. Probably best to just move along. Nothing to see here.

He arched an eyebrow, smirking at the brother burrito as they settled into the carriage. He was probably a little smug as he pulled the flask from his coat.

“No idea. It might be eternal. Or maybe there will be a hot chocolate bar with those little marshmallows at the end and you'll finally have your chance to ruin me,” he quipped with a shrug. He uncapped the flask and took a swig, jolting a little as the carriage started moving and spilling into his beard. He thought about making a saving it for later joke, but he decided to save that for later, too. He shook the flask. "I'll share mine if you share yours."

[murphbloom]

Murph pretended to weigh her observation, head tilting this way and that. "I suppose you're right. But, hear me out, counter point: indulgence is self care." There were a million counter-counter points to disprove that and because he could tell she was the type to point it out, he flashed his palms in surrender and amended, "sometimes."

He had to admit he was curious about the impression he'd left her with. He'd felt so far removed from himself for months that he wasn't even sure he knew this new version. He nearly laughed at laid-back and put-together. He couldn't think of two things that described him less most of the time. The rest of it, though? That felt pretty accurate. "Well, I am a dark charcoal and navy kind of guy. And I say I don't like attention, but I think I do." He said this last part in a stage whisper, as if it were some secret only meant for her. "Overall, not a bad take considering we've known each other for less than five minutes."

Amara smirked, clearly entertained by the philosophical question that he posed, though she gave it a moment's thought before replying. “Self-care, for sure,” she said, her tone light but knowing. “Indulgence is when you start eating a whole pizza just because, but self-care? That’s when you take a few bites, savor every one, and justify it with how good you deserve to feel.” She gave a little shrug, her smile playful as she added, “I like to think of it as a fine line.. don't you?”

Smiling thoughtfully, the brunette took a moment to size him up with a friendly but gentle curiosity. “Hmm, based on what I’m getting from you so far… I’d say you’ve got a good balance between laid-back and put-together. Maybe something classic but with a little twist — like a nice jacket, something that could take you from a casual day out to a more polished look without trying too hard. Maybe in a color that’s not too bold, but still eye-catching. Something like a deep charcoal or navy.” She gave a soft shrug, her eyes bright with humor as she added, “You strike me as someone who likes a bit of style but doesn’t want to scream for attention. How’d I do?”

[murphbloom]

WHERE: a grocery store on valentine's day. if there is one listed in locations, then it's definitely that one. WHO: @vallettarose & murph.

Had Murph paid attention to the days anymore, he might have been prepared. But these days, the date didn't seem to matter. He had nowhere to go, no one to report to, and— though it sounded incredibly dramatic— nothing really to look forward to. So the full-on assault of hearts and flowers and little chalky candies with barely legible pick-up lines found him ill-equipped to process.

It was Valentine's Day.

Of course it was Valentine's Day. Of course the day he'd made himself walk here for dinner that didn't come in a takeout container, he would be reminded of how very alone he was.

The store was packed with people doing their last minute shopping. Murph's patience grew incredibly thin as he weaved through the hoard for one of those pop-in-the-oven meals he could set and forget. He'd never felt like such a Scrooge in his life.

Once his meal was secured— a nice little lemon and herb salmon with potatoes and asparagus— he came to a stop before the wall of alcohol. He'd gone through a period in the first few months of his divorce where he'd drink alone in their big empty house until he could forget just how empty it was. He'd come a long way since then, saving his indulgences until they could be considered social. Or a glass of wine with dinner in his new, big, empty house.

Tonight, though? It was a special occasion.

Murph pulled open the cooler and reached for a six pack of beer, his fingers slipping easily into its cardboard handle with a sigh as he lugged it out and let his arm fall to his side. It was only when he turned to go that everything stopped.

It felt like missing a stair on his way down, a swoop in his stomach that nearly made his legs give out. Because he was looking right at Valley. He blinked to clear his vision because he'd been seeing Valley for months. He’d see her on the couch beside him out of the corner of his eye, he’d hear the sound of her footsteps through the house they’d once shared, her ghost still lived in all of the habits that time had carved into his soul.

And every time, it was never her.

Except, this time, it was.

Millions of tiny conversations he'd dreamed up in his mind for if he ever saw her again and suddenly every single word left his brain.

All but one.

"Valley?"

[murphbloom]

though I know my heart would break i'd tell them put me back in it

@murphbloom

[murphbloom]

"Is it indulgence or is it self care?" Murph questioned, tapping his temple as if he'd imparted sage wisdom. There was a remark on the tip of his tongue about how his wife favored bold choices, but it died as quickly as it was born. "You're right, though, safe is probably the better option." Now he wasn't even sure he was talking to her anymore as much as he was reminding himself.

It was easier to lean into the teasing, though, so he offered a put-on sheepish smile. "Am I that obviously not from around here?" He laughed, scoring a hand through his hair. "But sure, I'll bite. Based on nothing but this thirty second conversation, what do you think suits me?"

Amara glanced over at him, amusement flickering in her eyes. "See, that’s exactly how I end up with way too many scarves. Just a little indecision, and suddenly I’ve justified buying both. It’s a dangerous game," she mused, running her fingers over the soft fabric of the scarf in her hand. "But I do like the way you think—bold is tempting. Though, in my experience, the bolder the choice, the higher the chance it ends up collecting dust in my closet while I reach for the same neutral piece over and over again." She sighed, as if burdened by the trials of her own shopping habits.

Her gaze flicked toward the gray scarf he had his eye on, and she smiled. "Low-hanging gray, huh? Real risk-taker over here." She gave him a once-over, taking in the way he was half-buried in his jacket like it might save him from the Chicago chill. "Though, considering you look about two minutes away from freezing solid, I’d say any scarf at all would be a step in the right direction. You sure you don’t want me to steer you toward something with a little more personality? You know, really commemorate your survival of the Midwestern winter."

[murphbloom]

Murph huffed out a laugh, gruff amusement aimed in Simon's direction even as his eyes turned toward the horse. He was sure skepticism was etched into the lines of his face, but he didn't make a break for it. And he was going to take that as a win.

At the mention of a beard, Murph's hands smoothed down his chin before they settled on his hips, gaze cutting back toward his brother. "I'm not shaming you," he stated simply, eyebrows raising high up his forehead in innocence before the barest curl hinted at the corners of his mouth. "Your Jewish ancestors might, but not me. Never me." Not quite the truth, but he didn't put up a fight as he climbed into the carriage, reaching for the complementary blanket and sliding it over his lap.

It was big enough for two, but he curled up in it like a burrito. That's what Simon got for insulting him. He got cold legs.

Once they were both situated inside, Murph found himself feeling restless. Not quite trapped, but not not trapped, either. He just missed the walls of his ugly, gutted house and being in public for any prolonged period of time just brought a wistfulness that was impossible to ignore. And, as they inevitably always did, his mind would steer itself right back to her.

"So where does this thing go?" he asked abruptly, as if the words might cut off the ones inside his head.

The dulcet tones of Samuel’s mocking pulled him out of his go-nowhere conversation with the carriage driver and he scoffed immediately, a reflexive response. “No. The Tunnel of Love doesn’t pop up until Valentine’s Day. We’ll have to come back in a couple weeks if we want to do that.”

Which he didn’t. This was just shorter than a meal and could also be considered baby steps.

His brother's next comment about a Santa kink let loose, and a riot of completely inappropriate replies immediately and sorely tested the strength of his brain-to-mouth filtration system. Good thing he hadn’t consumed the flask of bourbon tucked inside his coat yet, or the system would’ve broken down in the face of such immense pressure. Lest he horrify the person who could hear the whole conversation, or the innocent horses, he narrowed his eyes and bit his tongue for just long enough he was sure to proceed safely.

“You have nowhere near enough of a beard to fill that kink for me. I don’t even have to try it to know that's true. ” He swatted at Samuel’s arm. “And do we really want to start the evening off with kink shaming?” He nodded his head toward the carriage. “Age before beauty.”

[murphbloom]

The scene as it unfolded before him was... honestly ridiculous. He and Simon were trying, he figured, so it was the only reason he hadn't immediately turned around and sent a something came up text to get himself out of a sleigh ride with his brother.

As he came up behind Simon, he eyed the sleigh with a health dose of skepticism. "What's up next? The tunnel of love?" Murph asked as he came around to Simon's side, just enough amusement in his voice to keep the brothers from going on the defensive. "Before we get on this thing, I just need you to promise me that we're not testing out some sort of weird Santa kink." He thought about adding that he'd need to wait for Kate to come back home for that, but wives (and thereby ex-wives were strictly off limits), so he didn't do that.

who: simon & @murphbloom where: snow frolic; horse drawn sleigh ride when: some enchanted evening idk

Things were gradually getting better between Bloom and Other Bloom. Not that Simon ever referred to them that way. He'd had just enough therapy in the depressive phase after his divorce to begin understanding how the family dynamics had probably fucked both of them up. It was a direct route to the invitation, when Sam's own marriage had ended, that led to this moment.

With Kate preoccupied and unable to attend, things there always a touch on the awkward side in terms of them as a threesome (not that kind), it seemed like the perfect time to plan an activity. Not too short, not too long. Sometimes dinner was too long. But if it was something off-beat enough to pique Samuel's interest, maybe it'd get him out of that goddamn broken down house for a minute or two.

Plus, Simon had never been on a sleigh ride and, while an unusual thing to do with his brother, it would've been even worse to go alone. And he wouldn't have bet on it being Samuel's first one, but maybe it would be a nice, shared collective first.

(He needed a project to channel his thoughts, because they were overdoing it.)

He shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting curbside slightly before their scheduled time, making small talk with the carriage driver while he waited.

[murphbloom]

Murph was decidedly not made for Chicago's brand of cold. A California native to his bones— and to his detriment— he found himself shrugging deeper into his jacket, begging its collar to lend some warmth to his ears.

It was possible he was being a touch dramatic, but he paused outside a vendor selling scarves and other warm accessories he hadn't thought to adorn himself in before he'd left for the day and considered his choices. He'd hardly made it to the second row when his attention was drawn away to the woman next to him.

There was nothing about him that screamed fashionista, but he could give it a fair shake. His laughter hummed in his throat at her comment as he eyed her options. "I'm sure you could compromise and just buy both before the negotiations get too heated. But for the sake of your wallet, I say go bold." His eyes shifted back to the row of scarves he'd been considering for himself. "Or maybe don't listen to me because I was aiming for a low-hanging gray."

status: open to all.

The crisp autumn breeze carried the scent of spiced cider and pine as Amara stood near a vendor’s stall, two scarves draped over her arms —one a soft blush pink, the other a deep, rich red. Both were beautifully hand-knit, warm, and impossibly cozy, making her decision all the more difficult. She had been standing there for far too long, weighing the options as if the right choice would suddenly reveal itself.

Letting out a small sigh, she turned to the person beside her, lifting both scarves. “Alright, I need an outside opinion,” she admitted, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Pink or red? Subtle and classic, or bold and statement-making?” She glanced down at them again before shaking her head with a small chuckle. “At this point, I think the vendor’s about to start charging me rent..”

[murphbloom]

basics.

full name — Samuel Bloom - exclusively goes by Murph

faceclaim — Adam Brody

gender & pronouns —cis man, he/him

age — 42

birthday — 12/9/1982

sexuality — hetero, sad but true

occupation — unemployed

residence — #512 Lakeshore Drive

length of time in willow peak — since mid-November

tldr. tw: divorce (full bio can be found at the bottom of the intro)

murph is called murph because it was a running joke all his life that he was cursed with bad luck. so instead of allowing murphy to be a name that haunted him his entire life, murph decided to simply make it his identity. people can’t make fun of you if you do it first!

he’s the oldest of two boys and the least favorite. his family is the loud rambunctious type and the gene seemed to skip him. he liked comic books and robots and listening to obscure indie bands in his bedroom. so he got pushed onto the backburner a lot in favor of his brother who was the big man on campus with his sailing and his hundreds of friends and his endless charm

he was born and raised in the san francisco area but went to college in southern california for a change of pace and for a chance to not be in his little brother’s shadow. his studies were in coding and game design and it was nice to feel like he was finally excelling at something

after graduation, he got a job at a fairly big name gaming company. but as it turned out, he was less passionate about designing games than he was about playing them, finding that app development was actually more his speed. he took a leap of faith and left his steady job for a start up company where he managed projects and teams. it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do, but he felt like he was getting on the right track

because he can be something of a workaholic, his romantic life suffered. until it didn’t. he met someone who was like his opposite in every way— much more like his brother than him— but he thought their differences was what made the relationship so solid. she pushed him out of his comfort zone, which he needed. eventually, with her support, he left the company to venture out on his own. with an old college acquaintance eager to invest, murph put together his own team and finally was at a place where he could bring his ideas to life. he didn’t have to manage anybody else’s projects for the first time and could focus solely on his brainchild: sidequest— an app with a very easy-to-use interface that connects people for odd jobs. it’s a little more complicated than that but i’m literally just a girl, so pretend there’s really cool techy stuff here that blows your mind <3

riding the high of a particularly big breakthrough, murph proposed to his girlfriend on a whim. she said no. which would have been fine because, if he thought about it, their shelf life was likely reaching its expiration. what he wasn’t prepared for was her confessing that she was actually in love with his BROTHER

like, yeah, sure, it made sense when he thought about it because he was always the spare Bloom, but damn??? right in front of my fruit salad???

anyway, that sucked a lot. but at least he had his app!

oh, except wait. he didn’t. because that investor “friend” of his? well, he got dollar signs in his eyes and saw an opportunity to take credit for all of murph’s work. and with some ironclad contracts with shitty little fine print that basically said he already owned anything and everything murph created using his money, he was forced out. but at least they cut him a check, right?

honestly, murph was super bummed out. he had a shit ton of money but nothing really to show for it

that’s about the time he met valley. he really didn’t think he had anything to offer anyone and he was too scared to put himself out there again just to get chewed up and spit out so soon after he’d already been thoroughly wrecked. but he kind of didn’t have a choice. she was persistent in the beginning and so beautiful and charming and he honestly never stood a chance

he fell soooooooo hard for her. like the sun rose and fell with HER. he realized he never knew a single thing about love until he met her because nothing else quite compared. and for five years, they were very happy

and then fuckass george had to get involved. valley’s shitty ex husband reached out to murph and told him everything, sent proof of certificates and pictures and all kinds of things murph couldn’t explain away. it destroyed him to think that, once again, he’d put everything into something that turned out to never really be his in the first place. he was in a sort of state of shocked numbness for a long, long time. anger came way later and he never really asked any questions of her or got any answers. she was just here and then she was gone

he allowed himself to wallow for a while, and even after he picked himself up and did his best to move on, the people closest to him could see that he needed to be forced out of his rut. enter: willow peak. it’s quieter, a big change of scenery. and there’s definitely nothing there that could possibly remind him of his ex wife!

i am sorry that this section is called tldr and i basically just rewrote the entire bio but with bullet points. if you’ve made it this far, i luv u

headcanons.

when murph and valley decided they wanted a dog, they went to the shelter and asked for the dog that had been there the longest. they adopted her sight unseen and came home with a very scruffy terrier mix that they named fig

he is SO clumsy. it’s cute and it’s sad. like a big puppy that doesn’t know how to control it’s limbs yet

he has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and he tends to lean on that in social interactions because talking to people is both hard and overwhelming so if he’s making people laugh then he’s winning

was raised in a jewish household, but he's more non-practicing

he and valley were both not big on holidays, so they created a 'merry happy whatever' tradition every year where they made their not-holiday into whatever they wanted it to be

wanted connections.

TBA

full bio.

Murphy’s law states anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

For Samuel Bloom, that adage was a lifestyle. And a name.

It was meant as a joke— calling him Murphy. A nod to just how wrong everything always seemed to go for him. But Sam adopted it, made it his own. If he couldn’t beat them, then he would join them. And so, he became Murph. 

From the beginning, it was clear that Murph’s younger brother was the favorite. His parents weren’t mean, they didn’t treat him poorly in favor of his brother, but it was still there and still obvious all the same. His brother was the sports guy, the charismatic one, the friend magnet. Murph… well. Murph liked comics and robotics, he liked finding solutions to problems in unique ways. He was just wired differently and so he never took it personally when he’d have the house to himself for a long weekend during one of his brother’s away games. Or when they chose to sit in on a football game instead of his first robotics competition. 

College felt like a new beginning. Maybe there Murph could be the guy who won. He wouldn’t be recognized as the Other Bloom. He was the only Bloom. And for a little while, that was true. He made some friends— a few of which he still has today— and even had a string of girlfriends. Most of those were fleeting and none of them were endgame level serious. But it was still a little life he cultivated for himself. And it was one that he was proud of. He was pursuing coding and video game design, both fields something he believed would only evolve with time. He wanted to evolve with it. 

And so, he did. He got a job with a modestly sized company right out of college. It was a decent job, paid the bills just enough that he could afford a studio apartment and dinner at least two nights a week that wasn’t instant noodles. And then he slowly moved up the ladder, small raises here and there affording him an apartment with actual rooms and dinner not from a cup any night he wanted. 

Eventually, Murph realized his passion lay not with video game design but with app development. As the market for that grew, so, too, did his ideas. When an old college buddy reached out to him, offering a job at his startup company, Murph took a leap of faith. It was slow going in the beginning, and had it not been for his savings, he might have returned to studio apartments and cup noodles, but eventually, they hit their stride. It still wasn’t quite where Murph wanted to be— managing teams rather than bringing his own ideas to life. But it was still so clear that he’d found himself in the right field, so he took the wins where he could.

Seven years of growth found him well. He’d upgraded his one bedroom apartment to a two bedroom house in a nice little neighborhood. It was more space than he needed for himself, but eventually, maybe, he’d fill it with a family. That part of his life was slower-going. Perhaps it was because he had never quite learned how to split his time, prone to bouts of inspiration that he’d have to work through until it was spent which meant long days and nights in the office. Apparently that was not a recipe for a fruitful marriage. 

But then he did meet someone. She was his opposite in many ways. She was loud and friendly where he could be withdrawn and shy, she loved to go out and meet new people when he preferred quiet nights in. She shook him out of his comfort zone and he tethered her to earth. It should have made sense. For Murph at the time, it did. And she was different from the others: she stuck around. She became part of the family, finding her place among them easier than even Murph had. In many ways, she was a lot like his brother, the magnetic type that you couldn’t help but be drawn in by. And she encouraged him to reach for more. 

So, two years later, he did. In 2016, he took another leap of faith— this time he bet on himself. He had an idea for an app that he believed was missing in the market. Something with an easily navigable interface that could connect people with small jobs or other needs. He called it SideQuest, a nod to his love of games. He found an investor in the form of an old college acquaintance and secured himself a team. Not having to worry about the money aspect, Murph threw himself into his work. Watching his vision come to fruition might have been the most exciting thing to ever happen to him, and on a particularly good day a year into development, he decided to take another big leap. He asked his girlfriend to marry him.

He wished he could say that the worst thing she told him was no. No he could have handled with grace. No would have made sense when he removed himself from the situation and really thought about their compatibility. But it was so much worse than no. Because, as it turned out, she had fallen in love with his brother. Honestly, he should have seen it coming. He’d been the Other Bloom his entire life, it just made sense that two beams of light might intersect and leave him lost in the shadows they cast. When they got engaged only a year later, it crushed him. Even as he realized that he’d never felt an ounce of the passion for their relationship that he had for his job. It was only that that kept him afloat, throwing himself into his work in a full tilt. 

Until that was taken from him too. His friend had seen the potential for SideQuest, and with the work on it mostly done, Murph was strong-armed into parting ways with the company. He had no financial stake in the company and iron clad contracts stated in fine print they had the right to claim his work for their own. Technically, they didn’t owe him anything. But they were ‘gracious’ enough to cut him a very sizable check. One that could have meant he’d never have to work again. 

He felt defeated. And when he met a beautiful woman in a bar, he was wary, guarded now in ways he’d never been before. He was uninterested in putting himself out there to be ruined again. But she was persistent, and in the end, he was weak. She made him realize that he’d been wrong to think that anything he’d ever had before could have held a candle to love. Real love. She fit seamlessly into his life, breathing color back into his world. He allowed himself to be swept away in her current. They married, even beating his brother down the aisle, and for five years, they were happy.

And then, he learned the truth. It was hard to believe she might have invested five years of her life just to take half of everything he owned, but it was impossible to ignore the proof. And it made sense, in the end. 

Because he was Murph. And anything that could go wrong, would. 

Anything that could go wrong, did.