#there i fulfilled for now the murphy need

[rainy-days-and-nights]

In our 100000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

loop!!!

And here they come again....

[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part One)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Ever since school, Emma had been your best friend and now that you were both in your early twenties, and studied law at the prestigious Oxford university, nothing really changed. 

Your friendship had grown even stronger despite differences in personalities – you being introverted and reserved, she boldly exploring her newfound independence.

Emma was always full of surprises - from her unexpected move to New York City without telling anyone and then coming back six months later, to now referring to herself as Jamie Dornan's sugar baby when you were on your own while, otherwise, keeping it discreet. 

When alone with you, she would often talk about having "intimate encounters" with him and sometimes even others, keeping you amused while leaving you curious about what exactly happens behind closed doors. You were often thinking about 50 Shades of Gray, spiking your curiosity, although Emma assured you that it was nothing like that.

When talking to Emma and her sugar baby experience, it felt like one day she decided to break all boundaries – whether social or moral – as if embracing freedom beyond comprehension. Despite her brazen behavior, deep down inside, she still cared deeply about your opinion which made things interesting when discussing such topics together over coffee late into the night, sitting among the humming crowd of the cozy London Cafe.

The coffee shop filled up quickly around lunchtime, making it harder for Emma to continue sharing stories confidentially.

You eventually moved outside underneath the shade of a large tree, sipping their drinks while enjoying the cool evening air. Again, your conversation turned towards the subject of sex which was something your life was lacking.

To you only, Emma often opened up about her time spent with Jamie, the man who had become what she calls her "sugar daddy".

Their relationship was nothing serious and it was that, just after his messy and rather public divorce, he sought solace in younger women whom he could provide financial stability for. In return, they agreed upon fulfilling his needs discreetly and you knew that Emma was not the only one. 

As she shared more explicit details of their sessions, which she only did with you, the way she spoke became increasingly sensuous. She had fun, it seemed, and it was just last week that she had engaged in her first ever threesome with Jamie and another man.

"A threesome, with two men?" you asked incredulously, gripped with curiosity as she mentioned it for the first time that day. You only ever had sex with one man, and it was nothing short of boring to say the least.

"Yes. Jamie had a friend over, and it just happened. It wasn't really planned. But we had lots of fun and probably too much to drink as well" she giggled seductively, leaning forward slightly as if divulging a juicy secret. The sunlight reflected off her soft skin causing her silhouette to waver rhythmically against the foliage behind her. 

"Uhm, okay..." you began. "So who was the guy? Was he an actor too?" You queried, genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, he is an actor too, but I really shouldn't talk about this." Her tone implied reluctance to share further details.

Curiosity peaked, you probed, "But come on, tell me! Who is he? You know I won't tell!"

 She hesitated before speaking again, seemingly caught between excitement and fear. "His name is Cillian," she finally revealed, and your chin dropped.

"It's not Cillian Murphy though, is it?" you clarified, thinking of the renowned Irish actor who portrayed one of your favourite TV characters, namely Thomas Shelby. 

"Jepp," she replied simply, confirming your suspicion.

"Oh my god...Cillian Murphy? Is he actually single enough to do that kind of thing? Like wow..." you couldn't help feeling shocked. Even considering you hadn't met him personally, there was undeniable respect and admiration attached to Cillian's image as he tried to stay out of the tabloids as much as possible. 

"Well yeah, apparently he filed for divorce two weeks ago. Weird timing, right?" Emma said, looking almost surprised herself before you took up the courage to probe her with more questions.

"So, you actually had full on sex with them both? At the same time? In the same room?" 

Your head swam with visions of those three intertwined bodies, imagining the erotic chaos taking place beneath the sheets. "Wasn't it weird?" you then asked. You had so many questions.

"Yes, we had sex at the same time and it was crazy," Emma admitted, smiling mischievously. "And no, it didn't feel weird at all. It was exciting, surprisingly so."

Her frankness startled you somewhat, used to living within societal norms, yet also fascinated by how freely Emma discussed these experiences. Perhaps it was because of your conservative background that she never judged your naïveté regarding intimacy.

"I mean, Cillian Murphy is pretty fucking hot, so I do not blame you," you said, catching yourself off guard with your sudden audacity.

Emma laughed lightheartedly. "You want details don't you?" Emma teased, already aware of your insatiable curiosity. Your cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment, partly due to her keen observation, partly due to the explicit nature of our conversation.

"Yes, of course," you stammered nervously, clearing your throat. You could barely look at Emma straight in the eye anymore, instead fixating on the ground, afraid that your face might betray you completely.

"What do you want to know about?" Emma continued, unperturbed.

"Everything. All the dirty details," you confessed honestly, unable to suppress your voyeurism any longer. "I mean, did they both, you know, at the same time, you know..." you stammered, wondering whether they simply took turns or penetrated her at the same time.

"Put their dicks in me?" Emma laughed, seeing how shy and embarrassed you were, causing you to nod.

She proceeded, "Yes, eventually. They took turns first but then both of them wanted to be with me at once. At first, I thought it was a bit awkward, but after getting comfortable, it became thrilling and liberating." 

You chin dropped, speechless. How could someone like Cillian Murphy be entangled in such debauchery? 

"You look really shocked right now," observed Emma, watching your expression carefully. "Is it because I told you or because of who it was with?" 

Though you were tempted to ask about Jamie, your mind remained fixated on Cillian. As far as you were concerned, he was practically handsome. To think he was capable of participating in these types of wild escapades was surreal. 

"A bit of both," you responded, half questioning and half affirming, hoping she wouldn't sense your growing interest.

"You know, he is single and I could get Jamie to introduce you sometime, maybe. If you want to meet him," she added nonchalantly, as if suggesting dinner plans. 

This left you stunned momentarily. You considered the possibility, envisioning yourself engaging in similar carnal acts.

"I don't think so, no... I mean, I am not like you," you protested timidly, attempting to regain composure. 

"I think you are thinking too much about moral standards which are absurd concepts, developed by society to control people and maintain certain order," Emma chuckled, referring to your prudish nature.

"Cillian is single and he was clearly intrigued by what Jamie and I have going, because it is simple. There is no hassle. No feelings. Only pure physical satisfaction. That's the arrangement between us. No strings attached. And he takes care of me financially which is really helpful seeing that I am, just like you, a student with a huge student debt," Emma went on matter-of-factly.

"That sounds nice," you commented, trying to understand why Emma would agree to being part of such arrangements without seeking a deeper connection. "But, don't you find it degrading sometimes?"

Emma gave you a sidelong glance, understanding perfectly well where your concerns stemmed from. "No, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with having sex for personal gain, especially when consent is given mutually. Despite, I actually really enjoy the sex. It's different than anything else, more intense and raw - and I feel closer to myself afterwards. There's just something powerful about it, you know? Sometimes I wonder how long this will go on, but then I remember that as long as everyone gets what they need, nobody gets hurt. This keeps everything simple and fair game, which suits me fine.”

You listened quietly, struggling to process all the information. It was difficult to imagine Emma – sweet, innocent Emma – as someone who enjoyed these kinds of arrangements. Yet somehow, hearing her describe it made it sound logical, even reasonable.

After all, money was tight for students. If consensual adults found pleasure in such arrangements, why should anyone judge them? You understood why Jamie paid for expenses in return for sexual favors – he wanted to compensate Emma for services rendered, plain and simple. Still, you marveled at how easily she glossed over potential consequences associated with such liaisons.

She always had nice, expensive things nowadays, clothes and shoes alike and she spent most nights with him, having fun and enjoying her life.

Their lifestyle seemed enviably easy and carefree compared to yours, stuck with heavy books and a mountain of debts piled high. Maybe it was worth exploring, you mused fleetingly. Still, you knew deep down inside that this wasn't the path you wanted to take. The idea felt morally corrupt, and it terrified you.

Back in reality, however, the fact still remained that you lacked the confidence needed to approach someone like Cillian Murphy let alone sleep with him. You were too scared of rejection and failure.

It was hard to believe that someone like Cillian Murphy could ever give you the attention you desired. Besides, it wasn’t as if you would suddenly become desirable just because you slept with him. Deep down, you worried that you weren't good enough. Your insecurities consumed you. However, the more you talked to Emma, the more curious you grew. How would it feel to be with such a person? What would happen during the act itself? Would they dominate you entirely? Or perhaps be gentle? So many questions filled your mind as you tried to grasp onto reality.

"Maybe dinner would be alright. I mean, nothing bad can come from meeting new people, right?" You countered cautiously, your heart racing slightly. Meeting someone like Cillian Murphy was indeed exciting, yet nerve-wracking simultaneously.

"Right. I will organise it then!" Emma said excitedly and, to you, agreeing to meet Cillian Murphy felt monumental, almost surreal.

You couldn't help feeling excited, hopeful that he would notice you among others and throughout the night, you couldn't stop reflecting upon the encounter with Emma. Her stories sparked countless fantasies that tormented your imagination, leaving you eager to experience pleasures beyond conventional boundaries. Even though it meant facing risks and challenges outside your comfort zone, the prospect of indulging in passionate encounters captivated you.

After all, hadn't dreaming been harmless until it turned into reality? Confronting your fears allowed you to grow stronger. As you sipped on another cup of coffee, lost in thought, Emma noticed your contemplation.

"So, are you really really sure?" Emma asked, seeing how nervous you were already. 

"Yes. It's just dinner, right?" you said and Emma chuckled and agreed.

"Yes, but these things can lead to more. There is no pressure though," Emma reassured you as a mischievous grin spread across her lips.

"Exactly," you nodded vigorously, although doubts crept into your head when you looked up his soon to be ex-wife and the women he had dated before, all of whom were extremely attractive. 

How could anyone possibly compete against those women? Why would he bother with somebody like me? These negative thoughts flooded your brain but nevertheless, you decided to push through these anxieties. After all, life was full of surprises and opportunities. Who knows, you may end up liking each other!

"Alright, we're doing this, then. Let's see where it leads," you confirmed firmly, looking determined despite your lingering insecurities.

Emma grinned broadly, pleased with your decision as she picked up the phone and called Jamie. 

To be continued....

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[piggledy-higgledy]

As anyone who’s been looking at my page semi-frequently will have noticed, I am a big Richard Armitage fan. Mostly in love with his portrayal of Gisborne in BBC’s Robin Hood, but I also enjoy most of his other work and consider him a very talented actor (and a very sweet person from what we can tell.)

There has been a lot of furore lately about his latest project, “Obsession” (a series unfortunately promoted as an erotic thriller by Netflix), which is a remake of 1992 film “Damage” (with Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche) and based on the book by Josephine Hart. He portrays William Farrow, a married, middle aged, successful surgeon, who has an affair with his son’s fiancé, Anna (Charlie Murphy) -an affair so obsessive that it costs him everything: his career, his family, his son’s life, even his own self (more on that later.) The series features a lot of sex scenes, very light BDSM elements, and a LOT of nudity from RA on a level most fans never thought we’d see (RA being famously private and modest.) The fandom has been divided over this, with some looking forward to it and some being sure it’s not for them at all. From what I can tell (and I might be wrong) most people were put off by either the copious amounts of sex (and the trailer leaned very heavily on that) or the unsavoury morals of the main characters. Which is fair, if it’s not your cup of tea, don’t watch it.

I *did* watch it, and because opinions have been so strong, I wanted to share my thoughts. No disrespect if you prefer to pass. I hope it might be helpful for anyone on the fence and still making up their mind whether to watch or not. Happy to chat more about it if anyone likes! There WILL be spoilers.

Before watching it

I have personally felt very intrigued about this series and I was excited about watching it. Not so much because of the nudity or explicit scenes -or, rather, because of them, but not in the way you might think. Richard Armitage has played very, very few roles where he was primarily the romantic lead, and none later in his career. He tends to be cast in active roles, a lot of dark, violent characters, tense action. When there is romance it’s not the main aspect being explored. And he has NEVER (with the notable exception of Between the Sheets, which was so early in his career I doubt he necessarily had much choice to turn down work) done anything close to this level of sexual screen time. Why now? What made this different? I really wanted to know.

There was another reason I really wanted to watch Obsession. What Richard Armitage does best, in my opinion, is give characters depth (even characters that were clearly not written that way *cough* *Guy* *cough*). He is an incredibly detailed actor and uses his face and eyes to a stunning degree to convey things that go far beyond the dialogue. He has spoken about how he creates complete backstories for all his characters. This project is literally made for his type of acting. There is hardly any action, and leagues of unspoken material. RA called it “one of the most fulfilling pieces of work he’s ever done”. I needed to see why.

After watching it

I binged all 4 episodes in one night. And then again the next morning. And again today. I finished the first episode and thought “Yes, I understand why he wanted to do this.” (He also said in an interview that there was a moment in one scene that he’d never achieved before on film. Having watched this, I believe him.) Is this the kind of series I’d normally gravitate to? No. But I’m glad I watched it. Every single actor was incredible. The filming was beautiful. I just… don’t know where to start.

The story:

In my opinion “Obsession” is not about infidelity or sexual exploration -it’s about William and Anna’s experience with obsession and addiction. Anna isn’t just having an affair. She is addicted to being in control and to using sex as a means of asserting that control. (We learn that she had a brother who sexually abused her for years and committed suicide when she finally put a stop to it. And throughout the series, she reacts to strong emotions by initiating sex. Charlie Murphy described the character as a “dominant submissive” and that’s spot on, not just in the way that she sets the rules and boundaries of their sexual relationship, but in the way that, having been abused, asserts her control on the situation she had to submit to as a young girl by controlling when and how she submitted). William is not just having an affair. He is obsessed and addicted to Anna to the point that it completely deconstructs him as a person. He is the counterpoint to Anna’s character, in that he has no control. He doesn’t initiate, he doesn’t resist, he can’t or won’t control his reactions or his impulses and he completely loses control of his life as a result of his actions. In the final episode Jay, the son, discovers the affair and in shock, falls off a railing to his death. There is a scene where William faces his wife after everything is revealed and watching Richard Armitage convey all those emotions without saying a word is some of the best acting I’ve seen in my life. I don’t know what part of himself RA drew from to act the guilt and grief and absolute devastation in that scene but it was… amazing and heartbreaking. Even then, the obsession wins. When Jay dies, we see Anna walking away while William cradles the body of his son, paying her very little attention. I completely believe that he is broken in the scenes that follow. But after a few days the addiction takes over and he still seeks out Anna, convinced they can now be together (“there’s no version of this with just you,” she’d told him earlier on, but he clearly thinks otherwise). And we get the following:

W: … I let uncertainty in. (NB: What is uncertainty but lack of control?)

A: And look what happened. I don’t think… we can ever separate who we are from what we’ve done.

W: But… we can’t let it all be for nothing either (NB: William’s voice breaks here. He’s lost everything he ever cared about, she’s the only thing left. Does this phrase mean he thinks there was depth in their affair? Or does it mean that he is looking for meaning and depth so that he can cope with the fact that he sacrificed everything for an obsession and an addiction?)

A: Jay died because of us.

W: Still I wouldn’t change it (TNB: THIS! This phrase upset so many viewers! And of course it did, it was supposed to. The acting is, again, amazing. This isn’t said to Anna, this is introspection. William is looking inside himself, realises he wouldn’t change it, realises how much of himself he’s lost.)

A: You don’t regret it?

W: How can I?

A: We caused so much pain

W: But it’s done now.

A: I am so sorry for what happened. But I wish we’d never met. (She walks away, leaving William sobbing. Because there. is. nothing. left.)

The sex:

I hate that this was marketed as a sexy series because it created all sorts of hype and expectations that were misplaced imo. The story was never about the sex. Morgan Lloyd Malcolm said a couple of days ago on Twitter that it’s about “sitting in the discomfort of human behaviours” and that is spot on. Like I said above, this is a story of addiction. Anna is not addicted to the sex -she is addicted to using sex for control. That’s why Anna and William never kiss (she is the one controlling their physical interactions. William leans in to kiss her in many scenes, she never lets him.) That’s why the music is so jarring in all the sex scenes. That’s why there’s no foreplay, that’s why William never lasts long. That’s why they only ever have sex on the floor or in public, never in a safe, comfortable place like a bed. They are not comfortable. This is not a comfortable situation. We, as viewers, are supposed to be uncomfortable. The infamous hotel pillow scene was meant to demonstrate the turning point in William’s addiction, the complete loss of control, I think. It was never supposed to be funny or sexy -it was meant to disturb us because this intelligent, cultured, previously collected man becomes completely animalistic. Which is why he sobs afterwards -I think this is the point when William realises that (as Ingrid puts it later) “he is lost to her”. William’s face after their first sexual encounter is the face of a man under the influence. When she gets up to leave he makes this movement with his fingers like he is trying to hold on to her, but only grabs air. It’s just a twitch -but it’s Richard Armitage and we know how detailed he is in his acting, and I am sure it was a gesture with meaning.

The intimate scenes in Obsession are sometimes sensual, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes genuinely hard to watch but never gratuitous.

Why a fan of Richard Armitage or anyone writing for his characters should watch it:

Again, you do you, but hear me out: This series is a veritable treasure trove of body language, voice/cadence, facial expressions that you can then apply to your favourite RA character. The longing. The conflict. The loss of control. The vulnerability. The eye contact. The fact that the lover’s name is Anna, which is also my name. Also, I’m being completely serious when I say that this is some of the best acting I’ve seen him do *ever*. If you can only bring yourself to watch parts of it, do that. There were some scenes that genuinely made me tear up. Look after yourself, respect your boundaries, but sample what you can because it’s a veritable banquet.

PS: I am focusing on Richard Armitage for this review because I came to Obsession from that fandom. But every single actor gives an amazing performance. I especially adored Charlie Murphy as Anna, Indira Varma being astounding as Ingrid and the criminally underrated Marion Bailey as Anna’s mother, Elizabeth, who packs SO MUCH into so few scenes.

[look-at-the-soul]

Look at the soul- Part 10 There you’ll be

Cillian Murphy x OC

Series master list

⚠️ Grief (but the comfort afterwards compensates)

🎭 Special thanks to @heidimoreton for creating the most perfect and beautiful moodboard for this part! 🥰✨ I’ve been saving this for so long, this chapter holds a very special place in my heart since it was one of the very firsts scenes I had in mind, I didn’t know how I’d get there, only this had to be part of the story… as Cillian realizes that in order to be able to enjoy something new, he needs to let go first of what’s keeping him locked.

Word count: 3,840 (without the song)

Song: There you’ll be by Faith Hill

“Adria!” Enda shouted from behind, people walking on the street turned to look at him but he simply didn’t care. Cillian followed him in silence.

Marianne blushed as she heard him calling her by her character’s name several times until he reached her.

“On a trip to fulfill your coffee addiction?”

“Better than yours.” She pointed at the cigarette between his fingers.

“Touché.” Edna chuckled looking at Cillian, she had been getting better at keeping up with his sense of humor and sometimes she got a better comeback.

“Turn it off man, it’s bad for her lungs.” Cillian asked him politely.

“I’m curious what do you have in there?”

Marianne looked at the tote bag Enda just pointed.

“Got a few books at the café, I’m planning to start it this Friday.”

Enda looked at her with a shocked expression. “How old are you? Eighty two? Marianne this is Ireland, you’re by yourself and no one knows you here, should be going out until four in the morning, pass out… have a great time.”

“Reading a book with a glass of wine it’s more like my kind of night.” She replied shyly. “And it’s a great plan by the way.”

“Live, woman… go out and live life! That’s why you’re single.” Enda joked. “Both of you.”

“Don’t be rude mate.” Cillian tried to defend.

“Just telling the truth.” He shuddered. “Hopefully you’ll get someone thanks to the play.”

“Enda!” Marianne opened her eyes wide.

“What? Could be a good opportunity to make a casting or something for you.”

Reaching the steps of the Olympia theater, she shook her head slightly.

“Don’t listen to him, it’s a consequence of his age, he’s losing the filter.”

“Aye, you’re not getting any younger.” Enda patted Cillian on the back.

“Doesn’t matter you’ll always be older than us.” He gave Marianne a small wink.

“Go on stage now, before I start the audition right away.”

As everyone took their place, the lights tech started to make some adjustment, the cast began the rehearsal.

“Stop, stop.” Enda asked interrupting the scene going on stage. “We need the lights off just as Adria reaches the top step, all theater lights off, this light on her.” He explained and then took off his glasses, the big opening was around the corner and this was the most important part.

“Every body keep your counts right.” Heidi called over the microphone.

Marianne positioned herself close to the bar again, her eyes and ears on Enda to follow his instructions.

“Cillian on your count.”

As the cast started moving around and a bright light was focused on Adria, the screenplay writer walked towards his friend.

“Holy fuck.” Enda exhaled loudly as they both watched the scene unfold on stage.

“I know man.” Cillian crossed his arms against his chest without moving his eyes from Marianne.

Even after weeks of rehearsals, it kept taking them by surprise once she got into character, dress and characterization included. They were both holding their breaths as she looked back, over her shoulder towards them. Her emerald eyes boring into their souls.

“Is this one of those stories they love to portray in movies right?”

Cillian looked at him confused.

“I’ve known you since you were a noisy teen, don’t try to fool me.” Enda adjusted the glasses on his nose. “You have fallen deep for her and I don’t blame you to be honest… I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Cillian’s eyes moved around the theater without locking eye contact with Enda. He remained quiet, letting the words sink in.

“It’s alright to move on, it’s been a while. You just have to make peace with you-know-who first, close the cycle they call it.” Enda squeezed his shoulder. “Go home man, think about it.”

Cillian looked back on stage, finding Marianne there turning her face around, over her shoulder. The realization feeling heavier on his shoulders.

There was no use to try to deny it now, Enda only gave his own thoughts a loud voice.

Was it a proper time to move on?

How are you supposed to do that?

Would Marianne feel the same about him?

Slowly, day by day she found a way to make him smile, she gave him back the strength and need to be on stage. To do what he loved the most and without even noticing, made herself earn a spot inside his heart.

Grieving doesn’t come with a manual, there are no instructions to know if you’re taking the long way or the short route. Words of support come and go, but the only thing that sets the pace it’s your own heart.

As a few rain drops started to wet his face, Cillian shuddered, not because it was cold, but because this would represent a major change in his life, he couldn’t even come close to measure the impact this would bring into him.

Could he take this chance after losing his wife?

Could it be Marianne the one helping him heal his heart? Did he really stand a chance with her? Even after being in his forties?

For the first time he felt self conscious about his age, he wasn’t the young lad he was once…

And besides that, moving on after a breakup or a divorce is completely different than starting all over again after being a widower. He had now developed several mannerisms over time, he had an already built in life, an ongoing list of things he could no longer tolerate, in-laws that were looking at the time were he would make the slightest mistake and last but not least, his sons… but above all of that he was just a lonely man and without an ounce of being pretentious, he thought he deserved to give love a second chance.

He wanted to be happy, to feel alive again…

Was he ready to let go of the memory of his late wife to take a chance to be happy again? Fall back in love?

He had to give Marianne credit because she lifted him up when he needed it the most, she had been there as a lifeline for him the moment he met her on that bus and ever since she had been holding a candle to light his path back to theater among other projects.

That wasn’t entirely a surprise, because deep down she had this internal light that could bright even the darkest room.

It had been a while since the last time he went there, the atmosphere suddenly felt dense, he wanted to apologize for not coming sooner, he didn’t even paid attention of anything around him on his way there.

The day he met Marianne on the bus exactly, that was the last time he had been there visiting his late wife’s urn, after that he stopped completely, something had been keeping him away.

Someone more likely.

“Hey,” his voice cracked a bit, “I’m sorry I haven’t been here lately, loads of things going on, the kids are alright growing up so fast. Andrew is even taller than me already,” he chuckled looking at his late wife’s name engraved. “Truth is I don’t have a valid excuse… I’ve been working on a play, yeah it’s a great script and it’s been a massive therapy for me, the only thing that keeps my mind off but you already know that right? There are days where I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, losing you forced me to be around the boys completely and we didn’t had the phone line for like a week because I forgot to pay the bill once, you took care of everything… but I’m trying, for the boys, for me… for you.”

Cillian let out a heavy sigh, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

“But that’s not what I came for…” he cleared his throat.

His hand trembled when he touched the cold stone.

“One of those nights after you left, I was lying in bed unable to sleep and reality hit me hard, my mind started bombarding me with these thoughts ’is this how it’s going to be from now on?’… I know you’re not coming back, and you’ll always be the mother of my kids… but I met someone a-and I don’t know how she feels, but I wanted to let you know that I decided to give it a try… is that alright? To rebuild my personal life and have someone by my side?”

In my dreams, I'll always see you soar above the sky

In my heart, there'll always be a place for you for all my life

He could feel the wedding band around his finger burning, of course it wasn’t real, it was just a thing made by his mind, but he needed to do it. The lump in his throat growing.

I'll keep a part of you with me

And everywhere I am, there you'll be

“I promise you I’ll help the boys keep your memory alive in some way… I better go, have to make dinner for those beasts.” He added with a small chuckle.

Everyone carries grieving in different ways and to him everything is valid, or at least that’s what he wanted to think because as he stepped outside one of the classic Irish rain started to pour down as if somehow the rain came to wash over his pain, his grief and also the guilt of thinking about a brand new start with someone else.

Cillian couldn’t find a single word to describe how he felt, but the weight on his shoulders was definitely lighter this time around.

The shadow of mourning finally stopped wrapping its coat around him.

Arriving home later, he left his shoes by the steps. Walking across the corridor he was met by the familiar sounds of his sons and dog, but he stopped on his tracks as a photo of his late wife dressed in her wedding dress all those years ago stared at him from the shelves.

This was his way of saying goodbye, of letting go finally of the woman who had been his partner for the last eighteen years.

Rolling the gold wedding band between his thumb and forefinger he took a moment to rub the edge, the symbol of their marriage, their vows, the dreams they once shared.

And I always will remember all the strength you gave to me

Placing his wedding band next to the photo, he gave her one last look. “Thank you for giving me my boys.”

He was ready to open up his heart again.

“Hey Da.” Andrew, his eldest son greeted him as he walked into the kitchen.

“You’re studying, guess that’s why it’s raining.” He joked.

“Yeah, I don’t understand anything.”

Part of his abilities as an actor was learning things for the role he was portraying, but school assignments were a pain in the arse for him.

“Sorry buddy, you know I suck at this but if you need some help…”

“Are you gonna call aunt Orla? No thanks, last time she confused me more.”

Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle at his son’s statement. But he had someone else in mind.

“Do you want help or not?”

“Ya.”

Cillian saw Andrew groan defeated, resting his head on the book. So he quickly took his phone and opened a new text message.

Heyya’ are you busy?

Hello! No, why?

I know you love numbers, interested in doing some tutoring? SOS it’s for my son. He wrote back.

Of course, come over.

And just like that she was able to brighten his day in mere minutes. Even if it was the darkest night.

“Pick up your stuff, we’re going. Benjamin! We’re going out, are you coming?” He shouted from the first floor.

“Can I drive?” Asked Andrew.

“Do you’ve a license?” As his eldest shook his head, Cillian tilted his head. “Then the answer is no.”

“No, can I go to TJ’s house? He invited me to play video games.”

Cillian nodded and passed Ben’s jumper, after waving Scout goodbye, he left his youngest at his friend’s house and drove away with Andrew to Marianne’s place.

“Who did you get?”

“Marianne, she’s part of the cast of the play but she’s really, really good with numbers.” Cillian explained.

“Cool.” Was all his son had to say.

It was a short and quick drive, Cillian pulled in front of the townhouse, the property seemed to be remodeled and held several apartments independently.

After pressing the buzz, Marianne opened the door for them.

“Hello again, this is my kid Andrew… thanks for doing this by the way.”

“Dad I’m not a kid anymore. Hi.” Andrew looked at Marianne, making her swallow a gasp by the similarities with his father.

“Hey, please come in.” She welcomed them with a smile.

Cillian mimicked Andrew. “He can’t stand when I call him that.”

Suppressing a giggle, Marianne guided them towards the small kitchen. She decided to avoid commenting the obvious that they looked so alike. “So, your Dad says you’re studying applied mathematics?”

“Yeah but so don’t understand my teacher.”

“Oh before that, we brought hamburgers for dinn-” Cillian started to explain, but quickly found himself staring at the stove. “What’s this? Smells fantastic.”

“My special chicken.” Marianne explained, she had prepared it for the traditional tacos night with the girls the following day, but judging by Cillian’s glances, she thought of changing it. “You can have some if you want.”

He wanted to say no, it would be a terrible thing to take away her food, but the smell was incredible and by now it was evident, it was mouth-watering.

“It’s fine really, there’s enough.”

“I swear they’re good, but this looks and smells delicious.” Cillian praised again. “How about we exchange?”

“It’s fine really, there’s enough.”

“You sure?” Cillian asked again, to which Marianne replied with a nod.

“Would you like some too Andrew?” She asked looking at the boy.

“Nah, the burger is fine. Thanks.”

“Your loss ‘cos this is awesome.” Cillian shuddered taking another bite.

It felt somehow strange to have Cillian and his son in her kitchen.

“Did you know Marianne's studying her master in Finance?” He raised his eyebrows, making evident his admiration. “Trinity College.”

“Oh yeah? The campus is grand.” Andrew stated.

“It is, loads of buildings, but now I’m taking a hybrid method so I’m not always there.” Marianne explained before thanking Cillian for her dinner.

“Hmmm.” Cillian was lost for words, he never imagined the explosion of flavors in his mouth. “This is perfect.”

As Andrew excused himself to use the bathroom, Cillian continue praising her cooking skills.

“How have you been feeling?” He asked studying Marianne’s face, his gaze was penetrating.

“Everything’s fine, the new inhaler works like a charm.” She replied, getting busy with the dirty dishes.

“You could try going outside for a walk put all these trees to good use.” Cillian added taking the plates from her.

“Heidi told me I’ve to go to the Blarney Stone, I’m planning to visit on Sunday.” Cillian’s fingers brushed against hers accidentally, but it was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

He noticed a small blush in her skin, or it was the kitchen light perhaps? Why was this suddenly feeling like a perfect domestic scene?

“Just avoid kissing it please.” He made a disgusted face.

“Why? I’ll loose my good luck shot.”

“Just… don’t kiss it, trust me.”

“What? The Blarney rock?” Andrew laughed. “It’s full of piss… gross.”

“Andrew.” Cillian warned with his eyes and voice tone.

“Wha? ‘S true.”

“Are you guys serious?” Marianne asked in disbelief.

But after watching them nod profusely, Andrew told her locals usually pee on the stone among other disgusting things so she decided to trust in their words. And avoid kissing the stone at all costs.

While Cillian finished with the dishes, Andrew got his book and notebook.

“Oh I remember these.” Marianne took a moment to read through the notes and exercises. “Just let me grab my glasses. At this hour I can’t see without them.”

“No offense, but you sound just like my Da.”

Marianne laughed, but Cillian moved so quickly to slap his son in the back of his head.

As Andrew hissed and rubbed the spot with his hand, Marianne waved at Cillian.

“It’s fine, after you cross your thirties you’ll start making Dad jokes without even having kids and wear glasses too.”

Cillian smirked, pleased. “That was a nice comeback, smooth.”

Andrew groaned and shook his head.

“Okay let’s start with this example, you need to find the ‘x’ value. And differentiate 3x-7.” She read the first part of the instructions.

“But I only have ‘y’.” Andrew frowned confused.

“Yeah you’ll have to find that first and then use that value to find the ‘x’.” Marianne started working on her own sheet to show him, in a few short steps she solved the problem.

“Woah!”

Cillian chuckled from the living room where he had picked a book from Marianne’s shelves that caught his attention. Lying on the couch he watched the scene before his eyes, the domesticity at its finest and he felt so comfortable that the mere sensation from it forced to question himself if he was allowed to feel this good.

And his son was even smiling from solving the problems correctly. To him that mean everything.

Since he left the theater he hadn’t been able to stop the thoughts about Marianne and the positive impact she had brought along the way. He was constantly relying on her not only about his professional projects like the play or his production company, but on a personal level as well, she had seen him at his worst, on a negative attitude and managed to help him ground again. She had a very particular sense of humor and her face was so transparent that he could see every emotion there even when she wasn’t speaking. He also enjoyed way too much teasing her when she couldn’t get a word right.

If he could use one word about her, it was admiration, there was no other way to describe his feelings. Because seeing her on stage, transformed into this fearless character, dominating the entire theater with her presence in a foreign language when she didn’t have an acting background but she worked so hard so you wouldn’t notice that. It was something that slowly made him fall in love not only with theater again, but with her as well.

He had to admit her physical beauty attracted loads of attention, he had seen first hand the way people stared at her when they were out for a coffee or walking towards the theater, there was something about her that made you turn around or steal a glance and she didn’t seem to notice, she never seemed to be pretentious or rude to anyone. No, all the opposite she was always kind to everyone.

But could all of that transform or evolve from the daily interactions to something else? How would she feel if she knew that he was falling for her?

Endless questions had been on his mind lately, it was frustrating to not have the answers.

How could he be so sure that this was something genuine and not because they worked together?

How could he even start all over again in his personal life?

“There you go, be careful with the-,” she stopped talking as she saw Andrew answer by himself, “yes that’s correct.”

Leaning back on the chair, she looked in Cillian’s direction finding him laying on his back, on her couch as if he always belonged there. Dragging her eyes quickly from him before he could notice.

Lee’s words resonating in her mind over and over.

But looking at Andrew wasn’t much help because he looked just like his father in every possible way, the only difference was that he had short hair and less freckles and the other one was the colour of his eyes, as Andrew’s looked more like blue-grayish, but she could easily imagine this is what Cillian looked like when he was younger.

She needed to stop these feelings to grow further because they still had to hit the road with the play and by the end of the dates she would end up with a broken heart.

“How did I do?” Andrew asked pulling her away from her thoughts.

“Let’s see,” tilting her head she check over at the numbers, a soft smile appearing on her lips, “you did it!”

Offering Andrew a high five, she encouraged him to continue, helping the boy every now and then when he had questions but he did it mostly by himself.

“How’s it going?” Cillian asked joining them in the kitchen.

“I finished the work.” Andrew stood with pride oozing from him. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” Cillian added looking into her eyes. “Really appreciate this.”

“Happy to help.” Marianne gave them a quick glance.

“I won’t see you tomorrow, will be around scouting for locations to film the video and arranging stuff.” Cillian took the keys of his car and handed them to his son.

“Oh… okay.” Marianne stammered adding a nod. Unsure of what to say.

“Can I drive?” Andrew looked at his Dad who was standing behind him, with his hands on his shoulders.

“Ya.”

“Grand!”

As Andrew stormed out from the flat with his belongings and the keys, Cillian hid his hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

“You saved me from a headache and him for his test.” Cillian picked on his lip nervously and forced Marianne to look in a different direction.

“You just want an excuse to keep me working.” She joked with a smile that reached her eyes.

“Of course, you don’t deserve a day off that’s why I asked for the tutoring tonight and then you appearing in the music video.” He replied in the same light tone as her.

“I was just kidding,” she assured him feeling like a fool, he probably just wanted to go home and she was trying to make small talk.

“Thanks for the budget by the way, it helped me a lot.”

She had already finished the budget for the rest of the year and managed to give him all the quotes to film the music video, she even added a small percentage for what she called the just-in-case. And the numbers looked good, the group’s manager approved it already.

Marianne nodded and added in a playful tone: “Someone has to keep your spending on track.”

“I’ll have to start thinking of the next project.” Cillian ran one of his hands through his curls.

“Enda mentioned you left the rehearsal early because you felt rubbish.” She loved using that term now. “How are you feeling?”

She asked a simple question oblivious to the real reason behind Cillian’s absence from the rehearsal. In her eyes, he found she was genuinely worried about him.

Leaning in with a smile, he kissed her cheek as goodbye. “Never been better.”

Cillian stared into her eyes for a few seconds, taking in the feeling he had been experiencing since they arrived there; for the first time he was able to see her properly without the veil of grief blurring his vision.

***

Part 11

🍀🇮🇪Visit Ireland: Blarney Stone, I recently read about it in a book and man, 😂 the stories I’ve heard ever since…

A/N: If you like this, remember your feedback is the best tip you can leave 🫙✨♥️🎭

Tag list: @lyarr24 @gypsy-girl-08 @cillmequick @zablife @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @kettlechips3 @heidimoreton @forbidden-forest-witch @kaitebugg03 @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @onlydeadcells @babaohhhriley @lonelyweeb0044 @lovemissyhoneybee @ange-thoughts @already-broken144 @shelbydelrey @cutecurly-hair @winchestergirl22 @moral-terpitude @ironpen @elenavampire21 @lespendy @kittycatcait219 @stevie75 @esposadomd @sloanexx @shaddixlife @rangerelik @peakyscillian @woofgocows @cillianlove @imichelle-l-rigby @emmanuelle19 @sydneyyyya @cljordan-imperium @mrkdvidal1989 @flippittygibbitts @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @elk96 @shelundeadxxxx @kmc1989

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 2 - Wasted Times

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing, bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader. The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Javi's 3rd)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: thanks so much for all your love and curiosity, I've got 4 chapters written by now, I don't know how many will be nor the ending yet.

To make it fun, lets add a song to it:

Y/N's POV - 1st Person

The weeks flew by without me even noticing: Between an apartment to find furniture, trying to catch up all that they did about Escobar before I arrived, a routine seemed impossible.

Rights and wrongs, new problems and struggling to find solutions.

And, of course, Javier Peña was fulfilling his bad fame towards bosses.

Sometimes, his name tasted like whiskey in my mouth: bitter.

Peña was, in fact, an intelligent agent... But oftentimes got blindsided by his arrogance or for being a pretentious jerk.

Sometimes, his own dick betrayed him.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, Peña! You still don't get it, do you? No, we're not sacrificing a squad like this! We need to be more reasonable! Enough with wasting DEA's resources!"

He made a noise, frustrated.

"Y/LN, things here were always like this. It's not..."

My mocking laugh interrupted him:

"¡Díos mio, Peña! (My God, Peña!) And it worked perfectly, right? And they brought me from hell just to see how beautiful Colombia is? 'Cause this stupid and dated strategy is working... No, we're doing it my way."

Murphy tried to interfere:

"Y/LN, with all due respect..."

My fist hit my table, really fucking angry. They were not expecting this kind of attitude from their "girl boss".

"¡Callarse las bocas! (Shut up!) ENOUGH!" - I screamed. - "If you want to get yourselves killed, be my guest, however, leave my office and this position! I'm not authorizing, not like that. I want to get Escobar as badly as you, but I'm not risking anything. Yes, he's a hijo de puta and would love to shoot his head, but if we do it right, we can make him pay... But with the extradition. I'm not arresting and leaving him here."

Peña left my office, probably seeing red. Murphy took a breath and went right behind.

It was Friday, for fuck's sake. I decided to dismiss all of them earlier. I needed to rest as well.

While everyone was talking their ways, Murphy knocked on the door again:

"Jefe, let's blow-off some of this and get a drink, we all could use." - pointing out Peña as well.

Peña rolled his brown eyes to Steve.

"Gracias, Steve. I'll join you. You better call Connie, she'll be the lightness that we need... No talk about work, dios mio."

Murphy smiled and called to her, to come meet us at the bar.

"You're coming, Peña?" - I invited him, as I got my belongings.

"No, jefe."

"Peña, don't take it personally. Doesn't have to be like this. Let's go get drunk, first one is on me."

He took a deep breath and came with me and Steve.

*

"Mi amor, cuatro tequilas, por favor." (My love, four tequilas, please) - I ordered to the barman, wearing my most charming smile available.

It worked out fine, actually, they came and kept coming as we wished.

Reggaeton with this sensual and smooth rhythm was being played at the sound box, yet, no one was dancing.

Not now, at least.

"Wow, nice, jefe. I think the barman is not leaving... Not without you!" - Murphy and Connie laughed and Javier turned his face, not looking at us.

"That boy is not my type anyway, mi amigo, thanks for the compliment... Well, got us drinks, so served its purpose." - I laughed, trying not to think about going home alone.

"The way you speak Spanish is so natural, so beautiful, Y/N... Are you also a latin, like Javi?" - Connie asked.

"Yes, I'm of Latin origin, but I was born in NYC... My family is pretty much a stereotype of big and latin..." - I looked at Javier, who seemed so far away. - "Javier, I assumed you were indeed, but I hate to be wrong. Nice to have a Latin fellow here."

"I'm Tex-Mex, jefe." - he said, without any emotion in his voice.

*

As the night passed by us, tequila took us far from problems at the DEA. Actually, tequila made us laugh, even made me dance with Connie.

Javier remained quiet and distant. Something felt off about him.

My body was sweating, my skin felt hot. I knew that feeling: I was reaching my alcohol consumption limit.

Truth be told, dancing was the red flag for me.

Whenever I wanted to escape something on my mind, I went out dancing and drinking. Ever since college, ever since I started my career at NYPD, I'd love to escape like this.

I excused myself and went to the restroom, to check the way I looked: not that bad, as a matter of fact, my black dress and heels were okay, my hair a little messy, my red lipstick were lighter than it should be, so I just made a retouch.

When I came back to your table, Murphy was gone, slow dancing with Connie in his arms, Javier was distracted, still very far from us.

I took my seat, across from him.

To crack up a conversation, I started:

"They're so much in love, aren't they? It's genuinely beautiful to see them, when we're used to so much violence..."

"I've got to agree, jefe... I wish I could have that kind of sentiment, to truly feel that..." - He added, appearing bitter.

Honestly, I was bitter myself and agreed:

"Me too, Peña... Me too."

At that moment, we shared this... Look, a bit longer than anything appropriate.

"Why do you hate me, Y/N?"

I laughed, I didn't hate him. He got all wrong, thank God. My cue to go, or else.

"Good night, Peña."

Drunk and horny, I drove back to my place and went to bed, alone.

*

Narrator's POV:

The last thing he heard from her was a lame "Good night, Peña."

He drank up until the last drop of his whiskey.

Javi closed his eyes, wishing her.

No, craving.

Javier paid his part of the check and left it to one of his... Girl who wasn't his friend.

"I'm not fucking my fist, not tonight." - it was a promise to himself.

*

About 9 A.M., Javier entered the hall of the apartment complex he lived in.

Not entirely sober, his movements were slow, as he made an effort to find his door, when light, calm steps walked towards the path he passed by just a moment ago.

His head was hurting, his last night clothes smelled like sweat, sex, cigarettes and alcohol.

Took a little while until Javier recognized the beautiful woman wearing a tight gray gym set...

"This can't be happening... You've got to be kidding me..." - Javier grumbled to himself.

She was even hotter wearing those shorts and crop top.

"Peña? What the fuck are you doing here?" - she asked.

"I live in here, Y/LN... Buenos días, vecina." - Javier pulled out his keys, shaking them, wishing to be wrong about Y/N being his neighbor.

"Holyfuck..." - she cursed. - "I thought I would have some peace at home..." - and as she came, she left quickly and slammed the door to the streets.

Peña, with all the strength on his whole body, entered his place and put his body under cold water, ignoring his hard dick.

Well, how could he ignore it?

The cold shower gave what felt like shocks to his skin. It almost hurts, but he couldn't leave like this, so he fucked his fist one more time, as if he haven't been fucking some chick for hours, until dawn.

His handjob was different this time, if so, even worse than any other, his fantasy was so much closer.

Because, now, he knows...

She lives right there.

Just a few steps...

He still felt hated, however, by someone he would and could make hard.

Her words made an eco into his mind:

"Good night, Peña."

"Mi amor, cuatro tequilas por favor."

"Peña..."

Javier Jesus Peña only prays for two things, now:

That he could see his son before he died.

That his fantasies towards Y/N passed as fast as it came. His guilt and inability to do some or anything were almost killing him.

His load blew on him, while he moaned Y/N.

"Death by hard on" - he made a joke, feeling as dirty as when he walked home.

Next

[bubbleonice]

Love, life and career - Cillian Murphy

For this reading I decided to do a special tarot spread. 2 cards for the lovelife, 2 cards for his current life and 2 cards for his career. And at last 1 card for summary. For this I will be using my usual tarot deck.

Love life:

7 of cups reversed and queen of wands: the carefree face of his relationship is history, and he is now starting to think about where his relationship is going, and what he wants from it. He might be feeling trapped lately, avoiding certain issues in the relationship. The clarity is much needed to take stock of things that might be disrupting his marriage lately. After a hard time, when issues are taken care of, things will get better though. The Queen of Wands' strong feminine energy signifies that his relationship will undergo a period of intense passion and romance. He and his wife will feel more loved by each other than at any time before.

Current life in general:

5 of swords and 10 of wands reversed: The Five of Swords is generally not a good omen because it might signify failure, change, surrender, and walking away. From the Suit of Swords, this tarot card shows self-sabotage, shady behaviour, deception, and poor communication. Intense conflict, tension, and a lack of communication can also be represented by it. This might be assosicated to his love life and the issues he has been dealing with or will be dealing with.

5 of swords indicates that he is engaging in a conflict of some nature. It can also suggest a disagreement with others, which leads to hostility and tension. Despite the fact that he thinks he has won, he might still lose in the big picture, because he has annoyed or hurt those that he has argued with, and as a result, he is on the road to isolating himself. Perhaps, at the moment, he believed that it was more important to be right rather than appreciate and understand where the other side was coming from.

Right now, it's important to attempt to pick up the pieces. He still has the chance to act while the conflict is still fresh. He may feel as if everyone and everything is against him. He might also lose some friends along the way. This is why he will need to make a significant decision about his point of view. What is more important to him? Mutual progress, or winning? This might require him to stand up to a conflict within himself.

The ten of wands in the reversed position indicate that he is doing everything by himself even if it's too much for him. He wants to fulfil all his duties and please everyone, but doing everything by himself is taking a toll on him. it also indicates that he is truly burdened by circumstances which are not necessary in his life. Anything that does not add value in his life is not worth his time, so he should let it go.

Career:

The magician reversed and the page of wands reversed:

He is full of skills, abilities, and talents. However, his current financial conditions are not as good as he thinks. In career prospects, the Magician reversed indicates that he has a lot of opportunities around him. However, he is missing something that could make his career trajectory go down drastically. However, using his true potential would be the best he can do. In case he feels like the way is lost, this Major Arcana reversed card indicates that he must keep things close and tight to have desired results in the long run.

The Magician reversed indicates that he is devoid of energy and lack confidence. Thus, he must keep his head straight and give a closer perspective on his professional life. Business people must stay aware of the people around them. They may backstab him in business partnerships, leading to heavy downfall. In fact, at his workplace, he shall act dishonest and possess hidden agendas. Therefore, it warns him to trust his true self and not share much of his life with people around him.

Page of wands reversed suggest that his energy and drive may be lacking, leaving him unmotivated and stuck. This is the time to take a step back, pause and reassess his goals and values, and determine what truly inspires him.

Summary:

Page of cups reversed: The reversed Page of Cups suggests that he is keeping his creative inspirations and ideas secret. He may worry that others will steal his idea or tell him it's destined to fail. Instead, he is choosing to keep his plans private so he can develop them further without the influence of others. When the Page of Cups is reversed, he can feel inspired to take on a brand-new creative endeavour, but he may be unsure of his ability to make it successful.

I hope you enjoy this reading. And please keep in mind that this is done for entertainment purposes only. I use tarotcards and oracle cards actively in my readings, as well as my intuition. Energies come and go, what is relevant for today’s reading might change in a few weeks time. But some aspects will always remain constant and the same. Thank you.❤️

[raccoonfallsharder]

Chapter 6/20 - Window Across the Galaxy

girl falls first; raccoon falls harder.

"Gamora can take my room, and Pete, you and Drax can take the two with the Murphy beds. I don’t think Groot will fit anywhere -“ “The folding beds?” Rocket interrupts. He still can’t stop grinning. “I know you haven’t met the guy yet, Jo, but there’s no way Drax is fitting on one of them. He’s twice as wide as Quip here.” The Terran in question looks like he thinks he’s been insulted, but isn’t sure how. “Quill,” he corrects, and Rocket waves a dismissive paw. She hums. “Then have Drax take my room for now. Pete, you know where the clean sheets are, right? Get everyone set up? And just ask Drax not to touch my equipment till I get a chance to clear it out for him.”  Why the fuck does Quill know where the sheets are? Rocket thinks, but doesn’t ask. 

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

whomp whomp. i have nothing to say about this chapter except it's too much dialogue and rocket's on the strugglebus. also, there's the brief mention of gun violence in schools. nothing explicit though

Please see behind the cut for a more general summary/notes/links to preceding chapters/a brief preview to Chapter VII. I'm Here. (which will actually have some fuckin plot for once).

General Summary~

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best raccoon

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Coming Soon: Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slooowww burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). elements of hurt/comfort because rocket is the saddest-angriest boy. rating will go up and tags will be added to as needed.

[conradreinhart]

murky caramel orbs fluttered open, with an immediate pang of defeat coursing through every vein in his body. those same eyes squinted up at the welcoming — or lack thereof — as the sunlight flooded behind the cave of the curtains. warm, cozy and fulfilling. however, the space that used to be taken up beside him was now vacant. and yet, the aroma of a foreign body spray that didn’t belong to him folded in to clash with the air as it evaporated from above. there was a certain angle of loneliness that couldn’t be helped. as the gold band that wrapped around to hug the knuckle of his ring finger, it was a constant reminder of empty promises. vows broken the mere moment they were spoken. no truth, no honesty, no security. after two years of misplaced regret, all points culminated to an end. an end that was said to have been a long time coming. one that conrad reinhart had hoped helplessly would never be. there was an urgent cry echoing from the nearby bedroom, as both feet clambered onto the hardwood floor and seemingly raced to be by the two year-old’s side. “hey, buddy. i’m here, daddy’s right here,” the words were a temporary bandaid of what the little boy was searching for. his mother, of course. underneath very ill-tempered tantrum that most two year-olds experienced, there was the same problem that he couldn’t quite shake. at times it almost felt as though he were a single parent, and although he ultimately wasn’t about to take for granted the extra time that murphy spent with him, carmen was equally missing out on the toddler’s youth.

the time? was two forty-five. the raven haired dancer had just witnessed his wife slithering into the back door, as quiet as she may have been, it was conrad who attended to the baby monitor in one hand and a fist balled up to turn on the light fixture in the other. tonight, of all nights, he wasn’t amused with playing her games. “where have you been all night?” was easily the most asked question when assessed with a situation like this. truthfully the man didn’t expect an answer to withstand the results of a polygraph test. the evidence was clear as the day was long. her make-up was smudged, lipstick bleeding from one cheek to the other. her once smooth, luscious golden locks now frizzy, pieces of curls knotted and combed at as if she were building a nest atop of her head. her alarmed stumbling was paired with the distinct shaking of her head. any stalling to collect an appropriate lie that her husband was already well prepared for. “get out of the house, i don’t want murphy to see you like this. i don’t want him to see you at all. we can talk when you’re sober,” he affirmed, though wavering cracks muffed through his tone as an underlying depth of panic. distrust. gut-wrenching agony. and that was the end.

or so he thought. cradling his son into his hip, there were moments that flickered into his subconscious that each time he looked into murphy’s eyes, he was reminded of carmen. the carmen he knew of long before the grocery list of betrayal had started. it was easy to place the blame on himself. it was what he always did. they had gotten married too young, they were practically children themselves. it was the only option the reinhart family felt suited them all. in their close community, people talked. and so with whatever duty it was that conrad was displaying for his family, he had convinced himself that whatever this was, was love. it had to be. there was no other way. all couples met their fair share of polarizing issues. what did he know if they couldn’t find an angle of normalcy again? it was as if his heart lived outside of his own body, in the form of murphy. his saving grace. as any father would do, conrad hoped that staying in this circumstance would mean he would have two eligible parents. in case while most others didn’t. and as he then parted from the house that early morning as his mother agreed to occupy his son for the time being, he needed closure. or clarity. or whatever it was that he strove for to find any sort of reassurance for the future.

it had began as an innocent plea for help. or so he thought. with his feet doted at the edge of the door of someone who he was sure would find his presence at her home off putting. at the very least. but as he racked his fist over to knock on the frame, the muscle in his chest quickly paced, thudding in overwhelming anxiety and terror over it all. should he even be here? where were his priorities aligned when he could make no sense of it all? each second that melted away, was more cause for confusion. what a tangled web it was, that left him with no choice but to find the solace he was in desperation of.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb: A sparkling and steamy Sapphic romance, Fly with Me by Andie Burke is filled with sharp banter and that sweet, swooping feeling of finding “the one” when and where you least expect it.

A one-way ticket to love or a bumpy ride ahead?

Flying-phobic ER nurse Olive Murphy is still gripping the armrest from her first-ever take-off when the pilot announces an in-flight medical emergency. Olive leaps into action and saves a life, but ends up getting stuck in the airport hours away from the marathon she's running in honor of her brother. Luckily for her, Stella Soriano, the stunning type A copilot, offers to give her a ride.

After the two spend a magical day together, Stella makes a surprising request: Will Olive be her fake girlfriend?

A video of Olive saving a life has gone viral and started generating big sales for Stella's airline. Stella sees their union as the perfect opportunity to get to the boys' club executives at her company who keep overlooking her for a long-deserved promotion. Realizing this arrangement could help her too, Olive dives into memorizing Stella’s comically comprehensive three-ring-binder guide to fake dating. As the two grow closer, what’s supposed to be a ruse feels more and more real. Could this be the romantic ride of their lives, or an epic crash and burn?

Review:

A flying-phobic ER nurse becomes famous when she saves an individual all the while fake dating her secret crush, the gorgeous copilot. Olive Murphy has a fear of flying but she needs to get to the marathon to fulfill her brother's wishes as he is in a coma. Olive is an ER nurse and when a passenger on the plan needs saving, she goes into action, what she doesn't expect is that she becomes viral for saving the passenger. Stella Soriano is the stunning copilot who has only one goal: get the promotion to become captain. Stella has the hours, the experience, and needs this promotion, she wants to show her dad that she's made it while she can because his alzheimer's is getting worse and worse. When Stella and Olive meet at the airport and Olive's flight gets cancelled after she saves the man, Stella offers to drive her to her marathon. What began as a friendly road trip soon turns into something else as Stella then asks Olive to become her fake girlfriend to help boost her PR at her company. Olive think's this is the perfect opportunity to woo Stella and to potentially make this fake relationship real. Yet Stella is clear about one thing: she doesn't do relationships because she's afraid of hurting her partners since she has a history of doing so and that this entire relationship is just for show. Yet Olive and Stella continue to cross the line between platonic and a real relationship and things are going to get messy, on top of the fact that Olive's manipulative ex wants her back now that Olive is famous. Throw in tons of family drama, confusing feelings, and job politics, and this is going to be a messy ride. This was a pretty cute sapphic rom com between an ER nurse with anxiety and a co-pilot with her own issues. Olive's family was terrible and the third act breakup felt kind of pushed too far back and the resolution to it didn't feel that well deserved. Overall it's cute but i kind of wish there was more going on. If you enjoy fake dating then definitely give this one a go!~

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press, St. Martin's Griffin for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra - 5:05

Is this a valid amount to have written of this story since I last posted? Probably not. But has dental school been kicking my ass for the past three months? Absolutely. I promise I’m trying my best to be more consistent with my uploads though - I just hope you haven’t forgotten about this story in the mean time! It’s too important to me to give up on now haha. 

Also, if you feel as though this first chapter is vaguely reminiscent of the prologue...that’s intentional...trust me.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Monday - October 8th, 1984

Eyes, the colour of the caramel on those apples from the county fair, gingerly cracked open as early morning sunlight seeped through cheap, cotton curtains. The rustling of amber leaves skittering across the tarmac outside made him stir further. And as a chilly, autumn breeze whipped around the loose drainpipe, rattling the plastic against the wall behind his head, Royce resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be pulled back into dreamland with a heavy sigh and a long stretch. 

Shuffling up his mattress, he grabbed his journal from its spot on his bedside table and blindly felt around for a pen. A yawn interrupted his train of thought before it had even left the station though, and he had to rub the sleep from his eyes before they would focus on the empty page he'd opened the notebook to. Pen uncapped, and mind still hazy from his reluctant rousing, Royce felt his attention begin to wander as the nib of his biro met paper. He scrawled out the date, and managed a couple of lines about what his dreams had entailed, but as soon as he started thinking back to the prior day, his mind ran away with him too quickly for his pen to keep up. 

He and Bentley had spent most of it at Vivien's house, where she'd finally fulfilled her promise of teaching Royce (and, once he found out about it, Bentley too) morse code. She dug out some of her dad's old books from the garage that went along with his amateur radio set and pinned one of the charts to her bedroom wall. After a few quick lessons, the trio were tapping out phrases to each other through the door for hours on end, just about driving the poor girl's mother insane. In a bid to earn some peace and quiet, she took to the garage herself, and came back later with a set of old walkie talkies she handed over to the children before banishing them to the backyard. Codenames were created, make believe spy storylines were played out and laughter was shared until the sun sunk behind the fence that separated Vivien's yard from the dense forest beyond, signalling for Royce and Bentley to head back home. 

Glancing down to his backpack, which had been slung at the foot of his bed, Royce couldn't take his eyes off the brick-like hand radio, sticking out from between the shabby library books and old candy bar wrappers. He still couldn't believe Vivien and her mom had let him and Bentley keep them. But after all the fun they'd had with them yesterday, he wasn't about to turn down the offer - especially after Vivien had suggested using them in place of the landline the Murphys had had to disconnect a few months back due to a faulty connection and the fact that they'd rather have running water than a working telephone. He didn't exactly know what they'd have to talk about, since they usually spent as much time together every day as they could manage, but there was no way he could have said "no" to her when she'd been smiling at him like she had. The second those dimples make an appearance his brain turns to mush, and his palms get so slick with sweat they practically need their own 'caution' sign. Even just thinking about her draws a smile of his own to his lips, and he can feel this sweet warmth unfurling in his chest that-

A snatched breath and rustling of duvet covers ripped Royce away from his thoughts as Bentley sat bolt upright in his bed. Chest heaving and choice locks of golden hair plastered to his forehead, the boy scanned the room with wide, blue eyes until recognition replaced the bewildered fear behind them. With his brain finally catching up to what his eyes were telling him to be true, Bentley let out a long, slow breath as he realised where he was - or, more importantly, where he wasn’t. Sluggishly pulling the floppy, balding stuffed dog he slept with every night to his chest, he eased himself back down against his pillow, inhaling the musty, yet comforting smell of old socks and sweet popcorn as he tried to will his heart to stop racing. 

"...You okay, Ben?" 

Jumping at the sound of another voice, Bentley's head whipped to face his brother, bearing another look of bewildered terror. But when his eyes met those of the older boy, brimming with familial concern, relief washed over him. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he quietly promised. "Just a bad dream, that's all." 

Quickly averting his gaze and snuggling back underneath his moth-eaten comforter, Bentley prayed that the matter could be dropped - just wanting to push the nightmare to the back of his mind so that he could catch a few more zs. But it appeared as though the abrupt wakeup call had bothered Royce just as much as it had him.

"How bad?" he asked, setting his pen down and closing his journal.

"...I don't know. It was just a dream, it's not a big deal," Bentley mumbled into the grubby fur of his comfort toy. 

"It looked like a pretty big deal to me, Ben."

"Well it wasn't, okay?" Bentley snapped with a sleepy sigh. "It was a stupid dream. Why are you even up this early anyway?"

Ignoring the pre-teen's grumpy comments, knowing he was only being defensive because there was more to the story than he was letting on, Royce swung his legs over the edge of his mattress and fully turned to face his younger brother. "It… It wasn't about Dad, was it?"

"What?" Bentley spluttered. "No!"

"-Because it's fine if it was; I still get them too. I just thought that since you hadn't had one for a while you were maybe in a better-"

"It wasn't about Dad, okay?" Bentley insisted with a frustrated sigh, still furiously avoiding his brother's gaze. "It wasn't about anything. I was just running down the street. I tripped over on the sidewalk and woke up before I could hit the ground. That's it."

Royce spent several seconds digesting the information, but his look of concern never shifted. "Running down the street? Away from what?" Clearly he didn't believe that the root of the problem could be something so innocent. 

Bentley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't away from anything; I was just playing tag. I wasn't looking where I was going and I lost my footing - that's why I woke up like that; it felt like I'd been falling."

"...That's it?" 

"Yeah, that's it. That's all it was, okay?"

Royce wanted to believe his younger brother, he really did - if not for Bentley's sake, then for his own; he knew otherwise he'd just be worrying about him for days on end - but something was holding him back. Whilst the boy's words were convincing, the fact that he couldn't lift his gaze from the greying fur of his stuffed dog told Royce that there was still more that he wasn't saying. And whilst he understood that it was hard to talk about traumatic events, it wasn't like Bentley to hide things from him - especially when it came to their family, which is what he still suspected the boy's dream had involved, despite his insistence otherwise. "...You know you can talk to me, right Benny?" Royce gently asked. 

Swallowing and reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet those of his brother, Bentley nodded and croaked out a quick: "yeah" that had sounded a lot more confident in his head. Still, his look of earnest at least made Royce pause before continuing his spiel. 

"You don't have to struggle with this on your own. We've had to deal with a lot over the last few years with Mom and Dad and Uncle Tommy and everything - it's been hard. And starting middle school on top of that doesn't make it any easier - believe me; I've done it. I've been in the same, exact position as you, Benny. I know exactly what you're going through right now, exactly how you're feeling, and it sucks, I know it does, but you don't have to go through it alone. We're both here for you, Ben - me and Miles - but we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You've got to talk to us, okay?"

Bentley could feel his chest growing tight, and his throat felt scratchy when he swallowed, having been ravaged by the words he was fighting to keep down. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming at Royce that he had no idea what he was going through, and that he never would. But he funnelled that pent-up frustration into holding onto his older brother's concerned gaze, and willing his neck to deliver a strained nod. 

Royce could see that there was a new glassiness to Bentley's eyes that made his stomach clench - there was definitely something the boy was keeping from him. But before he could press the matter further, heavy footsteps came thundering towards their bedroom door, followed by a mop of messy, chestnut hair bursting through it.  

"Guys, guys, get up, we overslept!"

Toothpaste dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, the toothbrush in his fist dripped water onto the floor and his hair looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in days - but as soon as Miles set eyes on his little brothers, the panic behind them disappeared. 

"Oh…sweet, you're already up," he said with a breathy smile. "Get dressed; we've gotta leave in ten minutes."

"What about breakfast?" Royce asked, but Miles was already racing down the hall towards the kitchen. 

"I'm making PB&Js!" he hollered back, likely trailing more water behind him as he dove into the bathroom to make a quick pitstop to replace his toothbrush. 

A soft smile tickled Royce's lips as he watched his older brother's frantic retreat, mind temporarily clouded by hectic amusement. But when he turned back to look at Bentley, his smile slipped into a puzzled frown when he found the young boy lazily grabbing a clean pair of socks as though nothing had happened at all. 

Bentley felt Royce's eyes tracking him as he gathered together his clothes for the day, and eventually glanced across to ask: "You okay? Aren't you getting dressed?"

"I just- Are you sure you're alright, Benny?"

"It was a dream, Royce. I'm fine," he replied, slipping into a chuckle at the notion that he could be feeling any other way. "You won't be if you don't find some pants without cowboys on them though," he added with a cheeky smile, prompting Royce's eyes to flit down to his pyjamas and the rest of his body to spring to action. "Vivien's not gonna be impressed when she finds out you still dress like a six-year-old."

Maybe that nightmare hadn't been so bad afterall. Royce knew Bentley like the back of his hand, and if that dream had been as bad as Royce suspected it had, there was no way he'd feel up to laughing and joking like that - not this soon afterwards anyway. He must have just been overreacting. And besides, Bentley was growing up now - if he thought that the nightmare had been 'no big deal' then Royce owed it to him to believe him. Yeah, it was hard to take a step back and let go of the reins he'd looped around Bentley's shoulders to keep him safe, but the carefree smile the boy shot as he ran past him towards the bathroom made the blow sting a little less. 

A morning without chaos in the Murphy household was practically unheard of, but there was something about the mayhem that Royce took great comfort in. Quietly making his way into the kitchen, where sunlight splashed over the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and Mr. Blue Sky crackled over the dusty radio on the windowsill, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Miles swipe jars across the cluttered countertop as though he was performing an elaborate magic trick. In reality, the seventeen-year-old was just trying to find a jar of either peanut butter or jelly that had any sort of viable contents for him to scrape out. One jar of peanut butter was so runny it was practically soup, the other was too solid to even stick a knife into. The only jar of grape jelly they had was so empty it looked like a minimalist stained glass window, and the only other jelly option was strawberry, which no one really wanted due to the hideous lumps suspended throughout it - but, thanks to a schedule tighter than the sweatband their neighbour, Mrs Martin, wore around her head every time she went speed-walking around the block, it would have to do. Royce had never seen someone break a sweat making a sandwich before, but Miles was giving it a damn good try. 

"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, hurriedly cutting the sandwich and handing one of the halves to the boy beside him. 

"Eww, of course," Bentley replied with a chuckle as he set his glass of orange juice down and accepted the droopy sandwich. 

"Alright, good," Miles responded, absentmindedly running a nervous hand through his hair. It wasn't until after the fact that he realised he'd definitely smeared jelly all over his hand in his haste though. Knowing he had no time to do anything about the sticky hair situation, he just muttered out a quick curse and went back to his pedantic questioning. "Uh, did you pick out a clean shirt?"

"Yes."

"Did you make your bed?"

"Do I have time to go and make my bed?" Bentley asked through a mouthful of brown bread, eyebrows raised in quizzical amusement. 

"...Good point," Miles nodded, a smile pulling at his lips as he picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally noticed Royce searching for a glass, prompting him to slide a plate bearing a PB&J along the countertop and extend the grin to him. "Eat up, buddy."

"Thanks," Royce smiled back, steadying the plate with one hand and plucking a cup from the shelf above his head with the other. "Have I got time for juice? Or am I going to have to try to eat this thing whole?" he continued with a chuckle. 

"Sure, we've got time," Miles said, eagerly setting his own sandwich down and brushing the crumbs from his hands as he stepped towards Royce and opened his palm. "Here, I'll get you some, you concentrate on eating."

"Yeah, 'cause I need my whole brain to eat a PB&J," Royce teased, earning him a snort of laughter from his older brother.

"So," Miles continued as he swung open the refrigerator door, empty glass in hand. "You guys got anything exciting going on at school today?" 

"Nick said he was gonna be planning something for us over the weekend," Bentley mused whilst licking a blob of peanut butter from his thumb. 

"Oh yeah, what?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't say. I think it's something to do with this game his cousin dropped off when he visited last week though," Bentley explained with an optimistic grin. "So that should be cool!"

"Sounds it," Miles chuckled, turning and handing Royce his glass back, now full of orange juice. "What about you, RJ?"

"Not really," he mumbled back, too preoccupied with finishing his breakfast to think about the day ahead. 

"Don't you have your book report presentation today?" Miles asked.

"Oh yeah, but that's not exciting."

"Sure it is; you and Vivien worked super hard on it." 

"Tell me about it, they wasted even more time than usual at the library working on that thing," Bentley teased. "I thought we were never going to get back to playing on her Atari."

"Oh yeah? Were you having to act as their chaperone, Benny?" Miles chuckled.

"'Chaperone'? What the hell would we need a chaperone for? It wasn't like it was a date or anything. We were just doing schoolwork," an appalled Royce insisted.

"Relax, I'm only teasing," Miles said with a reassuring grin and bump on the arm. "And I'm sure you'll both have done a great job. I want to hear all about how it went tonight, okay?"

"You really care about Emily Brontë?" Royce asked with a dubious smirk. 

"No, but I care about my little brother," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair. "Especially when he's acing his English lit class, you little genius."

"I don't know about 'acing' it," Royce mumbled, but his blush and shy smile betrayed his efforts to downplay his gratitude. 

"Hey Benny, have you got your English project back yet? You were working on that like it was gonna determine whether or not you got into college," Miles asked with playfully teasing chuckle as he revisited his half-eaten PB&J. 

"Oh yeah, Miss Hardy gave us them on Friday. I meant to tell you at work but then I went over to Kona's instead and by Saturday morning I'd forgotten all about it," Bentley began, rambling away as he rummaged through his backpack. Stray pencils flew in all directions and random doodles on scraps of paper fluttered to the floor, until finally, Bentley plucked a (slightly crumpled) piece of lined paper out from the chaos. Turning back to Miles, eyes alight with pride, he pushed the essay out from his chest as though he was taking his heart along with it. "But look, I got a B+!"

"Seriously?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes glittering with amazement before melting into the same pride his brother displayed. "Oh my god, Bentley, that's incredible!"

"I know, isn't it great? Miss Hardy says the only thing holding me back from an A was my spelling, but that's like a given anyway, so it's still pretty good if you think about it."

"Nice job, Benny," Royce congratulated, wrapping the younger boy in a side-hug as a proud grin of his own tugged at his lips. 

"It's not just good, Benny, it's amazing!" Miles gushed, setting his now-empty plate down and wiping his sticky fingers on the nearest dishcloth he could find. "This is like the best you've ever done on a project for English class. Hand it over, I've gotta read it; this is huge."

"You don't have to," Bentley bashfully chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "It's just a boring school report." But he handed the paper over anyway. 

"I know I don't 'have to', I want to. And it's not just 'a boring school report', it's your boring school report," he grinned, setting his little brother off giggling.

But before he could get past the title, a familiar horn crept through the cracks in the windowpane behind them. 

"Our chariot awaits" Royce sarcastically chucked, downing the last of his juice and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as Miles let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's alright, you really don't have to read it," Bentley tried. 

"No, no, I will, I promise," Miles stammered, juggling all the events he had lined up for the day in his head and trying to judge when was the best point to throw a little light reading into the mix.

"Are you guys coming, or what?" Royce called to them from the front door. 

Letting out another frustrated sigh, Miles gave up and grabbed a spare magnet from the refrigerator door: one shaped like a UFO that Bentley had been all too pleased to find at the bottom of an old Cookie Crisp box. He pinned the essay to the front of the fridge and turned back to Bentley, laying his hands on his shoulders. "I'll read it when I get back from work tonight, I promise."

Bentley already knew Miles would never lie to him, especially about something as trivial as this, but the way his blue eyes shone with sincerity, and his voice edged into slight desperation, drew a smile to his lips nonetheless. "Alright, alright, I believe you," Bentley reassured with a chuckle that satisfied Miles enough to let his shoulders slump as he returned the fond grin. 

"Did you guys forget about hurrying or something?" Royce joked, poking his head back into the kitchen. 

"Hey Royce, get over here," Miles said, quickly beckoning the boy over to join him. He set a hand on each of the boys' shoulders and bent down to eye level, taking a second to hold each of their gazes as his lips melted into another warm grin and his heart swelled with admiration. "I'm so proud of you both, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Bentley chuckled.

"Well duh,"  Royce playfully drawled as Miles pulled them both into a tight hug. "Why the sudden urge to tell us now?" he went on, words becoming muffled by Miles' moth-eaten sweatshirt. 

"I don't know, it's just… I know I don't always get the chance to sit you down and tell you but-"

Another longer, louder blast of a car horn blared through the chilly, morning air. It was unbelievable how much exasperation could be conveyed in one sound. 

"Oh shit, come on, we'd better go," Miles muttered, sighing as he straightened up and lovingly ruffled their hair before propelling them towards the front door. 

Whatever heartfelt sappiness Miles was about to share with the boys was lost to the school run rush as the three of them hurried to pull on their sneakers and attempt to appease their impatient driver. Seemingly, sentimentality had no business trying to worm its way into the Murphy brothers’ messy morning routine - at least not if their ride to school had anything to say about it anyway.

“You know, if I drove a school bus, your asses would be walking to class,” Butchy called out as the boys tore across their front lawn.

“Sorry Butchy, Miles slept through his alarm,” Bentley replied, shooting a cheeky grin back at his older brother.

“I didn’t sleep through my alarm,” Miles retorted with a defensive scoff. “…I forgot to set it.”

“Just get in,” Butchy chuckled with an amused smirk, opening the passenger door behind him.

“Where’s everyone else?” Royce asked.

“The hell if I know,” Butchy muttered. “I swear to God they’re gonna get me fired before I even see a pair of handcuffs.” A glance at his watch and an impatient scan of his surroundings later, he announced: “Okay, I've had it. If they’re not here in the next two minutes I’m leaving without ‘em.”

“You always say that,” Bentley giggled from his seat in the trunk.

“Yeah, well, this time I mean it,” he huffed, setting his face in a scowl that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of a certain brunette running down the street towards them. “And what time do you call this?” he asked with a teasing smirk that he at least somewhat conveyed his frustration.

“Sorry!” Mick cried, skidding to a halt, and struggling to catch her breath as she raced through her explanation. “My dad found some eggs that were gonna go bad in the pantry and he didn’t want to waste them, so he tried making pancakes, but we didn’t have enough milk so the batter was super clumpy, and then he couldn’t find his spatula to flip them, so he was trying to use these stupid salad tongs and then the smoke detector started beeping like crazy and suddenly there was melted plastic all over the stove-“

“Let me guess, he ended up burning them?”

“Yep, every single one,” Mick sighed with a deadpan delivery that always drew a chuckle from her boyfriend’s lips. “And the rangehood. It was a total disaster.”

“Damn,” Butchy laughed. “I’m surprised your mom still lets him in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised we still have a kitchen. So, see? At least I have a valid excuse for my lateness,” Mick said as she grabbed the car door handle and wrenched it open. “It’s not like I just forgot to set my alarm or something.”

Butchy had to bite back another laugh as Miles shot her a look of weary disbelief and Royce and Bentley started giggling from the backseat.

“Don’t tell me you actually forgot to set your alarm,” Mick chuckled once she clocked Miles’ expression.

“…No comment.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Mick jokingly asked as she turned to Butchy, fondly shaking her head at the boy. “He can’t even work a damn clock.”

“You’re one to talk, you can’t tune a car radio.”

“That was one time!”

But Butchy was quick to shut down the bickering when a head of black hair darted by in the corner of his vision. “Hey, hey, hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded as he turned to face his little sister, who was swanning down their driveway without a care in the world. “We’re five minutes late as it is – get in the car!”

“Huh?” she squeaked, stopping in her tracks as she adjusted her dangly, pink, heart-shaped earrings. But a look of recognition soon flashed across her face that allowed her lips to slip back into that same giddy grin she’d been sporting for the last month. “Oh wait, didn’t I tell you? I’m catching a ride with someone else today.”

Butchy’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at her announcement – partly because he couldn’t believe he’d waited for her all this time for nothing, but mostly because he couldn’t believe his baby sister was blowing him off so casually. “Oh yeah? Who?” he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

But even if Lela’s expression wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the yellow Volkswagen camper van, decked out in hand-painted, groovy doodles, and blasting Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves, that pulled into view certainly was. Rolling down the passenger window, Tanner called out over the chatter of his three, rowdy friends in the back: “Morning, Lela! You ready to go?”

With the engine still running, and her usual, fellow passengers still gawping at her in incredulity, Lela giggled and skipped over to the van. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she chirped back as she threw open the passenger door and hopped in, slipping straight into whatever highly animated conversation the four teens had been sharing as they sped off into the distance without a second thought.

Momentarily stunned into silence, Mick, Butchy and the Murphy brothers watched the retreating vehicle – all still processing the bizarre turn of events that had injected a rather unwelcome unpredictability into their structured chaos of a school-run.

It was Mick that finally took the plunge and broke the tension though, nudging Butchy on the arm and offering him a mischievous grin as she tried to dampen the shock with a little humour. “Oh well, guess I call shotgun!”

Despite the rocky start, Mick and the Murphys made it to school with plenty of time to spare, much to Butchy’s relief. The four of them piled out of the black station wagon and bid their driver farewell before he sped out of the parking lot, allowing a dopey fool in round, reflective sunglasses and a ridiculous, orange jacket that made him look like a traffic cone, to roll through the cloud of dust it left in its wake.

“Waddup my dudes and dudette,” Ethan chuckled as he kicked his skateboard out from underneath his feet and caught it in the hand that wasn’t outstretched in a lazy wave. “How are we doing on this fine Monday morning?”

“All the better for seeing you, buddy,” Miles laughed through a yawn as Mick rolled her eyes from beside him.

“Shakespeare, Picasso, what the hell are you doing here?” he continued with an excited grin, high fiving each of Miles’ little brothers in turn. “You guys on a field trip or something?”

“No, we just haven’t walked to class yet,” Bentley chuckled, as amused by the older boy’s antics as ever - especially the bewildered look he sported before remembering just how close the Hawkins Middle campus actually was. 

"You guys totally sure you have everything you need?" Miles checked for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. "School books? Lunch money? Stuff for gym?" 

"Neither of us have gym today," Royce clarified. "And yeah, we're totally sure. You already made us check like ten times yesterday, remember?" 

"Okay, okay, just checking."

"Can we go now? I think I just saw Gus’ mom parking her car," Bentley asked, craning his neck around Royce to look for any evidence of blond hair amongst the crowds of pre-teens. 

"If you're not going to spring any bogus reasons for me to give you more lunch money then sure, be my guest," Miles teasingly chuckled, crossing the arms he'd just held up in surrender. 

"It was for a bake sale!" Royce insisted.

"Was that, by any chance, the same bake sale Vivien told me she was organising with her figure skating friends?" Mick asked with a smirk.

"That's the one," Miles confirmed as Royce's cheeks started to tinge pink.

"Are you kidding me, little man? You paid for that crap? You totally could have sweet talked her into giving you something for free," Ethan impishly grinned, causing the thirteen year old's entire face to flood scarlet. 

"Okay, I'm leaving!" Royce announced, quickly spinning on his heels and marching away.

"It's okay, he's just mad because he knows it's true," Bentley explained to the older teens, prompting them to let out a hearty laugh. 

"Have a good day, Benny," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair before sending him on his way. "Let me know how your science experiment goes, okay?" 

"Okay! Bye guys!" Bentley exclaimed, excitedly waving at Mick, Miles and Ethan before racing across the stretch of grass towards the middle school parking lot and straight past a still disgruntled Royce, who was about to get a farewell of his own. 

"Hey Royce!" The brunet turned to face his older brother, thankfully having managed to extinguish the fire prickling beneath the skin on his face in the few seconds he'd had his back turned. "Nail that English presentation, okay?" Miles called out with a beaming, proud smile that couldn't help but make a shy grin tug at Royce's lips. 

"Okay," the boy nodded, already beginning to turn back around. But a further, mischievous shout caught his attention before he could escape.

"And say 'hi' to Vivien for me!" Miles simply couldn't help himself; Royce's clunky little middle school almost-romance, or rather his fierce denial about it, was just too entertaining to ignore. And the bird Royce flipped him as he scowled and retreated across the field did nothing to deter the chuckles slipping from his lips, in fact it only egged them on more. 

Mick's next comment was quick to shut him up though. 

"So, is it just a coincidence that you and Royce are both hopeless with girls or is it like a genetic thing?" 

Miles' easygoing grin dropped from his face like a fly from a rolled up newspaper, replaced by a frown that felt all too familiar given the setting and chilly, October breeze. 

"Hah! Dude, it's gotta be genetic. You both have that same blotchy cheek thing going on and you both get all prickly and weird every time your chick's around," Ethan said with an amused snort of laughter as he scratched some dirt from the edge of his skateboard deck. 

"I do not," Miles insisted. "What the hell are you even talking about? I don't have a chick; I've been single since like-"

"Oh hey, Carrie."

Miles' heart leapt into his throat and his eyes bugged so far out of his head they almost fell out all together upon hearing Ethan's laidback greeting. But when he scrambled to straighten his posture and turned to follow the stoner's line of sight, only to find an empty stretch of parking lot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Really, man?" he asked, face set in a scowl. 

"You were saying?" Ethan smirked. 

"You're so fucking annoying," Miles grumbled, play-punching him on the forearm despite his best, yet lethargic, efforts to dodge it. 

"Why? Because I'm right?" 

"No, for bringing her up again. I told you I was done thinking about her like that," Miles replied with a huff as he leant back against a wooden, parking marker sticking out of the unkempt lawn. 

"Hold up, you're not actually listening to my advice, are you?" Mick asked with a smug quirk of her eyebrow. 

"Not if that little performance was anything to go by," Ethan scoffed. 

"Well you caught me off guard," Miles tried.

"I don't know why you're both so against it, I say just let it happen," Ethan said with a blatant nonchalance that riled Mick's usually mellow temper up to no end. 

"'Just let it happen', gimme a break," she muttered with another roll of her eyes. 

"Why? What's wrong with that?" Ethan defended. "Best case scenario: he gets the girl. Worst case scenario: he doesn't - which, in case you hadn't noticed, is no different to where he is now. What's he got to lose?!"

"His dignity, his social life, all my respect for him-"

"Okay, okay, I think we get the point," Miles jumped in. 

"You guys are blowing this way out of proportion," Ethan said before giving Miles an affectionate thump on the arm. "It's just feelings, man. Feel what you've gotta feel. Let nature take its course."

"Sounds like the kind of advice that gets baby birds eaten by stray cats," Mick snarkily retorted.

"Oh yeah? You got a better suggestion Little Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass?" Ethan fired back. 

"Woah, woah, woah, let's walk it back a few steps," Miles cut in with the weariness of a father after a nine-to-five shift at the bank. "No one's giving bad advice, and no one's got a stick up their ass. It's just…time to call it quits. I don't have the energy for that crap anymore."

"You're really done?" Mick asked.

Miles simply nodded. 

After holding his gaze for a beat, and realising that he was actually telling the truth, Mick felt her shoulders relax. And all her scepticism melted into a warm, sympathetic smile. "I do think it's for the best," she gently prompted, to which Miles snorted out a self-pitying laugh. "I mean you have a crazy amount of stuff on your plate right now - piling unrequited love on there wasn't really your smartest move."

"'Unrequited'?" Ethan scoffed.

"It means 'one-sided', dumbass," Mick huffed. "I forgot you have the vocabulary of a four-year-old."

"Uh, I know what it means," Ethan retorted. "I just don't think that it applies here."

"Oh come on, man, don't start this again," Miles sighed. 

"I'm just saying, there's something there!"

"Yeah, with the boyfriend she's had for the last year and a half."

"Deny it all you want, pal, but these peepers don't lie. My ability to see the world in its truest form should not be underestimated; it's a gift."

"Yeah, and it was given to you in a plastic baggy by a seedy college drop-out," Mick quipped.

"Well, if that 'something' was a big enough deal to her then she'd have ditched Eric and made her move by now," Miles said with a blunt nonchalance that even took himself by surprise. "I'm telling you, she's happy as she is, and so am I. I've got great friends, two awesome neighbours, and the best little brothers anyone could ask for. What more could I want?"

"...A hot cheerleader to bone?" Ethan suggested, earning a look of disgust from Mick. 

"Not this time, pal," Miles responded with an amused chuckle.

"Not even on the side?" Ethan pressed. But he just got another chuckle from Miles and a smug shake of his head. "Damn… You really are getting over her, aren't you?" he grinned proudly.

"I told you!" Miles exclaimed.

"I'm proud of you, man!" Ethan said, grabbing Miles' hand and pulling him in for a 'bro hug'. "You passed that test like it was nothing," he finished with a loving clap on the back. 

"It was nothing. I told you, I'm over it - she's just another girl to me now."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Good…because she's handing out flyers over there so we're definitely gonna have to walk past her if we want to get to home room," Ethan said, smacking his hands down on Miles' shoulders and giving them an affectionate pat as he gestured towards the high school's entrance. 

Miles groaned as he yet again turned, only this time it was because he found that the lanky brunet was right. Apparently his newfound certainty over his feelings would have to be put to the test a lot earlier than he'd been planning. He at least thought he'd have until their shift started tonight anyway. But no, there she was, with her unruly golden curls and gravitational pull that made the Earth spin at half its usual speed every time he set eyes on her. How she wasn't freezing in her cheerleading uniform, he would never know - but he had a sneaking suspicion that Eric's letterman jacket hanging around her shoulders was playing a rather important role. Beaming and waving at every peer that crossed her path, she was the picture of high school popularity - greeting and laughing with them all as though they had been friends for years. Suddenly their interactions at All Skate didn't feel so special anymore. 

His chest ached as he watched her, strutting along with a spring in her step to match the bouncy beat of Walking on Sunshine, which was still blaring from her twin brother's camper van, parked a few feet away. A carefree smile stretched across her face that only broadened as a girl with a big, white bow holding her blonde ponytail in place, and an identical cheerleading uniform, ran up behind her and threw her arms around her neck. Her eyes sparkled with a delight that even Eric's presence couldn't ignite as she turned to face Juliet with a look of adoration that could have been plucked straight out of a John Hughes movie. Even though Miles knew that the girls had been best friends for well over a decade, he couldn't help the stab of envy that struck through him upon comparing their greeting to the one he typically received: the same cookie-cutter smile and wave she seemed to dole out to everyone else - and he only got that when she remembered he was there. He could see his resolve crumbling before his very eyes as Carrie and Juliet entwined fingers and babbled away to one another with giddy grins, so enamoured by one another's presence that Miles almost felt as though he was intruding by just standing there watching them. His eyebrows furrowed, and bile licked at the base of his throat as the truth of his reality finally dawned on him: not only was he back to square one - he was back at square one, and willing to hand over the keys to his house to swap lives with Juliet Harmon, of all people. Anything was worth Carrie looking at him the way she looked at that damn, blonde trust fund baby. 

"You still feeling confident, big guy?" Ethan teased. 

"...Yep."

Ethan and Mick took one look at Miles - stone-faced and misty-eyed - and knew that he was a lost cause. Mick was more disappointed than anything, but took a sympathetic approach to her consoling by laying a hand on his slumped shoulder. Ethan, on the other hand, took to imitating a trombone with a "Wah, wah, wah," that had Mick shooting daggers at him across Miles' blank stare. "Well that was fun while it lasted," he went on to joke.

"Ethan, you're not helping," Mick hissed. 

Ignoring her comments, Ethan rambled on, steering Miles away from the cheerleaders and brushing Mick's hand from his shoulder in one swift shove. "Hey, I've gotta give you credit though, man; you kept that up for way longer than I expected - it was like a solid fifteen hours this time."

"Yeah, well, I was asleep for half of it," Miles mumbled.

"But did you dream about her?" 

"No -"

"Then I'm calling it a win, my friend!" Ethan exclaimed, grabbing Miles' wrist and teeing himself up for a high-five that, surprisingly, managed to draw a smile from Miles' lips. 

"Hmm, now you've just got to figure out how to turn fifteen hours into a lifetime," Mick dryly snorted from beside the pair.

"Don't listen to her, buddy. Negative Nancy doesn't know what she's talking about," Ethan said, waving a dismissive hand in Mick's face and locking Miles' gaze onto his with a protective hand on his upper arm. "You're making good progress! And we're gonna keep making good progress because I, personally, am gonna navigate us… so that we can get you to help…you through this…together."

"...I get what you're trying to say, and I appreciate the sentiment, but that made almost no sense whatsoever," Miles chuckled. 

"How the hell are you passing English?" Mick muttered. 

"I am hanging by a thread, Mickey Mouse."  

"You're seriously gonna accept help from someone who can't even string a sentence together?" Mick demanded, jabbing an accusatory thumb in Ethan's direction as she stared Miles down. 

But a head of dirty blonde sticking out amongst a crowd of middle schoolers in the distance, and a curly mop of brown hair trailing behind, watching a brunette with a messy ponytail and a pair of round glasses like she was a prime time TV special, caught his attention before he could respond. An immediate, and unexpected wave of pride washed over him, filling him with a confidence he couldn't quite explain, and suddenly crushes on co-workers and bickering best friends felt like trivial, distant memories - tiny obstacles in the grand scheme of his whole life that were no more consequential than a paper cut or a stubbed toe. Sure, they could hurt, and they could be a major inconvenience, but nothing could hold a candle to how important those two boys were to him. And things were really looking up for them right now - they were both doing well in school, they both had solid friends, and most of all: they were happy. And if those two were happy, then that was all he needed to be happy too - blonde cheerleaders be damned. 

"You know what?" Miles chuckled as a smile slipped into place of his weary frown. 

"What?" Mick sceptically asked. 

"No; I don't need any help," he simply replied as he puffed out his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Carrie. Whereas once this act alone would have sent his senses into overdrive, all he felt this time was the crackling flame that her presence always ignited in his chest fizzling out into a pile of glowing embers. "I've got it under control."

"...Seriously?" For Mick, it felt too good to be true.

"Yeah, I've got a good feeling about this week," Miles said, scanning his surroundings with an optimistic grin. The October breeze nibbled away at his rosy cheeks, and ruffled his hair, but nothing could shake his determination this time. "Things feel like they're actually looking up for us for once," he went on to explain. "And I'm not gonna let myself ruin it by getting worked up over some stupid crush that's never going to go anywhere." 

Mick and Ethan shared a momentary look of astonishment before relieved smiles broke across their faces. 

"That's more like it, buddy!" 

"Wow, look at you, Mr Positive. I'm impressed," Mick chuckled. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

With another glance across to Hawkins Middle School, where Bentley, Royce and Vivien were disappearing inside, Miles settled on his fond response: "I guess I just remembered what's actually important."

"Good," Mick said with a fond smile of her own that soon turned sour thanks to her next statement: "Because it's definitely not that narcissistic asshole."

"Damn, who shit in your cornflakes?" Ethan snorted.

"I had pancakes," Mick deadpanned, just as game for Ethan's dopey shenanigans as ever. 

"Look, do you actually still not like her? Or are you just saying that for kicks?" Ethan asked. "I mean, I got it at first because it was super weird that she was even talking to us, but we've been working with her for months now and she has definitely proved herself to be more than an asshole." But when Mick showed no signs of acknowledging that he was right, he pressed on. "Haven't you at least grown to like her a little bit?"

"No, because unlike some people, I'm not swayed by hollow compliments and scraps of petty gossip," Mick replied with a pointed look at her two sheepish co-workers.

"Hey, no, come on, you've gotta admit that her telling us about Hayley Baskin tying her boyfriend to his bed frame was fucking insane - it was like an episode of Dynasty," Ethan tried to defend, but there was no changing Mick's mind - not even when Miles gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

"Yeah, because humiliating her classmates is the way to get me to see her as a nice person," Mick sarcastically fired back with another roll of her eyes. "She may have fooled you two with her stupid 'girl next door' act, but I'm not buying it," she continued, barely even sparing the two cheerleaders a glance over her shoulder as her lips settled into a bitter frown. "Look at them: smiling and laughing like they don't spend half their time ruining everyone's lives - like butter wouldn't fucking melt."

"Uh, it wouldn't anyway, it's freezing out here," Ethan said, earning himself a death glare from Mick as Miles stifled a laugh. "It's gotta be like, what? 40 degrees out today?" 

"It is when you get caught in Mick's eyeline," Miles quipped with an exaggerated shiver. 

"You're such idiots," Mick huffed, once again sending her eyes to the heavens as she turned and started heading to class. "I don't know why I waste my breath on you."

But Miles was quick to grab her hand, dropping the act and turning on the sincerity. "Hey, come on, we're just joking around. Don't let him get to you - or her for that matter; you said it yourself: she's not worth it." 

"...And I am always right," Mick begrudgingly quipped back, softening as Miles chuckled and pulled her in for a side hug, affectionately rubbing her arm. "You're both still idiots though."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know you love me really," Ethan grinned.

"Hmm, something like that," she hummed with a chuckle of her own as she turned to Miles and patted the arm that he had just wrapped around her. "Alright, I've gotta head off to class; I've got an algebra test first period and I'm not risking losing any more brain cells by standing around out here and talking to you bozos. I'll see you at lunch - keep that good attitude going," she instructed Miles with an encouraging smile, before turning to Ethan and flicking his forehead, "And keep him on the right track - don't be a fucking moron." 

"Aye, aye, captain," Ethan replied with a lazy salute once he recovered from the thump.

"Don't lose focus," she continued, calling out to Miles over her shoulder as she headed towards the school's entrance. "You've got thi-"

But her sentence was cut off when she collided with a lacy push-up bra and found herself enveloped in a cloud of heady perfume. 

"Woah, watch-" As the two girls whipped to face each other, Carrie's wide-eyed, furious glare softened into an amused smoulder the second she realised who had almost mowed her down. "Oh, hey, Makana," she said, exaggerating the name as though she was playing a game with a child - one she found rather amusing if her smirk was anything to go by.

"Carrie," Mick huffed back, not prepared to greet her with anything more than her name as she averted her eyes and tried to hurry past her. 

But Carrie was too quick, and side-stepped in front of the girl before she could escape - blocking her path with glittering eyes and a toss of her hair. "You're coming to the pep rally this Wednesday, right?" 

It was more of a statement than a question. 

A brightly coloured flyer for the event was confidently waved under Mick's nose, as if could convince her to ditch her plans from just the choice of font alone. "No; I've got work. And so do you, remember?" she deadpanned back, not even bothering to pluck the piece of paper from the blonde's manicured fingertips. 

"Oh please, it's a Wednesday - we never get anyone in on a Wednesday. Big Ralph isn't gonna miss us for like an hour. And even if he did, if everyone comes to the pep rally, then we won't be losing out on any revenue, will we? It's a no-brainer."

But Carrie's blasé attitude did nothing to sway Mick, and it showed in her face.

Undeterred, the blonde ploughed on with her sales pitch - although it did take a rather catty turn. "Oh come on, Mick. When else are you going to get the chance to show off your school spirit? You could practically be the face of the pep rally with that smile of yours - you know, when you actually show it." 

Mick's scowl flared in retaliation before warping into a strained, sickly sweet version of that aforementioned smile. "Well, I hate to disappoint but you and your pep rally will have to manage without me, because, unlike you, I actually care about keeping my job. Not that I have much 'pep' to offer anyway," Mick said, trailing off with a dejected grumble as she once again tried to push past the senior.

Once again, Carrie blocked her path. "Hey, I care about keeping my job," she said, but the laughter that kept edging into her voice told Mick otherwise. 

"Could have fooled me," Mick muttered, praying that she hadn't cared enough to hear. 

As usual with Carrie, Mick was proved wrong.  

"Oh yeah? …Care to elaborate?" Folding her arms and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, the golden-haired diva stood back to watch the show with a challenging smirk. 

"I'm just going by your clock-in times from last week, that's all," Mick replied with a smirk of her own, emboldened when she caught Carrie's eye twitching - likely in shock that she'd actually dared to stand up to her.

"Stickler for the rules, huh?" she scoffed before her lip gloss laden smirk twisted into a wicked grin. "I bet Biagio likes that."

Now it was Mick's turn to see red. She should have known better than to stoop to such sugar-coated spiteful bickering, but with Carrie it was all too tempting. If only the senior wasn't so well-trained, Mick might have had a chance at coming out on top - but if there was anything she'd come to learn over the years, after seeing countless other students fall victim to her razor-sharp wit, no one was a match for Caroline Cole when it came to bitchy back-talk.  

Mick bit her tongue so hard she nearly severed it as she set her jaw and tried to keep her cool. "Is there a point to this conversation, Carrie? Or can I just go?" she finally asked with a heavy sigh. 

"Well are you going to come to the rally?" 

"No."

"Then no, we're not done yet." 

Letting out an exasperated huff, Mick crossed her arms and glared straight into the pair of unbothered, blue eyes in front of her. "Look, nothing you're going to tell me is going to get me to go to your stupid pep rally. I'm not missing work, and I'm certainly not covering you whilst you do either. I'm done working my ass off to make up for your laziness. So either get out of my way, or give me a flyer and do the right thing for once in your goddamn life."

"...What? Like ditch the rally?"

Mick could have screamed. Carrie's ditzy flippance was infuriating at the best of times, but right now it was just unbearable.  

"I can't do that, I'm already missing the party afterwards - actually, I might have to dip from my shift a little early so that I can at least go for like an hour because, you know, I don't want people thinking I'm a total lame ass-"

"Carrie!" Mick snapped, cutting the blonde's self-centred rambling off before she reached her boiling point. 

Startled by the girl's outburst, Carrie pushed her trivial social quandaries to the back of her mind and actually took stock of the sight before her: wide, resentful brown eyes and a pair of shoulders so tense she'd have offered to massage them herself had she not suspected she was the cause of their strain. A fleeting moment of sympathy resonated through her chest as she abandoned her own problems in favour of solving Mick's, although her soft smile and flippant laughter might not have been the most sincere way of attempting to smooth things over. "Alright, alright, I'll stay the whole shift, don't get your panties in a twist," she chuckled as that wicked smirk of hers started to reappear. "Or, you know, do; I don't know what Officer Buzzkill likes." 

Even her attempts at being nice were laced with malice. Mick couldn't even bring herself to crack a smile as the girl's carefree giggles filled the air around her. 

It took a few seconds, but Carrie did eventually notice that Mick wasn't laughing along with her, and promptly deflated like a beachball on the first day of autumn. "Oh come on, Makana, you know I'm just joking around."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not in much of a joking mood," Mick retaliated with another heavy sigh. 

Softening yet again, Carrie chipped off another layer of her 'stone-cold bitch' casing and let what was left of the warm, earnestness bubbling away beneath spread to Mick as she set the pep rally flyer back with the others in the pile and placed her free hand on Mick's upper arm. "Hey, look, if this whole work schedule thing is really getting to you then I'll start taking it more seriously, okay? No more late clock-ins, no more 'off-the-record' breaks and no more ditching at the last minute to go to the movies - I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise."

"I didn't think you had a 'best behaviour'," Mick retorted before she could stop herself - but surprisingly, Carrie was the first out of the pair to laugh at the comment, which did far more than any of her other efforts to settle Mick's nerves. 

"I'll figure something out," she joked back. 

"Seriously?" Mick asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high. After all her joking around, and her general lack of trust for the girl, it was hard to know if this time was actually genuine - although her affectionate smile did a lot to help her cause. 

"Totally, I'll do whatever you want if it stops you looking like you want to murder me," Carrie chuckled. "Within reason of course," she added with a wink that took Mick so much by surprise that any words that could have formed any sort of response totally fell out of her head. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Mick felt a real smile begin tugging at the corners of her lips as she stared back at Carrie. Maybe Miles and Ethan were on to something after all. There was something intoxicating about that grin of hers - the way it made her eyes sparkle like her work outfits when they caught the light from the disco ball. And when she had you locked in her tractor beam, it was hard not to succumb to the warm, tingly sensation her genuine kindness sent flooding through your core - perhaps because it could be such a rarity. 

Before Mick could linger on the shift in dynamic though, and the curiously flirtatious undertones she felt sure that wink had carried (if her experience with Butchy's winks was anything to go by), a bright blonde ponytail popped up over Carrie's shoulder that immediately snatched her attention away. 

"Guess whose boyfriend just dumped her after she dyed her hair green?" Juliet said with a hushed exclamation that just about worked its way through Carrie's mane of unruly curls. 

Unlike Juliet though, Carrie made no attempt to hide her delight at the comment as her eyes lit up like the 4th of July and a downright villainous laugh burst from her mouth. "Holy shit, she actually did it?!" 

"Yep!" Juliet gleefully giggled as she once again looped her arms around Carrie from behind and pulled her in for a hug. 

"Damn, that is such a shame - I could have sworn Brad said that he liked when girls went unnatural with their hair," Carrie started with what appeared to be a genuine look of concern. "Oh no, wait. Or was it that he didn't like it?" 

Any of the hope for Carrie turning over a new leaf Mick had been harbouring wilted as Juliet began to giggle and another wicked grin tugged at the curly-haired perpetrator's lips. 

"...Oops," Carrie said, flashing Juliet a momentary look of mock-regret before bursting into cacophonous, callous laughter and collapsing back into her embrace. 

Mick felt sick to her stomach watching the two girls cackle at the expense of their classmate - both too self-absorbed to care about the consequences of their 'jokes' for those on the receiving end. Carrie could douse herself in all the glitter and perfume in the world, but that would never change the ugliness of the person underneath. She did a fantastic job at turning on her charm to convince people otherwise - after all, it had certainly convinced Miles and Ethan - but Mick saw through the charade; she saw her for who she truly was. And fleeting moments of superficial kindness were not enough to get her to forget about the years of cruelty she'd subjected her peers to. 

As expected though, Carrie spared no thoughts on the rest of the world around her as she steadied her white sneakers on the tarmac and rested her head back on Juliet's shoulder once their laughter subsided. "Oh, I love being me," she finished with a blissful sigh. 

"Come on, she's over by the bike shed," Juliet said, entwining her fingers with Carrie's. "She's bound to have turned on the waterworks by now."

And with that, the giggling girls scurried off in search of further amusement without even sparing Mick a glance, let alone a farewell. 

"Bye?" Mick called after the pair (moreso Carrie though, since she was the one she'd been speaking to), but they still didn't turn around - too wrapped up in their own conversation to think about the one they'd left behind. 

Letting out a huff of frustration - both at being left in the dust, and at her hopes of Carrie changing for the better being dashed - Mick pulled her Walkman out of her backpack and started plugging her headset into the right port. A pair of hands slamming down on her shoulders startled her so much they were sent to the ground with a clatter though. 

"Oh shit, sorry," Miles chuckled. 

"This whole 'I'm over her' thing had better be real, Miles, because I swear to God she's getting worse," Mick grumbled as she bent down and retrieved the beat-up cassette player. She spent a few agitated seconds brushing it off before turning to him with a warning, fiercely protective look in her deep brown eyes. "Stay away from her."

"Hey, you're the one who nearly tackled her to the ground," Miles grinned, holding his hands up in surrender as Mick conceded in her own way with a begrudging smile. "I'll be glad when this algebra test of yours is over; I don't like you being this tense," he added, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"I'm more worried about you than this test," Mick replied with a snort of incredulity. 

"Well don't be; I can handle myself - especially against a cheerleader who's more hair than human," Miles laughed. "And besides, Kona's been practising her karate moves on me - I'm basically ready to take on anything at this point."

"Yeah, well, for my sake, don't put that to the test," Mick replied with a fond grumpiness that soon lost out to the smile Miles' laughter drew from her lips.

"Speaking of tests, try not to fail yours," Miles chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she set about plugging her headphones into her Walkman again. 

"I'll do my best," Mick replied, bidding Miles a nod of farewell as he continued on his way into school after a dazed Ethan who hadn't even realised he’d left his side yet. 

Smiling as she watched Miles leave, Mick pressed play on her cassete-player. But before she could lift her headphones up onto her ears, she spotted a flash of white and blonde in the corner of her vision. Sure enough, there were Carrie and Juliet: animatedly chattering to a group of school basketball players and, from the looks of their coy, fluttering eyelashes and flirty tosses of their hair, doing their best to convince the jocks to show up to a pep rally they already knew damn well were going to attend. Still, if they wanted to drive their relationships into the dirt, then Mick certainly wasn't going to stop them. Girls like that would never know a love like she and Butchy had anyway. 

So, as her smile became tinged with a rare smugness, beyond the initial disgust, she took a deep breath and let her head be filled with sweet music, rather than poisonous thoughts about a certain bitchy blonde. And as she trudged her way through Hawkins High's dingy halls, she couldn't help but feel as though Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' was an apt choice of song to accompany the morning's events. Fate worked in funny ways like that.

[the-reality-revolution]

Dr. Joseph Murphy - Using The Subconscious Mind In Business

Long before our Bible was published, ancient wisdom said, “As a man imagines and feels, so does he become.” This ancient teaching is lost in the night of time; it is lost in antiquity. The Bible states: “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” If you are thinking, Well, I do not know of any way to get the money to pay off the mortgage, don’t worry about it.

To worry means to strangle. Realize that there is a Power inherent within you that can provide you with everything you need when you call upon It. You can decree now with feeling and conviction: “My house is free from all debt, and wealth flows to me in avalanches of abundance.” Do not question the manner in which the answer to your prayers will come.

You will do the obvious things necessary, knowing that the subconscious intelligence is directing all your steps, for it knows everything necessary for the fulfillment of your dreams. You can also imagine a letter from them mortgage company informing you that you are paid up; rejoice in the image, and live with that imaginary letter in your mind until it becomes a conviction. Become convinced now that there is a power within you that is capable of bringing what you imagine and feel as true into manifestation. Sitting idly by, daydreaming, and imagining the things you would like to possess, will not attract them to you. You must know and believe that you are operating a law of mind; become convinced of your God-given power to use your mind constructively to bring into manifestation the thing you desire.

Know what you want. The subconscious mind will carry out the idea, because you have a definite, clear-cut concept of what you wish to possess. Imagine clearly the fulfillment of your desire; then you are giving the subconscious something definite to act upon. The subconscious mind is the film upon which the picture is impressed. The subconscious develops the picture; and sends it back to you in a material, objectified form.

[edaworks]

People regularly ask me what it’s like being a lawyer.

I continually tell them: it’s not glamorous. No, really. It can be very fulfilling, but it’s definitely not a bunch of Perry Mason moments and it can be downright grueling. Today, my workday was ongoing from 6:30am to 10:20pm and tbqh I feel like I’ve been standing in front of a pitching machine repeatedly taking fastballs to the groin. An illustrative and very de-identified comedy of errors follows:

1) Left home at 6:30am for a ‘one hour’ emergency hearing, for a case I received on Friday because another attorney departed my office, for a type of hearing which should never have been set for one hour because it is very complex, cannot be moved, and is highly contested, and which requires the judge to apply BRAND new case law. Why was it set for one hour? Good question. It was scheduled by the departing attorney last Friday for today, TUESDAY. Said person knew I would be taking it over, knew it couldn’t be postponed, and knew he hadn’t asked me or looked at my calendar re: was I ok with this happening with two days’ notice. Okay. Fine. I’ve got this. I stop at the office to pick up my file and print two more things. I’m prepared, I have my exhibits with me, this is part of the job, let’s do this. Right?

2) Wrong. I reach the courthouse. It is pouring rain. I drop my file. All the exhibits are now wet. Fantastic. I’ve still got this, right? I’ve dealt with hearings during tornados and medical emergencies and with clients literally fleeing and being tackled to the floor and clients flipping tables and clients hysterically screaming while throwing things at the judge’s bench while we all dive for cover, so I can deal with some water. I tell opposing counsel and the courtroom clerk in advance, apologize that the court can’t scan the documents in until they dry. They say “hey it happens.” Cool.

3) The ‘one hour’ hearing does not even start until - at the court’s direction - two rounds of negotiation and a chambers conference have set us back by…an hour and a half. Okay. It happens. Usually, though, a highly contested hearing that requires testimony and evidence on three separate multi-factor tests/analyses and application of brand new caselaw is set in for more than one hour, so there’s time for all of that to occur if needed. Not so here, due to Murphy’s Law. So - now what? Oh, we’re still going to just…have the hearing anyway? The hearing which will definitely exceed an hour and probably exceed five hours? Okay. Cue all involved attorneys desperately trying to get coverage for their afternoon cases and reschedule everything else they’ve got going on. But this happens. It’s part of the job. So - I’ve still got this, right?

4) WRONG. Halfway through the now day-long hearing, I get an email: my boss is displeased about something and needs more info about the item ASAP. Got it. Addressed it ASAP on a recess from court. Fine, hopefully?

5) BUT WAIT! Just the opposing party’s case takes until about 3pm. Then it’s my turn! Neat. There’s an hour and a half left in the court day. The judge wants the case to be done. It’s not going to be done. I have three witnesses including my client. My client needs to go first and they are nervous as all heck. Not for lack of preparation - many people just are really nervous in court! That’s normal. But it means this client’s testimony can’t move at the warp-9.9 speed that I know the judge would prefer: they’re barely keeping a lid on their anxiety as it is. Predictably, we don’t even make it to their cross-examination. The one hour hearing, surprising NO ONE, went all day and isn’t done yet. It has gone on so long that the assignment clerks (who calendar hearings) have left for the day! So we don’t even know when we’re coming back. But I’ve still got this, right?

6) It’s now after five. I call about eight people who have had to wait to hear from me or who needed to have discussions or meetings rescheduled because court has run all day. I apologize to all of them and conduct all those meetings before and during my trip back to the office (an hour away). Okay. I have one more late evening meeting. I’ve got this, right? Right?

7) Before this meeting, I update my boss on the status of the thing leading to his earlier displeasure. Included in there that something boss indicated should be done could maybe not happen that way, and proposed an alternative solution.

8) The meeting begins. Imagine my surprise when it is a one and a half hour recorded session which was not calendared as such? When none of the participants had previously asked me whether it could proceed as such? I’ve been in trial mode - a state of constant hyper-awareness - since eight thirty am. Any recorded session also requires trial mode - I have to treat it like a deposition. It’s now almost nine PM. Insanity. But I can pivot. I can do this. I’ve still got this, right?

9) I don’t got this. In my inbox, halfway through the session: boss flatly rejects my alternative re: how to fix “we can’t address the source of displeasure the way boss has instructed without a few other things being authorized.” Okay. I make a second alternative proposal on a short break from this session. Boss is usually chill. Boss is not at all chill at present. Anxiety levels: high. Results pending.

10) I’m finally closing out that recorded session. Good. But what’s this in my inbox? Boss: displeased about something different? At 8:45 pm? NEVER GOOD. Long email to this effect? LESS GOOD STILL. However: upon closer examination, the something boss is displeased about involves…incorrect math, and not my incorrect math. Well, shit on a cracker. The last thing I want to do is gracefully point this out, but I have to. It’s not something I can let lie. It’s really important. So, uh, I…do. Anxiety levels: critical!!!! as boss was already annoyed and I’ve just had to cross boss for a second time. Not ideal. Not at all. It is now, absurdly, almost ten pm.

11) Then, driving home. Pouring rain still. Behind a cop almost the whole way. I get home. I think, this is the kind of day situational anxiety meds are made for. And then I realize they are…at the office. Where I left them this morning. So that I didn’t accidentally take them into the courthouse.

Great.

No. Being a lawyer isn’t glamorous. And today is an excellent example of why.

(It’s not all bad. My client/their family for the ‘one hour’ hearing: currently happy. Self-eval of my objection game today: pretty good.

Everything else: nerve-wracking)

[hyperfixatinglove]

🤍🧡💛 for Ushio, Murphy, and Kyle for the f/o asks?

🤍 when did you first realize you were in love with s/i?

"There's no single, monumental moment, my feelings build up slowly, until they were too big to ignore. The duel we had, where she had some of my cards was the turning point for me to realize consciously that my feelings weren't strictly friendship anymore, and bring up front the idea that she feels the same."

❤️ is there anything you would like to do with s/i in the near future?

"I don't think about future much, anymore. I used to, before she came into my life. Now, I'm happy if our domestic days keep going."

💛 if s/i were a colour, an animal and a place, what would they be?

"Color: Pink. No question. It's her favorite. I think it suits her personality well.

Animal: Deer. I call her that as pet name, as she has bear ones for me. I think she's as graceful as deer. She doesn't agree

Place: Specific, but warm bed with soft blankets in the most comfiest house you can think of. She makes me feel safe, loved and warm."

🤍 when did you first realize you were in love with s/i?

"When I went back to Ryall to fulfill my remaining sentence. Sewell got arrested for blackmailing me into killing Coleridge and Cunningham's defense meant a lot to me. It wasn't long, I was almost out before my.. journey. She send me letters every day and each one of them gave me little bit more hope there's something out there in the wide society for me. Reading those letters, hearing her thoughts, which were so kind and understanding for someone like me, how tender she was in her wording.. It was so different from the last letter Carol had sent, it made me realize how love can be tad different for everyone, especially if you love someone more than once in your lifetime.

I felt.. I thought there was something she left out in each of her letters. Turns out she never wrote she loved me."

❤️ is there anything you would like to do with s/i in the near future?

"Maybe bring her sailing on small boat. It was fun, for a short while it lasted, to be in charge of DJ Ricks boat. She doesn't like it much, as it's more windy near sea and she can't swim well, but I think it'd be romantic for us. Gotta time it right. It has to be really hot for her to agree."

💛 if s/i were a colour, an animal and a place, what would they be?

"Color: Ivory white. I associate it with angels and I tend to think she's my angel. I call her as such and she blushes very red. It's because she came into my life when I needed her the most, like an guardian angel. Just as kind.

Animal: Puppy. I know, it's not animal, but she reminds me of one.

Place: Cottage in winter getaway with fireplace."

🤍 when did you first realize you were in love with s/i?

"Probably after I saved Rahim's life. There was too much going on, but Diana tried to help and then joked how useless she is. She's not. No one is. I told her that and Jade and Rahim stared at me like I had grown extra head. They hadn't seen me like that."

❤️ is there anything you would like to do with s/i in the near future?

"Finally get to safe place and calm down without constant threat of death and new viruses. I doubt we will get rest until GRE is bankrupt."

💛 if s/i were a colour, an animal and a place, what would they be?

Color: Purple, like sunset.

Animal: Badger. They're cute but also surprisingly resilient, like Diana.

Place: Sunny beach.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Hypnotic[EN Ver]

by LastQuarterMoon Patrick Bateman killed a man. Again. The smell of death spread around his feet. The familiar feeling of fulfillment crawled throughout him again along every nerve in his body. Nothing could be more satisfying...but something was missing. He looked around the room and picked up his phone. He wanted to see his dear psychiatrist. "Dr.Crane? Where are you? I need you now." There was brief silence on the other end of the line. "...Mr.Bateman?" "Yes." Words: 4509, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman (Movies - Nolan), American Psycho (2000) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Patrick Bateman, Bruce Wayne, Jonathan Crane Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Bruce Wayne, Patrick Bateman/Jonathan Crane Additional Tags: Mentioned Luis Carruthers - Freeform, Character Death, Murder, Doctor/Patient, Murder Husbands, Couch Sex, Riding, Anal Plug, Wedding Rings, Dirty Talk, Identity Porn, Porn With Plot, Bottom Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne is Patrick Bateman, Dark Bruce Wayne, Scarecrow (DCU) Played by Cillian Murphy, Batman Played by Christian Bale, Translation via https://ift.tt/2uPQmzh

[ramrodd]

Maggie Haberman on Trump 2024: Rhetoric is 'much more apocalyptic'

COMMENTARY:

It is a sign from God that all things Trump and January6 are evil  by the destruction of the Key Bridge within the week that Trump began saluting the January 6 traitors singing the National Anthem at his campaign  rallies. and selling God Bless the USA Bibles. Take Heed  Visualize Whirled Peas There is a triangulation between Steve Bannon, Pat Buchanan and George Lincoln Rockwell you need to include in  the scpanse of your net, And then there is a useful triangulation to make with  Steve Bannon, George Lincoln Rockwell and the US Navy, And then therre is the interesting triangulation of Steve Bannon, Bob Woodward and Deep Throat. Bannon and Woodward are drawing from a common source of intelligence coming out of the US Navy,  Deep Throat was another triangulation of Mark Feld, a White House staffer at the level of Pat Buchanan and the Navy Mess, which was operating as a listening post for a rouge Naval intelligence cabal with an unhealthy compliance with certain ideological ambitions of the Weather Underground,, PBS is coming up with a bioptic about William >F. Buckley who was the master mind of the John Birch Society’s strategy for overthrowing the US Government in the manner of  the War of Rebellion and January 6,  Buckley launched a withe supremacist insurgency to defeat and destroy neo-liberalism, By neo-liberalism , I men, specifically, the New Deal and Eisenhower’s 1956 Presidential Platoform and elect a clone of Senator Joe McCarthy President and make him Dictator. Trump the fulfillment of that cloning, Trump is like Howdy Dooty with  Steve Bannon pulling the strings, The Nazification Putin is talking about was imported from the Nazification of Wall Street by Donald T. Regan from the Oval Office. I though Deep Throat went away with Nixon and the transformation of Yippies into Yuppies and been cycled out of the Navy, Well, Deep Throat reappeared in 1998 with Woodward’s book about Clinton during impeachment,  and was active all the way through successive administratins until COVID 19 closed down the Navy Mess, This may have pushed Humpty off the wall, because Woodward hasn’t been able to put him back together again and had to team up with Bob Costa to actually do  journalism, Understanding Trump through Hitler is appealing, but a mistake, Undersanding Trump through Bannon and Henry Cabot Lodge and John Bolton, as an element of William F. Buckley’s Nazification insurgency, Now, the issue I began with  the sign from God, I am absolutely serious about, The psychological agitation arising from the deliberate social and political polarization generated by Newt Gingrich’s GOPAC political strategy is driving the extreme weather around the Bible Belt, The Spirit of God from Genesis 1:2 still hovers over the water and it is a planetary force right out of Forbidden Plangent and the Tempest. One of Jesus’s ambitions for Jerusalem was for people to employ the Holy Spirit aas a house hold appliance to exploit the benefits of a tame Spirit of God in the house. Literally, The power to which Jesus refers in Mark 5:25 - 34 is the Spirit of God, Without the Holy Spirit, the Spirt of God can become like the brooms in The sorcery’s   Apprentice,.. When the Spirit of God is evoked without the agency of the Holy Spirit to keep  it on the bit, a spiritual vacuum can develop that allows Murphy’s Law total expression, Elohim the verb can intervene in history without violating Free Will by nudging the insignificant into a deliberate communication for those who have eyes to see and ears to ehar, The spiritual toxins associated with William F. Buckley’s Nazification is doing to the  weather ecology in the Bible Belt what saluting the January 6 prisioners singing the Star Panged Banner did to the Key Bridge, And what the Key Bridge as a sign from God illustrates wi what was going on in Judea in the spiritual realm as recorded in Revelation, William F. Buckley, Steve Bannon, Nazification, It’s that simple.

[thatmcgwords]

You’re imagining an experience that involves being happy, healthy and supported. Money is not what makes you happy or fulfilled, but money allows you to live a full, happy life. 

It’s your right to be rich. You deserve to live a happy, healthy and abundant life, and that means you deserve to have the means you support that life. So if you’re interested in changing your attitude toward money, and attracting wealth in the process, look no further than this Blink

. We are conditioned to think that money is evil. Movies and TV shows love to portray money as a corrupting force. But money isn’t some mystical thing driving people towards bad behavior. It’s a system for swapping goods and services. 

There is nothing inherently evil about money, and wanting more is not an evil thought. In fact, thinking about money as evil can be very dangerous.

Let’s change our perception a little by thinking about money as a symbol of exchange. 

it’s one of the most natural desires for a human. Security, health, happiness, an education, a future for your children – none of these things are evil. So why would it be evil to want the tool that allows you to achieve them?

Often, people have a subconscious aversion to pursuing their financial goals because they think that poverty is virtuous and wealth is evil. 

Your actions are often impacted by the subconscious movements of your mind, inner feelings and convictions. By influencing the subconscious, you’re setting the North on a compass that you’re compelled to follow in the deepest sense. Naturally, you’re guided toward success.

Once you’re relaxed, repeat affirmations of wealth to yourself. For the author, this is synonymous with prayer. He explains that God created an abundance in the world, and wealth is always flowing freely. That means that prayers of financial affirmation will help us to overcome subconscious blocks that keep us from wealth. 

If you’re starting out with affirmations, just trying to tell yourself “I am wealthy” or “I am successful” doesn’t work. Saying things that you believe to be false can actually strengthen your belief in the opposite. If you only have ten cents in your pocket, you might feel embarrassed or ashamed in calling yourself wealthy. 

You’ll want to start with affirmations that your conscious and subconscious can agree on. “My wealth is growing.” “Every day I am more successful.” It’s easier for you to agree that things are on an upward slope than to imagine they are already at the top. 

As your relationship with money and success become more positive, more ambitious affirmations will become easier. If you treat the end as inevitable, the steps toward it are always possible.

By now we’ve learned that in order to attract money, you need to foster positive ideas around your own wealth and financial situation. But this also means being conscious of how you think about other people’s wealth. 

Feelings of jealousy, envy and bitterness all damage your relationship with your finances. If you allow these feelings to grow unchecked, you are feeding the parts of your subconscious that believe you are lacking, and that keep you from harnessing your own potential. 

Consider the example of a woman who, during a war, knew that coffee would be rationed. She went from shop to shop, buying out as much coffee as she could store in her house. Later, when she was out, someone broke in and stole the entire stock, as well as her jewelry and silver. 

The lady would claim that she had never stolen herself. However, she was in a mindset of lacking, and hoarding coffee was at the expense of everyone else. By allowing her negative thoughts to guide her, she negatively impacted others, and created exactly the thing that she was afraid of. Fear of lacking created lacking

Your beliefs shape your reality, so be aware of how you see your own wealth and that of others, and use positive affirmations to address your subconscious doubts about your own capacity for wealth. You are the captain of your ship. Point it in the direction you want to go, and the rest will follow. 

You are entirely capable of living a life that is abundant, and to have the money to support that life. The only thing that’s holding you back is you.