#and murphy's dramatic return

[phoenixtakaramono]

I swear to god you were on demon mode when you wrote the multiverse conclusion. My jaw is literally on the floor. I have to compose myself otherwise I’ll just keyboard smash my phone in hysteria.

The way you write makes it so easy to envision the scene in my head, like word for word you set it up so perfectly that I’m like oh okay so I’m really seeing all these Butchers take on one Homelander. That’s ace, that’s juice, that’s every single compliment I can think of.

I can’t wait for the sequel oh my god oh my GOD. All those HLs with one Butcher? HL on HL? The possibilities are endless. Thank you again for sharing this with us!!

This Ask is regarding this 🔞 butchlander multiverse oneshot threadfic on twitter (tumblr read version: parts 1, 2)

Thank you very much for reading! I had The Name of the Game (AO3) thoughts in my brain that are unrelated to the main story so, whilst that 135ch monstrosity is gonna take its time, I might as well offer some unofficial post-main story or during-main story spin-offs—but as threadfic oneshots so they won’t clutter AO3 and/or taint the reading experience when more chapters are added. The brainworms were strong this time, so I might as well tap into that creative surge of inspiration instead of letting it gather dust and maybe never see the light of day.

Re: the threadfic ending. I’d always planned to have the vice versa switcheroo in this threadfic (where it turns from 7 Butchers + 1 TNotG HL into 7 Homelanders + 1 TNotG Billy 😉) but I had initially been uncertain whether to include it in this threadfic itself or allocate it to a separate sequel threadfic. I saw how long this oneshot threadfic was becoming and, well, after having to essentially retype 60% of what I could recall from memory after the last unsaved 58 tweets were lost to the void, I guess you can say the universe helped make my decision, hahaha.

Fun fact: I’d mentioned this in Part II’s comments, but making it the 5 HLs from 5 of my threadfics + the 1 HL from the Truce universe transmigrated into the TNotG universe is us having mercy on Billy. Because, imagine, you’re the scummy Male Lead who has quick transmigrated (world hopped) into 6 parallel universes, and had a relationship with each parallel dimension’s version of Homelander. And upon returning to your own world, you schemed to to get together with your own world’s destined lover Homelander—and it happened, although probably not how Billy had envisioned it with HL taking initiative into his own hands drugging him and making him participate in a seven-way 0rgy to seduce him. But bam! Murphy’s Law struck, and now Billy has to contend with seven jealous Homelanders. They’re the prideful trophy wives who are reunited with the husband they’d thought they’d lost, but he’s alive, and in their eyes they equate it as him “cheating” on them with a new hot floozy (TNotG’s HL). *laughs*

It’s a lot more dramatic if I made it a reunion, so instead I decided to be merciful on our Male Lead service top and instead make 6 of those Homelanders from my other fics, so the narrative is easier to handle not that TNotG HL wouldn’t also be down for a fun time with TNotG 6 other HLs.

Essentially I am willing to serve y’all the Homelander f*cking doppelgänger Homelander scene that we never got to see, Amazon you cowards. But ramp it up a notch, and toss our somewhat nicer to HL TNotG Billy Prime into the sweaty pile of clingy, needy, h0rny affection-craving Homelanders (but ofc Billy has to pay TNotG Homelander the most loving attention and endearments to smooth his ruffled feathers because hoo boooooy, imagine the cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, entitlement, and competitiveness in that one room alone y’all this is a grownass man who’d canonically gotten jealous and had a one-sided beef with a baby).

Like^^^ tell me this man wouldn’t enjoy a seven-way selfcest g@ngb@ng 0rgy session with himself, and with a very willing diabolically handsome V-ed up British Supe patiently servicing them in that pile. TELL ME IT WOULDN’T BE ONE OF HOMELANDER’S WET DREAMS.

[cowgurrrl]

I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good. 

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session. 

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles. 

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it. 

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..." 

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago. 

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy." 

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care." 

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it. 

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you. 

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there. 

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint. 

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older. 

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike." 

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together." 

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought. 

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel." 

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious." 

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans. 

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.  

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then." 

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs. 

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it. 

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints. 

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting." 

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk. 

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face. 

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey." 

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes. 

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail. 

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push. 

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?" 

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight. 

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

[noxturnalnymph]

Hi, Patti! I have a Q about Steve from Mutual 😳

What are his weekend habits like if Connie's not around? Does he jerk off? What does he use? Does he try to get some action?

Steve's weekend habits, you ask? I've had some THOTS about this...

(Can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the Mutual Universe)

Saturday Steve (809)

Steve Murphy Solo

So this particular Saturday Steve is home all alone. Connie flew to Miami for her sister’s baby shower last weekend and stayed all week to visit friends. He’s picking her up from the airport tomorrow and he’s looking forward to her return. Sure, Steve has a high sex drive and he takes care of himself often but fucking his wife is definitely something he doesn’t go a week without doing on a regular basis. He’s not one to be dramatic but he thinks he might be suffering a bit with her extended absence.

I like to think that on the weekends Steve spends time flipping through dirty magazines he keeps under the mattress. You know the ones, the magazines that he and Connie pretend she doesn’t know about but she’s the one who has to tuck them back under there everytime she makes the damn bed. She totally knows about them and she doesn’t even care, but Steve likes it better if they pretend they’re forbidden so she plays along cuz she’s a good wife.

But the dirty magazines aren’t the end game - oh no - they’re just the warm-up exercises. He doesn’t even touch himself when he looks at them, doesn’t even undo a single button on his jeans. He just lets himself get uncomfortably turned on, erection pressing against the denim, flipping through the well-worn pages and then, when he’s starting to feel the sweat forming across his chest, he tucks the magazines away. 

He lets himself stay in that glistening, heavy-breathed, semi-hard state the rest of the afternoon. His mind flashes back to the pictures when he starts to soften, getting aroused again, letting himself slowly leak out in his underwear, craving what he’s not giving himself. Denying himself that release. Because he knows the main event is yet to come and all this will make it so worth the build-up.

It isn’t until about 10pm that night, when Javi has brought home his “date” (that he paid for) and they’re getting down to business, that the show really starts. Despite the stifling heat of a spring Bogotá evening, Steve closes all the windows to reduce the street noise. He turns off all the fans, unplugs the fridge, and takes the battery out of the ticking wall clock. He peels his clothes off, laying them over a chair in the bedroom and goes out to the living room, positioning himself right above where he knows Javi’s couch is in the apartment below him.

He lays out his bath towel and sets down a glass of ice water and a tube of KY jelly, then lies himself down on his back on the parquet floor. Only once the moaning beneath him has begun does Steve let his hand close firmly around his dick, pumping his lubricated shaft with increasing pressure. It’s a game for him, a private game that only he knows about and only he can celebrate the wins for. Although - if you think about it - everybody in this situation wins, right?

This particular Saturday Steve has high hopes, he thinks he can hold out until the end, and come at the final climax (with Javi, if you will). He’s done this before and considers it the ultimate goal, the ‘big win’. But poor, pathetic Steve’s aspirations are misplaced. He’s teased himself too much today, been without Connie for too long. He can hear Javi grunting and hear the woman he’s jack-hammering himself into moaning in pleasure and Steve can’t even wait until the woman has her first orgasm before he’s a groaning, twitching, sticky mess.

---

The next day Steve and Connie arrive back home from the airport late-afternoon to find Javi returning from the grocery store at the same time, two paper bags stuffed full in his arms. Connie holds Javi’s door open for him while Steve carries her luggage up the stairs into their apartment. Connie joins him shortly after and says Javi invited them down for dinner, that she’s going to get cleaned up and they can head down to Javi’s shortly. Steve’s disappointment shows on his face and Connie moves towards him, both of them wrapping their arms around each other.

“I thought it would be nice not to have to cook my first night back home from my little vacation,” Connie says, tucking a piece of Steve’s hair back that fell forward onto his sweaty forehead.

“I thought it would be nice to have some time for just us, y’know, to catch up.” Steve replies, enunciating the last words so his meaning is obvious.

“I told Javi we’d need some time to catch up, and he told me that based on last night, he didn’t think it would take that long,” she says.

“He-”

“You must’ve told him how bad you were missing me, huh baby?” Connie asks.

“Yeah… something like that.”

.

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 50: Photograph

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Miscarriage

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Over the next view days, Max returned to Cork after Danielle put him into place and just before Cillian was due to arrive back home, your thoughts spiraled downward, drowning in self-loathing and despair. You blamed yourself for the miscarriage, convinced that it was somehow your fault.

The thought of telling Cillian weighed heavily on your shoulders, the guilt consuming you and when, on a Friday afternoon, he came bustling through the front door, eager to wrap his arms around you, you cringed inwardly, dreading the conversation that awaited you.

"Hey," he greeted you softly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you, his heart swelling with love for you.

"Hey," you replied weakly, forcing a smile on your lips. "Welcome home," you cooed, stepping into his open arms.

His scent enveloped you, bringing comfort as he held you tightly, pressing his cheek against yours.

"I missed you," he murmured into your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell amazing," he added playfully, smiling at you.

"I missed you too," you replied, nestling deeper into his embrace. "How was the premiere?" you asked, genuinely curious about his experience.

"It was insane," he chuckled, releasing you and guiding you both to collapse onto the couch. "Cameras everywhere," he groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I hated it," he then chuckled, grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world since it means I am actually doing something right—right?" He looked at you questioningly, a hint of uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

"Definitely," you agreed, nodding earnestly. "It's a testament to your talent," you continued, squeezing his hand affectionately before pulling him close for a kiss and, immediately, the tension between you eased as the familiarity of your relationship kicked in.

"Thank you," he murmured, cupping your chin, tilting your face upward for another passionate kiss. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he pulled your body closer. "I'm glad I'm home," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

You smiled softly, feeling the familiar warmth spread through your veins. "Me too," you replied, tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb before, suddenly, breaking out in tears. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Cillian asked, looking concerned. "Is everything okay?" he asked, panicking as you fell into his arms once more. 

"No," you choked out, trying to regain control of your emotions. "I...," you stammered. "The baby," you began, swallowing hard as your tears cascaded down your cheeks. "I lost the baby," you whispered, your voice cracking with sorrow.

Cillian's eyes widened in disbelief, his grip tightening around your hand.

"You had a miscarriage?" Cillian asked, his voice strained, his face pale.

"Yes," you replied, wiping away fresh tears. "It happened a week ago. I was too afraid to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me during the premieres. I am so sorry," you sobbed, your chest heaving with deep sobs.

Cillian's eyes grew wide with shock, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Shhh, it's okay," he whispered softly, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "I'm here now, and I promise we'll get through this together."

"But I've gone through this twice now," you whimpered, burying your face in his shirt. "I am a fucking failure," you sobbed, your words muffled by his clothing.

Cillian rocked you gently, holding you close, whispering sweet words of reassurance into your ear. "Shh, none of this is your fault," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And I know that the pregnancy wasn't planned, but we can try again if you like," he promised, his tone filled with conviction. "When the time is right, we will have a family together if this is what you want," he added, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"But my body is broken, Cillian. It clearly is," you said, pulling away from his warm embrace. "It keeps failing me and, honestly, I am terrified of getting pregnant again. I mean, what if I lose another pregnancy? That would kill me," you confessed, biting your lip nervously.

Cillian's eyes welled up with tears as he watched you struggle, his heart aching for you. "Hey, stop talking like that," he scolded softly, cupping your face in his hands. "None of this is your fault. And, whatever happens, we'll face it together. There are alternative options these days. IVF, surrogacy, adoption," Cillian said, lifting your chin with his finger. "Whatever you decide, we will make it work."

"But you even said that you didn't want any children," you reminded him, still reeling from the sudden change in direction.

"Yet, I also said that I loved you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you," Cillian declared passionately, his eyes locked on yours. "And if you want to become a mother then we will make it happen together. I'm not going anywhere," he swore, gripping your hands tightly, but you knew that you were not ready to face the possibility of losing another pregnancy.

"I appreciate your willingness to go through all that," you whispered, snuggling closer to him. "But I just need some time to think. Like you said, the pregnancy wasn't even planned and, still, I became excited about the prospect of having a child with you," you explained while Cillian ran his fingers through your hair.

"Take all the time you need," Cillian assured you, running his fingers through your hair. "I love you," he murmured, pulling you closer, embracing you tightly. "More than anything," he said. 

"I love you too," you murmured, nestling your head into his shoulder, clinging onto him like a lifeline until, eventually, you calmed down.

As you regained your composure, Cillian's grip on you loosened, replaced by a soothing caress.

"You know there is something that might cheer you up a little," he suggested, his voice soft and hopeful.

"What's that?" you asked warily, wiping your tears away with an apprehensive glance.

"Well, let me get my bag and I show you," Cillian replied before reaching for his messenger bag that was slung over the armrest. 

He then pulled out an envelope and handed it to you and, when you took it from him and opened it, you noticed a familiar photograph tucked neatly inside.

It was of you, your mother and two siblings before you crossed the border to America and, although it was crumpled and faded from years of storage, it instantly transported you back to that time.

"Where did you get this?" you gasped, holding the photo carefully in your hands. 

"Your mother gave it to me," Cillian explained and, immediately, your chin dropped. You had not seen your mother since you were a young child as, when you came to America, she gave you and your siblings up for adoption. Whether intentional or whether she was forced to do so, you did not know and life for you since had been a living nightmare. You grew up in terrible Forster homes until the age of 16, and then you moved to a group home where you stayed until you turned 18. In those years, you developed a tough shell to survive and a sharp tongue to cut down anyone who dared to hurt you. Still, even with your bravado, you were scarred by your past and haunted by memories which constantly plagued you.

"How?" you teared up again, tears filling the corners of your eyes. "Where did you meet her?" you asked anxiously, tracing the creases in the photo with your index finger.

"She came to one of the premiers, hoping that you would be there with me after seeing us in one of those ridiculous gossip magazines," Cillian revealed, his eyes meeting yours tenderly. "Apparently, she's been searching for you for years and has even tried to contact my agent who brushed it off as a hoax," he explained, handing you a folded piece of paper from within the envelope.

"That's a travel itinerary," you said, your voice trembling slightly. 

"Yes," Cillian confirmed, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I booked her flight for next week. Hopefully she has passport sorted by then," Cillian explained, seeing that she had never been on a plane before. 

"Oh my god," you exclaimed, tears streaming down your face. "I'm going to see her again," you cried, clutching the itinerary tightly in your hands. Despite the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with joy at the idea of reuniting with your mother.

"What is if it is a hoax?" you questioned, unable to contain your fear. "I mean, are you sure it is her? The woman on the photograph?" you whispered, your voice quivering slightly.

"Yes," Cillian answered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. "She knows your middle name and she told me about your birth mark. I am certain that it is her," Cillian affirmed, his voice steady and confident, causing you to sigh with relief. 

"What does she look like now?" you asked, suddenly becoming  more and more intrigued. "Does she look old?" you wanted to know, causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Well, she is about my age I would say, so I wouldn't call that old," Cillian said, raising his eyebrow at you and, for the first time that day, you genuinely laughed. 

"Well, you do look particularly young for your age though, Mr Murphy," you retorted, grinning mischievously at him.

"I know. I get told all the time," Cillian joked, causing you to laugh harder. You hadn't felt this lighthearted in weeks and you relished the feeling that enveloped you.

"Why do you do that?" you asked abruptly, interrupting your laughter. "Why do you take care of me so much?" you questioned, suddenly remembering your earlier fears and doubts.

"Because I love you, Y/N," Cillian declared boldly, his eyes shining with confidence. "I love you so fucking much!" Cillian exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you too, Cillian," you replied, the words coming naturally to you and, with that, you felt as though, perhaps, at least some things were slowly falling into place. 

Tags:

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[shelbystales]

Ceramic Lessons - Part Eight

Cillian Murphy X Reader - Masterlist

Summary: after much insistence from his sister, Cillian attends a ceramics class with her. To his surprise, he feels a connection to the teacher, you. Will this connection go any further or will it be smashed like a bad ceramic project?

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Warning: swearing, fluff and mention of drugs

A/n: hey guys! please don’t forget to let me know what you think! Hope you like it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next day you woke up with no news from Cillian. But still, the day was sunny and warm, a good day to be alive, to stand up from the bed and go live another day, you thought as you stretched watching the view from your bedroom window. 

You got ready to go to your morning jog, enjoying your free time from classes. Not that you don’t like being a teacher. But it’s so good to have some time to yourself. 

As you ran you made your way to the beach to admire the people around. The beach was noisy and filled with people and their dogs. You smiled admiring the simple things, the kids laughed as the dog fetched the ball inside the ocean, the little girl running after her mom, the young playing volleyball and a couple nested close together. You breathed in the ocean breeze and continued your race. 

After quite some time you returned home and took a relaxing shower.

You jumped on the couch with your notebook and began drawing some piece ideas for your next collection until the intercom buzzed. You made your way to it and pressed the button 

“Who 's it?” you asked 

“Me, mon amour!” a familiar voice answered

“Bela?!” you asked happily 

“Yes, now let your sister in!! I’m sweating as a horse out here” she demanded

You quickly allowed her passage inside the building with the click of another button and in a few seconds she was at your door. 

You hugged her tightly “I don't want to let go” you said, your words muffled in her hair. 

“I’m afraid you have too because I need to pee asap. Unless you like me too pee on your floor” she joked 

“No, I'm good,” you said, unhugging her and letting her inside to rush to the bathroom. 

Isabela emerged from the bathroom with a dramatic sigh of relief, and you both settled into the familiar comfort of your living room. She looked around, taking in the sketches scattered on the coffee table.

"Still working on your pottery empire, I see," Isabela teased, settling onto the couch.

You chuckled, joining her. "Always. So, what brings you here? Not that I'm complaining. It's a pleasant surprise."

Isabela flashed a mischievous smile. "Well, my dear, I happen to be in town for a few days. Work-related stuff. And I thought, why not drop by and check on my favorite sister?"

You grinned. "Lucky me."

Isabela shared more details about her recent adventures in Paris, the bustling fashion scene, and the eccentric characters she had encountered in the city of love. As she told you her stories, you fetched her some water and some snacks.

As you listened to her animated stories, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for your sister's accomplishments. 

Isabela's vibrant energy filled the room, a stark contrast from you. 

Isabela, with her flamboyant personality and penchant for drama, was like a burst of color in a room, drawing attention effortlessly. Her stories of high-fashion escapades and eccentric characters filled the air with an infectious enthusiasm. She possessed an outward, effervescent charm that charmed everyone around her.

You, on the other hand, were the quiet force, absorbing the energy around you and channeling it into your art. Your introspective nature allowed you to delve deep into your creative process, finding inspiration in the subtle nuances of everyday life. But you were not entirely introverted, you are not shy or anything like it. On the contraire, you like being around people and socializing, but maybe after many years in therapy you learned to love yourself to a point where you prefer your company over anyone else’s. 

While Isabela sparkled like a firework, you were the steady glow of a candle, radiating warmth and depth.

"But how long are you planning to stay?" you asked randomly as Isabela finished a story about peacocks. You loved your sister, but sometimes she was too much for you, so staying too long with her could be a challenge.

"Jesus. Already kicking me out, sis? I can go stay with mom and dad," she said, her mouth full of peanuts.

"I wasn't kicking you out. I just have to plan," you shrugged.

"Right, I don't know. I think I’ll leave Thursday, so... four days," she counted on her fingers. "Can you house me for four days?"

"Of course," you smiled.

"And how is life here? How are your classes going?" she asked with a gentle glare.

"All good. All are filled. I don't have any more free spots," you shared, your gaze drifting to the sketches scattered on the table. "I've been caught up with my pottery classes, and I must admit I love it. But I’ve been taking some projects aside. I am currently making some pieces for a new hotel."

“Uh, that's fancy! And oh my god, it's incredible to not have any empty spots! I’m so proud,” she declared, making you smile genuinely.Isabela leaned in, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "Tell me more about your life here. Any exciting developments, intriguing characters, or perhaps a dirty romance?"

You chuckled at her dramatic flair. "No dirty romance, Bela.It's not as exciting as your Parisian escapades. Just the usual pottery classes and some interesting students."

She raised an eyebrow. "Interesting students, you say? Anyone caught your eye? A man perhaps?"

“How do you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?” she asked, confused.

“Read between the lines,” you asked curiously. She shrugged and drank her water. “Oooh,” your mouthed, connecting the dots. “Mom told you.”

“She did. Now tell me, how is he? Is he really that nice? Can a Hollywood star be nice?” she shifted on her spot.

“Cillian is great, he’s nice,” you smiled.

“Oh, come on, give me more! Do I have to beg?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Fine, fine.. He's down-to-earth, genuine, and surprisingly humble. Fame hasn't gone to his head, as far as i’ve seen. He's been through a lot, dealing with his ex-wife and son, but he's handling it with grace. And he seems like a great dad."

Isabela leaned back, processing the information. "Well, color me impressed, sis. You've managed to snag yourself a celebrity. I can't wait to meet him. But spill the details, sis! What's he like when the cameras are off? How’ve met?"

You leaned in conspiratorially. "He's just like anyone else. We met in class, his sister is my student. she constantly spoke about him, until one day she brought him in. He has gorgeous eyes and smells great. We've had dinner dates, beach dates.. three dates at total. No drama aside from his ex."

“That she is a crazy one, right?” Isabela interrupted with a smirk as you looked at her puzzled. “Oh come on, when mom told me who you were dating, I had to google!”

You frowned at her. “Really, what did you find?”

“Oh god, you never googled him?” she asked, shocked.

“Didn't want to invade his privacy, or know more than I should. I'd rather learn about him from himself.”

She rolled her eyes. “For fuck's sake, that's so you... well, for your knowledge, I didn't find much. He has done an incredible job at keeping his life to himself. BUT, I can't say the same about her. Do you wanna see her Instagram? It's a crazy person’s Instagram,” she said, already picking up her phone and showing it to you.

You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, curiosity getting the better of you. Isabela handed you her phone, displaying a colorful and chaotic Instagram profile.

"There she is," Isabela pointed at a picture of Cillian's ex-wife, her feed filled with flashy and attention-grabbing posts. You scrolled through, feeling a mix of surprise and unease.

"Wow, she really puts everything out there, doesn't she?" you commented, slightly taken aback by a seminude picture with ‘DREAM OF ME’ written on her chest.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort seeing such a public display of someone who played a significant role in Cillian's past. You handed Isabela's phone back.

Isabela laughed, "Oh, you have no idea. She's like a whole reality show in one person. her Storys are unique and the captions! ‘you know you want me’ or ‘anybody ready for a good time?’ “ she mocked as she read, making you feel embarrassed for her. “You'd think she's a problematic  influencer, not someone's ex-wife… not someone’s mom. I bet in a few months she will create an OnlyFans account"

“For real?”

“Yes, look at her” she showed you the phone again

"Well, she certainly knows how to make a statement," you said, still processing what you had just seen.

Isabela shrugged, her eyes fixed on the screen "Cillian made a wise choice moving on,” she remarked casually, her tone carrying a hint of nonchalance.

You silently agreed, wondering if she was always the same character she seemed to be today.

The conversation sort of ended, and you helped your sister settle into your guest bedroom, all while continuing your discussion.

She had some work to do on her computer, and later that day, you both found yourselves sitting together on the couch, debating over what to eat and what to watch. The various food options displayed on the screen made the decision a tough one.

Just as you were about to settle on a choice, your phone buzzed, and Cillian's name lit up the screen. Isabela's eyes widened with excitement. "Oh, look who it is!” she almost screamed.

A warm smile spread across your face, and you accepted the call. "Hey, you," you greeted.

"Hey there," Cillian's voice echoed through the phone.

"Hi! Perfect timing. We were just trying to decide on dinner," Isabela yelled to your ear, making you quickly stand from the couch and walk inside your bedroom for some privacy.

“Who was that?” Cillian asked after giving a prolonged laugh.

“My sister,” you answered, closing the door and jumping onto your bed.

“Oh, I can call you another time,” he suggested.

“No, it 's ok. How are you?”

“Good, relaxed. Had a good day. You?” he sighed as if he was sitting down.

“Me too. Normal day. My sister surprised me with her visit.”

“You don't sound so happy about that,” he chuckled.

“No, don't get me wrong. I love her so much... but she is too much for my ears to handle all day long. And she is staying until Thursday,” you explained.

“Is she the one that lives in Paris?”

“The one and only.”

“Ah, there is an example of an overrated city,” he teased, his voice carrying a playful tone as he chuckled on the other end of the line. "I'd love to hear more about her. I know from experience that sisters can be quite entertaining"

You chuckled, realizing that your sister's vibrant personality was indeed something to behold. "Oh, she's entertaining, alright. We are about to order in, you can join if you want”

“Oh, y/n. You have no idea how much I would love to, but I have Lukas and we already ate some spaghetti” he said, sounding a bit frustrated.

Cillian's mention of Lukas brought a smile to your face. "Spaghetti sounds good. How is he doing by the way?"

"He 's doing great. Today we went to my brother’s house. He played with his cousins all day, just put him to bed” Cillian replied, the fondness for his son evident in his voice.

“Good. I was worried” 

“I can imagine” he sighed and after a few seconds in silence he finally let it out “His mom is using again” 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to hear what he just said “I’m so sorry”

“Yeah. Me too. I’ll have to go to court this week” he inhaled and exhaled “I wish i could hold you right now” 

“Me too” you smiled “I could make you some hot chocolate, because it warms the heart” you said and he chuckled 

“I would love some hot chocolate”

“You could live closer, not almost half an hour” you complained

“I’ll be calling a real estate agent tomorrow to fix that” he said, making you giggle “we should have dinner here. you can meet Lukas” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want him to meet you”

“And I him”

“Just gotta give him some time. He’s a little upset about not being allowed to see his mom for a while. How about saturday?”

“Saturday is great, but in the meantime you could pass by…”

“We can have lunch anytime you want, Lukas eats at school”

“Tuesday?”

“It’s a date”

“No, my sister will join us, so... not a date…” You chuckled 

“Okay, I can't wait to meet her”

Taglist: @allie131313 @sherbitdibdab @sinceviennas @stilestotherescue @astheni-a @kitkatkaitin @amanda08319 @trixie23 @nancystrange @daisythekitty @cillianbabe @sinceviennas @si1ver06 @kitkatkait @isabbellagonzalezz18 @babypink224221 @1nterstellarcha0s @thenattitude

[stone-stars]

How many times was your favourite emily piece used in total, AND which episode was it used the most often? You're doing Melora's work with the spreadsheet god bless amen 🙏🙏

TWO. two times. (or three depending on how you count it). because brian murphy personally hates me <- dramatic, exaggerated

my favorite song is a nearly one-off song from campaign 1 ep 58 called "flying through the night". it's beautiful clarinet and piano-heavy song that is played for the boobs returning to the autumn court. it's only credited in that episode (used twice, at 25:18 and 33:16).

[Audio description: Clip of a scene from naddpod in which the Boobs are settling down for a one big bed on the airship as they fly back from fighting Queen Ezra, and Moonshine checks in with Paw Paw. In the background there's a soft clarinet and piano song-- flying through the night.]

but. in c2e13, for the hexbuds in their barracks one last time, murph credits "bittersweet sixteen" (another beautiful song from the same ep). but the song at 1:00:34 is not bs16, it's flying through the night, which means i get Two whole episodes with my favorite song!!

some other favorites of mine are: - the fabric of fate/melora's boon (from c1e97, used the most times in c3e67) - a glittering reunion (also from c1e97, and used the most there) - i just want to know you're taken care of (from c1e91, used the most in c3e27) - irina (from c2e23 and used most there and c2e40) - winter's mantle (from c3e30 and used the most times there) - spearmint & tea leaves (from c3e57 and used the most in that, 59, and 60) - the twinkling lights of galaderon (from c1e14, used most in c3e14 and c3e41) as it's the song that technically ignited my love for naddpod music - bastard's fate (from c1e67 and only used once in any given episode) - young love (from c2e4, used the most in c2e15 and 27)

i'm also a fan of a lot of the crick songs like mee maw's, prodigal sister, greener shades, and tale's end. and gutless and growing pains. and eternal return (frankie's reprise). oh and i do really like bittersweet sixteen! and like probably 15 others i am forgetting to list and will remember as soon as i post this. naddpod music is good y'all.

[justforbooks]

John Ashton

American actor best known for his role as Sergeant John Taggart in the Beverly Hills Cop films

In several action comedies of the 1980s, John Ashton, who has died aged 76 from cancer, played disgruntled, buffoonish or flummoxed figures caught up in chaotic situations not entirely of their own making.

The first, Beverly Hills Cop (1984), was originally intended as a dramatic vehicle for Sylvester Stallone: “Stallone was going to make it ‘Rambo Blows Up Beverly Hills’ or something,” said Ashton, who first auditioned for the film in that form.

When it was subsequently retooled for the overnight sensation Eddie Murphy, it became a comedy in which other cast members were also permitted to be funny. Among them was Ashton, who played the dyspeptic Sergeant John Taggart. With his partner, Detective Billy Rosewood (Judge Reinhold), he is assigned to keep an eye on Murphy’s irreverent Detroit native Axel Foley, who makes waves as he hunts a killer in Beverly Hills.

Foley runs rings around the pair. During a stakeout, he inserts bananas into their car’s exhaust pipe, causing the vehicle to stutter and stall when they try to follow him. Ashton’s irritability was nicely offset by Reinhold’s peppy naivety. One of the pleasures of the film was seeing Taggart gradually come around to Foley. Having begun the movie at loggerheads, they end it as allies.

After witnessing the enthusiastic response to the movie at an industry screening, Ashton and Reinhold stopped by a Los Angeles cinema a few weeks later to see how it was going down with the public. Seated in the balcony, they marvelled at the audience “hooting and hollering and screaming and yelling”.

Directed by Martin Brest and released in the US in December 1984, Beverly Hills Cop took $316m worldwide, and was one of the country’s top 10 highest grossing films in 1984 and 1985.

Ashton and Reinhold returned in Beverly Hills Cop II (1987), as well as the recent fourth instalment, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F (2024), in which Taggart has now been promoted to police chief. “If we were gonna do [another] Beverly Hills Cop, the only way it could happen was if all of us were in it,” said Murphy earlier this year.

Less commercially successful than Beverly Hills Cop but far superior was the buddy movie Midnight Run (1988), also directed by Brest. It starred Robert De Niro as a dishevelled bounty hunter transporting a turncoat Mob accountant (Charles Grodin) across the US. Ashton was superb as the comically coarse Marvin Dorfler, a rival bounty hunter who tries repeatedly to intercept the duo and claim the money for himself. Dunderheaded the character may have been, but Ashton also showed convincingly that he could be intimidating when the need arose.

The role had been written as a straightforward heavy. “But that’s not how I played him,” said Ashton, who approached Marvin instead as someone who was simply doing his job. It worked: though the character died halfway through George Gallo’s script, Brest ordered a rewrite. “About a month in, Marty said: ‘We can’t kill Dorfler, the audience will hate us!’” Ashton recalled. He was spared and given additional scenes, including a memorable appearance during the tense climax.

Seeing Ashton square off repeatedly against De Niro was among the film’s highlights. It was also vital to him to win the role in the first place. He had arrived at the audition to find “about 30 guys in the hallway going, ‘I can’t believe I gotta read with Bobby De Niro’. Everybody’s freaking out.” Ashton, on the other hand, was champing at the bit. “Nobody’s getting this role but me,” he decided.

During the ensuing improvisation, De Niro was meant to hand him a set of keys. As he went to take them, De Niro tossed them on the floor. “Fuck you!” barked Ashton, sparking an escalating exchange of obscenities. “I know every other actor picked those up,” he reflected. He later discovered that, once he left the room, De Niro had told Brest: ‘I want him.’”

Ashton was born in Springfield, Massachusetts, to Edward and Eva (nee Wells), and raised in Enfield, Connecticut. He was educated at Enfield high school and Defiance College, Ohio, then studied theatre at the University of Southern California. In 1970 he won a scholarship to travel abroad, and appeared in theatre productions across Europe.

He always referred to theatre as his first love, and it was in that medium that he won his only prizes: a Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle award in 1973 for A Flea in Her Ear, and a Drama Logue award in 1982 for a production of Sam Shepard’s True West, in which he starred opposite Ed Harris.

His first film was the slasher thriller An Eye for an Eye (1973). He then became a familiar face with guest spots on TV shows such as Kojak, Columbo and Starsky & Hutch. In 1978 he appeared in six episodes of the soap opera Dallas as a crony called upon to do the dirty work of JR Ewing (Larry Hagman).

Film work included the acclaimed cycling drama Breaking Away (1979), the Charles Bronson thriller Borderline (1980), John Schlesinger’s chaotic comedy Honky Tonk Freeway (1981), the monster movie King Kong Lives (1986) and several John Hughes projects: Some Kind of Wonderful (1987), She’s Having a Baby (1988) and the children’s comedy Curly Sue (1991). In 1989 he played a worried father whose seven-year-old son is kidnapped in the factually based TV drama I Know My First Name is Steven (1989), and at a press conference to promote the film, tearfully recounted his childhood memories of being followed home from school by a stranger.

There was much talk of a follow-up to Midnight Run, and even a script that Ashton read but felt was not up to snuff. A trio of undistinguished sequels were eventually made for TV without the original personnel. In the first two, Another Midnight Run and Midnight Runaround (both 1994), Dorfler was played by Ed O’Ross.

Ashton worked continuously in film and television. Notable parts included a prison guard in Instinct (1999) with Anthony Hopkins and Cuba Gooding Jr, and yet another cop in Ben Affleck’s impressive thriller Gone Baby Gone (2007). Ashton’s final performance was as a judge in two forthcoming westerns: Hot Bath, Stiff Drink an’ a Close Shave and its sequel, Hot Bath an’ a Stiff Drink 2.

He is survived by his third wife, Robin Hoye, and two children, Michelle and Michael, from his previous marriages to Victoria Runn and Bridget Baker, both of which ended in divorce.

🔔 John David Ashton, actor, born 22 February 1948; died 26 September 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[broadwaydivastournament]

Marin Mazzie in Caricature

"Passion," Published July 25, 1994 - Al Hirschfeld

Pictured: Marin Mazzie, reclining nude, and Jere Shea

"Passion," Published August 21, 1994 - Al Hirschfeld

Pictured: Jere Shea, Donna Murphy, Marin Mazzie

"Ragtime," Published January 25, 1998 - Al Hirschfeld

Also featured: Peter Friedman, Audra McDonald, Brian Stokes Mitchell, and the original cast of Ragtime.

"Kiss Me, Kate," Published November 14, 1999 - Al Hirschfeld

Pictured: Brian Stokes Mitchel and Marin Mazzie

Marin has been the subject of four Hirschfelds, some of which you've already seen in these posts. Though PBS may have made the sad decision to censor Marin's big nude scene in the professional taping of Passion, Al Hirschfeld had no qualms about depicting her in the way she was meant to be. I do think, however, even in his final attempt, he was never able to accurately capture the sheer size of this woman's mouth.

Pictured: Husband Jason Danieley and Marin Mazzie, 2010

Marin was honored with a Sardis caricature in 2000 during her Tony-nominated run in Kiss Me, Kate, and ten years later, she returned when her husband Jason received his. At the time, they were starring as the husband-wife duo in Next to Normal. While the expanse of her mouth is certainly featured, it's still not quite what I'd expect.

Pictured: L: Marin Mazzie and the cast of Next to Normal, 2010 | R: Marin Mazzie and Daniel Dae Kim, The King and I, 2016

Pictured: L: Marin Mazzie & Jason Danieley benefiting the Cancer Support Community, super rare, 2018 | R: Marin Mazzie in portrait, Autumn 2015

At last, someone was able to do justice to Marin's signature mouth size. Like Carol Channing, Marin's mouth is the stuff of Broadway legend. Sources even say that when she was younger, she'd put her whole fist in it as a party trick.

Pictured: L: Tribute to Marin Mazzie, commissioned, 2018 |

"The day Marin passed, I got an email asking me to pay tribute. I don’t want to seem dramatic, but since Marin is a friend, I was in the midst of my own small grieving process, so I used the assignment as part of it all. This was the result. We will always think of Marin when we see sunflowers." - Justin "Squigs" Robertson

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Neighbor ↠ Sturges x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.6k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Sturges is your neighbor at Sanctuary and comes to visit you while sick.

Sanctuary Hills was slowly starting to solidify itself as a home for you and the other settlers that had moved here with you. Ever since the attack on Quincy, you had been a little more paranoid than usual. If you weren't asleep, you were probably working yourself to death trying to improve and build up the town's defenses. You took on every job you possibly could, doing much to pick up the slack of the other workers in the developing town. As much as Preston appreciated your effort and dedication, he was beginning to get worried about how hard you were pushing yourself.

The day you passed out was the final straw for everyone around you as you were confined to your home until you were deemed better by the town's doctor. As much as you argued, you still found yourself trapped in your living room.

"Hey hon'," Sturges greeted, carefully making his way toward you, "How're you holdin' up?"

"Good enough," You responded, sitting up from where you lay sprawled out on the couch you had been ordered to temporarily stay on. The same couch that he had fixed up for you when you complained about Mama Murphy only being given broken chairs to rest in. "I feel about ready to get back out there."

He looked away briefly before looking back at you, "Yeah, I ain't sure Preston's gonna let you leave that soon."

"It's not up to Preston," You retorted, "It's up to my doctor."

"An' yer doctor said that you ain't allowed to leave for at least a few more days."

You dropped yourself dramatically back onto the cushions of the couch, groaning at his words. What's the doctor know anyhow? His only qualification was knowing how to craft addictol, and that doesn't have anything to do with your 'condition'.

"Oh, come on now, it ain't all that bad." The ancient floors creaked beneath him before he sat beside your feet at the end of your makeshift bed, "You do a bit of restin' then you can go right back to whatever it is yer set on doin'."

"I'm scared that this break will set us back." You admitted, running your hands down your face in stress.

"Quite worryin', doll, I got enough time on my hands to handle us losin' all yer efficiency."

"Are you sure? Don't you still have to fix up some of the houses?"

"I don't mind workin' overtime." He promised, "Maybe I'll get sick too and end up right here next to ya." He placed his large hand on your knee and hovered closer to your face as you sat up.

You pushed his face away, a smile finding its way onto your face, "Yeah, whatever. Just don't get lazy about it."

"I'll go get to it then," He spoke, using your knee to help him to his feet once again, "I'll be back later tonight to check in on you, that alright?"

You grinned at him as his muscular figure leaned on the busted door frame, "You better." Was all you replied with before weariness started to strike you and you felt your body begin to get ready to collapse again. Your foggy vision caught Sturges chuckling at your exhausted self before he left to start on the work of the day, leaving you to lay peacefully again.

When you awoke again, there was a cup of purified water sitting on an old nightstand that wasn't there before. You smiled as you cracked open the can, happy to note that Stuges had come to visit you that night and that you were a little bit closer to returning to your daily chores.

[triviareads]

ARC Review of A Jingle Bell Mingle by Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy

Rating: 4/5 Heat Level: 4/5 Publication Date: September 24th

Premise:

Adult film actress Sunny agrees to live with ex-boybander-slash-prior-hookup Isaac Kelly in his spare bedroom so she can work on the script for her new romantic holiday movie.

My review:

A Jingle Bell Mingle was a super sexy, super touching (ha, see what I did there) raunch-com, and the perfect way to wrap up the Christmas Notch series. We've been edged by Sunny and Isaac ever since they had an off-page threesome with another pornstar (It's what Isaac's dead wife would have wanted, okay?), and I was excited to see them pick up where they left off, even with a two-year gap.

Yes, this book does start with an early bang, and I do appreciate it not only because I love an early sex scene, but also because I love when couples don't necessarily need a lot of build-up before sex, but they have ways to go before they can actually be in a functional relationship— It feels very contemporary.

So Sunny moves in temporarily to work on her holiday movie script, and gets it in her head that the only way for Isaac to regain his creative muse is.... dates. With other people. What follows is a hilarious sequence of dates including a hot mechanic, hot librarians, and a hot catty pornstar from That threesome (Isaac and Sunny are both bisexual). Obviously they're all disasters.

Also, I LOVE Sunny; she's bubbly and quite fearless, but she also has some very real insecurities where Isaac is concerned, particularly when it comes to the emotional aspect of their relationship. She also has ADHD and you see these moments of hyperfixation throughout the book, my favorite being the mystery of the mailman, WWII soldier, and his wife, and whatever they were up to back in the day.......

As for Isaac, if you're a fan of a sadboi hero, he's your man. Isaac is.... tragic, to say the least but like, in a hot way because who doesn't love a hot tragic widower? He was also celibate for two years, between the first time him and Sunny hooked up and the present which, again, HOT.

Here's where it gets less hot but packs an emotional punch: Isaac isn't over the passing of his first wife. At all. And at first, it's sweet and sometimes even funny how dramatic and overwrought he gets at times. Then you see the extent of his unhealthy coping mechanisms, namely shutting everyone out to grieve alone, and making Sunny feel reduced to a body rather than someone he can have an emotional connection with. I really appreciate how this book deconstructs that thing romance heroes are prone to doing, where they're convinced they only have one great love of their life, and they're gone now so he can never love again. A lot of romance novels have that development off-page or kind of brush over it so it can get to the happily-ever-after, but not here. Isaac is forced to confront this not only with Sunny, but also his boyband friends/former Christmas Notch heroes.

The sex:

Isaac and Sunny are down-and-ready, anytime, anywhere kind of couple, so obviously they're a fan of a quickie (see: their first time on-page), and public sex because they just can't wait (which is how Sunny ends up shoving fistfuls of cash into a photo booth while Isaac has a hand up her skirt and rips her tights). Isaac does have a bit of a STERN edge but I'd say it's less bossy and more dirty and desperate, plus loads of dirty talk.

I also like how Sunny is never super hung-up on her body as a plus-sized woman, but there's still that moment of genuine awe when Isaac picks her up and drops her on the counter of a public bathroom (another one of their more public encounters lol), and that felt so real to me.

Also, we do get the rare contemporary romance butt stuff, and it does go both ways :D ft. the return of the gingerbread-scented lotion (iykyk).

Overall:

What I love about the Christmas Notch books is that they're genuinely funny (not all romances billed as romcoms are, in my opinion), and they're sexy, sex-positive, AND body positive in a way I rarely see in traditionally published romance novels. A Jingle Bell Mingle was no different and I'd strongly recommend it to any romcom fan.

Thank you to Avon Books and NetGalley for the advanced copy in exchange for my honest review.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday Scottish actor Richard Wilson.

Born Ian Colquhoun Wilson,July 9th 1936 in Greenock, he went on to study science there before completing his National Service in Singapore with the Royal Medical Army Corps. Wilson was a late convert to acting as he worked as a research scientist in Glasgow until the age of 27. He then trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (RADA) in London. Before his most famous role as Victor Meldrew, he participated in theatre productions in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Manchester. He also directed several plays.

After several bit parts in TV shows including The Sweeney and Some Mothers Do Have 'Em' in 1978, he portrayed a regular character in the show A Sharp Intake of Breath'with David Jason between 1977 and 1980. This was followed by lead roles in the show High and Dry in 1985, and Hot Metal in 1988. It was in between these two series that I first noticed Richar Wilson in the fantastic BBC Scotland series Tutti Frutti with a host of other Scots, including Robbie Coltrane, Maurice Roëves and Katy Murphy, Richard was Eddie Clockerty, the group's devious and exploitative manager, I remember fondly the scenes he shared with Kate Murphy as his lippy secretary Miss Toner.

Wilson then won his most famous role as Victor Meldrew, although he initially turned down the part as he was younger than the character, in the sitcom One Foot in the Grave. The line 'I Don't Believe It' became the character's catchphrase, the show ran for ten years before they finally bumped him off

After One Foot in the Grave, Wilson enjoyed roles in 'High Stakes' and Life As We Know It' in 2001. Between 2002 and 2004, he appeared in several TV movies including Jeffrey Archer: The Truth and King of Fridges

Wilson returned to a recurring TV show in the form of Born and Bred' between 2004 and 2005 and has since made the transition from a grumpy old man to a wise, old apothecary in Merlin, which debuted in 2008 and finished in 2012. Since then he has been picky with his roles and not appeared in too many shows, however a wee look at Indb tells me he has two projects on the go just now, Everything I Ever Wanted to Tell My Daughter About Men also stars Alan Cummings and How Sweetly it turns.

Richard has devoted his time to working for the gay rights campaign group Stonewall he is also a patron for the Scottish Youth Theatre and has been a long-term supporter of the charity Sense.

Wilson was planning to reprise the iconic character of Victor Meldrew for one night only at The Edinburgh Fringe a few years back but in the run-up to the event the actor suddenly fell ill and had to pull out.

It was later revealed he suffered a heart attack but remembers nothing of it. He told BBC Radio 2′s Graham Norton:

“I had a heart attack and fell off a balcony. I don’t remember a thing about it.The great thing about the accident – I’m going to mention because I’d love to know who it was – the great thing about the accident is that there was a doctor walking by, and if he hadn’t been walking by, I wouldn’t be talking to you now"

The veteran actor is still working, latest roles have been in Around the World in 80 Days in 2021, A new film, Sweetly It Turns is next for Wilson.

[denimbex1986]

'Like countless moviegoers around the world, I’m a major fan of Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer.” But like many of those who saw it, I wasn’t alone in having qualifications about the last part of the movie. For me, the first two hours of “Oppenheimer” were electrifying. I felt the kind of full-scale mind/soul immersion that’s the definition of what we look for when we go to the movies. But in the last hour, I experienced a certain falling-off quality. I was still involved, but less involved. As the film kept returning to the 1954 hearing that resulted in Oppenheimer losing his security clearance, with Oppenheimer in the hot seat being hectored by a team of interrogators led by Jason Clarke’s special counsel to the AEC, I thought, “Why are we still at this damn hearing?” I asked because I didn’t know.

Now I do. A month or so after “Oppenheimer” opened, I went back and saw it again, and this time my qualifications evaporated. I was just as electrified as I’d been by the first two hours ­— only now that sensation didn’t end. The feeling of immersion lasted all three hours, right to the final shot. I’m a bit embarrassed to say this, since it means admitting that I didn’t get the film right the first time; as much as I raved about it in my Variety review, I would now rewrite the last part of that piece. But I’m even more fascinated by why I missed a crucial element of the movie.

“Oppenheimer” presents its title character as a totemic figure, a daring, mysterious, endlessly complicated renaissance genius who rose to his moment by envisioning and overseeing the creation of the atomic bomb. Cillian Murphy, in his mesmerizing performance, endows Oppenheimer with an all-knowing aristocratic dandy swagger. He makes him a singularly charismatic figure, a wizardly idealist who conjures up an awesome power and then grapples with the consequences of his actions. And since it feels as if Oppenheimer, at that hearing, is being persecuted (to a large extent for his earlier Communist ties), it was hard to watch it without feeling like I was on his side.

The movie, however, is not on his side. Not really. In the last hour, it’s deeply critical of Oppenheimer — as critical, I would say, as any major Hollywood biopic has ever been of its subject. And this is the road I didn’t fully let myself travel down the first time I saw “Oppenheimer.” The last hour was trying to me because I was fighting what the movie was.

I can say, with some surprise, that the final hour of “Oppenheimer” is now my favorite part of the movie. It’s the most morally dramatic and hypnotic — the true inquiry into who Oppenheimer was, and why he’s a hero who will always have an oversize asterisk next to his name.

The first time out, I thought I was watching a drama about the creation of the A-bomb. But as captivating as all that is — the science-lab frenzy, the race against the clock, the thorny politics of life in the makeshift city that was set up in the Los Alamos desert — the process by which Oppenheimer and his fellow brainiacs transformed nuclear fission into a weapon capable of delivering a nuclear apocalypse is not exactly the stuff of spoiler alerts. They gathered; they devoted themselves; they wondered if they were going to set the global atmosphere on fire; they triumphed.

Since “Oppenheimer” is a movie with a built-in big bang, I spent a lot of that first viewing anticipating what the Trinity Test would look and feel like. I still think it’s the one disappointing aspect of the film. Nolan fragments the bomb detonation (glaring light, rising hellfire), and in doing so he somehow fails to channel its viscerally terrifying and unprecedented largeness. That kind of threw me off.

Was the building of the atomic bomb justified? “Oppenheimer” says that it absolutely was. The Nazis were working on their own bomb, and Oppenheimer, who was Jewish, very much saw his mission as an attempt to save civilization by winning a weapons race that, had the Nazis won it, might have resulted in a level of devastation beyond the unthinkable.

But was the dropping of the atomic bomb justified? Given that the Nazis had been defeated before the decision was made (by President Truman) to drop the weapon on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a powerful case could be made that it was not. Should Nolan have depicted the effects of the bomb on the Japanese, as Spike Lee suggested this week? I think that would have made “Oppenheimer” a very different movie, and not necessarily a better one. I’m not here to rehash that debate, but I’ll point out that Nolan’s film features Oppenheimer, speaking to a roomful of his Manhattan Project colleagues, cutting to a kind of cosmic justification for dropping the bomb. He says, in essence, that it will act as an inoculation, forever scaring off the human race from using the bomb by demonstrating its deathly horror.

Perhaps he was right. But this was still Oppenheimer’s Faustian bargain. He convinced himself that dropping the bomb was justified, maybe even necessary, but in doing so he was also acting out of an elaborate and convoluted self-interest. On some level he’d invented a new toy and desperately wanted to use it. Though it wasn’t his decision to use it, he distanced himself from the horror of that decision.

The rest of the movie is about how the horror comes crawling back. I certainly saw elements of that the first time. But I what I missed, in my kneejerk-old-school-liberal way, is that the 1954 hearing runs on and on not because the film is trying to demonstrate that Oppenheimer was “persecuted.” As much as the Communist associations he had in the ’30s come into play, the point is not to depict the hearing as a McCarthyite smear (even though, in fact, it kind of was).

No, the startling thing about the last hour of “Oppenheimer” is that it features two characters who seem to exist almost entirely to prosecute and torment our hero, and in both cases what they say about him is right. “Oppenheimer” shows us how J. Robert Oppenheimer was not so much a victim of history, or of an oppressive U.S. government, as he was a defensive narcissist crusader who spent his final years using the trigger of his guilt to cover himself in a kind of grand delusion.

Robert Downey Jr.’s performance as Lewis Strauss, the former head of the AEC who becomes Oppenheimer’s antagonist, is a stupendous outpouring of extemporaneous verbal energy (the actor is even more commanding without his irony than he is with it). But because Strauss is the person who stabbed Oppenheimer in the back, I assumed, the first time I saw the movie, that Nolan figured he needed some sort of villain, and that the virulent, hawkish Strauss was it. Strauss certainly had petty personal motives; the film returns several times to the Congressional hearing in which Oppenheimer publicly humiliated him with a flippant comment about radioisotopes. Yet the reason that Strauss, in certain ways, comes close to dominating the film’s last hour isn’t simply because we’re watching a bureaucrat take his vengeance. It’s because Strauss is the one who understands, and articulates, a crucial element of the film’s verdict on Oppenheimer: that he was a brilliant and self-glorifying celebrity who forged a mythology around himself, one that extended into his very crusade against the weapon he’d created.

Oppenheimer was the scientist who let the nuclear genie out of the bottle, but after the war he devoted his life to essentially saying, “Let’s try to put it back in.” Never realizing that this was hypocritical and unreal. In public, he’d mocked Strauss, and it was Strauss’s sleazy double dealing that was on trial during his own 1959 Senate confirmation hearing for Secretary of Commerce — the other hearing that’s featured in the movie.

But the reason that Strauss is in the movie, and the reason Downey should win the Oscar for best supporting actor for his performance, is the fantastic fervor with which he rakes Oppenheimer over the coals. Just because Strauss is rather scurrilous doesn’t mean that he’s wrong; he’s the one who has Oppenheimer’s number. And so does Jason Clarke’s Roger Robb, the AEC attorney who, in one of the film’s most cathartic moments, gives a speech in the 1954 hearing that excoriates Oppenheimer for the hypocrisy of his position on the hydrogen bomb: his denunciation of it as a monstrously overscaled weapon — but talk about the wrong messenger! Oppenheimer’s A-bomb was already an obscenely overscaled monster.

Christopher Nolan, in that inquiring last hour, has written all this into the movie, not because he wants to damn J. Robert Oppenheimer but because he wants to take the full measure of a 20th-century visionary who charged into the creation of the atomic bomb as if it were the science project of a lifetime — which it was ­— but had the luxury of not fully thinking through the implications of his actions. By the time he thought them through, he’d turned his criticism of America’s nuclear policy into a grandly repressed apology. He used the nuclear debate, and even his own martyrdom, to justify himself. But the way the movie portrays this doesn’t make it an attack on Oppenheimer. It makes “Oppenheimer” a piece of history that’s also a human exploration of the most exhilarating honesty.'

[davidmariottecomics]

Week 86 - 8/28/23 - A BLUE BEETLE MOVIE???

Hi there, 

It probably isn't news as it's a pretty popular film in theaters right now, but there's a Blue Beetle movie out! And it's a lot of fun! 

If you didn't know, Ted Kord, the second Blue Beetle, is my favorite superhero. There's a pretty good joke in the new movie about the difference between Ted and Batman, and not to step on the punchline, but it boils down to Ted knows how to laugh. He's a character frequently written to have a sense of humor, to know a good joke, and to be the dramatic superheroic straightman when it counts. He is not exactly an everyman--he's a genius, he dresses up in a silly costume, and he's rich--but in a lot of ways, he's just a guy trying to do the right thing because he can. 

And he casts a long shadow over the new movie, which is about Jaime Reyes--fantastically played by the dreamy Xolo Maridueña--who I don't love quite as much as Ted, but who I think is himself a great and important character. He's a very different hero. He's got a sense of humor, he's got a good heart, but his relationship with his family, with his friends, with the scarab, and with the Blue Beetle legacy allows him to be something totally apart from Ted. The movie takes a lot of liberties--it's part Spider-Man, part Ant-Man, part Green Lantern (though... honestly probably better than the past few recent film adaptations of those characters)--but it doesn't run from the truth of who Jaime is as a character, which I think makes it all the better. The best superhero movie projects don't try to be just an adaptation, but to take what makes the hero great, understand it, and share it in a way that makes them more accessible and loom larger as a hero. 

I don't want to spoil anything, but there was one extremely stupid part that made me tear up (out of just finally getting to see a thing on-screen and knowing there's some practical version of it out there and honestly, a little bit jealousy). If you see me, or want to reach out and ask about it, I'll gladly tell you. 

But there's a Blue Beetle movie. And even though I saw it and really quite liked it... I kinda still can't believe it. 

Next week: No blog on the website/newsletter! There is a Patreon post scheduled if you need your fix, going out to all backers at $5 or more a month! But I'm outta town and will see you when I return. 

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video Game), Craig of the Creek (Cartoon), Honkai Star Rail (Video game), My Adventures with Superman (Cartoon), The Broken Room by Peter Clines (Book), Dumbing of Age (Webcomic), Solve This Murder (Podcast), The Venture Bros: Radiant is the Blood of the Baboon Heart (Movie--which my pal Phil Murphy worked on!), Kaiju No. 8 (Manga), Kaguya-Sama: Love is War (Manga), Blue Beetle (Movie--duh), Oldboy (Movie), Witch Watch (Manga), Becca playing a little more Persona 5, Tangled (Movie), Jurassic Park (Movie), D.E.B.S. (Movie) 

New Releases this week (8/23/2023): Godzilla Monsters & Protectors: All Hail the King TPB (Editor--on the latter half)

Final Order Cut-Off next week (8/28/2023--last day to get your preorders in): Sonic the Hedgehog #65

New Releases next week (8/30/2023): Godzilla Rivals: Vs. SpaceGodzilla (Supervising Editor) Sonic the Hedgehog: Endless Summer (A very silly credit) Sonic the Hedgehog: Scrapnik Island TPB (Editor) 

Announcements: Becca is at Cartoon-a Palooza in Temecula on 9/15 & 9/16. It's a cool free all-ages little con, so come on out and see them!

Wanna support me? Consider joining my Patreon! I've got a bunch of cool stuff coming up and already on there. As well as some silly stuff like a tour of my desk, so you can see where the comics magic happens! I've got a bunch of stuff scheduled for September already and there'll always be more! 

I have a webstore! It does look like I'm going to get a small supplement to my Beast Wars Vol. 3 stock, which is nice, but most everything else, I am not going to have more of anytime soon! Maybe give it a look! 

I've still got a few things on my eBay, if you're looking for stuff! But obviously, anything that would get shipped out won't until I'm back!  Pic of the Week: It was National Cinema Day yesterday, which is why Becca and I went to Blue Beetle ($4 tickets to the movies!). But they had to work, so I went and saw a second film, the 20th anniversary screening of Park Chan-wook's Oldboy. And the theater that was showing Oldboy had a special Cinema Day deal on the Blue Beetle backback popcorn bucket, so I did pick it up because that with a popcorn and a drink was still significantly cheaper than the bucket usually is by itself. So here's a photo of Becca modeling it. 

[carminekings]

— ❛ man, i knew women were evil. ❜ @tragedyrich

anna slaps him in response. he's only surprised that she dares to in view of everyone, nate included. the contact is audible, a deft smack that signifies plenty of fury -- though martin knows, without looking, that this too, is restrained. she's biting her tongue, resisting every urge to say more -- to break the facade the murphys wear so well -- to wrangle him, spit the kiss she'd offered him years before, in quiet plea. but she doesn't do any of this. instead she resumes composure, and leaves the diner without ordering, a once tired figure standing dramatically tall. martin's eyes follow her, curious and understanding, until she turns a corner and disappears entirely. he presses his palm against the heat of his cheek, focus languid as it settles, eventually, on nate and his biting comment. he hums, not in agreement but in recognition of his opinion, before returning to his food, picking the onions from his burger. "she's not evil. she's upset with me," martin explains, noncommittal.

[othcrside]

murphy + atticus anchorange airport — september 22nd, 2023 ( @pcisxnivys )

After four long, reflective months on the southern coast of Australia, Murphy purchased a first class plane ticket that would sweep her across the Pacific and deliver her kindly (and with a few complementary glasses of champagne) unto the Alaskan shoreline. She couldn't say she hadn't missed the blistering cold of the tundra; as although winter in the southern hemisphere did exist it wasn't remotely as dramatic and awe-inspiring as what Anchorage offered. The entire town was steeped heavily in folklore and mysticism, all embroidered by steep snowbanks and the enchanting Northern Lights that made it feel more like home than anywhere else on earth. There were no qualms against Australia, however. It was there that she was finally gifted the one thing she desired most dearly: a chance at experiencing life in full-force. She acquainted other creatives, experienced new art, began regular visitations at a psychiatric clinic, and even permitted for a prescription to be written up so she could return to America without fear that she would fall headlong into dangerous habits that often left her stranded on roadsides and drunk in the middle of town for the sake of fathoming any emotion that presented itself in her intoxicated haze. What her paramount objective was, despite all of this, to see her best friend again. They hadn't left one another's side for that long since they were young and under the jurisdiction of unfortunate circumstances, namely her domineering mother. She could feel thrushes of consternation plague her veins as she pulled her carry-on out from the overhead compartment and darted for the exit at the end of the aisle, threading between every loitering passenger until she was at baggage claim, then, finally, speed-walking ahead toward where she could spot Atticus. A stupid grin was plastered on her face as she opened her willowy arms for an embrace. They had never been ones for physical affection, but the prolonged absence from each other's lives made for an exception to the unspoken rule. "I think you might've shrunk while I was gone," Murphy remarked blithely. She couldn't remember last when she felt so inexplicably warm and content. In her unmitigated joy, she rocked back and forth where she stood, treasuring every second of their reunion. "Let's never do this again. Even if I did get to bag a few Margot Robbies while I was gone." Laced in between her waggish inflection was a wavering voice as tears prickled on her waterline. God, and she promised herself she wouldn't cry.

[timeguardiansarchive]

Skipping School continued from X

Jagged lightning appears in Missy's eyes at his seemingly clever quip. "What's the point? Everyone knows I'm not as smart as Sheldon." It's a tough fate to swallow but she's been swallowing it since she was three. Everything she tries her hands at feels like a failure. Math, English, Science they're all complicated art forms that sail way above the fathoms of her head. Missy wasn't at all a fan of struggling, so she didn't try at all.

Her latest teacher accused her of 'cheating' while taking a test simply because she was whispering with Billy. No one else seems to know what's going down in her family and yet, he seemed to be a remarkably insightful source of information. Correct information. He knew Georgie's baby was a girl before she did. He knew that her father and his mother Brenda were spending evenings alone in the chickencoop. When confronted, Missy lashed out. Saying she forgot, the teacher would know what cheating looked like given the way her husband was carrying on.

Then with a wistful expression she slips an imperative tidbit in under the radar. "'Sides they don't want you in school when you're suspended." Lowering her voice a few pitches, she adds. "Might have to take in this cruddy movie a few more times." So her suspension had an awful lot to do with the turmoil between her parents. "They wouldn't sell me the ticket for Too Hot in Seattle or Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's like they don't think I've ever seen rated "R" things before. I've seen things on Pay-per-view." She grumpily rumbles. Being thirteen sucks. Her weary, stormy eyes return to the screen just in time to watch the Aquamaniac take a dramatic nose dive from a cliff. A sigh unfurls itself from her lungs. As bad as this movie was, she wasn't exactly interested in Grandma goes to Hollywood or any of the other offbrand titles boasted in flashing lights.

Missy shrugs. "It was definitely about me in general." The confession is made between noms on popcorn. Who cares where the blame laid? "They think the other s to blame for my attitude, for all the trouble I've been getting into lately." Her chilled gaze averts, pinning to Murphy the way darts to bullseyes when he speaks again. Bemused wonder melts a little of the anger into something more mailable. "You-- you did?" Her stance in the stiff seat shifts. "What did you do about it?"

Once more young Cooper slinks backwards into the chair. "The police?" She scoffs. "That would be the day." The concept however wasn't that unimaginable. A part of Missy tries to swallow her dear friend Paige's fate down at the expression of his words. "Thank God. I'd just as soon keep my parents out of this--"She grits out. The mention of juvie has her head spinning disastrously. Her parents would go ballistic. As if they weren't going nuclear enough. Her gaze returns to the screen trying to wash the terrorizing reality of his words to abate.

Instead of turning more introverted and introspective, Missy avoids the topic like a plague. "Just how did you find me anyways?" She mutters, crunching down another series of handfuls of popcorn. "And why's it matter to you if I go off the rails?"