#it really is so isolating. it feels like i’m in purgatory

[sublux]

what an absolutely exhausting couple of years i’ve had. i hope 2025 has something good in it for me

[pedropascallme]

u said u are always looking for a reason to write jim smut so let me deliver bc i’m actually so fixated on this movie it’s CRAZYYY!!!!! anyways i would like like a build up to a confession kind of? like there’s so so much romantic and sexual tension and it just like breaks and yeah😭😭 idk if that makes any sense but yk!! ok thank u so much!!! you are amazing dude

In Our Perfect Present Tense

Pairing: Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v, fingering, praise kink, Jim can be soft!dom if I say so!! Allusions to canon typical violence, I know Cillian Murphy is 5'8 but Jim is 6'2 in my mind, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Max you make my heart go badumbadumbadumbadum (good) I hope this is to your liking <3 Also continuing to cross tag my Cillian fics because my Jim fics rarely gain traction so we are trying some METHODS.

The cottage was so quiet.

You could hear Hannah shift under the blanket and sigh in her sleep, and though seeing her so peaceful made you feel a pang of protectiveness, watching her chest rise and fall, your mind was elsewhere. Maybe you were still in London, or Manchester, or anywhere else; maybe this was all fake and you had died somewhere along the way. Was this Heaven? Or maybe Purgatory, given that nothing seemed to have changed much.

And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?

No. You closed your eyes and his face flashed across your mind; eyes you wanted to drown in and cheekbones sharp enough to make you bleed. Maybe that’s why you kept him around in the first place. You’d never had to help him, save him from the congregation that chased him down the road; never had to take him to your hideout in the underground. At first, (and you knew this for a fact, at least) it was simply because Mark…bored you. He was cheesy and had a chip on his shoulder, and you didn’t like how he looked at you—didn’t like that he seemed to expect you to fall in love with him. Jim made a good buffer. And it helped that he had such kind eyes that seemed to be full of fear and morbid curiosity, and that he was, in every sense of the word, pretty.

You hadn’t been sad when you’d had to kill Mark.

But once you had made it clear to Jim that you didn’t want to fall in love with him, either, your snap judgement fogging your mind, you thought that was the end of it. Thought maybe he would go out like Mark did. And was it really your fault that Jim assumed you didn’t care about him? You didn’t. You wanted him to think you didn’t. Wanted him to think that he was essentially on his own when you ran up the stairs to the top floor, with his head splitting in pain and your legs going as fast as they could carry you. But when he came up to you that night to apologize to you, thank you, hold out an olive branch, it was then you realized that you felt isolated. And, yes, doomsday will do that to you, but it wasn’t just that. It was that even when humanity was rearing its ugly head, Jim still had the time to recognize and respect you; he was willing to put you first in a way nobody would’ve done even if their life didn’t depend on it.

You felt so guilty that night, touching yourself under the covers with everybody else just a few rooms over.

It was one thing to be wandering around the desolate city with him as your only company, but once you had Frank and Hannah (and a car) you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was hope. There was a glimmer of something behind Jim’s eye when you were eating out on the countryside after ransacking the supermarket—and it could’ve been the way the light was hitting him, or the way he laughed with Hannah, or the fact that he was eating fruit for the first time in weeks, but you thought maybe it had something to do with you. Maybe he had figured out that you did care. About him and about the state of things and about what the hell you would do if there was any sort of relief from running away. You thought about kissing him then, and he might’ve, too. There was a certain tenderness in the way he curled up next to you that night, under the stars.

In another life, he might’ve done it for reasons other than keeping warm.

And then, of course, that all came crashing down. It had been too good to be true, and in retrospect you hated yourself for allowing any harm to come to your small posse. You got out alive, but the hope you had was minimal, at best. Was alive good enough anymore? Was alive good enough when you’d fought off every evil you could think of in the span of 12 hours?

No. It wasn’t until Jim turned around, soaking wet and bleeding, that you realized that being alive was no good if he wasn’t there with you to enjoy it. You’d wanted to wrap yourself in him, to feel the sweat and blood caked on his chest and kiss him until you lost consciousness. Instead, you crumpled to the floor in the red dress that had been forced upon you, hugging yourself to his shins and begging him to tell you he was ok. It was mortifying, only made slightly more bearable when Hannah lobbed a bottle over his head. At least you knew there was still humor to be found in the worst of situations.

Shortly thereafter, when Jim got shot, you were certain that it was all over; you might as well follow him out. Maybe you would’ve if it hadn’t been for Hannah crying silently next to you as she floored the gas and begged you to stay. To do something. For once you felt like you had people worth fighting for other than yourself. It made you dizzy.

Which brought you back to the present.

There were two rooms in the cottage; both were damp and smelled like the lint from a dryer, but having a bed was enough. You had discussed the sleeping situation the night of your arrival, and there had only been some mild bickering.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. S’ok.” Jim remained gentlemanly throughout, but it was apparent, to you, at least, that the person with the bullet hole through their stomach should be able to sleep comfortably.  

“Hannah and I will take one, you’ll take the other.” You were blunt, dancing around the subject of who would end up sharing by deciding then and there to divide it based on sex.

“Wha—” Hannah began to protest before deciding to shut her mouth.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Jim stood his ground, “I’ll find something to rest on.”

“Absolutely not.” And that’s where you ended it. Saving face, dismissing any deeper urges, leaving no time for Hannah or Jim to propose a different arrangement.  

But now that you were somewhat settled, it felt wrong to be in this room. The wallpaper was a reflective pink, and it felt too bright even in the pitch-black night. You couldn’t get comfortable, and all you could do was mull over every past interaction you’d had with Jim. Every interaction, and the way his mouth moved when he spoke, and the way he smiled at you, and the way he had quite literally killed for you—nearly been killed for you.

You felt hot. Nauseous, even, to the point where you felt that you had to move around or take a walk or do anything to feel more at ease. But it just so happened that you felt the most at ease around Jim.

You tiptoed across the floor and into the hallway. You almost didn’t bother knocking on the door, but felt that you at least owed him that decency.

“C’m’in.”

You peered into the room, allowing yourself a small view of Jim’s shirtless figure splayed out on the bed. You smiled, feeling shy out of nowhere.

“Just wanted to check on you.” You excused yourself, not wanting him to think it any more odd than it already was for you to be in his doorway at midnight. “You feeling ok?”

“Better than ever.” Jim crossed his arms behind his head, sitting up against the pillows. You could see the bandage on his abdomen, and his skin covered in a ray of moonlight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, patting the mattress to encourage you to sit with him. You closed the door behind you. “Why’re you really up?”

“Honestly?” You paused to build tension, leaning in slightly, “Hannah snores.” Jim chuckled under his breath. “And…and I don’t really feel at home in that room.”

“Would you feel more at home in this one?”

“Maybe…”

“’Cause if you’d like it, you and Hannah could have it. ‘V’always wanted pink wallpaper, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, “No, that’s—it’s not that.”

“Then…?” Jim tilted his head slightly, and you looked down and away from him, inhaling deeply.

“Can I stay in here tonight? With—with you?” You could feel your pulse in your throat and though he responded almost immediately, you felt as though hours were passing.

“Sure, f’course.” Jim nodded; eyes wide with eager bewilderment. You swing your legs over the mattress, straightening yourself out beside him. You looked up at the ceiling, lying on your back and waiting to fall asleep.

“Closer.” Jim whispered.

“Hm?”

“Y’can come closer. If you want, I mean.”

“Oh…yeah.” You shuffled closer to him. Somehow you ended up spooning, his hand draped hesitantly over your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and his breath blowing against the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Comfortable?” He was still whispering, as if he would wake the crickets if he spoke any louder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah…” You both fell silent again, and you wondered if he could feel the tension, too, or if it was something you had just made up. You turned over to face him.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, though his eyes were closed, and you thought maybe he had already fallen asleep.

“For what?” His eyes were still closed when he responded.

“For—you know…” You reached out to graze your fingertips over his bandages, withdrawing it just as quickly when you realized that what you were doing was so forward.

“You didn’t shoot me.”

“I didn’t stop you from getting shot.”

“Not much you could’ve done. Three of us and more of them.” He opened his eyes, “Plus, you drugged Hannah, so just the two of us, really.”

You buried your face into the pillow, “Was trying to help.”

“You did.” Jim reached out to goad you from your hiding spot. “Been nothing but helpful since I met you. Consider this me returning the favor.” You managed to peek an eye out from the pillow to look at him smiling at you. He was so gentle. How could a man who had been comatose while the world was thrown into shambles remain so empathetic?

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, barely audible when the words came out through the pillow.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt, either. Think I went to all that trouble for myself?”

“No.” You brought your head up to fully look at him.

“Exactly. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“You say that with so much confidence.”

“Cause it’s true. Cocky, but it’s true.”

“It is.”

“True?”

“Cocky,” you smiled when he feigned defeat, “but also true.” You quieted again, keeping eye contact with one another. Jim’s smile faded slightly.

“Why did you help me?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In the first place, by the gas station—why did you help me?”

You didn’t know how to answer. “I needed the company.”

“You had company.”

“I needed company I would enjoy.”

“What if I wasn’t enjoyable?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I was willing to take that risk.” You raised an eyebrow back at him, mocking his curiosity and his pushback. “And…I mean, plus, you were…I d’know. Tragic. And pretty.”

“Pretty?” His other eyebrow shot up.

“And tragic.” You giggled. “It’s not like I saw you tearing down the street screaming and thought that you only deserved help ‘cause you were good looking, it was just—it’s why I kept you around.” You rolled your eyes, trying to stop yourself from sounding too sincere, unsure if Jim was willing to recognize the attraction you had toward him. Unsure of whether or not you were willing to admit it right here, right now.

“You liked me.” Jim teased.

“I like you,” you clarified, “Present tense.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, opting instead to look down at his wound once more. He gawked at you, grinning. Placing a hand on your chin, he redirected your gaze to his face.

“How long have you been holding out on me?”

“What?”

“How long’ve you been wanting to say that? Not since day one, hm? Since we went to my parents’ house?”

“Didn’t want to say it,” you huffed, “wanted to help you stay alive.”

“C’mon, all that talk about how you didn’t care if I fell in love with you? Cared more than you let on, I knew it. Could’ve saved us so much time if you just came out with it.”

“Shush.” You tried not to dwell on his words, the realization that, this whole time, he was waiting for you.

“Say it again.” He gleamed, “say it again.”

You took his hand from your face, holding it in your own. “Jim,” you brought his hand to your chest, “I like you.”

You couldn’t take a breath before he was on you. You felt his lips first, plush against your own, and then his hands over your waist and his legs tangling with yours. For someone who had almost bled out less than a week ago, he was shockingly quick on his feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the release of weeks’ worth of tension that had been festering inside of you when his tongue slipped between your lips. You moaned, hands grabbing at any part of him you could reach: You felt his chest against your own and ran a trail down his spine with a finger, feeling him shiver at your touch. He ground his hips into you slightly and you reached for his arms, pulling him in as close as you possibly could.

“Knew it.” He whispered when you pulled away for air. “Knew it.” He began sucking on your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point and licking stripes down your throat. You gasped at the feeling, still trying to touch him wherever you could. You found yourself stroking his jawline while he sucked bruises onto your chest, feeling the way his cheeks hollowed when he made an especially strong mark.

“Jim—” You pleaded, trying to touch him, feel him, all around needing him. It was almost all too much.

He returned to eye level. “Mm?” He kissed your neck again, soothing over the fresh hickeys. “Tell me what you need.”

“You—need you.”

“C’mon,” his grin returned, “specifics.”

“Please,” you needed to feel everything, everywhere, “fuck me.”

“God, sounds so pretty coming out of that mouth.” He stood up from the mattress, pulling you up slightly to allow him to disrobe you. It didn’t take much effort; the threadbare clothes you were trying to pass off as pajamas had already practically disintegrated the moment you had put them on. He shucked his bottoms off before retaking his place on top of you in bed.

“So fucking beautiful,” he kissed you again, “so, so pretty. Wanted to make you feel so good f’so long.”

Feeling confident, you cupped his cheek in your palm, “touched myself thinking about this.”

“F—when? Thought about me while you touched yourself? Tell me.” It was a breathless demand, and you could feel his erection throbbing above you.

“The night in the apartment. Came on my fingers, came so hard while I thought of how good you’d fuck me—oh!” Your sexy display was cut short when you felt his fingers brush your clit.

“Yeah? Touched right here and thought of how nice I’d fuck this pussy?” You whimpered at the way he massaged you just right, and his words only added fuel to the fire. “Should’ve just asked me to take care of you, baby, would’ve helped.” God, he was wicked. Such a good man, and so, so wicked for speaking to you like this. You arched your back, and he took the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck,” he huffed, delighted by how wet you were for him, and your eyes rolled back, “get yourself this wet? Or is it just me?”

“You, fuck, Jim—it’s you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cocky bastard.” You managed between whines and gasps.

“You love it.”  He continued to push his fingers in and out of you, and a delightful squelching noise filled the bedroom. “Fucking beautiful.” He kept at it for a while longer, enjoying the noises you made for him and the way your face contorted when he hit an especially sensitive spot. When he pulled his fingers from you, you sighed, feeling the low of being empty, until he brought the wet digits to your mouth and encouraged you to clean them off for him. He let out a low groan when you began sucking, using your tongue to gather your slick off from in between them. “Yeah, good girl.”

He slotted himself between your thighs, and you could feel the drag of his cock over your stomach. You looked down, wrapping a hand around him and ogling him; so long, so beautifully outlined by thick veins. He gently grasped your wrist, pushing your hand back onto the mattress.

“Wanna make this last.” He half-joked. He kept your arm pinned under him, and you could feel his tip exploring your folds, until finally he pushed himself into you. You let out a shaky, breathless moan as he shallowly thrusted into you, working you open to take him as deep as you could. When he bottomed out, he leaned his forehead against yours, and you could feel the stickiness of sex and sweat on your skin.

“Good, yeah?” He was still being smug, though ensuring you were comfortable. You felt devious, rolling your hips against him and grinning in response, earning a choked “fuck” from him. “Dirty fucking girl.” He pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back into you, forcefully enough that you felt your back drag against the bed. Your tits bounced as he rocked his hips into you, and he took the opportunity to grab one in his hand, taking the other in his mouth.

“Jim!” You couldn’t remember your own name, could barely remember who you were or how you got here; all you could think was Jim, Jim, Jim. “Fu—uck, oh my god, Jim!”

“Gonna wake up the whole neighborhood?” He was incapable of being serious even in the most intimate of moments, knowing full well that the people in this house were the only living souls for miles. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who’s fucking you?” Your lips parted, letting out small moans and whimpers of his name with every thrust.

You could feel his fingers on your clit again, and the feeling was electric; maybe it was because you had wanted him for so long, and tried to deny it for almost as long, but you’d never felt this good—never felt this perfectly sated. The way he kneaded your swollen bud while pounding into you hard enough to make the bedframe shake, the way he whispered such filthy things into the skin of your breasts, the way he wanted you too.

“Gonna—Jim, I’m gonna cum!” You tried to move in sync with him, but it was all too much; he was everywhere, and it was going to be your undoing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to fuck you deeper. He leaned over you, tracing his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your face in one hand.

“Cum for me, baby. So good, my perfect girl, cum on my cock like this.” You were as good as gone. You felt your legs tighten around his body at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. You dug your nails into the skin of his arm, and he growled at the way your body responded to him. “Yeah, like that—just like that, sweetheart.”

You were trembling, dripping down his cock and unsure of how to rationalize this amount of pleasure in the midst of end times. Who cared, anyway? You felt fuzzy, barely registering Jim’s words as his strokes became messier and rushed, catching up to you with his own high.

“Want it inside,” you mumbled through your haze, “please, inside.”

“Can’t fucki—can’t say that baby, can’t risk it.”

“Please…” You knew how stupid it was, knew that he would have to say no, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

“When we get out of England—when we get out of England, I’ll fill you up as much as you want. Yeah?” He slammed himself into you, and his words bounced around inside of your head: “When we get out,” “as much as you want.” If you weren’t so spent, you’d cum for him again from that statement alone. “Promise I will, whenever you want it, baby.”

“Mm.” You sighed contentedly at his assurance. “Tummy.”

“Yeah, good girl, gonna paint you with my cum.” He groaned when you reached up to brush your fingers down his happy trail.

“Give it to me. Please, Jim. Needed it f’so long.” Your mouth hung open, sensitive and sore from his cock and his hands, and somehow still so needy for him, desperate to see him to completion. He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and letting your moans fill his ears as his hips stuttered and he pulled out. You felt his knuckles against your stomach as he stroked himself, finally feeling the warmth of his spend land and spread across your abdomen with a long moan of your name. You stayed like that, both of you breathing heavily, Jim lying on top of you. The gluey feeling of his cum on your stomach and your own between your thighs only heightened when he sat up on his elbow, looking down at you to appreciate how pretty you looked after being fucked out, and you could see the strands of cum dripping between your bodies.

“So beautiful.” He kissed you again, and despite the passion from the last kisses still being present, he was significantly gentler with you in your bleary state.

You blinked up at him, smiling through the fog in your brain, and hugging him close to you. “Gonna have to change your bandages. Covered in your own cum.”

“But what a way to go, right?” He laughed, and you buried your face into him further. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Need a towel?”

“Would it be gross to sleep like this?”

“Gross? No. Uncomfortable? Maybe.”

“I’ll take my chances. Too tired to wash off.”

“As long as you’re alright.” He brushed your hair away from your eyes, maneuvering himself to look down at you while you were pressed to his chest.

“Feel amazing.” You reassured him. “Should’ve said something earlier.”

“No,” Jim pet your hair, smoothing it down over the back of your head, “this was perfect timing.”

“Perfect timing.” You murmured his words back to him in agreement.

[nickelsmarts]

Behold! My personal theory on what q!Jaiden lore was supposed to be.

So the first part of this theory revolves around Elena. While the two are separate characters, it’s impossible to deny the fact that Elena’s character is eerily similar to Jaiden’s. Both lost a close member of their family (a lover for Elena, a son for Jaiden), both were at their lowest point, and both have (or had in Elena’s case) a very positive relationship with Cucurucho. As a result, I’m confident in saying that Elena’s story was supposed to be Jaiden’s story. Considering the higher up admins attitude regarding character lore vs. server lore, it’s very likely that when Jaiden took her break after the first week of Purgatory, the higher ups forced the admins to create Elena as a more convenient replacement. With this in mind, what is Elena’s story? She gets into deep trouble when she finds a mysterious document, is forced to kill a fellow worker so no one knows, is arrested by Foolish, gets tortured in prison by Cucurucho, gets interviewed by Bagi, is forced to kill a fellow worker as a sign of loyalty, and discover that the Federation was responsible for the death of her lover. Elena’s story (especially regarding the involvement of Foolish and Bagi) would be more fitting if it was Jaiden’s story, which I firmly believe it originally was.

The second part of this theory is inspired by @yb-cringe’s posts on Tumblr. Basically, their idea is that the point of Jaiden’s kidnapping was done to take advantage of her through her empathy and connection with Bobby. The room Jaiden meets Osito for the first time has a tree that looks exactly like Bobby’s treehouse. There’s picnic tables just like the ones outside of her and Roier’s house. The carpet is Bobby’s colors. Every room has blue roses. There’s a room with three canvases against a wall that has paintings on it. Osito gives Jaiden roses and hummingbirds just like Bobby. Just like her son. The point of the two week kidnapping wasn’t to make Osito perfect. It was so Jaiden, who was isolated in an environment filled with reminders of Bobby, would see Cucurucho and Osito as family. After feeling alone for months, Jaiden is given the family she missed for months, with Cucurucho in Roier’s position and Osito in Bobby’s. In fact, we see the results of this in action as Cucurucho, after sitting in his own chair on Jaiden’s tree, would begin sitting in Roier’s chair after she came back.

But this raises an obvious question: why would the Federation want to do this? Simple. It begins with why Jaiden began working with Cucurucho in the first place. Cucurucho gave Jaiden the mission to protect the eggs a few weeks after Bobby died, when she was at her lowest and most vulnerable. Despite her broken state of being, what she wanted most was to protect the eggs so no one else could feel the same pain she felt. She knew that working with Cucurucho was dangerous. She knew that it would damage the relationships she had. And during her mission, Jaiden started to lose trust in the islanders around her after learning about the photos Max took (even though she never knew it was him). By the time Cucurucho took her, she only really trusted four islanders (Roier, Cellbit, Foolish, and Baghera). But she did it anyways because of how much she loved the eggs, because of how much she loves Bobby. That intensity, that drive, that indomitable determination is valiant and, most importantly, VERY DANGEROUS. Jaiden’s determination led her to traverse thousands of miles and kill hundreds of monsters to fulfill the mission given to her by Cucurucho (which ends up succeeding in hindsight considering the existence of Creation). And when she writes in her journal after she is released, how does she end it?

“All I know is I want to protect the eggs and I want to protect Cucurucho.”

From the moment Jaiden came back after Bobby’s death, the Federation was grooming Jaiden to see Cucurucho as a friend. As family. He approached her at a time not only when she was at her most vulnerable, but when everyone was against him. And in a single sentence, two months of waiting and manipulating paid off. The Federation gained the loyalty of someone who could easily become the most dangerous person on the island. The Federation gained the perfect weapon to use against Cellbit, the Order, or anyone else who would go against them. And we know for a fact that Jaiden would backstab everyone she knew Cucurucho told her to, as she admitted during Purgatory. In a single sentence, the Federation WON.

With all this in mind, it’s possible to figure out how Jaiden’s story was supposed to play out. After coming back from Purgatory, Jaiden would’ve been fully hired by the Federation and would’ve gained the status of an S-rank worker and starts becoming friends with the workers. One day, she finds a file referencing something called “Operation Bluebird” and where it’s being kept. Realizing that this might be about her, she hides the file at her house and begins questioning whether or not she should follow the coordinates. However, one of the workers spotted her doing this, forcing her to kill him. Then, she learns that security footage caught her doing this and is arrested by Foolish. Then, she is tortured in the Federation prison until she is interviewed by Bagi. Bagi would be asking her about the whereabouts of Luffy (due to Jaiden likely being aware of what happened given her position). After this, Jaiden would do something as a sign of loyalty to the Federation. After doing so, she is released, However, Jaiden would be motivated to find out where the Bluebird file is and sets out to find it. Upon arriving at the where the location in the files, she finds many files relating to the islanders, including her. When Jaiden opens her file, she finally learns the past that she forgot. For Elena, she learned something that was so shocking that it changed everything about the way she viewed the Federation and Cucurucho (their involvement in her lover’s death). So what would Jaiden learn that would cause a similar revelation? Personally I have an idea but I’m not telling (saving that for my fanfic/au).

In the file is a detailed plan about having her on the side of the Federation. Cucurucho would approach her, give her the assignment, and begin showing himself as a friend in order to groom her into loyalty. It would also mention how the Federation knew about Max taking the photos and that they planned on revealing them to her until Cellbit told her about them. Then, Jaiden would be taken to the area with Osito, where she would be isolated and forced to see the Cucuruchos as family. With her loyalty assured, Jaiden would be a living weapon ready to deployed against anyone who was against Cucurucho and the Federation.

After she finishes reading the file, Jaiden has a mental breakdown over what was in the file. She begins questioning if her friendships with Cucurucho or Osito was even real or not and whether he was using her like the Federation did. The person she thought she trusted the most was probably never even her friend to begin with. What happens from then on can be anyone’s interpretation but considering that Jaiden herself said that dying to a nuke was a better ending for her than what was planned, it likely doesn’t end well.

Honestly I’m really confident that this is close to what was planned. While it is disappointing that Jaiden’s story never went anywhere, I obviously understand her reasons for leaving. Still, I hope that at some point in the future we get a proper answer in case any of this is wrong (I’m publishing this now considering the lore stream coming up). Also I got nothing on the prison picture so don’t ask (not like it even meant anything anyway). Also didn’t consider anything about Em and Doied.

Now let’s see how the Quackity lore stream fucks it up.

[chamoemileclown]

saw someone else post about this and i really agree i think it just wasnt the right time for purgatory, the stakes were there but the vibe and the point in roleplay development for individual characters just.. wasnt it for me. I dont know what they have planned for the future so i cant say it shouldve happened later, but i think because of all the trips and vidcon the charas had just gotten to a point where they had started healing from their kids going missing only to be thrown into this, which can be a good point narratively but theres also a couple other things that kinda just didnt let it work out for me tbh

a lot of it was just the rules and events were weird? that probably makes no sense. but like from a viewer pov it felt like the characters were beta testers for this and the rules have been constantly changing, so its hard to get comfortable in. Like when theres a set of consistent rules teams are able to more accurately strategize and such and they couldnt really do that? so it just felt like weird improv the whole time which theyre very good at but it was just.. like idk unbalanced? thats a dif point that contributed

like etoiles pointed this out that they balanced the teams (not really imo) in game but not fandom-wise, like certain teams had a very large fanbase and certain others had a very small one, etc etc. And like for example blue team had much less people on consistently but by the time they realized that it was probably too late to change teams without an event like the one recently splitting green. I feel like the admins tried to mix up the players outside of their usual friend groups but it just kinda cut the ints in half? i know cellbit didnt wanna kill roier, bad was very isolated from all his regular friends and therefore nobody wanted to talk to him (he wasnt on their team), tubbo was kinda suffering because he couldnt use create. Red team was overwhelmingly loud, blue was crushingly quiet, green was... tbh not on a lot of the time. Not good to watch from most POVs

i could be wrong about a couple things but like this is my general feeling on it, odd timing and weird balancing combined with toxic fandoms caused by competitiveness within the streams kinda ruined it for me, you can only curate ur experience so much

I really like how you put the first part because it was also something that I had felt about the event but I couldn’t really pinpoint why? I’m sure that a lot of the planning came down to a lot of stuff we can’t see behind the scenes like trying to be mindful of the ccs/ admins schedules but scheduling purgatory so far out from the disappearance really changed a lot. Like I just got used to not having the eggs and being fine with that and a lot of the ccs did sort of move on/ adapt to it. Obviously most people want the eggs back safe but I think some novelty has worn off after being away from them for so long. I think purgatory would’ve had more of an effect if the wound was more fresh when purgatory took place it would’ve made the stakes higher and I don’t think as many people would be saying “oh I don’t care if the eggs die at this point just end purgatory.”

Also the rules changing I noticed too was really jarring from day to day. I feel like a lot of the qsmp is like this and it’s a product of the admins being quick to respond to complaints in general and changing things accordingly. In my ideal world where the admin team could’ve just run the event with a test group to almost like stress test the rules? but i doubt that’s a very viable option. It would’ve been nice to see teams strategize more than play off the cuff in the limited time frame they have I feel like that only really rewards people with spontaneous playstyles

I think a lot of the problems with balancing fanbases revolves around people not knowing how to act online. The qsmp has long stretches where there isn’t much character conflict so that’s attracted a lot of people who feel really attracted to one pov and just don’t know how to handle conflict. We’ve seen this stuff outside of purgatory like during the entirety of the elections arc and when characters have an insignificant argument in rp. I don’t think you could balance viewers while also balancing skill but its definitely a problem that exists and doesn’t really have a clean solution. Also I do think the division of teams was to encourage different people to interact or possibly drive more in rp angst but it did fall flat in ways that were unintended.

Overall I think a lot of purgatory was trying to cater to a lot of people at once but thats just not working. I enjoyed the event from the standpoint that no matter what the admins want a good audience experience and they wouldn’t intentionally let us down. This seems more like a fundamental flaw in the server maybe? That it’s just not structured to be doing competitive game in this format at the very least.

[fuckallyallnever]

I am like so sad being isolated out here in Mississippi

My friend who I’m living with we get along sure we do

And I’m so happy

Like will I ever have any kind of money or people around me with similar interests / actions

Idk

Whatever purgatory hell earth

No jobs pay anything

It’s a rape culture out there

We’re all just self medicating

In this toxic system I’m sick of

Wahhhhhhhh feeling kind of okay besides eating at night

At least there’s food at some point

But really though feel so much better eating breakfast and lunch and a lite dinner then no food before bed

Thinking things will change when I get a place for myself. Thinking things will change in time. I know detoxing is a process. Ebbing and flowing. Forgiving myself for making mistakes. Feeling optimistic about growing in new directions

[eye-of-yelough]

woe, numbers be upon you (for the dark urge questions) 1, 3, 4, 11, 13, 16, 21, 25, 30

WOWIE YOU SPOIL ME. THANK YOU

For context in case you or anyone reading this don’t know, Aeryn is an oc i’ve had since looong before bg3, he’s basically a self insert (except he’s isn’t, at all, because we have very little in common) who is my go-to guy to play as in video games. his personality, appearance and all that was all already in my head so. idk some things might not sense because i bend little things here n there to make him more like he is in my head.

ANOTHER thing is that i initially created this guy for the soul purpose of like. tortureporn. just a little meow meow for me to force all of sad horny little edgelord impulses onto with the hope that if i put it all into one character, i wouldn’t do it as much with my others. and then he kinda just evolved from there as i got more invested in him. but he’s still that tortureporn deep down so that’s why there’s So Much going on with him. just thought i’d warn ya.

1) What circumstances led to your durge picking their class/subclass?

Aeryn’s a level 8 “the great old one” warlock/level 4 “gloom stalker” ranger. for warlock, well. the thing you need to know about Aeryn is that he is. very pathetic. i always play him as a glass cannon. he likely wasn’t living up to Murder Daddy’s ambitious expectations for him as being the ultimate killing machine, so he made a deal for an arcane edge. as for gloom stalker urban ranger well. it’s the dark urge.

3) what would your durge consider to be their greatest skill? is this accurate?

seduction, and no. he is off-putting and desperate and only certain people find that charming. i’d say it’s his love. his empathy.

4) what would your durge consider to be their greatest flaw? is this accurate?

just… all of it. the Urge, the rampant sex addiction, (by extension, the need for people to find him physically attractive, that’s so strong it stops him from physically or socially transitioning, which leads him in this weird purgatory, flitting from girlmoding to boymoding depending on he wants to gain sex or respect from a social situation. suffice it to say, no one ever knows what to make of him.) desperate pathetic clingyness and people pleasing borne from a life of profound isolation and rejection, the fact that he’s so so so scared all the time. and, yeah. i’d say that’s pretty spot on.

11) what motivates you durge to either embrace or resist the urge?

fear. love. both ways. he never embraces the urge, never. not deep down, at least. he spends the whole span of the game trying to resist. he’s just… not very good at it. his vibe has always been that “as if it’s my fault my love language is acts of service and all i know how to do is kill” post.

13) how does your durge feel about killing?

horny. jokes* aside, Aeryn is um. more than a little suicidal if i’m being honest. (bear with me) and memory-fucked as he is, that feeling alongside the urge is all he really knows. the belief that life is nothing but one painful disappointment after another is his soul consistent trait. he honestly doesn’t know that life can be more than that. he also doesn’t know that others don’t feel the same. so that’s essentially how he keeps his guilt and shame on a leash. cant be guilty about killing if you see it as an act of mercy.

*it wasn’t a joke at all.

16) what is your durge’s greatest desire?

now this is one i’ve thought about. basically his perfect life would be as the right hand man (executioner or perhaps assassin) and lover (pet) of a great leader who supplies him with many shitheads and sorry bastards to take out his murderous urges on. and have whoever that leader is give him a pat on the head and tell him he’s doing a good job :) and they fuck scary style. (minthara hiiiiii) (yes i am a durgetash exes truther why do you ask)

21) what are two to three songs your durge would relate to?

so glad you asked.

stupid girl by garbage is Thee Signature Aeryn Song to me.

something rotten by placebo

and, as much as i hate to recommend a song by the worlds evilest band, this hurts by msi.

25) how does your durge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

conflicted. he’s like a mascot for his dark urge, and his arrival always means the worst. and yet, he just can’t not fall this silly little freak’s charms.

30) what are your durge’s intentions/goals at the end of the game?

this would be easier to answer if i knew what his canon ending was, but i don’t. i just finished my first ever playthrough earlier today, where he rejects Bhaal and the emperor and becomes a mind flayer and i can safely say that’s not it. (i romanced lae’zel, realised aeryn would be better suited with minthara around the end of act two, and came to the conclusion that this is not his canon run, so i’m just gonna do what feels right and whatever happens, happens) i’ve watched a few videos of the accept bhaal’s gift -> kill the netherbrain -> kill yourself or go crazy and piss yourself ending (which is so unsettling and i really shouldn’t have watched it at 5am) and its REALLY good but. yeah i don’t know.

thanks so much again for asking and letting me talk about my wretched thing. kisses

[griffinequestrian]

The Many Emotional Stages Of Rehabbing A Horse

By Justine Griffin for Heels Down Mag

It’s the worst string of words for any equestrian to hear: “stall rest, followed by months of rehab.”

Your show season comes to an abrupt end. The future of your riding career with your equine partner may be in jeopardy. Weeks feel like months and months feel like years. Rehabbing injuries, from soft tissue to surgery recovery, can feel like the worst kind of purgatory.

I’m in the thick of it now, rehabbing my Thoroughbred gelding who suffered a suspensory injury. We’re only a few months in and I feel like I’ve experienced a wide range of emotions already. I’m coming to learn there are “stages” one goes through during an injury/recovery/rehab process. Bear with me as I try to outline them for you here.

Grief.

Naturally, the shock of the injury hits you right in the face. Quickly the grief sets in. Your world is ending. How will you go on without being able to ride your horse? You try to think that well, it could be worse. They could be dead… then you try to trick your brain into not going to that dark of a place ever again. So you settle into your grief. You cry at the barn. You cry in your car. You cry ringside when your trainer is giving lessons. You cry at home over a bottle of wine and tub of ice cream. You. Feel. Everything.

Hope.

It’s time for your first scans after weeks of rest and treatment. God, you’re so nervous. What if the ultrasound reveals no healing at all? What if it’s worse?!?!! Your vet does their best to temper your feelings and expectations. It’s not like you really know what you’re looking at anyway, with the squiggly lines and stretchy spots. But enough time has passed to show some semblance of healing and thank the Lord, this is the best news you’ve ever gotten in your life. Better than when your husband proposed. Better than the birth of your child. But you’re not out of the woods yet.

Dread.

Finally, your horse graduates from stall rest and can handle short hand walks and isolated paddock time. You should feel elated – this is progress. It’s all moving in the right direction. But your horse, who has been stuffed in a box for far too long, has other plans. He comes out the first day like a fire-breathing dragon. The sedative the vet prescribed to keep him mellow and all four feet on the ground is having the opposite effect, it seems. Your horse is a kite, and still a dragon, and you’re just along for the ride at the other end of the lead rope. Hang on tight!!!!

When you finally feel like you’ve built up the courage to turn him out in said small paddock, you hold your breath as you slip off his halter and pray he makes good decisions. He promptly does not. And right then and there, another grey hair (or two) sprouts from your scalp.

Frustration.

Those first few days of walking and turnout time go awry. You face setbacks – some inflammation is back and more scans show fluid build up. The vet waffles on whether your horse should be stuffed back in the box for a few more weeks. You feel awful and guilty and frustrated. You waste hundreds of dollars on unproven therapies and supplements that he’s just going to pee out. Will you ever get out of this stall rest hell? Will you ever ride again? Will you ever find happiness again in this lifetime? Will you ever escape the upside-down?

Pure Bliss.

Luckily the bad boy hand walks and turnout antics die down and you find a rhythm and understanding with your injured horse. In just a few days/weeks it feels like the tide is turning in your favor and you are grateful. The time you spend on the ground with your horse becomes your reprieve. You’re bonding with him in a new way you didn’t think was possible. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get through this tough time together.

SEE ALSOSPOILER ALERT, STORIES

Fun Facts: The Legendary Bruce Davidson

Paranoia.

It’s time for more scans. The vet is pleased with your horse’s progress and grants you the opportunity to put a saddle on his back again. But not so fast – you’re only walking under tack for five minutes at a time. In a few weeks, it will be 10 minutes. No turns. No lateral work. No soft footing. The driveway to the farm becomes your new home. Five minutes always feels like it goes by too fast. You worry that perhaps this is happening too soon. What if the weight of you and your middle-aged amateur glory is too much, and this is it, the moment you do him in. Should he go back in the box? You ice his legs incessantly after every 5-minute hack. Your friends at the barn are scared to talk to you, you’re so jumpy. Even your horse is like, “wtf, chill dude.”

Cautious Optimism.

You keep walking, even though with every clip-clop down the driveway, you expect him to crumple onto the ground. Weeks pass and the vet returns. He’s still healing. It’s going in the right direction. You can trot for longer now. The hopes of completing one full 20-meter circle are on the horizon. The vet is encouraging, he tells you to keep going. So you do. Even if you cry sometimes and scream into the void that is your empty car on the way home. You’re almost there, you tell yourself. Stay the course. The two of you just might climb your way out of this after all.

Love.

It’s healed. You can’t believe it. Your horse is cleared to go back into work. The moment these words come out of your vet’s mouth, it’s like an out-of-body experience. You’re floating above yourself right then, watching yourself stare stupidly back at your vet in disbelief. But it’s real. You made it. You book a lesson – A REAL LESSON – with your trainer again. Though you’re nervous, and you know 100% you’re going to play it safe and stay in Long Stirrup Land for far too long, you’ve never felt relief like you do now, knowing your horse is healthy and he made it. You both made it. You’re on cloud nine. Everything is perfect. Everyone around you is grateful too, that you can finally behave like a Real Functioning Adult again.

You did indeed, escape the upside-down

[angeltreasure]

I have asked you to pray for me before but could I ask you to continue to pray for me please? I really need it. Definitely just need to stay strong in the Lord.

Do you have any advice on how to stop focusing so much inwardly and I guess the way the enemy wants us to view the world is so fake like I know I want my focus to be helping those around me

I will pray for you! 🙏🏻

Pride always comes before the fall. When we feel pride it’s not always like I’m the best at this and that, it can also mean having too much pride to change for good because as humans with fallen nature it can be easy to bottle emotions up, to isolate. You must first overcome pride within yourself. You can do this by learning meekness. Jesus Christ is a wonderful example of meekness.

The two greatest commandments Jesus said are:

1. ‘To love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all soul, and with all your strength.’ So when you look inward to examen your soul, offer yourself up not for your own will but for God’s will. Ask God to help you learn this meekness that Jesus Christ teaches. Let your sufferings be offered up as you learn of meekness, for the conversion of sinners and souls of Purgatory. You can grow in holiness by practicing meekness. I love reading the Sermon on the Mount to see how I can be more like Jesus.

In addition, pray to God to have mercy on you for being a sinner. If you are Catholic, you have a great gift of the sacrament of reconciliation. Use it and do the assigned penance right after. So many do not recognize how important this is.

2. ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ If you hate yourself, you cannot love your neighbor. You must learn to love yourself. Yes, we are all sinners (except Jesus and Mary) but that doesn’t mean to loose hope. Even if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains. You must see how awesome the gift of life is. Before time existed, God wanted you to exist. He knew all about you and even told your guardian angel all about you before you were even born. You are made in God’s image, knitted by Him in your mother’s womb. You are fearfully and wonderfully made by Him with a love you cannot comprehend. When you encounter any person, you must see Jesus in them as if He is right there in front of you.

My other advice::: If you need to, try cutting down on social media if you use it a lot. The culture today on social media can make us feel that fear of missing out, designed to make you focus inward. Social media is a great responsibility because we can use it for bad or good. Try doing it for good things only. Avoid what leads you to sin.

—-

Lord, hear my prayer,

listen to my cry for mercy;

in your faithfulness and righteousness

come to my relief.

Do not bring your servant into judgment,

for no one living is righteous before you.

The enemy pursues me,

he crushes me to the ground;

he makes me dwell in the darkness

like those long dead.

So my spirit grows faint within me;

my heart within me is dismayed.

I remember the days of long ago;

I meditate on all your works

and consider what your hands have done.

I spread out my hands to you;

I thirst for you like a parched land. a

Answer me quickly, Lord;

my spirit fails.

Do not hide your face from me

or I will be like those who go down to the pit.

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go,

for to you I entrust my life.

Rescue me from my enemies, Lord,

for I hide myself in you.

Teach me to do your will,

for you are my God;

may your good Spirit

lead me on level ground.

For your name’s sake, Lord, preserve my life;

in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.

In your unfailing love, silence my enemies;

destroy all my foes,

for I am your servant.

- Psalm 143

////////::::::://///////:::::::////////////::::::///////////////////

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying,

"The scribes and the Pharisees

have taken their seat on the chair of Moses.

Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you,

but do not follow their example.

For they preach but they do not practice.

They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry

and lay them on people's shoulders,

but they will not lift a finger to move them.

All their works are performed to be seen.

They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels.

They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues,

greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation 'Rabbi.'

As for you, do not be called 'Rabbi.'

You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers.

Call no one on earth your father;

you have but one Father in heaven.

Do not be called 'Master';

you have but one master, the Christ.

The greatest among you must be your servant.

Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;

but whoever humbles himself will be exalted."

- Matthew 23:1-12

[makeatune]

2022 Wrapped.

Happy New Year everyone! With the holiday season wrapping up, I wanted to recap on all things Make A Tune last year:

SOREUM

Musically, I got the metal out of my system with a 4 track Djenty EP, with riffs that had been hanging about in musical purgatory ever since I acquired my 7 String guitar.

A classic musician trope is being too precious with ideas, waiting too long, and never putting them out into the world.

The ep has my first attempts of adding synths and sounds outside of just guitar bass drums into a metal song.

The song that came together the best for me was “Gatekeeper”. Not only was it my favourite riff, but the lyrics of the song are very much about what “make a tune” is conceptually.

GATEKEEPER MV

My second DIY music video, shot on iPhone, where I used multiple takes of myself whilst keeping the phone in the same place, then editing them together to look like a band lol. I made something similar at the end of 2021 when I recorded 3 songs in one take, 4 times (bass, guitar 1, guitar 2, vocals) to create a sort of fake but real live show. This was easier as it was just for the visual purpose. Still worked out pretty well for a budget of Zero!

MAKE A TUNE CONTENT

I know, I know. It is what it is. Everyone calls it content, to the point where I think it’s either lost its pretentiousness or it’s just eaten all other possible words around it. Anyway, there was a few interesting things on YouTube.

My baritone video did really well. I guess it was a new guitar that must have peaked a lot of people’s interest. I really enjoyed hearing people’s thoughts and engaging in the comments with questions people had. Whilst I definitely don’t have the credentials to be a product review guy, I think if there’s anything new things I pick up this year, I will put more effort into sharing my thoughts on it.

MAKE A VLOG

I didn’t do as many KPop metal covers this year, mainly as I was working on Soreum. My first venture into mixing my metal riffs with KPop was inspired by Dreamcatcher in 2020, when Scream showed up in my timeline and opened my ears to the possibility. This year they have inspired me to grow the channel in a different way: by documenting my journeys seeing them live!

BEATS AND PIECES:

Even with all the travel, it wasn’t till last month that I actually got Covid for the first time! I WORKED THROUGH LOCKDOWN 2020 AS AN ESSENTIAL WORKER AND EVERYTHING, SO ANNOYING!

Anyway, whilst I self isolated, I got to do a project that I had wanted to do for a while. Similar to what I said before about my metal riffs, I have built up so many little musical projects that were gonna sit there doing nothing on my hard drive. So I went through a bunch, picked a mix of genres, filled them out, and released them as instrumentals in an album called Beats and Pieces. Are they all bangers? Nope! But it’s a good starting point to hear where I’m at as a total novice producer trying new things, seeing what works, what resonates with people. It also serves as a good way to free myself for this year.

2023

I literally have no idea, AND ITS AWESOME!

SOREUM got the metal out my system, Beats and Pieces got all the little half ideas and experiments out there. I feel like I have a blank canvas with no lingering projects I need to finish off.

I want to make something fresh, something that doesn’t exist yet not even as an idea or a humming tune in my head, or a specific genre of music that I always said I would do. I’m just going to make the music I feel like making there and then, and go for it!

Content wise I think I might go back to live streaming, but just on YouTube not twitch. I think I can engage with an audience more if there’s no definite goal with the tune making. Like if I was live streaming producing SOREUM it would have been very dull, messing up, taking no suggestions, getting frustrated at not achieving the exact thing I’m wanting to do. But freestyle music making with people suggesting ideas could be a lot of fun!

That’s it from me, thanks for everyone showing interest in my weird little musical world. Here’s to another year of good times and good tunes!

Much love

Scott

[ssmhhh]

i’ve been hearing this a lot lately and i just feel like this logic kinda falls apart when you consider the fact that yes this may be true about regular people who have garden variety “first love” experiences who haven’t been through uniquely isolating trauma that they can’t really talk about to anyone else in their own worlds, and the fact that Will can never have true intimacy with someone from his world when he has a externalized dæmon that people can see.

like he can’t just pretend she’s his pet and have a proper meaningful relationship someone while lying to them about that like do we really think he can find someone else that he can trust with all that information which most people from his world would be like “o u crazy crazy 🚩 i’m out” like he’s even more isolated and alienated than Lyra is in this way which makes actually living a “full” life nearly impossible under the conditions he’s been dealt.

most people who move on from their first love do so by choice after actually living through the natural arc of a relationship, like that experience is just as important as the initial “fall” if not more-so and they were robbed of that so they’ll never be able to put their relationship to that natural test of growth and time, making it almost impossible from them to not put each other on a pedestal subconsciously at the very least, especially after going through traumatic experiences together.

it works out better for them in the long run if they’re actually endgame to have a separation period like twin-flames often do, but if they’re not it’s basically forcing them to live in purgatory only living “full lives” because of a boot on their necks.

like yes this agreement is well-intentioned, mature, and sensible in REGULAR SHMEGULAR ORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES but in this particular context it’s unlikely to actually hold up in practice, which we see Lyra struggling with in tsc.

ANYWAYS rant over

One thing about the ending to The Amber Spyglass I really came to appreciate over the years was Lyra and Will's promise not to hold any future partners they may have in comparison to what they've lost. Because, considering the circumstances, it would have been so easy to have them vow never to love anyone else ever again. To play into the idea that you only get one great love in your life, and anything or anyone else that comes after is inferior.

We have a pair of kids who were destined to save all worlds across the multiverse, who reignited the very spark of consciousness and free will through the simple act of falling in love, and who are now going to be permanently separated just after they've realised what they share. They're going to return to the bench in their own Oxford to be near each other every midsummer's day for the rest of their lives, they vow to find each other again after they die and become one with the universe, "every atom of me and every atom of you", etc. etc., cue the reader's heart cracking clean in two. A sweeping, once in a lifetime love story.

And yet, Will and Lyra acknowledge that they may love again in their lifetimes. It won't be the same as what they shared, but that doesn't mean it will be worth any less, just that it'll be a different relationship. They'll have their yearly hour at the bench to remember their first love, and they'll still let other people into their hearts and cherish them because, after all they've learned and gone through, they need and deserve to live full and happy lives. But a full and happy life does not have to be limited to one love, important as it was to the people involved. And I think it was wonderful of Pullman to include that idea.

[citrinecanary]

it’s that special time for a rant in the tags. (12/21/21)

[cassierobinsons]

Hello, I love your blog so much and I’m sorry if you’ve answered this question already butttttt:

What are your thoughts on the whole DeanBenny arc? Romantic, platonic, whatever <33

thanks! that's really kind of you to say <3

i like deanbenny! i like that benny is part of s8's short lived attempt at giving the mains an expanded circle of people to interact with after the tedious isolation of season 7. it’s a pity he also ends up being a victim of the show’s whole “everyone who comes in contact with salmondean must be viciously punished for it” thing. but anyway, i like how he & dean start out as reluctant allies before growing to see each other as genuine friends.

Romantic vs platonic… first of all anyone who thinks their relationship is purely platonic is lying to themselves. benny is positioned as a rival love interest and even cas knows it lmfao. there is literally an entire episode about sam siccing his conservative father’s even more conservative friend on benny because he finds dean’s trust in benny to be suspect. whether they acted on their feelings is up for debate but the queer subtext is so blatant. personally if i’m being like, canon purist, i think they both wanted to fuck but never got round to it and once out of purgatory they both thought the moment was gone.  

the most tragic and i think most intriguing part of benny & deanbenny is that post-purgatory benny is able to keep on top of his hunger through dean providing a semi-ethical source of blood. additionally he’s using family (though elizabeth didn’t know they were related) as an incentive to never hurt another human being. but then another hunter ruins it. it’s like the show is revisiting the ideas it brought up in the gordon episodes but without the racism. 

so yeah, i am an incurable heller but i still like deanbenny’s canon arc.

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

Your Disablednatural/HoH Dean headcannons are inspiring me to get back into my Disabled!Benny Lafitte truthing hours.

I’m someone that has undiagnosed chronic joint pain, and no matter what anyone says I’m convinced Benny is the same. Like, he grew up in an era where medicine wasn’t the best and there weren’t many resources for people like him, so over time he just learned to adapt and push through the pain. Fast forward to when he gets turned and things aren’t much different, because I have this thought that vampirism improves things like speed and sight for abled people (aka “improves things”) but because of the fact Benny had joint pain before he got turned it didn’t really make a difference. With his old nest he strives to become one of the top ranking members to prove to them that he wasn’t weak, that he could be just as good a hunter as any of them.

Fast forward to Purgatory where Benny meets Dean and they start becoming friends/ally’s. Dean notices Benny’s occasional winces or a limp every now and then and briefly wonders if Benny is like him (Dean is disabled in my AU too 💅🏽✨) but doesn’t have the courage to ask, until one night when they’re setting up camp and Benny makes a throw away comment about the fact the stiffness in his joints never seems to go away and Dean is just like “so it happens to you too?” and is just filled with relief because he thought maybe he was exaggerating his condition, that he was just weak. But here’s a vampire (who’re supposed to be super agile and speedy) who has the same conditions as he does and doesn’t try to hide it. They get even closer after that particular little bonding experience.

Benny goes to live with Dean in the Bunker, and because they have the same condition Dean lends Benny one of his old leg braces until he can get help him get his own, gives him creams that help the aching, etc.

This is mostly based off my own experiences, but I thought’d it be fun to share 🌸✨😁

OH I LOVE THIS ALL AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT

all your vampire & disability stuff is so thoughtful and interesting and i adore the idea that despite vampires being supposedly strong and fast, benny still has joint pain and it directly effects how he behaves around the other vampires and how he feels he has to prove himself. like godddd that hits. and dean and benny finding solidarity together in their disabilities!!!!!!! they're both such fundamentally lonely characters and while i think it's cool that disabled headcanons provide a chance to explore this further in terms of isolation it's actually all about the disabled found family when you think about it. i think because dean helps out benny with braces and creams, benny in turn also really encourages dean to get hearing aids. and then they both get mobility aids and they're disabled besties like THAT is the deanbenny content we deserve!!!

[norahastuff]

penny for your thoughts on salmondean codependency ?

Sure. Fair warning it’s long (was longer but I stopped myself.)

I think it’s complicated in a show that’s had so many different showrunners because they’ve all handled Sam and Dean’s relationship very differently. In Kripke’s era (s1-5) there was a romanticization of the bond. Sure there was a lot of in-depth exploration of how they wound up at the place they were at, spoiler alert: it was all because of John and his obsessive crusade to find the demon that killed his wife. That’s all he cared about and as a result, Sam and Dean had to be everything to each other. But Kripke had no intention of dismantling that at any point because he was (and always had been) writing a tragedy. Gamble continued that too. There was no room for anyone else in their lives and it would always just be the two of them against the world. So Cas had to go. Bobby had to go.

(Actually, it's funny because Gamble didn't intend this at the time, her plan was to kill Cas off, but by Edlund creating the masterpiece that is The Man Who Would Be King, he not only saved Cas from being seen as a villain, but he also deepened Dean and Cas' relationship in such a profound way and inextricably linked the two of them emotionally. And since Cas was eventually brought back, that laid the foundation for a lot of what their relationship would become.)

Up until this point, there hadn’t really been any significant dismantling of perhaps the more unhealthy parts of Sam and Dean’s relationship. Enter Carver. He stripped things down and started to explore what drove these characters. What they wanted and why they couldn’t have it. It starts with Dean being mad at Sam for not looking for him in purgatory, which sets up the whole speech in the s8 finale of Sam’s guilt about letting Dean down, but the thing is, Dean was never honest with Sam about his year away either. He never told Sam he could have gotten out much sooner if he hadn’t stayed to find Cas. I mean Dean had assumed Sam was up there alone doing God knows what to try to bring him back, and yet still he stayed in Purgatory because things were clear there. He needed Cas. Anyway, I just find that interesting, but Cas isn’t a victim of Sam and Dean’s relationship in s8.

Who gets the honour of being cast aside? That would be Benny and Amelia, two characters they introduced in s8 specifically to highlight that Sam and Dean’s relationship doesn’t allow for anyone else to be a significant part of their life. I mean that’s nothing new, we’ve watched that happen many times before. Lisa even said as much to Dean. The thing is this time? It’s framed as a truly sad thing. That moment at the end of 8x10 when Dean has just ended things with Benny and Sam leaves Amelia, and they’re sitting alone drinking beer and watching tv is such a hollow empty moment. This is not what they want. But it’s the way things have to be.

I’m actually fascinated by Sam and Dean’s conversation in the church in the s8 finale. Not so much Dean’s assertion that there is no one else he would put before Sam, but more so what provokes it, which is Sam saying “who are you going to turn to instead of me. Another angel? Another vampire?” See the thing is Dean saying he would always put Sam first is not news. We know this and it’s not really an unhealthy statement in itself either. A lot of people would put their sibling above anything else, not less a sibling who you raised and is the most important person to you. But in this context? After what Sam said? It just highlights how unhealthy they are if Sam believes that Dean having other people in his life means he doesn’t love him enough. That he’s a disappointment to him. That’s so profoundly fucked up.

(Note, Dean tells Sam that he killed Benny for him but he doesn’t say anything about Cas. I think like I said before, this is because Cas and Dean’s relationship has largely existed out of the Sam and Dean stuff up to this point - Sam and Cas don’t even really have much of a relationship yet besides both of their connections to Dean.)

And then from here, things start getting steadily worse. But we also keep being shown how bad they are. Dean lying to Sam, taking away his free will by letting Gadreel possess him. Dean sending Cas away, Kevin dying. It’s all awful. The whole “there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you line” from 9x01 isn’t really said by Dean, it’s Gadreel, but that is how Dean feels. He does think that’s all he’s good for. And over the season we’re shown how much of himself and what he truly wants he’s had to give up because of his ingrained “Save Sammy” and “Sammy comes first” mentality. It’s always been this way for him. In 9x07 we see that he had found a happy home, a good father figure, and his first love, a first love might I add that he had to leave behind with no real explanation because Sam needed him, and Sam comes first.

I mean just one episode earlier we had him rushing out the door elated about seeing Cas and spending time with him, only for their time together to come to sad and melancholic end when Dean once again leaves Cas behind without any real explanation, because despite what he wants Sammy comes first. What he wants doesn’t matter.

See I think after the Gadreel stuff comes out is where the narrative starts to get a little wonky for me. You can clearly see that this was intended to be a shorter story that they ended up stretching out to a much longer one because of renewals. There’s also the fact that this is a formula show so they can’t necessarily be separated for longer than an episode or two. S10 is a rough one to get through at times, I think the themes still mostly hold up but it’s a rough one to get through.

S10 highlights all the connections that Dean has, Cas, Charlie, Crowley even, but Sam doesn’t really have those bonds in the same way.  For Sam it’s just Dean, so he goes down a reckless destructive “do anything to save Dean!” path and so many innocents pay the price, and ultimately with the release of The Darkness, the whole world.

They skirted right up to the edge of exploring just how toxic and dangerous their relationship had become in the season 10 finale.

DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A..a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world.

I can’t say evil is the right word, they were never evil, but they were wilfully blind to everything and everyone else when it came to saving each other. S10 tested my love for the show because after watching it, because there was certainly a feeling that the two of them had become the villains of this story. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have a problem with that, it’s just after 2 seasons of this I can’t say I had a lot of faith that this was going to be properly addressed or if we were going to keep going in circles around it. Keep being shown, it’s bad and then nothing much being done to fix it. Your mileage may vary on how it was handled, but I think s11 did a relatively ok job considering it wasn’t the end of the story, and the show needed to keep going.

See from Dean’s side a lot of the codependency rests on 1. His father’s orders to always save Sammy 2. His low self-esteem where he sees himself as nothing but a blunt instrument. 3. His guilt at not being able to perfectly fulfil every familial role in Sam’s life 4. His belief that no one could choose to love him but family has to love you. 5. The unhealthy example of what it should look like to love someone that he got from John. You give up everything but them.

For Sam (and honestly it’s not as clear for me as Dean’s side is so feel free to correct me/disagree on this) 1. Everytime he’s tried to leave and create his own life it’s never ended well. 2. His guilt over wanting freedom and a normal life when he was younger (I’m referring specifically to Stanford era here) 3. His guilt over everything Dean has given up for him. 4. John. 5. Jess.

Ultimately it all comes down to isolation. They both had to be everything to each other, and the deeper they got into this fight, the more people that they lost, the tighter they clung to this notion of family and brothers. I think s11 (and 11x23 in particular) was an important turning point, both for Sam and Dean’s relationship, as well as for them as individuals. Because they weren’t alone there anymore. Cas was there. Sam let Dean walk to his death. Of course, it would devastate him, but he knew it was what had to be done. And he didn’t walk out of that bar and go back to the bunker alone. He had Cas, he had someone who cared about him and wanted to help him and talk to him. Sure Dean asked Cas to take care of Sam for him (you know after Cas offered to walk to his death with him) but Sam let him. He let him be there for him. We didn’t get to see much before the BMOL showed up and blasted Cas away, but still, we saw enough.

I think that’s a significant difference to note why their relationship was different in the Dabb era. It wasn’t just them anymore. Cas was an important member of their family and given a level of importance he’d never been given before and couldn’t have been when the story they were telling was of the dangers of their codependency. Mary was back. Eventually, Jack would become a part of their unit too. Just the two of them wasn’t enough for them anymore. This is made abundantly clear with all of Dean’s desperate attempts to get Cas to stay in s12, followed by his inability to keep going when they lose Cas and Mary in s13. Similarly, Sam really struggles when they lose Jack and fail to get Mary back later in the season.

Another big moment is Dean letting Sam go alone to lead the hunters against the BMOL in 12x22 while he stays back to try and reach Mary. Like he tells Mary, he’s had to be a brother, a father and a mother to Sam and he never stopped seeing him as his kid, but in that moment he makes a choice. He lets Sam take charge and he shows that he trusts him and believes in him. He knows he can handle it.

Sometimes it’s not even a character growth thing. Sometimes having other people there stops you from making destructive choices even though that’s still your first instinct. I’m thinking specifically of 13x21 after Sam was killed. Dean would have run headlong into that nest of vampires and got himself torn apart, but Cas was there to stop him. He was able to make him see reason.

Basically, I think that for a long time, they thought the only relationship they could have was each other, which then became a self-fulfilling prophecy because their desperate attempts to keep each other around led to them losing the people around them. They eventually started to learn that that wasn’t true, they could have more, they were allowed to want more, and that it wasn’t an either-or situation. Dean didn’t have to choose between Sam and Cas. They didn’t have to choose between each other or Jack. The same goes for Mary. Different relationships can coexist without threatening each other, and not say that their relationship in s12-15 was all smooth sailing, but it was certainly so very different from everything that came before.

(There’s maybe a point to be made about how they didn’t have anyone or anything in the finale and how that relates to the story we got, but honestly I have no idea what the intention was with any of the choices made in that episode so I’ll leave it at that for now.)

[prose-for-hire]

Right on time

Pairing: Spike x reader; Faith x reader [reader dates men & women]

Request: Not requested. I’m trying to write whatever’s coming into my head even if it isn’t my best so that I can be inspired to write something potentially better for a fic someone’s requested lolll. Requests will still be written but they may be a little slower than normal sorry 💖

Desc: Reader was in a relationship with Faith but since she was in a coma the reader turned to Spike for comfort and feelings begin to grow.

Warning: Sex references; set in hospital; mention or discussion of a kind of loss. swearing.

The walls appeared to be closing in again. The noise around you lulled every so often with a sombre silence. The hollowed eyes of loss surrounded you but had no reason to look your way. They were all stuck in their own minds. A funeral march in the making.

The occasional laughter bubbled up, from those that clutched hope so desperately their knuckles were perpetually white. It didn’t feel right in this place though, it was a surreal room that held both the impending horror and delight depending on what the doctor said next. You could nearly taste it in the air it was that strong. The mixture of such strong emotions blanketed the room in a thick tension. A kind of purgatory.

You were sitting in the adjoined café to the hospital coaxing your mug to give you some answers when you didn’t even know what questions to ask. You stared into your mug, wishing it could offer you come kind of comfort. The human touch you craved just couldn’t be replicated. Her touch. It had been so long now that you had almost given up.

Faith was in a coma. The only woman you had ever fallen in love with couldn’t open her eyes. Could barely breathe on her own. She shouldn’t be lying there. She didn’t deserve that, no matter the choices she made. She didn’t deserve to end her days this way. Or any way, in your opinion.

When you had been together, just the two of you it had been so good. You redefined the meaning of love together. You were unapologetically each other’s. You promised forever and she had been taken away from you.

She had confided in you in a way that she couldn’t with anyone else. You shared hushed whispers, swapping your pasts beneath the sheets together. You had loved her when she lived out of a motel and you had loved her just the same when she lived in her apartment that the Mayor had bought for her.

She could be so soft when she wanted to be. Holding you into her and not letting the cruel world touch either of you. You were completely embraced by her adoration and you just hope that she felt the same.

That she knew that you would rather be in her place. That you loved her just as much now as you did the first day you whispered those words to her. Your skin on hers, wrapped in a sheet as the afternoon stretched out before you. It had been such bliss.

You still visited every Friday. Held her hand and told her that you love her. Spoke to her, told her everything about your life. Everything except…

Spike. He appeared before you just as your mind turned to him. As it often did, recently. You squinted, thinking he must have followed you.

This was unlike him anymore. He would usually wait around the crypt or in the alley around the back of the Bronze for you to decide the inevitable. That you would spend the night with him. Losing yourself in his touch. Fucking him until you could almost forget her. But you never did, of course.

You both knew the arrangement, don’t get attached. Don’t stay for breakfast (or dinner, should it be that way around). It suited you both. It was for comfort, you had both found yourselves increasingly isolated. On the peripheries of the Scoobies whilst still being hauled back in to help when they remembered you both existed. Still, there was no warmth from them. None of them trusted either of you.

You turned to each other, shielding from the cold. The loneliness that seeped in no matter how you tried to protect yourselves. The reality was that you needed each other. These nights were necessary. The sex was good, you both knew you couldn’t get better anywhere else.

Admittedly though, more recently you became more and more present in those moments. Where you wouldn’t leave as soon as you finished. You had been shuffling away without a word passing between you. Not so much as a thank you, come again.

No, you now didn’t even put up the pretence of going to the Bronze first. You found your way to him as soon as you could. You found yourself increasingly enjoying his presence. Which was something you hadn’t consciously found yourself feeling since Faith got hurt. Enjoyment. Maybe even happiness. In a strange way, Spike made you feel more than you could remember feeling.

One evening, you stayed up the entire night. Talking. His mind spoke to you. A connection that was fast becoming unbreakable since. Neither of you even suggested more and you hadn’t realised this until the morning came and you woke up with his arms draped around you. It was a soft intimacy that you hadn’t found yourself expecting but now it was happening you only wanted more of it.

More of him.

You hadn’t realised but Spike had been falling even before that night. He had a taste of you. Your body and mind. He saw the ugliest parts of you, the guilt and the sadness that you tried to conceal and loved you wholly.

He wanted to comfort you. Wanted to protect you from your sadness. From the guilt you held for even having a single moment of happiness when Faith no longer could.

He couldn’t help loving you, the way you spoke even in your sadness was appealing to him. You were a strong person although it was a task for him trying to get you to reveal how you truly felt.

It started to upset him, when you were upset. He found his mood lifted and fell depending on how you felt. On how you spoke about yourself. He was in love with you. All in. He was a fool for love. Or, more, a fool for you.

He so wanted you to see what he did. How he adored you so. That you were truly a gift to the world. That you were the reason he got up in the evening. On the promise of being close to you.

You kept things bottled up, held tightly to your chest. You didn’t tell him but you felt guilty, what with Faith still breathing and being involved with Spike. The doctors had told you multiple times that it would take a miracle for her to recover. That you should move on. But it was too hard letting go.

That was how you ended up here, psyching yourself up to go and join her by her bedside. Visiting hours started in less than an hour and you were still trying to convince yourself that there was still hope.

Her face, it looked almost peaceful lying in that bed but it brought you anything but peace. You knew she would rather be where the action was. Fighting and fucking in that way that only she could marry together perfectly. You could hold her hand in yours but it was often cold to match the room. You could bend it to curl around you but it never stayed.

You just wanted her to reach for you again, clasp her hand to yours and tell you that it would be okay. That she would make it out. That she could make it out of anything. Her confidence, you had loved it. She was so sure of herself and she had the same confidence in you. she was devoted to you in every way. Had near fought the Mayor over some of the comments he had made about you.

Spike spotted you immediately where you were sat hunched over your seat in the café. He stalked straight towards you, not moving out of anyone’s way. He sat down in front of you, characteristically throwing himself down and smirking as if this had all been planned. He took the mug from you and downed the remainder of the lukewarm liquid, grimacing at your choice of beverage. He slammed the mug back down, almost cracking it before sniffing and looking back at you expectantly.

“Did you follow me? You know you really shouldn’t do that to people-” You warned. You had this conversation more than once and he had mostly learned from what you had said. Or so you hoped anyway.

“I know. I wasn’t, I swear it” He said and when you raised an eyebrow he continued, “Stocking up wasn’t I?”

He pulled one half of his duster as if trying to sell you something but it revealed several concealed pockets that held blood bags. Human blood. He had come to get lunch.

This type of thing was what you had come to expect of Spike and so you just nodded and accepted it. In fact, you had begun to warm up his blood for him in the mornings when you both woke up together. He liked that you didn’t look at him in disgust for surviving. That rather you understood. He smiled at you before patting himself down again.

He took a cigarette from his pack and started to light up, forgetting where he was. You reached and took the object from him, dropping it in your cup. The dregs put the lit end out with a disappointing sizzle.

When you had leaned in, his eyes had widened. Your proximity was something he wanted more of. Those soft, familiar gestures of comfort. They meant a lot to him. Although, it wouldn’t stop him testing just how familiar he could be back to you.

“Question is, why are you? Doc said she’s gone, pet. No point making it harder on yourself” he said slowly, knowing not to push too hard. Last time he had started to press you to talk about it more you hadn’t spoken to him for a week. 

You knew what the doctor had said. But you couldn’t stop coming. You couldn’t let her go. You couldn’t leave her behind.

“I love her” You said sadly. The words stung Spike and he lowered his gaze to the table between you. His jaw tensed and he tried to blink the water from his eyes before you saw it. Your love meant too much to him. Sometimes, you wished it wasn’t true. You wish you could move on and just forget. But she had meant everything to you, even after she had joined up with the Mayor you stuck by her. You had fallen so deeply.

The way she always held you close. Kissed you until you were breathless as soon as she saw you. That smile that could light up a room. She would have died rather than see you hurt in any way. Faith loved you, you had never doubted it.

But as soon as you thought this your mind moved to Spike. In the same way, he clung to you protectively. Gave you all of his time. Would rather give up anything so that you could have even a second of happiness.

“But… I think… I think I feel the same about you” Your sentence exploded from your mouth before you could brace yourself. You hadn’t even thought them properly before you expressed these words. But, you knew that you meant it. That you adored every part of him.

You were scared though, that he may suffer the same fate as the only other person you loved. You didn’t need to explain this though, he understood.

He had gasped. Audibly. Spike was looking at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. He reached for you from across the table, his features crudely carved out of the fluorescent lighting. Yet he still managed to keep this soft expression on his face. The one that was only yours.

“I have loved you since the first I saw you. Couldn’t even begin to deny these feelings inside. I need you, near crave you at times. Nothing compares to you, pet. Nothing even comes close”

He took your hand in his from over the table as he began to offer his feelings to you. This love that he had harboured in secret for too long. This soft adoration that he could now allow to flow freely. He assured you that he was yours, in any way you wanted him.

His hand caressed yours in such a way that you could no longer imagine him letting go. This intimacy meant more than you could even begin to describe. He slowly rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand as he spoke so earnestly.

You could have cried. Could have thrown the table aside and urgently pressed your lips against his. Instead, you clasped your hand tighter, wove your fingers firmly between his. You needed this. You needed him.

He squeezed your hand tighter as you spoke, trying to shuffle your thoughts into some type of cohesion. You wanted to explain. Wanted to match the beautiful way he expressed his own emotions to you. But something had stopped you. Or, someone. It felt as if someone had a hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing your throat until no words could form.

Your eyesight began to blur. The corners of your vision turning to static. But there was something, a flicker that caught your attention.

Her. Standing there in someone else’s clothes. Paler than you remembered but still completely her.

“Faith you’re…”

“Right on time” She nodded, smiling at you. Although her eye was almost twitching as she looked at the way you were both intimately sprawled across the table. Leaning in towards each other closer as the other spoke.

You couldn’t help but get up, dropping Spike’s hand in your shock. Your vision completely enraptured by her. You were so excited you didn’t hear a British accent muttering ‘Bloody brilliant’ as he contemplated that his relationship with you had just completely changed. Again.

To have everything he had ever wanted from you now potentially ripped away in almost the same breath hurt. Deeply. And so he blamed Faith for it. 

You launched yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her so enthusiastically. She hissed a little and you moved but you were unable to part from her. You pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before laughing at how amazing it was to have her standing before you after all of this time.

They scowled at each other while your back was turned, hugging Faith more gently again. They knew exactly how the other felt about you. Because they themselves felt it.

You opened your mouth to say something but then it dawned on you. You remembered what you had just said to Spike. Suddenly this reunion was bittersweet. You loved her completely and couldn’t leave her side now. But life had moved on and you had found yourself a spirit that spoke to yours. You also loved him.

You looked between them both and time stopped. There was no choice here. You knew who your heart belonged to. It was split in two, in equal parts. Your heart - it was theirs.

[leiakenobi]

“my favorite thing is falling asleep next to you.” with Michael Perry?🥺 no I haven’t watched the film yet but I know that I love him

been struggling a bit with putting Michael on the page the past few months but I saw you weren't feeling so great, so I wanted to dust off this prompt for you 👀

this one’s 868 words, gender-neutral reader, big hurt/comfort energy

——

There’s a bleary, dreamlike sort of quality to being awake in the wee hours of the morning, as though you might stir in the light of day and realize that all your memories of that sleepy time were actually just a figment of your imagination. Time races and lags all at once, so that it’s all too easy to lose any sense of how long you’ve been awake. It’s all too easy to feel as though you will be stuck in a purgatory of early morning sleeplessness for the rest of eternity.

Now, you toss and turn through that sleeplessness while Michael snores softly at your side, and at that bleary, dreamlike hour, it’s arresting, just how isolated you somehow feel.

Surely you shouldn’t feel so isolated, not when all you need do is reach out and feel him solid and warm under your fingers. It should be easy enough for you to roll over, lean close, tuck your face into his neck, and drift off.

You tried that, though, when you first awoke; he shifted slightly under your touch, moving closer in his sleep, and you expected to be out like a light.

Except then your mind was racing and your breath couldn’t seem to settle firmly into your chest until, remorsefully, you pulled away out of concern that you might wake him.

You still feel that you might wake him, even now that you’ve put a little bit of distance between you. And maybe it’s because of that worry, or maybe it’s because you’re just desperate to wrench yourself from your sleepless limbo. But you take in a slow breath and roll out of bed, displacing the covers as little as possible on the way.

There’s a blanket folded and draped over the back of the sofa, and you unravel and pull it over yourself mechanically while you tuck yourself against one of the arm rests—making yourself small.

But you’ve hardly been out there -- not even long enough to decide whether you will try to turn the TV on low and try to fall asleep that way -- before the floorboards creek and Michael appears in the doorway, blinking at you with bleary eyes as he leans an arm against the wall above his head. “Wha’s goin’ on, babe?”

His voice is low and husky and a rush of warmth courses over you immediately, even though you also immediately breathe, “I’m sorry, I was trying not to wake you.”

“’S okay.” Michael pads into the room, hesitating for a moment at the sofa as though he can’t sort out precisely how close to settle in near you. He lands somewhere in the middle, pulling one of his legs up beneath him and facing you, even though you continue to mostly look forward. “Bad night?”

Wordlessly, you nod.

You don’t make it all the way our here very often at all, so the bad night feels pretty obvious, but you chance a glance his way and feel a corner of your mouth quirk up at the pleasure of him asking you, anyway.

“Thinking you might sleep out here, then?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. Running a finger over his pajama-covered leg, you concede, “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

Michael hums, digesting this for a moment before settling his hand over yours. “Maybe I could join you.”

The suggestion feels so foolish that you actually laugh; from the corner of your eye, you see that he smiles with pleasure at drawing a laugh from you. “You always complain about the bad sleep you get out here when you accidentally take a nap by yourself. I doubt it’d be any better with me here, too.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s true.”

You look up and really meet his eye for the first time since he sat down. “Really.” It is a statement, not a question.

But then he shakes his head and murmurs, “Because my favorite thing is falling asleep next to you,” and you forget how to breathe, for a moment or two.

Part of you is skeptical. Part of you is certain that you will both wake up sore and grumpy in the morning.

The other part of you is weighed down on the sofa by a heavy sort of fatigue and a desperation to hold him close—feel him holding you.

“If you’re sure,” you allow. Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Michael makes short work of showing you precisely how sure he is, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he pulls you close.

Before guiding you to recline with him across the cushions, he grabs the TV remote, tucking it into your hand. “Just in case,” he says, as though it is a tender secret that the two of you are sharing.

You don’t need to turn the TV on, not this morning. You feel Michael pressed flush between your back and the back of the sofa, his breath soft and warm across your neck as he starts to doze... And it would be an exaggeration, to say that it lulls you to sleep at once.

But you are lulled.

Perhaps your favorite thing is falling asleep next to him, too.