#but the constant argument is always about sustainability

[octoberclidan]

Taken for Granted

Request: sam and dean are in danger, r is supposed to be on the way to help them but they realise that by the time they get there, it'll be too late. so they summon crowley and make a deal, their soul for keeping sam and dean safe but instead of giving them a year or two, he agrees to save sam and dean if their soul will be taken the next time one of the brothers has a fatal injury. so like if one got stabbed, they'd be fine but r would get the stab wound, or if it was a witch who used a spell which would slowly shut down their organs and shit it happens to r instead but theyd be too busy trying to figure out what happened to their brother to notice. Anyway after making this deal they meet back at the bunker and they both have some small injuries but dean goes off at r for not being there for them and says some really horrible stuff to them bc he's mad, and they just take it and don't let the brothers know abt their deal. maybe crowley hangs around, making little comments that nobody understands but r. then maybe the witch thing happens and they spend so much time trying to fix sam that they dont realise r is dying. maybe after the hellhounds get r, crowley lets the boys in on what happened to tease them, maybe bc the brothers were so stressed and lashing out at them while they were trying to fix sam.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader (both platonic)

Summary: Reader (they/them) makes a deal with Crowley to take on injuries sustained by either Sam or Dean in order to save Sam's life. The brothers are unaware of this deal and get annoyed with reader staying at home more and not going with them on cases. When Sam gets hit by a witch's curse, the witch tells them he will die. While they're distracted trying to find a cure for Sam, the reader is dying, becoming closer to going to Hell.

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was lying in bed in the bunker, flicking through an old Men of Letters book on banshees. Sam and Dean had left the previous day for what sounded like a rogue banshee, but [Y/N] had elected to stay behind. Although they had hunted most of their adult life, [Y/N] was always apprehensive when it came to going up against something they'd never faced before, finding the unfamiliarity unsettling. This was often a point of argument between [Y/N] and Dean, who wanted them to 'grow up and act like a real hunter'. Dean and [Y/N] argued a lot. They cared for each other, and saw each other as family much like [Y/N] saw Sam as family, but the bickering was almost constant. They had their chick-flick moments, definitely, but they were becoming less and less frequent.

[Y/N] got on really well with Sam. Sure they had their arguments too, but they didn't bicker with each other like Dean. [Y/N] had been wondering lately whether or not Dean even really wanted them in the bunker anymore. He hadn't said anything specifically about them living there or wanting them to leave, but they were only really tolerating each other for the last few weeks. [Y/N] owed their life to Dean, he had saved them from a vampire nest several years ago, and [Y/N] looked up to him like an older brother. No one could say that the Wichesters weren't the best hunters out there, [Y/N] knew they could learn a lot from the brothers. Just as [Y/N] was turning the page in the book, their phone rang. Picking it up they saw Sam's name, and answered it immediately.

"Hey Sam, how's the hunt going?"

"[Y/N], it's not a banshee". Sam sounded out of breath as he forced this statement out. Pushing back off their pillow, [Y/N] sat up in bed.

"What is it?"

"No idea, but Dean". [Y/N] heard him pause and swallow, trying to catch his breath. [Y/N] could feel their heart start to beat faster, now worried about whatever was going on. "Dean's hurt. Building collapsed. I can't carry him out, his leg is caught. There's smoke". He tried to catch his breath again but began to cough.

"Sam?" [Y/N] called down the phone, now panicking too. He didn't answer, and they called his name again but still no answer. Sam and Dean were too far away for [Y/N] to get to them, and they didn't even know where exactly the brothers were, just the general area from Sam's update earlier that morning. They threw the phone down on the bed and ran out of the room to get the materials needed to summon probably the only person who not only could help, but possible would; Crowley.

[Y/N] had mixed the summoning ingredients in a bowl, had drawn the sigil and had lit the candles. They cut their hand and spilled their blood into the bowl before setting it on fire. [Y/N] hadn't even finished the incantation when Crowley appeared before them.

"Hello, Pet". [Y/N] looked up from the bowl to frown at Crowley's nickname for them. 'The Winchester's Pet', or the 'Spare Member of Team Free Will' were currently Crowley's go-to nicknames for [Y/N]. "What brings me here today?" He asked with a smirk, linking his hands together behind his back.

"I need your help" [Y/N] grumbled at him while they wrapped their cut hand with a bandage. "Sam and Dean, you need to save them. Now".

"They're big boys, they don't usually need much help, at least not bad enough for me to step in. Do they know you called me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. [Y/N] sighed and shook their head.

"We don't have time for this Crowley, will you save them or not? I'm pretty sure they're stuck in a burning house somewhere in California".

"What are you offering?" He now looked interested, seeing [Y/N]'s desperate expression.

"What do you want? My soul? You can have it. Give me the ten years and it's yours, just don't tell them".

Crowley clicked his tongue and began to pace within the devil's trap on the ground. "Ten years sounds like an awfully long time to wait. You know I'm not a crossroads demon anymore, right? I'm the King of Hell! My deals are a harder bargain, Pet".

"Five years"

"Still too long"

"Three"

"Hmm... nope"

"Fine, give me one, then I'll be dragged to Hell willingly, no loopholes".

Crowley stopped pacing and looked up at [Y/N] through his eyelashes, a mischievous look on his face. "It's not really an interesting deal now, is it? It's a bit predictable, boring, normal, been done before..."

"We're running out of time Crowley". [Y/N] snapped at him. "Just tell me what you want".

"You sell your soul, but I'm not putting a time limit on it. You die in the place of whichever Winchester dies next. Until one of them dies, you take on any potentially fatal injuries. One of them gets a scratch, fine, they can keep it. One of them gets a stab wound that they could bleed out from... you take it instead". He smiled at them. "They're currently stuck in a burning house, I'll get them out. You'll take on the lung damage, and Dean's little fibula fracture, it's a nasty one". He snickered.

"Deal. Get them out now".

"Where's my 'thank you'? My kiss? I'm offering you a very generous offer. They might not kick the bucket for another thirty years you know". He smirked at them, knowing that the Winchesters had died many, many times already and the idea of both of them lasting another thirty years without either of them dying was laughable. [Y/N] grumbled but stepped forward into the devil's trap, where Crowley smiled and leaned forward, kissing their lips. When [Y/N] pulled back only two seconds later, he was gone.

[Y/N] rushed to clean up the evidence of their summoning, and just when they were finishing cleaning up the bowl, they started to cough. Their chest hurt, and their throat was dry. Coughing the entire way back to their bedroom, they had only just made it to their bed when they yelled out in pain and heard their leg crack. They looked down at it, it looked fine, but the pain in their lower leg was excruciating. [Y/N] tossed their head back on the pillow and groaned out in pain, gripping their leg tightly with their hand. They couldn't help it, the tears just came spilling out. They were alone, in pain, and couldn't do anything about it. The only thing that made them feel better was a text from Sam saying the monster was dead and they were both okay.

***

Two days passed before the boys arrived back in the bunker. Two days of bearing the pain and limping to and from the kitchen and the bathroom, only leaving the bed when absolutely necessary. It was early evening when [Y/N] was woken up by a knock on their bedroom door. Clearing their throat and trying not to cough too loud, they called out that the door was open. Sam opened the door and poked his head inside, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he saw that [Y/N] was in bed. "Hey, just letting you know we're home. Nothing but some bruises and a few small cuts. Why are you in bed? Are you sick?"

"Uh, yeah, I think I just have a bad cold or something". [Y/N] lied, clearing their throat again. "You uh, got out okay then?" Sam opened the door farther and walked into the room, sitting down on [Y/N]'s bed. They had to bite their tongue to stop a painful groan from leaving their lips as Sam brushed against their damaged leg.

"Yeah, it was really weird actually. Definitely wasn't a banshee, it managed to pretty much destroy the house we were in - the victim's house, set it on fire and everything. Dean's leg was trapped under a collapsed wall, the smoke was really bad. The monster, whatever it was, was coming at us, it was about to take a swing at us, that's when our call cut out, but I was able to keep it back for a little while, then it just fell to the ground. It was dead, but I didn't do anything that could have killed it, I was just fighting with my hands and a small knife. Then the smoke disappeared and the wall on Dean's leg broke apart and he was fine, just had a cut on the side of his leg". [Y/N] was nodding along. "I guess it's just one of those weird ones where we never really know what it was or what happened". He shrugged. "You need anything? Medicine, soup?"

"Could you get me a glass of water?"

"Sure". He smiled kindly at them, and thankfully decided to pat the edge of the bed instead of their leg before he stood up. Sam left the room, and only a few seconds later Dean was in his space in the doorway.

"Why are you in bed?" He asked, stepping into the room and folding his arms.

"I'm sick". [Y/N] coughed and Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Probably just from sitting around all day every day in here, it's the dust. Ever think about going out and getting some fresh air? Maybe even going on a hunt and being useful? Maybe even interact with people? Possibly catch an actual cold?" His words caused [Y/N] more pain than the leg was at that moment. They had just given up their soul, taken on smoke damage and a broken leg for him, and there he was standing there and judging them for being in bed. It was the same story that had repeated itself over and over again in their relationship, or lack of. They felt very taken for granted.

"Fuck off Dean". [Y/N] said, rolling over in their bed to face away from him, pulling the covers up to their chin. They were close to tears, and they definitely didn't want Dean to see.

"Excuse me? You know, if you pulled your weight around here and actually plucked up the courage to go on hunts out of your comfort zone, maybe Sam and I wouldn't be so cut up. We had a house fall on us, we're covered in cuts and bruises, and you're lying in bed with a cold? Getting Sam to bring you water? Grow up". He voice was raised now and [Y/N] couldn't help the tears from spilling over. They heard their door slam closed, Dean was gone.

***

The next morning [Y/N] hobbled into the kitchen to get some breakfast, hoping that Dean wouldn't be in there. Thankfully, it was only Sam sitting at the table. He looked up from his laptop and smiled and them as they limped in, but his smile dropped when he saw their pained expression. "Something wrong with your leg?" He frowned at them.

I fell down the stairs while you were gone, it'll be fine". [Y/N] shrugged as they made their way to get some cereal. Sam stood up immediately and stepped over to grab the cereal for them.

"You sit down, I'll get your stuff". He said but they shook their head.

"I'm not useless Sam".

"I didn't say you were". He held up his hands in defense. "You're just obviously in pain, and I'm not, I can help".

"I don't need your help".

He stood back and folded his arms. "What's gotten into you?"

[Y/N] let out a deep breath before moving over to the table and sitting down. "Do you think I should move out?"

"What? Why would you say that?" He sat down opposite them and studied their face carefully.

"Dean hates me. He thinks I don't pull my weight. I try to go on as many cases as I can, and when I don't go on them I spend all my team researching for you guys. No matter how much I try to help he just shouts at me and basically tells me I'm a waste of space".

Sam reached over the table and placed his hand on [Y/N]'s. "You're not a waste of space, Dean was just scared, and he lashes out when he's scared".

"He doesn't talk to Jody like that, or Garth, or anyone".

"He has. I've seen it. He's even spoken to me like that, it doesn't mean he hates you or wants you gone. I promise you, we want you here". He smiled at them. "Let me check your leg, okay?" [Y/N] nodded and Sam examined their leg, causing [Y/N] to wince at his touch. "Okay, so it's impossible to tell without an x-ray, so I don't know if it's broken or not, but you definitely seem to be in a lot of pain with it. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" [Y/N] shook their head at him. "Alright, but you tell me if it gets worse, tell me if you need help with anything. You sit there and I'll get you some breakfast. I don't want to hear any protesting, and please, just ignore any of Dean's comments. I'll talk to him".

***

Sam spent the next few weeks helping [Y/N] out while their leg slowly healed. [Y/N] ignored Dean as much as they could, and for the most part Dean just left them alone. He even did ask how their leg was a few times, showing a little bit of concern, and his snide comments about [Y/N] being lazy or scared of cases were kept to a minimum. They were still made, but he definitely held back whenever he caught Sam's glare. They were all sitting in the library one morning when Sam looked up from his laptop. "I think I have a case, sounds like a simple salt and burn"

"Go on". Dean put down the magazine he was reading and leaned forward in his chair to listen.

"So get this, a woman reported seeing her dead husband in their garage, apparently throwing stuff around, and she thinks he messed with the breaks in her car and caused her to crash. It's only a couple hours drive from here, we could be there and back by this evening?"

[Y/N] shrugged. "Sound good to me".

"Is your leg good enough?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I think so. This doesn't sound like anything too strenuous anyway, we just go to his grave, salt and burn his bones, then check that he's gone?"

"Sounds like a plan". Dean nodded and went to grab his jacket, and the three of them headed out to the Impala. Dean and [Y/N] always got along better when they were out on hunts, mostly because he couldn't call them lazy or cowardly when they were out there together. The car journey was a nice break from the tension, the three of them chatting and laughing together about a previous case involving Cas being turned into a cat for a day. It was moments like these that made [Y/N] feel like a real part of the team, and not just a 'spare', or a hunter that the boys worked with on occasion. They just wished that Dean would treat them like a real friend more often.

After they salted and burned the bones in the empty graveyard, they filled the grave back in and made their way to the victim's house to check for any signs of a ghost. Dean had his EMF meter out and was going to check the garage where the ghost had last been seen. Sam would check the upstairs of the house, and [Y/N] was to check the downstairs. [Y/N] was searching the kitchen when Dean yelled from the garage. [Y/N] ran towards him and found him on the ground clutching his side. He looked up to [Y/N] and pointed towards the corner of the room. "His wedding ring... on the table... burn it". He managed to force out through gritted teeth. [Y/N] ran towards the work bench in the corner of the garage and lifted up the wedding ring when they heard a gun shot behind them. Spinning around they saw Sam standing in the doorway with his salt loaded gun, having just shot at what [Y/N] assumed was the ghost. Quickly, [Y/N] grabbed a bowl on the bench and threw the ring into it before emptying a container of gasoline into it and taking out their lighter. The ghost reappeared behind Sam and he turned around to shoot it again when [Y/N] flicked on their lighter and tossed it into the bowl. After being shot, the ghost reappeared in front of Sam but was screeching as it went up in flames. Sam and Dean were distracted by it when [Y/N] felt a pain in their side. Clutching their lower left abdomen, they looked down and saw blood start to wet their shirt. Quickly, while the boys were still distracted, [Y/N] zipped up their jacket to stop the blood from being visible.

"Hey, where'd it go?" [Y/N] looked over at Dean who had pulled up his t-shirt and was examining his side. "I swear that thing stabbed me with a knife".

"Maybe it just hit you? There's no sign of a stab wound". Sam said as he leant Dean a hand to pull him up from the ground.

"I know what a stab wound feels like Sammy, I was stabbed".

"Well, you're fine now! Maybe whatever it hit you with just felt like a stab". Sam shrugged as Dean pulled his t-shirt back down. Dean looked over at [Y/N] who had their hand on their side, applying pressure to the wound.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah just a stitch probably from running". [Y/N] lied, and thankfully it looked like the two boys bought it.

"Alright, well let's get out of here". Sam said and they made their way out to the Impala. [Y/N] was in the back of the car as usual, as Dean drove and Sam sat shotgun. [Y/N] was having a tough time keeping the pain off their face, very much aware that any time Dean looked in the rear view mirror that he could see them. They were halfway home when a voice caused all three off them to jump.

"Hello, boys". Crowley had appeared in the seat next to [Y/N]. "And the Spare". He turned to smile at them.

"Get out of my car Crowley". Dean growled at him.

"I'm only here to check and see that everything is working like it's supposed to. You know I pride myself on good customer service". Crowley smiled at Dean in the rear view mirror, and Sam turned around in his seat to face him with a confused expression.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked him. Crowley opened his mouth but [Y/N] leaned over slightly and kicked his leg, causing him to look over and see [Y/N]'s warning glance.

"Oh, nothing you need to be concerned with. Nice seeing you". Crowley winked and then he was gone, leaving Sam and Dean even more confused and leaving [Y/N] annoyed, worried that either Sam or Dean would cop on to the fact that Crowley was talking about a deal.

"Well that was weird, what do you think that was about?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head and shrugged, and [Y/N] did the same. The rest of the drive back was quiet apart from Dean's music, and [Y/N] was thankful that the boys didn't keep talking about it, just looking forward to being able to lock themselves in their room and take care of the stab wound in private.

***

[Y/N] kept to themselves over the next few weeks. The wound was healing nicely, but they felt like they may be a liability on hunts since it was still causing pain, so they had passed on several hunts. This had lead to Dean's comments about [Y/N] being lazy making a return. Sam had talked to him about it several times at this stage, clearly seeing how much it was bothering [Y/N], but Dean didn't care anymore. He found it difficult to respect a hunter who was turning down hunts for apparently no reason. Sam had also checked up on [Y/N] several times, but eventually became frustrated with them constantly shutting him out and refusing to open up about whatever was clearly on their mind. So, both Sam and Dean had taken to just leaving [Y/N] alone to work through whatever it was they needed to work through, and went on cases just the two of them.

Luckily, on two of the recent hunts the boys went on, neither of them sustained any serious injury, which meant [Y/N] was also in the clear. [Y/N]'s wound had just about finished healing while the boys were on their third case without them. Unfortunately, on this third case, things didn't go as planned. Dean had called [Y/N] early that morning to say they were on their way home, and he needed [Y/N] to research reversal spells. He wouldn't explain what happened, but just told them to find out everything the bunker had to offer on reversing a witch's curse if you didn't have the opportunity to kill the witch. [Y/N] was sitting at the map table going through the books they had found when the bunker's door opened and Sam and Dean came down the stairs.

"You find anything?" Dean asked as he sat down at the table.

"If you can't kill the witch who cast it, then the reversal spells all seem to depend on the curse that was cast. There isn't like a 'blanket' reversal spell for curses" [Y/N] explained. "What happened?"

"Well that's just great. You'd think that if you weren't going to bother coming on cases then you could at least be of some use with research". Dean rolled his eyes and stood up from the table.

"Dean, it's not [Y/N]'s fault". Sam stepped over to grab his shoulder but Dean shrugged it off.

"Yeah? Well if they had been there then maybe you wouldn't have been hit by that stupid curse. Or if they had been there then maybe we could've ganked the bitch". He glared at [Y/N].

Trying to ignore both his glare and his words, [Y/N] looked to Sam. "What curse?"

Sam sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The witch hit me with a curse that's apparently gonna slowly shut down my organs. I don't know how long 'slowly' means, but if we can't find a cure then-"

"Then he dies. And I'll be blaming you". Dean cut him off and pointed a finger at [Y/N]. Feeling tears start to form, [Y/N] quickly stood up from the table and made their way to their room, ignoring Sam calling after them. They spent the evening curled up in bed, letting the tears come out. There was no way out of this one, they were going to die. They were going to die, and they were going to spend their last days, weeks, or months with the boys upset at them for not going on the case.

At some stage, [Y/N] had cried themself to sleep. Their sleep was not pleasant, filled with nightmares of losing either Sam or Dean, then changing to dying themself but Sam and Dean not caring. Crowley's smug face made appearances, the sound of Hellhounds coming for them too. They woke up with a jolt of pain; their lower back hurt, their stomach hurt, breathing hurt, their head hurt. They knew it had started, the curse was starting to break their organs down. Their breathing was laboured and they were trying to catch their breath when there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, it opened, and Sam walked in. Catching a glimpse of [Y/N]'s panicked expression, he quickly walked over to the bed and sat down. "Nightmare?" He asked with concern. [Y/N] only nodded, finally getting some control over their breathing again. "I uh, I just wanted to apologise to you on Dean's behalf. He didn't mean what he said, he's just scared of losing me". Sam looked almost embarrassed by Dean's behaviour. "Honestly I feel fine, I think maybe the curse didn't work properly or something, but Dean's determined. He's summoning Crowley now to make some sort of deal".

"What?!" [Y/N] forced out.

"No, don't worry, he's not gonna sell his soul or anything, he's just going to see if Crowley needs anything, like an artefact from the bunker's collection or something". Sam explained. [Y/N] pushed the covers back and got out of the bed, it was to fast because their vision blurred slightly and they swayed, and Sam reached out to grab their shoulders. "You good?" [Y/N] just nodded and pushed through the aches they were feeling everywhere to get to their door. They needed to get to Dean before he called Crowley; they didn't trust him not to tell him about the deal they'd already made.

It was too late when they got to Dean, Crowley was already standing in front of him. "Moose, Pet, nice of you to join us". He smiled at them.

"He won't deal". Dean turned to face Sam, checking him for any sign of the curse working. He didn't look at [Y/N], but if he had, he would've noticed the bags under their eyes and the fact that they were very out of breath.

"I cannot in good faith make a deal with you to save Sam when Sam's not in any danger". Crowley said.

"Good faith?" Sam scoffed at him. "Since when do you have good faith? What do you mean I'm not in danger? The witch said the curse would shut down my organs".

Crowley smirked and glanced over at [Y/N], who gave him a warning glare. Crowley shrugged. "The witch was wrong, Sam's not going to die from any curse that was cast. Now, if you don't mind, I am a very busy person and I have more pressing matters to attend to. Goodbye". With one last knowing smirk directed towards [Y/N], Crowley vanished.

"I guess that's good news?" Sam asked, allowing himself to relax a bit.

"Yeah, yeah I guess the curse didn't work". Dean smiled at him and patted his shoulder before heading out of the room, still not paying any attention to [Y/N]. Sam turned to [Y/N] and they gave him a small smile, hoping it didn't come across as a grimace as they felt a sharp pain in their chest.

"I think I'll try get some more sleep". [Y/N] said, turning towards the door. "I'm glad you're okay Sam".

***

Over the next few days [Y/N] was getting sicker and sicker. They didn't know if Dean didn't notice their absence, or if he just didn't care, but he didn't once check on them. Sam did, coming to the conclusion that [Y/N] must have the flu. He brought them food and water and checked in every few hours, but [Y/N] was asleep for the most part, extremely exhausted. Sleeping was the only time that [Y/N] wasn't in pain, and every time they woke up the pain had grown worse. They were now coughing up blood, their vision was constantly blurry, and they were having difficultly even just getting to the bathroom that was only across the hall from their bedroom.

One evening Sam had come into their room to find them asleep, but had woken them up to say they were heading out. He said Dean had been complaining about being stuck in the bunker, but left out the part about Dean complaining that they were stuck in the bunker because [Y/N] was sick and Sam didn't want to leave them alone. Sam thought it would be best to at least get out to the local bar for a few hours, let Dean let off some steam. He had told [Y/N] to text or call if they needed anything, and had brought them a glass of water before leaving. [Y/N] fell back to sleep as soon as Sam left.

***

It was after midnight when Sam and Dean left the bar. It was close to the bunker, they only had a short walk back, and Sam had been planning on using that time to talk to Dean about [Y/N]. "What's your issue with them? Really?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"[Y/N], you get on great on hunts but the moment we're back at the bunker, it's like you don't give a shit about them. You give them a really hard time Dean, and they look up to you".

"I don't know Sam, they just get on my nerves sometimes. They're a great hunter, and they waste their skills by sitting out on cases".

"They've been on plenty of cases with us".

"Yeah, but only when they know exactly what we're up against. The moment we cross into unfamiliar territory, they chicken out and stay behind. It's a waste. Saving people, hunting things, that's what hunters do. We're not supposed to give a shit what we're going up against, we're not supposed to care that we might get hurt. We're supposed to save people. They can't do that if they're sitting around all day or staying in bed".

"You know they're pretty sick at the moment, right? Like [Y/N] isn't just being lazy, or scared, they're finding it difficult to even breathe. I was half thinking of just taking them to the hospital tomorrow even if they protest".

"You really think it's that bad?" Dean asked as he opened the door to the bunker.

"Yeah Dean, I'm worried". They walked down the stairs together and passed the map table towards the bedrooms. "I'm just gonna check on them quickly". Sam said and Dean nodded, heading towards his own room. He had just reached his bed when he heard Sam shout his name. He grabbed his gun and ran out to [Y/N]'s room to find Sam standing out in the corridor, staring into the room, all colour washed from his face.

"Sammy?" Dean asked cautiously and Sam turned to him, tears pooling in his eyes. Dean stepped towards the door and looked inside, and his heart sank, he immediately felt nauseous. [Y/N]'s chest was ripped apart, and there were bloody pawprints all over the floor. He clenched his jaw and turned away. "Get Crowley here. Now. That son of a bitch had something to do with this". He closed the door behind him and Sam ran off down the corridor to summon Crowley. Dean leaned against the wall and slid down it, feeling his heart beating heavily and tears of his own threatening to spill. He had been nothing but mean to [Y/N] for weeks, months, as long as they'd known each other. He had never been as welcoming as Sam had been, he'd never taken the time to really get to know them, and now their soul had been dragged to Hell just like his had. He needed to know what happened.

"Squirrel! What's the matter?" Dean looked up to see Crowley standing above him, Sam just behind him.

"Fix this". Dean hissed at him before pushing himself back up to standing. "Whatever the fuck you did, you bring them back". He poked Crowley in the chest and Crowley clutched his chest, feigning offense.

"A deal goes two ways you know, I didn't do anything without [Y/N] agreeing. In fact, it was [Y/N] who instigated it".

"What deal?" Sam asked from behind him. Crowley rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Are you two really that stupid? So blind?" He chuckled. "Does a burning house in California ring any bells?"

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Get to the point Crowley". Dean spat.

"You were gonners. That Kapre was going to burn you two idiots alive. [Y/N] summoned me, offered up their soul in exchange for saving you".

"They sold their soul? You only gave them a few months? What about the ten years? Or even the one year that Dean got?" Sam asked and Crowley shrugged.

"Wasn't interesting enough. I enjoy you two, you're entertaining. The Spare, not so much. Too much sitting around. I saw an opportunity for a bit more entertainment, so I took it". He smiled at them while they both tried to control their anger. "The deal I offered, that they willingly accepted, was that they would sell their soul, but I would only take it when one of you two died. Any potentially fatal or serious wound that either of you received, [Y/N] would take it on instead. They got your broken leg, your stab wound Dean. They got your damaged lungs Moose, and the thing that finished them off, that pesky little witch's curse you got hit with". He smirked at Sam.

"Undo the deal. Now". Dean's jaw was clenched, his fists curled tightly so his fingernails were digging into his palms. Crowley simply raised an eyebrow and nodded towards [Y/N]'s door.

"It's a bit late for that".

"Then make a new deal". Sam demanded, his anger becoming harder for him to control.

"I don't want your souls, not interested".

"Then something else. Anything else. Bring them back".

"Well... there is one thing I could think of that I would find useful". He glanced between the two brothers. "I'll bring them back, their soul returns to them, on the condition than neither of you kill any of my demons for a full year. If one of you does, my hellhound comes back and drags [Y/N] back to Hell all over again".

"Deal". Even Sam was surprised at how quickly Dean agreed to this. Giving up killing demons for an entire year was a lot for him, especially for someone he didn't really get along with.

"Done. Pleasure doing business with you boys". Crowley winked and he was gone. Sam and Dean exchanged a look as Sam carefully pushed back open [Y/N]'s door, and Dean watched as Sam's shoulders relaxed in relief and a smile spread across his face.

"[Y/N]". He breathed out and stepped into the room. Dean was more hesitant, but he needed to see that the deal had worked for himself. Taking a deep breath, he followed Sam to find [Y/N] standing in the middle of the room, fully intact, no sign of sickness. They were staring down at their chest and feeling their body, obviously confused. Sam was over to them in a flash, engulfing them in a hug. "You're okay". He squeezed them around their shoulders and held them as close as possible before letting go and standing back to look at them properly.

"Hey kiddo". Dean stood behind Sam and [Y/N] looked to him.

"What... what happened?"

"You made a stupid ass deal is what happened". Dean grumbled but walked over to them, examining their face for any signs of their previous deal, but [Y/N] looked completely healthy. "C'mere". He mumbled and held out an arm, pulling them close to his chest. "Don't you ever make a deal like that again. You hear me? Your soul is off the table".

"I'm sorry". [Y/N] sniffed, their voice muffled by Dean's flannel.

"I'm sorry too. You saved us, you saved Sammy. We... I took you for granted. I know I'm tough on you, but I promise I'll try and be more understanding in future. I guess I just kinda maybe miss you when you're not out there with us". [Y/N] chucked at Dean's attempt at an apology and pulled back from him.

"It's okay, I think maybe I'll try get out of my comfort zone a bit more, I wouldn't have had to call Crowley if I'd just been with you two in the first place".

"Look, it's in the past. Mistakes were made on all sides. The important thing is we're all here, we're all alive, and we're all safe. How about we take a week off hunting and just spend time together?" Sam suggested and [Y/N] nodded.

"Well, it's not like we can go out and kill demons anyway". Dean grumbled and [Y/N] looked to Sam questioningly.

"We'll explain later. Come on, let's get you something to eat". He put his arm around [Y/N]'s shoulders and the three of them walked out to the kitchen for some much-needed bonding over some food and beers. Dean was going to spend the next week doing whatever he could to make it up to [Y/N], to see them smile.

The end.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester comfort #sam winchester #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester comfort #sam winchester fluff #crowley #injured reader #hiding an injury #angst #supernatural angst #dean winchester angst #angry dean #sam winchester fic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam x reader #they/them #spn reader insert #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn #spn angst

[thesparklingwriter]

𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆

tags: zhongli x gn!reader, fluff, angst, reader is the sibling of guizhong, themes of loss (please lmk if I've missed any important tags)

word count: 1.6k

notes: before you read, i recommend taking a quick look at the ask this request came from! i may have possibly missed out some scene setting as a result of assuming every knows the context. I had so much fun doing this :) don't tell anyone but i actually shed one or two tears, but i was listening to the ballad of jane doe as i wrote it so can i truly be blamed? @cheezybell , i hope this lives up to your expectations <3 if there's anything formatting-wise that I've forgotten about tell me tomorrow cause it's now past midnight and i'm going to bed :)

Masterlist | taglist form

The world had been silent since you died. The god of war was accustomed to loss, but none had worn on him so heavily but yours. Of course, you weren't his only acquaintance, but the uncertainty of your well-being weighed heavily on him. The others were lost to the winds, their memories infused into fields of lilies and violent sunrises, all of which he observes with a detached melancholy.

To protect yourself after sustaining an almost fatal blow, you'd employed a tactic Morax himself had taught you—a tactic that had a 50 per cent success rate, a tactic for a worst-case scenario, a tactic shared with you because he couldn't bear the thought of you leaving him forever. If he'd have known that he'd be here now, seated beside your lifeless body, quietly begging someone, something, to save you, his friend, his companion, his… It doesn't matter now.

He wouldn't indulge himself in such thoughts. It was selfish. You'd tried to protect yourself for his sake, and here he was, wishing that you'd died so he would have had the chance to find your reincarnated soul in the faces of those in the harbour. You'd sworn you'd always be with him, regardless of the circumstances, irrespective of the fact that you loved him and he didn't–couldn't ever know. You'd watch him from a distance, how he brought smiles to people's faces and how the people of Liyue worshipped the ground he walked on. What would he want with you? The forgotten kin of a well-known adeptus—adept at nothing much but fading into the mist. What could you offer him that thousands of being on Teyvat couldn't?

"If I'm the reason why you aren't returning," Morax says softly, his voice permeating the silence of the cave he hides you in. "Please rest assured that I expect nothing of you upon your return. Simply focus on yourself. That's all I ask."

As long as he knew you were alive, Morax would accept being apart from you. But until he was aware of your recovery, he'd keep visiting.

And so he did.

Millenia go by before there's even a slight change in your appearance. He visits you at the end of every era he finds himself in—the end of the archon war, Liyue's sudden economic boost, his 'death' at the hands of the Fatui… He keeps you up to speed on it all. Of course, if you want to survive in this world once you awaken, you have to know what's going on, do you not?

This time, when he sits beside you to tell you about how Liyue no longer has an archon and the new life he hopes to pursue, his heart swells with hope. In the dim light of the almost freezing cave, Morax is almost convinced that he spies the condensation of your breath in the air. But simultaneously, the years of hoping and praying for your return have hardened his heart to hope. It's a selfish emotion, one he should know better than to entertain. But though there's a voice in the back of his head, telling him that he's hoping and praying and waiting for nothing, it's you he's waiting for. The one who always made him laugh, listened to him as he mused aloud about the wonders of Teyvat, and helped him mediate arguments between Cloud Retainer and Guizhong. He can't let you go.

"Change is constant in this world," He says to you, noting the slight colour in your cheeks and the flicker of your eyelids. "But I will continue to wait for you, to cultivate your memory such that nothing can dull its shine."

It was a promise to a friend, a declaration of love, an acceptance of defeat. He strokes your hair lightly, an intimate gesture he always longed for when you were alive, one he indulges himself in, in case it wakes you up. And the contact shocks you. You can feel it and hear him, but you can't reach out. You can't hold him in your arms and tell him that it's okay, that you loved him then, and you love him now, and nothing he could ever say or do could ever change that.

But you never had the will to do so when you were awake, and now, as you cling onto his voice to drag yourself back into reality, your resolve is too much for your body to bear, and you explode into fine mist, impossible to catch or hold, or trap. Morax realises that, and though his heart disappeared with you, he accepts his fate—forever longing for a being he might never see again.

✧

Finding yourself in Liyue after the years passed is nothing short of a learning curve. You learn early on that Morax was killed by the Fatui in an act of cold cruelty, a discovery that leaves you fuelled with rage. But casting your mind back to past conversations with Morax himself reminds you of a hypothetical game you and Guizhong used to play with him to pass the hours. Morax always had a fascination with the idea of faking his demise if it was what was necessary for Liyue's survival. Or course, that kind of morbid practicality makes Morax who he is, and you struggle to believe that he'd leave Liyue without a fight. He'd waited millennia for your return, but you're supposed to believe that he'd abandon his nation without so much as a second thought? Impossible.

So you set to finding him. Regardless of what form he's taken on or the lies he's employed to stay under the radar, you will find him. It starts with assimilating into Liyue's society, working hard to establish yourself as an upstanding member of the harbour, always found helping with a smile on your face. You'd smile innocently when asked what you charged for your help and services. "I'm something of a history buff," you'd say. "I'm researching Morax's death—undoubtedly this is an important date in the history of Liyue and i'd like to hear more about it from those who experienced it."

Of course, locals were more than happy to help—to share stories of their valiant archon, who left too soon, but left his nation in such good stead for the future. Most, if not all, the leads you were given were dead ends, an impressive mix of decorated truths and half lies. That was, until a passing traveller mentioned a certain Zhongli of the Wangsheng funeral parlour. According to them, he was the man for any kind of Liyuean history, regardless of the era.

You wasted no time hurrying to the funeral parlour with newfound hope. Would this Zhongli know where Morax is? Would he know of you, Guizhong or any other Adepti that were lost to the brutality of the war? Or would he send you away, accusing you of insanity or espionage?

You didn't know, and frankly, you didn't care. When you arrive at the parlour, you're met by a young woman who greets you with a melancholy smile. "How may I help you?"

"I was hoping to speak with a Mr Zhongli? If that's possible, that is."

The woman's expression changes, relaxing from its state of melancholy. "Of course. I can get him for you. Feel free to take a seat."

The seconds seem to drag by as you sit and wait for this man to arrive. Is this yet another dead end? Your mind begins to wander before the woman returns, asking you to follow her to his office. She seems slightly surprised by the words coming out of her mouth—admitting that this isn't something the man often does. The walk to his office is almost stifling. You're silent, your heart pounding helplessly in your chest as you walk.

The woman opens a heavy mahogany door, smiling encouragingly at you as you walk in.

The man before you nods at the woman before turning his attention to you, and you're surprised by his reaction. Years of analysing Morax's stoic face have taught you to pick up on micro reactions like the one Zhongli displays as he looks at you.

His eyes soften as he stands up, bracing himself on the desk as he rises. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," he says slowly. You tell him your name, and he chuckles lightly to himself. Of course, you'd find him. Or course you would. You look the same as the day you fell asleep, your eyes wide and excited, a gentle smile playing on your lips despite the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in. He extends his hand to you, and you shake it firmly, muttering the necessary pleasantries.

Zhongli can't believe it. You're real, not a figment of his desperate imagination. You're real, and perfect, and standing right in front of him on your own two feet. Do you know who he is? Is this some cruel joke Celestia is playing on him as punishment for going through with the Fatui's plan? His eyes are familiar to you—they shine with gold as you stare at him, your mind trying to grasp where you remember him from.

"How can I help you?" Zhongli asks. He can't bear to look away from you, the one he's loved since before he could quantify the feeling. The one who listened to him with such care and kindness. The one who made the millennia of duties and solitude worth it. It's you. You've returned to him. And regardless of whether you remember him or not, he swears that he'll express his love for you. He won't make the same mistake twice.

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

taglist: @ainescribe

#zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #zhongli fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you

[iseos]

: THE ART OF LOSING YOU

wc. 1679 archive. pairing. huh yunjin x fm!r synopsis. a heart broken twice genre. angst now playing: complex by stayc

the air was filled with tension as y/n and yunjin sat in silence, their hands clenched, and their hearts heavy. the room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the uncertainty that had plagued their relationship for so long. it was as if the universe itself was reluctant to let go of the bond they had shared.

y/n and yunjin had been together for years, and for the longest time, they had been the happiest couple anyone knew. their love had been intense and all-encompassing, like a blazing fire that consumed everything in its path. but it was precisely that intensity that had brought them to this breaking point.

their relationship had always been passionate, marked by fiery arguments followed by even more passionate reconciliations. it was a roller coaster ride of emotions, a whirlwind of love and anger that neither of them could escape.

friends and family had warned them, told them that they were toxic for each other, but the two would brush those concerns aside, convinced that their love would conquer all.

but love, as they were about to discover was not always enough.

the final argument had been explosive; a culmination of all the unresolved issues that have festered beneath the surface. hurtful words had been exchanged, trust had been shattered, and it became painfully clear that their love, no matter how deep, could no longer sustain them.

y/n had stormed out of yunjin's house, tears streaming down her face, and she just watched her go, her own eyes filled with regret and sorrow.

yunjin knew that this was it; the end of something that had once been beautiful but now had turned into a destructive force in their lives.

months went by, and the absence of each other's presence became a constant ache. y/n couldn't help but think about yunjin every day, missing the warmth of the other girl's embrace, the sound of her laughter, and the way they used to look at each other with love and longing. it was as if yunjin still lingered in the corners of y/n's mind, an ever-present ghost of the past.

one particularly gloomy day, y/n decided to take a walk through the city to clear her head. she traversed through the crowded streets, lost in thoughts when something caught her eye.

y/n typically paid billboards no mind, already used to ignoring whatever they were trying to advertise to the public, but there was something about this specific one. a massive billboard loomed above, displaying a striking image of none other than huh yunjin, the person she was trying so hard to forget about

yunjin was now a part of le sserafim, a new rising star in the music industry. the image showed them with their eyes filled with confidence and charisma. it was a stark contrast to the yunjin y/n had remembered, the one who had been vulnerable and broken on that fateful night of their breakup.

seeing her on that billboard stirred a whirlwind of emotions within y/n. she couldn't help but feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy.

pride because yunjin was achieving her long-awaited dreams, and jealousy because it seemed like her former lover had moved on so effortlessly, while y/n was left struggling to forget.

as days blended into passing months, y/n found herself unable to escape the ghost of yunjin.

her face appeared in magazine after magazine, her face was all over different advertisements, and every time y/n went on social media, their songs were playing on practically every post. it was a constant reminder of the love they had lost.

one restless night, unable to bear of ache of loneliness any longer, y/n decided to do something they hadn't done since before the breakup – she picked up her phone and called yunjin's number.

it rang for what felt like an eternity. y/n was about to hang up herself before yunjin's voice came through the other end, sleepily asking, "hello?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, her voice catching in her throat. "yunjin, it's me," she finally managed to say.

there was another moment of silence on the other end, and y/n feared that yunjin would just hang up. but then, yunjin spoke, her voice soft and uncertain, "y/n, it's been awhile."

tears welled up in y/n's eyes as she replied, "yeah, it has. i... i've been thinking about you a lot."

y/n almost let out a laugh at how pathetic she sounded and felt at that moment. here she was calling her ex-girlfriend, who is now very famous, in the middle of the night to confess that she missed her. yunjin probably couldn't care less and wants nothing more than just to hang up and go back to sleep and forget all about y/n again.

  yunjin lets out a sigh, and y/n starts preparing to have her heart crushed one more time, but to her surprise, she says, "i've been thinking about you too y/n."

the admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all that had gone unsaid between them. y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

"yunjin, can we... can we meet up? just to talk, maybe?"

there was another pause, and y/n was terrified of the rejection she felt coming, but then yunjin answered, "i think that might be a good idea."

they agreed to meet at a quiet cafe that yunjin picked out the following evening. y/n's heart raced as she prepared to see yunjin again, unsure of what to expect. was she hoping for reconciliation, or just closure? she couldn't be sure, but she knew she needed to see the girl one more time.

as y/n entered the cafe, she spotted her sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun. y/n noticed that yunjin's hair was now blonde, rather than the highlighted brown she had on the billboard. she looked just as stunning as ever, and y/n couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty.

as she approached the table, their eyes locked with yunjin's, and for a moment, it felt like time had stood still.

they exchanged awkward greetings, and then the conversation began to flow. at first, it was stilted, filled with small talk and polite inquiries about each other's lives. but as the evening wore on, the barrier between them began to crumble, and they found themselves sharing their thoughts, their regrets, and their dreams.

yunjin spoke about the challenges and pressures of her newfound fame; how it was both exhilarating and exhausting. y/n listened intently, realizing that they had never truly understood the weight that yunjin had been carrying.

"i miss you, y/n," the blonde admitted, her voice tinged with sadness.

y/n nodded, her own eyes misting up. "i miss you too, yunjin, but i know we couldn't keep going the way we were. we were destroying each other."

yunjin reached across the table, her fingers brushing against y/n's. "i want you to be happy, y/n. and i hope you find someone who can give you the love you deserve."

she smiled through her tears, "i want the same for you too, yunjin."

they sat in silence for a while, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging in the air. it was there that y/n realized she had a choice to make – to try and rebuild a friendship with the girl or to let go completely and move on with their lives.

y/n and yunjin slowly began to rekindle their friendship. it was a delicate dance, filled with moments of laughter and occasional bouts of sadness when the memories of their past resurfaced in their heart. but they were determined to remain a part of each other's lives, even if it was in a different capacity.

but it seemed life had other plans.

as the seasons changed, and their lives continued to move in opposing directions, the bond between the two girls began to fade. the vibrant colors of their shared memories, once so vivid, now blur into a bittersweet haze.

their once-frequent calls, filled with laughter and the warmth of a freshly blossoming friendship, turned sporadic. days blurred into months, and the phone stayed silent; the messages remained unanswered.

their meetups, which were once a lifeline into each other's worlds, became infrequent. the cafe where their hearts reconnected now grew colder, its empty chairs echoing with the ghost of their past connection.

y/n would often find herself staring at her phone. her trembling fingers hovering over a message that would never be sent; she would type and delete, type and delete, unable to bridge the growing chasm that separated them.

yunjin's life had become a whirlwind of performances, interviews, and a relentless pursuit of her dreams. she was a rising star, and the world demanded her attention, leaving little room for the girl she had once loved so passionately.

and so, the stitches from their newfound friendship, fragile but once so hopeful, began to unravel. they unraveled slowly, painfully, showing just how different the two girls' lives had become.

y/n and yunjin had lost each other once again, not to anger or fiery arguments, but to the never-ending march of time and the demands of their separate destinies. the heartbreak was not in the explosions of their past but in the quiet, inevitable drifting apart that left them both yearning for the connection that had slipped through their fingers.

they were two stars that had once burned brightly together but had been pulled apart by the vastness of the universe. and in the end, the hardest part was that they had no choice but to watch each other's lights slowly fade into the distance until it was just a distant twinkle in the night sky; a beautiful memory that would forever remain out of reach.

“sometimes i feel like i’m right next to you why can i still not forget you, baby”

© iseos

#iseos writing ࿐ྂ #k-labels #le sserafim #yunjin #huh yunjin #le sserafim oneshot #le sserafim drabbles #le sserafim angst #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim x y/n #yunjin imagines #yunjin angst #yunjin x fem reader #yunjin x reader

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hi love,

is it okay if you did like siren whumpee prompts but they have legs instead of a tail?

caretaker rescuing whumpee from the villagers who captured whumpee as a siren.

whumpee sustaining injuries from the villagers’ fish trap and where their harpoons cut through skin and scale, and caretaker tending to those injuries, making sure whumpee heals properly.

caretaker ignoring the tales of how dangerous sirens are, how they prey on human’s flesh. because caretaker knows whumpee, and caretaker also knows whumpee will never hurt them.

whumpee living with caretaker and slowly their tail becomes a pair of legs.

caretaker helping whumpee learn how to walk on their legs on land.

whenever whumpee’s about to fall, caretaker is there to catch them every time.

caretaker helping comfort and calm whumpee down whenever whumpee gets overwhelmed by their new surroundings, being on dry land, etc.

caretaker instructing whumpee that they can’t leave the house without caretaker with them, because even with legs, whumpee’s still not used to This Life, and the villagers are hunting down sirens. those villagers will recapture and hurt whumpee if they find out who whumpee really is.

whumpee longing for / wanting to go back to the sea. but for their own safety (since the villagers are actively hunting down sirens, whumpee’s friends and family), caretaker has no choice but to keep whumpee here.

whumpee and caretaker sometimes get into an argument. because while whumpee knows caretaker means well, it’s still hard since whumpee’s friends and family are being hunted down, and whumpee’s here, safe with caretaker. the constant guilt and shame are eating whumpee alive.

but caretaker rather whumpee hates them than whumpee dead.

caretaker wiping away whumpee’s tears and holding them close to their chest once the fight’s over. it always ends in whumpee crying and breaking down.

things caretaker could say to whumpee:

“You’re safe here.”

“I will keep you safe.”

“why can’t you understand that I am trying to keep you safe?! they will kill you if they know who you are.”

“a prisoner? is that really how you see yourself? is that really how you think of me?”

“you are not a monster. not to me. never to me.”

“you don’t have to be afraid, as long as I am here. no one can hurt you.”

things whumpee could say to caretaker:

“my home is there, with my friends, my family.”

“you don’t understand what it’s like to be a monster.”

“you cannot keep me here forever.”

“I miss my friends. I miss my family. they’re being killed. why can’t you understand that?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t need you to be my savior.”

“I’m scared.”

“what if one day they got me too?”

“I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“why are you kind to me?”

“why are you helping me? didn’t your parents tell you how savage sirens were?”

“my parents taught me how dangerous humans were. you proved them wrong.”

“thank you for not giving up on me.”

#admin answers #whump #angst #non human whumpee #whumpee #caretaker #sirencore #siren #sirens #writing #fantasy #writing challenge #whump prompts #whump tropes #writing tropes #writing prompts #writing prompt #writing trope #whump trope #whump prompt #trope #prompt #prompts #tropes #whump community #writing community #whump writing #angst trope #angst prompt #angst prompts

[cloveswifey]

YOUR BREAK UP ~ HEADCANNON

Y/N and Rafe's relationship was a tumultuous one. They were constantly breaking up and getting back together, trapped in a cycle that they couldn't seem to break. Y/N loved Rafe, she really did, but she just couldn't take the constant fighting and bickering that came with dating him.

The root of their fights was always the same: Rafe's intense jealousy. He would get into heated arguments with JJ Maybank, who Y/N was close friends with, and it was becoming too much for her to handle.

Despite their constant breakups, Y/N couldn't seem to help but fall back into Rafe's arms time and time again. There was something about him, something magnetic, that she couldn't resist. But she knew deep down that their relationship was toxic, and that they needed to break the cycle once and for all.

One day, after their umpteenth breakup, Y/N decided that enough was enough. She couldn't keep going through the same cycle over and over again. She knew that she loved Rafe, but love alone wasn't enough to sustain their relationship. She needed stability, trust, and respect, and she wasn't getting that from Rafe.

So, she made the difficult decision to end things with him for good. At first, Rafe tried to fight it, promising to change and to be better for her. But Y/N knew that she couldn't believe his promises anymore. She needed to focus on herself, on finding someone who could give her the love and security she deserved.

The breakup was painful, but also liberating for y/n In the end, Y/N learned that sometimes love wasn't enough. Sometimes, you had to let go of toxic relationships in order to find your own peace and happiness. It was a difficult lesson, but a necessary one. And while she would always cherish the good times she and Rafe had shared, she knew that it was time to move on and create a healthier, happier future for herself.

#imagine #obx #cloveswifey #imagines #jj #outerbanks #sarah cameron #Rafe Cameron #break up #angst #outer banks #rafe outer banks #outerbanks imagine #rafe cameron imagine #the chronicles of narnia #sarah cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x daughter #rafe imagine #peter pevensie #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jennifercheck #jj mayback imagine #john b routledge

[emeraldspiral]

You know, I always heard that the planned series finale of Invader Zim was supposed to be “Invader Dib” where Dib joins the Resisty and defeats the Irken Empire and I gotta say, I never really cared for that concept. It’s kinda basic and predictable and fanficy. But I came up with another idea that I think would’ve made for a more interesting series finale. Like, I don’t think they’d ever do this because it’s a little too dark and serious, even bearing in mind that Enter the Florpus wasn’t afraid to go outside the box and get a bit real. I just feel like this would be a more satisfying conclusion.

Zim is on the cusp of enacting yet another plan to destroy all life on earth when he’s defeated by Dib. Dib starts making one of his grandiose speeches about how earth will never fall into the hands of the evil Irken Empire that only wants to consume and destroy and subjugate all life until there’s nothing left. Zim is pretty pissed about this latest defeat and doesn’t take Dib’s comments well and fires back that everything he criticizes the Irken Empire for, humanity is equally guilty of. At least Irkens are good at conquering and annihilating civilizations, humans are bound to wipe themselves out before they ever grow strong enough to colonize other planets.

As Zim outlines everything he despises about the human race, a wormhole opens up and a group of refugees from the future arrive. Where they come from almost all life in the known universe has been extinguished and they’ve fled to the past looking to start their lives over and hopefully stop the intergalactic apocalypse from ever happening. Unfortunately, the being responsible for killing everyone was able to get through to the past too, and now Zim and Dib must put aside their differences and team up with the others to stop this guy from wiping out all life ahead of schedule.

Throughout the film Zim and Dib bicker and needle each other about how they’re both pathetic for trying so hard at their respective pointless, selfish missions in the vain hope they’ll ever receive the recognition they think they deserve.

All signs point to the bad guy being none other than Zim himself. Earth was the first planet to fall, followed by the Irken Armada and planet Irk, the bad guy is using Irken tech, displays familiarity with earth and locations like the Skool, Membrane Labs, Zim’s base, and Zim and Dib themselves, and his plan to destroy the earth is the same one Dib just thwarted. Dib becomes convinced that the bad guy is in fact Zim from a future where he succeeded in destroying the earth and upon failing to win the Tallests’ approval even after this victory he destroyed them and the whole Irken Empire and then the rest of the universe to feed his insatiable appetite for mindless destruction.

Even though Zim’s been helping the whole time and is determined to stop the bad guy even if it does turn out to be himself, Dib is convinced that he’s an irredeemable monster, too dangerous to be allowed to live.

But then it turns out the bad guy is really a future version of Dib himself. In the original timeline, because they weren’t interrupted by the alien refugees, Zim and Dib’s argument continued to play out. Zim lost his temper and did something stupid to try to kill Dib, which backfired and accidentally killed him instead. Without the constant threat of Zim’s plans to destroy earth as a distraction, Dib started to notice more and more how right Zim was about humans doing the exact same shit that made Irkens so despicable. He looked at all the work his dad was doing to eradicate hunger and poor nutrition, provide clean sustainable energy, housing, and resources, cure all diseases, and compensate for every disability, only for the world to remain a festering pile of garbage because greed, ignorance, selfishness, and apathy made it impossible to implement any of his conflict-ending solutions on a global scale. Humanity had everything it needed to make Membrane’s dream of world peace a reality and actively chose war, colonization, inequality, exploitation, and unsustainable consumption instead. This realization drove Dib to become so bitter and nihilistic he rebuilt the thing Zim was going to use to wipe out humanity and did so himself. Then he destroyed the Irken Empire and freed all the planets conquered by them, only for them to go to war with each other to become the next dominant galactic Empire. Unable to find a world or a species that showed themselves to be any different from the others, Dib decided to destroy all life in the universe, leading to that handful of survivors fleeing into the past.

Past Dib is horrified by what he became and tries to reason with Evil Future Dib that what he’s done goes against everything his dad ever worked for, but Evil Dib just thinks Membrane’s efforts were rendered pointless by humanity’s innate nature.

Past Dib decides he must sacrifice himself to both prevent his evil future self from destroying the world there and then and also to stop himself from becoming him in the future. But then Zim stops him and tries to sacrifice himself instead, feeling that he’s the one who’s truly responsible for the apocalypse since it was his invention Evil Dib used to destroy everything. Evil Dib injures and nearly kills Zim to prevent his sacrifice, but just has to know why Zim would ever do something so selfless. Zim tells him his father was right. That the answer to all the mindless destruction he hates isn’t more destruction, but to choose to be better, even if it seems like he’s the only one who is. Hearing this from the person he thought was the embodiment of selfishness convinces Evil Dib to sacrifice himself to destroy the apocalypse machine.

In the aftermath, the future refugees vanish, which Zim assures Dib is an indicator that the bad future has been erased because he will never turn evil now. Zim gives up his fruitless quest to impress the Tallest and decides to join the Resisty (which could lead to a spin-off). He invites Dib to come along, but Dib decides to stay on earth and work toward making it a better place. Zim and Dib part on good terms, and that’s the end.

#invader zim #zim #dib #invader dib

[1tarot1with1k1o]

Uncomfortable but necessary announcement I have to make.

(TW// slight mentions of violence, verbal abuse, toxic environments, and anxiety)

Many of you might have seen this coming, but I’m here to say that I will have to permanently leave the account.

This is going to be a very personal announcement, and if you are triggered by themes of slight violence and toxic family environments, then I suggest you to skip the post.

…the start:

Me and my mother have moved in with her husband about a month ago (not my dad). Things were already not going very well, but since we had to leave our old house (due to the new owner wanting to demolish it, and terminating all the existing leasing contracts before the end of the year), we had no choice but to go live together. Ever since we moved in, there were constant arguments and issues. We always felt uncomfortable and like a burden, but like I said, we had no choice and we wanted to see if things would get better after a while.

My mother is someone who can be heavy with words, and she definitely isn’t the most gentle when dealing with delicate topics. I tried my best to ask her to tone it down, or to control herself, but she didn’t really try to change her ways.

He started to get more and more irritated as time went by, to the point where he actively goes out of his way to inconvenience us. He is someone very immature, and he lacks emotional intelligence. They recently started arguing more and more, to the point where I had to step in, or they would physically assault each other.

He uses me to hurt my mother, because he knows that she cares about me (she might be not be a wonderful mother or a morally correct person, but you can’t deny that in her mind, she cares about me as her daughter). So he starts to insult me or scream at me for no reason just to get my mom riled up and cause arguments. Just to then act like a complete victim. I have always respected his decisions and his space (since we moved into the house he inherited by his parents). But he started insulting me more and more, and I started arguing (basically screaming) with him (I’m someone who prefers to talk about things and I never screamed at anyone before, because usually that’s a very pointless way of solving conflicts). But that’s how tired I am of the situation.

I am scared for my (and our) safety. This was even before the situation worsened like this. I have a hard time sleeping, and I keep something to defend myself with, on my nightstand. I have constant stomach and head aches because of the stress caused by this situation. As someone with generalized anxiety, the fear I feel is heightened.

I really tried to keep my passions somewhat alive no matter what, so I selfishly wanted to be able to keep this blog and do readings for people, since it was something that made me very happy. I really tried hard, even if it might not have seemed like it.

I will have to deactivate the account since I can’t take care of it. I don’t even know when this situation will get solved (all I know is that it’s likely not going to be something very quick). We might have to move in with my grandma in her country, because here we don’t have the means to sustain ourselves. My mother doesn’t make enough, and I’m having a really hard time finding a job here (plus I never intended of staying here for the rest of my life, because the economical and social situation, especially for young people, is horrible). So everything is uncertain, and everything feels very scary at the moment. I have already gone through a similar experience in the past (minus feeling this unsafe), but we have been homeless for a while, and then we had to live with someone else. Back then, there would also be lots of arguments where I was the punching bag of both (figuratively. They would both verbally abuse me). So this situation is very triggering for me.

Seeing how my account started malfunctioning again, I’ll take it as a sign that I shouldn’t try to push something that’s not meant to be. I will likely deactivate the blog in about 2-3 days, to leave some time for you to screenshot your readings, in case you would like to do that. I’m sorry for causing an inconvenience to you.

I want to thank you for giving me a space to be myself in, and making me feel like a good person. I have always cherished your kind words and gestures, and I will keep on cherishing them for a long time. I wish I could keep the account, but I know it wouldn’t be fair on you. I can’t attain to my responsibilities due to my environment, so there’s no point in making others pay for it.

I hope that we will be able to meet each other in better circumstances in the future.

Thank you again, and I’m sorry for everything.

I hope you will all take care of yourselves, and that you’ll receive really really really wonderful gifts from the universe ✨

- Klo 🧡

…the end.

#klo #announcement #last announcement #closing #the end of klo #bye! <3 #love you all #truly

[spideyyroos]

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 5

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 5

pairing: peter parker x stark!female!reader

summary: during your everlasting rivalry against peter parker, you’re unlucky enough to find out that not only is he spider-man (your dad’s new kid), but he is also your soulmate. god help us all. (soulmate au where you have a mark of where your soulmate first touches you)

word count: 1.7k

requested?: yes!

warnings: major angst, the smallest amt of fluff bc i’m evil, just very teenage hormonal angst, severe lack of proofreading

a/n: here for my annual update to this series T-T! hopefully i can wrap this up in a couple more chapters and move on to other projects...my requests are open!

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

masterlist

peter eventually gave the space that she wanted. but it wasn’t without hesitation that he allowed himself to quiet down his thoughts - or so he thought. still well within her wishes, y/n continued to hear his thoughts, even feeling remorse about some of the things that went through his head. she was especially attuned to whenever she crossed his mind. she could feel him pause whatever he was doing to think about her. she found that, more often than not, peter would see reminders all about the city that would ping a particular memory about her. though it should not have come as a shock, peter seemed to be the only person who knew her fears, likes and dislikes -  just about everything that pertained to her.

she could feel his struggle to let her go. sensing the longing looks he would send her way, the way he would second guess raising his hand to argue against her point in their shared classes.

what once was could never be the same.

the lingering and inflamed tension that once surrounded them had dissipated, dampening the atmosphere of any room they had shared. the longer they sustained their unresolved feelings, the heavier the resolution was to lift. even their fellow classmates began to miss the continuous bickering and arguing, though none of the pool had cared enough to contact either party. at this point, their classmates could piece two-and-two together - their soulmate connection had become the rumor of the year. and yet, no one had dared to ask and interrogate for a better answer - even the gossip mongers behaved themselves and shied away from asking.

ned and mj were beyond the point of worrying, coming to accept that their mutual best friend had been forced further into his shell by the day.

y/n, though a fiery and persistent spirit, had lost her luster. the few friends - or acquaintances, rather - that she had did not bother to check in on her. they felt that their respective relationships with her were weak enough to free them of any guilt that might have come from failing to be a friend. y/n began to turn the other way or take the long route if she could feel peter walking towards her in the hallways.

when she was anywhere outside her room, her safe space, she put up a wall. it was only in private that she would allow herself to fully express whatever she was feeling. it had become a habit to lie awake at night - wondering, what have i done?

trying to rationalize that what she had done was right, she always found that her arguments lead to a dead end. peter was a never ending constant in her life, whether she allowed for it or not,

considerably strong in her efforts to conceal her thoughts from peter, he would only feel a small wave of sadness or regret before he would “return” to normal. despite her best wishes, he wanted to acknowledge her. this burning sensation to hear her say something - anything - just to hear her voice was searing holes into his very being. he missed the way she talked, the way she would argue against him just to be his adversary, the way that she was.

even tony had come to terms with his daughter’s sudden downturn. he would try to coax her into experimenting with whatever new tech had made its way into stark industries - only to be rejected and brushed off with the typical excuses - “i’m tired,” “i have a lot of homework,” anything to prevent any interaction whatsoever. he would always check in later, to peek on what she was doing in place of spending time with her old man. one of the countless times, he found her actually asleep beside her journal and a pen. being nosy as nosy can be, he read the short scripture:

i wish that you knew just how much i want to continue this with you.

you know that i will never be what she was, both you and i are grateful for such a circumstance.

sometimes when i think of you i get this feeling of hopelessness in the sense that we shall never cross that line, shall never share that touch, shall never experience that moment.

for i could never recover from a loss such as yours.

the ugly underbelly of this affection i hold for you turns and twists whenever i hold and cling onto the subtle nuances of your own affection.

your embrace goodbye that you never fail to gift any and each time we are to meet.

your smile that i could only dream was only shared in thought of me.

your laugh even when my humor is false and displaced.

you.

even if you were to create an anger so deep that i could never bear to think for longer than a brief passing, i would still feel the same towards you.

you can be the cause, but you will always be the solution.

maybe this was spurred under the influence of a silly love song, maybe it was something else.

but how can i dismiss someone?

and not just someone, but you?

at this standstill, at this draw, i hover over the idea that one day this will end.

try as i might, it very well may turn for the worse.

whether you share the affection or i am delusional, the outcome would be unbearable. i would be unbearable.

so, for the sake of my heart and your patience, let us continue this sway until one of us falls to the other’s feet.

y/n would be lying to herself if she said that she had not thought about her inevitable change in her feelings towards peter. there were one too many times where she had found herself laying awake at night, mulling over the entirety of their less than friendly relationship. had she really hated him for all these years? could she ever allow him to break down these steel walls and see her for who she really is? a girl, not some family name that held wealth and power. what did she have to offer to their eventual relationship - other than a pretty face and an “easy living”?

there was one thing that was for sure: no way in hell would she admit her feelings for him. at least, not admit them first.

after months of avoiding each other, it came time for the end-of-school year projects that almost everyone dreaded. at midtown, it was a known fact that teachers would pick/assign the partners based on grades and sometimes, out of their cruel nature of their hearts, compatibility. with an accuracy rating of 100%, y/n and peter were most likely to be paired up. another known fact at midtown is the amount of complaints teachers had received from students that were paired up with either of the couple - “y/n didn’t want me doing any work because she wanted to be better than peter,” “peter kept correcting little mistakes i made because he said that he wanted to get a higher grade than y/n.”

choosing to avoid the headache of yet another student complaint, all the teachers at midtown had created a special method of ensuring that y/n and peter would be paired up for their respective final projects.

peter sat nervously, bouncing his pencil up and down as he sat as y/n’s desk, waiting for her to come back into the room - her room. he hadn’t been in there since the day she had patched him up. he can’t remember the last time that he had ever given stitches like that - they were perfect. what he does remember is fading in and out of consciousness, seeing her star wars sheets, hearing her breaths, taking in her scent, her. he’s internally screaming at himself to not mess this up, overthinking every move, wishing to stay in this moment with her. anticipating that one day he could be closer than feet away, wanting to memorize every curve and divot of her face, of her body - study how perfectly colored her eyes are, how there are certain highlights in her face depending on how the light reflects off her.

though he wanted to dwell further into this sore spot between his mind and his heart, he shook himself free of those thoughts and tried to refocus on now.

peter further took in every nook and cranny of her room, trying to savor and commit every detail to memory. what he liked best about her was fairly represented throughout the decor, the cork board filled with pictures or memorabilia. even in his harmless searching, he hesitated. was this an invasion of privacy? surely, it had to be. he was constantly keeping in mind that she had been more than clear and concise about how limited he was in scoping out her very being. why should this time be any different? sure, the setting was entirely different than that of midtown or even any spider-stark crossover business. yet, he found himself wanting - no, craving - more. peter wanted to blame it on the natural attraction of the soulmate bond, but every passing moment proved harder to flee from the truth - his feelings were…complicated.

throughout the brainstorming and execution of their shared final project, there was an awkward and tense air around y/n and peter. though it was to be expected, it didn’t make it any less dreadful. there were many bouts of silence - words were decidedly too harsh and would most certainly rock the boat. y/n bit her tongue a plethora of times, finally giving up and asking if he wanted anything to drink or a snack. her expression read as full of regret, wishing that she had opted for a better conversation filler. her grimace was plastered onto her face, attempting to be disguised by a inviting smile. peter, always the first to push off his needs being met first, politely declined but returned a tight-lipped smile. for a brief moment, their discomfort faded - they lived in each other’s presence.

baby steps, that’s all we need.

taglist: @mega-bi @lordofblamo @sadstrudel @ispiderdudei @everythingsship @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @annathesillyfriend @mybitchborky @randxmthxughts @dear-selena @holamishamigos @reveluvspecial @andreasworlsboring101 @marvellover1819 @cptnwintersoldier107 @allthisfortommy

#peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

[hirako5hinji]

[ UNPROMPTED | ALWAYS ACCEPTING ] 

@uraharashouten​ asked:

“So what’s this I hear about you and the missus?” Kisuke is a bit late to the domestic crisis, but he’s here, his meddling self occupying the chair in Shinji’s office, no less.

               “ I don’t hear from ya for months on end, so this is what it takes ‘ta unearth ya from whichever tanuki den ya’ve holed yerself into? ” His attempt at humor is dry, very, very dry, mainly because he is not feeling a lot of levity these days. Slogging over to the nearby couch and plonking onto the seat unceremoniously, he gazes upon his old friend and feels tired. He rubs his face with one hand; the days have been merging into a blur lately, since he has taken to living and working in this office the last couple of weeks. It is just...easier to stay here, as opposed to having to return to his quarters every evening and be confronted with an empty home. 

               “ ...Did Hiyori send ya ‘ta check in on me? ” That is most likely the case, which means that Kisuke probably already has some idea what he is dealing with, walking into this mess today. Kensei has also been by the day before, and Shinji appreciates the support of family rallying around them in this time of difficulty. He cannot help but wonder how Hiyori is doing right now...but knows that he has to...refrain from seeking her, while she is figuring herself out. Going to her now...he would just get in the way. He wants to ask Kisuke, how is she? Is she faring okay? Eating well? Not crying? but he swallows all that deluge of questions down in the end, even as those intrusive thoughts increases his worry by the day. He brings his hand back down, and loudly exhales. 

               “ We’re workin’ some things out. I shared some truths with her that may be difficult ‘ta accept...and she’s tryin’a sort herself out, I s’pose. ” Or at least, that is the plan. What happened was not a heated, spur of the moment argument filled with accusations and resentful anger at each other. What happened was a conversation. An extremely difficult and necessary conversation, with a painful realization that she has been hurting their marriage all this time with her thorny words and behavior and subtle attacks, and it is stemming from a place he cannot access, unless she’s willing to fix it herself. This impasse, this rift, is not something he can cross for her, even if he has always been willing and ready, constantly reaching out to her all this while. And it is affecting their relationship, to the point where it has become like this now. If nothing is done, this marriage will not survive. 

          He slouches slightly, feeling helpless. In a romantic, ideal world, love will heal everything. But this is not a romantic, ideal world. And sometimes, no matter how much love one is willing to pour into another, a broken vessel is simply unable to sustain itself. It has been more than two years since they’ve gotten together...and she is not getting better. Even with his constant support, encouragement and affection, she is still hurting. And he cannot help her heal. 

          A most difficult truth to acknowledge...but perhaps...perhaps he does not need to carry this responsibility all alone. She is so beloved not just by him, but by their friends and family, too. Shinji lifts his head and slants a quiet look at Kisuke. His fellow blond is incredibly perceptive, and maybe, he can help where Shinji’s hands are tied. Or offer valuable perspective. At this point, he is willing to take whatever he can get. 

               “ She’s struggling, and it’s not somethin' I can help her with. ” He looks visibly pained by the admission, but steadily continues. “ Maybe it’s coz I’m just too close ‘ta her. Or maybe I’m part of the problem. I...don’t know how to help my wife, Kisuke. ”

#||αѕкѕ #uraharashouten #[ thanks for the ask silk!! yeh they are not having a good time right now ;u; ]

[ramrodd]

Ayn Rand libertarian back AGAIN for more insufferable nonsense

COMMENTARY:

This is typical of the ideological merry=go-round produced by the libertarian logic of Post Modern Historic Deconstruction and Ayn Rand's Objectivism and core value of the Virtue of Selfishness.  You are always dealing with an unresolvable dialectic arising from employing half of a model.

  In this case, as in the Virtue of Selfishness, the caller embrace Thomas Paine's "Rights of Man' as the essential personal component while  abandoning Edmund Burke's social contract, In the case of Ayn Rand's Virtue of Selfishness, she mis-quotes the dictionary definition of "selfishness" as being "concern with one's self-interest" while irnoring the clause that completes the definition 'With out regard for others". This guy is doing basically the same thing

The fact is that the social contract is what sustains and guarantees individual rights. in a collaborative society, This clown can argue all he wants about  the corrosive nature of social collaboration, but I've heard those same arguments from the anti-war draft dodgers of the 60s and the Christian Nationalists of the January 6 rebellion, It's all bull shit.

  For me, it all comes down to flush toilets and indoor plumbing, The Free Market clowns of CPAC and Steve Bannon who promise to overthrow democracy have no more plan for how to sustain public utilities than Moscow Mitch and Trump has a viable replacement for Obamacare,  This guy is basically from the same political persuasion as the neo-cons who thought invading iraq was a brilliant idea and then displayed cosmic incompetence in the administration of the occupation which lead to the creation of ISIS and the continued instability of the region,

  If this guy is really determined to realize his Free Market fantasies, he should move to Haiti, where Free Market anarchy amount to a constant battle with predatory thugs, famine and disease, These people believe that you can mount a heroic Free Market struggle during  the day, then stop off at the 7 Eleven on the way home to their Man Cave for a little workout on the Call of Duty video screen,

#youtube

[ohhoneato]

Fucking, not been a good couple of months.

Bestie's car is out of commission, so we're sharing mine to drive Uber and I always get God awful rides unless they're reserved, because of the size of my car.

She got pulled over for my unpaid tolls, which we were given till the 15th to pay. It's the 9th. She has a court date cause the officer didn't give a fuck, but no payment due. We have no idea what this means or why she can't just pay a fine. No, it is not a warning.

We've been getting into constant arguments and she hasn't been able to sleep right for the last year because money has been so tight, despite making more money than we've ever made at a normal, basic job. Which really goes to show that even $23/hour isn't a living wage in Houston, TX. We literally make a minimum of $100 per DAY and we can't afford to live here. Nor can we afford to leave, because we can't break another lease. We only have one more month here, but it feels like we're gonna end up in jail before we can do anything.

I haven't been finding any joy in food for the past year. It's just another thing I HAVE to put in my body that'll just inevitably make me feel like shit. I don't know what to do about this one, it feels like a neverending cycle of gross that I can't break out of cause I need food to live.

Seriously though, money has been our biggest stressor, bestie hasn't been sleeping right and I've gone back to sleeping too much and not having any energy ever.

I'm gonna make a post for donations, but not tag it as such, cause it always gets ignored or lost to the abyss. And we really need donations now. We aren't even making $100/day anymore because Uber has been steadily lowing payment for all rides and we barely get paid enough to sustain ourselves anymore.

[makingotherplans]

Globalisation & Hybridity

To say that the world is constantly evolving might just be the most cliche thing that you can say nowadays. Some of you among hearing this statement might say, "duh, ofcourse", but I'm going to go out on a limb and go the total opposite direction. I am more inclined to think that those living on the benign side of globalisation) (Gómez-Pena, 2001), are in a constant, slow burn type state of intellectual devolution, while giving the illusion of constant evolution. More than ever, people have a (mis)conception of the world at their fingertips (Gómez-Pena, 2001). The sheer amount of information, entertainment, access to celebrities, porn, minority artwork, poetry, cultural capital, car crashes, footage of terrorist attacks, pictures of dead babies, sex trafficking, drug use, murder etc is overwhelming. I am not arguing anything new or original by writing about how every time we turn a corner we are bombarded by savage capitalism or a new found fascist style of libertarianism (Gómez-Pena, 2001). I am adding nothing of use to said argument by talking about how our excessive overexposure to violence in the media has caused worldwide compassion fatigue (Gómez-Pena, 2001), and I won't tell you that I have any idea what the hell is going on and how any of it can be fixed. For now what I'm mad about is the platforms, or the lack thereof that we are given to do anything about anything.

Growing up, I was always aware that our world was full of social, political, economic and environmental injustice. It was surrounding me. Adults at restaurants would talk about the latest article's at the dinner table. I would catch glimpses on peoples phones of violent videos. The older, cooler kids would be playing COD while the news flashed scenes from multiple wars currently happening around the world. Hell I couldn't open tumblr without seeing some kind of disturbing pornographic content (PTSD to a glimpse of a violent sex crime). There was no getting around it, the world isn't, and would never be in my lifetime the way that it ought to be. This affected me and my growing up. I was a sad teenager, I couldn't ignore what was happening around me like everyone else seemingly could. It drove me into a pit of despair, anger and confusion. If I was being forced to the exposure of these heinous things, what was i then to do about it? If I am trained to feel enormous amounts of guilt and pressure to act upon these issues, why am I not being provided the tools to do so?

After reading Guillermo Gómez-Pena's "The New Global Culture: Somewhere between Corporate Multiculturalism and the Mainstream Bizarre", I have been reminded of this lingering culpability that is always in the back of my mind. To answer the prompt, no I don't think that in this capitalist society, where we are forced to exploit ourselves and others in the name of a paycheck, that there is a global media practice that allows for cultural difference. Not to mention voicing the concern in a way that is deliberate and useful in any decision making processes.

My lingering guilt that's been newly reawakened has forced me to consider my habitus, my way of viewing the world. Through my lens, everything that is around is a tool to make money, especially off of the Other that is talked about a lot in Gomez-Pena's article. I feel as if my generation has been pulled into a trap of ravage consumerism, a market that promises results to fix your deeply rooted childhood trauma if you buy a subscription or a new diet pill, or get a nose job. Unfortunately this consumerism is fueled and sustained by "entire "third world" countries that have been turned into sweatshops." (Gómez-Pena, 2001). Everyone knows this, it's no secret, and no one is trying to hide this fact, yet we still actively and directly support it everyday. News coverage or any information about what's happening in these countries are quick to be covered up, and even when they do make the rounds, they are forgotten about overnight. Our ever growing compassion fatigue and humanitarian impotence has forced us to discard any information of the sort as a way of protecting itself from the violence that it unleashes (Gómez-Pena, 2001). If the people in these countries don't get a say, or any basic human rights, then what kind of global cultural media practise is going to make up for that? Why is it that I can travel to "third world" countries and experience the "wonders of the world", completely ignorant of the worldviews of others without suffering any consequences?

Globalisation has given privileged people the space to pick and choose what they like from each culture, and add it to their personality like a trophy on a shelf ("Look at me! Im cultured!") without having to do the work behind understanding what it is they're taking on. Hybridity, while positive in many aspects, holds western culture in the centre of what is acceptable. Only when aspects of the Other are reflected from a western point of view, and integrated into popular culture, often by influencers and celebrities, will the general public consider it as a legitimate intercultural revelation. I admit that I'm guilty of this, as I think we all are. However I must note that I am speaking in a generalised sense, through my habitus and lens of the world. This is what I am surrounded by and what is affecting my decision to write in this particular fashion about this particular topic. Even the platform I am using to write this is a product of the globalisation that I am trying to debunk an dbe angry about. Im being simultaneously pulled from every direction. To rebel and speak against certain topics requires a level of sacrifice (my sacrifice being using an illegitimate social media platform to write a journal prompt that no one with any power to fix the problems will see in order to submit an assignment).

I feel like I've gone on a bit of a rant, however everything relates to one another, and the way in which I've learned to filter, and pay closer attention to certain things. Through reading, and exposing myself to different worldviews I have gained a more well rounded view of the world. I have a long way to go, and will never completely know what it's like to live in poverty, have a minority voice, work in a sweatshop, or anything of the sort. I'm doing my best with what I have. These readings particularly have made me think about my own projects and how limited my view was up until now. By pursuing these projects, how can I make them more mindful and less "globalised"? Why is my point of view important?

Gómez-Peña, G. (2001). The new global culture: Somewhere between corporate multiculturalism and the mainstream bizarre (A border perspective). TDR: The Drama Review 45(1). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Masafumi, M. (2008). Transcultural flow of demure aesthetics: Examining cultural globalisation through gothic & Lolita fashion. New Voices 2, 21–40. https:// doi.org/10.21159/nv.02.02

[advoir]

The past few years my communion with God has been more incidental than anything I would call a practice. I need structure and ritual, but every time I’ve considered Christian practices, like attending church or Bible study, or reciting the Jesus Prayer, etc., I felt an aversion, not because I disagree with them, but because they feel like bad memories. I’ve never seen Christianity practiced the way I believe it should and know it can be practiced. Most of what passes for following Christ is wasteful and abhorrent, or seduced by wealth, or disconnected from community, or impressed with status and showmanship, or defined by white supremacy and violence, or protective of privilege and man-made hierarchy, or marked by cruelty and indifference. The endless arguments and vain moralizing choke out the seeds of goodness Christianity contains. Even in the “good” churches, the ones I loved, by which I was blessed. My soul is tired of it. I tried being the change I wanted to see, but I never saw change. Even when I suggested doing the simplest and most obvious of Jesus’ instructions, my fellow Christians looked at me like I had just arrived on a flying saucer. Everything I did was controversial and most of the time I couldn’t understand why. I can no longer justify or endure that constant tension. Every time I think about returning to the practices I used to enjoy, I feel that tension waiting for me. It’s not sustainable. It’s not what Jesus wants.

I started looking into Qigong for a low impact exercise I can do at home. The choreography and mindfulness have always appealed to me. I wanted to better understand the philosophy behind the meditation and ran down the rabbit hole researching Daoism. I read the Dao De Jing when I was a teenager, but I didn’t have the context I needed to understand it. Now I want to read it again because the essential Daoist principles I’ve found so far have been a respite. It isn’t mere intellectual stimulation; I feel deep within me an active, lively resonance. Daoism more accurately describes the approach to living I believe God wants for us. To use Paul’s metaphor from 1 Corinthians 3:10-15, it’s a better framework to build on the foundation of Christ.

The Daoist parallels to Eastern Orthodoxy fascinate me. The apophatic conceptions of the Dao and God’s Essence. The chi analogous to God’s Energies. Inner stillness and hesychasm. Flow and theosis. Wu Wei and entering God’s rest. Between the two, Daoism forgoes what I believe is an artificial and antagonistic Western separation between the divine and the natural. But more importantly, it doesn’t come with the kind of baggage I’m no longer willing to carry.

For a more general Christian comparison, Daoism as I understand it is very much consonant with the type of communion with God described by Brother Lawrence in The Practice of the Presence of God.

Daoism is a philosophy compatible with any beliefs about deities, from patheons to atheism, so I choose to continue worshiping Jesus, because no matter what, no one has ever been so kind to me. I wish I could communicate my profound experience of Jesus’ love and guidance. I’m no longer trying to express it within the context of what is commonly considered Christianity, but that communion will always be the most valuable, the one who saves me.

#x diary

[ayeon0307]

Final Prototype Process

17th September (Sun)

From this blog, I'm trying a new style of writing.

The creative work I've been doing over the last two weeks on the holidays has been frustrating in the process of reflection. However, on the other side, the reflection I've been doing with the members of the stream has helped me to see where I'm lacking in various aspects of the project.

Reflection: 5/5 - The process of reflection with new people always brings new ideas and perspectives. This time, through an argument with a partner I hadn't spoken to before, I realised that I had yet to consider the business and sustainability aspects of the project.

However, this despair was only part of the story; the self-reflection that followed determined that the current paper prototype was not a commercially viable design to create to the final. I can assure myself that this was because I was unsatisfied with myself and my design. So, I had to build on a newly developed design based on the previous design.

Hand Sketch: 3/5 - After all, the originals are always right, aren't they? Hand sketching allowed me to come up with a much wider range of designs than I could have done using a typewriter or digital resources, and I appreciated the psychological effect of taking my mind off the project's stress and spending some quality time with a pencil.

-> From the Miro board, Reflection and new idea sketches.

"Effort does not betray."

A favourite mum quote from my childhood. This is what I love about design: In the end, when practice pays off, I feel happiness. The continuous reflection and evolution have produced distinct results.

Process: 2/5 - Of course, the results were good, but it was an ineffective approach and process. The inefficient design approach resulted in a lot of wasted time and material and a lot of depression.

-> From the Miro board, 3rd Design, new elements and package design.

-> Outcome shot of the final paper prototype.

Conclusion

Constant reflection and evolution are clearly shown in the results. Although there was some waste, using more time and materials than anticipated, in the end, I was able to satisfactorily complete the prototype, which is the most important factor of my project.

However, I think it's also important for a designer to consider limitations, and in the case of this assignment, time management is crucial as it's a long-term project. On the other hand, I think this experience will help me in the future. Through iterative creation and reflection, I learned the importance of time management and how to run an efficient project.

Action Plan

I plan to proceed with a final prototype with the finalised design. Also, next week, I will start considering the other submissions for Assignment 3. I'm starting to feel a sense of urgency about the other items - it's not too late, but it's a good time to start.

#DES301 #Week7 #Assignment3 #Te Whāinga #Final

[melodies-forthesoul]

You’re not yourself

I see you changing yourself again

Molded to whoever you’re with

Someone you think you need to be

So you can keep them interested

Wish you’d just be yourself

But you don’t know who that is

A committed idealist

At least you stick to it

Teasing out a new side of you

Amplified into full view

Perhaps it was always there

And I dared not see it

It’s something I’m angry about

How can you choose to lose yourself?

Cast aside and locked away to bury

All in the name of vulnerability

Guess you could say worse of me

My indifference all consuming

What seems as individuality

Is born from fear actually

Of leaving myself behind

Changing to fit a type

All to sustain society’s gripe

Never cared for the arm carcass

Dragged around like a ragged doll

What’s an empty shell to the literal sea?

Blind to beauty and your depth

Rather drown yourself in the darkness

Than face what’s at the surface

It’s not all that bad I promise

Can’t you put your trust in friendship?

It’s the same argument on repeat

Take turns hurting each others feelings

We’re not the center of each others world

Breaking promises we made as little girls

Attentions split while she’s off in her head

And you say it’s all of what I started

But your hardly present anymore

Have to drag around that damn corpse

You say it makes you happier

I take your word for what it is

Guess there could be some fun to it

But that’s the big difference

Between us, I’d rather have you

Not a new person every year

But I’ll hear all your joys and fears

And comfort you and your tears

When you finally let the dead weight go

My hope is for you to stand on your own

We are a constant and much like before

We will find our way back to the shore

Through thick and thin and times of blue

Remember that I will always love you

No matter how much I want to yell

That you’re not yourself.

#poetry #spilled ink #melodies-forthesoul #prose #friendship #relationships #change

[isaiahbie]

Isaac Watts and the Right Use of Reason

The great English theologian and hymn writer Isaac Watts is best known for classics such as “Joy to the World” or “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.” Lesser known is that Watts was one of the premier logicians of his day. He wrote a text in logic that became the standard text at Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, and Yale for well over 100 years. In the introduction to his Logic: The Right Use of Reason in the Inquiry After Truth, Watts provides three reasons why we should care about logic.

These reasons are as relevant today as they were in 1724. Dare I say, they carry even more relevance today in a culture focused on image, overrun with anti-intellectualism, and captivated by mindless and constant attention to social media.

Logic, according to Watts, is “the art of using Reason well in our inquiries after truth, and the communication of it to others.” It is a “noble science” that “offers an humble assistance to divine revelation.” Moreover, the “pursuit and acquisition of truth is of infinite concern to mankind” in which “our wisdom, prudence, and piety, our present conduct, and our future hope are all influenced by the use of our rational powers in the search after truth.” Watts saw clearly what has become clouded in our day and age: the use of reason is critical to a well-lived life. Logic is important. Logic helps me to follow an argument to its proper conclusion—whether it is about eating that cheese bar or the morality of same-sex marriage or God’s existence. Watts offers the following three reasons why we should care about logic.

First, logic helps unearth truths that are hidden. As the ancients put it: Veritas in puteo, or “Truth lies in a well.” In other words, often the nature of things is hidden to us. It is logic that “suppl[ies] us with steps whereby we may go down to reach the water up from the bottom: or it frames the links of a chain, whereby we may draw the water up from the bottom.”

Second, logic helps move beyond appearance to reality. Watts notes that appearance doesn’t always conform to reality: the sun appears to be a flat plate, the moon appears to be as big as the sun; wickedness is often clothed in beauty, and so on. “Logic helps us to strip off the outward disguise of things, and to behold them and judge of them in their own nature.”

Third, logic strengthens our feeble minds. All men are gifted with a rational nature. In this way, men are higher than the beasts. However, in our feeble and frail state—as well as our fallen state—man is prone to draw incorrect inferences, to be deceived by our senses, and to unknowingly adopt the customs and prejudices of the times, forming “a thousand judgments before our reason is mature.” The cultivation of logic is necessary, according to Watts, “to guard us against the delusive influences of our meaner powers, to cure the mistakes of immature judgments, and to raise us in some measure from the ruins of our fall.”

Do you want to be a better thinker? Do you want to flourish and live well? Then become acquainted with some basic logic. Begin to cultivate your mind. Question the claims of others. Investigate some aspect of God or the world that you find interesting. As you cultivate intellectual virtue, you find truth. You will also, if faithfully followed, find the source of all truth—the God who creates, sustains, and lovingly cares for all things—including our minds.

For Watts, the worship of God and the contemplation of God work hand in hand. May we all, by cultivating our reasoning capacities, learn to survey the wondrous cross and find true Joy in Christ—who stands supreme as the source of all things, including logic.