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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

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The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

#pluralistic #moral injury #enshittification #worker power #google #dont be evil #monopoly #sam altman #openai #vocational awe #making a dent in the universe

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skkortysoup · 29 days

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sleep paralysis collab with @littlegeecko

#eye injury #head injury #gore #sam #mr bronson #echovn #echo vn #ohhh get em

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flamingpudding · 8 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 5 - "You're the smartest person I know."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Mensions of Blood, Injury and Violence

A/N: This is kind of a bad timeline kind of situation that plays into the Gamer Pal Prompt I wrote before but can still be read independently.

Danny gasped as he staggered along the alley wall, with no idea where he was. He leaned with his shoulder against the wall as his left hand pressed against the wound on his stomach that refused to stop bleeding. He was confused, dizzy and pretty sure his father had given him a concussion, so closing his eyes and just sleeping on the side of the street was out of the question.

Tucker had thrown him through a portal Wulf had opened and that portal had spit him out here in… he doesn't recognise anything. But he was pretty sure he wasn't in Amity anymore. His vision was blurry but he was pretty sure that there were skyscrapers or at least buildings way taller than he was used to.

"Fuck." Danny cursed as another wave of pain made his body shudder. If he could just transform than maybe these injuries wouldn't be as bad but next to the pain Danny could also feel electricity surging through his body thanks to whatever Vlad zapped him with that stopped his transformation.

He coughed, squinting his eyes at the red spots that splattered to the ground. Things had gone to shit and real quickly and for a moment Danny thought that maybe they should have listened to their Gaming friend. Listened to his words of caution and advice to find a way to leave or to have at least a couple more of back up plans if things go horribly wrong.

Well it all came back to bite Danny like usually, as he spat out another glob of blood. Maybe Tim hadn't been as paranoid as they had assumed.

"You okay there kid?"

Danny needed to blink a couple of times until the red and brown blob before him finally took the shape of a person. He blinked several times more until his brain also finally caught up with who he was seeing before him.

"You're Red Hood?" Danny somehow managed to say in between coughing again. Tim had told them about Gothams vigilantes and how he could contact them to get them to help with Amity. To get them into contact with the Justice League. They had thanked him but refused the help, citing the fact that even one overshadowed hero could spell even worse trouble than they already had.

Now he felt stupid having refused that kind of help.

"Hey there kid." Don't black out now. Your bleeding pretty heavily we should get you to a doctors and-"

"No hospitals." Danny cut the vigilante off, coughing once more. Even though Tim somehow had managed to get the Justice League started on the removal of the Anti-Ecto Acts they were not yet gone. He couldn't risk that yet.

But meeting Red Hood meant that Danny was in Gotham, which meant he could probably go directly to Tim for help. His Gaming Pal did say that he knew his cities vigilantes personally.

"Okay no hospitals then." Hood confirmed for him as the man reached out to Danny just as he lost his balance falling forward. The last thing Danny remembers was muttering something along the lines of "Tim… I need to find him."

The next thing Danny then became aware of was the soft beeping of a heart monitor and loud arguing not too far from him. He groaned audible and the arguing stopped instantly. A wight rested on his shoulder and Danny blinked through the brightness and blurreyness once more until he vaguely recognised the shape of a person he so far had only seen through video chats.

"Tim?"

"You absolute idiot." Was the response he got and yea that definitely was the voice he had heard so often during all the late night Doomed gaming sessions.

"That checks out. You are the smartest person I know." Danny chuckled lightly until a sharp pain made him gasp. "Shit, I will feel that for weeks."

"The smartest person you know is Sam. Between the four of us she has the best grades, remember? Besides that, do you have any idea what kind of panic you and Tuck send us through?"

Danny peaked at Tim and grimaced at the frustrated glare the other teen was sending him. "Tucker was the one throwing me through a portal."

"You're lucky you landed in Gotham." The other then muttered, shaking his head.

"Again. You are the smartest person I know. You would have figured out some way to track me? Like the time you hacked our phones and tuned in onto Desiree's ectosignature to find her. Works better than the Booomerang that keeps hitting my head."

"That's because that thing is only tuned on you."

"And you somehow got rid of the GIW and I still haven't figured out how you did that."

Danny watched how the other teen shrugged. There was a silence between them. Tim was texting on his phone, probably informing Sam and Tucker. Danny, meanwhile, for the first time took notice that he was in some sort of medical bay, also noting that whoever Tim had argued with had already left. If he could believe Red Hood's words, then even if this looked like a hospital room it was not one.

"Hey Tim?" Danny finally broke the silence and the other teen only hummed. "Is your offer to stay with you in Gotham and to go to school and college here still open? I think I am ready to leave Amity behind now."

Tim looked up from his phone at Danny and gave him a feral grin. "About damn time. I had all the papers ready for you for ages now. It's about time we finally make use of them."

Danny chuckled. "And you still don't believe me when I say, that you are the smartest person I know?"

"Anyone in my family can do at least that, you know? These papers are nothing special."

Danny only raised an eyebrow at the other before both teens started to laugh, with one laugh getting cut short by a groan of pain and the other by fussing over the other right after it.

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arrowfleur · 2 months

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In the valentines audio Darlin points out that Sam’s lip is bleeding and kisses him better. Which means he didn’t heal it himself.

He purposefully stopped his bodies natural healing process so that he’d have the magic to heal their cuts and bruises.

I need a moment.

#vampires naturally do that I-#not to mention the fact he let waited a while before asking about their injuries so they could calm down #and not be overwhelmed #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #arrowsqueue

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green-typewriterz · 3 months

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i would love literally anything sam winchester related the lack of fics r astounding.. maybe something fluffy?? ive had a bad week would so cheer me up

Best fake-real husband

ASKS ARE OPEN

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You and Sam go undercover in a small town to find out what's been happening to the disappearing couples.

ASK: above

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, awkward moments, mid season sam (in my mind it’s season 5 so its not following canon plot)

Author notes: Thankyou so much for the ask!!! I hope this is good :))) also Sam is the leader of the Sassy man army and if you don’t think so you can leave. Also thank you to @midsummeranderson for helping me plan <3

word count: 4110

You had always hated suburban houses, they just seemed empty, unforgiving. Though you didn’t have much of a choice. Bobby had a case and you two were to go undercover.

”Husband and wife…” Sam began, a glint in his eyes as he moved around the open plan kitchen, opening the windows to salve the heat that bit at their necks.

You smiled in reply, laying out weapons to move to the spare room. “Not awkward at all.” You replied and he laughed, shrugging his usual flannel onto a chair and digging into his bag.

Sam looked up, smiling, holding two rings in his hand. “Nope. I’m going to be the best fake-real husband ever. Dean thinks I can’t and I’m kinda determined to prove him wrong.” You sigh and shake your head, but there’s no annoyance behind it. Trust Dean to make a game out of it.

A piece of hair fell in front of his eyes - it’s so long now that it reaches his shoulders, princelike. “Well then I guess I’ll have to be a good wife.” He hummed in agreement and you tucked his hair back behind his ear and a smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’m off to a good start, Sam Heathcliff.”

You gently slipped the ring onto your finger, the metal slightly too big for you. It was your grandmothers, a mix of silver and sapphire. Sam places his dad’s wedding band on his own hand, fiddling with it gently. It made you smile softly, how the ring was cold against your skin - your grandmother had always wanted you to wear it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your memories and the two of you looked to each other with confusion, Dean wasn’t meant to be here until later that evening. You opened the door cautiously, flitting into character when you saw a 57 year old woman holding a large pie in her hands.

She grinned cheerily, pushing the dish forward into your hands as she spoke, you didn’t really have another choice but to take it (you’d probably hand it off to Dean later.) “Hi,” the voice sounded fake, satirical. She never met your eyes, she was almost entirely focused on Sam. “I heard there was a new couple in town, thought I’d do the neighbourly thing and say hi.” She began, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a particularly suggestive manner. “We’d love to have you over this weekend, monthly barbeque.”

You looked at Sam, who looked entirely uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving and wrapped your arms around his waist. “We’d love to…” you waited for a name, the woman smiled with annoyance, as if she hated you speaking to her.

“Helen. Watson.”

The two of you introduced yourself and agreed to go, knowing the gathering would be useful to get information. With one last glance at Sam, Helen turned around and left, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Dean came round that evening, constantly grinning and mocking and (as you had expected) he greeted the pie with open arms. “Look you two,” he began, as if he were an expert on the subject, “You’re practically a couple already, just… act like you’re in your honeymoon phase for the old women.”

He stated this as if it were an obvious fact and you raised your brows at his use of the word ‘honeymoon’. Sam looked away in annoyance (Something Dean found extremely funny). It seemed as though the younger Winchester couldn’t wait to get rid of Dean and so, as soon as he had finished his pie, he was forced out the door and back to the impala. There was a second sigh of relief when the door closed.

Though it had seemed like a smart idea at the time, the two of you were sorely regretting filling the spare room with hunting gear as it had left you with one bedroom. “I’ll take the couch,” Sam said as he gathered some clothes to sleep in, you stood in the doorway, arms folded as you shook your head.

“Not a chance, you’d barely fit on this bed imagine how uncomfortable you'd be downstairs.” You argued and he shook his head, trying to claim that he’d slept worse. Eventually, the two of you came to an agreement. Sam would sleep over the covers, you’d sleep under them (he always got hot at night anyway - especially during the summer).

You excused yourself to the bathroom and by the time you had gotten back Sam was already asleep, long hair falling gently over his eyes. You lay down beside him and got comfortable, though you forgot just how much Sam moved in his sleep. He seemed to subconsciously move closer to you, warm, tan skin flush against yours.

His face was inches from yours, holding a gentle smile as if he were happily dreaming (though that was something that didn’t happen often). You gently moved the hair from his eyes and he moved closer still, broad shoulders brushing against you. You fell asleep in the comfort of his warmth and awoke with his arms wrapped securely around you. He wasn’t awake yet, you always woke up before him.

You eventually found it in yourself to move from his grip and headed downstairs, intending to make breakfast for the two of you. He was downstairs a few moments later, hair a sweet, tousled mess on his head. You smiled sweetly but neither of you spoke - there wasn’t much need to.

The two of you seemed to move around each other as if you had been married for years as you got ready for the barbeque, passing each other what you needed wordlessly. Chalk it up to years of hunting together.

“Todays gonna be entertaining for me.” You stated, a smirk on your face. He tilted his head in confusion as if he were a dog and you smiled, eyes drifting to his shoulders for a moment. “C’mon Sam, it’s a town of 47 year old women who hate their husbands and you’re a - very awkward - 6 '4 man. A handsome one at that.” He blushed and turned away, continuing to get ready.

His hands fiddled with the jacket in front of him. “Yeah, so?” You smiled at him, opening the front door as you spoke again.

“So, it’s gonna be fun watching you squirm.” Your smile turned to a grin and Sam shook his head, following you out the door.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You were right, as expected. Although most were fine, one specific group of women made an exaggerated effort to fan themselves, whispering to each other about Sam. They almost immediately ushered you over. You sent a look to your best friend and headed toward them.

Immediately, they began to gossip, asking you about how you and Sam met and you could barely get a word in edgeways. There were compliments thrown at you too, but you knew they were just to stop you ‘feeling jealous.’

“How did you get so lucky?” One woman, Helen, asked. Her voice was wrought with envy as she stared over at Sam. Part of you understood why they were staring, Sam looked strangely good in the traditional small town husband attire. His white polo had a few buttons undone and the fabric was tight on his arms (Dean had ordered the wrong size) and his long hair was held back from his head by a pair of sunglasses, a few stray pieces falling over his eyes. The only part you weren’t a fan of was the khaki shorts…but it seemed to be the dress code in the town so you brushed it off - you and Dean would probably make fun of him for it later. He felt his gaze on you and turned to meet your eyes, smiling softly and winking. The women around you giggled and you rolled your eyes, to which he laughed.

It turned out that talking to the four women was the best thing for the case, they absolutely adored gossip. “Couples have been going missing, it always starts with the husbands.” Margaret whispered excitedly, “It happened to the couple who were here before you, sweet things.” she continued, sipping on a glass of wine.

You tilted your head, something Sam recognised from a distance, you’d had an idea. “Do they leave anything behind? People can’t just disappear?” You asked, pulling your hand through your hair.

Helen shook her head. “The damn council barely clean out the houses.” You nodded. Bingo. If the house hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned, chances are there’d be evidence. Helen continued to ramble and you were listening intently, until a hand gently slid onto your waist.

You let out a gasp but the strong smell of cedarwood and amber calmed you down. You knew exactly who it was. His grip pulls tighter around you and you lean into him, head resting on his chest. You felt your face flush - something you were praying he didn’t notice.

“How did you two meet?” One woman asked and you looked at each other, making sure without ever even speaking that you had the story right.

Sam leaned his head on yours and sweetly said, “why don’t you take this one, honey.” his eyes sparkled with mischief, he was trying to throw you off and the hand that was massaging your side was proof of that.

You met his eyes with the same excitement, if he wanted to play, you were really going to go for it. “We both worked as government agents, met on the field. Hence all the scars.” The women nodded in realisation, looking at some of the injuries you hadn’t quite managed to hide. “He wasn’t the biggest fan of mine at first but I grew on him, isn’t that right darling?”

Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving yours as he replied, “and now I don’t want to be without her ever again.” He found that sentence to be more true than he thought.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sam sent an exasperated look your way as he raked a hand through his hair (and sadly took the glasses off his head). “How were the boys?” you asked with a smile and he turned to make sure no one was watching before dropping the facade.

“I’m actually shocked how much I don’t know about football.” He replied and you both laughed, him leaning into you as he smiled. He looked outside at the group of gossipping women before adding on, “they seemed…friendly.”

You laughed, “to you, sure, but I think it’s because they want you in their bed.” The sentence was blunt and Sam’s eyes widened, cheeks blushing a strong red. You, however, continued as if you had never said anything, “I think it could be witches? We’d have to search for hex bags though.” He nodded, not meeting your eyes (he was slightly flustered).

The two of you eventually said your goodbyes and made your way down the street, Sam looked annoyed with himself. “What’s up?”

He sighed, “this one guy, Glenn, roped me into holding a housewarming party…” You stared at him incredulously, did he not try to say no? Sam recognised the look in your eyes and defended himself, “the man was incredibly persuasive!” You shook your head but knew there was no way out of it. You weren’t the best at party planning.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The long stretch of grocery store met you as you and Sam stood in the doorway. You didn’t often do this as hunters so it was a slightly daunting task. You looked at each other with tired eyes and went your separate ways, deciding to cover ground as if it were a hunt…just for nachos.

You rounded a corner only to see Helen stood there. Not wanting to be stuck in conversation again, you instantly turned on your heel, hiding behind a row of sauces. Though, something caught your eye. In Helen’s basket, clearly hidden just not very well, was a large amount of herbs and salt. What got you interested was the extreme amount of basil and sage.

Witches. Had to be.

Sam approached you, smiling gently. Something about the situation made him look so… domestic. You tried to motion to him what you were thinking but he seemed so fixated on you, his reaching out for yours. “Can you do your job?” you spoke, the words sounding harsher than you had intended. He instantly pulled back, face twisting with annoyance.

“What?”

“Take the hint, Sam. Behind me.”

You continued to whisper back and forth in annoyance, alerting Helen who watched in confusion. You quickly turned to look at her and sighed as she approached, hiding the herbs with the rest of her groceries. “Lovers quarrel?” she joked and the two of you laughed in the same way Bobby would when Dean told another of his bad jokes.

Sam made excuses as you looked at her, trying to see if you could spot any witch runes on her. It seemed as though she was trying to do the same to you. “Well isn’t that tattoo…neat!” She said, trying to hide the venom in her voice as she pointed out the anti-possession tattoo on your collarbone. Great.

You looked at Sam in annoyance and turned back to Helen. “Thanks! I saw it in a magazine!” You tried to explain away but you knew you’d been caught, she had spotted you and you her. Though she was very keen to stay in conversation, Sam made a quick excuse and you both left as soon as you could.

“Told you it was witches.”

Sam didn’t reply. The car journey back was completely silent, an unspoken annoyance building in the both of you. Neither of you said a word until the front door closed. “Nice job letting her see the tattoo.” Sam said annoyedly, turning to look at you.

You sighed and turned away, packing away the groceries. “Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time actually hunting we’d be done by now! This isn’t exactly a hard case, we don't need more bodies to our name.” The reply was sharp and annoyed.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist so you’d look at him. “I’m doing my job just fine.” His eyes were locked with yours. You stepped closer.

“No, you’re not. You’re distracted.” Sam scoffed, his minty breath fanning against your cheek from how close you were. His hand was still firmly on your wrist.

An annoyed smile spread across his face and a muscle in his neck tensed. “Oh yeah? And why would I be distracted?” You stared directly at him, from his long hair that fell over his unreadable gaze to the smoothness of his bronzed skin.

You found yourself stepping closer again. “You tell me.”

There was a crushing silence, the only sound being your sharp breaths. Suddenly, Sam’s grip on your hand moved to your waist and he pulled you into him, his lips colliding with yours. You leaned into him, hands grabbing his hair harshly. He kissed you as if he were hungry, as if he had been waiting for years - maybe he had. He lifted you easily and sat you on the kitchen counter, leaning back from the kiss for a split second. His chest rose quickly in hot breaths as he kissed you again. You bit his bottom lip - letting blood drip as his hands gripped your skin.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The party was loud and irritating, there wasn’t a moment where you had time for yourself, not one point where you weren’t ’y/n Heathcliff’. You and Sam had barely talked after the evening before - you didn’t know what to say.

You knew Helen would be at the party, not only would it be good to keep up appearances but she could get her next victim from it. Sam sent you a look and you nodded once, heading toward the spare bedroom in search of weapons, just in case.

A small, easily hidden knife was being placed into your waistband when Sam opened the door, closing it harshly behind him. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “had to get away from Miriam.”

You laughed gently and went back to preparing, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Helen’s here.”

“I know.”

Silence again. You sighed, “and you just left her out there? Alone?” His brows furrowed and he offered a witty remark, starting another hushed argument between the two of you.

On the other side of the door, Miriam and Margaret pressed their ears to the wood, giggling like school children at how the argument sounded to them. Through the muffled walls, all they could hear was gasps and sharp noises - of course they assumed what they wanted.

Sam’s hands pushed through his hair as he sighed, uncertain of what to do, when suddenly the door started opening. He rushed forward and pushed against it, rushing out a quick, “one moment!” All he heard in reply was laughs.

“What do we do?” He asked nervously and you stood still, nervous, until a thought popped into your head. You held your hands out - asking for permission and, once he nodded, you placed your hands gently in his soft hair, ruffling it. It annoyed you how he still managed to look good.

Then, once he had done the same for you, you looked him up and down, deciding his outfit was far too…tidy. First it was one button undone, then another (you unbuttoned a third for personal reasons). A blush rose on the tips of his ears.

He went to open the door when you realised something was still missing and, in a quick moment of panic, you rushed forward and grabbed his face, kissing him harshly on the lips (you were purposely trying to smudge your lipstick onto him). Sam made a noise in shock but found himself leaning into it, eyes lingering closed for a moment longer after you had pulled away.

Shit. He thought. He definitely liked you.

Eventually, the door was opened and Sam met the two women with an awkward smile. “Oh!’ Margaret began, giggling, “I was going to offer a drink, but I see you’re occupied…” The woman looked at one another, laughed again and walked away, leaving Sam blushing with embarrassment. The door was closed once more and when you were both sure they had walked away, laughter spilt into the room.

He shook his head and smiled, stepping closer to you. “Close one.” You smiled gently, staring into his eyes (the light was hitting them perfectly). There was silence again - neither of you knew what to do.

”Are we ever going to talk about last night?” You asked, thinking about how his hands felt on your skin. His features turned more serious as he sat down on the bed.

He stared at you, lipstick still in a smudge on his face. “I’m not sure what to say about it.” You neared him, hands trailing over his shoulders. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, lifting his chin with your finger as you felt his soft lips against yours. There was something impossibly gentle about it and you weren’t sure anyone had kissed you that softly before.

”Maybe we don’t need to say anything.”

He smiled. You kissed the corner of his grin and headed back downstairs, attempting to fix your hair as you went. You were met with stares as you entered the kitchen - Miriam had most definitely told everyone… at least it sold the cover.

Time passed with an almost excruciating level of slowness and Sam not making a re-entrance back downstairs wasn’t helping either (you had no one to distract you). Eventually, the party cleared out yet Sam was nowhere to be seen - now you began to panic.

You said goodbye to the final few neighbours and headed back upstairs, calling Sam’s name. The lack of response worried you. The first door by the stairs - the one that unfortunately led to your weapons room - was ajar, scratches around the lock. You pulled the dagger from your waistband and slowly opened the door, sighing as you saw the bloodstain on the floor. You had a feeling you knew who had taken him and where he had gone.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You had managed to track him to Helen’s house, hiding around the back to get a good view through the sliding glass doors. Sat, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, was Sam. His face was bruised and bloody and his expression looked annoyed, chest heaving with sharp breaths. Helen, Miriam and Margaret circled around him, playing with his hair and gathering items they needed for the spell.

”Poor Sam,” Helen began - you assumed she was the leader, “you’d think you’d be able to fight back against three 57 year olds.” Miriam headed into the kitchen as Margaret laughed, they almost reminded you of the witches from Macbeth.

”You’d also think, considering she’s a hunter, that your ‘wife’ would be better at hiding.” Suddenly, a surprisingly strong pair of hands grabbed you, pushing you against the wall.

You struggled against the grip but it was no use, your hands being painfully tied behind your back. Miriam ushered you into the living room, retiring you to a chair beside Sam. You met his eyes with an apologetic gaze and he returned it.

It was your turn to feel the bunt of the witches’ fun now, knives sliced at your skin and hair was cut from your head, you knew they’d done it somewhere visible on purpose. They grabbed at your face, nails digging into flesh and smiling as Sam protested.

Eventually, the three left the room and you and Sam began planning. You shuffled your chair toward him, trying to see if he could reach the dagger you always hid in your shoe. His hand brushed over your shin but he couldn’t reach any further.

With one final attempt, Sam tried to lean on the chair to reach, which ended with him toppling both chairs. He landed on top of you, his chest flush against yours. “Sorry.” He spoke, words hoarse from lack of breath.

Luckily for you, the fall had broken the ropes around your ankles and - though it hurt like hell - you manoeuvred your leg just enough to read the blade. Sam's hair tickled against your face and his lips tickled your neck - but that was something you’d have to think about later.

“Nice try you two.” Helen spoke as she waltzed back in. You hid the blade in your sleeve as your chair was fixed once more and while the three were busy working, you managed to slice through the ropes. you waited patiently, watching with a newfound confidence. Luckily for you, Maragaret was the type of witch to intimidate - her favourite tactic being getting as close as she could.

You took the opportunity and thrust the blade forward, stabbing through her throat. She screamed out and you stood up making your way over to the other two to fight. You took a fair few punches, but it was nothing new and soon enough the two others were on the floor too, holding onto the last of their life.

The large salt circle was immediately broken and Sam was freed, you apolising every time you accidentally touched any of his injuries. “That was badass.” Sam complimented and you laughed, leaning your hair back tiredly.

You turned away, starting to destroy the spell further as you spoke, “Ready to finally stop being husband and wife?” You asked and a small smirk rose on his face, hands snaking back over your waist again.

With sudden passion, he spun you back around, his eyes glinting. “Not really.”

With that, Sam lifted you off the ground, hands securely gripping your thighs as he kissed your neck. You had your back pushed against the wall as he moved to kiss your lips, your hands pulling at the back of his hair. He sighed and went to kiss you again when the front door swung open, revealing a disgusted (but slightly relieved) Bobby and a grinning Dean.

”We can explain?” Sam offered, gently lowering you back to the ground. You couldn’t look at one another.

Dean shook his head, smiling like a madman. “I don’t know Sammy, seems pretty obvious to me.” Then, with the same giddy happiness he turned to Bobby, who had since fished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

Typical. You and Sam shared an annoyed look as The other two hunters headed back out the door. ‘“C’mon you lovebirds,” Bobby began, “There’s a vamp nest in Chicago.”

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #fluff #Injury #witches #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester the sass queen #sam winchester x fem!reader

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tommyfuur · 2 months

Text

Don’t look too closely

#yhs grian #grian tag #grian fanart #yhs sam #samgladiator yhs #yhs fanart #yhs #samgladiator fanart #samgladiator #grianmc #grian #cw blo0d #cw bl00d #cw injury #cw blood

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jasmines-library · 4 months

Note

Could you please do a Winchester sister fic where her and the boys go on a hunt and something goes wrong and the sister gets hurt and tries to hide it because the boys are too busy blaming each other and fighting about the hunt going wrong until the sister like loses too much blood and like passes out or something

Dilemma

Summary: When you and your brothers get caught of guard during a werewolf hunt, they are quick to try and blame each other. But little do they know that their bickering might cost you your life.

Warnings: Fighting, Injuries, Hospitals

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST ⛤

“Why does it always have to be werewolves?” You groaned from the backseat, leaning your head up against the cool window. You and your brothers were on your way to a hunt just a few towns over from where you had been staying: A pack of particularly disruptive werewolves had been disrupting the town.

“It’s not.” Sam shrugged, “We took out that banshee last week. and the poltergeist the week before that-”

“Don’t be pedantic, Sam. You know what I mean.” You pouted.

“Look Sweetheart, I know you don’t like them but everything will be fine. This is a routine hunt and it’ll be over before you know it.”

You had always hated werewolves. Ever since you were you. The majority of them were cruel and tricky to catch, but over all just more of a pain in your ass than anything.

“Sure.” You mumbled leaning back into your seat. “Whatever you say, Deano.”

The minute the impala rounded the corner they were on you. Swarming in from every corner of the space, weaving between the trees with their teeth bared and a cantankerous look plastered on their faces. You heard your eldest brother curse, reaching into the glove box and pulling out the gun loaded with silver bullets. Your fingers reached blindly for your silver knife stashed away in the side pocket of the door, as you continued to watch them swarm still not blinking. Like maybe if you focused on them hard enough they would disappear. Poof. Gone.

Of course it’s never that simple, is it?

Dean’s fingers lingered on the door handle but before he tugged it to open the door, his green eyes met yours. One look said a million more things than words ever could. Be careful. Please. He pleaded with unspoken words. You gave him a nod of reassurance and that was all it took for him to turn and charge out of the car towards them.

They came toward you snarling. Thirsty for bloodshed.

You charged forward, engaging yourself in a tussle with the nearest one. She bared her teeth, scowling as you charged at her with your knife. When you swung she jumped back so your blade missed her completely. Cursing, you moved around her quickly as she moved to attack. She went low trying to catch you off guard but your trained eye noticed this and you stepped out of the way. When her back was to you, you slashed down firmly with the weapon. The werewolf howled in pain struggling on the floor as the silver burned her skin before her body gave out and she lay dead on the ground. One down, who knows how many more to go.

But it was like something had been set off the minute you killed that first wolf. Head’s snapped toward you, eyes twitching and two of them made a beeline for you.

Gunshots fired and one of them went down before she had even managed to take more than three steps in your direction. Dean’s pistol simmered with heat as he moved to aim the trigger at the second but quickly had a change of plan when he was tackled to the side landing with an uncomfortable sounding grunt. The two of them scuffled on the ground as Sam tussled with two of his own.

The wolf that was racing toward you was bigger than you. Much Much bigger. And stronger, given his wolfish strength. The thought made your stomach drop a little. But you had handled worse.

He swung at you with his claws which you managed to duck under. As you moved, you managed to nick his calf with your blade. Not enough to really do any damage, but enough to piss him off even more. He turned impossibly fast, knocking you to the ground. You groaned as you collided with the gravel but scrambled to get back on your feet and then ran, trying to create some distance between the two of you until you either found a way to get the upper hand or one of your brothers noticed. But the werewolf was much faster, and so it had been a stupid idea in the first place. He gripped the back of your shirt, jolting you back before slamming you into a tree. Your knife dropped to the floor and you had to bite your lip to keep the whimper slipping from your lips as you heard your ribs crack from the blunt force.

And then his face was uncomfortably close to yours. So much so that you could feel his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“You killed her.” He spat, pinning you closer to the tree and letting the bark dig into your back. Droplets of blood began to seep into your shirt from where his nails dug into your skin as he pinned you into place.

“Yeah. And you’re next.” You lifted your leg to knee him in the groin. He recoiled and you scrambled for your knife in vain for he knocked you to the ground with another kick to your already injured ribs. You went down with a cry and he moved to pin your wrist to the ground before kicking the knife away and tossing you back up against the tree.

“I thought you would be better than this, Winchester.” The werewolf taunted “An infamous Winchester taken down pack of wolves.”

Then he slashed at you: Long, irregular stripes down your stomach tore open as he dug his claws into your skin.

“Funny really. Almost poetic.” He leaned closer, keeping you pinned as he loomed over you. His hands had found your waist making you squirm as he pushed his fingers into the wounds he had created. An agonised sob slipped out. “But I suppose it’s only fair. You kill my sister…so I kill you. Oh how I can’t wait to see the look on Sam’s-”

He never got to finish his sentence because he had dropped to the floor dead. Sam stood behind him with his pistol ready and a worried look on his face. That was when you noticed that the rest of the creatures had been disposed of by your brothers.

“Jesus Christ, Kid. That was close.” Dean breathed out. “You need to be more careful.”

He was angry. You could tell from the way he stood; jaw clenched, shoulders a little too high to look natural.

“You’re okay though?” He asked, checking you over visually for injuries.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by your other brother.

“ What the hell was that?” Sam frowned, drawing Dean’s piercing gaze away from you and distracting him enough that he didn’t notice how you favoured one side.

“I’m sorry?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he stopped in his tracks, twisting toward his brother.

“You didn’t think to park somewhere less obvious?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Sam.” Dean’s voice rose as he began to walk back to the car.

“Exactly. And they still knew we were coming.”

“And how is that my fault?” He scoffed.

You had fallen behind. Their voices began to fade in and out as your head pounded, throbbing in sync with the gashes in your skin, still gushing with blood that stained your flannel. You pulled it closer, stumbling. Though soon it would do little to conceal what should have been so obvious to your brothers.

“Dean…” Your vision swam and you lost your footing slightly. But your call went unheard.

“Clearly they heard the car. If you were less obsessive over the damn thing and had just left it on the side of the road then they would never have known.” Sam spat. “Honestly Dean, It’s careless. An attack like that… Y/N could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh so it’s all my fault?” Dean threw his hands up in the air as he snapped at his brother. “If you had done the research like you were supposed to then-”

“You always do this, Dean. You can’t always pin the blame on me. It wouldn’t hurt for you to help out once in a while instead of sleezing around in some bar-”

“Sammy…” You whispered, trying again to desperately gain one of their attention.

You felt sick. Weak. staggering slowly behind them.

And then, you hit the floor.

Your legs gave out beneath you and you crumpled to the ground in a heap of agony clutching at your stomach.

“Y/N?!” Dean cried out your name at the sound, whipping around. His eyes widened in horror at the sight as he dropped to your side. Wrapping his arm over you, he rolled you onto your side to examine what he had failed to see before.

Sam paled at your bloody hands, gawping as crimson flowed around what little pressure you applied.

You whimpered as Dean pushed up your shirt to reveal the mangled cuts. Sam sucked in a sharp breath as he blinked away tears.

“S’rry.” You slurred eyes barely open as your head lolled on the ground. “Tried to… tried to t’ll you…”

“Shh.” Sam’s voice trembled. He gripped your hand to try and ground you not caring for the way your blood tainted his skin. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Mmh-” you cried out as Dean applied pressure to the wound with his bundled up flannel. The cold air pinched at his skin. He cared little for it. They needed to get you to the car. It wasn’t far at all; he could see the bonnet shining in the moonlight. But the thought of moving you made his stomach weak.

“We need to move her.” Sam voiced.

“I know.” Dean swallowed thickly. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Sweetheart, we need to move you okay it’s going to hurt but you need to stay awake, okay? You’ve already lost too much blood.”

You made no response except an incoherent murmur. You skin was paler than usual and your lips had began to turn a concerning shade of blue. But the cold was worse.

“Okay. On three Sammy. You lift.”

Sam nodded.

“One…Two…Three-”

Sam lifted you swiftly, expecting you to howl in pain. But your body didn’t so much as twitch. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you passed out.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

The two of them sat waiting anxiously at your side. They had rushed you into the hospital, alarming the nurses as they demanded you get help.

The youngest Winchester bounced his leg. “She’s going to be fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sam shifted his gaze ever so slightly, afraid to tear his eyes away from you for too long.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam nodded gently. “It’s not yours either, Dean. So don’t go getting that in your head.”

“But it is-”

“Stop. We’re not talking about this now. I can’t.” He returned to watching over you cautiously.

The two of them fell into a pregnant silence.

“The doctors said she should be awake soon.” Dean tried to lighten the mood, but somehow it made it feel darker.

“I know.”

“You think she’ll be mad?”

“Who, Y/n?” Sam tilted his head. Dean nodded. “Nah. She’s too forgiving.”

“Yeah. Wonder who she gets that from.” Dean teased playfully. Sam just rolled his eyes and continued to rub circles into your hand.

And then you stirred, scrunching your face up. When you tried to shift, your eyes shot open as pain joleted through you despite the drugs the hospital had dosed you up with.

“Hey, Hey.” Sam cooed. “You’re alright. It’s okay.”

“De? Sammy?” You blinked.

“Yeah Sweetheart. It’s us.”

“You’re in the hospital.” Sam added. “They fixed you up.” You nodded slowly, noting the bags under their eyes and the extra stubble. “Are you okay?”

Dean could have laughed. “You’re in the hospital and the first thing you ask is if we’re okay?”

You fell silent, shrugging, which caused your ribs to pull, earning a wince.

“What are we gonna do with you huh, Kiddo?” Dean chuckled. “You’re too good for this world.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing she’s gonna be around for a long while longer.”

⛤ SPN TAGLIST:

@defnotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x hurt reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader #spn #supernatural fanfic #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfort #blood #gore #injury

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englandamericaitaly · 2 months

Text

My brain decided to abandon my ability to do backgrounds at some point during the month, but I did end up coloring more pieces as a @green-with-envy-phandom-event mod!! I really got possessed by the need to use markers again.

These linearts were done by:

@tsubaki94 @ovytia-art @tsubaki94 @trueratdad @things-i-cannot-do-in-amitypark @minnowmarsh

#greenwithenvy2024 #green with envy 2024 #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #dani fenton #dani phantom #ellie fenton #dp nocturne #ember mclain #dp ember #dp pandora #gore #blood #injury #andi's art

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ardentpoop · 1 month

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subgenre

#im making a larger post and lmfao at . how much content there is to sift through #sam loooves sustaining life-threatening injuries #spn #liveblog tag

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elmhat · 2 months

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// dsmp rp

@sam-and-dream-week day 4 — "torture"

TW: aftermath of torture (duh)

“It shouldn’t be stuck in this far,” said Sam, tugging at the wooden stake lodged in Dream’s arm.

Dream winced at the pain, biting the inside of his cheek. “Sorry,” he replied, with a healthy touch of sarcasm. Maybe Sam should ask Quackity to apologize, if it was such a big deal. They must have some pretty interesting conversations anyway.

Sam eyed him while he worked. “Don’t use that tone with me. We both know who’s to blame for this.”

“Y’know, I kinda— I feel like we’re gonna have pretty different answers,” said Dream. He couldn’t help it, he was amused.

Sam ignored him entirely. With one hand, he dug metal fingers into the flesh of Dream’s arm. With the other, he gripped the stake, grunting as he pulled it free in a flurry of oozing blood. Dream yelled out, of course, but Sam ignored that too, immediately going to apply regen to the fresh new hole. “All you have to do is give me the book,” he said. “That’s it. That’s literally it. It’s not hard.”

“Like you actually give a shit about that,” Dream muttered. His arm hurt. His arm really hurt.

“Of course I care about the book, what? I’ve told you that since day one.”

Day one was who knows how long ago now. Dream would guess it had been a couple of weeks, at least, but he was painfully aware that time was probably passing far slower for him than the rest of the world. A lot could change in a couple of weeks; Dream had always been good at making use of his time. Quackity was also good at making use of his time.

“Really,” said Dream. “So, before this, when I was still… free… you still would’ve cared about the revival book? That’s— That still would’ve been, like, top priority?”

Sam sat back on his heels, wiping a bloodied arm across his bloodied forehead. “Dream, what are you saying. Before you were in here, we didn’t even know the book existed!”

“No— but if you did, though.” Dream took a nervous breath before he said the next part. “Pretend Punz doesn’t show up. And then I tell you— as a friend, I tell you, about the book. Then what?”

In an obvious bid to avoid the question, Sam began rifling through his medkit. Lots of bottles in there—healing potions, mostly, but also regen and fire res, for emergencies. Maybe Dream could steal one, at some point. When he had two functional arms. Sam soaked a cloth in more regen, which he wasn’t gentle about applying. “It doesn’t even matter what I’d do,” he said, “it didn’t happen.”

“But if it did,” said Dream.

“You shouldn’t have that kind of power,” Sam snapped, forcing eye contact. “You shouldn’t. And the rest of the server wouldn’t allow it either— you know, it’s not just us who need that book. It’s for all of us. For the good of the world.”

Through the throbbing, nauseating pain, Dream felt a kind of smugness settle in his chest. Even now, even here, he was able to provoke a reaction from his warden—and they both knew that Dream was right, Sam was just too much of a coward to admit it. There was power in words, and words were the one thing that they would never be able to take from him. Not if they continued claiming to want that precious book.

“Sorry,” Dream said eventually, and he even bowed his head a little, just to make Sam feel like he had won whatever contest this was.

Within the walls of this prison, Dream had never been honest. Not with Sam, not about this place or its purpose. That was the nature of their relationship. The builder and the mastermind. The puppet and the strings. Sam could send in his attack dog all he liked, but Dream was still the one holding the leash.

That was what his mind repeated, long into the night, while he awaited Quackity’s return.

[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ]

#tw torture #tw injury #dreblr #c!dream #c!sam #drabbles #elm fics #my writing

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tsubaki94 · 8 months

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4 Hiding an injury

Ai-less Whumptober

#danny phantom #art #danny fenton #fanart #sam manson #injury #bruises #makeup #friends #hiding injuries #whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday4 #ink #promarkers

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ectonurites · 7 months

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@bylerween2023 DAY 5 & DAY 6: CAME BACK WRONG/SUPERNATURAL CREATURES

this was one of the first things i’d started working on for bylerween and also probably took the longest LMAO but anyways: an iZombie au! based on the comic—not the TV show of the same name, if that wasn’t clear.

the key thing both the show and comic do share though is the idea that: zombie eats brains -> they get memories of the person whose brain they ate

i do wanna do some more stuff in this au/setting at a later date because i have ideas, but throwing this little… introduction to the situation together seemed like a fun thing to do for this event 💜

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 2 months

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Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,794 Words

Summary: The solar eclipse after Solar's death has an energy to it.

Warnings: Character Death, Caps, Cursing, Overworking, Self-Hatred (from Moon, of course), Sleep Deprivation, Blood (minor), Minor Injury, Ghost, Magic, Mind Meld, Soul Bond, Sharing A Body/Brain, Pain, Nausea, let me know if I should add anything else.

Binding And Bonding

Solar woke up in an abyss. Everything around him was darkness. He could see a vague ring of light around him, lighting up the rest of his surroundings decently well. He could vaguely hear something being said into the void around him in a vaguely familiar voice but he was knocked out before he could acknowledge the voice.

-Two And A Half Weeks Earlier-

"I don't wanna go…" Solar muttered, body deteriorating and slowly disintegrating as it collapsed to the floor like his dimension likely was. Moon was quick to grab him and try to keep him steady but it wasn't any use given he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"You don't have to!" Moon insisted, holding Solar as close as he could, Solar feeling Moon's hands slip through him as he could feel himself fading into an abyss.

"Solar? SOLAR!" Solar could vaguely hear Moon screaming as he went into a void.

-A Week Later-

"Moon, you're pushing yourself. You aren't charging or resting." Eclipse finally broke and snapped at him.

"Maybe I would if I hadn't fucked everything up!" Moon screamed back at him, too stressed to not scream at the inconveniences anymore, too focused on getting Solar back now.

"Moon, you're at a max of five percent." Eclipse reminded him.

"I'll charge when my brother is back." Moon growled venomously, eyes turning to glare that Eclipse dare interrupt him but Eclipse had gotten used to Moon being like this fairly quickly. Eclipse knew Moon would inevitably run himself down and then Eclipse could carry Moon off to bed.

Thankfully, Eclipse got that opportunity sooner rather than later as Moon stumbled and his hand hit a tray, knocking it to the floor with Moon collapsing to the floor as well a few seconds later.

Eclipse went and finally was able to scoop the poor sap up and groan at how heavy Moon was, muttering complaints about how much Moon weighed as he kicked the door to Parts & Service open for him since he was busy carrying Moon.

"You." Ruin caught Eclipse's attention before Eclipse was able to leave.

"Yeah, what about me? Want me to come in there and kill you finally?" Eclipse asked.

"No, actually. I would like you to forget Protocol 87.775.2, actually." Ruin told him and Eclipse tilted his head in question, not really knowing what Ruin was talking about.

"Forget about what?" Eclipse asked.

"Exactly! Good job! Thank you! Be on your way now!" Ruin cheerily told him and Eclipse shook his head and carried Moon up to the daycare and through the portal to the house, sighing seeing Sun's cats practically waiting for Moon, though they hissed as if they hated him anyway, but Eclipse knew the little cretins were pretending they hated Moon.

Eclipse laid Moon on the couch and put a blanket over him for the cats to crawl on top of and purr now that they knew Moon was sleeping. Eclipse chuckled at the little gremlins. They sure loved their uncle, they were purring on his unconscious body.

Eclipse plugged Moon's charging wire into the wall outlet near the couch and left to go figure out what the hell Ruin was talking about, landing at the daycare computer inevitably. It seemed the computer knew everything anyway so he may as well try.

"Nice attempt, but you are not a member of the Celestial Family." The computer told him.

"Nice joke, I actually am. But I came for answers." Eclipse told the machine.

"Whyever would I give you answers?" The computer asked.

"Ruin mentioned a protocol in me, basically asking me to delete it but I don't know what he was talking about. I will let you scan my code if you look for Protocol 87.775.2." Eclipse told the computer.

"…I will agree to these conditions, only because it may serve well for Moon." The computer agreed. Eclipse plugged himself into the computer for it to scan him and just sat back waiting, all he could do was wait. The computer was doing two things at once and it was taking a while.

Eclipse ended up falling asleep for a bit in the computer chair while the computer did its thing. However, the computer also decided to be an alarm for Eclipse as it woke him up with a loud bussing noise through his circuits.

"HEY!" Eclipse jolted awake, pulling out the cord and thoroughly startled by the computer.

"Ah, good, awake. I have found Protocol 87.775.2 as well as scanned your code." The computer told him.

"And you wake me up like your about to try giving me a controlled shock?" Eclipse snapped.

"Yes, I found it amusing." The computer would've laughed if it could, Eclipse could tell.

"Fine, what is the protocol about?" Eclipse asked.

"This protocol entails a means to what Moon has been working on. A way to undo what has been done." Eclipse scoffed at that.

"So that's why he wanted me to get rid of it. I haven't been alone in a room so he couldn't give me an order to try to get me to delete it until today." Eclipse muttered.

"Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult as it works with the essence of an energy." The computer told him.

"Tell me what I have to do."

-One Week & Four Days Later-

Eclipse walked into the room Solar had died in. He had finally made good on getting everything else ready and Sun and Moon were out with Earth and Lunar, watching the solar eclipse on the roof of the PizzaPlex.

Eclipse had chalk, blood, and a dagger. He hated this, it felt so weird. It felt so awkward to probably be the first person Solar sees when he comes back.

"Solar?" Eclipse calls to whatever remained of Solar's energy, which he had attuned himself to over the last week and a half.

"Solar." Eclipse called to Solar again, sitting down in front of where Solar died. He could feel the energy around him swirling as though Solar was trying to tell him he was there still.

"There you are." Eclipse closed his eyes, holding the chalk and drew a circle of runes with his eyes closed, following the images of runes the protocol was feeding him on the back of his eyelids. The circle was around Eclipse himself and the spot Solar died in, interlocking them.

"Solar, I can feel you. God that sounds weird." Eclipse muttered the last half. The energy jolted like it was laughing at him. "Yeah, laugh it up, idiot. Sit with me." Eclipse sighed. He could vaguely see the outline of Solar's energy sit with him.

"Thank you." Eclipse muttered, knowing he had to thank Solar. He hated that he had to. Eclipse cringed as he poured the blood on the inner ring of the rune circle, watching outside as the sky began to go dark.

"I willingly open this connection for Solar." Eclipse stated as the protocol had, cutting open his right hand with the dagger in his left dominant hand. Eclipse could see that the whisp in his vision that was Solar's energy was interested.

"Hold my hand, Solar and only Solar." Eclipse told the energy. The energy seemed to hold his hand and Eclipse sighed at the feeling, relieved Solar was just listening to him, probably out of curiosity rather than genuine willingness.

"I connect what is mine to what is yours. Wire for wire, energy for energy. I share willingly what is mine with you." Eclipse spoke evenly, making sure to read word for word.

"This day is a connection." Eclipse felt the rune light up with light, blazing as the room went completely dark. "I bind us. Mine is yours. under this light, we become connected." Eclipse lost his breath after these words of the spell, making him choke a bit as he could feel Solar's energy binding to his own, coughing to get air as he could feel his mind breaking in half, body feeling aches and pains as Solar's energy was bonding to him.

Eclipse lurched forward, nauseous as he felt Solar's AI blooming into his head, using the broken-off half of Eclipse's mind, their mind? Eclipse didn't know but he was nauseous. Animatronics weren't supposed to get nauseous. He leaned with his hands on the ground, hearing someone screaming. Was that him? Was he screaming? He still had to say the final words and get Solar to say them too.

Eclipse reached his energy into his mind, making Solar take half control with him, each having control of one half of their? body. Eclipse fed the final words into their vision to make Solar say it with him. Once Solar nodded using their head Eclipse nodded back.

"We claim the energy of the solar eclipse given to us." Both of their voices echoed and the pitch-black void of the room glowed with a peace around them, the white ring around them calmly pulsing with their energies. Eclipse finally felt a peace now as he curled up on the ground, trembling with everything that had happened, too overwhelmed to move but he had to finish it. He had to finish this. He fed to Solar in their optics the final step and words.

Solar was the one to drag their body upright again. Eclipse was shivering, Solar was shivering. The room felt cold. Everything felt cold. Solar seemed to have more force than Eclipse, Solar was learning how to share their energy.

"We undo the damage that has been done through false trust." They made sure to echo each other and Eclipse felt a bloom in his chest of the energy they claimed from the solar eclipse above in the sky still, the ring around them, practically burst into a running visual of universes coming back into being, rebuilding themselves, lives being brought back immediately, everything blooming around them in the circle of light like flowers.

Eclipse gave a soft, exhausted chuckle seeing it and seeing the sky begin to get light again. Once the ring around them finished, the warm feeling slowly dissipated and Eclipse and Solar simply collapsed onto the ground, shaking and taking deep breaths.

"Thank you." Solar whispered.

"I know." Eclipse tried to laugh but all that came out was a wheeze.

"Are you okay?" Solar asked.

"I'm exhausted." Eclipse whispered back.

"Well, you gave up your magic to bring everything back, you're probably going to be exhausted for a while." Solar sighed.

"I expect Moon to thank me, you tell him that if you wake up first." Eclipse told Solar before letting himself ease into unconsciousness, giving Solar control for a brief moment before Solar fell asleep too from being brought back and losing a lot of energy himself.

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