#truly a manic woman if I do say so myself

[pearlyscribbles]

Women who can(will) kill you

[justcantquinn]

i have a hard time with my sexuality because there are times when i am the horniest woman alive and times, like now, when nothing has stirred me in that way for weeks on end. i can't even get excited when i try. i well and truly feel, in this moment, asexual. completely and utterly. but i also feel weird saying that because i know that it's not an all-the-time thing.

part of it is for sure linked to my bipolar disorder. one of my manic symptoms is hypersexuality. but then, yanno, my hypersexuality is pretty standard for a lot of people. i sometimes wonder if i would feel this asexual all of the time if i weren't bipolar. as it is, i spend at least half my time in a state i would call "almost completely or completely asexual."

i would likely say that i'm at least somewhat demisexual. when i was with my last girlfriend, i was hornier than i thought was humanly possible. yanno, sometimes. not that we ever did anything about it. she had a hard time getting riled up, too, and when i told her i though i might be demi, she said she related to a lot of my reasons.

i have, on occasion, called myself acespec. i always felts dirty about it, like i'm stealing all the ace from the actual asexuals, but it's times like these that make me think i shouldn't feel so dirty. i'm a twenty-five year old woman who hasn't had any sexual feelings whatsoever for two months now. i opened up some ~adult content~ (porn) the other day to see if i couldn't get something started, then i got bored and went back to doing math (ya).

so, idk. i love women and they're beautiful and gorgeous and i want them to kiss me, sure, but, like, idk. if i find a stunning naked woman lying on my bed, the first thing i'd do at this point is give her a sweater.

[boobblog]

The In Between

It was a dark and stormy night, just kidding, but seriously. The storm just wasn't outside, it was in me. Insert feelings here, all of them, at the same time. The time from diagnosis to surgery is a journey. But not a cute one. I would compare this to Frodo climbing Mordor, everyday, from the bottom. Some days he gets further than others, but he always ends up back on his ass looking up at the big scary thing, intimidated, and scared to death. Not figuratively either...

There's a song by Phoebe Star, Lavendar Scars. It's hauntingly beautiful, and one of the lyrics is about the depths of despair. If I had a way of describing my mood during this time, this sums it up.

This is where my trauma comes into play...y'all still won't get the whole tea though. I'm not interested in destroying some of y'alls reality.

The problem for me is that my brain lacks specific chemicals to properly file away memories, this means I have an unrealistic view of situations at times. Knowing I cannot trust my thoughts at all times has been a struggle on it's own. I'm incredibly smart, not to brag, but objectively, so I compensated and created a safety net of sorts. It tells me when I'm safe and keeps me from doing certain things it thinks will be harmful. Unfortunately, the trauma I have experienced came from the hands of people. People I trusted. So how do you learn to trust strangers charged with making sure you don't die?

You give up.

I don't give up. I have been placed in a car and told to drive across the country with my kid and 3 suitcases, and I still fought. Because at the time I thought it was the right thing to do. But I didn't have a choice and was forced to start over. Again. I did it though, and did it well. I could give it all up everyday for the rest of my life and never feel an ounce of regret. Having nothing allowed me to see how much I really have. And it was so much more than just love.

Sorry, I like talking about my story, it made me. I really didn't start living until we came to Dallas. This was the story I was writing, for me and by me. I stepped into my authenticity and was truly working on just being happy right now.

Back on track- I practice mindfulness daily. For those of you lucky enough to know Luke you will remember his manic phase when he was following Ram Dass's teachings. I picked this up during that period and promptly tossed everything else. However, there is something there. Being present in the here and now and remembering to breathe sounds so simple, but it is quite possibly the hardest thing I've ever done. Anytime someone is asking for tips and tricks to relax I recommend looking up Mooji on YouTube. His guided meditations, along with his buttery voice touches the most wounded parts of me. Even if it is for a second. Seriously, go look him up, I'll wait.

I've had those gems in my pocket for years, but when I needed them, when I was drowning in my thoughts and tears, I had nothing. Nothing anyone said helped, I couldn't nurse brain this one away. One morning, I say morning but it was 2 am, I was up watching Big Bang (I'll fight you, this show is great) and was laughing. In that moment, I gave up. Surrendered if you will, but to myself. I let go of the reigns and CHOSE to trust the team I was given. Now all I had to do was just show up, and wake up.

I hadn't laughed in weeks. Everyday was the same, wake up, am I crying, yes, stay home. Not crying try to go to work. If I wasn't trying to keep my job I was at another appointment. Labs, MRI's, CT's, Bone Scans, Radiation Oncologist, Medical Oncologist, Breast Specialist, SO MANY APPOINTMENTS.

It was during this period that I learned my staging and prognosis. My breast specialist is the tiniest woman with the most commanding presence. She walked into the room directly to me, took my hands and said, and I quote: " Hey there survivor, this is small and curable, no big deal." What an odd thing to say first, but she's awesome and I'm the worst with words, so what do I know? She told us I was stage 1a, would need surgery and possibly radiation. We had a few good days after this. Things suddenly felt doable.

Then my imaging results came back.

Another break check moment. Bitchhhhhh that boob dude doubled in size in less than 2 weeks, spit out 2 other smaller confirmed carcinomas and grew a nest of calcifications around the OG. It was insulating itself. This changed my diagnosis and treatment plan drastically. I have cancer, cancer.

Luckily, I'm a pro at having the rug pulled out from under me by now. However, I never notice that's what is happening until after all the snot and tears.

My poor boy. He wasn't lasting 10 minutes at school without worrying and having a full blown panic attack. Everyday. He couldn't be away from me. Luke found a hidden superpower to pick up all of our pieces and just hold them. He held them until we were ready to put them back together, as a family.

Here comes the masking, fake smiles, and false reasurrance. Ugh, that feels so fake. But it was neccessary. My boy needed hope, and I didn't have any to offer him. So I faked it. Damnit, if I didn't start to feel better too. Placebo effect, maybe. Who knows? I didn't want to kill myself, so I took off running with it. Hope is thrown around way to easily.

When my grandmother was missing (told y'all, TRAUMA) all anyone said was stay hopeful, keep the faith. But what happens when you never had hope and faith to begin with? So this time, when I'm being told the same thing, just about my cancer, it felt played out. It felt like an inappropriate response to say TO ME about me. You keep the faith, you keep hoping for the best. I'm still wrapping my mind around the fact that everything that makes me a woman will be gone, and if I choose to not follow through with the treatment plan, I WILL DIE. Those are the options you are given.

Let's stop here. I had therapy the other day, after my mastectomy, and made some revelations about what makes me a woman, and whooooo buddy it's not boobs and a uterus.

[electricseraph]

ok~ now that i’m im a bit of a better mood, here’s day 2 of proselfshiptember! for the prompt lock and key.

sunday x aventurine x lisette/me.

general cw, nothing too extreme but just proceed with caution! though brief mention of suicide but because of the nature of the dreamscape in hsr there was no real suicide. also pseudoincest. and obsessive behavior. and mentions of aventurine’s backstory, if you know you know, if you don’t you should be fine

also warning for the fact that this is based less off canon and more off of my memory of events (as in, previous life memories) so if details do not line up with canon, that’s why

“So Lisette is alive.”

Aventurine’s voice was laced with venom, her heart racing in her chest. How long had Sunday known that Lisette was alive? Just a few days ago, she had been bawling her eyes out in the Halovian’s arms, opening her heart to the other woman as the agony of having lost her baby sister overtook her. Had Sunday known then? But she had cried too. Surely…

“I know what you are thinking,” Sunday replied, so matter-of-factly that it almost made Aventurine feel ill, in an odd way. “I was not tricking you; I was also in pain. In that moment, I had also truly thought that Lisette had died. No, I only found out a mere few hours ago myself.” Her smile was unnervingly steady in a way that made Aventurine feel itchy. “More importantly, why are you still on Penacony after the stunt you pulled? Surely your job is done?”

Was that Sunday’s way of asking her to leave? “I’m not going. Not until I see Lisette again.”

“Oh, but you know she doesn’t wish to see you.”

“She does,” the gambler spat, trying to keep her expression just as steady. How pathetic that she, who was known for her luck and skill in a casino, could hardly keep a poker face when it came to her little Lisette. “Even if she says she doesn’t, she does, and I know she does. Where is she, Sunday?”

The chuckle that bubbled up from Sunday’s throat sent an uneasy chill down Aventurine’s spine. “We got off on the wrong foot. I do quite like you, Kakavasha. Actually, I have an almost… insatiable fascination with you. Do you know how that feels? To have your every waking thought consumed by another, unable to focus on anything else because you are completely, utterly infatuated?”

“Don’t call me that.” Was Sunday set on getting on her nerves? It was working. Though she had to admit, she understood that feeling, that burning desire. She felt it for Lisette for as long as she knew her, and… it wasn’t entirely inaccurate to say that she might have felt similarly about Sunday as well. “Anyway… sure, let’s say I get how you feel. Why are you telling me this?”

Sunday laughed again, almost manically this time, a warped excitement in her eyes. Aventurine knew that look too well. She took a step back.

“Are you afraid?” the Halovian woman asked, sounding like she wanted her to be. “Adorable. Lisette isn’t very far. She’s right…” She lifted up a hand and tapped her temple a few times, slowly. “…here. Safe and sound, where she can never hurt herself again. Where no one else can ever hurt her.”

It felt like Aventurine’s heart caught in her throat, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and strike Sunday, to grab her by those fluffy, fragile wings and force her to speak. The rage was uncomfortable. “What did you do to her,” she said flatly, coming out as more of a statement than a question.

“You look at me with such anger. Isn’t that what you want for her? To be tucked away somewhere safe where this awful world may no longer taint her purity? Better a dove to be locked away ‘til her dying day than to be crushed to death by man. How can you disagree, when you’ve been with her through to worst of it? Or maybe…”

Sunday took a step closer, a delirious, possessive expression on her face. She cupped Aventurine’s cheek almost tenderly, like a lover.

“…you would like to join her? To be locked away in the depths of my mind where you are safe as well, to have the key thrown away so you may never leave, so that no one may force you to leave? Doesn’t that sound enticing?”

Aeons. It did. To be freed of suffering, of loneliness, to be free of the IPC… it sounded like paradise. But if she had learned anything in her twenty-seven years of life, it was that anything that sounded too good to be true likely was. She jerked away, though the anger in her eyes had subsided. “I’m not as weak-willed as Lisette. And anyway, I promised that I would protect her until the day I die. If you are somebody who could hurt her… then you’re my enemy too, just like anyone else.”

Though Sunday seemed displeased with this answer, she didn’t seem surprised. “Hm. Very well. But you don’t seem to understand that I would rather die than become just another somebody who has hurt Lisette, and despite you calling me your enemy, I am not fond of the idea of you getting hurt, either. I really do like to think that someday, we can become friends.”

“Maybe,” Aventurine said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “But before that day can come, I’ll have to save my little sister from you first.”

[alara-kahya]

"Things end, that's all. Everything ends, and it's always sad. But everything begins again, and that's always happy." - 12th Doctor.

Self Para: Post break-up, 3 days later. Involved: Jayden Cross (deceased), her mom & Kian. Mentions: Nate Donovan & Emiri Tezel. Location/s: Cemetery & her home. Triggers: Death, grief, heartache.

"So, yeah, that's it. Sorry to come and bring bad news, I just... Well, selfishly I guess I thought it would help." Sighing as she sat on the ground in front of Jayden's grave, she tucked her knees into her chest and decided to just wallow for a minute. It was day three since Nate had walked out and aside from this right here, she hadn't told anyone. Not her mom, not even Emiri. What was she supposed to say? "I don't know how to talk about it with anyone else, or maybe I'm just scared to." Yeah, that felt more accurate. Alara had worked so incredibly hard over the years to shape herself into a strong and confident woman, it was difficult for her to show that she was still capable of being hurt. "I know what you'd say, I even know what you'd do, you would hug me and tell me to call my mom. Actually, you'd probably call her yourself. You can't beat a hug from your mom." She chuckles, saying something that Jayden used to say about her mother. Honestly, he was as close to an adopted child as her mom had, it broke her too when he died.

The soft laugh soon turned into a sniffle and before she knew it, she was choking back a sob and desperately wiping at the tears that spilled over her eyes. "How did I let this happen again," she puffed out a breath, still somehow laughing between crying, though it was far from a place of amusement. "I did what you always wanted me to do and I took a chance. Now look at me, right back to square one and you're not even here for me to say it's all your fault." Joking, but the words only made her miserable. "I feel like a fool, I really thought if I just kept patience, he'd find his moment and talk to me. Now I'm wondering if I should have pushed harder? And then I hate myself for thinking this could be my fault, because it isn't, is it? I gave him everything, and it just wasn't enough, how am I supposed to accept that? How can I when I don't understand." Groaning, what she does understand now is why she chose to come here and talk to a headstone over someone who could actually support her. Emotional and manic wasn't her best look, she wanted to try and vent a lot of it out before she turned to her family and friends. "It just hurts, it... yeah, it hurts."

The ache that swirled all around her insides only rippled outwards until it felt like even breathing in was painful. "I'm so lost without you, Jj, I miss you so much. So much." It wasn't fair. A thought that she seemed to be thinking a lot lately. Nothing was ever fair and she couldn't stand it. "You don't know what I'd give to go back, even if it was just to see you one last time." She lost herself when he had died, that much was clear to everyone who loved her, but what a lot of them didn't realize was that she never truly recovered. A part of her was still lost, still trying to claw it's way back but it never would. There was an empty space there in her heart that belonged entirely to her best friend. Sighing, she swiped more tears away and climbed up to her feet, staying crouched as her brown eyes lingered over his name. "Love you. I'll be back in a couple days, I'll bring beer." With a sad smile and a soft hand pressed against the cold stone, she takes a deep breath and turns to leave. Hopefully looking a little less blurry-eyed by the time she got home to greet her mother.

"Hey," calling out as she drops her bag at the door. "Sorry I'm late, work ran over and then I got talking to Jay," a statement that wasn't out the ordinary, it was never unusual for her to visit the cemetery just to keep her lost friend upto date on her life. "That's ok, sweetie. Little man is all tucked up, he's just waiting for a hug," her mom smiles, though she can't help but eye Alara with mild suspicion. "Everything ok?" Hard not to notice bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks when they were right in front of you, but it wasn't just that. It was something Kian had told her while they ate dinner. That he heard his mommy crying in the middle of the night. "Yeah, I'll go give him his hug," shying away from her gaze, she knew she couldn't talk about it right now, not while her son was waiting for her.

Making her way up the stairs, she does her best to rub the mascara away and go in his room with a warm greeting. "Hello my beautiful baby. Sorry I missed dinner." Walking over to sit on the end of his bed, her smile actually reaching her eyes just at the sight of him. "That's okay, but nanna made me eat sweetcorn," he pulled a blegh face and shuffled out his covers to envelope his arms around her. An action that had her eyes stinging with a fresh set of tears as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. "I didn't tell her sweetcorn is on the no no list now." Chuckling, she kisses at the top of his head, and holds him tight, finding a warm comfort that only he could ever really provide. It almost made her unwilling to tuck him back in, but she did, somehow resisting the urge to just lay down with him. "Mommy?" Innocent eyes peer up at her as she strokes his hair. "Are you sad?"

The question made her heart hurt, she never wanted to be sad in front of him but she should have known, he was always very perceptive. "I'm a little bit sad, yeah. Missing your Uncle Jayden a lot today." It wasn't a lie, and she obviously wasn't going to tell her four-year-old child about her breakup. "It's okay to be sad sometimes, as long as you know how to make yourself happy again, and I do, so don't worry." Nodding, she wasn't sure that part was quite true, not as things stood. "How do you do that?" He asks, making her laugh softly. "Well, I just look at you and all that sadness goes away. You know what I always tell you, I'm the luckiest mommy in the world to have a baby as kind and loving as you. But it's late, so close your eyes and dream nice dreams. I love you." Leaning forward to kiss his head, she waits for him to say it back and gently leaves the room, door ajar just how he liked it.

As soon as he was out of sight, she has her hands pressed over her mouth, silencing the hiccup and quickly making her way to her room. Washing up and getting into her pj's, she's surprised when she sees her mom still here, waiting for her on the sofa. "Now that your baby is settled, let me settle mine..." Patting a hand on the sofa, Alara looks between her and the spot, wary, almost timid. She didn't want to break, but damn, it didn't matter how old she got, a mother's influence was always the instinctive way to run. And so, she grabs a blanket and walks over, settling herself closely by her side, head on her shoulder and arm around her front, allowing her mother to just be there and hold her.

"Jayden was never wrong about this, can't beat one of your hugs." Smiling as she sits up, she doesn't bother to hide the sad defeat in her eyes, instead, she just shrugs. "Nate and I are done. He'd rather spiral than lean on me. I tried, but... It's pretty impossible to fight for someone who doesn't want to be fought for." The corners of her eyes crease as she tries to say it with a calm tone. As soon as she hears her mom say she's sorry, she shakes her head, trying to tell her she didn't really have anything else to say, except maybe... "You know what the worst part is? I never forgot how crap this feels, I broke my own promise never to put myself back in a position where I can be hurt because... I managed to convince myself that this time, it wouldn't end with tears."

And in a gesture to her own, she scoffs a sad half-laugh and tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She appreciates that her mom gives her the time to talk without interrupting, the squeeze on her arm is comforting enough without making her feel crowded. "Maybe I'm just not meant to be in a relationship. Some people aren't, and that's fine. I was happy by myself, I can be that way again." Nodding, "Yeah. It's fine. I'm- I'll be fine." Maybe if she said it enough, she would actually start to believe it. "Alara..." That soft tone of a concerned mother had her sucking in a breath as she shakes her head. "Don't. Please, just don't. I don't need you to say anything." She practically insists, misty brown eyes lifting up to hers only to close with a shaky sigh. "Okay, sweetie. I won't. But you should go get me some pajamas because I'll be staying here tonight." Her mom says, lifting a hand up to Alara's cheek, hoping that she wouldn't protest. Truthfully, she didn't have the energy, and not being alone sounded far better. "Thank you."

[ghost-proofbaby]

DUUUUDDDEEEEE. Fork! (I’m trying to sensor myself. Is it working?!)

HOLY SHIT THOUGH.

So OK BUT THEN HERE WE MAYBE HAVE ANOTHER WEIRD NON-ALIBI if they find Fred. IS Willow gonna say something once they find/identify Chrissy’s body/know that Fred is missing. But also he’s by lovers lake? And then mentally Nancy came across Chrissy’s body…closer to that where they found her necklace and shoe. So does that mean someone or something is moving her body? AND WHERE ARE THE GATES BUT WILL THERE EVEN BE GATES OR IS SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENING.

Omg. My synapses are firing!!! Cruel of you to release this first thing in the AM when I have a day full of meetings. I might reread tonight. I definitely have ideas but I DONT HAVE MY NOTEBOOK. I’m gonna scribble some on a napkin. Hmmm too early to tell

Poor Eddie and poor Willow. But they’re together and have one another. I think…you know I joke about my theories and everything but truly that’s what we’re all here for. The love they have for each other and their willingness to endure countless nightmares for each other. I can’t wait to see THEM RUN AWAY TOGETHER WHEN THE TOWN GOES ON A MANHUNT AND THEY JUST CUT AND RUN AND START OVER. TOGETHER (👀👀👀👀👀👀) Damn I thought that was gonna work.

And Wayne. I’m here for actual Dad Wayne Munson. Because he goes through so much to make sure his boy is safe. Omg. “Our boy” I’m freaking tearing up.

Congratulations on another great chapter and yet another strand in the grand web you are weaving. Aghhh. You’re the best but you’re the worst but you’re the best. You deserve a medium place. *forehead smooches*

FINALLY replying because i was trying to give everyone time to read but i want you to know this made my day when i received it this morning 🖤

first of all, as always, i love your mind. you're thinking big (even if you're not right) and i adore it <3 also the image of you scribbling down your theories on a napkin just has me cackling i love you jo 😭😭😭

and oh yeah, there's quite a bit going on, quite a lot to cover, but i think that's why even amongst this "angst", i find so much comfort in continuing their story. it's just as much their love that makes me giddy to write this story as it makes you all to read it (which still blows my mind, btw).

dad wayne munson is everything to me. him and hopper are the town's resident adoptive fathers, and both of them just bring me so so much comfort. if i find a way to insert hopper's return into this fic, you already know i am. just give me a day or two of planning i'm a determined woman on a mission

thank you so much. i know i'm a broken record, i know all i ever seem to do is thank y'all and tell you how much i appreciate you guys and your support, but i do. i truly mean it so much that if i think about it too much, i'd cry. when i started all this, i thought this was going to be some silly fic i'd post and have to celebrate even having one reader, something i'd have to manically talk and plan out with my best friend and that at the end of the day, would only really mean something to me. you guys have been so endlessly supportive, so achingly sweet, and i just. gah. i don't know how to repay you all. i love you guys. you guys let me have my cake, and eat it too. that's probably the greatest gift i've received in all my years of writing fics.

also... side note.... has someone been rewatching the good place? 👀

[thebigshotman]

(Before continuing on to the movie review this week of “Annie Hall”, I feel I need to state this. Yes, this is a Woody Allen film. Yes, he is, without a doubt, a scumbag of a human being. However, I throughly enjoyed the movie. This is because separating the art from the artist is a very real thing people can do, no matter how influenced by the artist’s life the art was. I and everyone else in my class did the same thing.

As my professor said before the screening: “This is a film class, not an ethics class; take your scorn elsewhere”. So please do not come to me with anon hate about the fact that I enjoyed this movie. It will be immediately deleted as if you never sent it. (I know most of the regulars around here know not to do that, and know what kind of person I really am, but you never know who might see this 😬)

Anyway! With that disclaimer out of the way, the review is under the cut for those interested! Thank you all for being respectful and chill 😊)

Another week, another movie in film class! Last week’s “Godfather” didn’t give me much to talk about, but good golly did this one! This week we watched “Annie Hall” by Woody Allen, and it was a romantic comedy. Romantic comedies are something I usually don’t watch very often, with the sole exception of “Pretty Woman” and a couple of others. But this one had a lot of tricks up its sleeve to keep me interested!

The movie is about the relationship between Alvy Singer-Allen-and the titular Annie Hall-Diane Keaton-as it rises, falls, rises again, and eventually breaks up amicably. Alvy’s other relationships are also explored briefly to hammer in the point that he seems to be unlucky in love no matter what. We see this relationship out of order, with their awkward first meeting only coming about a third a ways in. We also break the fourth wall pretty frequently, with fantasy sequences woven in here and there by all characters and frequent asides to the camera by Alvy. In the end, they meet each other one last time for dinner, and the whole thing ends surprisingly poignantly with a metaphor involving love and eggs. Trust me, it was way better than it sounded 😂

The screenplay definitely deserved to win an Oscar, as it’s very tightly written and very funny, if odd and cringe worthy occasionally. What didn’t win an Oscar but was amazing, though, was the cinematography, done by the same dude that did “Godfather” funnily enough. It really captured what it must be like to fall in and out of love against the backdrop of a big city. The fantasy sequences and asides, very unusual for a romcom, also make it stand out from a crowd and keep you guessing what strange-but-realism-driven thing would happen next. The movie line scene with a cameo by Marshall McLuan (you can look it up if you want) was a highlight!

I’d say it’s a combination of what “Scenes from a Marriage” and “Ferris Buller’s Day Off” must be like…but I’ve never seen either lol

Keaton deserved the Oscar for playing Annie, bringing just enough of her real self into the role to make her realistic but enhancing everything when needed to make her the prototype “manic pixie dream girl” she is. Some of my classmates thought Alvy was annoying, what with his constant griping and distinctive voice, and I can definitely see why, but…I saw parts of myself in both of them. My positive qualities in Annie’s free-spiritness and definitely my negative ones in Alvy’s anxieties and overthinking. So I can’t bring myself to hate either, or their performances. They truly captured the “nervous romance” of the tagline!

So, yeah! Overall I really liked this movie! It did a lot of things I didn’t expect a romantic comedy too, and in a good way, too. The burden of how horribly its writer/director/lead actor forked up over the years weights heavy on it, make no mistake, but I think despite that it’s aged decently. If you can find it for free somewhere I recommend watching it! Just, y’know, do what I did. As for me, I will be watching it again as soon as I can find that aforementioned free source lol

Next week is “Network”, the origin of the famous “mad as hell” rant! Definitely a very big change from a romcom, but as someone going to school for media and a news reporter myself I can’t wait to see how it is! I’ll be sure to let you all know. In the meantime, hopefully I’ll be on in a few hours to get to threads.

La dee da la dee da…seriously I loved Annie. See you all soon!

My mission if there’s ever a 70s day at college is to dress like her in this gif 😁

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Okay, despite being gleeful all week, I do have some thoughts/musings on IWTV and fandom commentary on ableist tropes. Probably will get a little spicy idk

So pretty much since the episode dropped on streaming platforms, I’ve seen people hoping Daniel still has Parkinson’s despite being turned and that it will be ableist if most or all of the symptoms are ameliorated (the terminal illness aspect is already gone.)

And well….. I really fundamentally and completely disagree with this.

I get why people are wary about miracle cure storylines. Truly I am. I love FMA but I think it’s obnoxious that everyone gets their disabilities wiped away at the end of the plot.

But … but but but but. I have an invisible illness myself. Started up late 2017, is mostly just annoying, but it interrupts my sleep every single night without fail. The cumulative lack of sleep leads to constant fatigue and the subsequent brain fog. It’s had a cascading considerable ripple effect across my whole life. Through a lot of trial and effort I’ve come to build a life I’m increasingly happy with. I’ve come to be very proud of how much I can do despite it all. I have greater internal strength than I realized.

And if someone offered me a miracle tomorrow even with a terrible trade off I’d take it. I’d take it even if it was only 3 full nights of sleep a week instead of 7. I’d take it in a heartbeat.

Now, Daniel……… clearly didn’t get to make that informed decision lol. Knowing what Armand is like. But he is super hype at the end of the show and I get it. I get it.

The worst symptom (which, again, is DEATH) is gone. Even if he has some of the other symptoms the worst one is gone gone GONE. Of course he’s ecstatic. Throughout the series he’s loudly and repeatedly said he wanted a cure. Hell, he explicitly says as much to Armand. His manic joy at the end is just so…….

Also it’s not actually a cure. He’s largely traded Parkinson’s for a host of other terrible things I.e. now the sun will kill him, he’s eventually going to see his daughters die (which he’s worried about before). He can’t taste nachos anymore for Christ’s sake.

If the quality of the writing remains up to par than this isn’t going to be the story of someone who had a redo button pushed on their disability. The trade off is enormous and we’re bound to see the negative side of vampirism with him.

In addition, this isn’t a like … Glee-tier style portrayal of a disability. Daniel isn’t sequestered from the main plot except for a few special episodes about how sad and inspirational he is. He has a lot of other things going for him (I wrote a whole post about this.) He’s also very vocal about how much it all sucks and he wants to feel better. You also see a lot of the mundane stuff you have to do with doctors and meds etc. The only thing we didn’t get was a depiction of the fairly common experience of him crying and screaming in a car because nothing exists that will make him feel better and confronting that yet again after being on the 15 minute conveyor belt in and out of the doctor’s office.

Not that I’ve been there or anything.

(I also thought I was alone in this until I started reading personal essays about invisible illness and kept coming across scenes like it.)

There’s a lot of reasons to be wary of disability rep in fiction. Right there with you. Totally get wanting to see stories of disabled joy.

But … I’m not there yet. I might never be. For me, the disability rep that currently resonates with me most is a miracle cure narrative. It’s the biblical story of the woman who can’t stop bleeding. Who touches Jesus’s robes to try and get a cure. And she does. But the cure is secondary to me. It’s what comes before; the desperation, the isolation, the mention that she spent all her money on doctors that didn’t help. It’s bleak, but it’s also an emotion I recognize in myself. That parable was clearly written with very real emotion involved and I can feel people in similar straits over the millennia reaching out to me through it. This too is yuri a disability narrative.

And yes it gives me comfort. Invisible illnesses can be very isolating, and many people have dark nights of the soul where you wonder if it’s going to be worth it carrying on like this, what you’d trade to get your old life back (if I do get it back…. I won’t actually because these years have changed me.) You learn a lot about the depths of your desperation and the heights of your strength. And yeah, that’s what I’ve felt through Daniel’s narrative.

He’s a weird fucking dude with a different illness than me but (not to use this word again) a specificity to his depiction that actually makes him feel way more relatable to me than inspiration porn or corporatized Pride ™️. And I can’t stress how much I apparently needed that. The care in his character has me curious to see what comes next. There’s a trust there that they’ll continue mining this side of his character even if the symptoms have changed. I just really highly doubt we will get something as blithe about it as FMA. Future Daniel will probably have moments as harrowing as All’s Well by Mona Awad (which I haven’t finished yet despite plodding away through it for years because it’s so accurate about chronic pain it makes me cry. But it explores miracle cures as an unsettling fever dream. The excitable anger that comes along when you have Good Days and can really contemplate how much goddamn bullshit you’ve been through.)

And yeah I …. Don’t know how to end this. Maybe I’ll just quote Pain Woman Takes Your Keys:

This raises the question of which woman is a better writer—me in pain or me without. The pain-woman speaks in a pared-down voice; she is a dreamy laser. You can’t tell her a single thing. She has room for only one emergency. She has to creep slowly and hold onto the backs of chairs as she moves, but she has a strange superpower. She cares more about the vulnerable soft flesh of everyone than my normal busy pre-pain self. She aches in slow motion for everyone’s crumbling life. She sees dead bodies wrapped in skin, sees the present moment as death in reverse. She is in a kind of ecstasy—not the way we understand the word as joy, but the older definition in Webster’s Dictionary: “an emotional or religious frenzy or trancelike state, originally one involving a mystic sense of self-transcendence.”

And then there was a day, a quiet landmark on the couch: the first day that I realized I wasn’t depressed because I was in pain. I realized my mood could separate from the bad news broadcasted by my nerves. I was okay in here, in terrible pain, but alive and watching it. Pain explodes, over and over. It’s also super tiring. And then I need food and sleep.

Later tonight I’ll get depressed because I have lesson plans to do, and I want to be more than this ecstatic, shattered, staring beast looking at the swirls. But for now, I see swirls, and I feel the weather in my bones. And I am two bodies, and one is the history of me. And the other is a lava-lamp Ghost Girl with a new voice I have to listen to—no, more than listen to. She wants the keyboard, and she doesn’t care about the life I had before she was born.

[greenthey]

Lately I feel when energetic cords are siphoning from me as literal physical pain/discomfort. Today it was a black silverfish made from myself. I pulled the Moon card and it has a literal black crayfish on it. Built-in armor.

Why is it so hard to let go of pain? (3 of Swords rx)

Depression is a protective mechanism. It stops us from doing the things that hurt us before. The mind can know logically that circumstances have changed but the same old chemical reactions in the body are triggered.

The pic is from my family's summer vacation in 2009 after my grandma died. I was extremely depressed, from the loss but also because I had never been kissed and felt extremely unlovable. I decided if I still felt like dying in a year I would swim towards the moon. And weirdly, that gave me enough energy to change my life a little bit at a time. Go on mental health meds. Try to leave my dorm room and make friends. Kiss several other emotionally unhealthy people, once I was manic enough to be brave.

I don't know how to get my brain to the middle ground where it is possible to flow back into the sea but not drown (3 of Wands). Logic alone cuts both ways, because unfortunately I am a very literal bitch. (Ace of Swords)

The Moon holds no answers. It says the clouds will move at some point. The crayfish is a symbol of transformation, too. And cycles that I must roll with even though they hurt.

Card of guidance: 9 of Pentacles. The bird's helmet blinds it. My painbody thinks it will be painful, to take it off. I have to find a way to brave again, like last time I wanted to die. The flowers on the woman's dress say to ground down into the body, into the Earth. Remember who you are. Remember no one can truly take anything from you. Remember you are abundant, even when you feel like a void.

[bleedingmyway-blog]

Une Introduction

Hello everyone, and welcome to my tumblr blog; where you shall find an assortment of schoolboard chalk scented nostalgic rants on things which have no incidence whatsoever on our lives, pseudo-intellectual ramblings on certain social phenomenons and trends that i would honestly be better off adopting myself (giving them deeper thought makes me feel legitimate in my manic bouts of isolation) as well as semi-literate attempts at sounding like a witty accomplished writer; when in reality I am just a am no more than just a 23 year old man trying to make his way into the world.

I am not a woman, although not devoid of womanly features -do thin lips count as womanly features ?- , not jewish -albeit a strong believer in numerology-, a decently good gambler -i only gamble using my friend's money once they leave the table, i like to think of it as investing their money in risky assets-, and a mercenary at the service of broken hearts.

I happen to have a lot of pass-times and centers of interests, that I shall list here :

role playing games, which naturally excludes a majority of fps games and includes lesser known games that do involve shooting like jagged alliance and the earlier Fallout games

music, i pride myself in the legitimacy of my i-listen-to-everything claim, my favorite band being king crimson (their 80s era, nonetheless)

philosophy, occult and psychology; i thought to lump them together as my personal mental mosaic paints them side by side, as these subjects are interlinked and learning about them is a daily goal of mine

literature, and ironicaly i've not much to say about this one, i can't pride myself in being a voracious reader nor have i read the classics, but i greatly value literature in general. i'm also a big fan of the beat generation authors, as you may have noticed

i also ought to add that i have been a weeaboo for most my life; and while i am absolutely not ashamed of it, i frankly haven't indulged in japanese culture for quite some time. so, do not expect too many posts containing references to anime, manga and such, but there may be the occasional focus on a piece of japanese media that i like

cinema ! marlon brando, sean connery, de niro,charles bronson and such are my own heroes

there seems to be little i could add that would serve you more, dear reader, than I in the stroking of my weak ego by going on about my oh-so-dear hobbies. i hope you'll have a good time reading my posts and interacting with yours truly nevertheless, as i hope my introduction wasn't too boring to read !

[lochsides]

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power Review

Where do I even begin with 'If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power'? It is such a good album, it's almost criminal. If I had to pick the best album to be released this year, IICHLIWP would be it. Halsey has always been an excellent songwriter, that was never even in question, but it has been proved once again, in case anyone wasn't paying attention. IICHLIWP is an album that covers so much depth in sound and in lyric. The dichotomy of the Madonna and the Whore, as they said in their announcement of the album, is an overarching theme of IICHLIWP and it is articulated so consummately. The references to pregnancies and childbirth are more subtle than I expected but that's what makes them so genius. This is an album where every lyric is intentional.

My favourite songs are ‘The Tradition’, 'Bells in Santa Fe', '1121' and 'Ya'aburnee'. More detailed thoughts on each track are below the cut. Trigger warnings for sexual assault and miscarriages.

The Tradition — This is the first song on the album and Halsey had already fucked me up so there's that. I got full-body chills listening to 'The Tradition'. The production is masterful. There is this darkness that settles in early and ebbs and flows beautifully, not only throughout the song but the album as a whole. 'The Tradition' already sets up so many of themes of this album, but what a way to talk about sexual assault. I am in love with the entire chorus line but I think my favourite lyric is ‘she got the life she wanted but now all she does is cry.’

Bells in Santa Fe — The transition from 'The Tradition' into 'Bells in Santa Fe' was so smooth I didn't even notice that the songs had changed until I looked at my screen. I don't think I could actually describe how much I adore this song if I took up the rest of my life doing so. The production is absolutely God-tier. Everything from the way it keeps building throughout the song to the percussion to the piano on the second chorus and the distortion towards the end is so perfectly done. You will never hear me rave about production this much. What a fucking song! On top of all that, you have the lyrics that are so powerful. When they said 'cause who the fuck would chose this?' it reminded me of my favourite Manicsong, 'Forever... is a long' where they sing 'how could somebody ever love me?' so that stood out to me. I love the cadence on 'secondhand thread in a secondhand bed with a second man's head' but the lyric 'better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead' is probably the one that hits the hardest. My escapist, runaway tendencies felt very exposed by the entirety of the pre-chorus.

Easier than Lying — The way she emotes on ‘you lair, you don’t love me’ is fucking everything. I needed to start with that. It’s my favourite aspect of the whole song. And then there is that obvious callback in the bridge. ‘Easier than Lying’ is the punk sound we were promised of IICHLIWP and they delivered. The Grungy electric guitar, the bass, the production!!! This one goes hard and it makes no apologies of it’s anger.

Lilith — ‘I’m disruptive, I’ve been corrupted, and by now I don’t need a fucking introduction.’ I mean what could I possibly say after that??! Honestly, I love the duality of how this line could be about Halsey but it could also be about Lilith, herself. There is a selfishness to 'Lilith' that I love. When you connect that to the mythology of Lilith preying on pregnant women and the context of this album — it's just got so many layers. Halsey's mind!! I love the sound of this song. The production has a classic rock flare to it. Those drums are so clean and the bass accompanies it perfectly. The smoothness of their vocal on this track is very pleasing to listen to.

Girl is a Gun — I'm not going to lie, this song isn't for me. I get it. The message is right up my street but the overall sound of it just isn't what I personally like. I do love their little laugh at the start! The lyric 'it's a shot in the dark, I'm not a walk in the park, I come loaded with the safety switched off' is my favourite.

You asked for this — This song is really interesting because they gave us a pop punk sound, pushed it to the back of the track, really grungey guitar riffs and all, but their voice is so light and delicate almost, very airy in a way that stands apart from the backing track. I really like it. To me, it's like an emphasis of the message of 'You asked for this'. Young women are oftentimes forced to grow up too soon and 'be a big girl.' Society forgets, I would even say purposely overlooks, that they are 'still somebody's daughter,' one of the few things that is used to give value to a woman. We've all heard people throw the phrase "but what if it was your daughter/sister?" into the conversation when discussing women that have somehow been abused by the patriarchy. 'You asked for this' also calls attention to how when we're younger, all we want is to be grown up but how unaware we can be of what it means to be a woman in this world, the trauma that comes with it.

Darling — The guitar in this song and it’s almost-country sound are what sets this song apart from the rest of the album. ‘Darling’ is a lullaby for their child, but it tells a story of their struggles. It is honest in a way that feels private. Motherhood sounds so good on them!! This song is just a collection of things I love in music. 'Darling' is soothing and it sounds like comfort, in both melody and lyric. 'Foolish men have tried but only you have shown me how to love being alive' is perhaps the softest lyric on the whole album.

1121 — I expelled a heavy sigh when I heard ‘1121’ it absolutely took my breath away*.* This song is a truly moving ode to an unborn child. So many people talk about how they had never known what unconditional love really meant until they had a child. Halsey tells it as such: ‘you could have my heart and I would break it for you.’ I love their vocal styling on this song so much, going between their lower register and those beautiful falsettos in the chorus. The overlapping on the bridge of ‘please don’t leave, don’t leave me in the shape you left me’ and ‘I’m running out of time to tell you, I’m running out of things that I regret’ and ‘you’d never, you told me’ really capture all the wide array of emotions felt by pregnant person upon finding out they are pregnant when they’ve dealt with miscarriage. Her voice emotes the fear of losing another child, the regret of the ones she's already lost, the promise, almost desperate, of the opportunity they have right now. All of these feelings are brought to life further by the production of the song. There is so much depth in '1121'.

honey — Pop punk wlw anthem check. Halsey suits this sound so much. This track, the production, the instrumentation, all of it catered to their voice so perfectly. The sound is so refreshing and yet so classic. I adore the melody. It’s unsuspectingly catchy. I wonder if there are links to ‘Lilith’ with ‘she’s mean and she’s mine’ or if I’m just reaching. Either way, a song about a love that is a little chaotic and wild, sign me up!

Whispers — Whispering on a song called 'Whispers' might be obvious but I'm a basic bitch so leave me alone, I loved it. Lyrically, 'Whispers' was the song that I saw myself in the most. When she said 'camouflage so I can feed the lie that I'm composed,' I just felt far too exposed for comfort. Same thing with 'I do not know me.' And that's what art is supposed to do. The instrumental is haunting and dark. The way they create tension by adding in one instrument at a time. The production is amazing. Top 5 shit right here!

I am not a woman, I'm a god — Not only does this song have the catchiest hook, it’s literally ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god. I am not a martyr, I’m a problem. I am not a legend, I’m a fraud so keep your heart ‘cause I already got one.’ That hook right there tells you everything you need to know about this song. ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god’ acknowledges that one needs not be a woman to create life. They are claiming power to their gender identity through relation to Godliness. Even in the other lyrics, they talk about being ‘a different human in a new place’ or ‘a better human with a new name’ (this line in particular draws direct parallels to trans experiences). Both times, they specifically use ‘human.’ The production of this song is designed to be a single. It’s got the signature darkness of this album, tells the listener where Halsey is at sonically, and it’s a total banger.

The Lighthouse — The way this song just comes in swinging right away with the distortion and the heavy guitars is exactly what I expected from this album going into it for the first time. Very modern punk rock. And the lyric doesn't pull any punches either. 'From a tender age I was cursed with rage,' like c'mon!! I love the melody and her vocal inflations throughout the song. This is the longest song on the album but it doesn't drag. The change up right before the outro really helps with that. I find that outro so interesting. The contrast between the instrumental constantly building but their voices staying so far in the back on the track creates so much tension that is relieved in the best way possible with 'Ya'aburnee'.

Ya'aburnee — ‘Ya’aburnee’ is the perfect conclusion to this album. Halsey said in their Apple Music interview that IICHLIWP is about the power to choose and by the end of the album you realise that they choose love. This song perfectly embodies that. It’s familial. The entire chorus talks of seeing yourself in your kin and the circle of life. The second verse is a clear love letter to their partner and it makes me emotional, knowing their romantic history as we do, to hear them sing ‘wrap me in a wedding ring.’ I love how the lyric ‘you will bury me before I bury you’ is not only a statement of their hopes that they don’t have to live in a world without their loved ones, a statement of how parents should never have to bury their children, but it almost sounds like a protective promise that they will do anything to ensure their loved ones are kept from harm so as not to need burial. The softness of the instrumental on ‘Ya’aburnee’ is feels like unwinding from the rest of the record. It’s such a beautiful song.

[iamnotawomanimagod]

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power - A Reluctant Ranking of Every Track

Disclaimer: This entire album is incredible, truly no skips, and I also think it’s an album that is hard to separate into individual tracks, because it all goes so well together. But I still wanted to try! This is just my personal opinion, and it’s subject to change. (Also I surprised myself. And I bet I’ll change my mind by tonight.)

Please feel free to do your own and tag me in it!! I wanna see!!

13. Girl is a Gun

It’s not that I dislike this song, it’s just a sound that I didn’t expect on this album. I think it would’ve fit in better on Manic. I don’t love how it kind of just repeats over and over again, especially on an album so full of complex, intricate lyrics. But it’s a really upbeat, sexy song and I bet it’s going to be so fun live.

Favorite lyric: 

Time is a blessin', to me, it's a lesson And I can't be stressin' to give you attention 'Cause, oh, it's never enough, so I'm givin' you up And you'll be better with a nice girl, darlin'

12. Lilith

Similar to “Girl is a Gun,” I simply wasn’t expecting this kind of sound on this album - could’ve seen it on Hopeless Fountain Kingdom though! The bass is amazing and I love the rhythm.

Favorite lyric:

You know I get too caught up in a moment I can't call it love if I show it I just fuck things up, if you noticed Have you noticed? Tell me have you noticed?

11. Darling

This song is so sweet and charming, especially if you compare it to “More,” which I think it acts as a sort of sequel to. Something about the melody hits me just a little wrong. When they start singing, I can’t help but hear the verses of “Hopeless.” That might’ve been intentional, but I can’t get past it to hear this song as its own thing.

Favorite lyric:

Never knew the feeling of a stable home Been a couple years of living on the road Couldn't really tell you where they'd leave a stone To visit me when I am dead and gone

10. The Tradition

I love the haunting piano and vocals. It feels like a song that was written for the film specifically. (Was it even in the film, lol?) I really love the sound of it, but the lyrics don’t do very much for me.

Favorite lyric:

And I hope what's left will last all summer long And they said that, "Boys were boys", but they were wrong

9. The Lighthouse

This song reminds me the most of a Nine Inch Nails song - fitting that Trent Reznor provides backing vocals on the final verse. I love the grimy guitars, and and discordant beat, and the way it builds up. The melody is cool and liquid. The final verse really feels like waves crashing. It’s a well-written song that really shows off Halsey’s alternative side.

Favorite lyric:

Well, that should teach a man to mess with me He was never seen again And I'm still wandering the beach And I'm glad I met the devil 'Cause he showed me I was weak And a little piece of him is in a little piece of me

8.  Ya’aburnee

This song makes me really emotional. It makes me think of all the people I love the most and it makes me want to cherish my time with them even more. That’s an incredible feeling for an artist to create. It’s such a bittersweet song. I wanna cry but it also makes me smile.

Favorite lyric:

But what's worse? Telling you my feelings or to die without revealing That you crawled inside my head and set a fire there, instead Letting all my insecurity Devour me with certainty

7. honey

If you’ve ever felt this way for someone, this song stings in the best way possible. I love the rhythm and the drums and the guitars - this is peak pop punk and Halsey fits right in. I love the honey imagery, especially that she included some imagery about bees and the way honey clings.

Favorite lyric:

And now she's impatient and I'm complacent With just a little taste of wasting time Looking for honey But she stings like she means it She's mean and she's mine

6. 1121

Now this is the sound I expected from this album. Cinematic, dark, dramatic. The piano is so haunting and so beautiful. It evokes so much imagery through sound alone, even with the lyrics being relatively simple. And their voice is so incredible. The song overall reminds me a lot of Evanescence, which is high praise. And I really appreciate the “self-loathing in love” theme, I can relate to it a lot. I’ve already been singing the chorus at the top of my lungs whenever I play this song.

Favorite lyric:

Take one in the temple My tongue is a vessel I try to be careful with The thing inside my chest You shoot for the memory So you can forget me I'd leave if you let me, oh

5. Bells in Santa Fe

Ever since we heard a snippet of this song in the first film trailer, I’ve been desperate to hear the rest of it. It didn’t disappoint. I love her lower register vocals, the tinkling piano and the frantic rhythm. And I relate too much to the message of the song - loving someone so much but refusing to accept that they want forever with you, insisting that they’re better off without you, warning them that you could slip away at any moment. It hits me where I live.

Favorite lyric:

Jesus needed a three day weekend To sort out all his bullshit, figure out the treason I've been searching for a fortified defense Four to five reasons But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

4. I am not a woman, I’m a god

This song fucks. Claiming their power to create life - recognizing that as godly and divine, while also insisting this is not a power that makes them a woman. I can’t wait for it to become a smash hit and for people to be singing about a nonbinary/trans experience without even knowing it. I honestly have trouble even articulating why this song is so awesome, it just is. I’m pumped every time I hear it.

Favorite lyric:

Oh, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go 'Cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know So I'll stay right here cause I'm better all alone Yeah, I'm better all alone

3. You asked for this

I really like the 90s alternative sound of this one, it reminds me of Alanis Morrissette and certain No Doubt songs. I think it’s a very realistic depiction of how settling down in life can be very bittersweet, and the things that we ask for are sometimes not what they seem to be. But we also come to realize that settling is a part of growing up. Still, Halsey sings about wanting everything, knowing there are contradictions in that. The chorus is fun and easy to sing to, and the final verse is so amazing.

Favorite lyric:

I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I want to ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I want to cry so hard I choke I want everything I asked for

2. Whispers

This one hits hard, but god, it’s so good. The way they whisper certain phrases. The simple piano under the first verse, the way it becomes more complex, the way the beat comes in. You want to dance and cry at the same time. The lyrics - I know so many of us can relate to them. The themes of self-sabotage and self-loathing are so strong in this album, which definitely hits me right in the chest.

Favorite lyric:

I've got a monster inside me That eats personality types She is constantly changing her mind on the daily Think that she hates me I'm feeling it lately Might have to trick her and treat her To 70 capsules or fly to a castle So at least we could say that we died being traveled

1. Easier than Lying

I’ve had this one on repeat since the album came out, and that surprised me at first, but god, this song is addictive. The crunchy guitar at the beginning, the driving rhythm, the way her voice contrasts with that. The scream-singing on the chorus. It’s the kind of song you want to drive way too fast to. The bridge!! Aaah! It’s just so badass and listening to it now gets me too hyped!! Also the way it can kind of be seen as a sequel to “Lie,” - the growth of going “if you don’t love me no more, then lie” to “losing you is easier than lying to myself” is so meaningful and so empowering.

My heart is massive but it's empty A permanent part of me, that innocent artery Is gasping for some real attention Some undivided hypertension I tell it "quiet down, you're being loud" But it beats harder every time you come around But do you love the sound?

I’m gonna tag some mutuals, just to share, and also to see if anyone else wants to do this! Also you don’t need to go as in-depth as I did if that’s intimidating or too much, I’m just wordy.

@demonzplay @easiersthanlying @ttpane @yoursalwaysleo @anarkyandmadness @feelingsiwontforget @tolerateit @tommyhardyx @elysiems @imacreepygirl @finallybeautifulstranger @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower and I know I’m forgetting some folks, I’m sorry! Please feel free to steal this and also tag me in yours!

[carinyms]

I've scrolled through a lot of discourse on episode 4 of Loki and I need to talk about it

(good lord its a whole essay im sorry)

I gave myself a headache from crying while watching this. (I joined the Loki fandom post-IW so I’ve never had to see him die before while emotionally invested and boy!!! Is it doing things to my fragile psyche!!). But now I’m rehydrated and more stable and ready to party so let’s go

Right off the bat, I loved this episode — loved it loved it loved it. Silly, manic in-shock Loki is gone and shit is getting real. My thought while watching this was truly “wow this is my favorite episode so far” and damn am I in a minority with this opinion lol.

So here’s my perspective on some of the discourse flying around, and just general thoughts

On the whole ‘Narcissist’ thing:

IMO, Mobius saying this means nothing: he’s mad and he’s spouted lies at Loki to push his buttons before (see: every interaction they’ve had since episode 1).

Loki saying this to Sif-- well, Loki is and always has been an unreliable narrator on himself. The major theme of this show is that he doesn’t really know who he is, deep down, and he’s trying to figure it out. The TVA is taking advantage of this, and even though he’s trying to stay above it all throughout the series, he's still in a really impressionable spot and absorbing what others tell him about himself. (not to mention this scene is literal torture and he’s already proven that he’ll say whatever he needs to to get out of it.)

But he does admit one true thing when he says “It’s because I’m scared of being alone.” (And like wow okay same don’t mind my tears) but here’s a big brain idea!

Sif pulls him up and says ‘You are alone, and you always will be’, which is like, WOW that’s cruel after what he said, but it makes me ask wonder: Sif is sentient in this scene, but obviously it’s not really her. Who’s controlling her? And why is it so important for them to make sure Loki thinks he’s alone? I’d go as far as to wager that Sif never even said this to Loki, the big bad made this up. (he admits he forgot about this ever happening, I doubt he’d remember what she said.)

I think the nexus event on Lamentis that caused the branch was two Loki’s joining sides. Or, Loki no longer being alone. Loki insists while talking to Mobius that “she’s not my partner!” but she was, and they were partners from the moment they grabbed hands on Lamentis — right when the timeline broke off. I think Loki variants teaming up is the biggest threat to whoever is pulling the strings here — that’s why the post-credit scene is so significant. (Is Loki the only person who has multiple variants of himself who've escaped the TVA?)

And here’s where I’m gonna get salty--so I apologize but i need to rant about this-- but it’s seriously pissing me off that so many people are intentionally reading this as Loki/Sylvie and then being mad about it when that’s clearly not what’s happening and why is everyone acting like Mobius with one angry jealous brain cell and no critical thinking about the context of the characters.

If people ship it that’s chill, but for the people who are against it—it’s clearly supposed to be platonic, and it’s so upsetting that in the year of our lord 2021 we still can’t have a man and woman hold hands without people saying it’s proof they want to f*ck each other, like what in the misogyny??? STOP. This show was written by a bi woman and Tom the-most-emotionally-sensitive-man-on-this-planet Hiddleston — let them display an intimate loving friendship goddammit. This isn’t romance, this is Loki learning how to admit he cares for someone who cares for him in return — something he hasn’t experienced a whole lot of and clearly doesn’t know how to navigate.

(You have permission to personally come at me if it actually turns out to be romantic by the end of the show—but as of right now I will die on this hill.)

Him putting his hands on her shoulders to me was a clear indication he wanted to hug her, and I’d like to think he would have told her he cares about her, and that they can figure it out together. Because these are two characters who’ve never had anyone else to rely on and trust, and for the first time they’re not alone.

And I have to think about what prompted this from Loki. He just lost Mobius the moment after he called him friend. The way I see it, he’s just realized the true gravity of what they’re up against, and Loki is suddenly very afraid of losing Sylvie too before he tells her cares about her, of dying truly alone because he never told anyone what they meant to him. (Don’t think about this in the context of him also having watched his entire family die knowing he never told Frigga or Thor how much he loved them either don’t think about it—) He’s realized, finally, that he has doesn’t have to be alone, that he can choose to be close to people and have friends. And god it’s so heartbreaking that he never got to hug her or have that moment with her. I really hope they get that in the end. I hope he gets it with Mobius. I hope they have a group hug. I'm upset again.

Okay, deep breath, ANYWAY.

Hopefully this didn’t come off as attacking anyone else’s opinions.

Personally, I love this character so much, I’m just so happy to be seeing him in his own storyline that they can’t go wrong here. Objectively I think the production is amazing, and personally I love they way Loki’s character has been explored so far. (Yea yea, was I HOPING that the bad-memory loop would morph into Sanctuary and Thanos and like a full exploration of his true worst memories? Yes but let’s be honest my whump needs will never be met in canon and I have to accept that lol.)

Honestly I left all my own meta about this character at the door when the series started, because for me the opinions I’ve formed from the hundreds of (amazing) fics and meta I’ve read on this character and what’s true in canon are basically inseparable at this point, and no portrayal is going to live up to the way Loki exists in my head. Canon Loki and fic Loki are two different characters and I can enjoy both at the same time :) I’ve just loved seeing the character get given the different dimensions he deserves, and written by people who care about his story.

Also, it’s not over! If he was dead and this was it I’d be very upset, but this is the rock bottom of the storyline, and I think the whole next two episodes will be the build back up. I trust it’s gonna be worth it. SO hyped for flaming sword Loki. I would die for Sylvie, but I’m excited to see him on his own again.

My current most pressing questions are:

-what was the fallout of Sylvie’s bombing the timeline? (Have we seen that yet, am I just dumb and missing something?)

-Obviously, who’s behind it all? (Kang? Is there a head honcho Very Evil Loki at the top?)

-How much does Ravonna actually know, and to what extent is she just a pawn too? She asked Sylvie to prune her— she’s probably also been duped here.

-Is everything we learned about the sacred timeline BS? How much of what the TVA workers believe is real?

-my favorite theory so far is that the war of the timelines miss minutes talks about hasn’t actually happened yet, maybe making setting that into motion is the true endgame, leading into Multiverse of Madness?

(Side note: holy HELL im so excited for this soundtrack to drop on Spotify. It’s SO AMAZING I had CHILLS in the end credits.)

Open invitation to discuss anything with me if you feel inclined! :)

[laineystein]

“This is new.”

The Boy™️ and I went out for his birthday on Thursday night. His favorite restaurant happens to be close to where we both grew up so we drove through the same neighborhoods that raised us - streets we walked to get to school or back and forth from the houses we grew up in. Of course, we ran into three separate people we knew. This seems to be a trend lately. It’s like our past, every little detail we’ve been so good at keeping hidden, keeps rearing its head, demanding to be dealt with. One of the people we ran into was a teacher we both had in yeshiva and they commented “oh, this is new!” And we both smiled and laughed and wished them a good shabbat. We didn’t talk about it then but we spent Shabbos together – alone – and we spent most of the night unpacking all of it.  

 This wasn’t the first time we’d heard it. It’s all anyone seems to say lately. When I had a ride to the airport at 4am and my mother strong-armed me into admitting who it was she said “oh, that’s new”. When his Modox parents were a bit passive-agressive toward me earlier in the summer because suddenly I was *everywhere*, I finally got his mother to admit that she worried about our relationship simply because it “came out of nowhere”…because “it’s new” and a lot of our “decisions seem impulsive.”

  No. This isn’t new. We’re not new. Our relationship is 15 years old. This has been a thing - many things, actually - for a decade and a half. I have been in love with this man for half of my life but to the world, even the people we love the most, yes - this is new. And I can’t argue with them. We don’t. We have no idea how to handle this. 

  We were fifteen and sixteen. Simply put - being a teenager means being young and dumb and somehow being terrified and craving happiness in equal amounts. He was (is) my best friend’s brother and they’re extremely close. On top of that, he’s Modox and I wasn’t and am not. His family never treated me differently, even when other families did - especially early on at yeshiva when it was very clear that I was raised differently than most of my classmates. But I loved them and they loved me. They loved me as their daughter’s best friend. It didn’t make sense to explain that I was more than that with their son - especially because we didn’t know what that was. 

We were teenagers! We were intense and fearless and manic and we were absolutely terrified of letting anyone down. We’re both the first born in our immigrant Jewish families. There has always been so much pressure on each of us to be the best - the smartest, the most hardworking. For him - the most devout. We both had to marry well and have big Jewish families. We were the product of generations of trauma - children and grandchildren of families that had consistently escaped persecution and now we were seemingly well adjusted teenagers in America, finally free to live the lives everyone who came before us fought so hard for. It was a lot of pressure, all the time. But together? No pressure. The things I struggled to tell his sister - how much I hated my yeshiva uniform, how marriage and children weren’t in the forefront of my mind yet…everything I couldn’t tell anyone else in the world, I told The Boy™️.

That’s where the name comes from - and those of you who used to follow my studyblr know I talked about him often. I never talked about him by name. His sister always thought I had someone in Israel that I had this big crush on. And I did. When he was in Israel with me I had a huge crush on him. But I loved him in Brooklyn too. I loved him when we traveled to France and Amsterdam and Italy. I spent four out of my five IDF civilians (time off from the military) with him and no one knew. We have lived so many lives together. We’ve experienced so many things, side by side, and no one had any clue. And we watched each other love other people and try to make it work with people that weren’t us. But ultimately he was the one who helped me through breakups and med school. He was the person that literally saved my life in 2020 when my shifts at the hospital during COVID had me so mentally and physically exhausted that I could barely get out of bed…literally. Then when things calmed down I realized, it didn’t matter what was going on in the world, he’s always been my biggest supporter and I cannot and will not live without him and the fact that we weren’t sharing this thing that made us both so undeniably happy just felt ridiculous and unfair.

But we didn’t know how to even explain everything so we kind of…didn’t? It was never “this is my best friend and we’re in love” it was “I’m going to Israel and he’s coming too”. We alternated Shabbos between his parents’ house and mine. All the while everyone is hesitant, almost nervous - this is new, this is new, this is new. It’s not new. But this is the first time we’re admitting how we feel and what we are to the people we love. He’s not just my friend’s brother. He’s not even just my best friend or my boyfriend. He’s the man I want to marry and have a family with. I get why our families are so confused. They have no idea all we’ve done and how so many of the things they celebrate in us - our jobs, our successes, our faith - is because of the other.

  So we have to start being honest. They’ll never truly get it if they can’t see how deep it is, if they can’t acknowledge the history. But how do we explain it? We are who we are because once upon a time we were both really struggling with our faith. We thought we were terrible Jews because we didn’t want the things our parents wanted. I didn’t believe in tzniut. Some days he didn’t either. We were doing things we were told kids in yeshiva don’t do! We were having sex and smoking weed and going to bars in the city because we could. But it wasn’t about being a part of the goy world. We didn’t want that. We just wanted to be who we were in the Jewish world and we had no idea how to do that. For so long it felt like it was us against the world - Jewish and gentle. We didn’t fit in with either but we could be who we wanted to be, together, in this weird in-between. He’s safety. He always has been. When I have a thought and I know no one in the world will understand it, I know he’s the exception. We always felt like we were judged, even inadvertently by people who swore they were being open minded and supportive, but together that was never a worry. So how do we explain that? 

We don’t. We won’t. We need to be honest about some things: about how far our friendship goes back, about the depth of it - then and now. Everyone else is free to make their own assumptions. They can draw their own conclusions or they can just learn to accept us as we are now. The weird part is that everyone has been much more accepting than we imagined - especially his sister. She loves our relationship so much, to the point that we feel bad for keeping it from her for so long. But we don’t know if we’d be who we are now if we hadn’t lived this other life together. We weren’t wrong. Having this one thing in life that is untouched by the world was magical. We still have days where we miss it, especially now as questions of marriage and children flood in. But we’ve agreed that we’ll be honest with our children. All of it. 

I guess a lot of this for us wasn’t just about *us* but about who each of us are as people. We’ve always worn so many labels. We’re completely opposites but we have fundamental similarities. We both love being Jewish. We’re loud and proud, unapologetic Jews. But we weren’t always! And the secret nature of our relationship aside, that’s what’s the most difficult for us to acknowledge publicly - myself in particular. I get a lot of that - often from many of you. I am so so honored that where I am with my faith today, at 31, is something so many of you admire. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much that means to me. But I guess it’s important to note that this was a journey. I was a mess. I always loved being a Jew but for several years I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know that I had the power to write my own narrative and live my life as a Jew on my own terms. The strength and confidence you see now is because all of the bullshit I went through before. Even now I am constantly learning. Every day I become more and more secure in my role as a Jewish woman, now that I can define what that means for me. 

And that’s all I want for any of you! Live your Jewish truth! We are all products of so much hardship. We really do deserve to be the best version of ourselves. We deserve happiness and security in our relationships, in our careers, in every aspect of life possible. And if you’re not there yet - if you wake up wondering where you fit into the Tribe, that’s okay! You will get there! Being a Jew is a super power!!! You just need to figure out how to be a Jew in a way that makes the most sense to you. There truly is no one way to be a Jew - no wrong way to be a Jew. Being a Jew, in any capacity, makes you an awesome Jew. I wish I had someone to tell me that but I didn’t. It took me many years to be where I am now. So for anyone who needs to hear it: you’re an awesome Jew and I’m so proud of you! 

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Ties That Bind Us - Part 5

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail?  Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old.  The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do.  But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests.  I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2328

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR

My toes had been resting in the sand, fully submerged in the ocean saltwater, for hours. The chair I lounged in had sunk to the point that my seat was resting on the sand and was just beginning to cover the side rails. I could feel the warming rays of the sun on my skin, and I basked in the comfort of my parents sitting on either side of me.  

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and lazily dragging my fingertips over the surface of the water. I planted my feet and began pushing myself up to a standing position. Having been sitting so close to the ground, it took no shortage of effort to get myself upright.  

“So, what’s it gonna be, baby girl?” My father questioned me from his seat in the sand. Running my hands through my salt-air blown hair, I took a deep breath.  

“I don’t know.”  Looking out over the water, I crossed my arms over myself, hugging my elbows. I looked over at my mother, her ever-smiling face looking up at me.  

“They’ll be here before you know it,” she said soothingly. I scrunched my eyebrows together quizzically, confused once more. “The boys. The Winchester’s.”  Her answer was matter of fact. I hadn’t considered them, having been too elated to immerse myself in the bubble of happiness and relief that was my family being given back to me.  

“Dean,” I whispered, drawing my eyes back out to the water as the pit of my stomach dropped out.  

I heard my father chuckling behind me. “That boy’s a good nut. A little marred on the outside, mind you, and completely oblivious at that. But he’s a good nut.”  My arms loosened and I felt my shoulders relax as I allowed myself a laugh.  

“He really is.”  My words were tinged with a hint of sadness. I could picture his face. The panic that was etched into it, his wide green eyes staring at me, pleadingly, assuring me that I was going to be fine. 

“Hummingbird,” my mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts of him. “I’ve known you for your entire life. From the first fluttering of your feet in my belly, and every second since. I’ve seen you grow into this beautiful woman, inside and out. But honey,” she paused briefly, taking a breath. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you’re with that boy.”   

Her kind eyes seemed to be able to see right through me and directly into my heart, if not my soul.  

“But mom,” I whined. “I just got you back.” She reached out and held her hand open, gesturing for mine. I placed my hand gingerly into hers, feeling the prickling of tears coming to my eyes.  

“I know, Y/N. I know. But you’ll never lose us.”  She looked over at my father, her smile growing. “We’re always with you. And we’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”   

I knelt into the wet sand in front of her, the waves lapping at my legs as my jeans quickly soaked through. “What if I want to stay?”  

“Then you stay. But it’s up to you, baby girl,” my father answered nonchalantly.  

“I think I’ll just go for a walk. Clear my head a little, okay?”   

They both nodded back to me in response, as I began walking down the beach, my bare feet pressing into the sand with every step.  

“Trap a reaper?  Dean, are you insane?”  Sam was yelling, his voice full of incredulity.  

Dean gave no answer, just stared at his brother expectantly.  

“No, Dean, this is crazy. We aren’t doing this!”   

Dean stepped quickly over to his brother, gathering the front of his shirt in his fists as he pushed Sam against the wall behind him violently.  

“Insane?” Dean’s voice was shaky and manic. “This is what we do, Sam!”   

“No,” Sam responded calmly. “It’s what we’ve always done, and it never ends well.”  He kept an even keel, ignoring the rage and sadness that were circling within him. He understood his brother’s actions but didn’t want to encourage them if he could help it.  

“It ends with our family together, Sam. That’s all that matters here!”  Dean’s fingers relaxed as he released his grip on Sam’s shirt and took a step back.  

Sam’s face dropped. “Y/N wouldn’t want this, and you know it.” 

“Well, she’s not here, is she?”  Dean’s yelling attracted the attention of the nurse that had been sitting at the computer at her station. She looked up at them with judgmental eyes. “Sir!” Her voice rang out with authority.  

“Sorry,” Dean answered, calming his voice down slightly but not breaking his eye contact with Sam.  

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. “I’ll do it alone,” Dean stated softly. He grabbed the bag that he had set down on the chairs and stormed down the hall. Ducking into the first bathroom that he could find, he closed the door behind him, quickly throwing the lock.  

It didn’t take him long to get everything set up. Trap symbol painted, crucifix in the bottom of the mortar, ore, hemlock, what else?  What am I missing?  Dean went through the recipe in his head making sure he had everything just right. Finally, he dragged the blade of his pocketknife across his left palm, letting his blood begin to drip into the concoction as he threw a lit match down into it.  

“O theris tes, caleo se cai deo.”  He chanted the incantation and held his breath, praying that he’d done everything correctly.  

“Really, Winchester?  You’re summoning us into a washroom now?”  The reaper who Dean recognized as Jessica was indignant. “What is it this time?”  She threw her hands up in the air, disgusted, and attempted to walk away from him. Her foot faltered, hitting the edge of the symbol he had painted on the floor.  

“You have got to be kidding me!” Her irritation was tangible.  

“Not quite,” Dean answered with just a hint of casual jest. “I need your help.” 

“You usually do.”  Jessica was full of indignation. “What is it this time?  Running from some big bad?  Need to take a stroll through the land of the dead?  What could it possibly be now?”  Her anger was blazing, and though he would never admit it, Dean found himself intimidated by the reaper.  

“Y/N,” Dean said by way of explanation. But the reaper gave no response, simply shrugged her shoulder and lifted her palms to the ceiling.  

“What about her?”   

“I need you to bring her back. Work a miracle, pull her back from hell, I don’t care.”  He swallowed, his throat closing with pent up emotion. “Whatever it takes to bring her back. Just do it.” 

“There’s always a price, Dean.”  Her amusement was clear, both in her speech and body language, as she was now standing with one foot to the side, propping her right hip higher than the other as she stroked her chin.  

“Name it. I’ll pay it.”  His caramel-apple eyes began to tear as he struggled to hold them back. 

“Oh Dean, Dean, Dean. Always so willing to die for those you love.”  Jessica smiled, a devilishly delighted grin.  

“We have a deal or not?”  His gravelly voice enunciated his seriousness.  

“I haven’t even told you what I would require,” she droned. “Have some patience,” she spat at him in staccato as her grim smile quickly fell into a severe and intense glare.  

“I told you to name it, I don’t care. Just tell me what you want!”  

She hesitated, lightly pacing across the two or three feet that she had been granted. Suddenly, she stopped in the center of the mark, her head snapping up to Dean and that same devilish grin slowly drawing itself across her face.  

“What?”  Dean’s demand was loud, hoping to show her the urgency of the matter.  

“Nothing,” she said, succinctly and sweetly, her arms crossed in front of her.  

“Nothing?  You’re saying you want nothing in return?  What’s the catch?”  

“Call it a get out of jail free card, Dean.” 

He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t get it, why would you do it for nothing?” 

“Because you, Dean Winchester, will be in my debt. And I will hold that debt until it is paid in full. You can count on it. But for now,” She held her hands up, opening up her fingers as if demonstrating their emptiness. “For now, I want nothing. But you will come when I call,” she looked down at the trap before making eye contact with him again. “And I will call.”   

Dean paused, considering the offer and turning it over in his mind. “Done.”   

There was a knock at the door, startling Dean momentarily. “In a minute,” he yelled, waving the would-be-intruder off.  

“We have a deal, then?”  

Dean nodded in response, leaning down and scraping away the edge of the painted symbol. By the time he stood back up, Jessica was gone. He could only hope she would make good on it.  

I walked down the beach, enjoying the feel of the warm sand between my toes and the water lapping at my feet. But internally, my mind raced. Getting my parents back was life changing. Or I guess, afterlife changing. I hadn’t seen then in decades, and yet being with them felt so natural. As if no time had passed at all. Each time my mother called me Hummingbird, the nickname I’d had since I was just kicking her bladder around in-utero, my heart soared. Each grunt or chuckle from my father sent delight through me. And yet, I felt as though I was in an impossible situation.  

The Winchester’s were there. Undoubtedly working through the job, or on their way to another. Could I leave them?  Could I really be truly happy knowing that I may never see them again?  May never see Dean again? The thought brought a sob from my mouth as I moved my hand up, running my fingers over my mouth.  

A seagull flew past me, cawing as it went, drawing my attention back behind me. I had walked farther than I had realized.  I could just make out my parents as they sat in their chairs, their silhouettes small and distant. Taking a moment, I faced the ocean again, feeling the slow drag as my feet sank into the sand more with each caress of the water. I could remember my mother taking me to beaches as a child. We would both sink, giggling at the loud smacking sounds that were created when we pulled our feet out.  

Smiling to myself, I looked back over towards my family and began walking again. But out of seemingly nowhere, my path was impeded by a person. A woman with long red hair and defined cheekbones stared at me, her face unreadable, wearing a long black trench coat.  

“Let’s go,” she said, matter-of-factly as she pulled her black gloves off her hands, one finger at a time.  

“What?”  I shook my head, confused.  

Her deep sigh did nothing to endear her to you, let alone to explain who she was. “You’re not the easiest soul to find up here, ya know. It took no shortage of effort on my part. Effort I should not be extending to begin with.”  Both of her gloves were off now, as she looked me in the eyes, unblinking but the corners of her mouth seemed to draw up, as though she wanted to smile but thought better of it.  

“Who are you?”  

“I’m Jessica.”   

I waited for an explanation that clearly was not coming voluntarily. “Jessica who?” 

“Y/N, we really don’t have time for this.”  She sighed through her sentence, obviously irritated.  

“Maybe you don’t, but I have all the time in the world apparently.”  My aversion to authority had kicked in and being pushed around by a stuck-up stranger did not bode well for it ending anytime soon.  

“Jessica. Reaper. Here to whisk you back to the land of the living as instructed.”  She rolled her eyes, clearly resentful.  

“Instructed by whom?”  She looked at me blankly, as if to tell me that my question as asinine.  

“He didn’t.”  My eyes were wide and felt as though they might burst out of my sockets.  

“Like I said,” she began. “We don’t have much time. It’s now or never, kid.”  

My eyes drifted over to my parents, my heart feeling as though it would break, as I felt Jessica’s cold hard fingertip press against my forehead and my vision went black. 

To be continued….

Part Six

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624​@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @carissime72​ @deans-baby-momma​ @formulafun​ @woodworthti666​ @yetanotherreader​ @crashlyrose​ @hobby27​ @gabby913​ @jxackles​ @polina-93​@supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanwanddamons​ @tazzi-baby​ @acertainhero​  @lilulo-12

(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 11)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Read on AO3!   Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! Part two of the finale! More to go after this though as you can tell, stay with me <3 Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________

Tobirama was nothing if not dutiful. The time for your last dose had come faster than he wanted to. And he’d be there to administer it. He made sure to look more presentable before he entered your rooming using the hiraishin seal. What for, he didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter, did it? Failure was certain, anyway. Perhaps it was for decency. Or maybe he needed the moment to recover. He was too numb. Spent from the breakdown. The short minute he spent at your shared home - that already screamed mute guilt at him - to wash off his smeared facial paint and reapply it before teleporting to your room.

You were in your bed, perfectly still. At peace. Of course. You couldn’t take any withdrawal anymore, at all - your body was too exhausted. To think this was how you’d pass - a shadow of your former self, at the limit of what you could take, physically, in every sense. You had fought a gruesome, cruel battle, gave it your everything, and now? Now, it was all for nothing. The sorrow flared again in a most painful way.

You won’t even hear his words.

He wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

Dazedly he strode closer to your bed, silently wondering where Hashirama was. He’d surely be here in a moment, he barely left your side. Your condition wouldn’t allow it - although with the seals covering your pale skin, you were stable, at least stable enough to allow him to tend to other duties, briefly. So long as the withdrawal didn’t kick in. He seized the moment while it presented itself like this.

He wouldn’t get another.

His eyes prickled again as he shuffled closer to your side. Briefly, he sat down on the side of your bed like he always had done when nobody else was around - but soon, the ache in his chest pulled him down onto his knees on the floor, by your side. The tightness inside was yet expanding and stealing his breath viciously as he wheezed past his clenched teeth for more air. Looking at you - your content face, the way your chest moved evenly albeit too fast - weak maybe but alive - it was tearing him apart. He didn’t know how to even exist with the grief that was seizing him faster than a fire ate up dry parchment.

His shaking hands reached for your cold, slender one, enclosing it in his, slowly bringing it to his face as he nearly buckled over it. Already, his chakra expanded to cover your network gently, coating it, wrapping around it in an utmost tender way. Tears welled just as the sorrow overflowed inside of him, like a barrel that was full and kept being poured in. The moment was sheer agony and yet he didn’t want it to end - to let go - because that would be the end.

Very tenderly he increased the connection to examine you, briefly - you still wouldn’t respond, but that was normal. You hadn’t woken in a couple of days during what was your lucid interval because you simply were too strained - Tobirama wondered if you could at all, really. The exhaustion was too great. Still, his examination found you were no better nor worse than the last time he performed it - your body was heavily impacted by each time the withdrawal had wreaked havoc inside, particularly your lung and heart were affected. At the same time the seals steadily streamed their support into you to keep your blood pressure up, your airways free, your attacked organs functioning. Not to mention the many wounds from the torture that had not been healing as you had been fighting for dear life. There wasn’t a part of you that wasn’t affected in some way, damaged, dysfunctional - critical, but not so that it couldn’t be helped.

It was, just like they had judged, a narrow edge they had been teetering.

And now it would tilt. The delicate balance they had managed to uphold, all they had done-

“I’m so sorry,” Tobirama finally spoke, his voice but a broken, haunted whisper. The baritone wrecked by guilt and sorrow alike, entirely unlike him and yet with an utter tenderness, reserved for you and your ears only. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Tears still flowed. “I’ve given it my all, my love. I couldn’t do it. I had it - I thought I had it - but in the last moment, it eluded me,” he continued, slowly cracking more by his sobs. “My failure will cost you everything,” he was practically wheezing now. “And I will never forgive myself for it. The void inside of me won’t ever be filled.” He paused for a moment to take a few shaking breaths, stroking over your forearm as he still cradled your hand to his face, rocking back and forth on his knees now. 

“Please, forgive me, for I’ll never be able to.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard the door being opened. He needn’t tune into his sensory skills to know it was Hashirama, only his brother carried the gargantuan aura about himself.

His steps froze the moment he realised Tobirama’s pose. “What are you doing?”

Tobirama didn’t move nor open his eyes. He didn’t want to break the connection with you. He’d savour every single second that he had left with you. With a numb voice, he explained the result of his last experiment to his brother, his final findings, their implications.

During it, Hashirama got on his knees by Tobirama’s side, an arm flung around him in comfort. ________

The clinking of metal armor echoed through the corridors of the interrogation and information headquarters. Two fully equipped shinobi made their way down the hall. One of them carried an odachi in front of his chest with both hands - sheathed. For now. They were given respectful nods and salutes where they passed members of the unit, but nobody questioned their purpose nor their destination. After a left turn they were greeted by a burly man with stern, pale eyes and two more members of the unit, all dressed in a black uniforms. Only curt greetings were exchanged before they descended the winding staircase down into the cell block. 

Their appearance gathered attention immediately. A rumble clattered through the bleak prison, growing with each cell block they passed. They needn’t go far. It was the middle cell block where they intended to go.

The prisoner’s gaze swept up as the group of five halted in front of his cell. Recognition flashed in his gaze, followed by laughter that carried an eerie sense of finality. “It happened, finally?”

Nobody answered. The burly man unlocked the door to enter with his two subordinates. The prisoner flashed a toothy grin, aimed precisely at one of the armed shinobi, namely the one carrying the odachi. “I’ve won,” he sneered, “I’ve fucking won, I’ve told you!” - his voice was a hoarse shout in the end, strained by the pain of a broken jaw. The three interrogators made quick work of the chains that held him tightly wrapped in the middle of the cell to ready him for transportation, arms still secured and legs only allowed a minimum of movement to walk.

The two armored shinobi watched them entirely impassively, showing not even a shred of emotion. 

The prisoner’s manic laughter echoed off the prison’s wall forlornly, hauntingly. An utterly broken sound of defiance only a certain kind person would have.

A shrill scream broke through the dismal setting. “You fucking idiot! I hope you rot in hell!” - the woman of the far end. Nobody paid attention to her.

The group made their way down the corridor that was only illuminated by a few candles along the way, passing the stairway they had taken down. The prisoner kept chattering. His voice carried a slight tremble now, “How did she die? Tell me, come on. I’ve never actually seen it, but I learned it’s fucking gruesome in the end,” his eyes were alight with sick pleasure.

The shinobi dressed in blue battle armor adorned with a white fur collar gripped the odachi so hard his knuckles turned white. His back was turned towards the prisoner, he couldn’t see the way his face scrunched under his happuri.

Nobody answered him.

He kept jabbering along incessantly. At some point the tone had taken on a perfectly fine frantic edge. Blubbering, almost, to himself. Eventually, they reached a door the burly man unlocked. The room beyond was dark but lit up as soon as they entered. No windows were inside, just like in the prison block, but no seals adorned these walls. This room was entirely bleak save for dark, crimson stains on the stone floor in the middle of the room.

The subordinates dragged the prisoner into that very center. With an ungraceful kick to the back of his knees, he was brought to kneel. The two shinobi stood in front of him and the man in the red armor crossed his arms. His expression was sorrowful, moved. But the taut line of his jaw and the coldness of his gaze betrayed no lightness about this situation.

“Zenji of the Stone Village,” he began somberly as the three interrogation unit members lined up behind their prisoner who now was wheezing on a low tune, his stare fixated on the harbinger of his fate. “The actions of your unit have endangered our borders, the civilians who live there and ultimately,” he paused meaningfully to take a deep breath - the stone cold tone cracked a little, pained lines wrinkled his smooth face. “Cost the life of one of our own.”

Immediately, Zenji’s mien lit up. He grinned widely, but he did not give the red-armored man another glance. Instead, his gaze was trained on the figure in blue, whose scarlet eyes were murderous as he stared him down, face framed by his happuri and finely applied facial paint. He looked spotless. Zenji cackled again.

“I do not wish for there to be more bloodshed,” the shinobi continued, entirely unperturbed by the behavior of the prisoner. “However our village can and will not condone these actions with idleness nor continue to nurture an enemy we cannot possibly ever release. Your kage,” Zenji’s head snapped back to the red-armored man momentarily. “Made clear he is not interested in an exchange of prisoners.”

The room became completely silent.

“I bear no revenge nor joy, but as the Hokage of Konoha, I’m here to tell you that you have been sentenced to death.”

The blue armored man stepped closer now, odachi still tightly clasped, but the man in the red armor raised his hand slightly, prompting him to stop and give him an irritated stare.

Zenji’s ragged breaths came wheezing so loudly they echoed off the walls as his wide eyes stared at the man, motionless besides the fight for oxygen.

Hashirama regarded the prisoner with the same cold gaze he had been wearing all the time. “Do you wish to speak one last time?”

That was his clue. Zenji threw his head back to release a long groan, each breath transforming more and more into a chuckle. A disconcerting lull settled over the room as it died down with a sense of finality and his eyes locked with Tobirama’s. “Oh, I fucking do,” he began, grinning widely. “To him. It’s my last wish.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth, giving no verbal answer. Hashirama did instead. “Very well.”

Zenji cocked his head. “Tell me, how did you fail? What part of the leash didn’t you copy? I want to know.”

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly and his jaw worked visibly. “Anjia…,” he began slowly, his deep voice so low it was barely more than a strained growl.

“Answer him, Tobirama. A dying man’s wish should not be denied.” Hashirama’s tone left no room for discussion.

Tobirama’s eyes opened again to give Zenji a glance of sheer hatred, his nostrils flared, scarlet glare ablaze. He did not even attempt to hide the fury in his voice as he spoke. If he spat the words out any more in fact, they’d be lost in the rage. “I created a leash of my own and tethered Kimi to it. However…,” he worked hard to find the next words, Zenji’s grin widened already, likely in anticipation for the best part of the story, “... it would appear my sealing technique differs from yours, if just slightly.”

The prisoner burst into laughter, Tobirama flinched. The sheathed odachi trembled slightly from the force he held it with. “I fucking knew it! Ah,” he replied when he had gained a grip on himself again. “The seal. The master’s finishing touch. Unique, really.” Zenji wriggled his eyebrow in a manner that prompted Tobirama to bare his teeth slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to copy mine. Ha!”

Hashirama cleared his throat. 

But Zenji was not yet finished. “I’m not a liar though, y’know? I keep my promises,” the grin now was sickening. Gloating. Zenji cherished this moment as though he was an actor on a grand stage. Living it to its fullest. “And I promised to tell you everything once Y/n croaked, so here we are.”

Tobirama exhaled a wheezing breath as he stepped closer abruptly, Hashirama’s hand shooting up instantly to lay on his shoulder guard. “Brother, please,” he whispered, turning towards him slightly. Then the cold stare was back on Zenji. “You need not besmirch your Village’s secrets now.”

“Ah, ah,” Zenji sneered, “Why the fuck should I care? I’m as good as dead anyway, and I want to teach Konoha’s best scientist how he could have saved his oh so beloved.” His voice dripped with caustic smugness and Hashirama had to grip Tobirama’s forearm lest his brother shot forward and delivered the sentence just for these words alone.

Tobirama’s expression was one of sheer murder. His teeth were bared and the scarlet gaze alone was ready to kill a man - just like the rest of himself, particularly the large weapon he carried; the same weapon he had used many times before.

Zenji continued to live his show. “Now I needn’t explain the weaving process since you kinda copied it - well fucking done, man - but my seal - ah, let’s see. My seal is relatively simple!” Hashirama’s grip on his brother tightened as he near vibrated with lethal energy still, spurring Zenji to even greater extravagance. “Of course, it was passed down to me by the one who taught me, but I made some modifications,” he drawled lazily, an adventurous glint to his gaze. 

What followed was a detailed explanation about the intricacy and yet simplicity of his own sealing process Tobirama couldn’t stomach anymore - he turned away lest he drove the odachi through the prisoner’s neck on the spot, perhaps. It was impossible to tell in the dim light - the shadow looming over his face hid his expression well and with the happuri, his profile was somewhat obscured. Only the taut stance, the clenched grasp on his weapon were telltale signs of the high-strung situation - a tight coil, ready to lash out any second. 

Zenji didn’t hold back on information about how exactly he performed the seal that made the disruption stick within the leash - everyone else listened quietly. Hashirama’s mien had turned stony throughout it and the three members of the interrogation unit simply watched the man with practiced nonchalance. 

“And that,” Zenjia finished his grand, final play, “is what could’ve saved Y/n. Too fucking bad.” The grin he wore was nothing short of sick. “Maybe I can tell her too, when I’m dead, hm?”, he tilted his head.

Suffocating silence befell the room.

Hashirama cleared his throat. It was time for the execution of judgement, literally. He turned his head towards Tobirama, whose back was turned towards the prisoner at this point. “Very well,” he concluded with a loaded kind of finality.

A few moments of heavy silence later, Tobirama turned around.

His head was tilted downwards slightly, shadows cast over his face.

Then he looked up.

Smirking broadly.

He lowered the odachi that he had clasped so tightly throughout all of the conversation - more like, Zenji’s soliloquy, and stepped yet again closer to the prisoner.

The smirk became smug, and smugness became condescending as skin around his mouth wrinkled in an utterly arrogant way. There was a satisfied, bright glint in his scarlet gaze. “You are without a doubt the dumbest shinobi I’ve ever encountered,” finally, he bared his teeth in a wide grin. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” His baritone voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zenji’s expression fell apart. His jaw hung open slightly and his gaze was wide as he tried to process the change of demeanour in who he deemed by now his arch nemesis. “What the fuck?”, he spat out finally when Tobirama didn’t speak again.

He simply clicked his tongue sympathetically and arched both eyebrows. “Y/n is not dead. In fact, thanks to you, she will live.” Both relief and caustic smugness were tangible in the way he worded this, no doubt basking in the moment of figuratively crushing Zenji under his heel. Who still didn’t find the words to answer yet, but Tobirama was more than happy to supply him with more fodder. “Certainly, time was running quite short - almost, imagine, almost - you could’ve won.”

Zenji’s jaw trembled beside the pain that must cause him alongside the rest of him. The man still hadn’t found his words again.

Tobirama wasn’t done with the verbal execution, however. “I truly did not know how to copy your seal after creating my own.” A slow nod, his baritone voice now came rolling smoothly, “And then it occurred to me - why not use your petty thirst for revenge for Y/n? All it’d take was make you believe she died. And here we are,” a smile  spread over his lips again. “You delivered perfectly.” Then, he had the audacity to give Zenji a single pat on the head as though he was praising a dog.

The prisoner recoiled from the touch as though it was scalding hot. “Fuck you!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, nearly tipping over from his kneeling position, had it not been for Ikuro’s hand shooting out to secure him by the shoulder. “Rot in fucking hell, Senju!” he howled, but it was no more than a little bandaid for the hurt pride.

Tobirama already turned around to Hashirama, any trace of smugness or gloating gone from his expression. “I’ll get to work. Thank you, anija,” he dipped his head slightly. Zenji was still shouting profanities at him, but it was no more than a background noise.

Hashirama smiled broadly, much more like himself. “Of course.”

Tobirama turned back to Ikuro and his subordinates. Now, he actually took a slight bow. “And thank you, too. There still is little more to be done, but I’m very grateful for your support.” 

Ikuro had already wrestled an unruly Zenji off of the floor, but the burly man wore a wide grin. “I - no, we will be expecting you. Right, Zenji? Come on, let’s get you back to your compatriots. They’ll be glad to see you again,” he finished with a dangerous chuckle.

The sounds already drowned out as Tobirama initiated the hiraishin seal teleport to the laboratory.

You only had a few hours left.

_______

You were suspended in sweet nothingness.

You had been for a while really, perturbed only by occasional nightmares. They were dim and far away, visions of what had been. Maybe. You weren’t sure anymore. 

It hadn’t been like this before. Before, your world had been on fire. You had been on fire. Being burned from the inside out and yet too powerless to scream out your agony at the world. Something - someone - had chained you up in the nothingness with no company except your torment that you suffered through, over and over again. Until it faded, and the nightmares came. You laughed about those now. Then, all was calm. For a while.

Your reason for going through all this was becoming but an abstract concept.

Until you weren’t even sure anymore what might be happening. Dimly, you remembered your strength leaving you - waking up was getting harder, eventually it was tantamount to the one armed climbing exercises you used to steel yourself with. You actually had been able to pull off something like that?

Tobirama had been by your side every waking second. His face; you’d never forget the expression. Never before had you seen him haunted by distress of this kind while his chakra warmly embraced you, while he comforted you - telling you he was working hard. You had wanted to comfort him in turn, then. He needed it more than you - he hadn’t looked fine. Drawn, worn out.

Unwell. Sick, almost.

Things must be looking very bad, you knew then. It reminded you why you went through all this. But you all were losing the fight, it seemed?

No matter how much you fought, how badly you wanted to - during the phases in which you weren’t suffering from being burned alive nor haunted by nightmares, you couldn’t wake anymore. You wanted to. So badly. But your eyes wouldn’t open and ultimately, the darkness was your lonely repose in which you anxiously waited for the next time the fire began to light up again.

But that had been fading. The fire’s burn was becoming shorter. And your consciousness was slipping more. Sometimes, you thought you felt Tobirama’s presence, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Eventually it was just you and forlorn nothingness with the occasional nightmare. 

Had you died?

It changed. The fire returned once more - and this time, this time it felt as though you were burning away. Not like before - when it burned you out until someone snuffed out the flames - now, it consumed your very being. It became so great at some point, pain was all you were - nothing besides the scorch of the fire that ate you alive.

You realised then, this must be it - every moment more of you faded and the pain kept on roaring through every single cell of your body. But you - you were becoming duller and duller. You didn’t want to. Not yet - this wasn’t how you were going to go down, was it? Yet the promise of eternal rest after this, all of this pain - it was alluring. After all you’ve been through, was there really a point in returning?

Tobirama would choke you personally if he ever caught on to these thoughts.

But he’s not here, is he? 

You were all alone.

Ready to go. You had fought, you had tried, you had walked the road to hell many times over but eventually even your stamina would forego you.

Except they didn’t let you go. Something - no, someone was holding you back. Any time you were dipping into the part of darkness you just knew there was no returning from, there was a pull. It was forceful, unpleasant - a jolt that might have spurred your heart to keep on beating, your lungs to draw air and each organ of your body to keep on functioning. 

You wanted to reject it.

I don’t want to, anymore. I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too much. Please.

They didn’t let you.

You wanted to cry.

You were suspended in nothingness by titan chains that forcefully kept you right on your very own pyre while pain was becoming you.

_______

He didn’t want to take any chances. But he didn’t have time, either. Tobirama had no choice but to follow the information Zenji had given as dutifully as possible and hope this was it - that the bottle of leash he had crafted was identical to what Zenji would have produced. Really, it was an all out move. His back was against the proverbial wall while yours lowered more and more into a coffin.

You were going into withdrawal again, and he knew what that meant.

Never before had he woven the leash this fast - frankly working with a larger quantity of base substance seemed to make the whole process easier, and yet at the same time more demanding. Not that he felt any of it, he was focusing entirely on getting this done as fast as possible. Once he was satisfied with the result - enough to give it to you that was, which was about the highest standard he could think of - he teleported straight into your room.

Where his brother was bent over your sweating, and shaking body as his palms glowed lightly.

The rattle of your breath - Tobirama knew it well. He had heard it many times before.

A dying person’s breath.

“I’ve got it,” Tobirama whispered as his heart spasmed alongside your flat rasps for air. Blood rushed in his ears and ice-cold through his veins. He struggled to keep the floor under his feet as he staggered closer swiftly. He wouldn’t lose you now. Not after all this, not with the solution to your demise in his hands.

Hashirama didn’t even answer him; his expression was wrinkled by deep concentration and a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Numbly, Tobirama plucked the vial with Zenji’s - his - leash from his pocket and effortlessly opened your mouth. Your skin was icy to the touch and so pale, were it not for your faint chakra signature, he’d have thought you dead already.

The image branded itself into his mind, scarring him forever.

He poured the leash in and tilted your head back so it’d run down your pharynx, giving your scalp a trembling stroke with his hand.

With prickling eyes, he moved to bend over you, place his palms on you as well to assist his brother in healing - no, in keeping you alive. As soon as he established the connection needed for examining and healing, the reality of your condition rolled over him like a boulder. Your body’s reaction to the withdrawal was as violent as ever, just like the substance that was causing it. A proverbial bushfire that had spread throughout all of you. Hashirama wasn’t just stabilizing you alongside the seals - he was taking aggressive action to keep you alive. There wasn’t a part of you he wasn’t actively pouring his own chakra in to keep on working. Were it not for him, you’d be long gone already - in his brother’s chakra’s embrace you’d stay alive, barely, so long as he forced your body to keep on going, and going. Tobirama was positive you were well beyond what you could take any more in terms of another person’s chakra. 

The alternative was you dying. 

It was another problem they’d deal with later. Swiftly, he began to assist his brother to split up the efforts evenly and try to keep you alive to the best of his abilities.

The next moments felt like an eternity.

Work. Work already. It was all Tobirama could think of while his chakra bolstered your failing heart to keep it on pumping, wound through your lungs into the tiniest alveoles to clear them of fluid and repair tissue damage so that you might breathe.

Just work.

Agonizingly slowly, the drug was taking effect. Already, your chakra began to clog, freeze - the muting component hit your network exactly like the leash would.

Tobirama thought time and his heart both froze in the next few moments that surely decided your fate.

The withdrawal’s flame died down and fizzled out as though water had been poured over it.

Time was starting again.

He started to breathe once more. Before he realised it, he sank to his knees at the side of your bed. He couldn’t focus any more, he barely felt the wheezes that escaped him as a few heavy sobs wrecked his torso.

He had done it. Finally.

The oppressing feeling of time running out - the rock that had been crushing him was lifted.

But the elevation did not last long.

Reality - the parts that weren’t circling around the fact you were at least not going to die due to a lack of the leash - very quickly yanked him back to the situation at hand. Already, he dragged himself up again to aid Hashirama once more, who had not once broken focus. They had stopped the destructive withdrawal, true enough; but the damages it had wrought were not gone of course. Swiftly he gathered himself to concentrate back on aiding his brother in keeping you alive, really, a task no less dire than before. Rather, it was time to tip the scales into the opposite direction now.

He couldn’t say how long the two of them sat in silence, simply forcing you to keep going by continuously pouring their chakra into you.

He wouldn’t lose you - not now, not after everything you both had gone through.

He wouldn’t let you go.

Bit by bit, your body started to function more and more on its own - requiring less of the forceful aid both brothers were providing. That wasn’t to say you were becoming stable at all - tentatively, Hashirama would nudge Tobirama to withdraw some, only to watch you relapse quickly.

As it was, your condition remained critical.

Some time later, his brother allowed himself a momentary almost-break. Hashirama hummed deeply. “She’s well into chakra overload now,” he announced somberly, gazing at your face. “However we can’t stop yet.”

Tobirama’s attention was still mostly turned inwards and towards you as he did the brunt of the work so his brother could catch a breath. There wasn’t a part of you his chakra wasn’t aiding in some way; all he managed was a brief grunt of agreement.

Effectively, chakra overload wasn’t much different than a late allergic reaction of the body to the procedures a medic nin had performed. The extend of what a patient could take and experienced varied from how well-versed the healer was - and Tobirama knew his brother’s skills to be capable of healing fatal wounds without sending the person into overload - but your system barely had been able to catch a break from the agonizingly long time of capture, torture and what effectively just served to keep you alive for more torture. And then of course, all that had followed back home, in Konoha.

But what they had been doing to you for who knew how long?

That was as good as keeping defying death itself.

Hashirama sighed deeply. “I suppose we have no other choice anyway. The next few hours will be decisive.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine, disrupting his strained focus momentarily. 

Of course. They couldn’t keep on going like this forever - and neither would you endlessly, readily respond to what they did.

Either you’d start pulling your own weight again, or…

Tobirama swallowed heavily.

Silently, Hashirama’s efforts picked up again alongside his own to stabilise you.

_________

Tobirama had thought weaving the leash was about one of the most straining things he had done. But like so often these last few days, he had been wrong - cradling your very life with his proverbial hands was wrecking him a lot more for numerous reasons - the least of which was the exhaustion setting in.

Because if one thing was keeping him going, it was his determination - he wouldn’t, he couldn’t lose you, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, they had begun to lessen the intensity of the aid they provided and watched whether you relapsed into a more severe state or not. If you did, they settled back to the previous level - and waited again. A tedious procedure, but there was no other way.

Eventually, the time you managed without any aid from him or Hashirama had increased substantially - naturally, the seals on your body still were working strongly, though.

Both were now standing next to your bed, an eerie silence had filled the room, save for your flat, strained breaths.

Hashirama spoke first. “I don’t want to say this is over, yet,” he announced somberly. His mien was drawn, tired. His brother had his limits - keeping someone alive for hours pushed even him. Something told Tobirama he still could have kept on going, though. “Though we will watch now. Her overload is very severe. If she makes the next hours well enough…” He trailed off, giving Tobirama what best could be described as a sad glance.

Tobirama didn’t know what he felt anymore. In these last hours he felt just about any kind of extreme emotion - utter heartbreak, loss, sorrow, murderous fury, followed by exhilaration, followed by despair, topped off with numbing focus.

Truth be told, he could sleep while standing at this point. And yet at the same time, he was restless. He knew - he knew, just a bit longer. Just a bit. 

He swallowed heavily. “Alright.” His gaze was locked on your gaunt features still. “We should keep her sedated,” not that he believed for a second you’d be anywhere near waking anytime soon. “There will be no more withdrawal challenges. We’ll keep her chakra locked and use the seals to stabilise her until the overload fades.” Perhaps he was just convincing himself this would work, too.

Hashirama hummed in agreement. “Frankly her weak state may be advantageous. She’s too weak to have much of a too severe reaction now, I believe.”

Tobirama’s gaze flickered momentarily to his brother, then back to you. He hadn’t considered that angle. Then, he sighed deeply. “The irony,” he muttered finally.

A low chuckle was the answer, which irritated Tobirama slightly. However his brother’s gaze bore an honest kind of appreciation he always had a hard time spitting sarcasm at. “Either way, I’m hopeful she’ll make it. You’ve done it. The plan was… daring, but.” He shrugged.

He could only give a curt snort in reply. “I regret not having used my enemy’s pettiness and thirst for revenge for Y/n’s advantage sooner.” The solution had been so obvious when it revealed itself to him in what had been the darkest hour of all this fight. When he had crumbled by your bedside with his brother by his side. He frowned then. “Although it made the show most… credible.”

Hashirama’s mouth formed a thin line again as he nodded. His brother might not have fallen apart like Tobirama did, but his reaction had been just as intense. And just like Tobirama, he had been ready to protect you with any means available. Using his position for a mock execution was nothing difficult. “Now to find a cure.”

Tobirama sighed again and crossed his arms. Luckily, time wouldn’t be pressing him this time. Although he had not spent a single second on the matter, either. “I first will create the leash in such a way Y/n doesn’t need to suffer the psychotropic effects of the base substance anymore.” His baritone voice was firm. With the weight off of his chest, the protectiveness was filling him again. You were not going to suffer any more than you had. And he knew precisely how to make that happen. “It’ll just be medication she has to take regularly.”

Again, his brother hummed affirmatively. “Very well. Even so…,” he frowned then, growing quite stern. “You are going to sleep now. For about a day or three.”

Anger flashed through Tobirama faster than he had truly comprehended the words. “Anija, I will not-”

“Yes. You will.” Hashirama crossed his arms. “You’ve been awake for, what? Forty-eight hours? More? Don’t make me throw you out.”

Tobirama’s voice had risen in volume before he realised it might disturb you, but the ire stewing inside made it near impossible to keep it down. “I most certainly will not before I made the drug more bearable for-”

Something flashed in Hashirama’s eyes. One didn’t need Tobirama’s sensor skills to feel the surge in chakra that his brother emitted - but for him, it was like staring into the sun. Sometimes, it was too much. Like right now.

He yielded with no more than a curt “Alright,” before teleporting to your shared home.

Now, it didn’t feel so forlorn anymore.