#so......yeah

   I have every right to stay in my corner. I don’t want to interact with the community at large anymore.

   I want to be happy and active here, in a place that’s ALWAYS been meant for me to take off the burdens of my reality and have a place where I am comfortable and safe. Interacting with the community has NOT done that for me. Never really has, but I’m finally putting my foot down.

Director Sanvers Rated T Set in [Three] AO3 Pt 3/?

Whats this?  An update?  Crazy, right? Super short, though.

Thanks to @crimsoncat21 for reading through it for me, while apparently already asleep.

Alex leans against Kara, absently watching her sister edit an article, papers on a clipboard, highlighters and pens spread on the corner table.

The fourth day is slowly ending.

Alex is tired.  So tired.

Tired of waiting.  Tired of the stares.  Tired of not knowing.

Tired of the doctors ignoring her, and tired of learning about her girlfriends conditions second-hand.

But, she can’t sleep anymore.

She just lazily blinks as she stares at Kara’s article.

She just lazily blinks when Kara answers a text, and shows her the picture of Mandy Vasquez sent.

She just lazily blinks as Kara urges her to stand, and leads her to the hospital’s cafeteria.

The sandwich Kara pushes at her is dry on one side and over laden with mayo on the other.  Alex takes a single bite, right in the middle, then just picks at the bread.

“You need to eat,” Kara says.

Alex shrugs.  She knows she needs to, knows it will help with the way her stomach keeps flipping over itself, but the thought of actually eating makes her stomach flip even more.

“Alex, please.”

She looks up, the desperation in Kara’s voice just managing to cut through the haze.  Kara lightly pushes the sandwich closer to Alex.

“Eat.”

Alex’s stomach flips, but she forces herself to take another bite, then another as Kara watches.  She doesn’t notice M’gann has walked up until Kara reaches across the table to get her attention and gestures.

M’gann gives her a small smile.  “Maggie's awake.  She’s asking for you.”

For a split second, the world freezes again, then Alex is on her feet, following M’gann back to the waiting room.  She ignores the glares coming from within the room, coming from Maggie’s parents, and just follows the doctor waiting for her.

There is no hesitation at the door, no stopping to steel herself.  Alex walks into the room and, for the first time in days, smiles.

Barely, but even the slight movement registers.

Maggie watches as Alex makes her way to the seat next to the bed.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs.  She rests her hand on the bed, two fingers laying over Maggie’s wrist.  She glances down at the tubes snaking out from under the blanket at Maggie’s side, at the cast on her opposite arm, then looks back up.  “Hey,” she repeats.

The corner of Maggie’s mouth twitches, then her brow furrows.  “Luce?”

Alex’s throat clenches.  Maggie’s voice is too weak, too rough.

“She’s fighting.”  She nods to ground herself, pulling in a deep breath.  “She’s fighting, and you know how hard she fights.”

Maggie blinks.  Tears start to well in her eyes.

Alex reaches up and brushes some of Maggie’s hair back before cupping the side of her face.  She wipes away a few tears as they fall, being careful to not disturb the oxygen tube.

By: @fantasymusicwarrior

*the mostly cheerful voice of a radio announcer hovers over a live broadcast of a professional symphony orchestra*

(Announcer is preferably John Cleese. If not available, try to find that guy from the IT crowd. If unavailable, just find some other sod to read goodness we've tried everything please God help us)

“The Symphony Orchestra of Starling (SOS) sits. They are reading through this piece by esteemed composer Yahoo Diemen Youin for the second time, after sight reading it cold last week. Clyde Porterson is thinking that he has this chair, his solo, and his stand partner’s solos in the bag. He is better than everyone in the Orchestra, and he knows it. He is, in a word, the master. The Concertmaster, to be exact. We move from here to Nadina Graberkirch, the Assistant Concertmaster, right next to the Porterson. She is hoping that one day soon the Concertmaster will be somehow tragically incapacitated so she can finally have control over an entire section, rather than being seen as inferior to this person. They are a better player than everyone else in the Orchestra, including the Concertmaster, and they will fight you on this. Meei Doorie, principal second, is hoping she won't drop her violin. It's not that she can't really play her solo, but rather that she can't play her solo. And then, right here, we have the Assistant Principal second. Gœshahye Fidze is wondering why her section can't play in tune. Or in time. She is also wondering why she's in this section. She can play the second violin solo perfectly. She has been rather preoccupied with the fact that she is the best player in her section for about 15 years (Which, incidentally, is the same amount of time that she's been a part of the SOS). And the next instrument group over is…….the cello! Right. Wonderful. I love the unique range of the cello. The only instrument with those strings, isn't it? The A,D,G,C range. Ah, yes….Well, the first cellist is into this music. Last time, principal cellist Hóar Owizscht sight read and broke five hairs off of his bow. This time he knows the music cold. Not only is he determined to rush the tempo, but he is also now aiming for 20 hairs throughout the course of rehearsal. Moving on from the strings, we have--”

*An indistinct and unintelligible voice interrupts the announcer*

“What? Missed one? What on earth do you mean, missed one?”

*more adamant yet unintelligible mumbling ensues*

“Oh. Well, they're not so important. Now onto the winds, we have --”

*very loud, angry, and indignant unintelligible noises*

“Oh you are? Since high school, you say? Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry. Yes, I'll introduce them right away. I see.” *clears throat*  “Well. It seems I have, ah… I have missed an instrument. Yes. The Violas. Well, the Violas are...well...this first violist here! Voilas Strömmd! Look how he…holds….his Viola! Yes. Indeed. He is thinking about how much he wishes his Viola sounded more like a cello. Bea Kwyatt, his stand partner, is wishing that her Viola sounded more like a violin. These two Violists both know they have a subpar section, and the rest of the Violas wish the section could play the music. The oboists (consisting of Sherm Garfunkel, Khlourein Söhduim, Leonard Tallstout, and Robert Smith) currently wish the Violas would all cease coming to work. Now finally to the winds, wh--”

*hurried crashing in the studio, accompanied by unintelligible yells*