#LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS

[ohbother2]

OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death Part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 Doctor Alex Danvers and Karen Starr moved in perfect symmetry, as they worked to extract the bullets.

Kara had sensed the one that punctured Lena's lung, but another had been hidden by her spine. Her stomach rumbled, but the granola bar Nia had dropped off sat uneaten in Kara's pocket. Instead, she kept her vigil, her stomach knotted at the sight of Lena's still form. Alex had been stiff-lipped about the prognosis. Each second, minute, hour, Lena still breathed, unconscious, while the doctors sewed her body back together. Machines hummed and beeped, and Kara took to pacing a groove into the floor. Nia had tried twice to convince her to come eat with the others, but Kara couldn't leave Lena.

If she did, she'd do more dangerous stunts, testing the edge of her powers, just to not feel the intense shame, fear, and worry that throbbed through her muscles.

One of the nurses rushed out of the room. "Rh-null blood!" she shouted to one of the technicians, further down the medical wing. "We need another batch!"

"That's our last one!" the technician called back. "Ms. Lena Luthor was our only donor."

"What do you mean Rh-null blood?" Kara asked, anxiously.

"Need it to prevent hemolysis," the nurse said. "Her blood type is one of the rarest, compatible as a donor with any human blood type, but only able to receive Rh-null blood in return."

Dread curdled through Kara. "When does she need this?"

"As soon as possible," the nurse glanced back at Alex and the other doctor.

Alex leaned over Lena's bed with her tools, her body blocking the spine region from view. They'd propped Lena up on her side with a thick pillow on the other. Her skin was pallid, deep shadows under her eyes, and her body limp against the body pillow. A terrifying sight for Kara.

Kara clenched her jaw. She pushed past the nurse despite the nurse's protestations. "Alex! Does she need another transfusion?"

Alex waved a blood-stained glove at her. "Kara, don't interrupt, and yes. Nurse --"

"We're out of her blood type. Nurse said it was super rare, is that true?" Kara ached to reach out to hold Lena's limp hand, but she didn't want to disturb the delicate surgery.

Alex looked up. Even with the mask, she looked haggard. "Well shit. And yes. i wouldn't even know how to begin to find it. All the stock we had is what Lena herself donated. She's one of the few Rh-null donors in the world."

Kara grimaced. "Then what about synthetic blood? I could make some in the Fortress if I had a sample of her blood."

"Synthetic? Would her body reject it?" Dr. Karen Starr glanced at Kara, her eyebrows scrunched. She held a scalpel in her hand, its edge gleaming silver in the florescent lighting.

"Not if it's an exact match. I should be able to replicate down to the atomic level, but..." Kara nibbled on her lower lip and the urge to weep nearly overcame her. "I could only do a small amount. It takes considerable time and energy to do larger batches. Maybe enough for one or two transfusions."

She didn't want to admit that it had been years since she did any science of this magnitude, and that had been with Kryptonian blood, which differed slightly from human. The protocol for working the synthesizers was the same regardless.

One of the monitors beeped. Alex cursed again. "She's dipping again. Starr we may need a breathing tube if she continues to dive." She stripped off her gloves, tossed them in the bio-waste, and replaced them. "Kara, if you can pull that off, then we need it as soon as possible." She used the IV to pull a small vial of blood. She handed it to Kara.

"I'll be back in a jiffy." She dashed out of the room, leaving a gust of wind in her wake.

Again the sonic boom rattled the windows of National City. The blood vial she held close to her chest.

Returning to the Fortress so soon left her feeling ill.

Here Lena had saved her from Rama Khan. Here Lena and her had fought. And here, Lena encased her in a Kryptonite ice cage. The horrifying truth was Kara could have broken free, it'd been painful, but she had the strength. Instead, she'd stood there, stunned.

If Lena had decided to kill her, Kara would have let it happen. There was no doubt in her mind; she could never fight Lena.

But Lena hadn't wanted to kill her. She'd done all she could to make sure Kara recovered fast. That seeded Kara's wrecked heart with a wild hope.

Turning down a side corridor, she raced for the medical wing of the fortress, the area she had not taken Lena. Inside a massive tube took up much of the room, with several medical instruments, machinery, and a control panel covered in Kryptonian glyphs.

She keyed the command for the synthesis of blood, a program coded into the Fortress long ago, likely when Kal's father sent it on its way.

She flipped open the side panel and inserted the tube. Now Lena Luthor's blood would join her own and Kal's in the archive, along with all of Kara's and Kal's family.

A three-dimensional DNA strand appeared in the air, along with various imaging of the cells contained in the blood. She keyed an analysis against her limited database, then keyed the command for a replica of the blood.

A red alert appeared requesting more material. Kara scowled, of course. Can't synthesize a larger amount from nothing.

She recalled a vague lesson from her father. How he'd used raw ingredients from plants to show her how any ingredients worked for synthesizer as long as it held the correct set of elements.

So, okay, raw ingredients could come from anything. So why not herself?

All that mattered was that the final product exactly match Lena's blood.

"Kara Zor El?" Kelex floated up to her. "Do you need assistance?"

She glanced at the floating robot. "Yes, actually. I need you to take my blood and put it in the synthesizer. It's low on ingredients."

He flew closer to the medical control panel. "This is human blood you are synthesizing. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

Kara rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. "Yes, do it." She closed her eyes and tensed for the pain of a kryptonite needle. Kelex worked quietly. The soft slosh of blood in the tubing he'd hooked into the synthesizer rang with the hum of the machine.

She opened her eyes to see the data from her donation form on the other side of Lena's blood imaging. She watched in fascination as her blood was broken down into its smallest components and reassembled with Lena's parameters.

The entire process lasted fifteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Kara kept shifting and nearly dislodged Kelex's needle from her vein twice.

When the signal rang for completion, Kelex applied an coagulating agent to her wound and gathered up the tubing. "This will be destroyed per protocol. Do you wish to destroy the original sample?"

Kara tugged the larger container free from the synthesizer. The smaller vial still sat in its slot. "Yes. Thanks Kelex. I got to go."

The entire flight back her head swam with dizziness from the blood draw, the night sky not at all conducive toward recovery. By the time she stumbled into the surgery room with the container, it'd been nearly twenty-five minutes.

"Please tell me I'm on time," she said.

Alex stared at the metal container. Several monitors beeped alarmingly in the background. "Yeah, yeah, how do I work it? Because she needs it now."

She showed Alex the set of controls and where the tube could be inserted for the transfer. "I tried to make enough to last awhile."

Alex swiftly hooked it up to Lena's IV. "All that from a small sample?"

"Well, not exactly." Kara rubbed the back of her neck. "I used my own blood as raw ingredients so the synthesizer could reformulate it for Lena."

"Shit." Alex's hand hesitated on the clip that would start the transfusion. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Hundred percent match to the original sample. Do you have a choice?" Kara crossed her arms. "You said her blood type is rare."

"Nearest hospital with Rh-null stock has only a quarter of what we need," Dr. Starr said. She worked on the final stitches to Lena's spine surgery. "We've had no other replies on the network."

"Fine. Let's hope this works." She flicks the clip and breathes out a long sigh. "As for you," she pointed to Kara, "great work. Now shoo and go sit under the sunbed. You look pale as fuck." Alex waved her hands toward the door. "I'll let you know when she wakes."

When. Alex said when.

Hope dug its roots into Kara's heart for the first time that day. *** Light danced across her eyelids. Whispers echoed in her ears. Soft fabric lay across her skin. Pain melded with the aggravating thirst and pulsing headache.

If she was dead, then the pain would cease.

Which meant she was alive.

Her eyes slowly opened to a small room of mostly glass walls. She lay on a bed, and a sheet and blue blanket covered her body. Someone dressed in a white lab coat and black pants fiddled with the IV bags. Or rather one metal container that had a tube connected to her IV, its contents blood-red.

The red hair cropped short rang with familiarity. "Alex?" Lena rasped. Speaking hurt her throat. Her mouth way too dry.

The woman turned with a smile of relief. "Hey, the sleeping beauty finally awakes." She turned and lifted the blanket to adjust the blood pressure cuff and examine the IV needle in her elbow. "Maybe now my sister will stop bothering the hell out of me."

"Kara?" Lena struggled to comprehend what happened. "How? What is that? Why am I..." She tried to lift her finger to point at the container, but she seemed to have misplaced her strength on the stairwell.

"The signal watch." Alex lifted her head to study Lena, her eyebrows furrowed. "You're lucky. A few minutes later and I'm not sure even surgery would have saved you. You lost far too much blood. It's a good thing you donate blood a lot, as we had to do several transfusions. When our stock ran low, Kara raced to the fortress to synthesize more."

Lena struggled to parse Alex's words. "Synthesized?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm no expert on Kryptonian tech. That's Kara, Kal, and Brainy. All I know is she used her own blood as ingredients to craft a replica of yours."

"Her own blood?" Lena repeated, stunned.

But why? She'd raged at Kara, trapped her in a Kryptonite cage, deceived her for months, and yet Kara saved her? And why was Alex helping her? If Alex knew about the Kryptonite cage, she'd be more likely to shoot her or throw her in a cage to die. Not save her life.

Hot brands swept through her neck and back, and she hissed, her eyes briefly closing. The machine hummed next to her like an irritating bee. Each pump alleviated some of the dizziness, but the pain burned with a dogged persistence.

Alex reached over her to dim the lights. "Look, I get the whole being reluctant to use the watch. But for that situation? You should have used it sooner." She fiddled with a tablet. "Those bullets did some nasty damage."

She gave Lena a faint smile. "You also don't have to worry about Leviathan assassins any further. Kara took care of them."

"Took care of them?" She felt like a parrot, repeating words that made no sense to her. "But why? We -- we fought."

Alex hesitated far too long, her smile tight. "Ah, she just took care of them. They won't bother anyone going forward."

It dawned on her slowly. "She killed them? But..."

Alex understood her trailed off sentence. "I know," she said, softly. She grasped Lena's hand and squeezed gently. "It's against her code to kill, but you've always been her exception."

This was a dream. It had to be a dream.

Tears blurred her vision, and although she tried to hold them back, they burned on her cheeks. Her body throbbed in agony, her condition atrocious, and this information overwhelmed.

She had been prepared to die on the stairs. Any signal watch activation had been only for a last goodbye.

Kara should have left her there. Moved on and found someone better. Not save Lena, who out of bitterness and heartbreak hurt Kara and deceived her for months.

With a tenderness she didn't deserve, Alex wiped away the tears with a kleenex. "Take it easy, Lena. You're safe here." She gestured to a cup with a straw. "Want a few drops of water? Can't have too much but it'll at least eliminate the dry mouth."

"Alex..." the urge to confess simmered, but the words clogged her throat and came out as a strangled sob. She wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cease existing. She should have died. Why couldn't Kara let her die? She'd lost everything.

"I don't deserve this..."

"Nonsense." Alex smoothed back Lena's hair. "You deserve it more than anyone." Her smile held a hint of melancholy. "And I'm sorry I wasn't as supportive of you and Kara. No matter what happens, we're here for you, Lena. And I want to make up for my mistakes to you."

"Don't!" The word erupted in a coughing fit. "Please, don't. Alex, I hurt Kara. Don't you see? I'm not good." Her tears burned with shame. Her thoughts fixated on the Kryptonite cage, the pain of seeing Kara in it, the urge to free her, how it'd taken all her willpower to walk through that portal. How she'd collapsed into tears on the other side. She loved Kara, and yet still hurt her? What kind of monster did that?

God, she loved Kara. She loved her so much it hurt. Now she was broken on bed, trapped with the knowledge she was capable of hurting Kara. "You shouldn't have saved me."

Alex frowned. "Lena, we all make shitty mistakes. I fuck up and hurt Kara sometimes, and we talk it out and fix it. You doing it doesn't mean you deserve death."

"Shitty? Shitty doesn't cover this." She felt loopy and out of control. Her emotions bubbled and frothed, her head spun, and the pain crawled through her spine. "I killed my brother for her. And... and he showed me she was Supergirl. I didn't know what to do. So I went to all of you, and you were celebrating and playing games." The pain with each breath, each word spoken ripped through her. But she had to get it out. She had to make sure Alex knew she was not worth this care.

"Lena..."

"No! Let me finish!" She tried to push herself upright, but her arm wouldn't handle her weight. She collapsed onto her side, wheezing. "Was I just the Luthor on a leash? No more a friend than a cat with a rat? I wanted Kara to feel my pain. I deceived her, used her, and I do not deserve this care--"

"Lena," Alex interrupted, sternly. "Lena, listen to me. You are hurting yourself with this." She gently pushed her back against the mattress and readjusted the blankets. "I am a trained doctor, and one thing I know, that it doesn't matter what a person did. If they come to me needing medical assistance, I give it. Want to know the best thing you can do right now?"

Lena sucked in a breath, still trembling from the pain and exertion.

"Rest. I mean it, you've been through hell. Your heart stopped during surgery, okay?" Alex's voice shook with an emotion Lena couldn't decipher. "I had to call J'onn in to hold Kara back from doing something very stupid. We almost lost you." She breathed in sharply. "Now is not the time for confessions and blame games. As your doctor, I order you to rest."

She picked up the cup and held it out. Reluctantly, Lena took a few short sips. Her head fell back against the pillow in exhaustion. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was the Kryptonite cage.

***

She woke next to voices whispering by her bed. One she recognized as Kara and the other took her a few seconds. Nia? She hadn't interacted with the girl much. She kept her eyes shut, the pain too much to handle speech.

She wished they'd go away. Leave her to mope in pieces.

"Kara, you need rest too. Lena will be okay. She's under Alex's supervision."

"I'm not leaving her side. I can't." Kara's voice sounded uncharacteristically wild. "She died, Nia, she died for almost twenty seconds. No, I have to make sure she's okay."

"I get that, okay? It scared all of us too. We can take shifts or something. Make sure someone is always at her bedside." Nia shuffled further from her bed. "Didn't you say we were stronger together? El Mayarah?"

Kara breathed in sharply. "Using my family motto against me?"

"Hey, just using my full arsenal here. Like you taught me." Nia paused and sighed. "I didn't want to say this, but Andrea has been on me today about our articles. The only reason we even have this extension is because it's Lena in the hospital. Don't make the situation worse."

"Maybe I'll just quit."

"And never be a reporter again?"

"Lena is more important."

"Oh my god, Alex wasn't kidding. You're like a steel mountain. Not budging. Do you think Lena would want you to just throw away everything you've worked for?"

"Lena is more important than anything."

"Even your life?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Kara."

"No!" Lena winced at he pain from her outburst. Both Nia and Kara turned to her. "No, god no, I'm not more important than your life."

Pain arced down her back, and she blinked back tears, but still they crept free anyway.

"Yes you are!" Kara shot back. "I'm nothing without you, Lena! I just can't. I can't lose you again."

Lena growled deep in her throat, and gathered up every once of energy she had. If she had to walk out of here to prove her point, then fine.

Except, no matter how hard she tried, her legs refused to respond. In fact, she felt only a vague tingling, more in the thighs and not anything below.

She pushed herself upright, which sent pain shooting down her back. Her hands gripped her legs. They were definitely there, but she couldn't get them to move.

"Lena! You shouldn't be moving yet!" Kara said, frantically. "Please, rest." She moved to push her hand against Lena's shoulder.

In response, Lena pushed back, but that succeeded in collapsing into Kara's arms. "Kara," she growls, "if you don't go out there and do your job, I will verbally berate and flay you alive."

"Um, Andrea already does that," Nia said.

"She's too soft," Lena grumbled.

"That sounds a bit like you're telling on yourself," Nia said. When Lena shot her a glare, Nia took a step back. "And I'll just be getting Alex, bye!"

The door swung shut behind her.

Kara gently laid Lena back in the bed, and to her dismay, she didn't have the strength to protest. "I'm going to stay here until you're better."

Lena wanted to yell at Kara. To get her to stop whatever this was. But the pain crackled through Lena's body, and she couldn't think coherently. Instead, to her horror, she wept, her only intelligible words, "I can't, I can't, I just can't."

Kara tenderly held her through it, her hand smoothing back her hair. She didn't say anything, just stayed there, until Lena, exhausted, tumbled back into blessed unconsciousness.

***

Time held no meaning. Depending on the culture, it either flowed like a river in one direction, or it flowed in a circle. Even cosmology couldn't decide if the universe was cyclic -- a big bang, expansive era, then the big crunch -- or ever expanded in all directions endlessly.

Lena felt trapped at the center of some sort of timeless hell. The pain left her short-tempered, and the fact Kara refused to give up on her also grated on her.

"Why can't you see the truth?" Lena shouted at one point. "My body is broken, Kara! I'd rather be dead!"

Kara had stared at her, but then she clenched her fists. "Don't you dare speak ill about yourself." Her voice dropped to a dangerous low tone that did more for Lena's libido than it did to intimidate. "You are beautiful. Gorgeous. And you're hurt and healing. You deserve life, and I will always fight to save you."

Lena didn't know what to say in response.

Because Kara had an alarming point.

She had fought to save Lena over and over again. No matter what her family threw at them, no matter how many assassin's sought her death, no matter the attacks on her person, Kara had been there. Or she'd send Supergirl, which had actually been Kara.

"Was it really you flying me when I was poisoned?" She asked instead. Her voice came out weak, irritatingly timid.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. I -- I was terrified. Had to use ice breath on you to induce hypothermia to give Alex's medicine time to work." Kara slumped in her chair. "I almost told you then when you said you remembered the flight."

"Why didn't you?"

"James was shaking his head ..."

"I didn't ask about James, Kara. I asked about you. Or do you not make decisions for yourself?" Irritation crept into her voice.

"That's the problem, Lena! Don't you get it?" Kara threw her hands in the air. "I didn't trust myself, all right? So yes, I did rely on others to make decisions, especially about the whole Supergirl identity. I can't afford to mess up. I can't afford to lose anyone else. I just can't."

Lena struggled to parse Kara's words. The pain ricocheted up like it always did before Alex or a nurse came and swapped IV bags for new ones. "What do you mean you didn't trust yourself?"

"Do you know what happened before you came to National City? The attack by my people? That was my Aunt." Kara said bitterly. "My Aunt and her husband wanted to -- Rao, it doesn't matter. I trusted her, and I was wrong. People got hurt. So many died. Alex had to kill my own Aunt because I couldn't do it. Nothing stopped her and Non. And then, and then..."

She shot to her feet and began to pace. "You're not the only one who can make kryptonite, okay? Max Lord did it first but he made red."

"Red? What does--"

"It was horrible. I -- I got infected and it shut off my inhibitions, it made every bad thought, every intrusive nightmare, come to life. I acted it all out, and people got hurt. I almost killed Cat Grant. Alex and J'onn used every Kryptonite they had to capture me."

Lena blinked. She didn't remember reading that in the papers, but then she'd been very distracted by shit in Metropolis at the time. "Were you in control?"

"I don't know." Kara dropped back into her chair and put her head in her hands. "It haunts me to this day. I hear the word synthesized Kryptonite and I start to have flashbacks. I can't let that happen again."

"That's why you acted that way during the worldkillers crisis." Lena didn't ask it as a question.

Kara's shoulders slumped. "I had to be in control. That way no one could get hurt. No one would die. And that was out of my control. But I was trapped back in the Red-K nightmare, and I didn't realize it at first. I -- i was wrong. I shouldn't have acted out my trauma on you. I'm sorry for that too. It hit home how bad I fucked up in the elevator when we were on our way to comfort Sam."

No wonder Kara had looked so upset when she said she'd never trust Supergirl again. She sighed and rubbed her fingers against the IV line. "I tend toward dramatics and can be terribly petty," she said finally. "You tried to talk to me as Supergirl to fix it, and I refused to listen. So as Sam likes to remind me, two wrongs don't fix anything. I'm sorry too."

Kara tentatively touched Lena's hand. "Thank you for this conversation. How are you feeling? Are you in pain again?"

"Alex mentioned internal bleeding once and you're hovering again?" Lena grumbled.

Kara winced. "I just want you to be well."

Lena sighed. "I know, Kara. And yes, I'm in pain. How about you get your sister, and read more of your book out loud?"

She wasn't sure what started that activity, but listening to Kara read soothed her far more than she'd like to admit.

"Okay." Kara shot to her feet. A breeze whipped Lena's hair into her face, Kara vanishing.

Still not used to it, but she was getting closer at least.

***

Two weeks and four days after she woke in Alex's medical ward, Lena was examined by Alex and a Doctor Starr. Part of that exam required her to sit in a wheelchair, which hurt far more than Lena wanted to admit.

Alex's checked her reflexes with her little hammer, while Starr listened to Lena's lungs.

It was irritating, but she was slowly accepting this was her reality now.

At least, the odd Kryptonian container had been used only once since she first saw it. She had a stress induced bout of hemolysis, which didn't surprise her. She knows she's prone to anemia. Kara's frantic reaction had Alex banning her from the room for two whole days.

It should have brought relief, but Lena missed Kara by day two.

As the doctors conferred, a startling thought hits Lena. "Alex, has Kara ever had a loved one in a condition as bad as mine?"

Alex turned and crossed her arms. "When I got sick from Pestilence, I'm told Kara was uncharacteristically erratic. But I was only sick a day or so. So I guess, no, not for this long."

"Hmmm." Lena turned the thought over in her head. "I think I know how to calm her down."

"Oh?" Alex had adopted a neutral tone since Lena's high-on-pain-meds confession. "And what wonderful idea does my patient have today?"

"Take me around wherever we are. Let her see me outside this room." She attempted a smile. "Yes, I'm in a pain, don't ask. Just let her see visible progress."

"I'd advise against..." Dr. Starr started to say but Alex held up her hand.

"No, she's right. Kara needs to see progress. And you are progressing, it's just not really that visible right now." Alex stepped closer and leaned over Lena. "But I need full honesty. Are you positive you want to do this?"

Lena nodded. "Yes. If it helps Kara, then yes."

"I'm not asking about Kara. Will this help you?"

Lena tilted her head puzzled. "I suggested it to aid Kara not myself?"

"Oh my god." Alex threw up her hands. "Do you see what I'm working with here?" She said to the other doctor. "They're both idiots."

Lena sniffed a trifle offended by that statement.

"I mean, yes, you have a pertinent point." Dr. Starr chuckled. "Maybe just indulge her?"

"Not you too. Go right the report." Alex flicked her wrist at the other doctor. "And you," she pointed to Lena. "Tell me immediately if your pain increases. Or else."

Lena knows an empty threat when she sees one. She gives a half-shrug. "Sure. Now shall we?" She waves her good arm toward the door.

Alex grumbled under her breath and pushed her through the door. A certain satisfaction warmed Lena's heart. She'd won against Alex, which was not an easy feat.

The hallways outside the medical room were all a dull grey. The austere architecture painted this place as the DEO. Ah, so that was why she was under Alex's care.

"Lena?! Alex!" Kara skidded to a halt near the door to the control room. Lena can hear the voices of agents and machinery beyond it. "Oh gosh, should... should you be up? Are you okay, Lena? Do you feel any pain? Oh Rao, Alex, what if she's in pain?"

"Kara..." Alex started to say, irritation in her voice, but Lena cut her off.

"Kara, listen to me." Lena held up her hand. "I suggested this. Needed some fresh air. I'm fine. Honest." Yes, her pain has increased a bit, but honestly, she needed out of the medical room.

Plus, this served a dual purpose of showing Alex that perhaps she could go home to rest and do outpatient or whatever happens next for recovery.

Kara wrapped her hands around Lena's, holding it gingerly like she's glass. "Are... are you sure?" She looked so pathetic, that Lena relented.

"Kara, darling," Lena said, gently, "If we're going to get through this, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Kara nodded. "Anything."

"Then trust me when I say I'm okay. Don't assume what I need. Always ask. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I can do that." A hint of relief coated Kara's voice.

Lena realized an important fact about Kara that day. When dealing with a situation Kara couldn't control, Kara needed tasks to do. Even simple ones worked.

She tested this hypothesis the next three days. Her conclusions confirmed her hypothesis correct. Kara truly did a lot better with tasks.

If there was one thing Lena excelled at, it was crafting a list of tasks. Whether she got them all done in a day? That was another story.

On the fourth day, Alex stopped in for the usual check-up. "So, you've really figured my sister out, huh?"

Lena studied Alex carefully, uncertain if the question was in good faith or not. "I'm reconciling all parts of her in my head. I can't say that means I have her figured out."

"No, I mean, you solved it." Alex gestured to the building beyond the medical ward. "She has calmed down by a million percent. I no longer feel the need to kick her off the planet twenty times a day."

Lena couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Alex's boot knocking Kara into orbit. "That annoying, huh?"

"God, yes. I get it, I do. You really scared us. All of us. Even Andrea Rojas has been in my business. And now Sam demands to know when she can visit." Alex scribbled her vitals onto the chart by her bed. "So now Kara is dealing with them. Using your phrases too. 'Don't assume, ask Lena.' I can actually do my duties for once."

"About Andrea and Sam..." Lena leaned back in the bed, fatigued by the act of sitting up. Which was incredibly annoying, but fine, that was her life now. "It's been a few weeks. How are you handling those businesses? I only spoke with Jess once."

"I'm not giving your phone back yet," Alex scolded. "I can't trust you with it. You'll try to solve world hunger or something."

"I was merely answering my emails and..."

"Nope, no work. You can't heal if you're working." Alex capped the marker and stuck it to the board.

Lena rolled her eyes. "Alex, I am dying of boredom. Answering emails won't kill me."

"You weren't though. You were heads deep in programming, and then wondering why your pain was so bad, you couldn't move for a whole day." Alex shook her head. "Can't trust you. And I'd like to."

The way she said those last few words had a seriousness that contrasted her slightly playful, scolding tone from earlier.

"How do I build up that trust then?"

"Prove to me you're serious about this." Again that sense the conversation had a double meaning. Something more than just her health. "I need to see you acknowledge your limits."

Lena frowned. "This conversation isn't just about me, is it?"

Alex put her hands on her hips, oddly similar to Supergirl, except Alex held far more authority in the stance. "Perceptive. Yes. I asked Kara about your confession. It wasn't easy. She finally told me everything. You put her in Kryptonite, Lena."

Lena looked at her hands. "I know," she said, softly, "I remember. I had hoped it wouldn't come to that. It's why I programmed in the sun burst."

"Which is great that you did that, but Lena, can I trust you to never trap Kara in Kryptonite again?"

Lena clenched her fists. "Yes." She met Alex's gaze, resolutely. "I love Kara, Alex. I recognize I fucked up. I lashed out exactly how Lex wanted. Played into his hands again. So as a big fuck you to my brother, I'm going to stick by Kara's side, and do what I can to aid her."

Alex studied her silently for a long moment. "Okay."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Just okay?"

"Yes, just okay. Geesh, want a rambling speech, ask my sister." Alex walked to the door but paused, her hand on the doorknob. She looked back at Lena. "You're good for her, Lena. Kara has never been as happy than when she's with you. Please don't fuck this up."

"I thought you didn't do rambling speeches?" Lena smirked at Alex's raised middle finger.

"Oh, before I forget, you feel up to start physical therapy?"

"Is this where I prove to you I will honor my limits?" Lena asked dryly.

"You could say that. So a yes?" When she nodded, Alex smiled. "Great."

After the door shut, Lena sat in the semi-darkness and wondered if she could trust Kara and Alex. Could she trust any of them?

She raised her blankets and looked at her legs. They tingled now, but moving them caused pain bursts at the base of her spine. She didn't trust Lilian to help her with this. She did trust Sam, but after ghosting her and not answering her calls for months?

She dropped the blanket and laid down. She needed to trust them, and that scared her far more than any promise to a prickly sister of a Superhero. Trust was not something she did well. It tended to backfire on her, and yet, what else could she do?

Trusting no one but an AI had gotten her exactly nowhere. Other than more heartbreak and stuck in the medical ward, disabled from waist down for who knew how long. She truly did want to get better, but was she hiding from the world by half-assing this recovery?

Kara didn't know the extent of her treachery, or how she'd used the DEO to test the mind-control she'd uncovered from the Martian. Yes, that test had helped Andrea, but it also showed that her programming had a troublesome flaw. One she never quite ironed out. Hope's calculations had been her last ditch effort.

It led her to the same question that had haunted her since she woke up here: why were they helping her? Only her own paranoia answered that question, which wasn't helpful.

She closed her eyes and let the darkness of pain pull her out to sea.

***

When she next opened her eyes, the light was muted even further.

A person snored softly in the chair next to her bed. She turned her head to see Kara slumped there in jeans and a purple button-down shirt. Her blond hair spilled in loose ringlets around her face, and a book perched in her lap.

It was the book she'd been reading out loud to Lena: Poseidon's Wake, a fascinating science fiction romp about aliens, human's hubris, what constituted sentience, and sentient elephants.

On the table just behind Kara's chair, a vase with flowers sat with a card in front of it. She picked it up, the paper rough against her skin. Inside and decorating every page was kind 'get well soon' words from Nia, Brainy, Kelly, and all of Kara's friends.

The people she'd deceived in her single-minded quest of revenge. Her stomach twisted with nausea. The card slipped from her fingers to fall onto her stomach. A small card sat taped to the vase, and that one just read, "From Sam and Ruby."

She sucked in a sharp breath and winced at the pain in her left side.

Kara flinched and sat upright, her eyes blinking sleepily. "Lena?" She focused on her bed and smiled in relief. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

The question bubbled out of her before she could stop herself. "Why is everyone helping me?"

"What do you mean?" Kara reached up to fiddle with her glasses, but she wasn't wearing them so the gesture became tucking hair behind her ear instead.

"I deceived all of you. I hurt you." Lena's voice turned bitter. "Alex said she wants to trust me. That I'm good for you. I knew Kryptonite hurt you and I did it anyway. Why don't they all hate me? Why am I here?"

Kara shrugged. "The cage dropped as soon as you left. Then came your lovely sun bomb thing. I saw the code you used. You programmed that. So that means you never meant to hurt me. And I think you needed to get that all out. I -- I'm sorry it took me so long to understand. So, don't worry, it's okay."

"Okay? Just okay?" Lena couldn't believe her ears. "Kara, I need you to be honest. Why am I your 'exception' to your rules? Why is Alex giving me the shovel talk? What are we to each other?"

Kara sighed. Her fingers drummed against her knee. She took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. "Because I love you. I didn't realize how much until our fight. Until I almost lost you." She briefly closes her eyes. "I nearly lost myself to rage. Dunked myself in the ocean to try to calm down. And I couldn't let you die without telling you my last secret."

"Last secret? I -- I know you consider us friends..." Lena had heard Kara say 'love you' before, but this moment felt charged in a way the others did not.

She smiled, sadly. "It's not friendship love. Lena, I love you. Everything about you. I want to be with you in whatever way you'll have me. And if you don't want me around? Say the word and I'll vanish. Well, maybe still save you when needed but only in a professional way I guess."

"Be with me?" God, she was being a parrot again, but the words from Kara's mouth felt unreal. "You love me? And yet deceived me for years?"

Kara slumped in her chair and pulled at a thread on the cuff of her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Lena. I really am."

"Yes, you've said that many times," Lena said. She sighed and picked at her blanket.

For a long moment, she struggled against an absurd urge to cry. Fatigue lined her body and soul, and truthfully? She didn't want to fight Kara or enact revenge any more. Her retaliation hadn't helped her feel better; she'd felt worse instead.

No, maybe she should try the harder road. Talking. God, what would Lillian think of her now? She was going to discuss her feelings instead of of manipulating the universe.

"Did you ever trust me?" Seemed a good place to start.

"Yeah!" Kara nodded. "In most things, and I wanted to trust you about Supergirl. I just." She leaned her head back with a growl of frustration. "At first the DEO pressured me to tell no one, especially you. But then it became about me wanting to be just Kara with you."

"The whole not trusting yourself come into play there?"

Kara nodded. "I let others convince me that not telling you was good. That if I told you, I'd be selfish and ruin a good thing for you."

"Wait, did someone actually advise that?" Lena wrinkled her nose. "Because that's shit advice."

Kara winced. "Mon-el did."

"I see. From now on if someone says lying to me is better for me and honesty is selfishness, just punch them for me, okay?"

Kara blinked at her before bursting into laughter. "Oh Rao, okay, sure, I can definitely do that."

"Great." She imagined Kara punching Mon-el, and it definitely brought more satisfaction than anything she did the past few months. "Do you trust yourself now?"

"I..." Kara hunched down in her chair. "I don't know." She breathed out roughly and a piece of ice formed on her knee. She flicked it to the floor. "When I -- I found you? I lost myself in rage. I killed Rama Khan and his allies. I don't really regret it, but... can I trust myself? Because if you're hurt, I -- I probably should be restrained."

Just as she suspected, guilt threaded through Kara's voice. Lena shifted to the good side, her pain ever present a minor ache from the pain meds. "Will it help to know I trust you?"

Her own words surprised herself. And yet, it was true.

She did trust Kara.

Kara looked up and smiled faintly. "It does actually. I wasn't sure you ever would again."

"Kara, even when I was angry and hurting, I still trusted you with my life. My heart?" She ran a hand through her hair. It needed washing again, which meant asking the evening nurse for help, something she dreaded. "That I couldn't trust you with. But!" She held up a finger to stop Kara's words. She shut her mouth. "I think I'm ready to try. I know this won't be easy. We're both headstrong, but when I'm working with you, I'm a better person. I'd like to find that again."

Kara smiled, tears shining in her eyes. "You feel like home to me. I feel I'm a better person with you too. Even if I'm a bit dramatic about injuries." She rubs her hands on her jeans. "I just, I don't know. I was so worried."

"I know." Lena reached out and touched her wrist. "You've never had someone you love taking this long to recover. A rather intense introduction to mortality, eh?"

"You died for twenty seconds, Lena," Kara whispered.

"Are you focused on that or on the fact I'm alive?"

Kara tilted her head and stared at Lena. "What do you mean?"

Lena waved her hand impatiently, then winced. Her side ached at the movement. "If you focus on that fact and not on the present moment of me, recovering, then you become trapped in the past. You can't move forward, can't plan, and your actions become only reactions. Never a conscious, informed act."

"Oh." Kara tapped her fingers against her leg. "You know, that's a good point. Death has made you wise."

Lena shrugged. "Maybe. I need the reminder myself sometimes."

For a moment, both listened to the drip of the IV.

"I didn't have these powers on Krypton," Kara said suddenly, "I was just a normal kid, well, as normal as the first thirteen year old inducted into the Science Guild could be." A slight smile tinged her lips, but it faded into melancholy.

"You were a scientist?" It surprised her a little.

Kara nodded. "Bred to be so."

"Wait, I'm sorry, bred?"

Kara smiled. "The birth matrix is how we reproduced. It was very rare to have a natural birth like Kal's parents. Usually parents like to edit the child's genes. I was modeled to be a scientist like most of the El family."

Lena hummed thoughtfully. "I'd love to hear more about Krypton, Kara. If you'd like to share." She definitely had questions, though she' wasn't sure how best to ask.

"Thank you." Kara reached out to grasp her hand. "No one has every really said that to me?"

"Seriously?" Lena frowned. "Then consider the offer standing. Whatever you wish to share, I will listen."

"And the same for you. I want to hear what you have to say. Your thoughts. Hopes, dreams, random ideas, anything."

Lena smiles, but one last question still haunts her. "One last question. You've said 'just Kara' a lot. You've always been just Kara to me. Did you think I'd treat you differently if I knew?"

Kara winced visibly. "Yeah? Everyone does. I mean, look at Winn as an example. I wasn't just Kara to him anymore, and he became obsessed with superhero stuff. James knew thanks to Kal. Nia treats me as her superhero mentor. It's just over and over people failed to see me. They saw the cape, and either wanted to be like the cape --"

"James," Lena murmured, thinking of his guardian stunts.

"Or helping the cape. I wasn't just Kara, and I could be that with you, and it felt so good. Like coming home. It's why I can't stay away. I want to make this right, Lena." She yanked the thread free of the cuff. "So, uh, that's why I'll help you with your Myriad plan if you want."

"What?" Lena stared at Kara. "You don't know what it is yet."

Kara shrugged. "So? It's you. I want to help you no matter what. If I have to hang up the cape and go undercover to do it, then fine."

None of Kara's words made any sense to Lena. Her head ached again, and a faint scent of peaches wafted from the pain meds. She tried not to think of her legs.

"The project is dead," Lena said, flatly. "You might as well take Myriad back. It won't happen any time soon. Especially not with this." She waves a hand weakly toward her legs. "I can't feel them yet."

Kara reached over and grasped Lena's hand. The warmth sent a shiver down Lena's spine. "Then I'll help you recover. Whatever you need."

"Kara..." Lena sighs. "What if I hurt you again?"

"I hurt you first," Kara said. She winced, "I mean, not to make a contest of it. But yeah, we hurt each other. So that's a thing we did. But here we are, both of us alive despite it all. And yeah, we might hurt one another again, but I think you're worth it. You're beautiful, Lena, outside and inside. That hasn't changed. I want to work on us if you're game."

Lena recalled her words at the Fortress, said in anguish, "You don't get to tell me who I am anymore." But that had been a lie. She'd wanted so bad for things to be real with Kara. To be loved by Kara. To not have it all snatched away.

She'd wanted to fix it all, but it had not occurred to her she could just talk it through with Kara.

For several long minutes, she quietly breathed and sorted her thoughts. The pain simmered annoyingly, but she wasn't ready to sleep again. Not yet.

"This isn't easy for me," Lena said, carefully. She winced at the pain along her side, but she wanted to get this out. "I wanted to fix the pain. To somehow stop others from hurting one another."

"With your project?"

Lena sighed. "It doesn't matter. Hope was lost and she's needed to run the calculations. And would it have stopped the pain? I don't know. I didn't have time for proper tests. It wasn't ready, but Leviathan kept accelerated my timeline."

"So you sought to end all pain?" Kara tiled her head. "Isn't that kind of... mind control?"

Nausea swirled in Lena's stomach. Those words reminded her of Lex's journals, of his experiments, of his experiments on her. God, Lex really had played her, hadn't he? He knew she'd read his journals, knew she'd turn on Kara for her lies. "It's for the best," she whispered, "that it failed. Lex manipulating me by driving a wedge between us." She fiddles with the strings on the blanket's edge. "He has a habit of snatching away all the good in my life. He tried to destroy what we had. Like a fool I fell for it."

"No, well, maybe for a little while. But we're still here, and we're being honest." She lifted Lena's hand and gently kissed her knuckles. "I understand you might not believe me now, but I'll prove it."

Lena sighed. She wasn't sure what to say to that. The medicine dulled her thoughts, drew back the pain, but now fatigue corded through her body. "You already are. And I want to work on us too." "So where do we go from here?" Kara asked.

Where did they go from here indeed? She knew this was a stupid idea, that she shouldn't allow it, but with the Fortress fight, the assassin, almost dying, surgery, long recovery, and now this?

Lena weakly tugged on Kara's hand. "Ask me later. Right now... can -- can you hold me? I don't want to be alone." Her words came out small and shaky. This asking for things scared her as much as it thrilled her.

"Of course." Kara graced her with one of her winning smiles. She gently moved Lena just enough for her to slip onto the bed next to her. Her arms wrapped around Lena, and warmth embraced Lena from head to toe.

She buried her face in Kara's shirt, and breathed in her vanilla scent.

The anger and pain that had fueled her for months no longer simmered in her gut. Part of her feared giving Kara another chance, but at the same time, her traitorous heart shouted in relief at being in Kara's arms. The hurt hadn't full gone away, but its edges had softened.

"You've always been her exception," Alex had said.

Maybe starting tonight Kara could be her exception. Instead of more revenge plots or running, she'd stay and work on whatever this was between them. No matter how hard it became. Maybe someday soon she can say the words out loud, that she truly did love Kara.

Because even in the fires of hardship and pain, a rock could still become a gemstone.

Epilogue incoming

[samsayswhatever]

There is a theme I can't quite pin down in Dead boy detectives, that is something like "women aren't believed enough/women are seen as evil when they are in pain".

Something in how Charles called what Crystal hears from Agnes as "the wind" and how the police lady didn't believe the woman jumped off the lighthouse, and how Edwin said Shelby "felt" particularly harmed.

And how even with Crystal and David, they acted like it was a choice to let David be a demon in her for so long even though he was clearly using her, and something about how they show mentioned mermaid luring men to their deaths when it was clearly Agnes, not women in the sea.

Something in how Shelby screamed when she was hurt and brad and hunter called her a monster, and how even the woman who scream/cried when they were interviewing for cases made Charles make a face that wasn't empathy for her story, but looking put by her pain.

[moon-meteor-star-sun]

Forever plagued by the thought why did Peter betray the Marauders?

[princess-canary]

When I Die Young {drabble}

Author: princess-canary

Rating: Gen

Summary: Death shows up each time a member of the Wayne family dies

Notes: no Cass or Duke mention, but that is only because I don't currently know enough about their stories. currently in the process of catching up.

Cross-posted on AO3 - babyxan

No family has cheated death like the Wayne’s have. She has appeared to them more than any other; their names have appeared on her list consistently, continuously and multiple times each year. Every time their candles are blown, divine and inhumane intervention lights them back up again.

Sorrow shrouds them. Blankets them in darkness and misery. Grief building as the ever-cold hand of life returns. She’s tried to take them, move them on, she’s been successful even, but her efforts prove fruitless each time.

For the leader, the father, she appeared in the visage of his parents. She radiated love and warmth, told him to embrace it. That it was time to join them, that they were waiting for him. He turned his back.

For the eldest son, she chose the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. The sound of laughter, cheers and applause, an elephant trumpeting. She showed him spotlights and balloons. It wasn’t good enough.

The little brother, broken and battered. She chose his idol, his mentor, the one he loved, looked up to, dressed in black and blue. He gave words of comfort in those final seconds, drowned out the ticking, told him he did a good job and there would never be another like him. That he had never been prouder. Someone else decided that wasn’t good enough.

The false idol, in red and black. She picked the one he called friend, the one he loved so desperately, the one he lost. The one he couldn’t bring back. Hand outstretched, smelling of leather and spice, with a toothy smile, she asked him to fly away, to leave it all it behind. He chose to stay.

The one that wasn’t good enough, turned away when it mattered most. She sent warm lights, a cool breeze. A home that was comforting, a father to be proud of. Maybe it was too good to be true.

The prodigal son, who died by the blade, a life cut short. It was tricky, with kids, they were fragile. She appeared as herself, in her most human form. They sat in the cave, on the edge of the training mats and talked. He wanted another go; he wanted more time. He cried. She showed him mercy and sent him back.

She was the icy hand, the warm embrace. She was in the shadows, watching and waiting. The Wayne’s were always on the brink of death, it was only a matter of time before they greeted her again.

[slytherinslut0]

Okay so like i’m very close to a certain follower milestone and i was thinking that maybe…perhaps…if anyone was like interested or even cared or whatever… i could possibly write that particular orgy fic that yall have been waiting for…you know to like, celebrate or something. 👀

[teddypickerry]

in honor of prom season i’m thinking about the absolute robbery it was not having lane and rory in pretty little dresses. their cute little boyfriends going with them, the perfect little y2k prom that was in every show/movie at that time (can you tell i romanticize prom in films because i was ‘too cool’ to go to any of my own? … i still don’t regret it).

i think it would’ve been nice to have one final rory and jess scene where it shows genuinely how much he cared for her. he’s doing something he’s uncomfortable with for her sake. she’s got him **kind of** slow dancing in a crowd of people he hates in a button up. ugh. prom jess please come back. but MORE importantly, i’m thinking about what rory would’ve worn duh.

haven’t duhed in awhile…. anyways. they always incorporated blue in her wardrobe for events. because of course, that perfect icy blue looks killer on the gilmore girls. even made it sookie’s bridesmaid dress colors just for that sake. so it’s safe to say that’s the color she went with.

heading to pinterest, these were some of the first blue dresses i found in style at the time. the second one isn’t exactly her favorite blue shade and both of them have beading. that trend feels a little too ‘cool’ for rory.

now, i would’ve really liked to see rory in a classic audrey hepburn style neckline. but she was a teenager going to prom, so i’m not gonna plea with her to play 60s mod girl.

skipping to dresses that i actually think she’d like:

i noticed in gg that rory never really wore tight fitting/revealing clothing (ever) until after graduation. which was pretty different than the trend at the time (and probably forever for teenagers). but as she graduated chilton, she slowly started growing out of her teen t-shirt phase (i am still in my t-shirt phase, do not think i’m hating). rory AND jess both wore purple during that scene where she’s scolding him in his cute little jean jacket. this purple dress could definitely be a nod to that. and even though it’s not her typical blue, i think it would be a really pretty change. also her long layered hair was so pretty in season 3, it would’ve looked so good with this dress.

now, out of the three blue dresses selected, i think the second one is giving stars hollow high prom. however it’s also reminding me of lorelai’s dress in season 5. do with that what you will. i think this could be a cool nod that she’s becoming more like her mom as she grows up. but it’s also her indulging in trend at the time, while remaining her authentic self. i’m totally overthinking this.

regarding lane, i’m still on the fence what she’d make possible. would she have a secret dress from mrs kim? or would she actually like what mrs kim allowed her to wear? would lorelai sew her something and hide it in the school bathroom? i don’t know yet. maybe we’ll get into that another time.

what do you think?

[yoyowrites]

my current mingjue and meng yao relationship understnding is that meng yao didn't want to like nmj. he thought he was brash and likely a hypocrite. despite himself, he grew very attached to nmj because nmj saw the biggest "flaw" of his and took him in. that "flaw" being him being a prostitute's son, (my doesn't view his being his mother's son as a flaw at all) and still took him in. at this point, my still doesn't like nmj too much. nmj is still loud and harsh but he's growing on him. then not only did he take him in, he writes a letter of recommendation for meng yao.

lesser men, would keep meng yao by their sides, in their shadows, benefitting from all of his hard work and taking all the glory. lesser men would hate their names being attached to him. yet, nmj goes and proudly states all of meng yao's strengths with no consideration for his flaws. meng yao can't help but care for him and love him.

then, meng yao gets sloppy. nmj catches him. for a second he considers that nmj will accept him, that he'll understand like he has in the past. but how could this overtly just man ever trust him again? still the fool cares about him.

i think meng yao tried really hard to get on mingjue's good side again. that only when he knew for sure that nmj would never truly trust him again that he set his plan to kill him in action. i think he really loved nmj but he couldn't risk the man spilling his true nature. i think he also hated that nmj refused to fall in line because if not he could and would have kept him alive.

i think he also absolutely loved lan xichen and appreciated that the other understood that sometimes unsavory actions had to be taken, for the greater good. still, the one thing lxc would never forgive him for is killing nmj.

[xechoecho88x]

wttt midwest nickname headcanons bc i'm bored~

Indiana: totally fine being called indy, he thinks its a cute nickname

Wisconsin: likes being called sconnie, any other nickname he finds kind of strange but will not confront you about it

Minnesota: do not call him minnie unless you're indiana or wisconsin. he's not going to say anything directly but he will be very passive-aggressive about it. fine with being called soda(sota), finds other nicknames to be silly but won't say anything about it

Missouri: hated being called misery by the other states. loves any and all other nicknames

Illinois: do not call him illy if you value your organs or are indiana. neutral about ill, and will beat you up if you pronounce the 's' in his name

Ohio: desperately wants to be called O-H, no one will call him this

Michigan: most commonly called mich, all other nicknames are uncommon but he's not really bothered by any of them

Nebraska: has a few nicknames and finds them all to be fun. (nebby, braska, etc) just likes the recognition

Kansas: avid hater of nicknames, probably because he doesn't have any good ones. will correct people if they try to use a nickname

the Dakotas: honestly impressed if you manage to find a nickname that isn't being used by another state. when its just the midwest north and south are acceptable. typically called souda or norda by other states

Iowa: anytime someone tries to give him a nickname he questions their sanity, because his name is only four letters and he finds the obsession with nicknames to be ridiculous

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter Three

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

CW: withdrawal symptoms of alcohol, discussions of/with alcohol/recovering alcoholics.

This one is a long one, folks. Enjoy <3

A thump landed on the ground as Cassian walked away. He turned to see Nesta, face planted into the ground. He cursed as he ran to her. Quickly he texted the family’s medic before putting his phone away and gently picking Nesta up in his arms. Her lawyer, Eris, already had his phone out to dial.

“Don’t bother. Rhysand has a family doctor. We’ll get her to come see Nesta.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “And shouldn’t my client go to a hospital?”

“Hospitals aren't going to do much for her right now. They would just ship her off to rehab eventually. And according to her sister, none of the rehabs have worked.” Cassian noted as he started to walk to the house, Eris and the officer were behind him. Out past the pastures, he saw a familiar looking old blue truck drive down the road.

“Plus the closest hospital isn’t for another 25 miles down south.” The officer stated. He spoke with a slight drawl that wasn’t uncommon in these parts.

“You’re from Windhaven?” Cassian asked.

The officer shook his head. “Ironcrest. Born and raised.”

Ironcrest was a small town north of Windhaven. Not a lot happened there, and not a lot of good came out of it either. The same truck he saw drove up the dirt driveway before stopping in the makeshift lot.

“Are we sure we can trust your nurse?” Eris called out as Cassian stepped onto the porch. 

A woman cleared her voice behind all of them. Cassian smiled softly at the familiar face. Her brown skin glowed in the hue of the sun. She tipped her hat to Eris and the officer.

“I’m sure you can trust a doctor.” She smiled at Eris before moving past him.

“Cassian, take her up the stairs to her room. I’ll be right behind.”

“Yes, Madja.” He replied before entering the house.

Nesta was warm and clammy as he shifted her in his arms.

“You’ll be okay, Sweetheart. You’re in good hands.”

**

Cassian laid Nesta gently on the bed. Her pulse was slow and she hadn’t come too yet. Madja came inside the room next, her bag with her. Quickly she went to work checking her vitals. The man stood off to the side, knowing better than to get in her way.

“This girl has been through it. This is Feyre’s sister that Rhysand mentioned to me?” She asked Cassian.

“That she is. She just got here last night. Apparently had alcohol in her system.”

She hummed reading the vitals. “It may be a little early for symptoms but that doesn't mean it can’t happen. She’ll probably be lucid for the next couple days. I’ll stay and watch over her.” 

The doctor turned to Cassian. “But why on earth did you make her do work right away? You knew she was going to go through withdrawal. Why not get her prepared for that?”

Cassian blinked, unsure what his answer would imply. “I thought getting her to work would help with the withdrawal. Feyre mentioned she had been to three different rehabs in the last two years. Everytime Nesta left she would drink again.” He sighed. “I didn’t know what I was going up against. I quit drinking mid deployment and the work kept me busy.”

“She’s no soldier, Cassian.”

Madja crossed her arms over her chest. “The labor probably caused the body to begin stressing earlier than expected. Eitherway, we’re here now. You’re lucky I have experience with this.”

She looked over to a photograph on the wall of Ramiel, the biggest mountain in the Night Court. Caleum Valyrian picked up photography after he stopped drinking when his wife Arwen, announced she was pregnant with a daughter; Rhys’ sister, Artemis. Caleum had taken the photo the night before her birth.

Arwen mentioned at one point not long after Artemis’ birth that her husband had a second chance of being a father. Madja helped him through his sobriety journey as she had been looking after Caleum since he was young. It was a long process from what Cassian remembered, but not long after her birth he joined the Air Force and then not even five years later, Caleum and Arwen had died in a fatal car crash.

“Anyway, I’ll stay through the week. This isn’t my first rodeo. And Cassian.”

He looked up at her. “Yes, mam?”

“Get rid of the alcohol. All of it. I know you’ve hidden it. It never ends up staying hidden in the long run. And it’s no good stinking up a home.”

It had been almost four days since Nesta collapsed due to her withdrawal symptoms. Madja had been taking care of her. She had gotten Nesta to settle once she woke up. Cassian had hovered by the door every once in a while. He heard Nesta speak every so often, but her voice was low and soft. She never once screamed or yelled. At least not to his knowledge.

He sighed gently as he pulled his thick hair into a bun before opening up discord on his laptop. He settled into his chair as he hopped onto the group chat call, waiting for others to join.

It was Wednesday, therefore it was family night.

He unmuted the second he saw a familiar face with blue eyes. He smiled brightly.

“Hi Fey-Fey.” The nickname he coined to Feyre after he met her for the first time. She hated the name. So it stuck.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Hey Cashew.” 

The two dissolved into little giggles like childhood best friends.

“Are you two already scheming?” Another video popped up of a blonde woman drinking red wine.

“Mor-Mor!” Feyre said excitedly.

Mor shook her head. “I would gag, but I don’t want to waste the wine.”

“Classic, Mor.” A voice shouted from Feyre’s video. Rhys pulled up on screen, wearing a Night Court sunball shirt.

A second passed by before another video joined. It was Azriel, his other brother. He seemed to be on his phone, most likely down at the barn with his horse, Singer.

“I swear Rhys you own everything Night Court coded in your home and that is the most offensive thing. You know we suck at sunball.” He exclaimed. 

“Did you catch the game the other night? Spring's beaten us again for a third time.” Mor chimed in.

“Hey, don’t hate the team. We’re going to get better…Eventually.” Rhysand said. The whole call burst out laughing. 

“I hope everyone is doing okay! But Cassian, I wanted to ask. How’s Nesta doing? Rhys mentioned Madja was there?” Feyre asked. Worry crossed her face.

Cassian shrugged. “She seems okay. Madja hasn’t left and it’s been several days. The withdrawal kicked in a bit sooner. But Madja says she's doing okay. She’ll start going to AA tomorrow so I think that will help even more.”

“Oh good.” Feyre smiled softly before one last video appeared in the call.

A girl with tan skin and coarse black hair that paired well with the dynasty of almost purple eyes appeared. The fifteen year old smiled as she quickly braided her hair sitting in her pajamas.

“Hi Everyone!” She said before narrowing her eyes. “What were you all just talking about?”

“Nothing that concerns fifteen year olds.” Rhys responded, a small smile on his face. “But tell us, Artemis, what’s it like being in the high school dorms now?” 

Artemis rolled her eyes. “It’s good. I’m still rooming with the same girls as last year.”

Artemis attended Dawn Light down in the southern part of Dawn Court. It was an all girl’s boarding school that she had been attending since elementary school. As their parents were dead, Rhysand became Artemis’ legal guardian. Unfortunately his career as a politician didn’t give him a lot of time to take care of his younger sister, so he sent her off to a boarding school.

“Freshman year is such a big highlight. Just wait until the dances and the boys!” Mor cheered, taking another sip.

“Ew. I don’t want to be around boys.” Artemis turned green at the thought.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Rhysand responded before Feyre smacked him on the shoulder. He turned to her and gently kissed her hand. The two looked at each other, a secret conversation happening.

“You’re not alone and this isn’t an OnlyFans chat, so please stop making sex eyes with Feyre.” Artemis complained. 

Cassian bulked out a giant laugh. The kid had always been sassy but she was at that age where the sass upped ten times more.

“First off, how do you know about OnlyFans? Secondly I am not making ‘sex eyes’ with Feyre.”

“I don’t know, Rhysie. That seemed very sex eyes heavy to me.” Cassian joked.

His brother glared at him and flipped him off. Everyone laughed.

“I’m fifteen and the internet exists. So I know things.”

Rhysand looked like he was halfway between jumping on his plane and bringing her home, or buying the school so he could manage the internet down there.

“Settle down, everyone.” Feyre calmly said. She had a genuine smile on her face.

“Rhysand and I have something to tell you all actually.” She looked up at him knowingly. He smiled and nodded, taking her hand in his.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the call erupted in cheers. Cassian smiled proudly at his best friends. It had come as a surprise to Cassian, given they weren’t engaged yet

Although that might change soon given that he does have the ring. Cassian thought to himself as he recalled Rhysand showed the ring to him and Azriel roughly a few weeks ago. 

“Congratulations! Which one of us is gonna be the godparents?” Cassian asked.

“None of you if I can help it.” Rhysand replied, wearing his classic smirk.

“I’m going to be an aunt? Oh my god?!” Artemis squealed. 

Mor set down her glass, clapping. “A baby always brings good luck!”

Azriel smiled softly. “Should Cass and I look into buying a pony for them yet?”

“If you two want to waste your money, be my guest. But perhaps our child will be sensible like their father and not be a big fan.”

“As if! If you’re a Valyrian you’re horse people. Unless of course your name is Rhysand.” Artemis joked.

Cassian laughed.“That’s a good one, Arty.”

Rhysand shook his head, rolling his eyes, but before he could counter anything, Feyre spoke up. “We’ll wait and see. They might be a horse person. Or maybe even a mule like their father.” Feyre smiled with a toothy grin at Rhysand.

Another roar of laughter escaped everyone, even Rhys. He kissed her head gently before she leaned against him.

“Well if we’re spreading good news, then I want to let everyone know that this is the first year I can try out for the eventing team at school.”

Feyre’s smile tightened just a little. “Oh that’s great, Artemis. How is your horse doing?” 

The girl shook her head. “Kitty is doing great. I think she’s excited to start eventing too..”

The girl learned how to ride before she could even walk properly, courtesy of her mother. Since a young age she wanted to compete in three-day-eventing. Cassian remembered Rhysand being very hesitant, but one of the best coaches was currently at Dawn Light. 

Three summers ago, Rhysand and Artemis went to the Velaris horse auction. It was one of their mother’s favorite events and always landed on her birthday. During the auction they sell all kinds of horses for different mediums, and when eventing came up, Artemis was on the edge of her seat. There was a palomino morgan horse that walked in, and that was that. 

“Well good luck with try-outs!” Cassian smiled brightly.

“You’re gonna be amazing, kid!” Azriel smiled knowing that she would.

“Thank you everyone. Anyway, it’s late and I have classes in the morning. Talk to you guys later. Oh and I want baby names, Feyre! Send them all my way!” Artemis beamed before hopping off the call.

One by the one they all did the same before Cassian sighed, turning off his laptop. He wanted to go to sleep, but it never came. So Cassian dressed and went downstairs to the corral that was located near the house. 

The moon was near the shape of a crescent as he walked underneath the stars as he approached the corral where a thoroughbred mare trotted around. He stood on the other side of the railing as he watched her tread in the circle. Taking his phone out he shot Feyre a text about what food Nesta liked. If she was going to be staying here for awhile, they probably should get her things that she likes.

“I don’t understand what you saw in her.” Azriel called out from behind him. Cassian tucked his phone back into his pocket feeling it vibrate with an answer.

“I thought you quit.” Cassian didn’t bother to turn around as the nostalgic smell of cigarettes contained the air. It slated him with the memories of nicotine usage from his old unit. It was as if that was from a different lifetime.

“I did, but here we are.” His brother said, taking a deep breath.

“Here we are..” Cassian mumbled back.

The brothers watched the mare begin to neigh and paw the ground.

“And you thought she could be a therapy horse?”

Cassian shrugged. “The owners said she could and they needed her off their hands. It was either that or the slaughter house.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Cassian, you cannot save every horse from a terrible fate. Sometimes it’s what needs to happen.”

“I know Az, but when I saw her, I just had that feeling you know?”

His brother gave him an ‘are you for real’ look in answer.

Taking another drag, Azriel blew the smoke then coughed.

“I know you see yourself in her. But maybe what’s broken is intended to be broken. That horse isn’t going to be a therapy horse. That horse needs therapy.”

The mare nodded her head as if agreeing with Azriel. She blew her nostrils before neighing again.

“Everyone has a story, even the broken ones.” Cassian said. “And sometimes they need their stories heard over the rest.” As the ranch manager walked off leaving behind the smoke and stress for another day, the chronic pains of his shoulder and knee began to flare up as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

**

Sunlight snuck through the crack from the curtain in Nesta’s room. She groaned at the warm intrusive light that shined in her eyes when she woke up. The last few days were intense. The worst of it was over as she mainly got sick and passed out constantly. Thankfully Madja made everything much more simple as she kept looking out for her the entire time.

“Good morning, Nesta.” The medic called out gently.

Nesta sighed before sitting up slowly. “Morning.”

Madja gave her a once over before she smiled. “You seem much better than how I met you a few days ago. Your withdrawal symptoms have decreased significantly. You’ll still have them for a remaining time, but I believe the worst is over. So now you’ll be able to go to AA tonight.”

The urge to drink still lingered deep down, but she couldn’t do that anymore. Not unless she wanted a worse punishment.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of that.” Nesta spoke softly.

“Well you might have died if I didn’t come here fast enough. Thankfully Cassian has me on speed dial. Especially after his last fall where he broke his wrist.”

Nesta cocked her head before pulling her knees to her chest. “How did he manage to do that?”

“By pulling some stupid trick with his horse. Bucked him right off and landed on a log.”

A small smile appeared from Nesta as she imagined it. “That does sound stupid.”

Madja rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me.” She placed a hand on the bed, careful to not touch the young woman.

“Would you like to talk about anything? I don’t share anything personal that my patients say.”

Nesta glanced at her chipped red toe polish before she rested her head on her knees. Gnawing emotions crawled deep within herself to break the surface, but she had been living with them for so long, it was natural to resent. Push it all down.

“No. I don’t.” Nesta waited for the backlash, but instead Madja simply nodded.

“That’s fine, my dear. I encourage you to speak when you’re ready. With someone you trust. But I’m not going to push it. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

The old woman smiled gently before she left Nesta’s room, leaving her alone. Madja was right, the cravings were still there, but it was less than before. Quietly, Nesta stood up from the bed and got changed into a t-shirt, jeans, and old barn boots before she went down the steps.

When she appeared in the kitchen, she found a plate of food and a note. There were no apples on the table, instead there was a bag of clementines from the brand cuties. A sweet sigh escaped her as she stared at her favorite fruit. But a note was left next to the plate. She picked it up.

Nes – She rolled her eyes before continuing.

Feyre mentioned you like cuties, so I grabbed some for you. Please be sure to eat some and the rest of your breakfast. Don’t need you to be passing out again.

Sincerely, Cassian

P.S: Today is the first day of AA. Az will be taking you to and from. He doesn’t bite, and if you think he isn’t paying attention he most definitely is.

Placing the note down, Nesta grabbed three cuties, stuffed two bacon strips into her mouth, and grabbed a biscuit to go before heading out the door.

The faint scent of ammonia and artificial lemon flowed through the hallways of the WCFW - Windhaven Center for Women. Azriel received notice that her AA meeting would be held in room 105B. Her boots echoed dully on the floor as she made her way to a room at the very end of the hall.

The door was opened but Nesta stopped in her tracks. She looked to her left and back down the hallway. If she wanted to, she could run. Make it on a bus hopefully and get out of this dreadful place before tomorrow. However Azriel’s glare burned in her memory.

“Your AA meetings will be here.” He pointed to the building. “I’ll be waiting for you in the truck. If you even think about trying to leave, just know that I was a bounty hunter for the Night Court for 10 years. Not once did I fail in catching someone. You will not be the first.”

So Feyre did mention to him about the time she dipped out of her first rehab and never showed up again. She sighed but before she could muster a step a voice cleared behind her.

“Last time I checked, AA was inside the room, not outside.”

Nesta turned to see a beautiful woman with brown skin with a messy side braid staring at her.

“You’d be right.” Nesta replied.

The woman gestured to Nesta to move forward. “Take the first step. You’re already here, you might as well stay and get to know everyone.”

The kindness wasn’t an order or a request, but almost a suggestion. If Nesta wanted to, she could leave. But she made it this far. She nodded before crossing the threshold.

The room was similar to any other room she had been in when it involved therapy sessions. The ones she attended while in rehab were all a joke. But this one for some reason, felt real. Maybe it was because of the sentencing and her crime, but Nesta couldn’t put a finger on the feeling. She swiftly sat down where no one else was sitting.

The woman from before entered and ended up sitting next to Nesta. She smiled at her.

“Long time no see.” She joked.

Nesta nodded.

The woman held out a hand. She had a tattoo on her inner wrist with a script that read the mountains, the moon, and Mars.

“I’m Emerie.” 

“Nesta.” She shook her hand.

The room engulfed in silence as their counselor began to speak. She welcomed everyone new and old. She wore a kind smile before introducing herself as Alys.

“Let’s all go around the room. Introduce yourself, how long you've been at AA, and one fact and one lie.” She smiled brightly. “We can take turns guessing.” 

Alys went first. “My name is Alys. I’ve been attending AA for almost twenty-five years. I’ve been counseling for about ten. I was born and raised in Windhaven and I have three cats, a bird, and two dogs. What’s my lie?”

The circle of women looked at one another trying to decipher what was her lie. Emerie turned to Nesta. “Any ideas.”

Nesta crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Probably the Windhaven.”

“I was thinking the same.”

She looked at her. “Are you just saying that because I’m saying that?”

Emerie rolled her eyes. “No wiseass. Her accent. It’s not Windhaven. I would know. I was born and raised here my entire life.” She tilted her head to Nesta, questioning her. “What made you choose that?” 

Nesta shrugged. “Her accent.” She tried to hide her smile as Emerie rolled her eyes again.

The room calmed their voices as Alys asked. The majority of the room decided to go for Windhaven as the lie. Alys nodded. “Good ears everyone. I’m from Spring originally. My nephews and I moved all up here for a better life than the one that was dealt to me back down south.”

One by one, each woman stood up and presented themselves to the group. Nesta sighed inwardly as she listened. Each one came from a different background, a different story. They were all so interesting, more interesting than mine Nesta thought to herself.

Alys pointed to Nesta. “It’s your turn…” She waited for Nesta to answer.

Nesta stood up, her arms down by her sides, a fist clenching and unclenching, trying to rangle the nerves that flooded her mind.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I’m Nesta…” She went quiet. She wanted to sit down. She didn’t want to do this. It was stupid. This was so stupid…Then she felt something move next to her. Emerie stood up on Nesta’s left. She smiled softly at Nesta before turning her gaze to the rest.

“I’m Emerie.” 

A wave of deja vu flowed through Nesta as she was completely caught off guard by Emerie’s action.

Emerie continued. “I’ve been coming to AA for roughly three months consecutively for the first time in a while.” She gestured to Nesta.

Nesta opened her mouth, a swirl of words appeared out of thin air. “Today’s my first day at AA.”

Emerie beamed. “Congratulations.” 

“You too.” Nesta replied.

With a sudden wave of confidence, Nesta stepped forward. “I’ve never been to Windhaven before and I have four gold Olympic medals.”

Around the room people whistled and gasped. Nesta could see their gears turning. 

“I call BS on the medals.” Emerie chimed.

“Emerie!” Alys hissed. 

The woman smiled apologetically before returning her gaze onto Nesta.

In return Nesta pulled out her phone and quickly looked through old photos. Her screen was cracked and was meaning to get it replaced, however she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Memories blurred together as she raced over her camera roll to find the photo she needed. After another second, she turned her phone around to show Emerie and the whole group.

The photo was of Nesta grinning big after coming home from the Antica Summer Olympic Games. She wore four gold medals, three from that summer and one from the previous summer Olympics at the Summer Court. Her arms were around Flame who seemed happy as he stood relaxed next to her. It was one of the few photos Feyre took of her when she came up to visit after she got back.

It shouldn’t have delighted Nesta as much as it did watching Emerie’s jaw drop looking at the photo.

“Holy fucking shit.”

The whole room gathered around the screen. Following with similar comments of Emerie’s.

“Well how the fuck am I going to top that now?” Emerie exclaimed. 

Nesta nudged her. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

Emerie smudged her lips as she thought for a second before speaking. “I haven’t lived in Windhaven my whole life, and I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride horses.”

Emerie and Nesta smiled at one another, knowing which one was the truth.

**

“So you’re really an Olympian?” Emerie asked as she and Nesta walked out of the building. 

Nesta shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I was twenty in that picture. I’ve aged nothing like fine wine in seven years since.”

She stopped as soon as the words slipped from her lips. Nesta winced as she mumbled what an idiot to herself.

“I’m not glass. I won’t break, trust me. Many have tried in the past, none have succeeded.” Emerie spoke up, looking back at Nesta.

“And you’re not either, you know.”

Nesta couldn’t stop the anger that drove out of her mouth. “How would you know? You don’t even know an eighth of my life; what my purpose here is.”

Emerie shrugged, resting her hands on her hips. “Because you’re here. No matter if it’s probation or not. You still could have ran, yet you came.. That counts.”

“How do you know I won’t run now?”

“I don’t, Nesta. All I can do is hope that I see you at the next meeting.”

“And that’s enough?”

When Emerie didn’t respond, Nesta’s guilt carved into her. She approached the woman as the sound of truck tires rolled to a stop nearby.

“Emerie, I’m…” Nesta sighed, the guilt anchoring her to the spot.

But Emerie waved her off. “Honestly I don’t have a good answer for you. At least not yet.” She pointed to Azriel’s truck. “Your ride is a Valyrian?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “You know Azriel?”

Emerie shook her hand in a so-so gesture. “Kinda. Everyone here knows pretty much everyone with it being a small town and all. I went to school with them for a brief time.” Her tone dipped, suddenly with sadness.

Before Nesta could ponder, Emerie continued. “I also live down the road from the House of Wind. I run the general store down the way. If you make a right out of the ranch and keep going down, you’ll find my place eventually.”

“What do you sell?” Nesta asked.

“All kinds of stuff. And before you ask, it’s a dry store. I’m not going to screw over my process by selling what I’ve been addicted to.”

The horn of Azriel’s truck blared as Nesta went to speak. She rolled her eyes before glaring at Azriel. He sat there unbothered, his hand hovering over the horn. Emerie chuckled. “They’ve never been the best at patience from what I remember.”

“You can say that again.” Nesta mumbled.

The Windhaven native placed a hand on Nesta’s shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Archeron!”

She spun in the other direction heading to the parking lot. For some reason as Nesta walked over to the truck and got inside, she felt different. 

The truck started to move, leaving the lot. She looked out the window in the sea of darkness as they made their way out to the road. The radio was playing so low that Nesta could barely make out what was being sung. Deep inside there was an urge to blast the music, to see what he listens to, see if she could change it at all. But Nesta looked away from the radio, not wanting to try it.

Her gaze traveled to Azriel as he drove.

“Are you not going to bomb me with questions?” Nesta asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. “You stayed, you made a friend. Your business is your business.”

Nesta blinked, having to adjust that Azriel was choosing not to ask her everything and anything. 

At her previous experiences, her sisters, other patients, random therapists would try to dig deep into her to ask anything like it was a Q&A session. How was it? When are you going next? How can I help? It’s a long road ahead, but you’ll get there. Nesta shook her head, reliving for a moment what Elain had mentioned to her when she was in her last rehab. She would not think about her right now. Nesta took a breath, her gaze going back to the window.

Eventually that same feeling she felt earlier, when she was with Emerie, returned. She glanced down at her hands, unknowing what to do next. Because the feeling of lightness was so rare in her life now, she grasped it, never wanting to let go.

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan

[hufflepuffhabs]

Hi honey! Can you do Barca players as Halloween costumes?

Babe, of course! Please keep in mind that I myself am not very much a Halloween person, so I won't know much about how to dress, but yeah, here you go...

(also the stop sign is because I don't believe that he would dress up)

[certaintylikelightning]

bad kids as entities from the magnus archives

riz: definitely the eye. saw another post on here that put it a lot better but i think the drive to solve a mystery at the cost of your own body and mind and relationships is very eye coded

adaine: the desolation!!! i know fig’s aesthetic matches it more but adaine killing her father in cold blood is so desolation coded to me. it’s about the white hot rage, the desire to take something that has hurt you and raze it all to the ground mercilessly

fig: the lonely, her love for her friends and desire for attachment but also her inability to take on that attachment as herself (at least before ayda) feels like her worst nightmare would be being abandoned by her loved ones and alone

kristen: it’s gotta be the stranger for all the nightmare king stuff AND baron who’d be right at home in the circus… but somehow i think she would be an avatar of the Vast. like she and simon fairchild should have a podcast together. something about the parallels between endless possibility of doubt and the representation of the Vast as free fall through open sky

gorgug: the slaughter… the fear of random uncontrollable violent rage lashing out and hurting the ones you love, the similarities between out of control barbarian rage and those “driven mad by slaughter”. i think tbe lack of control would be truly terrifying to a kid who has struggled with it his whole life

fabian: man. hate to repeat ones but also the lonely to me. junior year really cemented it but i think it’s always been obvious that fabians relationship with his parents (mostly his dad) has always felt like he needed to perform (“write your name on the face of the world”) to receive that validation… i think his biggest fear would be never achieving that = being left alone and unloved

[soubi122]

His Afterthought

Nothing hurts more than being his afterthought. Characters: Ran, Izana, Sanzu, Hanma, Taiju, South + your favorite assholes lol (does Dabi fit? i just started watching My Hero Academia)

Let me know who your favorites are that fit this scenario.♥️

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, they are jerks, 'friend with benefits', one sided love, no comfort.

Seeing him always made your heart flutter. The way he'd kiss you, touch you and fucked you into the mattress - it was heaven. He'd come to your door well into the night only to get what he wants. Whether he's drunk or not, he always finds a way to destroy you inside and out. Only after he's finished with you does it leave you feeling empty inside. The numbness creeped up on you by the time he shut the door behind him. 

Though he has no romantic feelings for you, he still knocked on your door, he still made you his, he made your heart ache and flutter at the same time. Outside of these 4 walls, you were merely friends and he was free to choose any other woman - but if things didn't work out, he always back tracked. 

With your face pressed against the mattress you could barely breathe as he thrusts his hips into you. A fist full of your hair was tangled between his fingers, he pressed your head harder into the sheets. He was angry and you could feel it. Those feral grunts rumbled in his chest and almost drowned out your own muffled moans. 

“Bitch couldn't even be honest with me.” He says between thrusts. Whatever little relationships he had didn't last, they broke things up when they met the rest of the gang. It was understandable, you were either going to accept him no matter what and become a target or leave it all behind - including him. The girls would opt to leave everything behind, not even giving him a chance to get comfortable. 

“She…fuck…said she didn't care as long as I… Mmh…” He trails off as he feels himself getting closer. The way you would always clench around his length when he was angry, it drove him mad. Despite having women bow at his feet, he hasn't found anyone else to replace this feeling. No one readily opened their door for him like you did, always ready for him - he didn't even need to prep you. Your body already knows what to do when it sees him. 

Your core was burning and reaching its limit. “Ngh…too much! Slow down! Please! Please!” You squeal and try to break free from his grasp. With one hard yank of your hair, he had you up on your knees and your back arching for him. His free hand grips your waist so hard that it was leaving marks, he wasn't letting you go. Tears were now running down your face as he sent you straight to your maker. Your legs were shaking and your moans were now screams of pure pleasure. “Fuck…fuck…” He moans as his pace gets sloppy and he reaches his limit. 

You're both left panting and barely able to catch your breath. Collapsing into the mattress, you take a moment to prepare yourself for what follows next - his leave. “You're such a good little slut.” He says with a smug smirk. His words hurt yet you feel satisfaction at him praising you. By the time you look over your shoulder, he was already getting dressed. “You can stay the night you know… It’s really late.” You say and sit up, using the bed sheet to cover yourself up, the sight in front of you always makes your heart break. You knew there was no point, the man is the danger that lurks in the night.

Without even acknowledging you he begins to walk out the door. “Bye!” You say with venom on your tongue and he waves you off. You throw yourself back into the mattress and clutch your chest, you were tired of this routine yet you always gave into him. You couldn't say no, he was like a drug, a neurotoxin that just numbs your body. It was getting harder to hide your feelings for him. There have been times when you've slipped and end up reprimanded or embarrassed because you didn't know your place. Maybe it was time for you to look for someone who will actually stay the night. 

Several days passed and he hadn't called, texted or even stopped by. Did he really get upset at you for asking for him to stay the night? You checked your phone every couple hours to see if he'd planned to stop by. It was just silent. 

A few days later, you're out on an errand when you run into him, however he's not alone. A woman is draped around his shoulder and a stinging sensation begins to grow in your heart. Remembering your place, you only glance at him - making brief eye contact and don't really acknowledge him. It's a moot point to even do so, the unfazed look on your face hid the cracks that were beginning to spread from your heart. Opting to turn around and avoid getting any closer, you turned on your heels and took another route home. You knew better. It’s always like this. Sleep together, satisfy his urge and he disappears.

The moment you came home, you put everything away and did the rest of the errands so that you could keep your mind busy. However, once the sun set and the light faded - you felt yourself slowly slipping. Pacing your apartment a few times until you settled on the couch, the moment you sat down you felt it. The pain in your chest was slowly getting stronger. It was always like this, the loneliness, the sadness, the ache in your heart that couldn’t be soothed away by anything or anyone. Hot tears were now streaming down your face, you hated it. You hated the pathetic feeling of jealousy and love. As much as you wanted to deny this feeling, you knew in your heart that you loved him. There have been times when you've doubted these feelings, trying to convince yourself that it's only physical, that he doesn’t see you as anything more than just a fuck buddy. A convenient pussy to use and abuse.

[0fantasma0]

Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

[uriekukistan]

now dont get me wrong i too am getting bored of the current cycle that’s been going on since jjk236 but some of yall are just. missing things i think. obviously gonna be some spoilers in this post.

1. gojo was not meant to be the one to defeat sukuna. his whole thing was about raising a new generation, and to not leave only one person to shoulder the burden of being the strongest. so it makes sense that he lost for that reason.

2. to add on to that, it’s the reason why so many people are needed to team up against sukuna to take him down, because, again the point is not to shoulder the burden of being strong on your own. everyone has to put in their piece to take down sukuna (this is also the reason i am hoping sukuna will be defeated, because he is also taking on the burden of being The Strongest).

3. the thing that makes me so frustrated above pretty much everything else, megumi is not weak for wanting to give up. i swear i will turn to physical violence to get this through the dense skulls of all megumi haters because i dare you to live just one day of his life BEFORE his body was possessed by sukuna. you would be acting the same way. not to mention what happened after. yeah.

these things aren’t the current problem with jjk. sukuna was obviously not going to go down easily, and if you thought that would be the case, i’m not sure why. there’s no inherent flaw in gojo’s demise, the amount of people it’s taking to go against sukuna, or the way megumi is feeling at this point. the issue comes from the recycled and predictable way these fights are happening, not the fact that they are happening in the first place.

[walrus150915]

The most random out-of-order Nimona headcanons I've scrambled out of my mind and put in my notes as coherent as I could bc there's a LOTTTT

• I don't think Nimona uses specific names to label her sexuality/gender. Was she in love with Gloreth? Maybe she was. Maybe she was not. Does she like boys? Who knows, she sure doesn't. What's her gender? Nimona. That's it

• I think Ballister did try to be the cis ally™ and figure out the label Nimona would use but she'd just shrug her shoulders and say "I don't know, boss, it seems like you care about it more than I do"

• And even though she's NOT a girl, she uses she/her pronouns because 💥YOUR PRONOUNS DON'T DEFINE YOUR GENDER💥 you may use she/her and not be a girl, he/him and not be a boy, I even saw cis people use they/them simply bc they're comfortable. And that's okay!

• Although she's comfortable with people calling her he/they/neopronouns you name it. Just. Not it/its. You know the reasons😬

• Nimona is left-handed and it's CANON actually I am SO HAPPY as a left-handed person she's just like me fr💥💥

• Nimona isn't a big fan of domestic bliss Ambrosius and Ballister spend most of their time in (plus they're very sappy and very much disgustingly in love, Nimona's stoic organism can't handle their mushiness for the dear life), she's like an independent cat I think: comes to hang out, eats, spends time with her father-not-really figures and goes away for weeks only to come back again. She travels the world my dudes✨

• I think she has a bunch of photos from the places she'd been to and talks about her adventures a lot!

• Nimona also is the best cook of the fam I'm afraid. Ballister cooks, like, the bare minimum to serve himself as a functioning adult (rice, salad, pasta, some meat like you know the deal) but nothing too complicated. Ambrosius is a nepo baby who's probably lived in palaces and mansions with dozens of servants do you really think he's good at cooking😭 as he distanced himself from the Institute and moved in with Bal I think he learnt to cook, still not great at it.

• Nimona though? SHE CAN DO *ANYTHING* like she's madly good at cooking. It might look like she's burning the kitchen down only to reveal that she was putting Gordon Ramsay to shame!

Speaking of BallBros

• Ballister's experience is close to a second gen immigrant. Ambrosius's experience is close to a third gen immigrant. They can't be immigrants bc of the context of the story?? I DON'T CARE☺

• Ambrosius doesn't speak his mother tongue except for like a few words or phrases he's heard at home. His older relatives probably make fun of him for it on family gatherings. His parents didn't teach him because they didn't want him to stick out (totally not self projecting here - yeah I'm a third gen immigrant hiii)

• Ballister tho? I think Urdu was his first language but he learned English along the way

• And it kinda mixes in his head so he forgets the words from both languages sometimes and replaces them with the word from the other one (HA my experience again)

• When he's experiencing hard emotions, be it anger, happiness, sadness, or is overwhelmed, he drops English entirely and just starts bantering in Urdu

• Ambrosius didn't know Ballister was bilingual but when he learnt it? He was amazed and I think... Kinda jealous because he didn't get to learn Korean himself (self projection yeahhhhhh)

• "You know your mother tongue? Damn! I wish I did too!"

• That said, Ballister has no idea how to shorten Ambrosius's name (WHAT THE HECK IS THIS NAME BRO WHAT ARE YOU, GOD'S FOOD???), so he sticks to Urdu endearments, "luv" (in the most British accent possible) and "darling"

People who say French/Spanish are the romantic languages are wrong LISTEN TO URDU OR INDIAN LANGUAGES OR ARABIC. THAT'S WHERE LOVE IS DUDE

• Ambrosius has learnt like a few words in Urdu and tries to rizz up Ballister by saying some basic words like "jaan", "mohabbat" and just😭😭😭 fails😭😭😭 because he's a cringefail man😭😭😭

I remember trying to ask out my (NOW EX😔) gf who's Italian by writing "will you be my girlfriend?" in Italian and I used GOOGLE TRANSLATION🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT I USED GOOGLE AND POINTED IT OUT AS A JOKE BUT I CRINGED AT MYSELF SO HARD..... Ambrosius would totally do that too and Ballister would chuckle and pull him in a kiss bc he loves this cringefail man so much

• Ambrosius also serenades like I KNOW DAMN WELL HE DOES. He goes "this one's for you, Bal" with a wink and sings like the sappiest most disgusting love ballad ever and Ballister tries his best not to laugh because that's his beloved boyfriend but also like.... So cringe. So embarrassing😭😭 Nimona has more balls than her boss so she would outright say that it's cringe

• Also. I don't agree with people saying Ambrosius's a jock because have you seen this man?? He's a theatre kid. The worst kind of theatre kid. Even after not being a kid anymore he's still a theatre kid. BRO IS A HAMILTON FAN UNIRONICALLY, OF COURSE HE IS. He makes weirdass references to musicals and giggles like an idiot

• Can we agree that Ambrosius was an awakening for many teenagers because OOOOH BOY he sure would be mine. Some pop news youtube channel probably has a video of him reading the kingdom's equivalent of "thirst tweets", like yknow this type of vids😭😭

While we're on the topic of thirst tweets

• Diego the squire runs a fan page account with edits of Ballister like he's some pop celebrity

• He also may or may not write self-indulgent "Ballister x reader" fanfiction in his off duty time

• Also hc that when Ballister was on the run he saw some "WANTED" poster of him and hang up on the wall like yeah boy's crush is EMBARRASSING (can we blame him? I'm the same with Riz Ahmed)

• Todd would be on the "straight" side of their equivalent to TikTok. You know the ones with shirtless men with the same haircuts who think they're hot when in reality they're not?? That's what Todd and his friends are up to in their free time *throws up*

To wrap it all up NOT with Todd, some super random ones:

• Ballister and Ambrosius force Nimona to take her shoes off ("DO NOT bring your European nonsense in this ethnic household") in their house even though she doesn't even have boots on😭😭 it's just her skin😭😭😭 so she morphs her form to simply be shoeless😭😭😭😭

• Ambrosius knows how to tap dance. Idk don't question it I just think he does

• Nimona plays piano YEAH SHE DOES she's lived for 1000+ years man she can do anything

• Ballister's hair routine is "genetics, coconut oil n some prayers"

Yeah that's it I'll probably make a part 2 because it's not all... These characters have occupied my mind and won't let it go🧍‍♂️