#to the point that it's something i'm working on in therapy

[jedi-enthusiast]

You're saying that the reason Anakin committed genocide against the Jedi was because of the things that THEY did or did not do, you are placing the blame on the VICTIMS of Anakin's actions---which, yes, counts as you robbing him of any agency or accountability and defending his actions, whether you acknowledge that he had predispositions to violence or did other atrocious things or not. Victim blaming isn't a good look, nor is it something that I find passable in a debate---no one MADE Anakin do anything, he made those choices himself, so the only person at fault is HIM.

Now onto your other arguments:

"The Jedi are deliberately telling their Padawan younglings to prioritize reason over emotion, which aren't mutually exclusive from one another."

I take it you didn't make it past the first sentence of my reply, so I'll explain it to you again in the simplest terms I can:

The Jedi teach them to ACKNOWLEDGE their emotions and WHY they feel them, so that they are not CONTROLLED by their emotions

AKA emotional mindfulness and control which are, again, things literally taught in THERAPY because they are HEALTHY PRACTICES. No emotion and reason aren't mutually exclusive, but if you let yourself be completely ruled by emotion then that leads to the type of shit Anakin did: multiple massacres, multiple genocides, the attempted murder of his wife and unborn children, etc.

The Jedi recognize that and quite literally just teach their members to be mindful of their emotions and not let them be controlled by them, I'm sorry if that sounds so awful to you but it's actually a very healthy mindset to have---and important, especially when you're a group of people with psychic abilities directly connected to your emotions and the universe.

Wanna know who also thinks emotional mindfulness is terrible and they shouldn't practice it? The Sith. Y'know, the genocidal, self-centered, evil fascists of the franchise.

And, not for nothing, but if teaching emotional mindfulness is so terrible then why did it work for basically everyone else for thousands of years, save for a couple rare cases---the majority of which happened because of Palpatine's influence.

If 10,000 people don't end up murdering children after being raised to be mindful of their emotions and 1 does, is the problem how they were raised or is that 1 person an outlier?

"You're telling me that someone who had become more in touch with the force than Grand Master Jedi Yoda for the first time in centuries was going to be overlooked? Especially since The Jedi had already become living weapons for The Republic in The Clone Wars?"

Being POWERFUL in the Force is not the same as being IN TOUCH with the Force.

Anakin WASN'T "in touch" with the Force---to be in touch with the Force requires that emotional mindfulness you think is so terrible, and Anakin is shown to also think said mindfulness is stupid and not practice it- (again, I'll point to the multiple massacres, angry outbursts, putting others in danger because of his pride or fear or whatnot).

And, believe it or not...yeah, the Jedi would, and ARE SHOWN TO, treat Anakin like everyone else. Sure they'd keep an eye on him because of his natural power, but the Jedi don't value power over everything else---again, that's what the SITH do---what they value is emotional mindfulness and mastery of skills---something that takes both time and patience. It's why Anakin wasn't given the rank of master and why Obi-Wan was able to defeat him at the end of RotS, even though technically Anakin was more powerful.

Anakin is shown throughout literally everything he's ever been in to think emotional mindfulness is bullshit and to never practice it: why would the Jedi supposedly value him more than everyone else if he refuses to even TRY to practice one of their most basic tenants? And Anakin, by RotS, is also shown to have mastered zero skills---he just wants things when he wants them, how he wants them, without taking the time to actually learn and practice and ADMIT WHEN HE'S WRONG or NOT THE BEST AT SOMETHING.

Which are things we see him struggle with throughout the prequels: he rarely admits to being wrong and generally reacts ANGRILY when someone else suggests it, and he routinely thinks he's better than everyone else at everything else---even people with far more experience who've actually taken the time to master their skills such as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, and Yoda. This leads to him overestimating his abilities which then leads to him eventually being defeated by Obi-Wan, because raw power is no match for mastery of skills and experience.

So yeah, the Council wouldn't give him a seat or think he's better than everyone else in the Order just because he was born with a little more power than your average Jedi.

That'd be like NASA thinking that I should be the lead person calculating the trajectory for their next rocket because I was naturally really good at math in high school instead of like...an actual astrophysicist that's dedicated years of their life to study and practice of that shit. You see how dumb that sounds?

"Dozens of people have made plenty of different outcomes for how the prequels could have ended, and a great most of them have pointed out that The Jedi Order could have treated Anakin differently. They are, for all intensive purposes, his foster parents until he becomes a jedi knight. Anakin wasn't born wrong, he was raised wrong, and the reason for his upbringing was because of the Jedi's negligence of the outer rim, and therefore, his family's slavery. He would have been found sooner, and ignoring the fucked up implications of taking a child from their family for the sake of making them a governmental weapon, (consented by the family or not) he wouldn't have been so attached to his mother that soon, and would've grown up fine. (if detaching yourself from the personhood of having acknowledged your emotions is fine to you)"

You can't use fan fiction as an argument, I can't, it's just fucking stupid.

If you're saying that the Jedi are in the wrong because FAN FICTION said so, then I can basically say whatever I want and it's true because I'm sure there's a fanfic out there that supports it.

"If Qui-Gon had just killed Jar Jar in TPM then everything would be fine and saved because Jar Jar was actually a Sith and the reason Palpatine got emergency powers!"

There. The end. No more arguments. Fan fiction said so.

If you're gonna sit here and argue that Anakin's actions are somehow the Jedi's fault then you're gonna actually need to go off of canon and not the fan fiction you read that directly feeds into your own confirmation bias.

----------

I've already explained why how the Jedi raised Anakin, and everyone else, wasn't bad, so let's go on to the rest of it:

The Jedi did eradicate slavery...in the REPUBLIC.

The reason the Outer Rim still has slavery is because it ISN'T part of the Republic---and therefore outside of the Jedi's jurisdiction---it's why Padme is so shocked in TPM. In TCW there's literally an entire episode dedicated to saying: "the Jedi took down the Zygerrian slave empire, so the Zygerrians hate the Jedi and take Jedi as slaves because they hate them so much, and are specifically joining the Separatists because the Separatists allow slavery where the Jedi, with the support of the Republic, didn't."

@antianakin @david-talks-sw and @gffa all have a couple posts each explaining it in better detail, but here's my regurgitation of their points:

There are only 10,000 Jedi at the time of the Republic and---even if we assume that that's ONLY including the able-bodied knights and masters---there are over a trillion planets in the galaxy. For the sake of easy math, let's say there's only a million planets total and only 100,000 planets in the Outer Rim.

That means that EVERY SINGLE JEDI is in charge of 10 planets EACH, every planet having millions---if not BILLIONS---of people on them. Does that sound reasonable to you? To have one Jedi take care of 10 planets by themselves alongside all the rest of their duties? And that's with us vastly UNDERESTIMATING the amount of planets.

The only reason that the Jedi could eradicate slavery in the Republic is because they had the SUPPORT of the Republic in order to enforce the outlawing of slavery. They DONT have that support when it comes to the Outer Rim.

Even if the Jedi somehow managed to eradicate, let's say, the Hutt slave empire, they have other duties that would then take them away from the planets involved---defending the Republic, providing aid to other planets, raising and teaching and taking care of their own people, etc.---which would then leave a power vacuum for another group to just come in and resume what the Hutts were doing.

The only way to prevent that is for a government, like the REPUBLIC, to step in and stop that from happening---again, the support of which they don't have.

It's not the Jedi's fault that the Republic doesn't want to start a war with the many crime lords of the Outer Rim in order to take power and outlaw slavery there---if you want to blame someone for that, blame the Senate.

----------

1. If you want to be pissed that the Jedi took Anakin, get pissed at Shmi---she's the one pressing Qui-Gon to take him in TPM and SPECIFICALLY RAISE HIM AS A JEDI. If you want to pretend that being a Jedi is such a terrible thing, get mad at the mother who's advocating for him to be one. Not to just get him out of slavery, but specifically to BE a Jedi.

2. The Jedi aren't WEAPONS until TCW when Palpatine---yknow the Sith fascist that's specifically planning on committing genocide and overthrowing democracy so he can be a dictator---uses his influence as the Chancellor to strong arm the Jedi into becoming generals. Mace Windu, on behalf of the Council, tells Palpatine that they AREN'T soldiers---but Palpatine and the Senate don't listen. Not to mention that, in TCW, serving as generals and trying to protect people is the best option they have, because the other option is basically just leaving everyone to die

3. Anakin being attached to his mother isn't the fault of the Jedi, it's just the natural result of growing up in slavery and the only way Anakin could've worked past that is if he actually practiced what the Jedi taught---which he didn't, which is also why we see him murder children in response to his mother dying.

And finally 4. so Buddhists are "detaching themselves from personhood" by practicing non-attachment? That's really the argument you want to make? Because I told you that what the Jedi practice is shit taught in therapy and taken directly from Buddhist doctrine, so you REALLY want to say that?

I'm sorry that you think acknowledging emotions and practicing emotional mindfulness is some kind of abuse or whatever, but just because YOU think it's bad doesn't mean it actually is. You don't become "less of a person" by not letting your emotions control you---acting out because of your emotions isn't what makes you a person, being a person is a lot more than that.

And, as for your tags, I DO consider you an Anakin apologist because you're basically saying- "yeah Anakin did terrible things...but if THE JEDI hadn't done x y z then he wouldn't have" -which, yeah, falls under Anakin apologia.

You're the one who's refusing to admit that they're wrong, so take the L and get your anti-Jedi bullshit off my page.

I’m gonna be honest, one of the main reasons why I can never really understand any defense of Anakin or get behind a good majority of “Anakin redemption” fics, is the fact that he murdered children.

Like let's just ignore the multiple genocides and enslavement of the galaxy for a moment, since technically you could argue that he only had a hand in that and didn't actually do it all himself, Palpatine, manipulation, blah blah blah-

He personally murdered children.

On two separate occasions, mind you.

Yes, murdering adults is also bad---don't think I'm saying it's not---but at least adults can actually try to defend themselves, most of them don't depend on the people around them to survive, and they have years of experience living in the galaxy that's given them skills they could use to survive if they managed to get away.

Children do not have any of that or---if they're a bit older and do---the skills they have are extremely underdeveloped. They cannot defend themselves, they depend on the people around them for everything, they have not lived long enough to develop sufficient enough skills to survive on their own in a world that's turned against them.

Argue all you want about the Council being "evil" and "stagnant" and "needing to die for the betterment of whatever," argue all you want about the other Jedi being "terrible to Anakin" and "deserving" their murder because of whatever reason, the CHILDREN had done NOTHING!!!

What could the children that Anakin murdered have done to "deserve" such a fate? Why did they have to die? Why couldn't they have been spared.

And the Tuskens!

Even if we assume that all of the adults in that village were personally involved in murdering Shmi, why did he murder the children? What did they do to "deserve" murder, other than having no control over who they were born as?

And like, we see in TBoBF that the Tuskens aren't just heartless monsters, they protect their own especially their young---are you telling me that none of the children tried to run? That none of the parents or elders told them to go while they tried to fight Anakin off?

And still, Anakin hunted them down and murdered them.

So no, even if you could explain away all the other atrocities Anakin has committed, I still wouldn't think any less negatively about Anakin.

He murdered children.

And I don't think that's excusable.

[allthingsfangirl101]

A Night On The Couch – Glen Powell

Masterlist

Y/N got home from work past 7 o'clock. She hung her keys and jacket by the door. She let her work bag fall off her shoulder and left it by the door. She headed straight to the bedroom and quickly changed into a baggy shirt and a pair of leggings. She took off her makeup and pulled her hair into a messy bun.

When she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine, she noticed she was home alone. She grabbed her phone but stopped. She knew there was no point in calling her husband. She knew that he wouldn't answer his phone while at work.

The pros and cons of being married to an actor.

Y/N sat on the couch with her glass of wine in her hand. Memories of the horrible day raced through her mind. All she wanted right now was to wrap herself in her husband's arms.

Instead, she spent several hours sipping wine, watching a horrible reality show, with tears streaming down her face. When the front door opened, she let out a sigh of relief.

"You're home," Y/N said shakily as she put her empty glass of wine on the coffee table and stood up.

"Not for long!" Glen called out as he jogged upstairs. Just as soon as she was filled with hope, it shattered.

"Of course," she mumbled as she went to the kitchen and poured herself another glass. She walked back out as Glen ran down the stairs he just ran up, except now he was in different clothes.

"Sorry, babe. I gotta get going. I have a meeting and then. . ."

"I'm not surprised," she said, making him stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Glen, this is the longest conversation we've had all month."

"And?" He shrugged. "We're both busy. You're the assistant to that big magazine producer."

"Eddie Morris," she sighed. "He's the editor of Vogue magazine."

"I said that," he brushed off. "What I was saying is that we're both busy. It happens to married couples who both work. It's normal."

"No, it's not, Glen."

"Of course it is," he shrugged grabbing his jacket from the closet and slipping it on. "Honey, it's difficult for married couples to both work and still have time for each other."

"Maybe that should tell us something," Y/N mumbled. "Glen, don't you think we should talk about that? We're never around each other and we never seem to mind. I'd really hate to say this, but maybe it would be easier for us to. . ."

"Don't say it," he said harshly as he turned around.

"It's not like I want a divorce," she tried to reassure him.

"You just said. . ."

"I  was going to say that we should talk to someone."

"Therapy?" Glen scoffed.

"Look, it's no secret that our marriage has been rough. We need to make more time for each other, Glen," she reworded. "We should take a break from our jobs and go on a trip or. . ."

"I can't take time off my work," he cut her off. "We're in the middle of a big movie. Plus, we're already behind and they haven't even finished writing the last few scenes. But your job is. . ."

"Not important?" Y/N finished for him. "Gee, thanks, Glen. Such a loving and supportive husband."

"I was just going to say that your schedule is a little more flexible than mine."

"I don't set my schedule, Glen," she corrected him. "Eddie does. And he's a bigger workaholic than you! Which means I get dragged along."

Y/N's voice broke at the end of the sentence, remembering the conversation she and Eddie had a few hours ago. Her husband didn't notice her whole expression change.

"Glen, I know you have a big important 'meeting' at the nearest bar with your costars," Y/N continued, the tone of her voice different, "but I really need to talk to you."

"Can we talk later?" He sighed, not hiding his annoyance. "I don't have time, Y/N."

"Glen, please," she said, her voice breaking. "I really need some time with my husband—just him and me. No work. No phones. No distractions. I need to tell you that I was talking to Eddie today and he decided to. . ."

"I have to go, Y/N," he cut her off.

"Of course you do!" Y/N laughed harshly, her anger from the events of the day finally bursting. "Considering your work is sooo important to you. Much more important than your wife."

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Y/N scoffed. "We are in the middle of a fight and you're choosing your job over me. Like you always do. You know what, Glen? Go. Go to work. And when you get home at 2 AM, you can sleep on the couch."

* * * * *

Y/N wasn't sure what time Glen got home. She went to bed after finishing the bottle of wine and didn't hear him get home. Glen got home a little after 3 am. He kicked off his shoes and instantly went upstairs to their bedroom. With his hand on the door handle, he froze. His argument with Y/N replayed in his mind.

He softly opened the door and saw her asleep in their bed. He wanted to wake her up and apologize over and over again. He wanted to take three months off so he could spend time with his wife and take her away from here and her job. . .

Her job. Something happened with her job yesterday and he left her.

He took a step into their room to talk to her but stopped. She had told him to sleep on the couch. He didn't want to. He wanted to wake her up and spend all night talking.

But he didn't. He turned around, closed the door gently, and walked back downstairs. He sat on the couch and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. He laid down, his mind racing through what could've happened to Y/N at work.

A few hours later, he woke up with his entire back aching. He froze when he heard her coming down the stairs. He sat up and watched Y/N come downstairs.

"Morning," he said to get her to acknowledge him.

"Morning," Y/N whispered as she walked into the kitchen. Glen watched as she walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee. Glen slowly stood up and tried not to stretch out his back in front of her.

She was now sitting at the table, slowly drinking her coffee. When he walked in, she froze but didn't look up at him. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, trying to get her to talk to him.

"Fine," she mumbled. He looked down and saw that she was still in her pajamas when she was usually in her work clothes at this time.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" Glen asked as he numbly drank the coffee.

"I would," she sighed. "But I don't work there anymore."

"Wait, what?" He roughly put down his cup on the counter and ran over to her. He knelt next to her and gently put his hands on her knees. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"It doesn't matter," she tried to brush off. She stood up, making Glen's hands fall off her knees. "Don't you have to get to work?"

"I'm calling in sick," he said, waiting for her reaction. Y/N turned around and studied him.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah," he said, walking over to her. "Turns out my wife needs some attention and she needs her husband to cheer her up."

Y/N threw her arms around Glen's neck, practically jumping into his arms, as she pressed her lips to his. Glen instantly caught her and started kissing her back.

"I'm really sorry about your job," he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers.

"I'm honestly not," she shrugged, leaning back.

"Let's get some bagels and we can talk about everything."

"Thank you," Y/N said with tears in her eyes. Glen leaned in and kissed her.

"I'm really sorry about making you think that my job is more important than you," he said, tightening his arms around her. "It's not true. Nothing is more important than you, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too, Glen," she whispered, her voice breaking. He leaned in and kissed his wife. He broke the kiss with a playful smirk.

"Does this mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore?"

[iwoulddieforher]

Kiss it (Softball to the Ribs) | Alex Cabot/Casey Novak

Inspired by @jeongonion 's idea of Alex & Casey going against eachother in court

This is the other part of Softball to the Ribs (Kiss it) written from Alex's perspective! I've never tried to write a dual sided fic like this, so :) This part features more context as well as Olivia as the sweetheart she is.

Warnings: Exercise dependence as a means of self-harm, canon-typical cases, recovering from shooting (no descriptions of shooting, though), implied use of the f slur

Summary: Alex has finally recovered enough for her uncle to permit her back into the workplace- but her first case is as a defense lawyer, against her ex... whatever Casey Novak was to her. All seems well in court until she realizes Casey hasn't settled in the way she assumed she had.

Informal summary: Alex just wants Casey to be okay.

Alex Cabot felt as though she had been thrown aggressively into a washing machine with the way everything had flipped for her so suddenly.

The gunshot had claimed everything she valued about herself. Her unshakable demeanor, her facade of untouchability, her sense of safety, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, the movement in her arm.

The doctors explained it as a fragment of the bullet having branched out to sever one of her tendons, and when she woke up after life-saving surgery she was greeted with the knowledge it wasn't over and she was forced into a very rigorous regimen of physical therapy over the course of a month to regain the lost mobility.

"Maybe more?" She had anxiously shifted her gaze from doctor to nurse when they told her, met only with resignation.

"Maybe more," The doctor confirmed, "there's no way to understand how well you'll be able to heal until you do. Full recovery could take months."

"Months." She echoed, staring down at the hand she could barely move.

She was diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder only days later, when she had called her father sobbing over the phone when a tray of something had dropped loudly in the hallway of her hospital room. It sounded too much like a gunshot and she couldn't explain to a frazzled intern until she just screamed at the poor guy to get out and called her father instead. Her dignity was now stolen from her, too.

Olivia had visited her in the hospital a little while later, when she had finally used to phone to scroll through the barrage of notifications she had been ignoring.

"Hey, you." Liv had greeted warmly, handing Alex her coffee order and a croissant in a takeout box which the attorney gleefully accepted. It was one of her better days, she didn't feel as anxious, and Olivia was warm and safe and she trusted her wholeheartedly.

"Hey," she greeted back, opening the takeout box with her usable hand and picking it up without further pause. It was a lot better than the hospital food she had been choking on.

"How's it going?" Olivia asked her casually, settling on the side of her hospital bed, and Alex scoffed softly.

"That's what I should be asking you. Nothing happens here."

"Well, it's been- as it normally is," came the brunette's response, and Alex shrugged to herself and accepted that. It's hard to say working for SVU was 'good' or 'bad'.

"My replacement?" Alex cut right to the point and it was Olivia's turn to scoff, but it was good-naturedly.

"Well- she's fiery." She muttered, "She showed up to crime scenes and runs everything herself. It's like she's trying to put us on a leash."

Alex's eyebrows raised but she grinned. "Oh? Maybe I should take notes from her if she managed to leash you. You need it."

Olivia swatted the air in front of Alex with a roll of her eyes, but she smiled softly. "She's not all bad. I'm pretty hard on her, I guess. She's not you."

"No one else is, Olivia."

"That's true enough."

"What's her name?"

"Casey Novak."

"Oh." Alex stopped eating, settling the croissant back down in the box after a hesitant pause. That name meant a lot to her. With a twinge of guilt, she remembered skipping Casey's text to respond to Olivia's.

"Do you know her?" Olivia asked, and Alex wished she hadn't.

Casey was an enthralling, redheaded fireball that Alex had been watching since the first time she had realized the DA's office had gained another newbie. Her talents were wasted on white collar, that much was definitely a fact, but apparently Casey was well settled from the second she stepped into the office space.

She had grinned at Alex while drunk one night at an office party- the DA's office tried to hold one every once in a while, to promote some sense of community or solidarity between people with jobs so complex they could only really be understood by one another.

And understand one another, they certainly did.

It had started with simple things, like subconsciously registering when Casey took breaks for coffee and trying as much as she could- which wasn't very often- to time it appropriately to arrive in the break room at the same time so she could listen to Casey ramble about some stupid man with some stupid problems.

It progressed to seeking her out, and realizing she was being sought out, Casey leaving little items- a loaf of bread she left a note saying she had accidentally doubled the recipe of, Alex leaving a well-done sticky note when she heard Casey had prosecuted an especially difficult case and the like.

Alex at some point had realized she was, in fact, actively courting her, and it digressed to making stops at her office in the night. "I work better while with company," she had justified it, and Casey had laughed with a raised eyebrow but had no complaints about letting Alex claim the other half of her desk.

At some point, her coffee order was waiting for her, still hot because Casey could estimate what time she'd arrive at, one half of the white collar's desk cleared as if saved permanently for her just in case.

And then one night Alex hadn't managed to ensure justice was appropriately served and in comfort, Casey ended up on her desk, and Alex couldn't have been more pleased with how the taste of the redhead's skin between her teeth made her forget whatever she had previously been worried about.

She had kissed her goodbye and hadn't seen her since then. She had gotten shot a few days after.

"I do know her," Alex answered Olivia instead, vaguely, and Benson knew better than to push.

"Okay. Well, she's doing fine, but I can't wait to have you back."

A couple weeks later, when she was due to return, her uncle had sat her down and told her that in fact, unfortunately, he would not be allowing her back in. Off the record, but she'd be vanishing instead.

"I don't understand," Alex tried to argue, but he pointed at her arm as evidence and she shielded it with her other with a self-righteous glare. "I'm ready to go back to work," she insisted regardless.

"You have a stress disorder." He said firmly, and Alex flinched. "Was your diagnosis repealed yet?"

"No, but things like that-"

"How do you expect to control a courtroom when you can't control your brain or your arm?"

"Uncle, I assure you, I-"

"Alexandra." He reprimanded her, harsh as always. "This isn't about you. I can't risk the mistakes you could make due to your state as a mar on the Cabot name."

It wasn't really about her- it never was, with him. To anyone else who may say this to her, she'd raise a brow and tell them to get lost, but she couldn't argue with her elder male family members. Not her uncle, anyway. He called the district attorney for her, right there, and told him she was extending her leave indefinitely, and to reassign her position permanently.

She wished she could've driven herself there so she could grip the steering wheel as hard as she could, but she knew one hand's knuckles wouldn't clench around it the way she wanted it to, even though she could now make shaky movements of her shoulder to some degree.

She briefly considered calling Casey, calling someone- but what would she tell them?

Hey, Casey, Cragen, everyone I know, I'm such a wreck now I permanently have to leave my position- I hope you settled in without me, because I can't come back- also, I can't move my arm, I can't control my head, and I feel like a little kid again being scolded by my uncle, so, unfortunately, I have no clue what to do with my life now and I'm going to go hide.

So she didn't tell them. She texted Olivia 'need space, don't ask', trusted her to spread the information on, and then curled into her apartment.

She left her apartment only to go to physical therapy or mental therapy, and her phone was on do not disturb for over two months with her father and her uncle as the only two authorized to override it. No one else needed to know how much of a wreck she was.

Time did heal wounds, despite how bitterly she regarded that fact.

After two months she could move her arm well enough that she'd only need to meet her physical therapist every month, and to the unknowing eye, it didn't seem like she had any issue. Her diagnosis had been repealed- she had to purse her lips when she thought about it though because she had not answered the diagnostic entirely honestly in her hast to be once again regarded as normal.

She wanted to be normal so, so badly.

Alex started texting her uncle daily, literally- once a day, at exactly noon, she would text him,

← Good Afternoon. I feel ready to work again.

And then she'd curl up under the covers with a very dissatisfied huff, flexing her hand over and over and hating how much effort it took for her to do so.

And she stayed like that until she got a call from her uncle, who disgruntledly told her he'd let her take a case that involved the daughter of one of his college buddies if it meant she'd shut the hell up.

Playing defense left an odd taste in Alex's mouth, but a case was a case- an opportunity to help someone- so she agreed to at least meet with the woman.

"It's my husband, he-" Ms. Connings' voice broke, and Alex sympathetically handed her a tissue, meeting in the woman's apartment because Alex had no workspace to invite her into.

"He-?" Alex prompted, and Ms. Connings nodded after blowing her nose into the provided napkin.

"He's really manipulative- he's trying to steal my kids." She looked up at Alex with wide eyes, and Alex felt her heart move. "He had this whole sexual fantasy thing where he wanted me to hurt him, and he's trying to spin the whole thing to frame me."

"I've got you," Alex hummed, "I understand. I know this may be difficult, but we need to talk everything out."

This case provided Alex with what she so desperately wanted- a chance to prove herself, but also, a chance to fix something. Save someone. Reassure her of her power and her worth by bringing something that was tarnished and salvaging the parts that mattered.

She felt very lost, but in every conversation with the defendant, she started to regain a little of her confidence. She could help. She could make sure this woman didn't lose what she had.

It didn't matter so much that once her determination had grown, the woman's mannerisms and phrasing shifted Alex's stomach uncomfortably, but, she supposed, that didn't matter. It wasn't her job now.

Showing up at the courthouse as a defense lawyer was a weird feeling. She was forced into small talk with several people, which had her arrive slightly late to the judge's chambers, but when she pushed open the door her eyes weren't drawn to the judge's apologetically.

No, they were drawn straight to Casey.

Her hair had changed- instead of stark red curls around her face, she had bangs and had straightened her hair out to curl up at the ends. It looked unbelievably sweet, despite the cold look on her face Alex had already assumed she'd find. She swallowed as she remembered Casey's warm huff when she realized Alex's fingers in her curls when the white-collar attorney had gone down between Alex's thighs meant she'd have to bike home with messy hair.

In a slightly oversized blazer- or, at least, it seemed like it was from the size of the sleeves, Casey was perched in the chair opposite the judge, and although returning the judge's attention finally Alex could not move her eyes off of her.

Casey refuted the notion that they knew each other so firmly that Alex wanted to argue against it, for a split second, but that kind of argument in front of a judge would not bode well at all. She felt hurt, but to some degree, she supposed she understood it. If Casey wanted to pretend they hadn't happened, she was within her right.

It didn't mean Alex couldn't watch her, though. And watch, she certainly did.

She watched as Casey prowled, strutted around the floor of the court building like a leopard about the pounce whenever she elicited the response she needed from a witness, the way her emerald eyes gleamed as she studied the jurors and softened when she glanced at the plaintiff. She had settled into Alex's former position well- better than anyone else would've, even.

Alex tried very hard not to be jealous, not to scowl when Casey made the exact same moves she knew she would've made if it was her up there. It wasn't her place.

Nothing really seemed to be her place anymore. But she could do this, she could defend this client, she could do that.

And then, she watched Casey get verbally degraded by her client.

Alex was entirely unaware of how her client had even known Casey was sapphic, but she hoped very desperately it had nothing to do with anything she was a part of.

She scrambled to try to find Casey to apologize personally on behalf of Ms. Connings' actions, but the redhead had vanished the second the recess was called and Alex was too bashful to use any form of digital communications seeing as the last ones that had been exchanged were Casey's plead for her to answer back.

"So," she said, hours later in a cell, not even trying to hide the resentment in her voice, "what the hell was that about?"

"She was provoking me," the woman growled, looking like a pitbull about to snap Alex's arm off, "you should've objected to whatever she was saying- you should've stopped it- spending the night in this decrepit box is your fault."

Alex sighed, rubbing her temples, trying not to argue.

"You're my lawyer! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am on your side," Alex reprimanded, "but you're not helping your own case right now."

The woman stopped, stared, and then broke into sobs. The desperate version of Alex who had been clinging to the idea she could save someone, she could work again, she could feel the rush of pride when she got someone the justice they deserved- that Alex would've crumbled, sighed, and waited it out. But Alex was now disillusioned with crocodile tears.

It was her job to see the duration of this case though, so she still sighed as she would've and waited as she would've if she was sympathetic. But internally she wasn't. She'd ensure this woman met the standard of legal expertise she could offer, but that was it.

Strangely, this turn of events had changed something in her. The emotional investment she had placed into this woman and her case in order to solve the turmoil within herself trickled out, slowly but surely, with every insult or half-truth she heard her client spit out. She didn't like being defense, she didn't like being chosen cases for nepotistic reasons, and she realized she'd been projecting her issues which was very unbecoming of a lawyer. She felt rather guilty about that.

She comforted Ms. Connings to the best of her ability and then left, preparing her arguments for the next day, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if tomorrow would be the day Casey wore heels.

She had liked it when Casey wore heels- it accentuated the curves of her calves nicely. Alex wasn't sure why she had been so adamant about wearing exclusively flats for the past few days.

She pursed her lips when the ADA showed up the next day in loafers.

The trial, although complicated and intricate, was over relatively quickly. Alex did not want to draw it out beyond what was necessary. She had defended within the law of their land as best as she had managed, and despite the twinge of desperation that she really wanted to win the first case she took after the shooting, she resigned to accept the verdict without emotion.

"Guilty."

Alex swallowed, bowing her head for a long second. She felt Olivia appear beside her, the detective's hand on her shoulder, and she turned around with a quick tug of the eyebrows to signal her gratitude.

"It was anyone's game," Liv justified, and Alex half-shrugged. It had been. It was very surprising Casey had won this, actually, with the stigma surrounding cases like these- but at the very least, perhaps she'd be able to see the glint of triumph in Casey's eyes.

That's what she was thinking when her gaze roamed from Olivia's sympathetic face to Casey's figure, and it struck Alex immediately that something seemed wrong.

Casey was being wrapped in a tight, awkward hug by the defendant- Alex had been there before, the more emotional victims always went for a grab when the trial was over, and it was always somewhat cumbersome. But despite her facing the opposite direction, the redhead's body language read as far different- she looked in pain.

Her spine had stiffened straight to maximum capacity, her arms loose around his shoulders, but the tension in her body seemed so palpable it was almost as if it would snap.

And snap it did, because a second later Alex studied her as she gently pushed him off, touched the top of the daughter's head softly, and then paced out of the courtroom fervently like she was running from something.

"Benson- have you noticed anything about Casey?"

"What?" Olivia glanced, managing to catch a glimpse of the quickly-moving redhead before she vanished, a small crease appearing on her forehead.

"No, I haven't- I guess she's seemed a little skittish, lately, but that's all."

Skittish? The bold, fierce spirit of a woman Alex knew Casey as would not be skittish.

Her fear affirmed, and she quickly excused herself, striding as quickly as she could into the hallway- she managed to watch a flash of red when the women's powder room door closed.

She hesitated outside of it for a long second, before she heard a sound like a gag and pushed the door open impulsively.

"Casey."

The redhead looked so small, so defeated, and when she raised her eyes from the sink to her face Alex realized she apparently couldn't see as she was just squinting vaguely in her direction instead of meeting her eyes. Either that, or she was pretending she couldn't.

One of her arms was trembling as she forced the weight of her thin frame on it, and the other was clutching at the space beneath her chest. The blouse was lifted slightly, pooling around her arm, and the way her arm was twitching showed Alex very plainly she was in pain.

Casey hadn't graced her with a response for a long moment, so Alex started forward softly, hoping her presence could be something of a comfort, hoping Casey would tell her to leave if it wasn't. But Casey didn't stop her, so she crept close enough to envelop the wrist she was using to hold at something to move it away, and then using her index finger pushed the fabric that fell back into place up once more.

"Jesus Christ, Casey." Alex exhaled when she saw it. A dark shade of red was sprawled across the center of Casey's left ribcage, purple crawling lines indicating where blood vessels had burst blood beneath her skin, dotted by similar colors of grey and dark red. It looked ridiculously painful and she couldn't see any traces of unsaturated green or yellow that might indicate healing. This must be a recent injury- why the hell had Casey come in today?- they hadn't even been in session, just hearing the verdict, she could've skipped. Honestly, she should be in the hospital- Why wasn't she? Why had she let the defendant hug her like that with this sporting beneath her clothes?

Casey tried to chuckle and the sound broke Alex's heart.

"Did someone do this to you?" Alex breathed, a slight bristle in her tone that she hoped Casey hadn't caught on. Casey's new partners were none of her business. If Casey wanted intimacy after her that shouldn't be anything she should be upset about. But someone who did something like this? Alex would make them bite asphalt.

"You think you have a right to know?" Casey retorted, and Alex knew she was trying to be intimidating, but she just looked hurt. "You think you have a right to ask me anything?"

"Casey," the blonde sighed. Although she was taken aback, slightly, by the snarl that laced the attorney's voice, she took the hit with grace and tried to reach out regardless, only to see Casey shake her head. Alex let go of the wrist she hadn't realized she was still holding and watched Casey as she turned away, grasping for the side of the sink, but she didn't make clear enough contact for Alex to be sure Casey could manage her limbs in this state.

She saw the redhead's leg shudder and she tensed, quickly skirting around her to lift Casey onto herself, trying to get her to the floor before she ended up there more painfully. It wasn't hard to do. Casey seemed very weak, and very overwhelmed, and she let Alex maneuver her to the wall, sliding down the side of it when directed, and Alex took a step back tentatively, watching her, wondering if she should leave. If she could leave. It felt irresponsible but she didn't know if Casey wanted her there.

"You left me." Casey said after a pause Alex had taken to study her, snapping the blonde back into reality, and she realized Casey was glaring up at her through red-rimmed green eyes.

"You fucked me-" Alex winced at the impolite language, "in my office, no less- and then you left me."

Alex clenched her jaw, and although Casey wasn't wrong she couldn't stop herself from defending herself. "I got shot,"

But she got cut off before she could explain, and with a resigned sigh she realized Casey was trying to scare her off, which now made her sure she couldn't leave her alone.

"You know how I found out? No texts, no calls, and you know I don't listen to rumors. I only found out when they called me in to force me into your job."

"I got shot," Alex repeated again, harshly, harsher than she meant, but she needed Casey to understand. "I'm not sorry I didn't make that about you."

She regretted it when she saw Casey tighten herself, her knee planting against her ribs in a way she knew must be incredibly painful, and she realized Casey wasn't going to stop punishing herself despite the wince that was barely registered. She dropped slowly, to her knees in front of the furious sitting woman, and pried the redhead's left knee away from her as gently as she could manage.

She had used her bad arm on instinct, and she hoped Casey didn't realize how the movements of Alex's hand were unnatural as it gently pulled on her knee.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" Casey blurted out, and Alex jolted backward as if hit. What?

Alex exhaled shakily, her eyebrows drawn together as she leaned forward, trying to check her temperature. Was Casey acting this erratically because she was feverish? Was something genuinely medically wrong here, was it in her best interest to call a bus despite how harshly she knew Casey would protest that?

"I have no idea where you'd get that from," she tried to soothe, but Casey's unrelenting glare caused her to pause and thus Novak took to opportunity to cut her off.

"I don't have sex with just anyone-" Casey continued, seething, and Alex swallowed, switching her hand- she had used her bad one to estimate her temperature, but for the more refined task of moving locks of her hair out of her eyes, she needed the stability the untouched arm could give her.

"I don't- It means something to me. You thought that was just a quickie with some colleague you could toss aside?"

Is that what she had thought?

Alex thought back to the office parties, the way her eyes had skimmed over the crowd the second she had arrived to find a red-headed face Casey's green eyes would already be shining back in her direction. The late run-ins by the coffee cart, the sound of laughter from Casey's throat, the way her lips felt. The way her squirming had felt like electricity whenever her skin had made contact with Alex's, the way her breathless gasps had made Alex feel like she'd never need another painkiller, she'd just need to remember that. And now that breathless voice was being snarled at her with layers of pain Alex felt like she was trying hopelessly to wade through, accusing Alex of intentionally- what? Is that really what she thought?

Alex had been struggling, fighting with everything she could to return to the level of control that had been stolen from her. It wasn't fair.

Despite herself, Alex's nostrils flared and she pursed her lips, a twinge of hurt in her voice when she replied as firmly as she could, "I'm surprised you have such a low opinion of me."

"You haven't given me much else to think", she muttered, which only fueled the hurt in Alex's blood as she regarded the redhead with mounting concern. She really was trying to fight her off. Alex clung to that thought, trying to feel less gravely insulted. Casey wasn't in the state of mind for her to take anything she said seriously.

"I courted you," Alex whispered fiercely, trying to stop the indignation from leaking into what she hoped would come off as a soft, reassuring tone, and she was entirely genuine when she muttered, "I did not sleep with you out of convenience."

Because she hadn't. Casey had been the object of her desires for weeks. She had stopped by her office at least a dozen times before the night in question.

Casey hadn't responded for another long second, and Alex was starting to be concerned the long pauses in their conversations weren't from Casey thinking but rather from her spacing out, so she moved on, deciding to physically examine. She leaned forward, hesitantly unbuttoning a button of Casey's blouse. It wasn't a first nor a last, so nothing really opened. She was trying to create a window, not expose anything that wasn't necessary for her to see.

The redhead didn't stop her- she didn't move at all, so Alex unbuttoned the next three, prodding the fabric to the side and grimacing at the sight of it again, even though she knew how what to expect. She took her time examining, and then the nudged higher slightly.

When she had held her wrist, Alex had realized her arms seemed thinner than they used to be, but now she saw clearly how malnourished Casey was. She had been able to see the faint outlines of her ribs when Casey flexed, previously, but now they stood out against her skin avidly. Casey must not be eating properly- she must've been neglecting herself for a while to lose weight like this. God. She knew her job sucked, but to do this to someone?

She glanced at Casey, who apparently didn't realize, and decided she wanted to make sure nothing was really broken. If she had broken her ribs, she was calling an ambulance immediately.

Casey growled in the back of her throat, swiping at Alex's wrist with a pained expression when she felt the pads of Alex's fingertips tracing her ribs, trying to feel for any sort of abnormality. "Stop, stop-"

"Can you take a deep breath, Casey?" She quizzed instead, retracting her hand but leaving it hovering over her slightly. She didn't know how to check for things, but if Casey could take a deep breath, that was probably a good enough sign.

"You're not a doctor." Casey accused, and Alex sighed internally- her hesitance at examining must be showing, Casey must be questioning the extent of her medical knowledge, but she disguised it with an arched eyebrow.

"Would you let me take you to one?" She cursed to herself when her voice sounded so hopeful. Casey, though, apparently read it as sarcasm, which worked in its place.

Casey let out an angry huff of an exhale but must've resigned to humor her. She straightened her spine slightly, taking a deep breath, gritting her teeth in pain after two or three seconds. Alex clicked her tongue, but pulled back, resting her body on the heel of her foot, still on her knees. Her chest had risen enough to be a normal inhale, so Casey's previous shallow inhales must've been for a different reason than physically not being able to, which did not help her concern. And the fact Casey couldn't breathe deeply didn't help much, either.

"Are you trying to avoid the hospital to protect the person who did this?" Alex murmured, hesitantly. Casey only snorted in response.

"Don't act so concerned, Alex, you aren't the Sex Crimes ADA anymore, you're the defense now- for some reason- and no, this wasn't a person's fault, other than mine. I got hit with a softball."

Alex narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, bristling at the implication that Alex would only care because she'd be running prosecution and doubly upset by the idea Casey being hit with a softball was somehow her own fault. No, it wasn't. What?

She briefly considered that it wasn't actually softball and Casey was simply lying to her. She had no real way of figuring out if the redhead was being honest or not- Casey was too smart and too complex to have a 'tell' like most anyone else would have. But Alex wanted to grant her the benefit of the doubt. She had more pressing issues to spend mental processes on.

Casey had hit a little too close to home questioning her new position, and Alex had to think back to what she was doing almost half an hour ago- standing next to a woman who she was now near sure was a rapist. Jesus Christ. All she had wanted was the rush she had grown so accustomed to, the pride she had used to feel for her worth. She could save people. That's all she could do.

"I'm the defense because I thought I was helping," Alex said after a pause, rubbing the space between her eyebrows with her middle finger to soothe the tension there, "god knows I needed to do something."

"So now that that attempt failed you're getting your savior complex fix with me?"

"Casey," Alex warned her, trying very hard not to let resentment drip into her tone because her jabs were actually getting somewhere now and she had to chide herself that Casey was literally out of her mind with pain and Alex couldn't argue with her right now.

"Don't pretend to care about me," Casey bit, shaking and struggling to stand, using her arm on the sink as an anchor back to an upright position that Alex couldn't believe she was attempting. She was shivering on the floor, how the hell did she expect to move while standing- but somehow she did it, and Alex inwardly grimaced that her fiery determination was one of the captivating parts about her. If only she wasn't using it for self-destruction.

"Casey," her tone was admonished now, incredulous, despite her attempts to stifle it. "Tell me you don't mean that."

"Did I mean anything to you?" Casey growled, and Alex steeled her nerves not to flinch away from her. How dare she accuse her of something like that? She clicked her tongue, but Casey didn't seem to really register it.

"Yes." Alex barked, then, after a moment of standing there waiting for an apology, "Yes, you did. And you still do. And I don't like watching you hurt yourself so please sit the hell back down."

"I want to go home," Casey sighed, and with a shake of her head, Alex restrained her in the most simple way imaginable. She'd never done it before, but all she really had to do was hold Casey's wrists very loosely and back her into the sink, and the redhead stopped moving.

"Then I'll come home with you," Alex's mind raced for some sort of compromise. She understood that, in pain, Casey must just want to fall into bed and sleep, and she was entirely content to try to cook something in the redhead's kitchen from a safe distance away so that she could check in on her every couple of minutes. "I'm not letting you get away from me, not when you're like this."

"Like what?" Casey scoffed, starting to move. Alex inched her hips just slightly forward, and Casey stopped moving as she was greeted by the sink. In fear she had inadvertently hurt her with the movement, Alex relented immediately and closed her eyes prematurely at the jab she knew Casey must be formulating from the pain she had just caused. She deserved this one, then.

"You don't trust me to take care of myself?" Casey snarled and Alex just swallowed. No, no she didn't. Not at all.

Alex was starting to get impatient. She didn't like that Casey was still standing, and she didn't like the sound of her voice- scratching and raw, now, and Alex could tell she was utterly exhausted. And her previous bites to Alex's intentions still stung in the back of her mind. Alex wanted her to submit, just for a little, just so she could get some food or water in weak figure or get her to lay down, and then once she had more strength Alex was content to fight with her for the next year. Next decade. If Casey wanted to fight so badly, Alex would nurture her beyond her original strength so she could break Alex's heart properly. Not like this.

"I just saw your ribs," Alex snapped, concern and impatience causing her voice to crack, and she leaned closer, trying to get Casey to see the genuine look in her eyes. "I just saw your ribs, and they did not look like that before."

Casey stiffened, her eyes widening, and Alex gritted her teeth. She needed Casey to please just let her in. This interaction couldn't drag out this long. God knows what would happen if they were still at odds when someone else needed the bathroom- Casey would dart out of her grasp and Alex knew she'd never get her back.

"You're not eating- god, I'm not sure if I should be glad I can tell your rib isn't actually broken because the only way I can tell is because it's so prominent if it was broken it would've just cracked out of your skin-, you weren't this thin when we slept together-" Alex rambled, the desperation finally seeping into her tone, taking a deep breath to stop herself before she became incoherent.

"Please. I understand that I need to regain your trust after leaving so suddenly. But we were somewhere, weren't we? Don't I have at least a little stature with you?"

She didn't like how it felt as though she was begging, but with a sigh, she realized she was.

"Let me help you," Alex finally let her facade break entirely. She hoped the note of imploration would finally get the redhead's resolve the crumble, and apparently, it did, because she felt Casey's arms go limp.

Alex backed away, slowly, her eyes darting down to make sure that Casey wouldn't fall when she did. To her relief, Casey seemed to have stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry," Casey said while staring determinedly at Alex's heels, echoing it a second later with a defeated note in her low hum that used to send a shiver of interest down Alex's spine.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Alex leaned down slightly, trying to catch Casey's eye, but the redhead looked to the other side instead, avoiding her. "I want to make sure you're okay."

"I will be," Casey muttered, shaking her head slightly, and Alex felt her heart drop into her stomach when the redhead's eyes shone in the bathroom lighting with tears she wasn't sure if Casey realized. Casey wiped her nose, though, on her sleeve, so at least she was registering something.

"What can I do to ensure that?" She tried to make her voice as soft as possible.

Casey bit her lip, and Alex instinctively moved her hand up to soothe over her cheek, trying to make sure in her mess of emotions the redhead didn't break her skin. Casey let her lip go obediently, which Alex was satisfied with.

"We can get dinner." Casey responded, finally, after a pause in which Alex could count every best of her anxious heart.

Alex nodded, straightening, and motioned for Casey to lead her out of the bathroom. The redhead sucked in another pained inhale and began walking, before faltering slightly, her hand pausing on the doorknob.

"Alex," she started, her voice low and heavy with exhaustion, and Alex was momentarily again concerned she was about to collapse. "Do you actually care-"

Alex knew what she was going to finish that sentence with, and she knew she wouldn't let Casey finish it. She didn't want to hear the question out loud, she didn't think she could stand it. Alex clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing hopelessly in some fit to figure out how to soothe Casey enough that the redhead would resign herself to letting the blonde help her. She sighed, wracking her brain, before doing the only thing she could formulate to do.

Casey's lips felt the exact same as they had when Alex had kissed her before, but her jaw and her cheekbones were more discernable under her fingers, and that helped ensure Alex did not lose herself in the feeling of Casey's mouth on hers. She separated the second she felt Casey's soft exhale against her nose, but couldn't help herself- a soft kiss to her forehead which would've been followed by more if Casey had looked anxious.

But Casey looked okay now, studying Alex with interest, so much so that the blonde could feel her composure break slightly, and the question that pressed too densely against her skull slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Casey," She began, and then bit down, not wanting to ask. She needed to be more careful of Casey than that and- and she wasn't entirely sure she could handle the answer. If Casey did, Alex had already resigned herself to caring for her, and this would make everything so much more complicated.

"Yes?" Casey prompted regardless and Alex couldn't quiet herself to her.

"Do you regret sleeping with me?"

"No." She answered, "I don't."

Alex exhaled, slowly, and swallowed. She knew she shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have gambled, and she didn't trust that Casey hadn't just answered in that way for her own benefit. She shouldn't have kissed her, either. She'd have a serious conversation later, when Casey looked less like the door handle and sheer determination were keeping her upright.

Alex stepped around her to open the door, inviting her out, and the two began walking side by side toward the exit of the courtroom.

Olivia glanced over, a flicker of relief in her eyes when she spotted the two lawyers, and she moved to approach and try to reassure that everything was okay before Alex shook her head softly. Olivia nodded, one eyebrow shifting with a nonverbal question, and Alex half-smiled back. I've got it from here, it meant, and Olivia was content with that.

"Let me take you somewhere nice." Alex murmured, "and then you tell me what's been happening, okay?"

Casey's hand was shaking next to her and Alex swallowed, thinking for a hard second if it would be appropriate before gently confining the shivering fingers in her own. A moment later, she felt quite pleased- that was her bad side.

She used to need to focus so hard to move that hand. Now it felt natural.

Casey leaned into the touch, just barely, but enough for it to signal that at least to some degree she found it reassuring.

Alex felt reassured, too.

↓↓↓

To read Casey's perception of these events, please continue:

[spacedace]

Thinking about the preserved evidence of children playing in the mud formed in a giant sloths footprint 11,000 years ago and the little felt plush swan they found preserved in a burial site from 2300 years ago and the pattern of the clothes found on a bog body in Denmark from 2000 years ago and all the pawprints that litter our history and all the little notes of love and affection that have survived through the centuries and the jokes and the joys and the the stories we still pass down from a time so long ago the stars themselves were different and any way I'm crying over how people have been like this, looking for joy and companionship and comfort and beauty and love in all the forms it comes in since the beginning.

[overnightheartbeats]

Isaac didn't comment on anything Wally was telling him. He had pulled some of this from his file after all. Graduating top of his class, the divine intervention from the late Agent Hurst. His question about becoming an agent seemed rhetorical, though it did invite him to answer. But, before he had a chance, Wally continued. "From analyst to field agent." That doesn't just happen. Isaac just found it so interesting how easily that agent maneuvered through the agency and set Wally up to exceed expectations. Isaac had seen that too. All supervisors had nothing but good things to say about his work. Even the performance reports from Karina were filled with compliments. "You've been at this for a long while, maybe at first you owed him. But he kicked the bucket, a while ago." Why was he still there?

Leave it to his timing, of course. Isaac's question being answered. His head tilted curiously at how adamant he was to not go against her. It did sound like loyalty, something that was burning on his tongue to question. "Your niece?" What the hell was he...? Ah. "She has your niece." Not holding her somewhere, he'd assume. Isaac figured Wally wouldn't be standing here talking to him if that were the case. If his initial reaction was any indicator, chances were, he'd be tearing the place apart. Isaac wouldn't blame him, he'd do the same for his own niece. "If your niece is at risk, why wouldn't her parents deserve to know? It's not about whether I blab or not, but if we're going to work against Karina, I don't feel comfortable leaving your niece on the playing board." His frown was quick to make an appearance when Wally poked his chest, he wasn't serious. "You've made your point. That's why I'm here gathering everything before we go in."

Medically induced coma, therapy, and all the other things he mentioned. Karina's vendetta against him had to be something deep, because, even from his limited viewpoint, it was clear she was trying to wipe him off. Laser focused on destroying him. "That does sound pretty damning. Canary's? I won't ask if all the information I need is in front of me. Trust me, I'm not interested in involving more people in this. Everything you say seems to end in multiple injuries. I have to say I'm impressed you're not dead yet." Did Isaac struggle just a bit to say that? Yes, maybe. Just when he thought they were doing better, he seemed to say something to irk him once again. His eye roll was impossible to hide. Ask someone to not get caught, and in the same breath tell him to not lurk. Make it make sense. "I won't lurk if I don't have to, but don't kill me if I still lurk next time I see you." With that, he adjusted his jacket before making his way out the same way they had come in.

The walk back to his car should've helped Isaac cool down and find his footing again. Sure, Wally was irritating him to his very core, but he still deserved the help. Yet, Isaac couldn't look past the insane amount of frustration he felt dealing with him. Once he was back in his car, he dialed the person who could give him some clarity. The person he trusted with advice and the wake up calls. His brother. "I don't even know if I'm calling for you to talk me out of this or to tell me to keep this case. I just can't do this. Is it crazy to think that I rather be chasing some sick criminal around the globe over being here? And no, Louisiana is not the reason I'm losing it." Though it also didn't help.

"Since I was twenty two." That was a long ass time ago. "I have an idea but nothing concrete that I can work with." He hummed as he confirmed without saying much on the matter. "He took me out of Quantico the day before graduation. Graduated top of my class. Star pupil and the like." It was almost like he was watching it replay in his mind as he talked about it. "Recruited me for a special Black Ops division. Needed someone like me and my skills. I wasn't supposed to be an agent you know that?" He didn't let Issac i interrupt. "I was an analyst. Desk duty bound. Except I had exceptional field skills. Part of the Christmas project. You guys know all about it. Your offices handed out those standardized tests to kids. Being smart didn't need to give such a sentence as this."

"I can't. Even if I wanted to. I can't and will not go against her. Not for loyalty but I can't risk my niece. Hence," he gestured around. "All this cloak and dagger bullshit. Her parents don't know so don't you go blab it." He got down from his counter and sighed. Poking his chest, "So if you got a plan. It can't be half cocked."

He hummed. "Madrid was the case I was in a medically induced coma for a month. Therapy was assigned too. My cognitive skills were not harmed luckily as I heard all of them say. But that was the only time she had a neutral stance. I can't prove she did anything to me but there's one I can. Canarys mission. You can't ask me how I got this." Another person he wanted to keep out of this was his girlfriend. Who back then was just a friend or an annoyance if you asked her back then. "Sustained multiple injuries then too. But if you're really here to help then," he shrugged and nodded. "Dont get caught." He knew he'd see this guy again. "Do yourself a favor don't lurk in the shadows I hate that.'

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

---------------

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

-----------------

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[deoidesign]

.

[gxlden-angels]

Bro I hate fundamentalists and culturally-fundie parents they'll say shit like "spare the rod spoil the child am I right haha yea my parents used to have to beat my ass with a switch almost everyday but I sure did learn my lesson" but like??? no you didn't??? you were hit multiple times for something you very obviously did not, in fact, learn

Like studies about how harmful even lightly spanking children is aside, you're literally contradicting yourself?? Some even admitted they got worse as they got older cause they wanted to see how far they could push their parents before they got punished

And studies not aside, you're gonna get child raising advice from the same book that tells you to stone your wife if her hymen doesn't break on your wedding night instead of the decades of research we have now?? Just say you're a bad parent and move on my guy. Skill issue

[stuckwith-harry]

i am handing in my b.a. thesis (on motherhood in gothic fiction) in a few short days and though i have been complaining about having to write it for six months straight, right now i am actually feeling bereft of future opportunities to write academic papers about my silly little interests. for instance right now i really want to research & write about dracula daily & genre & the impacts of the newsletter format on the narrative (the addition of a timeloop)

i think about format and the specifics of narration a lot when i'm writing my own little things and i loooove when the narration - not just the narrator, but the act of telling the story - is part of the narrative. love when the narration is diegetic! love an epistolary novel (like dracula!) for this reason. should read more of them

inventory by carmen maria machado (short story! read it immediately!) is a GREAT example of this. the format of the narration is so integral to the story. does more than elevate it imo, i would argue the story genuinely wouldn't work any other way

g*d. i'm gonna have to become a video essayist

[pollen]

i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like

[hillerska-official]

(Ignore me I just gotta scream a bit before I lose my mind entirely)

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

Is there like. a CW tag people use for posts that are like "if you do xyz I'm committing acts of extreme violence on you / you should explode"? Cus I often feel kinda icky about interacting with those posts and I'd like to at least be able to tag it for other people who might be more significant effected by it to filter if I ever want to reblog one of them

[hiddenmoonbeam]

love waiting for a phone appointment and the clock ticks past the set time....... 15 min now.... is her day busy and delayed, will she call in a sec or in half an hour instead? is she for some reason not calling at all but I didn’t get notified? has she forgotten? no idea and there's no way for me to call so I just have to wait.....

[asinglesock]

sometimes the horrible feeling in your stomach is anxiety but sometimes the horrible feeling in your stomach is because you are hungry. and sometimes you are both anxious and hungry. if you eat you might still be anxious but you will no longer be hungry.

[superfluouskeys]

i am literally a hopeless case LOL

[tokyoteddywolf]

22 isn't very much at all, I think.