#counterpart to the guy who thought he was so so special and had apparently gotten a drink the day before that was

[mlep]

back when i worked at the cafe i remember whne i was training and this one lady whos not necessarily bad but she used to work there and was just kind of grumpy came in and she has one specific drink she always gets and i made it and she left and then she came back in and me and the more experienced baristas were like im fucked lol . but she just like said how it was one of the best ppld made for her there . customer service should always be like this

[derekmorganscrocs]

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

[yeetussfetus]

this is suppsoed to be for fun. to anyone who remembers, i proposed an idea for the CHEG to be a mysteriuos group that almost no one knew anything about it. well i will be explaning more in this one. 

the story itself will be about a random ISB agent name Arus Dara whos a guy who needs some money and decided to use hiss knoledge for the Empire. in these first three logs, he will explain that his logs will be for himself, which will explain why he cusses in some parts. more info about him at the bottom.

words:1361

warnings: cussing, alcohol mention (idk if i made it obvious when its mentioned but just in case)

ENTRY LOG 1

This is an entry log by agent Arus Dara of the ISB, Empire. This is a personal log that is about my next mission, or, at least I hoped it would be my next mission, about the infamous group known as CHEG in the Empire. A little backstory on this particular group is that… well, almost nothing is known about them, besides the fact that it's so secretive and high up in the Empire that even the Emperor was a bit confused when he heard the name pop up, although that could be because he's hiding the fact that he's in it.

That doesn’t matter, though. The group in of itself hasn’t caused any issues for a while now, and that's probably the only reason why they haven’t tried to figure out who was in it. However, my boss, who is, by all means, the biggest bitch I’ve had to work with in the Empire so far, has requested that I look into the group. When I asked why, she didn’t specify, but she did tell me that I would get a promotion, which is extremely rare for someone like me, this young in their career. 

Not only are the benefits great for the position she offered me, but I would only have to work for a couple more years before I could retire with that much money. It would be a great chance to get money for my mother. So, I did what any rational person would do, and I accepted.

Unfortunately the details were a lot more complicated than I thought. For starters, she's not the one who wanted me to find out about the group. It was someone way higher up. I was able to tell from the fact that, while their face was blurred along with their voice, they looked to be on a Star Destroyer. And a fancy office. 

Well, the office itself wasn’t fancy, it was almost barren, but from the looks of it, the guy could afford whatever he wanted. He filled me in on what I was going to need to do: Figure out who's in the group, and report to him about my findings. Sounds about easy enough. And then it wasn’t.

There is a reason why almost nothing is known about the info on this group, and that’s probably because they are so good at hiding whatever dirty things they do. The only things I have is the name and possible candidates, all of them being high ranking officers. 

I might have to request something to help me from my new… “boss”, if you want to call it that. For now, however, this will have to be it. Arus Dara, out.

ENTRY LOG 2

Well, that went better than expected. For the past few days I’ve been trying to find out who might be in the group, and it's been… terrible. Terrible trying to find out how to do this. Terrible trying to figure out how to even find these guys. It's unbelievable, I seriously don’t know how these guys even hide this much, social groups who the Emperor is in have more info then this. Is there someone who has a bigger role in the Empire then the fucking Emperor?

It’s just been… a few stressful past days. However, I think I have the solution. The other day, I got the balls to ask my “boss” to get an employee log. Surprisingly, he didn’t know what that was. I had to explain to him that it was just a system that said when a staff of the Empire got into work and when they left. It was mandatory for everyone, except a select few, and if he didn’t know about it, he must be really high up in the Empire. And extremely oblivious to what normal people have to do. 

I really hope I’m not giving this info to someone who's a spoiled brat. I could never live with myself if that happened.

That doesn't matter right now. Basically I had to ask him to give one to me of people close to and the people themselves of that list I had talked about earlier. From the past 3 months, since that was after people tried to figure out who they were. I haven’t found much so far, but I’ll look through the list again.

…

So far I've got one person that I’m pretty sure is part of the CHEG, and his name is Agent Kallus. His entry's logs are all over the place, and considering what he does in his free time is never present, he's probably part of the group. One minute he’ll be out the door, the next hour he’ll do the same. I’ll have to visit his ISD soon.

Well, that’s out of the question, his ISD is the Chimera. Also known as the ISD where Grand Admiral Thrawn resides. Grand Admiral- either his reputation is messed up, or he doesn’t know how stupid his employees are. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I got my info, and it's time to take a visit to the ISD Chimera.

ENTRY LOG 3

Nobody ever told me that the ISD Chimera, a ship that has one of the scariest Admirals to date, would be so… batshit insane. For starters, a captain or commander there, whose name is _____ _____ is just- how has she not gotten fired? I’m not sure myself, but from what I witnessed, she must have Admirals luck on her back because I’ve never seen someone act like that. She wasn’t rude, she wasn’t cocky (well, maybe a little), but she was… bold. She did what she wanted without a care in the world.

When I asked about her to the other crew members, they told me, “Oh, that’s just _____, she's always like that.” I have no idea how a woman could have this rank in a ISD and also be this chaotic. Not only that, but she's as old as me, and that means that she probably has connections- somewhere.

Another person of interest is a (again, forgot if he was a captain or commander) guy named Eli Vanto. He's not insane like his counterpart, but he's… strange. I saw him get his coffee from the coffee machine, down it, before making another cup. He had a water bottle with him the second day I was here, and it didn’t smell like coffee. Sometimes I’m glad that I’m not part of an ISD crew. 

And then, finally, Grand Admiral Thrawn himself. I only met him once, and that was a long lasting impression. He was speaking with another captain of a nearby ISD, and that captain was… I think Captain Ilian if I remember correctly. Anyway, he was way more cocky then ____, and he was saying something about moving ships to Coruscant without any explanation, and Grand Admiral Thrawn listened, but never spoke. When he asked if he was still there, he simply said, “Indeed. Continue.” He didn’t even falter. 

The captain eventually just dropped the whole thing. I never expected an alien from the unknown regions to be this far up the chain, but I’m starting to see what got him here.

And then Agent Kallus. Agent Kallus isn’t even going to be here for a while apparently, he's somewhere on Coruscant with another ISB member. Colonel Yularen, which is also surprising. I’ve heard of Yularen before, and he’s not someone to be messed with if I remember correctly. 

Oh, one more thing. When I told my “boss” (who has now asked to go by boss), he stood in silence and then asked if I was serious. When i presented my evidence, he started to believe me and told me to hold my position and wait for him to return, and then figure out where he was going. He was so serious. I mean, what is so special about this group? It’s almost like Vader's obsession with killing jedi. That captain or commander _____ was making that joke, by the way.

So, I guess that will have to be all. Goodbye.

------

ok so Arus Dara is the son of a clone deserter who deserted early, like right after the geonosis incident. if you ask him he wont tell you why or how, simply stating that he doesn't like to talk about his father, which is understandable since he had to watch him die in front of him. his mother, a togruta, had to take care of him for the rest of his time with her. the reason why he needs money is because she has a disease that, while treatable, is extremely expensive. so he has to deal with that as well.

anyways the story is set more in the way of he speaks, and then what his datapad picks up will be put down so he can read them. its like a journal for himself. thats all for now, so ye. bye.

tagging: @danger-xylophones 

[miraculouscontent]

Pokemon anon again! I'd like to hear anything you have strong opinions on (either your personal ships, ones you dislike, etc). I just really like reading your thoughts, so whatever you feel like sharing is fine.

Welcome back, Pokénon!

And sure, I can do that!

Alright, so in terms of ships I dislike (I’m going to go with the English names just so I’m not constantly using both names)...

I guess I should get the obvious ones out of the way, because I’m not really a fan of either “Ash ship” extreme:

Poke//Shipping (Ash X Misty) and Amour//Shipping (Ash X Serena)

I don’t like either of them.

For Poke//Shipping, I have never liked aggressive tsundere characters and Misty is basically a textbook example of that. It’s not that I have a problem with strong/tomboy-ish (though honestly I don’t consider Misty a tomboy anyway) female characters, which I know it sounds like that when I have a distaste for characters like Alix too, but when they’re brash and angry and just so generically “TOMBOY GIRL POWER,” it grates on my nerves.

The idea of having an aggressive character - y’know - be aggressive to their love interest and then cue the sad music when the love interest argues with them or makes any sort of hurtful implication just... no.

Like, I want you to imagine the most sarcastic Clarity possible and then picture me as a little girl watching the scene where Misty is officially leaving the group, because that was literally just me like, “oh noooo, she’s goooone.”

It’s the same reason I don’t do Rocket//Shipping (James X Jessie). One character is too aggressive and the other character doesn’t even come close to balancing it out.

There’s also the fact that nothing comes out of Poke//Shipping. Misty is canonically crushing on Ash (*flashbacks to the friggin’ second movie where they shove it in your face*) but it’s just... there, not to mention that scene where Misty is talking casually to Ash like, “you and I will be married too someday,” which came completely out of left field and - whether for a joke or not - made little kid me very uncomfortable.

Like I said, it’s just there and doesn’t go anywhere, and Ash is already so oblivious that of course he wouldn’t get that Misty is in love with him. It’s basically a long-running gag of Misty pulling a surprised Pikachu face whenever Ash doesn’t understand that she likes him/wants to stay with him/literally wants anything specific from him.

As for Amour//Shipping, I did admittedly like it at first, but just--ugh, oh boy.

First, it’s shipping fanservice, kinda like Pokemon 2000 throwing a bone to the shippers except now it’s the whole two seasons. My followers know how I feel about fanservice just for fanservice and that’s basically all that Amour//Shipping is. That’s why Serena was already made to have met Ash when they were children; so the writers could get a “headstart” on all the blushy fanservice they could squeeze in on Serena’s end.

I fell off the ship sometime around Wulfric, particularly with the scene where Serena comforts Ash. Just that whole, “this isn’t like you,” and then trying to compare her contest losses to Ash’s battles as if Ash hasn’t been at this for seasons upon seasons and battles aren’t a completely different category because they involve actually watching one’s Pokemon get physically hurt (Pokemon battles are a sport, yes, but it doesn’t change anything; Ash also has a special Greninja so of course he’s going to be upset that having all this experience still isn’t enough to just sweep). Like, to relate to someone, yes, it helps to have something you can use as a mental comparison, but that comparison is (usually) supposed to stay mental.

Anyway, after Ash shouts at her because she doesn’t know how he feels at all (because she doesn’t) and he just wanted to be left alone (because he did), Serena throws snowballs at his face and that apparently helps make Ash feel better because Serena can do no wrong here and that just so happened to be exactly what he needed.

(I mean, that whole gym battle and what follows is already pretty trash but that solidified it for me. Basically everything XY&Z added were things I just didn’t care about.)

Oh, and Serena is also implied to steal a kiss from Ash at the very end of the season and you guys know how I feel about that. It’s mostly the fact that she’s so non-apologetic about it, just smiling and blushy and all happy whereas here’s me like, “Wait, I’m pretty sure we just missed a crucial step here??? Since when were you sure that Ash had a thing for you???”

So yeah, I’m not a fan of either ship. I have vague opinions about basically all other ships (The ship between Ash and Iris aka ”You’re such a kid” girl can rot), but Poke//Shipping and Amour//Shipping are the ones I have the strongest negative feelings for.

Brock being shipped with basically anyone is a no no for me. The guy flirts with anything that moves and I have never found it funny or charming. The closest thing young me ever came to a ship with him was Luck//Shipping (Brock X Pike Queen Lucy) but that’s basically it, and it honestly could’ve just been me thinking the idea that Ash and Brock both getting together with Battle Frontier people (I was for Ability//Shipping - Ash X Sailor Maiden Anabel - at the time) was a neat idea and both episodes that featured the respective ships had BLUSH FUEL.

I recall being into Advance//Shipping (Ash X May) when I was young (I was a multishipper back then, you see) but I avoided thinking about it too much because I wasn’t a huge fan of Max (aka “Iris before Iris existed”) and Norman’s game counterpart infuriates me even to this day so I just didn’t want to imagine Ash having to deal with those sorts of things. Plus, looking back on it, he and May were little too similar (then again, maybe that’s why I liked it?).

I expected to enjoy Aurelia//Shipping (Ash X Lillie) when I was getting into the Sun&Moon seasons but it didn’t really do anything for me. I guess maybe I was so burnt out after Amour//Shipping that I wasn’t in a shippy mood anymore? Though, it could also be that their relationship isn’t as “balanced” as I would’ve liked.

Anyway though, as for the ships I actually really like instead of just being indifferent towards or outright disliking, the big one really is just Pearl//Shipping. I suppose it makes sense given that I’m not a multishipper, don’t like Brock enough to ship him with anyone, and most other travel companions are ones I either hadn’t gotten attached to or that I’d paired with Ash long enough that, once I got older, I couldn’t really picture them with other people because my memory of their moments wasn’t strong enough.

Yeah though, PEARL//SHIPPING, I ADORE IT. Like, I’ll try to explain it as best as I can without rambling, but basically:

Dawn doesn’t make excuses when she wants to go with Ash. No “my bike," no meandering, just really casual.

THEY SING THE JAPANESE OPENING TOGETHER AND IT’S RAD. “High Touch” is like, my favorite opening theme???? And they do a duet for it??? I just???? Yes???????

It’s the little things. High-fives are like, their thing. They traded Pokemon with each other which is like, really rare for the series and it made total sense. They both have a Pokemon they keep out of their Pokeball who doesn’t want to evolve (Piplup was the Eevee partner from Let’s Go before it was cool) and no, Misty’s Togepi doesn’t count because it was Gold and Silver’s posterchild. Ash and Dawn also both gave up a speedy physical Pokemon (Primeape and Ambipom respectively) so they could participate in some sort of Pokemon sport that doesn’t exist in the games while I scream in the background because I really like said Pokemon.

DAWN IS ASH’S CHEERLEADER. SHE LITERALLY CHEERS FOR HIM DURING GYM MATCHES. THAT’S PRECIOUS.

They help and get ideas off of each other, which I think is really cool. Them trading Pokemon just furthers that sort of dynamic.

Them just supporting each other in general. There’s a moment where Dawn takes a pretty harsh loss and Ash can be seen sulking like he really gets how she’s feeling.

It also helps that Diamond and Pearl were one of the better seasons of the anime. Paul is a solid rival, I really like the creative battle techniques like spinning and countershield, and just Chimchar in general honestly. I remember the baking episode “Cooking Up a Sweet Story!” vividly and all the feels it gave me.

Yeah though. It’s not any sort of OTP pairing or anything, but out of all of the anime Pokemon ships, Pearl//Shipping is probably my favorite. I’d probably ship them a lot more if they were a little older (like, on par with the protagonists of the Black & White games, who are closer to 14/15; it’s just easier to get a gauge on personality that way).

[aclosetfan]

“It’s just so difficult. Everytime we face him and his brothers, it’s a grueling battle of wits.” Blossom sighed, dunking her tea bag into her mug, “I don’t know how much more I can take sometimes.”

Bubbles frowned and really looked at her sister. It was a rare thing to hear her admit. Placing a hand on Blossom’s, she tried smiling, “Blossom, he’s nothing more than just a another bad guy. We’ll figure out how to defeat him. All three of them! We can’t give up hope yet!”

Blossom glared at her mug, and Bubbles bit back a sigh. It wasn’t like Bubbles didn’t love being there for her sisters. She wanted them to come to her for every problem. But Blossom had been sulking about their last fight for a week, and, frankly, Bubbles was getting a little worn down hearing how powerful, and almighty, and impossible her sister’s counterpart was. Blossom obviously didn’t want any advice; she didn’t want her problems solved or thought out. No, Bloss just wanted to...gab and complain in an effort to drown in her sorrows. And Bubbles was the one (always the one) to hear it.

Brick had apparently outsmarted her in a...puzzle? Bubbles didn’t really know exactly. Her eyes had glazed over by the time Blossom had finally gotten around to explaining what the actual issue was. She would have probably paid better attention if Brick had actually been flirting with Blossom. Who knew though, maybe he was in his own special nerdy way, but Bubbles certainly couldn’t parse out anything romantic about the interaction. Knowing the two of them though, Brick’s offense was more likely akin to some odd riddle or clever word play as the two were oftened engaged in doing, instead of physically fighting.

Of course, her and Buttercup had walked away with bruises galore because their counterparts had no need for idle chit-chat, but Bubbles pushed that small annoyance down, down, down. It was getting harder and harder though to shove the idea away. Because if Blossom and Brick one day decided to keep the word play consice and to the point, maybe, just maybe, the fights with the boys would be quicker, and her and Buttercup wouldn’t be so...on the brink of death all the time?

“Ease for you to say!” Blossom finally snorted and Bubbles eyebrows shot up—had she said any of that outloud?

“S-sorry, what?” Bubbles stuttered out, trying not to meet Blossom’s eyes. Guilt flared in her chest. She hadn’t meant to be mean. It was just that when Blossom and Brick got going, Boomer and Butch had more time to fight.

“Defeating Brick is impossible!” Blossom huffed and Bubbles realized, after a moment, that Blossom was referring to her pep talk and not her inner monologue. A small relief in some ways, a bit disappointing in others.

“That’s not true, Blossom.” She countered, “Everyone has a weak spot. You know, I’ve been thinking, we get more flies with honey, right? I think there’s still hope for the three of them, if we just kill’em with kindness!”

Blossom stared at her for a moment, her eyes turning into icy stone, “Brick isn’t Boomer, Bubbles.”

Bubbles couldn’t stop herself from bristling, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kindness won’t work with him, like it may with Boomer—” She spat and Bubbles raised a finger to protest because kindness didn’t work on Boomer. He just laughed and continued to push her into the concrete, or the brick wall, or whatever he had her pinned down on as she expressed a desire for his betterment. He’d press against her in funny little ways and say odd little things hotly against her ear like good boys can’t do this, though, can they? And, embarrassingly, while Bubbles would rapidly and outwardly disagree with his actions, a hot kernel of something would explode inside of her that, as of late, made her and Boomer’s fights very concerning.

A kind of concerning that she was desperately trying to ignore. But Blossom didn’t know that. Blossom never asked about her or Boomer. She hardly even asked about Butch and Buttercup, and those fights worried Bubbles more then her own.

And Blossom didn’t allow Bubbles to express this once again, as she ignored her hesitant finger of protest.

“—Brick is a challenge—” Blossom explained in a way that implied Boomer was not, “His intellect is no joke.”

Bubbles could feel her cheeks reddening. While she loathed the idea that she felt the urge to jump to Boomer’s defense so quickly, it felt like he wasn’t the only one being insulted at that moment. Boomer wasn’t the smartest, sure, but he talked in ways Brick could never. She had never seen another villian threaten a citizen’s life so easily and then walk away with their number in hand, like Boomer could, in her life. He was dastardly charming. Truly the young man the Professor had warned them about. Hearts were just play things to him. She knew it. He knew it. He knew she knew it. Everyone knew it. And no one but her seemed to care.

“—honestly, you two should count yourselves lucky. I’m the one stuck fighting the toughest of the brothers everytime!” Blossom ranted on and all her thoughts of Boomer instantly dissipated. She regarded her sister and the ridiculous comment for a moment before something clicked in her head.

Because, oh, everything made sense now! All her building anger was for nothing! Blossom had just been joking!

“Yeah, right, Brick’s the toughest!” She giggled along, “You had me going there for a second Blossy! You need to work on your set-up, I thought you were being serious!”

This time Blossom bristled, “I am being serious.”

Her giggling died and she blinked, “Wait, what?”

“Brick is the toughest out of the three of them. The way he thinks, the way he fights...it’s pure precision! ‘Killing him with kindness’—” Blossom finger-quoted “—won’t work.”

Bubbles continued to blink. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed as she thought it over, and then she shook her head in disagreement, “No he’s not.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Brick’s not the toughest fighter.”

Blossom rolled her eyes, “Obviously, I’m not counting Buttercup. Just out of the three of—”

“Yeah, out of the three of them he’s not the toughest. It’s Butch, duh.”

“Well, he’s strong,” Blossom conceded, “but—”

The ugly feeling from before flared in her again.

“But nothing! He’s Buttercup’s counterpart! By default that makes him the toughest!” She argued, interrupting Blossom.

“Muscle mass doesn’t make you the toughest.” Blossom sighed, rolling her eyes again, like she was the one acting ridiculous! Like she was the one elevating her dumb counterpart to the level of an undefeatable god!

“Blossom! Seriously?” She gapped, “you haven’t fought him like I have—like Buttercup does! He’s the toughest. No talk, just do with him. He doesn’t let you breathe, he doesn’t give you an edge, he draws a line in the sand and he’d be damned if you pass it!”

“Brute force, brute strength does not make you the most skilled—”

“Oh my gosh! You can not be serious right now!” Her voice going a smidge shrill, “You cannot seriously think Brick—Blossom! Yes! Butch has that brute force, but Butch is skilled. He doesn’t have to overthink like you and Brick. He has a goal, he accomplishes that goal, there’s no persuading him.”

Blossom opened her mouth to respond, but Bubbles couldn’t stop herself and kept going.

“Like sure, sure!” She conceded, “He’s not playing mental chess with you but that’s because in his mind he’s already won! You’re just in the way! He’s—he’s feral! He fights to win! He—Buttercup!” She called out.

“Yo!” Buttercup called back from somewhere in the house, “Sup?”

“Who’s the toughest brother out of the rowdyruffs to fight?”

There was pregnant pause before Buttercup asked back, “Is this like a trick question or something?”

“Blossom thinks it’s Brick!”

Another pause before Buttercup’s laughter shook the house.

“That twig!” She cried back, “That’s amazing! Good one, Bloss!”

She stared Blossom down across the table and called back to Buttercup, “How’d your last fight with Butch go again, BC?”

Her sister’s laughter died down and she could hear her hum in thought, “Well, I mean, the left side of my rib cage was completely shattered and I pissed blood for about five days, but all in all, I’d say pretty average!”

“Did our favorite green bean let you talk him down?”

Buttercup’s laughter rang through the house again. She was in a good mood.

“Butch? No!” Buttercup snorted, “I couldn’t get a word in edge wise. He couldn’t either. Sort of be distressing if he had, though, given the fact that I broke his jaw! You should have seen how pissed he got!” Buttercup exclaimed, “Right before he killed my ribs.”

Blossom winced, but Buttercup either couldn’t hear it or didn’t bother to pay attention to it as she kept babbling on. The last fight they had with the boys certainly did do a pretty number on their sister, at least Bubbles was comforted by the fact that Blossom would readily agree to that much.

“Oh, well,” Buttercup chirped from the other room, “not the most harrowing victory for side of good, but I’ll get’em next time! Going to break his shins! Can’t kick with no shins!”

Blossom’s frown intensified. She wasn’t one for unnecessary violence. An irony not lost on Bubbles.

“Gotta be quick though!” Buttercup continued out loud, but mostly for her own benefit, “Last time I tried, I lost an arm!” There was a deep sigh and Buttercup spoke up again with a groan, “Wish I knew what was going on in that head of his. Make everything easier!”

“Like remember—” Buttercup continued exceeding her word limit for the day, but talking through a good fight was one of her favorite pastimes “—that one time when I thought he was going for throat, but he dropped last minute and got my knee! What was with that? It opened up his back though, so I was able to—”

Bubbles tuned Buttercup out and turned back to Blossom, “Jeez, Blossy! When was the last time Brick made you piss blood again?

Blossom gave her the driest of looks, “I think you’ve made your point.”

Bubbles shrugged and giggled, “Hey, maybe next time you can fight Butch and give Butters a break, yeah?”

“—and the last time I did that he gouged my eye out! But that’s okay because I ripped something off of him too, I don’t know what, but it was definitely a piece of something. Then I thought, hey why not go for his shoulders! That worked out more or less, less at the time though, helps more now—”

Blossom grimaced, “I’ll stick with the arrogant one, thanks.”

“Now arrogant—” Bubbles tapped her chin in thought, “—arrogant is a good word! Brick certainly is arrogant.”

“Right!?” Blossom’s eyes widened as she nodded her head in agreement and launched right back into it all over again.

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower

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This Superman & Lois review contains spoilers.

Superman and Lois Episode 3

“Morrissey’s a xenophobic has-been.”

This one line, delivered with deadpan perfection by Alex Garfin’s Jordan Kent pretty much sums up why Superman & Lois episode 3 is so good. Wait, really? Yes, stay with me for a minute…

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I loved the first two episodes of Superman & Lois. There’s no question about that. But there was a very slight nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that maybe this show was going to be a little too serious for its own good. That maybe in the process of making Jonathan and Jordan Kent as believable as possible, and as “relatable” (god, I hate that word) to young audiences as they needed to be, that the show would end up trying just a little too hard, get a little more wrapped up in its “family drama, but with Superman” high concept than it strictly needed to, and maybe forget to lighten up every now and then. I could excuse it in those first two episodes, which play like one feature length pilot when watched together, and which had a lot of work to do to get us to buy this very different take on the Man of Steel, but I wasn’t sure if the tone would sustain over a longer stretch of episodes.

And then along comes “The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower” to put those fears at ease. To be absolutely clear, this is absolutely not a drastic change in tone from what has come before. But now that we’ve gotten to know the Kents and their neighbors and classmates, and that the Smallville setting feels very much like the natural setting of the show, there’s a little more fun to be had. No, this isn’t suddenly The Flash and STAR Labs with a team of folks cracking wise at every opportunity, and it’s certainly not my beloved Legends of Tomorrow, but the humor is here, it’s subtle, and it works at every opportunity.

The opening scene with the family trying to paint the old Kent home is a charmer, a moment broken by Clark hearing a bridge collapsing in China which he speeds off to save. It’s another near-cinematic action sequence for this show, but the special effects aren’t really what sell this scene, it’s the moment of terror to relief to pure joy of a single fisherman as he realizes he’s witnessing Superman hold up a bridge…and Superman’s wordless interaction with him is equally joyful. This is something that simply hasn’t been done in live action interpretations of Superman since the Christopher Reeve years, and I honestly rank those few seconds with Supes and the fisherman as one of the best screen moments in the character’s history.

This episode is full of moments like that, even though Tyler Hoechlin once again spends most of his screentime as Clark rather than Superman. But even there, this is certainly Hoechlin’s finest performance as the character so far, bouncing effortlessly between Man of Steel to “Clark the superpowered dad dealing with problems new even to him” to “Clark who has to act like there’s nothing special about him.”

I worry slightly that Elizabeth Tulloch’s Lois Lane still doesn’t quite have enough to do as they build her Morgan Edge investigation through the Smallville Gazette. In every other aspect, moving the family to Smallville has worked, particular in regards to exploring completely new facets of the Clark/Superman dynamic, but Lois so far feels a little out of place. On the other hand, I should probably be thankful that they aren’t trying to “do a journalism” the way it’s so often been portrayed on Supergirl or The Flash, and maybe the slow burn is the more prudent move here. Anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that Tulloch is a delight in every scene, and she is quickly becoming the definitive screen Lois for me.

But the real highlights for this episode come in the form of Jonathan and Jordan, the two characters I was most skeptical about going into this show. I’ll confess, despite some terrific comics by the likes of Peter Tomasi, Patrick Gleason, Dan Jurgens, Brian Michael Bendis, Ivan Reis, and others in recent years, I’ve never been the biggest fan of the “Superman as dad” concept. I tend to like my Superman stories a little more unencumbered (or some might say traditional, but whatever). But Jordan Elsass’ Jonathan and Alex Garfin’s Jordan are just so darn likeable, and the story being written for them so compelling, that I can’t really complain.

The idea that Jordan would try out for the football team despite his burgeoning powers seems a ridiculous one, and I honestly thought that sequence was going to be revealed as a daydream (similar to Clark’s in the first episode of Smallville). But it’s real, and it doesn’t go quite where I thought it would. Jordan excels at football…as it turns out, he’s a bit more powered up than Jor-El suspected last episode. You’d naturally expect this to lead to friction with Jonathan, who has yet to get the hang of his new team, and for a brief period it does, but then the show does something unexpected.

This isn’t about football going to Jordan’s head or even about him “getting even” with the guys who have been bullying him. Instead, it’s the first time he’s felt part of something. After absolutely leveling Sarah Cushing’s boyfriend (well…ex-boyfriend now) on the field, he offers his hand and apologizes for that awkward kiss at the Shuster Mines. Jonathan, meanwhile, sees the good the team is doing for his brother and advocates for him with a Clark who is understandably annoyed that his son is using his powers to gain an advantage on the football field.

Read more

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By Mike Cecchini

I know, I know, this all sounds far weightier than the Morrissey joke I quoted at the start of this, but it all unfolds with a little charm, and some surprisingly light touches here and there. Jonathan and Jordan reacting to an incredibly awkward moment with Sarah and Lana, Clark overdoing his “dorky, eager dad” routine, and other little touches just make this feel like the show is settling into a rhythm with these characters and getting more comfortable being playful.

It’s perhaps a little worrisome that Wolé  Parks’ mysterious Captain Luthor is nowhere to be seen this episode, with the only superhuman punch-up coming in the form of guest star Daniel Cudmore’s mysterious, nameless goon who makes the mistake of trying to take out Lois during her investigation. That leads to a really sharp (but quick) punch-up between him and Superman, with a terrific sequence where Superman freezes him with super-breath before delivering a perfect uppercut that would look right at home in a comic panel. If this show continues to work out creative ways to use Superman’s powers the way they have with Barry on The Flash, I think we’re gonna have some real fun in the coming episodes.

But then there’s that ending. As Lois asks, why DOES Morgan Edge have someone with super powers working for him? More than one, apparently, as Cudmore’s mysterious baddie is vaporized by a woman with heat vision named…Larr. So far, the formula for Superman & Lois seems to be to give us a family drama heavy episode, punctuated by moments of cinematic action, and then to close with a mind-bendingly cool reveal. Well, if they insist, who am I to argue?

Metropolis Mailbag

There’s not a ton of DC or Superman Easter eggs this episode, so I don’t think it’s necessarily worth its own post. But, here’s what I’ve got…

The bridge collapse scene does faintly call to mind Superman saving the Golden Gate Bridge during the earthquake in Superman: The Movie.

Jonathan telling Clark that “if you’re not actually allowed to be special” etc feels like a subtle nod to teenage Clark telling Jonathan Kent in Superman: The Movie that he could excel on the football field if he wanted to, which Jonathan forbids, saying that Clark isn’t here to “show off.” But that Clark’s answer was a philosophical “is a bird showing off when he flies?”

Cudmore’s nameless character is apparently “Subjekt-11” a designation which calls to mind “Subjekt-17” an alien raised by the Soviets to make Superman’s life miserable in Kurt Busiek and Carlos Pacheco’s incredibly underrated run on the Superman comics.

Sharon Powell may not be a character from the comics, but the folks at Kryptonsite used their X-Ray vision to point out that the actress who plays her, Jill Teed, was known for portraying Maggie Sawyer on Smallville!

Tyler Hoechlin finally gets to talk a little baseball on this show. Before going into acting, he was a baseball prodigy.

It seems that’s Morgan Edge’s right hand woman, “Leslie Larr” vaporizing our mysterious baddie. The closest I can find to her is a “Lesla Larr” who was an obscure Supergirl villain. THAT version of Larr hailed from Kandor (post shrinking) and she made Supergirl’s life miserable from time to time. I don’t expect this version of the character to have too much in common with her comics counterpart, but it seems like “evil Kryptonians” are definitely gonna be a thing on this show going forward.

The post Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[eureka-its-zico]

Wedding Partners

Request: for the drabble game, no. 76 please jungkook ahhdsjdjk (”Please, put your penis away.”

A/N: I’m not gonna lie. This was supposed to be a drabble. Actually, the few drabble requests were meant to be drabbles but...I’m terrible. I can’t drabble to save my life. I had this idea while watching old 90’s rom com’s of weddings: The Wedding Planner, My Best Friend’s Wedding, etc., and had this idea of Jungkook and weddings. I considered writing more if you guys like it. If not, I hope you all at least these not so drabbly drabbles. Much Love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Words: 3088

Weddings were awkward. 

And that was saying a lot. Especially, for a day that was capitalized to be all about joy and coming together to be connected, forever, to your supposed soulmate. From what you’d witnessed countless times, it felt more cut throat than riding off into the sunset. A day that should be about happiness was instead heavily coated in anxiety. A majority of this quiet chaos centered solely around table placement. 

“What’s the big deal about table placement?”you may ask. 

Whelp, you were a pro at this sort of explanation. Not that it was because you yourself dealt with the coming trepidation of arranging your own family or your significant others. It was centered around the fact you’d been to enough of them to read the table signs a mile away. 

The extended family tables that held the aunts and uncles that were a little...colorful. Sometimes holding the, “We’re only family by marriage,” bunch. The ones with close relatives that weren’t technically labeled the “favorites,” of the family. The grandma who might seem like she was going a wee bit senile, but really she’s just extremely opinionated and good at making you feel like you shouldn’t be having a second helping of cake. Or even the tables made on the fly to keep a recently divorced mother-of-the-bride from the father and his newly, perkier, counterpart. 

And then there was the singles table. The lucrative spot you’d find yourself in as if you’d acquired a special reservation to them. You would be sure to keep the free champagne as your plus one. Telling all the other painfully awkward (there’s that word again) single gentleman at the table you were taken by an inanimate object. Oh, how sad your life felt when you RSVP’d to these things and always wrote one. 

It felt worse knowing your friend, Jungkook would be attending. Even more so when he took his high school sweetheart to every damn event. It didn’t matter if she was bubbly and obnoxiously sweet to the point your teeth ached from the sound of her voice. She was likeable. She truly was. Unfortunately, you also had a crush on Jungkook. Or, okay, more like you were hopelessly in love with him, but it was technically the same thing. 

You’d hope after four years your foolish heart would’ve given up on him. It would’ve gotten the memo Jungkook belonged to someone else. That you would probably end up at his stupid wedding before he ever attended yours. Instead, here you were: sitting at the singles table knocking back mimosa’s and glowering to yourself. 

Your up-do already came apart at the seams with pieces of it hanging like a mini curtain in front of your pouting face. The rim of your glass sat claiming your bottom lip. Just a casual reminder it was still there if you needed it. 

The wedding of mutual friends had gone on without a hitch. The ceremony lovely and opulent (someone’s parents had good money) with the reception seeming to have a shortage of weird family or guests that attended. Besides, you. Of course. 

The oddest part coming as a shock when your eyes landed on a lone Jungkook nursing a glass of wine. You weren’t ashamed to take notice of the way his fingers enveloped the glass. How dark strands of lightly waved hair cascaded to his cheeks, but left his handsome face exposed to the room. Usually, Jungkook wore suits of color. Nothing outlandish, but he didn’t look like he was attending a funeral either. Today, he was covered in the monotone black that seemed to make him more striking. It dulled out everything around him, except the hard outline of his jaw and the exotic shape of almond eyes. 

If you weren’t so transfixed by him you’d probably would’ve noticed he was missing a certain someone at his table. That maybe that’s why he looked so damn miserable. You were getting up from your seat, drink clutched in hand, to go talk to him when Jungkook suddenly got up. 

The way his legs took a moment to right themselves told you he’d drank his fair share of cocktails this evening. His head tilted back quickly to down the rest of his glass, before moving towards the signs that read , “Restrooms.”

You weren’t about to down your whole drink and decided to take it on a little field trip. Your first step landing on the hem of your dress causing you to mutter out a bunch of swears. Your hands moving to bundle it up in unladylike fashion to move around the table. No one regarded Jungkook as he stumbled past walking like a newborn gazelle. Apparently, no one shared your sense of surprise at his current state. 

“Oh, Y/N!” Amy, the beautiful bride, shouted as she stepped in your way. Or did you step in hers? When did you step onto the dance floor? “Thank you so much for coming! You look amazing.”

You wanted to snort at her terrible attempt at a lie. It was her big day, though. She could lie all she wanted. You put on your biggest fake smile you could muster, as your eyes peered over her shoulder hunting to catch a line of sight in Jungkook’s direction. 

“You look far better than I ever would. You make a beautiful bride, Amy.”

Your compliment sent her smile soaring. Her arms quickly enveloping around you in a tight hug. When she pulled away her hand snaked around your wrist, and gave it a firm tug towards the dance floor. 

“Come dance.”

“No. No. I don’t dance,” you shouted over the music. Your head giving a swift refusal along with your words. 

“Come on, Y/N! Just a little dance!”

“I gotta go pee.”

Amy shot you a look but didn’t press you any further. You couldn’t have been more grateful. However, the brief intermission with the bride cost you valuable ground and now you had no clue where Jungkook went. 

You decided to follow his last known location towards the restrooms. Luckily, no one appeared to want to stop and talk the rest of the way there. The only actual issue was once you got to the labeled his and hers doors, you weren’t really allowed to just go in. Also, why would you? In the end, you decided to casually sip on your mimosa as you waited for Jungkook to exit the restroom. 

Unfortunately, he never did. 

After five minutes of constant waiting you were willing to consider either a stop was made for a number two moment, or he was throwing up whatever drinks he’d downed. Another five minutes rolled around and now men were coming frequently in and out of the bathroom. None of them being the one you’d been waiting for. Your presence at the bathrooms, however, gained you a lot of awkward glances. You were a devoted girl on a very devoted mission. 

You considered waiting just a bit longer when your eyes caught sight of the glass door at the end of the hallway. It’s bright green neon letters informing you it was a way out; perhaps the same one Jungkook had taken. 

Using the momentum from your shoulder pushing off the wall, you made your way towards the back door. Blurry vision struggling to make out whatever was outside of it. It looked like a whole lot of grass. It also could’ve been a well designed forest enclosure by a pool. Who really knew until you went outside. 

Your earlier drunken assumptions were both wrong, and correct. It did have grass...that was lovingly taken care of behind an intricate iron fence. What you actually walked out to was a cobblestone patio that led directly to the pool and inside that pool was the man you’d been searching for. 

You stumbled your way towards the gate and ended up struggling to try and get the latch open. All the noise you were making, metal jingling and flippant curses, didn’t seem to faze Jungkook at all, who currently resided inside the pool. His body sharing a resemblance of a starfish with his suit clinging to his skin like seaweed. The only part of him that wasn’t submerged in the water was his face and fingers. The rest of him facing up towards the midnight sky and it’s endless streak of stars. 

There seemed to be one more thing floating in the water. Your eyes unable to successfully see it even after you attempted to squint. Your fumbling fingers to undo the latch came to a quick halt as realization began to color your face. 

“Oh my god!” You gasped. “Please put your penis away.”

By the sudden way he went under; his mouth wide open in a shocked ‘O’, you could tell Jungkook didn’t expect to have any uninvited guests. His arms came flailing around at his sides, his bottom half (and penis) now submerged, and his head was bobbing up and down for air. The only conclusive thought your buzzing brain could comprehend from all of this was that Jungkook was drowning. 

Instantaneously, as the thought coursed through your brain your hand released your half emptied flute of mimosa, and your feet launched one after the other in a clumsy mess over the gate. It was a waist high gate. Nothing crazy high and something your legs could’ve easily moved over if you’d been sober. However, your knees found the ground first and you did a poor impression of a tuck and roll towards the pool. 

You probably looked like a fool. Fortunate for you, you weren’t all that worried about appearances at the moment. No. You were more worried about the love of your life re-enacting a bobbing apple inside the pool. 

“Jungkook!” You yelled. “I’m coming to save you!”

Without a thought to reason you found your feet launching you into the deep end. The water moving around to engulf you quickly the moment your feet broke through its barrier. What did come to mind when water worked its way inside your nose was this was a terrible idea. Easily made your top five list of drunken things to never repeat. 

Your dress ballooned around you like a wilting flower with your hands helplessly getting caught in its fabric. It ended up being Jungkook’s steady grab on your waist that helped you find your way back to the surface for air. The moment your face broke water you gulped in greedily for as much of it as you could get. 

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Saving you from drowning.”

“You did a terrible job,” he chuckled. 

You worked a few pieces of wet clumps of hair out of your face. It cleared your vision enough for you to realize if anyone saved somebody in this mess, it was Jungkook. He held you close to him, an arm securely wrapped around your waist. Your own legs wrapped around his core with his sweeping out underneath the both of you to keep you afloat. Nervous giggling escaped you while you continued to look around before self-consciously landing on his face. 

“I really did mess it up, huh.”

Jungkook was known to make your heart stop. This close he was the perfect description of what fairy tale princes’ were meant to be. His hair somehow kept itself stylized and perfectly shaping the cut lines of his jaw. The small fleck of his mole that hovered below his lower lip teasing you to steal a kiss. A flare of jealousy struck deep inside your gut as you noticed how the drops of water seemed to cling to his lips in greedy clumps. He was still eyeing you now; waiting to see if you would continue your half-hearted admission.But all words were lost being wrapped around him and being this close. 

All you could do was stare. 

He was slowly moving you both to the safety of the pool’s side.

“You would make an awful knight in shining armor, Y/N.”

You feigned hurt as you finally got to the first step towards the entrance to the pool. Your arms and legs reluctantly letting him go to sit beside him on the second step. Both of your bodies partly submerged just to keep the cool night air from making you shiver.

“At least I attempted a rescue. I could’ve just let you drown, you know.”

“First of all, I wasn’t drowning. I was floating.”

“And a marvelous floater you are, darling,” you replied.

Your voice heavy with playfulness that caused you both to smile at each other. His own bright like the sun and you helplessly orbited around it. As soon as it came, however, it quickly vanished and was replaced by a sadness that sent a dull ache through your chest. 

“Kook? What’s wrong?”

You placed a comforting hand on his back that he didn’t quite seem to acknowledge. His mind taking him somewhere where you weren’t beside him. Where he wasn’t in this pool sitting next to you or at this wedding. Wherever it was his thoughts took him, it was easy to see by his crumbling features that it wasn’t a good place to be. You hated seeing him appear so grief-stricken, and with no idea as to what could’ve caused it. You wanted to probe him again. Just to see if you could get something out of him when he finally turned that sadness back to you. 

“She left me.”

Jungkook spoke soft enough you weren’t sure you quite heard him the first time. You leaned in involuntarily closer to make sure when he spoke again you heard. 

“What?”

“Ji-eun!” He said more sharply this time. “She left me, Y/N. She told me she’d been seeing someone else at work. That she didn’t intend for it to happen, but it did. She said - said they were more compatible. Whatever that means.”

Your hand was back to comfort him as you struggled to find the right words to comfort him. Chastising yourself for having a small piece of you that seemed overjoyed by the news. It sucked to see him hurting. You knew he loved her; cared deeply for her. They’d been together since High School for goodness sake. However…

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Jungkook.”

Sorry didn’t seem right. It felt hollow and clumsy. It was, unfortunately, the best you could say. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind it. Any form of words to help ease the pain he felt would’ve been enough. 

“I hate weddings. I hate them even more now that I have to come alone.”

“I come alone all the time. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yeah, well you should cause it sucks.”

His statement sent a bark of laughter from you and sent a fresh wave of water around you both as he gave a start. It only made your laugh more. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw a tilt of a smile. 

“I guess you’ll be joining me at the single tables for a while.”

You were aiming to tease, but instead received a heavy groan of despair.

“I have two more weddings to go to this year, Y/N. Two more! I cannot go to these alone. I just can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

His answer was curt and let you know there was no way in changing his mind. Not that you honestly were going to try. Jungkook started to run his hands through the water and you wondered if he was trying to make anything out of it.

“Well, that explains why you’ve been drinking and trying to drown in the pool.”

“I did not try and drown in the pool! You jumped on me and made me sink to the bottom,” he shot back.

Your mouth dropped open with a gasp and your hand moved out to swat at his shoulder. This time his own rich chuckle filled the space around you. 

“That’s it!”

The hand that was playing in the water suddenly shot up to come together with the other. A loud clap to join his ‘A-ha!’ moment. He turned completely to face you and sent the water sloshing around in tiny waves. You didn’t pay it any mind, however, as his hands clumsily took yours and pleading eyes grabbed a hold of your face. 

“Y/N: be my plus one.”

For a split second you waited for the punchline to follow. You knew it had too. No way in his right mind would he have ever requested for you to be his partner at weddings when he could surely find someone else.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m serious!”

“Why can’t you go alone like a normal human!”

“Okay, one human beings aren’t meant to be alone. Two, I would much rather go with one of my closest friends to these things and know I’m gonna have a good time than be miserable and alone. Come on, Y/N. Please.”

It might’ve been the puppy dog eyes. The puffy pout of lips with a mixture of how he used them that made you cave instantly. Realistically, you knew it wasn’t going to take much to get you to agree to begin with. You just needed to play hard to get. 

“Fine. I’ll be your plus one.”

His response came in him pulling you tight against his chest. Your arms now trapped at your sides as he swung you back and forth in the water. When he pressed his lips to your temple you were pretty sure you’re heart faltered for a second. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Y/N! You’re the best.”

“Yea, yea, I’m the greatest.”

“I said best not the greatest. Let's not get too carried away here.”

You cupped your hands under the water and splashed what you could in his direction. The effect only gaining another deep chuckle that was matched by his smile. 

“By the way, did you ever put your penis back in your pants?”

Jungkook’s eyes flushed open like saucers as his hands darted down inside the water. His body turning to the side away from you, just in case you tried to look. Too bad for him, you’d already seen him out and about in all his glory. 

“Now I did.”

“You’re so gross,” you laughed, as Jungkook pulled you back out into the water. The two of you spending the rest of the night floating like starfishes in the center of the pool.

[justfangirlthings2003]

I Loved And I Loved And I - Hanahaki AU

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

This is probably the saddest thing I’ve ever written sooo sorry.

AO3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196216

 NOTES:

So Hanahaki is a very uncommon disease. Like, it was about normal in the past but it died out in the nineteenth/twentieth century. However, it is possible to get but is very very highly unlikely (like 0.00001% of the population have it) so doctors have been taught how to perform the surgery. It is still a very well-known disease.

For the sake of the plot, you can only have the surgery if you give your full consent (because Bruce seems like the type of person to have the surgery done on his son even if they don’t want it - he’ll do whatever it takes to keep them alive) 

I’ve messed up the timelines a lot just so that I can have the Batboys being good bros (but it is an AU fanfic and like Thawne says in the Flash TV Series: The Timeline is malleable) 

Also the Invasion happened but Wally survived because I said so.

When Wally West entered Dick Grayson’s life, he did so in a whirlwind of colour. Dick remembered it clear as day. He was standing around in the Watchtower, twitching in his place. Bruce told him beforehand that he would be meeting Kid Flash that night and as excited as he was that he was going to be meeting a potential new friend, he was filled with anxiety. The kids at school, the rich people that attended Bruce’s galas and the people at the Gotham City Juvenile Delinquent Centre all hated him - called him names like “Gypsy boy” and “Circus Freak” because of his Romani background, tanned complexion and thick accent - so why would someone with literal superpowers like him? Then it happened: the room was filled with reds and golds and oranges - lighting up like a blazing inferno - and when the colours died down, all he could see was a red haired ten year old wearing gold and scarlet and a bright grin. When their eyes met, Dick knew that Kid Flash was going to be special.

_____

Dick was fourteen years old when he realised it. He was lying on his bed, hair mussed and wearing his favourite elephant print pyjamas with mismatched canary yellow and crimson socks, telling his parents about his day. It became kind of a ritual for him to either sit cross-legged in front of the Flying Graysons poster that was pressed protectively by a bulletproof sheet of glass, clutching Zitka against his chest, or to just lay on his Egyptian cotton sheet, just staring at the ceiling as he recounted his day. He was at the part where he and Wally were sitting on a park bench, eating ice cream when he was suddenly struck by an image of his best friend smiling at him with windswept hair. How the late afternoon sun caught on the edges of his ginger hair, embroidering it with gold. How his emerald eyes, framed by amber lashes, suddenly looked much more captivating, more beautiful, and Dick wanted their green gaze on him at all times. He was suddenly struck by the urge to grab Wally’s cheeks, to trace the pads of his thumbs along his galaxy of freckles and kiss him until -

Wait, what?

Did he seriously think about Wally like that? About kissing him? Wallace Rudolph West - his best friend - the guy that ran into a wall the first time they met, the guy who makes terrible science puns and flirts with anyone that moves and thinks nine times out of ten with his stomach than his head and is smart and loyal and funny and kind and the most amazing person Dick has ever met.

Uh oh. He’s in trouble.

_____

The trouble with falling in love with your best friend is knowing that nothing would change but everything will. If they started dating, they would still have movie nights, eat terrible junk food and spend hours on end playing video games but if Dick confessed and Wally didn’t reciprocate then he ruins one of the best relationships he’s ever had just because of a few hormones. And - oh God - what if Wally feels guilty? What if Wally thought that he was leading Dick on, making him think that he liked him like that? What if he started beating himself up for breaking Dick’s heart? 

No.

Dick would just have to stay silent. To just hope that his attraction with his (absolutely amazing in every way) best friend was just a silly little teenage crush and will just go away in time. After all, Batman says that the mission comes first.

___

“Hey, Dick.”

“Yeah, Wally.”

“We’re gonna be bestest friends forever and ever, right.”

“‘Course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“D’ya pinky promise?”

“What’s a pinky promise?”

“It’s what the kids do at school. It’s when you put your pinky fingers together and make a promise and you must never ever break it.”

“Why? Do you die if you do?”

“No, I don’t think so. But it’s just really really bad if you do. Like stepping on a puppy’s tail bad. So do ya wanna do it.”

“‘Course I do.”

“To being bros forever.”

Dick smiled at the ten year old in front of him as he interlocked their pinkies, “Bros forever.”

___

“Yo, Dick, I need your help,” Wally said to him after the Team had completed a mission in New York where this generic mad scientist villain was using robots to terrorize the city and commit crimes. Wally managed to nab a damaged drone as a souvenir and now Dick was in the process of reassembling it and turning it into a robot that shoots out chocolate sauce. Wally was adorably confused when he looked over the acrobat’s plans but Dick told him that it was going to be asterous.  

There’s another thing about falling in love with your best friend: you can’t exactly escape them. You spend time with them everyday which makes you notice things: like how their eyes crinkle at the sides when they smile, how their voice always goes up around three octaves when they’re embarrassed, how they always bite their bottom lip when they’re nervous. Dick always noticed these things about everyone, Bruce had him doing character profiles since he first started training as Robin (no, seriously. The day he met the League, he was told to give a full analysis of their characters, as well as possible strengths and weaknesses and ways to take them down, the moment he returned home. He was eight) so that he could always find out everything he needed to know about a person within ten seconds, but earlier he just noticed them - now he noticed them and it made him feel all kinds of butterflies in his stomach.

“Names, KF,” Dick chided without looking up from where he was turning a screw, regardless of the fact that they were in his room that was encased with 20 cm of lead so no one with super-hearing could figure out their identities.

“Oops, sorry, Rob. Anyway, I need your help.”

“Shoot.”

“I wanna ask out Artemis.”

Dick almost dropped his screwdriver. He looked at his best friend, who was standing by the door of his room. That red hue that covered his cheeks was so adorable that Dick barely resisted the urge of getting up and kissing the daylights out of him. But wait, no. Artemis. Right, Wally wants to ask out Artemis, not him. Honestly, he could see it. They were always trading insults with no real heat. He guessed all of that teasing was unresolved romantic attraction, a courting ritual for superheroes - Catwoman has always had a bantering relationship with Batman.

“Okay, why are you here then?”

“I don’t really know how to ask out girls.”

“You flirt with M’gann all the time.”

“Yeah, flirt. Not ask out. Or like, date.” (Date. Why does that word hurt so much?)

“Neither do I.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“You’re the son of a playboy billionaire. You must know something.”

“Well… (Dick? Dick? What are you doing?) You could practice on me.” (What?! Why the hell would you say that, Grayson?)

“Al-alright then,” Wally let out a deep exhale and strode directly in front of Dick with a smirk on his face, “So, ughh, hey. Wanna go out for ice cream later or something? (Yes. Yes, God, yes.) Yeah, that felt right. I think I’m gonna go ask her now. Thanks, Rob. You’re the best!”

 When Wally hugged him, all he wanted to do was melt into that comforting warmth and stay there forever.

___

Batman made sure to prepare him for everything - how to survive kidnapping if you’ve lost your sight, what to do if you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with limited supplies, where to go if the League had been compromised by their evil alternate dimension counterparts (apparently something happened before he came into the picture, something about a good Lex Luthor and the Crime Syndicate?) - but he could never have been prepared for his first heartbreak.

__

Dick was no stranger to pain; he likes to think of pain as some sort of old friend - in a weird, twisted way - because it’s the only thing in his life that was constant. The only thing that he could rely on to always be there for him, that would never truly leave him. Yes, he knew that that mindset was unhealthy, but he held onto it because to get rid of pain was like getting rid of a shadow - impossible and only attainable in absolute darkness, when you’ve lost all sense of direction.

Dick walked into the communal area, ready to have a fun-filled day with his best bro in the universe. Ever since Wally and Artemis had gotten together, all of their bro-time had seemed to be on the back burner: afternoons spent with Dick hunched over pizza and trading pixelated blows on Barry and Iris’ TV were replaced with movie dates with Artemis, hanging out in the park with him with trips with her to the mall, playing basketball in the court in the Manor gardens with days spent at diners and cafes with her - hell, he can’t even sit next to him because everytime he entered a room where Wally was, she was snuggled up next to him with her head on his shoulder (the same shoulder Dick used to cry on after a nightmare). He longed for the days the two of them would have karaoke sessions, heads banging vigorously up and down as they strummed their air guitars like their lives depended on it and screaming old 80s bops until their throats ached but even when they were together it was like all of the red head’s attention was on her, what with him on his phone either texting her every five minutes or having hour long conversations or simply just directing every conversation to be about her (“Hey Dick, where do you think I should Artemis for date night?”, “God, why does she always talk about my eating habits? I’m a speedster - I need the extra energy for my enhanced metabolism. Girls, honestly.”, “Oh my god, Dick, you should’ve seen the look on Arty’s face when I hit her during our date at the paintball arena. You were right, she loved it.”). The more time he spent with her, the more he was pushing Dick away with a sheepish “maybe later, dude” and Dick gets it. Artemis was a brilliant fighter, a real asset to the team. She wasn’t broken and had mental breakdowns and panic attacks at inconvenient times - it’s no wonder Wally prefered to be with her. He always thought that maybe the only reason Wally was with him was because of his sad backstory - the poor orphaned circus boy who watched his parents die at eight years old - it was enough to make anyone take pity on him. So he just did what anyone would do, he smiled and nodded (he’s a performer - has been since he’s learned how to walk - acting happy is just another role he has to play, another way of keeping his audience interested), gave his advice and hoped and prayed that it was enough to make sure he wasn’t left in Wally’s dust.

“Hey, Wally,” he greeted, walking up to them. Normally, before the days of Artemis, he would leap onto the couch cushions from behind and spring into a forwards flip from his hands and land on his feet in front of Wally with a smile but the last time he did that the blonde archer got annoyed so he stopped.

“Oh, Robin. Hey there, what’s up?” Wally asked as Artemis shifted her position so that she could place an arm around his torso, pressing herself against him more firmly.

“Well, I was wondering if you were ready for our hangout.” Dick replied casually, pulling out his cool cocky Boy Wonder persona when in reality he knew he was going to be blown off again (You never used to pretend in front of him before), “I’ve got ten different Barbie movies lined up and two boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts with your name on them.”

“Uh, actually, man, I can’t make it today,” Wally said, his tone apologetic, “I already promised Arty that I’d take her to the Weapons Museum today. I was going to tell you after I bought the tickets but I guess it just slipped my mind.”

“Wait, you guys watch Barbie movies,” Artemis piped in amusement, her nose scrunched as she gave a huff of laughter, “aren’t those for like little six year old girls that wear tutus and ribbons around their pigtails and dream of being fairy princesses when they grow up.”

“Yeah, we do,” Dick didn’t mean to sound defensive but he didn’t appreciate her tone. His masculinity wasn’t so toxic and fragile that he’d deny liking something that was classed as feminine - he grew up in a travelling circus, where gender roles didn’t matter (the bearded lady back at Haly’s was one of the most awesome people eight year old Dick knew). He loved watching The Island Princess with Wally - he totally related to Rosa trying so hard to please the upper class royal families despite not fitting in and being called ‘uncivilised’. Plus it had a talking elephant, which was awesome.

Wally cocked his head and made a noise at the back of his throat, “It’s less of us watching them and more of us laughing at how cliche the plots are.”

Dick looked at him. Is that what he really thought? He remembered belting out ‘I’m just a girl like you’ with Wally as Princess and the Pauper playing on the giant IMAX screen in the Wayne Manor theatre room. Did he secretly hate it? Just pretended to have fun to spare Dick’s feelings? 

“I’m really sorry, dude,” Wally said, looking uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck, “We can hang out tomorrow or something, right?” Poor Wally, he sounded so genuinely sorry. Dick didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want their hangouts to be a chore Wally must fulfil. So he just smirked.

“Seriously, bro, I get it. I’ve got some stuff to do at home as well anyways. Been meaning to touch up on my aerial skills for some time actually. Now you guys have a fun time. I’m gonna be bob bob bobbin’ along.”

He’s happy for Wally, he really is. What sort of best friend would he be if he wasn’t? When Wally is with Artemis, he seems joyful, light, giving her smiles that he only used to give him. Wally deserved to be happy and if he was happier with Artemis, even by an atom’s amount, then who was he to deny him that?

——

One of the reasons Dick was at the top of his Advanced Mathematics class and award-winning Mathlete was because he genuinely loved Maths (and being at the top of everything was one of Bruce’s expectations). Back home, at the circus, he remembered having math teachers from around the world - he was the youngest there and everyone made sure to give him an education that he found was much better than the American school system. The acrobats, tightrope walkers and unicyclists taught him about physics and forces required for balance, the plate spinners, knife throwers and cannon-blasters taught him how math was an integral part of performance. Even the musicians and dancers would explain how numbers were important in their acts. He remembered how his six year old self was sat down in front of a group of  daredevils (he always loved watching them zip around in their Globe of Death)  and was taught everything he needed to know about a motorcycle: how it ran, how it was assembled, all the physics and mechanics behind it. He knew from then on that he definitely liked maths. Well, he’s got to anyway - being an aerialist means that you’ve got to know all this stuff about trajectories and aerodynamics and forces and motion and stuff.

But the best thing about Maths was that it was constant, never changes. Two plus two equals four, it has always equalled four and always will equal four. Dick is certain that if he were to build a time machine and go a thousand years into the future, two plus two would still make four. That's why he loves numbers so much: they don’t lie or change or forget you. You can rely on them. With numbers and equations, you’ll always get a right answer - with people you only get a not wrong answer. He may be a dynamic performer, a world-class actor that can never sit still - always willing to contort and change for the sake of his audience - but for once he wants the comfort of permanence. 

____

“Dick,” Wally said solemnly one day. The two of them were sitting on the edge of the top of Dick’s apartment building, dressed in civvies, watching the sky and the hustle and bustle of the city. It was one of the rare days Dick and Wally could hang out - what with Wally at college and Dick patrolling Bludhaven both as Nightwing and Officer Grayson - and Dick wanted to make the most of it: the two of them went to Happy Harbour and spent the two hours they had playing at the Arcade and stuffing their mouths with whatever they could get their hands on. If Dick tried really hard, he could pretend that they were 14 and 16 again and Wally was his and only his. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it,” Dick asked cautiously. Wally’s expression was too serious, it looked wrong and out of place - nothing at all like the goofy kid who stuck science themed stickers on every surface he owned and covered his room in glow in the dark stars so that the two of them could pretend to be intrepid voyagers snuggled up inside their tent - a hastily made blanket fort - with a flashlight that bore the Flash symbol.

“We - well, Artemis and I - we’ve been thinking. And trust me it’s got nothing to do with you, okay, absolutely nothing. But, well, it took me a long time to get to this decision and I think that it’s the right thing to do. So, well, what I guess what I’m trying to say is I’mquittingtheteam.”

“What did you say,” Dick whispered in shock. He knew exactly what his best friend said - after knowing him since he was ten he’s become fluent in Wally-speak - but he had to make sure-

“Artemis and I,” Wally breathed out, “We’re … leaving the team.”

“What? Why?” Dick tried to mask his panic but all he could hear was ‘leavingleavingI’mleavingtheteamI’mleavingyou’ over and over again in his head.

“It’s just that, well, it’s just that I’m moving to Palo Alto so that I can go to Stanford Uni and it’s gonna be a bit of a hassle living a double life.”

“It’s alright,” Dick said quickly, feeling his eyes start to brim with water, “I’m - I’m sure that The League would understand if you wanna take a few off days. Not everyone there’s like Bruce.”

“The thing is I don’t want to be Kid Flash anymore, you know. I don’t want to live a life where I could die any time I go out on the field. I just want to be Wally West: a college student trying to get into the CSI and lead a normal life. Sure I wanted to save the world back when I was a kid, but that was just a childish dream - I, I want to just be normal. (yeah, all the way in California. Away from me). I’m not going to be going away or anything (are you sure?). You know that right (do I?). I’ll still be there for you (LIES).”

Dick smiled and lied through his teeth, ignoring the feeling of hot tears streaming down his cheeks, “Hey, I’m good (you were never there for me anyway, were you just practicing for this moment?). I get it, the superhero life isn’t for everyone. You should do what you want. If you need any help I’ll be right here in ‘Haven.”

“Thanks man, you’re the best (“Thanks, Rob. You’re the best!” a teenaged Wally West said before he ran off to ask Artemis out). You supporting me really means a lot.” Just then a ‘ding’ cut into the silence and Wally fished his phone out of his pocket, “Aww man, it’s Arty. I best get going.” and with that he was gone, leaving a whoosh of breeze in his place.

The last time he felt this abandoned was when he watched a man and woman fall to their deaths. He supposes that Wally and his parents are similar like that. They both are going to be in a better place. It just so happens that the better place in question doesn’t include him.

He’s been tortured by the Joker, beaten to near death by Two Face, and was left in a pool of his own blood by the Penguin but none of that physical pain could ever come close to the anguish he feels when he watches Wally leave. The agony fills him up to the brim and he can’t - he can’t breathe. He races down the stairwell of the roof and slams the door of his apartment open. The sound of the handle banging against the wall is lost on him as he heaves over his bathroom sink. He looks at his red-eyed, tear-stained reflection in the mirror. In the sink, lilac petals clung onto sticky red blood.

—————

“Hanahaki Disease:” Dick’s computer screen read, “The term hanahaki comes from the Japanese words hana (花), which means "flower", and hakimasu (吐きます), which means "to throw up”. Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but once surgery is undergone, the victim loses all feelings of affection (both romantic and platonic) as well as the ability to ever love again. 

The victim's lungs get filled with the flowers and roots grow in their respiratory system. It often develops over months or even years, beginning with coughing up a few petals and growing in intensity (and pain) until the victim is vomiting entire flowers, by which point the disease has entered its final stages. The rate at which the disease worsens and spreads throughout the body is specific to the individual. The longest case was Danielle Chamberlain (1801 - 1834) who had it for 10 years and the shortest case was Akai Shimizu (1914 - 1931) who died after two weeks.” *

Well.

He’s screwed.

______

When he was about to go to bed after a night of patrol, he lay in bed in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. He turned on his phone and pressed the playlist he and Wally made when they were kids. ABBA came out of the speaker:

Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find

I tried to reach for you, but you have closed your mind…

____

The love you gave me, nothing else can save me

S. O. S.

When you're gone

How can I even try to go on?

When you're gone

Though I try, how can I carry on?

___

It was Wally’s birthday party and Dick stood in the corner of the restaurant Barry had reserved for the occasion. The only people in the building were the old team, Barry, Iris, Clark and Bruce. And Roy was there too, which was nice. When Wally was egged on to do a birthday speech before he cut the cake, he spoke about how lucky he is to have so many amazing friends and such an awesome girlfriend. When the redhead gave her a peck on the cheek, Dick’s stomach gave a lurch as he could feel the inevitable cough building up his throat. He tried to excuse himself as he made way into a disabled bathroom and locked himself in there. After coughing out a cluster of chrysanthemum petals - and holy cow, that’s a lot of blood - he carefully opened the door to find himself face to face with a concerned Roy Harper.

“Everything good there, Dickie?”

“Wha- oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

Roy raised an eyebrow, “You sure? ‘Cause I heard retching and you don’t look too hot.”

“I guess I might have food poisoning. I did eat some old Ramen for lunch yesterday.”

Roy did not look convinced. He never really stopped being Dick’s older brother, even after he left the team. Sometimes the two of them would trade text messages when they’re not too busy. He loved Roy so much (not as much as Wally) and he was sure that Roy loved him. The red haired archer would always make sure to check up on him when the date of his parents death anniversary would arrive. He wondered how long it would take for Roy to get fed up with him.

“I think that you should go home and get some rest.”

“What, Roy? No, I can’t. This is Wally’s birthday and he’ll be crushed if I go (as if). What sort of friend would I be if I leave? Plus, I hardly get to see him otherwise,” noticing how high and desperate his voice sounded, he quickly added, “you know, what with him in college and me working as a police officer and everything.”

…

“Sure... Look, Dick, I’m sure Wally would understand if you go. Your health is more important than a party (no it’s not. Why would I matter to anyone?). Just go home, alright. I’ll save you a slice of cake.”

Contrary to popular belief, Dick knew a losing battle when he saw one, “Alright, Roy, I’ll head off. Just do me a favour, okay. Don’t mention me being too unwell to B. You know how he gets. I don’t want him or Alfred getting too worried.”

“Sure thing, bird brain,” Roy smirked but his eyes still had that concerned, protective look in them. He clamped his hand onto Dick’s shoulder, “just remember, though, that it’s okay to have people worrying about you.”

Dick gave a toothy smile he didn’t feel at all, “‘Course I will.”

_

“Yo, Goldie. Open up.” Jason yelled as he pounded on the apartment door, “C’mon Dickolas, I’m freezing out here.”

“Jason, quit yelling,” Tim whispered sharply to the older vigilante, aware of how loud his knocking is.

“Tt, I don’t see why we can’t just enter the apartment. It’s not like Grayson would be angry, he’s forever asking us to visit.”

“Yeah but the fact that he isn’t answering the door is really concerning,” Tim said, mostly to himself, “Jason - quit banging, you’re going to wake all of his neighbours - just use the spare key he gave you.”

“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on.” 

And with that Jason opened the door and the boys entered the apartment.

“Big Bird?”

“Dick, are you alright. Roy called us. He said you weren’t feeling well. He sounded really worri-”

“GRAYSON!”

Jason and Tim immediately looked at each other when they heard Damian’s shout from his position outside of Dick’s bathroom before rushing to meet him. The youngest’s horrified face was pale and his terrified eyes were staring straight at something that when they followed the line of sight made them freeze.

Dick was collapsed over his commode, breathing heavily as if every breath he took caused him immense pain. Splashes of blood and petals were leading up to him like a horrific trail and his dark hair was matted against his pallid face.

“Dick!” Tim cried as he ran towards Dick and crouched beside him.

“Ti’m?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s Tim.”

“Wha’ - wh’ryu-?”

“Roy,” Jason answered, looking uncharacteristically scared himself as he sat himself down on the other side of his brother, “he called us and said that you weren’t well. We tried to call you but you weren’t answering so we came to check up on you. Why didn’t you tell us you had Hanahaki?”

“I didn’t want you guys to worry. I didn’t realise how bad it was-” he was then cut off as he retched more blood and petals into the toilet bowl as Tim rubbed circles into his back.

“Who is it?” Tim asked.

“It’s Wally, isn’t it.” Jason said. It was a statement, not a question.

“How - how did you?”

“It’s kind of obvious,” Jason shrugged, acting nonchalant but failing to get rid of that fearful look in his eye, “Even when I was Robin, I could tell you had the hots for him.”

 Dick wiped away the blood dripping down his chin,“You guys can’t tell Bruce.”

“What do you mean we cannot tell Father?!” Damian cried, “We can get you cured.”

“Damian,” Dick looked at his positively shaken brother, “do you know what Hanahaki is?”

“Yes, of course -“

“Then you know why I can’t tell Bruce. If I tell him, he’ll force me to get the surgery.”

“But, Dick, you don’t need to. You could just con-”

The eldest cut Tim off, “I can’t confess Tim. He doesn’t want me. I can’t just force him to be with me.”

“Then you just need to-”

“I’m not getting the surgery either. I just can’t”

“I don’t want you to die Dick,” Tim immediately burst into tears as he roughly embraced the man. Dick held him close, whispering comforts into his little brother’s hair, when he saw that Damian had tears running down his own cheeks. He held open an arm and he youngest dived into Dick’s side and hugged him as well.

Dick looked at Jason imploringly, “You can’t tell Bruce. Please.”

Jason’s jaw was set, his eyes firm but he relented at the sight of his brother’s bloodstained face.

“Okay.”

__

Dick sat cross-legged in front of two identical graves, the rain pouring down heavily onto his body. He felt someone stand behind him.

“Dick?” Wally asked, “Is everything alright? Is there anything you need?”

“Could you stay here? For a bit?”

“Of course I will,” Wally sat down beside him and held him close, “I’ll always be there when you need me.”

__

One night, Jason decided to go visit Dick after spending his patrol taking down a drug cartel. He had called the first Robin previously but the man didn’t answer his calls. All 20 of them. After a conversation with Tim, he found that he wasn’t responding to any attempts made to contact him and that his tracker showed that he was still in his apartment. Entering Dick’s apartment through the window, he cautiously stepped into his brother’s living room and his heart dropped to his stomach.

Dick was slumped against a wall with his eyes closed. Trails of scarlet liquid dripping down his mouth and chin dropping onto the pool of  blood, chrysanthemums that surrounded him. Bottles of gin were littered across the floor around him, which was what shocked him the most - Dick was not a heavy drinker. He called alcohol a trapeze artist’s worst nightmare.

(“Alcohol makes you lose focus,” Dick said, “losing focus means losing balance and grip. The moment you lose focus, you lose your life.”)

“What the hell happened here, Big Bird?” Jason asked in worry. He crouched in front of one of the strongest people he ever knew and gently shook him. Dick’s eyes were flickering open. Their baby blues were dim, misty, lacking their usual brightness and warmth - everything about them that made them Dick’s. 

“Wha - Jay! What areya do-doin’ here?” Dick’s voice was garbled, confused and Jason felt a surge of protectiveness rush inside his veins. “You don’t - don’t gotta be here. I’m - I’m fi-ine.”

Jason took in his infallible older brother’s haggard form - his unusually pale face and the dark rings around his eyes) and sighed, “I need alcohol.”

______

“I just - I thought he might have cared about - about me.” Dick sniffed tearfully, words still slurring even a half hour later, “But no he only cared about her. “I’m worried about Artemis” what about me?! I - I was so sc-scared, Jason. My - my team was in danger, an-and I already lost you, I - I couldn’t - couldn’t lose anyone else. And - and I was all by myself and I - I - I just couldn’t-” he broke down crying, clutching Jason’s shirt like a lifeline. Jason’s arm immediately stroked Dick’s shaking back, making sure to pat his hair as well.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay Dickie. I’m here, just let it out,” Jason murmured soothingly.

“All I ever wanted was to be- be friends again. But no matter how hard I tried, he-he just - he just kept pushing me away. I know that I’m not good enough for- for Bruce, but I thought that - that maybe, I was enough for him.” He then started crying again, his words slipping from English into a mix of Romani, French, Spanish, Italian, Arabic, German and every other language he learned at Haly’s. Jason was still swiping his hand down the curve of his spine. After he composed himself somewhat, “He was my first - my first friend after my - my parents. He- he said he’d - he’d be there for me. We p-promised to be b-bros. We pink-pinkie promised an’ ev’rythin. I told him ev-evrythin: ‘bout my p-parents, my night-nightmares. I even told him ab-about that time I killed the Joker.”

Wait, hold up.

“You killed the Joker?”

“Ye-yeah,” Dick wiped his nose with his sleeve as his voice became a whisper, “I thought he killed Tim and started - started taunting me about your death and I couldn’t just stand back so I saw red. Next thing I know, I beat him to death. Batman revived him when he arrived”

“Dick..”

“When I saw him I I ju- just couldn’t help myself. You know what he said when I hit him? “I hit Jason a lot harder”.”

“God, Dick.” Jason was quiet for a second before saying, “Did you use a crowbar? Because if you did, I really would’ve appreciated the poetic justice.”

“Jay-”

“Yeah. Bad timing. I just can’t believe you killed the Joker”

“I couldn’t let him get away with what he did. No one’s allowed to hurt my little brother and gets away with it.”

Dick then coughed up more blood and petals. Jason held him close as he apologised between sobs.

————

John Grayson hissed in pain as his wife dabbed the blood stained wet cloth on the cut on his face. A few minutes ago, his cheek was sliced by a drunkard with a broken bottle that was harassing a few of the circus folk after a show. Dick sat on his father’s lap, hugging him tearfully.

“Why - why did that man do that?” He asked his parents.

“Because he didn’t like us,” Mary replied. She placed a bandage on her husband’s wounded cheek and kissed it.

“But why, Mami?” 

“Because he was scared of us.”

“Why would he be scared of us?”

“Because we’re different, păsărică (little bird), and that makes him scared. People don’t like difference because it’s new, they can’t understand it and when people can’t understand anything they get scared.”

“So that’s why he hurt Tati? Because he was scared?”

“Yes, draga mea (my darling). Fear makes people do terrible things, Dick. It makes people lie, cheat and kill. Many people consider it to be the strongest force on Earth.”

“Do you think it is?”

“No. Because I know the one thing that’s stronger than fear.”

“And what’s that Mami?”

“Love. Love is the most powerful thing a person can have. It’s what stops fear from consuming you. When your heart is full of love then your life is full of light and happiness. When you feel love, you can do anything. So remember, my little Robin, to always keep love in your heart because when someone loses their ability to love, they lose their ability to be a human and their life is plunged in darkness.”

“Don’t worry Mami. I’ll never forget.”

———-

His siblings decided that enough was enough. They came clean to Bruce and forced Dick to come to the Manor. Well it was less of a force and more of tranquilising him and carrying his body to Gotham, but semantics. He awoke later in his bedroom at the Manor, hooked onto some sort of monitor. Bruce, of course, was furious.

“How could you have kept this from me?”

“Because I know how you would react. You’d make me get the surgery.”

“Of course I would. You’re my son. You are not going to die.” Bruce said the last part with such conviction.

“No, Bruce.”

“Dick, if you don’t get the surgery, you’ll die!” Tim yelled, every world laced in pain.

“Don’t you see, Tim,” Dick argued back, “if I get the surgery, I’ll die anyway. I’ll never feel love ever again. I’ll never be able to feel that comfort when I remember my parents, that pride when I find out that Dami’s won another award, that warmth in my chest every time I’m with my friends, my family. I’ll be looking straight at my family’s faces every single day but I’d never be able to tell them I love them ever again. That’s not the person my parents raised. I’ll be alive, but I won’t be living. I won’t be Dick Grayson, I’ll just be a man that looks like your brother.”

“That’s alright,” Tim replied back, his voice hysterical with desperation. If it weren’t for the fact that Dick was hooked onto the machine, he would’ve thrown his arms around his little bird, “You’ll still be our brother even if you don’t love us. We’ll still love you.”

“No, Tim.”

“So that’s it then,” Jason said bitterly, “you’re going to give up your life just because one idiot speedster doesn’t love you.”

“Listen to yourself Grayson,” Damian yelled, tears streaming down his face and oh did Dick want to get up and hug him as well, “you speak as if your love for West is worth dying for but isn’t your love for us worth living for?”

“I do love you guys, Dami. I love you all so much. That’s why I can’t get the surgery. Because you all deserve a brother that can tell you that every single day of your life. You all speak like me not loving you won’t hurt you and maybe it won’t. Maybe for the first few months it won’t. But what about in two years, three years, he’ll even ten years in the future, you mean to tell me that you won’t be able to handle it. That you won’t resent me for never being able to give you a hug, never ruffling your hair comforting you when you're sad, you’ll be able to live with me acting as if you’re nothing to me. You wouldn’t love me, you’ll tolerate me like I’m some sort of burden and I refuse to be a burden on anyone

“You won’t be a burden,” Tim whispered, as his own tears stained his shirt, “you’ll be our brother.”

That night, both Tim and Damian slept on either side of their older brother with Jason lying on a mattress beside them.

——-

“YOU CHEATED!”

“Jay-bird, how can I cheat? It’s snakes and ladders.”

“I don’t care. I still say that you cheated.”

“Oh come on-”

“Dick!”

Jason and Dick were interrupted from their good-natured bickering by the sound of a very familiar voice. They both swivelled their heads to the source of it to see a very bedraggled Wally West standing at the doorway of Dick’s room.

“Dick. I-I heard the news. I came to see- are- are you alright?”

“Wally West,” Jason stated darkly, “you’re the person that’s supposed to be his best friend.”

“What?” Wally looked confused as Dick gave him a sharp look as if to say ‘Don’t’.

Jason ignored him as he stared straight at the older man, “You heard me. I thought friends were supposed to watch out for each other. I guess the definition changed after I got put into the ground.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason, enough,” Dick hissed.

“What I’m talking about, Wallace, is your complete inability to be a decent human being. What I’m talking about is how you think that you can waltz in here all willy-nilly and act like you haven’t spent years pushing Dick away.”

“What? I haven’t been-”

“Oh, you haven’t. Well, silly me. It’s just that I thought ignoring someone for months on end constitutes on pushing away. Like seriously, with friends like you, who needs enemies?”

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t like watching Dick get hurt.”

“Yet, when you guys met again the first thing you did was try to shoot him.”

“Enough!” Dick yelled, “Please. I’m going through a lot right now and the last thing I want to hear is my brother arguing with my best friend. If you’re going to argue can you please do it outside.”

“Alright then,” Jason says as he grabs Wally’s hand and drags him to his own room, “C’mon West, there’s a lot I want to say to you.”

After Jason closed the door, Wally started, “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Jason laughs with no humour, “My deal is that you’ve been a s***ty friend to my big brother and I don’t stand for it. He needed you and you abandoned him when he needed you the most. He loves you more than everything and you can’t spare him the time of day. You were his best friend and the first person he ever trusted after the League and Alfred and you go around for years acting like he doesn’t exist! He drops everything for you! No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’s always been there for you. The Pit may have messed up my head but I still remember this one time back when I was Robin. We had been in a burning building and he sacrificed himself for me. The idiot pushed me away when a wall was gonna collapse on me and trapped himself under it whilst yelling at me to escape. By the time Bruce got to him he was out. Was hooked on the breathing equipment for two days. The moment he got his phone back was when you called about something to do with Artemis and he stayed on the line for two whole hours listening to you and never once mentioned about how he almost died. Well now he’s dying! My brother’s been dying for a while now but you were too busy playing happy families with your girlfriend to even notice!”

Wally just looked horrified as he whispered, “I - I didn’t mean to push him away. I’ve been so busy and-”

“Really,” Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “you know, I always thought you never deserved him. To be honest I don’t think anyone deserves to have Dick in their life. To this day I still ask myself what good did Bruce ever do to have someone like him. He takes so much s*** from everyone and refuses to do anything about it. No matter how hurt he gets, he’ll always forgive you. He is just too good for us. Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of taking him back, of saving him from getting hurt again. Like it’s saying “I gave you a gift and you didn’t treat it right so now I’m taking it back. You had your chance and now it’s too late”. Tell me West, if he wasn’t lying on his deathbed, would you even be here. Or would you still be living in your happy little bubble without giving a s*** about the person that has always stood by you.”

His voice went low and quiet as he stood directly in front of the red head, using the few inches he had over him to loom over him as he clutched the front of Wally’s shirt, “The only reason that I’m not throwing you out of here is because Dick cares about you and I prioritise my brother over revenge. But listen here, if you say or do anything from this moment forth that upsets him in any way, I’ll make sure that you can’t take a step in Gotham without one of the bats going after you.”

“Understood,” Wally nodded, tears in his eyes, looking angry, aghast and ashamed at his behaviour. 

____

“Dick, I’m sorry. God, I’m so so sorry.”

“Wally, it’s okay. Really.”

“No. No, it’s not okay. You’ve got to stop making excuses for everyone.”

“Wally-”

“No, Dick, please. I’ve got to say this. Ever since I started dating Artemis I’ve been a terrible friend. Don’t try to deny it, it’s the truth. I kept blowing you off and pushing you away and you just wanted to spend time with me. I was so happy to have started dating, I didn’t realise that I was hurting my best friend. And I’m so sor-”

“Wally,” Dick cut in, “it’s okay. Really. You have your own life. I couldn’t expect you to drop everything for me.”

“You drop everything for everyone.”

“Yeah, and I’m cool with that. Listen, I forgive you, alright. I got to terms with it ages ago,” Dick was smiling at him, his tone bearing no resentment and his eyes filled with warmth, “so can you please stop apologising and tell me about your life.”

______

That night, after Wally had left with promises of returning soon (“Why should you believe him?” a voice asked cynically, “he’s made promises before. He promised that he’ll always be there for you, that he’ll always have your back. Fat lot of good those promises were.”) Jason had sat beside him. Both of them were reading quietly, finding comfort in the silence and the constant beeps of the heart monitor.

“Jason?” Dick inquired after a while, not looking up from his well-worn copy of the Robin Hood novel his mother and father gifted to him on his seventh birthday.

Jason grunted in response, eyes still trained on his own book.

Dick took that as a reason to continue, “Why did you say those things to Wally?”

Jason looked him straight in the eye and replied, “Because no one hurts my big brother and gets away with it.”

The silence continued for a second before Dick spoke up, “Do you think you could read your book to me?”

The other vigilante raised an eyebrow, “You want to hear about The Reign of Terror.”

“Jay-bird, I’m an uncultured gypsy circus freak that Bruce Wayne took in as a charity case and you’re a street rat from Crime Alley that was yet another charity case. Nothing would be a better way for us to bond than to hear about anarchy and revolution against the bourgeoisie. Nothing brings together two people better than discussions of Class Warfare. Besides, it might give us ideas for Bruce’s next stupid gala.”

“True that,” Jason flipped to the front page and began, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness..”

_____

Later on, after a night of patrol, when Tim and Damian came to Dick’s room, they found him asleep with a softly snoozing Jason holding him protectively.

_____

“I love you, Dick,” Bruce whispered as he traced the back of Dick’s hand with his thumb, eyes boring into his sons, “I know that I don’t say it enough. You don’t hear it any where close to as much ass you deserve to. But I love you so much. You’re my son, my light. You were the one who pulled me out of the darkness. I can’t lose you, Robin.”

Dick’s eyes were watering and lips, trembling, “I’m not getting it, B.”

“Please. Please for me. I know I’ve already asked you for a lot, more than I should. But please consider it. For me, for your brothers, for your family. Just - please just consider it.”

Dick took a breath, “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

Bruce smiled tearfully, “Thank you, chum.”

He leaned down, cupped his son’s cheek and kissed his forehead.

____

“I have an idea,” Damian declared after removing another block from their Jenga tower. He, Jason and Tim were huddled around him on the bed. They spent the entire day playing every game they could think of - Bluff (“To enhance our body reading skills of course”), Taboo (“Jason, quit squeezing that thing before I throw my mug at you”), Uno (yeah, they had to stop three minutes in to prevent Damian from attacking Tim because of another plus four) before deciding on Jenga. When Tim got the box out, Dick proclaimed that he thought that the plain brown pieces of wood were ‘too boring’ and ‘lacked personality’ so the four of them used Damian’s art set as well as Dick’s old paints to decorate them. The end result was like something out of a Picasso painting, all conflicting colours that stuck out everywhere, but Dick thought it was the most beautiful creation on Earth.

“What is it?” Tim inquired as he removed a yellow brick that was covered with small smiley faces. He released the breath he was holding as the tower wobbled but stayed standing.

“We kill West.”

“What, Damian?” Dick exclaims, startled by Damian’s blunt reply. Whilst his youngest brother hasn’t made his negative feelings for the speedster unknown, it was unlike him to so casually speak of his murder - at least around him. “How could you say that.”

“The reason you are … in this condition” - they all flinched at the unheard ‘dying’ - “is due to West not reciprocating your feelings towards him. If he were no longer in the picture, there would be no reason for there to be unreciprocated feelings and you shall be cured.”

Dick’s eyes softened, “Damian, it doesn’t work like that. I won’t stop loving him even if he’s dead. And even if it did work, you can’t just kill him because it’ll save me. The reason I’m lying on this bed is because of me and me alone. None of it is his fault.”

“Why do you even love him?” Jason asked, “After all he’s done?”

“I don’t know,” Dick mused, he took out a brick near the foundation of the structure (a bright red one that had the words ‘BATMAN SUCKS’ scribbled on in black marker) - making it unstable and unable to hold up - and watched their carefully crafted tower crumble, “I guess the one thing I’m good at is getting hurt.”

——-

That night Dick was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He couldn’t get much rest anyway, he’d be abruptly woken up by the bloodied petals that would burst out of his mouth like a geyser. Lo and behold, his body shook as he coughed, blood splattering onto his fingertips. He stared at the red that trickled down onto his palm. He remembered reading Macbeth back in Middle School and always wondered about Lady Macbeth - how she spent night after night plagued by her own guilt, perpetually washing her hands to get rid of the imagined bloodstains. He wondered how she felt to be trapped in her own nightmare, to lose control of her own mind. How much sleep she sacrificed. What she must have thought as she climbed the steps of the tower. How she must have felt when she jumped off, knowing that her suffering would be over. Unfortunately, Shakespeare died so he won’t be getting any answers soon. His mind flashed back to two other broken, fallen bodies and his hands covered in blood that wasn’t his own, as he just lay in bed and wondered.

_

“Food poisoning, really,” Roy Harper said, unamused. Dick smiled weakly in response, “God, look at you. What would’ve happened if I didn’t give the Manor a call when I did. Would you have, what, just died in your apartment, waiting for someone to stumble upon your corpse?”

“I didn’t want anyone to find out this way. Or at all to be honest.”

“Dick, seriously man. I’m supposed to be your big brother. How could you hide this from me. I thought you could tell me everything.”

“Roy, Hanahaki is a disease that can only be cured in two ways. Both of them are things I’d never do.”

“Richard John Grayson, I swear-”

“The only way for the surgery to work is if I consent, right. Well, I would never consent to losing the most important part of me.”

“And you won’t confess because-?”

“I can’t force someone to be with me out of pity. Especially not when they’re with someone else already. When they’ve already pushed me out of their life.”

“You really are a piece of work Grayson, you and your stupid hero-complex. You know what happens if this continues, right? You die! You die and there’s nothing any of us can do.”

“I kind of get that, Roy,” Dick deadpanned, “seeing as I’m the one that’s dying.”

“You seriously believe that I, the League, your friends, your family would be able to live without you?”

(Wally could)

“It would hurt or be hard but I’m sure that they could. My presence is not essential for survival. Besides the League existed before me, it can exist without me.” 

__

“Who hurt you, my little kitten,” Selina hummed as she traced the lines of his face.

“No one, Selina,” Dick replied, eyes shut as he melted into the show of affection, “I hurt myself.”

_

The days went by. More and more people were begging and pleading with him to take the surgery. That his life was not worth his feelings for one person. That they would still love him even if he couldn’t love them back. That having him alive and unfeeling would be much better than not having him at all. He had never seen Bruce let out so many tears in his life. The sight of the cold, calculated Batman that would make Gotham’s hardest criminals fall to their knees imploring him with a cracked, choked up voice on the verge of breaking down was something he would never forget - and he caused it.

“You are a fighter,” Diana had said one day as she sat next to him. She had spent her time telling him every story that she could think of. “You always had been. I admit that I was cautious when I heard that Batman had taken in a partner. I didn’t know if having a man like Bruce Wayne in your life would be good for you. But you were definitely good for him. You’ve changed him in ways that I couldn’t even dream of. I understand your decision, and while it’s not the one I would’ve wanted for you to take, it’s the one that suits you. For Dick Grayson without love is like the Solar System without the Sun. 

Dick took her battle-hardened hand with his own week one and held it, rubbing it with his thumb. 

“You are a fighter,” the warrior repeated, fire in her eyes, “so when you go down, go down with a fight.”

___

“When I die,” Dick said one day, high off of pain meds, “I don’t want anyone wearing black to my funeral okay. I see enough darkness already in my life, there shouldn’t be sadness during my death. Everyone should be wearing the brightest colours imaginable. At least have a yellow sock or something. I want music and laughter and embarrassing stories. Play Rick Astley instead of that terrible organ march. Hire a bubble machine instead of a Priest. And I don’t want any stupid roses either. It’s either sunflowers or nothing.”

___

“Why are you doing this Dick?” Wally asked tearfully. Dick was so weak now. His veins darkened as flowery vines curled around his chest and arms. He looked like a masterpiece, an untouchable work of art, “Why are you just letting yourself die.”

“Don’t start, Wally. Please.”

“Dick…”

“I’m not getting the surgery, Wally. So you should just drop it. You should know how stubborn I can be. So how’s things with you?”

“Dick...”

“Seriously, you’re my best friend. I want to know that at least your life doesn’t suck.”

“Well, Artemis and I broke up so ...”

“What?” Dick exclaimed in shock, “you guys broke up? But you were so happy together (happy enough to forget me). You loved her so much.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. I don’t really know if I loved her or just really liked her. We just realised that we weren’t compatible, you know. She wanted more than I can give her.”

“Bro,” Dick looked at him with concern, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay.”

Wally gave him an incredulous look, “Dude, you’re literally dying but you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Again, you’re my best friend, it's my job to worry.”

“God, I don’t deserve you.” 

“Hey,” Dick chastised, “I’m the judge of whether you deserve me or not, okay. And I say that anyone who has a breakup is entitled to at least two movies and three hours of video games.

“Is that so?” Wally raised his eyebrows.

Dick gave the gravest nod he can muster, “Of course it’s true. I got a doctorate in Best Friendology, you know. So I know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, if the doctor orders.”

——

“The spark just died out, I guess. We started to realise that we were acting less like a couple and more like roommates that occasionally made out,” Wally exclaimed as he shovelled another mouth of caramel chocolate crunch ice cream into his mouth, “It was like we were just trying to make it work but it just wasn’t catching on. It’s okay though, we’re still friends so I’m cool with living the single life.”

“Not for long though,” Dick said, smiling at him with a look of pure fondness that Wally couldn’t help but blush, “you are an amazing person Wally. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really. You probably don’t think it but you’re still my best friend. No one can take that away. Having you in their life would be the greatest honour a person can receive.”

“Psssh, whatever. Let’s see if you’ll still say that once I kick your butt at Call of Duty.”

__

“Dick, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m really sorry, Uncle Clark,” Dick looked down, refusing to meet his idol’s disheartened gaze.

“Dick, look at you,” Dick was sure that Clark gave him a once over with his x-ray vision when he entered, if that slight wince was anything to go by, “you’re wasting away. This isn’t you.”

“If I take the surgery, I wouldn’t be me either.”

“Of course you will. I know you think that we won’t love you if you do but we will. You will always be my nephew. I’d rather have you alive and not love me than never seeing you again.”

“Uncle Clark, I understand what you’re saying and if it was anyone else but me I would be agreeing with you. Yes, I know it’s selfish to do this but it’s the only choice I have. I don’t want people to look back at me and remember me as the person who forgot how to love. For me to be the cautionary tale for what happens if you let your emotions get the best of you. All my life I wanted to catch people, to be the safety net my parents didn’t have. If I lose my love, my passion to keep the people I love safe, then I’ll lose the very reason why I exist. You may be able to live with me but I won’t.”

“I love you Dick. So so much. Ever since the day I met you, when you threw yourself into my arms and asked if I could take you flying, I knew that you would be special, that you would change everyone’s lives for the better. And I was right, even if you made it a habit to give me heart attacks ever since you put on that mask. You will always have my respect.”

“I love you too, Uncle Clark. If anyone deserves that ‘World’s Best Uncle’ mug I gave you when I was ten, it’s you. I’d do anything for you. But this is the one thing I won’t. I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence before Dick piped up, asking sheepishly, “Do you- do you suppose you could tell me a Kryptonian legend. I wouldn’t mind hearing that one about Nightwing and Flamebird again.”

Clark smiled sadly, “It would be my pleasure.”

_____

Today’s the day.

Dick knew that he wasn’t going to survive the night. So he did everything he could. When his family came to check on him, he greeted them with a smile. When the clock chimed ten o’clock, he told them to leave.

“Dick, it’s okay. We can skip patrol,” Tim said.

“No, Tim. Batman needs Robin by his side and Robin needs his older brothers to watch his back. You can’t stop protecting Gotham just for me.”

“We’d do anything for you,” Tim’s eyes were sad, it made Dick feel bad for lying to him

“I know. Trust me, I’ll be alright. Now go so when you come back I can hear all the juicy details.” Dick gave him one of his signature Grayson smiles, using his so called puppy dog eyes for extra effect (he is ashamed to say that it’s not the first time he used them on a family member but desperate times..). “I love you guys, okay. Te iubesc, fratii mei mici (I love you, my little brothers).”

“We love you too, you big idiot,” Jason replies and Dick isn’t faking the smile when he hears that.

“Alright, come on guys. Pre-patrol hug, bring it in.”

___

“I’m not going to make it Alfie,” Dick says when Alfred arrives.

“I know, dear boy.”

“You - you know?”

The Englishman raises an eyebrow, “You may be able to deceive your brothers but do not forget that I was in the army, Master Richard. I can tell the look of a man who knows when his time has come.”

“I didn't mean to lie to them,” Dick says softly, “I just- I couldn’t let them see me like that. I didn’t want them to worry. It’s probably not the right decision but…”

“My dear child, I don’t believe that there is a right way to go about these sorts of affairs. Even on your last breath you try to shield them from the horrors of this world. You are a remarkable person, Master Richard, that is for sure.”

“Do you think I’ll meet them when I- when I go?”

“I cannot say for certain. However, I know for a fact that if you do, they would feel nothing but pride for the young man you’ve grown up to be. Just as Master Bruce and I am.”

“I love you, Alfred.” Dick’s weak voice was tearful as he looked at the man that was a grandfather to him growing up.

“And I do you, Master Richard,” Alfred’s words were choked, as if he’s struggling to hold himself together. The butler wiped away a black forelock, “It’s been an honour to serve you.”

____

After the man left on Dick’s command, with tears streaming down his usually held together face,the first Robin laid down on the bed, clutching his old stuffed elephant as he stared at the ceiling with a soft smile.

“Hi Mami, hi Tati. Let me tell you about my day…”

___

When Alfred gave them the news over the comms, the residents of Wayne Manor were stunned into silence. Not one of them moved or uttered a word before they raced back home. They all entered Dick’s room in a frenzy only to pause at the sight before them.

Alfred was sitting at the foot of Dick’s bed which was enwrapped with flowery vines - originating from the former Boy Wonder’s chest - that reached the floor and curled over the soft carpet in the shape of angel wings. Dick’s hands were clasped daintily over the centre of his unmoving chest, his eyes closed like he was asleep, his mouth was slightly parted and chrysanthemums blossomed between his lips. Black hair framed his face like a halo as lilac petals covered his body, softening his edges. The stems embraced his form, like it was protecting it from the rest of the world.

He looked like a masterpiece. A work of art to forever be treasured and to never be touched. It was the picture of haunting beauty, a real-life paradox. How could something so beautiful, so captivating be so horrific. As a painting, the sight was alluring, awe-inspiring but as the harsh truth, the picture of the man’s corpse made everyone want to vomit.

Damian and Tim fell to their knees next to him; crying, screaming, pleading. Pleasewakeuppleasewakeuppleaseplease. Bruce held them close, his own tears staining his batsuit. He wanted to shout, scream, to punch something Goddamnit! This was not supposed to happen. His son, who was so full of life, who somersaulted into his life with bright eyes that would put a nebula to shame and eager-to-please smiles, can’t go. Not like this. Not by himself, in his room (he always hated the size of his room when he first came -  hated how it was nothing like the compact trailer he grew up in). He could never sit still, not even during stakeout, not even as an adult. To see him just lying there, face blank, paralysed like he just saw Medusa was unnatural. Not even Scarecrow’s fear toxin could cook up an image so fearful. 

And Jason. Jason just stared.

It was too late

_____

Nightwing’s memorial was put up in Mount Justice the next day. Every hero on Earth attended the service. No one said anything. They all just stood there in organised rows, silently looking at the hologram of one of the strongest, most respected heroes to ever walk the planet. 

Dick would’ve hated it.

___

“He was supposed to be the best of us,” Clark said later, when everyone had returned home. Crime won’t stop because one hero had died. The world won’t stop spinning because Nightwing was no longer walking on it.  No matter how many people wished it would.

______

“Who was it?” Wally asked. 

“You,” Jason replied.

___

Richard John Grayson died a week later. The pneumonia he had contracted became fatal. That was the only information Bruce Wayne gave out to the press before shutting himself in his house, refusing to come out for a month.

The funeral was held two days after the announcement but no one except Dick’s closest friends and family were allowed to attend. Every person wore a sunflower on their jacket and a brightly coloured tie.

____

Wally sat cross-legged in front of three identical tombstones.

“I’m so sorry, Dick,” He wept, “I’m so so sorry.”

___

When Dick Grayson left Wally West’s life, there was no fanfare, no blinding lights or blaze of glory. He wasn’t Robin or Nightwing, a hero or civilian, the ward of a billionaire or the child of two acrobats from a circus, the brother of three grieving boys or the nephew of the mourning Justice League. When Dick Grayson left, he died only as a man who loved too much and expected too little.

*Mostly copied and pasted from Fanlore.org: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Hanahaki_Disease

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“I was a Civil War Reenactor”

Around the time I was 16 years old, I was at the annual Mustang car show they use to put on at the local mall. My dad had a 69 Mustang Mach One that he entered every year and since he was a member of the local mustang club, we (mostly he) were always there working or trying to do something to help out like inspect cars for judging or pick up trash. He had a beautiful car; the color was gulf stream aqua blue and boy could it go fast. I think my dad had several tickets to prove it. In fact, I liked his car and our times together doing those shows so much, that when I was overseas making cha-ching, I bought myself a ‘69 Mustang, so we could continue to share the experience. However, less than a year after I got back from my time in the dirt, he sold his and mine… well, it now sits in the garage. I must confess, I am not a car guy like my dad was. It’s a beautiful garage ornament though.

Anyway, when I was 16, I overheard someone at the car show talking about Civil War reenacting. I loved history growing up and I still do but this was at the time that the internet wasn’t what it is today and getting information at the touch of a button just wasn’t there. You actually had to sort of be in the know to know of anything. I went right over to learn what I could about reenacting. The guy, in turn, got me in touch with another fellow that was closer to my age… well, he was in college but a lot closer to my age than most reenactors. He told me how to get involved and what it took to become a reenactor. He also told me that there was an event in Selma, Alabama coming up.

Now I had an over-protective mother… and to be honest, I am so thankful she was. When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to go to people’s houses until she met their parents or do a lot of things. Up until a couple of years before this, she was pretty much a single parent as my parents were divorced and my dad was in the Navy other places. She lessened the iron grip as I got older but actually allowing me to go with folks that she didn’t know to an event in another state? I thought it would never happen. But this guy took the time to stop and meet my mom in person to explain the group he was with and what they did, etc. Lo and behold, my mom consented and let me go.

I officially joined the 2nd Florida Company A, The Pensacola Rifles. For new members, uniforms and accouterments (gear) were borrowed from other members of the group until one was able to get their own gear. I was no different; I borrowed and looked like I wore hand-me- downs. Everything looked slightly too big or small, but I was proud. I loved it. So, for reenacting groups, they usually represent two units, one from the north and one from the south, depending on how many people show up to an event and what side needs help to fill. 2nd Florida’s counterpart was the 75th New York. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I think that is what it was. We were good ol’ southern boys and I could probably count on one hand how many times we wore the blue.

I remember the first event like it was yesterday. We drove all the way up to Selma from Pensacola and when we got there, we walked across the battlefield to where everyone was camped. Civil War reenacting is or at least was, very family-oriented for the most part. There were some groups that took it way too seriously and other groups that didn’t take it seriously enough but the group I ended up with had a great group of people that weren’t too far in either direction. They were there to have fun, fellowship and have a good time. I met the Captain of our group. He was an older gentleman, but I was 16; everyone was older. He was sitting at a makeshift table pouring black powder into paper cartridges to be used later. He also had an Army or Navy Colt six shooter that he was messing with that I was fascinated by.

I then met a family who had their kids with them. The wife was super sweet and friendly and the kids…. Well they were kids and me being an older kid, I didn’t pay them any attention. Families usually brought family-sized tents made out of canvas. The thing about reenacting, it was about trying to be as period as possible so no new tents for us. Jay, the guy that met my mom and let me ride with him had his own “A” frame tent and we shared that. I met another guy there who was in his younger 20s, maybe the same age as Jay, I am not sure, but I think he was in the Navy at some point. He was a nice guy, but he was different. He always had a pleasant, slack smile and he was always talking about creating a Naval Civil War Reenacting group. He never did though, sadly. I found out years later, after I had gone across the world, that he died of a drug overdose or something like that. At any rate, it was unexpected news when I heard about it.

That first night we set our camp up, cooked dinner on the campfire and sang long into the night. It was exciting; it really felt like you stepped back in time surrounded by people in period dress and playing period music. You could almost imagine how it might have really been in the 1860s, though there probably wasn’t as much enjoyment back then.

By the time it was time to go to sleep that night, it was super late. It did not take long to pass out… however, again, before the advent of technology and all its glory, we didn’t have weather apps that told us about storms on the horizon. We woke up a couple hours later from a deep stupor to the sound of heavy rain on the tent and wind billowing the walls of the tent in and out rapidly. It was a strong and surprise thunderstorm that came from nowhere. The kind of lightning that when it struck, it blinded everything. We grabbed onto the wooden poles that held the tent up to add stability to the shaking tent. The tent shook so hard that the front pole actually snapped in two! Then before long, while dealing with that, a small stream started to pool around our feet coming from one side of the tent and flow out the other side. It wasn’t long before we were ankle deep and trying to keep things from floating out the front of the tent. It was complete pandemonium.

We knew we had to get out of there. We quickly secured what we could and ran for the vehicle, which required running about a quarter of a mile to the parking area in the dark with lightning flashing. There are times in life where you question your choices and wonder, “How the heck did I end up here?” This was one of those times. After running and being blinded every few minutes, praying to God that we wouldn’t be struck as we ran, we made it to the safety of the vehicle. We were wet, miserable and tired. We were also hungry after all that, so we drove over to the local Denny’s to eat. We must have looked like a sight. Here we were wearing 1860 attire, wet, miserable-looking, slowly moseying to our table to eat at 2 or 3 in the morning. It’s funny now…. Well, it was funny then too. The absurdity of it, along with the relief of not getting hurt.

The next day, we found out that they suspected that there might have been a small tornado that tore through the camp. Apparently, it had hit sutler row ( the Civil War related tent shops that were all congregated together) and while it destroyed some tents, nobody was hurt.

The next morning, after sleeping in the car the remainder of the night, we returned to camp and quickly moved our tent to higher ground. Thankfully, Jay had another upright tent pole that took the place of the broken one and we were back on track.

So, every Civil War Reenactment that I have ever been a part of usually consisted of two battles, one on Saturday and one on Sunday with a military ball usually Saturday nights. In the time leading up to the first battle, we conducted close order drill and rifle maneuvers. It was so cool. Not really, but to a 16 year old boy, it was. The uniforms were made of wool and let me tell you something, I gained such a new, profound understanding and appreciation for those that fought in the Civil War. That uniform was itchy, scratchy and if you had a sunburn on your neck… well it just made it worse. But surprisingly, once you sweat into the uniform, it would actually cool you off when the wind blew.

On Saturday afternoon, the time of the battle finally came, and I fell in next to Jay. In reenacting, they say that your first battle is when you see the elephant! I wasn’t sure what that meant but, sure, ok. Also, for new folks, they would take black powder and rub it on newbie faces so everyone knew that you were a neophyte. I wasn’t sure if this was the case. They may have been using my inexperience against me for a good laugh, but I did begin to see others with black powder on their face, so maybe they weren’t.

The cannons started to roar, and musket gun fire started popping off in the distance. It had begun. We marched up an embankment and crested a hill and over to the left, they had a specially built farmhouse on the battlefield between us and confederates that they lit afire. They even had special charges set in the ground where dirt would explode to simulate a cannonball landing. I wasn’t expecting all this. I was just mesmerized by everything. Boom! Shot! Fire Crackle! Dirt Flying! Oh, I have to keep moving with everyone! And I did.

We advanced and retreated several times and then finally, we set up for the final charge. When they yelled “Charge!” we were just to start running and charge the confederates who were behind field fortifications. In Civil War Reenacting, there is no set time to “die.” When you have had enough, you just fall down spectacularly and lay there until the battle is over. Now, there are times when a cannon goes off nearby and you feel silly if you stay up, when you know it would have gotten you had it been real, so you fall then too.

So, here I was in my first battle surrounded by people I didn’t really know and on the front end of the charge. I remember thinking, “Ok. I will just stay by my buddy Jay…oh there he goes…. Where did he go! I am by myself! Oh no!” I am running across the field and me being younger, I could run a little faster. I quickly found myself by myself and not too far from the entrenched. I got so close I could see their eyes… yup, and then the thought hit me. Dude, It’s time. And I died spectacularly. I don’t know if it was spectacular, I just kind of rolled forward and laid still.

Shortly after that, the battle came to an end and it was time to get ready for the military ball. And if you thought the reenactment battlefield was an experience for a young man, the military ball was equally as important an experience, but completely opposite. Men and women would dress up with all the pomp they could with 1860 uniforms and clothing. True southern belles showed up in their hoop dresses, including young women around my age. The whole thing was amazing. People in period dress at a restored plantation house, listening to period music, dancing the Virginia reel. I loved learning to dance and I danced with anyone and everyone I could. I even met a couple of cute girls and had good conversation. Sadly, I never saw them again after that night at other events I attended. That’s another thing about reenacting, it becomes sort of a small town of friends, where they meet at different events and enjoy each other’s time and in time, start to reminisce about earlier experiences.

In retrospect, I am so grateful that I was able to participate in these events. They just instilled the love of history and learning even more in my life. I met interesting people and listened to interesting stories. A couple of years later, I joined the military and never did another event, but I have such great memories.

[ur-mom-kayn]

Loyalty Chapter 2: Trust or Megalomaniac

Hi, Guys ^^ First off all I want to thank for the hearts <3

Today comes the 2nd chapter of Loyalty. The German Version has already 26 chapters and more will follow. Yesterday I have read that Akali broke up with Shen. That will be also a part of my story in the future ^_^ I think Zed is the reason. She wants to kill him but Shen says that this is not the path of balance. He cannot kill him because of revenge but Akali wants to see him dead. That is my Theory. 

Now here the chapter ^_^

................................

Kayn Pov Even though meditating pissed him in the beginning, he also learned to handle this part of the training. He became aware of the importance the first time when he was truly able to feel his shadow. An incredible power flowed through his body. He definitely wanted to use it. Unfortunately, he still could not enjoy the full potential of the shadows. Master Zed told him several times that he himself was not able to do so without the chest. His words could not really cheer up the young acolyte. He first had to prove himself worthy before he could even waste a thought about training with the chest. It was frustrating, but also motivating. Kayn fought for Zed's recognition like no one else. For the last two years, he has done every one of his age groups, and basically everyone else. Only with the elite, he could not take it. It was those who were privy to the mystery of shadow art. Kayn wanted to be with them at all costs. Because of this, he called them daily to fight. He did not give a shit that he fell on his nose every time. What effect did he achieve when he fought against weaklings? Nothing. Only against stronger opponents, he felt an improvement of his own abilities. As in the moment, he lost a test fight against one of the best men of Zed. Every one of his battles was watched by the Master unless he was on a mission. He did not understand why Zed always scrutinized him. Neither in a win nor a defeat, he said something to him. It was hard to tell if he impressed him or disappointed. He wanted nothing more than a praise. Even though the fight was over, he stood up again and aimed the rod in his hand against his opponent. "I want a rematch," the boy challenged his counterpart. "Not a good idea Kayn. You look mighty battered. Tomorrow, okay? "Satoshi was always way too nice to him. He was ready to fight against him at any time and always struggled to teach him something in their fights. Unfortunately, Kayn was not the kind of person who liked niceness. He regarded this as weakness. And that's exactly what he took advantage of. Satoshi approached him and cheerfully put a hand on Kayn's shoulder. The younger one dropped the staff, grabbed his hand, twisted it on his back and threw him to the ground. Immediately, his opponent responded and cast a shadow behind Kayn. The boy was not stupid and knew this trick too often. With his free hand, he grabbed the staff and slapped the neck of the shadow as soon as Satoshi changed position with him. Not a second later, his counterpart lay unconscious on the floor. It was indeed the first time he had won against an elite assassin. If he did not get praise from Master Zed, he would not know. Unfortunately, nothing came of the same. His Master rose from his seat and left the room without words. Zed Pov This boy did not know any scruples. He even placed one of his closest comrades on the cross without mercy. He was definitely impressive. No question. For the past two years, he understood Kayn's statement when he said the sword was too boring. He controlled every weapon. No, he mastered every weapon. Only his young body stood in his way several times. Although he got a bit more muscle in the meantime, from a 12-year-old boy could not expect a magnificent body. But his will become stronger. Its something too unruly will. He trained day in and day out. If Zed did not send him to bed like a father, then the boy would be of no use the next day. And there was the next thing that bothered him. He no longer felt like his master but like his father. The boy grew to his heart. He loved and feared his wickedness at the same time. He reminded him too much of his younger self, always seeking more power. In itself, nothing bad if his younger self-had would not have killed his master. He would love to trust Kayn but he could not. He was already ready to get to know the true power of shadow art, but he was afraid of the strength the boy would get. He was sure that Kayn would be able to use it against his master. However, if he waited too long, then the rage in Kayn could stir up too much. He needed a plan that could only have two exits. Either Kayn would remain loyal to him, or he would turn against him. Zed could not wait any longer. Before he could develop more father feelings for him, he first had to test Kayn's loyalty. Kayn Pov Kayn marched frustratedly to Zed's room. He was fed up with being constantly ignored. He was more than just his "child". He could also consider him as a student from time to time. But no? The only words he has heard from him lately are: Go to bed, brush your teeth, eat something healthy, blah, blah, blah. He did not want to be treated by him in that way anymore. He was ready. He had proven his strength often enough. Even when he was angry, he did not want to rush straight into it. Too soft he knocked on the wooden slats. "Master, may I enter?" One of Zed's shadows pushed the door open for him. "Thanks," he answered, sitting down on the floor of Zed, who was about to meditate. "What brings you here Kayn?" His master said in a pleasant calm tone. Actually, he would have expected more anger because he bothered him so much, but apparently, he had already expected Kayn's presence. "I ... I wonder ... Master, why you can not tell me a nice word?" For a moment there was silence between them. "You have beautiful hair, happy now?" Kayn was more than mistaken. "I did not mean that. You should say that I've gotten stronger, that I've proven myself, I'm ready to be introduced to the Shadow Art, something like that ..." "Why should I mention the obvious? To increase your arrogance. I can do without it." And finally, he had what he wanted to hear. His master confirmed his strength, but why did he keep it to himself? What arrogance? Kayn thought he was pretty down to earth, although his comrades had a different opinion of him. "Um ... and why you do not show me when I'm ready?" "Good Kayn, the chest is under my bed, if you want to get it, but I will not help you with training." "It does not make sense without you, I want to learn from you and not from anyone else." Zed left that uncommented. Instead, he sank back into a trance. Kayn did not mind staying longer. He left the room and went to his room. The encounter with Zed was strange. His words made no sense to the young acolyte. It was not his style to reveal a secret so easily. Kayn decided to let go of the subject. His master should come to him. He will certainly not steal the chest, which was 90% certainly not under his bed. ... One week later, nothing came. Zed spoke neither about his talent nor about the possibilities of a special training. Kayn was bitterly disappointed with his master, but he kept his frustration. He trusted him. If he said it was the wrong time, it will be. On the way to his room, he felt an unpleasant aura. The corridor in front of him darkened and some shadows came out of the walls. For Kayn it was just a bad joke, so he quickly paused. He was not afraid of the dark, but still, there was discomfort in him. Something was wrong. Just as he was about to turn around, a cloth was held in front of his face. Kayn tried to fight back, but he felt his body sluggish. As soon as he knew it, he lay on the ground. The last thing he saw was a shadow approaching him. ... When Kayn woke up, he was in a sitting position. His legs and hands were firmly tied to a chair. He could not move an inch, because his upper body was fixed. The room was pitch black except for the two torches flickering against the wall in front of him. "Finally woke up," said a masked man in a dark voice. He could not recognize it. Everything sounded so distorted by the mask. He seriously doubted that intruders were simply entering the temple. So they had to be men of their own order. But why was he in this situation now? Another man pulled Kayn by the hair so he was forced to look up. "What do you want from me?" The boy snapped. "Where did Zed hide the chest? Spit it out." "How should I know?", He lied. His attackers did not look like they were buying this lie from him. "So, spit it out, if you do not want us to hurt you." That was all a bad joke as if he would ever betray Master Zed. They should torture him to death before he said a word about the chest. He did not care, he can easily put the pain away. "So last chance. Where does Zed hide the chest? " " Fuck. You. ", He literally spat his opponent in the face. First, he got a punch in the stomach. Kayn saw this coming and tried as well as possible to tighten his muscles. In vain. The pain spread throughout his body. Unfortunately, he did not have much time to recover from it. The next blow found its way straight into his face. He could handle that, too. His counterpart stopped for a moment and asked again. "Well, tell us now, kid." "Rather, I tell you, hell has frozen over before." Even if it was unwise to provoke his attackers, he could not resist his cheeky sayings. With each further inappropriate sentence, Kayn conceded more and more punches. He did not care that his lip was breaking open now, or that he had bruised all over his body. He would not betray Master Zed. He swore allegiance to him and showed him daily how obedient he was. He only accepted his orders. If someone else told him to do this and that, then he always refused to accept this assignment. He swore to serve only Master Zed and that's what he would do for the rest of his life. Even as his counterparts released a blade, Kayn made no sound. He survived the torture as far as possible without screaming. His attackers gave him one last chance to chat, but Kayn said nothing. The man behind him stroked his neck gently with the blade. The boy was silent. He refused to tremble. Fought against the fear. The blade moved down and down to his arm, where he made light cuts. They were not particularly deep, but painful enough for a slight hiss to escape through his lips. His opponents took it as a triumph and did their best to continue torturing Kayn.

Felt hours later, they took a break. They left Kayn alone in the room. He was now bleeding from every nook and cranny, but still, he kept his consciousness. Compared to the battle 2 years ago, this was the purest kindergarten. Kayn tested his agility on the chair while his attackers were gone. With full power, he would be able to move on his tiptoe. That's exactly what he used to do. He took a full risk, took a run and crashed his back against the wall. The chair broke into pieces and Kayn was able to break free. Quickly he struggled out of the ropes. He immediately took refuge in the hallway. As he already thought, he was in the temple. He just did not know that part of the building, but one thing was clear to him. Zed was his only salvation. Unfortunately, the boy kept losing blood. He was breathing hard and black dots were already forming in front of him. His ears were ringing and it was difficult for him to keep his balance. Although he threatened to lose the fight against his own body, he did not want to give up. Suddenly everything became too much for him and he dropped to his knees. Collapsed, he tried to move, but it was futile. The powerlessness came over him.

[end-o-the-line]

A Captain America: the First Avenger Timeline for Fic Writers

(I’m so sorry I erased the original post I’M SO SORRY! You can read this without the visual aids on AO3.)

March 10, 1917 - James Buchanan Barnes is born, and we were all officially fucked.

July 4, 1918 - Steven Grant Rogers is born, and somewhere in Brooklyn Bucky's mother wept . . .

June, 1924 - Steve's mother is bedridden from illness associated with Tuberculosis.

September, 1930 - 12-year old Steve and 13-year old Bucky meet for the first time in Hell's Kitchen, where Bucky scares off bullies trying to steal Steve's money. What were they doing in Hell's Kitchen? No one knows. Steve tells Bucky he's been living in the orphanage 'on 8th' since his mother's death. Which is odd since Bucky was apparently at her funeral when they're both legal adults in a flashback scene from the Winter Soldier. For the purpose of this timeline, info from the movies will take precedent over info from the various tie-ins. Meaning Sarah Rogers is basically Schrödinger's Ma for the next 6 years.

1936 - Shrodinger's Ma finally actually dies fo sho of Tuberculosis. Bucky breaks everyone and their mother's heart with his 'til the end of the line' line. (Also, per MCU canon, Bucky's 'folks' are still alive . . . and own a car.)

February ish, 1940 - Colonel Phillips first approaches Howard Stark, in Los Angeles, about working for the SSR. (Stark Industries was formed in 1939, and 'a year later' Howard is at a nightclub in West Hollywood called Ciro's, demonstrating the properties of Vibranium. Ciro's opened in January of 1940. So keeping in line with the MCU canon and with real world history, as you do, January 1940 is the absolute earliest that Howard could have been recruited.) They're pursued and Stark deploys rockets from the ass-end of his car to escape them because Howard Stark.

Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter, aka Agent 13 is already in deep cover working for Schmidt as a maid in his personal mansion.

November, 1940 - Peggy rescues Dr. Erskine from Schmidt's mansion two days after Johann Schmidt forces him to inject the experimental serum, proving that we all could have saved a lot of time if Peggy had done that three fucking days earlier, Jesus.

May 25, 1941 - Steve goes to the Dodgers-Phillies game at Ebbets Field. Was Bucky with him? We don't fucking know. It was a Sunday, so maybe. It’s not like Steve knew other people . . .

December 7, 1941 - Steve and Bucky are in an art class - like . . . how can anyone write these two as dirt poor when they're fucking around on their Sundays at baseball games and art classes? By this point the economy was booming as the work force was being drafted left and right, these two would not have been in need of jobs. And two Irish-Catholics (honestly, Bucky is probably Scottish, lbr) skipping church? tsk tsk - when the class is informed by a runner that Pearl Harbor has been attacked.

Okay real talk here, for a second. The draft officially started in 1940, pulling men 21 years of age and older. In 1940, Bucky was 23. He was single, no kids. He absolutely could not have given conscientious objector status as a way to avoid it because if he had, when he was drafted later on he never would have seen combat. He should have been drafted in '40 or '41. The only reasons he wouldn't have been was if he was a student, or if both his parents and/or his siblings were considered his dependents. Since some sources say both Bucky and Steve were orphans, then it is entirely plausible that both Bucky's parents died close to the time Bucky turned 19 or 20, in which case he could have become the legal guardian of his younger siblings.

PS: Bucky is not an orphan in the MCU (nor is he poor in that suit, jfc):

So either Bucky was working like a damn dog supporting his family, in which case the fuck are you doing in an art class, kiddo? Or he was actually a student at a college or university.

.....he could also have, during the years the US was gearing up in case they were forced into the conflict, held a job that was considered vital to the coming war effort. This sort of deferment was limited to jobs in war production, and jobs that involved national 'health, safety, or interest'. Literally the only job I can think of without actually like . . . researching it, that Bucky could have been in where he would have been skipped the first few times but taken in '42, is if he had been a police officer. That would fit very well with his ability with a gun, plus explain why he made sergeant so fucking fast, with prior training other inductees would not have had.

Considering what a golden child Bucky was in Brooklyn, all three of those scenarios would be a perfectly valid reason for Bucky to have avoided the first several waves of conscription. Just thought that was interesting.

Anyway! Steve wants to enlist right away, so Bucky (a three-time YMCA welterweight boxing champion, suck it) trains him for two whole weeks because Bucky is apparently of the opinion that Steve is an idiot who won't get in anyway so why fucking bother going hard.

*at the time, under the regulations of the New York State Athletic Commission, welterweight was a weight class of 147 to >160 pounds. Meaning post-war Bucky gained about 40 pounds of pure muscle after getting the serum....dude.

December 24, 1941 - Bucky is right and Steve's first attempt to enlist fails so hard. Go to Midnight Mass, Steven.

March, 1942 - Red Skull fucks shit up in Tønsberg, Norway and finds the Tesseract.

September 21, 1942 - Bucky receives his draft card, and takes it to an intake facility and enlists in the US Army. The following dates are literally nowhere in canon, but I have research to back up what is essentially pure speculation on my part. His serial number is 32557038. There is a real world counterpart who actually had this particular serial number, and he was enlisted on this date. So, in order for Bucky to have gotten to the number before this guy, Bucky probably woke up early Monday morning to get shit done.

Desperate Historian's Note: I always assumed that since he was a Sergeant when he first shipped out, Bucky had been in service for at least a year and a half, which is still pushing it within the constraints of the timeline. Most NCO's at the start of US involvement in the War, Corporals and Sergeants, already had years of Army service under their belts. But no. 9 months. So. Bucky basically kicked ass and took names to become a Sergeant in 9 months of non-combat training (which took place at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin btw). That, or every NCO in his regiment came down with a sudden case of the Deads and he got promoted.....Bucky would have needed a special recommendation from the company commander - TWICE in 9 months - to reach that rank. Jesus. It is canon fact that Bucky was indeed an absolutely phenomenal soldier (and leader) . . .

He would have been sent to basic training and been gone for ten weeks, meaning it would have been over by the 1st of December, 1942, or thereabouts.

December 1, 1942 - Give or take a week or two, maybe, depending on how quickly he was whisked away after enlistment, Bucky would have been given a week's furlough after training at Camp McCoy ended.

December 8, 1942 - Since he is a designated marksman (not a sniper, the US Army didn't have those in WWII. A designated marksman was just a guy in a regiment who was an excellent shot and stuck with their regiment at all times and was used situationally, never went off alone to shoot people in the head and stuff), he absolutely would not have been sent to any sort of sniper training because, again, the US did not have those in WWII. He wouldn't have stayed in NYC, though.

He would have been on an Army base somewhere, with the occasional week-long furlough to return home. There were 114 mobilization camps by 1942, and only three of those in New York state; Madison Barracks, Camp Upton, and Pine Camp, with three more in New Jersey; Fort Dix, Fort Monmouth, and Camp Shanks. 17 were in California, 14 in Texas. Anyway. So, before Bucky leaves for war, he and Steve wouldn't have seen a whole lot of each other for the year before that, either.

June 7, 1943 - Bucky probably arrives in NYC on a final week's furlough before being sent to War. With the way Steve looks at him when he sees the uniform later on, and Bucky's cocky little head tilt, it's probably safe to say Bucky received his sergeant's chevrons not long before this furlough. (Honestly . . . I have never understood this part. Bucky damn well knew he was 107th from the moment he reported, and Steve should have as well. Also, ‘getting his orders’ had nothing to do with his uniform, soldiers were required to wear that shit everywhere they went. Unless Steve knew he’d gotten his orders simply because he was there and shouldn’t have been....whatever, movie exposition, blah blah)

June 14, 1943 - Steve's fifth attempt to enlist fails spectacularly because he had to claim to be from New Jersey. He then goes to get the shit kicked out of him in an alley behind a movie theater, that's what you get for saying you're from Jersey, Steven. He and Bucky attend the Stark Expo that evening, where Steve ghosts like an asshole - even though for all he knows this is literally the last time he will ever see Bucky alive!! - and is chosen by Dr. Erskine as a candidate for Project: Rebirth.

June 15, 1943 - Bucky and the 107th ship out for 'England'. Now, the troop transport Queen Mary left NYC on June 1, 1943, heading for Gourock, Scotland and carrying the 1077th Signal Company Service Group. It took 5 days; they arrived on June 6, 1943. On July 16, 1943, the Edmund B. Alexander carried 5,000 replacement troops to Liverpool, England. That journey took ten days; they made land on July 26, 1943. Maybe. The records are full of literal question marks, so I dunno. That's the closest thing I can find to Bucky's stated journey. Most of the troops leaving from NYC at this period were actually heading for Africa, landing in Casablanca, Morocco.

I know Bucky says he's shipping out for England in the morning, but it makes so much more sense that the 107th would have been sent to Africa and then swept up into Italy in the next four months of fighting, where Steve finds them later. It would be easy to deal with this by either saying Bucky's an idiot, or (my recommendation) that Bucky knew exactly where he was heading and he just wasn't telling Steve that he was being sent into the heart of the brutal African and Italian campaigns rather than a nice balmy Liverpool in the summer. The journey from NYC to Casablanca, Morocco would have been anywhere from 11-15 days.

June 20-25, 1943 - Bucky would have hit Liverpool, England right around this time, if that's the way he was sent.

June 25-30, 1943 - Bucky would have docked in Casablanca, Morocco, if this is the way it went instead. So I guess you could safely say he made landfall in the European Theater on June 25, 1943? Haha right in time for Mussolini to get his ass arrested and the Italian Fascist government to fall.

June 22, 1943 - Steve is injected with the super-soldier serum, right Steven? (Meaning he only had a week of basic training, at most, and everything else he knows about being a soldier he taught himself with all those books he brought to Camp Lehigh with him.)

September, 1943 - Ugh, okay, history nerds cover your ears, because there is just no way to make the real invasion of Italy match up with the MCU invasion of Italy. Unless the 107th just said fuck those guys and marched right into German territory past the . . . bombs and stuff. On September 9, there were Allied landings at Salerno and Taranto, Italy, and they didn’t enter Naples until October 1. I mean, is it really all that shocking that they got their asses kicked in Azzano? NO. But having a fucking USO show that deep into Italy means the MCU said fuck it, so you too can say fuck it when it comes to the real WW2 timeline in Italy, idfc. This is apparently what the MCU lines looked like at this point in time, and let me just tell you, see that bulge there, right under the Hydra flag? Those fuckers would have been surrounded and cut off so fast, so fast, just like in Bastogne. Assholes....anyway.

October, 1943 - The Battle of Azzano results in Hydra declaring war on anything that moves, including Nazis, and takes prisoners from various different regiments that historically were either still in training or in the Pacific Theater at this point, but that's fine. Prisoners are taken over 120 km away to a Hydra weapons factory in Kreischberg, Austria, where their Hydra captors separate the men into cages according to their nationality and other factors. The purpose of this is for the bickering hodgepodge of Allied soldiers to keep each other busy with in-fighting so the Hydra guards can forget to train and get beat up by Captain America in a month or so.

Dum Dum Dugan almost immediately makes a joke while Cage Team Howling Commando is introducing themselves, and a brawl breaks out. As you do.

In Bucky's cage are the following:

Jacques "Frenchie" Dernier, French Resistance, born January 2, 1911 (32). The fuck was your French ass doing in northwestern Italy, son? To my knowledge the French Resistance kind of worked mainly . . . in France. The Italian Resistance was very active in this period, so they could have been collaborating, but that's not what the Resistance did, mostly. So the only logical conclusion we can come to with Frenchie is that he was captured somewhere in France by Hydra and transported to the factory as labor. He lived in Marseilles before the War, and likely would have stayed close to it.

Major James Montgomery "Monty" Falsworth, born January 2, 1914 (29), of the British 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade, which historically first saw action in June of 1944, ha. Anyway, Monty was from Birmingham, England and was known in the comics as Union Jack, and the pin on his beret is a nod to that. Teeeechnically? Monty outranks Steve, but since they're not even part of the same Army, that's kind of a moot point. He winds up with the rank of Brigadier, which wtf, that means he outranked Colonel Phillips when the war ended . . . four for you, Monty.

Private Gabe Jones, born August 14, 1918 (25), was 92nd Infantry Division, a segregated unit that historically first saw action in September of 1944, haha. Gabe was from Macon, Georgia and was fluent in French and German thanks to pre-war studies at Howard University. Just as proficient in hand-to-hand as the others, he was often part of the team’s frontal assaults, as well as handling the radios . . . and he boned Peggy Carter in the comics.

Corporal Timothy 'Dum Dum' Dugan, born April 11, 1912 (31), was a member of the 69th Infantry Regiment, which is also known as the 165th or Fighting Irish, recruited solely from NYC, who were making landfall in the Pacific right about now. Frustrated historian's note: Had he been a real boy, Bucky Barnes would have been enlisted into the 69th Infantry as well, just like Dugan. Canon-wise it makes sense that Bucky and Dugan were from the same unit, even though canon thinks they weren't because canon made up the WWII-era 107th? Anyway, the fact that both Dugan and Bucky were in the same foxhole when the Hydra tank hits in the cut scene from First Avenger is all fucked up because you don't put your NCOs where they can be blown up together, okay. It's bad strategy. Add to that the fact that Dugan calls him Bucky like they've been buddies for a while, but the tie-in comic is still on 'Jimmy' and also states that Dugan and Barnes were in the same company after all, that cut scene is frustrating. Or I guess the comic is frustrating? Something's frustrating, anyway. I think the best way to deal with this is just to say that the 107th IS the Fighting Irish regiment because fuck it. Dugan will eventually take over leading the team when Steve goes splat, leading the Howling Commandos and being involved with SHIELD, and Nick Fury personally, well into the Cold War.

Private Jim Morita, born October 20, 1919 (24) - also, Happy Birthday here's a Hydra weapon NOW ASSEMBLE IT - wasn't in the same cage as the others, but he served in the US Army's Nisei Squadron as a Ranger, aka the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. Their real fight in the European Theater began in June of 1944, so who the fuck knows how his ass wound up in Austria. And since the whole unit was made up of men of Japanese descent, it's safe to assume there's a 50/50 chance Morita was given the choice back in Fresno between enlisting and an internment camp. A lot of fics write Morita as the team medic, but I'm not entirely sure why. In WWII, medics held a rank of Private, Private First Class, or Technical Sergeant. So, the medic would either have needed to be Morita or Gabe Jones in keeping with this. But there is literally no canon mention of him being any better at triage than any of the others, and he is definitely not a medic by trade. None of them are. The more likely scenario here, because none of them wear the insignia of a combat medic, is that all of the team were equally trained and capable at the most basic of field triage, but the team itself probably flew without a safety net and used the medics from whatever regiment they were shadowing at the time.

Sergeant James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (26) - who you will notice is literally the fourth James in a team of 7 men - contracted what can only be assumed to be walking pneumonia on the battlefield of Azzano, and as his condition gets progressively worse in captivity, hastened by the hard labor of the weapons facility, he eventually becomes so weak that he drops several components in front of the officer in charge of the Facility, identified only as Colonel Lohmer. Lohmer beats Bucky like a rented mule, and when he's deposited back in his cage, the other four realize that if he's made to work again the next day, he'll die. They devise a plan to kill Lohmer, which would put one of the kinder Nazi assholes in charge who would allow Bucky to remain in the cages until he was able to recover. Their plan works, crushing Lohmer under a ton of machinery and symbolism and signifying the first time the soon-to-be Howling Commandos had worked together successfully. The soldiers return everyone to their cages after the accident to keep order, and Dugan tells Bucky that he's safe from Lohmer now, with the only punishment being a reduction of the POWs food rations for a week since there was no one specific to punish. Bucky is an ungrateful dick and not only asks Dugan to stop calling him "Jimmy", but graces him with the nickname Dum Dum in the process. Bucky is saved from dying on the manufacturing floor only to be singled out by Arnim Zola and taken to the 'examination rooms'. And we all know what happens there.

August to Early November, 1943 - Steve Rogers sings and dances his way through over 200 shows and makes several badly conceived films while his best friend is slogging his way through Italy.

November 3, 1943 - Steve disappears behind enemy lines to go find his Bucky.

November 8, 1943 - The Man With A Plan dramatically re-enters the Allied base camp where Colonel Phillips is fixin' to tear Peggy Carter a new one for losing Captain America over enemy territory. If the Battle of Azzano happened on a goddamn Earth map at the real Azzano in the Province of Udine, and assuming the Allied camp was somewhat close to that area, the march from the factory back to the Allied base camp would have been well over 120 kilometers as the crow flies. Those prisoners were metal af.

I'm getting that date from the assumption that walking over 120 km back to (supposedly because in reality they'd have needed to walk to goddamn Naples) Allied territory with 400 sick and wounded men would take a few fucking days. An American unit in Sicily in WWII (30th Infantry Division) marched 54 miles in 33 hours across country. But it's safe to assume that the company Steve rescues from Kreischberg would not be moving at top speed, but rather a steady pace that would keep them moving, but not fucking kill them.

The closest thing I can get to this incident is in July of 1944, when the German armies began a forced march of POWs across Germany to delay their liberation by the approaching Red Armies. Groups of 250 to 300 men marched over bombed out roads in a meandering route because they were forced to skirt around various battles, kind of like what our POWs would have to do in enemy territory. The groups would march between 20 to 40 kilometers a day, with very little food, clothing, shelter or medical care to speak of. Using 30 km/day as our benchmark, that's at least 4 days that it would have taken to get back to the Allied encampment. If the Hydra factory went boom on the night of November 3rd, and Steve flounced into camp in daylight, November 8th is a very safe bet.

November 15, 1943 - Steve pinpoints the Hydra facilities on the map in the SSR bunker in London (which was located in the Cabinet War Rooms in Whitehall) and is given permission to form his own elite special ops unit. Sidenote, the Howling Commandos were never called the Howling Commandos until after the War ended, they were merely called the 107th Tactical Team. Another nickname bandied about in 'non-canon because it contradicts the movie ahahahahahah' was The Invaders, which is probably what other soldiers would have known them as when encountering them. Neither Steve nor Bucky would know what the fuck a Howling Commando even is until they read up on history, and even then neither of them would likely ever think of himself as a Howling Commando.

Now, in trying to find this date, my inner frustrated historian has begun to weep, because I just cannot find a base in Italy that makes sense for any of these damn movements to have been based out of. The Allies hadn't even gotten through the Gustav Line at this point, which ran across the boot and through the town of Cassino, south of Rome. For them to be in Northern Italy close to the Austrian border, dude. WTF were they doing there? And how did they get in and out?? I mean was anyone really surprised when their straying asses got pounded by enemy forces deep in enemy territory??

I have no idea how to judge how long it would have taken for the future Commandos to get to London and drink in a pub because there is literally no rational logic to pinpoint their starting location, and therefore no way to guess what modes of transport were even available to them so close to enemy territory. The easiest way to find this date would have been to find out what date Captain America was awarded his Medal of Honor, but . . . even I'm not that good, apparently, 'cause I can't dig up shit. The Medal of Honor ceremony that happens at the same time as this scene would have been at least a week and probably more from the action on the night of November 3rd simply because it took that long for the paperwork to travel back to Washington. It was usually months before soldiers received their Purple Hearts, for instance. But let's assume this was fast-tracked because it's Captain goddamn America. Let's also assume they didn't have Howard Stark fly them back to London in his plane and tell the other 400 POWs to go make like a leaf and fuck a tree or something.

So the trip back to London probably took at least 7-10 days. We also need enough time to have passed that they expected Steve to get from the front lines all the way back to DC for the ceremony. My first instinct is to say up to a month could have passed when this scene comes around, but a month just seems way too long when looking at the context of the scenes, from the celebratory pub crawl of the POWs to the fact that Steve is being debriefed here, which would have been literally the first concern of an agency whose job is gathering intelligence.

TL:DR version, this could be anywhere from a week to a month later, idfk.

It's safe to assume this is also the night of the pub when Bucky reveals how heterosexual he is not by asking if Steve is going to keep his stage suit for no apparent good reason.

Mostly I'm putting this date here because it is the day the Allied Expeditionary Force for the invasion of Europe is officially formed. Having the SSR gearing up for - or as a result of - that meeting seems to make a lot of sense.

November 15, 1943 to March 4, 1945 - Steve and the Invaders, often along with other military forces, plow through HYDRA factories like an enraged ex with a John Deere tractor and a bottle of Jim Beam, and also join the larger battle against the Axis Powers on the Western Front. Essentially this period is Band of Broooos: Howling Commandos Edition. This period is where you can really have your fic fun, because canon doesn't tell us fuck all about it.

Well . . . that’s not necessarily true, though. Through the (paltry imo) Howling Commando montage of the movie, we see at least 10 distinct missions, and in clips from TWS there are hints of a few more; as many as 15 total. There are 6 Hydra facilities on the board, labeled 1-6. #4 was never taken during Steve’s time. But we can assume at least 5 of their missions were blowing the rest up. One was ‘in Poland, near the Baltic’, the other was ‘30-40 miles west of the Maginot Line’, thanks Steve. That doesn’t give us shit, son. But I will try.

1. A Hydra facility raid, #2. This is the one 30-40 miles west of the Maginot Line, labeled #2 on the map. West, in fact, of Liechtenstein, and southeast of Innsbruck, in a town that begins with RES. I think this is Resia, Italy, and the Reschen Pass (Resia Pass in WW2), which would make sense, tactically. I’d like to point out that they show Bucky entering with the team, show the team running out, show Steve riding out on his motorcycle, and then the place blows up. No Bucky. Take better care of your marksman, boys . . .

2. An approach with additional military forces through a forest, in the snow. Look at those BAMF motherfuckers. I got no clue what this mission could be, though. This has the feeling of a patrol, rather than a directed attack on anything. Bucky doesn’t even have his rifle.

3. A direct attack through a forest of exploding trees . . . no snow. This is probably a frontal attack intended to push at the enemy lines. With mortars like that coming at them as they advance, there’s no way whoever they were facing wasn’t dug in on a forward line.

4. This is most likely a harassment mission. They’re shown disturbing the lines of supplies to somewhere, and taking care to be covert, which is . . . not usually how Steve rolls, lbr.

5. Another Hydra base raid, Base #5. This is shown through only film, with Steve planning an approach to somewhere and a whole shitload of troops mobilizing with them. From where they are, he’s pointing south. God help me. Looking at the map he’s pointing to, the best guess I have based on the coastline is that it shows the northern bits of Belgium, and he’s pointing toward Hydra base #5, which is somewhere in the northeast corner of France, right below the border of Luxembourg.

6. Seek and destroy mission. This was another battle, not a base. Despite the fact that they’re in rubble, but then . . . most of Europe was rubble at this point, lbr. Peggy pulls a ‘Hydra battle lines’ flag from the map after this mission, so this was about pushing the forward line back. And we know this was the Hydra line, not the Nazi line. The scene we see was likely after the battle itself was over, when the search for the wounded and intel begins; that’s when enemy snipers made their last stand, like the one seen stalking Steve’s oblivious star-spangled ass. Bucky almost kills Steve for saluting at him and giving away his carefully chosen position.

7. A pitched battle in a town, somewhere. Steve is seen kicking ass and stuff.

8. Cool guys don’t look at explosions . . .  The only reason I am separating these three clips is because the middle one is obviously in a forest, where the other two are in towns. We’ll call them three separate skirmishes. I would imagine all three of these are about pushing back that forward line.

9. The mega huge tank in the middle of town. I can see the team being sent out just to take care of this thing. Historian sidenote; the Nazis did indeed cook up some monster tanks. Hitler had a size kink. The Tiger II, or as the American GIs called it, the King Tiger, was . . . I mean, you were fucked if one of these rolled up into your path. They were damn near indestructible and they carried a big fucking stick. The problem with a heavy tank is that a Europe that has been bombed back to Creation for several years is a muddy Europe . . . if that Hydra tank wasn’t stuck in 5 feet of mud it was made of aluminum or something.

10. A last Hydra base raid, Base #?. This is shown only through the resulting smoking husk of a destroyed base and Red Skull being a diva. I don’t know which one this was, other than knowing it had to be #1, or #6. I hate to tell Steve, but I’m not sure any of the flags on this map are in Poland near the Baltic Sea, my dude. It would have to be #6 that he was talking about, though. #1 is just northeast of Lübben, Germany, in what appears to now be Briesensee nature preserve.

The only other hints we get at their missions are the clips of footage from TWS. 

11. Hydra Facility #3. #3 is in the south of fucking Greece, near the northwestern tip of the body of water called Maliakos Kopos. There’s a marina in that area, Agia Marina, that would make a very convenient Hydra facility if I do say so myself. Now, this looks like a water landing! And it’s not an ocean landing, so that marina at facility #3 might be the ticket.

12. I’m going to call this a Hydra Facility Raid. Look at him go. There he go. Again, this is either #1, or #6. idfk anymore.

13. Prisoners. Cap is seen escorting surrendered German soldiers, It’s notable that they’re not Hydra, so that would be one of the ‘regular’ missions they ran with other troops. It could be part of any of the above missions, though.

14. Clearing out a town left by retreat. Those soldiers are not particularly the kind of alert that possible enemy combatants in the weeds will make you, so that town has probably been cleared.

15. Troop Transport/Advancement. This is notable because it’s a bridge, and not a little stone bridge, either, it’s a big one. In fact, this is the Ludendorff Bridge over the Rhine. (You can learn more about the capture of this bridge by looking up the Battle of Remagen.) Bridges were kind of a big deal at this stage when the German army was pulling out all the stops trying to prevent the Allied advance. Bridges large enough to convey heavy artillery got blown up but quick. This bridge in particular was front page news when it was captured by the Allies. Unfortunately, we can’t place Steve and his team at the Battle of Remagen, or at the Ludendorff Bridge, because this happened just days after Steve nosedived into the Arctic. So. We’ll call it an MCU bridge! This was either coming back from the front and they were deeper in Allied territory, or more likely after a battle, but on the way to the new front lines, as established by the winning of the goddamn bridge. Doubt this was a Hydra mission, either.

All in all, Bucky and Steve have 16 months of battle side-by-side. Bucky would have had 20 months total of combat service in the War.

I'm going to list some real events from the War during this time that the team might have been involved with or nearby for that could fill in some of those non-Hydra missions above, and some things they would definitely have at least talked about. You can skip these if you like, just scroll down to the next bolded bit. I am copying and pasting these because I can:

December 2, 1943: The Germans conduct a highly successful Air Raid on Bari, Italy. One of the German bombs hits an Allied cargo ship carrying mustard gas, releasing the chemical which killed 83 Allied soldiers. Over 1000 other soldiers died in the raid.

January 17, 1944: The first Battle of Monte Cassino begins when the British X Corps attacks along the Garigliano river at the western end of the German Gustav Line.

January 20, 1944: The U.S. Army 36th Infantry Division, in Italy, attempts to cross the Gari River but suffers heavy losses.

January 22, 1944: Allies begin Operation Shingle, the landing at Anzio, Italy. The Allies hope to break the stalemate in south Italy, but they are unable to break out of the beachhead and the line holds until late May.

February 15, 1944: The second Battle of Monte Cassino begins with the destruction of the historic Benedictine monastery on Monte Cassino by Allied bombing. The Allies believed the grounds were used as an observation post by the Germans

February 16, 1944: Germans launch a major counter-attack at Anzio, threatening the American beachhead.

March 15, 1944: The third Battle of Monte Cassino begins. The small town of Cassino is destroyed by Allied bombers.

April 27, 1944: The Slapton Sands tragedy: American soldiers are killed in a training exercise in preparation for D-Day at Slapton in Devon.

May 8, 1944: D-Day for Operation Overlord set for June 5.

May 11, 1944: The fourth battle of Monte Cassino begins led by general Anders of the 2nd Polish Corps.

May 18, 1944: The Battle of Monte Cassino ends in Allied victory. Polish troops of the 2nd Polish Corps led by general Władysław Anders capture Monte Cassino. German troops in west Italy have withdrawn to the Hitler Line.

June 4, 1944: Allies enter Rome, one day after the Germans declared it an open city. German troops fall back to the Trasimene Line. Meanwhile, Operation Overlord is postponed 24 hours due to high seas.

June 5, 1944: Operation Overlord commences when more than 1,000 British bombers drop 5,000 tons of bombs on German gun batteries on the Normandy coast in preparation for D-Day. And the first Allied troops land in Normandy; paratroopers are scattered from Caen southward.

June 6, 1944: D-Day begins with the landing of 155,000 Allied troops on the beaches of Normandy in France. The Allied soldiers quickly break through the Atlantic Wall and push inland in the largest amphibious military operation in history.

June 10, 1944: At Oradour-sur-Glane (a town near Limoges), France, 642 men, women, and children are killed in a German response to local Resistance activities.

June 13, 1944: Germany launches a V1 Flying Bomb attack on England, in retaliation for the invasion. The V-1 attacks will continue through June.

July 3, 1944: The Allies find themselves in the "battle of the hedgerows", as they are stymied by the agricultural hedges in Western France which intelligence had not properly evaluated.

July 24, 1944: Operation Cobra is now in full swing: the breakout at St. Lo in Normandy with American troops taking Coutances.

August 15, 1944: Operation Dragoon begins, marked by amphibious Allied landings in southern France. Elsewhere, the Allies reach the "Gothic Line", the last German strategic position in North Italy.

August 19, 1944: The French Resistance begins an uprising in Paris, partly inspired by the Allied approach to the Seine River.

August 25, 1944: Paris is liberated. The German military disobeys Hitler's orders to burn the city.

September 2, 1944: Allied troops enter Belgium.

September 6, 1944: The "blackout" is diminished to a "dim-out" as threat of invasion and further bombing seems an unlikely possibility.

September 9, 1944: The first V-2 rocket lands on London.

September 17, 1944: Operation Market Garden, the attempted liberation of Arnhem and turning of the German flank begins.

October 18, 1944: Hitler orders a call-up of all men from 16 to 60 for Home Guard duties.

November 1, 1944: "Operation Infatuate", an Allied attempt to free the approaches to Antwerp begins; amphibious landings take place on Walcheren Island. It would become a major supply port for the Allies by the end of the month.

November 20, 1944: Hitler leaves his wartime headquarters at Rastenberg, East Prussia, never to return; he goes to Berlin, where he will soon establish himself at the bunker.

December 16, 1944: The Battle of the Bulge begins as German forces attempt a breakthrough in the Ardennes region. The main object of Hitler's plan is the retaking of Antwerp.

January, 1945 - The only mission the MCU gives real details about comes from the Smithsonian Exhibit's interview with Peggy Carter (which you can watch in its entirety btw). The 'difficult winter, 1945' has to be January, and they were outside Stalingrad, Russia. During - or possibly in the aftermath of - a blizzard, Steve (and presumably the Commandos but fuck those guys amirite Agent Carter?) fight their way through a Hydra blockade that had been there 'for months', and saved half a battalion, over 1,000 men, who'd been penned down behind German lines. That's literally all we've got for mission details, and none of that makes any sense. Like any. At all. Why the fuck were they near Stalingrad?? How did they get to the Eastern Front, STEVEN???

February 1945 - Bucky falls from a goddamn train in the Alps. There is no resource to tell us how much time passes between Bucky's fall and Steve's supposed death in the Valkyrie. So let me get my history on for a second. On February 17, 1945, the British Special Air Service executed Operation Cold Comfort, a parachute drop raid near Verona, Italy with the objective of blocking the main rail lines through the Brenner Pass by landslide. The Brenner Pass is a mountain pass through the Alps which forms the border between Italy and Austria. Sounds familiar, right? (It's also featured on one of the Captain America covers, Captain America No. 33, 1943).

The operation would ultimately be a failure, but since Schmidt wouldn't have known that, hearing rumors of this operation, or even word that it had been attempted and fearing a second try, this could have been the inciting incident behind why he had Zola hauling his evil ass along that railway at a speed described as 'moving like the devil'. So we can safely put Bucky's fall between February 15 and February 25th. You could also stretch and say it was February 14th, if you are the reborn incarnation of Satan.

Now, by the end of February, the Red Army was sweeping through the northern regions of Poland toward the German border, moving north and west. It's a Russian soldier who finds Bucky in the Alps, so either that patrol was way the hell out of their lane, or . . . Bucky laid there for a while, folks. Seriously, the Red Army didn't even sniff the border of Austria until March 31, 1945 with the Upper Silesian Offensive. Which leads one to postulate that, a. the Russians who found Bucky were lost as fuuuuuck, b. the Russians who found Bucky were a rogue group who defected to Hydra after Hydra declared itself a separate entity from the Axis forces (doubt it), or c. neither Steve nor any of the rest of the team ever actually looked for Bucky's body, even after Steve went down in the Valkyrie, and he laid there for weeks. I honestly choose to believe one of the former, since the latter is just . . . I can't.

[No, you know what? Fuckin......frustrated historian meta addition.]

It's always bothered me that they might never have looked for Bucky's body, y'know?

I always assumed the arm got ripped off when he hit the side of the ravine. Like maybe he grabbed for or hit a ledge and the speed/height of his fall was just too great and it got ripped off. Because it's not crushed like it would be if he'd landed on it, it's a traumatic amputation. It almost had to have happened during the fall. Which could mean he'd have landed close to the edge, or maybe like hit higher up and tumbled until he was at the bottom instead of freefalling the whole way?

In his flashback, you can see he's still bleeding as the soldiers are carrying him. Bleeding a lot. If he'd been in the water or motionless in the snow for any amount of time, the bleeding would have at least become sluggish. He'd be hypothermic; his body would route blood away from his extremities to protect his vital organs, plus the blood vessels in the wound would be constricting due to the cold. But, if he'd been moving under his own power trying to get to help, it would explain why he's still bleeding; his movement kept the blood circulating where it would otherwise have clotted up.

In this gif, it looks almost like the blood trail starts just a few meters away. If we take a leap and assume that when they started moving him it jogged him awake, then this scene shows where the Russians found him. Those are trees, aren't they? Meaning he moved under his own power after he landed. Meaning he got the fuck up after falling off that train, and walked through that ravine toward help. What a fucking badass, jfc.

Two things I think we can say with certainty; one, the Russians were definitely searching for someone. He's on a stretcher, which wasn't something a normal patrol would've been carrying, especially over rough terrain. They had it with them for a reason. And two, the Russians weren't there because of Zola. Between Bucky falling and Gabe taking the control room, he had very little time to get off a communication with sitrep and location. And even if he was able to, it would have been to Hydra troops, who would have shown up wearing Hydra gear. And Russians are almost certainly not part of Hydra at that stage in the War.

Those Russian soldiers were probably an Allied search party that was sent out to find Bucky. That would tick off a lot of problem boxes, wouldn't it? It would mean someone - the SSR, the Army - did order a rescue/recovery for a damned war hero like a fallen Howling Commando, and Allied Russian troops were closest or something. It would explain why Russian soldiers were in such a remote area, with a stretcher, when they had zero other reason to be there! It would explain why Bucky is listed as KIA instead of MIA even though they obviously never found his body. It would also explain why Bucky didn't struggle as they were carrying him off; he thought they were on his side, rescuing him.

My theory after writing all this up? He lost the arm in an impact with the side of the ravine, but contacting the ravine walls also slowed his landing and put him on dry ground. He then got up like a BAMF and moved, either until he found shelter under some trees, or he simply collapsed from shock or trauma or exposure or all of the above. An Allied rescue/recovery party found him, but they were Russian, and they reported him KIA and kept him because they knew he must be enhanced to have survived that sort of fall, cold, and blood loss, and they wanted their own Captain Comrade.

March 4, 1945 - The SSR and other forces raid the secret Hydra bunker and Steve Rogers boards the Valkyrie on his way to getting fridged, literally haha, so Peggy Carter can become a hero . . . good job Captain Cannonball.

March 15-24, 1945 - The Commandos assist in Operation Undertone, which was part of the Allied invasion of Germany by the U.S. Seventh and French 1st Armies of the U.S. Sixth Army Group. It was a very real operation, so info is easy to find about it if your heart is still in your chest after watching both our boys plummet to their supposed deaths.

Some time in April probably?? 1945 - Dugan and Morita head to the last known HYDRA facility, Facility #4 bitches!, known simply as the Fortress, located some the fuck where in Austria, with Peggy Carter. They capture HYDRA General Werner Reinhardt and take possession of the first known classified 084, the Obelisk. We don't see the Obelisk again until Agents of SHIELD.

May 8th, 1945 - VE-Day. The remaining five members of the team gather in a pub to toast 'the Captain', suggesting that they did indeed just leave 'the Sergeant's' body rotting in the Alps somewhere, fuck that guy. (It is notable that one of the tie-in books for the movie states explicitly that they toast to both 'the Captain' and 'the Sergeant', so it's probable that they gave each man his own, individual farewell. We just didn't see it.)

(If you want more timeline! Trying to track the Winter Soldier through both canon and history.)

[groundramon]

Honestly building off of what I said last night, Robin is such an interesting character; not even necessarily as a character (although that too), but just in the way he’s structured.

On the surface, you can pretty much put all of the titans into pretty specific tropes.  Not saying that’s all there is to them, but they dont seem like the most original and fleshed-out characters until you get to know them a little.  Starfire is the nice quirky girl with a crush on the main character, Raven is the goth, Beast Boy is the goofy runt, and Cyborg is the snarky tough guy.  Starfire talks funny, Raven is well a goth, and Beast Boy and Cyborg seem to try way too hard to be relatable to the Youths with their love of food, tv, and video games.  They’re instantly identifiable and you can pick up on the basics of their personalities right away, even if the basics of their personalities aren’t the most original.  (Again im not saying they’re two-dimensional tropes, they have traits that definitely keep them from being that, I’m just saying on the surface - like any three-dimensional character - they are)

But then you have Robin.  For a while, I had a hard time placing my finger on his personality.  If the other characters are two-dimensional tropes on the surface, Robin is a one-dimensional character whose nothing outside of his role as leader.  For quite a while, all I got out of him was that he was the leader.

But that’s exactly it.  That’s all he is.  He’s been completely consumed by his drive for defeating villains.  He’s a hollow shell of what should be just a teenage boy.  His obsession has driven him time and time again to break his apparent moral compasses; its driven him to betray his friends, its driven him to kill, and its probably driven him to a variety of other things.  His obsession with something so serious at such a young age and the stress that comes with it have picked apart his personality, his morality, his interests, his passion, and left him an empty shell of a 16ish-year-old boy.  He can’t take time for himself, he can’t do things for himself - his brain has been so consumed by his obsession that he can’t function normally anymore.

I expected the words “Robin’s sociopathic obsession” to be an exaggeration of what happens in the show used for comedic effect, not an accurate-to-the-T description of it.

And granted Robin’s character might change a little as the series goes on; I’m only on season 1, after all (and I’ve only seen 1/3rd of the Trouble in Tokyo special so).  But that’s what we’re given right now, at the start of the story.  This is not the kind of character I expected to find in a kids show, and CERTAINLY not in the role of the lead protagonist, but god damn am I loving it.

I also find it kind of interesting that Robin seems to be the only normal human out of all of them.  Maybe there’s more to his backstory that I haven’t gotten to yet, but the others seem like the type that’d be forced into the superhero life; either you’re a superhero or a villain when you have those kinds of problems, not a regular kid.  Robin could take off his mask and go back to being a regular kid if he wanted to.  So in a way, it makes sense that he was the one who got consumed by it; he was the only one who chose to do it.

There’s one more thing I want to talk about - Robin in Teen Titans Go.  Out of all the characters in TTG, and granted I haven't actually seen a proper episode but I’ve seen bits and pieces, Robin seems to be the most different from his original counterpart.  Cyborg is less confrontational and more annoying, Beast Boy is...well about the same but left unchecked for his behavior, half the time Raven joins in with the others instead of shutting them down like she’s supposed to but otherwise is still the goth she always is, and Starfire....actually does Starfire do anything in this show?  She’s like never in the commercials and idk why, but I think she’s about the same.  But while the others are just dumbed-down, unchecked versions of themselves, Robin is a completely different character.  He’s loud, he’s unsubtle, he makes bad jokes...well he makes bad puns in the original so maybe that’s the one thing they have in common, besides both being the leader.

But in a way, that’s one change that...actually makes a lot of sense, and is probably the smartest change TTG made (even if you dont hate the show).  You literally can’t do original Robin in a comedy.  There’s nothing funny about him, unless you’re planning to make fun of mentally ill people or something (actually TTG probably did that somewhere so i shouldnt say that).  Unlike the others, who have clearly comedic sides to their personality, Robin is just...the hollow leader.  That’s not a funny character.  And without any of the seriousness of the original series, he would just...sit around and do nothing most of the time in TTG.  He might be able to make bad puns sometimes and would be the one to shout “Titans, go!” but other than that...he has nothing to do.

Also I remember reading somewhere that, at least while first working on the show, the writers had never seen the original - outside of maybe what they studied to get a feel for the world, or something, idk.  I’d have to find a source for that because at least later on, it looks like they had some knowledge of the original series, but I do remember hearing that somewhere.  So if you’re given the basic personalities of each of the characters from the original series, you get basically what TTG has.  Raven is the goth girl, Starfire is the quirky alien, Beast Boy and Cyborg make too many bad (like legit bad) jokes, and Robin is the leader.  Normally a leader of a team of people is loud, bossy, and likes to joke around with the others, so its not surprising that TTG Robin is the way he is.  But to the show’s credit, again, that change actually works in their favor.

(Also worth mentioning; I’ve said before that Raven should be the straightman in TTG, and while I had the thought of that for a while, I got the terminology from a youtube video somewhere.  But in that youtube video, the person said “Raven or Robin would be the perfect straightman character” and having never seen the original, I didn’t know how Robin could be the straightman nor why he’d need to be.  But after seeing the original, yeah, I get it now.  I still think Raven should be the straightman though; she still retains her serious/annoyed persona in TTG so it’d work for the show)

But dont be fooled; just because I was thinking about this last night doesnt mean i wasnt thinking about Beast Boy being called an otaku

[poipoi1912]

Barisi Episode Tag, 18x15

(and 18x13, and 18x14, and 18x11. Let’s just say it’s a multi-episode tag, spanning the entirety of S18, because I wanted to make up for the ones I didn’t write all season long. Inspired by the messy schedule, by Sonny’s temper, by Barba’s secret, and by my ability to see Barisi in everything. 16.4K.)

Note: This is a 3-part story. 3 mini-episode tags, rolled into one. Each “part” of the story takes place after each of the last 3 episodes, except I’m tackling them in their intended order, namely: 1) Know It All (18x15, with the reveal of Barba’s secret) 2) Genes (18x13, with Sonny’s subsequent outburst) and 3) Net Worth (18x14, with a happy Sonny doing a crossword puzzle). And I’m also heavily referencing Great Expectations (18x11, with the reveal about Sonny’s past).

Please enjoy.

~~~

Flan

~~~

Sonny braces himself before he enters Barba’s office.

It’s been a while.

He doesn’t know which Barba he’ll encounter. Worse than that, he doesn’t know which Sonny he’ll be.

Sonny swears there only used to be one of him. One Sonny, for all seasons.

Not anymore.

Now it’s spring, one day, and then it’s winter, and Sonny smiles with the sun and he frowns with the snow, and the snow keeps falling and falling, for days, for weeks, and Sonny forgets to smile, and some days he thinks he’ll be covered by a thin, grimy blanket of snow forever.

Today is a snow day.

Sonny was hoping for spring, this morning Sonny was hoping he’d be able to scare up a smile for Barba, but now he knows that won’t be happening.

Not for a lack of trying.

Sonny does forget to smile, some days, but today he remembered.

Today he tried.

He still couldn’t manage it.

It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Smiling.

Words will have to do.

“Hey, counselor. Nice to see you back.”

Barba doesn’t raise his head, but he does raise an eyebrow.

“Is it?”

Sonny nods, even though Barba can’t see him.

It’s always best to act casual. To pretend he doesn’t know what Barba’s talking about. Sonny is too transparent for his own good, and sometimes Barba will call him out on it, but most of the time Barba lets it slide.

Especially lately.

Barba has been letting a lot of things slide.

That’s not good.

It’s blurring the boundaries.

Sonny needs someone to push back. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop on his own.

Barba has stopped pushing back.

Sonny clears his throat.

“Sure it is. It’s… You’re back where you belong, Barba. We all heard about your suspension. It wasn’t… I mean, whatever it was, witness tampering, whatever the D.A. wants to call it, you didn’t deserve a month without pay. You’re a great A.D.A. Everybody knows it. You should be the one workin’ our cases. You’re part of the squad, same as all of us.”

Barba hums.

He’s still facing away from Sonny, head down, as if he’s actually reading whatever’s in front of him.

As if he’s not ignoring Son-

“Right. Lucky for you, Carisi, the D.A. agrees. That’s why he only suspended me for four weeks. Which I spent relaxing on a friend’s yacht in the Caribbean. A most terrible punishment. I’m so happy to be back in New York, with all the perverts and my dear friends at Manhattan SVU.”

Sonny isn’t sure if Barba means that or not. The sarcasm is obvious, but Sonny doesn’t know what’s hiding behind it.

“Lucky for me? How ‘bout you, Barba? Aren’t you happy?”

Barba smiles, but it’s empty.

“No.”

No.

It’s that simple.

Barba narrowly escaped getting fired, and all he can muster is an empty smile and complete apathy and ‘no’.

Sonny tries not to react.

“You don’t care? You could’ve lost your job.”

Barba takes his time before answering.

“I care, Carisi. I wanted to keep my job. I want to be here. Most of the time. When people aren’t trying to kill me. But does it make me ‘happy,’ whatever that means? No. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Yes, I’m grateful I can continue my work with SVU. No, I am not happy.”

Oh.

That’s understandable.

Sonny hasn’t felt happy in a long time.

Difference is, unlike Barba, he’s not sure he loves his job.

Working Special Victims.

Day in, day out.

How do you come out of that clean?

The longer Sonny stays with SVU, the more he realizes all his superior officers were right, all those years ago, when they warned him to stay with Homicide.

Frankly, Sonny doesn’t know if that would have helped.

It’s not SVU.

It’s being a cop.

That’s what Sonny has a hard time loving.

Being a cop, it changes you for the worse.

Sonny has been changing lately.

Ever since that job interview Barba set up for him.

For that job he didn’t get.

‘Well-rounded applicant,’ ‘extensive background in working with victims,’ ‘excellent criminal law credentials,’ ‘lacks the necessary trial experience.’

That’s what the Brooklyn D.A.’s office said, in their rejection email.

‘Consider private practice for a few years, Carisi, and then you can reapply. You’d make a great Assistant District Attorney. Just not now.’

That’s what La Rossa said, when Sonny called him after getting the news.

Sonny thought he aced that interview.

Not so much, apparently.

He d-

“Enough about my happiness, Carisi. What about the new case? Liv said it involves some sort of group therapy for rapists? Who all claim they carry a ‘rape gene’? And then you wonder why I miss St. Barths.”

Barba’s got him there.

Forget missing St. Barths, Sonny misses Staten Island, sometimes.

That’s how bad it’s gotten.

“No. I mean yeah, we’re working the case. Uh, Nick Brown, the guy we picked up for the rape, he says he can give us the identity of the River Rapist. That’s why I’m here. His lawyer wants to know what kind of deal we can offer.”

Barba sighs, almost in boredom.

Like he’d rather be doing anything else but this.

“What does he mean by identity? Name? Address? I need more than a vague hint, Carisi. You know that.”

Sonny does know that, and he does not appreciate the condescension.

“Just gimme a ballpark offer, Barba. A carrot to dangle in front of his attorney. You know how this works.”

Barba smirks, probably because Sonny tried to out-condescend him.

“Of course. I’ll check with the A.D.A. who is handling the River Rapist case, and I’ll get back to you within the hour. Will that be all?”

Sonny doesn’t know if that’s a polite way of kicking him out, or if Barba is just done talking about the case.

About work, maybe.

About the job, in general.

Barba, with his fresh tan, and his fancy suit, Barba, who’d rather be on a yacht, is tired talking about a job he barely feels like doing. Barba won’t even pick up the phone to call the other A.D.A. He’ll probably make Carmen do it. No rush. It’s not like they’re trying to catch a serial rapist.

Sonny exhales.

It doesn’t matter.

“Yeah. That’s all. Call the station when you got an offer, we still have Brown in lockup.”

Barba doesn’t even acknowledge that. He just starts jotting down… whatever.

It doesn’t matter.

Sonny leaves.

~ ~ ~

Barba didn’t listen.

Barba didn’t use the case Sonny spent hours researching, Barba flat-out refused to do what Sonny said, and it almost cost them the conviction.

All because it was from Delaware, so it didn’t automatically apply. As if that means anything. As if Barba couldn’t have made the exact same arguments presented in that case, and hope for the best. Maybe their judge would have ruled just like her Delaware counterpart. Why not? Sonny’s research was sound. Why wouldn’t the judge agree?

Why waste taxpayers’ money? Why waste all this time? Why should Sonny have to literally pull a guy away from a ledge, hoping he’ll testify five minutes after almost attempting suicide? Why should Sonny have to go through that, just because Barba wouldn’t listen? Their case would have b-

“Carisi. You’re here. Again. Carmen warned me you seemed, and I quote, ‘agitated,’ but watching you seethe in person is much more dramatic. What is it this time? Did you come to finish what you started at the courthouse? Maybe add some four-letter words to your tantrum, now that no one else is listening?”

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually, but Sonny is not that immature.

Or that angry.

Not anymore. He was seething at the courthouse, and he was still pretty ‘agitated’ when he passed Carmen on his way in, but waiting in Barba’s office for thirty-five minutes has calmed him down significantly.

That said, watching Barba taking his sweet-ass time as he pulls off his coat, as he hangs it carefully on that fancy coat hanger, like he’s not bothered at all, it’s kind of testing Sonny’s patience.

Sonny starts yanking on the buttons of his own coat, lying across his lap, just to have something to do while Barba moves in slow motion, probably just to annoy him.

“No, counselor. No four-letter words. We’re all adults here. I just wanna know why you’d take my research and throw it in the trash, when it could have won us the case?”

Barba rolls his eyes as he sits behind his desk.

That’s not good.

Sonny is already starting to pick out cuss words in his head, some of which have way more than four letters.

“I don’t know how to be any clearer, Carisi. I told you at the courthouse, the case you brought me was similar, even relevant, but not directly applicable. The judge would have never let me use it to establish th-”

“You don’t know that, Barba.”

“Of course I know that. I know Judge Morris. I know her record. Her views. She’s presided over dozens of my cases. In fact, one time, about four years ago, I tried to introduce a case from out of state, too. I knew better, unlike you, but I was desperate, because I had no alternative. No other witnesses to fall back on. See, Carisi? That’s when you take a risk. Not when the detectives working a case fail to convince a witness to testify. Consider that a free lesson.

“And my case was identical, by the way. No interpretation needed. Unlike your flimsy connection between rapists and white supremacists, the facts were exactly the same. That’s why I tried to use it. But Judge Morris wouldn’t have it. The facts were the same, but the statutes weren’t. And she let me know. ‘This isn’t Rhode Island, Mr. Barba. This is New York. Do you need a map?’ That’s what she told me.”

Oh.

Sonny didn’t kn…

“Listen, Carisi. You graduated law school five minutes ago. I’ve been at this for a while. Spending fifteen years as an A.D.A. gives you some insider knowledge. It teaches you to pick your battles.

“Being belittled in court before losing a motion helps no one. It only weakens your case. It makes you look desperate, which may very well be true, but you don’t want the judge to know that. You have a reputation to uphold, and a case to protect. There are Hail Marys, and then there are stupid moves.”

Right.

Stupid.

Sonny didn’t know that.

Didn’t know any of that.

Sonny doesn’t have ‘trial experience.’ He doesn’t know the judges, he doesn’t know the defense attorneys, and they don’t know him. Sonny has no reputation to uphold.

Sonny just knows the law. And the victims.

Sonny knows the victims, and that’s the problem.

That’s why h-

“Alright? Does that satisfy your curiosity? Are you convinced I am not, in fact, an idiot who threw his own case for no reason? Or, wait, did you think I had a reason, Carisi? Did you think maybe I didn’t use your ‘research’ because it came from you? Because we’re not buddies anymore, apparently? Did you think I’d let my ego cost us the case?”

The way Barba intones ‘buddies’ makes Sonny wince.

That’s not what he meant.

“That’s not what I meant, Barba.”

Barba starts typing on his laptop.

Like he’s bored.

Done.

Like he’s done with this conversat-

“I don’t care what you meant, detective. Are we done here?”

No.

“No. We’re not done. Sure, maybe you tried before, with the same judge, but that was four years ago. You can’t be sur-”

“Enough, Carisi. And I would appreciate it if you stopped raising your voice every five minutes. If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not working.  Also, if you’re trying to intimidate me, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Well.

Barba hadn’t insulted Sonny’s intelligence in over a year.

The streak had to end sometime.

The worst part is, Sonny didn’t even realize he was yelling.

“I’m not tryin’ to intimidate you, Barba. I’m just mad. Okay? Can’t a guy be mad?”

Barba keeps typing.

“Sure. Just go and be mad outside my office, please. I’m busy.”

‘Busy.’

Busy booking another vacation, probably, while Sonny tries to talk to him about a case. About justice. About what’s right.

Barba doesn’t car…

That’s not true.

Barba cares.

Barba gets frustrated, too. He just doesn’t get mad.

Sonny hasn’t mastered that trick yet.

Maybe it comes with experience.

Sonny doesn’t have experience, so he gets mad, and he tries to intimidate people, apparently, which is something he swore he’d never do, and if that’s how he comes across now, then what’s the poin-

“I can clearly see you being mad in my office, Carisi. When I specifically asked you not to.”

Sonny gapes.

Is Barba quoting The Office?

That kinda takes the wind out of Sonny’s sails. It’s hard to stay mad at someone who’s quoting Michael Scott.

“Uh. Well… I gotta… Where else am I gonna go? You’re the one who made me mad, Barba. Now you gotta suffer.”

Barba keeps on typing.

“I’m not the one who made you mad.”

It’s funny how Barba thinks he can psychoanalyze Sonny while compiling an email.

“That so?”

Barba clicks his mouse.

Hits ‘send,’ probably.

“Yes. I don’t know why you’re mad, detective, but it’s not because of me. I’ve been playing nice, if you hadn’t noticed. For a long time, now. I’m sure I’ve done nothing to upset you. No jokes, no insults.

“I’ve just been doing my job. Incidentally, it is my job. Not yours. It’s my job to decide which arguments to use during a trial. It’s not your job to do ‘research,’ or to provide me with strategy tips, when you don’t have all the facts.”

Sonny bites his tongue.

Literally.

Metaphorically, he can’t help opening his big mouth.

“You don’t even want this job.”

Barba picks up his phone.

More distractions.

More reasons to look away.

The light from the screen illuminates his face.

His tan hasn’t even faded yet.

“Don’t I?”

Sonny tries not to lose his temper.

“No, Barba. You don’t. You don’t want this job. You say you do, but you don’t act like it. You almost got fired from bein’ a Manhattan A.D.A., a job others would kill for, and you don’t give a shit. You went on vacation during your suspension. You d-”

“Would you kill for this job, Carisi?”

Dammit.

Barba failed to psychoanalyze Sonny while compiling an email, but he’s definitely succeeding now, while compiling a text.

“I didn’t s-”

“Is that what this is about? Envy? That’s why you’ve been so angry? Why you barely talk to me, ever since I helped you get that job interview in Brooklyn?”

Sonny doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to. Barba knows wh-

“I suppose I was wrong. I am the one who made you mad. I apologize for thinking you could handle rejection like an adult.”

‘Rejection.’

Great.

Barba knows what happened.

Of course he does.

He always does.

Sonny didn’t tell him.

Sonny didn’t talk to Barba after the interview at all.

For days.

Not even to say thank you.

At first, Sonny was trying not to jinx it.

Sonny thought he aced that interview.

Then, after the email, Sonny just didn’t feel like seeing Barba’s smug face as he explained he was grateful for the recommendation, but he failed to get the job.

Sonny doesn’t like to admit failure. He’s worked too hard, all his life, and he’s had more hits than misses, but that only makes the misses more painful. That’s why Sonny thanked Barba, way back when, before the results of the bar exam were even posted. Just in case.

That one was a hit. Sonny passed the bar exam, with flying colors.

The job interview was a miss. And it stings. And this is the first time Barba’s mentioned it, since then. Even though he’s clearly known about the rejection, this whole time.

That stings even more, for some reason. Sonny never told anyone he was rejected. Liv, and Fin, and Amanda, they all asked, and he mumbled something about wanting to stay with SVU ‘for now.’ Like staying was his choice. Like he had a choice.

Sonny was hoping Barba would assume the same thing.

That was obviously too much to hope for. La Rossa probably forwarded that rejection email to Barba himself. They’re friends. They probably had a good laugh over it. Barba read all about Sonny’s shortcomings, all about Sonn-

“For my personal safety, Carisi, I feel I should tell you this is not how we do things here at the D.A.’s office. You will not get my job if you murder me in a fit of rage. You know that, right? You’d just be creating a vacancy. There’s a whole process, after that. Applications, deadlines, two rounds of interviews. Killing me would only be the first step.”

Sonny snorts.

Much as he appreciates the joke, he hates this.

Sonny hates that he’s so mad. He swore he’d never become this person again, and now here he is.

Sonny hates that he keeps snapping at Barba for something that isn’t Barba’s fault. Sonny is the one who failed. Barba only tried to help him. Barba didn’t do anything wrong. Barba may be arrogant, and he may be flaunting the fact he’s an A.D.A. while Sonny is not, but that’s just the truth.

Sonny couldn’t get the job. What’s done is done. No need to murder anybody.

“I don’t wanna kill you, counselor.”

Barba chuckles.

“That’s a relief. If only your face didn’t suggest otherwise.”

Barba is in a good mood, all of a sudden. Probably because he thinks he figured out Sonny’s big secret. His jokes are all pointed, they’re all subtle jabs at Sonny’s attitude, but there’s no malice behind them now.

Barba is rarely in a good mood these days.

Sonny’s current mood leaves a lot to be desired, but still, this could be an opportunity to clear the air between them.

Sonny hates that he’s so mad.

Maybe talking about it will help.

Maybe Sonny can understand Barba’s point of view.

“Do you want this job, Barba? Be honest. ‘Cause, let me tell you, I would kill for it. Not you, but… You know what I mean. It’s not envy. It’s resentment. I don’t wanna be, but I am resentful ‘cause you have the job I couldn't get, and you’re puttin’ it at risk, like it’s not a big deal. I busted my ass to finish night school, to get my law degree, and I studied day and night to pass the bar exam, and I wanted…”

Sonny exhales.

“That job, in Brooklyn, it was a way out. A different way to help. I wanted it. And I couldn’t get it. And now here you are, jeopardizing your position doing God knows what, tampering with witnesses God knows why, and you get busted, and you’re lucky enough to keep your job, and you don’t even care. You come back from your relaxing vacation, with your golden tan and sand still in your shoes, and you won’t even look at me when I wanna discuss a case, ‘cause you’re that bored. ‘Cause you don’t wanna be here. ‘Cause y-”

“I love this job.”

Sonny blinks.

His anger, his resentment, they dissipate instantly.

There’s more emotion in Barba’s eyes than Sonny has ever seen.

Barba is looking right at him now, and Sonny regrets asking.

“I do. Oh, I really do. But sometimes…”

Barba is smiling.

Not at Sonny.

Not because of Sonny.

Barba is smiling a crooked smile that Sonny can’t decipher.

“Sometimes what?”

Barba’s smile gets wider.

Sonny thinks he can see wistfulness, now. And a hint of condescension, probably because Sonny had to ask. Because Sonny doesn’t get it.

How is Sonny supposed to get it? He and Barba are nothing alike. Barba has been an A.D.A. for fifteen years. Sonny graduated law school five minutes ago. Sonny doesn’t have the experienc-

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I left it.”

Oh.

Maybe Sonny and Barba do have something in common.

“That why you came clean? Liv said… She said you talked to the D.A. about your… Whatever it was, whatever Willard had on you, Liv said you confessed. Even though your secret wasn’t exposed. Is that why? Were you hoping you’d lose your job? Deep down?”

Barba smiles.

This time, it’s because of Sonny.

Sonny can tell.

Barba is smiling genuinely, for once.

Not an ounce of condescension.

“I see you remember our conversation. The one about my suicidal streak.”

Sonny can’t help smiling back.

He could never forget that conversation.

Simpler days.

Happier days.

Sonny could never forget the look on Barba’s face, in that corrid-

“Maybe you’re right, Carisi. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was hoping for. I just wanted to roll the dice. Let the chips fall where they may. Wait, am I mixing metaphors?”

Barba smiles again.

He’s in a very good mood.

Maybe he didn’t know what he was hoping for, when he went in for that meeting with the District Attorney, but it’s clear he likes what he got.

He got to keep his job.

Barba loves this job.

Even if he was ready to leave it.

Love isn’t enough, sometimes.

What Sonny saw as indifference, it was fatigue.

They’re all tired.

Barba just took a chance.

Sonny wishes he could take a chance too. Roll the dice. Except he feels like someone else is holding the dice, and he’s just along for the ride, and now Sonny’s the one mixing metaphors, and Barba is still smiling, they’re smiling at each other, and Sonny remembers what it was like to feel good.

“How did you feel, Barba?”

“Hm?”

“When you found out you still had a job to come back to, after the suspension. After you booked your trip to the Caribbean, after you packed your linen suits, how did you feel?”

Barba keeps on smiling.

“I was relieved.”

Sonny thought as much.

“Because, when the chips were down, you knew you wanted to stay?”

Barba shakes his head.

“No. I was relieved because the D.A. thought I deserved to stay.”

Oh.

This never occurred to Sonny. Barba, doubting himself like that.

Sonny gets the urge to defend Barba, which is something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Of course you deserve to stay, counselor. Come on. If anybody does, it’s you.”

Barba narrows his eyes.

“Is that so? I thought I was, and I quote, jeopardizing my position doing God knows what, and tampering with witnesses God knows why, and I got busted. End quote.”

Sonny sighs.

“I’m sorry, Barba.”

Barba looks amused.

“For?”

Fair enough.

“I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t my place. Whatever you did, it’s in the past. I told you. You’re a great A.D.A., and… And of course you love your job. I know that. It’s been almost three years now. I know you. I see how hard you fight. I see how hard these cases hit you. Every day. And I ain’t helping, either. Not anymore. I’m… I’m making things worse for you, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Barba opens and closes his mouth in surprise.

“I wasn’t expecting to get that apology tonight, Carisi, but it was long overdue, so I’ll take it.”

Sonny wasn’t expecting to deliver that apology, either.

It was long overdue.

Sonny hates that he’s so mad. Sonny hates that he keeps snapping at Barb-

“I was expecting an apology for suggesting I would ever willingly jeopardize a case. For thinking I would let the River Rapist walk, just because I didn’t want to use your suggestion. For thinking I would let Willard walk, because I had a weak spot, and he found it.”

Wait.

“I never thought that, Barba. Honest to God. The Delaware case, sure, I didn’t know why you wouldn’t use it, and I got mad. I took it personally. I’m sorry. But the blackmail? Never. I knew you wouldn’t drop the charges against Willard, no matter what dirt he had on you. You wouldn’t let him get away with it. I never doubted that.”

Barba looks like he may or may not believe that.

It’s the truth.

Sonny was surprised Barba even had a weak spot, at least one which could be easily discovered. Sonny was shocked to hear Barba would ever tamper with a witness, at least not without making sure he wouldn’t get caught. But Sonny never doubted th-

“No? Well, thank you for the vote of confidence. But, just for the record, there’s no dirt.”

No.

Sonny doesn’t want to hear this.

Barba’s weak spot, whatever it is, whatever reason Barba had to tamper with a witness, Sonny doesn’t want to hear it, because he already resents Barba for it, for risking everything, and he doesn’t want to know what it is that Barba values more than the job.

It’s not anything disgraceful.

Sonny knows that in his gut.

Barba is a good person.

Sonny knows that, and that’s all he needs to know. The details don’t matter. Sonny has no desire to hear wh-

“I don’t know what you think I did, Carisi, but there’s no dirt. No shame. What I did was wrong, but the truth is, I’d do it again.”

Oh.

Sonny may not want to hear this, but it seems that Barba wants to tell him.

‘Just’ for the record.

Maybe Barba doesn’t want Sonny to think the worst.

To think he’s dirty.

Sonny would never think that.

Barba keeps staring.

Clearly waiting for a question.

Sonny may not want to hear this, but he will ask.

It’s what Barba wants.

Barba wants to talk.

Maybe talking about it will help.

“What did you do, Barba?”

Barba’s shoulders relax.

“Willard hacked my bank account. He discovered that, for the past several years, I’ve been making regular payments to an account belonging to a young woman. Willard assumed the money was in exchange for sexual favors.”

Whatever Barba’s secret is, Sonny knows that’s not it.

“So what’s the real reason? Why are you’re sending her money?”

Barba smiles that lopsided smile again.

“She’s the daughter of a witness, from an old case. About ten years ago, I was prosecuting a man who raped and killed two women. The mother, she was a heroin addict, but she was also my only witness. On the day of the trial, she showed up so strung out she could barely talk. The judge wouldn't give me a recess. I had to put her on that stand, or I had no case.”

Sonny leans in, and wishes that desk weren’t between them. Barba’s never shared anything about his past.

“And?”

“And, she asked for a loan, and I gave it to her. I knew what she was going to do, and I still gave her money. It was the only way. So, she bought what she bought, and she did what she did, and she got on the stand. She buried the guy. She sent a really bad man to prison for the rest of his life, and she died of an overdose, eight hours later, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter.”

“The girl you’ve been helping.”

Barba nods.

“She lives with her grandmother. They're broke. I do what I can.”

Sonny smiles.

That’s not dirt.

Barba is clean.

Still.

Fifteen years as an A.D.A. and Barba is still clean.

There’s no need for resentment anymore.

If Barba values anything more than the job, it’s justice.

That’s why Barba risked everything.

Why he ‘tampered’ with a witness. To get a truthful testimony. To get justice.

Sonny is grateful he got to hear this.

“Thank you for tellin’ me, counselor. Witness tampering, my ass. You didn’t obstruct justice. Justice was served. Like I said, you deserve to be here. You did a good thing.”

Barba tilts his head.

“A good thing? Really? Even though a woman’s death is on my hands? Even though I’m the one who made a ten-year-old girl into an orphan?”

Sonny doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes. It’s terrible that a woman had to die, but yes. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Sonny knows Barba did the right thing. He wishes he had done the sam-

“Don’t say that, Carisi. Don’t say I did a ‘good’ thing, so casually. I may not regret it, but it was still wrong. I may not be ashamed, but I still blame myself for her death. You don’t know what that’s like.”

If only that were true.

“Trust me, Barba. I know. Maybe you think that woman’s death is on your hands, but the truth is, she was sick. You didn’t cause her death, and you couldn’t have prevented it. If it hadn’t been that hit, it would have been the next one.

“You didn’t get her killed. You made her death count. She saved people. You saved people. The women this guy would’ve raped and killed. That’s what counts. This guy, he’s still in prison, right? That’s what counts. You stopped him. Imagine knowin’ he was out there, killing people, because of you. That’s guilt. Knowin’ you could have stopped it.”

Barba stays silent.

For far too long.

That’s never a good thing.

“What is it, Carisi?”

Sonny frowns.

“What? Nothing, I’m just…”

“What is it? What do you think you could have stopped? Someone’s death?”

Sonny can feel his heart rate spiking.

He wants to sink into the chair.

He wants to run out of Barba’s office, and never come back.

He doesn’t talk about this.

To anyone.

Sonny hadn’t said Bobby Bianchi’s name out loud in years, until that interrogation. It took him days to recover, afterwards. To stop feeling guilty. To stop being angry.

It didn’t last, of course. Sonny’s had his bouts of anger since then, but those first few days, they were bad. He doesn’t want an encore. If he dredges that up again, it might take him weeks to calm down.

Sonny is angry enough as it is.

He doesn’t need that.

He needs to get up and walk away.

Like he always does, when someone asks.

Sonny can’t t-

“I showed you mine, Carisi.”

Barba has a point.

Barba isn’t letting this slide.

Barba is asking, and Sonny can’t just walk away. Not during this conversation. Not after what Barba told him.

Not when Barba is looking at him like that.

With curiosity.

With concern.

Sonny takes a deep breath. The faster he gets it out, the better.

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, counselor. Scrawny kid gets picked on. Bullied. At school, in the neighborhood, you name it. It’s the same old story.”

Barba smiles knowingly.

Like Sonny’s abrupt opening actually makes sense to him.  

Like maybe he got picked on, too, when he was a k-

“Were you always this scrawny, Carisi? I always pictured you as a tubby kid. All that homemade Italian food. I figured you hit a growth spurt later in life.”

Sonny starts laughing.

He wasn’t expecting that from Barba.

A sweet joke.

Anything sweet.

“I, uh… Well, my mom’s cooking is amazing, so you got that right, but no, I was always pretty scrawny. All that running around, probably. Gettin’ into trouble. You know how that goes. I mean, I did hit a growth spurt when I was, like, seventeen, but it just made me even scrawnier.”

Barba nods.

He doesn’t push for more.

Barba seems content to watch Sonny laugh.

For a moment, Sonny forgets what he’s doing. Sonny forgets he’s supposed to be sharing a deep, dark secret, and he thinks he’s just recounting an old schoolyard tale to a friend.

A fun memory.

Sonny’s heart rate is normal again.

Maybe that’s the trick.

What he’s about to say is not fun, but it is a memory. It’s over. It’s in the past, and maybe Sonny can leave it there. Maybe, like Barba, Sonny can learn not to be ashamed.

“Anyway, uh, everybody used to pick on me, but the worst was this one kid, Bobby Bianchi. One day, when we were at school, he grabbed me by the hair and he shoved my face through a plate glass window. I was bleeding, I was all cut up. It was a mess. One of the teachers called the principal, and he asked me what happened.

“I could have put an end to it, right there. All I had to do was say Bobby’s name. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want Bobby to get into trouble. So I just kept quiet. I said I tripped. Nobody ever knew what happened. Bobby kept on bein’ a bully, and I kept on bein’ scared, until he changed schools when we were in seventh grade. I was ecstatic. I thought I’d never have to hear his name again.”

Barba looks equal parts captivated and confused.

Sonny doesn’t blame him. Barba is expecting a story about guilt and death, and Sonny is talking about schoolyard bullying. That’s a pretty big leap.

Except when it’s not.

“Bobby Bianchi, he’s in Sing Sing now. He stabbed some poor sap to death during a bar fight. I found out from my mom, a few years back. Our moms are still friends. ‘Cause… ‘Cause my mom doesn’t know it was him. She just knows she has a klutzy son who walks into windows face-first.”

Barba no longer looks confused.

He looks exasperated.

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for that, Carisi. This Bobby, he bullied you when you were, what, ten years old? And you blame yourself for a murder he committed two decades later? You think you could have stopped that? By telling the principal? You think that would have made a difference?”

Sonny does.

“Yeah. I do. Not a day goes by that I don't regret keeping my mouth shut. I always think, what if I would have said something? Maybe that guy would still be aliv-”

“Oh please. If you had said something, Bobby would have kicked your ass, next time he saw you. And then you would have learned that, sometimes, keeping your mouth shut is a perfectly valid choice. At least if you want to stay in one piece. And I say this from experience.”

Oh.

Barba did get picked on, when h-

“You know better than this, Carisi. You can’t blame the victim. Not even when it’s you.”

Huh.

Sonny hadn’t thought of it that way.

With good reason.

“I’m not the victim, Barba. That guy who got stabbed, he’s the real victim.”

Barba raises both eyebrows.

“Real? All victims are real, Carisi. Just because Bobby Bianchi didn’t kill you, it doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt.”

Sonny’s knee starts bouncing.

Barba is right.

Sonny was hurt.

Sonny was changed.

That’s when he started getting angry.

After he had to have nineteen stitches. After he had to suffer through months of ridicule from all the kids at school, including his own sisters, who were making fun of him both for his busted face and for the dumb way he got hurt.

Sonny never told them the truth, either.

After that, Sonny started shoving around other, smaller kids at the playground, until Theresa grabbed him by the ear and told him to behave.

Sonny kept picking fights, but only when she wasn’t there to see it.

That anger, it never went away.

Throughout high school, throughout college even, that anger was always there.

It’s still there, but it’s kept at bay, when things are going well.

When things are tough, Sonny has to struggle with it.

He doesn’t always win.

When he was a senior in high school, after a bad breakup, Sonny got drunk for the first time. Somehow, someway, he and his best friend Jason came to blows. They used to be inseparable. Sonny broke Jason’s nose. They fell out, after that fight. Sonny still doesn’t remember what started it. He only remembers blind rage, and blood gushing from Jason’s nose. Blood, getting on his shirt.

When he was a junior in college, after a final that didn’t go his way, Sonny picked a fight at a frat party, with some guy he’d never met. The guy accidentally shoulder checked him, and Sonny snapped, and within ten seconds a shoving match turned into an all-out brawl. Sonny had started working out by then, looking to get into the Academy, so he handled himself a little too well. The people at that party, some of them Sonny’s friends, they looked at him differently after that.

Like he used to look at Bobby.

Sonny hated putting that look on people’s faces.

That’s why he tried to stop.

To change.

To be less angry.

Sonny tried, and it wasn’t easy, and it took time, but he succeeded.

After college, Sonny got into the Police Academy, like he always dreamed, and then he graduated at the top of his class, and then he got into law school, and then he made detective, and then he found a home at SVU.

That helped.

Sonny found peace. He managed to simmer down, as the years went by. With age comes wisdom. Sonny left that angry college kid behind.

Sonny found his old self, his carefree self, his innocent self, his goofy self, his happy self, and he remembered what life was like before he knew about the Bobby Bianchis of the world.

Sonny liked being happy.

He swore he’d never get that angry again.

It didn’t work out that way.

Sonny had gone years without an outburst, but streaks are meant to be broken.

Right?

And Sonny broke his streak.

Many times.

So many, it’s hard to keep track.

Sonny remembers that dentist, who molested his own niece. Sonny remembers almost breaking his fingers.

Sonny remembers Tommy, bailing out on Bella. Sonny remembers grabbing him by the throat.

Sonny remembers seeing that little girl in a cage. Sonny remembers wanting to kill whoever was responsible.

Sonny remembers that pastor who raped a thirteen-year-old and got her pregnant. Sonny remembers wanting to punch him in the face.

Working Special Victims isn’t easy.

That’s why Sonny has been cutting himself some slack, in the past few years.

He thinks that’s where he went wrong.

That can be a slippery slope.

Sonny used to be able to shake those incidents, moments after they happened. That anger, it was transient. It came and it went. It didn’t permeate him. It didn’t fester in him.

It’s gotten worse.

He’s gotten worse.

Now, it’s not just heinous crimes, or somebody hurting his family.

Now, Sonny gets mad over nothing.

Over anything.

Sonny is having a tough time, he’s under pressure, and his anger keeps building, and festering, and he keeps snapping at people, he keeps snapping at Barba, too, more often than not, and he hates it, and he wants it to stop, because he can’t afford to lose friends every time life doesn’t go his way.

Sonny has to change, again, becaus-

“Carisi? Are you… Did I overstep? I apologize. It’s none of my business.”

Barba is frowning.

There’s no need.

All victims are real.

Sonny needed to hear that. Sonny needed to think about that.

This talk with Barba, it was therapeutic, even if most of it took place inside Sonny’s head.

“No. You didn’t. You didn’t overstep, counselor. Uh. Listen, you said something, before. About me trying to intimidate you. Or, or about me lookin’ like I wanted to kill you. I d-”

“I was joking, Carisi.”

Sonny is heartened by the fact Barba felt the need to clarify that.

“I know. I know you were joking. Just hear me out. Um. You wouldn’t know it from lookin’ at me, but I always had trouble with my temper. Ever since Bobby Bianchi. You said it. I was hurt. I was a victim, too, and I didn’t even know it. For years. I was always acting out, and getting into trouble, and, uh, there were a couple of incidents that got out of hand, when I was younger, and…”

Sonny sighs.

He doesn’t know how much of his inner monologue he needs to share with Barba. How much of his past. He just knows he has to explain.

“I’m not tryin’ to make excuses here, Barba, but when I’m under a lot of stress, I have a hard time keeping myself under control. Sometimes. I’m not… I don’t get violent. Not anymore. But I… I blow up. Without provocation. And, well, it’s been a rough year, and that’s why I’ve been… you know. The way I’ve been.”

Barba is still frowning.

“No need to explain, detective. This is a stressful line of work. We’ve all been there. It’s fine.”

No.

Sonny needs to explain.

“I had a pretty good run. I was pretty happy. For years. I had dreams, I had big plans. I was working toward my goals. Everything was goin’ right. And then somebody threatened to kill you. Not that… Obviously that’s… You were the one most affected by that. Of course. I’m not comparin’ our situations or anything. I just… It wasn’t easy for me either. I seriously thought about leaving, back then.

“And then Dodds died, and… And I couldn’t leave, after that. I couldn’t leave the squad. I didn’t wanna leave. I told you, remember? And then, when the dust settled, when everybody started moving on, I figured maybe I could try again. And you helped me, you got me that job interview, but I screwed that up, and then I screwed everything up, by bein’ an asshole to you, and then I had a cop hold a gun to my head, and I thought I was gonna die, and all I f-”

“What?”

Barba looks shocked.

He didn’t know.

Sonny forgot.

“Yeah. Tom Cole, remember that case? He held a gun to my head, when we went up to his farmhouse. Liv took him out. That’s not the point.”

Barba is blinking rapidly.

“What do you mean that’s n-”

“That’s not the point, Barba. The point is, I thought I was gonna die, and all I felt was regret. ‘Cause I’ve been slipping. I’ve spent months being this angry asshole, and I can’t stop. I try, and it works for a couple of weeks, and then something happens and I snap again. I don’t want that.

“I don’t even know if I wanna be a cop anymore. I think that’s the problem. It’s hard not to get angry, when you see what we see. It eats at you. I know bein’ an A.D.A. can’t be that much better, but it’s gotta be a little better. It’s gotta be. It can’t be any worse. Bein’ a cop, it’s… it’s changing me. I’m regressing.  I thought I could handle it, at first, but maybe I can’t. Cole, he was a good guy, and look how he turned out. I don’t want that. I want out.”

Barba looks uncomfortable.

Maybe Sonny shared too much.

Yeah, Sonny definitely shared too much. They were having a cordial conversation, after a long time, and Barba was being supportive, like he used to be, before, and Sonny had to go and ruin it by oversharin-

“Okay, one problem at a time, Carisi. First of all, next time somebody holds a gun to your head, find a better way to tell me. Instead of blurting it out in the middle of an existential monologue. Also, please tell me in a timely manner. Not months after the fact. Alright? You almost dying, that’s information I would like to have, as soon as it becomes available. Alright?”

Oh.

Barba sounds irritated.

He looks worried, brows all furrowed and lips drawn tight, but he sounds irritated.

Sonny thinks this might be Barba’s way of showing he cares.

Irritation.

If that’s true, then it must mean Barba cares about Sonny a lot, becaus-

“Secondly, like I said, there’s no need to explain. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’ve been the world’s friendliest colleague for almost three years. You cook for the squad, you babysit their kids, you bring them coffee. You bring me coffee. You’ve brought me pastries, for no real reason, on more than one occasion. So what if you’re an asshole, every once in a while? You’ve earned it. No one’s going to hold it against you. Least of all me. I’ve been an asshole since birth.”

Sonny grins.

Barba has a way of putting things into perspective.

Of making everything sound easy.

“Thirdly, if you want out, you can get out. If you have dreams, go after them. I don’t see why you hung all your hopes on that one position in Brooklyn. There will be other jobs, Carisi. That was your first interview. You know how many people get a job on their first interview?”

Sonny knows one person who did.

“Other than you?”

Barba smirks.

“Well, yes, but I’m a little older. You’re a millennial. There are some drawbacks to being young.”

Barba isn’t wrong.

Still.

“I know there’s gonna be other jobs, Barba. But the reason I didn’t get that job is the same reason I won’t get any other job. I ‘lack the necessary trial experience.’ And if I wanna fix that, I gotta leave the force.”

Barba bites his lip. It’s very distractin-

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Despite what Sonny may blurt out during his existential monologues, there’s no easy answer to that question.

“I don’t know.”

Barba takes a moment before speaking again.

“The job interview, in Brooklyn, was it you rolling the dice? Leave if you get the job, stay if you don’t?”

That sounds about right.

And kinda scary.

Final.

Sonny never put it in those words, but in retrospect that’s exactly what it was. No wonder he feels so resigned. He didn’t get the job, so he has to stay.

“I guess. I guess we have that in common, counselor.”

Barba smiles a tight smile.

“And how did you feel? When the chips were down?”

That’s a question Sonny can answer very easily.

“Trapped.”

That interview, it was a way out, and Sonny screwed it all up, and now he has no choice but to st-

“I see. And you still feel that way?”

Talk about an easy answer.

“Yeah. What, you couldn’t tell? By the way I’ve been angry, ever since? By the way I start yellin’ at you, at the drop of a hat, every other week? By the way I keep tryin’ to antagonize you, when I used to, uh…”

Starting that sentence was a bad idea. Finishing it will only make things worse.

Thankfully, Barba seems to get it.

Barba’s tight smile unwinds, like he’s letting Sonny off the hook, and h-

“When you used to kiss my ass? Which was your idea of flirting? Yes, I have noticed a shift in your behavior.”

Well.

The use of ‘thankfully’ was premature.

Barba definitely gets it, but Sonny is not feeling very thankful right now.

Worse part is, he can’t even deny it.

It’s true.

Sonny has been flirting with Barba, for years, and Barba has known, for years.

The easy smile on Barba’s face proves it.

Sonny doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed, because Barba called him out, or excited, because Barba finally put a name to whatever it is they have been doing.

‘Flirting.’

Simple as that.

Barba makes everything sound easy.

Barba is still smiling.

Easy.

Like maybe Sonny flirting with him isn’t an entirely unpleasant thought.

Then again, Barba did say he has noticed a ‘shift.’

There hasn’t been much flirting between them, lately.

They barely ever interact.

Sonny lost himself in anger, and resentment, and he let that connection fade.

That potential, Sonny wasted it.

All the progress he had made, after carefully managing to earn Barba’s respect, and then Barba’s friendship, Sonny threw it all away.

Barba’s easy smile, it says maybe that was a mistake.

Maybe they could be having this entire conversation, this de facto therapy session, not as colleagues, or even friends, but as something else.

Something more.

In another life.

In another life, Sonny would have gotten that damn job, and he would have taken Barba out to dinner as a thank you, and they’d be equals, they’d be A.D.A. Carisi and A.D.A. Barba, of Brooklyn and Manhattan respectively, and Sonny wouldn’t be so angry, and he’d finally make a move, like he planned, and maybe Barba would s-

“It’s alright, Carisi. No need to explain that, either. I suspected you were over your infatuation with me. It’s obvious. You used to run into my office every time you passed a class in law school. You used to tell me your actual grades. And now you won’t even tell me somebody almost shot you in the head.”

Irritation.

Caring.

Sonny threw it all away.

Barba cared, and Sonny threw it all aw-

“Also, I believe I overheard Fin telling Rollins about a certain Miss 34B? About a month ago? You cops and your locker room talk. Your girlfriend deserves a modicum of respect. Despite her poor taste in men.”

Great.

Fin and his big mouth.

Now Barba thinks Sonny has a girlfriend.

As if this conversation wasn’t embarrassing enough already.

Sonny has spent the last few minutes trying to avoid eye contact, but that won’t cut it anymore.

He needs to be facing Barba for this.

He needs to explain.

Problem is, Sonny doesn’t know where to begin.

He doesn’t even know why Barba would bring that up.

Any of it.

First, Barba admits they used to flirt, or Sonny did, at least. Then, Barba practically admits he misses Sonny’s oversharing. Then, for the big finish, Barba goes and asks Sonny about 34B, about that stupid pop-up, like it’s in any way relevant.

If Sonny didn’t know any better, he’d think Barba has been waiting to ask that question, for ‘about a month,’ and he thought a clumsy mention of their previous ‘flirting’ would be a good segue.

It’s not.

And Sonny doesn’t have a good answer.

“That wasn’t… That’s done. I don’t have a girlfriend. She wasn’t… She was somebody I knew from Fordham. We were friends. We are friends. We… We gave it a shot, tried dating, but it didn’t work out. That’s all.”

Sonny cringes at his own inability to string a sentence togeth-

“Oh? What happened?”

Barba is smiling again.

Nonchalantly.

His blatantly fake smile does nothing to conceal his interest. He’s been saying ‘no need to explain,’ over and over, to spare Sonny from further embarrassment, but that only applies to soul-baring confessions, apparently. When it comes to 34B, Barba seems pretty intent on getting a detailed explanation.

All Sonny can think to say is, ‘I’m too miserable,’ but he doesn’t think that would be enough to satisfy Barba’s curiosity.

“Well, if my existential monologues didn’t clue you in, Barba, I haven’t exactly been in the mood for romance lately. I mean, I’m not a monk, so I try, and sometimes it’s alright for a month or two, but then it fizzles. My heart’s not it in. I’m just… I’m not in a good place. I can’t be dating anybody right now. I need to figure myself out.”

Barba literally pouts.

“Aw. That’s unfortunate.”

Look at that. Sonny wasn’t expecting Barba to be so understandin-

“I’m sorry, did I say unfortunate? I meant unfortunately trite. How corny can you get, Carisi? Why not add, ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ while you’re at it? You need to ‘figure yourself out’? That’s a terrible excuse. I hope it’s not what you told your friend.”

Sonny cracks up.

That is a terrible excuse. And it’s exactly what he told Claire. And Malia before her, and Paul before her.

None of them believed him, of course, but then none of them put up a fight.

They all reacted like they knew Sonny was blowing them off, but they didn’t care enough to ask for the truth.

Sonny didn’t care enough, either.

That’s the problem.

You gotta care to be honest.

How do you tell someone, ‘I have a temper, and sometimes everything sets me off’? How do you tell them, ‘None of this is your fault, but I’m probably gonna take it out on you anyway’? How do you say, ‘I’m having a tough time, and I’m angry, and you deserve better’?

You don’t.

You don’t say it.

Except Sonny just did. He just told Barba all about it.

Barba cared enough to ask.

Barba asked about Sonny’s guilt, about Sonny’s pain, about Bobby Bianchi, Barba asked about that job interview, about Sonny’s dreams, Barba asked about 34B, too, and Sonny answered every question honestly.

For the most part. There’s still things he hasn’t told Barb-

“Anyway. Enough about your love life, Carisi. Let’s talk about something less unfortunate.”

Sonny snorts.

“You’re casting a pretty wide net, there, counselor. Everything’s less unfortunate than my love life.”

Barba smirks like that’s a good thing.

“Point taken. I’m referring to your professional woes. You say you feel trapped here. Maybe we can fix that. You need experience to get a job as an A.D.A. We can fix that too. The best way would be for you to work as an attorney for a few years, but you say you’re not sure if you want to quit your job. At least not yet. Alright. Those are the facts. So…”

Barba looks strangely focused. His eyes are darting around, like he’s figuring out solutions and calculating all the possible outcomes.

Like he really wants to help.

To fix it.

To fix Sonny’s problems, at least those that can be fixed.

Sonny finds that touching. Barba has always shown him support, in smaller and bigger ways, sometimes generously and sometimes grudgingly, and this time is no different.

That’s a relief.

Sonny would hate to think his behavior ruined th-

“So. You’ll have to make a decision about leaving the force, sooner or later, but in the meantime I could ask Liv if she’d be willing to spare you more often, so you can observe more trials. It won’t be the same as firsthand experience, of course, and you can’t put it on your résumé, but it’ll be better than nothing. Better than you showing up in court only when you have to testify.

“You can watch me work more closely. More extensively. And some of the other A.D.A.s, too. I can talk to them, explain the situation, so they’ll know to expect your questions. And I’ll try to be more available, too. I can teach you some of what I’ve learned. About the judges, or the jury. About the witnesses. About knowing when to attempt a Hail Mary and when to shut up.

“I think that could help, at least for a while. Until you decide what to do. That way you won’t feel like you’re wasting your time. How does that sound?”

Sonny smiles.

That hurts.

It sounds amazing, but it hurts.

Barba wants to help him.

Still.

Barba is the one who got him that job interview in the first place.

Barba has always seen Sonny’s potential, and maybe their personal relationship isn’t what it used to be, because Sonny is too angry for his own good, but that doesn’t mean that Barba will let him flounder.

“That sounds great. Thank you, counselor. I appreciate it. Hey, can I shadow you again, too? I learned so much the last time.”

Barba grins, like that’s a good memory for him as well.

Sonny hopes it is. Working that case, side by side with Barba, it was the most fun he’s ever had on the job, in his entire life.

“No. I’m afraid not, Carisi. Fun as that was, it wouldn’t be appropriate to repeat it. You’re not a law student anymore. You’re just a detective.”

That makes sens-

“For now.”

There it is again.

Barba, seeing Sonny’s potential.

It would be heartwarming if it didn’t hurt so much. Sonny thinks h-

“Of course, if you decide to leave the force, that’s a different story. You could shadow me, as a young attorney. And then, if you decide to go into private practice for a while, that could be arranged. I know a lot of people. With your experience as an SVU detective, I’m sure we could find a spot for you at a criminal law firm.”

Barba makes everything sound so easy.

When Sonny thinks about his future, he gets restless. That’s why he snaps. He feels stagnant, stuck in a bad place and going nowhere.

When Barba talks about it, it’s like a door opens.

Like there’s a way out.

Some problems can’t be fixed.

Sonny’s temper, maybe Sonny’s love life, too, they’re beyond salvation.

Barba seems determined to help him with the rest.

And it’s working.

With every word Barba says, that door opens up a little wider, and it’s making Sonny think he didn’t waste all those years studyin-

“So there’s no need to feel trapped. Okay, Carisi? You still have options. You still have time. And… And friends. Remember that. You still have friends. Maybe that can ease some of the pressure. Help with your anger.”

Oh.

This isn’t just about Sonny’s professional future.

Barba isn’t trying to help him get a job.

It’s not about that.

Barba is trying to help Sonny be less angry.

As a friend.

Barba wants to fix all of Sonny’s problems, apparently, even the ones that are beyond salvation, and that hurts, too.

Barba’s awkward smile, it hurts, because Sonny knows he’s done nothing to deserve it.

Not latel-

“Look, Carisi, I noticed you’ve been having some issues with your temper. I’m not blind. You were the happiest cop I’ve ever met, but your mood has been deteriorating for months. I just assumed it was because of the job. I, uh… Liv may have mentioned something to that effect. She said you told her that being a cop changes you for the worse.

“You weren’t wrong. You wouldn’t be the first bright-eyed rookie to get jaded after a couple of years at SVU. That’s why I helped you get that job interview in Brooklyn. I thought it would be a shame for such a…For such a kind person to, uh… I didn’t want you to lose that. That kindness.”

Sonny is speechless.

He never knew Barba’s reasons for setting up that interview. Or why it happened right after his very first outburst, his first relapse, during the Sean Roberts case. Sonny always wondered why Barba would do something that nice for him, practically five minutes after being yelled at.

Even then, Sonny felt stuck.

Angry.

He was starting to regret his decision to stay, after Dodds, after everyone kept acting like Dodds had never existed, Sonny was starting to think that letting his entire future hinge on that one loss was a bad idea.

Barba could see that.

Even then.

Barba was trying to give him options. The job interview, it ended up making things worse, because Sonny blew it, but Barba’s heart was in the right place.

Sonny smiles.

Barba has a heart.

Barba wanted to preserve Sonny’s ‘kindness.’ Whatever that means. Barba wanted to protect him, in some weird way, to shield him from further damage, and that’s beyond anything Sonny would ever expect from a colleague, or even a friend.

Sonny had no idea.

Knowing that, knowing somebody cared enough to do that, it’s uplifting. Knowing Barba cared enough to d-

“What I didn’t realize was that your temper issues predated your time at SVU. Had I known that, I would have… I would have… I don’t know. I would have handled things differently. I would have talked to you, instead of letting you freeze me out. We could have had this conversation sooner.”

Sonny thinks that would have been nice.

In another life.

“In your defense, counselor, I was hiding it pretty well. I had you thinkin’ I was a walking ray of sunshine. No way you could have known.”

Barba scoffs.

He looks irritated again.

Sonny knows what that means now.

“You weren’t hiding it, Carisi. You were managing it. Very well. For years. Which means you can manage it again.”

‘Again.’

Barba makes everything sound so easy.

Sonny can be kind again.

Calm, again.

The damage is done, it was done a long time ago, but Sonny was managing it. For years, Sonny was happy.

Maybe he can be happy again, too.

With Barba’s help.

When Barba talks, it’s like a door opens. Sonny has been trapped in a tiny, windowless room, and Barba’s support is opening the door, Barba’s smile is tearing down the walls, and the air comes in, and Sonny can see outside, again, like he used to, befor-

“I know we’ve drifted apart, Carisi. I know you’ve distanced yourself, but that doesn’t mean you can’t reach out to me. Even now. I’m intimately familiar with guilt, and resentment, and grief. And anger, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you want to talk, I’m here. If you have something to say, you can tell m-”

“I’m not over it.”

Barba is startled into silence.

Sonny doesn’t blame him.

That came out of nowhere. Sonny meant to say something else, something like, ‘Thank you,’ but that came out instead, and it’s too late to take it back.

So Sonny doubles down.

“You. I’m not over you.”

Barba stares, eyes wide, just like in that corridor, before everything fell apart.

“My infatuation. My feelings. Whatever you wanna call it. I’m not over you, Barba. Just so you know.”

“Oh.”

Barba is breathing very slowly.

He is very still.

Sonny can see his pulse, ticking, slowly, a small flicker flashing on Barba’s dark neck. His tan hasn’t even faded y-

“Is that why things didn’t work out between you and your friend?”

Sonny can’t believe this is Barba’s first question.

Sonny loves that this is Barba’s first question.

“Maybe. It’s… It’s just another reason why I’ve been so angry. ‘Cause I can’t get anything I want. I couldn’t get that job in Brooklyn, and I couldn’t get…”

Sonny couldn’t get Barba.

Or so he thought.

Sonny takes a deep breath.

“I admire you, counselor. I told you that, before. And I, uh, you know. I’m infatuated. With you.”

Barba lets out a huff of laughter.

Possibly because Sonny deemed it necessary to use air quotes around ‘infatuated.’

Whatever.

“Whatever. I just wanted to do you proud. I wanted a way out, like I said, ‘cause being a cop is taking a toll on me, and I wanted to make somethin’ of myself, I wanted to put my degree to good use, but I also wanted to do you proud. You got me that job interview, and you gave me a glowing recommendation, and don’t even bother denyin’ it ‘cause La Rossa told me, and then I let you down. And… That hit me kinda hard. I felt like I couldn’t look you in the eye, after that.”

“What?”

Barba looks horrified.

Like Sonny just said the craziest thing.

Sonny’s left eye twitches.

He’s an idiot.

Sonny wishes he could turn back time. He wants to go back to the very moment he got that stupid rejection email, and he wants to go tell Past Barba all about it. He wants to ask Past Barba out for a drink to commiserate, and he wants to whine, like a normal person, he wants Past Sonny to complain until Past Barba’s ears fall off. He wants to tell Past Sonny not to alienate himself, he wants to tell Past Sonny he has friends, he has a friend in Barba, he has more, in Barba, and he wants to erase the last six months from existence.

Unfortunately, that’s not an option.

What’s done is done, and now Sonny needs to move on.

This conversation, it’s a good start.

Sonny needs to finish it.

“Yeah. It all snowballed from there. I was angry ‘cause I was stuck at SVU, I was angry ‘cause I had a great opportunity to leave and I blew it, I was angry ‘cause I made you look bad to La Rossa and your old colleagues at the Brooklyn D.A.’s office. That’s why I never told you what happened. Because I knew… Because you… Because I knew you’d think less of me. I always wanted you to see me as an equal, and… And I wasn’t. I wasn’t good enough for that job. Or good enough for you.”

Barba doesn’t blink for what feels like ten minutes.

“That’s why you stopped spending time with me? Because you thought… Who said you’re not good enough for… Who said you let me down, Carisi? Who said we’re not equals? Where are you getting all this? I don’t recall you ever asking me. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Sonny can’t resist.

“You mean words like, ‘Save it for night school,’ and ‘Booyah, Fordham Law,’ and, ‘Like a broken clock’?”

Barba sighs very aggressively.

“Don’t. Don’t try to change the subject. We’re not talking about your job performance anymore.”

Sonny’s heart starts pounding, and for once it’s not because he’s angry.

“We’re not?”

“No.”

Barba’s ‘no’ is immediate, and honest, and resolute.

Sonny decides to follow his example.

“Okay. I never asked you, ‘cause I didn’t wanna know. It was easier to assume you were gonna turn me down. I didn’t have to hear it. I didn’t wanna give myself one more reason to be mad. At you. At myself. You said it, I distanced myself, and you never made an effort to stop me, so I figured I was doin’ you a favor. I didn’t think you cared, Barba. Obviously, I was wrong. I know that now. Obviously you do care, so I w-”

“Hold on, Carisi. ‘Obviously’? I’m not sure what you think you know, especially since you seem to be so fond of jumping to conclusions, but I would be careful about making assumptions, if I were you.”

Sonny grins.

Just like that, they’re back to their old ways. Sonny, teasing Barba about having a heart, and Barba vehemently denying he has ever had a pulse.

Flirting.

Just like old times.

It feels so excruciatingly good.

So easy.

“It’s not an assumption. In this one conversation, you’ve been more of a friend to me than anybody else. Even though I haven’t been much of a friend to you. I’ve been avoiding you, for months. When we do talk, half the time I end up flying off the handle for no reason.

“I’ve been acting like we’re strangers. I’ve been acting like I didn’t spend two years trying to please you. Like I didn’t lose ten years of my life, when I heard you were getting death threats. Like I didn’t spend two weeks without sleep, until we caught the guys who hired Heredio to stalk you.

“I haven’t been a friend to you, Barba, but you still want to help me. So yeah. You care about me. Obviously. I’m an idiot for thinking you didn’t.”

Barba purses his lips, like he’s trying not to smile.

Like he’s trying not to show his delight, in hearing Sonny putting it all out there.

Like he’s trying not to agree. Like he really wants to say that, yes, Sonny is an idiot, but he knows he can’t, because then he’d be admitting that he does care, and that’s not gonna happ-

“You are an idiot.”

Sonny has never been happier to be called an idiot, in his entire life.

“Alright. Good. So, can I ask you now?”

Barba’s right eyebrow rises, like a dare.

“Ask me what?”

Sonny rolls his eyes.

“Can I ask if you if, uh… If I… Um.”

Dammit.

And Sonny was doing so well.

He’s been honest with Barba so far, for the most part, but there’s one last thing he needs to confess.

“I wanna ask you what I was gonna ask, if I’d gotten the job. I told you I had plans, counselor. Becoming an A.D.A. was just part of them. See, if I weren’t with Manhattan SVU anymore, if I were working in a different borough, there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest. If we, uh. You know. If you and me were to, uh…”

Barba smirks.

“You and I.”

Just like old times.

“Yeah, yeah. You and I. There wouldn’t be a conflict of interest if you and I were to start dating. Now, I’m still a cop, and technically we shouldn’t do this, but I’m askin’ anyway. And I’m hoping you can forget the last six months ever happened, ‘cause Lord knows I wouldn’t wanna date an asshole like me.”

Barba is pursing his lips again.

“But you want to date an asshole like me.”

Sonny laughs.

He missed this.

So much.

Sonny let his anger overwhelm him, Sonny let his anger deprive him of pleasures like joy, and laughter, and Barba’s jokes, and hope, but maybe he can be happy again. He already feels calmer than he has in months.

Free.

Sonny feels free.

“I’d be honored to date an asshole like you, Barba. So, what do you say? Do I have a shot?”

Barba smiles in a way he hasn’t, for a very long time.

With affection.

“Well, I’d say you’re a well-rounded applicant, with excellent credentials, but I fear you might lack the necessary experience.”

Sonny knows rejection when he sees it.

This isn’t it.

Barba is teasing.

Just like Sonny suspected, Barba did read that email from the Brooklyn D.A.’s office, and now he’s even quoting it, on purpose, just to tease Sonny.

Even so, Sonny can’t bring himself to get mad.

Which is a first.

“I see how it is, Barba. I need some experience to date a man like you. Of course.”

Sonny had forgotten how much he loves Barba’s smug little smirks.

“I see you’re back to kissing my ass again, Carisi. The balance is restored.”

Sonny is back to flirting, actually, except this time he’s not relying on vague compliments and friendly smiles. He’s not making excuses about conflicts of interest. He’s not letting his temper dictate his life.

And he’s not taking Barba’s answer for granted, either.

This time Sonny is asking.

This time he’s holding the dice.

“Just for the record, what I lack in experience I make up for in enthusiasm.”

Barba actually licks his lips.

Sonny almost forgets what he was going to say next.

“That being said, I do have some experience. I just don’t know if you’ll find it up to your standards. Tell you what, if you need a reference, you can call Miss 34B. She can tell you all about it. Her name’s Claire, by the w-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Barba can dish it out, but he can’t take it. His smirk is gone. He’s scowling.

He’s jealous.

He’s shooting Sonny a dirty look, and it’s exaggerated, because it’s supposed to be a joke, but Sonny knows it’s at least fifteen percent serious, if not more. Sonny knows Barba really did get a little bit jealous, and Sonny missed this so damn much.

Their banter.

Their closeness.

That tangible sense of hope that, any minute now, Barba just might kiss him, even if it’s never happened so far.

Sonny used to be in a constant state of hope.

He missed that.

He missed Barba.

“So, what’s it gonna be, counselor?”

Barba doesn’t answer immediately. He wants to make this difficult. Sonny knew it was a mistake to mention Claire ag-

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Of course.

“What, I gotta spell it out? Fine. Would you like to join me for a drink, Barba? Tonight? As soon as you’re done here? Think of it as an apology. For me bein’ an asshole to you, all this time.”

Barba makes a face.

“Can we stop with all this talk about assholes? You…”

Sonny regrets it literally as it happens, but a snort still escapes him.

Barba is not amused, at least going by the way he mutters, ‘Jesus Christ,’ under his breath. Which only makes Sonny want to laugh even hard-

“As I was saying, you made your point. You were going through a difficult time, and that affected your temper. It happens to the best of us. That doesn’t make you an asshole. It wasn’t even that bad. You only think it was, because you’re normally so sweet. Your version of being an asshole is me being slightly nicer than usual.”

Perspective.

Sonny needed to hear th-

“So stop beating yourself up over this. You have enough to feel guilty about. We all do. Forget about how your temper may have affected others. Focus on how it affected you. You don’t like yourself when you’re angry, so focus on that. Worry about that. Don’t worry about me. I don’t need an apology.”

Under any other circumstances, Sonny would be genuinely moved. Barba keeps proving just how much he cares, with every word that comes out of his mouth, and that’s kind of beautiful.

Under these circumstances, Sonny is distracted by the actual words coming out of Barba’s mouth.

He called Sonny sweet.

The Old Sonny, at least. Then again, the more they talk, the longer Barba smiles, the closer Barba gets to saying yes, the more the Old Sonny merges with the New.

There used to be one Sonny, for all seasons.

Maybe that can happen again.

On an unrelated note, Sonny is pretty sure Barba paraphrased The Hulk, right in the middle of that compassionate speech, and that’s kind of beautiful, too, in its own way, and Sonn-

“But to answer your question, yes, I will join you for a drink. And I’m buying. We can celebrate my return, after that brief suspension. Think of it as proof I actually wanted to keep my job. Or, I don’t know. Proof I might actually be happy, after all.”

Sonny doesn’t know what to say.

He made Barba happy.

Just now, with that poorly worded invitation to get a drink.

With this entire conversation, maybe.

That’s what Barba meant.

They talked, and they explained, and they flirted, and now Barba ‘might actually be happy.’

Barba wasn’t happy before.

Sonny wasn’t happy either.

Sonny has to struggle to remember the last time he felt happy, before walking into Barba’s office this afternoon.

It was probably at that bar, after Mike’s funeral, after the death threats, when Barba smiled and said, ‘I’m not worried. Not in here,’ and then they clinked their glasses.

Sonny was a mess, that day, but that gave him an overwhelming sense of joy.

Knowing that Barba felt safe with him.

That’s what Barba meant.

‘I’m not worried. Not in here. Not with you.’

That was a long time ago.

Months and months.

That’s a long time to be unhappy.

Even if you’re used to it, like Sonny is.

Or was.

Barba made him happy.

Just now.

Just talking.

Just saying, ‘yes.’

It doesn’t take much to make either of them happy, apparently. Sonny wishes they had figured that out sooner.

Better late than never.

Plus, if they’re happy now, Sonny can only imagine how they’ll feel when they’re on their date, later tonight. A few drinks in, at a quiet bar, sitting as close as the seats will allow, and leaning in, maybe, and th-

“Let’s go, Carisi.”

Sonny is caught off guard, right in the middle of a daydream, and he gets weirdly nostalgic, because that used to happen all the time.

It takes him a moment to understand what Barba is saying.

There won’t be a ‘later tonight.’ Barba wants them to leave for their date immediately.

“Go? What, right now? We can���t just go. It’s barely six o’clock.”

Barba gives Sonny a deadpan look, and Sonny can just hear the unspoken, ‘Thank you, Carisi, but I can tell time,’ and that feels pretty nostalgic too.

Just like old times.

“Yes, Carisi. Right now. I don’t have to clock out. I can just take the rest of the afternoon off. The perks of being an A.D.A. You wouldn’t know.”

Sonny laughs.

Sonny laughs as Barba stands up and puts on his jacket.

Sonny laughs and stares, noticing just how tight Barba’s shirt is on him, and how the suspenders are accentuating his chest.

Sonny doesn’t know how he lived without this, for six whole months.

And by ‘this’ he means both ogling at Barba, and laughing.

Sonny hasn’t laughed freely in a long time. Not without holding back. Not without consciously ignoring his burdens.

Maybe that’s why it’s flooding out, now.

Why it seems so easy, now, even as Barba is joking about the benefits of the job Sonny couldn’t get. A week ago, a day ago, even, that would have set him off.

Now, Sonny can laugh about it.

It wasn’t even that funny of a joke, but Sonny is happy, and that’s enough. It’s enough to know that Barba isn’t flaunting, he’s teasing, and he cares about Sonny, and Sonny can laugh now.

Sonny isn’t angry anymore.

That’s enough.

Of course, knowing that he’s about to go on a date with Barba doesn’t hurt either.

Speaking of, Sonny really needs to get a move on, because Barba is ready to go, coat and scarf and briefcase and all, and he’s still sitting on that same chair with a doting smile on his face, a leftover from the laughter.

Barba is smiling too, as he waits for Sonny to get up.

Sonny missed this.

The smiles.

The fond looks.

Those silent moments of waiting for something.

The long hours he used to spend in Barba’s office, staring, and trying to pay attention, and daydreaming about what might happen, if he ever made a move.

Or if Barba ever made a move. That was always more intense, in Sonny’s head. It was always out of the blue, and passionate, and mind-blowing.

Sonny wonders how he ever got any work done.

Wait.

Work.

Sonny is just now realizing that, unlike Barba, he is not, in fact, an A.D.A. and he does, in fact, need to clock out.

“Um, I still have a couple of hours left until the end of my shift, Barba. I can’t just take off without tellin’ anybody.”

Barba smirks.

Probably because, despite the feeble protest, Sonny still got up, and put on his coat, and is practically with one foot out the door.

Sonny isn’t missing out on this date for nothing. He’ll just call in sick. Liv won’t m-

“Oh? What did you tell Liv, by the way? About this meeting? Let me guess. ‘Sorry, I’ll need an hour to cuss Barba out, but then I’ll be right back to finish my shift.’ How dedicated. At any rate, don’t worry about Liv. I’ll just text her on the way. Tell her it’s my fault you’re not coming back. Tell her I kept you busy and we lost track of time.”

Barba’s smirk makes that sound a lot dirtier than it should.

Also, Sonny simply told Liv he needed to ‘talk’ to Barba, and that wasn’t a lie, even though Barba’s version would have been a lot more truthful and a little mor-

“Have you eaten yet, Carisi? Probably not. Where would you find the time? You’ve been too busy seething all day. That burns a lot of calories, you know. That’s how I maintain my willowy form.”

Sonny is laughing again. Twice in a couple of minutes.

Not because Barba basically asked him out to dinner.

Not because Barba made a joke about that not-so-willowy form Sonny is particularly fond of.

It wasn’t even that funny of a joke.

Sonny is laughing because Barba joked about his temper.

Casually.

As a friend.

As more than that.

Sonny was always worried that confiding in people about his anger would change things.

He was worried he’d be treated with kid gloves, afterwards. He was worried he’d see pity in the eyes of friends. Or judgment. Or fear, like he has in the past. He was worried he’d get one shot to explain, just one awkward conversation, and then nothing. And then, they’d never mention it again. And then, a polite nod, maybe, or an overly earnest look of sympathy and a total inability to relate.

It’s not easy to talk about these things, but it’s not easy to listen, either.

That’s why Sonny never told anybody before.

He always assumed people would rather avoid the issue altogether.

Not Barba.

Barba is tackling it head-on.

Barba isn’t worried Sonny might get angry, or upset at the mere mention of it, and that thought gives Sonny an unexpected sense of relief.

Knowing that Barba won’t ignore that part of him, because it’d be more convenient to pretend their conversation never happened.

Knowing that Barba is willing to joke about it.

No kid gloves.

No pity.

No judgment.

No fear whatsoever.

Nothing’s changed between them.

Barba still teases Sonny, except now they’ve confided in each other, so Barba has even more ammo.

Maybe that’s changed.

They have the dirt on each other now, except it’s not really dirt, it’s just truth.

Not all change is bad.

They’re closer now, and Sonny welcomes it, because it means they can get personal with their teasing, they can mention his temper, or Barba’s little paunch, not that Sonny would ever joke about that, or th-

“Let’s have an early dinner, first. I think that’s a good idea. We shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. Who knows what might happen if we were to get drunk?”

Another smirk.

That’s changed, too.

Barba never used to be so blatant with his innuendo.

Even when he’d get a little more daring, Barba would only use suggestive language when he was at a safe distance, usually sitting behind his desk.

Which was courteous, because it afforded Sonny the opportunity to blush semi-discreetly, and delude himself into thinking Barba wouldn’t notice. That desk, separating them, it allowed Sonny to avoid eye contact until the paleness had fully returned to his face.

That’s not possible right now.

Barba is looking directly into Sonny’s eyes.

He’s standing right in front of Sonny, barely a step away, and he’s looking up, and Sonny swears his smirk is ten times more potent from up-close.

His cologne, too.

By the way, just for the record, Sonny knows exactly what would happen if they were to get drunk. He’s pictured it, a million tim-

“Should I take your slack-jawed stare as a yes, Carisi?”

Just like old times.

Kind of.

Sonny got caught daydreaming again, but this time he has a comeback.

“Sure. Sure, counselor. It’s a yes. I mean, an ‘early dinner’ does sound kinda geriatric, but I get it. At your age, it’s recommended to have dinner at six o’clock at the latest. It’s better for your digestive system.”

Barba rolls his eyes.

Sonny missed this the most.

Barba’s fond eye-rolls.

Teasing Barba in return.

It’s fun to tease him back. Especially now, that they’re closer, and they can get personal with th-

“I really wish you hadn’t said that, Carisi.”

Oh.

Maybe they’re not that close, after all.

Wait.

They’re not.

They’re even closer.

Barba is taking that extra step, and there’s no more space between them, and they’re kissing.

Actually no, they’re not ‘kissing.’

They ‘kissed.’

Past tense.

It was over before Sonny even knew it started.

It was out of the blue, but it wasn’t passionate and it sure as hell wasn’t mind-blowing.

Sonny barely even felt it.

Barba planted one on him, a quick peck on the lips, and it’s over now, and Sonny is currently standing there, with his jaw to the floor, thinking about how the last thing he did before their first kiss was joke about Barba’s hypothetical indigestion.

Very smooth.

Not that Barba is faring better. That wasn’t much of a first kiss. Barba was pretty cavalier up until a moment ago, smirking and kissing Sonny all casual and easy, but after that dud, he looks almost timid.

For some stupid reason.

As if Sonny didn’t love every second of that kiss he doesn’t even remember.

Which is fine.

It’s all the more reason to kiss Barba again.

And that’s exactly what Sonny does.

Sonny goes for it, he leans in, and the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is the return of Barba’s smirk.

The last thing he hears is a small thud, and he guesses it’s Barba’s briefcase, dropping to the floor.

The last thing he feels is Barba’s hands on his jaw.

And then they kiss.

Again.

It’s not a deep kiss. It’s soft, and slow, and Sonny can feel Barba’s fingers moving to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, he can feel Barba’s chest, rising and falling, against his own, he can feel Barba’s stubble, against is face, Sonny can feel Barba’s tongue brushing against his lips, and this is pretty mind-blowing.

And then Sonny wraps his arms around Barba’s waist, and he squeezes, and Barba moans, low, right into Sonny’s mouth, and if Sonny thought he was happy before, he was sorely mistaken.

And then it ends again.

The kiss ends.

Fortunately, Barba lingers this time.

Their faces stay touching. Their noses stay buried in each other’s cheeks. Sonny can feel Barba’s breath, coming and going, a warm beat against his lips. With each breath, Sonny feels a tiny shred of anger, evaporating.

Leftovers.

It’s like Barba’s breath is cleansing him. Every part of him.

Sonny hasn’t felt this calm in years.

And then Barba leans in for more, nose rubbing against Sonny’s, head tilting to switch sides, and this kiss does get deep, and passionate, and Barba keeps sucking on Sonny’s bottom lip, and tugging at the hair on the nape of Sonny’s neck, Barba keeps moaning, getting louder the longer they kiss, getting closer, the longer they kiss, Barba keeps pressing against Sonny, and then Sonny no longer feels calm.

In a good way.

For once.

Sonny doesn’t th-

“Alright. Now that we got that out of the way, can we go have dinner? It’s after six. We’re cutting it close. I don’t like to gamble when it comes to my digestive health.”

Sonny laughs.

Again.

How could he not?

How could Sonny not laugh, when Barba looks so happy?

Sonny keeps laughing as Barba picks up his briefcase and they leave his office.

Together.

Sort of.

Barba lags behind, just a few steps, and Sonny turns around in time to see him talking to Carmen.

“I’ll be taking the rest of the day off. Cancel my 7 o’clock with Harrison’s attorney. Don’t reschedule yet. Let them sweat. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Simple as that.

Maybe someday, maybe in a year or three, Sonny will be doing that too. Enjoying the perks of being an A.D.A. Cancelling meetings, and letting scumbags sweat, just so he can go on a date. With Barba, hopefully. If he’s lucky. If Barba is lucky, maybe they can still have early dinners together, years from n-

“Of course. Have a nice evening, Mr. Barba. Detective, you too.”

Sonny grins.

Carmen totally knows, going by her fleeting smile.

And Barba knows that she knows, going by his fleeting scowl.

Sonny decides to push his luck and say something ‘funny,’ like he used to.

That’s another thing Sonny missed. His own terrible jokes. Is that weird?

Probably.

Sonny is about to tell Carmen he’ll take real good care of her boss, when he feels warmth, on the small of his back.

It’s Barba’s hand.

Leading him outside.

It’s possible Barba could tell Sonny was about to say something dumb, and the hand is meant to shush him.

It’s also possible that Barba just wanted to touch Sonny.

Sonny doesn’t know which explanation he prefers.

He just knows he’s grinning even wider, as Barba catches up to him and they walk away, side by side.

He just knows they’re going on a date.

An early dinner, and then drinks, and then God knows what.

Actually, Sonny knows exactly what.

He’s pictured it a million times.

~ ~ ~

Sonny can’t sit still.

He’s too impatient.  

Too energized.

Too happy.

It’s a slow day, and it’s still early, and he’s been trying to distract himself with a crossword puzzle, but it’s not really working.

Mostly because he gets stuck on every other word.

Sonny never liked crossword puzzles.

Still, it’s a better distraction than most. It looks professional, at least, when he’s on his desk, pen in hand, jotting something down every few seconds. It sure beats him playing a random game on his phone, and looking like he’s goofing off on the job.

Sonny isn’t goofing off. As soon as they get a case, he’ll get right on it, with his usual dedication.

Just without his usual anger.

Until then, this is a slow day, and it’s still early, and Sonny is impatient, and he’s stuck on another word again, and he needs to get up to stretch his legs.

The first thing he sees, as he paces across the station, is Fin, looking antsy.

Antsier than Sonny, even.

Which makes him an even better distraction.

“Hey, any word?”

“No. Stop asking?”

Whoa.

That Sergeant’s exam is sure making Fin lose his cool.

Sonny is kind of glad to see this new side of him. It’s a pleasant surprise. It’s good to know that Sonny wasn’t the exception, when he was freaking out about the results of the bar exam. It’s good to know that even a guy like Fin can get nervous.

It’s almost cute.

In fact, if Fin weren’t Fin, Sonny would tell him just that.

As it is, Sonny just shrugs.

“Alright. It’s just, you know. Sergeant Tutuola’s got a nice ring to it.”

Fin’s glare is enough to get Sonny to turn on his heel.

Sonny is so eager to retreat, that he almost bumps into Jeff from Booking.

Which might be a good thing.

“Hey, what is a ten-letter word for ‘bad luck’?”

Jeff doesn’t seem inclined to help.

Either that, or he’s just as bad at crosswords as Sonny is.

Unfortunately, without Jeff’s help, Sonny is gonna be stuck on that damn word for a whil-

“Misfortune.”

Liv to the rescue.

As always.

Sonny goes back to his desk and fills in the word with enthusiasm. It’s a long one, which means it’s gonna help him figure out a bunch of the other words, too.

And that’s enough to put a smile on his face, apparently.

At least when he’s in a good mood.

And Sonny is in a great mood.

He has another date with Barba.

A late dinner, this time.

At Sonny’s place.

That’s what’s got him all invigorated.

And jittery.

And happy.

It’s a slow day, and it’s still early, and Sonny is happy, and his date with Barba isn’t for another eight hours, and he’s been trying to distract himself with a crossword puzzle, but it’s not really working, because this time it’s gonna be differen-

Sonny’s phone buzzes.

He knows it’s Barba before he even looks.

‘Do you want me to ask Liv to let you off early?’

Oh.

That’s promising.

Probably.

Sonny grins as he types.

‘Why? You can’t wait to see me?’

Sonny counts the seconds until Barba’s next text.

Not in anticipation. He just wants to know how long Barba’s eye-roll will last.

Fourteen seconds.

‘I can wait just fine, Sonny. I just want to make sure you’ll have enough time to cook. You know I can’t eat after six. Unless you want to give me heartburn.’

Sonny doesn’t even know where to start.

Barba calls him ‘Sonny’ now.

That’s a good starting point.

And they have an inside joke.

At least that’s what Sonny likes to call it, even though he knows Barba is just rubbing it in. The fact Sonny saw it fit to call him ‘geriatric’ when they were about to kiss.

In Sonny’s defense, he didn’t know that at the time.

Hell, he barely knew they were kissing while it was happening.

Truth be told, Sonny has teased Barba about that fiasco of a first kiss plenty of times, so he figures it’s only fair if he catches a little grief, too.

Also, yes, Sonny is cooking tonight. And he is beyond ready.

And beyond jittery. Like, way beyond.

‘Don’t you worry, Barba. I got the groceries in the fridge, and I finished my meal prep this morning. Dinner will be on your plate by 5:59.’

Sonny still calls him Barba.

It just feels right.

Also, yes, Sonny did wake up one hour earlier, just to chop up some vegetables and make a marinade.

Only the best for Barb-

‘Meal prep? Is that why it took you over a month to cook for me? You needed all that time to prepare?’

Sonny would be hard-pressed to say no.

He did promise to cook for Barba a while ago. On their very first date, in fact, right after Barba complained his chicken was dry, within earshot of their waiter, in classic Barba style.

The thing is, Barba isn’t wrong.

It takes time to plan a fancy meal.

And it’s going to be very fancy, thank-you-very-much. Barba is clearly a harsh critic, in everything from fashion, to literature, to legal arguments, to classic Italian meals, and Sonny wants to make a good first impression. He just hasn’t had time to cook anything intricate, before tonight. Sonny didn’t want to make a quick pasta for Barba, like he does for all his friends.

Barba deserves a four-course meal.

And it takes time to enjoy a fancy meal, too.

On some days, Sonny and Barba barely have time to eat. Food tends to take a backseat when you’re only free for an hour or two. Sharing a meal can be fun, but they usually prefer to spend their time together a little more creatively.

They’ve actually cancelled four separate dinner dates because of work. The first time, Sonny was all torn up, until Barba said he’d drop by with a pizza, as soon as he was done.

They’ve been having a lot of pizza, this past month.

It’s time for a home-cooked meal.

‘Only the best for you, Barba.’

Sonny stares at his phone for a few seconds, even though he knows it’s no use.

Barba won’t text back.

He won’t send a, ‘See you tonight,’ or a, ‘Looking forward to it,’ or a, ‘Thank you for offering to make dinner, Sonny,’ or even a, ‘Have a nice day,’ like a normal person might.

Like a normal boyfriend might.

That’s Barba’s thing, apparently. He always does this. He doesn’t bother to send a simple, ‘Okay,’ sometimes, even when the conversation requires it. Whenever Sonny asks about it later, he always says, ‘It’s implied, Sonny,’ or, ‘I have better things to do than send you single-word texts.’

Unfortunately, that’s information Sonny didn’t have when they first started dating. He is mildly ashamed to admit that, on the morning after their first date, he sent a desperate, ‘You there, Barba?’ after twenty minutes of getting no response.

Barba immediately replied, ‘Yes.’

Period and all. Just to make a point.  

Sonny knows better now.

That’s the real dirt on Barba. He doesn’t text back.

Which is a small price to pay, if you want to call him your boyfriend.

Not that Sonny does that.

Not out loud.

Not yet.

Anyway.

It’s back to the crossword puzzle.

Actually, maybe Sonny should go bug Fin again. It’s been a few minutes. Maybe the exam results were posted while he was texting Barba.

It’s worth a shot. If only to see Fin’s expression when he tells Sonny to buzz off.

Sonny missed that too.

Not being told to buzz off, of course. Not exactly.

Sonny just missed going around the precinct and annoying everybody with his eagerness.

With his happiness.

He used to do that all the time.

Sonny was pretty happy. For years.

And now he’s happy again, and he’s back to bouncing off the walls with a grin on his face.

All day long.

All month long.

Why stop now?

Fin looks distracted with a phone call, so Sonny tries to get up as discreetly as he can. He figures it’s better if Fin doesn’t see him coming.

No such luck.

Fin cuts him off with a sharp glare.

Sonny sits his ass back down.

The crossword it is.

What’s a seven-letter word for t-

Wait.

Another text.

A whopping seven minutes later.

Maybe Barba is learning to be a little more demonstrative.

‘I spoke to A.D.A.  Mendez, she’s fine with you observing her on Thursday, on that double homicide trial, as long as you clear it with Liv first. You need to broaden your horizons, Sonny. Criminal Law isn’t just Special Victims.’

Or not.

Sonny smiles, anyway.

Barba is still helping him.

Barba is fixing all of Sonny’s problems, even those that seemed like they were beyond salvation.

The door is open.

There’s a way out, now.

Sonny is on his way out.

Out of that slump.

He feels happy now, because his previously unfortunate love life has suddenly picked up, and because he’s broadening his horizons professionally, and because things are going well, all courtesy of Barba, the love life especially, but Sonny knows he’s not done struggling.

Things won’t always go well.

Maybe Sonny will strike out on another job.

He probably will.

Maybe there’ll be another bad case.

There will definitely be another bad case.

Maybe Barba won’t always be there.

It’s certainly possible, likely, even, and Sonny needs to be ready to handle th-

‘See you tonight, Sonny. And I hope you haven’t made dessert. I made flan. My mother’s recipe.’

Oh.

Barba made flan.

His mother’s recipe.

For Sonny.

Also, and perhaps more importantly, he texted back.

Maybe Barba leaving is not that likely.

Sonny will be ready, either way.

For everything.

For good things, too.

Sonny had forgotten what it’s like to look forward to something.

To hope.

He remembers, now.

He hopes Barba will like his cooking.

He looks forward to trying Barba’s flan.

Happiness can be found anywhere.

Sonny remembers, now.

Barba opened that door, but Sonny will make sure it stays open.

‘I can’t wait.’

[chiunion]

Buncha Anon Questions

A buncha anon questions I’ve gotten in the last couple months, most under the cut. If you’ve asked something, it’s probably here! If it’s not, I probably deleted it or didn’t receive it. Most of these are comments, unneeded opinions, or stuff that’s been covered before (but probably awhile ago). Deleted questions include: “what skill is good on X medal", pretty much all questions about iKairi2 (so many...), “when will Y be released”, and outdated questions.

Thanks for updating the blog :) we've missed you

Good luck on finals and everything else! 🎉

You do the lord's work with your blog. Thank you.

Thank you so much for running this blog. You've made it so much easier for this newbie to figure out the ropes and keep track of events. It is greatly appreciated.

This blog saves my life! 😊❤️👑💙

Hi, just wanted to say great job about the blog, I pretty much follow religiously :)

Thank you and you’re welcome! I do my best. ovo7

Are you gonna do your update for the week? I'm lost without your expert guidance. 

Are you gone forever? :(

No one can Defeat Me!!!

so, what's your opinion of Global's anniversary?

Kinda sucked, but iKairi2 was guaranteed so I don’t really care. ;D

Is it worth it to buy any of the returning avatar boards that have the Illustrated medals? 3K for a guilted epic doesn't seem bad but I want to make sure. Also, what if we already bought one of the sets? Would it make since to get the other 4 medals for 1.5K? Thanks

Hi! You wrote that the old board are not really worthwhile, and normally I would agree... but here's the reason I'm still considering it. I have the Cloud board, and the Halloween Donald (male). If I buy they other halves, that could mean with a lucky roll 12 to my Nova. Or 2... Both of them are coming later, so I have a lot of time to decide, but I would be interested in your opinion, as since I found your site, I followed the advices here, and so far, it was worth it :)

iCid/iAerith/iYuffie are Tier 2, not Tier 3(/epic), so not worthwhile. There’s plenty of multitarget light magic (HT Donald) and power (HT Goofy), so those also aren’t worthwhile.

Hey, I was wondering if you have any advice with regards to using gems. I've got all of the available keyblades (minus Sleeping Lion) to +25. Do you recommend leveling one up to +30, or spreading the gems around? Are there any keyblades you recommend more than others - like Counterpoint over Three Wishes or something? I'm just kind of unsure what to do with my gems since they seem so hard to come by.

Hi! Thanks to your excellent advice about saving electrum ore, I was able to take Counterpoint all the way up to level 25. I have 35 ores left over, and I'm wondering if I should go ahead and use them on Sleeping Lion since the proud mode quests that use Sleeping Lion are the only ones I haven't gotten the electrum from. Or is the next Proud Mode keyblade worth saving for again. What's up next and approximately how long until it's available? Thanks!

I’d suggest focusing on two Keyblades (I’m going for TT and DR). Regarding the Proud Mode Keyblades, they are generally better than their story counterparts--if you have the medals for them, if not they’re worse. (IE: Counterpoint and Sleeping Lion may be equivalent, but Counterpoint is loads better than Sleeping Lion for f2p b/c of the super lack of light speed medals.) But you also need Solar Gems for Proud+ Quests, which can be very difficult to get for most f2p; you don’t need Magic/Speed/Power Gems until LV27. Fenrir is coming soon, so I think it’s more worthwhile than Sleeping Lion. :3c

I'm sorry, I know you've probably answered this before, but now that I have Illust Kairi 1 and 2, how should they go together in your deck? As close to the beginning of it as possible, right? I have 2 in all of my decks at the moment, but 1 only in some of them because I don't have enough CP otherwise.

Depends on your deck and your needs. I have iKairi1/iKairi2 in my first two slots of TT, as I don’t have another good dark power medal to put there. But iKairi2 tends to be later in my deck on other Keyblades, in the weakest boost slot. Just depends on what medals you have and stuff.

is it worth me to save jewels for HD namine if it's a mercy deal even if i may only have enough for 1 3 orb medal and if that's the case is it worth spending 2+ broom medals on her

HD Namine’s only worthwhile if you have another good medal to support it. I wouldn’t suggest it for most f2p at this time.

Any idea what's supposed to be next for na? I wanna get more medals but i'm not sure if i want to wait or not.

Nobody really knows, man. I’d say save your jewels until something shows up you can’t resist. We don’t get many jewels in NAUX, so restraint is important.

Do we also benefit from the traits of Shared Medals?

Ye

Does that mean brooms replace magic mirrors on the boards?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ They’ll be at the end of boards, so maybe, maybe not.

Would you guys say the MDG tier 5 VIP medal is worth it? If guilted? Or are there going to be more VIP medal quests soon?

I’ll never suggest a VIP medal, as this is a f2p blog. They’re all good, strong medals. Most of them have been from JP High Score events, so don’t really know what medals are going to come into VIP.

I had a medal I was trying to add a trait to. Peter Pan 6*, gullted with 46% bonus. I evolved a 5* peter pan that already had one dot on it. I go a little pop up asking if I wanted to try and raise the percentage and that it'd go up between 20-50% and that it wouldn't drop below the current 46%. So I did it, the numbers pun but it stayed as 46%??? Is this a glitch??

There’s no guarantee that the guilt will go up, only that it won’t lower. The 20%~50% is the RANGE the guilt could end up. So it’s not 46%+(20%~50%), it’s 46%~50% (current%~max%). Peter Pan is a Tier 2 medal. Tier 2 medal’s guilt range is 20%~50%, which means it can never be more than 50% guilt.

Amiduos Lite didn't let me download the game; the google play store told me it wasn't compatible. :'( Is it worth trying the Pro one too in case something is backwards for me?

Hey, I downloaded AMIDuOS LITE and it said the version wasnt compatible. Is their a guide out there?

Try downloading NA KHUX via qooapps, be sure you have all 3 google store things downloaded or w/e. PRO didn’t work at all for me, but it’s a free trial, so doesn’t hurt to try.

Should I strengthen Moogle O'Glory and Cinderella's Keyblade the most I can? Like, 25+ or so. Thank you.

Yeah, you should get all your Keyblades to LV25. If you struggle with adamant, I suggest neglecting Starlight.

Is it possible to still get Moana/Maui medals? Beauty and Beast ones?

No. NAUX hasn’t had any event medals return yet, but JP has, so there’s a small chance they’ll be available again in the future. But definitely not right now.

I went ahead and did 10-pulls to get two copies of Illustrated Kairi 2 since people have mentioned how it's best to have her guilted for the proud quest missions. Will she be that much help during those missions though?

Set damage is niiiice against things with high LV, and with guilt rules on many of the Proud Quests, her PSM+/- can also give you a nice boost.

Hi there, a thought/question just occurred to me about traits. Do you know if have the extra attack trait on a booster medal would allow you to stack any stat gains? (E.g. essentially making a gen str +3 become +6)

Boosters with double attack double benefit, yes! It’s super OP on medals like iKairi1.

The app doesn't only crash when viewing profiles. It also crashes whenever the download for the new update is finished. Sucks af >.> Can't enter the game

Hello there! I tried coming back to KHUx after months, and it is not running in MEmu (android emulator) anymore. What happened? I could play it before....

The new update should have fixed most people’s crashing games. Emulators other than amiduos lite haven’t worked since... October or earlier? It’s an anti-hacking measure.

Apparently there was a secret reward for defeating (tapping) all the heartless on the download screen. Have you heard anything about this?

Sounds fake.

At this point in time i should just give up on ever seen the experiment 626 medal on naux since it was a tier 2 event medal that never came?

They’ve buffed event medal tiers in the past, so not completely out of the question he might show up eventually. Or not. Who knows.

to make up for the sins of not giving kairi as much development as she deserved, kairi's khux medals are Buffed so theyre Stronk (this is joke i have no idea why theyre doing this)

eyyyy, probably.

You should change your username to crossunion for the release of the new game!

yells nO D;

I am confused by the Fantasia Mickey medals, what do they do?

Fantasia Mickey A = use to evolve 5* to 6*, Fantasia Mickey B = get a multiplier dot.

Do more dots give you a higher percentage of a better guilt

No

Does using nova counts towards the multipliers of medals that get stronger the more special attacks used in succession, like sephiroth or xenmas?

I dunno, but probably. :0 It counts as a medal for everything else.

I was told that after I beat story quest 200 I will be able to use the Nova attack. I have passed this level now but I still have no Nova attack. Is there something I'm missing or is it a glitch in my game?

You need to actually have a medal guilted for a Nova attack (now it’s quest 34).

What are your thoughts on Magic Mirror usage? Would it be better to use Magic Mirrors to max out guilt on a bunch of medals that won't be used to get +5 to Nova or use them to max out guilt on a good medal that will only be used on a keyblade or two?

Will your Nova level drop if you sell your guilted medals?

Do you think it's worthwhile to spend one or two mirrors to top off a metal even if its teir 1/2 just to get the Nova bonus.

I prefer to just use them to get +5 Nova when something rolls 90% or better. Nova level will never decrease, you don’t lose it if you sell them. I’d suggest getting MAX guilt first, though. For Tier 1/2, if it’s less than 5 mirrors, probably wouldn’t hurt.

What does the raid boss up Perk do exactly? A party member had a +10 raid boss outfit and it took him 77-78 heartless killed to spawn a boss which is the usual amount. Don't tell me it increases the chances of regular bosses spawning over omegas.

I have no idea. I think it may provide a small random chance if it appearing w/o needing the actual heartless count. But it’s certainly not consistent. :T 

What is the difference between GD and PSM? Are they stackable?

It’s vague what the difference is, they’re roughly equivalent (Gen seems better for higher LV enemies and PSM better for lower LV enemies). They can definitely stack. Gen will boost any medal (that’s not set damage). PSM will only boost whatever element it is (Power, Speed, or Magic) and won’t affect type-neutral medals (Jack Skellington, Repliku, etc.)... but DOES affect type-strong medals (WOFF, Xigbar B, etc.) only with whatever element it’s strong against. (IE: Power+ will only boost Xigbar B if it’s against a Speed enemy.)

[blackkafka]

“But what's the point of post-racial When old prejudice remains? And that guy who killed that kid Down in Florida standing ground Is free to beat up on his girlfriend And wave his brand new gun around While some kid is dead and buried And laying in the ground With a pocket full of skittles”

Dear Little Brother,

Can you believe it's been five years already?  Time really does fly by.  You would have been 22 now.  I would like to tell you that in the time since your life was robbed from this world, that this country and society has progressed.  That we learned from the lessons of the past.That the nation grew and started to heal the wounds deep into our history.  But we haven't.  In some ways, most ways, we've taken steps back. You wouldn't believe  who's the President now!  It's still kinda crazy thinking about now. I cried the night of the election results.  We went from electing the first noticeably black president to one that is very much supported by white supremacists and white nationalists.  One that can publicly bend the truth in many ways not seen before in this country.  And he gets away with.  It's supposed to be payback. We're supposed to keep our mouths shut and deal with it. The next four years are going to be very long and tiring.  But we endure.

I started graduate school the fall of 2012.  It was the start of period of when I was depressed and overworked between work, jobs, and school.  And trying to figure out my identity and place in the world. It hurt when people would avoid sitting next to me on train, no matter how well I dressed, or how intellectual I looked.  Isn't the dream to have some cute girl sit next you, strike up a conversation, make a connection, and take it from there?  No such thing here.  It's kinda cringe worthy to think about this now.  Living in some fantasy world.  Or how much it hurt when the students I was supposed to go out of my way to help would be the same ones who would do a similar thing of avoiding sitting next to me on the shuttle from the parking lots.  I think this time it hurt more. Here are my comrades, here are the people are supposed to work with me, and who I work and advocate for and apparently it's better to stand than sit next to me? Okay.  Anger. Frustration. Sadness. And when I tried talking to someone who I considered a friend about how I was feeling, they redirected the conversation to themselves.  In retrospect, I probably should have gotten professional help.  But I fell into myself. And hid away.  As I always do and did.  Anyone who really knows me, and really I've only told a few people about this, the first one who I love in ways no one else will know, one who I always  will love, and another who I wish knew how much I care about him, knows that I've always had emotional issues growing up, to the fact I have made multiple attempts at my own life.  But hey, it's good to be absolutely horrible at something, right? Yet we endure.

These experiences made me rethink my blackness and what it meant to be black man in society.  I wasn't as comfortable in it as I am now.  Because I had avoided and ran from it for so long. I used to avoid listening to hip-hop/rap in public because I didn't want to seen as a certain way.  But really, what was I doing?  Why was I trying to be accepted by a world, by people who will never full accept me?  Why try to please the other so much?  You know they always tell you how you're an "Oreo" or how  you're not really "black."  As if blackness has only one facet, one aspect of it.  Because if you don't fit their little idea of what it means to be black, which is usually "ghetto" well then you're one of the good ones.  You speak like you're white. You listen to the same music. You like their movies, their literature.  Maybe you even date their women. You're one of them, until you're reminded that you're not. Because at the short slice, at the quick glance you are what you skin color says you are. You're tall, you're dark skinned.  And that carries weight.  It carries a presence. How you use it, the choice is yours. It’s a power unto your own.  For a while I didn't want to only be defined as this. That I'm more thank my race, my skin color.  I realized now how much internalized racism I had in me that prevented fully embracing who I was.  That this is a fundamental part of who I am, and it doesn't completely define me, but rather has helped formulate the framework in which I see, feel, hear, experience the world around.  The lens through which I am focused. The scanner darkly, so be it.

And you know, after you died, I didn't wear hoodies for almost half a year.  I don't even know if it was fully a conscious decision, but it happened.  I when I thought about it,the full weight hit me.  And I remember my dad warning to me watch myself, and me wanting to blow it off, that he didn't understand. Hubris, ain't it?  But it was really a reminder for him of the times that he grew up in, a reminder that maybe things hadn't really changed in the 50 years since he was kid.  And when I thought about it, really thought about it, it hit me.  And I fell even harder.  I remember when, during an abnormally warm Thanksgiving break, when the two verdicts arrived. And the riots.  And I cried again.  Humiliation. "If I die this instant/Taken from a distance/They would probably list it down/Among other things 'round town"  Thank you America.

From you a movement started.  A movement vilified, for a phrase that needs a "too."  Because time and time again, it is shown how much less our lives are worth to many, how we can be thrown aside.  Unless you are the coon, playing, and miming for them,falling into step, that's when they'll accept you. Chuckin and jivin.  Yessa sir. No ma'am.  Be their pretty little negro, the shining of example of what they should be. Do your part boy and keep your head down. But it's tiring being something you are not. Once they've used you up, they'll cast you aside.  And the struggle fights on.  The duality of our nature.  What it means to be black, and to be American.  Don't they know the purist things, strictly American, are our products?  Blues, Jazz, Rock, these are all black creations, lest we forget.  Made from our fire and fight. Forged through creation and love and anger. Tempered through passion and devotion.

My biggest fear, when it comes to children is how I will have to raise my sons, if I have any. Because black boys are hard to raise.  I cannot deny what my parents did for me helped in the long run, but damn, did it hurt.  Try accepting that, as a nine year old, that the people you want to trust, your very teachers, will think you don't belong, that you aren't capable of being in those advanced classes, that you have to try twice as hard as your white counterparts to succeed, because being good isn't enough.  You have to be the best, no exceptions. Giving it all isn't enough. Give more.  Pour yourself into your work until no one can think you don't belong. Show that you earned your spot, and it's not out of pity. Flawless from start to finish. It is unacceptable to settle. Push yourself. Endure. Push. Endure. Push. Endure. A modern day John Henry in the classroom.  Black boys, yes black boys. Are different.  You try teaching a kid to be hard.  To not take any shit  from the world. To be strong in the face of adversity, and hide and bury it all deep inside until it eats away at  your core.  But you have to be able to turn it off. To love the women in your life. To love the world around you.  And ultimately love yourself. It's really, really hard. To be a series of co-existing hypocrisies and contradictions. Which is why I'm so scared.  Because I don't know if I can do right by him.  I want  a better world for him, so he doesn't have to hate himself, and be happy, and make mistakes, and not be judged.  But that world doesn't exist.  So I will learn.  I read much more about feminism, and how it relates to me as a black man.  I'm still learning though, and will never stop. "“Rules and responsibilities: these are the ties that bind us. We do what we do, because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves. I will do what I have to do. And I will do what I must.”

Do you know what is like to see a black boy go soft?  It's the reason why I love Mahershala Ali so much: sure, he is handsome and classy, but watch the way he changes, how he pivots.  It's so beautiful. It's what I aspire to do myself. To put of this facade, but then change into something completely different within seconds.  When a black boy can go soft before you, watch the age fall away, watch the guard be let down.  It shows they trust you.  Don't take it for granted. I had a conversation where I was the older black guy talking to younger men, the one teaching, the one on his soapbox.  And it was so different from what I was used to. But in those moments, I gained brothers. I worry for them, to see them go through the same things I did, the same struggles. I hope the best for them, I will always love them with a special place in my heart.  Stay pure, stay true. Love yourself before anyone else.

I guess this is where I wrap things up, and say good-bye. I wish I knew you. I wish a person had just listened to what emergency services said, and maybe you'd still be alive today.  Black boys have to be perfect. They dragged you the way Hector was dragged around Troy.  Because if you are anything less than perfect, they will destroy you. Every little mistake, every folly, every blemish will be brought to fruition.  We will never be held to the same standards as them. We can't be stupid and make mistakes like white boys can because it is a matter of life and death.  A childhood robbed. An adulthood never seen. I hope, really hope, that one day I can look back at these things and these feelings and not have to worry about them. But that day isn't today, so it be. So it is. So it goes.

So long little brother.

[thesunglassesgamer]

The Talk, (Pt 3)

Part three of my current project. This is around the part where I started to have problems thinking of where the story should naturally go. Problems need to be answered, and I probably forgot some important details. The end of this part is ech, but it sets up better stuff later and fixes a story problems, so yeah. Anyways, comments, reviews, suggestions. Enjoy.

"That dumbass…" Jackie muttered to herself, now alone in the Diaz household's living room. She stood looking at the tiny note Marco had scrawled out for her in his hurry to leave. He'd left to go fight Ludo and try to get the book and the little glossary guy back. Alone. Despite the fact that Jackie had said that she'd go with him. And he'd taken the only working pair of Dimensional Scissors on Earth, so there was no way to go after him. Fucking wonderful.

Jackie sighed. She knew exactly why he'd gone alone. For months, Marco and Star had been tighter friends than anyone else. They walked together, talked together, ate together, fought monsters together, everything. There were several people who thought they were dating, and, at first, Jackie had been one of them. It was an incredibly personal "friendship" that the two kept. If Marco had felt that he'd hurt Star in any way, he'd hate himself until he, and only he, had fixed it. Jackie had almost straight out told him that Star didn't feel loved. She was kicking herself in the ass for not realizing what she'd done until too late.

It also didn't help that Marco's self-esteem was almost non-existent. The majority of their first date had been him freaking out and worrying that he'd somehow not be worthy of her. He'd outright said that he'd expected her to dump him. It had taken almost an hour for him to stop freaking out and just enjoy the moment. He'd gotten better since then, but not by much. He wasn't tense when they went out, and he smiled more. But after two weeks, it had become clear to Jackie that it was going to take a long time to help Marco overcome his self-loathing. He'd probably ran off to help himself feel worthy of Star's love as he'd done it to show her his own. Dumbass.

Jackie shook herself out of her examination of Marco's mental and emotional problems. She wasn't Doctor Jackie, PhD. She was Jackie Lynn Thomas, the girl who was going to save her boyfriend from what amounted to heroic suicide. Spending three whole paragraphs of standing around wasn't going to save him.

So, how was she going to get to another dimension without any special scissors, track down Marco, and help him defeat a magical evil bird? Simple. Ask Star.

A few seconds and three knocks later, Jackie was staring at Star's door. She hadn't gotten any response. She knocked again. The muffled voice of the (usually) lively princess said, "Go away." She sounded like a mess.

"It's me, Star!" Jackie yelled, banging on the door again. "I need to talk to you!"

Star didn't respond. Jackie let out a huff and opened the door, saying, "Come on, Star, it isn't that ba-" The sight before her made her speechless.

It was hard to take in the entire spectacle due to how low the lighting was. Only a few candles lit the room, but they allowed Jackie to see the atrocity of room design Star had committed. The entire room was painted with only two colors: Red and Black. Small poems with names like "Pain", "Desire", and "Bitter Love" lay around the bedroom floor. Posters with teenagers posed with enough angst to start crappy bands in their basements littered the walls. The phrase "Love is Pain" was painted across the wall, overlapping some posters. Star herself was buried beneath a pile of pillows, apparently lying limp on the bed. The drama of it all almost made Jackie hurl.

"Uh, Star?" Jackie asked, awestruck. "What the hell?"

Star didn't look up. She simply deadpanned, "I am become death."

"Wrong phrase, but close enough," Jackie replied, still confused. "But that's not what I meant. I mean you usually don't act this… emo. Even when you're normally upset."

Star shrugged. "I'm a magical princess alien from another dimension who's been spending almost every waking second with Marco. And I STILL got fucking beat out by the popular girl." She glared up at Jackie. "I think I've got a pretty good reason to mope."

"Star, I haven't replaced you, Marco himself sa-"

"Jackie, stop," Star interrupted. She looked venomously at Jackie. "I can live with you being his girlfriend, I really can. But I can't stand being treated like a five-year-old. People have done that to me for years, and I'm sick of it. You won, don't try to pity me."

Jackie let out a huff of irritation. "Who are you right now? Marco is about to get himself killed just to prove that he wasn't full of shit when he told you that he loved you. And here you are, wallowing with enough self-pity to make a whole new Twilight series."

Star's emotional rollercoaster hit the decline into anger and she pushed herself up to look Jackie right in the eyes. "You don't know the-" Then her face went blank. "Wait, what did you say about Marco?"

Jackie's anger, born from irritation, came out in her voice as she scolded, "He ran off to try and get your stupid book and glossa-whatever. He's probably going to die unless you get up off your sorry ass and HELP ME SAVE HIM!"

Star looked at Jackie with big eyes. "You're really mad right now. Like, really weirdly mad."

Jackie wanted to scream at Star. She covered her face with her hands and muffled a scream instead. It was just so frustrating to deal with Star that she, she… realized that Star was right. Jackie never got angry. Never. Upset, sometimes, but not screaming in outrage. She took a few seconds to stare at her hands before looking up with almost the same expression that Star had: dumbfounded revelation.

"Uh, I, um, yes, you are correct. I, um, yes." Jackie coughed awkwardly. "Sorry. Just…"

"Yeah, no, I, uh, get it." Star looked around the room, taking it all in as though it was the first time she'd seen it. "I really, really get it."

"Well, it looks like Marco brings out the best in all of us," a smooth, sarcastic voice echoed from the doorway. Both girls jumped up, yelling profane language. They turned around to see the demon-prince Tom, dressed in clothes that looked like they came straight out of Hot Topic. He grinned mischievously at both of them. "Hi, Starship," he said gallantly, "and Hi, J… ackie? Is that it?"

Both girls stared at the demon for a full five seconds. Then Star's face went flat. "Tom, what the hell are you doing here?"

Tom's smile turned coy, but then relaxed casually. "Well, originally, I was going to ask Marco if I could borrow his computer for a few days. Mine broke during a game of Karate Kickers 5 after I lost 12 matches in a row." Tom clenched his hand and closed his eyes. "Patience is a virtue when it comes to owning expensive material goods, apparently." Then he clapped his hands, opened his eyes, and continued, announcing, "But then I come here, overhear that my best enemy has gone MIA, and that you two have no way of getting him back. Correct?"

Jackie blinked at the thing in front of her. With nothing else to say, she nodded and said, "Uh, yeah, sure."

Star was much more conservative than her human counterpart. Experience with Tom had made her wary. "Maybe. Why do you care?"

Tom blinked. "He's the closest thing to a friend I have. I need that asshole back to hang out and fight with."

Jackie looked at Tom. He seemed genuine, despite him being a demon. And after all, she didn't want to judge some being just on its species. That'd be racist. Or something similar. Probably. She nudged Star and gave her a reaffirming nod.

Star was still hesitant. "You aren't going to ask for anything else?"

Tom looked hurt. "Ouch. I've gotten over you, Starship. I've got someone else in mind now. Don't worry, I just want Marco back."

Star wasn't sure, but Jackie was. With everything that'd happened over the past two weeks, Star had come to realize that her opinion was probably better than her own. "Alright, let's go."