Out Of Curiosity...

Dick Grayson's unmatched success as a child vigilante makes a lot more sense when you remember the Court of Owls was a thing and that Dick was meant to be the next Grey Son.

There is no way that someone at Haly's Circus wasn't there keeping an eye on him while he grew up. A future weapon needs to be trained and monitored after all, and a circus, a place where weird skills are completely normal, is actually a great place to secretly train a child.

You know, just some knife tricks that translated really well into actual fighting. How to get out of restraints and pick locks while under a time limit. Death defying acrobatic stunts that coincidentally do wonders for parkouring. That sort of thing. Nothing that seems out of place for a boy growing up around circus performers to learn, but would literally any where else.

I mean, while I fully believe that most kids would want to kill the man responsible for their parents deaths, Dick was weirdly prepared to go through it. He tracked down Zucco with way more ease than any normal child should have too. He became the first child vigilante, for goodness sake. The first Robin! He only started getting formal training after he basically forced Bruce into it!

Bruce himself has no idea that this kind of competency in a child is unusual, considering he was much too blinded by the similarities between his and Dick's tragic orphanhoods.

Alfred is in a similar boat because he’s desensitized to weird children after he somehow managed to successfully raise Bruce 'The Batman' Wayne, so he doesn't clock the hyper-competency as abnormal either.

By the time the other batkids start popping up (Jason 'The Audacity' Todd, borderline-street rat with no fear) (Tim 'the greatest stalker in Gotham history' Drake, child genius, also bullied his way into becoming Robin) (Barbara 'raised by the only uncorrupt cop in gotham' Gordon) (Stephanie 'daddy issues and spite' Brown) (Duke 'Pretends he's the normal one and people believe him' Thomas) it's too late.

It would also explain how Dick got along so well with Damian out of all of them. Similar childhood with different approaches and all that. On some subconscious level, Dick recognises and resonates with the murderous ten year old assassin with strong familial ties to a secret elite assassin organization.

It isn't until after the whole Court of Owls and Grey Son reveal that suddenly Dick realises a whole lot of things about his childhood that suddenly make a lot more sense.

Arla Fett is rescued from a Death Watch transport by a tiny Padawan Kenobi and adopts him on the spot, unilaterally deciding that she will be accompanying her boi on all missions in order to loom ominously behind him during negotiations and eliminate any perceived threats to his safety (and happiness) with prejudice

she ignores Qui-Gon Jinn's existence entirely

My most famous thing ig Bat inco quotes

Roy: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. Jason: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the GCPD.

Dick: Ladies, gentlemen and Dami, I want to show you the greatest thing your eyes have ever beheld! Damian: A cat? Dick: No. Damian: A kitten? Dick: No! Damian: A kitten with a little hat on? Dick: NO! Damian: Consider me uninterested

Barbara: I’m not like other girls. I’m way, way worse.

Jason: Come on, B! How any times do I have to apologize? Bruce: Once! Jason: ...No.

Jason: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration* Roy, trying to focus on a project: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table? Jason: I— Jason: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

Kon: I'm sorry. Please talk to me. Tim: Kon: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure? Tim: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&Ms.

Tim: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

Duke: Okay, who's turn is it to give the pep talk? Dick: It's Cass' turn. Cass: Don't die. Dick, wiping a tear away: Truly inspirational.

Jon: Fight me! Damian, standing behind him and holding a knife: *mouths* Do not.

*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one* Bruce: I will not let you down. Steph: Sounds fun. Cass: K. Jason: No, I'm fucking not. Tim: Do I have to be? Dick: Please God, I am so tired.

Steph: I dare you- Dick: Jason is not allowed to accept dares anymore. Steph: Why not? Jason: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.

Bruce: Tim, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Tim: No, it’s mine. Bruce: It... looks just like the one I have... Tim: You don’t have one like this anymore.

Damian, eating a meal: I poisoned one of our glasses… but I forgot which one. Jason: The way this dinner is going, I pray to God that it’s mine.

Steph: I think we can be evil. As a treat. Cass: We? Steph: We. :)

Tim: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. Jason: Okay? Tim: … Tim: … Tim: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so—

Dick: Litte Wing, it’s a shooting star, let’s make a wish! Robin!Jason: I wish for good grades. Dick: Nerd. Jason: Nevermind, I wish upon the shooting star to fall down at a 30° velocity aiming for Dick. :) Dick: Jason…

Jason: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

(anyway wrote my post-war codywan fic where gets to find himself and be debrainwashed while coming to terms with the role Obi-Wan/Jedi-Order played in the enslavement of his brothers with a happy ending)

Working Pains Summary: It has been two years since the Clone Wars ended. Two years since Cody has had a proper conversation with his General. But in between extensive therapy, deconditioning, and learning to be an actual person, Cody doesn't know where Obi-Wan Kenobi fits in that.

(Un)fortunately, when a Jedi led peace treaty with former Separatist territories fails spectacularly, Cody gets the opportunity to close up loose ends.

or

Obi-Wan almost dies, and predictably Cody finds himself by his side.

----

Fox is waiting for him when he gets to the hospital. And Force is the place a mess. 

To put it mildly, the hospital waiting room is a complete shit show. To put it accurately, Cody hasn’t seen chaos like this since he was in a medical wing during the clone wars.  Behind the reception, doctors run like fire licks their feet through the halls, rubber soles squeaking against polished floors.  Nurses call out orders like commanders on the battlefield, shouts slicing through the disorder in the waiting room. Droids console families who sit helplessly to hear the news of their loved ones. 

(Cody fights the innate urge to help. But he’s not that man anymore.)

The Clone Wars may be over, but Cody hasn't moved on enough to let droids hold his hand while he cries. Not just any droid, after least.

Instead Fox sits beside him, briefing–telling him what news he's heard.

A surprise attack in hyperspace. Over a thousand dead, more injured. A Jedi led peace attempt in former Separatist territory that turned bad real quick. Tale as Old as fucking Time, and if Cody’s heart wasn't beating in his throat, he would have chuckled.

And the icing on the cake–the failure was led by none other than Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

(He remembers where he was and who was with when Fox had commed him just that name three hours ago. Laying in bed against Rex as they watched a holo about loth cats, Boil asleep on the opposite chair. Jesse the most awake of them all, texting back and forth with someone on his datapad. 

He remembers how the mention of his former General had been enough to take him from the Company of his brothers, brothers who had held his hand through hours of therapy, through the realization that he had been brainwashed and used. 

That he had fought for a Republic who used him and abused him, and that the Jedi had led them still. That Obi-Wan had done little to save him.  They had been there as he came to that ugly, painful revelation. They had been there with him as he put space between himself and the Master. 

And yet, the last he saw of them was the disappointment when he threw caution to the wind to come to said Jedi’s side. Force, he hoped they didn’t hate him after this.)

Who is supposedly amongst the injured. 

This is supposedly one of the better hospitals, though. In a higher, more affluent level of Coruscant. Fox has assured him of this.  Still it begs the question-

“Why not the temple? Wouldn’t they know how to help him?” It’s been an hour and Cody is tired of sitting. 

He stands, arms crossed as he begins to pace.  Across the room a woman screams, her shrills erupting into inconsolable sobs. Both Fox and Cody wince. It hurts them all particularly more than a human woman would. Kel Dor have a knack for doing that. 

 Clearly the medical droid is not doing its job. 

“Overwhelmed,” Fox supplies, chipped, “Kenobi was awake enough to request that the more injured be taken to the Temple–Jedi and non-Jedi alike. The Temple obliged”.

Cody wants to scream. It was clearly a ruse.  The man was certainly the most injured of them all. How could they not see it? Two years apart from Obi-Wan and Cody could pick out his General’s tricks blindfolded. Did they know how many times he insisted his men be treated before him? How many times he’d lie to the 212th medics about his injuries just so the clones were being treated first?

Obi-Wan would give his blood to an orphanage if he was bleeding out. 

“He'll be okay, Cody.” Fox is meticulously calm, as if sensing Cody’s distress.  It's been practiced. Fox two years ago would have lost his absolute shit. Quinlan Vos was on the mission too. 

“If I were with him, he'd…” he breathes in deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. Old habits die hard. Conditioning even harder. 

He is not the Jedi’s or the Republic. He made that clear when he left GAR. When he distanced himself Obi-Wan. 

That chapter has been long closed. And therapy made him realize just how fucked up his head was. Marshall Commander Cody, the most fucked up of them all. The most loyal.

Finding himself after that involved time with his brothers. And consequently, his relationship with Obi-Wan had suffered. 

And Obi-Wan had been very sparse in reaching out to his men after. At least Cody. He'd put up his walls, fallen into the mold of the perfect “Jedi Master”, lack of attachments and all.

(If the clones felt the Jedi used them, maybe the Jedi felt the clones tainted them. Weapons that drew them to the Dark Side. Maybe the feelings was mutual. Or maybe that’s how Kenobi was before the war). 

“The desk is clear,” Fox indicates to the clerk, who runs a hand through her tight curls, “Let’s go.” 

Cody wastes no time in crossing the distance between the vast space of the desk and the clerk.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,”  he manages before she can even collect herself, “we’re here for him. He’s the General–The Master–” 

“The Jedi? Yes, he's recently gotten out of surgery. No visitors yet, name?”

At a time, he had been on Obi-Wan’s list of emergency contacts. Especially as the war waned. He hopes their time apart hasn't ruined that. If so, he has Fox. And all his ties to the government. 

“Cody, CC-2224” he provides, urgently, “I'm–was his Commander–during the–” The underpaid clerk raises her hand, and directs them behind the rooms. 

“You're on the list. I think we called you like five times, but you didn't answer."  He swallows thickly. He had seen the number on his comm. He had an inkling about who it was for. But he just didn't pick up. He couldn't bring himself to. And then Fox called. 

"Here's the room number.” She gives a breakdown of the directions and the maps that makeup the hospital. Visiting hours are defined, but Cody thinks that with the chaos, they’ll be extended.  She ushers another family to the desk as she finishes with him. 

Fox is able to walk him through the hospital layout sans the map. His time in the Corries saw him through these walls one too many times, as both an escort and patient. 

Cody doesn’t think he could focus on the map if he tries. His hands are shaking, his breathing is uncharacteristically unsteady. Shaking like he’s stepping back onto the battlefield for the first time. 

– 

There’s less chaos on Obi-Wan’s floor. But still, it has been touched by the disarray from the waiting room. His room isn’t even private, most likely due to the lack of beds.  And as far as Cody can tell, there’s at least one other patient in there, separated by a curtain. 

Within the first few seconds of finding the room, Cody looks everywhere but where he should. He takes note of the window. The curtains are open, and the vibrant lights of Coruscant’s nightlife infiltrate the hospital room. He pays attention to the ambiance, the cycling of the machines, the steady rise and fall of his chest,  a forced atmosphere of peace clashing against this war that still drags the Jedi into it. 

Against whatever the hell is going on in Cody’s heart. 

Fox says something behind him, gently coaxing him into the room. Automatically the soft lights illuminate the space. Cody had hoped they wouldn’t do that. It was easy to make out the outline of Obi-Wan’s body in the dark, helped by the lights from the window.

Now he has to look at him. 

He remembers the last conversions had with Obi-Wan. Bits and pieces, his mind clinging onto them like oxygen. Stretching them out until this very moment. 

“I’m sorry, Gen—Obi-Wan I haven’t been in touch, things have just been happening.”

How does one explain that ‘things’ are extensive therapy, working through years of brainwashing and mind control? Realizing that the man you loved the most  and his entire Order sat near the pinnacle of that. 

“I understand. These things take time. Please Cody, let me know if you need anything.”

Though despite the anxiety, despite the confusion. He still loves this man, he still wants him safe. And he knows danger follows Obi-Wan Kenobi wherever he goes. 

“Be safe, General.”“It’s just Obi-Wan, Cody. I am not, and never should your General. And if that’s too familiar, Master Kenobi will suffice for me.” 

How long was that? 6 months ago? 12 months ago? Two years ago? What had he lost in the time he tried to reclaim himself? Tried to find himself.

Who had he cut loose when he shed the skin of Commander Cody of the 212? 

Obi-wan had answered then with some sort of sad resignation that Cody couldn’t pinpoint. Like they wouldn’t see each other again. He wonders now if Obi-Wan had sensed his inner turmoil. Kriff, of course he did. He was a Jedi. 

That’s why he never reached out. Why he stopped when Cody stopped.

Suddenly  he’s crying like a child when this starts to hit him. 

The confusion of it all. The suddenness. He could have lost Obi-Wan, and he doesn’t know if that would make him feel better. It might make him feel worse. 

Sobs and sobs rock his body.  He didn't feel sad when he came in. He was anxious, yes. But sad? No, not at all. He hoped they could talk.

He acknowledges that this is a lot from him too. He hasn’t been on a battlefield for two years. He hasn’t seen an injured man like this since the clone wars ended. 

Fox leads him to a comfortable chair, and places a gentle hand on his back. He’s glad he doesn’t ask questions. Fox isn’t like the others who lose their mind at the sound of Cody crying. He’s the eldest, supposed to keep them together. But Fox lets him be the baby. 

As he revels in Fox’s comfort, he’s shocked to realize the absence of company. 

It occurs to him then that Obi-Wan doesn’t really have many people to visit him. His relationship with Anakin Skywalker was infamously laughable. Ahsoka Tano had remained a distance from the Temple even after everything. The Council was spread across the galaxy, keeping peace without an army. 

The Order was busy. Fighting wars the Jedi should have left ages ago. Cody thinks sadly to himself that they should have taken their Jedi with them. They could have sorted out the logistics later on.  

Oh Force, he thinks, did I…did I leave him alone? Mustering all the strength in the world, he forces himself to look at Obi-Wan. 

 He doesn’t like what he sees. 

Obi-wan looks pale. Almost as pale as a Kaminoan. According to the briefing from Fox, it wasn’t the burns that landed him on a stretcher. Though his body is covered in enough bacta to challenge that.  It was the smoke inhalation and the blunt force trauma to his head apparently. 

Cody remembers their many conversations with Obi-Wan about complex relationship with armor, and his fear when his General had stopped using it. The boys of the 212 had made bets about when Obi-Wan would end up in a body cast. 

And while he’s in no body cast now, It looks like life has finally collected that toll.  

Cody is almost terrified by how well he’s able to fall into the role of a vigilant commander. After the tears have dried, and the fog has cleared, he pulls the chair closer to the bed and breathes. 

—

Fox disappears when the sun rises, excuses himself behind the curtain. He tells Cody that despite the curtain being closed, there's no one behind it and that he needs some space to work.  Cody assumes he's left to do some Senate work on his datapad, or whatever Fox does to keep himself busy nowadays. He leaves with a gentle press against Cody's forehead, promising him he'll return.

At some point the doctor comes in to check Obi-Wan's vitals, and explains to Cody what procedures were done. He lets him know the Jedi will be there to collect their councilmen within the next few hours where he will likely undergo extensive Force healing for the mental strain he apparently suffered. 

He shoots a quick message to Rex, who he left alone when Fox came to collect him. He thinks Rex may understand what he’s going through, though he’ll never say it aloud. They all know that Rex spends enough time loitering around the secured cells in the upper levels Coruscant to visit his old General. 

(Rex doesn’t know Cody knows this though. That just like everyone who’s had the displeasure of meeting Anakin Skywalker, they still see some good in him.)

He groans after Rex shoots back a thousand question marks, even tries to comm him. He rushes to silence his comm, not wanting to wake the patient whose eyes have already started fluttering behind closed lids. 

Its a futile attempt, because before he knows it,  the bed’s  occupant is stirring faster than he would have liked him to. 

“Cody?” 

It’s been two years, and yet a  million years would not have prepared him for their eventual meeting. 

What does one say? 

“Sorry Sir–Obi-Wan, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He settles for an apology. Force, they could have been in their tents again. Commander and General.  It’s so natural to fall back into old habits. Comforting and terrifying all at once. 

For his part, Obi-Wan pushes himself up with his elbows, rising slightly so he can look Cody in the eyes. His blue eyes are wide, confusion radiating throughout his expression.  And then, his gaze softens, and his brows furrow in guilt. 

“Oh you’re not supposed to be here.” He says the first part gently, more to himself than to Cody, “ I apologize, I meant to remove you from my emergency contacts.” For some reason, that hurts. Cody swallows, feeling a familiar thickness in his throat. 

“Life  must be getting difficult for you, Master Kenobi, if you’re starting to fall behind on administrative tasks. You used to be on-top of that during the war.” He returns the comment with a formality of his own, though he means for it to soften the blow as well. If this is hard for him, it must be hard for Obi-Wan too. 

In response the Jedi chuckles, coughing as he does so. Cody fights the urge to lean over and caress him. You are not his Commander, anymore. You are not his. He is not yours. 

“Well, the adjustment from General to Jedi Master has had its ups and downs. Sometimes the details get lost in the translation,” he offers with a smile, his blue eyes scanning the clone. Cody can feel the full extent of the Force upon him, probing him unprompted. He’d learned early on in his service that this was normal for the Jedi. Just as easily as they used their eyes to see, and their voices to speak, they used the Force to scan everything and everyone. 

It is their way of communication. 

Cody may have put up some boundaries when he left the army, but this is not one of them. He lets Obi-wan in easily. The Jedi feels him out, his Force touch light and airy. Ticklish almost. “You really don’t have to be here Cody.” Obi-Wan says, more seriously now, letting his body fall back onto the bed, “ You can go, I will be alright. I’ll have your contact information removed after this.” 

The warmth of his touch is gone. It sends Cody into a momentary spiral. He didn’t expect this coldness, this lack of familiarity. The sudden end to their very impromptu beginning. There is so much he still wants to do. To say. 

He can’t stop the words that escape his lips next. 

“That no-attachment clause sure has come in handy now, hasn’t it.”

It’s a vile kick in the gut, to throw something as sacred as the Code in the Jedi’s face. Obi-Wan jerks himself up, eyes wide. His machine beeps loudly. He looks dumbstruck, as if Cody has just slapped him across the face. Hard.

Cody knows in that moment his General recalls the late evenings they sat alone together, talking for hours about the Force, about the Order. About what it meant to Obi-Wan, about how the galaxy wide bastardization of his Order, his family, had hurt him more than he let off.

How the Force--The Order--had been there for Obi-Wan at his lowest. That this "emotionless order of monks" had saved him from himself time and time again. 

How many times had Obi-Wan dragged a broken, shell shocked  Cody into his quarters, forcing him onto his bed to meditate. How many times had Cody spoken the words 'I am one with the Force and the Force is with me' as Obi-wan calmed him after a gruesome battle, shielded him from the sharp pain of immeasurable loss. How many times had the Force been there for Cody, orchestrated through Obi-Wan? 

Cody knows Obi-Wan recalls these moments because the clone does as well. And now, his guilt strengthens. 

“Excuse me?” He grits out, wincing, “You’re the one who wanted nothing to do with us.” 

Cody recoils.

“Its…not that simple.” He manages, barely above a whisper. 

In these past few months, he’s found himself saying this a lot. To his brothers, when they ask if he still cares about Obi-Wan. To his therapist, asking what he needs to move forward from what happened to him. To himself, when he looks at his reflection and wonders how he got to where he is now. 

The Force is back, cautiously ebbing around Cody’s field. Hesitant as the former commander lets him in. 

Gently, Obi-Wan speaks, “You were resistant to me in the Force, and cold whenever I was around you. I know what The Republic–what we did to you–I’m not an idiot Cody. I knew you wanted your space away from me.”

Cody cannot meet his eyes. He feels ashamed. And confused. As if the consequences of his actions are now coming to tear him into pieces. But he shouldn’t feel this way, right? He wanted this, right?  

“I don’t…” Cody deflates and throws his head into his hands. This is what he was dreading. His mind is still a mess of commands, of order, of questions, of anxiety. This is like exposure therapy, his trigger and his love all bound in one.

Through the gaps in his fingers, he looks at Obi-Wan lying in a hospital bed, bandages on his arms and head. 

Made to protect a galaxy that would have had his kind murdered if it hadn’t been for the discovery of the chips (and even that happened too late. Both have the saber and blaster scars to prove it). He thinks of Obi-Wan who threw himself into battle to save his men, who placed himself between Cody and a bullet to make sure his Commander made it out alive. 

Who approached him after Order 66 to make sure he was okay. 

Cody is flooded with thundering guilt.  Was all this worth then? If he feels this way about Obi-Wan? What will he tell Rex? What will he tell Boil? He’s supposed to set an example. He’s supposed to be the one who breaks free. What will he be telling his brothers if he goes back? “Cody–Cody, breath!” How Obi-Wan found the time to leave his bed and pull up a chair that had been on the other side of the room in the span of two seconds, Cody does not know. All he knows is that he’s enveloped in Obi-Wan’s physical and not so physical embrace, breathing deeply as tears cascaded down his face. 

“I thought I wanted that, Sir. And part of me is still finding out what all I want, but I know that I haven’t felt the way I just did when you touched me with the Force in a very long time. And I think that no matter how I feel about you,  if you died today, I would have lost my kriffing mind.” He admits through tears,  “so that counts for something, I guess. But I don’t know what that means for me.” 

“Healing is not linear, Cody. I,” Obi-Wan falters, “I still have not spoken to Anakin. I still have not forgiven Qui-Gon, but I would never regret my time with them. And when I am ready, I hope to embrace my padawan again. I say this to let you know that should you never want to see me after this, I will accept that. But I will always be here, waiting for you to return Cody. Be it in this life, or when we are both one with the Force.” 

Cody balls, sobbing loudly as he clings onto Obi-Wan. He nods, the coil in his stomach unfurling. He wonders if it is Obi-Wan’s doing. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about the Code. I'm sorry for everything,” he breathes, pulling himself together, “I am usually not like this.” “None of that Cody, you have nothing to apologize for. The fault is ours. The Order should have done more for you and your siblings,” he states, fingers running through Cody’s hair, “I had hoped that by staying away we were doing that, but I suppose we should let you choose how we interfere.” 

(He wants to tell him that this isn’t the case for all Jedi. Plo Koon tried the silent treatment, and Wolffe, Boost and Sinker apparently cornered him outside of his suite in the Jedi temple.) 

“Clones getting a choice,” Cody chuckles through his tears, “what an amazing concept.” 

Obi-Wan hums, fingers still twisting in Cody’s curls. Cody is more comfortable than he thought he’d be. He welcomes Obi-Wan’s touch just as he did the Force. “Obi-wan, I want to be with you. It won’t be easy, but neither was the war. And we both survived, somewhat.” The tears have stopped now, and he finds both his footing and his voice. Gently, he untangles himself from Obi-Wan’s arms and adjust himself so that he captures those blue eyes with his own. 

“I think we can win this too. If you’ll be patient with me. I am still…healing, as you put it. They did a lot to us in Kamino, and to put it frankly my brain is fucked. And a lot of that was before the war. I will not be easy to be with.” “My padawan is Anakin Skywalker who nearly turned Sith during the war, I don’t think the Force wants me to be with easy people. And I don’t want to either. Besides, I was willing to not speak to you for two years. I will be as patient as you need me to be, Cody.” 

“If you’re comparing me to the two second Sith, then we’re off to a bad start.” Obi-Wan erupts into laughter. Genuine laughter. Laughter so hard, he begins to tear up. Though Cody is somewhat hesitant to credit the humor alone for the tears. Maybe Obi-Wan needs an excuse of his own. 

“Who’s idea was that nickname?” “It was Jesse’s, but now most of the 501st has adopted it.  While half of the galaxy calls him Vader, the 501st calls him the two second Sith. I think it’s how they cope.” Cody joins in, reveling in the ridiculousness of it. 

Leave it to the 501st and their General to be the much needed comic relief.

In between their laughter, and their tears, they lean forward, foreheads brushing against the other.

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

(Sometime later, when Obi-Wan has fallen back to sleep, and the Jedi have come to collect their council member, Cody stands to collect Fox from behind the screen. It’s time they both go home. 

He nearly screams when he pulls back the fabric and sees Fox sheepishly bury his head into the mass of hair that is Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. 

He doesn’t even want to ask how much the latter heard. )

sometimes i say things on twitter and then make a little graph about it

i've said before that i love the english teacher jason todd headcanon but a similar one i think is very much overlooked is art teacher damian. in fact, i don't think i've ever seen it before. but i think it would be AWESOME hahaha

Damian: *carrying a large box* occasionally, my own sophisticated vernacular does not do justice to a situation . . . so to paraphrase one of my students . . . this sucks ass Jon: *grabs box, then raises brows* i was going to tease you for that . . . but yeah. this thing is freakin' heavy. what is this??? damian: *looking EXTREMELY tired* clay. for my students to make . . . sculputes out of. jon: *weary* why the hesitation? damian: more often than not their sculptures are more bomb than sculpture. jon: . . . ah. how does that work exactly? damian: *staring into the distance* now why would i trust you with the knowledge of how to make a bomb, jonathan.

Damian: welcome to class, students. today we will be participating in one of my personal favorite mediums, painting student: what do we paint? damian: anything but batman. i know you enjoy memorializing vigilantes in your art, but he angered me last night and as such the sight of him would sicken me students: one brave soul: what did he do? daminan: *straight-faced* he ate the last of the peanut butter in the pantry and failed to buy a new jar. now, for the paintings--

jason: *groaning, head resting on the papers strewn over his table* god, my students are so dumb damian: *framing and hanging up art pieces gifted to him by his students* i cannot say i relate, todd jason: *under his breath* fuck you too

damian: *peering over jason's shoudler at grading jason is doing* what is all this? the red marker? jason: *chugging coffee like its a shot* mistakes i have to correct for them damian: *frowns* that is a lot of mistakes. jason: how 'bout you? how'd your students do on their assignment? damian: well, jenn forgot that we'd moved on from abstracts, so her landscape appears as if it has stepped foot out of a picasso rather than the monet it should have been, but i have graded her with the abstract scale rather than the realism given that it was a simple mistake. her usage of tones and textures impressed me, and while the expressionism and irrealism is slightly off-putting in a landscape, i have found it quite pleasing to the eye. jason: i have no fucking clue what you just said but okay

Characters' train of thought explained through mycro expressions

Well, I say explained, but just hear me out.

It occurred to me just now that I was making one of my silly posts, that they way Sherlock and John react to Sally Donovan's words might reflect something that I hadn't previously considered.

Up until this point in ASiP, John has just met Mrs. Hudson, with whom Sherlock seems to be so close, and her first thought was not only that he and Sherlock were romantically involved, but that they were already serious enough to be moving in together.

Then, there's Sally Donovan. She calls Sherlock a freak, so from here on, it must be obvious to John they're not in good terms.

Sherlock then remarks Sally didn't make it home the previous night, and Sally knows he's right; furthermore, she knows why she didn't make it home; she was with Anderson, with whom she is actually romantically involved, but presumably, she doesn't want to give Sherlock, the man she constantly ridicules, the power to ridicule her back over Anderson, so she tries to prevent Sherlock from going any further with his deductions by deflecting to John and the reason he's there.

Sherlock proceeds to introduce John by his professional title, "Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson", because he's eager to show off his association with him, something I have previously theorised about in this post, but Sally doesn't care about that, now does she?

"Colleague? How do you get a colleague?" she asks then, and the question is obviously meant to imply Sherlock is so utterly unbearable that no one would want to be around him, but it serves another purpose too. By teasing Sherlock about his involvement with John, she can easily deflect from her own involvement with Anderson.

Now, let's see the boys' reactions to the question again, shall we?

Sherlock turns his head and rolls his eyes because he's obviously offended, but he's already used to it; after all, Sally is hardly the first person to treat Sherlock this way, but John, John frowns as if offended on Sherlock's behalf because at this point, neither Sally nor Mycroft have warned him about Sherlock being... well, Sherlock yet. It is then that Sally adds...

Sherlock lowers his head, once he finally gets what Sally is implying. It is true that Sherlock doesn't know that she spent the night with Anderson yet, but just the fact that she was out all night might suggest she spent it with someone, and now she might be asking if John followed Sherlock home for the exact same reason.

Thing is, at this point, they have just met each other, and they seem to be getting along. This doesn't happen to Sherlock that often, and he must know John is special, which is the reason he invited him along in the first place. Why would a man who is said to have no friends and who once said "Alone protects me" would immediately ask John to live with him and work with him within 24 hours of having met him if he wasn't the exception to the rule? I can only imagine how badly Sherlock wants to be the exception to the rule for John as well, and how scared he might be of driving him away; after all, he's learned from everyone else around him that he's a freak, that he puts everyone off, that he's meant to be alone, and he doesn't want John to see him in that light because he wants him to stay.

Sally's comments have effectively made John question why he's even there. He rolls his eyes and prompty suggests it might be better if he waits outside, but that's not all there is to it.

Why would John suggest that? He could have just ignored Sally's question, but instead, he reacts just like he did when Mrs. Hudson ("Of course we'll be needing two"), and Angelo ("I'm not his date") implied he and Sherlock were a couple, by retreating. Sherlock can't be happy about this, but he reacts like he did before too, by ignoring the situation and bringing John along anyway. He can deal with Donovan later.

The opportunity presents itself when they come across Anderson, and it takes Sherlock less than a second to deduce by his deodorant that he is the person with whom Sally spent the night, which is then confirmed by their reactions.

So this little remark...

This was payback. If Sally really thought she could make him look inadequate in front of John, well then she'd better take a look at her own choice of companionship first. Inappropriate and immature, sure, but so was Sally Donovan's behavior from the start.

So we're finally in, and who do we have next? Ah, Lestrade! Kind, and unassuming Detective Inspector Lestrade, who mirrors Sally's question upon seeing John, but Sherlock is having none of this.

Translation: "I'm not doing this again. This is nobody's business but our own. He's here, he's with me, and I intend to keep him, so would everyone please back off?"

I may be wrong, but I think that ultimately, this might be at least part of the reason Sherlock doesn't respond when they are interrogated about the nature of their relationship. Why bother when it's obvious to him people don't know the first thing about them? This is them, this is the two of them against the rest of the world, this is private, this is their life together, this is what they are to each other and Sherlock will have no one question it or ridicule it, let alone trying to understand it.

Almost 12 years later, and here I am, trying to question it, and trying to understand it, but that's neither here, nor there.

"Fantasy"

There’s a world between the day and the night,

Where armies of darkness battle guardians of light,

Where weak and wounded, the smallest stand strong,

Alone and outnumbered, yet they still soldier on.

A world of ‘what-if’s and ‘what-might-have-been’s,

Where we rise and we fall, and get back up again.

It holds far-off futures, long-ago pasts,

And all of humanity in a looking-glass.

A world conceived in thought, and shaped with words,

Where our yearnings, where our dreams, catch fire and burn,

Where valor and honor hold their heads high,

And rallying, we turn the darkest of tides.

The dark that dwells here is loathsome and fierce,

But by the slightest of sparks is stricken and pierced,

One truth dealing death to thousands of lies,

Goodness will conquer, beauty will survive.

We hold this world close, deep within our hearts,

It’s too tender a dream to bear harsh remarks,

It’s our work of art, it’s our own story,

Our creation, our comfort, just a fantasy.

I've dabbled in poetry. I'm not very good, but I thought this was ok.