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“I haven’t given up hope. There are good guys still out there.”

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a Sonny Carisi’s face appreciation post.

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law and order svu as vines

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Sonny Carisi •  Law & Order SVU Sneak Peek  19x15 - “In Loco Parentis”

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A tall cinnamon roll.

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This.

insp.

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The Patron Saint of Captivation

Sonny Carisi x OFC

Chapters 1 & 2 Over Here on AO3

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Headcanon: Sister Michael Was Temporarily Relocated From Northern Ireland to Staten Island and Was Sonny’s Catholic School Principal

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gifs simply would not do this scene justice

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sonny carisi 21x12

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sonny carisi 21x16

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sonny carisi 21x18

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Benisi in 21x13 - Redemption In Her Corner

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“...and when he went by me I felt all hollow inside he was so beautiful.” ~ Hemingway

(Hi. I don’t have a title for whatever this is, please forgive any errors.)

Sonny Carisi x OFC | Part I

The courthouse was beginning to fill up. Now that she and Menthon were situated in place, early, and she felt more collected having oriented herself, Alice was finally beginning to relax. With one hundred fifty eight pounds of freshly bathed and blowdried fluff laying across the cool marble floor in front of her, and the two seated in an advantageous place outside the courtroom in which their witness would testify, she settled back against the surprisingly comfortable wooden bench. She had felt her anxiety peaking as they were driven into Midtown that morning, rising and swelling dangerously toward the rim like the foam of a recklessly poured drink. She was overwhelmingly grateful that car service was a perk offered by her new employment. She wasn’t sure how she would have navigated parking and traffic, or the subway system, when winding roads through green mountains were more her forte. Every time she remembered that she was working in Manhattan permanently she felt queasy, until she reminded herself, as she did now, that she was more than capable of negotiating such a populated city. It was of paramount importance to her that she and Menthon be accessible to any clients who might need them, wherever and whenever that need might arise, and the notion of feeling less than in command of her surroundings was always of concern for Alice. The momentary dark cloud of distraction having passed over, she turned back to the hardback lined notebook she was scrawling in, bright cobalt ink flowing from the nib of her fountain pen on the weighty paper, trailing her hand across the page.

Sonny remembered receiving an email to the effect that the new program was being instituted, and had filtered the message into his “to be read” folder, but he hadn’t anticipated the level of intrigue he would associate with the arrival of the Courthouse Dogs themselves until he saw her sitting on that bench, sun beaming through the window behind her, igniting the red gold tones in her auburn hair.  He had turned the corner, expertly negotiating around others en route to their own destinations, while checking his messages, and stopped in his tracks. 

She reached up and threaded her fingers through her hair, tossing it a bit absentmindedly. Menthon raised his head and looked up at her, and Sonny, unequivocally blocking traffic, his phone forgotten in his hand down at his side, watched as she placed her book beside her and leaned over to scratch his head and rumple his ears.  She happened to look up in that moment, and in raising her eyes met his. Generally disinclined toward acknowledging strange men, especially those staring openly, Alice made the first of innumerable exceptions to follow and smiled, her dimples appearing on her rapidly flushing cheeks. Sonny, extremely pleased with this gesture of warmth and friendliness, grinned back in return. 

 Just then, Olivia arrived from the opposite direction, her eyes scanning just long enough to locate the Saint Bernard and his owner/handler. She commanded such attention in her elegant prowess that Alice’s attention was immediately diverted and she looked in her direction just as Olivia asked, in confirmation, 

“Alice Haversham?”

Alice rose from the bench and stepped carefully around Menthon, smartly feminine in a calf length fitted cornflower blue knit sweater dress with bishop sleeves and box pleats at the hem. Alice reached out and shook Olivia’s hand, and as they exchanged pleasantries, Sonny saw his opportunity, striding confidently over to the pair and tucking his phone away. 

Olivia was crouched down, petting Menthon as Alice related some additional details about the new service.

 “It’s a fantastic program, something we needed,” Olivia was saying as Sonny approached.

Alice would kick herself for how utterly ridiculously she had conducted herself in her introduction to Detective Carisi; as he stood just a few feet from her, lean and utterly dashing in his perfectly fitted and well styled three piece suit, she failed to take the initiative and put out her hand and introduce herself, and instead, with a brightness to her voice and a repeat of the same, warm, flagrant smile she had given him only a few minutes before said only “Hi.” 

He grinned, again. “Hello,” and then remembered himself, putting out his hand “Detective Carisi, Manhattan SVU. Call me Sonny.” 

“Alice Haversham, Courthouse Dogs Program. I’m assigned to your precinct, with priority, but we’ll be assisting throughout Manhattan when we aren’t directly engaged with SVU.” 

It hadn’t been her imagination. Aside from the firmness of his handshake and the surprising tenderness associated therewith, he had indeed, unintentionally, brushed the center of her palm with his fingertips as they pulled away.

“This is Menthon,” she said, gesturing to the dog, and Olivia stepped back to allow Sonny to greet the Saint Bernard. Alice watched as he crouched down and started rubbing Menthon’s face and neck.

“Hey buddy,” Sonny said. “Beautiful dog.” He was admiring the brand new navy vest emblazoned with the New York City seal and the bold white text designating him as a civil servant.

“Thank you,” Alice said. “He’s an excellent clinician. We’re very honored to be working with SVU.” She was so taken with how enamored Sonny seemed to be with her dog that she forgot to offer him one of the many hand towels she carried in her tote bag to protect his suit from the inevitable arrival of drool.

“Alice will be coming to the station tomorrow to brief us on the services that she and her partner can offer us,” Olivia said. 

Sonny looked up at her, another smile delivered in her direction. 

“Looking forward to it!” he said. Menthon nudged him with the top of his massive, blocky head, demanding further attention.

“Miss Haversham!” A man’s voice called across the expanse of the hall. Sonny tried to hide his smirk. Miss, he thought. Miss. Good. 

The three turned to the sound of the voice and a middle aged man waved to her, his other hand occupied in the grip of a little girl in a pale pink lightweight spring jacket, a woman following closely behind. Rafael Barba’s colleague, prosecutor Lana Shore, had wasted no time in enlisting the help of the new Courthouse Dogs program in helping her witness, Emeline Gray, six, who had watched a shooting unfold in the street below her bedroom window and was to give her testimony that day. 

Alice gestured to them to come toward her, and Sonny and Olivia stepped to the side.

“We all officially start tomorrow, and Lucky the Lab is assigned to the precinct this case came from, but we were available early.” The little girl skipped over, tugging at her father’s hand to get to Menthon, sliding down onto the floor with him and putting her arms around his neck. Alice watched with pride as he gently rested his massive head on her shoulder, tucking his head ever so slightly to offer her the security of his protection.

Olivia and Sonny backed away to allow the family to interact with Alice and Menthon in preparation for the trial.

“We’ll see you tomrorow,” Olivia said quietly. 

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Alice said, and diverted her attention back to the family.

As they were driven east along the northern shore of the island, the windows partly opened to admit the cool, spring air, her interactions with Sonny playing out in her mind over and over on a loop, she looked down at Menthon, who was laid out on the bench seat, his head resting on her lap. 

“Menthon,” she said, getting his attention, and raised his eyes to her. 

“Hi?” She said, mocking herself, looking to him for confirmation of his disbelief at her foolishness. Alice Haversham, Master of Science in Clinical Psychology, highly proficient handler and adept trauma respondent. She would make a point to make her credentials known in tomorrow’s briefing. She was aware of how bureaucrats could be dismissive or skeptical of the documented benefits of animals in trauma therapy, despite all of the research confirming how positive the impacts were proven to be. She did not necessarily fault hardened individuals who looked cynically upon something that may seem as trivial and frivolous as ‘petting a dog,’ as she had heard it referred to, but she was frustrated by the opposition that she had occasionally been given when she had gone to bat for it as a necessary service. Thankfully, she was assigned to SVU, where, she was certain, the particular brand of assistance offered by a canine clinician like Menthon would be appreciated, based on the delicate nuances of interacting with and serving special victims. 

She rolled the window down further, breathing deeply of the briny sea air.

“Hi,” she said again, shaking her head and laughing to herself.