#like oh yes this Totally Straight Man spent actual days around very loud noise (which he loathes) but he's adding something totally cool to

[itsnotacostume]

we as a fandom do not talk about this scene enough. what the fuck is this. why did he feel the need to install this? so he could stare at his boybestfriend all day without having to get up?

[sinkix]

Haikyuu!!│Boys going grocery shopping w/ you! HC’s│Ft. Bokuto, Nishinoya, Terushima, Kuroo & Kunimi

I had this late night idea and just HAD to follow through, the chaos would be O F F T H E C H A R T S. Thank you to @deathcab4daddy​ for helping me brainstorm some good characters for this post lmao I love you bby and can’t wait to do a collab. <3

E N J O Y ~ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BOKUTO:

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS BOI PICKS UP EVERYTHING IN SIGHT LIKE A 6 YEAR OLD

 I FUCKING MEAN IT.

“(Y/N) we need this” 

“Bokuto we do not need a 7th jar of peanut butter.”

 “But (Y/N) it has a squirrel on the front-”

“BOKUTO I SWEAR TO GOD”

Tries to drift on the edge of the cart like something straight outta CSGO and the cart nearly obliterates under his weight.

V e r y l o u d u n e c c e s s a r i l y.

Everyone always stares at y’all when you’re going through the isles bc ur literally escorting a man-child sprawled in a shopping cart who’s going “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” at everything he sees like he’s a toddler at the zoo who’s never encountered a chimpanzee before.

Unless you have a bottomless bank account do NOT take him shopping of any kind he is LETHAL.

When you’re at the check-out he turns it into a basketball competition and tries to launch everything perfectly on to the conveyor belt.

Volleyball player? Nah this sis with the NBA now.

Do not ask him to go get something, he will return with at least 9 items you didn’t need and everything BUT the item you requested

He turned up with a whole ass pineapple, a jar of jam, a stick of butter and a bottle of olive oil.

Like,,,where is the correlation in those items???

Once made the mistake of asking him to grab some pads from the hygiene section and specified it HAD to be with wings

Boy showed up ten minutes later and looking very confuzzled.

You questioned why he has a pack of wingless pads in one hand and a can of red bull in the other.

He said it’s because they didn’t have any with wings so he figured the Redbull would suffice and do the job for you.

i-

NISHINOYA:

Can literally fit him in the little cart seat made for kids and he LOVES it lmaoooo IT’S SO CUTE MY HEART.

HE JUST SWINGS HIS LEGS EXCITABLY WHILE YOUR GETTING STUFF AAAAAAA

Ppl give you such weird looks though bc you have a guy who’s at least 14 years older than the intended demographic sitting there and raising his hands in elation over you copping a cookie dough pie and chucking it in.

Again, another who is VERY LOUD FOR NO REASON AT ALL.

Get’s out of the cart after a while bc his legs be growing numb and begins roaming around.

Someone came back with a feral Noya in hand stating “Is this your child” WNDKJWEFNWJEF.

M’AM HE’S LIKE 18 EXCUSE YOU.

Was salty about it for the rest of the day.

Just ruffle his hair and call him Senpai 

Problem solved.

Picks up tons of exotic fruit that look more like plastic or fuzzy poisonous plants and begs you to get them.

“Noya what the fuck is that.”

“...a Pitaya.”

“...”

“Can we get it-”

“no.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I SAID NO DAMMIT”

Last time you bought some strange fruit he took it to practise and got Tanaka to spike it LMAOOO

IT SPLATTERED E V E R Y W H E R E

AND OVER DAICHI’S SHIRT.

He begged you to no longer allow Noya to purchase weird fruits from then on since he is like a child with a nerf gun.

He once picked up a phat wrinkly purple fruit and turned to you asking if it was an overgrown raisin.

“Noya sweetie that’s a Date.”

HE FULLY TSK’ED AND THREW IT BACK SINCE IT REMINDED HIM OF DATE TECH I CAN’T.

My boy out here defending Asahi even in the Grocery Isles.

We stan a loyal king.

TERUSHIMA:

Another one who tries to stand on the ledge and the cart wheels almost collapse because it wasn’t designed to hold the weight of a young adult.

Oh young adult??? Sorry I mean’t MAN CHILD.

He treats a shopping experience as a time to practise his aim apparently because he ALWAYS THROWS SHIT AT YOU TO THE POINT YOU’RE THREATENED TO BE KICKED OUT.

Definitely picks up phallic looking objects and places them against his crotch, snorting and saying “Like what you see (Y/N)?”

Homeboy is stood there in front of a wife and child presenting his cucumber appendage for the world to see.

He once grabbed a pair of fat ass melons and pressed them against his chest, shaking them and belting the lyrics to ‘My Milkshake’ while begging you to SQUEEZE HIS MELONS.

“Look (Y/N) they’re bigger than yours!”

I just- 

I give up.

Constantly tries to sneak mutli-packs of energy drinks into the cart to the point you’re convinced he is going to keel over from heart failure and kidney stones by the age of 20.

Has his airpods in 90% of the time and treats the isles as his personal dance floor.

He busting them MOVES and performing the MJ moonwalk while in the dairy section.

ONCE HE SLID TOO FAST AND SLIPPED ON HIS REAR IN FRONT OF LIKE 12 PEOPLE LMAOO

He was DEAD silent the rest of the trip.

Probably the most serene shopping experience you’ve had to date.

The checkout clerks occasionally hit on Mr. Sore-Ass over here.

Until he opens his mouth and they realise he’s a total dolt and question how you have the patience for him.

You don’t know either honestly.

The whole bagging experience is spent with them shooting you sympathetic glances as if to say ‘sis you shoulda’ left him at home’.

Yes, yes you should have.

Never a dull moment with Teru as your shopping partner.

KUROO:

LITERALLY LIKE A MIDDLE-AGED MAN OR A TODDLER WHEN Y’ALL GO SHOPPING THERE IS NEVER AN EVEN MIDDLE-GROUND.

Frequently cracks lame-ass food puns or dad jokes that make you want to crawl into a hole and die.

You have competitions on who can come up with the most and the loser always faces a penalty.

Kuroo and creating penalties do NOT mix safely so you better hope you win.

“I love you a waffle lot.” 

Proceeds to hold up a wrapped waffle.

Ok that one was kinda cute you’ll let it slide.

“I ap-peach-iate you Kuroo.”

Cue HyenaLaugh.mp3

“Want a pizza me baby? Bitch peas, doughnut take me lightly.”

You changed your mind.

You didn’t talk to him the duration of that shopping experience, no penalty could be as horrifying as what just came out of his mouth.

“(Y/N)... sometimes I feel like you don’t carrot all.”

You slapped him with said carrot and obviously had to pay for it after.

You forced him to eat it raw.

He is the definition of Neutral disaster when you go shopping.

Shitty food puns aside, he is actually very responsible when making sure you both get what you need.

Not without tons of poking, prodding, and blowing into your ear while you’re trying to decide what ingredients to buy for dinner.

You contemplated serving him a plate of bubbling snot and moulded broccoli seasoned with rosemary.

Bone apple teeth, bitch.

Ofc you didn’t because he always pulls out the puppy eyes and cuddles card after since he knows he’s well and truly rattled your patience lmao.

Actually picks really healthy food options?? Being the captain of a team he has the responsibility of keeping his health in top condition and leading by example so at least he knows the right ingredients to make a bomb-ass and nutritious meal ig.

Y’all always bicker and tease each other at the checkout which is usually great amusement for the clerk serving you as they often smirk and perceive you as an old married couple.

Which tbh you kinda are, it feels like it at least.

Still such a big asshole though lmao you never leave the store without your sanity being scathed.

KUNIMI:

Honestly just wanted an excuse to make jokes at the expense of the Aoba Johsai teammates.

and what better candidate for cracking these than Kunimi.

He’s a very chill partner to have tag along with you on your endeavours.

Not without some grumbling and groaning on his part though, lazy bitch.

You always finish shopping trips with a busted lung at how much you have been laughing though with some of the SHADY ASS REMARKS HE MAKES ABOUT THE OTHER TEAM MATES.

You were outside the store when you both spotted an angry looking Doberman tied to a nearby post.

“Smh who let Kyotani outside again.”

You hadn’t even set foot in the store yet and he was already spitting flaming insults.

[Walking up to the automatic double doors]

“Damn Oikawa move out of my way.”

Oikawa just tryna live and he keeps getting roasted for his flat cheeks 

#StopOikawaAssShaming

Ten minutes of scouring the store later he picks up a spikey Kiwano and compares it to Iwaizumi’s hair.

Proceeds to beg you not to tell my boy Iwa because he KNOWS he will get decked to the gym floor.

Passers by often wonder why you’re wheezing and producing noises like a boiling kettle.

When I tell you no one is safe, I mean N O O N E.

“These Yule logs really out here looking like Matsukawa’s brows.”

The finisher was when Kunimi picked up a turnip and said 

“Huh, kinda looks like Kindaichi.”

I just-

He could roast a whole chicken in minutes from the burn of these comments I stg.

You can now never look at the Seijou team without various foods or inanimate objects plaguing your thoughts.

Thanks, Kunimi.

[nxrthmizu]

| snakes | Suna Rintarou

»»——⍟——««

song | Trust Fund Baby - Why Don’t We 

pairing | Suna Rintarou x Reader 

words | 1.8k 

warning(s) | The reader has undertones of someone who’s sort of mean and sadistic? The story also relates the reader to a snake. I like snakes. I think they’re cool. But if you’re scared of snakes and you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being referenced to a snake,,, don’t read, I guess?  

author’s note | I rewrote this five fricking times and I still hate it but I’m not writing this again so have this 

»»——⍟——«« 

Confidence. 

He could feel it radiating off you in waves. Your presence diffused into the gym, alerting every person in the room of your arrival. Attention was drawn to you like moths were drawn to the light, every pair of eyes magnetised to your form by the gym door. 

Kita instantly rushed over to greet you politely, the details of your conversation too far away to be heard. For a brief moment, Suna registered just how well the two of you looked together. 

L/N Y/N, the representative and top student of his class, the newly-elected second-year secretary of the student council. No one doubted that you would take the president position in your third year, not with the ‘perfect student’ image you had going on. 

Kita Shinsuke, also top in grades, captain of the volleyball club, well-liked by the staff and students alike due to his politeness and nature. 

The two of you looked like a perfect imitation of what a modern royalty would be like. A combination of grace, elegance, and a face that was hardly fazed by anything. Something similar to bitterness ate away in the bottom of Suna’s heart as he turned away, muttering about putting more practice into his blocks. 

“What was she looking for you for?” He overheard Aran asking. 

“Oh, she’s filling in some missing information for our club. She came over to clarify some details.” Kita answered easily. 

Suna wasn’t really surprised when a couple third years, belonging to the student council committee- Showed up on the doorsteps of your shared class, asking to see you. Later on, he learned that the entire council body had brought up your name when asked which second-year should be elected as the secretary. You were well-known, even among the third years, as someone who possessed high intellect and organisation abilities, so it wasn’t a shock that your name was the one that nearly everyone suggested. 

If only they knew. 

If only they knew that you weren’t completely that ‘perfect student’ act that you’d put up. 

If only they knew just how cunning, sly, and sarcastic you really were. 

»»——⍟——««

If Suna had to describe you in one word, it would be snake. 

You were the definition of elegance, grace, and beauty. Every movement you made was meticulously calculated and not a single joule of energy was wasted or passed off as inefficiently used. There was never a hair out of place, and your skirt was never creased, no matter how long you had been sitting at your seat. 

Of course, Suna hadn’t always thought of you as a snake. It was only after that one fine summer day in his first year that his perception of you took a 180 turn, revealing to him what you truly were like. 

He had been on his way home, bag slung over his shoulder, when he caught the slight noise that seemed like a whimper. Never one to leave his nose out of someone else’s business, Suna slunk around, careful to stick to the shadows until the shocking sight befell his eyes. 

“So, you’re the one who’s been bullying [your brother’s name]?” The voice that dripped from your lips was distasteful, as if the junior high student that you had cornered in the alley was a filthy peasant compared to your royal status. “You don’t look very fierce now, do you?” 

If sarcasm was an art, then you’d probably be a DaVinci-level expert. He would even go as far as calling you a prodigy. And if there was a championship for the world’s most sarcastic human being, he would instantly sign you up. There was no doubt that you’d take home the no.1 trophy in that category (not that you weren’t already taking home trophies in other competitions, of course, he overheard that you recently dominated an advanced maths competition). 

“I— I’m sorry!” The student shivered under your piercing gaze. “I— I won’t touch him again, I promise—!” 

The laugh you responded with was overly sweet, combined with something from a Disney movie villain. If the movie also, by chance, happened to have ‘horror’ as its’ genre. Your eyes carried a maniacal threat that Suna believed wholeheartedly that you were capable of carrying out. “Bold of you to assume I’d even let you do it again.” You whispered, just loud enough for Suna to catch your words. 

The junior high student scrambled off, too busy getting away to notice Suna by the entrance of the alley. He slipped away before you reappeared at the beginning of the alley, having fixed your hair and flattened your skirt. 

You looked like a snake that had just finished a very satisfying meal. Suna could hardly believe that he had just heard you— the pride and joy of every teacher, the ‘perfect student’— spitting insults and threats at 200 words per minute, all while maintaining a ‘polite’ and ‘sweet’ tone. 

He was a little breathless after the whole ordeal. He could barely imagine what you would say to him if you’d caught him listening— But damn, part of him wanted to find out if he could withstand your literature-form venom. Truly, you were a snake— A creature that could hold its’ elegance even as your tore your prey apart (verbally). 

Suna always liked snakes. 

»»——⍟——««

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with L/N, Kita.” Aran teased, Suna overhearing as he stepped into the locker room for morning practice. Freezing in his tracks, the middle blocker curved right round the bend, staying out of sight. “There’s been a lot of rumours about how nice the two of you look together.” 

The volleyball captain only hummed in response, which, for some reason, pissed the hell out of Suna. 

“Come on, tell me something.” The other third-year complained. “She’s really pretty, I’d totally see why you’d go for her.” 

Something about the situation made Suna’s blood boil. He bit back his rising anger, setting aside the cause for the moment. Why was he getting so riled up? He never cared much about things in general, anyway, so... So why was the image of you and Kita, matching polite smiles on your lips— Why did it make him so furious he had to physically resist the urge to punch a wall? 

“The two of you do look nice together, though.” Aran continued as Suna pushed down the urge to strangle his upperclass-man. “Gives me the vibes of—” 

Before Aran could finish his sentence, the dark-haired middle blocker marched into the locker room, apologising for how loudly he had slammed the door open. “Sorry.” He drawled lazily, restraining the lava-hot anger in his blood. “I pushed too hard.” 

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t even blink, much less jump when Suna appeared abruptly by your desk. Instead, you simply set down your pencil and gave him a warm smile. “Can I help you with something?” 

Ever the helpful class president, Suna bit back to himself. No, no, he wanted you to like him. Not get a bad impression of him. “Do you... Think you could help me with the physics homework?” 

“It’s due tomorrow.” You said slowly, both of you aware that the assignment was well over forty pages. “Have you... Tried it?” 

“Yes.” He answered. “I’ve got a few questions I need help with. Are you free to stay back today?” 

This raised a tentative eyebrow from you. “Don’t you have volleyball practice?” 

Dammit, why did you have to have such a good memory. 

“Academics are more important than the club sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’ve got permission to skip.” No, he didn’t. 

“Alright then. I’ll meet you in the library after school.” 

»»——⍟——««

He watched you through hooded eyes as you reviewed his work. So you did know how to let loose, Suna murmured to himself in amusement, eyeing your untucked blouse and the beige sweater you’d thrown on in a defence against the library’s air-conditioning. 

“You’ve got most of the parts down, which bits do you need help with?” 

The rest of the time was spent going over the questions, your patience filling the silence along with his occasional ‘ohs’. Your handwriting flooded through his homework in neat rows, providing an easy-to-follow, step-by-step guide on how to work through the questions, for revision purposes. 

“So.” 

You broke the silence, the two of you walking side by side, leaving the school together because he offered to buy you some food as a payment for the tutoring. 

“Are you going to tell me why you faked confusion and asked me to tutor you?” 

He winced. How could he forget that you were always straight to the point? 

“What do you mean?” The look on your face clearly said ‘feigning ignorance, eh?’. 

“I’m going to be frank with you,” You deadpanned. “You’re among the best at physics in our class. Some of the questions you asked me to help you through were ones that had been discussed in classes, and I know that you are listening even though you have your head on the table.” 

Alright, so he had under-predicted exactly how observant and attentive you were. 

“Then why did you agree to help me?” 

“You saw me that day, didn’t you?” 

He stopped walking. “Which day?” 

“That day. In our first year. When I threatened that junior high kid in the alley.” You stopped too, to turn your expressionless gaze on him. “You’ve looked at me differently since that day. I heard someone else’s breathing at the alley, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured they’d ran. I guessed it was you.” 

“... Yeah.” 

“You don’t seem to mind.” 

“Mind what?” 

“The fact that this...” You gestured to yourself. “Is a lie. This whole ‘perfect student’ image is an act that I put up to please my parents. I’m actually someone who has really mean thoughts. I could be a really toxic friend. I’m also probably a sadist.” 

Suna blinked quietly at you, running your words through his head a couple more times for good measure. “You remind me of a snake.”

In that one sentence, you realised that if there was one person in the world that was going to be fine with your personality the way it was, that person would probably be Suna Rintarou. The two of you continued your walk to the takoyaki shop Suna offered to buy you food from, continuing meaningless chatter on the journey. 

“Is that a good or bad thing?” 

“I like snakes.” 

“That’s cool. Me too.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re like spiders, except they’re not insects. I don’t like insects very much.” 

“Hmm. I like snakes cause I think they’re really elegant. And pretty.” He paused for a moment. “Like you.” 

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @miel-meraki @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

Haikyuu!! gen taglist. @owlywrites @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @our-tall-slytherin-queen

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot “Together Apart” (Rated M)

Summary: With Kurt in New York, performing in New Year's Rockin' Eve, and Sebastian partying with his brother in Westerville like old times, it looks like Kurt and Sebastian will be spending this holiday apart ... and Kurt is not okay with that. (2515 words)

Notes: I always liked this one because it showed that just because Sebastian is rich and could easily take care of Kurt for the rest of his life, Kurt never gave up his dreams. He went to NYADA and is now performing on Broadway. Besides, I'm a sap for stories that manage to pull it all together at the buzzer, so to speak. Fluff and romance with plenty of throwbacks to the original story.

Read on AO3.

“Stupid … frickin’ … useless … WiFi …” Kurt mutters, slapping his phone against the palm of his hand with each word, as if battering the thing will jostle the electronics and force it to work. “Overpriced … piece … of garbage …”

“Still can’t get FaceTime to connect?”

“No,” Kurt growls. “I’ve deleted it and downloaded it about a dozen times and it keeps freezing up on me. Instagram, too. Dammit! Why do we let AT&T soak us for Broadband if it’s not going to work during the important times, like bank holidays and inclement weather?”

“That’s my bad,” Sebastian says. “I forgot to select the Defy Act of God add-on when I renewed our service.”

“Bastard. Always letting me down.” Kurt spins on his his heel and flops down on his back on the bed. “I guess we’re going to have to talk into the phone … like cavemen.”

“Ooo … cavemen,” Sebastian purrs. “We haven’t roleplayed that before. Sounds primal. Now that’s a concept I can get behind.”

“It’d be easier for you to get behind it if you were actually here.”

“I know, babe, I know. But on the bright side, phone sex is a viable option.”

Kurt closes his eyes and sighs, deflating into his pillowcase and his down duvet. The fingers of his free hand find his forehead and massage, attempting to knead away the pounding in his sleep deprived brain. “Are we really going to do this over the phone?”

“Yes. Hence the mention of phone sex.”

“No, I mean celebrate New Year’s. The way things stand, we’re better off calling it a night, wait till you get here tomorrow to celebrate. I really want to take off my clothes, hop in a hot shower, and boil the skin off my bones.”

“Without me?”

“Again, you’re not here …”

“Exactly! We’ve never missed a New Year’s together! Even when we were separated, you were my New Year’s kiss! Now I know you’ve spent yet another taxing evening as a winged marmoset but I’m sorry. You’re going to have to wait one more hour to turn yourself into human stew because I am not spending New Year’s Eve without my kiss!”

Kurt bites his lower lip, holding back a laugh. He doesn’t want to encourage Sebastian. But he ends up snorting which, in terms of laughter, is much worse. Sometimes Kurt thinks Sebastian should have attended NYADA and been the musical theater major since he’s the real drama queen in their relationship. “And how do you intend on getting a kiss from me from over five hundred miles away when we can’t even FaceTime?”

“May I bring your attention back to the topic of phone sex? It’s something I know you’re exceedingly familiar with.”

“Ha … ha …”

From somewhere in the distance, a wave of laughter erupts, as if half the population of Westerville has been listening to Sebastian ply his adolescent wit. Kurt rolls his eyes, grimacing at his phone so hard, his head goes from dull pang to steady throb.

“Why bother?” he sniffs. “From the sounds of it, you’re having the time of your life at your folks’. What? Did Julian and Cooper rope you into one of your famous parties while your parents are away? Trying to recapture the good old days?”

Sebastian makes a non-committal noise. “It’s not a party without you. Besides, I’m not about that life anymore.” He huffs. “Even when I was about that life, I wasn’t about that life.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. Let’s say I wasn’t about that life after I fell head over heels in love with you.”

“And when was that?”

“Earlier than you’re willing to believe.”

“Sure,” Kurt grumbles, proving Sebastian right. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Sebastian. He’s too bitter at the moment to think favorably about anything. He sighs again, debating between climbing underneath the covers fully clothed or trundling off to the kitchen for a bottle of water and a couple aspirin.

Neither wins.

“So what is going on where you are right now?” he asks, his insides roaring with jealousy before he even gets an answer.

“Where I am right now?” Sebastian repeats, singling those words out - the lynchpin to a loophole. Because the party of the century could very well be bumping in the house around him, but if Sebastian has holed himself up in a bathroom, or his old bedroom, then technically he’s not partaking in the festivities. But from the constant static of music and laughter behind him, Kurt doesn’t think that’s the case. “Not much. Hanging with a bunch of drunk randos I don’t know, listening to music that makes me want to puke in my shoes.”

“There’s an image.” Kurt chuckles, not for long but loud enough to regret it. “Can I assume then that you’re a bit sloshed yourself?”

“Not at all. I’ve had the sum total of one Seagram’s.”

Kurt makes a face. If that’s what Julian is supplying their guests, he’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Or did they run out of the good stuff early on and have to make a 7-11 run? Or, more to the point, have some poor schlub from DoorDash make a 7-11 run? “Would that be vodka or gin?”

“Uh … no.” Sebastian clears his throat uncomfortably. “More like … uh …”

Amusement and confusion burn a slow smile across Kurt’s tired mouth. What in the world could it be that it’s taking Sebastian this long to answer? “Come on, Smythe! Cough it up! What was this mystery drink?”

“It was … an … ahem … Orange Sassy Swirl.”

The last three words tumble out of Sebastian’s mouth like a skydiver without a parachute.

“Oh, Sebastian. No,” Kurt commiserates earnestly, wondering at what level of desperation Sebastian would actively submit to imbibing anything that goes by the name Orange Sassy Swirl when he had once balked at ordering Kurt a much more respectable apple-tini. “Say it ain’t so.”

“What about you?” Sebastian side-steps swiftly, obviously unwilling to divulge what led him to pick a beverage with such a ludicrous name. “Hit up any noteworthy shindigs?”

“Nope. I took off my makeup after we recorded our part for New Year’s Rockin’ Eve and headed straight back to our place.”

“None of your theater buddies had anything planned? You guys have some heavy hitters in your cast of Wicked. Not a one of them is throwing a party?”

“It’s not that. Idina and Kristin both had prior engagements, of course, but most of the cast had somewhere to go. A few invitations made it my way, I won’t lie. Being a Flying Monkey has its perks after all. But that’s not the point.”

“And what is the point, monkey man?”

“The point is that even though I’m living the dream, I’d much rather be with you, drinking your brother’s wacky alcoholic concoctions in his never ending quest to get me as drunk as possible. We’d stumble upstairs to slow dance in your old bedroom till midnight then, right when the ball drops …”

“Yeah?”

“We’d bone.”

Sebastian barks a laugh the way Kurt had hoped. God, he misses that laugh, the smile that accompanies it, the way both light up Sebastian’s face. With his eyes shut and Sebastian’s voice in his ear, Kurt can see his face so clearly it makes his heart hurt.

“There’s my hopeless romantic,” Sebastian says when he catches his breath.

“And even though New Year’s is a completely made up holiday …”

“Kurt! They’re all made up!”

“I mean the whole concept of a holiday that celebrates the passage of time without the inclusion of some sort of harvest because time itself is a man-made construct …”

“Here we go again …” Sebastian mumbles under his breath. Oddly, he sounds like he’s out of breath and racing through traffic. Most likely multitasking, Kurt thinks. Playing a video game while talking on the phone. Kurt remembers way back when when he, Sebastian, Julian, Finn, and Puck would spend the bulk of Julian and Sebastian’s annual New Year’s Eve blowout kicking each others’ asses at GTA - much to the dismay of their hornier guests, who’d been banking on some kind of show from the Smythes. They eventually did get one since their friendly game turned into strip GTA once Julian, Finn, and Puck got decently buzzed. Any fans of Sebastian’s went away disappointed though since that was around the time he’d squirrel Kurt upstairs so they could ring in the New Year in private.

“There was a time when the calendar didn’t have twelve months. If it wasn’t for the tremendous egos of the Caesar bros …”

“Otherwise known as the salad mavens of ancient Rome …”

“There’d only be ten months!”

“Not to put a wrench in your tirade,” a suddenly winded Sebastian interrupts, “but I don’t think that’s entirely accurate ...”

“I’d be 56 years old!” Kurt rails, uncaring.

“On the up side,” Sebastian says, abandoning his point, “you’d look magnificent for your age. As would I.”

A comfortable but tense silence settles between them, Kurt straining to hear more of what’s going on on Sebastian’s end of the phone while picturing what sort of bedlam Julian has unleashed. But the murmurs of celebration Sebastian is caught up in sound fuzzy and disjointed, shifting and changing as Sebastian (presumably) walks through the house in search of a quiet place to converse.

“Come on, babe,” he says finally. “Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s got you so down on this joyous non-holiday? You usually don’t wax historical unless you can tie it back to the moral of a Sondheim musical.”

“I …” Kurt struggles to come up with a lighthearted, funny response to complement Sebastian’s jab, maybe some mention of his obsession with Indie rock, but he can’t come up with anything. He’s crashing, physically and emotionally, but it’s the emotionally that’s threatening to dismember him on impact. He suddenly can’t help himself his feelings. They’re too overwhelming to control. He knows that the long hours he spent practicing over the past few days set him up for this; the fact that he skipped out on dinner and then completely bypassed the craft services table in his eagerness to get home didn’t help. But it’s the prospect of starting this New Year off alone, for some reason, that’s become too soul shattering to bear. They’re not in high school anymore, where every emotion becomes ratcheted beyond its limits, every moment feels do or die. This shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. “I miss you. I know we’ve only been apart three days and I know I’m going to see you tomorrow - like, eight short hours from now but … I really miss you. I learned a long time ago that I don’t like being away from you for too long, especially on nights like tonight when pretty much every person in the world is paired up with someone, preparing to share a kiss come midnight, real holiday or no.”

“I feel you …”

Kurt frowns as the sound of a car horn drowns out the end of Sebastian’s sentence. If he’s not actually out in traffic, Kurt has to say the sound effects in GTA 5 are incredible. With that in mind, he wonders if the makers of GTA 5 included a slurring crowd counting down the seconds till midnight as some kind of too-on-the-nose Easter Egg.

“And so it begins.” Sebastian exhales long and deep, and for the first time that night, he doesn’t sound anywhere near festive. He sounds defeated. “How about you count it off for us, babe?”

“Yeah, all right,” Kurt agrees, clearing a sharp-cornered sob from his throat. “10 … 9 … 8 …” He counts by rote, not really listening to himself but to Sebastian’s breathing over the phone, waiting for Kurt to reach one so he can make some ridiculous ‘Mwah!’ noise and go back to his game. Behind closed eyelids, Kurt imagines being at the Smythe house with him, arms wrapped around his waist, lips ghosting his neck as he tries his best to distract him.

He’d succeed, but Sebastian would still win his game. He’s that good.

“... 5 …” Kurt’s voice wavers, his eyes beginning to burn “… 4 … 3 … 2 …”

“... 1 …”

A familiar voice and the press of warm lips against Kurt’s mouth make his eyelids spring open. Moss-green eyes peer into his, steeped in the same level of exhaustion, but even more so, the same level of longing. With his eyes shut, Kurt didn’t see Sebastian come in; didn’t hear him unlock the front door or open the bedroom door over the revelry going on outside, echoing from the TV that he’d put on for white noise and forgotten all about. Besides, Sebastian could walk as quietly as the dead when he wanted to - a talent garnered from years of sneaking out of his house, climbing down trellises and jumping off rooftops in the middle of the night with his parents none the wiser.

“You’re here,” Kurt whispers in a hoarse, relieved voice.

“I am,” Sebastian replies with the addition of another kiss … then another as he climbs onto the bed and straddles his boyfriend.

“You … you didn’t tell me you were coming. You didn’t even hint that you were in the city.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it in time. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“How did you get here?”

“Train. Then an Uber. Until the roads became blocked by pedestrians and I had to get out and hoof it.”

Kurt nods slowly. That explains the incongruous sounds of people interspersed with cars and traffic on his end of the phone. “You’re an asshole.”

“True. But I’m your ...” Sebastian’s face pinches, stuck somewhere between a laugh and scowl when he thinks about the way his comment is about to come across out loud. “You know what? Let’s just say jerk.”

“It would have been nice to have something to look forward to,” Kurt says, shaky arms creeping up around Sebastian’s neck.

“I know.” Sebastian runs the tip of his nose lightly against Kurt’s. “But on the off chance things didn’t work out, I didn’t want to let you down.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Kurt says with the slightest of shrugs.

“Are you happy I’m here?”

“I’ll be happier in five minutes.”

Puzzled, Sebastian’s brows pull together while he fights not to yawn. But he’s so comfortable here in his own bed, with Kurt’s body underneath him, miles away from the mounds of people vying for his attention back in Ohio. “Why? What’s happening in five minutes?”

Kurt’s sad, tired expression grows into a smile that’s positively devious. “You’ll be ready for round two.”

Sebastian grins, reaching over Kurt for the remote to turn off the lights, willing to admit that he walked straight into that burn with his eyes wide open. But an entire morning spent entwined in the arms of the man he loves? That’s worth a little sizzle. “Ouch.”

[thegoldenavenger]

Stony librarian au(I love adorable librarian tony)

So! This turned into semi-horror instead of the domestic library shenanigans you probably wanted! Sorry! Warnings: horror/surreal themes. Unbeta’d. 

The library is mostly dark, just the lamp as Tony sorts through things at the check in desk.  It’s after hours and while Tony loves his job, he can admit that he enjoys these dark, quiet moments quite a bit.  

This library used to be one of the old townside houses his father used to own, but Tony gutted it, renovated it, filled it with books and movies and loanable equipment, and opened it to the public and though he’s wise enough to let Pepper run the thing it is still his. It’d been the one cathartic thing he’d allowed himself, after his father’s death. 

So during the day he’s running around making calls and writing emails and chasing down people who don’t want to listen to reason as he tries to wrestle his father’s company into something resembling an ethically sound forefront of innovation and during the night he runs his hand over the spines of well loved, well treated books. 

When he was small his father would chase him out of the study library nook, as if Tony were too stupid to know how to treat things with respect or like Tony was better suited somewhere else then in his father’s line of sight.  When Tony did manage to sneak his way in, he was always terrified of lifting the heavy books off their shelves as if he’d disturb some great relic. 

Walls of classic literature were for show, Tony had learned growing up. You spent money or rare editions and then stored them so the embossed spine could be seen but you didn’t touch them. It was so, so different when he went to his friend’s house and Tony was treated to homely shelves of pulp fiction, and sci-fi, and kid books all stacked together.  Rhodey’s mother dog-eared a harlequin as she stood from her arm chair to greet Tony. 

Rhodey had given Tony his copy of the Lord of the Rings, and after that The Twin Tower and it’s Rhodey’s precise hand that has underlined and highlighted the passage that makes Tony always, always remember that even darkness must pass. That when the sun shines, it will shine clearer. 

So yes, Tony builds a library out of the bones of his past and yes it means something. It means something to walk the aisles after dark and smile at the full book carts.  It fills Tony with a sense that he’s done this thing right, at least. 

After hours doesn’t mean the library is empty, there’s a cleaning staff Tony keeps well-paid and happy, so he’s not terrible surprised when he hears footsteps echoing in the foyer of the library. It’s a bit late, maybe, but nothing unusual. The library still feels like safety, and it continues to do so for all the time it takes for Tony to turn a corner to see a shadow bent over the books at the front desk. 

It’s not any of his employees, he makes a note to memorize them and their names, not any of his friends, or anyone else he recognizes. 

The person at the desk is rifling through the books, flipping to the spines and then placing them back on the pile. They are broad shouldered and tall, and Tony’s hands flit to his pockets like he might summon a weapon to confront this... Tony doesn’t know. Robber? 

“I’m not finding it!” The man says and Tony jumps. 

“Can’t see anything here either--maybe it’s in the drop box?” Another voice joins in, and Tony blinks a couple times as another person pops up from behind the counter.  This one is illuminated by Tony’s small desk lamp instead of silhouetted.  He’s thin, sharp jawed, with a flop of dark blonde hair and blue, blue eyes that widen as they meet Tony’s. 

“Who are you?” The man asks, standing straight up. 

The other man whips around, just as startled. 

Tony raises his hands, placating, then scoffs at himself because he’s the one who is supposed to be here. 

“I can ask the same thing! What are you doing in my library? We’re closed, lights off, no visitors.” He flicks his hands as he talks, claps them as a statement and watches as the two intruders jump. 

“We’re looking for a book.” Says the dark haired man. “This is a library.” 

The blond puts his face in his hands. 

“We haven’t had anyone return anything like that.” Tony says, affronted. “We don’t even have anything like that in our system.” He looks, affronted, at Steve who had found a moment to introduce himself and his friend. 

“Someone could have slipped it into your library without you knowing, it’s slippery like that.”

“It’s a book,” Tony says, “Books aren’t sentient creatures with willpower.

Bucky, Steve’s tall, dark, and intimidating friend, scoffs.  

“Well, maybe someone turned it in as a trick then, but it definitely should be somewhere on this property.” Steve says, giving Bucky a look. 

“I’ve already checked through all the returns today, unless someone dropped it through the drop-box the last couple of hours.” 

Steve looks at Tony, with his wide, wide eyes, and Tony huffs. 

“Look, let’s go check I’ve got the keys for it, and if it’s not there you can get me some coffee and tell me more about why you’re looking for a haunted book like some Youtube Ghost Hunters.” Tony says and heads for the door.  Steve and Bucky follow.

“We’re Seekers, not Ghost Hunters.”

“Bucky!”

“Well, he should get it right, not--” There’s a muffled thump and Steve hissing “Shut up!”

Tony lets a smile spread over his face, comfortable in the fact that they can’t see him.  Maybe they’re misguided idiots looking for views for their blog or whatever the kids are into these days, Tony doesn’t know, but it was a fun anomaly while it lasted. 

The drop boxes are located outside the building, conveniently located so people can drive up and drop their books if they don’t want to stop in.  Tony puts his key into the closest one and unlocks it, pulling the flap open. 

Tony pulls three books out, all children’s books. He raises an eyebrow at Steve and Bucky as he hands them the books to look over.  Locking that box he turns to the next and opens it to find it empty.  

“Right, so where is this haunted book?” He asks, gesturing dramatically at the empty darkness inside the drop box.  Bucky actually sticks his head into the thing before accepting Tony’s verdict. 

Tony shuts the drop box, locks it and then puts his hands on his hips. “Alright, you owe me some coffee and an explanation.” 

The explanation is better than the coffee but only because the coffee is tepid and stale. Tony isn’t sure he believes Steve and Bucky’s account of a book that, what, eats people? Disappears them? But it’s an amusing tale and seeing Steve’s face get all worked up when Tony teases him is definitely reason enough to be here. 

In fact, Steve is much more entertaining than the tale he’s trying to weave.  The shiny dullness to his hair, the freckles Tony can see now that they’re being illuminated by ugly florescent lighting, his big blue eyes and the thick eyebrows scowling at him. 

“Are you even paying attention?” Steve hisses. 

“What, yes, yes.  Hundred years of murder history.  Secret shadowy nightmares. Very believable.” Tony nods just to watch Steve’s cheeks heat up with red. 

Steve’s hands are lithe and his knuckles strong as he sets his coffee mug down on the table with a clack! He pushes himself up, bending over the table to get in Tony’s face and yell.  He’s pretty short, Tony notices.  If Tony wasn’t resting his chin in his hands Steve might still be looking up at him instead of down. 

Bucky sets his fork down long enough to yank Steve back into his seat and say, “He’s goading you.” Before he goes back to shoveling greasy diner eggs into his mouth. 

Steve crosses his arms and huffs, sitting back into the booth. 

“If you weren’t gonna listen, why’d ya wanna come out for coffee?” Steve mutters, and it takes Tony’s brain a whole second to reboot because that was an accent oh yes it was. 

Blinking to clear his head, Tony replies with the same steadiness he’s been showing in the face of Steve’s tall tales. “I’m a librarian, I’m pretty much obligated to check you out.”

“If you weren’t so--” Steve starts but Tony doesn’t hear him because Bucky just snorts coffee all over his empty plate. 

It takes that interruption for Steve to actually process Tony’s (lame) line and his cheeks erupt from pissed off pink to really embarrassed red. 

Bucky coughs into his napkin, the coughs resolving into loud, husky laughter, enough for waitress to come by all concerned and glass of water in hand.  Bucky waves her off and looks at Tony with the most amused expression on his face, a total deviation from the stone wall Tony has seen most of the night. 

“Good luck with this one, pal,” he says, patting Steve heavily on the shoulder. 

Tony ends up paying for the coffee and Bucky’s eggs, because Tony doesn’t think internet sleuths actually have much income, and because the story was worth the bill. 

“Make sure you return those books, or you’ll miss our due date,” he calls after Steve and Bucky’s receding backs.  He can hear Bucky start laughing again, under the noise of exasperation Steve makes. 

Tony actually hopes they do come back, and not just because he wants the kids books he left with Steve returned. 

This was a fun night, he thinks as he returns to his home. It was definitely going to be The story at lunch time gossip with Pepper and Rhodey.  Tony locks the door behind him, flipping on the lights and slipping out of his shoes.  He shrugs off his coat and hangs it, then loosens the tied around his neck. 

He thinks they might have words about him not calling the cops on a couple of B&Eers, which reminds him, he should have asked how they got in the library in the first place.  The doors were still locked when they’d left to see the drop boxes and he hadn’t heard any windows breaking. 

Tony resolves to ask when--if he sees them again.  

He continues with his nightly routine, showering, brushing his teeth, dressing for bed, cleaning his nails. He grabs his briefcase and drags it to the couch, where he turns on the flat screen for some background noise.  He pours the rest of the green smoothie he’d made that morning into a glass and takes it with him to the couch where he opens his briefcase. 

He always spends a couple of hours catching up on emails before bed, and he reaches into the case to grab his laptop but his hand rests on something else. 

He pulls his hand out, and he’s holding a heavy, perfect bound book. 

That had definitely not been there this morning, he thinks before he puts it on the coffee table. 

The books stays in his briefcase.  Tony does not read it, he’s not stupid. 

Okay, Rhodey isn’t stupid, and Tony’s smart enough to call him the moment he stopped internally freaking out about the book.

“Don’t read it man, don’t be that guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course not.”

“You’re reading it right now aren’t you?”

“Of course not, I’m not stupid.”

“Really?”

“Really. But, like, I might in the next fifteen minutes. It’s just right there! You know I have poor impulse control, honey bear!” 

“Control yourself man!”

Tony controls himself long enough that Rhodey can slap the book out of his hands when he bursts into Tony’s apartment like the cool-aid man.  Rhodey’s mom didn’t raise a fool, so the books gets wrapped in Rhodey’s sweater, wrapped in a bag, put into another bag, then locked back in Tony’s briefcase.  He’d have thrown it into a fire too, if Tony hadn’t insisted they save it for Steve and Bucky.  Mostly Steve. 

“Who are they?” Rhodey asks, and though Tony wanted to save this story for Gossip time he relents and fills Rhodey in on the hours of Tony’s life he missed. 

“You are. The worst.” Rhodey says. “This shit never used to happen to me before I met you.” 

“Yeah, but you love me anyways.”

Rhodey makes a frustrated noise but doesn’t deny it. 

Tony and Rhodey wait at the library all day for Steve and Bucky to show up.  Tony keeps making Rhodey guess which vaguely suspicious duos are the Monster Hunters in question, just to laugh behind his hand when Rhodey inevitably guesses wrong.

The briefcase is heavy in Tony’s hand, and he thinks if he stops talking he’ll want to rip the book out and read it. 

“Oh wait, no I know exactly who you were talking about,” Rhodey says, his flat voice resigned. Tony looks up and sees Steve and Bucky beelining towards the library’s entry way. 

Tony stand from the bench and waves invitingly towards the two men. 

“Hey! No late fees for you!” Tony calls out as they get closer.  Bucky doesn’t laugh this time, but Steve’s face still gets red so Tony chalks it up to a win. 

“Tony, what’s that?” Steve asks, pointing at Tony’s hand. 

Tony and Rhodey both look down to see Tony’s hand gripping the bag Rhodey had stuffed the book into. 

“Jesus, Tony!” 

“What, I didn’t? I don’t remember opening the case! It was locked! You’d have noticed me unlocking it!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Steve interrupts. 

“I’m the best librarian, I found your book!” Tony says brightly, lifting up the bag. He’s already trying to unwrap it, but Bucky’s hand shoots out, closing over his with a surprising amount of strength. 

“Not here.” He says, gruffly.

“Holy shit,” Rhodey says under his breath. 

“I know, right?” Tony says, grinning widely at his friend. 

Steve ends up dropping the children’s books back into the drop box and they all hop into an old car and drive to a motel a few minutes away.  Tony complains about the vehicle the whole time, from the rust patches in the paint job, to the air pressure in the tires that he can feel is just too low, to the sound the car makes as Steve shifts gears.  

“Get a hold of your guy,” Bucky orders, eyes on Tony’s drifting hand through the sun visor’s mirror.

“He ain’t my guy,” Rhodey insists fervently, as he grabs Tony’s hands and yanks them away from the book. “I don’t got a guy, why does everyone think you’re my guy, Tony?” 

“Maybe ‘cause you’re always holding my hand?” Tony turns his grip so he’s clutching Rhodey’s fingers instead of shaking. 

He hates being out of control. It’s why he stopped drinking. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all your fault.” Rhodey says, but he keeps Tony’s hands steady for him, like he always does. 

The motel is cheap, and Tony thinks he might actually break out in hives just walking into the rented room, but he keeps quiet because he’s finally allowed to bring out the book. 

He blinks and Steve has snatched it out of his hands. 

“This is definitely it,” Steve says and Bucky nods as they both look over the black cover.  There are no words embossed on it, front or back or spine.  It’s just black leather, and cream pages. 

“So what is it?” Rhodey asks. 

So Steve and Bucky tell Rhodey what they told Tony last night, and this time Tony actually listens. 

“The last time someone had this one, they disappeared.” Bucky says.

Rhodey’s hands fist, and Tony gives in and sits on the bed, even if the comforter is tacky. 

“Finding these things are so hard,” Steve complains, “If we can locate one, usually it’s already in the hands of someone who is dumb enough to try and keep it.”  He looks approvingly at Tony. 

“Trust me,” Tony says, raising his hands, “I’m done with the disappearing acts.” 

“These things have a way of getting their hooks in you,” Bucky says, his arm reaching up to rub at the empty sleeve at his side. “You shouldn’t be alone for a bit.” 

“Thanks for coming to us,” Steve says, and he reaches out to touch Tony’s wrist. 

Tony thinks that might be a better reward than not disappearing. 

“Here’s my number.” Bucky says, handing Rhodey a sticky note. “Call if anything weird happens. 

Rhodey nods, all cool like, but Tony knows if he were to put a hand to Rhodey’s cheek it’d be heated. 

Tony, despite thinking Steve is kind of cute, is ready to put the incident behind him, but he doesn’t complain when Rhodey decides to stick around. To observe him. 

Tony is glad of it, when strange shit keeps happening around him. 

He’s swipes toothpaste onto his toothbrush and runs the head of it under the faucet then starts to brush his teeth. 

And then Rhodey asks him what’s taking him so long and he blinks and his mouth his foamy, and his gums hurt, and so does his hand where he was gripping the brush. Did he lose time? He’s probably tired.

But then, he gets up from watching TV with Rhodey and goes to the kitchen. He asks if Rhodey wants anything, grabs a second beer even before Rhodey asks for one and head back to the living room, but Rhodey already has a beer and the channel has changed. “I got thirsty waiting for you to finish.” Rhodey says offhand, as if Tony had gone anywhere but straight to and from the kitchen.

It’s at his day job that it gets really weird, though.  Tony finishes an email then stands to head to the employee break room.  He doesn’t need to, but he likes getting coffee there.  It’s a nice way to say hi, to stay connected to those who work under him. 

The halls are empty as he makes his way to the break room.  He can’t even hear people working behind the office doors.  There’s no one in the meeting rooms he walks by, no one by the water coolers.  He pushes the door to the break room but there’s no one there, either. He tries to focus on getting his coffee, but his hands are already shaking so he skips it and goes for water instead. 

On the way back he peaks his head opens a door leading into marketing but there’s no one there.  All the desks are empty. He takes a turn into accounting, but it’s just florescent lights. He pushes open another door, then another, and it’s all just empty desks and harsh lights.  It’s several twists before he even realises that this isn’t how he had the offices decorated.  He always stressed the importance of natural lighting and comfortable spaces but the decor has turned into colorless carpet, narrow plastered walls and yellow flickering lights.  Endless doors opening to vacant cubicles and abandoned office equipment. 

Tony has never been one to call out when in trouble, so it’s just his thudding heart and rasping breaths to accompany his footfalls as he runs through the building trying to find his way out of the labyrinthine office and damn, that thought really makes him want to laugh out loud, even though he knows it’d be strangled. 

He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, types in the number he’d already memorised by the time Rhodey had slipped it into his pocket, and hopes that somehow it connects. 

There’s a dial tone, and then-- “Rhodey?” 

“Hah, yes! I mean, no, I’m not Rhodey, but I’ll set you up on, like, a coffee date with him if you can get me out of here!” 

“Tony?” 

“Yes, ding ding ding! It only took you two guesses! Amazing--” His breath hitches in the middle and he stops running in order to stop himself from making any more weird, vulnerable noises. 

“Tony, is that you, what’s going on?” And that’s Steve’s voice, oh good!

“Yeah, I’m--does this thing have face time or? No, listen I lost in an office building. My office building? But it’s not, I did not authorise this floorplan! I’m a madman but I’m not malevolent I would never pair--” He makes a strangled noise, “Emotionally void and tasteless paintings with god! damn! fluorescent! lighting!” 

The yellow lights flicker obstinately at him. “Yeah fuck you, too!” He yells. 

“Tony, calm down, take a breath what did you say? A void?” 

“A labyrinth. No one’s here. Haven’t even seen a Minotaur.” He laughs again and he knows it’s shading hysterical. 

“Oh, shit,” The phone pulls away from Steve’s mouth and his voice goes fuzzy as he talks to presumably Bucky, and Tony heart flies to his throat.

“Hey, hey, what do you mean ‘oh shit’ come on. Steve? Steve?!” 

“I’m here, keep walking.” Steve demands.  Tony listens.  He walks.  He listens as Steve talks to him about what he’s doing, he walks past empty water coolers and dead plants.  When the connection hisses Steve tells him to turn and Tony does.  

“Bucky is pissed you called his car a heartbreaker, that’s his baby.” Steve says and Tony forces a laugh. “I only said it because it’s true. The paint job was breaking my heart!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony hears Bucky in the background. 

“I’ll show you a real ride once--” He breaks off as he opens another door to another empty room. Steve makes a choking noise that has Tony smiling despite everything. “I’ve got cars,” He says instead. “Like a hobby.”

“Sounds like a rich man’s hobby.” Steve offers.

“Sure,” Tony agrees. “But I’ll take it if it means I don’t have to worry about your friend’s death trap breaking down.” 

“I like bikes better,” Steve admits. 

“You ride?” Tony asks. 

“Here and there,” 

Tony gives silent thanks for the image of Steve in motorcycle leathers.

“I like bikes, too. You know Fujikawa?”

“Know ‘em? Those are the best damn bikes--”

“Well, I’ve got a couple--”

“Of course you do!” 

Tony laughs, delighted. “I can do better than that, too.”

“What, you’ve got a flying car hiding somewhere?”

“Not yet,” Tony says, “But I can introduce you to Rumiko.”

“Ru--Rumiko? That’s-- She’s, but!” She’s the lead designer at Fujikawa Industries is what she is, and Tony is so, so glad to have met her in this moment. 

“Yeah, she’s great. We’ll have lunch, it’ll be a ball.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” Steve says, “I won’t have coffee with you again if you’re just making this up.”

“You were planning on having coffee with me again?” The thought warms Tony’s chest straight through his heart.  He can feel the grin on his face. 

“Well. I gotta check you ... out, or---” 

Tony laughs, startled, then laughs harder because he can hear Bucky hacking up a lung in the background. 

“Shut up! Never mind, offer rescinded.” 

“Too late!” Tony crows, “You can’t take that back! You said it! I’m holding it right here, by my index card. I’m signing it out, it’s set in stone, buddy, you’ve got yourself a date.” 

“You have a date?” Pepper asks.

Tony whips his head around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.  The phone drops and Pepper rises from her seat at Tony’s desk. “Tony?” 

“Holy shit, I’m out!” 

Steve’s voice comes out tinny through the phone. 

“Tony, are you okay?” Pepper’s smile has taken on a shade of concern.

“You’re real, right?” Tony asks, before bending down to pick up his phone. “Steve, I found Pepper, I think I’m out!” 

“Okay, I’m going to call for an ambulance,” Pepper says, frowning. 

“No, I’m fine! I’m great!” 

Steve’s voice sounds generally approving, though Tony isn’t really listening to him right now. 

“You’re delirious, I think.” 

“No, I have a date!” He exclaims, and Pepper just shakes her head.

Steve and Bucky investigate ever corner of the spaces Tony inhabits, and they find a folded page in his night stand that Tony doesn’t remember.  The paper is think, and the only thing printed on it is an old looking wood cut of a silhouette. Looking at it sends chills up Tony’s spine, but after Steve and Bucky take possession of it the weirdness stops, so that’s fine.  Tony is good to put the incident behind him and focuses instead on figuring out how to get Steve to follow him on a plane trip to Japan. 

“What is it, Tony?” Steve’s voice is groggy, but Tony doesn’t feel bad for waking him. 

“Thought I saw a shadow outside my window.”

“You did not.” Steve says, matter of factly. 

“You don’t know that.” Tony says, smile quirking around his mouth. 

“You’re the worst.”

“That’s true.” Tony grins, because he can hear Steve shifting around, getting up. 

“Fine, I’ll be there soon.”

“Actually, it’s gonna take you about eight hours.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, you see, I’m kind of in Japan.”

“I’m not going to Japan, Tony!” 

“Aren’t you, though?” Tony says, and yes! He’d timed it right because he can hear the knocking at Steve’s door.

“Tony, what did you do?” Steve whines. 

Tony grins and takes a sip of the tea Rumiko had brought out for him.  On the table between them is a crumpled napkin with a spider imprinted on it, something slipped into Rumiko’s things without her noticing.  

“We’re going to Japan,” Bucky says, his voice muffled through the connection. 

“Tony, what did you do!” Steve’s whining takes a panicked edge to it. 

“It’s fine, Steve.” He says, then addresses Rumiko, pointing at his phone. “I told you, Rumiko, I know Weird Stuff experts. Everything’s gonna be fine!” 

“Seekers!” He hears Bucky yell. 

“RUMIKO?” Steve yells.

Rumiko puts her head in her hands, but she’s laughing. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says. 

Tony smiles, winningly and turns back to the phone, “You can buy me coffee when you get here.” 

[smoothshift]

I bought a 2019 Civic Type-R (Comparisons to other vehicles inside) via /r/cars

I bought a 2019 Civic Type-R (Comparisons to other vehicles inside)

New owner of a 2019 Championship White Civic Type R. Cross shopped this car with a Camaro 2SS 1LE, Bullitt Mustang, Scat Pack Challenger Widebody, Focus RS, and Golf R.

  I'm writing this post because I don't think this is a cross-shop that happens very often (hatchbacks and performance coupes/sedans)... at least in my hunting it didn't seem to. Hopefully people googling something like this in the future will come across this post and find some helpful thoughts. My requirements were that the car fit a cello case and have Android Auto/Apple CarPlay. I'm spoiled, manufacturer infotainment systems are universally garbage compared to Android Auto/Apple CarPlay. My budget was $45k.

  I traded in my 2017 Civic Si Sedan, which I loved, because I was looking for the next step in performance. I only tracked the car a total of 14 times over the course of two years, so I definitely consider myself casual in that regard, but if you are on the fence I strongly recommend getting some track days in. It's some of the most fun I've had in my adult life.

  Cars missing from this test: G70, STI. I refuse to support not putting the manual in the top engine spec for a car, sorry G70. The STI doesn't come with Android Auto, but if that's not a requirement for you I don't blame you for picking up one of these bad boys.

  Onto the comparisons and why I chose the CTR. I'll go in reverse order from cars I felt were the worst to best... except the Camaro which is second due to GM fiat.

  Ford Mustang Bullitt

I've never been more disappointed in a car. From the outside this car is GORGEOUS. To me it is the best looking car of everything I tested. Ford designers knocked it out of the park. This immediately falls away the moment you sit down inside of one.

The interior was worse than my Civic. The seats weren't as comfortable, the buttons were harsh, and the fitment of everything seemed off. The digital dash is fantastic, though.

Then you start the car and you can almost forgive the interior quality. The sound this car makes was also the best of any car I tested. Then you go to shift and the years you've spent with a Honda shifter make you realize how spoiled you are. This way this transmission shifted was terrifying, and I wouldn't be surprised if there aren't failures related to it down the road. Having said that, press your foot on the gas and hear the engine climb to redline... you can almost forget the shifter.

The back seats could actually fit a human being in a pinch, good job there, and I was able to fit a cello case inside when folding the rear seats down. That's all the practicality I needed. Ford's version of comfort mode is great, but there is a LOT of road noise that leaks into the car. The freeway was very loud...

There's a running theme here of ecstasy and disappointment. I couldn't get over the disappointments from this fifty thousand dollar car. I expect more from such a size-able expense. For the people who prioritize looks, sound, power I don't know if there's a competitor outside the Challenger. I can see why it's the best selling pony car in America.

Driving Experience: 8/10

Practicality: 3/10

  Challenger Scat Pack Widebody

Oh man... this car is delicious. I feel like if I ended up in this car I'd move to the South and get the giant flags to attach to my car. My brain shut off when I pressed the pedal. I'm not entirely sure this car should be paired with a 6-speed, or maybe the 1st gear should be made longer. Even with the widebody this thing wants to eat your tires for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I can't even imagine the Hellcat Challenger in a manual... wow. It's also an absolute boat, but it's a great boat!

The interior is... not as bad as the Mustang. Still leaves some question marks on the fitment front. The trunk is GARGANTUAN and so are the rear seats. Will your passengers have to wiggle their way into them because there's only 2 doors? Yes, but they are very usable once inside. Where's my manual Charger :< The sheer amount of space you have, and how quiet it is on the freeway gets big ups from me.

Sound system was the best out of anything I tested. Cello fits. Uconnect is great, and has AA/AC. The manual's gear ratios need to be changed, a burnout a day is not getting positive marks from me.

Driving Experience: 7/10

Practicality: 5/10

  Focus RS

This car is more than the sum of its parts. I hadn't even considered it initially due to ride quality concerns until another of my posts had someone recommend it saying it wasn't so bad.

I'm glad I got to drive it, because it's a blast! The ride quality is indeed as harsh as the reviews say, though. I live in Los Angeles, our roads are garbage (I know yours are worse Michigan). I drive clients in my car sometimes, I don't want them bouncing around too much for the drive that's mostly freeway from LAX to SFV. I'm slightly exaggerating here, but it was too much.

The interior here is nicer than the Bullitt. The sound is worse, but better than the Type R. The shifter is better than the Mustang, but maybe that's due to the engine it's paired with? I only spent 20 minutes with the car, I can't go into as much detail as with the other cars. The car feels like a track weapon, at all times. Which is crazy because it's probably slower than a Bullitt around a track, but it certainly doesn't feel like it.

Cello case fit easily, back seats could fit real humans on a road trip. Drift mode. It's a hatchback, there are perks.

Driving Experience: 8/10

Practicality: 5/10

  Golf R

I'm surprised I didn't choose this car when I consider it from just the exterior. It's professional, well put together, and a jack of all trades. Maybe I should have rated it higher somewhere but I don't know where.

The sound is subdued when it needs to be, it's comfortable on the freeway, when you floor it you grin. People can fit in the back just fine, and it checks every box neatly. How very German!

It's missing emotion? Maybe some steering feel? The car felt like it was holding back, or maybe it was the weight. I don't know. I spent almost three hours with this car. I could see myself taking this to work, taking it to the track, and being pleasantly surprised with just how capable it would be every day.

The Golf R checks all the boxes, and is capability personified. If the R wagon was here I'd have said to hell with "emotion" I'm getting the wagon... but this is just practicality on par with the Type R, while lacking some of the driving character. Or maybe if I lived up north and the AWD was super important to me.

Driving Experience: 7/10

Practicality: 7/10

  Camaro 2SS 1LE

My younger self hates me for not buying this car. Driving this car is an absolute pleasure. As I write this I almost feel regret for not buying it in spite of its shortcomings, but the axe fell. I'll write this so future buyers can save themselves from driving this, falling in love, then having to take it out back.

The sound is a tuning fork next to the ears, while maintaining comfortable noise levels on the freeway. The manual is second only to the Honda. The suspension is actually better than expected when in comfort, and the best in track mode. The pillbox you drive in isn't that bad when you have blind spot monitoring... I could not buy the 1SS 1LE version since it doesn't have the option to add this. Feels criminal. Seats are comfortable, and most of all everything is TIGHT.

Fitment of the interior is great, steering feel is precise, and you can break the back end loose on command... that's probably the greatest thing about this car, the control you feel. I can't talk about it too much, the reviewers have said it enough and they're right. To me there is no car that will give you this level of performance for so cheap. Maybe a used Corvette, but I was buying new.

To answer the question you've all been wondering: will it fit a cello in a case? No. I tried. I tried so hard. I twisted, I turned, I did every trick learned from moving couches through doorways I could think of... but I could not get the thing to fit in the car. Who designed this trunk opening? Kill them. I hate them with a burning passion. El Fin.

Decent sound system. Back seats only for small bags and people you hate. Trunk opening designed by Satan.

I can't put it anywhere but 2nd even if the scoring system I derived says it should be lower. Driving it was that good. Maybe the Driving Experience scale should be adjusted to move everything else down a point or two.

Driving Experience: 10/10

Practicality: 2/10 (+1 because you can throw a couple backpacks in the back seat with a carry on in the trunk)

  Civic Type R

When I set out to purchase the car I had ruled out the Type R because I live in SoCal and I refuse to purchase a car above MSRP. Plus, I wanted to move to an AWD or RWD platform.

To start things off, I bought a Type R for MSRP in Southern California... and from said dealer I also bought paint protection film/tinting. Full disclosure because that's not just the car for straight MSRP. These are things I was going to buy anyways and they priced them at regular local prices, which I know because I had PPF and tinting done by a local shop last go around. If you don't want these things shop around, and don't impulse buy this car. It will take a week or two of waiting, but someone will make a deal with you. Or just go out of state and buy one for MSRP. The road trip back should be a blast.

The steering is fantastic... much better than you'd expect out of a car as high seated as the Civic has gotten. You can definitely tell it's the lightest car of this group because it feels the most "chuckable". ((The Camaro isn't as "chuckable" because I reached the limits of my courage turning this thing in the canyons above SCV before it reached the limit of where it will stop turning in))

Shifting is easy and smooth, but maybe that's because it feels nearly identical to the one in the Si I've become accustomed to. It has 4 doors, the opening in the back when you lift the trunk is cavernous.

The ride in comfort mode is the largest difference from track mode (+R) to comfort out of anything I tested. +R to sport I can hardly tell that much of a difference, but when you click down into comfort some withcraft magic happens, the car gets quieter, and the road noise drops. Ride is still more bumpy than I would hope for, though... I think this comes down to how thin the tires are. Strongly considering a drop to 18" wheels with 275/35 or 255/40 tires. I won't be lowering the car because my driveway is a cliff, a common theme in Los Angeles.

It feels much more spacious than the Golf R when you sit inside it, even though the specs say that isn't true. I'm 6'2" and there's so much headroom compared to my civic sedan I had to laugh. The back seats have plenty of leg room, while being much easier to get into than something like the Challenger. Why are there only 4 seats instead of 5? Whatever. The seats are stellar, though overly bolstered if you are a wider dude. I love that when I'm wearing a helmet, the upper portion of the seat from your shoulders leans back to allow for room. With the helmet on I don't have to slouch forward like I did with the seats in my Si.

Sound system is good, but not as good as the Challenger. For spirited driving +R mode steering/suspension is great, but the Camaro and RS felt better. In comfort mode road noise is third to the Golf R and Challenger, suspension is third to the Challenger and Camaro. With the seats folded down it feels like it has more space than the Golf R even though I don't think that's quite the case.

Driving Experience: 8/10

Practicality: 7/10

  Final note: The looks are very polarizing. They must be, because you get a LOT of stares in this car and a LOT of rev bombs from other drivers. If you want attention get a Type R. Downside is, I don't want attention. Maybe more points for the Golf R should you find yourself in the market. This car is a great car, I can see why reviewers love it so damn much. I smile when I think about driving it, and I can throw a bunch of shit in it for road trips or carpool to work without issue. What more could you ask for?... Chevy SS dreams intensify

  TL;DR: Set out to buy an AWD/RWD car that can fit a cello case, has Android Auto/Apple CarPlay, and costs ~$45k or less. Bought a FWD car because, to me, it's the best blend of fun driving and practicality on the market.

[elementalwriter67]

The Void Chapter Three

Pairing: (eventual) Jason Todd x Reader

Chapter one, Chapter Two

Word count: 4813

Summary:   The Void is a hellish place filled with screams that echoed throughout the place at all the hours of the night, and where pain is a very close friend. You’ve spent your entire life in the Void, having been there since you were ten and you’ve just recently gotten a new cellmate… Who’s a little more hopeful than you are that either of you are going to make it out of this place alive. Though you have to admit that maybe his hope is rubbing off on you because you slowly find yourself hoping that the two of you do get out of here.

~Jason’s P.O.V~

“Keep moving!” The guard behind him shouted as they nearly shoved Jason down the stairs.

“Ok, ok, Jesus can't a guy stop and take a look at the fucking decour? Or lack thereof.” Jason muttered the last part as he looked away from the hole in between the flights of stairs and followed the other guard down.

“Shut up.” The guard behind him growled and Jason rolled his eyes.

“So polite.” Jason muttered. The sound of the guard grabbing his gun was the only warning Jason got before he felt the but of the gun slam into the back of his head causing him to stumble down the remaining stairs to the landing and then crash into the wall. In a second the guard was on Jason pinning him to the wall and snarling at him as he pressed the barrel of the gun into his side.

“One more word out of you and the next time I hit you won’t be with the back end of my gun.” The guard’s voice was deadly calm as he jabbed Jason in the side causing him to wince, he was still sore from a fight with Harley a few days ago.

“Got it?!” The guard shouted suddenly as he jabbed him again and Jason gritted his teeth as he nodded his head. The guard smirked in victory and shoved himself off of Jason, pressing him further into the wall before he took a couple of steps back from him.

“Good. Now get moving, Dr. Roberts doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” The guard stated and Jason pulled himself off the wall. Turning to look at the guard behind him Jason glared at him the fire in his eyes promising the guard that he would be the first one he beats the shit out of when he gets out of here. The guard simply laughed at his expression while the other guard grabbed Jason’s arm with an exasperated sigh, pulling Jason away from the other man. The last thing he wanted was to be late especially with Dr. Roberts being the one to test him and they were already pushing it so the last thing he needed was for these two to have a fucking pissing match.

“Let’s go.” The guard growled as he dragged Jason away and down the stairs. Jason turned away from the guard behind him and focused on where they were going and returning to mentally mapping out this place. So far they had gone down a total of five floors which did not sit well with Jason, neither did look up between the flights of stairs, the number of stairs that he saw in that quick look was enough to make him dizzy. It was enough to scare him too, because if there were that many stairs, and that many floors between the one he had started on and the basement then there was no telling just how deep this place went, or how high. Which also meant that there was no concrete way of knowing how many people were actually in this place be them good or bad there could be countless people. Either way, this wasn’t going to be easy nor was it going to go well.

“Stop.” The guard in front of him ordered him as the guard stopped in front of what looked like a heavy iron door. At the sight of the door ,Jason’s brows furrowed, what made this one so much more special than the ordinary doors upstairs. The guard nodded his head and Jason felt the man behind him grab his arms and hold on tight like they expected him to run, and honestly he didn’t blame them taking the two of them out with his hands behind his back would be easy. Even easier if he had his gear with him, but it was precisely that fact that was stopping him. He had seen all the guards upstairs carrying guns, one or two people with guns without his body armour was fine, but more than ten was a bit of a problem that would surely lead to him getting killed.

The guard opening the door and the loud shrill scream that sounded pulled Jason from his thoughts and he went rigid as he stared straight ahead eyes wide. And suddenly it was like he was a kid again. His heart was racing as he stared forward, his breaths coming in quick and sharp as he clenched his hands behind his back desperately wanting to cover his ears but being unable to as he was forced into the room.  The room before him was large and cavernous almost in that it was made entirely out of cement with several rooms scattered around the room. The area was brightly lit by harsh fluorescent lights, drains were placed in repeating intervals along the floor, and guards stood besides each door within the room acting like they couldn’t hear the consistent screaming/growling/clawing/crying/clinking of metal against metal going on all around them. He couldn’t see inside the rooms and for that he was greatful the screaming and the sounds were enough, add sight to them and he was almost certain that he would throw up or something. It was all just too much at once and despite what was coming next Jason was thankful when they finally shoved him into a room, it didn’t stop the noise completely but it cut it off enough that Jason no longer felt like he was reliving a bad dream.

“Sit.” One of the guards ordered as he cut Jason free, shoving him towards the chair. Jason looked over and glared at the man as he rubbed his wrists but otherwise didn’t say anything instead he obediently sat down in the chair his jaw clenched. The guards stepped forward and grabbed ahold of his wrists, pressing them into the arms of the dentist chair they strapped him down pulling the straps tight before moving to tie his legs down.

“Excellent work that will be all.” A voice said as the guards stood up straight and backed away from Jason.

“Yes, sir.” The guard who had been in the front stated as he nodded his head, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked out following the other guard. As the two of them left a man with greying brown hair walked in front of Jason, the man was wearing wire rimmed glasses that looked like they had come straight out of an old movie and he had wrinkles here and there on his face. He certainly didn’t walk like the aging old man he was supposed to be.

“Ah, finally subject 314695 we meet at last or should I say Jason Todd, truly it is an honor to meet you I’ve heard so much about you.” The man said as he pulled his stethoscope from where it was around his neck and put it in his ears as he stepped up to him.

“I’m sorry but do I know you?” Jason asked as he shifted around testing the limits of his restraints and finding that they had left him with little moving room.

“Oh heavens no! If you did then we would have a very, very, very, serious problem on our hands, but we don’t so there for you do not know me so allow me to introduce myself my name is Dr. Roberts.” Dr. Roberts said as he offered Jason a cold, calculating smile, his eyes shining with glee as he looked Jason over before pressing the stethoscope to his chest.

“Hmmm… elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, nothing abnormal sounding though. The diaphragm is moving correctly, no broken ribs, excellent everything seems to be in working order.” Dr. Roberts stated as he stood up straight, taking off his stethoscope he stashed it in the pocket of his lab coat which he then proceeded to take off. Jason watched the man in mild annoyance as he moved out of Jason’s line of view to fiddle with something behind him.

“So, doc, you want to tell me what the hell is going on here? Or am I going to have to wait until I beat it out of you?” Jason asked and at that Dr. Roberts laughed.

“Oh you’re going to beat me up now are you? And just how do you plan on doing that with your arms and legs tied up like that?” Dr. Roberts asked his words were laced with confidence. Jason winced at a particularly loud shrill scream coming from the room next to them.

“You said you heard a lot about me so I’m assuming you know my track record with getting out of tricky situations, why don’t you take a guess on how I plan on doing that.” Jason fired back his voice filled with just as much confidence as Dr. Roberts. Dr. Roberts was silent for a moment before walking back in front of him a rolling tray with a sheet covering it standing next to him.

“If you mean by escaping this place then may I suggest you have a long chat with your cellmate Subject 312469 I believe she can give you some insight as to how this place deals with people who attempt to escape.” Dr. Roberts explained his voice calm and stern and Jason’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Jason asked.

“What do you think I mean Jason? Just because you’re the big bad Red Hood doesn’t mean we didn’t prepare for your arrival or that you’re the first hero we’ve brought here but I’m sure you’ll be able to find out so much more if you simply ask my darling subject 312469, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to answer your questions, oh and do tell her I’m the one who told you to ask. Now enough with the idle chit chat let’s get started shall we?” Dr. Roberts asked as he picked up an empty syringe and stepped up to Jason who was still staring at him in confusion. What the hell did he mean by all of that? What the fuck was this place?

Jason didn’t even flinch as Dr. Roberts plunged the syringe into his neck and began drawing blood from him he just sat there in silence. Once Dr. Roberts had filled two syringes full of Jason’s blood he finally turned back to the tray ripping off the sheet covering it he revealed three glowing syringes. Jason gulped at the sight of them. He eyed one syringe that was filled with a glowing neon green liquid, the last time he had seen a liquid look like that had been the first time he fought Scarecrow as Robin right before he had been hit with a dose of fear toxin. But that stuff had been in gas form, as it was most commonly used, this stuff was liquid and Jason didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

“Ok, so Jason what we’re going to do now is I’m going to perform a little experiment on you involving these lovely little liquids here. First, we’re going to start with this one-” Dr. Roberts picked up the glowing neon syringe and smiled at him, “and then we’re going to see what happens. Ok?” Dr. Roberts didn’t wait for a response as he stepped forward and plunged the syringe into Jason’s neck.

Jason clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed in preparation for the pain but when it never came Jason opened his eyes. The sight that greeted him caused his chest to constrict and throat to tighten and suddenly it was like he was 16 again trapped in that warehouse in Lebanon. He stared at the Joker who stood in front of him smacking a crowbar against his open palm with that crazed smile on the Joker’s face. Fear gripped him as he continued to stare at the Joker who started walking towards him. Jason shook his head ‘no, no, no, no, no, this isn’t real. This isn’t happening. None of this is real, it isn’t real,’ Jason repeated over and over to himself as he closed his eyes trying desperately to convince his mind that what he was seeing wasn’t in the slightest bit real. When he reopened his eyes he jumped, pulling against the restraints as he bit back a shout of terror, the Joker’s face was now in his face.

“No. No. No. You’re not real. You’re not real. Nothing that is going on is real.” Jason stated his body tense and his eyes locked on the Joker. Joker laughed maniacally his shoulders shaking as he bent backward with the force of his laughter, the sound of that crazed cackle caused Jason to shiver and he fought against the rising panic.

“Is that any way to talk to an old friend? Huh, Jason? Maybe I should teach you some manners.” Joker growled as he raised the crowbar like a baseball bat before swinging it at him and hitting him square in the jaw. Jason’s head whipped to the side a combination of spit and blood flying from his mouth as pain flared throughout his body, that it had felt far too real to be a creation of his mind. What the hell was going on?

“No. You’re not real. That shouldn’t have hurt.” Jason stated mystified by what was going on. This shouldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. He was awake. He knew that he had felt Dr. Roberts inject him with the serum, he was awake. This was all just an allusion, this wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real, this wasn’t real, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. The Joker cackled again hitting him in the face with the crowbar whipping his head to the side.

“Nope, that’s still not how you talk to an old friend, honestly I would have thought that old batsy would have taught you better than this.” Joker stated casually as he hit Jason again whipping his head to the other side. Blood pooled in Jason’s mouth and he swore that it felt like he had lost a couple of teeth with that hit, desperately Jason felt around in his mouth with his tongue trying to find where the blood was coming from what teeth were missing but he couldn’t find it. He felt all his teeth and when he spit the blood out of his mouth and felt around again he didn’t feel anything either but blood pooled in his mouth again before he could. He couldn’t breathe. His chest constricting painfully and his breaths coming in sharp stuttering gasp his heart was pounding against his rib cage desperately trying to break free. He squeezed his eyes closed as his hands started shaking mentally hoping and praying that everything would go back to normal after this was all over but when he opened his eyes again he was still there. He was still trapped in that warehouse with the Joker and did the Joker seem taller? When had his hands been tied behind his back? When had he gotten on the floor? These realizations only served to make his panic worse and what had started out as stuttering gasps quickly turned into full on hyperventilation as Jason started shaking all over and the Joker laughed bringing his foot up he kicked Jason in the side.

Beside him, Dr. Roberts smiled as he watched Jason have his panic attack while he whipped his head from side to side and reacted like the Joker was actually there. It was good to see that while the serum had caused an increase in his heartbeat and a panic attack, things looked to be going well. This would certainly prove to be a good control method for the more rowdy patients. For several more minutes, Dr. Roberts watched as Jason repeated, through choked breaths, over and over again that this wasn’t actually happening. Desperately trying to convince his mind and body that what he was seeing, what he was feeling, wasn’t really and failing every time. Until the serum fully wore off and Jason sagged into the chair his chin pressed against his chest and his breathing heavy as he stared at the floor. Dr. Roberts clapped his hands together smiling widely as he watched him for a couple of seconds taking a couple more mental notes, Jason’s eyes were glazed over but that hardly mattered. Dr. Roberts did need him to be here mentally for his experiments to work.

“Excellent, that worked perfectly. Now let’s have some more fun shall we?” Dr. Roberts asked as he picked up another syringe this one filled with a dark red liquid. Slowly Jason raised his head blinking just as slowly couple he looked at Dr. Roberts who smiled at him, it took him a couple of seconds but he managed to muster up a weak glare that caused Dr. Roberts to chuckle.

“Fuck… you.” Jason slurred and Dr. Roberts laughed as he stepped up to him flicking the side of the syringe as he smiled meanicingly at Jason.  

“Oh, I am going to enjoy breaking you.” Dr. Roberts said as he injected Jason with red liquid.

The result was almost instantaneously, white hot pain spread through his body as his back bowing as he gripped the arms of the chair. It felt like he was being burned from the inside out, like liquid lava had been injected into his veins as he convulsed and pulled at the restraints all while fighting against the urge to scream. Sweat broke out across Jason’s forehead as he convulsed violently from the pain and Dr. Roberts laughed watching him this serum was doing a much better job than the other one.

“Remember, Jason, don’t forget to scream.” Dr. Roberts said as he circled him watching as he convulsed and fought desperately not to scream until eventually he couldn’t hold the screams in anymore and they tore free from him. Ripping his throat as he screamed releasing some of the pain and Dr. Roberts laughed, this was going to be a fun session.

~(Y/N)’s P.O.V~

You were startled awake by the door opening with a loud bang and in an instant you shot up sitting up straight, wincing internally at the shot of pain as you stared at the door your heart racing and hands balled up in the fabric of your blanket. You relaxed slightly as you watched the guards shove Jason into the room, he stumbled forward tripping over his feet as he fell to his knees and the guards slammed the door closed drawing your attention back to the door. You stared at the door for a couple of seconds fully expecting them to come back but when they didn’t you returned your attention to Jason who was still kneeling in the middle of the cell. He looked like he had run several miles while he was gone his hair and his shirt stuck to him and sweat dripped down off of his chin and his eyes looked red and bloodshot, but as far as you could tell he hadn’t been cut open. There were no bandages, no blood stains, no cuts, or scratches that weren’t there before, so that means he had serums tested on him that was the only way you came out of the basement not sporting new battle scars.

“Welcome back, did you enjoy your trip?” You asked him as you laid back down on your bed pulling your blanket back up over your shoulders. Weakly Jason lifted his head and looked at you his eyes squinted, clearly, he did not appreciate your joke, you raised an eyebrow in response and he looked away from you. Shaking slightly Jason moved away from you to lean against his own bed, panting slightly from the action and you gave him a sympathetic look it’s always worse after a trip to the basement.

“No, I can’t say I did.” Jason responded and you smirked. You closed your eyes fully expecting that to be the end of the conversation but Jason had other ideas.

“Is it always that bad?” Jason asked after a second of silence and your eyes snapped open. For a moment you stared at him mentally debating whether or not to answer his question and how to answer his question. With a sigh, you rolled over as carefully as you could manage. Gritting your teeth you reached behind you and gathered up your mess of hair, pulling it up to reveal the bandages wrapped around your neck and disappearing down past the neck of your shit. Behind you, Jason shucked in a sharp breath as he stared at your bandages.

“No. It’s worse.” You responded to your voice low and your eyes downcast as you stared at the wall.

“What happened to you?” Jason asked his voice hesitant as he watched you. Your body tensed as you dropped your hair quickly hiding your hands in front of you clasping the blanket tightly in your hands.

“Nothing.” Your voice was curt and emotionless as you stared straight ahead your hands shaking slightly. Living through everything that had happened once was bad enough relieving it again in your mind however was one thing but actually talking about it wasn’t about to fucking happen. Jason seemed to get the message and thankfully shut up leaving you to wallow in your self-pity quietly.

“You know down there, in that… place Dr. Whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was-” “Dr. Roberts.” You muttered cutting him off as you pulled your blanket up more hiding your shoulders and clutching the thin fabric to your chest. ‘What the hell was he doing?’ You thought to yourself as you stared at the wall, he wasn’t actually going to describe what had happened to him down there was he?

“Right. Dr. Roberts, he was injecting me with these serums that-” “What the hell are you doing?” You cut him off again, this time rolling over to face him, making sure that your blanket didn’t slip off your shoulders as you stared at him like he was crazy. Jason’s eyes were cold and calculating as he looked at you mentally gauging your reaction.

“Describing what happened to me down there what does it sound like?” He countered and you clenched your jaw an annoyed look crossing your face.

“Like you’re an idiot, you don’t talk about what happened down there, no one talks about what happened down there.” You stated, and you weren’t exactly wrong that fact was like a universal truth within the Void. What happened in the basement stayed in the basement whether you were a first timer or had been there a million times you never told anyone what happened down there. It was to protect yourself as much as others.

“Why not? I just thought you could help me figure out what it was they were trying to do to me.” Jason said and you squinted at him your grip on the blanket tightening.

“And what exactly gave you that idea? I don’t know what the hell they were doing to you down there or why.” You stated and Jason raised an eyebrow. He was silent for a few seconds looking you over and scanning your face before he finally said anything.

“Huh, that’s funny because Dr. Roberts sure made it seem like you knew a lot more about what went on in this place than you’re letting on.” He stated and you froze your eyes widening and your body tensing as you stared at him. You blinked a couple of times before anger flared in your eyes and you glared at him as you sat up, the blanket falling away and your body practically vibrating with anger.

“That fucking psychotic asshole! You’re actually going to believe what that asshole told you?! You’re actually going to be suspicious of me when he was the one injecting you with all that shit?!” You shouted at him and Jason drew his shoulders back as he sat up straighter his eyes hardening.

“Well, it’s not exactly like you’re the most trustworthy person here either sweetheart.” He said and you growled at him your hands gripping the edge of your bed. If it didn’t pain you so much to even be standing right now you would walk over there and kick him in the crotch.

“I’m more trustworthy than that psychotic prick! Do you go around trusting all the people who pump you full of shit?! Or are you just that stupid?!” You screamed you weren’t about to take this. He had every right to be suspicious of you but to accuse you of working with these people was another fucking thing.

“Well, how am I supposed to fucking know?! I just met you! Also, Dr. Roberts brought you and only you up during whatever that thing is called so how am I not supposed to be fucking suspicious of you!” Jason shouted and cold realization washed over you as you stared at him.

“You talked about escaping didn’t you?” You asked him after a few seconds of stunned silence. That would be the only reason that Dr. Roberts brought you up, at least you hoped that was the only reason he brought you up, it was no secret amongst the staff, guards, and many of the other patients that you had attempted to escape in your early years here. That you had attempted it several times to the point where you were the common example when it came to what happened to people who attempted to escape and didn’t die.

“I ah… yeah, how did you know?” He asked his own anger slipping away and you rolled your eyes as you shifted back onto your bed, you were still annoyed at him but far less than a few seconds ago.

“Because that’s the only god damn reason Dr. Roberts would even bring me up, at least I hope that’s the only reason he would bring me up.” You muttered the last bit more to yourself than to him a shiver racing down your spine as your grip tightened on the edge of the bed.

“Why would he bring you up then?” He asked and you sighed your shoulders sagging as you looked away from him looking down at the floor. You were silent as you took a moment to debate about how much you wanted to say, you didn’t necessarily want to tell him why Dr. Roberts would bring you up. But you knew that you needed to tell him because if you didn’t he would try it and then if he tried to it would only bring trouble for you and that was the last thing you needed or wanted. Sighing again you looked up at him your face an emotionless mask and your knuckles white.

“Because I’ve attempted to escape on multiple occasions and each time I tried to escape I failed.” You told him and he tilted his head as he looked at you.

“Wait, you’ve attempted to escape and you didn’t succeed not once? Seriously? What about others hasn’t someone succeeded at escaping from here?” He asked and you shook your head, wincing at the action and loosening your grip on the bed slightly.

“No. You don’t escape from here, you either get caught or die trying and nine out of ten times it’s die trying. Which honestly is a much more preferable option over what happens if you get caught.” You said.

“What happens when you get caught?” He asked and for a split second your mask cracked to reveal fear and annoyance as you looked away from him taking a deep breath and then looking back at him.

“What do you think happens when you get caught? You get punished. Are we done now? I was sleeping before you came in.” You said as you laid back down and rolled over so you were facing the wall your hands close to your chest and the blanket covering your shoulders. Silently you prayed that Jason wouldn’t bring anything else up, that he would just be quiet, that he would leave you alone. It was bad enough that those memories from the times you had been caught were already nibbling at the edge of your mind you didn’t need to be reminded of more things if this guy kept running his mouth. Thankfully this time when Jason kept his mouth shut he actually kept it shut leaving you to stare at the wall willing yourself to fall asleep. Not that sleeping would actually help you, you would just be plagued by nightmares but at the very least being tortured in your sleep was better than torturing yourself while you were awake.

[onehaleofanadventure]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics) Relationship: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Summary: 

Oh, what problems is causes when your boyfriend find someone else's lace in your bed.

Tim had no reason to be so nervous. It was just Jason. Every Tuesday night he stops by Tim’s apartment for a while. Tim is certain it’s not a date-date, it’s just free food and conversation with someone intelligent. The only problem is that Tim has had this embarrassing crush on Jason pretty much forever, he refuses to let himself project his stupid unrequited feelings onto Jason. If Jason was interested, he would have done something years ago.  

All the being said, something feels weird about tonight though. Jason isn’t coming straight from work, he had the night off. If feels different, more special, like he really wants something with Tim, but that is most definitely Tim projecting.  

That doesn’t change the fact that he had spent all morning obsessively cleaning the mess he and Steph had made this weekend. Well, mostly Steph, the girl was a hot mess on a good day, and so much worse when drunk. Also, she had the very uncomfortable habit of climbing into bed with Tim to cuddle in the middle of the night.  

Speak of the devil, “Hey, boyfriend.” Steph greeted, both too loud and cheerful for Tim‘s current inner turmoil.  

Tim just sighed, long since having given up on trying to get her to stop calling him that, despite how awkward it was since they’d broken up so long ago. “I love you. You know this. But I have plans that I will not be canceling for any reason other than life-threatening emergency.”

Steph giggled, “I know. Netflix and chill with the boyfriend!”

“Steph,” Tim groaned.  

“I know, I know. He’s not your boyfriend, and, Netflix and chill is sex and we do not have sex, which is a huge mistake on your part. A man that strong, that big,” she hummed suggestively, “I bet the sex would be fantastic.”

Tim spluttered, blushing fiercely as Steph cackled in his ear. “Anyway, I’m not calling for plans. I’m calling because I left my favorite, lucky eggplant bra and panties there. So I’ll be by tomorrow to grab, or more likely find—knowing your cleaning habits—them.”

“Hey!” Tim squawked indignantly. “I’ve cleaned, and I—“

“In that case, I’m sure you’ve found them, so no wearing them! I know how you like the feeling of the lace against you skin.”

Tim spluttered again, flushing even brighter and hiding his face despite Stephanie not being here to see him. He tried to say something, but decided it would be better to just hang up on his still cackling best friend.  

Jason was due to arrive in less than an hour—it’s not that they have a specific meeting time, they just tend to meet at almost the same time every week—and he still has so much to do.  

Jason, timely as always, arrives at exactly a quarter past eleven wearing a dopey grin and exclaiming, “Timmy, I brought sustenance!” while gently shaking a brown paper bag, with the logo of a Japanese restaurant down the street, in his face—it’s one of Tim’s favorite restaurants, which he told Jason once a long time ago.  

Tim blushes at the insinuation that Jason remembers such insignificant details about him, taking the bag and heading towards the kitchen. He hears Jason chuckle as the front door closes and locks, Jason’s surprisingly quiet, now bootless, footsteps padding after him, the lack of noise also implying the removal of his signature leather jacket.  

“So,” Jason starts, causing irrational anxiety to bubble in Tim’s stomach, “don’t know if you’ve been outside recently, but it’s fucking cold. I think my hands are going to fall off.”

Tim mindlessly “tsks” at the curse, immediately yelping—and nearly dropping the plates he was pulling out for the food—as said cold hands find their way under his sweater and blushing as the rest of Jason presses right up against his back. He sets the plates down, intent on pushing Jason’s now wandering hands away, but find himself too distracted to anything more than shiver as Jason whispers, warm and rough, into his ear. “Don’t worry about plates, Babybird. Just grab silverware and come cuddle me warm.”

Tim starts to stutter out a response, but as Jason’s big hands slide off his tight—and now cold—stomach he decides he’d rather just listen: cuddling seems like the perfect idea.

Tim grabs the food, a fork for him, and an extra for Jason, though he knows Jason will use the chopsticks from the restaurant. He turns, heading back to his living room and stops short, gaping at Jason, who was bent over at the waist, digging through the closet that usually held all his spare blankets.  

Usually being the key word. He’d thrown all the ones from his bed in the wash this morning, and taken the extras out of the closet to sleep with tonight.  

“Hey Timbers,” Jason calls, turning and forcing Tim to snaps his eyes to Jason’s face rather than continuing his trek down the hard lines of his thick-muscled thighs. Jason smiles indulgently, though Tim misses the look, trying to appear as if he’s meeting Jason’s eyes without actually doing so. “So, where are all the blankets?”

“O-Oh,” Tim stuttered, silently cursing his nerves and finally putting the food down to hide the bright red splotches no doubt obvious on his pale skin. “I, um, I’m washing them. Steph kind of made a huge mess of the ones that were on my bed.”

Tim, still fiddling with the food now on his coffee table, misses the slight flinch and the way Jason’s smile turns forced at the mention of Steph in his bed. However, he looks up at the slight edge now in Jason’s voice. “So,” Jason hums, clearing his throat, though the usual warmth doesn’t fully return, “proper cuddles need blankets, and I’m still freezing.”

“Right, ummm…. We could go to my room?”  

Jason narrows his eyes, tone suspicious when he asks “You sure that’s okay?”

Tim doesn’t really understand his caution, but confidently blurts out, “Yeah! I mean, yes. As long as we don’t spill anything it’ll be fine. And I have Netflix in there, too, so it’s all good.” The idea of Jason in his bed, no matter how innocent, is too exciting and tempting an option to refuse, despite the weird look Jason has.  

“Whatever you say, Timbers.” Jason’s tone is still off, but he’s picking up the food and gesturing, “lead the way.”

Tim shrugs, leading them down the hallway that opens to the master bedroom. This isn’t the first time Jason has acted weird around him—in fact, the entire first year of their friendship was them awkwardly getting over misunderstanding that caused them to dislike each other—so, maybe he just had a weird day.  

They even been watching all the occult and sci-fi movies that they could find. They finished the Underworld series in them for the new movie and Tim dragged Jason out to see it. They only have two more Resident Evil movies to go, and then Tim will have to convince Jason to go see that in theaters, too.  

He let’s Jason settle the food on the nightstands and rearrange the blankets while he sets up Netflix and finds the appropriate movie. The settle in the bed, their food in their laps as Tim leans slightly against Jason; by the time they finish their food, the tension is gone, replaced with Jason’s sarcastic comments about weapons and Tim’s snide comments about movie science.

Nearing the end of the their first movie of the night, Tim is practically in Jason’s lap, with one hand braced on those spectacular thighs and the other rest against his overstuffed stomach. Jason sits with one leg bent at the knee and the other outstretched, one arm behind his head in the headboard and the other rubbing hypnotic circles into the sweater over Tim’s hip.  

Tim wiggles a little, turning his head to look at Jason. He wasn’t expecting Jason’s piercing teal eyes to already be looking at him, the intensity and proximity leave him breathless. Tim ducks his eyes, feeling fidgety under Jason’s gaze, but he gets caught on Jason’s plump, soft looking lips. He really can’t help himself, and licks his lips and can’t help but imagine how warm those lips would feel on his.  

Tim can’t really think past his desire and the desire he can see clearly coming off Jason. He spins around, so he’s kneeling between Jason’s legs, and reaches out slide his hand along the rough stumbled sprouting from Jason’s jaw.  

Suddenly, Jason lurches forward, pressing surprisingly soft lips against Tim’s. They shift and tug at shirts and bedding, only breaking when Tim needs to breathe. Jason flips them, so Tim arched underneath Jason and the mouth locked onto his throat. Just as suddenly, Jason is pulling away with a careful blank looks that is at odds with the attractive flush on his lightly tanned cheeks.  

Tim makes a protesting noise and pushes back towards Jason’s mouth, only to freeze as Jason lifts up a suspicious purple lingerie set, bra clinging to the lacy panties in a way that is sure to annoy Steph.  

Tim pulled them off Jason’s hand and tossed them off to the side, smiling sweetly as he once again tried to return to kissing. This time, however, Jason pushed himself up into a sitting position. Tim made a question noise and tried to meet the gaze hovering studiously to the left if his face. “It’s, uhh, it’s getting late, Tim. I think I should get going.”

“But, Jay… It’s not that… We haven’t even finished the last movie.” The confusion was evident in his tone, he just didn’t know how to voice the question he really wanted to ask. It’s not that late, why are you leaving? and what did I do wrong? or maybe just everything was good, what just happened?

“I know. And I’m sorry, Tim. It’s just, uhh, I’m really tired. It’s just been kind of a long, and disappointing day, is all.” Jason sighed, “ we can totally finish this up another time.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Tim scrambled off the bed, following Jason as he all but marched to the front door. He yanked his boots on and didn’t even finish putting his jacket on before he opened the front door. The blast of cold air jolted Tim out of his temporary stupor, “So, umm, I’ll see you next week? Hope you feel better?” Tim was still so confused about what was happening here, and Jason leaving kind of felt like rejection—like maybe Tim shouldn’t have kissed him—which makes no sense because Jason kissed him.  

It’s been almost three weeks since Jason left, and he hasn’t been back. He sends exactly one text every Tuesday morning with a less believable excuse for why he can’t show up this week. Tim would be worried, anxious to check on him, except Dick frequents the coffee shop Jay writes at when he has time or is feeling inspired; and apparently he’s been there often. Maybe his excuses are true, but Tim can’t help but feel as if Jason is purposely avoiding him.  

Which explains how he let Steph talk him into getting sloppy drunk and telling her all about it—“and then we made out. For a—hic—while. I mean it was like ten min—hic—utes, thats a while, right?”

Steph, curse her, wasn’t drinking, well not drinking to get drunk, citing an important interview tomorrow. “Yeah, Timmy, that’s a while. So he just left?”

“Y-yeah.” Tim sniffled.  

Steph hummed, “I mean, I know I’ve barely ever met the guy, but he doesn’t really seem like the type to ditch. Especially since he is clearly interested.”  

“He’s not—“

“I mean, he kissed you, he’s totally interested. You don’t just kiss people you aren’t at least a little interested in. So it just seems weird that he’d just leave and not come back.”

“But-hic-but that’s exactly what happ—ppened!” Tim whined, pretending he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he feels.  

“Exactly?” Steph hummed. “So you were making out and then he just got up and left. No arguing or anything. I know you’re not the best as social cues—you make up for it with how cute you are when you’re flustered—but are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“No. Kissing. He found your purple thong. Said he was tired. Left.” Tim garbled out, most of the words unintelligible from the shots he was downing.  

“And you didn’t think to explain to your boyfriend why there was a thong in your bed?” Steph shrieks.  

“No?” Tim pouts, completely lost. Jason knows Steph, well, he knows about her. He was around for their entire relationship and knows that Tim still loves her even though he’s no longer in love with her.  

“You idiot.” Steph sighs, slumping onto the table and muttering to herself. “Okay, here’s what is going to happen. You are going to go sleep off the alcohol, then you’re going to call your brother and get his help to find Jason. Then, you’re going to talk to Jason, and explain to him that we are not now or ever going to date again.”

The hangover is mostly gone by the time Dick calls back and says that Jason is at the coffee shop. He still feels like retching after running down the street to get there. For some reason, he’s nervous—which makes no sense, it’s Jason. And probably going to be a good moment for their relationship.  

Tim pauses outside the door, quietly following an elderly couple through the glass door, and silently cursing the jingly bell overhead that announces someone’s entrance. He sees Dick in the corner and makes his way over when he starts waving.

“Hey, Dick. Where’s Jay?” He feels a little bad about the lack of interest in his brother, but they all know that Tim is in this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, on the other side of Gotham, because he wants to see Jason.  

Dick points off to the corner, where Tim can see a head of dark, slightly curly, hair with a strange white streak. Now that he’s looking, he can also see the minute twitching in his shoulders that signifies rapid typing.  

He takes a deep, steadying breath, says “Thanks, Dick” and marches off towards Jason.  

“Jay? Umm, are you busy? Can I…umm…talk to you for a few minutes.” He resolutely ignores Jason’s tiny twitch and keeps looking at him.  

Jason turns towards him, “Tim…” his tone is almost warning, “look, I don’t think is a good—“

Tim made a promise to Steph. He’s going to stick it out. And maybe Steph is right. Maybe it’ll all work out for him.  

“Steph said—I mean, it had come to my attention that I need to explain some things.”

“You don’t need to explain. I’m pretty sure I figured everything out.” The rapid flash of hurt across his face made Tim’s heart ache and a hot ball of guilt form in his chest. “I get it, you know. Blondie, she’s—she’s pretty amazing. Gorgeous. Smart. Been your best friend for a long time. I’m fine with being someone’s experimentation—I happily support experimentation—but I’m not okay with being someone’s dirty little secret.”

“You’re not—“

“You should’ve told me. And you definitely shouldn’t have let me kiss you. I think it’s best if we stay away from each other for a while. I don’t want—“

“We aren’t dating!” Tim can feel his cheeks flaring. But he had to get Jason to stop talking. “I mean… Steph and I. We aren’t dating. We broke up, like a year ago, remember? Right. Ummm, so it was actually dating Steph that made me realize I was more into men. Not that Steph isn’t amazing! And beautiful. But… umm. I was—am more interested in you, actually.” Tim was simultaneously hoping Jason did and didn’t understand the mumbles of his last sentence.  

“Oh, umm.” Watching Jason stutter and flush softly was well worth the embarrassment of this conversation in such a public place. “I guess I shouldn’t have—I’m pretty interested in you, too.” The usual, smugly smirk was more than comforting after so long. “I’d even—“

Tim still doesn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he flung himself forward, clumsily pressing lips and tongue and teeth against Jason, silencing whatever he was about to say.

Tim pulled back, only somewhat embarrassed about being in Jason’s lap, and not at all willing to move. He smiled up shyly, peppering kisses across Jason’s face and lips. “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”  

Jason’s warm laugh and soft, crooked smile was, hands-down, the best part of Tim’s month.

[beautiful-lusamine-blog]

Hau Alone I Am

{I was bored in Study Hall and decided I would show Hau Hansenverse (”On the Run”) begins. If that sentence doesn’t make sense, read it aloud to yourself and it will!}

Hau had dreamed of being a lot of things. He had always wanted to be a Kahuna, though. Every other desire was only a phase.

It had been about a week, and Hau hadn’t heard anything. He was only really concerned about not hearing from Sun, as he hadn’t much expected any word from Gladion - In fact, hadn’t really heard anything from Gladion in about a month. He worried tremendously about the boy. He was always holed up in the Paradise, working on some paperwork or something. He never saw the world around him, and on the rare occasions that Hau saw him he often looked terrible, usually astronomically worse than the last time - Which he always thought impossible until he saw it. Purplish-black bags under his eyes, lids that wouldn’t stay all the way up, an expression of terrible pain. Before Lusamine and Lillie had left for Kanto and placed the Aether Foundation in his possession, his face had never shown much more than general depression and an annoyance with the world around. But this… No, this face showed that he didn’t know if he could make it to the next day.

The only times Gladion ever looked remotely happy any more were those when Sun was around him. Sun had nervously told him that he and Gladion were… “Sort of a thing now,” as he had put it. Hau had been a little surprised at a few things. First of all, he had always assumed Sun was just asexual, aromantic, or perhaps both. He never imagined him being interested in other boys. But he didn’t press this. He was also surprised Gladion had chosen to even become friends with him, since he was so quiet and Sun was so happy and energetic all of the time. When he was around Gladion, though, he seemed to become quiet, too. Perhaps he knew something Hau didn’t. Maybe Gladion was sensitive to loud noises. Either way, he always smiled when Sun was around, and Sun always smiled when Gladion was around.

It wasn’t until a couple months afterward that Hau started to feel alone and alienated. Sun spent all his time at the Paradise, and on the rare occasion that he was home, his mother took almost all of his time. Not that Hau minded. She was his mom, after all. When Hau did see Sun, he always looked a little nervous and exhausted. When Hau had asked him about it, he had received a stuttered reply about how Gladion was very stressed out lately. Then Sun had burst into tears, choking on air as he told about finding Gladion with a knife in one of the Paradise laboratories. Hau comforted Sun and never asked about it again.

It wasn’t problematic until Sun decided to move in with Gladion. Well… Sun always got blushed and nervous when Hau described it that way. He chose to say he was only moving into the Paradise to help Gladion with the duties of running the Foundation and to keep an eye on him. Hau had other questions, but he didn’t ask them, because Sun was starting to look a lot like Gladion. And, judging by the look of his eyes, he had already told his mom and it hadn’t exactly gone well. So, Hau just pushed the thought of rooms and sleeping arrangements to the back of his head. He wanted to be the excited friend, asking how things were going between the two, asking if they were going to share a room at the Paradise, had wanted to be a good friend to Sun. If the circumstances were any different, he would have.

“I, umm… Probably won’t be around much at all anymore.” He had said, his voice awkward.

“O-Oh? Yeah, well… I’m sure I’ll see you sometimes. Y’know, you’ll come back here, to like… See your mom and stuff.” Said Hau, his hands hanging heavily at his sides, fingers brushing each other awkwardly.

“Yeah, I… Yeah. I’m sure I will.” He gave an uneasy smile, and it was clear that the two were both lying. No, whatever chance of being friends  had died the instant they met Lillie.

There had been a hug, because both knew that it was apparent that it would never be the same between them. Sun felt pity for Hau, being the odd one out, and Hau pitied himself - Something he had never done in his life before. Lillie’s appearance - Meeting Gladion, the awful things Lusamine did, that final confrontation in Ultra Space, the effects of the toxins, Lillie leaving; their journey as a whole, and those they met on it, had forever created a rift between them - Sun was desired, Hau was not. Sun was the hero, Hau was the hero’s friend before he got his powers. Sun was the straight man, Hau was the one only there for comic relief.

Hau hadn’t really been happy since then. He still heard from Sun all the time, and sometimes Gladion, too, but he hadn’t actually seen Sun more than a couple times after he left for the Paradise. When he had, the meetings were short and awkward. There was a wound there that could never recover. The two could never be friends now, and they both knew it. Hau always tried to smile, to be polite - But inside he was fuming with rage, betrayal, hatred, even, and he hated it. But he couldn’t help what he was feeling, all he could do was hide it.

He needed to see Sun and Gladion now. Right this instant… Because, to him, all that mattered was that the two were happy - Even if it meant he wouldn’t ever be happy again. He needed to at least know that those two were happy.

Hau had dreamed of being a lot of things. Now, though, he just wanted to see his friends again.

Hau had gone straight the the VLFS after that, hoping to drag his friends out, and perhaps take them to dinner. When he got there, however, Gladion and Sun were nowhere to be found.

“Wicke! Where did the President and Sun go?” He asked, walking into her office.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth, searching for something with her eyes. She seemed to think for a moment, and then cleared her throat again.

“They left for Kanto a few days ago. They had to leave in a rush, LIllie contacted them to tell them Miss Lusamine’s condition had worsened.”

Hau didn’t know what to say. He felt totally betrayed. Sun knew. Sun had to have known - Had to have know that Hau would have given anything to see Lillie again, to say what hadn’t been… He knew, but hadn’t done anything.

“Th-Thank you, Miss Wicke. I’m - Do you know when they will be back?”

“I… Don’t, no. Sorry. But… I imagine they’ll either return when Miss Lusamine is better, or when she um… When she passes away.” Wicke cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Ah, I see. So it’s… It’s bad, hmm…?

“It - It… Yeah.”

Hau nodded. “Thanks, Miss Wicke.”

“No problem.”

And then, Hau left. He was going to get to Kanto… Somehow.

Hau had made it to Kanto, but only by the skin of his teeth. He had worked many extra hours at the Malasada café, had begged Hala, had taken a second job helping to run Ilimia’s trial - And now he was finally off the ship. He had gotten Lillie and Lusamine’s address from Wicke, and now he stood outside the house. He was a little nervous in the foreign region, but he breathed and calmed himself. This was Lillie, and he wanted nothing more than to see Lillie. He could do this.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Eventually, he lifted the handle and pushed, surprised to find that it was unlocked. He walked swiftly inside and was greeted with something that terrified him to no end.

Shattered vases, furniture turned over. Signs that the police had been investigating the house. Dread bubbled up inside the boy. Hau needed to get to the police station before he passed out.

“Gone,” They had told him. Someone had broken in - A thief in the night - And murdered Lusamine. They had left no traces of themselves and vanished. After that, the others were so distraught. Once the police told them there was no evidence left behind, they had left. Didn’t say where they were going, just that they needed time to process what had happened, needed to get away from where it had happened.

Hau had so many feelings. Lusamine…? Dead…? It couldn’t be. How is Lillie doing? Is she okay? What about Gladion? As much as Hau hated to admit it, though, the one thought that always bubbled back to the top of his mind was: Why is Sun with them, and I’m not?

Hau hated being jealous. He didn’t experience jealousy that often, but when he did, it was torture to him.

Hau drowned his feelings in something he found that was like a Malasada, but without the feeling of home. He ate one after another, seemingly endlessly, and went to his hotel room, absolutely exhausted and with a killer headache. After failing to fall asleep, he stumbled into the dark bathroom, stood in front of the toilet, bowed his head, and vomited.

After that, Hau cried between intense stomach cramps that made him feel like he was dying, intense diarrhea, and bouts of vomiting. He eventually fell asleep with his head on his arm, which rested on the toilet seat - Just in case.

Something about the way the officer had explained things to Hau hadn’t sat well with him. There was a lie there, he was sure of it. He went back to the house, thanking all luck that it was still unlocked, and set about investigating.

There was no blood, no bodies, no thing. Just a house that had hosted a party it couldn’t quite handle. Finally, after hours of searching, Hau found the trapdoor in the floor. It was very well hidden, but easy to open. He climbed down the ladder slowly, fearing he would fall.

When he reached the bottom, there was a massive tunnel, with what looked to be a tram track. There was no tram. There was nothing.

“Yes, we lied. We’re terribly sorry, but we thought it was for the best.” The police officer said. Sorry? They were sorry? Here was Hau, feeling like he had lost everything in life, and they were apologizing for not telling him the full details of his friends’ whereabouts?

“We don’t actually know for sure that Lusamine was murdered. We think she may have taken the tram to escape the person coming after her. They did say she was pretty crazy and sick in the head by that time.”

“Did they go through the tunnel?” Asked Hau.

“No, we don’t think so.”

“Then nothing matters any more. None of this.”

Hau turned and left the police station.

After waiting for 2 weeks, he decided it was over. He got the first ticket he could for a ferry back to Alola, and then he departed. There was no fanfare, there was no sadness - Just a boat ride, alone.

When Hau got back to Alola, the first thing he did was go to the Paradise. Again, his friends were not there. He didn’t know why he had expected anything different. Instead, he found Wicke looking through a beige folder. She smiled at him when he entered.

“Hello, Mister President.” She said.

“I’m not the President.”

She didn’t respond, only handed him an envelope.

Inside were two papers.

One was very official - Had the Aether Foundation stamp on it, and at the top it read From the Desk of Aether Foundation President Gladion and Assistant President Sun. So that’s what he called his boyfriend whenever anyone asked why he was living in the Foundation now. It was a lot of legal terminology that he didn’t understand, but his own name jumped out several times. He laid the letter down and read the next one. It was in Gladion’s simple, pretty, neat handwriting.

Hau, it read. I was very sorry to hear from Wicke that you had gone to Kanto just days before we got back to Alola. It’s a shame we missed you! Unfortunately, some things have come up. We are needed elsewhere. We are leaving indefinitely, and until we return, the Aether Foundation is yours. I have already completed all necessary paperwork to grant you all the power of the President and Treasurer until I revoke it. I hope you get back before we have to leave, so that we can see you, but unfortunately we can’t stay very long. We just can’t wait for you if you aren’t here soon. I don’t know when we will be back, but…. I think that it will be soon. I hope. We will surely miss you! Lillie says she can’t wait to see you again!!

And on the right side of the page, in messy handwriting, was another message. Hey Hau!!! I really, super duper, ultra miss you!!! I’m sorry this has come up, I’m sorry it had to be this way. But don’t worry! I will see you soon, I am sure! Take good care of the Foundation, and when I come home to battle you I want you to be the Kahuna!

The Kahuna. That seemed worlds away now… Hau was aimless. He had nowhere to go. Every direction led to a wall. His friends were on the other side, but he just couldn’t break through. And now this, too… President? And they were gone indefinitely? Yes, that was the word he had used - And Hau knew it meant he wouldn’t see them for a while.

Wicke smiled at him, and then gave him a big hug.

“I’m sorry… It must be awful.” She said, and beautiful perfume hung thick in the air.

Hau sniffled, and he hated how weak it made him seem.

“I know how it is. I miss Lusamine, Gladion, and Sun terribly…”

Hau just shook his head, bursting into tears. “No you don’t. You don’t have any idea how it is.”

Wicke didn’t say anything else. She just hugged him.

That night, Hau cursed himself for fucking things up - He could have seen the others, perhaps even gone with them and left Wicke in charge, if only he had just come back from Kanto sooner. He had been so stupid,  and he hated himself for it. He hated himself so much that thin, angry red lines began to appear on his wrists. Wicke might have noticed, she might not have. Hau didn’t care.

He didn’t even know why they hadn’t just left Wicke in charge, anyways. Perhaps they felt giving him the power made up for leaving him behind.

It really didn’t.

Having Wicke around was nice, and eventually things kind of fell into a pattern. Hau made Wicke the Assistant President, and himself little more than a figurehead, dropping most of the real work on her. He just signed off on things she wrote. There was a quiet understanding between the two, because as Hau read more into the situation by talking to Faba and other Aether employees, it became clear to him that the relationship between Wicke and Lusamine had been a lot more than platonic. After that, Hau felt like an asshole. Of course she knew what it was like.

Wicke seemed to see something of Gladion in Hau - Which really worried him. He was always the antithesis of Gladion, but now…? 

Either way, Hau didn’t mind. He had always wanted to be a Kahuna - But that had been childish. No, staying here, waiting for his friends was more important. When they got back and saw how well he had handled the situation, they would never leave him behind again. He had to grow up. Kahuna could wait.

It was about two months before Hau realized they weren’t coming back. Now what would he do? There was nothing to do at the Foundation, going off the become Kahuna didn’t even seem like a dream of his anymore, and he couldn’t leave Wicke.

And then one day, when staring at a picture of Gladion, Lillie, Hau, and Sun together, it all clicked. He now understood that it had all been one person’s fault - If they hadn’t met one single person, he and his group of friends never would have changed. He dropped the photo noisily and looked up at Wicke from across the room.

“We need to find Lusamine again. Get her help.” Said Hau.

“We-We what?” Stuttered Wicke.

“Well, we’ve got all this money I don’t know what to do with. Why don’t we use it all to find Lusamine? Get her some counseling sessions, help her out… Plus, I have a feeling that we could use her as bait for Gladion, Lillie, and Sun.”

“Bait?”

“Yeah, you know. If we make it really public that we’ve got her, they’ll surely come back.”

“Well… Yes, but… I have a feeling we wouldn’t actually find her. I mean, as your Assistant President, I have to advise against using the funds given to us to use on the preservation of Pokémon’s lives and integrities to start a manhunt for Miss Lusamine.”

Hau thought for a moment, and then an idea came to him from the depths of his mind. No. I can’t, He thought. But you have to. It’s the only way. You know it was her who caused this all. If you could initiate a search for her under the false pretense of helping her, then fake her murder - Say the old thief came back to kill her, but really it was you or somebody you hired - And then use her death to lure the others back. Lusamine is gone, your friends are back, and you leave the Foundation in Wicke’s possession before going off on another journey with your friends. But I couldn’t kill her! Actually, you could. You are in charge of the Aether Foundation now, idiot - All the money, all the networking, all the contacts, all the reputation - All the power. Bu-But why can’t I just find Lusamine and keep her alive? Then she’ll go back to running the place like it always was, and we’ll go off on another adventure! Because she deserves to be punished. Don’t be weak, Hau. Punish her for taking your friends away. You know it was all her. But she didn’t do it on purpose! It was just her and Lillie showing up that ruined the journey. She didn’t ruin it on purpose… Don’t be a coward. I can make you stronger. 

Hau didn’t like the new voice in his mind, didn’t like it one bit. But… It was so strong, so smart, so passionate, so convincing… Hau hated it - But loved how it made him feel.

Listen, it doesn’t matter whether or not she did it on purpose. She took everything from you. Your friends, your happiness, your dreams, all of it. We can take her life in exchange, and your friends will never know. You can be there to comfort them in the hard time, and then soon enough you’ll all be together again. Right? Hau had to admit it all sounded fantastic. Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Wh-Who are you?! I was only born a few weeks ago. I’ve had to take my time getting used to living in here with you, but it’s nice… Except for your cowardice. I can teach you how to make others respect you, for once in your life. No more pity, no more harassment… Just respect, and perhaps a pinch of fear. How will you do that? Let me have control of our body for just a second. I’ll show you. Just go limp. Oh… Um, okay…

Hau went limp, and then his body snapped to attention like a marionette with its strings pulled taut - Only he wasn’t the one pulling any more. His mouth moved, but it felt foreign and alien. When he spoke it seemed to come from all around him, and was deeper than his usual voice. Wicke didn’t notice, only Hau did.

Hau cleared his throat loudly. “Wicke, must I remind you that I am acting President until Gladion returns? And, pardon me, but I don’t see Gladion anywhere. I also control what we do with the goddamn money, and I say we’re going to find Lusamine.” There was an edge of cold, icy steel to his voice. Hau hated to hear it come out of the mouth that wasn’t his anymore, but Hau continued. “Do I make myself clear?” Wicke looked absolutely shocked, opening and closing her mouth a few times.

“Err… Yes, of course. Yes, I’ll get someone on it.”

“Get somebody from the International Police. Start a new division of the company dedicated to finding them, and get some freelancers in here. We’re going to find her, no matter what we need to do for that.”

“Yes, sir,” Said Wicke, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “Yes, I’ll… Talk to Faba and we’ll get right on that.” She hurried out of the room, and Hau smiled at how scared she was. His body jolted, and Hau fell forward, almost hitting the desk with his head. He was panting hard.

“What - What the fuck was that?” He said to himself.

Only the beginning.

Hau gulped. He had given an inch, and it sounded like whoever this other voice in his head was would now take a mile, whether he like it or not.

The search wasn’t going particularly well. It did terrible things to Hau’s mental health, but, then again, that wasn’t new. They still weren’t sure where Lusamine or her children were, and it didn’t seem like they were going to find out soon. However, whenever Hau questioned what he was doing, a voice would explain it to him again, reassuring him that this was the right path.

Hau honestly didn’t know if he believed that voice, though. He didn’t even know who he was anymore.

Hau had dreamed of being a lot of things. He had always wanted to be a Kahuna, though. Every other desire was only a phase.

But now…? Now, he had no idea what he wanted.

Before, he was alone.

But now, he had a teammate - A strong, smart, confident, and utterly terrifying leader who would guide him to victory, whatever that victory was.

For a while, he had wanted nothing more than to see his friends.

Now, he didn’t even know if he wanted that.

A voice inside him told him that he wanted to see Lusamine impaled on a knife held by their hand, see her eyes as they rolled back and the light that was Lusamine went out.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted that, but the voice inside him was confident, helpful, and nice when he cooperated… So he did.

Because at that point Hau would have done anything to feel like he had a direction.

The voice told him that they would be happy once Lusamine was dead… Hau just wasn’t sure he could trust that voice.

{I’m so sorry this happened. It was supposed to be a lot shorter. I’m also sorry I decanonized Moon and made it strictly Sun as the protag, but the protag is important to this story, so I had to pick a name sooner or later. The reason I chose Sun is because Protag X Gladion was already something I knew I wanted to ship in this verse, so… I picked Sun because it was the gayer of the two options, if you must know. I’m truly sorry for anyone who has read this entire monstrosity, and I’m sorry I did this to Hau. But the question is… Who’s gaslighting him in the first place? I DUNNO! Well, I do know. But that’s for me to know and you to umm… Yeah. Not gonna finish that because it’s too cringey and cliché. Thanks for reading!!!}

[davidastbury]

On The Train

He’s skimming the newspaper. It’s one of those free newspapers - they don’t require much concentration. Nothing holds his attention because nothing penetrates his personal filter - he is only interested in what might affect him personally.

The company he works for (like all companies) will have an ego. You can feel it when go through their doorways. The ego magnet at the centre burgeons and boasts and gives no attention to anything beyond self-interest and financial acquisition.

National governments are the same ... simply a bigger version, on a grander scale. Is it odd to look askance at their indignant, braying response to inevitable misfortunes - and how could they expect it to be different?

Caroline and Sharon ... no mention of Russell

I may not have been the most appreciative or appreciated guest at Russell’s house; I may not have been the most frequent visitor - I may not have even been Caroline’s most devoted admirer.

Let me introduce Sharon - an old friend of Caroline’s mother, who happened to live nearby, within ‘pop round for a quick chat’ distance. I saw her many times. She was a teacher - not at a school, I think it was at a higher-education college in Manchester. She was tall and rangy and had a tough-guy manner; giving the impression that she wasn’t someone to mess with. She wore tight tops and baggy trousers. There had once been a husband but he was gone - disposed of, or divorced, or murdered. I liked her eyes - they were icy and fantastically alert - she had eyes like a film-star, eyes like Lauren Bacall.

One afternoon - Russell had gone out with his mother, but wouldn’t be long - I went into the kitchen and found Sharon alone with Caroline.

Oh the white-hot sensitivity of an awkward, unhappy thirteen-year-old boy!

I had walked into something totally new and unknown - the intensity of female friendship. The crinkly-eyed smiles. The clutching of tea mugs in both hands. The standing cross-legged and swaying. The tartish leaning. The elbow cupped in the palm. The ‘I don’t believe it!’ head tossing. The sticking out stomach. The spontaneous, best-friend hugs. The innocent pats!

All this came at me in that bright modern kitchen. I backed out, away from the mocking eyes, the shiny appliances, the rush of heat and the steady drip of the tap.

Eyes

Marlon Brando used to close his eyes when street photographers approached. Whoever he was with would take his arm and guide him - the idea of course was to prevent the photographer getting a good picture.

Jackie K.O. relied on sunglasses. I read that she kept a bowl full of them (you can imagine the logos!) in her hall....(Leonard, was she wearing sunglasses when you saw her padding down the avenue?)

Bernie Madoff would arrive at court with collar up and baseball cap tugged down - again, difficult to see his eyes.

My friend Stella spoke with her eyes - as eight-year-olds we didn’t say much to each other - we were locked, permanently, wordlessly together. Our walks home after school were mostly silent because we felt no need to say anything - we just drifted along, hardly aware that there would be changes - that we would be separated by the admissions policy of the middle schools - that we were simply names on lists - and that a faint drumbeat was getting louder - and the new unsettling, slightly troubling knowledge that I should have been with boys and she should have been with girls.

I knew that her identity was in her eyes. Everything else about her was irrelevant; her personality was in her eyes - I could see the thoughts behind her eyes - I could see thoughts moving across her eyes - and I could see (happily - gloriously!) that she liked me.

Little things can tell you so much about a person - their way of using a knife and fork or an unattractive characteristic or a few words or even a single word. I knew someone who had been a close friend of E.M. Forster. Naturally I wanted to know what the old man was like - as a person. Instead of a comprehensive portrait - which as a colleague at Kings, he was quite capable of - he focused on a single aspect :-

‘Morgan had something “feline” about him’.

And to make his point he told an anecdote about how the Provost’s wife had once decided to do something for the old bachelor. She called a meeting of the wives of the professors and dons and it was decided to give Morgan a ‘tea’. Tables in the combination room were loaded with plates of sandwiches and cakes, teapots and china etc. Friends called in to wish him well; little speeches were made, and so on; the afternoon was a success.

When it was all over and he was back in his rooms, my friend looked in on him. Forster was very affected and said how wonderfully kind everyone had been.

‘All those ladies were so kind to me - so very kind. Such nice ladies - so thoughtful of them to give me a “tea” - I couldn’t thank them enough’.

‘Such nice ladies’ - His voice then dropped - ‘Who were they?’

E.M. Forster spent the final years of his life in a set of rooms at Kings College, Cambridge. He had been a student there and as a very distinguished writer he was elected an honorary fellow. He spent most of his time ‘doing very little’.

Shortly after moving in, the authorities were alarmed to see a team of burly men arrive and the silence of the college disturbed by loud hammering and pop music.

E.M Forster had employed contractors to install his late mother’s fireplace.

‘Getting to know you,

Getting to know all about you ... ‘

He drew her aside - then he drew her from the other side, but she wouldn’t be drawn - so much he didn’t understand. He couldn’t get to know her ‘inner person’ - she remained a mystery.

Once, he wanted a straight answer from her, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, so he put the question in the bluntest, clearest form and said - ‘Please answer me, yes or no!’

She replied - ‘Guess or know?’

A Foggy Day In London Town

He stood waiting; aware that he was early; that she wouldn’t appear for at least fifteen minutes - but that did not bother him. He stood waiting. Behind him the massive edifice of the British Museum; in front of him, the shops, offering mostly specialised books - philately, numismatology, parapsychology and the like.

Her name was Imogen - she was twenty. Red-haired Irish. A delinquent girl sacked by an expensive school and now writing a book that would change the world. An explosive personality, a force of nature. Too strong to be resisted; too attractive, too alive, too everything.

She wouldn’t stay with him for long and he knew it - but what the hell? He’d be fit for very little by the time she had finished with him - knocked all that British Museum nonsense out of his brains - squatted over his ambitions - exhausted and discarded his fondest hopes and left him with a tearless sadness at the unforgettable memory of her reading aloud the entire Molly Bloom soliloquy.

- Please don’t be upset.

- I can’t help it. You will go away.

- I won’t.

- You will. You’ll go away.

- I’ll come and see you.

I don’t want you to come and see me - I want you to be here.

The Eldest Brother

Oh the shame of mental illness! The family didn’t know what to say to people. They didn’t know what to say to each other; they didn’t even know what to say to the young man himself. He was the eldest son and he was expected to eventually take over from his father in running the paper manufacturing company. University was ruled out and they all hoped that he would feel better (‘snap out of it’) very soon.

But he didn’t. One crisis after another and the young man hid in his room - clutching his head, convinced that his brain had become loose and was sliding about in his skull. Gradually his two younger brothers were groomed to be the business leaders.

And then more time passed and although convinced that he would never recover he managed to get married; he became the father of two and almost accidentally discovered the greatest happiness he would ever know - not with them, but in the Territorial Army.

From the moment he enlisted he felt at home in barracks. He liked everything about it - he like being ordered about, he didn’t mind being shouted at. He relished the clarity of the orders; the simplicity and focus; it was no problem to him. He also loved the weapons training - the night manoeuvres - the briefings and de-briefings - the hard beds - the food plopped onto aluminium dishes - the marching - the drilling and presenting arms - the rough companionship - the singing in the night - the dirty jokes.

The Territorials are a volunteer unit and recruits are required to give only a certain amount of their time. He gave the maximum because once in uniform - once struggling with heavy equipment, with his shoulders aching and the insults hitting him from all directions his brain felt solid and settled and he actually began to feel better.

Abbey Road Studios

Standing outside, thinking of how the Fab Four went through those doors. How they fooled around with the equipment, kidding each other - and then becoming serious and making that sublime noise.

And how they were introduced to George Martin, polite and patrician George, who said to them - ‘Hi, we are going to work together and it’s important that you tell me if you aren’t happy with something or don’t like something’.

Beatle George replied - ‘Well, for a start I don’t like your tie’.