There were so many hermit crabs in these tide pools it was like Grand Central Crustacean

My marine biology nerd self could have watched them until the tide came in! I think they are all P longicarpus but one of them had a different color pattern, not sure of any other species that lives around there

I love love LOVE Kai Satou. May I have some cute autumn-themed romantic relationship headcanons with Kai please?

One Kai headcanons coming up 👍

Kai Satou Autumn Headcanons

Flavor: Gn!reader x Kai Satou

Warnings: None

Headcanons under the cut v

COZY COZY OH SO COZY

Okay, hear me out, you and Kai redecorating the house for autumn.

Just, hanging up paintings, putting up little autumn-themed decorations like leaf garlands and hanging flowers to dry....so pleasant,,

Kai's certainly an acts of service man, so he will knit you some cozy sweaters to make sure you're staying warm as the weather starts to get colder

BAKING WITH HIM!!!! Oh my god, baking stuff like bread with him is such a good bonding experience. Plus, he really loves spending time with you like this!!

Coffee dates? Coffee dates. He'll take you out to a coffee shop so you two can just relax.

He's certainly one for comfortable silence. Don't get me wrong, he loves talking to you and hearing your voice, but he also really appreciates a comfortable silence where you two can just enjoy each other's presence. In a way, it makes him feel safe.

But if you would rather continue talking, he won't complain. If anything, it means he can keep listening to your lovely voice.

Speaking of, if you're the chatty sort, he will *always* listen to you. He loves hearing your voice and listening to you talk about the things you're passionate about.

He tends to be silent while you're talking, but that certainly doesn't mean he's not listening. He is, he's just not incredibly chatty himself.

Listen, this guy is not the best when it comes to physical affection, so if you're wanting to cuddle with him he'll be a little stiff at first. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that he has No Experience when it comes to physical affection so he just doesn't know what to do, where to place his hands, and what have you.

You'll have to guide him through any sort of physical affection.

He'll get better with it as time goes on, but cuddling with him is not the comfiest at first.

Between you and me, he is very shy in the affection department. It's very hard to see, but when you are affectionate with him he'll have a very tiny blush dusting his cheeks.

Best way to get him to smile? Shitty jokes. Tell him the worst fuckin dumbass joke he'll ever hear, he will genuinely find it funny and a very small smile will cross his features. Man has the worst sense of humor.

Like dude, hit him with a "Why didn't the skeleton go to the party? Because he had noBODY to go with" and he WILL find it amusing.

I just realized I've been getting off the original subject oops let's get back on that

Okay come here. Closer. A lil closer. Yeah that's good. Now listen. Listen. Bake some bread for him. It doesn't matter the quality, he will SWOON. He will do that cartoon thing where his heart starts beating out of his chest istg.

It could be the shittiest fuckin bread anyone could have ever made but he won't care because you care enough about him and his interests to try and take a crack at it yourself for him.

It's one of the only times he'll end up dropping that normally stoic exterior. He will legit start tearing up and trying so hard not to smile like an idiot.

Oho, and don't think you are free from his own acts of service, oh no no.

If you're a fan of mushrooms, he'll make a lot of mushroom-based foods for you.

If not, I hope you like pie because he'll be baking a lot of it for you.

Apple pie, blueberry pie, pumpkin pie, you name it, he'll make it for you.

Yeah, during autumn he kinda gets into a baking frenzy. There's just something about the season that makes him want to bake anything and everything for you.

He will make you the best god damn coffee you've ever had if you're into that.

I said this earlier, but he will definitely knit sweaters for you so you stay warm. He'll also make it exactly how you want it, no demand is too much for him. Even if you're the kinda person who doesn't want to bother him with what you really want, he will insist you share all of your ideas with him.

Yeah, he really likes personalizing the things he makes for you. He just loves you so much, he wants to make sure everything he makes for you is exactly how you'd want it.

By the way, this boy does tend to overwork himself so be sure to tell him to take breaks! He's a bit stubborn with working, so drag him over to the couch for some cuddling if you have to, just make sure he doesn't overwork himself and he will appreciate it so much.

A good break for him is to take him out for a walk. Hold his hand as you walk beneath the colorful trees, he loves it. Maybe bring a warm drink as well to make it even better.

So in short, autumn with Kai is so so cozy!! He'll bake for you and knit sweaters for you and is oh so sweet to you!!

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go. 

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you. 

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her  themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome. 

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily. 

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did. 

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking  his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame. 

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later. 

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 28

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Hulk interaction Hulk interaction Hulk interaction. Plot is thickening. Feelings. Operation Baby Thief! A wild Coulson appears. Lokireader besties <3 There's just a lot going on.

Bruce hulked out within minutes of my confession.

As I stood in the middle of the common room, partially hidden behind Loki and scrunching the fabric of my hoodie, I had no choice but to observe the reactions of various Avengers to the fact someone might have... Predictably, Sam, Tony and Stephen looked like kicked puppies. I trusted Loki to handle that part. Steve, Bucky and Natasha had murder on their mind and Thor, Pietro just stared at me, aghast.

I noticed the tinge of green before anybody else, perhaps, because I'd been used to automatically seek comfort from Bruce. My interactions with Hulk, however brief and few and in-between, were positive. As much as they could be with a someone's alter-ego that possessed the emotional intelligence of a twelve year old. So I could safely say that what startled me was the noise of Bruce transforming and not the Hulk himself.

The Hulk growled, zeroing in on me - I remembered of Loki, who stood frozen, and their mutual disregard. The decision was prompt - I stepped out from behind the Asgardian, waving shyly at the large green creature. He was LARGE. Like, I could comfortably sit on one of his shoulders.

"Hey, Hulk. I'm alright, don't worry big guy," I took unhurried steps towards the agitated creature. He seemed to be satisfied with my statement, giving me another once over and growling quietly in the back of his throat. An idea struck me: "Wanna get out of here? The gym has more space, we can sit and talk there."

The stares I was getting were downright incredulous. Here I was, an average human being, fearlessly making my way over to the destruction machine that was the Hulk. I knew he wouldn't hurt me - on purpose.

"No," He growled. "We find bad man. Then Hulk smash." The green creature raised, I had to admit, valid points.

"It's going to be pretty boring though. We have to sort through the security footage, then probably traffic cams, then hold Steve back from going in there in Terminator mode..." I listed off all the logical steps of the investigation until I reached the Hulk. My neck was going to get a crick in it from tilting it so I could see his face. "I'd rather..." I didn't get to finish my sentence as I was suddenly picked up. One large hand gently cradled me to Hulk's chest, akin to a kitten, the other hand landing right under my butt.

I heard a collective exhale from the team, acutely aware of the way they were eyeing me and Hulk.

"Boring," The green creature agreed. His face briefly contorted in what I perceived to be an intense thought process. "Necessary." The word had to come from Bruce; it slipped out with difficulty off the Hulk's tongue, stiff.

"Not you too, big guy," I giggled-slash-groaned, giving a playful slap to the hand wrapped around me. "Fine. Let's get this over with." I looked around in search of a spot for Hulk to park his butt somewhere. The ceiling was barely tall enough for him to comfortably stand.

I needn't have worried as he simply sat down cross-legged right where he stood, still holding me to his chest. "Now," He announced, looking expectantly at Tony.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, you're right, big guy. Let's find this sonuvabitch." Tense snorts and sounds of agreement filled the room, drowning out the noise of Tony tapping on his keyboard and communicating with Friday.

I poked Hulk in one green, large finger. "Maybe I could sit on your shoulder?"

He nodded, letting me crawl all over his green, hard chest and arms to sit on the large expanse of his left shoulder. It was comfortable as far as shoulders go; inwardly, I squeed like a mad woman. I was friends with the Hulk and I was sitting on his shoulder! Lost in my fangirling, I absentmindedly began messing with his dark hair, only noticing it when satisfied rumbling started coming from his chest. The Hulk was... Purring?

"Puny Banner upset," Hulk declared shortly after the team found the man who drugged me and started tracking his movements. It wasn't someone who'd been invited to the party, which meant there was a serious security breach - it was all hands on deck kind of situation.

"Yeah, I can understand that. I'm pretty upset too, the hangover I got was terrible, I threw up in Loki's apartment," I said, frowning. "And my boys are going to mope now," I rolled my eyes.

"Banner says he will talk with them," Hulk replied, placing hand over my legs. "Hulk will help Banner."

I couldn't help it, I snorted. "Gonna smash some common sense into them?" He grinned at me, too mischievous for someone who was described to be a mindless destruction machine. "I think they're beyond that."

"I can hear you two talking shit about me and I do not appreciate it," Tony piped up suddenly, shooting us a hurt look. To be fair, his shoulders looked considerably less tense and the cloud over his face had dissipated by a little bit. Me and Hulk managed to erase at least some of the guilt away. I think. Stephen, however, still remained frowning and closed-off.

"You're stupid, Tony." Hulk answered, sounding a little bit smug. I gaped at the exchange together with Natasha and Steve. It seemed like Hulk's sense of... Humor was a novelty.

"Hey, don't pick on my dumbass white boys," I chastised the green... Man, side-eyeing him. "Only I can pick on them. If someone else does it, I'mma throw hands if I have to."

"Puny," Hulk replied petulantly, poking me with a finger, making me sway in my spot. I rolled my eyes fondly, settling in to mess with his hair again for the sake of having something to do with my hands. The brief exchange helped to get my overactive brain off the case but the tranquility didn't last very long.

Natasha and Bucky left to interrogate the guards responsible for the security breach, Loki shooting me an apologetic look and following the two. I smiled back, knowing the Asgardian wasn't fully comfortable being around the Hulk due to his previous experiences with the big guy.

"Wait, hold on. That guy. I know that guy." As an array of faces appeared on the large screen, a familiar pair of mismatched eyes stared at me from it. Hulk tensed under me and the team turned towards me expectantly as I shrunk slightly under their combined gaze. "The one with anisocoria - with the weird eyes. He works at a coffee shop near my school, actually he only started working recently, few months ago. He tried to flirt with me but Peter said he felt weird about the guy so I stopped going to that café." I explained the situation as eloquently as I could, seeing Clint's eyes widen at my story.

"Are you sure?" Stephen Strange raised an eyebrow. "Because that man is a mercenary that we have been looking for months."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "A what now?" My ears were ringing. Hulk growled quietly under me, evidently sensing my distress.

"A hired man," Clint typed on his phone rapidly. "Mostly sells not-so-harmless trinkets on the black market. Hydra, AIM, you name it. Anything for the highest bidder." Clint muttered. "I'm calling Peter, maybe he can tell us something more. This is an Avengers level threat." The Hawk's jaw was firm and his face was hard.

"Already on it," Tony looked shaken. I understood him - someone like that had invaded his tower, his home. Hell, I myself felt like someone had spit right in my soul. It was my home, too, to some extent.

"Let me down please, Tony needs a hug," I whispered to the Hulk, who begrudgingly did as I requested. I padded over to Tony, wrapping myself around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He always was my comfort; expensive cologne and motor oil filled my senses as my arms clutched at his chest from behind. I didn't expect reprocitation - Tony wasn't the one for emotional vulnerability.

"He could have gotten you," He whispered, almost inaudibly, fingers shaking where they typed rapid-fire commands.

"Bold of you to assume I would have gone down without a fight," I answered as calmly as I could. "He is either dumb, or reckless or has nothing to lose. Planning a coup in the middle of your tower..."

"Or he's showing us that he can just do that," Clint supplied unhelpfully. "The guard who let him in just has been found dead and his family is missing. Natasha texted, she's calling in SHIELD. This is now Operation Baby Thief."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my lips. "Baby Thief, really?"

"Nobody's stealing Princess," Tony barked, finally turning his head and pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek. "Not if I have to do anything with it."

"I will make sure the pathetic mortal scum never walks," Thor finally piped up, voice low. In the distance, the harsh noise of thunder and pouring rain echoed through the city.

I frowned but withdrew from Tony, finally feeling well enough to do something. My hands itched to help and as appealing as snuggling with Hulk appeared, my brain had gone straight into overdrive. "Should we take a blood sample to find out what he dosed me with? It's not Roofies, and the hangover is too shitty for it to be anything like Ecstasy." I mused out loud, pacing in the small space between the Hulk and the nearest wall.

"That is a sensible idea," Doctor Strange piped up, giving me an appreciative look. "We'll wait for Romanoff," One angry look at his own scarred, shaking hands, Stephen went back to the book he was reading. He needed a hug, too, I decided.

"Puny Banner will do it," Hulk suddenly announced, reaching out for me.

I obliged, giving the green giant a hug. "Maybe we can go play in Central Park once it's warmer, whatcha think?" I looked up at him, brain just so full of different things. Ideas bounced off one another like ping pong balls.

The Hulk grinned and... Well, I didn't see the transformation, my eyes shut themselves as soon as I felt the flesh under my palms begin to shrink and expand. It wasn't that I was afraid, rather, the feeling was so bizarre that my racing brain had to automatically shut down in fears of being overstimulated.

"Hi," Bruce supplied meekly, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. I didn't resist the urge to kiss and hold him close, and we stood there with him holding up his pants with one hand and clutching my hoodie with the other until Tony cleared his throat.

"You good, Brucie-bear?" The engineer gave a distracted smile towards us, not taking his eyes off the keyboard.

"Yes, Tones," The scientist replied easily, adding with a frown: "I'm glad me and Hulk finally agree on something." With that, he departed in the search of normal pants and the tools needed to acquire my blood sample.

I gave it without much fuss, waving to Bucky, Natasha and Loki that had returned with a middle-aged, balding man in tow. The shared look of amusement between Steve and Bucky and the man's starry-eyed look towards the Captain let me deduce it was one Agent Coulson, the very same man Tony couldn't stop telling stories about, the one with the Captain America trading cards.

So, mayhaps, me taking place in Stephen's lap while Bruce filled up three whole vials full of my blood wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about it. Tony found it amusing, Steve was shaking his head in fond annoyance and Stephen himself struggled to maintain his indifference, yet, the blush betrayed him.

"Agent, what brings you to our humble abode?" Tony snorted, seeing the man raise an eyebrow at the display of affection.

"Operation Baby Thief," Coulson replied with a sigh. "I see the Baby is secure. Keep it that way." Oh, the man was cheeky. I liked him already.

"The Baby has a Tony, a Sorcerer Supreme and a Hulk," I retorted haughtily. "And a functional brain. Fuck that guy."

"Indeed," Coulson snorted. "Tell me, what do you know about the Hamptons incident?"

I blanched, immediately tensing. Bruce withdrew the needle and pressed a bandage over the wound, running gentle fingers over my arm. Everybody must've noticed my surprise, turning to me with their faces full of expectation. Stephen's touch was calming, slightly trembling at the nape of my neck.

"Not much, to be honest. I was about thirteen when it happened and my mother tried to hide it from me," I chewed on my lip, looking away. "What I managed to find out is that there was a robbery that resulted in two deaths, my father being one of the suspects because he was high as hell on coke and he was found sleeping in the same room as the open gun safe," I recalled the memories of mother angrily screaming at dad, calling her law firm colleagues late at night. "I don't need a law degree to know the evidence was flimsy. Dad got a drug charge, his buddies got the same and both the killer and the gun were never found." I exhaled loudly, tapping my foot on the floor, supressing the need to pace.

Coulson nodded, opening a thin manila folder and producing an image of a small, wooden box with carvings that looked like runes on it. "Have you seen this object?"

I felt my blood run cold, my vision swam. "Yes," I swallowed dryly. "That's my end-of-the-world box. I buried it in my grandparents' backyard two years ago."

"End of the world?" Coulson asked, alarmed. "Did you open it?"

"No," I shook my head negative. "I found it in my room at one point and every time I looked at it, it felt... Wrong. Like it was a glitch in a computer game. I couldn't sleep, so I stuck it in my closet and that gave me terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis. I took it with me when I went to visit Gramps and buried it three feet deep under the cherry tree." My hands were shaking once again; I had forgotten about the box but my body remembered the primal, untameable terror that I experienced in it's proximity. At fourteen years old, I just thought I had an overactive imagination or something, too many horror movies, hormonal storms.

"That is a magical artifact," Stephen's voice was quiet and concerned. "A very dangerous, destructive at that. How long were you in it's presence?"

"About nine months, give or take."

"And you didn't open it once, not even a little bit?" Tony had caught on the trend, almost a hysterical edge to his voice.

"No, and I think I know why," I looked to the side. "I saw Wanda on the TV, and, like, magic was confirmed to be real, so I guess I was sure whatever is in there, it wasn't good. During that time, my parents told me I was sleepwalking but I can't remember any of it. I might have wanted to get that box to someone of your... Specialty," I briefly messed with the sleeve of Stephen's shirt, exhaling loudly when his hand grasped mine and held it with care. "I think that box messed with my head... Because I swear that I had no recollection of it until you brought it up," I realized suddenly, my eyes shooting up in blind panic. What else have I forgotten?!

"That is astonishing," Loki's baritone exclaimed. "Nine months is a long time to resist the pull of such a strong artifact." My best friend stated with a great deal of respect.

People in the room started talking all at once. Stephen and Tony declared I needed to get checked out by a professional - Tony meaning s doctor and Stephen meaning a healer of the magical kind; Bruce scooted over and pulled my frozen body in a solid hug; Steve and Bucky planned out to get the box from my grandparents' house, debating whether to take Loki or Thor with them; the SHIELD part of the team discussing the intel and further plans to catch the rogue mercenary.

The door opened quietly.

"Hi everybody, hello Mr. Stark," Peter was disheveled, his ratty backpack in one hand and an enormous sandwich in another. "Got here as fast as I could. What's up?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

book review: E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakenweiler (1967)

Genre: children’s literature

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: n/a

Is it explicit: n/a

Is it endgame: n/a

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: ‘sup i’m here to retroactively ruin your childhoods by excavating aaaaallll the incestuous subtext

“Two middle schoolers run away to New York City and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week” is a premise that would never fly in our present surveillance panopticon. It works just fine in the sixties though! This is a well-nigh perfect book and I didn’t reread it on account of the incest subtext, but once I had reread it it was impossible not to ship (and when I say ship I mean aged-up characters since these are prepubescent). Elder sister Claudia is a dreamer. Little brother Jamie is practical to a fault. They complement each other like peanut butter and jelly. Here is a typical exchange between them:

”But if we make a real discovery, I’ll know how to go back to Greenwich.” “You take the New Haven, silly. Same way as we got here.” “That’s not what I meant. I want to know how to go back to Greenwich different.” “You can take a subway to 125th Street and then take the train.”

Amazing, right? Initially she’s trying to Prove a Point by running away because she feels under-appreciated at home—props to E.L. Konigsburg who was unabashedly out here agitating for Eldest Daughter Rights:

Claudia was the oldest child and only girl and was subject to a lot of injustice.

Of all her brothers she picks Jamie to accompany her because he’s got the most money squirreled away. That moment when she singles him out still kills me:

Claudia sighed, “I don’t want Steve. Steve is one of the things in my life that I’m running away from. I want you.”

I DON’T WANT STEVE I WANT YOU. If we flash forward to halfway through the novel, by which time a period of sustained teamwork has forged Claudia and Jamie into a single unit:

What happened was: they became a team, a family of two … You might call it caring. You might even call it love. And it is very rarely, indeed, that it happens to two people at the same time—especially a brother and sister who had always spent more time with activities than they had with each other.

This passage establishes conclusively that Claudia and Jamie weren’t especially close before they ran away from home, that this adventure has changed them, and isn’t that what falling in love is, stripped down to the very kernel of its essence? You undergo a transformation. Which is why I’m arguing for a submerged courtship-and-marriage narrative beneath the surface narrative of “kids just want to have autonomy and be taken seriously” (it’s still a superb book even if you just read it on that level though!!! you don’t have to be wearing shipper goggles to enjoy it).

One of the great joys of this book is Jamie’s deadpan humor. This is him after Claudia explains they’ll be stashing a few changes of clothes in their empty instrument cases:

“All in a trumpet case? I should have taken up the bass fiddle.”

Claudia plans their getaway in excruciating detail, and from start to finish it goes off without a hitch—although when she told him to “destroy” the note she wrote, she probably didn’t expect him to swallow it lmao. Watching Jamie be dramatic is fun because he never does it out of an excess of feeling, he does it out of an excess of caution (later on he nearly batters a door down because he’s convinced Claudia is slitting her wrists in the bathtub). Jamie’s sense of humor is most effective when Claudia and Jamie are bickering like an old married couple:

”How come you didn’t take art appreciation lessons with me the summer before last?” “Well, the summer before last I had just finished first grade…It was all I could do to sound out the name of Dick and Jane’s dog.”

Let’s just take a minute to appreciate how on-point this sibling banter is. They find a candy bar on the floor, still sealed in its wrapper:

Claudia: ”Was it bitten into?”

Jamie: “No. Want half?”

Claudia: “You better not touch it, it’s probably poisoned or filled with marijuana.”

Here’s when he picked which wing of the museum to visit with the express aim of boring her:

Many painters of the Renaissance had painted huge billowy, bosomy naked ladies. She was amazed at Jamie; she thought he was too young for that. He was. She never even considered the possibility that he wanted her to be bored.

Tfw when your dumbass younger sibling does something that makes you want to throttle them:

It caused Claudia to want to embalm Jamie in a vat of mummy fluid right that minute. That would teach him inconspicuous.

Among the shenanigans they get up to while living at the Met, the time when these two INVENTED TELEPATHY to avoid getting busted by museum security has got to take the motherfucking cake. Runner-up is the fact they call each other “Sir James” and “Lady Claudia” on the way to the commissary to purchase potato chips for dinner. Then there’s the iconic bathing-in-the-wishing-fountain scene—it’s the next best thing to sharing a bath right? If this were a romance novel there would come the pivotal moment when feelings are confessed to and this is it:

”I didn’t run away to come home the same.” “Well, this has been more fun than camp. Even the food’s been better.” “But Jamie, it’s not enough.” “Yeah, I know it’s not enough. I’m hungry all the time.” “I mean the difference is not enough. Like being born with perfect pitch…or getting the Academy Award. Those are differences that will last a lifetime.” ”I think you’re different already, Claude.” “Do you?” “Yes. We’re all sane, you’re insane.” “James Kincaid!” “Ok ok I’m insane, too. I’ll go along with you.”

Note that Jamie does not disavow his prior claim—Claudia is insane, no two ways about it—but he’s willing to throw in the towel on the whole “being sane” project merely to keep her company. If that isn’t true love I don’t know what is. I just. Can’t get over how they are SO MARRIED and know each other SO WELL:

”You know, Claude, when I’m not wishing I could give you a sock right in the nose, I’m glad you’re on my team. You’re smart even if you’re hard to live with.”

”Jamie, you know, you could go clear around the world and still come home wondering if the tuna fish sandwiches at Chock Full O’Nuts still cost thirty-five cents.”

”You’re never satisfied, Claude. If you get all A’s, you wonder where are the pluses. You start out just running away, and you end up wanting to know everything.”

Yes, Claude is his pet nickname for her and he kind of employs it to annoy her but at the same time, nobody else calls her that do they?? He’s the only one. Just like he’s the only one who gets her. ”We’re the only two people in the whole world who live with it,” says Jamie, referring to a new exhibit they’ve grown attached to, but he could just have easily been referring to this entire scheme of Claudia’s that landed them in the museum in the first place.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

The mystery of the new exhibit, a cupid statue of uncertain provenance, eventually drives the kids to call on the eccentric old lady who donated it from her own personal collection, the eponymous Mrs. Frankeweiler. But first a word about why Claudia is so bloody-minded about getting the dirt on this statue, which may or may not have been carved by Michelangelo. “Finding a secret can make everything else unimportant,” and Claudia is above all someone who relishes the hoarding of secrets. Discovering proof of the statue’s authenticity would enable her to go home the same on the outside but profoundly changed on the inside. If we’re diagramming this story Claudia’s lowest point is definitely when their funds are nearly depleted and they’ve exhausted every avenue of inquiry wrt the statue:

Jamie let her cry for a while. He sat there and fidgeted and counted the number of benches. She still cried; he counted the number of people on the benches. She was still at it; he calculated the number of people per bench.

So Jamie is absolutely useless at dealing with her emotional outburst but he readily acquiesces to spending the last of their money on a taxi to Mrs. Frankenweiler’s house. This is kind of a big deal for Jamie, considering we have him on record saying this:

”I haven’t been a tightwad all my life, have I?” “As long as I’ve known you.” “Well, you’ve known me as long as I’ve known me.”

That’s the sound of me screeching loud enough to bring down the roof. First of all did you notice that for Jamie “being alive” is synonymous with “knowing Claudia”!!! Second, he’s been vetoing Claudia’s motions to take taxis instead of buses/trains for …the entire book up to this point!!! And he says yes to this hail-mary pass in the form of Mrs. Frankenweiler because he knows Claudia needs the truth more than he needs the money. He goes along with it to please her, even if it goes against his most basic instincts. And that’s Jamie Kincaid in a nutshell: he’ll follow his sister anywhere.

The reason I want to dwell on Claudia’s fetish for keeping secrets is because it strongly supports my “submerged romance narrative” reading of the novel:

Claudia doesn’t want adventure. She likes baths and feeling comfortable too much for that kind of thing. Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs … That was why planning the runaway had been such fun; it was a secret. And hiding in the museum had been a secret. But they weren’t permanent.

YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE A PERMANENT, falling in love with your brother now there’s a secret you’d have to no choice but to take to your grave JUST SAYIN CLAUDIA. Like, yes they figure out the “truth” about the stupid statue but it’s the way they figure it out that matters, it’s Jamie inadvertently supplying the missing piece of the puzzle because as smart as Claudia is, as much as she’s 100% in the driver’s seat of this marriage partnership she couldn’t have done it without him. And the way it ends!! So open-ended!! So much scope for shipping!!! They resolve to adopt this lonely old lady since they’ve lost their own grandma(s), and to take day trips to visit her, and to keep any future visits secret from their parents too. What I love about Mrs. Frankenweiler as a character is that she’s the friend that Claudia and Jamie both desperately need. It’s instantly obvious why her and Claudia are kindred spirits; she susses out Claudia’s motives with little trouble:

”Because you found that running away from home didn’t make a real difference? You were still the same Greenwich Claudia, planning and washing and keeping things in order?”

What’s less immediately obvious is why Mrs. Frankeweiler and Jamie would get along like a house on fire:

”You won it at cards?” I could see the admiration grow in Jamie’s eyes.

Jamie, an inveterate cardsharp, is duly impressed. Mrs. Frankenweiler displays wily strategic thinking by extracting information from Jamie while Claudia’s in the bath, which devastates Claudia because she knows information is the only coin they possess to bargain with, but poor Jamie is like IN MY DEFENSE I HAVEN’T TALKED TO ANYONE ELSE FOR A WEEK AND I FORGOT HOW TO KEEP A SECRET. This is so sweet that these kids have not spoken above three sentences to another soul since they ran away from home. Their unplanned sleepover at Mrs. Frankenweiler’s also yields the funniest exchange in the entire fucking book, which goes like this:

Claudia wanted very much to let us know that she was annoyed and why. She acted cool. I pretended I didn’t notice. Jamie didn’t pretend; he simply did not notice.

“I’ll skip the soup,” Claudia announced.

“It’s good,” Jamie said. “Sure you don’t want to try it?”

I am DEAD and GONE. Claudia is subtly snubbing Mrs. Frankenweiler, but subtlety simply does not register for Jamie who operates entirely on a surface-meaning level. So he does what he does best (other than cheating at cards) which is urge Claudia to eat delicious food. He’s constantly thinking about food and whining about how hungry he is. But here he’s coming from a place of “this soup is lit, I care about Claudia so I want her to enjoy it too.” I love this scene sfm because it’s a harbinger of their future: Jamie’s totally the type to walk around obliviously in love with Claudia because as we’ve established he’s incapable of ascribing non-literal meanings to things, and she’ll have to clobber him over the head with the truth and it will be glorious. For those of us who ship incest because we like the idea of “secret” knowledge or a “hidden” text that only we have access to, this is it: This book is pretty much perfect.

While we’re here allow me to rec this pitch-perfect futurefic (11k words) chronicling Claudia and Jamie’s further adventures after they go home. It’s not shipfic but it’s startlingly in-character—even the authorial voice reads like Konigsburg’s—and since canon itself is a trove of shippy content, i’m a happy customer. This is Jamie’s BFF Bruce (the one he regularly cheats at cards): “Look, Jamie, am I your best friend or not? Or is it your stupid sister?” “SHE’S NOT STUPID!”

“You ever have one of those days?”

genre: fluff, humor, teeny tiny bit of angst

length: 2.5k

OT9

Procrastination at it’s finest! For @stay-grandma because we both just had one of those days today. 

Those kinds of days are the worst. The ones where you want nothing more than to climb underneath a pile of blankets and stay there until someone has to come and rather forcefully drag you out. Waking up with a weird sense of dread in his body, Hyunjin pulled the covers up over his head and groaned when he heard his alarm shouting at him. He pondered on why he had ever recorded his own voice to wake him up in the mornings; the high pitched screams breaking through his calm mentality.

“Hwang Hyunjin, wake up! Hwang Hyunjin, wake up!” It rang and rang and rang until he felt the covers being ripped off of him and the icy atmosphere of the room nipped at his exposed skin. Curling in on himself, Hyunjin cracked one eye open, glaring at one of his rather unimpressed members before making grabby hands to retrieve the blankets still being held onto by the other.

“Hyung, why do you set an alarm if you never get up when it goes off? Do you realise that it wakes the rest of us up and then we, in turn, wake you?” Jeongin stepped back as Hyunjin leaped forward to take his blankets but managed to tangle one foot in the other and came crashing to the ground, a rather sharp pain flooding his back as he fell on top of the book he had been reading before he had gone to bed last night. Harmless Person to You, a great read but not so great for falling on top of. Uncomfortable, wouldn’t recommend to a friend.

“C’mon hyung, you gotta go and get dressed. The performance is in two hours. The managers won’t be happy if you’re holding everyone up.” Jeongin flashed his braces with his smile, throwing the elder’s blankets onto the bed above him so he couldn’t drag them back on top of himself. Watching Jeongin skip away from his murderous thoughts, Hyunjin reluctantly began to stand, knowing that the youngest boy was right; nobody would be pleased with him if he made everybody late.

That feeling of dread within his body? He thought it was just that, a feeling but when he stepped on the plug of Seungmin’s charger as he went to get changed, he thought that perhaps his body had been warning him not to get out of bed. Shouting profanities at the top of his lungs while he clutched at his injured foot, the rapper heard a warning being shouted at him to watch his mouth, most likely from Chan or Woojin. When they were yelling at him, he did find it hard to distinguish who it was; their fatherly tones mixing their voices together too well.

Did it help that when he finally did manage to dress himself and get downstairs, after a slight scolding from their manager, that their car wasn’t even there waiting for them? No, no it didn’t. Standing in the bitter cold for more than ten minutes, Hyunjin already didn’t like how this particular day was treating him. When their car did manage to finally arrive, he hopped in to sit beside Changbin, the usually bright rapper scowling at Jisung in front of him.

“Jisung, it’s not that god damn hard. When I buy something, that generally means I want to eat it! So why the hell would you take the last of my cereal? Did you not see me getting angry about the fact that I didn’t get to eat any of it because it was all stuffed in your dumbass squirrel cheeks?!”

“Jeez, calm down hyung. I don’t know if your short ass can cope with holding that much anger inside of your body.”

“What?!”

“Oh my god, will the two of you just shut up?! Stop fighting over god damn food and get a hold of yourselves! Focus on what you’re supposed to be focusing on and get a grip!”

Hyunjin plugged his airpods in, blasting some random song to drown out Chan yelling at the younger boys for their immature behaviour. Pulling the woolen scarf around his face, Hyunjin tried to warm himself up, the heater in the car conveniently being on the fritz. He really didn’t enjoy how this day was turning out so far.

________________________________________________________________

When they finally did manage to get to the studio, after being stuck in ridiculous traffic because of an accident, they were quickly ushered off to hair and make-up; their managers being chided by the members of staff for arriving late. After the terrible start to the day, Hyunjin really wasn’t up for being pulled and dragged at by the stylists. They always made them look incredible, there was no question about that but Hyunjin just really wasn’t in the mood for this today. It took him nearly ten minutes to try and get the coloured contacts in, poking himself in the eye more than a couple of times.

Waiting backstage with the rest of his members, a weird, uncomfortable tension crowded around them, all being silent as the hustle and bustle around them broke the quietness. Reaching up to the sky, Hyunjin let the bones in his back crack to relieve some of the unwelcome pressure within his body until he heard a rather loud rip. Gathering Felix’s attention, Hyunjin’s eyes pleaded with him to tell him that he had imagined the noise and had not made extra work for the stylists; something that they really did not have time for. Felix gestured to underneath his arm when the seams had split from being dragged so hard when Hyunjin stretched. Cursing himself, he sprinted back to the dressing rooms where a huge fuss was made about the fact that they only had five minutes before they were due to go on stage. Quickly being patched up by one of the irritated stylists, Hyunjin made it back just in time to follow his members on stage, though he didn’t miss the little glares being thrown at him for nearly making them late again. Hyunjin didn’t appreciate that. He hadn’t ripped his shirt on purpose, stuff like that just happens, especially on days like today when the world was out to get him.

“1, 2, Step Out. Hello, we are Stray Kids.” The crowd’s elation made Hyunjin feel more relaxed. He loved performing, the one time he felt completely in control of his environment. He knew what to do and he knew how to do it well, he was part of Stray Kids after all. Taking his position, Hyunijn felt all of his nerves dissipate as the music began to play in his in-ear. This was where he belonged, on stage, in front of screaming fans, doing what he loved to do most in the world with the people that he loved most in the world.

No matter what kind of day he was having, nothing could bring him down when he was performing. Except when his turn came to rap and he stumbled over a couple of words, going unnoticed by the fans but certainly not by his members. Playing it off as cool as possible, Hyunjin winked at the crowd, garnering squeals and his name being shouted amongst the fanchants. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought, nobody even noticed. When his foot slipped from under him during the final stages of the song, he thought that there must be some evil deity out to get him today. Hwang Hyunjin does not mess up when he dances, he told himself, not when he’s practiced so god damn hard for this comeback. Small murmurs from the crowd in front told him that his fumble during the rap had gone unnoticed but not in his dance and that hit him hard. The song finally came to an end, the longest four minutes of Hyunjin’s short life, and the dancer was furious with himself.

Riding back to the dorms in silence, Hyunjin counted the raindrops falling down the window, getting to forty six before he lost count and had to start over. This day had been bad, one of his worst in a long time but what could he do about it? He just wanted to crawl back to bed, he should never have left it this morning in the first place. Hopping out of the car first, his foot was immediately engulfed by a puddle of water, up to his ankle becoming drenched. He wondered what kind of malicious crimes he had committed in his past life to experience this type of unbelievable bad luck before heading straight into the dorm, Chan immediately pulling him back by his collar.

“Hyunjin, what happened to you today? You were all over the place.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“If you know, then why didn’t you do something about it?”

“Well, damn hyung, I’m sorry I can’t be as perfect as you are, ok? Not all of us have an inherent ability to be so freaking impeccable all the time!”

The air around him stilled, the shocked stares from his members boring into his face as he waited for some sort of reply from the elder. He didn’t ever speak to Chan like that, he never had reason to, that wasn’t who he was but today had been so god damn awful that it caused him to break.

“Ok, Hyunjin, I think you need to go and cool your head. We’ll end the conversation here before one of us says something we might regret.” Chan dropped his bags at the door, flowing silently to his room as the other members dispersed in their respective directions.

Hyunjin was already scolding himself for his harsh words towards his leader but took his advice to calm down and think about what he had said. He was thankful that his room remained empty, his roommates obviously scattering somewhere else so that they didn’t have to be around Hyunjin in his foul mood. Flopping down onto the bed, the boy hung his head in his hands as he thought about how awful it was to take his bad mood out on Chan and the other members. Being so lost in his thoughts, he never heard his bedroom door open until he felt the mattress dip beside him while a warm hand encompassed his.

“Hyunjinnie, everything all right?”

He remembered the last time Seungmin had come to him when he was alone in his room. He couldn’t recall exactly what the cause was but he had been crying. Seungmin had come to him in his time of need and sat with him, clinging to his hand like a lifeline as Hyunjin let the tears fall.

“Seungminnie, you ever have one of those days?”

“One of those days where nothing turns out right? Where you feel like crawling into bed and staying there for a month?”

“Yeah, one of those days.”

A gentle pat on his hand let him know that Seungmin knew exactly what he was talking about and had more than likely experienced them himself. “I know about them all too well.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped at Channie hyung like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have but I think we were all out of sorts today. Did you hear my voice crack during the recording? It was so obvious too.” Hyunjin hadn’t but that was probably because he had been so immersed in his own problems that he didn’t have time for anyone else’s and that was kind of unfair too.

“Come on, you should go and find Channie hyung. I’m sure he’s not mad but you should probably still apologise to him.” He knew that Seungmin was right, like he usually was but Hyunjin didn’t want to face their leader just yet. He was being a bit of a coward but he was afraid of how their conversation would go. Unwillingly being pulled to his feet by the younger boy, Hyunjin was dragged to the living room, where he was met with a sight that he really didn’t expect.

Fluffy cushions lined the floor as Jisung and Changbin plopped down on top of them, smashing together to keep the bare warmth they had created going. Minho and Woojin emerged from the kitchen with bowls of popcorn, the eldest boy smacking Minho’s hand away when he attempted to start eating without the others. Felix, Jeongin and Chan squished together on the couch, trying to make room for the other members even though it was only a three person seat.

“What’s going on?”

“What does it look like? Movie night. No schedules tomorrow so we were thinking about making this an all-nighter. If you think you can handle that, hyung.” Jeongin wiggled his eyebrows towards Hyunjin as he patted the worn seat on the couch beside him, motioning for the older boy to sit. Up for the challenge, Hyunjin let go of Seungmin’s hand and positioned himself in the much too tight space beside Chan and pulled his legs up to rest his chin upon.

“What are we watching? Horror or comedy?” Woojin waved the remote around in front of them, all trying to grab it before Felix grasped it in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“I can tell you right now that this house is a horror free zone! I’m not doing that again after what happened the last time! I swear I can still hear the screams.”

“Yeah but Felix, that was you screaming.”

“I know that and that’s why it’s not going to happen again!”

Flicking through the available movies, the boys tried to decide on what the best new release to watch would be.

“Channie hyung?” Hyunjin’s whispers were barely audible over the shouts and complaints coming from the other’s who were far too invested in the television to take notice of the two boys on the couch.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry that I yelled at you. I was having a bad day and I took my frustration out on you and that’s not fair, so, I’m sorry.”

Chan’s lips curled upwards, his characteristic dimples making an appearance as he smiled. “I know you were having an off day, Hyunjinnie, I could sense it but you need to come and talk to me about it if you are, ok? I don’t want all your frustration building up until you come to breaking point. Talk to me or any of the others and we’ll do our best to help.”

Hyunjin nodded, a slight grin gracing his lips when he realised that Chan wasn’t too pissed at him. “Yeah, hyung, I’ll tell you the next time but man, the universe seemed to be out to get me today!”

“We all have days like that, Hyunjinnie. You just gotta fight back and give the universe as much trouble as it’s giving you.”

Finally deciding on the movie, the boys eventually quieted down, huddling into each other so that they could share in the measly amount of popcorn that the older boys had prepared. Hyunjin deflated as Chan’s arm was placed around his shoulder, the fondness for his members being conveyed through the warmth he exuded. It had been one hell of a lousy day but Hyunjin thought that when you found the right people to spend it with, the right people to talk about it with, the universe could only do so much before you managed to find your strength and give it back as good as it was giving you. For Hyunjin, it had just been one of those days.

Perfect Song For A Perfect Lady

Author's note: Surprise fic for the absolutely amazing @wrestlingnoob! I love you! I wanted to do something special for you to welcome you back from your trip! 💙 I hope it's everything you wanted! 38. "Why can't you appreciate my sense of humor?" 69. "We need to talk." "How would you feel, if I told you I loved you? It's just something that I want to do I'll be taking my time, spending my life Falling deeper in love with you So tell me that you love me too Tell me that you love me too Tell me that you love me too" -How Would You Feel by Ed Sheeran "All I'm saying is that if you at all feel like you need a distraction, you can count on me." Joe told her with a smile. Daisy rolled her eyes, barely holding back her laughter. "I told you that I can do this by myself! Win or lose I'm doing it without help. No offense." She stated simply. The Scottish man in front of her held up his hands. "I'm just trying to help, sweetheart. I have no doubts that you can wipe the mat with her." Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Everyone decent?" Travis Banks asked from outside. "No, Trav. We're standing here in our birthday suits nonchalantly discussing tonight." Daisy retorted with a laugh. "Coffey owes me money then." Travis said sarcastically before opening the door. When The Prestige demanded their own locker room Daisy had kind of been roped into the deal. Hendry told everyone they were a packaged deal. "Why can't you appreciate my sense of humor?" The woman asked the Kiwi with a fake pout. "I appreciate it, Dai. I just like to compete with it." He answered with a smile. "Your match is almost up. Our deal still in place?" The mischief in Travis' eyes made her look away. "Yeah." She answered quickly before looking at her best friend once more. He knew better than to ask. "Walk me to the curtain?" She asked with a nervous smile. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?" Joe teased before taking her hand and leading her out of the door. Daisy had done it. She'd become number one contender for the WCPW Woman's Championship. She had come through the curtain expecting a bear hug. Instead she only seen Travis. It wasn't that she didn't get along with the rest of The Prestige, she was just more comfortable with Joe and Travis. "Hey..." She greeted as her eyes still searched for her best friend. Travis pulled her into a hug nonetheless with a big smile on his face. "Look at you go! I told you that you didn't have to doubt yourself." He knew what she was looking for. He also had a sneaking suspicion about what exactly her friend was up to. "Lover boy said something about getting you junk food a few minutes ago. Think he got lost without you." It wasn't technically a lie. The Scottish man had talked about getting her sweets, just not necessarily in the last ten minutes. The woman punched his chest before quickly scanning to make sure nobody heard him. "Shut up!" She whispered harshly. "You and him are literally the only people here who don't see it. You're both fucking clueless. He made sure you could get in on a private locker room even though you aren't a member of The Prestige. He waits here after almost all of your matches. He walks you to the curtain. You guys hold hands more than any couple I've ever met. When are you going to realise he's completely mad about you like you are him? Because honestly all this longing and tension is ridiculous. I'm always worried you'll just rip each other's clothes off out of nowhere." He should've felt bad about embarrassing her. Normally he'd wait until she was at least tipsy to bring up the subject. "Ah, but you don't have a choice now. You won the match so I won the bet. I trust you not to go back on your word." She avoided his gaze as he held her stolen hoodie out for her. "Go talk to him. I'm going outside for some air before my match." Travis sincerely hoped he was wrong about Joe's whereabouts. He couldn't keep Daisy away forever, especially since she was already curious about Joe not being there after her match. He watched her walk until she was out of sight before going towards the exit. It felt like it took forever to get back to the locker room. Everyone had stopped to congratulate her on the win. Kay Lee had even promised to take her out for drinks later. Both women knew it was going to be an all out war for the championship. Daisy let out a breath of relief as she looked at the door in front of her. What if Travis was right? What if she was just over thinking everything and Joe really did feel the same? She didn't know what she expected to see when she opened the door, but Joe with his tongue down some backstage worker's throat wasn't it. Daisy froze in the doorway. This couldn't be real, could it? Surely Joe wouldn't have missed her match to try and get into some woman's pants, right? When he heard the squeak of the door hinges his eyes shot open. Seeing her there made him freeze. Daisy couldn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. How could she be so stupid enough to think Joe Hendry loved her like she did him? She bolted before he could even get his temporary entertainment off of him. Instantly he was going after her. He made it to the parking lot before seeing a face he cared about. "Did you see where Daisy went?" Joe asked his friend, slightly out of breath. "You're a fucking idiot and I want you to know that." Travis answered with a heavy sigh. The Scottish man cocked his head just enough to be noticeable. "Excuse me?" He really didn't know where the words had come from. "No. I'm not spelling this out for you. You messed up, you figure it out. But you aren't fixing it with whatever half assed apology you were just thinking up. You're going to have to work for this one." With that the Kiwi was walking back into the building. Joe stared at the parking lot with his eyebrows furrowed. What the hell was Travis talking about? Three weeks. She had gone a full three weeks without talking to what was supposed to be her best friend. No Monday morning gym sessions. No Thursday night movies. It was funny to see how much time he had taken up in her life. She was always pulled along with him to events if she didn't have any of her own. Now she had spent a majority of her time in her small flat. It was kind of sad. That night was another show of dodging both Joe and Travis. The Kiwi didn't really deserve her anger but she just couldn't help it. He knew what Joe was doing, or he at least had a hunch. He still sent her back to the locker room right after talking her up to confess her feelings. During those three weeks she'd had a private locker room at every show. She figured it was a peace offering of sorts. Suddenly the sound of a guitar filtered through the door as she finished lacing her boots. Daisy pushed herself to ignore it. Of course he would sing her favorite song outside of the locker room she had because of him. Joe didn't like feeling like he was losing. By the time the second verse rolled around she had the door open and was listening closely. She loved hearing him sing. She knew he learned the song for her. It made her heart skip a beat like a silly teenager. "And all of the voices surrounding us here They just fade out when you take a breath Just say the word and I will disappear Into the wilderness Should this be the last thing I see I want you to know it's enough for me 'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need I'm so in love, so in love So in love, so in love" Daisy noticed the crowd gathering around the hallway and quickly put her hand over his. She seen the instant sadness fill his eyes when she stopped him from playing. "We need to talk." She whispered before he could speak. With a nod he handed the guitar to her so he could grab the gifts on the floor. Once they were both inside the room and the door was closed the tension became near suffocating. In the end Joe caved first. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad that even I can't believe it. It's just... two years. Two years I've been hoping that you felt the same. I watched you date those absolute cunts with a fake smile because at least they made you happy. Even if I knew I'd have to put you back together after they left. I listened to guys say the vilest things about you because they knew you were my soft spot. Coffey told me what the bet with Travis was. He told me how much of a dumbass I was." He stopped only to hold out the giant panda bear and bouquet of flowers he had brought. "I want you to know that I love you. Without a doubt in my mind I can say I've loved you since the night your car broke down and we cuddled in the backseat singing whatever songs we knew. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'm sorry I probably fucked up whatever chance I had with you." Daisy took the gifts with tears streaming down her face. All of her emotions were bubbling up at once. Suddenly she had launched into his arms, face pressed into the man's chest. He held her tightly without saying a word. "You learned my song." Her words were so mumbled she was surprised he understood them. "Of course I did. It's the perfect song for a perfect girl." She looked up meekly. How was he still so beautiful even when he looked terrified? "Take me to the little diner I love after the show." Daisy pecked his lips before leaving the room. "Fucking finally!" She wished she was surprised to hear the words as she walked towards the curtain. "Shut the fuck up, Banks!"

Focus, Redux

As Wild Bill might say, there you go again, and indeed, here I go again. There are two overarching group of people who read SJ, the first being lawyers and the second not being lawyers. They come here for different reasons, read the posts through different eyes.

One of the recurring reactions I receive from lawyers is the appreciation of my riding comments hard. Many sites have shut down comments altogether, because moderating them takes an enormous amount of time, far more than reading some, even all, of the comments posted. I have to read them all, no matter how crazy or wildly off topic. Some are, ahem, long. Some are incomprehensible. Some flow into and out of languages that appear to include English at time and others that exist only in the writer’s fertile imagination.

Some comments are intended as humor, or sarcasm, or snarky references, that no doubt make complete sense in the mind of their writer, but since I have no idea who the writer is, how would I know? The writer may know exactly what she meant inside the secret world of her inner motivations, but it’s just a disembodied random voice to me. And it’s left to me to read a comment, sometimes over and over, to figure it out. Because that’s probably how I want to spend my day, trying to figure out what some random person is trying to say.

Then, of course, some people aren’t nearly as good at expressing themselves as they believe, using words and phrases that may mean a great deal to them but not to anyone else. I read them in order to decide whether you should have to.

It can be too much work, and frankly, most comments aren’t worth that much of my time. At least to me, and since this is my blawg, that’s all that matters. You’re always free to express your deepest thoughts elsewhere, but here, it’s on my dime, and so you can be right, the smartest person ever, saying something totally important, but you don’t get a vote as to what I think matters. I win, not because I’m necessarily right, but because I have the trash button and you don’t.

This past week hasn’t been one of the best for comments, and it’s making me wonder why I allow them at all. When I let commenters stray, whether from the specific subject of the post or into the “non-lawyer chaos theory connect the dots to whatever crap pops into your head,” lawyers get annoyed with me. Why am I letting the people who should shut up and learn ruin the comments with their nonsensical rants.

And then there are the serial defensive arguments, for which my old, now-banned, pal Jake was famous and almost universally despised. Jake always thought it was about his progressive approach. It wasn’t. It was about the cluelessness of his arguments, a reflection of his utter lack of knowledge about law combined with trying to manufacture childish counterarguments that made everyone with a little legal knowledge cringe. Yet he would post comment after comment, fighting by whatever means he could muster, for his right to be the dumbest guy in the room.

Stop putting me through this. It sucks the fun out of it for me, and if it’s not fun for me, why would i continue to do this? And if I don’t continue to do this, there won’t be anything for you to write a comment about. I really don’t want to reach the point of killing comments altogether, as there are fun ones, humorous ones and, occasionally, illuminating ones. But get a grip.

If you say your piece and the reaction isn’t what you hoped for, that’s not an invitation for ten more comments about why you’re not a blithering idiot. You said it. You have nothing more to add. That’s it. If you’re as brilliant as you think, then there will be a Nobel Prize in the mail for you. If not, then that’s that. Either way, stop sucking up my time with your repeated comments fighting for your dignity.

If you’re not a lawyer, there’s an 87.3% chance your legal analysis is wrong, either entirely or in part. Have a little humility and recognize that you’re probably not the most brilliant legal mind here. if all the lawyers seem to find something completely uncontroversial, but it strikes you as improper, maybe the job is for you to figure out why you, the non-lawyer, doesn’t get it rather than mine, or the other lawyers, to explain why your legal acumen is lacking. It’s not as much fun for lawyers to explain law to random people on the internet as you think, and SJ doesn’t exist to teach every dumbass with a question how law works.

There’s a reason they’re called “comments,” not questions.

And then there are those comment adding in that extra bit of information, the factoid, the tidbit of information that may or may not be tangentially (or worse, orthogonaly) related, as if the comments exist for you to turn my post into yours, because you think your detail is really interesting or really important. Or maybe it’s just some detail you know and are bursting to share, whether to show how smart you are or just because you decide it’s fascinating.

At some point, nearly every commenter here has decided that I’m a jerk in my handling of their comments. And you may well be right. Much of it has to do with how many nonsensical comments I’ve read, and trashed, before getting to yours. At this moment, there are 579 comments in my trash folder from this past week. Bet you didn’t know that. I do. This is what I deal with.

So much as I may be wrong, a nasty old dick, and needlessly mean, cut me a break, especially if you haven’t bothered to hit the tip jar and at least cover the cost of SJ’s continued existence while I write posts every day. If this becomes unfun enough for me, then where are you going to comment and what are you going to gripe about?

If I’m too horrible for you to take, nobody makes you come here, read, comment or contribute. But if not, then do me one favor. Focus.

Focus, Redux republished via Simple Justice