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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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Albus Dumbledore being an awesome teacher and human being

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

(Imma be honest with y’all, it’s mostly just him being a crackhead.)

He tells stories about Grindelwald, about their marriage and their beliefs and their lives together. All of the stories have lessons - sure, a lot of those lessons are about how NOT to make pasta, but they’re still lessons!

He likes to matchmake students using seating charts and certain magical spell assignments. He’s very good at it. I mean, he’s shit at figuring out who likes each other, but he is great at meddling, so Mcgonogall tells him who to mess with and he does as he’s told. They make a great team (and are invited to a lot of weddings). Couples they’ve helped include but are not limited to: Dean and Seamus, Luna and Ginny, Hermione and Harry and Ron, Sirius and Remus, Peter and Maxwell Needles, Peter and Regulus (that was later), Lily and Severus and James, Fred and Lee plus George and Lee, Charlie and Newt (queerplatonic), Leta and Newt (queerplatonic), Harry and Luna (queerplatonic), and Sirius and James and Remus (queerplatonic). They’ve been very busy.

He and Mcgonogall have teatime almost every day. They talk about their students and work on their matchmaking plans. There’s a lot of sass and deadpanning involved. Sometimes they invite Remus, Sirius, and James. (Not Peter. He doesn’t need the same level of torturing that they do.) Bubbles of all shapes and sizes and colors float around the room the whole time. It’s fantastic.

He accepts gossip in exchange for extra credit. He’s a really good secret keeper too, so a lot of students go for it. (It hasn’t broken any friendships. There’s an understanding among the student population that Dumbledore is like Ms. Potts from that Muggle film Beauty and the Beast - well-meaning and trustworthy, but terribly, terribly bored.)

Everything in his classroom is pink. And glittery. And covered in sequins. Once a student asked him why and he just smirked for a solid minute before whispering, “Lemonade.” (As if that makes any fucking sense.)

He once taught class in a full-fledged glittery ballgown that faded from light pink to deep purple. He did not once acknowledge it or act like anything was out of the ordinary. One student raised their hand and asked timidly, “Professor? Why are you wearing a ballgown?” And his brow furrowed as he frowned, looked down at himself, and muttered, “Thought it was a bathrobe.” (Harry does not let him live this one down. His dad is not much help - Severus took many, many pictures.) (Not that it mattered. On Wednesdays Dumbledore wears pink (glittery ballgowns).)

He speaks to kids who have parents, friends, and relatives in prison, whether for being Death Eaters or otherwise. He chaperones visits to Azkaban for them so they can see their loved ones. He casts protective and invisibility charms on them so only the one they’re visiting can see or hear them, and he teaches them Patronuses (with Remus’ help, of course). He often spends these visits on the other side of Grindelwald’s bars, playing wizard’s chess against him. (Sometimes Grindelwald gives him flowers. It always makes Dumbledore smile. There may be no one left in the world who understands why they love each other, but they don’t need to understand it for it to be true.)

He stands at the front of the classroom and makes funny faces during tests and waits to see how long it takes for a student to look up. His latest record is seven minutes.

When he’s teaching Grindelwald’s history, he makes snarky comments about his husband. They range from “I mean really. Who the fuck thought wizards ruling Muggles was a good idea?” (Rest in peace that one student who thought it was a good idea to say, “You did, Professor.”) to “Honestly, that man has no concept of romance. I ask him for a nice night out and he takes me to a Muggle rally about witchcraft and tries to impress me by playing practical magical jokes on the speaker. A toddler could do that.” (He often gets mushy during those stories though, usually trailing off like “But that time he took me to my childhood home for my birthday was sweet… brought me flowers for Ariana’s grave and everything. Sure, he killed her, but… he has a sweet side…” and from there on out he’s basically a lost cause and you might as well go to your next class because he’s not going to stop humming that fucking Elvis song).

He “loses” his glasses all the time by casting an invisibility charm on them and forces his students to search the classroom for them when they’re on his face the whole time. He thinks it’s funny. Harry does not. (But Severus and Mcgonogall do, and that’s really what matters.) (Severus and Mcgonogall and Dumbledore are a fantastic trio full of snark and sarcasm and shit, I have just decided.)

He makes little animals out of multi-colored magical dust and they fly around the classroom and perch on his favorite students’ heads. Once a dragon fell asleep on Newt’s head and wouldn’t leave even when class was over. Newt had to wait for the magic to wear off so it would disintegrate. (Of course, he had named it by that point and had a meltdown when it disappeared, so Dumbledore recreates the dragon (Robert) every class and just lets Newt coo at it, even during tests.)

He conjured and charmed two giant (I mean Egypt half-animal half-man guard statue size giant) fluffy pink teddy bears that are alive and stand on either side of him like bodyguards during class. A Slytherin student punched one in the stomach once and it vomited enough M&Ms over their head to completely bury them. The student’s partner, a Ravenclaw student, punched the other one in an ill-advised burst of illogical thought and received the same treatment, but in Skittles. (Luckily their Gryffindor aro-ace friend and nonbinary Hufflepuff friend stayed after class and ate until they could move again. Safe to say no one has dared punch the bears again.) (Though I hear they do give very good hugs. And they eat homework if you ask nicely enough!)

He has a bunch of cloaks that act as portals to realms like Merlin’s Celestiums (S.G.E., Soman Chainani). He gives one to each student for tests, and they are transported to their ideal test-taking environments, complete with whatever song they feel like listening to at any given minute playing all around them. Unsurprisingly, his students have the best grades in all of Hogwarts. (He also has a secret cloak that he uses for himself, to see Grindelwald. Grindelwald has his own matching one so he can always make it home for Thursday date night.) (They have been caught. Of course they have. But no one is going to challenge Dumbledore for his right to see his husband, even if he did marry a murderer.) (Sirius and Remus used to steal the cloak for their own dates. And later on James would steal it to take the two of them on friend-dates. Inspired by that, Dumbledore made a special cloak for Mcgonogall that he gifted her on her fiftieth birthday. The smile she gave him then is his favorite of all time.)

He bickers with Fawkes constantly. This often evolves into full-fledged screaming matches with spastic hand gestures, gratuitous spit, and angry hops on both sides. Once Dumbledore drew wand on his “useless babbling bastard of a bird”. No one has bothered to tell Dumbledore that Fawkes probably can’t understand a word of their arguments. (They do evacuate the classroom when these fights start though. The last time they stayed their hair was gone for a week, and when it grew back it was glittery and pink.) (Harry looked especially fantastic. Sirius thought he looked great. He laughed until he was in tears. Harry was not amused.) (Remus was.)

Sometimes he’s absent from class and Mcgonogall teaches them instead. When asked if he’s alright, Mcgonogall simply answers, “My partner is away on personal business for the day. Now, turn to page -” Soon enough people figured out that “personal business” meant “conjugal visit with Genocidal Maniac Husband™ in prison”. They stopped asking.

He gives all of his students the red button test (without knowing what it does, do you press the red button?). Those who pass get automatic A’s and a lollipop. Those who fail get a talking pet pygmy puff. The thing that usually trips people up is that Dumbledore considers the “correct” answer to be pressing the goddamn button. (Seamus is the only one who has ever passed (enthusiastically too!). Newt half-passed because Niffy the Niffler sat on it.) (Sirius and James would have passed too if they had not been the life partners of one Remus Lupin, whose creativity with threats and extensive curse-word vocabulary rivaled Mcgonogall’s even at the tender age of fifteen.)

He has floating war maps just lying around. He plays battleship with his students on them. What he neglects to tell them is that their moves have actual consequences in the world, as the maps are magical and reflect real battles and places. When Harry finds out (he blew up Denmark, completely unawares) he shows up at Dumbledore’s door soaking wet at five-thirty in the morning with a newspaper, his fists clenched, his face red, and his chest heaving. He wouldn’t stop glaring for weeks. (Alas, Dumbledore’s glorious beard has great resistance to fire spells.) (Following an incident involving the original four Marauders in their third year. Shhh… we do not speak of that.)

He has a habit of walking into random classrooms, gesturing for a student to come with him with his finger, and then taking them to his office for teatime. He usually asks them inane questions about a specific theme (fish, pasta strainers, socks, throw pillows, mooses, etc.) for hours until finally dismissing them. It drives Mcgonogall crazy. (She’s yelled at him plenty for “kidnapping students to ask them questions you know you could easily find on that Muggle infer-het thing! They have exams, Albus -” but he just smiles at her while calmly sipping his tea and she always ends up collapsing in the chair across from him with a sigh, taking the tea from his hands and chugging it before wiping her mouth, slamming it down on the desk, and asking, “So. Fish. What’s up with them?” and Albus just beams.)

He spends half of his class lessons babbling on about how Merlin was gay for Arthur and Arthur was gay for Merlin, but not in long tangents. Just a bunch of random comments without context, warning, or explanation. (He mentions “poetry” a lot and waggles his eyebrows for some reason, so… what’s up with that? (Merlin BBC))

He overshares A LOT about his and Grindelwald’s lives. It’s a problem because 90% of the time it’s something sweet or innocent like “Oh, he brought me a tiger lily that bloomed open to show a gold and ruby ring nestled inside on our first anniversary. That’s how he proposed to me” and “He used to hum while he did the housework, you know? He’d stand in the middle of the house and close his eyes and just hum. Almost entire symphonies too, just waving his wand in the air like a conductor” to “This one time in bed he…” and there is NO warning. The amount of things these poor children’s ears have had to endure… (*shakes head in mock disappointment*)

He often cooks during class using wandless magic. The pots and pans heat themselves and float around in the air. Sometimes Dumbledore dances and then they start dancing too. He whistles and creates a base beat for the sizzling, popping, clanging, and other kitchen noises to follow. This usually happens during tests. Oh joy.

He leaves the windows open when it rains, but somehow nothing ever gets wet. Harry and Hermione have a theory that it’s protection charms. (Really it’s a spell Severus made up when he was drunk because he was angry that umbrellas don’t have enough room under them for three, and he’s always been the most self-sacrificial person in his marriage.)

He regularly makes bets with Mcgonogall about the students’ love lives. Not money, but little things the other doesn’t want to do or buy. Dumbledore usually has to handle the Marauders’ detentions or give up one of his teddy bear guards for Mcgonogall’s experimental enjoyments. Mcgonogall has to do something embarrassing or let him borrow one of her glittery hats. They should really stop making bets at this point; the stakes and the winners are dreadfully predictable. He always wins when the bet is on a student’s sexuality or gender and she always wins when the bet is on who a student will end up with. Nonetheless, the bets continue. So too does their grumbling amusement.

He figured out how to make a broom invisible when he and Grindelwald first fell in love, so they could be showy with each other at their Greater Good rallies. They later used it for dates, prison breaks, and daring escapes complete with kisses under the moon. Once Grindelwald went to Azkaban, Dumbledore used it to find some privacy where he could grieve. Now, he uses it to travel around his classroom and Hogwarts and trick everyone into thinking he can fly by sheer will. Only Mcgonogall knows his secret. (And Severus, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that because he told him when he was black out drunk. So.)

He lets pygmy puffs sleep in his beard. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

He once taught class while teetering on his feet because he had somehow gotten himself tangled in Christmas lights from shoulders to ankles and couldn’t move. (Sirius wandered in and saw this, cried he was laughing so hard, and then warbled his off-key way through as many Christmas carols as he could remember for the rest of class.) (Dumbledore tried to Silencio him but just fell over trying to make the wand movement. He broke his nose. Sirius almost had a panic attack because he couldn’t breathe from how hard he was laughing. By the end of this he had curled up in a fetal position on the floor, Remus was lying down next to him and muttering jokes to him, Mcgonogall was trying to fix Dumbledore’s face, and Severus had taken over the class. Not that they got much done - James was visiting that day. And him, Sirius, and Remus all laughing about the same thing rarely leads to a quiet and calm learning environment.) (They gave him a joint present of rainbow Christmas lights for his birthday - “Happy Gay Day, Professor!” - and he was not amused.) (Grindelwald was though. So was everyone else.)

He tends to mix up holidays in his head and often decorates for the wrong one. He goes all out too. He’s kind of a disaster, and so is his classroom. It became such a problem that the Marauders actually took pity on him and made him a very big calendar with all the holidays marked on it in glitter and fake jewels and flowers. It sits behind his desk and occasionally works.) (Occasionally.)

He’s queerplatonic partners with Mcgonogall. They held a friend-wedding and forced Severus to be the flowergirl. Harry officiated, Remus was Dumbledore’s best man, Sirius was Mcgonogall’s, James wasn’t given a job cause he was crying too much, Lily was in charge of taking care of James, and Peter was the ring bearer (he only lost them TWICE and they were ring pops anyway). Mcgonogall screeches at him a lot and Dumbledore can be depressive and neglectful because he misses Grindelwald but they love each other so it works. (And they’re the prime source of advice for James, Sirius, and Remus regarding their own queerplatonic relationship, for better or for worse.)

He puts his feet up on the desk even though it’s bad for his knees. Mcgonogall told him it’s bad for his knees and he has stubbornly put them up there every class since. (His knees are killing him but he will not give in to “a paranoid, batty old witch who doesn’t know shit about what’s good for me and wouldn’t if she was hit with an Imperio and I told her -” “I’M YOUR FUCKING PARTNER, YOU BLASPHEMOUS ARROGANT BRAT OF AN OLD FART!”)

Instead of walking around his classroom, he struts. (Yes, it worsens his knees.) He does strike poses, he does make obnoxious expressions, and he does look fabulous. WORK! (Yes, that was a Hamilton reference.)

He once taught class without a face because Mcgonogall cursed him for “fucking up the alphabetical organization of my tea, you old twit. Honestly, Albus, it’s not that hard”. (How did he teach without a mouth, you ask? Easy, he used intermediate BSL (deaf students, plus Azkaban isn’t great on old men’s ears and he and Grindelwald are both gettin’ up there) and Sirius interpreted.) (Incredibly wrongly, crudely, and foul-mouth-ly, but nonetheless he interpreted.)

He has difficulty understanding the straight people in his class. He is fully accepting of everyone and wants the best for all of them, but when it comes to relationship advice, he’s shit.

Excerpt pulled from Pensieve of a conversation he had with a student who identified as female:

Dumbledore: “So your boyfriend is a dick, is what you’re saying?”

Student’s best friend: “Yes. Merlin, he’s such a dick. Would you believe he -”

Dumbledore: *looks at student and points to her best friend* “Why don’t you just date her?”

*cue red faces and sputtering*

(They did not take his advice.)

He wears bowties ALL THE TIME. If he’s not wearing a bowtie, there are bows in his hair and tying the ends of his beard together. Once he wore pigtails. It was great.

He has a habit of bursting into song randomly and performing full-blown Broadway musical numbers (yes, he can rap Guns and Ships at full speed). This usually involves all of the complex moves to be expected in a musical - dramatically climbing up the stairs while looking forlorn, leaping onto the desk and squatting as you launch into a whispered limerick, speedy costume changes - you know, the works. Sometimes Sirius and James back him up, if they’re there. Severus will take over teaching with a bored look on his face (“What are you looking at, Harry?” “Dad, there’s -” “I don’t see anything interesting happening, Harry.” *glares*) while Mcgonogall screeches at Dumbledore to “GET THE FUCK DOWN, YOU NARCISSISTIC HEATHEN!” It’s a problem.

When the Marauders challenge the dress code, Dumbledore is the first Professor to encourage it. While Sirius is perfectly confident in a skirt and Regulus isn’t far behind (neither is Severus, surprisingly), James and Remus are far more insecure. Dumbledore wears a tutu to class one day to show his support, and Remus wouldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. (James just turned bright red and beamed when Sirius started laughing.) He also backed Lily up when she wore pants (along with Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary) by convincing Mcgonogall to wear pantsuits for a week. (Sirius, despite being a hardcore gay, was quite affected by this. Remus did not appreciate the water spit in his face and refused to kiss Sirius for a week.)

He plays Cecily Smith (Will Connolly) on the ukulele on late nights and stares out at the stars thinking of Grindelwald. Sometimes he forgets to turn off the Sonorus from earlier that day and ends up broadcasting his little song to the whole school. Sirius and Remus will dance to it in the common room while James watches his partners with a happy smile on his face (and Peter sleeps, because he’s tired and doesn’t force himself to stay up simply for the purpose of being cool or finishing that one assignment that isn’t due for another two weeks) (I’m sorry, do you feel called out?).

This man has weed brownies stashed away in his desk and he does eat them during class. He also offered one to Remus once, who is the only student that knows about the stash and tends to use marijuana for medical purposes (helping with anxiety and pain regarding the full moon, courtesy of my beautiful girlfriend who has never read nor seen Harry Potter but nonetheless insists to me that Remus Lupin is a stoner who wears red beanies). This prompted Sirius to ask for one, which Dumbledore refused, but then James joined in and they started a riot by standing on their desks and pumping their fists in the air and screaming, “BROWNIES FOR ALL!” while Remus giggled into his hand and was no help at all, so Dumbledore gave them each a brownie just to shut them up. (Sirius wouldn’t stop rambling about how pretty Remus’ eyes were, James was babbling on about unicorns, Severus was hissing at something no one else could see, Regulus was hissing at the same thing for some reason, Peter was crying because he couldn’t tell the difference between hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs, and Lily was muttering pi under her breath until she fell asleep.) (Mcgonogall was unimpressed.) (No teatime for eight weeks. Damn.)

Dumbledore cares about all of his students, however little he shows it. He wants them to lead a better life than he did. And maybe fall in love with better people than he did.

#albus dumbledore #albus wulfric percival brian dumbledore #mcgonogall &x dumbledore #&x means queerplatonic i have just decided #grindledore #wolfstar #james &x remus &x sirius #severus & mcgonogall & dumbledore #james x lily x severus #albus dumbledore is a crackhead 2021 #i dunno please enjoy this shit #i'm really fucking tired #harry potter #have a nice day y'all

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

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Notes: I am a soft ball of fluff who also loves these two to bits!

A reblog saves a life<3

~*~

“Hurry up, hurry up,” Stiles bucks up his hips, sliding greedy hands under the waistband of Derek’s briefs.

“You ever wonder if the romance in our relationship is lost?” Derek snorts, nibbling on Stiles’s collar bone, across his jaw and finally landing with a searing kiss onto his lips.

“Mmm,” Stiles flips him over so that Derek’s writhing underneath him. “Dude we have four kids under five! No time for romance between frantic hand jobs.”

“Freya’ll be six next month,” Derek points out, peppering kisses all over Stiles’s face.

“Fine, we’ll have a really romantical, slow bone session right after we clean up all the cake and ice-cream from her party. But right now, I can barely remember the last time our dicks touched.”

“Two weeks, nine days, and three hours ago.”

Stiles leers, “Bro I don’t know whether to be flattered that you’re counting down the hours till we fuck, or be concerned the my man is obviously thinking about me every second of the day instead of focusing on his actual, very dangerous job.”

“One,” Derek pulls Stiles back underneath him—always having enjoyed the push and pull of their relationship, the way neither of them let the other have anything easy. Always poking and prodding and forcing each other to do better. To be better. “I’m your husband, not your dude, or bro or any of the other colorful nicknames you like to use, pretending you’re some douchey, snapback wearing frat kid getting drunk off his ass in some lame party.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have been that douche in another life…You know one vacant of wolves and hunters and all that shit.”

“Two,” Derek continues as if Stiles hadn’t even spoken, grinding down into him and reveling in the little, gasps of groans that he lets out at the contact. “We’re doing much more than fucking, don’t ya think?”

“Oo, ah ah yeah, yeah definitely,” Stiles almost squeaks out. “But we’re not going to be doing anything if you don’t shut the hell up.”

“My have the tables turned.”

“Ass face,” Stiles latches their lips together with a fervor that Derek feels in his bones—making his toes curl and his dick shoot up in excitement. “Hello my old friend,” Stiles simpers before wrapping it with one of is large hands.

“It—huh—It hasn’t been that long.”

“Says the guy who’s been counting down the hours,” Stiles gifs another savage tug—using some of Derek’s pre-cum to rub up and down his shaft. Derek swears he sees light while he’s frantically smacking down on their night table, in search of some proper lube. That is until…

A bloodcurdling screech bursts through their baby monitor.

Derek collapses onto Stiles’s shoulder in defeat.

“Jesus Christ!”

“God fucking damn it!”

They freeze there for a moment more, Matty’s cries growing ever louder.

“One of us must’ve been a mass murderer in past life and that’s why Karma’s being such a bitch,” Stiles says, slowly pealing himself off of Derek and throwing on the nearest pair of boxers he could find.

“Oh I’m sure,” Derek reasons. “Though I put my money on it being you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say sour wolf.”

“Touché, you want baby duty or going down stairs to make the bottle?”

“Fuck, we didn’t bring one up?”

“Ah no, we were—erm, otherwise compromised.” Derek suddenly remembers much of the same actions taking place last night, but rather than a fitful baby that haunted their plans, it was a very fear ridden Freya, who had watched a scary clip on Youtube with some school friends earlier that day. And then him and Stiles had another argument over not sending her to a private school and were angry at each other until this morning, when Derek agreed that he was acting a bit hot headed, and Stiles offered to talk with her teacher—which then lead to heated kisses and the bright prospect of finally getting off.

A prospect which never came into fruition.

“Right, well I’ll grab Matty,—he always likes your bottles more, for some reason.”

“What can I say,” Stiles sniffs. “I have magical hands.”

Derek licks his lips on a swallow. “Don’t remind me.”

“Shhh baby, c’mon Matthew. c’mon you’re okay,” Derek croons, rocking him into his arms. “You wanna hear a lullaby? Huh? Yeah kiddo?”

“Derek! Derek!” Stiles clammers into the nursery, hair askew and shirt boxers slung dangerously low on his narrow hips. “”s broken! His bottle! ‘s broke!”

Half dazed from a serious lack of sleep, not enough coffee, and the worst tease of his fucking life, Derek plucks out the aforementioned bottle right from Stiles’s death grip.

“Ah Stiles—You didn’t even screw on the nipple?” Derek points out, rattling it in his face.

“Is it bad if you saying the word nipple is really making my pants tight?” Stiles ponders out loud, biting into the nail of his thumb.

“Well considering your referring to the utensil our child needs to use to eat with, and that your not even wearing pants right now-“

“Does it take effort being such a dry witted ass hole so early in the morning?”

“You forgot functional. I’m a functional dry witted asshole. Unlike you evidently.”

“Hey! I’m functional!” Stiles argues, to which Derek just gives a pointed look to his disheveled mop of hair, and bare chest speckled with dried milk that spilled out when he must’ve been shaking the bottle without properly sealing it’s lid. Stiles’s face goes a very fetching scarlet, and Derek very much feels the ache of their lack of, well…erm, private time, yet again. With Carson and Freya starting the school year, and the twins beginning teething—well it’s all been way too hectic, and something had to give way eventually…Derek just mourns that it had to be their sex life. “Hey! Don’t you dare use those judgmental eyebrows on me pretty boy!”

Derek’s eyes go owlish before meeting Stiles’s glower. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yuh huh,” Stiles snorts unconvinced, taking Matthew out of Derek’s embrace, and tucking him into his own chest. “Well I’ll have ya know big guy that back in college, I spent many a days fueled purely on Starbucks refills and sugar highs that these munchkins would salivate over.”

“Is that right,” Derek drawls, eyes flickering to the mural Isaac had painted on the wall of the twin’s room—a family tree where each branch has an emblem dangling off it’s tip—symbolizing the most important people in their lives.. Derek feels a rush of pure elation when spotting the Hale triskelion up on top. It’s so right and perfect, and never in a million years did Derek think he could have this. A set of friends and family who truly loves him, and who he trusts and adores implicitly. A partner that snarks at him at every turn, but also makes Derek’s knees go weak, and his heart swell with affection. Hell, never did Derek ever think of himself as being the fathering type—but with Stiles, it all just feels natural, definitely not easy (Especially when Carson’s favorite blanket is in the wash and he refuses to go anywhere without it, or when Freya brings in some new critter she’s caught outside in a sudden save every animal and bring it back home with me kick.) but it all feels right. Like Derek’s not screwing up completely.

“Yeah, well that and your vigorous love making of course,” Stiles clutches a hand over his heart, and flutters his lashes like he’s in a fucking mascara advert.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Stiles straightens up, hitching a now fast asleep Matthew into a more comfortable position. “But I’m also right. I use to be the king of doing shit without even a blink of sleep.”

“You know Stiles, it doesn’t bother me that you’ve become less spry in your old age.”

“Fucker.”

“Not in front of the children, they’ll be up soon for school.”

Stiles’s face lights up at that, n almost kitty gleam pixilated in his eyes. “They are, aren’t they?”

“ah, yuh…That’s what I just said?”

“M’kay! Me and you got bout the same amount of sleep last night, right?”

“Sure, I think?”

“Well I know for da both of us. So let’s prove who’s actually the spry one in this little relationship of ours”

“Oh?” Derek perks up at the sound of that, moving up to settle a hand on Stiles’s hip—his eyes going dark. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“Definitely not in the way you’re thinking,” Stiles sucks in a breath when Derek begins to ravish his neck with a fresh batch of kisses.

Derek deflates at the clarification. “I don’t think anything else really interests me.”

“Don’t be such a sour wolf.” Stiles chides, cuffing Derek on the back of the head. “Me and you should have a competition.”

Derek kinks up one of his brows. “See who can get Carson or Freya ready for school first?”

Stiles’s grin goes devious. “Winner gets head.”

“Loser?”

“Oh Derek, babe there are no losers in this game.”

“I’ve got Freya,” Derek calls, striding to her room, knowing full and well how difficult Carson could be in the mornings—probably because he stays up way past his bedtime without ever being caught.

“Succor, her favorite dress ’s in the laundry.”

“Fuck.”

“C’mon princess,” Derek coaxes with a slight jostle to the frilly dress, trying to make its sparkles catch in the light. “This one ’s just as good as the red one.”

“No ’s not,” Freya sniffs with an imperious tilt of her little head, arms crossed and weight slung onto her left hip. (If Derek is being at all honest, he thinks she might turn out being an exact replica of Erica, and that scares him shitless— his best friend is a force that Derek hasn’t the slightest clue how to restrain.) “I want the red won!”

“I know you do baby girl,” Derek squats down to level her with a look. “But sometimes we don’t always get what we want.”

“”m the star of the week! I’m s’pose to be the bestest dresser in the class! “s the rules.”

Somehow, Derek seriously doubts that the teacher had ever referred to the student’s way of dress being at all related to being line leader and snack maker, but he plays along anyhow, because damn it straight to hell, if his girl wants to look the bestest, she damn will.

“Baby girl, I promise this dress’ll still make you the bestest dressed in the class.”

“Aunty Lydia picked the red won out for me,” Freya sniffs, beginning to eye the pink one in Derek’s grasp—much in the same way that Stiles always assesses something right before giving in.

Speak of the devil…

The door to Freya’s room pops open, a beaming Stiles swaggering in. “Morning buttercup,” he crows with a kiss to her forehead.

“Papa I don’t have my red dress,” Freya explains to him the dilemma at hand, her big, pale eyes peering up at him mirthlessly.

“Oh shoot sunflower, ’s in the laundry, isn’t it?”

Freya nods solemnly, which is about the time Stiles’s facade breaks, and he looks like he’d do anything to salvage her hopes of wearing that particular dress to class today.

“Freya, gorgeous, what bout while I go downstairs and start frosting the cupcakes you and daddy made last night, you could face time Aunty Lyds and pick out a brand new dress. You know, with her sealed approval?”

Freya’s whole face lights up, and Derek is left marveling at how collected Stiles could be under such a crisis—one with a lot less blood and gore than back in their heyday—but still, a crisis all the same.

“You’re kinda smart, you know that?” Derek lightly hip checks him as the pair cross the threshold from Freya’s room, the sound of her and Lydia joyously speaking in rapid tongue French over Freya’s new dress dilemma, left in their wake.

“I felt guilty,” Stiles shrugs. “You know that bitch Caitlin Snow would’ve teased her mercilessly if our baby girl was looking all upset over such a little thing.”

“Isn’t Caitlin like five?”

“Yeah, and her mom ’s the piranha who was trying to flirt you up last week when you had to pick the kids up cause I was running late at the paper…Your point?”

Derek shakes his head with a chuckle. “I take it that things are going smoothly with Carse if you had time to come peak us a visit.”

“Oh totally,” Stiles preens. “Carson is like basically ready.”

Queue a very lively Carson bounding through the hall—pantsless and a fresh pair of underwear proudly perched on his head.

Derek kinks up a brow at Stiles.

“Okay…So I may’ve exasperated a tad,” he shrugs.

“Papa! Daddy! Look! I’m Captain of the world! I kill monsters just like you guys!”

“C’mon Carse,” Stiles calls out, his face going pained. “I said only five more minutes of play before you have to start actually getting dressed.”

“Die you flesh eating alien!”

“A little bit?” Derek snorts, to which Stiles just waves a hand over his face and mouths, “It’s the eyebrows of doom.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you’ll still Finnish up with him while I go frost the cupcakes for Freya like I promised? Thanks beautiful, Imma love you up real good later.” Like the whirlwind he is, Stiles pecks a chased kiss onto Derek’s lips and leaps downstairs to their kitchen— because they’re full grown adults now, who have a house with multiple floors and children, and a fucking breakfast nook— before Derek could even comprehend what he had just said.

“Papa’s got u whipped daddy,” Carson laughs maniacally, all the more insane looking with the conspicuous vacancy of his two front teeth.

“I’m monitoring anything you watch from here on out,” is all Derek remarks, a long suffering sigh and knowing full and well that Carson hit the nail on the head.

“Do I still have to go to school then?” Carson’s eyes go owlish, and Derek swears by the Angel that Stiles’s been teaching him the art of wrapping Derek around his littlest finger, on the sly. (Well that, or Derek is just a big old succor for his family.)

“Sorry kiddo, but all signs point to yes.”

Carson deflates. “Can I still keep on my Captain of the World suit?”

Derek’s eyes flicker up to the underwear on his son’s head. “Are they clean?”

“Yes, yes I double checked!” Carson squawks gleefully.

“Well then, I see no problem with that, as long as you got on a fresh pair underneath your pants too.”

“Yes! Thanks daddy!”

Just as soon as the door to Carson’s room clacks shut, a fresh looking Freya steps out of the bathroom—Mouth smelling minty, and her long curls still damp from the night before.

“Daddy?”

“Hey there princess,” Derek hoists her up into his arms, brushing away a stray lock from her heart shaped face. “You had a good talk with aunt Lydia?”

“Yeah, she picked out anew dress and even shoes, and Uncle Jackson told me how ta put on one of the pretty tattoos he bought me for my birthday.”

“That’s great baby girl!”

“But there’s only one thing daddy.”

“What’s that?”

A moment passes before Freya pulls out a bright brush from her nightgown’s pocket. “Can you give me a princess braid?”

Fifteen minutes, a pair of dressed kids, a very deformed french braid, and a set of permanently woken up twins for the day, later, and the whole family has congregated around their kitchen table.

“Derek we got anymore apple juice?” Stiles shouts from where he’s making his patent, pancake and egg to go sandwiches. Freya’s biting into a cherry tomato before setting it on Marie’s fork, who in turn just pounds her tiny fists into her yogurt in delight, Matty’s munching on his bottle, probably going to be the only one to adopt Derek’s calm demeanor in the whole bunch, but that doesn’t really bother him considering that Stiles’s nonstop chatter is one of the things he finds most endearing about him.

“We’ll need to go to the market this afternoon,” Derek notes before pouring Carson a glass in his favorite, sparkling Ninja Turtle cup, and recycling the emptied bottle afterwards.

“dad, dad! Look!” Carson tugs on Derek’s hand, flailing around an obviously hand drawn picture.

“What’s that little man?”

“’s a chinchilla! Did you know that they sleep in the day time, just like uncle Isaac says he’s gotta do because he’s an artist.”

“is that right?” Derek silently hands Stiles a couple of apples to put in the kids’ lunch bags.

“Yuh! And they only eat grass and can shed their skin like snakes and have huge families just like ours!”

“That’s insane. You think they have brothers and sisters too?”

“Definitely!” Carson crows, practically jumping up and down. “And this one even has a Uncle Boyd who shows him neat card tricks and an an Aunty Allison who shows’m how to shoot a bow and arrow real good!” Derek idly wonders if Carson’s teacher just thinks he has a hyperactive imagination, or if she just thinks his kid is completely insane. “Do you like it daddy!”

“Yeah Carse,” Derek gives him a blinding grin, genuine to a fault. “I love it.”

“Really?” Carson preens.

“Of course sport.”

“You think Grandpa and Grandma Hale would’ve been proud of it?”

For a second, Derek’s heart clenches, and he’s back to lonely days and fear ridden nights and the smell of smoke clung onto his very skin. He’s back to thinking he’d never be able to be good enough to ever deserve a family, not after what he’d done. Not after his world crumbled to ash and his heart sunk into itself.

But no.

Derek knows that it wasn’t his fault. Knows that he was a fifteen year old kid who’d fallen right into the trap a woman twice his age had set. He knows now that he never deserved the way he once upon a time use to shelter himself from all the world had to offer because of his fear and guilt and despair. Derek knows that now after years of therapy and assurances from his pack— his family— and especially subsequent countless late night talks with Stiles before they had adopted Freya from a teenage werewolf who wasn’t ready to be a mother.

Derek knows that Carson didn’t mean anything behind the statement, that he and all his siblings know just how much Derek and Stiles and all of their family adores them to bits and pieces, but that doesn’t stop Derek from swinging Carson into his arms, an giving him a slobbering kiss on his cheek.

“ew, gross daddy.”

“I know Grandma and Grandpa Hale would’ve loved this kiddo,”,” he speaks with conviction. “C’mon, help me hang this up on the fridge with Freya’s spelling test.”

“You sure you can drop’m off to my dad’s on your way to the precinct?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine if I’m a little late this morning.” Derek chastises, buckling Marie into her carseat, who just gives a little huff of annoyance when his hair is replaced with one of her rattles.

“Alright, alright, I’ll see ya tonight then,” a dopey kind of smile melts into Stiles’s face, right before kissing Derek—one a little more languid that the last, and Derek is appreciative for it. “Your parents would’ve been so proud of the man you’ve become, just so you know,” Stiles gingerly sweeps a thumb over Derek’s cheek, a small smile tugging on the ends of his lips.

Derek has no idea how to adequately reply, so opts to just kiss him again—hoping it comes across just how much it means to him that Stiles always knows what to say, and how much Derek loves him—that is until the kids start pounding against the windows to hurry them up.

“Hey wait!” Derek calls out to Stiles, who’s about to swing into the Volvo. “Who lost?”

“Like I said hot stuff,” Stiles leers. “There are no losers in this game!”

Derek thinks he’s a lot a bit in love with him.

Scott and Allison offer to babysit that entire weekend, and Derek is sure he’s never been so thankful when a very cocky, and very naked Stiles gets down on his knees for Derek the first time in months, and thinks that Stiles feels very much the same if his yells and commands for Derek to go faster already are anything to go by.

#STEREK #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Teen wolf #Spilled Ink #I'm weak #SPILT INK

43 notes · View notes

corescorner · 5 years

Text

Charmberry Cove Chapter Three.

Chapter Title: Thrift Store Shopping Shenanigans.

Wordcount: 3,627

AO3

Ch1. Ch2.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

“Alright gang” Thomas announces, clapping his hands together getting everyone to look his way. They're standing in front of the thrift store, Thomas is at the front of the four of them holding their attention “I'm going to be back here in about an hour to get you, so be ready for around-” he looks at his phone “-three, three thirty at the latest, I'll text Patton when I'm here.”

Logan however, already knew this. He had his watch set for three seventeen since this morning.

“Everybody get that?” Thomas asks making them all chorus a 'yes' in varying tones. He seems satisfied with that, so he gets back into his car and drives off leaving the four of them to themselves.

Remus is the first to move.

“Well let's get the fuck in there!” He declares, pushing his way through the door.

They file in after Remus, Patton grabs a cart for them to share.

“So what are we doing first?” Patton asks the group.

“Well, we should probably get what we are here for and if we have enough time, look around at anything else we might want to purchase” Logan suggests.

“To the clothes then!” Roman says leading the way, an arm up pointing in the direction of the clothing section.

They stop right at the edge of the first row of clothing racks now looking around at another loss of where to start, so Logan asks: “what specifically are you looking for and how much do you have in spending money?”

“I need a whole new wardrobe and I have like fifty bucks” Remus replies.

Okay, this is going to be slightly more challenging, he was certain Remus had more money than that.

“I've got you covered for anything you're missing Bro” Roman interjects.

Ah, that makes more sense now, he knew he wasn't wrong.

“Should we split up and pick out anything we think you'd enjoy or would you prefer us all to stay together?” Logan turns to ask Remus.

“Oh! The first one sounds like fun! Wow me plebs!” Remus exclaims.

“It'll be like a fashion show!” Roman says excitedly.

“Oooh fun” Patton claps.

Well, it seems like that is what they're going with. He's not surprised.

It had the higher probability level of the two after all.

They separate, Logan goes straight for the button up shirts, knowing Patton will go towards the sweaters and Roman to the shoes first.

And Remus... Well Remus is harder to pinpoint, his probability doesn't exactly work well with Remus' random and sporadic thought process.

It is nice sometimes though, to have someone he can't predict the next actions of. It's one of the reasons he enjoys Remus' companionship.

Remus dose surprise him by following him instead of going off on his own.

“I thought we were splitting up?” He asks the other, Remus flails his arms up in a loose shrugging motion.

“You'll probably find the best stuff” he says factually, “ya know, on the account of your psychicness an junk” he waggles his fingers in Logan's face.

“I'm not psychic Remus” he informs while adjusting his glasses. “I just know the probabilities of certain outcomes and the percentages of each possibility before it happens so I can properly assess the situations at hand from the probable outcomes it provides me.”

“Assess this” Remus says shoving him lightly, “nerd” he tacks on affectionately.

Logan smiles as he stumbles, fixing his glasses as he rights himself.

“Shall we get started?”

“You tell me Mr. 'I know things before they happen'.”

Logan sighs. “That's not exactly how it works, there's more to it than just knowing.”

“Whatever! Start looking for clothes Nerdy Wolverine.”

So that's what they do, Logan picks up items and instead of using his probability to calculate the items he simply turns to Remus for confirmation; it's relaxing.

Some items that he shows he knows for a fact that Remus would never wear and he doesn't need his probability to tell him that, he does it on purpose to see Remus laugh out at the suggestions that are obviously not his style.

It's fun. Logan is having fun.

They have a handful of potential shirts as they finish that row; they make their way to the next aisle, when a rack metaphorically catches his eye.

He walks up to the stand of different ties, Remus follows.

“Only serious people wear neck ties Lo.”

“Yes, you are quite right. I might get one for myself.”

“Blue” Remus says making Logan blink in confusion. Blue?

“Pardon?” He asks, looking at Remus looking at the ties.

“Blue” he repeats as he points at a specific tie. “It's your colour” he explains.

“Blue is my colour? How so?”

“Suits you” he simply says. “That darker one up there” he waves his pointing hand to get Logan to look at it then jumps for it and trips in the process; taking the whole stand down with him.

“Are you alright?” Logan slowly asks.

There are ties everywhere, and there's also a large cut on the side of Remus' cheek, but he has a wide triumphant smile plastered on his face so Logan supposes his friend is alright. Remus holds up the tie that he's clutching, it's the one that he jumped for.

“I got it bitches!” He yells as a worker rushes towards the commotion frantically.

“We are quite sorry for the disturbance; we’ll get out of your way.” Logan hauls Remus away from the puddle of ties and the disgruntled worker who mutters 'fuckin children' under their breath.

Well then.

“Here!” Remus happily declares, thrusting the tie at Logan.

He takes the tie. Yes he does think blue will suit him just fine.

“You're bleeding” he states, “we should wash that out in the bathroom.”

Remus flaps his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Nah I got it” he says, wiping the blood on to his sleeve.

Or rather, Roman's sleeve.

“Roman is not going to be happy about that” Logan muses.

“Did your probability thingy tell you that?” Remus mocks.

“No, common sense did” Logan snarks.

~0~

Patton goes to the sweaters to begin with, cause who doesn't like a warm snugly sweater?

No one that's flippin who.

He knows kinda what he's looking for, he knows that Remus' favourite colour is green and that his sense of style is unique.

Though, he does wear a lot of Roman's more baggy and comfortable clothes, so he'll go for those.

He picks out several sweaters, most of them having green accents and funky designs on them, before moving on to the next aisle.

He looks up from his search to see Roman five rows down with his own basket filled with an abundance of items he’s heading towards the jackets at the other end with a shine in his eye.

He looks over to where Logan and Remus are to the far left of the jackets that Roman is perusing.

They both have an arm full of items, engaged in what looks like a playful conversation. Remus laughs, Logan smirks.

Well, they're having fun.

He continues the clothes hunt, picking up random things that he wants for himself as well, like this really cute long grey knitted sweater with little blue stars all over it.

He startles, jumping a bit when he hears a loud crash around the area he last saw Remus and Logan.

He hopes they're alright, he goes to investigate the commotion.

He sees Remus wipe blood onto the hoodie sleeve he's wearing and he panics at the sight of the blood.

“Oh my gosh! What happened are you okay?” He rushes over, trying to push out a soothing aura as best as he can at the moment.

“Peachy keen Papa!” Remus smiles.

“You should clean your face” he worriedly suggests.

“That's what I said.” “That's what he said!” they chorus at same time.

“Who said what?” Roman asks as he saunters towards them and continues without waiting for an answer like he didn't even ask the question to begin with. “I heard a ruckus and assumed it was my brothers doing, do I need to apologize to anyone?”

“Nooo” Remus says indignantly.

“I already did” Logan supplies, then looks at his watch. “We have a little over half an hour before Thomas arrives, we should decide what we're getting.”

Everyone nods as they dump all of the items they've accumulated into the cart Patton has been pushing around, Roman even drops his basket in.

“To the changing rooms!” Roman declares leading the way.

~0~

Roman goes right for the shoe racks to begin with, he knows Remus needs another pair and he has a vague outline of a specific outfit in mind if he can find the right items, and a pair of boots got his attention from across the room, so shoes first.

Remus was right yesterday, even if they had a bunch of money to spend they would still be going to the thrift store, Roman thrives here with all the treasures you can uncover and all the differing styles.

He goes from aisle to aisle and back again to aisles he's already been in to grab things he didn't think would work at first to pick them back up, in the end he figures the more Remus tries on the more he can find what he wants.

He needs a basket.

Dumping everything into an abandoned hand basket he looks up towards the back racks of jackets and a shine catches his eye that he just zeros in on it, marching up to it intent on getting it.

Taking it off the rack his eyes rove over it. Oh yes, this is definitely Remus' aesthetic.

He hears a loud crashing and rolls his eyes. That would probably be Remus; he should go check on that.

“Okay, so I got you things I know you'll like and also things I think you should wear” Roman says as they get to the changing area.

He pushes his brother into a stall “you go in there and we'll hand you things!”

They hand Remus outfits, if it fits he shows them, some items are not... great, Roman will admit, liking something on the rack and seeing them worn are two different things entirely.

Some of the clothing Remus comes out with are really nice, and he makes jiggy movements when he likes a specific piece.

This happens for a while longer until Roman hands him The Outfit. Saving it for last, of course!

“What the fuck?” Roman hears his brother whisper with amusement “Ro, what the fuck is this?”

“I don't know.” He so knows.

“This is definitely your doing isn't it?”

“Maybe, we won’t know until you come out.”

Patton looks worried, Logan looks curious.

“Roman?” Patton starts in a low tone.

“Don't worry Padre, it's nothing he'll be uncomfortable in, trust me.”

Patton looks slightly unsure but nods.

Roman feels a wave of calm wash over them anyway. Patton's way of saying 'it’s okay' directed in Remus' direction.

“Fiiine” Remus says pushing the door open and stepping out.

Who knew they made clothes like this for young teens?

Remus has his arms stretched out from his sides as he does a spin like he has done for all the other outfits.

The outfit, Roman must congratulate himself is simply amazing.

The jacket Remus is wearing is form fitting but not tight, the collar fans out and the ruffles lining the shoulder and cuffs aren't ugly like most ruffles tend to be and the jacket is also imbued with shiny green sparkles everywhere.

The shirt is slightly baggy with intentional rips throughout in a deep green colour; the collar is dipped, but not too low.

The pants are worn leather, but not clingy or tight, just the right amount of slack; covering up to his knees are a pair of punk boots.

Roman makes a note to buy neon green laces for them.

“Woooow” Patton breathes out.

Logan adjusts his glasses with a throat clearing. “Yes, 'wow' indeed Patton.”

Roman thinks Logan might be a tad flustered. Though, he would probably never admit that. You know cause: 'Roman, I do not have those types of feelings, stop asking'.

Whatever Nerd.

He can see a blush from Remus at Logan's agreement. Well, not much can do that, good for you Calculator Watch.

Roman whistles appreciatively.

“I love it” Remus says.

“Of course you do, I chose it” Roman boasts, hand fanned out towards his chest. “If I knew how good we look in leather I would have already gotten some for myself” he tacks on.

~0~

Remus decides he likes this style, he was already kinda leaning towards it, but this solidifies it for him.

The jacket is sparkly and the pants are weirdly comfortable.

He also looks pretty bad ass and judging from the others reactions, they agree.

He's definitely going to incorporate this more into the rest of his clothes buying decisions.

That was also the last outfit they had for him to try on. Of course leave it to Roman to save it for last, the fuckin drama king.

He changes back into the clothes he came in. Roman hasn't noticed the bloody sleeve yet.

He picks up the 'yes' pile of clothes and they all head to the cash.

He ends up with three sweaters, two jackets, seven pants, eight shirts, four button up shirts a pair of converse and the boots.

Rather good haul today.

They're in line to pay as Logan's watch goes off at the same time Patton's phone dings.

Not psychic his ass.

“Thomas is here” Patton announces. “I'll just tell him we're almost done.” He says as he texts.

The total comes out to be much more than the fifty three that Remus has. Roman stays true to his promise to spot Remus the remaining amount.

Roman is too good for him honestly.

All of them are, he doesn't deserve them.

Patton snaps his head towards Remus with a concerned look.

Right, no self-deprecation around the living emotion detector.

Gathering all their bags they file out of the store, walking to Thomas' car; the trunk is already open for them to dump their newly acquired shit in.

As they climb into the car- sitting in the same seats as they did coming down- Thomas asks: “Have fun?”

“So much fun!” Patton pipes up “Remus gave us a little fashion show and he got so many cool clothes! And I even got some new stuff too!”

“That does sound fun” Thomas agrees “hey you guys hungry? I bought some snacks” he says handing Patton a lemonade and a large oatmeal chocolate chip cookie.

Thrusting a convenience store bag into the back for the rest of them, Remus takes it being the one sitting in the middle seat.

It's clear that Thomas knows what they like.

It makes sense the man practically raised them alongside their parents after all.

Roman gets a small bag of sweet and salty popcorn with an iced tea.

He hands Logan the water bottle and yoghurt/fruit/granola mix cup thing.

And he gets Mountain Dew Red and one of those individually packaged large pickles.

No doubt on who's was who's that's for sure.

Thomas starts the car after they buckle up and drives in the general direction of home.

That's the only way you can go when you wanna get into The Cove, just go in its general direction, vaguely knowing where to go. You'll eventually get there if it accepts you.

The drive was quiet while they ate for the most part. Remus did make some innuendos with his pickle, making loud gross noises until Thomas told him to stop.

“Remus, buddy. Please, enough with the noises okay?” He asks, but in that way adults ask which really means 'shut up'.

He did notice that it was annoying Roman on how his twin was crunching on his popcorn, and making Patton uncomfortable if the forced calm aura was anything to go by.

Logan is the only one who seems like he's not fazed by it.

Fine. He'll stop.

The rest of the drive was filled with light chatter and laughter, mainly from the brothers up front.

Roman and Logan do interject every now and then to get into the conversation.

Patton tells them about his new friend that he was helping yesterday, but Remus isn't listening...

He stays uncharacteristically quiet. Roman shoots him looks every once in a while.

What's wrong with him?

Whatever, his thoughts are enough for him to concentrate on right now, too loud to distinguish between what's being said and what he's thinking, so he stays quiet.

He doesn't know where this mood came from, but does he ever?

The answer is no. His brain does whatever the fuck it wants.

They just had a fun day! Stop being stupid!

He can feel Patton trying to calm him, but he pushes against it as best as he can, he doesn't want that right now.

Patton's wince at the push back obviously hurt his feelings but so what, he shouldn't be forcing that shit on people anyway!

Uuuuugh, why is he like this. He knows Patton is just trying to help!

Well, fuck him then huh?

Jeeze Remus, shut up.

He needs a distraction. That would be nice right now. He looks to Logan, who is conversing with Thomas and Patton.

Well, that idea is fucked into the ground.

So what, he'll just... deal with his thoughts.

Nothing new.

They get to The Cove within forty five ish minutes, the sun already going down as it does earlier once you're in The Coves boarders.

It felt like much, much longer than that though.

They get dropped off first considering Logan lives close by to Thomas and Patton, while they live on the other side of town.

Remus slams his bedroom door shut once he gets there, dropping his things on his bed and throwing himself limply to his floor, staring at the glow in the dark stars Logan gifted him.

'It might help calm you down' he said. Well, tough fucking luck for Remus.

UGH, he needs a distraction.

Roman knocks on his door but walks in without an answer and flicks on the light Remus ignored to do when he came in.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly.

“It's just a small cut Ro” he snips.

Roman looks at him like it's the first time he's seeing the cut.

“Well, I didn't realize that that was new”

Well, maybe he didn't notice.

“Dunce.”

“Asshole.”

They're both quiet until Roman comes to kneel at Remus' side, softly touching around the cut.

“This is not a small cut Rem, it's kinda deep actually.”

“It's fine, you can leave now.”

“Are you okay?” He asks again, Remus huffs.

“I already told you it's fine.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He knows, but Roman doesn't need his crap brothers crap ass thoughts dragging him down too.

Roman sighs while he gets up and leaves.

That's for the best.

But he comes back with rubbing alcohol, bandages and a warm cloth.

Idiot.

He closes his eyes, he can't look at Roman being so soft right now.

Remus doesn't flinch when Roman dabs his gash with the alcohol soaked cloth.

“You don't have to tell me anything” he whispers.

Duh, he knows this.

“But, I would like to help in any way I can. So I'm not leaving you tonight.”

Oh.

“We've dealt with everything else together, and we can deal with these intrusive thoughts as well. I'm The Prince Rem, I'm not going anywhere while you're hurting.”

Fuuuuck Ro stop being so you! You chivalrous wang!

Remus opens his eyes.

“They hate me” he whispers.

Roman looks taken aback.

“What? No they don't, what makes you think that, we just had a great day together.”

Remus shrugs. “They're being nice cause they like you.”

“So they've been being nice for our whole lives? Remus we grew up together, they like us equally.”

“They like you. I'm just the tag along reject twin who needs to be told to shut up.”

Roman finishes bandaging his cheek.

“You have to know that's not true” he says softly.

Remus grunts.

“Is, is this about Thomas telling you to stop? Cause you know he wasn't being malicious right.”

“No” Remus says, Roman raises an eyebrow.

“Yes? Ugh! Kind of? I don't know Ro it's a lot of things!” He throws his arms and legs up into the air, letting them thud back to the floor making his body into a star.

“Thomas was annoyed, Patton was annoyed, fuck you were annoyed!”

“I wasn't annoyed” Roman says.

“Bullshit, Mr. Passive Aggressive Popcorn Muncher!”

“What? I was eating my popcorn in a normal fashion thank you very much.” he says poking Remus' bandage.

“Whatever.”

Roman sighs again.

“Okay, granted, not everyone enjoys your... sense of humour” he says slowly.

Remus scoffs.

“But, but” he points at Remus “that's okay.”

Remus rolls his eyes.

“Hey, it's true! Do you like your jokes?” He waves his hand as he asks.

Remus nods.

“Okay so there, we may not all appreciate the crudeness, but that doesn't mean they hate you” he enunciates with poking Remus in the forehead multiple times as he speaks.

“Take your own advice Ro.”

Roman squints down at Remus with a scowl pout and huffs.

“Yea” he simply says, flopping himself down on the floor laying next to Remus.

They look at each other with small smiles.

Until Roman notices his sleeve, picking it up with Remus' limp arm.

“Uhgh” he whines, “you can keep this one.” he says, dropping the offending sight.

Remus snorts.

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fenfyre · 5 years

Text

Competition

Day 4 of @erejeanweek2k19 - Roommates/Competition

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The sound of that voice made Jean's lips curl back in a snarl before he shoved his cigarette between them, sucking down a hasty lungful of nicotine. This was just what this mission had been missing, a mouthy, cocky partner to fuck up his plans.

Almost reluctantly he turned his head to where the voice had been coming from, making out the dark silhouette of another man strolling across the roof towards him. He was carrying what seemed to be a heavy bag and a deep scowl that peeled out of the darkness when he got close enough for Jean to make out his face.

"Well, obviously I'm having a tea party. But I can't remember inviting you", he snarked back, dropping the useless butt of his cigarette and grinding it out under his heavy boot. The presence of the other man was an insult. He was a professional, he didn't need someone like him at his side.

"I wouldn't have come if you had. Tragically your boss sent the invitation, so..."

The heavy bag was dropped with a dull noise and the newcomer crossed his arms, obviously just as irked by the fact they had been paired up yet again despite their best efforts to avoid each other. Jean would have to pay Smith a visit and have a serious conversation as soon as he was back home. For now though he was stuck with both this mission and this partner.

With a last, dramatic sigh he pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against and strolled over to the edge of the roof, peeking down into the busy street far below.

"Listen, they're obviously pairing you with me because they think we make an efficient team. We don't. I'm efficient, you're ... whatever it is you are. So just do what I say and we'll get this..."

"Whoah, stop it right there, asshole", the other man grunted, joining him at the edge of the roof, arms still crossed and eyes sparking with fury. Great. There it was. Jean rolled his eyes. Barely five minutes in and they had their first bitch fit of the night. Sometimes he hated his job.

"You think you're the one getting shit done? Dude, last time you sat on a roof for hours while I busted my ass to get the guy where you wanted him. Your plans suck ass. And also mostly involve you sitting on yours, if I might add. We're doing this my way this time and maybe tonight you can actually carry your own weight."

"Excuse ... carry my own weight?"

The audacity, the disrespect ... Jean had no words. Except for that he did and none of them were pretty ones.

"Do you have any idea for how long I had tailed that guy? Weeks! I followed him for weeks until I finally got the all clear to off him! And when I'm done putting everything into place and making sure I would have a nice, easy time doing my job like a damn professional they throw you at me and tell me to babysit."

Green eyes were sparking with fire at that point but Jean could feel the burn of anger in his own chest and cheeks and hands as well. Being forced to work with the sloppy idiot was one thing, having to endure that kind of blatant disregard for his integrity and skill was on a whole different level.

"Oh, you're such a...", the man's hiss trailed off when he apparently couldn't even think of a fitting insult, then spun around to throw his hands up with a frustrated grunt. When he turned back to face Jean again his jaw was clenched and there was an icy madness simmering in his eyes that made Jean's stomach turn in strange ways.

"You think you're so much better than me, you arrogant shit? Prove it! Try and get to him before I do."

A challenge? Jean took a moment to mull it over, eyes meeting the other man's in an unwavering stare. Well, nowhere in either of their contracts did it say they had to work together to complete the mission. As long as the mark ended up dead they had done their job. And if working together wasn't something either of them wanted...

"If I win I never have to listen to your incessant whining again. Whenever we work together after tonight you do what I tell you to without throwing a hissy fit, understand?"

The other man hummed like he was thinking about but the way he crossed his arms and smirked at Jean, full of displaced confidence and painful arrogance, looked like he was already considering himself a winner.

"And if I win I get to fuck you later tonight."

Jean blinked, confused and unsure if he had heard correctly. But the self satisfied smirk was telling enough.

"What ... why...?", he stuttered, too taken aback to form a coherent response even though it only seemed to make his opponent happier. There was an almost boyish grin on his face as he shrugged.

"Maybe I like my bottoms bitchy?", he offered and as much as Jean wanted to strangle him for that comment he pulled himself together. He was a professional and if this dumb bet was what it would take to do his job in peace the next time they were paired up he would risk it.

So he offered his hand for the other man to shake on it. He wouldn't lose. Not with years of experience under his belt, not against a snotty brat like this one. It was impossible.

Jean lost.

Commissions | Kofi | AO3 | twitter | pillowfort

#EreJean #JeanEren #erejeanweek2k19 #snk #Jean Kirschtein #Eren Jäger #Day 4 - Competition #assassin!Jean #assassin!Eren #assassins au #oh boy looks like more than jean's plans are getting fucked up tonight lol

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justaramblingromantic · 5 years

Text

test drive

Characters/Pairing: Kinokuni Nene and Kuga Terunori/TeruNene

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Passive Aggressive-verse, Roommates AU, Fake Dating AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 1856

A/N #01: Wahaha, I wanted to give some love to this rarepair, and so I did~ For additional context for this AU, see here.

“I still cannot believe that you never learned how to drive,” he was muttering in the passenger seat beside her.

“How does that even work in this day and age? Aren’t you the one who learned all the nonsense skills like artistically sticking a bunch of flowers together while stuck in the most physically uncomfortable position possible as well as five hundred and sixty different ways how to poke a man with a sharp pointy stick, but you never learned how to drive?”

She sent him a long, flat stare, irritated by his bitching. This was going to be a long, unbearable session, she could tell already.

“I never asked you to teach me in the first place so if you’re going to be like this, you can get out and I’ll ask someone else to help.”

Terunori crossed his arms before his chest and glowered at the unappreciative woman. She was seriously very uncute; sometimes he wondered why he found her oddly fascinating all the same. She was like that weird, maddening itch he couldn’t quite make go away; it was immensely aggravating at times. Luckily he knew to keep his unflattering opinion to himself, or else he would have been even more peeved to learn that she pretty much found him just as annoying, too.

“Ask someone else? Who? Your kind and considerate ex-husband?”

She continued to stare at him in a rather unimpressed manner. Everything about him was loud and flashy and unnecessarily confrontational. He was also full of swagger, capricious and temperamental; she disliked noisy, hotblooded men like that.

“You’re the cattiest little man I’ve ever met,” she announced in that aggravating, passive tone of hers, and then they were glaring daggers at each other.

“And you’re dating this catty little man so I wonder what that says about you, anesan,” he sniped back. They glared at each other some more, now both utterly cross after this mandatory daily gratuitous mashing of each other’s grumpy buttons.

“So, are we still gonna do this, or what?”

She wanted to glower at him some more, but stoically turned her gaze forward instead, recomposing herself with admirable effort and schooling her features. He was infuriating in the way that he always breached her barriers with his sheer obnoxiousness whether she wanted him to or not. All those years of self-cultivation and learning how to remain calm and tranquil from chado and calligraphy sure were coming in handy now, dealing with this childish brat.

“I’m doing it with or without you.”

“Seeing that it’s my car we’re sitting in, obviously I’m coming along for the ride. Guess that makes me a driving instructor, now.” He gestured vaguely at the dashboard and the various controls of the Maserati. “You know what all these are and what they do, right?”

She shot him a brief side glance, before slowly setting her hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes. I read the orientation booklet.”

He leaned over, reached across her, grabbed her seatbelt and clipped it on for her.

“Then you should know that the first step is to wear your seatbelt, lady.”

She continued to watch him with that uninspired poker face, her expression not changing even when she had been startled by his sudden proximity.

“…I could have done that on my own.”

He looked at her from behind his bangs and smirked a fanged, feline smirk. “And where’s the fun in that? I personally like my learning to be very hands-on.”

She finally reacted to his teasing drawl, and pinched the insides of his wrist before he could start putting his hands elsewhere. He swore and jerked back, hissing like a scalded cat.

“Ow!”

She pointed at him primly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

He shook out his stinging appendage and scowled disgruntledly at her. This was not the first time she had warded him off like that.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing to your driving instructor? I demand respect!”

“Perhaps this driving instructor should respectfully stop flirting and start instructing.”

“Who says that I’m flirting with you? I’m just that friendly with everyone I meet, don’t ya know?”

She caught herself almost scoffing, which amused him to no end because that was how he knew he had her.

He lounged back in his seat and put on his own seatbelt as well.

“Let’s start. Is your foot already on the brake pedal? Keep it there when you switch on the engine. Once you’re ready, release the handbrake and put your hand on the gearstick-”

His instructions were clear enough, and between the two of them, they soon managed to get the car moving.

“Hey. Don’t stamp on the accelerator like that. Don’t stomp on the brakes abruptly too, come to think of it. Your passengers, namely me, will not appreciate it.”

“Stop glancing at your feet. It’s an automatic transmission so it’s not like you need to clutch in or anything. Keep your eyes on the road. And you’re too tense. Relax.”

She had expected a lot of snarking and snideness from him, but surprisingly enough, that was not the case. He tapped the back of her hand.

“You’re listing off to one side, lady. Use your spatial awareness to correct yourself.”

She was driving very slowly, easing the vehicle forward around the empty training circuit as she got her bearings. The luxury coupe was an extremely responsive machine, which in turn made it considerably difficult for a beginner like her to control. Her nervousness grew too, having to be responsible for such an expensive car.

“Kuga.”

“Hm?”

“How angry will you be if I damage this car?”

She kept her eyes firmly peeled on the road, but she could sense him turning his head to stare at her, all the same.

“Why? Are you intending to crash us straight into a divider or something?”

“No.”

“Then it depends.”

“On?”

“How willing you’re gonna be to use your body to repay me.”

She jammed on the brakes. Thankfully, she wasn’t driving very fast in the first place and he had his seatbelt on. If not, he might have smushed face first onto the windscreen.

“Oi, what the heck?! I told you not to jump on the brakes like that!”

She glowered at him, righteously offended. “I’m not sleeping with you in exchange for driving lessons.”

He scoffed. “Who’s sleeping with who? I never asked you to do that.” He sounded almost insulted, indignant, even.

As if he needed to stoop to bargaining to trade for sexual favors. Who did she think he was? The number of exes he had was enough to line a city block!

She turned her head mechanically and stared at him. Silently demanding an explanation. She was very good at that, he was quickly realizing. Probably due to all that extreme weirdass formal etiquette training she received as a kid.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exasperated.

“My parents are flying in to spend Christmas, so I need you to do that thing you did the last time my mom came.”

Her brow silently lifted. “That thing I did? You mean, continue to pretend to be your doting girlfriend?”

He shot her an ‘are you shitting me’ look. “Really? That was you being doting back then? I sprained my wrist and you also nearly threw out my back. Please be less doting this time, I don’t think I’ll survive your tenderness, darlin’.”

She frowned at him, doing her level best to ignore his sarcastic endearment.

“You think you’re in any position to make demands?”

“I know I am. Do this for me and I’ll personally guarantee that you earn your driving license, dammit.”

Her gaze grew even sharper, from behind the warning glint of her prudish glasses. Her voice was light, cool, crisp. “What did I say about swearing, Kuga Terunori?”

For fuck’s sake, she was such a schoolmarm. Ever since she became his ad hoc housemate, he found himself involuntarily transforming into an upstanding, model citizen, much to his bewildered horror. No more swearing, no more late-night drinking and raucous partying - it was early to bed and early to rise. The apartment was fastidiously spick and span at any given time of the day, somehow he had also learned to sort the laundry by color for the first time in his life, and even the trash was neatly separated into their various categories by the time garbage collection day rolled around; what even was going on.

Coincidentally, that was also probably why his mom liked her so much.

He leaned towards her again. Bringing his face up to hers. Meeting her crimson gaze with his own catlike cognac gold ones.

“Why? Are you going to pull me out of the car and pin me to the floor again? Tsk, you really are such a violent woman, despite that demure appearance indicating otherwise.”

She was also kind of…interesting, he had to reluctantly admit. She seemed plain and passive at first glance, but there was something about that unyielding, steel backbone, that implacable resolve sitting unwaveringly firm on that elegantly aristocratic, doll-like face that was not like any other women he had met. She had also never tried to be deliberately charming or coquettish or appealing ever, and he didn’t think he had seen her attempt to make herself more palatable in order to please anyone. That quietly defiant side of her was probably her only charm point, as far as he was concerned, anyway. Other than that, she was bossy, forceful, irritating, and always had to be right. It was immensely aggravating, that righteous level of rightness she always insisted to be on.

Nene blinked, slowly. Was he trying to intimidate her?

“My actions are a direct consequence of your incredible insufferableness,” she replied with serene dignity.

She lifted one hand from the steering wheel and calmly met his forehead with her palm, pushing him back onto his seat.

“And stop breathing on me, you buffoon. I’ll agree to do as you asked, on the additional condition that you drive me wherever I need to go for the next one month.”

There was a promising ryokan that had just been listed and looking for a new buyer, but it was a bit out of the way in the mountains and she needed transport. He would be just as good as any, with the additional advantage of being incredibly business savvy and experienced to deal with this sort of transaction.

“Buff-” he spluttered in disbelief. Was that any way for anyone to ask for a favor? “Excuse me; do I look like your personal Uber chauffeur?” he demanded. “Have you any idea how busy I am with the number of restaurants I’m currently managing?”

“You’ve worryingly short legs for a chauffeur,” she retorted blandly, and just like that, his eyes flashed like those of a bull that had just caught sight of a matador’s furiously red cape. He also looked like he was seriously considering reaching over to throttle her, it was strangely amusing.

It was also almost cute, how he quickly puffed up.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT-”

A/N #02: Anesan refers to ‘older sister,’ because technically Nene is a good five months older than Terunori, though I doubt she appreciates being addressed as such by him...which is probably why he does it to irritate her, lol. (Anesan is also apparently a common term for the yakuza to address their Boss’s wife...which is fitting considering my hc for Terunori’s family!)

Also, I always wondered why the usually levelheaded and pokerfaced Nene takes such glee in poking at Terunori about his height in canon. I like to think that she finds his reactions amusing...possibly even cute~

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #Kuga Terunori #Kinokuni Nene #TeruNene #TeruNene: Passive Aggressive AU #freestyle #my fics

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solarianradiance · 6 years

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Black Romance

The Black Quadrant of Troll Romance intrigues me to no end, and makes my thoughts churn like a creative slurry in a bucket, wandering what exactly its like under long term circumstances, the little intricacies of unwritten rules and expectations to be found within this sort of relationship.

How did it even first occur? What in Troll biology cause it to be a such a strong fixture in their social culture?

Perhaps these questions will be answered one day... probably in a way that makes me wish they hadn't and force me to moan like a lil bitch in disappointment.

We can only speculate for now however... which is what im going to do.

In its history, Black Romance likely started as a genuine desire to kill a rival, likely over the feelings of the same Matesprite, but unable to do so, in spite of the genuinely serious trying at mutual murder, only to find they dont mind each other so much, even if they dont like many other aspects about them~

Even though they try to kill their rival they actually begin to make one another as strong as possible through constant conflict. Like two Knights sharpening their skills in a friendly sparing match. After all, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Given Troll society, they likely take this notion to heart.

Through this rivalry, their partner is made as strong as possible, so they may live to see each other again another day.

I think, in my opinion, a Black Romance is a relationship born of Hate and Irritation, but evolves into a genuine mutual love and respect.

It starts as Hate, but becomes Love over time.

They may start in opposite directions, but they ultimately end up in the same place.

Any actual pain inflicted upon your rival is to make them dulled and numb to that pain. Makes them ready to deal with it mentally. Their weak traits being absolved or mitigated to some extent, and their strengths expanded and reinforced.

The individuals, sharpen each others knives for their partners to use one another, so that they may also sharpen their skills, ensuring that they are both full prepared for the trials ahead.

A Black Romance usually revolves around the two partners actually trying to hurt and injure one another, both verbally and physically, but not cripple, maim or kill their opponent. Its the two trying to Dominate, but not so thoroughly as they cannot grow as individuals. To remove the blemishes in their techniques, working out the kinks in execution.

Blackroms must have times of bonding and enjoyment, a break from the conflict, to relieve stress... by ♠any♠means♠necessary♠~

This often revolves around the two Haters tending to eachothers wounds, and enjoying the typical Red Romance activities, like dinner and a movie, albeit with a side of snark, super sized. Probably poisoning their partners meal, just enough for them to get an upset stomach and vomit over it all.

Signs of affection take the forms of hand holding, kissing, and small levels of antagonisms such as harmless insults or mild scuffles. One method is manipulation to encourage romantic retaliations, such as stealing clothes, pranking their rival, or even publicly humiliating them in way that will embarrass them but wont destroy their standing or self-esteem.

Anything that gets under their skin without causing permanent harm goes and one must always be on guard and never show signs of weakness or reveal any information to their kismesis, lest they use this against their partner.

One sign of devotion in a relationship is wearing the colors of your partner. In the case of a Matesprit, its their favorite color.

In the case of a Kismesis, its their blood color, or at least a color they may hate.

All relationships are born of trust, but for a Kismesissitude, it is far more important, for they must both understand they are not trying to kill eachother while trying to wound one another.

A good sign of trust is allowing your Kismesis to wear your clothes with minimal reservation, as they probably wont destroy it outright, but probably will at least modify it, such as dying it another color.

This trust is what is crucial for it to succeed, they have to try and hurt without killing. And due to nature of the relationship, they try to one up each other constantly.

Stabbing someone in the arm may result in them cutting off your hand in response.

This often results in the one of them killing their partner kind of unintentionally while being caught up in a whirlwind of passionate hatred~

Sometimes in bed even.

These bouts of hate filled fighting can spill over into society at large, causing damage and injury to others and their property.

This is why the Auspices were founded~

The importance of the Auspice in a Black Romance is critical, for they serve as the referees, and prevent the relationship from getting out of hand. The loss of one or both individuals can be devastating to the group, especially if they’re of great standing and use to said group. Losing your own members to themselves is embarrassing to say the least.

They at minimum, keep the two individuals focused, preventing them from getting embroiled in their bitter dark chocolate freakishness, and having them stay civil as well as decent in public.

Anyone can be an Auspice, be they a passing stranger, or a concerned friend. But many Auspices are more permanent fixtures, usually one party members current Moirail or Matesprite.

But most often, it is normally a third party that is a mutual friend, that aides in keeping things from getting out of hand. A platonic friend that can help cool the flames and calm the storms, so the ship will not sink.

But Not All Ashenroms Are Platonic~

Some Are Polyamourous Relationships Where The individuals Engage in Mutually Consenting Frivolity In Their Own Various Ways, Be They ♥Flushed♣Or♣Pitched♠ And Can Vary On The Individuals Involved, Creating A Sort Of Menagerie Of Earthly Delights, One Could Compare To A Candy Store With A Wide Variety Of Sugary Treats To Suit Every Taste~~~

Which Makes Such Relationships Quite Appealing To Most People~

However, there are times when someone is Auspicing for their own selfish desires. Attempts may be done by the Auspice to change the nature of the relationship, and pull an individual into another Quadrant.

This is why they are known to be “Meddlers”, and prolonged Ashroms are rare, especially when they dont make it to the bedroom.

When they do make it in, its normally so the two individuals can pail and the 3rd party ensures they dont kill one another and nothing more. Once completed, the relationship may continue or end.

If an Auspice doesn't know what they are doing, they may be unable to keep up and be ineffective, or even make the situation worse.

But in the case that an Auspice does succeed, and pays their cards right, everyone can have a grand old time together, creating a rare instance where more than two individuals has a well balanced Romance with variety.

Black Romance often ends in two rivals breaking apart, either they cant handle the stress or one of them dies, usually at the hands of their partner. Or one of them simply gets bored, and doesn't feel fulfilled like they once were.

A Black Romance is after all, based in enthusiastic engagement, and it is not unusual for the relationship to end in mutual separation.

But there are times when one side loses the romantic aspect, and the hate turns true and genuine, and kills their partner on purpose.

There are even instances of cruel situations where one partner is manipulating their other for dark machinations.

Machinations that are Darker than Black

Abuse does often occur, but a proper Pitched relationship has consent, subtext and subtle hints giving expressing desires, and when fulfilled, there is aftercare, wounds are dressed, and reminders that there is affection. Should a deed go too far, a boundary overstepped, a true Kismesis will in one way or another, express regret and remorse over a transgression.

Transgression may include overly controlling behavior, emotionally isolating them, direct harm with intent to cripple or kill, engaging in a relationship with your Kismesis’s actual enemies who want to kill them, destroying what is valued and cant be replaced and manipulating them for personal gains at their permanent expense, especially when they cant afford it.

A Kismesis cares for their partners feelings and well being, and a good one goes out of their way to ensure they are secure and safe, even when having fun.

An abuser does not.

But then there are the very rare instances, where Kismesissitude is so strong and so stable and healthy between partners, that they seemingly end up in the same place as a end of a Flushed romance.

A truly loving rivalry, whose only goal in it, is the joy of having it.

When it happens, its like Black Magic.

The two seem to engage in bantering and mutual antagonism, yet its clear they’re enjoying each other in the act. Vacillating between Red, Black and Pale all within moments.

Should a Black Romantic Couple reach this level, they stay together simply because they love being together.

Marriage exists within Troll society, though it is rare, especially when its outside ones blood caste.

Black Marriages are particularly rare, as the process of getting Hate Married is rather intense.

A proposal involves biting off eachothers right ring finger and swallowing it. Which is pretty hardcore if you ask me.

Which turned out to be too hardcore, which was phased out for simply biting a wound into their partners finger instead

youtube

Which was also phased out as it was a custom from a time before oral hygiene was a thing, people died due to infection.

Afterwords it became a case of merely scaring, then branding, then finally tattooing in your fiance’s sign in their blood color on your right ring finger.

A simple wedding ring is also acceptable, usually some cheap metal, like a Black iron ring.

Finally, the two tell each other a special secret about one another, usually something quite humiliating, as a means of making blackmail, so that either one wants to declare a divorce, they simply air their others dirty laundry.

#blackrom #black romance #Spade #ashrom #ashen romance #johnrezi #terezi pyrope #john egbert #homestuck #hiveswap

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mdwatchestv · 6 years

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The Magicians 3x05/6: A Day in the Teeth

Hello friends!

I know I missed last week, and for that I am sorry. But it is also important to know your own limits and exhaustion levels, and I just could not deliver any worthwhile piece of writing (much less a flashy gif) with the state of my brain. But hey that was last week and this is this week. I have since had many restorative little naps as well as watched quite a bit of sexy ice dancing. I am restored.

Luckily for me, The Magicians decided to help me out and deliver two episodes that conveniently illustrated the most and least successful aspects Magicians storytelling, so I can highlight, discuss, and analyze in one fell depression dragon swoop.

The Magicians is unquestionably a fun show, it revels in its own snark and and cheeky awareness. This successful, flagrant breaking of the fourth wall, is part of what sets the show apart. Many sci-fi shows riff on their genre, but not many riff on their own writing. Case in point, as Margo and Eliot reflected in 306, "We used to be glamorous mega-bitches, what happened to us?", Eliot pointedly notes they gained depth... and character. Not only have these two one-time one-dimensional comic reliefs become fully rounded characters, but this very transformation remains the root of their conflicts and relationships. Eliot and Margo have experienced too much to go back to their carefree partying past selves, but they also can never stop yearning for the simplicity of those former lives. It makes the moments where our favorite royal pair do fit back into their classic patter (see: pop culture code-off) all the more satisfying, and those where they are faced with the full weight of their new responsibilities (field of fairy-fetuses) even heavier.

Therein lies the real strength of the Magicians: the ability to take tongue-in-cheek self-awareness, and turn it into surprisingly emotional moments. I had begun the blog-post-that-wasn't-to-be (about episode 305) with an introductory paragraph about how the show's self-referential nature often made it challenging to write about. I mean, at this point The Magicians is practically penning it's own fan-fiction.

Title: A Day in the Life Author: ~*~*~KiNgELiOT~*~*~ Pairing: Quentin/Eliot Rating: PG-13 "When Quentin and Eliot get trapped together in another dimension in order to find the 'beauty of life', will they ever get out? Or will they find a true beauty in each other...."

I mean, come on. And yet for all the shipper-service set up, this premise delivered a deeply thoughtful conclusion. Namely that the beauty of life is a life well-lived, and lived with love. Any show (or TV blogger) can be snarky, but it is a rare thing to be able to nestle that snark alongside true heartfelt sincerity. This is the bizarrely beautiful tonal tightrope that the Magicians is able to walk week after, and these two episodes especially were able to highlight that particular well...magic trick.

As for the newest episode, Quentin sets sail in search of another key. Not only does he find one, but he also comes across Felicia Day in the wild! Felicia Day aka Poppy is an also a Brakebills ex-pat who has been stranded in Fillory (much like Josh Hoberman - ps where has he been? Isn't he a series reg? Did I make that up?) It turns out Poppy is a dragon expert who stole the newest key from a dragon's hoard. Unlike the previous more helpful keys, this one causes the owner to see a manifested version of their worst selves, or darkest sides. For Quentin this results in a personification of his depression and anxiety, a mirror version of himself that spouts his worst fears. For me the most impactful moment of this episode was Quentin gazing into the black waters, contemplating suicide, and being met with the golden eyes of the (in this case literal) dragon waiting to swallow him whole. For anyone who has struggled with depression, this moment was especially poignant and was another example of how the show deftly grapples with difficult or intangible topics. Sometimes the best way to express the inexpressible is to make it into a giant dragon.

These episodes definitely spoke to what is best of The Magicians, but they also helped to highlight what doesn’t always quite work. It is hard to keep half a dozen storylines firing on all cylinders, and it is easy for other character's journeys to fall by the wayside in the process. It was hard to generate a lot of interest in Julia, Alice and Penny's story this week, when there was vastly more interesting action (and emotional depth) going down over in Fillory. Although admittedly the callback to Alice's magical horse was a nice touch. It's a hard balance to strike, but I would rather the Magicians dance on the tightrope of tone than of storyline distribution. Between Penny's threats to leave, and Dean Fogg's alcoholism (what is that storyline even?) the disparity was especially striking.

But all that aside there is a lot to look forward to next week. Poppy is an especially curious character, she is smart, flirty, and also survived months on a raft with her darkest self. All in all the perfect companion to take on an epic journey to the Underworld.

Also: Alice is back to the peter pan collars. Can Hyman Cooper stay forever? Benedict died :( There was a mini Red Wedding.

But most importantly:

Do you like teeth :D

XO MD

#the magicians #martha writes #the magicians syfy #magicians recap #magicians review #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #jason ralph #stella maeve #margo the destroyer #tv gifs #magicians gifs #hale appleman #alice quinn #olivia taylor dudley #a day in the life #do you like teeth #depression dragon

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televinita · 7 years

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Zoo 3x08

♫ If you’re looking for truth, don’t come looking for me ♫

-- Echosmith, “Safest Place”

And if you are looking for me, I will be over here playing Mitch's new theme song on repeat while you read.

But first:

WELL ALL RIGHT THEN. Abigail found the secret passcode to earning my wrath, and it's called "emotionally torturing Jackson about his family and failure to save them and/or being responsible for their deaths" (LISTEN ZOO I know you don't know this but I am still pretty emotionally compromised about The O.C. and Ryan's savior complex and the number it did on his head after a certain fiery car accident of his own, so I don't think now is the best time to prod this wound.)

I'm not saying I can't use this footage of Jackson strung up by his wrists, or that I didn't feast like a tiger upon the spoils of said emotional torture, just that.......actually on second thought I can't remember why I came to this review complaining.

(Also wow I really enjoy the part where Jackson started to snap out of Zen mode when he heard she'd compromised Mitch, and him desperately trying to talk Mitch out of Duncan mode. I still do not know quite how to articulate what it is that delights me about their relationship to each other, but Jackson's side of it was on full display)

Alpha Ship

Keep you far, keep you far from what I know You'll be fine, you'll be fine, just don't look closely now

First of all,

"Aunt Jamie can't really hold her liquor" OMG. I'll take "things that definitely still happen in the AU where Mitch and Jamie had a life together" for $200, Alex. (that quote in some context, at least. maybe not the two-man abduction carry)

Anyway I am just gonna be over here making high pitched squeals about Mitch smoothing her hair out of her face and everything else about these 4 seconds before Max starts talking, because I kinda feel like this is as close to an aftermath-of-rescue with them in these positions as we're going to get this year, and I would like to to wring every drop of visible Caring I can out of it.

"If the team finds out what I've done, I will lose everything. I'll lose Clem -- Jamie -- everything."

Well that hurt me good and deep. Can someone please call all the ambulances? My heart is under attack.

He has a fair point to be worried about: even if they understand, how would they in good conscience be able to keep him around if they don't know what he can do as Mr. Duncan, or how Mr. Duncan takes over? How can they be sure of their own safety alone with him, given how the biodrive might affect things?

On bright side: I forgot I had seen the kiss in this episode early, so that was a bolt out of the blue of PURE UNADULTERATED SHIPPY JOY when my eyeballs encountered it after seeing the context of Mitch being Sketchy As Heck and deserving none of Jamie's wholly sincere reassurance*, but desperate for it anyway. I choose to believe he was on the verge of spilling the beans at that point, but maybe not quite all the way there until the kiss sealed it.

*you are hereby forgiven for the Reiden Tower lies

Morgan & Morgan

I love Squirrelly!Mitch and I loved everything about him and Max working together and accidentally almost having some heart to hearts. Especially Max The Number One Mitch/Jamie Shipper giving him advice that Mitch actually takes about coming clean (or tries to take; thanks for being both the solution to and the cause of all our ship problems today, Max!).

The temporary blindness side effect was my favorite part, especially his insistence on hiding it when Jamie needed an actual airplane-crashing scenario to be distracted enough for only moderate concern at his short-circuiting and Max's oddly eager intervention (honestly, at a certain point he might as well have been hopping along singing "We're off on a secret mission!"). I enjoyed the humorous elements, but would not have opposed a multi-episode arc for the more serious, if this show had made room for it.

Bizarro Alpha Ship

Lies unfolding, cover your eyes

I've remained pretty neutral on the whole Duncan Reveal thing, and I think the reason is: listen, if you want to give me two Billy Burke characters at the same time on one show, then that... well, let's just say this is a fair imitation of the list of Billy Burke characters I have scoured the far corners of the internet, libraries and streaming video sites to enjoy.

But. THE ENDING. 100% agree with empress-of-snark's assessment:

I’ve never really wanted to see one of my otp’s beating each other up, but like…. I get it now. There was something immensely satisfying about seeing Jamie elbowing/kicking Mitch in the face, and I don’t understand but I enjoyed it (probably cause it wasn’t really him technically, but).

I also really enjoy when he first turns around with that eerie, dead-eyed stare (oh hey Gary Matheson redux) and she realizes who he is. This is ONE thing I'll admit sci fi does well -- the mind control / body takeover trope. I delighted in this exact same thing once on Under the Dome’s third season. There is nothing more chilling than seeing a character you would have sworn on your life would never harm their significant other be prepared to do exactly that, with no off switch. It's a much better experience as a viewer to know that it’s beyond their control than to find out they are actually human monsters, though.

And it's an even better experience when Jamie just steamrollers over any unhelpful emotions she's about to have with the steely resolve of Fine, It's A Beautiful Day To Kick Your Ass, and suddenly I'm wondering how low-prole it would be to edit and remix this fight with a subtle backing of "Move, Bitch." (why is the chorus of this song always relevant to my interests)

In other words: all fear and trust and betrayal issues can take a backseat for now because Jamie has one job right now, and I love that she has enough confidence and skill to know she can go through him if she has to.

Odds and Ends

I sat through Logan's entire waste of screen time in order not to lose my understanding-the-plot momentum, and so far I regret that decision.

Okay fine the Kenyatta family spooning was pretty adorbs.

Max trying to use the L word = aces

Out of all of AI Logan's comments, "I have an unfortunate announcement" is my very favorite. I want to use that all the time. Why isn't easy embedding of sound clips a thing.

Jackson attempting to strangle Abigail with his legs? Kinda workin' for me.

I think my favorite thing about Max and the Summoning Rod is that it's very much like the things Mitch ran Jackson through last year. Not so fun to be the guinea pig getting told to buck up, is it?

Should it concern me that I didn't even realize Clem was absent (off in Tankland) until they mentioned her?

Overall: minus Logan's non-AI scenes, WHAT A FUN AND WILD RIDE THIS WAS. By far the highest quality-per-minute density of the season for me. Superb sister episode to Howler Sloth.

I've had so much fun skipping back through it and watching the characters run around*, I keep legit forgetting the plane is going crazy because there is an octopus with snake legs (or something) they had to hack to death. There is so much IN this episode I can't possibly cover it all. It feels like lasted 900 years in a good way.

*or in the Morgans' case, sometimes, remain calm and blissfully unaware while the women nearly die following the Bitches Get Stuff Done model; the juxtaposition between the two drastically different panic levels cracks me up every time.

I have already watched a few minutes into episode 9 because that was a WTF cliffhanger, but I think this is as far as I am gonna get before next new episode.

#cbs zoo comeback project #I kept thinking of more things I was happy about so it got long #honestly I could write more if I had the time and maybe gifsets to split it between

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