What she means: I keep thinking about how points are awarded at hogwarts. Professor mcgonagall gives Harry and Ron 5 points for destroying an entire troll at eleven years old, and professor sprout gives Neville and Hermione like one point for knowing things, but Professor Snape takes away 10, 15, 50 points for much more insignificant offenses, and yeah he hates them, but do the teachers have any sort of standard for how much one point is worth???! Do they discuss it in the staff meetings?!?! Like is dumbledore like, “ok everyone, make shit up!!” Or is it like, thought out??? Did the teachers ever cheat and award crazy amounts of points while like, eating dinner, like just mutter “100 points to gryffindor” into their soup in the great hall just to get ahead??? Did dumbledore even do anything at that school or was it anarchic chaos day in & day out??!?!?!
It’s okay if what you experienced didn’t turn you into a soft, sensitive cinnamon roll. It’s okay to be angry and violent. It’s okay if you got turned bitter. Trauma affects us all differently, some people soften up while others get consumed by fiery rage. If you ended up getting destructive as a result of the hell you’ve been through, just remember you’re fucking valid too
Number Eighty-Five: “They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”
“Der, we got another one!”
Derek sighed, put down his fork, and glared up at the doorway where Stiles was about to appear with the mail. It was bad enough the mailman rang the doorbell in the middle of breakfast, but for another damn proposal? They should’ve just pretended they weren’t home.
“It’s from the McMullen pack in…Montana, that’s a new one,” Stiles announced as he shuffled back into the kitchen in his boxers, a large box in his hands. “And look, they got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”
Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his eggs. “Just throw it away.”
Stiles made no moves to throw it away. He set it down on the corner of the table between their plates, and Derek had to grab his coffee mug before it spilled.
“You’re not even going to open it?” He drummed his fingers on top of it excitedly. Stiles loved opening packages. “What if it’s something cool?”
“It’s never something cool.”
“That’s a lie. The last one was great.” He still looked thrilled over the badly cross-stitched Den, Sweet Den hanging over the toilet. Derek glared.
“As soon as I get Lydia here to clear out the ash, I’m taking it down and it’s going in the garbage.”
Stiles finally gave up and sat back down to his meal, leaving the box right where it was. “I can’t believe you would insult Marjorie’s hard work like that. You know she’s a powerful alpha from a powerful pack.”
The accompanying proposal letter had stated as much, a number of times.
Derek pointedly moved the box to the floor. “A powerful alpha, but not a skilled cross-stitcher.”
“Big words from the guy who buys new jeans every other week because he can’t fix a tiny tear.”
“I can, I just don’t want to. It looks tacky.” And unlike Stiles, who spent all of his college years learning to sew his clothes back together to save money, Derek could afford to buy new ones.
That, and the entire town was still kind of waiting for him to be hauled off in cuffs for murder, and wearing tattered and worn out clothes tended to make them whisper about that poor sheriff’s boy, he deserves someone nicer. They always learned shortly after that Derek was the nicer of the two when that poor sheriff’s boy turned around and cussed them out until Derek dragged him away.
Stiles scoffed. “Throwing away unopened gifts is tacky!”
“Sending proposals to an engaged man is tacky.”
“Can you really blame them for trying? I’d be all over that if I wasn’t already.” Stiles ran a hand up Derek’s thigh to punctuate his point, while taking a casual sip of his coffee as if he were doing nothing of the sort.
“I can and I will. And at the very least, we’re sending it back.”
Stiles pouted, brushing Derek’s thigh with his thumb like it would change his mind. “But what if it’s a new frying pan? We’ve been needing one of those.”
“I’ll buy you a new frying pan. We’re sending it back.”
“We might as well get something out of all this harassment.”
“How about the satisfaction of saying no to every single one?” That was enough for Derek, but apparently not for Stiles, who blinked at him imploringly. Combined with his rumpled bedhead, it almost worked.
“But I can’t make breakfast in satisfaction.”
Derek leaned over to give him a compensatory kiss. “You can barely make breakfast in a frying pan.”
Stiles’ hand dropped from his thigh and he narrowed his eyes.
“Wow, okay, see if I ever make you breakfast ever again.” Derek grinned, but that just egged him on. “Actually no, I’m going to make you shitty breakfasts all the time! In the proposal pan!”
“We don’t know it’s a pan, and we’re not keeping it even if it is.”
“Oh come on! We deserve gifts after all this bullshit.” He gestured with his fork to their life in general, which also included the large hole in the drywall from a cursed statuette an angry pack had sent last month after Derek politely returned their proposal.
Derek refused to give in. He was not going to play nice in response to insult after insult.
“Stiles, why the hell would I want to keep gifts from packs I’ve never met who are trying to bribe me away from my fiance?”
Stiles pressed his lips together to try not to smile, but he failed. The whole being engaged thing was still new, they were both still a little giddy about it.
“We should send wedding invitations to all of them,” he said gleefully, and there was his petty streak. He’d been taking all these formal proposals surprisingly well and in good humor considering they were all trying to lure Derek into bringing Hale prestige to their packs.
“No. Then they’ll just send bigger gifts to try to change my mind.”
Stiles smirked. “And I‘m going to keep all of them.”
Derek rolled his eyes but gave Stiles the kiss he was puckering up for.
I'm playing Dungeons and Dragons for the first time today. Any advice?
You’re going to have a roll of the dice that appears to be a failure. But it really isn’t! It’s an opportunity to narrate why your character didn’t succeed at whatever they were trying to do, and that’s where you find the story you’re telling as you play.
So just have fun, make bold choices, and don’t be afraid to ask questions from the more experienced players in the game.
Boyfriend? I don't want to be Akira's boyfriend.
Well, what do you want, then?
I don’t know! I just want to be with him all the time. I want to hear about his day and tell him about mine. I want to hold his hand and smell his hair. But I don’t want to be his stupid boyfriend!