#A Quiet Teacher

[judgingbooksbycovers]

A Quiet Teacher

By Adam Oyebanji.

[hitlikehammers]

safe under you

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments  (@tboygareth)

the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time

“You’re so quiet.”

Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.

Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?

Has magical hands.

“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.

Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.

“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—

Here.

And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…

He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?

“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—

“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:

“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.

Because: duh.

“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.

“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.

Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.

He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.

“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.

“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.

“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.

“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:

“Quiet and frowny.”

He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.

“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”

Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.

“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.

But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.

“My vows.”

Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.

Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.

Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.

Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—

No.

No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.

Steve’s laughing.

“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?

Silly?

“What?”

“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.

Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—

“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?

Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.

“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:

“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.

Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.

Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.

“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.

To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.

So fucking much.

Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.

“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”

Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.

“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.

“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”

And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.

Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:

“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.

“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”

And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.

“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.

“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.

“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.

And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?

Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.

Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:

It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.

Well, fuck him.

Maybe he does know his vows already.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[inkskinned]

this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.

it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?

it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.

as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.

on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.

and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.

and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.

as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

Kamikou classes probably have seating plans, right. i feel so bad for any shy, anxious and/or otherwise quiet and unassuming people in Rui and Tsukasa's class because in my experience, teachers just love to put them next to the rowdy ones to try "dilute" them and all xznsndnnxnz

[oceanwithouthermoon]

kubosai where kuboyasu absolutely WORSHIPS his boyfriend like hes a god (in the way any extremely down bad boyfriend would, which is funny to saiki because its different than how other people in his life would see him as a god) and its so funny to the people around them at school and stuff because to them it just looks like this big handsome hunk and literally just SOME GUY

he carries him around, refers to him as his princess+his darling, kisses his hand, calls him perfect

he'll square up on anyone who even slightly annoys kusuo ☠️ (and hes good at knowing when hes just being a tsundere and when hes actually annoyed)

kusuo will ask him to do literally anything and he'll kiss his hand and say "anything for you"

once, a TEACHER yells something disapproving at kusuo and aren fully death glares the teacher and makes them fear for their LIFE

kusuo spoils his boyfriend back, of course, but its much less obvious in public because hes put so much effort into being less noticeable

so aren just looks to others like hes simping BAD for the most apathetic kid theyve ever seen

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

it's as done as im going to make it tbh. inconsistent, not perfect, but done :)

i'd say "sorry about this" but if i found a silly three minute wizards city fan animatic id lose my mind so im not sorry in the least

[bunnieswithknives]

A few people have asked about the alive version of the duo

[jharrisgifs]

THE QUIET ONES (2014) — Jared Harris as Prof. Joseph Coupland

[d-lanx]

They're having a game of sleeping lions :) the ref is coming round to make sure they're not moving

[florelia12]

I was thinking about future Florelia as one does…

I really do like the idea of Flora eventually becoming Alfea’s Headmistress. I can see Griselda wanting to keep her position and not take over Faragonda once she retires.

Flora would probably start by teaching classes, maybe even a new subject like Herbology that goes a little more in depth than Potionology. Maybe even does exchange classes with Cloud Tower.

She does continue her Realm/Land restoration projects on the side, and she would definitely push the school to take part in it too. Bringing students along to heal magically destroyed lands.

Then of course as Faragonda retires, she would ask Flora to take over and she would be thrilled and so honoured.

At the same time, as cute as it would be if Helia took over Red Fountain, I don’t think he would actually want that. It would feel like ultimately resigning to a fate he once tried to escape from.

I do think he would have taught at RF at some point. He’s not the most passionate about teaching but he is good at it. He’s patient and kind, and very understanding. He would still want to pursue Art and I think he would do a good mix of both. At first he’ll feel like he needs to choose but eventually he realises this is what makes him happy and he’s found a nice balance that works for him.

But you know who I’d love to see take over RF, Timmy.

I like the idea of Riven, too. But I feel like Timmy and Saladin share similar characteristics. As much as Riven would grow into becoming a good leader, I think he would enjoy taking over Codatorta’s role more, especially since it’s more hands-on and field work.

Timmy and Flora power-duo is so underrated!!!

But yeah, it’d be really cute for Helia and Flora being teachers at the respective schools, then Flora taking over and Helia going to visit her and him just being chill and enjoying life (painting until morning, wrangling dragons after breakfast then heading on over to Alfea for a little lunch with his wife 🥲) happily ever afters im gonna cry

[ayellowbirds]

"a pleasure to have in class" etc etc

"gifted child to adult burnout pipeline" whatever

the fuck do I always seem to be the only bitch in my friend/social group who was held back twice

gimme the positivity for girls like me: brainbad shortbus trannies with LDs and shit grades whose teachers constantly said would never get anywhere if I kept acting like this and I made my way into adulthood the same way I made it through school, clawing and biting and scaring the people in my way.

[zeeckz]

[slaytheprofessor]

"I'll check it out," you say begrudgingly. "But you had better not be lying about this."

The Guide: Honestly, that's better than I expected.

As you continue, the Guide narrates your movements.

The Guide: You walk down the street, knowing instinctively which turns to make, which paths to avoid, which signs are pointing you the right way. Soon, you arrive at the library---a small, one-story space sandwiched between two taller buildings directly across the street from you, with boarded-up windows and a sign on the door that reads closed.

Suddenly, another voice pipes up in your head. A voice with a cadence that almost matches yours, but different. It's clearer and sharper, and yet slightly hesitant at the same time.

Voice of the Researcher: Uh, hey, sorry to butt in, but are we sure about this? Even if the guy is trying to kill us, he's a teacher, for crying out loud. For all we know, he could've snapped because he's been underappreciated, undervalued, and underpaid for way too long.

The Guide: I... oh. Well... okay, teachers as a whole deserve more credit, I'll give her that, but they're still people, and people are fully capable of being bad.

Voice of the Researcher: Well, I still vote for hearing the guy out. For fairness's sake.

The Guide: Ah... yes. About that.

The Guide: The professor is, by nature, a clever man. He will lie, he will cheat, and he will do everything in his power to stop you from killing him. I would not recommend trusting him.

You cross the street and reach the library. The door opens with a creak and a tiny little bell sounds as you step inside.

The Guide: The interior of the library is unassuming. The walls are lined with shelves that are full of old books, the floors are made of wood that creak gently underneath your feet, and you can imagine that it would have been a nice place before it was abandoned. The only real furniture of note is a librarian’s desk sitting near the door to the basement, empty except for a single, pristine blade.

The Guide: I think you can guess what the blade is for. I wouldn't recommend going down there without it.

[battleslippers]

look I completely understand that Paul sees Kat as a family/mentor/father (??) figure but ch. 5 had me raising a singular eyebrow for a second

[considerablecolors]

Me: ok ok so basically it all started when i was listening to Cool As I Think I Am yeah? and im like omg Peter Spankoffski is literally everything and more that Jeremy Heere from Be More Chill tried and failed to be

Them:

Me: like Cool As I Think I Am? that's LEGIT literally just the Chad version of Loser Geek Whatever

Them:

Me: AND THEN. I'M LIKE WAIT. NONONO. ALL THE CHARACTERS LINE UP BRO. like you have the sidekick that the fandom immediately adopts as their favorite little queer icon that makes constant references and has one of the saddest scenes in the show and deserves better? MICHAEL AND RICHIE

Them:

Me: a really quirky out-there girl that loves musical theatre? CHRISTINE AND RUTH BRO

Them: i-

Me: AND AND AND. A BULLY THAT'S LIKE OBJECTIVELY A BAD PERSON THAT THE FANDOM CAN'T HELP BUT LOVE BECAUSE HE SHOWS ROOM FOR KINDNESS YEAH??? RICH AND MAX MY DUDE

Them: uh-

Me: AND FINALLY IT CLICKS. NAH MAN. IT'S NOT JUST THE CHARACTERS. IT'S THE PLOT TOO.

Me: nerd guy and his friend(s) getting bullied and used to it, when he decides he's going to finally change the status quo because there's a girl he likes. then the bully intervenes and changes the status quo FR FR. it's all your standard high school drama and THEN a supernatural force intervenes and turns shit dark!!

Them: well-

Me: LIKE LIKE there's a party thrown where everything horribly goes wrong!! everyone starts being nicer to the nerd and you think it'll be fine but then nerd guys friend's start getting hurt and suddenly the entire school/world is at risk, PLUS the dream girl is at risk, so nerd guy is like SHIT gotta fix things

Them: i mean-

Me: THEN THE SHOW HAS A SUPER HAPPY UPLIFTING CHEESY ENDING WHERE EVERYTHING IS FINE BUT THEN. LAST MINUTE. THE SUPERNATURAL ELEMENT GETS TEASED AGAIN AND YOU'RE LIKE *GASP* IT'S NOT GONE IT'S STILL A THREAT WAIT I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT BUT THEN YOU DON'T GET TO KNOW

Them: so um-

Me: LIKE IT ALL LINES UP. THE MIX OF CLASSIC SHOWTUNES SOUNDTRACK WITH A POP/ROCK TWIST. THE SLIGHTLY OUTDATED TEEN LINGO. THE UNDENIABLE HORNIEST OF MOST OF THE CHARACTERS. NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE IS LITERALLY JUST THE BETTER VERSION OF BE MORE CHILL!!

Them: were you-

Me: BUT THEATRE KIDS AREN'T READY TO HAVE THAT FUCKING CONVERSATION YET SO I JUST HAVE TO SIT HERE, KNOWING I'M RIGHT, SWINGING MY BAT AT THIS HORNET'S NEST, TRYING TO SPREAD THE GOOD WORD, BUT THEY HATE ME FOR SPEAKING THE FUCKING TRUTH

Them: ...

Me:

Them: ...

Me:

Me: OH MY GOD. OMG. I'M SO SORRY I'VE LEGIT JUST BEEN RAMBLING HAVEN'T I

Them: ...

Me: ughhh that's so embarrassing lolol okok so anyways

Me: i'll get to the point lol sorry

Me: ok so um basically i was interested in commissioning you to make like- basically think of it as like an episode of Nightmare Time but it's like Pete x Michael ok?

Nick Lang: um.

Matt Lang: that's not really how this...

Nick Lang: yeah, we don't really do that

Me: oh :( cause you guys are homophobic?

Matt Lang: OKAY-

[itspileofgoodthings]

The past couple weeks it’s been really hitting me how much harder it’s been teaching Pride and Prejudice this year—which was so disappointing at first? Because works I’ve traditionally had a harder time with I’ve felt like i’ve broken new ground while teaching and am teaching the kids BETTER. So initially I was so frustrated that my historically easiest work to teach was feeling so difficult! But there’s been some good days that have let me see that part of what was happening was that I have simply never reached this number of kids with pride and prejudice before and so consequently I have never had so many kinds of reactions before! In the waking up from the sleep of simply never paying attention there IS going to be plenty of stupidity, contrariness, crankiness, and almost arguing? Like even with themsELVES. And that’s a good thing.