I am honestly sick and tired of everyone telling freshmen not to take 8 ams no matter what. It really discourages me. So, here are some bonuses to early morning classes instead!
If you get up even before your early classes, the gym won’t be as crowded!
Probably easier to find the class you want and get in!
If you’re like me, you’re energized in the morning but dead by like 3. Taking early classes means I’m done between 12:30 and 3:30 and I don’t have to drag myself through classes in the late afternoon/evening!
By the time everyone else is waking up, you’ll already have gone to class, done homework, and accomplished things!
Add more if you’ve got them. Let’s encourage others to not fear 8am classes!
Class 1-A actually loves to think of All Might as their adopted (second) Dad, and since Toshinori and Izuku are not exactly subtile about the fact that they have a rather close bond, especially the girl gush over the two of them as father and son.
So one day, when goofing around with Toshinori once again, someone has the idea to draw some freckles on Toshi’s face, just like the ones Izuku has. Toshinori lets it happen, patiently smiling as someone puts the dots on his cheeks with a marker.
Izuku splutters and hides in a corner when he walks in and sees it, while the other laugh fondly at him.
“This the revenge of the dicks; that’s nine cocks that cock 9’s This ain’t no V. Tech shit or Columbine But after bowling,”
These bars reference the 9 members of Odd Future about to get their revenge but not on a large scale like V. Tech nor Columbine; “cock 9′s” making reference to cock back 9mm pistols and “but after bowling” was based on the belief Harris and Klebold attended bowling class early that morning.
Columbine is mentioned once again in Track 3, titled ‘Radicals’. Tyler makes a loose reference regarding Harris and Klebold through the ‘fuck school’ persona evident in the song. He later went on to Tweet about the shooters being ‘radicals’. When asked about the impact ‘Radicals’ could have on young listeners, Tyler stated:
“If Columbine is reenacted or some shit, that’s gonna be on my fucking head. Yeah, it’ll be my fault, just like it was Em’s and Marilyn’s and fucking Slipknot’s and all them motherfuckers”. - Respect magazine
Prior to this, Tyler found himself in ‘hot water’ when people begin calling out this Tweet of his:
Speaking to Q Magazine, Tyler defended his Tweet saying:
“I got into an argument because I said the Columbine [shooters] were probably really cool people. I was just saying they could have been really nice people, probably could have taken them to a game. I wasn’t saying what they did was right”.
In 2013, Tyler, The Creator dropped his highly anticipated album ‘Wolf’. Tyler made it public that track 12, ‘Pigs’, was about Harris and Klebold tweeting:
Speaking to NME Magazine, Tyler states that he does not sympathise with the killers and is merely trying to understand their motivations. Going on to say:
"I tried to write a song from their perspective, to try and figure that out. Those kids were nerds, fucking dweebs. I’m intrigued as to how they thought, not what they did. How do regular kids become what they became?”
In saying this Tyler also Tweeted out this to his fans:
The first verse being:
“Geek, fag, stupid loser find a rope to hang // I’m not bipolar, see I’m just known by those couple names // I wanna tell my pops but shit, he’ll probably say the same // Fuck…hated by everyone, that’s the way it seems // I don’t know whats shorter, his damn temper or my self esteem // I sit in my room and I listen to tunes, I’m amused alone // Cause none of the cool kids would let me join a team // Depression’s on the stalk again // My best friend’s an inhaler because it will not let me cough // Whenever I am losing oxygen, bully hand around my neck // Cause he felt disrespected when I decided to talk again // I brought that on myself, see I should know my place // But not at lunchtime, see // I know better then to show my face around them // But the day I do it’ll be everywhere // When I share these feelings finally they gon’ fucking care”
the day isak first kisses even at school, he has norwegian class in the morning. he gets to school a little early and there are only a few students in class, and there’s this couple in front of him. they’re holding hands on their desk and he’s not looking at them, but he sees two heads lean in toward each other, knows that they just kissed. it’s nothing, just a quick kiss, and then the class starts and they let go of each other’s hand and isak realizes he never holds even’s hand at school
isak sees couples kiss in the cafeteria and in the hallways. quick kisses before one heads to class, or longer make-out sessions. boys kissing girls and once he saw a boy kiss a boy and just. people kissing people. it happens. he’s putting his physics textbook back in his locker after his last class of the day and next to him there are these two girls he once briefly met at a party, and they’re holding hands and isak doesn’t look but he still sees it from the corner of his eyes, two heads leaning in once again. a kiss
he texted even when his class was done, and now even is walking up to him, coat on and backpack on his shoulders and ready to leave school and go home. and he gives isak the sweetest smile and isak puts his coat on, looking into even’s eyes as he does. as if he can’t look away, not really wanting to anyway. and even simply holds his gaze, the sweet sweet smile in his eyes as well, and he asks isak “ready?” and isak nods and he just. now his head is leaning in and his lips touch even’s and maybe someone is putting their textbook back in their locker and they notice the kiss from the corner of their eyes. maybe someone is purposely looking. maybe. isak doesn’t really care
isak takes even’s hand in his own, interlaces their fingers as their mouths part. and then even presses his forehead gently against his and when isak opens his eyes, the same smile is still in even’s eyes but there’s also brightness added to the softness and the warmth. and even asks “a kiss?” and isak’s back is against his closed locker when he sighs contentedly and replies “yeah, why not?”
In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball.
warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con
Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt.
Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she.
Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying.
Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead.
Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour.
“Name.” He sounded bored.
Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”
“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”
Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol.
Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little.
Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of.
Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning.
“You think I want to be here, Rone?”
That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know.
He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem.
And then she became his problem.
Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair.
It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand.
Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true.
Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes.
He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper.
“Are you going to be here for dinner?”
“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster.
It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”
“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”
“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”
“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”
“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”
Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”
“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”
Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well.
Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault.
Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning.
She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers.
His students knew not to say anything.
Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles.
Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed.
She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration.
He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest.
Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter.
And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning.
She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded.
“All I need is a reason.”
She said nothing.
“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”
“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee.
“Never said you were.”
Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”
She shook her head.
“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”
“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”
She looked wistful. “Cool.”
She looked back at him.
“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”
“Can I trust you?”
“When you’re ready to.”
She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door.
Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing.
She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night.
He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her.
She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now.
She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”
Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –
He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door.
Lucy wanted to be sick.
He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number.
“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”
“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged.
He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”
She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left.
“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row.
Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady.
Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”
There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.”
Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.
Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line.
“Yay or nay?” She asked.
Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door.
Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door.
“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name.
“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream.
“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk.
Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored.
“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple.
Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled.
Lucy was having heart palpitations.
He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”
“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”
“You’re busy. Later.”
Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes.
The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten.
There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human.
Neil grinned before slipping out the door.
Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud.
Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.”
Lucy was still smiling.
“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned.
“Are you married?” Lucy laughed.
His face was stone.
“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”
“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.”
Lucy got out.
By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business.
And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either.
A/N: i really like this! i hope you guys do too! send me suggestions and ideas please! also, if you would like me continue this please say so!
SUMMARY: due to his girlfriend who drove you crazy, you hadn’t spoken to jimin in months. he had also distanced himself from you, and he didn’t seem to mind too much… or at least you thought so.
You and Jimin had split ways for a few months once he had gotten a girlfriend. He spent less and less time with you, and you were more than just slightly jealous. You had liked him since the two of you met, a little bit over a year ago. At times, you believed that he felt the same, but at others you didn’t think so at all. Jimin was a confusing creature to you, and you never could understand him. Especially when he called you in tears, apologizing and begging for you to come by the dorms.
“Jimin, I’m busy studying,” you sighed. Although you desperately wanted to go lay in his arms and hold him, you had priorities. Jimin whimpered, obviously sobbing about something that had absolutely tore him apart. “I can’t, okay? Plus, we haven’t spoken in months. Why would I come over even if I could?” You heard Jimin continuing to cry on the line, and your heart ached. He was your soft spot, and no time away from him could change that. If someone hurt your Chim, then they had hurt you worse. Sitting on your bed surrounded by textbooks, you let out a sigh. “Jimin, answer me.”
“I miss you. I’m sorry that I ever abandoned you to hang out with her. You should have been over her on my list of friends, and I’m sorry. Forgive me, please,” Jimin choked out the words. You bit your tongue, glancing at the time on your phone. It was an early Thursday morning, meaning you had classes at eleven. “Y/N, I left you and the boys to hang out with her. She didn’t even treat me good, so I’m a fool. I should have just spent my time with you guys, because you’re far more important.”
“Jimin, I don’t have time to hear you rant. Go talk to Taehyung…”
“Y/N! Don’t you hear me!” Jimin cried out, and I ran my hand through my hair. He was in pain, and he knew that he could get my attention. He cried on the line, his hiccuping sobs in the background. “Taehyung told me to come to you. All of the boys want me to talk to you. I messed up our friendship, and I want to fix this. The boys said that you haven’t been the same since I started dating that witch. I’m sorry that I ever did that to you. Please forgive me; I don’t want you to ignore me.”
I replied, “Jimin.” He whined softly, completely shattering me. He wanted me to come over, and that was clear. He wouldn’t be calling me if he just wanted to repair his mistakes. I let out a deep breath, not realizing I had held it in. His voice sounded familiar, although he was not in the best condition. He was familiar, and I had missed him dearly. “I understand you’re upset about what you did, but I can’t just forgive you. I want to —I really do— It’s just that I can’t. You… You weren’t there for me, and why should I be there for you?”
“You shouldn’t,” Jimin hiccuped. “I’m an awful friend and I didn’t appreciate you like I should have. You should yell at me and hang up the phone. You should block my number and tell the boys to never bring me around. You should avoid coming to the dorms whenever I’m here, and try to have the boys over at your apartment instead. You shouldn’t listen to me cry and beg, but you are. I love you, Y/N. You are the best person possibly in my life, and I don’t know why I ever pushed you out. Y—”
“Jimin, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
It didn’t take you long to arrive at the dorms, and when you knocked at the door, Namjoon instantly opened it. His eyes were wide, and he let out a well deserved sigh. You could hear Jimin crying, and you watched as Jungkook waved at you over Namjoon’s shoulder. You had remained close to the rest of the boys, but nothing compared to what your relationships were like before. Namjoon moved out of the way for you, and you slipped off your shoes as you entered the dorms.
Jungkook led you around the corner, and you saw Jimin lying on the couch, covered in blankets. He hugged a pillow, not even realizing your arrival. His sobbing covered up all noise in the dorms, and you saw Jin trying to cheer him up. Jin held soup in his hands; soup that made you feel better anytime you needed it. Jin saw you and smiled, believing that you could help get Jimin out of his funk. Whatever had happened, it was probably regarding his girlfriend. Yoongi rested his body against the doorway of his shared room with Jin, his eyes showing his exhaustion. The boys were desperate, and they all knew your visit would help phenomenally.
“Jimin, Y/N is here,” Jin stated, standing up. Jimin immediately stopped screaming, and he looked over in your direction. He looked exhausted, and his face was red and puffy from the tears that left his eyes. Seeing him in that condition, you felt yourself breaking. You couldn’t leave him like that, and you wished you came sooner. “Will you let all of us sleep now? She’ll stay here as long as she can.” Jimin nodded faintly, and Yoongi backed up into his room.
Namjoon placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just get him to sleep and then you can come join one of us if you’d like. Or you can head home, but make sure to tell one of us beforehand. Thank you, Y/N. We’ll repay you in someway one day.” You nodded, seeing how thankful he was in his eyes. You and Namjoon had a weird understanding for each other, and that was probably caused by your work ethics. You were similar in how hardworking and goal-stricken you two were. The boys all thanked you before disappearing into their rooms.
You walked over to the couch where Jimin laid, hearing him whimper out in agony. He was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, and that hurt like hell. You sat on the edge of the couch, and watched as Jimin’s bottom lip quivered. Tears stained his round cheeks, and you took a deep breath. He needed you, and just sitting beside him wasn’t going to help. When it came to Jimin, you knew that he was craving the arms of someone he cared for.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whined quietly.
“N– no, don’t cry,” you stuttered, scooting closer to him. Jimin did exactly the opposite of what you asked of him, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks again. If you hated anything, it was making Jimin cry. “Jiminie… Don’t cry because you’ll make me cry. I don’t want both of us to be crying and disturbing the boys. You all need to rest, Jimin.” He sighed, his hand crawling out from under the blankets. He reached out for your hand, and you didn’t hesitate before latching onto him. You missed his touch. “You’re not going to sleep unless I’m here, are you?” Jimin shook his head.
Jimin scooted over, closer to the back cushions, allowing you to have space next to him. You slowly lifted your feet onto the couch, and felt your heart racing as Jimin covered you up with blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling. You placed your head on his shoulder as he shuffled down and hid his face in your chest. He intertwined your legs, squeezing at the back fabric of your shirt. He had missed you more than anything, and your presence had calmed him down already. He hadn’t realized how much he needed you until then.
“Jimin,” you breathed.
“Please,” Jimin whispered. “Just tonight. Forget about everything I did, and pretend that we are still really close.” You nodded faintly, placing your hands in his hair. You rubbed his scalp, making Jimin sleepy. It wouldn’t take long for him to doze off, but you lie awake, wondering what had gone wrong between the two of you. You had been so close, once upon a time. A girl had ruined all of it, and you wished that you hadn’t allowed her to. Jimin was your world before she came along.
The next morning, Jimin woke up before you. He smelled the fragrance only possibly belonging to Jin’s food. You were wrapped in his arms and fast asleep, and he knew that you wouldn’t wake up as long as he was there. Jin was clearly trying to be quiet, a smile on his lips as he stood in the kitchen wearing an apron. Jimin glanced down at you, seeing you holding onto the fabric of his shirt. He loved every moment of you being engulfed by him, and he realized that he would do anything to keep it that way. He loved you, and he wish he had known sooner.
“Aw,” Taehyung cooed, walking out of his room. Jimin sent a glare in his direction, and Taehyung quickly shut up. Jimin wanted to let you sleep for as long as you could, because once you woke, you both had to face reality. He was in pain because of his ex who cheated, and you were simply being a good friend. Taehyung smiled, leaning over on the couch to get a better view of you two. Taehyung had always had his suspicions about you and Jimin, and he seemed the most pleased out of everyone. You two were happy together.
“Don’t bother them,” Jin pulled Tae away from the couch. Taehyung frowned, and Jimin mouthed thank you to Jin.
You were ever so slowly coming to your senses, but you didn’t want to wake up. You had missed everything about Jimin, and laying there made you regretful for ever letting someone get in the way. Of course you had cuddled with all of the other members, but that was different. They were not Jimin. You felt your eyelids slightly shaking from wanting to open, and Jimin seemed to notice.
“Not yet,” he whispered in you ear. You smiled faintly, knowing he did not want to get up either. Jimin squeezed you lightly, placing his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
Request: “hi i was wondering
if you could do a fluffy sirius x reader where they’re just cuddling and talking
about their future together (like having kids, getting married) idk ah i really
love your writing btw !!”
Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader
Word Count: 1034
It was very late on a Monday night. Most were sound asleep, but
the toll that had taken its place on all the exhausted students due to the most
dreaded day of the week didn’t seem to affect you and Sirius. Instead, you were
lying on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, cuddling by the fire with a pleasant
type of lethargy. You both kept saying how it was time to go up to your actual
beds, since you both had the same early potions class tomorrow morning, but the
urgency had seeped from your bones, being replaced by a thick laziness that
weighed you down blissfully. The more you fought against it, the heavier it
got. Eventually, you had simply accepted that you would probably talk into the
early hours of the morning, only falling into sleep when you had no more words
to say. Sirius’ arms were the most peaceful place in the world, it was no
wonder why you had no desire to leave your spot.
“What would you have our wedding be like?” He asked after a long
comfortable silence, his nose touching yours as he spoke.
“Our wedding?” You yawned. “Who said I’d marry you?”
Sirius let out a soft chuckle, his eyelids heavy.
“I know you’ll say yes when the day comes. You can never resist
Hili :) Can you write andreil 81 for the prompts please? Thank you <3
81: “You’re too good for this world.” okay…. I technically didn’t do this exact prompt, I took off the last word, I hope this suffices my friend, bc it’s actually:
“You’re too good for this.”
The problem with living in a fortress of knives and anonymity is that Neil can’t find him in it. And the problem with that is that a treacherous part of Andrew wants to be found, and touched, and dismantled blade by blade.
The problem with knives is that they won’t stop terrifying Neil, but they won’t stop feeling sure and righteous in Andrew’s palm.
The problem is Neil, a taste Andrew can’t completely swallow.
He puts Renee’s knives in Neil’s safe and Neil says all sorts of sticky emotional things like they’re taking part in some sort of ceremony. Andrew clicks the lock and climbs on top of Neil so he’ll stop thinking, pocketing his ‘yes’ as he goes.
It’s not just that he does what Neil asks, anymore. He tries to do things for him before he can ask for them. He tries to make things happen that he knows Neil doesn’t have words for.
He keeps one knife for himself, and he knows Neil knows about it, because he hands Andrew his armbands some mornings, and the weight is there in his palms.
Sometimes, that weight is the only way to get through the day without his head and throat pounding.
Sometimes Neil jerks awake and thrusts his hand under the pillow, and Andrew has to pry his wrists away. Neil knows protection, so he understands the slim line of a blade at his forearm is to Andrew what Andrew is to Neil.
But Andrew can tell that it bothers him, to have a knife buried in something that matters to him. He sees wintery metal in the shade of Neil’s eyes, and Andrew knows he’s condemning him to a future that looks like his past.
Still, the knife is just a talisman. Andrew is the weapon.
Before an afternoon practice sometime in the middle of the rush towards winter, Jack is the target.
They get to the court early because Neil only has morning classes. He’s always antsy by the time Andrew gets back to the dorm, insufferable and single-minded.
Andrew parks, Neil enters the code to the side door, their runners squeak against the sleek hall floors, and they split up at the locker room. Rinse and repeat. So many times a week that Andrew would feel the monotony in his teeth if it weren’t for Neil darting into side rooms or slipping on floor wax or doubling back to run in the rain, unpredictable as a lightning bolt.
In every educational setting, you will come across certain types of people.
At some point, we’ve been one or the other.
Here’s a list of the types of people you’ll meet, or probably already know.
1- THE SILENT OVERACHIEVER.
This is the person that you never see over-socialising. They keep to themselves and are usuallyalways very nice and helpful.
2- THE “IN-YOUR-FACE” OVERACHIEVER.
This person lives for the sole purpose of flaunting their achievements in everyones faces. Do yourself a favour and stay away from this person.
3- THE ONE YOU ONLY SEE DURING EXAM SEASON.
Seriously, where are you the rest of the academic year? The thing is, these people somehow manage to pass and show up a couple of times the next year, only to disappear again.
4- THE ONE THAT SEEMS TO BE FALLING ASLEEP.
5- THE ONE THAT IS ACTUALLY ASLEEP.
6- THE ONE LOST IN HIS/HER MOBILE SCREEN.
This person is usually playing angry birds.
7- THE ONE THAT SHOWS UP ONLY FOR ATTENDANCE.
8- THE ONE THAT IS ACTUALLY THERE TO LEARN.
9- THE ONE THAT LIKES TO OUTDO EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING.
10- THE ONE READY FOR A PHOTOSHOOT.
This person right here deserves some kind of medal or award. If you’ve been doing the whole early-morning-class thing for a while, then you know it takes effort to look semi-presentable for a class scheduled at 8:30AM; especially when you’re running on 4 hour sleep.
11- THE CHOSEN ONE.
This person has his/her shit together. They seem to be in total control of everything.
12- LETS NOT FORGET THE ONE THAT IS ALMOST ALWAYS CRYING.
13- THE NICE, QUIET, SHY PERSON.
14- THE ONE IN SWEATS.
I’ve been that person. Because comfort comes first.
15- THE ONE WITH A STICK UP HIS/HER BEHIND.
16- THE SOCIAL ONE.
This person knows everyone on the premises. I don’t know how, but they do. Its very unsettling when you’re the type of person that can’t keep up with 3 friendships.
17- THE ONE THAT’S ALWAYS MUNCHING ON SOMETHING DURING LECTURES.
18- THE MISUNDERSTOOD ONE.
19- THE ONE WITH THE OBNOXIOUS LAUGH.
20- THE PROCRASTINATOR.
We’ve all procrastinated and ended up doing something in the last minute. For some people, its a lifestyle. If it works for you, then who are we to judge?
Named after: The fact that I mentioned readers birthday so much. That and I was listening to the blues.
It was a Saturday. It was the day of the championship game for baseball. But most importantly, it was your birthday.
You had let this small fact take a back seat in weeks leading up to the game, you didn’t want to stress Jeff out. Your boyfriend was already spending more time with Clay to get tutoring for two more classes just to make sure he’d play. He’d exercise in the early morning before school, go to baseball practice after, study and do homework with the smaller boy, and then watch his previous games until it was time to repeat.
It had become a routine, and Jeff normally got like this a few days before his games. You’d grown accustomed to it, you would plan to walk to school or ride with your next door neighbor Alex Standall, pack a few extra protein bars and Gatorade to leave in his locker, as well as massage him during his film.
He was…distant but it was okay because he always felt so guilty after, he’d pamper you for the next week.
However, what your boyfriend failed to let you know, was that for the championship, this routine of his was starting two weeks before you expected it. So when you found yourself arriving at school by 3rd period, after waiting 20 minutes for your boyfriend to show up you were more than angry.
But you pushed it aside, silently forgiving your baseball player. You knew Jeff loved the sport he played. For the most part, it was the only thing he felt he was incredible at. So you slowly adjusted to this behavior for the week, eating lunch by yourself because Jeff didn’t initially tell you he was going to the athletic trainer during your lunch period. Nodding as he asked you if you could find another ride home because practice was running late. Walking when you realized all your friends had already left.
It was fine, you knew it wasn’t intentional or malicious, he just really wanted the game to go well. Scouts would be looking at him. More importantly, you knew that once these weeks finished you’d have him all to yourself, starting on your birthday.
You walked through the bleachers wearing Jeff’s home jersey, 30 minutes before the game started. You saved seats for his parents who had already wished you a happy birthday, your parents who were there to support your boyfriend, and your friends who had helped you survive these past two weeks.
You made three posters all with different puns and cheesy jokes that you were sure Jeff would love, ’#1 on the field AND in my heart’ 'No that is not Derek Jeter, it’s Jeff Atkins’ And your personal favorite, ‘Atkins, Homerun counter:__’
You brought a sharpie with you to the game and by the end of it, you had edited that poster at least four times. You screamed so loud during the game you barely had any voice left when the team won.
The student section, along with yourself rushed the field and you watched as your boyfriend and his teammates poured water all over their coach. You smiled, more proud of Jeff than ever. Your two weeks of relationship hell were over and you were going to spend the rest of this Saturday night celebrating him and your birthday.
When you finally got the opportunity to get to Jeff, waiting for his parents and your parents to go first so they could leave, you hugged him as tightly as you could you pecked his lips before asking, “Now what champ?”
He smiled at the abbreviation. He let go holding out a finger signaling he’d get back to you. He left, jogging over to his teammates and a few reporters. You waited. Waited as the captains talked to the reporters who covered the game, waited as he greeted the college scout with a firm handshake, waited as the team filed out.
Jeff was the first one on that field and the last one to leave the dugout. He had all of his stuff in his baseball bag, slung on one shoulder while he wrapped the other arm around your waist.
“We’re going to Bryce’s!” He said smiling as you reached his car.
“W-what?” You asked trying to keep it together.
“Bryce, you know Bryce, he’s throwing a party for the win! You asked, ‘now what’ so that’s what!” He replied placing his stuff in his trunk.
You couldn’t lie, it fucking hurt. He forgot. He forgot your birthday of all days. You understand, it was the championship but the last thing you wanted to do was get drunk with a bunch of rowdy jocks. You and Jeff did that almost every weekend. Before you could say anything, Jeff opened the door for you, kissing your cheek.
“Jeff…” you started your voice nearly breaking. But when he turned to you, with the world in his eyes, ecstatic he had just won, you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin it. So you swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back your tears as you forced a smile on your face.
“Could you please take me home? I’m not feeling too well.” You said, barely managing to make it through your request.
He nods, rushing back over to the driver’s seat. He grabs your hand, rubbing circles on your skin all the way to your house. His grip tightens as he pulls into your driveway and finally looks over at you.
You avoid his gaze and move to get out.
“So no party?” He asks you.
“No thanks, but go and have fun okay? I’ll see you tomorrow!”
He furrows his eyebrows placing another kiss on your hand before letting you go.
“Thanks, baby girl, I’ll see you tomorrow!”
And with that, he drives off. Once he’s out of sight you finally let the tears stream down your face like they had wanted to for the past two weeks.
You decided not to call anyone to make other plans, you would much rather sulk in your own pity. You had a mix of texts come in through the night that you ignored. Most of them from friends wishing you a happy birthday, and a few from a very drunk Jeff who, for the life of him, couldn’t manage to spell out ‘I love you’. That night you cried yourself to sleep, upset and alone trying to rationalize your boyfriend’s actions.
You woke up early the next morning, making yourself breakfast and planning out your day to make up for the previous. You could have fun by yourself. You ignored whatever Jeff texted you when you got ready, putting on some of your favorite clothes instead. Sorting through looking for your sweatshirt, you heard a knock on your door.
You threw on a t-shirt instead, yelling out 'come in’, as you started to put your hair into a bun.
“Hey, you feeling better? I have the nastiest hangover, so it’s fine if you’re not, we’ll be miserable together” Jeff started.
And you shook your head slightly at first, then you gradually became angrier. You couldn’t care less if Jeff had a hangover. Throughout his whole drunk escapade, it didn’t even occur to him that you were sitting at home, by yourself, on your birthday. He had treated you like shit for two weeks, he didn’t just get to waltz back into your life as though it never happened.
“Your parents let me in on their way out. You weren’t answering my texts so I just thought-” he stopped himself as he watched your expression change.
“What’s wrong?” He asked gently.
“What’s wrong Jeff? What’s wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?” You questioned, raising your voice slightly.
You didn’t plan on getting angry so fast, he just was so oblivious to everything it pissed you off, royally.
Jeff was taken aback. His mouth dropped slightly as he tried to figure out where he went wrong.
“FIRST. You didn’t give me a ride to school with no notice! I had to fucking walk! I was late to class and now I have detention next weekend so thanks!” You stood, now pacing around your room as Jeff took a seat on your bed.
“Baby-” he tried to interrupt.
“I’m not done” You interjected.
You were so upset you missed the completely shocked expression on Jeff’s face. Everything he did wrong in the past two weeks was flooding in all at once.
“Then! You made me eat by myself at lunch when you didn’t tell me you weren’t going to be there!”
“Don’t you dare 'baby girl’ me! Then! You made me walk home! …IT’S AN HOUR WALK JEFF!”
He stood to meet you in all your anger, approaching you slowly.
“You basically ignored me, FOR TWO WEEKS! For fuck sake, Clay saw you more than I did!”
You couldn’t help it. Everything was spiraling in your head and pouring out of your mouth. When Jeff reached you, his hands that normally felt so comforting betrayed him. You wanted nothing more than to scream and yell until he left until he felt the way that you did.
“Y/N, I’m sorry, okay? Please calm down-” he said in the most soothing voice he could figure.
Jeff was scared, to say the least. He had never seen you this angry before.
“CALM. DOWN? YOU’RE NOT SERIOUS!” You screamed back at him pushing against his chest to create some distance between the two of you.
As your voice grew louder, the tears came rolling in again. When they fell down your cheeks Jeff had to fight the urge to wipe them. He felt guilty, he was the sole reason you were so worked up.
“THEN TO TOP IT ALL OFF JEFFREY? YOU FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY!”
Jeff could have sworn he felt his heart stop. He knew he had been forgetting something, he just didn’t know it was you. He couldn’t even stutter out a response, he just stood there taking you in.
“I made three fucking posters for you! And I was there for you! Through all this BULLSHIT! I waited after the game! When you did all your interviews, and you met with all the scouts, and you were fucking around with the boys! I let you do whatever the fuck you needed to! And you left me. On my birthday. FOR A FUCKING PARTY!”
You were sobbing at this point and your voice cracked as you screamed at him.
Jeff had tears at the brims of his eyes as well, he had no idea how much he hurt you in the past two weeks.
“A fucking party Jeff…god, you’re such an asshole.” You mumbled, wiping your tears frantically, hoping that they would stop flowing.
Jeff blinked back the tears his eyes before he approached you again. He stood this time, at least two feet away to give you your space. It was the distance that hurt him the most, normally he couldn’t take his hands off of you. Now, he had to watch his first love cry, because of him, and she was too upset to even let him wipe away her tears.
“I’m sorry” he began.
And before you could interrupt him he continued.
“I- I’m so sorry.” He tripped over his own apology as a few tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them quickly, he knew he wasn’t in the position to get emotional when he was the one who hurt you.
“I was such a dick…and I- I fucked up big time…I don’t even fucking deserve you…” he struggled to find the right words that would make this all go away, but unlike your usual insignificant fights, he knew there wasn’t any combination of words that would fix it.
“Lemme make it up to you” he pleaded.
You crossed your arms over each other. Furious and devastated all at once. You wanted him to stay with you for the rest of the day but you also wanted him to get the hell out of your room.
Jeff slowly closed the gap between you two, grabbing at your waist.
“Please. Y/N. Let me fix it.”
He stared at you, searching your eyes waiting for your answer.
“I’ll beg if I have to” he offered up with a sad smile.
You frowned avoiding his eyes, you and Jeff both knew his puppy dog eyes could get you to do anything.
And so Jeff got onto his knees, his hands still at your waist and you finally looked at him.
“Jeff, get up” you muttered.
“Just give me a chance to fix it.” He countered.
You nodded quickly if only to get him off the ground, and he smiled standing to his feet again. He embraced you in what felt like the tightest hug ever.
“I’m really sorry” he mumbled into your hair.
And when he pulled away he was leaving your room.
“Cancel all your plans today, I’ll be back in an hour, I promise this is going to be the best day of your life!” He rambled as he grabbed his keys from your bed.
“Jeff, I don’t want you to le-” you whined. This was the first time he was paying attention to you in a while.
“One hour. If I’m not back……dump me!” He called out as he left your room door.
You sat on your bed, hearing the rumble of his engine begin, and when the sound of his car left your ears you exhaled and leaned back onto your bed. Hopeful for what was in store.
Alya and Nino have been planning this the whole week. They decided to do it on Friday, to let Marinette cool off over the weekend. Alya and Nino decided to switch Marinette’s spot with Nino’s so Marinette could sit beside Adrien.
Friday morning Alya and Nino came to class early just in case Marinette or Adrien was already sitting in their seats. But Marinette was late as usual and froze at the doorway when she saw Nino sitting beside Alya instead of Adrien.
“Marinette, you’re already late, please go take a seat.” Ms. Mendeleiev ordered, sounding grouchy as ever.
Marinette slowly slumped into the seat beside Adrien, at first not making eye contact, but when she looked over Adrien smiled and gave her a slight wave. Marinette being as awkward as ever, smiled back and returned the wave. She was so embarrassed, Marinette wished she didn’t press the snooze button on her alarm, but she did. She wished her combed her hair more properly, but she didn’t. Marinette hoped Adrien couldn’t smell her morning breath or see the bags under her eyes since she’s been out late last night patrolling Paris with Chat Noir. Behind her, she could hear Alya and Nino chuckling. Marinette quickly turned around and shot them a glare before turning to ask Adrien what she missed. She couldn’t help but smile when Adrien was clumsily trying to explain to her that he was also late.
“Do I have something on my cheek?” Adrien whispered so Ms. Mendeleive wouldn’t snarl at them for talking during a lesson.
Marinette shook her head trying to go back to reality, “Pardon?”
“Do I have something on my face? You were staring…” Adrien repeated, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve.
“Oh no, it’s nothing! Haha, don’t mind me-”
“Marinette! You came into my class late, do not disturb today’s lesson.” Ms. Mendeleive sneered towards her.
“Grumpy as always, huh?” Adrien murmured to Marinette.
Marinette laughed, “Yeah.”
“Both of you, detention.” Ms. Mendeleive said as she wrote the Pythagorean theorem formula on the board.
Adrien felt panic, he never had detention before, he has always been homeschooled. He couldn’t believe Ms. Mendeleive’s words. ‘Both of you, detention.’ repeated in Adrien’s head over and over again. What was his father going to say? His dad trusted him when he allowed Adrien to go to public school. Adrien made so many friends at school, Adrien couldn’t bear being trapped at home all day long, only to go out when he needed to model his dad’s new designs. This overwhelming feeling washed over him. He couldn’t lose his friends, Marinette, Nino, and Alya. They were the only people that brought joy into his life since his mother. Tears formed in Adrien’s eyes, and he felt the floor swayed beneath his feet. Adrien tried to stand up but instantaneously fell back into his seat.
Marinette lightly placed her hand on Adrien’s shoulder, “Are you alright?” Marinette wore a worried look on her face.
By this time, Adrien had tears rolling down his cheeks, his face felt hot, and his head felt like it was on the spinning teacups for the 20th time in a row. People started to gather around him, but Nino and Alya made them back up so he could breathe.
“What kind of boy cries during class?” Chloe taunted.
“Be quiet, Chloe,” Alya told her, but of course, Chloe being the person she is continued.
“I mean like, for a boy who has alway smiled at everyone, he’s such a crybaby.” The whole class was listening to Chloe.
“Shut up.” Marinette snaped. She wasn’t making eye contact with Chloe, but everyone knew who it was directed to. Marinette was still watching Adrien, trying to help him go through his anxiety attack.
Ms. Menedeleive walked up towards Adrien and Marinette, “Bring him to the infirmary.” Then she turned to the class, “Alright, back to your seats.”
Marinette slowly led Adrien to the infirmary. She was a step ahead of him, unsure if he had ever been there before. As they walk through the doors, she sat him on the bed, Marinette was about to leave the room and leave him to the nurse, but Adrien pulled on her sleeve.
“C-can you ple-please stay with me?” Adrien asked through tears. His voice was dry and rough from the crying. It was hard for Adrien to talk, he hadn’t felt the lump in his throat in a long time. He has forgotten how much it hurt.
Marinette didn’t say anything, she just sat beside him quietly and waited for the nurse to come back from wherever. Marinette knew what to do, a girl from the other class had an anxiety attack in the halls, and Marinette comforted her. She sat there humming a song from Jagged Stone’s album she remembered Adrien saying how much he likes it. Adrien’s eyelids felt heavy and his eyes felt swollen. Before he knew it, he fell asleep on Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette freaked at first but gently lay him on the bed and placed a blanket on top of him.
“Sleep tight,” she told him. Marinette squeezed his hand before leaving him to rest.
this is my university’s local stray kitty, no one knows if she has a name but I’ve always called her Haru–
nice people even come along and leave her water in her little patch of trees and bushes on campus, it’s all nice and shady with benches too and sometimes walking to class early in the morning you can see her. 🖤🖤🖤🖤
so during my junior year of high school, my first class of the day was chemistry. It was too early in the morning for anyone to really focus, even the teacher; we were all just too groggy. Our lab had these giant windows with a perfect view of the soccer field, and on the other side of the field was like,,,some building where agricultural and animal biology classes were held? They had a donkey and chickens and shitloads of other animals over there
anyway one morning my teacher was lecturing on magnesium or something to that effect (again, we were all too sleepy to really pay attention) and she just paused and looked out the windows and said flatly “there’s a pig running across the soccer field”
we all stumbled to look out the windows and sure enough, there was pig bobbing along as fast as it could, followed by two desperate sprinting agricultural students. they must have caught it because that was the last we heard of that
during my senior year I was an office aide and I brought the ag. students a package that had bright warning labels all over it and it turned out that there was a snake and scorpion inside the box, in separate terrariums