his class was hard as hell though

anonymous asked:

About that post where Stiles is leaning up against the lockers, you mentioned in the tags that he looks like an 80's movie. It reminds me of the breakfast club where everyone is running up and down the corridor while the chick, the basket case, - I've forgotten her name sorry! - just stands there and watches. And then I thought about how she and the jock hooked up and then thought of jock!derek and basket case!stiles and it made me incredibly happy.

Referring to this: x

*screams* (genuinely)

Nonnie, you have no idea the height of my obsession with brat pack movies. The concept of jock!Derek and basket case!Stiles makes me very happy. I really like Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson’s story in the film but I kind of always preferred Ally Sheedy and Emilio Estevez’s - I have a huge obsession with jock/loner story-lines and Ally Sheedy’s character is by far my favourite in The Breakfast Club. And you are right, Stiles really does look like her in that moment:

They both have that slightly judgy look about them. (I love it. I am weak. Take me now.)

I also think a Breakfast Club AU with Stiles as Allison would work - specifically on an angst level with the Sheriff as Allison’s main character arc (in terms of what each of them are battling with emotionally) is that she is ignored at home and subsequently shuts herself off from her peers. Imagine the Sheriff who, after Claudia’s death, found it very hard to look at Stiles because he looked so much like her and as the years went by he found it easier to shut him out. Imagine rebel!Stiles who does anything and everything to get his dad’s attention: smoking, drinking, skipping school, sleeping around. He wants everyone to think he’s weird, a special kind of bad news, but can’t quite pull off the bad boy act because in reality he’s a giant nerd and while he is very popular with the guys at Jungle, his heart is never quite in it. Mostly, he’s just fascinated with foreskin. (The fact he’s once or twice let himself wonder in the heat of the moment if Derek Hale has foreskin is none of anyone’s concern.)

On the other hand, you have Derek in the role of Andrew whose main arc is about the guilt he feels over bullying a guy in his year because he wanted to make his dad proud and show him he isn’t weak. Personally, no matter what universe, I could never see any version of Derek humiliating someone to the level Andrew does (the whole point of Derek’s arc is that he chooses to be kind when dealt shitty hands, even if that kindness is sometimes ill thought out). However, I could see Derek snapping under the pressure he faces at home and beating up someone like Jackson for bullying Erica and going too far. Maybe it’s a werewolf AU where Derek is finding it hard to deal with the pressures of becoming the next Alpha after Laura dying (shit, oh god no, I’m hurting myself big time with this one). Maybe you have Derek who is trying to be the perfect everything: top of his class, captain of the basketball team and straight, straight, straight (dates all the girls in his year) because he’s desperate to prove to his parents that he can be everything they had hoped Laura would be. Secretly though, while Derek likes working for his grades and enjoys basketball, dating is hell for him. Objectively, he likes the idea of sex and kissing but he’s never been in a relationship with anyone that that has been remotely appealing with. All he actually wants is to open his own bookshop one day, and perhaps talk to that strange boy he sometimes sees cutting class with books on the male circumcision and satanic rituals.

Now, I know make over scenes are overrated and overdone but I am a sucker for them and all I want to see is that moment where Lydia (because of course Lydia is prom queen) takes Stiles to the bathroom and gels over his hair and gets him to take off some of his layers - “three plaid shirts, Stiles? Really?” I want that moment where Derek - already completely smitten with Stiles’ unique style of fucked up-ness (because c’mon, you know Derek probably already had a crush on Stiles before detention) - can’t breathe the moment Stiles steps out of that bathroom and he can see his face. And Derek will do the whole awkward woah thing Emilio Estevez does and Stiles will get all defensive and snarky about it, all the while being unable to stop from smiling like an idiot when Derek can’t stop staring.

Anyway, long story short, nonnie - YES. Yes, I love this idea. I want this idea. I need this idea. I have read two Breakfast Club AUs for the Sterek fandom but I must have more. It’s important. So very important. For health reasons.

note to middle school me:
that new boy that sits next to you in pe and behind you in english is pretty cute. he grows up snd gets even cuter, if you can believe it. the way he handles that soccer ball though, is much like how hell handle your heart; rough and carelessly, and the way he scribbles his homework in class is the way he’ll scramble your brain with his words. that boy ends up being your best friend. that boy also rips out your heart more times than you can count, and its hard to believe but you let him. that boy who races you during runs will put you through hell, and not wait for you at the finish line. and that damn boy who asks to copy your homework leaves you with so many memories but his copy always seems to get lost in translation. that new boy that smiles at other girls just a little bit longer than he smiles at you, will become your whole world, and its terrifying because he’ll leave you thinking that your his too.
—  that boy in middle school
Time Apart || c.h.

WC: 1.3K+

A/N: This was supposed to be a small blurb but I kind of got carried away. I’ve never written a military AU before but I tried really hard to get most of the details right. If I did get something wrong though please tell me. Also feedback would be greatly appreciated since I don’t really write these sorts of things. 

185 days, that’s how long it’s been since you’ve seen Calum. 

When he told you he had to report to his base for six months you laughed. Surely, your sweet Calum hadn’t been stupid enough to enlist in the military at age eighteen, but you were wrong. Calum had enlisted as a naive eighteen year old with a passion in his heart to serve his country, but then he met you a year later and suddenly the military didn’t seem like a good career option. Unfortunetly, the military doesn’t just forget about enrollments and on Calum and your’s three month anniversary, he got the call. 

185 days without you. 185 days without Calum. 

Life was tough without your favorite Maori boy next to you. College wasn’t the same without your intense study sessions in the library that eventually turned into make out sessions. Your dorm felt empty without the presence of his six foot tall shadow lingering in the doorway waiting for the invitation to enter and join you in your binge watching sessions. And with no one to confide in or hug when things got out of hand, you felt alone. 

Sure, the two of you emailed each other profusely but that didn’t stop the ache in your heart. With every bing from your phone your heart broke more wanting nothing more than to hear his voice instead of the swoosh sound from another email being sent. Sometime you’d receive handwritten letters in Calum’s poor penmanship. His words were hard to make out but that didn’t stop you from staring at the piece of paper for hours, your fingers tracing each and every letter as you imagined the brown eyed boy hunched over writing to you from thousands of miles away. 

You never did get to hear his voice though. His calls saved for those times he called home to his family. The same family who you frequently visited on weekends just to get a little dose of the Hood world you so desperately missed. Though, spending time with them was hard most days. It was especially hard when the doorbell rang unexpectedly and a face of worry washed over everyone in the room – you’d silently pray it wasn’t military officers standing their with a flag in arms. Thankfully, it hadn’t been. 

Despite it all, you pushed on hell bent on keeping your promise to Calum before he left. You went to class, found yourself a part time job on campus, and even managed to get in some pleasure reading you’d been struggling to indulge in for months. You stayed occupied during the day, but when your head hit the pillow your worries set in. Often time, your cries being the only thing to drown out the nightmares and lull you to sleep. 

It was a Monday morning. day 186 without Calum, when you heard the familiar bing of your phone. Already awake for your morning class, you opened the email quickly praying that it was the news you had been waiting for. You scanned only the first two sentences before your heart drop. The dreadful words jumping out at you faster than you could comprehend. 

Two weeks, maybe more. 

Next deployment is delayed. 

I’ll be home as soon as I can. 

You wanted to scream. Wanted to throw yourself on your bed and sob for the next two weeks. You didn’t even know what to write back, too frustrated with more empty promises and the rising count of days the two of you had been apart. Sighing, you did what you always did. You wrote him a heartfelt email back promising you’d be here when he got back and then you were off to class, not even bothering to splash water on your face to relieve your red eyes. 

You ran on autopilot the minute you left your dorm, your body carrying you towards the english building without even telling it to. Your thoughts were preoccupied with worries for Calum, worries for you, and worries for your relationship together. After all, the two of you weren’t even together for long before his deployment. You’d spent most of your nine month relationship apart and you couldn’t stop the nagging in your brain telling you that was no way for a relationship to start and strive. 

No one said anything when you waltzed into class five minutes late. They didn’t even glance at you when you tossed your notebook on the table in a careless manor. To them, you were just the girl that was always sad. The girl who wrote the poems about loneliness and long distance relationships. You were simply a background character in their epic stories of high school, only their to fill the space and make them feel better about themselves. 

You were so caught up in your own headspace that you hadn’t even realized the knock on the classroom door. In fact, you were so distracted you didn’t even hear the audible gasp from your classmates nor did you realize all their attention had turned to you. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” your professor said, pulling you back to reality. 

It was only when you looked up from your notebook did you acknowledge everyone staring at you. Confused, you started scrambling for an answer to a question you assumed you did not hear. You kept babbling for a few seconds before you noticed your classmates attention shift from you to the door, your own gaze following theirs. 

It took a minute before your brain registered who was standing in the doorway. You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Your jaw fell, a gasp rolling off your tongue before you were pushing the chair away from the desk. You couldn’t say anything, instead you collapsed into Calum’s arms, chocking out a sob as you buried your face into his chest. 

He smelt like sweat, the faint smell of the stale airplane air lingering on his military jacket. He was leaner than you remembered but his arms were huge, his jacket having trouble staying in place as he wrapped you in his arms. He was different, his eyes were tired, his hair longer, and his presence less intimidating but he was also the same. His lips on your forehead felt the same as they did before he left. His whispered words of endearment sounded the same as they had 186 days ago. And his body was still as warm and welcoming as you had remembered. 

You could have stayed wrapped in his arms for hours, but the sound of your classmates clapping and crying made you pull away. You felt your face heat up, embarrassed that they had witnessed such a intimate moment but you couldn’t help but feel an ounce of pride too. Finally, they could see who you truly were outside of these damn four walls. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They didn’t really extended my time. I just told you that.” 

“You’re an ass,” you said, smacking his chest before nuzzling yourself into it. 

“I’m really sorry to intrude, Sir,” Calum apologized to your professor. “Do you mind if I steal her away for the reminder of class?” 

“I suppose I can’t say no,” he mumbled. 

That was all you needed to hear before you were shoving your notebook back into your backpack. You didn’t even have time to thank your professor before you were tugging Calum out of the room and into the empty hallway. The feeling of your hand intertwined with his forcing a smile on your face. 

“I missed you so much,” you said against his lips before pulling him in. 

“I missed you more,” he challenged. “Now come on, we’ve got a few hours to kill before we drive home to see my parents.” 

“Do they know you’re here?” 

“Nope,” he smirked. “I’m surprising them too!” 

“Only you would find it amusing to worry everyone in the hopes of surprising them,” you said, shaking your head. 

“Awe come on, you loved it and so will they. Now come on, I need to spend time with my girl before my mom gets her hands on me.”

Stanford [1]

Part One Author: @elliewinchesterr

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your second year of the same chemistry class at Stanford. Same professor, same early morning class slot, same ol’ you, running late every day. There is one thing different about the class this time around, though. Mr. Mysterious, also known as your new lab partner.

Word Count: ~1,400

Warnings: cursing, awkward reader, ex-boyfriend drama (including cheating)

A/N: Hey! Remember that little thing I mentioned earlier that @elliewinchesterr and I were planning for you? This is it!! This is the first part of our new series! We’ve never co-written anything before, so this is new to both of us, but hopefully we’ve got this down for y’all!

*Inner thoughts are in italics

Reader’s POV

Fuck.” The word rolled off my tongue much easier than I would have liked, but what can I say? I inherited my sailor’s mouth from my father, along with my talent of being “fashionably” late to, well, everything, thus being the reason for my quiet cursing in the first place. The new semester of my sophomore year at Stanford was beginning in about two minutes, give or take, and I had yet to find a decent parking spot. After riding around in the same circle for what had felt like hours, my wait became worth it after I swept into a spot someone had just pulled out of. Grabbing my bag, my purse, my phone, and my keys, I ran about as fast as my boot-clad feet would let me. Looking cute was a pain in the ass, but I mean, it was the first day of new classes, never know who I’d meet, right?

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raven cycle hp au
  • gansey is ravenclaw, blue is gryffindor, adam is slytherin, and ronan sits there for ten whole minutes as the sorting hat argues with itself before he says something about wanting to be in hufflepuff and the sorting hats just like yeah ok whatever get me off your head
  • honestly you can come and fight me about any of those house decisions i would be happy to kick your ass
  • gansey’s really obsessed with this wrinkly old wizard named glendower because he thinks he saved his life when he was ten and he never got the chance to thank him
  • blue is the seeker for gryffindor and ronan is the beater for hufflepuff and they have this friendly rivalry where ronan doesn’t really care if he wins or not as long as he manages to one-up blue, and blue is hellbent on winning and will shake his hand after the game so hard it nearly comes off
  • gansey and adam cheer from the stands
  • noah’s the friendly ghost that’s always helping them get away with shit
  • blue sucks at divination even though her entire family are masters at it and she wants to fight trelawney 348398 times a day 
  • she never stops complaining about it, and ronan never stops finding it funny
  • when gansey gets onto ronan for not doing his homework/skipping class ronan just deadpans “what hell no i’m not doing any witchcraft i care about my salvation” 
  • both of adam’s parents were muggles and didn’t take the whole “guess what your sons a wizard!” thing all that well. he always comes back from summer/christmas break with bruises
  • his dad hospitalizes him in the sixth year and that’s when ronan and him have it out 
  • he works a lot of odd jobs, both magical and muggle, to pay for his books and broom. some slytherins give him a hard time for his roots, but most of them are pretty chill 
  • ronan and gansey use the invisibility cloak to walk the grounds after curfew bc they both can’t sleep
  • kavinsky is the shittiest gryffindor and blue can’t stand him
  • gansey’s always trying to buy adam’s supplies for him but he still never lets him
  • ronan doesn’t like the tension between the houses and every time dumbledore pulls the “oh well slytherin won but here’s 4839 more pts to gryff for no reason” he gets up on the table and tells dumbledore where he can shove those points 
  • i guess it’d be pretty funny if like, the gang is always getting into trouble but subsequently saving the day and dumbledore doesn’t know where to allot the extra pts bc they’re all in different houses. it basically just inflates the point market 
  • no one is ever in their own common room. they know the password to everyone’s chambers and it’s supposed to be ~taboo~ but they do it like it’s no big deal
  • ronan and adam make out in an abandoned classroom and it’s not until herbology when blue asks adam how long he’s been in hufflepuff that he realizes he put back on the wrong tie
  • blue never lets anyone live this down  

You know what I wish we got to see in some capacity? Like, via the Trio being a quad? A really academic Slytherin.
“But Mok,” you may say “They have Hermione for ‘the smart one’!”
I’m not saying the focus is on the smart ok, because the thing about Hermione’s smart is it’s very book and research and “this is the right answer because evidence and because xyz say so regardless of if it makes someone happy.”
Thing is there’s several types of smart. She’s the academic smart to study because she’s hyped on it and a genius. 
I want a Slytherin that kinda pulled what she did– read all the books, researched a bit more than they were kinda supposed to, learned more than they were supposed to, is very practically on point with it, but not really in on the commenting. Because teachers make faces when you’re smarter than you’re supposed to be, and in the magical world knowing too much is treated as a danger if you’re not careful. Say the right things at the right times, study more as time goes on, insist you just guessed about a potion working a certain way.
But being fully aware just when you could test those lines.

I kinda wish we had a Slytherin sitting there bald-faced droning questions at Snape, though, knowing hell would freeze hard with permafrost before he did more than non-official detention of picking up misplaced ingredients after class. Droning only because they know all the information and are really only asking for the benefit of the rest of the people in class who have no idea what he actually wants past his rather cryptic instructions– the things he takes for granted that they know. They’re bored, but they’re not going to show it past the same tone he gives the class. It’s standing on the line not crossing it if they use the proper number of “Sir” and “Please”. 
Sitting in other classes doing the same thing, only in a more personable tone because it’s a more engaging topic or they haven’t been able to find books on it, or the books made it seem less exciting. 
Sitting in class with Hermione and comparing notes, details that may come up on a test, things that could be good for essays and general interesting tidbits of info.
Seeking her out in the Library or during meals, ignoring the other members of her house and sitting next to her to point excitedly at a book passage or something they’d written down from a library book to share with her.
A Slytherin being perfectly aware of which rules are and are not in effect when and where and thus making their way to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room and being very grumpy that The Fat Lady wouldn’t let them in to talk to Granger about books, i mean honestly, they have things to discuss and no this can’t wait. Yes they can be here, it’s a waning gibbous on a Friday after the autumn equinox and there are several people from Wales in the castle. They read that very obscure rule that Godric wrote in as a laugh to keep Salazar from bothering him now and then, but they read it so there they are. 

I’m just imagining the benefit it would have been to have someone like Hermione that was also kinda horrible with people past Hermione because they gave very little care to other people that didn’t click with them, but Hermione and eventually the rest of the trio did. 
Then we could have had the Slytherin representation the books lacked so much of.
The cunning of Slytherin house is so much more than climbing job ladders, or stabbing people in the back– we’d on the whole much rather not do that. It’s seeing how to survive in the manner of least lost, gritting our teeth for the losses we will take, and forging ahead. 
We may plot, but it is to stay alive and to keep our people alive and safe. We are cunning and resourceful in so many ways– to create, to flourish, to preserve, to continue. We bond deeply to people in a way very few could understand.
A Slytherin in the main group would have given the readers a view into house’s inner workings. 
The bond growing over the first year, speeding off to help find Hermione when she hears about the troll– at this point not much caring for Potter or Weasly, simply terrified for their friend– and clinging to her the moment they can to make sure she’s alright.
The second year the character in a frothing rage over Hermione being petrified and in a fervent screaming fit in the common over Draco’s comment– words the likes of “If you weren’t made of money, and if you didn’t bleed the likes of poison, you would be broken for calling my friend those words, you slug!” said in anger and meant. They spend hours as they can, by her bed or in the common when they’re shoo’d away. If jokes are made it’s soon learned they do not get said in ear shot. They learn about the Basilisk and Potter killing it, Weasly being wounded and his sister being drained by.. something. No one will say what. They thank them both, though the two are sleeping at the time. Ginny gains a new protector, though she really doesn’t need one.
Third year, third year is terrible. Sirius Black, escaped from Azkaban. That isn’t what worries them, no– it’s the Dementors. The cold is supposed to go down to one’s very soul, though they’ve only read about it in books. They hadn’t expected them, and they’d never practiced the Patronus. The train had been a horror and the ride up unsettling, though finding their friends would have soothed them. Seeing more was not a good thing. Upside, Hermione was granted a timeturner and seemed to be enjoying it– though she refused to treat Divination seriously. Potter and Weasly insisted on getting into trouble– this was both vexing and unsurprising. Informing them to at least take them with the two so they can keep watch is met with surprise and unsurprised Hermione. When brought up to speed on current shenanigans, comment that “We could always use your connections, Harry– I mean, if we believe Black, he never got a trial, right? But Draco can get his dad to put a magical creature on trial– they can damn well put a man on trial after a few years, yeah?”
“I don’t have connections.”
“You’re Harry fucking Potter.”
“Oh. Right.”
Then presumably Dumbledor would throw a magical wrench in the works. So on. 

I’m just saying there was an opportunity and it was missed and It Makes Me Sad.

In case you didn’t know what racism is.

White people in the United States don’t seem to understand what it is to be on the receiving end of racial hatred.

I’m Scottish. I’m from one of the most liberal countries in the world. However, I am part of the one ethnic minority it is still acceptable to hate in my country. Even in my country where, for the most part, racism is dying, it would still be acceptable to call me disgusting names and accuse me of being a criminal. It’s the last racial barrier Scotland needs to overcome.

However, the United States is miles behind having only one racial barrier left. What my fellow Scots and Brits do to me, white Americans do to black people, to Hispanics, to Asians, to Native Americans, and…well, anyone who isn’t white, really.

So let me tell you what racism is.

Racism is hearing the words you know are racial slurs being used as everyday insults. It’s being six years old and hearing your friend say, “You’re such a mink!” to her sister because she put her hands in the mud on their farm.

Racism is being followed in a corner shop at the age of seven because the owners have clocked you’re a traveller and have decided they don’t trust you to pay for the sweets you stopped for on the way back from school. It’s proving you’re honest and still being doubted, just because you’re different.

Racism is being forced by your teacher to say words that feel like dirty swear words because they’re normal words to her, and she doesn’t understand or care that saying them to satisfy her desire to know that you understand what certain animals look like makes you feel sick to your stomach. It’s having your intelligence questioned because even though you can, you don’t want to because it feels so incredibly wrong.

Racism is when you’re nine years old and your mother has picked you up from from football practice, covered head to toe in oil, using the trip to test drive the van she fixed for her dad, and your classmate’s mother sniggers and says, “Your mum looks like a pikey, doesn’t she?!” It’s nobody in the room apart from you, your mother and your brother seeing anything wrong with that statement.

Racism is getting to high school and, at fourteen years of age, having a boy in your year try to break your ribs in ICT class because he hates your culture for no other reason than that it’s so different to his. It’s having your computer chair slammed so hard into the desk that you can’t breathe and you’re convinced your ribs must be in a million little pieces, and you can’t report it because who the hell cares?

Racism is when you’ve reached fifteen years old and the world around you has you scared enough of its judgement that you hide your ethnicity at any opportunity. It’s filling out the NHS consent form and ticking ‘White – Scottish’ instead of ‘Scottish Traveller/Irish Traveller/Gypsy’ because, even though you know that’s exactly what you are, you don’t want that look from the orthodontic nurse when you hand her back your completed form, and you know you’ve made yourself look “normal” enough to get away with it.

Racism is going to study mechanics at college – sixteen years old and one of only three girls – and your tutor telling you to “watch out for the pikeys stealing tools” if you end up in a garage. It’s just being thankful he’s ignorant enough not to realise he’s saying that with a pikey in the room, because you know he’ll never trust you again if he knows.

Racism is working in a garage at eighteen, and your colleagues realising you’re a traveller, and being asked how you turned out so honest, so intelligent, and so obsessed with being clean. It’s being told you’re too smart, too clean, and too honest and hard working to possibly be what you are.

Racism is being nineteen and working in a nursery, and your colleague laughing, “You’re such a wee tink!” as she wipes the food off a two-year-old’s face. It’s knowing your ethnicity is synonymous with being dirty and immoral, despite the fact that you, as a race of people, have strict rules about cleanliness and morality, to the point you won’t wash dishes in still water, and you won’t accept a favour unless you know you can return it.

Racism is when you’re twenty and you’ve gone to Ireland for a year, and the topic of travellers comes up, and your host-aunt’s partner spits out, “Bloody nackers!” and then those words being defended by the fact he was beaten up by a traveller. It’s knowing that you, your brother, your mother – most of one side of your family – have all been attacked at some point by people like him for being a “bloody nacker” but it’s perfectly okay because, well, they’re better than you, right?

Racism is being only twenty-one years of age and seeing the problem everywhere you go. It’s being who you are in the quietest way you can, because you know the chances are that being open about it will cause you no end to problems.

Racism isn’t always deliberate. Sometimes it’s a slip of the tongue, or an instinctive mistrust, or having unintentional double standards, or using the language of racial hatred as a joking insult, or unwittingly associating negative traits with a race of people, or being surprised that the person you know has defied the stereotype of their ethnicity.

The solution to it, on the other hand, must be deliberate. It must be that you question what you’re thinking, and ask yourself why you’re thinking it. It must be that you choose not to use that word, and find another, harmless word to use instead. It must be that you teach your children not to think the way you find yourself thinking, or use the words they’ve heard you use, because you’ve recognised that it’s wrong.

But none of that can happen until the majority listens to the minority. The problem is that the majority will not listen to the minority until it recognises that it has the upper hand, and is prepared to give that privilege up. Yep, I used the word “privilege.” It’s a privilege to not have your race unfairly branded as criminals and as people of no use or worth. White privilege. It exists. And the scary thing is, white Americans don’t want to lose it, even if it means saving the dignity, safety and respect for the minority. If they were prepared to give privilege up in favour of equality, they wouldn’t have elected Donald Trump to be their next President.


Move in day, yet again. Second year of college, and John could honestly only hope that it went by as fast as his first year had. He knew it wouldn’t though- the classes he’d signed up for already sounded hard as hell, not to mention his dorm happened to be the one on the very edge of campus.

But, he tried to stay positive. He would get to see his friends again- and he was excited, having been assigned as the infamous Thomas Jefferson’s roommate. He’d never met him in person before, but Alexander had told him plenty of stories. 

This would either be very bad, or very interesting, he was sure. He opened the dorm room’s door, and walked inside, setting his bags down, and grinning. This was already nicer than last year, the room was bigger than his freshman room had been. 

Ethics or Something Like That

This is a direct continuation of Teamwork. Might want to read that one first.


Ethics or Something Like That

“It must have been horrible, dude,” Eduardo said. “You sure you want to go to class today? You’ve got the perfect excuse to skive off.”

Class started a bit later than usual. Maria had clearly taken the opportunity to sleep in and Brad always showed up with mere minutes to spare, but some students had shown up at the regular time for class and they were now hanging around on the stairway.

“I’m sure,” Thomas said. He shrugged. “Besides, it’s Ethics.” Nothing scary about Ethics.

Since the whole kidnapping thing… it had been difficult. He had skipped a few days of class, of course - too tired and worn to focus on anything. But he couldn’t keep putting his life on hold, right? He’d been thinking, hard, about his life and his future and how the hell he was going to handle it all.

At least there hadn’t been any nightmares, strangely enough. He could try to forget the horrors without having nightly reminders.

Tyrone groaned. “Ethics,” he said. “Great. I wonder what ridiculous case studies Garnet has dreamed up this time.”

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25 Days of Solangelo

Day 6: Old

Nico had no idea why he had let Will drag him out of their dorm at ten o'clock at night. Sure the two of them didn’t have any early classes the next morning but he didn’t know why or how he had Will coax him into going outside in the frosty December air, cold on the ground and everything. But he had because for some reason Nico was head over heels in like with his roommate and it was hard to refuse his face when he was being so genuine and innocent looking (even though Nico knew Will Solace was anything but innocent).

“Come on Nico you got to walk faster!” Will called from in front of him. Like hell Nico was walking faster. He was tired and cold and would much rather be in his dorm binge watching Netflix. 

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Niall and #10

@niallersgirlalmighty requested Niall and 10 (Request from here)


High School Popular Kid/Nerd AU

“They’re watching us again,” Niall mentioned, looking over your shoulder.

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “Niall, I don’t care. If they are my “friends”, they would see that I love you,” you told him.

Niall was never sure why you wanted to be with him. You were popular but a friend to everyone. Niall, on the other hand, was a bit of a nerd, and he knew that himself. You and Niall were both smart, but everyone seemed to gravitate toward you. Your friends made fun of Niall, and you never agreed with them. You liked Niall.

“You know what. It’s Friday and I don’t have practice and you don’t have a club meeting or meet, so how about we watch movies tonight and get some take-out,” you told him.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“I’ll see you in class,” you smiled before kissing his cheek and walking to class.

You walked yourself to your sit in the front of the class to be greeted by some of your friends.

“So you and Niall,” your friend, Kira, smiled.

“Me and Niall,” you repeated.

“I mean he’s so awkward and weird and a prune,” she laughed. “You could do better.”

“I think it’s cute how awkward he can be and aren’t we all a little weird?” you asked, defending your boyfriend. “and he’s a prune because he has only had one girlfriend? I respect that.”

“Y/N, if you’re using him so he does his homework, I understand. Your classes are hard. Just-”

“Why is it hard to believe that I can be with Niall because I actually like him?” you asked harshly. “Yes, he’s not an athlete; he’s a mathlete. He’s the most sweetest guy I know. He stays with me even though you guys give him hell because he wants to make me happy. You guys aren’t my friends if you treat Niall that way.”

Kira was silent and went to her seat a couple rows back. You heard whispers behind you from familiar voices that belonged to your friends. You didn’t deserve this; Niall didn’t deserve this.

Later in the day, it seemed like Niall was avoiding you. You stopped by his locker and before you could get there, he would leave. He would avoid you in class like you never met. He wouldn’t even give a glance in your direction.

The end of the day came around and still nothing. Niall quickly went to his car and didn’t even mention a word to you. You saw him enter his car, but  he didn’t start it. He was just sitting there. You walked over to his car to the passenger side. You opened his door, startling him.

“Why have you been avoiding me all day, Niall?”


“What’s the problem?”

“Y/N, I understand how hard it is for you now, and I don’t want you to go through what I’ve been going through for the past three and probably four years. I really like you and I have since the sixth grade, but I don’t-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips on his. He was quite shocked with your boldness. He had never experienced a kiss this intense. Your hands cupped his face causing his glasses to move up to the top of his head. He was unsure what to do with his hands making you smile in the kiss.

“Niall, I don’t care what people say. They don’t know the guy I know. Yes, you don’t know what to do with your hands when we kiss, but I don’t care,” you chuckled. pulling off his glasses and handing them to him. “And I think its time you stop caring too.”  He smiled before putting his hand on yours. “So the sixth grade?” you giggled.

“Yeah well…”

“Well I feel like a fool then. This relationship is almost seven years overdo.”

…Au time after 5 gazillion years I know

Smarter AU

Has anyone ever heard of the saying that said something about the smart people know when to keep their mouth shut and when to talk? I’ve heard something of the like somewhere and I’d like to sort of apply it now. 

Ok, so what if Hiro, as a young child, quickly realized that he was different, that he was smarter than other kids, that he could think faster than other kids, and was generally academically smarter. 

And then he comes across his Aunt Cass talking to his teacher about moving him up a few grades and is suddenly terrified. 

Because he’d seen older kids, he’d seen how much bigger they were, how much meaner they were despite the fact that the attitude was never directed to him. 

And so he dumbs himself down. He pretends that he can’t read certain words, he pretends that he doesn’t remember almost everything he reads (but he does–photographic memory), he hides the books that are well beyond his grade level and keeps it hidden in a box in the back of his closet, and overall he hides his intellect. 

He talks slower, he purposely stumbles over words he’s not supposed to be able to pronounce and he copies the behavior of his peers (those of his age). 

And it takes a while but everyone around him thinks that he’s just a normal kid. His IQ is never tested (thankfully) because Hiro masterfully avoids it with teary eyes and piles and piles of excuses. 

And so Hiro makes friends of his own age, his learns with his peers, he gets average grades (In elementary school they were always ‘Gs’ and never ‘Es’ and in middle school it was always 3 Bs and 3 As). He does his best to keep everyone around him thinking that it’s actually difficult learning the things that the school assigns him but when no ones looking he’s reading up articles and huge 1500 page books about microphysics and photonics and robotics and everything around and between. 

It’s even worse when his older brother, his perfect older brother, shows an interest in robotics. It gets so much harder to hide his interests then, especially with Tadashi bringing home bits and pieces of metal and wiring (and sometimes fully functioning machines) and on the outside Hiro seems completely disinterested however, on the inside he’s buzzing (oh my god where did he get that–was that what he thought it was–no no no those batteries were going to short out on him faster than those crappy light bulbs at Christmas time!)

It was… difficult. VERY difficult. 

He just… he just didn’t want to be different. 

Because different was bad and it would get him hurt. 

But other than all the hiding… he had a decent life. He was rarely ever picked on, he had a group of friends that he’d grown to care a great deal for, and in general he was a normal teenage boy. 

Well, that was until high school 

Because holy hell it was competitive and suddenly there was honor societies, clubs that mattered, grades that actually determined the future, class rankings,



Everything Hiro had trained himself for up until then was shot. 

While he didn’t have to work hard (no really, most of the things they taught he’d learned by himself) he suddenly found that he wanted to do well. He wanted to come up top of his class. He wanted to get 100s and make his small family proud (even though Tadashi was in college and rarely came home) and wipe those smug grins off of those honor student’s faces. 

And so he let loose… a little (a little meaning a lot perfect As all around !! )

However, despite his perfect scores he’d lie to his friends when they’d discuss anything grade related: 

I know, wasn’t that test hard!”

“That stupid Mr.Johnson gave me a goddamn C, can you believe that ass!”

“Uhh the person who set the curve was such an jerk…” 

Everything stayed the same for the most part… until Tadashi finally decided to take (in other words his older brother literally kidnapped him–he’d promised Hiro donuts to congratulate him for passing sophomore year! What the flip?) him to the lab (you’ve never even visited once and it’s really close! Come on knucklehead!). 

But Tadashi doesn’t realize that the reason Hiro doesn’t want to go there is because he will geek out. Literally. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

Que Tadashi just standing their gaping at his little brother who’s literally just spouting questions at his friends about the diameter of this and the force of gravity on that looking like a kid in a candy store. 

Not to mention when Tadashi is trying to get Hiro to his private lab (for some privacy to ask what the literal hell) they meet Callaghan and Hiro freakin blows. 

Oh my god… You’re Robert Callaghan as in Callahan’s Laws of Robotics?! Oh my GOD I’ve read your book at least twenty times! I am literally your biggest fan!” 

And Tadashi’s just all bug eyed as Callaghan (who is amused beyond amused) and his little brother (who’d been completely normal just a few hours ago) exchanged a conversation about things that were beyond even Tadashi!

Since when was his little brother this smart?!

Boyfriend Cut (L.H.)

You might want to read Boyfriend Fit first. It’s the first part to this and provides some important background information.


It’s been almost exactly a year since Luke kissed you in the hallway. In fact, in two weeks it will be your one year anniversary. In the past year Luke has probably spent more time at your house than at his own. So much so that your mother has given him the spare room (not that he uses it-he spends more time in your room than anywhere else).

You want to do something completely adorable and super romantic for your anniversary, and you know you want it to relate to how you met. So you go to cupid herself.

“Y/F/N, what should I do for Luke and I’s anniversary? I want it to be super cute and somehow relate to that stupid sweatshirt.”

“The one you still wear when he’s away on vacation?”

“Shut up, Y/F/N. Just help me think of something.”

“Fine, fine. It’s not that hard. Get him a sweater. Or a sweatshirt. Whatever.”

“That’s lame Y/F/N.”

“Then get him a really cute one. What’s the cutest thing ever in his mind.”


“Cuter than that.”


“No, you idiot. You.”

“So, what, I get him a shirt with my face on it?”

“No, you knit him a sweater.”

“One problem.”


“I don’t know how to knit.”


Knitting classes are awful. You should’ve known, really. Luke was always the more artistic one, whether it be crafting, painting or music. Hell, he was even better at language arts. (Though in all fairness, you had been a little, shall we say, distracted in English class last year.)

Your fingers are eternally red and raw, and they have little scabs from where you’ve pricked yourself far too often. Luke is constantly asking you what you’ve been doing to injure your fingers so badly, and you’ve been constantly lying. Every day it seems as though you ‘got a paper cut’ or ‘jammed a finger’. You always refuse his help, and you can tell he’s getting frustrated.

“This is the third time you’ve jammed a finger this week! Let me look at it, you’re just going to worsen the injury.”

“Luke, I’m fine. I got my mom to look at it. I’m fine.”

“Is it wrapped.” Oh shit. You never were much of a liar, especially not where Luke is involved.

No. That’s where I was going when you stopped me.”

“Let me wrap it for you.”

“No, Luke. I’m an independent woman, I can handle myself.”

“I know, I know. I’m not saying you can’t, I just… I just want to help.”

“Well I don’t need your help.”



“What do you mean ‘what’? Believe it or not, I’m your boyfriend Y/N. I know that you’re strong and independent and that you don’t need a man. But I thought… I thought you wanted me. I guess I was wrong.”

“Luke….” His name is barely a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t hate you or anything, I swear, I just… I like to take care of myself.” You are actually quite proud of yourself for not spilling the secret yet, despite the argument.

“You don’t even… You don’t even care. Our one year anniversary is in two days, you know. Actually, you probably didn’t! You’ve been pushing me away so much these past few weeks. What did I do? Why do you hate me? I love you, Y/N. I have for a while. But you… you don’t even notice when I walk through the door. Not that you’re ever around anyway. You’ve always got ‘activities’. What does that even mean? What are you always so busy doing? What’s so much more important than me?”

Tears are pricking at your eyes, and you’re trying really hard not to break down and ruin the surprise. You open your mouth, but you can’t get the words out. It’s like your voice box is broken. You close your mouth and just shake your head. You manage to croak out a shaky, “Luke… I-I-”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know what you left me for.”

“Luke… Luke, no!” But it’s too late. He’s already out the door.

He took his sweatshirt with him.


Raise your hand if you’re mad about the ending! *raises hand* Don’t worry guys, I’ve actually written more than this, but I had to end it hete. It was too good of an oppurtunity to pass up. The third and final part will be up by Minday morning, I promise. (Also, I’m really sorry for all the parts, I know three is a lot. Also this is really short I’m sorry.)

Part 3