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whump-town · 3 years

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Moments Too Late

In honor of spending too much time on my own Universities quad because of the nice weather (which is promptly going to shit because it’s going to be cold again Monday) and because of @olivinesea college AU I give you...

The false promises of March lure them from the comforts of their dorms. Each morning now a little warmer, the sun beaming down forgiving and loving as it’s not the quiet time for it to swelter down great beams of heat that melts clothes off the skin off muscles off bones. Today it heats the ground, enough to encourage them out of their shoes to feel the still slightly chilled nature of the not yet up to pace earth beneath their toes.

Derek laughs deeply, unabashedly as he chases Spencer along the grass. Seemingly all the more pleased the louder he can get the younger boy to screech in terror as Derek pins his thin arms in contorted positions as they wrestle. The only mediation, the only warnings they get, comes when JJ looks up from her textbook. More often to tuck strands of hair behind her ears than to break from her reading. “Don’t hurt him, Derek,” she warns. Not because she’s afraid he will but to continue these halves of theirs. Where she stands to allow Spencer this idea that she will step in if need be.

“The winter,” Emily says softly. “I think the winter depresses him.” She’s laid out on the jacket Dave spread out on the ground before them. He’d given a little “hmph” of disapproval but not altogether displeasure when she laid herself out on it. Her legs break out in rashes and the shorts she’d chosen to wear leave her too exposed to rest comfortably in it.

Dave rests back on his elbows, chest lifted to take in all the rays of the sun that he can. He cracks open his left eye, scowling over at her as he processes what she’s just said. The raised eyebrow of doubt -- of further need for contemplation and clarification on the generally just vague statement she’s just made -- goes unnoticed as she watches Aaron. Dave’s eyes follow suit and while he might not understand the full complexity of what it is that she means, he might be able to gather what she sees.

“Winter depression?” he whispers. There’s no way that Aaron could be anything but… well, Aaron. By definition, that means dark and spirally with a complexity not a single soul, at least Dave suspects, knows him in his entirety. They are all bound by bits and pieces, half-truths that they have put together like children and those little cheap boxes that are covered half-hazardously in Elmer’s glue and macaroni shells.

Aaron lays out on his back, eyes closed and more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. Shoulders sinking into the ground and limbs open. His ankles set aligned with his hips and shoulders. Palms up, a sunflower turned to face the warmth. He can feel the heat crawling up his body, nearly too warm with the sweater on his arms and the jeans that don’t quite fit the length of his legs. Softly, he clears his throat doesn’t even bother cracking an eye open as he says, “the word the two of you are looking for is seasonal and I’m not, nor have I ever been, depressed.”

Though Dave shoots Emily a look that says it all -- leave resting snakes to lie, don’t poke a bear you’re not ready to kill -- she sits up and observes him further. Letting his head thud against the dirt, Dave lets her poke that hornet’s nest knowing he’ll be the one to soothe Aaron’s buzzing anxiety and pull the stingers from Emily’s skin.

“You locked yourself in your room for two weeks,” she reminds him. As if she wasn’t the dead girl in the freshmen dormitory wrapped around a toilet and sent to the emergency room where they know her by name. Where they take turns picking her up in the lobby, waving to the doctor’s as she signs out against their advice with her arm still bleeding where she pulled too harshly, too angrily at the IV snaked under her flesh. Who is she to point fingers at his oddity? At least he can go a weekend without visiting the bottle.

The two weeks in question were from hell. He’d been with them Tuesday, present in a way that they reflected on as oddly so. They also thought he’d killed himself, a theory started by JJ too good to pass up so their application might be flawed. For two weeks, there was nothing but radio silence from him. His dorm was empty and they couldn’t even find him in the library, a place they more often than not have to drag him from. He didn’t show up until Thursday, so he was actually gone for sixteen-days, and looked like maybe he had died and dragged his corpse all the way back to them.

Not yet adults and very much the children raised by their parent’s hips, how could they not think in the extremes that they have known their entire lives? Too young to know the complexities of the life ahead of them but too damaged to ignore it. JJ knows what her sister did and Derek could feel his father’s blood hardening on his hands, could understand and see what JJ was telling them.

One. Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself; Eyes closed and back sinking further and further into the blankets behind him. Nearly unaware of how close they all are, of the hand on his knee or the shoulder on his hip. “It would be nice… I think,” he whispers. “No stress. No obligations. Like sleeping.” He doesn’t sleep well.

Two. Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose; The warmth of his eyes has frozen over, the helpless desperation that he feels bubbling over. The carefully orchestrated faux look he’s spent years building burns at his feet. Leaving behind the broken child that he is at his core, searching for something that makes sense. For a father that loves him and a mother that protects him. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” he rasps. “Nothing matters because all I do is fuck everything up.”

Three. Sleeping too little or too much; He pulls from the hand that JJ gently reaches out with, flinching. “I -- I just don’t sleep well,” he defends, avoiding her eyes when she tries to look harder. To really see how pale he’s become. “It’s just -- just insomnia.” Nightmares are what he means but twenty-year-olds shouldn’t have that kind of horror built up into them so he lies. It’s easier that way.

Three strikes. You’re out but… they just couldn’t find a body. Dave had told them about how old dogs will drag themselves away from their homes to die and Spencer had cried for hours after that. Maybe that seemed a little too on the nose, Aaron being compared to an old beaten dog. They yelled at Dave out of fear but knew he was right.

Then Aaron just showed up to campus Thursday, a lump of human underneath his comforter as if he’d been there the entire time.

“We couldn’t find you for two weeks, Aaron. That’s -- That’s crazy, even for you.”

JJ looks up from her textbook, sees Dave, and looks back down. She’s certain that they’re about to have to deal with one of Emily and Aaron’s nuclear fallouts. With hindsight, she can see how that’s been festering up. Every semester they have one of these martial spats, bad enough to leave Spencer (who loves nothing more than to be one of their shadows) afraid to be left alone with either for a few days. Rightfully so, Aaron gets a little dark and Emily never pulls her punches, it’s a scary thing to witness.

“My father died.” The group freezes for a moment. Spencer and Derek’s wrestling had died down, both watching Aaron and Emily. He’s sitting up now, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “My father died and it wasn’t any of your business.” Emily opens her mouth but he’s shaking, having opened something not so easily contained. He doesn’t know how to put it all back. “Sean called, what was I to do, Emily? Would you prefer I tell a scared nine-year-old to fuck off?”

He wanted to. Despite how scared Sean had been, how small he’d sounded sucking in little sobs. Aaron lost his father ten years ago but he couldn’t tell Sean that. He’d gone out of obligation and the strange weighted sense that this might be the last time he truly sees his little brother. And he couldn’t know it yet but it’d be the last time he saw his mother too.

“I wasn’t out mixing my name up with Jack Daniels.”

Well… it was only a matter of time.

She stands first, fist clenched at her sides. “We’re your friends, we would have been there. You’re just too much of an insufferable bastard to notice!” She seethes good and properly angry. Misplaced but firm. “If you spent half as much time locking yourself away, pretending to be someone you’re not--” She pulls in a deep shuttering breathe. “Everyone knows, you know? All of us. We’ve seen the scars.” She’s not sure if it’s what she wanted but he flinches as though he’s been hit and that’s not enough to stop her. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice the flinching? That we can’t touch you? You’re not as good as you think you are, Aaron, and we’re not stupid.”

Silence.

Emily always knows what to say.

“Ex-Excuse me.”

Penelope comes up just as Aaron’s stumbling to his feet, pale as a ghost and trembling. He nearly runs into her. “What’s--” she’s brought them snacks. Little pieces of fruit she’s painstakingly cut for this little snack. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and mumbles another “excuse me” and tears past her.

Penelope looks hopelessly at them, confused and hurt. She turns, watching Aaron stagger and wipe furiously at his eyes. “What… What did you do?” She looks back and forth, settling on Emily. Penelope watches tears gather in Emily’s eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh God,” she whispers, hands raising to her lips. Emily looks over at Dave and to JJ, Spencer, and Derek still watching in terror. Her own words coming back to her, funneling through moments too late. “Oh God, what did I do?”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #penelope garcia

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archiefms · 4 years

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𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏 !

[ alex fitzalan, he/him, 24 ] did you see ARCHIE MCMILLAN ? looking as broke as ever. rumor has it HE is usually IMPULSIVE and SELF INVOLVED but is also known to be INDEPENDENT and CHARISMATIC. we’ll see about that. they kind of remind me of damp asphalt after a summer storm , coming to a screeching halt, and using duct tape for all problems . maybe because they’re a PISCES. they’ve been living around here for 1 MONTH. i wonder when they’ll make it out… [ em, 23, she/her, pst ]

hellooooo fellas !! if you would like to plot out any connections pls feel free to hit me up either on here or discord <3 I am down to clown lkjslf

i . STATS .

full name : archie mcmillan .

nickname : archie , arch .

birthdate : march 1st .

age : twenty - four.

pronouns : he / him .

gender : cisgender male .

sexuality : bisexual * leans more toward female / feminine .

aesthetics : damp asphalt after a summer storm , coming to a screeching halt , using duct tape for all problems , the eerie silence of a graveyard .

faceclaim : alex fitzalan .

ii . BIOGRAPHY .

he’s in the second grade when he’s first told that his family is poor , and it isn’t until fifth grade that archie begins to understand it himself . with hair long and curly , untamed like ocean waves , and clothing tainted with the stench of second - hand smoke and mildew , his teachers begin to take notice . in sixth grade , his name is called over the intercom and his classmates holler and cackle and point their fingers at him like he’s some sort of animal in a cage , but he manages to get out of the classroom before bursting into tears on his way to the counselor’s office . she sits him down the way your parents sit you down before they tell you awful news , but she tells him she’s only here to help , and if he could just tell her why he wears the clothes he wears and if his house has plumbing and if his parents ever hit him . he speaks , tells her he doesn’t know , yes , and no , but he must have told her something she wanted to hear , because her eyes widen and she tells him to continue . my father , he tells her , chain - smokes cigarettes in the car , in the house , sometimes blows the smoke in my face to make my mother laugh . by eighth grade , his father’s out of the picture , but his clothing still reeks of cigarette smoke and mildew , and though his hair is shorter , it’s greasy and freckled with white flakes . his mother hardly speaks to him, and that would bother him, but , he realizes , she doesn’t speak much at all after his father left .

by high school , he’s learned to shower at friends’ houses and learned to wash his own clothing at laundromats , and though the mildew stench is gone , his clothes now take on a different aroma . cigarettes , cheap beer , weed , and axe body spray . he’s not entirely fond of the smell of body spray , but it’s all he can afford , even after a summer mowing lawns around town . in junior year , he begins to take his schooling more seriously , finds himself immersed in textbooks and novels and documentaries in the late hours of the night . but , by the time second semester rolls around , he’s immersed in something else , someone else , a person who changes his viewpoint on the ideologies of love . her name is bonnie , a bright soul , rich in spirit and in wealth , a person who opens his eyes to the world of luxuries . he’s nineteen when they officially begin dating , a cat and mouse game played throughout the years they spent as friends , and though she’s a few years older , she doesn’t treat him like he’s naive . she’s open to him about everything , about her illness , about her wealth , about her motives . she leaves everything to him after her death , an ending they both saw coming all too well after her years battling cancer . money , a house , a car , a job with her father’s company – if archie’d only take it . he gives the money to a local hospital , sells the house and gives that money to his mother , but he keeps the car because the inside smells like her , smells like warmth and embers and leather and entirely bonnie .

he spends his time now working at the local bookshop now , and if he’s not clocked in , he’s sitting against its shelves rereading bukowski or baldwin , a cup of coffee nestled comfortably between his thighs . he’d gone to college for a semester , but dropped out once he realized he didn’t need a degree in order to get educated , and why should he waste money he doesn’t have to get a degree he probably won’t want ? he thinks often of his father and of bonnie and of his mother , who moved to florida with the house money . of other loves, as well -- more recent ones. a girl who somehow managed to climb into his head without knocking and fix herself in like a map pin. he wonders why people always leave , but perhaps he won’t ever discover the answer to that question , and , sometimes on his darkest days , he thinks the answer might be himself .

iii . DISPOSITION / PERSONALITY .

often gets told by elders that he’s an ‘ old soul ’ , but just thinks that’s a polite way of telling him he’s a bit darker , a bit out of place , especially in comparison to his peers . definitely has a darker sense of humor and oftentimes uses sarcasm and is known to be quite vulgar at times , especially if he’s under the influence . can be relatively meticulous , especially when it comes to reading – takes his time to underline words or phrases , likes writing in the margins . can be somewhat critical of others , and can be quite cynical at times , especially in terms of friendships and relationships . often has to question if feelings are genuine , both his own and other people’s , and definitely has abandonment issues . is both patient and impatient in the sense that he can be patient to see his mother after years of not seeing her , but is impatient that his water is taking too long to boil . is evasive , especially – but not only – when it comes to relationships or questions about himself , but is alluring enough for people to want to know more about him , he supposes . archie’s just … an overall darker personality , really .

iv . HEADCANONS .

1 . has definitely bought an old television at some point just so he could smash it with a baseball bat . it’s not that he’s fueled by anger or that he’s a generally angry person , because he’s not . it’s just that , sometimes , his emotions become all - consuming .

2 . enjoys buying vinyls and cd’s and will sometimes put on a record in the middle of the day at the highest volume and just kind of lay on his couch , smoke a couple cigarettes , and listen intently .

3 . has a wonderful relationships with books and spends a majority of his time reading and underlining and jotting notes down in the margins of books . books are , quite honestly , the only thing that has ever been a constant for him .

4 . drinks / smokes / drugs : yes , like a chimney , yes .

5 . is known to make cd mixtapes for people . also playlists on occasion .

6 . skateboards around town often despite owning a car .

7 . journals and wanted to attend college for english and creative writing .

8 . has a complicated relationship with sleep to the point that he either sleeps far too much or far too little .

9 . favorite book : giovanni’s room , things fall apart , the great gatsby , 1984 .

10 . favorite song : asleep by the smiths , just like heaven by the cure , arabella by arctic monkeys , let’s dance to joy division by the wombats .

#crawford:intro #wow #an angsty boi #so new and different for me huh #lkfgjdf

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lukeslibra · 4 years

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I don’t normally post any of my poetry on social media, but this is something I wrote recently that I would like to share. It is a slam poem, so it’s a lot to read, but if you stick through to the end, I appreciate you🥺

TWO THOUSAND TWENTY:

the state of the world

left a young, aspiring writer

like me to crumble

to the ground.

with as much of the tragedies

we have faced every aching minute,

ive tried to withhold my creativity,

because there is nothing

about this

that is poetic.

the state fair grounds

have turned into a home

for hundreds of hospital beds,

and though that sounds like a line

from heartbroken poetry i wrote

when i was 18 years old,

there is nothing

about this

that is poetic.

we’ve dug up empty lots

to store the corpses

of people who deserved better;

i couldn’t tell you their names

or pick them out of a lineup,

but there is nothing

about this

that is poetic.

2 members of my family

have died from unrelated causes,

and i never got to wish them well

as they were sent 6ft into the ground,

and nothing about that

is poetic.

ive been left to deal with public

clothed in masks and gloves,

spending 40 hours a week

seeing the same civilians with

love and hope in their eyes,

turn into fear and uncertainty.

almost as if they’re begging and pleading,

like maybe i could be the one

to tell them when this will be over,

and there is nothing

poetic about that.

these same people

i risk my life for everyday,

hoping maybe i could be

the solace they need in this moment.

i also wish that someday

they’ll stay at home

and accept this is a battle

that even us americans

could not ever win.

that this is the war

the bible warned us about

that we never gave a second thought.

the world wouldnt end

in fire or in rain

but something so advanced

that the human brain

couldnt decipher

after wrapping itself around

it time and time again.

maybe what i was raised to believe

had this all panned out

in front of me in fine print,

and i hardly skimmed it over,

and there is nothing

poetic about that.

we grew up believing

the “bubonic plague”

was a piece of history

something a man of our time

could always defeat.

but here we lay, alone

defeated, waiting for

the stars to align in an octagon

telling us to “stop”.

maybe we never evolved

from the textbooks

or wikipedia pages.

maybe when we were created

we were never built

to fight off

the few things

that could never

be controlled by mankind.

we’ve advanced in

every subject

since that time,

but never stopped to think

that we weren’t

the only ones evolving,

and there is nothing

poetic about that.

maybe this is the end.

maybe this is how we’ll

all go out.

maybe us finding comfort

in our homes that

were supposed to

always act as our

home base,

made us realize we will

never be safe.

we will never win,

and perhaps this is it.

this is what

will wipe us out,

and renown the human race.

billions fear of even opening

up their windows today,

and there’s nothing

poetic about that.

we’re all vulnerable,

helpless,

praying we wont be

the next one in the ground,

stacked on thousands

of bodies,

and there’s nothing

poetic about that.

#poetry #coronavirus #covid 19 #quarantine #slam poetry #slam poets on tumblr #poets on tumblr

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astronomyparkers · 7 years

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Skyline {VI}

Warnings: Language, blood mention, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Oh my god you guys!! I have so much to discuss but first and foremost I want to thank all of you for making this story into what it is. I started this story two weeks ago and in those two weeks I’ve gained almost 2000 followers and have had success that I never even dreamed of. Thank you so much for all that you’ve done for me, for this story, and hopefully for stories I write in the future!!! Skyline wouldn’t be what it is today without you guys. Secondly, there will be a pt. 7!!! I know I keep saying this, but I really did mean for this to be the last part. It’s just that there are so many things I want to include and plot points I want to flesh out, and although I feel bad for writing angst chapter after angst chapter, I want to give you guys my all and I don’t want to short change you. Finally, I would like to thank my friends Zoe and Jen for helping me brainstorm ideas and helping finalize details and plot points. I love you guys so so much!! Also, everyone, again, I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!! I put this at the beginning of every chapter, it’s in my bio, and I’ve made multiple posts but people keep spamming me about it. I am truly not trying to be mean, but I do my best to respond to every ask and message I get, and having to sort through a million people asking the same question is hard guys!!!. Before, I go, one last thing: because everyone has sent me in songs that they listen to that remind them of Skyline, I compiled them into a playlist along with ones I listen to!! Please give it a listen and try to listen in order, as the songs follow the storyline. Link is below. Enjoy everyone!!

skyline: a mixtape

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v}

Waking up the next morning was hard. Sleep was like temporary amnesia, and when you awoke alone in bed, your hand automatically reached out for the note that Spider-Man always left before he disappeared every night. Instead of feeling the usual smooth sheet of paper, however, you felt empty sheets that seemed colder than ever before. It was then that the events of the previous night tumbled into your head, from your request to know Spider-Man’s identity, to him saying I love you for the first time, to you giving him up.

You groaned and rubbed your hand across your face, fatigue taking over. More than anything, you wanted to fake an illness, stay in bed all day, and wallow in your thoughts, but you knew you had to get up. Although the breakup hurt you (did it count as a breakup if you were never really together in the first place?), you knew you made the right choice. There was no way a relationship with a superhero would work out if the significant other didn’t know who they were; if you were to fall in love, you would need to be able to fall completely.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed and got ready for the day, going through the motions of your morning routine. By the time you had reached Midtown and had taken a seat in your first class, which was American history, you were regretting your decision to not wallow. Wallowing was good for the soul. At least, it was better for the soul than listening to your teacher try to rap along to Hamilton.

Still, you went about your day with your best foot forward, and tried to act as normal as possible. You answered questions in each class, aced an English quiz, made conversation with your friends at lunch, and, by the time you reached chemistry, had sufficiently put Spider-Man to the back of your mind.

Alex was turned around in her seat just like any other day, back to the front of the room as she made conversation. You smiled at a joke she made as you unloaded your books, flipping open to the readings you were assigned yesterday.

“And the thing is, I know for a fact that—are you okay, Peter?”

At Alex’s mention of your friend, you looked up from your textbook to see Peter slumping into his seat. He looked tired, with bags under his eyes, and his sweater was rumpled like he had thrown it on haphazardly. His hair was a mess, too, as if he had spent a great deal of time running his hands through it anxiously.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine,” Peter mumbled, barely looking up at Alex to answer her. “Just tired.”

“I missed you at lunch today,” You turned toward your friend, concern apparent in your voice. “Where were you? We were going to study for the academic decathlon meeting next week, remember?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Peter fiddled with a page in his notebook. “I was busy. Sorry.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip. “It’s okay. What were you busy with?”

“Just…” Peter fiddled more. “Stuff. For the Stark internship, you know?”

“Right.” You were confused as to why Peter was refusing to make eye contact with you. Had you done something wrong?

Even after the teacher walked in and called the class to order, you continued wracking your brain to figure out what you did to warrant this change in behaviour. Yesterday, Peter had been holding your hand and making you feel things that you weren’t quite sure you were supposed to feel. Things that, after you thought about them, helped push you to the decision that you had to end your affair with Spider-Man. It wasn’t as if you were going to rebound right away and make a move on your chemistry partner—you weren’t even sure if that was something you wanted. But you did want to spend time with your friend, which was kind of hard to do if he wouldn’t even look at you.

About twenty minutes before the end of the class, the voice of one of your school secretaries came through the PA system, interrupting your pondering.

“Peter Parker, please report to the principal’s office,” the voice crackled through the ancient speaker. “Peter Parker, to the principal’s office.”

The class made the typical teenage taunting noise as Peter began packing up his books and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He quickly glanced at you and, without saying a proper goodbye, walked out of the room.

Alex twisted around in her seat as the teacher tried to continue on with the lesson.

“Do you know what’s up with him?” Alex mouthed, trying to escape the notice of the teacher.

You shook your head as you stared with worry at the empty door frame.

Peter never returned. When the bell rang, you practically jumped out of your seat and darted through the halls, hoping Peter would be waiting for you at your locker like he usually was between classes.

To your disappointment, Peter was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, you opened your locker and retrieved the books you needed for your next class, all the while wondering what the principal could possibly have needed to talk to Peter about. As far as you knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Was everything okay? The more you thought, the more you worried, and you knew that you had to talk to Peter right away. Instead of turning down the next hallway for your class, you ducked into the nearest bathroom and pulled out your phone. No messages from him.

You leaned against the wall. Where would Peter have gone? You wracked your brain for all the places he and you had gone together in the school. The quad? No, you had passed it on your way to your locker and Peter was nowhere in sight. Maybe the library? You considered, but crossed it off your list. Whatever was happening, you had a feeling that Peter wouldn’t be somewhere that required silence; if anything, he would go somewhere that allowed him to make as much noise as he wanted or needed to.

The class bell rang from the hallway, and it was then that the answer flew into your mind. The shop in the basement of Midtown was secluded from other classrooms, far enough down that no one on higher floors could hear the noise of the machines, and Peter frequented it regularly for robotics club. While the shop wasn’t much of a lead, and it was likely to be empty, it was the only location that was even remotely close to being where Peter was.

You exited the bathroom quickly and made your way to the basement stairs as inconspicuously as possible, not wanting to get caught without a hall pass. You pulled open the door to the stairs and, with one final glance to make sure the coast was clear, ducked inside, shutting the door firmly behind you.

Carefully, you made your way down the dark, sloped passage. The lack of light made you doubt that Peter was in the shop at all, but as you walked further down, you began to hear movement. At the bottom of the stairs was soft light, like there was only a work bench lamp on. You peered around the corner of the stairwell, trying not to be seen.

Standing at the back wall was Peter, sweater off and in a sweat-soaked undershirt. You could see his frame shaking from your place on the stairs, and you could hear his ragged breaths as he dragged in lungful after lungful of air, fast and tight. Repeatedly, his right hand snapped out, punching the wall over and over again in the same spot.

You wanted to stop him, to run over and pull his hands to his sides and restrain him, but you felt paralyzed. What had happened in the last half hour that had caused him to react like this? You had never seen Peter in such an emotional state; you had to admit, it frightened you. Peter was your friend that built LEGO death stars for fun. He was your friend that almost exclusively wore shirts with science puns. He was your friend that walked you home and helped you study for tests and didn’t make fun of you for playing the same movie soundtrack over and over when you shared headphones on the subway. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t destructive. He wasn’t this person in front of you, who didn’t notice the blood on their fingers as they ran their hands over their face and through their hair.

Peter punched the wall a few more times, before coming to a jerky stop. He looked at the wall, and reached out a gentle hand, just touching the cracks in the plaster. You watched as a finger traced a streak of blood.

The boy stepped back from the wall, cradling his hand to his chest. He finally seemed to register what he was doing, seemed to realize that the skin of his knuckles had split open. He gazed down at his hand, body halfway turned towards you so that could see his tear streaked, blood stained face. With his left hand, he cautiously touched one of the knuckles, hissing in pain.

“What am I doing?” Peter muttered to himself, shaking his head adamantly. “What the fuck am I doing, what is this all for, who is this going to help, who the fuck is this going to save—” Peter began gulping in air again, squeezing his injured hand to his chest. The tears bubbled up again and began to escape his eyes as he began sobbing again, the sound of it breaking out of his chest like he was a prisoner in his own body, breaking down against his will. Peter coughed after a few rough breaths until he finally let out a scream. You felt your heart break in your chest as you watched your friend’s legs give out, and he collapsed onto the floor as his sobs shook him.

Seeing Peter on the floor caused something inside you to snap. You quickly wiped your face and rushed over to your friend, wrapping your arms around him and dropping to the floor.

Peter tensed for a moment, looking over at you but not completely seeing you. “Y-Y/N?”

“Peter,” Your hands moved from his shoulders to his face, looking him in the eye. “Peter, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I—” Peter continued sucking in air faster and faster, tears still pouring down his cheeks. “There was—in—”

“Breathe, Peter,” Your thumbed stroked his cheeks as you measured your breathing. “Come on, watch me. In and out.”

Peter tried to match his breathing to yours, sobs still choking out of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut again, lowering his head to the ground. Your hands moved from his cheeks to the back of his neck, gently rubbing in a way that you hoped was soothing.

Peter’s head came forward to rest on your shoulder. You knew that his tears and blood were staining your shirt, but you didn’t care. You brought one of your hands up to his head, running your fingers through his hair. You held him as tightly as you could, hoping with all your heart that everything would be okay.

After a few moments, Peter’s breathing regulated and his sobs quieted down. Still stroking his head and neck, you approached the question again.

“Peter,” You whispered gently. “What happened?”

“There was—” You felt Peter suck in a gulp of air. “There was an accident, in the city. A bad guy, with some of—some of the Vulture’s weapons still. He—he caused a huge car accident, with at least ten vehicles, and—”

“And what?” You steeled yourself for the answer about to come out of Peter’s mouth. You had a sneaking suspicion of what it might be.

“And May was in the accident.”

Peter broke down again, clinging tighter to you as fresh tears made their way down his face. You hugged him closer to you, as close as you possibly could.

“Is she—?” You knew Peter lost his parents when he was little, and you couldn’t even possibly imagine what it would be like for him to lose another one.

“She’s okay,” Peter mumbled. “A little bruised, and without a working car, but—but she’s okay. She called from the hospital; they’re keeping her overnight to monitor her.”

“Oh my…thank God,” You held onto Peter tighter, relief coursing through your veins.

“But, Y/N,” Peter began shaking again, and he pulled himself away from you. “People—people died. And more are injured, and—”

“Peter, none of that is your fault,” You protested, hand still lingering on the back of the boy’s neck. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter raked his injured hand through his hair, wincing in pain as his gaze flickered to the cracked plaster. “Can’t keep my family safe, can’t protect the people I love, but at least I can fuck up a wall pretty good, right?”

“Hey.” You grabbed Peter’s hands in both of yours, squeezing as tight as you could without hurting him more. “It’s not your responsibility to protect everyone!”

“Then whose is it?” Peter turned to you with eyes that seemed to go a shade darker as he spoke. “Spider-Man? He hasn’t done much good, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this,” You shook your head. “Spider-Man—”

“Spider-Man couldn’t protect you from getting beat in the head with a gun this summer!” Peter’s shaking returned as his voice got rougher. “Spider-Man couldn’t protect those people on Queensboro Bridge! And he couldn’t protect everyone today, and because of him, people died. And my aunt was almost one of them.”

“But she wasn’t—”

“But someone’s aunt was.” Peter’s hands gripped yours tighter, tight enough to look like it hurt. “Someone’s aunt is never going to come home because of what happened today.”

“Peter, trust me,” You looked down at his bloody hands. “Spider-Man is only human. He can’t protect everyone, and we can’t expect him to.”

“Yes we can!” Peter tore his hands out of your grip. “If—if he can’t protect everyone, then who can? Answer that, Y/N! If you have the power to help, and you don’t, then the bad things that happen are on you. And it’s your fault if the people you love get hurt.”

Peter stood up and grabbed his things in a hurry, haphazardly throwing his bag over his shoulder.

“Peter, wait!” You tried calling after your friend, but he was already hurrying up the stairs, tears beginning to fall once more as he left your sight.

You sighed, rubbing your hand against your forehead. Your attention turned back to the wall, where Peter’s blood was beginning to dry in and around the cracks in the plaster that had appeared due to his punching. Cautiously, you reached out a hand and lightly touched the wall. A few loose pieces of plaster crumbled away, coating your fingers in white dust.

“How did he…?” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you rubbed your fingers together. You knew that Peter wasn’t a weakling, but you had no idea your friend was strong enough to punch holes in walls.

You couldn’t stop seeing his bloody and teary face in your mind, and the image stayed with you for the rest of your day. From the walk to the subway to the train ride home to climbing into bed that night, you replayed the pain in his eyes, and those eyes were the last thing you saw until you closed your own and drifted off to sleep.

A sleep that didn’t last long. You awoke at around two am to knocking on your window, which really, you should have expected. Did you really believe that Spider-Man wouldn’t come back for you?

{part vii}

2K notes · View notes

lukeysgirl · 7 years

Text

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.8

Part E I G H T

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 3.5k

AN: im so so so so so so fucking sorry for my absence. like seriously, i want to apologize. ive been so demotivated and my recent family loss has made me crash quite a bit. and for that im so incredibly sorry. thank you all who love it and support it so much. im going to try my very best to keep producing parts to make you happy, bc that’s all i want right now aha. so 100 notes please and ill be seeing you :)

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E

Monday

“You were at a diner with Luke yesterday?” Savannah blasted into your ear, having you already dread this Monday morning.

“Savannah, I haven’t even gotten the chance to eat a single bite of this here granola bar,” you began quietly, already vexed as you held onto your still-wrapped food. “It’s too early for this.”

You walked down the corridor with the girls, still as exhausted and hungry as you are every day when you’re forced out of bed to attend institution. The girls were dreading it just as much, but once you told them of your small hang out with Luke, they declared it as a date. The squeals, the fangirling, the asking for ‘deats.’ It made you hesitate to tell them what happened between you and Nathan the night of the party.

“But you were with Luke Hemmings at a diner,” Des began, grabbing your shoulder to halt you. The girls halted as well, guarding both sides of you as Des’ brown eyes gashed into yours. “‘Mr. Popular’ that you claim to dread ever so much. You wouldn’t do that with him if you despised him as much as you say you do.”

“He was around and I was hungry,” you muttered, the easiest excuse you could think of. “He also had a car, so like, yeah.”

“Wait.” Alexis grabbed your shoulder and tilted you to face her. “Does that mean he knows?”

“No,” you responded. “I made him drop me off at a nearby super market and stayed there for a good 2 hours. In that time, I read the nutrition facts of every bread produce they had to offer. And I tell ya, all we eat are straight up chemicals.”

“Subject changer.” Savannah, took your older shoulder and spun you to face her. You had unutterable words for this very situation. “The real question is how did you go home? You left a long while before we did.”

“Hemmings didn’t tell you?” You began quietly, having Des quickly spin you. She stared at you, wistfully, her brown eyes attempting to burn into yours. But she’s too busy using fire with ice that cannot melt. You let out a shaky sigh before emitting words. “Holland took me home.”

“Nathan?” All 3 exclaimed, having you wince from their reactions. It was awful peculiar how those 3 could react so in sync. If they looked similar to one another, you’d assume them to be triplets.

“The one and only!”

As if on cue, the blue-eyed stranger chimed behind you. You turned around to look into those eyes, seeing hints of gray playing in the weak blue. His chestnut hair had been messy, but somewhat contained, with a few flowers stuck in it. His salmon lips were lathered in Blistex (you guessed) and the bottom was unfortunately stuck between his perfect pearly whites. Nathan shot you a wink, and you were positive you were going to vomit.

“This is proving to be a really shitty and cliche sitcom,” you groaned, your words right on time before the bell traumatized the corridors. Students began sprawling around, and that unfortunately meant bidding farewell to the girls. “See you guys later.”

As Savannah and Alexis said bye and began rushing away, Des looked into Nathan’s eyes. She was glaring at him, which made you snicker. You hadn’t known why she was being silently aggressive, but it was amusing to see such a short entity attempt to be threatening to a tower tall man. But she skipped away, having you adjust your bag before sauntering down the corridor.

“You’re not gonna tell me why my name was in that conversation just now?” Nathan hummed, walking beside you with curiosity evident in his eyes. You didn’t bother to glance, knowing that if you did, he’ll try to lock eyes and probably further to vex you.

“If I tell you, will you keep shut about what happened that night?” You asked simply, not really in dire need to keep it a secret. You’d just rather not have people knowing so you didn’t receive obnoxious reactions.

“Oh-- I don’t intend on telling anyone even before you asked this of me,” Nathan began, having you raise an eyebrow as he placed his hands behind his head. The two of you struggled to get through the crowd, but Nathan just kept spewing words. “It’s something I know and no one else does, so I want to keep this all to myself.”

“Well, aren’t you a bit--”

“Selfish? Yes,” Nathan continued and answered for you, having you roll your eyes. You were glad he’d be keeping shut, but now you had to suffer his presence more and more due to this fact. At least, that’s what you guessed. “I was also sorta hoping that we could talk about it.”

“What the fuck is there to talk about?” You muttered, passing through the sea of students before you. “Anyways, you’re not the only one who knows. My best friends know, too.”

“Does Luke count?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sated,” Nathan hummed, having you groan as you rushed over to find your locker. You fumbled to open the lock, struggling from the intense stare that Nathan had been giving you. But you managed it open and revealed several textbooks as well as photos all over the door. That’s when you noticed a small, folded index card on top of the stack of books. “Is that from the secret admirer?”

“Stalker,” you corrected as you took the small note in your hands. “Also, why the fuck are you looking into my locker? D’you have any respect?” You slammed the shut and attempted to keep walking, but Nathan was just proving himself to be more of a bother than expected.

He slammed his forearms against the lockers between yours, having you trapped between them. You had your back leaned on the locker, as that’s how cliche shows and movies do it. He attempted to get you flustered, pushing out his neck more to highlight his jawline more. His blue eyes locked on yours, dimming a bit in intensity. His black, V-collar shirt hung loosely as he had to bend a bit to meet head-to-head.

“I have no respect,” Nathan growled, having you roll your eyes as you watched students shoot you with stares. You merely shrugged, looking discontent at Nathan as he tried boring his eyes into yours. “None for personal space, especially.”

“You could be a fuckboy if you aimed for it,” you suggested, crinkling your nose a bit from a sudden itch. “Well, you probably already are if you’re so good at doing this. You must get all the girls and have them write petty songs about you.”

“They’re good songs, too,” Nathan joked, having you snort quietly before letting out a sigh. Okay, Taylor Swift’s ex. He stared at you, seeming amused and almost satisfied. “What’re you doing for lunch today?”

“Eating,” you replied simply. Nathan smirked at your respond, giving yourself kudos for your cleverness.

“No, I mean are you gonna be in the lunch room or at the tree?” Nathan pondered, having you shrug. You played with the note on your right hand, feeling the corners jag into your palm. “Will it be determined by that note?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to read it,” you huffed, finally reaching your irritated point. “Look, I don’t have math this period, so I’d really like it if you went away so I can use my study hall productively.”

“But I also have study hall right now,” Nathan hummed, smirking as he bent his fingers a bit against the cool, metallic lockers. “We can spend it together. I think it’d be a good bonding experience.”

“She said no, Nathan.”

As predicted, you turned to your left to find the Luke Hemmings stood there. Of course, the lanky boy was in his typical all-black attire. This time, his shirt was a more ivory black with an Arctic Monkeys logo splattered there in a teal blue. But as you lowered your gaze, you saw his fists clench, seeming like he’s more than prepared to lunge at Nathan and break his nose.

“Of course you came right on time, Hemmings,” you began, laughing to yourself as Nathan diverted his attention to the blonde a few feet away. Nathan stands up straight again, your small little prison cell broken. “Are you guys going to fight now or can I go?”

“No,” Nathan began, smirking at Luke as he tightened his jaw in anger. “Lucas here is going to say a bunch of mushy gushy words and walk away with you because his insane jealousy cannot be contained for any reason whatsoever.”

“And you’re going to walk away with that disgusting smirk on your face that I’d like to punch off someday,” Luke hissed. “Also: stop fucking calling me Lucas.”

With that, Luke quickly shoved him while walking passed him to make his way to you. You watched as Luke stood in front of you, his arms to his sides as his blue eyes looked into yours. He was studying you, his rouge lips pursed together to keep from distraction. And this bothered you because every time Luke caught you in a moment like this, your cheeks feel much hotter than moments prior. So you took his chin and turned his head to look at Nathan.

“Look at that dude, m’kay?” You hummed, having the two glare at one another. You took the opportunity then to open up the note. You noticed the intriguing H on the outside of one of the folds before opening in completely.

Come to the tree at lunch. I have an I’m Sorry gift for you.

You didn’t know what the apology gift was for, but if you had to guess, it would be for the drinks at the party. It was really creepy to think how observant he is on you. He truly is a stalker. Especially when you don’t feel any eyes on you and you have yet to see someone around that looks immensely suspicious. But you agreed to this, and hopefully it’ll be worth it.

“You know, it’s good that you got rid of that lip piercing,” Nathan began, having you turn to notice the two still glaring at one another. “It looked like a thin piece of shit hung on it.”

“You’re just mad that you can’t because your mommy and daddy said no,” Luke cooed, having you snort a bit at their immaturity. “If we’re gonna be acting like dickheads, how about don’t steal Ashton’s hairstyle? At least try to be original.”

You giggled quietly at the connection, and Nathan gritted his teeth a bit.

“Alright well.” Nathan let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes before stuffing his hands into his pockets. He winked at you, revealing a smirk to agitate Luke beside you. “Thanks for confiding with me, Y/N. See you later?”

“What?” Luke asked, pure confusion evident in his words and face as he turned to you. You sighed, wanting to punch Nathan just as much as Luke did. But you gave Luke a small wink before looking back at Nathan.

“Oh I didn’t tell you, Nathan!” You said a little loud. “I’m actually gonna eat lunch with Lucas here, but after school. He’s probably gonna take me to the diner we went to yesterday, so yeah.”

Nathan glared at you a bit, obviously pissed that you sided with Luke this time. Luke chuckled, pointing at Nathan to taunt him a bit. But you were already wasting precious study time and you desperately yearned for at least a page to read. So, you grabbed Luke’s wrist with your free hand and began dragging him down the corridor and away from Nathan. But Luke didn’t fail to have his final word.

“It sounds good when she says it,” Luke hollered, having you roll your eyes as you turned the corner to another hallway and dragged him away from Nathan’s view. As you managed to get Luke far away, you slowed down a bit but still kept your eyes forward. “So are you actually letting me take you out?” Luke asked quietly, having you look back at him with a glare.

“Of course not,” you huffed as you let Luke go and walked over to a vacant classroom. The lights were on, and the door was wide open. These were one of the rooms allowed to be used to study, as a lot of students have study hall and need as much silence as they can get. Desks organized into rows, just like in a grid. Fern-green chalkboards, and written, yet brief, summaries of lectures and info. You could see papers left behind of homework or due assignments, having you pity those who left or forget them.

You then realized this was one of the history classes for the sophomores. You noticed the paper ships hanging from the ceiling, voyages from important people sailing the seas to come on top. There were clay structures made, practically statues, ornate by the front. Models of Abraham Lincoln and John Locke, all with dignified faces but immensely large noses. Maps of the world, those of the past and the modern ones to exhibit change. Immensely dire changes, those that fascinated you very much about the worlds development as a whole.

“You make me wonder a lot about you, Y/N,” Luke began, having you turn around to see him leaned on the doorway. A soft smile played at his rouge lips as those ocean eyes studied you. “Maybe because you’re so you that you’re wonderful.”

“What’re you on about, Hemmings?” You began dully, unsure as to where he was getting this random sentiment from. Why was he creating a moment?

“The way you look at all this stuff,” Luke hummed, walking inside to saunter over at the old, ripped up books-- artifacts from the past. “Your eyes glow, more brilliant than it ever is when you see these things. Your lips part, not a lot, but enough to show how trapped you are in a trance. You drown yourself in what you love, and I drown myself in you.”

“You can’t be saying stuff like that!” You exclaimed, looking distantly down to the ground by his feet. It bothered you, these random jolts of flutters or heat that crawled into your cheeks. “You don’t make any sense.”

“Love isn’t supposed to make sense,” Luke replied simply.

“Luke, you don’t love me,” you dismissed, looking back at the chalkboard to see doodles done by the students. There were probably a few of them a bit prior to their arrival. “You just think you do because you supposedly like me.”

“Whatever you wanna believe, Y/N,” Luke gave in, having you look up to see a smirk now crawled on his lips. He then started walking up to you, having you remain still. He didn’t scare you, and you weren’t prepared to let him back you into a desk or a wall. “As long as I know and feel it, it’s okay if you don’t believe me. Not yet, anyways.”

“Once again, I have no clue as to what you’re on about,” you replied, watching as Luke was finally just a few inches from you. His tall, lanky being hovered over you, producing a shadow on you as he did. This was the sudden closeness that you couldn’t seem to ignore like Nathan’s. There was something about this peculiar idiot that makes your body react so strangely.

“Again, you don’t have to,” Luke teased, bringing his hand up to your face. Suddenly, he poked your nose with the tip of his index finger, feeling a brief swipe of coldness before he flicked the tip of your nose up. “Are you going to the tree today? Do I have to cut myself again?”

“That’s sounds incredibly fucked, Luke,” you muttered, shoving his chest to get him away. He erupted in laughter from this and you couldn’t help but wonder just as much about him. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

With that, you took yourself a seat at the cleanest desk you could find. You dropped your bag carelessly on the floor beside you. Rummaging through it, you revealed a notebook and a pen. You flipped the pages until you found the essay you had left off and went right in to continue it. As you did, you noticed Luke in your periphery and seeing him hop on top of the teachers desk.

“August,” Luke muttered, having you flinch at the word. No matter what you did, he’ll never let up on that one day in August summers ago. “I don’t mind if you don’t care as much, but that is my favorite month, day, and year of all time. I’m at this point I always dreamed of being at, and I have you to thank for that. So that’s what you did to steal my heart and my annoying being.”

Lunch time rolled in, and you found yourself sauntering over to the tree.

You felt extremely disconnected from your stalker in this tree, even though it’s only been a few days with this mystery and only 2 days was the last time you got a note. But you weren’t too in a rush this time, not really wanting to go to your science class immediately. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to learn, but Luke was being too much for you today.

He was such a bother. For an attractive boy such as himself, it surprised you to see the boy single. And yes, you were well aware of his proclaimed love to you in front of not only his friends, but yours, too. But it’s too difficult to believe, even with 2 years stacking on him bothering you and you allowing him to float around like small moons to your planet.

Luke always made you wonder about him. He could have any girl he pleases, seeing as so many would like to throw themselves at him. Nadia is as desperate as a man stuck in the desert for water. It made you want to know what is it that Luke sees. It would seem he is basing the entirety of his feelings on the one instance that was August so very long ago. And yet it is fresh in his mind and, so long as he keeps speaking about it, it’s fresh in your head, too.

As you slowly approached the tree, you noticed that the shadow as expanded a bit and you were quick to be swallowed up by its shadow. You looked around at the beautiful pink petals dancing to the wind and its lovely music. It made you ponder how this tree was surviving in such an ugly place like this schools courtyard. How is a lovely thing to thrive around hormonal teenagers and crabby teachers who for some reason hate kids though their degree was all about education. You had always guessed teachers were always pissy at teenagers because they were annoyed at themselves when they were young idiots.

At least, it’s your own solid guess.

Suddenly, your eyes finally diverted down to stare at a small, white box right in front of the bark. You slowly approached the cardboard thing, noticing how it looked more of an over-sized, cardboard shoe box that was spray painted white. But nonetheless, the container remained there, with yet another note sat on it lovingly. Once more, with the H initial on top.

Looking around, you look back down at the box and bend down to take the note in your hand. Opening it slowly, you read the words with ease.

I’m so sorry for buying you the drinks. I know you’ll try to blame yourself as you chose the drinks, but I gave you permission to and I’m ever so sorry. Here’s just a little something for you x

Putting the note in your pocket, you bring your hands to the edges of the top, horizontal-wise, and lifted the box with ease. You quickly lifted and tossed away the wrapping paper that covered the gift and softened your eyes to see your well-crafted gift.

The first thing you saw was a Blue-Ray DVD version of the Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience. You were in disbelief, truth be told. You couldn’t be bothered to admit it, but you fancied those boys when you were young. Though, you always pointed out how much of a tool Joe Jonas was, since at the time, he only played the tambourine. But then again, you couldn’t say shit: you’ve never even touched a tambourine.

The next item you touched was some Adventure Time socks. One sock held human hero, Finn. And the other, infamous, orange, organ-stretching dog, Jake. They had looked so cute, seeing as their faces resided by the toes of your feet. It made you giggle a bit.

Then, in a small box beside the pair of socks was transparent, and held a series of small pins in them. Opening them eagerly, you giggled at how many there were and the cute sayings on them. You saw a pin that said ‘Bernie Sanders 2020′ with the old man printed on it. Another had a small, purple container of fries that said ‘Fries Before Guys.’ You admitted that these pins were amusing and you were a little too excited to leave school to use them on your bag.

You finally reached the bottom, where you noticed a black entity filling (practically) the entirety of the box. Carefully allowing the smaller items to fall down on the box, you lifted the entity into your hands and unfolded it. It finally revealed itself to you and you allowed a curt smile to play at your lips.

It had been a black Linkin Park sweatshirt, the logo and the words white and fairly huge at the front of the sweatshirt. It felt so nice and smooth in your hands, having you bite your bottom lip. You had been eager to get band sweatshirts, and this had been one of the many you wanted. You hugged it tightly, allowing the scent of cologne and softener to intoxicate your nose.

“You’re so sweet, stalker,” you whispered to yourself, looking up at the tree to see the lovely pink petals begin to fall all around you. “Thank you.”

please tell me what you think right here, if you’d like. thank you for reading and i really hope you enjoy it. xx

116 notes · View notes

snivystudies-blog · 7 years

Photo

“I’m not gonna pull an all-nighter this year,” you say as you set up your study space for the new semester. “No, sir, new year, new me. There will be no all-nighters this time around.” You remember the way your eyes burned and mind went into an emergency fog to preserve what little functions you had remaining as you churned out your closing argument around 5:30 AM. This year will be different, you affirm as you scribble down important dates on your calendar, set up phone reminders, sticky tab your bujo, and plan out how you’re gonna break down major papers on a weekly basis.

You eventually start ignoring notifications, and those weekly paper to-do’s become devoted to more urgent assignments. Hey, it happens. You have time, you’ve got a month to go, this is doable in a month. A month turns into a week, and then suddenly you’ve got a little over 24 hours left before it’s due and you’re stuck wondering how this happened.

Let’s be real, no matter how much you preemptively plan this out, you will likely pull an all-nighter for one class. The key is to not freak out. You got this, and I’m gonna show you how.

Step 1: Getting Ready

i) Spend a few minutes panicking. Get it all out of your system before you get started. You’re gonna wanna go totally zen for this, so make sure to do what you need to do to get there. Cry for a bit, scream into a pillow, do a couple dozen pushups, plank for a few minutes, start a liveblogging chain on your studyblr...you do you.

ii) Get comfortable. If comfortable for you is a chair and desk, get some cushions for the chair. If comfortable is your bed, pile a bunch of pillows in the corner and lean back. If comfortable is sitting in the lotus in the common room...do that.

iii) Get all your supplies: plug in your laptop, charge your phone, grab your textbook, get the assignment sheet out...you’re not moving for a while.

Step 2: The Hype

i) No coffee, no tea. Not yet. Go get one of the biggest containers of coke/pepsi you possibly can. Like. 30 oz. Make sure it’s cold, throw in some ice cubes, and chug that shit like you’re a frat boy doing a keg stand. You’re gonna need as much caffeine as possible.

Step 3: The Body Building

i) You all likely know what your paper is about and you probably already have a couple sources lined up from when you had to hand in your approval forms. This is good. You have your thesis, you have a few starting sources.

ii) Don’t do the intro first. Why introduce something that doesn’t exist yet? Plug in your thesis up top and move on to your first paragraph. You can do your intro at the end.

iii) PPE isn’t going to work here. Your paragraph should be more or less focused around one topic and should do the following: bring up the proof, discuss it for a bit, link it to another study (professor’s love it when you mention two studies together) and point out commonalities between them. It makes your argument stronger. Discuss why these studies are important, what’s the impact...why should we care, basically? How do these studies prove your thesis? Keep this up for all your body paragraphs. If you can link topics between paragraphs, even better.

iv) On the topic of linking studies, if you can find a disparity, even better. Explain why, despite them both proving your point, one has a hole in it. For example, I did a paper on depression once and I found two articles: one that discussed the rates of depression between African-American and Caucasian students, and males and females within those two ethnicities. This paper mostly focused on the socioeconomic factors surrounding the school community and how that affected them. I found another paper that mentioned that one gender was more predisposed to experiencing depression than the other, and linked that to the first paper to help explain why it seemed like one of the genders, despite them being of different ethnicities, seemed to experience depression at a higher rate. Build on this stuff.

v) If you’re allowed to...use some stuff out of your class lectures. This shows that you’re really understanding what you’re learning and you’re making real life connections. Cite it, obviously, but...you get the point.

Step 4: The Sources

i) You’re pulling an all-nighter; you don’t have time to plow through twenty pages of academic jargon to see if it fits. Time for you to employ the rush method: read the intro, the thesis, skip all the procedural stuff and the charts, and jump to the discussion bit. This is the part that contains the ‘does this information help prove my point’ chunk of your paper. If it does, scroll up and check out those charts. Numbers will definitely help strengthen your argument. Cite, and move on. Repeat until you meet your minimum amount of sources. I’d suggest grabbing an extra two or three sources so it makes it look like you spent a while researching.

ii) Generally speaking, avoid using papers older than you are. Unless you really, really need it.

Step 5: The Conclusion

i) This is the easiest part. Restate your thesis (differently, obviously) and mention the importance of this research.

ii) MENTION FURTHER RESEARCH. Explain what else kind of research can be done in this field.

iii) I always like to call this bit the mic-drop moment: this is the moment you’re completing everything. You’ve been up 18 hours. You’re exhausted. This is your magnum opus. Your clapback. Your shutdown. The line that has your professor waking up at 4 AM going ‘godDAMN that was so good’. Write your concluding sentence.

iv) lmao syke, you have to go back and write your intro. This should be easier. Explain your topic, toss in your thesis, and tell the reader why you’re even doing this. What’s the point. Why this topic of all topics. Again - why should we care?

Step 6: The Stuff You Should Be Doing In-between

i) Finish that coke before you touch the coffee. No tea, that makes you sleepy. Make sure your coffee is black and as bitter as possible. You’re staying awake, not watching raindrops fall on a Sunday afternoon.

ii) Take a break every half hour. Do some walking around. Drink water. Spend ten minutes watching a short vine compilation about school. Don’t think about your paper for these few minutes.

iii) SNACKS. Snacks are important, you need energy. Eat some bananas, or cereal, or yoghurt. Something filling and that’s likely gonna give you energy. Crunchy is also good, but crunchy starts getting annoying around 4 AM when even your heartbeat is driving you nuts.

iv) Music. No classical music, no studying music, nothing soft. Hit up some EDM. This should be loud and annoying enough to keep you from sleeping.

v) Close your eyes for five minutes every hour or so. Set an alarm.

vi) Get up and stretch when your back starts hurting.

vii) Give yourself a reward for every paragraph finished. Eat candy. Watch a short video. You wanna motivate yourself.

Step 7: The Recovery

i) Hand in your paper and forget it ever existed. Now it’s you time.

ii) If you’re anything like me, it will be close to lunchtime when you’re done. Go get something to eat. Treat yourself. You can drink tea now. Come back to your dorm and eat.

iii) Clean up your dorm, it’ll be a mess from the night before. Make sure your bed has new sheets.

iv) Go take a hot bath. Wash your hair. Shave. Brush your teeth. Twice, cause that caffeine will have dried your mouth out. This is self-care time.

v) Come back to your room. Draw the drapes, shut off the lights, and sleep. Sleep for 15 hours. You earned it.

Step 8: Get Your Paper Back

i) Yikes, it’s a month later. You’re panicking. Go zen again.

ii) Open up blackboard. Exhale. Open that result.

iii) Oh shit, you got a 95, nice going!

Step 9: Promise to Never do that Again.

Step 10: Do It Again Next Year.

And this is the 10 step process that has continually given me high nineties and put me, bare minim, 20% over the class average. This is more geared towards university and college students and research/academic papers, but I can do one for high school students and physical projects, if you guys want.

#studyblr #studyspo #new studyblr #studyblr masterpost #research paper #all-nighter #engblr #uniblr #collegeblr #gradblr #snivy speaks #I figured it would be a nice way to get myself out there y'know by making a how-to guide #you do not know how many f bombs I had to remove from this because I wanted it to look more studyblrish #that edit was fun to make tbh I used the centaurus constellation #anyways uh enjoy I guess

18 notes · View notes

5hfanfiction · 7 years

Text

mean girls pt.4

IV.

Camila is never late. You can’t get far in life without planning ahead and therefore she always makes a point of arriving at least five minutes early to wherever she needs to be. It’s not her fault that Sofi had decided to throw a temper tantrum this morning and, by the time Camila had managed to calm her down, they only had ten minutes to get to school. She always needs to drop Sofi off first, which is why she’s now running through the hallways, trying to make it to AP Government on time.

She somehow manages to walk inside the classroom as the second bell is ringing, so there are no consequences for her tardiness and she just gives the teacher a quick apology before taking her seat on the row by the window. Pulling out her notebook and her pencil case, she places her phone between her legs to let the girls know she’s alive and is surprised to see she has more texts than she’d expected. Both Normani and Dinah have blown up her Whatsapp notifications.

China Jane [8:16] are u here yet??

Mani [8:21] Where are you?

Mani [8:22] Did something happen?

China Jane [8:24] ok bish we headin inside c u after 1st period

Mani [8:25] Is everything okay? You should be at school by now

China Jane [8:26] where tf r u walz

China Jane [8:26] GURL U NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THIS SHIT

China Jane [8:27] YOU GOTTA SEE THIS

China Jane [8:28] get yo ass to the lockers rn!!!!!

Mani [8:29] Shit. Did you see it?

China Jane [8:29] DA FUQ U AT

Camila stares at the screen in disbelief. Of course the girls couldn’t have been kind enough to drop a photo or a snap of whatever they wanted her to see and now she’ll have to wait until class is over to catch up on the latest gossip.

With an annoyed sigh, she grabs a pen and starts copying the notes on the board.

Camila doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary as she leaves AP Government, sending a quick message to the Clique’s group chat so they’ll meet at her locker. She’s vaguely aware that there are people watching her and pointing and muttering under their breaths, but there are always people doing that and she’s learned not to care about it.

After all, it’s much better to be the one people talk about than to have nothing better to do but talk about someone else.

She saunters up to her locker and opens it to pull out her Psychology textbook. A folded paper falls to her feet and she lowers down to pick it up, keeping it between her index and middle finger as she finishes what she has to do. It isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, that someone leaves random messages through the slit of her locker. She shuts the door and leans against the wall of lockers, hoping the girls won’t take too long.

Camila isn’t quite prepared for what she sees as she unfolds the paper and her chin drops before she can regain control of her muscles and facial expressions. What she has in her hands is a very poor excuse for a student president campaign poster, limited to a printed out color photograph on A4 photocopy paper with a slogan underneath in what looks like a bland Arial font. She would be appalled at the unprofessionalism of it all if it weren’t for the shocking content.

It’s a photograph of Lauren fucking Jauregui. And sure, the photograph is flattering, but Camila couldn’t care less if Lauren had plastered her face all over school or decided to hand out nudes at the cafeteria. No, what really gets to her is the slogan:

No cliques: for a fair high school experience

Camila sees red in that moment. She’s gritting her teeth so hard, middle-school Camila would be worried those two years wearing braces had been for naught.

She knew Lauren would come for her, but there is a difference between coming for her and attacking her friends. This is personal.

“There you are!”

She snaps her eyes up to face Dinah walking towards her with Normani in tow.

“I see the hottest news has found its way to you,” Normani says, wincing. She places a hand on Camila’s shoulder and softly allows it to travel down to her wrist. Camila feels some of the tension inside her fade at the gesture and tries to give Normani a smile. She fails.

“That bitch,” she breathes out instead. “I’ll fucking kill her.”

“I’m kind of impressed, actually,” Dinah says, prying Camila’s fingers open to grab the poster and check it out. “Girl legit pulled this outta her ass from one day to the other.”

Camila glares at her, not wanting to hear anything even remotely positive about Lauren. “Did you even read the stupid slogan, Dinah? This is not just about me, she’s coming after us!”

“Yeah?” Dinah shrugs. “I’m 100% Team Mila but I can’t say it isn’t exciting to have someone challenging us.”

Normani snickers at that and Camila struggles with her instinct to stomp her foot like a spoiled toddler.

“You have to admit this school isn’t exactly home of the brave material,” Normani prods, hand moving to entwine their fingers. “I don’t think this is a big deal, it’ll be just like in freshman year when Richard Baker tried to run against you for class president. It was more of a formality to pretend there was some sort of race going on when, lol no.”

Camila squeezes Normani’s hand, grateful for her words and for how her presence helps relax her.

“I’m still going to kill her,” Camila announces after a long moment of silence, lips quirking up in a dangerous smirk.

“I can’t wait for that.” Dinah grins triumphantly, putting her hand up for Camila to high-five.

“And I’ll be right there to step over the bitch’s dead body.” Normani’s eyes are glinting, bright with mischief.

On second thought, Camila says to herself, this could turn out to be a lot of fun.

Camila spends most of her Psychology class obsessing over the poster. She can feel the weight of it inside her blazer’s pocket, even though it’s just a piece of paper folded in four.

This is an affront she can’t let slide, and while she wants to confront Lauren about the whole thing, she doesn’t want to come across as angry and hysterical. Lauren doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of feeling like she has affected her in any way.

She tears out a page of her notebook and starts listing possible scenarios so she can both calm herself down and come up with a viable action plan. She scribbles several brilliant lines of monologue and memorizes them right away, feeling quite pleased with herself. She doesn’t know how Lauren will react but she trusts her quick wit to present her with some decent retorts. As long as she keeps her cool, everything should be okay. The idea is to make Lauren lose her cool.

Now she only needs to think of the perfect setting to enact her little speech. A confrontation in the hallways is out of question because she doesn’t need any more attention placed on the two of them together. There’s already plenty of that to go around. Checking her schedule, she realizes she has AP Lit next and smirks.

That’s something she can work with.

Camila enters room A012 three minutes before the bell rings and is satisfied to see Lauren is already there. Unfortunately, so is her table partner, which forces Camila into a less smooth approach.

Standing next to him, she offers a saccharine smile. “Scram.”

The boy looks up at her, eyes open wide, and hurries away, finding another seat. It’s a good thing Mr. Keating doesn’t care about fixed placements - never a time when that hadn’t been convenient.

Camila beams at Lauren and sits next to her without asking for permission, ignoring the incredulous stare Lauren is throwing her way. She removes the poster from her pocket and unfolds it, placing it on the middle of the table. “It has come to my attention that this is a thing that is happening.”

Lauren just raises one eyebrow, not bothering to reply.

“I’m actually glad you’ve decided to run against me” Camila continues, counting a victory point when confusion flashes across Lauren’s features. “It does get a bit tiresome to have the world bow at your feet without question.”

“Oh please,” Lauren huffs, with an eye-roll.

“But, Jauregui, if you’re going to run against me, at least give me the pleasure of a challenge?” Camila tilts her head to the side, smiling lazily and enjoying the turmoil behind Lauren’s eyes. “Here.” She points at the poster, her finger falling between the photograph and the slogan. She thinks it’s very kind of her. She could’ve easily just tapped one of Lauren’s eyes with her fingernail, which is closer to what she would like to do to the girl. “Photocopy paper, seriously? How cheap.”

“I would like to see you bringing a campaign to life overnight, Cabello,” Lauren counters, swatting Camila’s hand away from the poster. “In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve signed up for student body president, studied the students’ council regulations and policies of the past three years, wrote down a draft of the plan for my presidency and created a campaign from scratch. All by myself.”

“Photocopy paper makes the photographs look pixelated and scrunched up, so unpleasant,” Camila carries on, disregarding her in spite of the somewhat impressive list of achievements. “And Arial for the slogan’s font? What is this? The first group project for middle school?”

Lauren is seething at this point and Camila’s chest swells with pride. She’s doing this. She’s the one aggravating Lauren and she’s loving the hell out of it. “I’ll give you kudos for the slogan though. That was… brave. It will get you attention, for sure, which will last you for today and maybe until the end of the week. But it isn’t memorable.

"I mean, if you’re this bad at posters alone, how do you expect to hold up against me when it’s time to present your campaign video in homeroom? Or for the debate before the election?”

Mr. Keating arrives in that moment and Lauren fixes her with a glare that would probably be considered intimidating if Camila were someone else. “Are you done with the lecture? Can you go now?”

“No,” Camila answers, surprising them both. “You smell nice. I think I’ll stay here for today.” She grins, delighted by Lauren’s startled expression and her obvious loss for words as she shifts her attention back to the lesson.

Camila didn’t think it would be possible, but if she enjoyed messing with Lauren’s head over her subpar poster, she’s now overcome with glee, arguing against every single interpretation Lauren has for the poems they’re studying today.

Mr. Keating notices it but doesn’t stop them. The man has strange ways and he seems to value intelligent discussion over appeasing the belligerent tension in the room. Camila appreciates it.

She’s on a winning streak anyway.

When Camila finally makes it home that evening, after spending two hours in the library finishing her History essay, she falls face first on her bed with a groan. Her phone beeps from somewhere in her bag and she shoves her hand inside to try and find it without having to change position. She succeeds after a very frustrating minute and looks at the screen to see Normani had texted her.

Mani [6:33pm] I have a feeling this presidential race is gonna be more interesting than we thought

Camila blinks and then frowns, unsure of what Normani is trying to convey.

Mila [6:34pm] what do you mean?

Normani sends her a link to a tweet and Camila opens it, a feeling of dread coursing through her veins.

Her first reaction is relief because she was expecting much worse, but then she clicks on the twitter account, realizes it’s been created earlier that day, sees a tweet with a picture of her campaign poster side by side with Lauren’s and a few other incendiary tweets, and she lets out an undignified wailing sound.

Great. This is just what she needed in her life.

* * *

Camila doesn’t think too much about Lauren for the next two days. Or rather, she doesn’t allow herself to, forcing her mind to drift somewhere else as soon as the obnoxious girl pops up in her thoughts. She smiles inwardly when she notices that most posters have been replaced with classier versions of the original, taking her suggestions into account. The slogan is still the same but Camila doesn’t believe that will stick for long.

For all her effort to remain collected about the events of the past week, Camila’s also aware that, for the first time in her high school experience, a person that she’d condemned to ostracism had bounced back from it like it had been nothing.

Social media had played a big part in that, what with the stupid @sipthegreentea twitter that keeps people obsessing over the campaign and that rat Zayn Malik interviewing Lauren for the school blog. She thought no one followed that thing, but apparently a six-minute video of Lauren being charming and eloquent, and making sense in a few of her points, had been enough to gather it some attention. Lauren Jauregui had gone from persona non grata, from the absolute bottom of the social hierarchy to somewhere… slightly above that.

Camila would be lying if she said that didn’t unnerve her a little bit.

In all fairness, most of the school is still avoiding Lauren like she has the plague and she knows some of the popular kids have fun throwing insults at her every now and then - which, kind of makes her uncomfortable but she has done nothing to prevent. However, Lauren’s become a champion of sorts for the underdogs and the wallflowers, the kids too weak to make a name for themselves, and so she isn’t alone by any means, as had been Camila’s original intention. And if Lauren isn’t alone, if she’s defied the school’s natural order and survived, Lauren is dangerous.

That’s why Camila is keeping track of what’s going on with Lauren by ensuring some underdogs remain loyal to her. She may be willing to act as if Lauren is beneath her and nothing she does phases her, because that both irritates Lauren and allows her to be perceived as the still reigning president, influential and untouchable. But smart people keep their friends close, and their enemies closer. Being two steps ahead is not enough of a waypoint as far as Camila is concerned.

And thus, she weaves a web of nerds and drama kids and almost pretty girls, people she’s always been nice to and who’ve always liked her. One should never underestimate people’s willingness to betray their own in exchange for the approval of the powerful majority.

It’s Friday and Camila’s lost in thought in one of the bathrooms of the second floor when she’s approached by a girl with long, copper-colored hair.

“C-Camila?” she stutters.

Camila fights the urge to roll her eyes because in these times of political need, she can’t afford to act however she wants. “Hi,” she says, turning to give her attention to the girl with a smile on her face. Camila knows she’s the current sophomore class president until election day but can’t remember her name even though she should. This girl is one of those who would sell her soul for popularity. “Can I help you, hum - what’s your name again?”

“Katie,” the girl replies, not at all offended that Camila didn’t know that. She checks the stalls before she speaks again. “I thought you should know that Lauren is planning a campaign event.”

“Oh, is she?”

“Yeah. I don’t know when it will happen but there’s been talk of getting a catering service so they can give away cupcakes while handing out flyers and buttons.”

Camila narrows her eyes, studying the girl. “Catering service?”

“Some kid’s mom owns a bakery and he said he could get a few batches of cupcakes for free. To help with the campaign, I mean.” Katie keeps shifting on her feet, nervous energy coming off of her in waves.

“What kid?”

“Jacob Sartorius.”

“Jacob Sartorius?” Camila shakes her head. “Who even is that?”

“He’s a freshman,” Katie says, shrugging. “Skinny, wears those thick-framed type of glasses, hair makes up half of his height?”

Camila snickers. “Do you know this boy?”

“Yeah, like, we say hi in the halls and stuff?”

“Good.” Camila places both her hands on the girl’s shoulders and stares deep into her eyes. “Tell him to meet me behind the gym at 4:30.”

Katie nods, and Camila finds it a mix of cute and sickening that she looks like she’s been given a life-changing mission.

“Will do, Camila!” she says, bobbing her head up and down until Camila releases her shoulders and signals for her to leave with a thanks. “Bye!”

“You’re late,” Camila drawls when she spots a lanky boy with his hair two inches up in the air walking towards her. She repositions herself so only her shoulder is leaning against the wall as she faces this Jacob creature.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing. “I thought this was a prank.”

Camila smirks. “I can see why you would think that but no, this isn’t a prank.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not if you help me.”

“I don’t see how I can help you, I’m sorry.” To his credit, Jacob looks genuinely rueful. The poor thing has no idea what he’s doing, talking to Camila Cabello in secret.

“I hear your mom owns a bakery, is that true?”

“Yes.” He moves closer and stands next to her, hands behind his back as he also leans against the wall. “You need a catering service too?”

“Too?”

“Well yeah, Lauren Jauregui–” Camila cringes as Jacob mispronounces the surname but he doesn’t notice, “–is doing some campaign event next week and she asked if I could get her some free cupcakes so I figured you were after the same thing?”

“If I ever need cupcakes from your bakery, I’ll make sure to pay your mom for her excellent service,” Camila informs him, smiling sweetly. “In fact, do you have a card or is there a website I can visit?”

“Place is called Baked Bites,” Jacob says, returning her smile. “You can look it up on Facebook or Instagram.”

“I will,” she assures him. She’ll order a box of goods to take home to her family, at least, and make sure that reaches Jacob’s ears. Favors are paid with other favors. “Now there is something I would like you to do for me, if you’re up for that?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Those free cupcakes that Jauregui is getting for her campaign…” She pauses on purpose, gauging his reaction. “What would have to happen for them to be… less than perfect cupcakes?”

“What are you getting at?” He squints his eyes, suspicious. “This is my mom’s business we’re talking about. I don’t want to cause her trouble.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t, don’t worry!” Camila cuts, eyes wide with innocence. “Ally Hernandez loves baking, I’m sure she’ll do her own batch for the event. We’ll blame it on her.”

Jacob laughs at that, his hair shaking with his movements. “Alright. I guess I could be persuaded then. What’s in it for me?”

Camila’s lips curl up smugly. “Name your price, Jacob. I’ll make it happen.”

————————–

A/N: slytherin!camila: rise

thank you so much to everyone who’s been voting and commenting, it truly makes our hearts sing <3

#UPDATE #series #AU #camren #angst drama #humour #submission #mean girls

15 notes · View notes

pchoo · 7 years

Note

ALL THE DAMN QUESTIONS YOU HOBO

i can’t beliEVE YOU…………….. here we go.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

gah ok….. CURRENTLY. Hallelujah - Panic at the Disco , Menswear - The 1975 , Good Ol Fashion Nightmare - Matt and Kim , Duele El Corazon - Enrique Iglesias , Welcome to My Life - Empire of the Sun , Ode To Sleep - Twenty one Pilots

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

simon pegg! my favorite actor!

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

it’s my textbook for my online class i don’t wanna get up to grab it

4: What do you think about most?

huh… recently? my dog

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

“Thanks Har, I got your email” its my group text for my job omg

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with! i couldn’t sleep naked. i’d be too cold

7: What’s your strangest talent?

i’m good at imitations?

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls RULE boys DROOL

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

no but i had a secret admirer once

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

last week i was jammin out to some metallica

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don’t like when people hold knives or scissors or anything sharp near me and i’m afraid of loud noises

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

pencil

13: What’s your religion?

raised christian but i’m personally agnostic

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

in the hot tub or riding my bike

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

BEHIND. BEHIND BEHIND BEHIND

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

no. this question can die. no.

17: What was the last lie you told?

uum….hm…. i didnt tell my mom i threw up twice last week? that’s… withholding information.. kind of like a lie, right?

18: Do you believe in karma?

eh.. kind of

19: What does your URL mean?

itS FROM HOMESTUCK. when john goes in the rocket and its like “PCHOOOO”

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

weakness: i trust people too easilystrength: i………..i’m smart.

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

gah i have a lot… currently though it’s tom holland (spiderman!!!!)

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope. i want to though!

23: How do you vent your anger?

rant to my friends usually. otherwise, i don’t

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

i used to collect cool tags back in the day. like from clothes and stuff? but i stopped doing that. now i collect post cards and shot glasses

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

uh.. neither?? i’m really shy usually.. but i guess if i had to pick i’d say phone. definitely

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

um… if i’m honest, no. but i realize that there’s a lot of things i want to be like. like.. traits i want to have? but the only thing standing in the way of that is myself, so. gotta work on that and stuff.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

sound i hate…..anything that’s loud, really? umm….. specifically… motorcycles, though. yeah.a sound i love…. meows from cats!

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

hmm… “what if i don’t like my job in the future” or i guess like “what if i’m not happy in the future” i’m really afraid of not ending up where i want to end up

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

YES!!!!!!!!!! yes. to both. yep. yes. ive had experiences with both, so

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm: my phoneleft arm: my nightstand

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

..n.. nothing….? i smell nothing, omg

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

puerto rico. i don’t remember which part though

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

east!

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

uuuh… i like matty from the 1975 a lot. and eminem. and fetty wap. and brendan urie….. god

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

do what makes you happy

36: Define Art.

something you create?? yeah

37: Do you believe in luck?

yes. i don’t have any

38: What’s the weather like right now?

cold. night time. rainy

39: What time is it?

3:10am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

yes and nope

41: What was the last book you read?

wintergirls by laurie halse anderson i’ve read it like 10 times by now

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

yes

43: Do you have any nicknames?

so many………. dani, dan, denpy, denby, iza, kuni, deni, dop, dopanopi, dp, click, my last name, dime, daniel, danielson

44: What was the last film you saw?

ROGUE ONE. CRIES

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

i split my big toe last year it hurt a lot

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

no ):

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

god yes. overwatch, servamp, bsd, shameless

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

fuck if i know

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

nopes

50: Do you believe in magic?

i guess i’d like to, but i have a lot of doubts

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

no which is both a good and a bad thing

52: What is your astrological sign?

PISCES!!!!

53: Do you save money or spend it?

both

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

movie ticket…… no, actually it was popcorn

55: Love or lust?

love

56: In a relationship?

non non!

57: How many relationships have you had?

2.5

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nope!

59: Where were you yesterday?

i went to breakfast with friends & then lunch with fam

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yeah a pair of pink flip flops that i actually don’t like but i left my flip flops at school when i came home and i needed a pair for florida

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

always

62: What’s your favourite animal?

PENGUIn

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

i…. uh………….. oh. i try and be funny @ them

64: Where is your best friend?

currently? connecticut

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

oh god. i’m not tagging them but: faecakes, hextant, pitayas, jaspboner, & akaaschi

66: What is your heritage?

i’m german, french, italian, lithuanian, & irish

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

watching the road to el dorado with my cousin

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

satan rocks

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

yep

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

yeah!

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

fuCKING SAVE THE dOG?? FUCK U BOSS IDC

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i probably wouldn’t lmaob) take all my money and go somewhere tropicalc) yes & no i guess?? honestly i can’t answer that. i have no idea

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

The Rain - Calvin Harris

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

6305

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

umm.. communication, and going out and DOING THINGS! adventure!!!!

77: How can I win your heart?

be funny. that’s it. that’s all u need to nab me

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

yes

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

what to do after college

80: What size shoes do you wear?

womens 7/8

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

for the record, i want to be cremated, but if i were to have a tombstone i’d want it to say “here lies dani, she’s having fun as a ghost, don’t worry”

82: What is your favourite word?

um……….. i like “blep” a lot. blep… like when someone just pokes their tongue out of their mouth like BLEP

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

fucking sweethearts why i don’t even like those

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

“i was born ready”

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

The Rain - Calvin Harris. i didn’t turn it off after i looked for the link sO

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

green!!!!!!!!

87: What is your current desktop picture?

ah its just a default mac one because for some reason whenever i restart my mac it just sets to this one no matter what i have the background as so…. i’m not bothering to change it anymore

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

uum.. man i don’t.. really know. i probably wouldn’t even be able to push the button, honestly. lmao

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

uh…… good one.. hm. “what’s your darkest secret?”

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

probably scream and cower in fear tbh….. then once i realized they’re just standing there i’d probably touch one and see if they did anything then?? talk to them maybe. chill

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

TO FLY!

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

my first imagine dragons concert when they played Tiptoe

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

when i did acting?? why did i do that

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

hmhm mhmh mhmh ok matty from the 1975

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

australia or bora bora

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

nope

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

nopes

98: Ever been on a plane?

yeah!

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

uuh hey guys whats up i’m tired and i’m about to sleep hope u guys r having a great 2017 ok byye

#faecakes #asks #SO LONG. SO MUCH. IM DEAD

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