is this even a quiz

anonymous asked:

I got life path 9. Every single quiz says I'm compassionate and caring, even my birth chart also says it, but I don't see it 😂 I can be cruel and selfish, so idk why everything keeps pointing to that. Even people told me that too, but still, I just don't see it. Other than that, pretty much everything is spot on

You’re underdeveloped is all 😂

I’m a Life Path 9 and yes, we are compassionate and caring people, but since we are the “oldest” and the “ending” of the Life Path numbers we can be seen as the ultimate leader. The Life Path 9 is a leader and you can use that for better or for worse. I know a Life Path 9 that uses it for worse, he’s so miserable. But me and my other best friend are Life Path 9’s and we try our best to help others and lead them in a way. That’s the full and true potential of a Life Path 9.

top 10 phan moments that make me wanna rip my heart out

yeah, just ten moments among hundreds, let it be part one or something. tell me what i’ve missed because i want more suffering in my life.

10) mind control.

i mean, i appreciate the subtlety. i crave those tiny moments that you only notice when someone points them out to you. but this! you can’t miss this one, this moment is shoved down our throats. this is so “i’m allowed to do that to you, to be in your personal space, and gaze into your eyes for no reason, just because i want to”. and phil’s face in that moment, so much joy and mischief, he claps his hands and gazes back.

9) chest touch.

drama queen howell strikes again, it hurts to rewatch it srsly, why is he so extra? but what is phil doing ladies and gents? he slaps his chest in the weirdest way possible, he brushes it, it’s like he wants to shove him but reassuringly and the movement happens so fast you have to pause for a second to comprehend it. that sweet gentle boy is so fond of dan’s unnecessary commentary and yeah, it completely distracts us from what dan is saying at that moment.

8) feel my heartbeat.

was that necessary, really? like, i don’t ask my friends to feel my heartbeat when i’m scared, that was such a “horror movie at first date” bullshit, that’s not what people do?? and when dan does feel that beautiful hummingbird heart, phil just covers his hand with his own palm because yes, you gotta feel it very close, no air between your hand and my chest. dan immediately looks into the camera to show us that yeah, i know you’re there, nothing strange, and makes a comment about phil dying. wow.

7) phil the delivery man.

i don’t know what to say. it’s so simple but why does phil have to make such an act of bringing dan his charger, why does he talk in that stupid voice?? they have a banter, and then phil FIXES DAN’S CHARGER FOR HIM, like what?? who asked you to do that? where’s my IT guy au (literally, he’s got glasses, look at him). and before he leaves he plays the piano that nerd, what an attention seeker, and then bows!! is he tipsy? did he have a pre-liveshow orgasm or something? dan laughs fondly and it’s all i need in the world.

6) child beer.

what’s happening and does it even matter. phil’s hiding on the floor, but why? to surprise us? eh whatever. so he’s got that magical japanese powdery stuff and he wants dan to taste it. the biggest problem for me here, ahem, i mean the thing that just kills me every time is that phil spends the whole time (eight minutes) on his knees and he looks so cute when he makes that beer, holds it close to the camera, and then lets the foam sit so dan can have the ultimate child beer experience.

it reminds me of that hot chocolate video, where he does something so trivial but he’s so gentle and loving about it. i still don’t understand why they didn’t do a simple taste test like bros, but phil had to make it for dan, he wanted to see his reaction. and then he tries it as well, touches the glass rim with his lips at the same place where dan’s mouth just was (gross).

and i just can’t ignore how that boy sneaks past dan’s room after that, he’s playful, he stops to say that he googled something and dan was wrong, and domesticity, i wanna die.

5) sleeping phil on tour.

i kinda wanna talk about the angle here because i don’t understand how it was filmed (camera is pretty static, dan’s hand reaches from the side, not behind), but i don’t know if it matters here. what matters is how gentle dan is. of course, he starts with classic nose tickling, which is what “messing with a sleeping friend” usually implies, but then he frees one strand of phil’s hair and just lets it fall. wow, fantastic prank, dan.

and let’s separately discuss that pout/kiss phil does after he opens his eyes. i know you want a slow mo replay, so here we go:

that’s what i call “im gonna stay asleep but i love you”. where’s the nearest cliff so i can fling myself into abyss?

4) the look.

context what context. why did they keep it? why did they put it on fullscreen instead of hiding in the corner? two full-length looks dan, really?? you know what he looks like, why do you have to examine him like that in front of us you slut. and it just passes, without acknowledgment, they just turn back at us simultaneously and I’M STILL DEAD at that moment, i don’t care what happens next.

3) snoot. proot. (i just filmed you doing that)

i don’t even care what it was. something about piano sounds or whatever, but this video haunts me. THERE’S SO MUCH TO IT. first, phil is lying on dan’s bed (at least in the official version it’s dan’s, not mutual), just chilling?? and dan’s working i guess. so they are not actually doing something together but it’s a cozy evening, why would they spend it in different rooms? dan says something, idk, and phil replies “yeah” in that deep voice I SWEAR i haven’t heard from him before. dan makes the sounds again, like can you believe he’s an actual dork in real life, it’s not an act, he’s actually the weirdest boy alive, and he so obviously doesn’t know he’s being filmed. because when phil says “i just filmed you doing that you’re so weird”, he’s so delighted, he laughs at himself, he turns around, his hair is pushed back omg they are both so sleepy and i rejoice. i think this video gives us a rare but fantastic insight in their everyday life, phil must be keeping so much silly videos like that on his google drive and we never get to see them BUT SOMEHOW he posts this one, probably because dan is cute and he wants everyone to know it.

2) you loved it. you wanna do it more.

so, yes. you know this one. where do i even begin?? they play this dragon quiz and then 1) phil says “you loved it” in the strangest voice, like the voice we never hear from him, it’s deeper and quieter, he looks at dan even though dan’s not looking back; 2) dan is looking down as if he’s fiddling with an ipad or something, it’s almost a bts moment, something they would usually edit out. AND THEN THREE SECONDS OF SILENCE while dan kinda processes what’s going on and phil still looks at him expectantly. seductive as fuck. and now this quiet “alright”, i’m just… dan looks like he’s gotten the hint, so he’s a little embarrassed and they share the softest laugh. 

the thing is, we know how often phil makes sexual innuendos and dan always reacts the same way: he looks into the camera, he throws a witty comment in, he puts it on display to show us that there’s no intimacy in that moment. but not this time. i don’t understand why they didn’t edit it out. i just… don’t.

1) pantless liveshow
this is the ultimate. this is the weirdest and the most awesome thing these two gave me and i’m not even sure what can top that. the moment when phil decides to grab the humidifier and show us, he looks at the screen, says “one second” and stands up very awkwardly while dan turns the laptop away from him and makes the weirdest “how you doing” face. 

WHAT THE FUCK. did they think we were so used to them weirdos that we wouldn’t even notice that shit? but fuck, they do it again, they want to show us the spray and dan goes “should i go get it? you have to do phil’s corner”. like, i can’t function, i honestly can’t. AND THE WORST PART is when dan returns and we can see him covering his legs with a blanket just too fast like it’s not that cold boy come on.

i have no explanation and i have every explanation. i don’t deserve all this suffering.

4

I drew Noel Fielding, one of my favorite comedians of the BBC. He’s also the author of one of my favorite quotes to live by: ‘Life is nonsense, so wear silly shoes’.
5 hours, colored pencil.

Signs as things my Physics Teacher said.
  • aries: "Stand up Gabe, I'm setting your desk on fire."
  • taurus: "I don't care who's condom it is, put it away."
  • gemini: "Whoever wrote mitochondria as the most important thing you learned in science raise your hand I know there's more then one."
  • cancer: "No don't ask Jesus for help on your quiz if you didn't study, not even Jesus can help you now."
  • leo: "Would anyone like to donate clothing to put on our class skeleton, it makes me uncomfortable he gets to be naked in this class but I can't."
  • virgo: "No I'm not grading your tests I'm trying to sell my world of Warcraft account. That's what happens when you have kids."
  • libra: "Don't marry anyone named Mia. Most likely she's only marrying you for a visa trust me."
  • scorpio: "Oh really does it say you're a loser on your birth certificate too?"
  • sagittarius: "I may have accidentally sent a very personal email to one of your parents that was suppose to go to my mom."
  • capricorn: "Which one of you hell beasts stole my almond chocolate off my desk?"
  • aquarius: "No Gabe, Bill Nye the science guy isn't a documentary."
  • pisces: "Do I look like I would keep dead rats in a jar?- Don't answer that."
Wonderwall

Definition: Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time; a person you are completely infatuated with.

Word Count: 2,866.

A/N: In honor of the official premiere for SM:HC, I came up with this insanely cute fic that will just about melt your heart. (you can thank me later) Hope you enjoy! <3 (no spoilers)

* credit to the note saying used is found here.

Originally posted by spiderholland

Keep reading

Cooler Than Liquid Nitrogen

Request: “im literally down for anything about peter because i love him but could you do one where the reader finds out about him being spiderman??”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k


AP Chemistry was always approached half-heartedly by most of the students at your school, since it was the last lesson on a Monday. That’s why you were quite intrigued by how giddy Peter Parker looked as he mixed various concoctions, his eyes shifty as he fiddled with something underneath the table. Being the curious creature you were, you approached your friend, leaning beside him silently.

“Having fun?” You voiced, causing the fidgety boy to jump.

“Oh hey (Y/n), didn’t see you there.” He replied awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pocket.

Keep reading

Holding Out For A Hero - Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker/Reader

Word Count: 2,229

Warnings: Mild Violence

Notes: This is my first time posting some of my writing on Tumblr! I was contemplating whether or not to create a whole separate blog for fanfiction, but I’m not sure yet. Hope you enjoy! Please comment to let me know what you think! P.S. This is super gross and short and I was too lazy to finish it, sorry. 

THREE WEEKS AGO

“Okay, what is the metallurgical process called in which a metal is obtained in a fused state?” You recited from a passage in the textbook, slightly stumped yourself if it wasn’t for the answer column on the right side of the page. Peter chewed on the tip of his eraser, tapping his pencil against his splayed homework, which, still happened to be blank. You could see the cogs and gears working in his head, but something was distracting him. His normally bright features were reduced to a dim, throbbing pulse, and his mouth had been eternally drawn into a frown.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Can-can you repeat the question again?”

“The answer was smelting,” you stated bluntly, feeling a morsel of pity harden in your chest. The period was almost over, but Peter was in no shape to take the chemistry quiz tomorrow, even if it was a small part of his overall grade. Surely you could extend the session for a little while longer, right? Just until he got the gist of it. The shortcoming of light and unbreathable tension that had befallen the muggy atmosphere made it hard for you to pinpoint his pronounced apprehension, yet even in your half-awake, disheveled state, you could still manage to discern every exhausted feature of the boy that sat before you in the afternoon murkiness.

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he held his face in his hands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, Y/N. This is useless. I’m wasting your time. Thanks for trying to help me, but we’ve been at this for ages.“  

“Hey,” you cooed, placing a hand on his leg, only realizing minutes after an awkward deadlock that your comforting gesture was anything but platonic. You withdrew your arm almost immediately, your fingers inadvertently brushing past the outer of his thigh in a frantic frenzy to recompose yourself, and your cheeks flushed a reddish hue you hoped he would assume from the sun’s harsh glares.

 Peter’s lower lip was close to bleeding from all the anxious gnawing he had accomplished in the alarmingly-short time frame. You were used to being able to ease people’s worries fairly quickly, yet upon witnessing Peter’s neurotic state with your very two eyes, the more you tried to help him, the more you continued to nourish his discomposure.

The petulant frown on your face turned briefly apologetic, and the knot manifesting in the bottom of your stomach tightened unforgivably. “How about we take a break? I can cook some food for us downstairs. My parents are working late tonight, so I’d pretty much be on my own anyways. It’s really no trouble, Peter.” 

The boy’s head perked up instantly. “Did you just call me by my first name?” he mused, grinning wryly. 

You laughed halfheartedly. “Don’t get used to it.”

Peter followed you into the kitchen, hoisting himself up onto the counter rather fluidly, and he wrung his hands in his lap, watching as you gathered various ingredients from the cupboards. With armfuls of spices and cutlery, you disgorged your ever-growing pile onto a cutting board, accidentally dropping a ceramic bowl in the process. You barely had time to shriek as your mother’s esteemed dish tumbled towards the tiles, but before it could shatter into shards, Peter reached down and grabbed it out of thin air, catching it centimeters from the ground. 

“This-ah-I think this is yours,” he offered shyly, slowly handing you the bowl that should have been blown to smithereens if it wasn’t for his unnaturally quick reflexes. With your mouth agape, you stared at Peter in awe, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Did he? Could he? How was that even possible? You had seen Peter during P.E. He wasn’t fast, and he wasn’t athletic. His coordination was okay, but compared to everybody else, he was as ordinary as they came. 

Speechless, you returned to your cooking, turning the dial on the stove as you waited for the burners to heat up. The crackle of fire permeated throughout the room. 

“How-how did you do that?” You exasperated, placing your hands on your hips incredulously. Okay, now you knew for certain that something was seriously off. The whole night had been weird, but that—that was absurd

Peter obviously wasn’t expecting you to be so upfront, judging by the fact that he was stuffing his face with a half-eaten bag of croutons. “Do what?” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. 

“This! How did you do this?” You shook the bowl accusingly in his presence, your eyes aflame with a spark of lunacy, searching for any plausible answer in your frustratingly empty head. It wasn’t logical. Nobody was that quick. Not even Quicksilver. 

Peter flinched. “Guess I got lucky?”

“Pfft, yeah, right. It was luck. Will you get lucky on your chemistry quiz tomorrow, too?” Maybe you were being a little harsh, but you didn’t believe him for a second. 

You could feel his eyes perusing the kitchen as you shoveled a thinning pile of vegetables into the pan, nudging them around with a wooden spatula. Right as the cabbage and peas and carrots hit the surface, the oil popped like bubbles in champagne. The two of you managed to make small talk for a while, but the conversation didn’t last long. You mixed in the rice next, wincing as flecks of oil bit at your wrist. Peter descried your unease almost immediately. 

He was about to say something before his phone went off, and repentantly, he ducked out of the room, picking up the call. You could hear his footsteps hike idly up the stairs. It was probably just someone checking in on him, right? But then again, why did he have to go all the way upstairs to answer it? That boy was hiding something, and you would get to the bottom of it, no matter how long it took. You dumped the frying pan over two China bowls, scooping out the fried rice with haste. 

Stealthily, you ascended towards the top of the stairwell, following the muffled voice that trailed down the corridor, ending at the bathroom door. The walls were somewhat soundproof, so you could only catch snippets here and there, but at one point, you thought you’d heard your name. You didn’t want to jar the partition open—or even jostle the knob to see if it was locked—because Peter would notice either way. Your fingers itched to yank open the door—to expose him for the liar that he was. And to think that you were just starting to tolerate him. 

Suddenly, as you were about to knock, the door flung open and you tripped over your toes, crashing into Peter’s chest with the grace of a newborn calf. You let out a high-pitched scream before foolishly realizing that you had yet to hit the ground, and with hesitance, you opened your eyes, baffled to find Peter staring back at you with the exact same expression of fear written in the worry lines of his face. Contrary to the manic beating of the boy’s heart, his arms were steadily fastened around your waist, hugging you close to his body. There was a moment where his embrace squeezed your ribs a little too tightly, but you didn’t want him to let go. Your tiny fists balled in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. You were parallel to his torso by this point, though a part of you still felt as if you were falling.

— 

Peter was going to Germany? You wouldn’t admit it to yourself. You tried not to think about all the things that he could be hiding from you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was happening. Of course, you and Peter weren’t friends. Peter wasn’t obligated to tell you anything, though his cold shoulder stung nonetheless. Maybe you’d overreacted? Ever since your first tutoring session together, a spark of suspicion had flared up in your gut, and it still refused to settle after a week later. Everything Peter had done, or was doing, made him look bad. It was possible that he could’ve been immensely oblivious, but he was smarter than the average teenage boy—or so you’d thought. You’d been kept in the dark ever since your family had moved to Queens. Nobody ever told you anything. Not because you weren’t trustworthy, but because you were innocent, and it was merely human nature to preserve innocence in the face of cruel, harsh reality. People underestimated you. They never seemed to want your opinion; they never seemed to care enough about you to even ask. And undeniably, you had grown accustomed to it. 

You weren’t fond of Peter, but he was the only person who voluntarily liked talking to you, so that had to stand for something. His absence struck your small frame like a speeding bullet, and his abrupt leave filled you with more resentment than you had ever felt in your entire life. Little voices whispered in the back of your head, pushing you closer to the edge, just waiting for you to explode, but thankfully, your brain was too rational to act on one indignant impulse. 

You stripped down your dirtied clothes, stumbling your way into the shower as you tested the water’s temperature with a hesitant foot, slipping beyond a floral-printed curtain. You washed away the grime and sweat from swollen skin, shaking despite the heat that engulfed you, and you silently swore beneath your breath, needling the handle a few inches. The water burned as tiny pinpricks erupted over your whole body, painting your upper arms and thighs an ugly red hue, but you simply gritted your teeth, ignoring the agonizing sensation. Shampoo rinsed your ratty mane of the night’s failure, and white, frothy bubbles coated the limestone floor, splattering at your feet in a torrential succession. 

You slid to the ground with a thud, pulling your knees into your bare chest underneath the profuse rain, and you could feel every droplet fall on your flesh like a piece of hail, traveling in cataracts down coiled limbs. At first, the downpour was too heavy for you to differentiate between the sticky wetness on your face, but after a while, the tears that rolled down your cheeks were now waterfalls that spilled from bloodshot eyes. And you sobbed until your throat cracked and your mouth went dry.


PRESENT DAY

You winced as your back smashed against the side of a parked locomotive, denting the metal carapace and shattering the passenger window. Rendered powerless from the collision, you crumpled to the asphalt in a heap of reopened wounds, faintly making out two blurry silhouettes skirting along the edge of your reddened vision. Your jaw ached and you were more than positive that one of your ribs had splintered during the contact, but you made a feeble attempt to crawl a few inches towards the dirty backlot before being mercilessly struck down by the underside of somebody’s shoe. The side of your contused and lacerated cheek dug into jagged terrain from the pressure, and you bit down on your tongue to stop from screaming, feeling the dampness of tears slide through the cuts in your skin. You heard multiple footfalls congregating outside of your incapacitated state, heavy and tiresome from bearing the ever-present scars of warfare. There were grunts and groans and the occasional obscenity, but the noise of bone breaking drowned out the rest of the battle’s murmurs.

The smaller opponent seemed to swing from the rafters and the catwalks of the alleyway, as if he was suspended by some rope, but it was too dark to tell. The boy in the red spandex slid to a halt before his foe, flipping his palms up with such grace that the action was effortless—and somewhat natural—as a plume of white ejected from his wrist and coated the nameless assailant in an ivory web. The hero’s unidentifiable face was completely concealed by a thin sheet of fabric with two tiny eye holes purposed for navigation, but it wouldn’t take a detective to unravel the boy’s evident giddiness. His lapse of elation was short-lived, however, once the little mechanisms on his lower arms seemed to stop working. Suddenly, the boy was hurdled into a chain-link fence, doing absolutely nothing for your growing panic. A short hiss escaped from him as he fell onto his stomach and rolled briskly to his left, dodging another incoming material that had so haphazardly embedded itself into the backside of a convenient store. 

Your cries were lodged in your throat, residing in the pit of your chest as the last bit of air in your lungs evaporated into the starless sky, and somehow, you felt even closer to the ground than you had before. The weight of a thousand pickup trucks crushed your spine, pressing you further and further into the pulverized earth, your heart centimeters away from being dangerously impaled by the inward fragments of a broken rib. The preliminary numbness that had tickled your toes earlier now consumed your lower half, spreading to every inch of you like a wildfire. You attempted to stifle the continuous cries that leaked from your lips, but it was no use. You were as good as dead, and nobody could save you.