philophobic

Genevieve Marguerite Schubert Junior at Heathfield Academy "She had to protect herself from herself, from that little girl inside still looking for a happy ending"

[meirodc-deactivated20170317]

[poolklaasiveini]

[upper-east-side-elite]

[hellraisingstclair]

  Ho-ly crap. It’s the ultimate hoax. Woah, I’m my own worst enemy. That’s some deep shit, right there, Ghandi. Damn. I guess, but only if they’re crammed full with lots of stuff and a ton of sauce. Nobody likes to munch on just lettuce, am I right, ladies? I’d be happy to bet you that the first time the french tried to read escargot they messed it up.

[genevieveschubert]

Uh huh. First I was Einstein, now I'm Ghandi? Am I having an identity crisis or are you having it for me? Tell that to the models on the runway. Do they even eat? Oh my God, Pipes. You could always ask Victoria about that.

[elliot-leviste-deactivated20141]

            “So, I was thinking about your name today… in regards to the meaning behind it.”

[genevieveschubert]

... And what might that meaning be?

[oliverbeauregard-blog-deactivat]

Invite Me

There’s the whistle of a sniper too close to his ear, but as soon as he ducks behind the nearest wall—it’s crumbling and shot all to hell, but still standing, still functional—another sound reaches him. He looks to his left and there’s a blonde girl cowering in the shadows, head in her arms to muffle the sound of crying. He clears his throat over the distant noise, lets her know there’s someone there so she doesn’t freak out, and when she raises her head—

"Gen?" he says, confused. "I thought you were supposed to leave with the others."

"I was," she manages, wiping her eyes, "but our shuttle was ambushed. I don’t know who else got out, who’s alive." She breaks off again, choking on a sob, and Oliver wants to shush her but doesn’t have the heart. His fingers twitch against the metal of his own gun, and he looks over his shoulder; the conflict seems to have relocated somewhat, the sounds of gunfire coming from farther away, and this is an opportunity if there ever was one. There are a few unused bikes still standing in the parking lot, and if they can just get there…

"Listen to me, Gen," he says, taking a hand off his gun to lift her chin when she doesn’t seem like she’s going to comply. "I’m going to get you out of here, okay?" She makes no moves to stand, and he presses his lips into a line.

"Come with me," he pleads. He holds out a hand as he stands from his crouch, waiting for her to take it. It takes almost thirty seconds, but eventually she slides her fingers through his, letting him pull her up, and neither lets go until they’re on a bike, speeding down the broken road.

( genevieveschubert )

[jettrussell-deactivated20141101]

Wait so we’re gonna have to do this all again next year?

[genevieveschubert]

They have it every year! ... Didn't you know?

[jettrussell-deactivated20141101]

  It’s whatever. I’d rather be doing something much better but at least I’m not stuck in the room with nothing to do. What about you?

[genevieveschubert]

it's going okay. The blurbs we have to give get harder and harder to write every year though.

[anderson-jay-deactivated2015063]

  Exactly! I like to have an outfit for everything. Dress for success right? So how are you enjoying the evening? 

[genevieveschubert]

Of course! It's going okay ... Champagne and people everywhere! Who did you win, and who won you? ... Come to think of it that sounds kind of barbaric, like you're fighting for a piece of meat or something.

[upper-east-side-elite]

[enzoricciardi]

  Do teach me, master.

[genevieveschubert]

Why do I get the feeling you're being sarcastic?

[tag-mccleary-deactivated2014080]

  Sure. But it’s nice to hear somebody else say it once in awhile. And about those dates you’re stuck with— you win or lose this year?

[genevieveschubert]

You look very handsome tonight, Tag. I got Vivienne and Princess Elisabeth, so I guess a win? It'd be fun to hang out with them! You didn't participate?

[hellraisingstclair]

  Psh. Since when have you been the female incarnation of Einstein, anyways? I need to hunt down the villain who kept me out of the loop! Right? And if it doesn’t have at least two hundred calories in a single serving, that might as well not be considered food either. Please tell me you said Es-car-goat?

[genevieveschubert]

Since forever. What if ... the villan was yourself? Gasp, plot twist! Ohh, but then again salads are nice. Not really filling, but nice. And yes, I did. It's embarrassing, but then I'm sure almost everyone made that mistake.

[askboxmemes]

Even More Drabbles

[genevieveschubert]

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

[ethanxkingsley-blog]

Tell Me

Spencer slipped out from beneath his guest’s arm, carefully replacing his body with a pillow so that she would continue to slumber on peacefully. How ironic, that the skill he’d perfected while creeping out of various Kingston girls’ rooms was now being used to sneak out of his own bed. But he wasn’t plastered anymore, he couldn’t rightfully continue to enjoy the beautiful woman in his bed without guilt creeping in.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it’d happened; he could remember snatches of the party but he’d felt just shitty enough that he’d put several bills in Jeremy’s hand when he made his rounds and received two pills in return. "Don’t take them both at once, blue one first." That’d been the warning - Jeremy was always so confident when it came to his drugs. If they could only get him to harness that same capability in the rest of his life, then they might just be able to turn him into a proper man of status. An Arkwright. …maybe - and it’d been heeded, Spencer swallowing back the blue pill like he’d been instructed. Things had gotten hazy from there, stress melting off his shoulders and an easy grin finding its way to his face. He was a man, he handled his problems with his hands, but he could see the appeal in sinking into a cocktail of drugs whenever things got to be too much. He could nearly sympathize with why Marcus was delving into the oblivion so frequently now.

The Surgeon General would’ve advised against it, but he’d had finger after finger of whiskey to chase his little dose of relaxation, his buzz creeping up on him until he felt light, buoyant enough to float up and never come down. Hours passed, and some flash of insight reminded him that he still had the little white pill in the front pocket of his jeans, some hundred dollar drug that would only add on to his already pretty spectacular high. Fishing it out with considerable effort considering the relatively easy task, he gulped it down - a shot of rum this time, so smooth to swallow but it burned all the way down - no thought to the dozens of health and safety rules that he was probably breaking. 

For the longest time - maybe half an hour - he thought Morgan had passed him off a dud, noticing no new effects other than the languid feeling in his limbs. Didn’t connect the dots when he stripped out of his jacket and pulled open the buttons of his henley, wasn’t concerned when he was pulled out of his seat to dance. He was in an empty hallway, pressed up against a firm body - thank god for gymnastics - before Ecstasy was ever a thought in his mind, but by that time it hadn’t mattered, he was already slipping down a slope that he wasn’t interested in climbing up. At least, he hadn’t been while he’d been high as a kite.

Now? Now was a different story. Now, as he blearily sought out his boxer briefs from the piles of clothes scattered around his room, he wished he could climb back up to the peak, even if it meant sacrificing tooth and nail to get there. But there was no taking back his fall from grace. With hope, he had been discrete and no one who saw him leave would put two and two together. With hope, this could be the one secret that Spencer could hide from Marcus for however long, or short, they were friends, because he had a feeling that it would push his best friend over the deep end one way or another; the world would watch as the eldest Beresford heir was laid to rest, or they’d document every aspect of his incarceration for murder.

So why Spencer was still getting dressed, trying to figure out some way to break the news, was frankly beyond him.

Quietly puttering around his room, he finally collected up the pieces of Genevieve’s outfit and set them on the table next to ibuprofen and a glass of water, pulling the sheet up her body. “He still loves you, you know. I think a part of him always will,” he murmured, soft enough not to disturb her. 

After all, the stories said that you never forget your first heartbreak.

{ genevieveschubert }

[hannahmontgom-blog]

Drink Me

The air was full of cheers, loud bangs and stumbling falls. Hannah was amongst them, falling over her own heels on her way to the bar. She was a few years away from graduating still, but some of the girls she’d grown close to were now, and she wanted to spend the last couple of days she had with them having fun. A song came on, and she started humming before she asked for a shot from the bartender. Hannah was lost in her own head, just before someone else came over. It was Genevieve, tall and beautiful Genevieve. The kind of girl Hannah had always wanted to look like. Which was why Hannah leaned forward, all smiles as she said, “Congratulations!” Genevieve laughed, thanking her. Hannah’s shot came, and she hummed before she called out, “Another one for the beautiful lady next to me.”The drink came, and both of them kicked them back. They laughed, and for that one night they were friends. They’d never been close, and Hannah had always regret that, but shot after shot they started talking, and Hannah wished she could have turned back time to get to know her better.It was never too late, right?

genevieveschubert

[hellraisingstclair]

Mourn Me or Love Me

d e a t h [deth]noun1.the act of dying; the end of life;

Piper was both equally unaware and yet aware of the concept of death. She knew it the way she knew a very distant cousin. She vaguely knew it existed but had never been formally introduced to it. It was always just a strange concept to her. That was what it had always been. For the entirety of her life, she’d never, not once, felt the ice cold disbelief of knowing that someone you loved had left this world. 

As a result, she’d always assumed she kind of understood death. She’d familiarized herself with it. Her father was as close to it as can be, and this had given her a sense of entitlement. As if knowing was the equivalent of feeling. As if when it happened she would be prepared. As if when the inevitable hand was drawn she would be okay.

Oh, what a terrible misunderstanding on her part. 

See, Piper prided herself on her strong-wills. She, like many others at Heath-field, exercised control. Control of certain things, naturally, but control none the less. She wasn’t so different from the others that way. 

When Genevieve died, Piper lost control.

It dawned on her, in horribly harsh lighting, that she didn’t know death, and there was absolutely no pretending anymore. She simply didn’t understand it. She didn’t believe it. She didn’t try to grasp it or look it in the eye and willingly admit that one of her best friends, a girl that shone more fiercely than the sun itself had died and taken that sunshine with her.

As far as she could see, the world had collapsed into itself, the sun had been stolen and the darkness that encompassed everything was all that remained.That and anger. So much anger. She often found herself punching the walls, the windows, the desks. Clawing at her skin, the nightmares, the tears. Anything and everything her flesh could wound she would take aim at, knowing that this was the only way to feel real. Alive. To feel like she wasn’t living in the same six feet where Gen now resided. The thought it terrified her. Death hung over Piper’s slowly withering form like a ticking time bomb, ready to blow away all traces of her ever existing. This belief of being close to death’s grip, again and again began to encompass her. Bitterness, guilt, desperation all swirled into a powerful hatred that left her exhausted in the most random of places, strung out and empty, as if her body was next to be buried.

A hole that, with every lit cigarette, every sleepless night and days gone by without food, without company, without words, only grew until, like an unexpected wave, it crashed over her, yanking her down into the depths of her misery.

Nobody could understand why Gen’s death had left such an impact on Piper––and Hell, not even she knew why. All she knew what that there was so much blind rage inside her. So much loathing for the world. And though it was a lot for her broken mind to take, she could never seem to stop feeling it. It was better than feeling nothing. Mourning Genevieve was like swimming in the deep end. Like running in the rain. Like hanging off the edge. It exhilarated her long enough to know she wasn’t dead––not quite yet. But in the end, she was the one bent over at the end of the night, gasping for breath and ultimately?Praying to be saved.

{ genevieveschubert }