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jade-parcels · 3 years

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Can I please have some domestic fluff with Azhdaha and Osial 👉🏻👈🏻. Would they be cuddly? Cook? Would they be touch-starved 😉

Of course you can!!! In a world where Azhdaha and Osial were let out of their sealed caverns in order to sign a ‘I will protect Liyue in exchange for my freedom’ contract with Morax….

This was so fun! I wanna write more for them now…hehe..

Osial:

He tends to see himself as better than mortals, he’s proper and somewhat high strung. He was locked away in an era far different than this, so when he arrives in Liyue harbor for the first time in centuries, he’s surprised by everything. The things people eat, their religion, their storytellers…Hell, the dialect is even different (time for Zhongli to tutor his old friends so they don’t sound insane while trying to have a convo with regular folks lol)

He speaks very proper, similar to Zhongli, but he sounds very old fashioned. That is, when he does talk. Osial is quiet, he prefers to listen rather than speak

So when he meets you, his old fashioned tendencies leap out as he tries to court you with handmade gifts like necklaces or glazed pottery. Osial is very skilled with his hands! Back in his day, he’d adorn himself with all sorts of jewelry and headdresses he made himself

He can be very hands on too, before you’re ever on an established relationship he’ll link your arms as you walk down to the harbor or wrap an arm around your waist. Internally, you’ll probably think ‘oh man, we aren’t even together and he’s already this touchy…’ but in reality, that’s just how he is. He links arms with all of his friends because to him, it’s a friendly gesture!!! He fails to realize that in modern times, doing that makes it look like you’re a couple

Due to his imprisonment in the deepest, coldest part of the ocean, Osial is very touch starved. When you hug him for the first time, that’s when you really see it cause he doesn’t want to let go :’) he always smells like the ocean air and incense

Massage his shoulders and hands, he’s never had a massage in his entire life!! This is a new experience that he’ll treasure cause…you’re making him feel so good

When you’re together, he’ll want to go to the beach or take a bath, anywhere with water really. Being able to submerge himself in the tub soothes his skin and mind. When you are together, he’ll show you how he can ‘dissolve’ into the water! He isn’t actually dissolving, he’s kinda turning into water? And melting into it? I’m having a hard time finding the right word for it ahhh-

Osial, while gentlemanly and quiet, does have a temper. Zhongli really brings it out of him just because he thinks it’s funny “You stupid lizard, you better quit stepping on my shoes” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear friend” “MORAX!!!!” “….You must stop calling me that in public” it’s kinda funny to see them interact

Osial is a pescatarian, meaning he is a vegetarian who doesn’t eat any meat except fish. He eats…a lot of fish. Sometimes, instead of cooking the fish he just bought from the market, he’ll take one and sit on the sofa with a book…Then eats it raw as a snack…bones and all…blood dripping down his arm, smeared on his face. This is where Zhongli’s aversion to seafood comes from. When you bring up the fact that watching eat a raw fish that way is somewhat disturbing….Osial, again, doesn’t get it. It’s a fish, there’s nothing gross about eating fish?? Babe the fish isn’t gross but the way you’re eating it is gross

Also, Osial is an old fashioned romantic. I mentioned earlier that he’d make jewelry and stuff for you but he’d also write poems for you too :) are they good? Well…’good’ is subjective

Azhdaha:

When Morax sealed him away, Azhdaha had been his most loyal companion. After the god of contracts gave him a set of eyes, Azhdaha swore to protect him. He followed him around, did almost everything he was asked to do

He had centuries to ponder his behavior when he was locked away. He sat and mourned the loss of his freedom, the loss of his dearest friend

So when Morax came to release him, he leapt at the opportunity to come up out of the ground

Azhdaha’s human form is TALL, like 6’5, and Liyue harbor is noooot meant for people that tall. He’s gotta duck when going through doors and kinda hunch in areas with low ceilings. He has a good sense of humor so he thinks it’s funny how he’s so tall, he makes jokes about it and laughs :)

Speaking of laughing, Azhdaha does NOT have an inside voice, he talks super loud!! He’s a bit rowdy too, he doesn’t like sitting still for long and loves going on adventures together

Azhdaha used to be blind and even though he has had eyes for centuries now, he never takes a sight for granted. He’ll watch the sunset, take ‘mental pictures’ of you when he thinks you look pretty, he’ll make you stand and watch street performances even if you’ve seen them ten times already just cause he loves it

His favorite colors are red, purple and orange. They’re just pleasing to his eyes! So when you wear those colors he’s sure to take as many ‘mental pictures’ as he can :) cute

He isn’t really a good cook but he DOES try. Cooking usually takes a delicate touch which he just doesn’t really have lol he’s got big hands

Azhdaha isn’t the best at cooking and is insecure about picking gifts, he just worries you won’t like it :( sooooo the way he shows his affection is by just hanging around you all the time! He’ll help with commissions, come pick flowers or break open cor lapis for you, go fishing with you, whatever you want to do!!

Once he’s fallen for you, it’s pretty easy to tell, he isn’t very subtle :) cuuute! You can just see it in his eyes….he’s totally infatuated with you

Zhongli will tease him too just cause it’s funny to fluster the gentle giant

((Thank you for reading this far!! Now I have a question, should/can I pick a human name for Osial and Azhdaha? Or should I just keep their god names when writing for them? I think I have a name for each but idk 😅))

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact osial #genshin impact azhdaha #azhdaha #osial #azhdaha x reader #Osial x reader #answered requests!#asks #asks!

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maladaptive---daydreamer · 4 years

Text

Black ribbon and silver bows

The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?

You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers.

“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”

“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe”

You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”

“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”

If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.

“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”

The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in.

“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat.

The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.

“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”

You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing.

“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done.

“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned.

He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full.

“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework.

“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on

“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“Y/N, you alright?”

Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.

“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer

You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”

“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”

“You too Neville,”

He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.

“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.

“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”

“He’s also Longbottom”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”

Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.

After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.

“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.

“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”

“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”

“I’m ready to leave this place”

“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”

“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”

“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”

“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”

“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”

“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”

“I don’t like you”

“That’s because you love me,”

“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”

He paused “As a matter of fact I do”

“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”

“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”

“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”

“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.

“So is that your favourite memory of us?”

“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”

“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”

“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”

“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”

Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”

“You are?”

��Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”

“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“You are so whipped”

Draco shoved you off him playfully.

“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.

“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”

“You’d what? Tell your father?”

“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless.

“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.

“I love you more”

“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled.

You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room.

You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion.

After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting.

The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room.

You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents.

Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection.

In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep.

In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake.

“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.

“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.

“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”

“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”

“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”

You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work.

It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom.

In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed.

The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry.

“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”

“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”

You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”

They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil”

You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”

You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall.

“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”

“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly

He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed.

“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”

“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”

“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”

“Dra-”

He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him.

He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter.

You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.

“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.

“Nothing,” You lied.

“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”

You sighed and explained everything.

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”

“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”

“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”

“You’re right, do you know where he is?”

“He went straight into his dormitory”

You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.

“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room.

Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.

“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”

“Oh”

“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed

“I’m sorry, darling,”

“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”

He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.

“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”

“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”

“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned.

“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”

Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.

“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way.

The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied.

Y/N,

You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you.

Mother

You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way.

Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.

Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams,

Mother

You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.

The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends.

At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.

“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk.

“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes.

“What are you doing, Y/L/N?”

You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out.

“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted.

“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”

You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked.

“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

“Only the best for my boyfriend”

You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped.

“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”

He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed.

You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.

“Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister.

He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.

“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top.

His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug.

“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.

“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”

“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look”

His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present.

“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.

“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”

“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.

“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”

He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.

“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned.

“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss.

He pulled back after a few moments with a grin.

“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”

“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”

He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.

“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”

You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.

“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.

“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”

You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”

“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”

“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”

“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”

“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”

“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”

“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”

And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #hogwarts imagines #hp #hp imagines #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

chap 2 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Against his better judgement, Meng Yao finds himself quite charmed by the too handsome researcher who wants to meet his employer

Mister Shanzi will be unhappy when he discovers that Meng Yao has agreed to meet with a researcher without first consulting him, but he is simply too curious. It is so odd for anyone to be so interested in that obscure painter, and so desperate to see more of his work. Of course, Mister Shanzi himself holds a clear interest in Nie Huaisang, one that he has unwillingly transmitted to Meng Yao… But mister Shanzi is an odd man, and ordinary people cannot be compared to him.

For this reason, Meng Yao's first instinct upon being contacted by Lan Xichen had been suspicion. Mister Shanzi has his enemies, as Meng Yao knows well, and they try to act clever sometimes.

His second instinct, after a quick internet search, had been amusement. Surely nobody expected him to believe that this man, handsome enough to play the lead in a drama, was a mere university teacher.

A more thorough search had confirmed it though. Meng Yao knew enough about running a con to spot modified photos and fake credentials, and he had found none of that. Digging further, Lan Xichen appeared in the background of photos and was referenced here and there on relatives' social media, with no incoherence to the presentation he'd given in his email.

So Meng Yao had found himself intrigued, and offered to meet and chat.

A decision he half regrets now, because somehow, Lan Xichen is even more handsome in person. He is, in fact, the single most beautiful person that Meng Yao has seen in his life, easily outranking mister Shanzi who had reigned there supreme since the day Meng Yao met him during a con gone wrong.

"I am so glad you offered to meet me," Lan Xichen says with a warm smile. "I am really sorry that I was so insistent, but it is so rare for several of Nie Huaisang’s works to be in a single place."

“I understand,” Meng Yao replies, trying to match the warmth of that smile when he can’t help being a little dazzled by that handsome stranger. “Though at the moment, my employer is a little wary of showing any of those paintings in his possession until he has inspected them all again. It is very embarrassing that several fakes fooled him, and mister Shanzi wants to restore his reputation. He is still getting used to modern technology, and how much it has changed the art market in recent decades.”

Mostly, mister Shanzi complains a lot on the matter, and keeps saying he’s going to have to change career soon. Apparently, back in the days, it was much easier to sell a decent fake as long as you also sold enough real things. But now with age testing of the paper and analysis of the ink, it’s nearly impossible to do a good enough job.

Of course mister Shanzi could quite easily make as much money only selling legitimate art, he has the connections, the collection, and impeccable taste. So Meng Yao suspects it’s not just about money, and more about the twisted joy of deceiving others. He can't fault him for that.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I was fooled as well, so I understand the feeling. It’s so disappointing, but not unexpected. Nie Huaisang attracts forgers like no other artists.”

Meng Yao nods sympathetically. He’s heard mister Shanzi boast that well over half of Nie Huaisang’s paintings in circulation are copies he made himself, and perfectly undetectable unless one runs those ‘damn new tests’ on them.

“If I may be so bold, why the interest in that particular painter?” Meng Yao asks. “Surely you could have found someone less complicated to study.”

Rather than to answer immediately, Lan Xichen considers the question. He takes a sip of tea with more elegance than this café deserves, and Meng Yao is struck once more with the idea that this man should be acting in drama, not writing essays nobody will ever read. It’s easy to imagine Lan Xichen playing the role of a noble prince, or even a god.

“He’s just a fascinating character I suppose,” Lan Xichen says at last. “Outside of his art, we know so little about him. We don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Lan Xichen smiles, clearly very pleased to have gotten that reaction.

“He wasn’t born Nie Huaisang,” he explains. “That’s only his courtesy name. You see, he belonged to that… well, they called themselves a sect, though at the end of the day they were closer to nobility, with the same inheritance problems and power struggles. Still, Qinghe Nie held a number of beliefs, and one of them was that the birth name of its members had to be kept a complete secret… and Nie Huaisang is among those who succeeded at obeying that rule. So we don’t know his name, we don’t know his date of birth, and we don’t know how he died or when.”

“Is there anything that is known about him?” Meng Yao teases, more endeared and intrigued than he would care to admit.

Lan Xichen must notice, because he smiles again, as if delighted to have found someone willing to listen to his impromptu lecture.

“We know he was raised by his brother because their father died when they were young,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, half-brother. Nie Huaisang was the child of a concubine, or even of a servant. His father recognised him, but his legitimacy was called in question a few times. We know he survived a local insurrection nicknamed the Sunshot Campaign, though it’s unclear if he was old enough to have taken part in any fighting. His brother did though, with great success, but died without heirs a few years later and Nie Huaisang found himself in charge of a fief.”

He pauses there, his expression turning sadder, as if he were talking of a personal friend rather than a long dead man. Meng Yao finds it ridiculous and a little endearing.

“A few anecdotes from the lives of contemporaries tell us that he must have had a rough time at first,” Lan Xichen continues, “and he was suspected for a while of being implicated in the murder of the head of the Jin clan, but nothing ever came out of that. He’s just thirty at that point, still fairly young, and he lives on for another fifty, maybe sixty years… and we don’t know anything about what he does during that time. Nobody really talks about Qinghe Nie again until his successor rises to power and brings the clan back into the political sphere. Nie Huaisang’s life is a mystery. What little we think we know comes from the few poems he left, and whatever clues we can gather from his numerous paintings. Isn’t that fascinating?”

What’s fascinating, Meng Yao thinks, is the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up when talking about something he’s passionate about. If it’s an act, then it’s an excellent one… but Meng Yao finds himself hoping that it’s sincere, that Lan Xichen really is just an odd man who is apparently half in love with a painter who died a millennium and a half ago.

There is no way that mister Shanzi would ever let anyone see his private collection. Even Meng Yao is barely allowed to go to his employer’s house, to avoid attracting attention to the place. Lan Xichen’s request is never going to be granted.

But it has been a long while since Meng Yao has been so intrigued by someone, not since first meeting mister Shanzi in fact. And mister Shanzi, in spite of the mutual attraction that Meng Yao knows to be there, has made it quite clear that he isn’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. Meng Yao has satisfied himself with that so far, because his life really is pretty good as it currently is, but Lan Xichen changes that. Surely there’s no harm in pretending that there’s a chance he might get to see the painting, at least until Meng Yao can decide if that too handsome man is trustworthy or not, dateworthy or not…

“It does sound interesting,” Meng Yao admits. “I’m sure mister Shanzi would…”

His phone starts vibrating, interrupting him. Meng Yao can’t help a slight frown, which turns to a deeper one when he sees the message he’s just received.

“Well, I have to go,” he sighs. “I’m really sorry. But… mister Lan, if I may be so bold, would you agree to exchanging numbers? That way we can continue talking about this more easily.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Xichen replies. There is a trace of pink on his cheeks as he takes out his own phone, which Meng Yao finds both very fetching and rather encouraging.

He’ll have to be careful, this could be a trap, Lan Xichen might be an excellent actor, part of a team skilled enough to have fooled Meng Yao, but… but he might not be, too, and it would be a shame to miss this chance.

After having exchanged numbers and promised to be in touch soon, Meng Yao quickly heads home. He lives on the edges of the city, in a building that already looked ancient when he was a kid. Today’s a good day, because the lift is, in fact, actually working for once.

Upon getting to his floor, Meng Yao goes to knock on the door next to his. It opens nearly immediately.

“Meng Yao, you’re saving my life,” the young woman who lives there greets him. “I’m really sorry, I’ve tried everyone else, but I’ve been called in for an extra shift and I need the money so bad, I’ve had to buy her new shoes this month, and…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

His neighbour thanks him again, and rushes inside. She’s back quickly, her daughter in her arms. The child nearly throws herself at Meng Yao, and her mother runs off to work, leaving them alone.

“Well, Beastie, it’s just you and me,” Meng Yao says, walking to his door. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“Watch fighting movies! Eat candies!”

“And what will we tell mama we did?”

“Watch documentaries and eat greens and I went to bed and I was good!” The little girl roars.

Meng Yao laughs, and puts her down while he unlocks his door. Beastie runs inside to check the tv, while Meng Yao makes sure they actually have something to eat. He tries to keep his fridge full and his cabinet fuller, especially since Beastie has become a regular at his place. Her mother is a hard working girl who, like Meng Yao’s mother, got pregnant too young from a man who didn’t stick around. He used to babysit Beastie for extra cash before meeting mister Shanzi, and for some reason he never really stopped, even if he refuses to take money for it now. He just likes Beastie and her mom, and he remembers how much his own mother used to rely on neighbours too, whenever things became rough.

As Beastie and him settle down for the night, ready to watch one of those cheesy, over the top old kung-fu movies that they both love, Meng Yao gets a text from Lan Xichen, thanking him again for meeting him. After only the briefest of hesitations, Meng Yao quickly answers that he’s sorry he had to leave so fast, because he loved chatting with Lan Xichen. This prompts another text from the handsome teacher, to which Meng Yao replies as well.

His phone doesn’t stop buzzing all nigh, and Meng Yao doesn't stop smiling.

In the days and weeks that follow, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen manage to meet in person a few more times, and text nearly constantly. At their second meeting they’re still pretending that this is only about Lan Xichen’s research, but by the third one they start openly chatting about other things.

Lan Xichen is very open about his life, and everything he says fits with what Meng Yao had found during his initial investigation. He has a little brother nearly fifteen years younger than him who lives with him, he enjoys teaching and researching equally, he has a pet rabbit called Liebing he dotes on, he can’t handle spice at all, he has, in fact, been asked more than once if he was interested in a modelling or acting career but always refused because academia is his calling.

Meng Yao is more careful with the information he shares. He admits to having worked for mister Shanzi for nearly five years, but doesn’t elaborate on how they meet because that's not a story for honest people. He confesses he didn’t have any particular interest in art until taking the job, though he has tried to educate himself on the subject since then (Lan Xichen offers to go to a museum together someday, and to his own surprise, Meng Yao agrees). He doesn’t have pets, but he does have Beastie and he’s pretty sure that counts.

The way Lan Xichen’s eyes go soft over that… it does things to Meng Yao’s poor heart.

As does almost everything Lan Xichen does or says, in fact.

Meng Yao is half appalled at himself for how fast he’s falling for Lan Xichen. He tries to resist it, tries to be reasonable, but Lan Xichen just has to smile the right way, and Meng Yao’s heart flutters in his chest. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

He starts thinking like one, too.

Ever since meeting mister Shanzi, Meng Yao has been loyal to his employer. There is something about the man that demands it, and though he has never made threats of any sorts, Meng Yao can feel that mister Shanzi is not a man who takes kindly to betrayal.

And yet, it would be so easy to arrange for Lan Xichen to come to mister Shanzi’s home without his knowledge. Meng Yao is in charge of his employer’s schedule, so he knows where he is at any given time. He also has the keys to that isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It would be so easy, and Meng Yao has never been too good at resisting temptation.

At this point, he knows that if he tells Lan Xichen he won't see the paintings, the other man will be disappointed but will ask if they can keep seeing each other anyway. This isn't about finding a way to keep his attention: Meng Yao knows he has it already.

It's about Meng Yao guessing how happy Lan Xichen will be to see those paintings, and deciding surely that's worth the risk.

That’s how Meng Yao and Lan Xichen find themselves in a car one day, heading out of the city together. Meng Yao feels his skin buzzing with nerves, though every time he takes his eyes from the road to glance at Lan Xichen and finds him glowing and as excited as a child, he knows it was the right choice. It takes them a few hours to get to the house, which they spend chatting about a number of things. About midway through the trip, when they take a break, Meng Yao announces that due to a last minute problem, mister Shanzi won’t be able to meet them at the house, but welcomes them to check the paintings without him. Lan Xichen is of course disappointed and offers to try again another time, but Meng Yao convinces him it’s more convenient to go that day.

The house, hidden in a bamboo forest, takes Lan Xichen’s breath away when he discovers it, just as it did for Meng Yao the first time. It’s not particularly big or extravagant, but there’s something about it that makes Meng Yao’s heart ache every time he sees it, as if he’s known it before. It’s ridiculous, of course. He’d never really left the city before starting to work for mister Shanzi.

“It looks like home,” Lan Xichen whispers as he exits the car.

“Does your family have a place like that?”

Lan Xichen frowns, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But it still feels like home. I can’t explain why… Ah, don’t mind me. Let’s just go inside.”

Meng Yao hides a smile and goes to open the door. In truth, he’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mister Shanzi has no reason to be back from his trip until tomorrow, but Meng Yao won’t feel safe until they’ve left. It really is stupid to have come here at all, and even Lan Xichen’s happiness is starting to not feel worth the risk.

The house is quiet when they go in, and a little cold, making them shiver. It’s always fresh in there, which Meng Yao assumes is why mister Shanzi has taken to calling his home the Hanshi.

“It’s not a very welcoming name for a home,” Lan Xichen says as he looks around, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s not much of a home anyway. He doesn’t live here most of the time,” Meng Yao explains as they head for the kitchen. “It has his private collection, a few personal belongings, and that’s it. He prefers to stay with friends or at hotels if he can. Check the fridge and you’ll see how bad it is.”

While Meng Yao pours himself a glass of water, Lan Xichen does check the fridge, and finds it predictably empty except for some forgotten leftovers. Sometimes, Meng Yao suspects that mister Shanzi doesn’t eat at all unless he has company.

After taking a moment to rest from the long trip, Meng Yao takes Lan Xichen toward the workshop in the basement, where he knows his employer usually keeps the best parts of his collection, fake and authentic paintings carefully divided according to a system he taught to Meng Yao.

It really feels more and more like a betrayal to be doing this, but Lan Xichen is glowing, and mister Shanzi will never know.

Meng Yao starts opening the door.

His blood turns to ice when he realises that there’s light inside the room.

He thinks, for a second, to stop and run away while he can, but it’s too late already. Lan Xichen would ask questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers. It could save him from also dealing with mister Shanzi’s fury at least, but even that won’t be afforded to him. When Meng Yao peaks inside, mister Shanzi’s swivel chair is turning toward the door, with mister Shanzi sitting crossed leg in it and looking curiously at the intruders.

It is painfully obvious that mister Shanzi isn’t expecting visitors. Instead of the polished outfits he favours in public, he’s wearing a pair of novelty boxers with emoji on them, and a hoodie two sizes too big with ink stains on the sleeves. His long hair isn’t in a neat braid, but in a messy bun held in place by some cheap chopsticks. In short, mister Shanzi doesn’t look like the refined young man he endeavours to be when he has to show his face somewhere, and more like a college student who has forgotten the taste of any food except instant noodle and energy drinks.

That impression is only made worse by the headphones he’s now lowering, and the game console on his lap. They must have caught him taking a break.

“Meng Yao, why are you…” mister Shanzi starts asking, unfolding his legs so he can stand up, only to interrupt himself when his gaze falls on Lan Xichen.

His hands start shaking, badly enough that his console falls from his grip and onto the floor, its screen cracking upon impact.

“You!” mister Shanzi gasps, eyes wide with terror.

#xisangyao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #xisang #mostly just hinted but still #jau writes #counterfeit au #next chapter will probably be pretty short

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hi, I love your works. I was wondering if I could request a Zim x fem during the tak the hideous new girl episode. Maybe she gets jealous and tries to explain the toxicity of the relationship and just gets so frustrated with Zim that she ends up confessing her feelings to him? Thank you!

Thank you so much! This one was a lot of fun, and I had a lot of things I wanted to do so it’s kind of long and skipped around a few times. I still hope it’s coherent lmao. I honestly really enjoy writing Zim fanfic because his personality is so fun to write for.

For a Monday morning, the energy in the classroom was off the walls. It may have been suppressed to the best of everyone's ability, but anticipation was bubbling to the surface. As you glanced around, several feet were tapping beneath the desks uncontrollably, eyes darting from backpacks that smelled vaguely of meat to the looming figure of Ms. Bitters, who looked bothered to be there--something that wasn't unusual. One kid in the back was even vibrating and frothing at the mouth. The only ones who seemed calm were Zim and Dib; a strange occurrence in its own right, usually those two were the ones causing mayhem. You suspected why. After all, this holiday was never kind to the social outcasts. Best for them not to get excited at all, it's just another day.

Your eyes rested on Zim in particular, lingering there. This tended to happen often, even from the start. How could you not stare at him? When a bizarre green kid shows up out of nowhere and yells a lot, what else are you to do? You had approached him several times before, eating lunch with him on occasion. Zim was definitely weird, but you found yourself liking that about him. Maybe he had piqued your interest purely because he was new. You had been surrounded by the rest of your peers since practically diapers, and fresh faces didn't come around very often. Either way, as much as you didn't want to admit it, you had developed a bit of a crush on him. The combination of his flamboyant attitude and his offbeat personality was just so enticing.

The phone rang, and you could practically feel the collective breath the class sucked in. Moving in an almost supernatural manner, Ms. Bitters went to answer it. Her eye twitched as she held the receiver to her ear.

"No...no. No!" Her voice came out in a hiss, eyes narrowed to slits behind her glasses. "You'll pay for this one." Angrily hanging up the phone, she turned to address the class, paying no attention to the phone that was being consumed by flames. "Class, despite my moral outrage, the principal is allowing you to celebrate Valentine's Day this year."

Those were the only words needed for the classroom to figuratively errupt like a shaken can of soda. Your peers went wild, cheers close to manic screams sounding as kids dumped their bags out on the desks, meat slabs tumbling out. Again, the only two students not excited were Dib and Zim. Dib wore an expression of irritation, just wishing to get the day over with. Zim on the other hand seemed to be completely confused. His eyes flickered from student to student, watching in disgusted fascination as the meat continued to fall from bags as the kids all had dopey grins plastered on their faces.

"Go ahead. Pass out your Valentine's meat slabs. It's traditional." As if on cue, everyone stood up at once, taking their meat to desks all around the room, full of glee. You had never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day, but you had decidedly been looking forward to the holiday this year. You thought that maybe this would be the day you could drop some hints to Zim and gauge his reaction. Fishing out the special meat slab you had saved and card you made for him, you stood up, pacing over to his desk. There was already a girl there so you stood back a ways, watching the exchange unfold.

The girl gestured the tray she held in her hands forward, offering the neatly arranged heart shaped mini meat slabs. Rather than take it, Zim pushed himself as far back as his chair would allow, his fingers curling against the desk.

"I-I left my meat at home. Sorry, I sort of forgot it, uh..." Teeth gritted, his panicked gaze surveyed the classroom to see if the majority had their eyes on him. They didn't; they were much too occupied with their own valentines to pay Zim's antics any mind. Regardless of Zim's clear discomfort, the girl laid the meat on his desk with a smile on her face. "Get that out of my face!" He screamed, violently shoving the meat from his desk and into the poor girl's face. He swiped at the air in front of his face as if trying to defend himself from an attacker. The girl scoffed in annoyance, picking up her meat and walking away, grumbling about how he should have felt lucky to receive anything at all.

The slab of meat you held felt heavy in your hands in that moment. He clearly was not into the whole Valentine's meat slab thing.

Possibly a cultural difference? You thought to yourself, grip tightening on the meat. You only wished to give him something he would like, and maybe in turn, he would like you. But what to do with the meat? Turning around, you saw Ms. Bitters hunched over her desk, looking absolutely miserable. That'll do...

You scuttled over to her desk, gently placing the meat slab down.

"What do you want?" Her voice may have been as grating as nails on a chalkboard, but you had learned to never show fear around her.

"Er, happy Valentine's Day!"

"Tch. Go socialize with your other hopeless peers before you lose the privilege." Nodding, you slowly backed away. You had gotten rid of the meat, so it was a win for you. To your delight, Zim's desk was empty. His eyes continued to dart around the room, staying vigilant in case some other student came bearing horrible meaty gifts. Letting out one final determined breath, you strode right up to his desk, waving slightly.

"I said I do not want your vile meats!" He hissed, clawing the air once more.

"I don't have meat, Zim. It's okay." A giggle fell from your lips as you presented your card. "I hope a card is okay?" He eyed the paper suspiciously as you slid it across his desk.

"Zim has nothing for you, Y/n." Regardless of his concerns, he took the card in his hands.

"That's fine." With one last distrusting look, he opened the card and began to read. It was a homemade card, something you had spent quite a bit of time on the night before. Doodles in marker were scribbled across the front, and the inside held words about how you thought he was worth hanging around despite everyone shunning him because of being a freak. There was also a decent drawing of him playfighting Dib and winning, which you thought he'd like.

"Oh. This is...um. Wow." Zim seemed to not grasp the meaning of the card. Either that, or this was his way of telling you he wasn't interested. You weren't sure which was more hurtful.

"Sorry, I...just forget about it." Suddenly your shoes became the most interesting thing you had seen in years. However, Zim guessed that he had made a mistake of some kind.

"No! I like it! It is a gift worthy of Zim!! I especially like the part where I beat the Dib." His face was split by a massive grin, and you assumed this was his unorthodox way of thanking you for it. "I thought it would explode or something." You laughed, however, he did not. Apparently he wasn't joking. Another reason you liked him. He was just so unabashedly strange--it was a great break from the norm.

You hadn't noticed Ms. Bitters take another phone call until after she had hung up, turning back to the class. "Everyone! Sit down!"

"But-" The class began to whine, not finished handing out their meaty treats.

"Now!" The old witch snapped, sending you dragging your feet back to your desk. Zim's eyes were on you the whole time, still trying to figure out why you would give him such a thing, especially without something in return. He didn't have much time to give it deep thought though, as the class erupted in whispers at the humongous jet that had just landed outside the window. You couldn't help but wonder just what was going on. Before you could even begin to delve into that train of thought, a girl wandered into the classroom, sharp purple eyes surveying the room. "To celebrate over crowding in Skool, a new student will be joining us." Ms. Bitters gestured to the girl standing at the front of the room. Her hands were folded behind her black striped dress as she smiled. Despite her seemingly pleasant attitude, something about her just rubbed you the wrong way. There was something off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Hi! My name's Tak. I'm new here."

"Hello, Tak." You joined in with the monotone mumbling of the class, however your words came out in a grumble.

"My father's the head of the DEE-Licious Weenie corporation. So I brought Valentine's weenies for everyone!" With a wave of her hand, weenies rained down from nowhere that you could see. Almost everyone around you cheered wildly, already thrilled to have Tak as a part of the student body. Just when you were thinking she wasn't so bad, she spoke again. "Except for that kid!" She jumped on top of Ms. Bitters' desk, combat boots bringing a heavy thud. Pointing a finger at Zim, a maniacal smirk was ever present on her face. Whipping your head towards him revealed him to be completely uninterested.

"Weenies, schmeenies! Zim needs no meat!" He waved his hand, leaning back in his chair, a bored expression settling on his features.

Tak ignored his comment, continuing on. "For him, I have prepared a poem." Your eyebrow quirked up, you definitely weren't liking where this was going. She cleared her throat, about to begin, only to be interrupted by Sara.

"Looks like Zim has a girrrlfrieeennnnd!" Her voice was taunting, and although the comment was meant to be just a tease, you felt as if your heart skipped a beat. Your skin prickled as Tak ripped up the paper in her hands, rounding on Sara.

"It's not nice to embarrass people! You should apologize, and, um, eat your eraser!" Zim looked utterly terrified, sinking down so far into his seat that only his eyes were barely visible above the desk. To your shock and amazement, Sara actually proceeded to eat her eraser, even apologizing to both Tak and Zim. Things had officially safely crossed into 'what the fuck' world. You peered at Dib, the usual skeptic and gave him a 'you seeing this shit?' look, hoping he would concur. He seemed fine with what was happening, which was the most concerning part of the whole ordeal.

This is officially the weirdest day I have ever experienced...and it's only nine in the morning... You rested your chin in your hands, worried for whatever was about to happen.

"For longer than I can remember, I've been looking for someone like you. Someone with a head like yours, and a torso too. Birds sing, and you're gonna PAY, the end! Now, here's some meat covered in barbeque sauce!" Tak cackled as she tossed a rack of ribs dripping in barbeque sauce into Zim's face. A horrible shriek of pain tore itself from his throat, and you turned your attention back to Tak. Not only were you irritated that she read Zim a poem, the ending was not normal, and seemed to hide very violent intentions. Something was off. It felt almost as if she had history with Zim.

"Thank you, Tak. That was horrible." Ms. Bitters made room for her to take a seat, sending someone to the supposed 'underground classrooms'. Meanwhile, Zim's face looked as if he had been hit with a scalding hot waffle iron rather than a rack of ribs. His mouth twitched in pain as his fingers dug into the desktop, jaw clenched. The bell rang afterwards, sending kids out faster than the speed of light. You wandered over to Zim, following him out and into the hall. He still grasped at his face, which looked horrible.

"You okay?"

"Why does it hurt?!" He spoke through gritted teeth, and you sucked in a breath, taking that as a solid no.

"So...you and Tak. Do you know each other?" You decided to just come right out with it. Might as well.

"No, of course not! I have no idea who she is!"

"Really? Cause she seemed to know you. People don't just read poems to strangers. And she kind of seemed like she wanted to hurt you, Zim."

"Don't be silly! She seemed to like me. After all, meat is a sign of, what is it...love? Love, right? She's obviously madly in love with me." He grumbled, unhappy about the situation he was in.

"I don't think that's-" He paid no attention to your reasoning, keeping his head down in thought.

"That's it!" His eyes lit up, turning to face you.

"What's it...?" There seemed to be a joke you were missing out on or something.

"If it's affection she wants..." The word 'affection' didn't roll of his tongue very easy, rather he spat it out as if it were rat poison. "...then it is affection she shall get." Feeling your breath catch in your throat, your heels planted into the floor, sending you into a dead stop.

"What? You can't be serious!"

"Zim must go! Goodbye, Y/n!" The sound of his heeled boots clicking across the tile further announced his leave as he ran out of the building. This wasn't unusual, he would leave school at odd hours despite school not being over, or sometimes he wouldn't show up at all.

"Geez, if all I needed to do to get his attention was write a vaguely threatening poem and attack him with meat, I would have done that a long time ago." You muttered while you angrily shuffled to your next class, already hating where the next few days would take you.

So far, the day had been going better than you had hoped. After yesterday, you had been waiting for something to happen. During class, whenever Zim would look to Tak, he would laugh under his breath. Apparently you had missed the joke, and so had everyone else. It was concerning at best, and so when the recess bell rang, you took it upon yourself to wander outside, following Zim at an inconspicuous distance. You doubted he would have cared if you were right on his tail, but you had no desire to step in unless absolutely necessary. Of course he had ended up by Tak. She was sitting upon a concrete ledge next to Dib, most likely discussing the possibility of Zim being an alien.

You exhaled a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding when Zim forcefully shoved Dib off the ledge and into the brambles, hopping up to take his place next to Tak. You knew something was bound to happen, it was just a matter of when. It seemed that time had finally come.

"I have come to accept your feelings for me, I congratulate you for acknowledging my superiority in choosing me as your lovepig. Feel honored!"

"Lovepig…?" You murmured, watching the scene unfold. Yet again, Zim had surprised you. Just the morning before, he had found the idea of Tak being his girlfriend utterly repulsive. Now, he was accepting the offer? Maybe? There had to be a reason. There was always an angle he was playing, but you had to say, this time you were at a loss for what it could be.

Silence ensued between the two, the only noise being the surrounding din of playing children and birds chirping happy melodies. Without a single word, Tak brought out a bottle of barbeque sauce from seemingly nowhere, squirting Zim with its contents. Almost immediately he screamed, the sound so hideously harsh that it sent all birds within the school yard frantically flying. Zim fell off the ledge and onto the asphalt, rolling around as if he were on fire. Tak cackled, tossing the bottle aside.

It was incredibly obvious to you that she derived enjoyment from his pain and misery, and you hoped that Zim could see it too. This was the second time this has occurred, he had to understand now, right?

Pushing himself off the ground, he stood up, brushing dirt and barbeque sauce off of his pink dress. You thought he would be furious, but it seemed that Zim was full of surprises this day. Rather, he spoke calmly for probably the third time in his life. "Now prepare your brain, filthy beast of meat and hair." He grabbed Tak's waist, lifting her from the ledge and setting her down next to him. "Your magical love adventure begins now!"

"Idiot!" You slapped your palms to your face, watching the scene play out in disbelieving horror. Was he genuinely stupid or just a masochist? Tak didn't seem bothered, laughing insanely, Zim joining in. They laughed until Tak took a nearby trashcan, shoving it over his head and kicking him away. You cringed as Dib had crawled out of the bushes, joining in Tak's joy with a smile on his face.

That had been the first incident of that day. There had been many, many more to follow. You had decided to follow Zim and Tak to keep an eye on things, as it was clear that Zim could not handle himself. As you had expected, more pain-based loving ensued. What exactly had went down? Well-

"-he had offered her a muffin, and what does she do? She squirts him with juice and he screeches on the floor like a madman! Oh, then he gifted her a slab of meat in her locker, and she threw him out of skool screaming with the meat tied to his head." Your voice had a growl to it, and was getting progressively more agitated at higher volumes. You slammed your locker closed, the sound so jarring that several students in the surrounding area turned their heads in your direction.

"I literally have no idea who you're talking about. I'm not even in your grade!" A very frightened looking boy stared back at you incredulously, thinking you to be crazy. The poor kid had just been trying to access the locker beneath yours, but you had pulled him into a very one-sided conversation.

However, you took no notice of his comments, continuing on with your rant. "But there's more! He gave her a gift, but she shoved it over his head. Let's see, she also sicced an attack dog on him when he was trying to give her flowers. He's being so genuinely nice to her, carrying her books and all that! And she just treats him like garbage!" Throwing your hands in the air, you let out a frustrated huff. "She doesn't deserve his affection at all!"

"Yeah, uh...can I get into my locker now so I can go to lunch?" Once again, his words went in one ear and right out the other with you. The only one that stuck was 'lunch'.

"Lunch...that's it! I should try and talk to him! Thank you, Keith!"

"My name's Kevin." He sighed as you ran off towards the cafeteria. Throwing open the double doors, your eyes rested on Zim, who stood at the end of the lunch line looking worse for wear. He was covered in bruises, one eye was swollen, and his skin even seemed to smoldering. His clothes were tattered and dirty from the fresh hell that Tak had been forcing him to endure. He slouched, looking miserable as can be.

"Zim, hey." You approached him, taking your place in line behind him. He instantly straightened up, wincing in pain as he did so, clutching a hand to his side while murmuring something about his organs rupturing.

"Y/n, what brings you here?"

"Lunch?"

"Ah, yes. That." One of his eyes twitched involuntarily, and you couldn't procrastinate on your true intent any longer.

"I'm worried about you, you know." Your voice was quiet, and you wouldn't mask your concern for him. You wanted him to know that you wished the best for him, and that Tak did not fit that bill.

"Zim is fine." The line moved forward and you both grabbed trays, but you wouldn't let go of your point.

"Zim is not fine. Tak is hurting you, Zim. She's going to do some real damage to you, either physically or mentally. Although by your appearance, it seems that she's already accomplished that."

"Nonsense! In fact, Zim has never felt better." He grinned as if to prove everything was okay despite all of the evidence that told otherwise.

"How she's treating you is wrong." He hummed a response, turning away from you as the lunch ladies glopped mush onto his tray. "I'm serious, Zim. She's a psychopath and it's not okay. At all. I'm saying this as your friend."

Without even sparing you a second glance over his shoulder, he spoke with his back turned to you. "Everything is perfectly normal and under control." And with that he walked over to the table Tak was sitting at, leaving you standing there. Was he seriously just going to brush you off like that?

Dejectedly taking your tray to your own table, you watched--disappointed but not surprised--as Tak dumped both her own and his tray of food onto his head. His face scrunched in pain as if he were being burned, but he didn't yelp this time; he lacked the energy. It hurt to watch, really. Wiping the barely edible food from his face, he stood up on the table, pulling Tak up with him and grabbing her hand.

"Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Tak!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, ensuring that every student in the room heard him. Tak responded by pushing him off of the table and onto the ground, chuckling to herself afterward. Your grip on the table tightened; that was the final straw. Were you jealous? Sure. But most of all, you were more distressed with the situation. You genuinely cared for him, and you wanted to see him in a happy and healthy relationship, not one that was constant pain and misery. Much to your dismay, he still was unable to grasp the toxicity of his relationship with Tak.

It had been a long day for everyone. Especially Zim. When you had stepped into the courtyard after school, you saw him slowly dragging his feet. He looked like he had been beaten halfway to hell, somehow worse than when you had talked to him at lunch. In fact, you weren't even sure if he was human or a reanimated corpse (in reality, he was neither). Curling your hands into fists, you marched right up to Zim. If it was only day one of being with Tak and he already looked this bad, you weren't sure how much longer he could survive. It was clear that he was in desperate need of an intervention. Reaching your hand out, you laid it on his shoulder, feeling him flinch beneath your touch while he squeaked out a cry.

"Oh. It's just you, girl-thing." He seemed to relax, exhaling a long breath. Perhaps he thought you were Tak.

"We need to talk." Zim looked tired, staying put, which you hadn't entirely expected. "You need to break up with Tak. Whatever your plan was, it's a bad idea." That statement seemed to set him off. Not necessarily because he was in love with Tak, more so that he was overly defensive of his plans.

"It's fine! It's a perfectly normal pain-based human relationship." He waved your words off with his hand, yet again tossing your concern to the side. Whether he was just harmfully self-absorbed or truly a masochistic idiot would go undecided. Either way, red hot anger sizzled beneath your skin. How could he be so nonchalant about this mess?

"See, the thing is, relationships aren't supposed to be pain-based, you moron! Your whole dynamic is toxic, she's literally abusing you! Why can't you see that?"

"Zim is not a moron!" Crossing his arms, he turned his head away from you and stuck his chin in the air, quite similar to a small child pouting. "Besides, everything is going completely to plan!"

"Really? Because your skin is smoldering! Was that part of the plan, Zim?" With each comment, your volume increased, to the point where you were both screeching at the top of your lungs, despite standing right beside each other.

"It's a fashion statement!" He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you.

"You are so infuriating sometimes, you know that?!" Your voice thick with exasperation, you stomped your foot on the concrete, internally grateful that no one had stuck around after school to see you two arguing like little children, especially over something so important. You blinked back a few tears that were rising due to frustration and anger, Zim drawing back slightly at the sight.

"Even if it is as bad as you say, why do you care? It's not your business." Although his voice was more hushed than before, his words were still quite cold. You were at your breaking point, and the floodgate couldn't hold back your emotions any longer.

"Because I like you, Zim! Like, like-like you!" Drawing in a deep breath, you prepared yourself for your rant. There was no turning back now, what's done has been done, those fated words had been said. "I don't care how different you are. You're weird, yes, but weird can be good. You may not think so, but even you deserve a functioning and healthy relationship, one where you do normal things like go out on dates, hold each others hands. You say stuff like 'I love you' rather than 'Go die'. Affection isn't supposed to be torture, Zim. Affection is supposed to invoke happiness, and Tak can't give that to you. I'm not saying I could, but..." You trailed off, your brain finally seeming to get with the program. You had already said too much.

For the first time in the history of ever, Zim stood there in a dead silence. He appeared to not know what to say or how to say it. You didn't blame him. What was he supposed to do? Scoop you up into his arms and run off into the sunset? You wanted nothing more in than moment than for a pit to open beneath your feet and swallow you whole, never to be seen again. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt, your face felt as if it were on fire. Staring at the ground under your shoes, you attempted to will the previously mentioned pit into existence. No such luck.

"I, uh, see." Zim spoke first, amazingly calm about the whole ordeal. Slowly, his usual air of confidence was returning. "Well, it might interest you to know that I was going to break things off with Tak anyway." Hope rose in your chest. Even if he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just glad he was getting out of that horrid situation.

"Really?"

"Mhm." Awkwardly clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, genuinely unsure of what to do with all of this newfound information. After a few moments, a grin spread on his face, which happened to be the tell-tale sign of him having an idea. Whether it was competent or disastrous, odds were about 30-70. For his sake, you prayed that it was much better than his Tak idea. "Say, Y/n. Would you be interested in aiding me in studying a normal human relationship?"

Sure, the way he was asking was strange, and you vaguely wondered if he held hidden motives--the answer to that question was most likely yes, but you still felt okay about your answer.

"Are you asking me out?"

"...Yes."

Pearls of laughter escaped you; he was bizarre, always has been, always will be. And yet, he was the one you had fallen for. "Sure. Only after you break up with Tak." It was then that he smiled, not a malicious smirk of a wolf cornering its prey, rather that of a boy who was just pleased to exist.

"Consider it done."

#invader zim #zim x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #oneshot #one shot #request

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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starandquill · 4 years

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Hunter’s Game

My excuse to write an interaction with these two and also to write a poem about Cater sknkjgdn cross-posted on Ao3!

Characters: Rook Hunt, Cater Diamond

Summary: Rook finds Cater in the woods and decides to mess around with him. Cater soon learns he can’t outsmart the hunter in his own game.

The sun was low on the afternoon horizon and a soft breeze rustled the leaves in the forest. There within the chilly undergrowth, a hunter stalked their prey. They were a skilled predator, a figure obscured in the shadows refracted by the leaves above with footfalls so delicate and swift that not a leaf or stick was left behind disturbed. The hunter watched with sharp eyes through an obscuring bush as their prey, a figure across a grassy flowered clearing, shifted directions and bright green eyes narrowed as their main target was left perfectly open.

Quickly and seemingly with the grace of an eagle taking flight, the hunter raised their weapon and an arrow alongside it. Nock, aim, pull back. All done in several swift movements. Release.

Thunk.

The arrow struck its target perfectly and Cater's phone was knocked from his hand just before he could snap a photo of the flowers in front of him. The Heartslabyul student exclaimed his surprise in the form of a shout and immediately spun on his heels to face the direction the arrow came from with wide eyes and a defensive arm raised, magic pen in hand.

"Ah, my apologies~" Rook took this moment to slide out from the bush. Once more with enough grace that only a singular leaf remained stuck to the fabric on the shoulder of his uniform. A leaf which he then plucked and cast aside without breaking eye contact. "I missed."

Cater knew very well that Rook was not the type to miss and that the close-eyed smile and exaggerated shrug the self-proclaimed hunter gave him was a sly mockery that made his eyebrow twitch.

Despite this, Cater forced himself to return the smile, pocketing his magic pen. Both knew exactly what the other was really thinking and inwardly both were staring daggers, but they kept niceties.

"Ah! No problem." Cater said, particularly making sure to let a bit of his annoyance drip through between the cheerful tone. He reached down to retrieve his phone, brushing some dirt off of it as he looked it over quickly for any cracks in the screen. When he found nothing damaged, he quickly shoved it in his back pocket and looked up again to see Rook had already crossed the space between them and was now standing practically in front of him. With the same shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, Rook knelt down and retrieved his arrow from where it had fallen, returning it to his quiver and slinging the bow he'd been carrying with him around his shoulder as well.

When he stood back up to his full height, a silent exchange passed between their smiling expressions. Cater's read something along the lines of 'Hey you shit-faced bastard, you could've cracked my screen. There are, like, a million other things out here to aim at. What did I do to you, dude?' And Rook's expression assured in return that he was perfectly capable of using enough strength and precision to pierce the device clean through and that Cater should count himself lucky Rook had decided to merely knock it away with one of the blunt arrows he saved for non-hunting purposes.

"I was aiming at a bird." Rook finally said. "Such a shame, it seems it flew away now." He says this with a dramatic sigh. Cater noted he was making an effort to purposefully emphasize the obvious lie. He tried not to fall victim to whatever it was Rook was clearly doing.

"Sorry to hear that! Good luck with the rest of your.. Er.. Hunt! I was just taking some photos of these pretty flowers here and I'd like to continue if you don’t mind." Cater gestured toward the bright yellow and blue scattered among the grass of the clearing they were standing in. When Rook remained uncharacteristically silent, Cater shrugged and went to retrieve his phone again. However, his hand was stopped short as Rook caught him by the wrist. Instinctively, Cater moved to twist his hand from the other's grasp but Rook's grip was firm and that shit-eating smirk remained.

"A trickle of color amongst a sea of green, colorful raindrops fallen upon the ground. Oui, le fleur, a true beauty of the forest.” His eyes pierced Cater’s. “Do you know what else is beautiful, Monsieur Magicam? The thrill of the hunt. Since you're here and a hunt is always better done in a pack, I'd like you to help me catch that sneaky little birdie."

"Ehh?! Wh-" Cater protested as Rook began to pull him into the trees. "Hey!"

There was no bird! Rook was no fool and neither was Cater. Cater was well aware he was just playing games and Rook clearly knew of this fact, yet he smoothly continued the lie and used it to his advantage rather forcefully and expertly without revealing his intentions. The hunter had cornered its prey merely to force the prey to hunt for it. What sort of game was Rook playing at? Or rather, what sort of game was Cater being asked to play?

"Come, I saw it fly off this way." They were nearly in a jog at this point. Rook was clearly athletic, his speed leaving him practically dragging Cater along behind. He leapt easily over rocks and protruding roots, leaving Cater to stumble over said obstacles.

Finally, Rook paused within the shade of a young tree, seemingly completely unfazed by the length of which he had run. When they halted to a stop, the Heartslabyul student doubled over, gasping desperately for air as he looked to Rook, who appeared to be smelling the air for scents that carried in the slight breeze. Again, searching for nothing in particular but keeping the facade.

It wasn't as if Cater was unfamiliar with spontaneity of mischief. After all, it was quite the familiar theme among the Heartslabyul dorm. He knew a game of wits when he saw one. Aha! That was it! If Rook wants a game he'll get a game. This was a game two could play at and two would play indeed. ..Or perhaps, more than just two..

A wide grin spread across his face.

"Don't you think it would be easier,” Cater suddenly said. “If we split up to find it?"

Before Rook could even open his mouth to speak, Cater used Split Card. He got a boost of confidence from the look of genuine surprise that crossed Rook's eyes for all but a tenth of a second and it allowed Cater just enough energy for all four versions of himself to split off and scatter into the trees.

“Hmm?” Rook called into the forest. “Playing games with a hunter are we? That's never a wise move.” A pause, no Caters answered. “But I guess I do enjoy a game of hide and seek. Alright, I give you 10 seconds to hide, Monsieur Magicam. Let's play a game. I know there are four of you, so if I find the real one, you must help me find my little bird. If I guess incorrectly, you win and you're free~” A beat. Then, “Neuf.” Another beat. “Huit.”

Cater realized he had begun counting and took off into the trees. The other Caters realized this too and all of him set off in completely different directions. The real Cater stumbled through the bushes as if his life depended on it (and perhaps it truly did) looking desperately for a place to hide. He glimpsed a dip in the ground ahead and dropped down into a creek bed where he flattened his back against the grasping roots of a tree. He then allowed his breathing to steady and his heart rate to calm. Mud stuck to his uniform and shoes from where he crouched and his hair had come undone at some point and cascaded across his face, obscuring parts of his eyesight.

“‐Deux. Un! Let the hunt begin~!” Rook’s voice rang through the trees. There were several beats of silence, then Rook's voice echoed from somewhere distantly off to his left.

It was.. Of course he was reciting poetry, leave it to Rook Hunt to add such a thing to the most unusual of situations.

"A card for the hunter, a card for the prey.

Neither side knows what the other might play.

A four of diamonds, or a joker?

A risky game, this game of poker."

Cater sank lower into the creek bed as Rook’s voice grew closer, praying that he’d chosen the best place to hide out of the other Caters.

"His pawns cannot protect him yet.

For they can only move ahead.

The others turn their path astray.

While the king can only outrun the fray."

He frowned. That was.. There was a deeper meaning to Rooks echoing words.When the hunter spoke again, he was closer. Much, much too close.

“He who waits upon his throne

Is first to fall when left alone.

He begs and pleads them, but alas,

They took the crown right from his grasp.

Diamond diamond in the mud,

the hunter calls out for your blood.

If you so truly wish to hide,”

A moment of silence.

“You really shouldn't shine so bright~”

It wasn't like Cater to freeze, and yet in that moment he'd been listening so carefully for Rook's next words so he would know when to run that he'd underestimated the hunter's location. When Rook spoke that last verse, he sounded as if now stood directly above the creek bed, close enough that Cater could hear his breathing. Rook took a breath, likely preparing to speak those final lines of his oddly morbid poem.

..When an obnoxious ringtone went off.

Cater's reflexes were automatically programmed to reach for his own cellular device when he suddenly stopped himself upon the realization that the ringtone was not his own.

“Bonjour!” He heard Rook answer from above him in a cheerful voice, an immediate switch from his previous tone. He was close enough that Cater could hear the murmurs of another voice on the other end of the line. “Roi de Poison! Is everything alright?” An exasperated tone answered and he heard Rook hum in surprise at something. “Really? Are you sure? Alright alright I'll be there soon. Au revoir~!” The other end of the call said something in a loud voice, likely protesting the abrupt hang up, but Rook ended the call regardless.

"It seems the little birdie got lucky. Ah well, I'm sure I'll catch it someday! You win today, Monsieur Magicam. Enjoy your victory, it's not every day someone escapes my hunter’s grasp~” He chuckled, then Cater heard his footsteps turn and begin to walk back the way he came. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Rook’s steps grew distant and nearly slumped down in relief before remembering he was crouching over a mud puddle. As he stood up, he allowed his clones to disappear and his full magic returned to him. Regardless of the abrupt end, it was clear the hunter had given up on his game for the day as the previously tense and threatening air had dissipated entirely. Cater dug around in his pockets for a hair tie and double checked that his phone was still there. He tied his hair back up and went to brush the drying mud off his pants, knowing how much he'd get reprimanded by Riddle for returning in such a state regardless of his efforts to tidy his appearance.

The setting sun cast long shadows among the trees and the orange-red colors of the sunset sky above reflected in the water of the small creek making the steadily running water look much too similar to that familiar red paint that dripped from the roses in the Heartslabyul gardens before a party.

..Or perhaps a trail of blood, running over rocks and away from the ashes of the fallen and defeated among a broken battlefield.

He shook his head. No! Bad Cater! Stop that, you’re thinking too dark!

As he began wandering back through the forest the way he came, the hunter's poem remained on his mind. He hated admitting it to himself but though Rook hadn't gotten to finish his game properly - whatever that meant - the hunter had most certainly won. Whether intentional or not, the words cut deeper than any arrow would. That hunter.. He knew much more than he would ever say. Cater suddenly paused, drawn out of his thoughts as he remembered that he hadn't even gotten the chance to do what he originally came there for. Putting on a bright grin, he pulled up his phone and snapped a selfie.

#walkinthewoods #NRCforest #beautifulsunset #prettyflowers #checkoutthiscreek

Uploaded.

Anyone looking at the photo would not see the exhaustion behind his smile or how dirtied his lower uniform was. They wouldn't know the oddity of an afternoon he’d just been through and it would always continue to stay that way.

Humming a cheerful tune to himself, he began the walk back, the only goal currently on his mind now being to return before Riddle’s set curfew as it was quickly getting dark.

Much farther away, and hidden once more within the darkness of a shadow cast behind a gnarled tree, those green hunter’s eyes watched the Heartslabyul student as he left with a knowing gaze.

"Though ages to polish a diamond may take,

To sculpt to perfection without a mistake.

No gem is flawless, no effort doth matter.

For with enough pressure, that diamond can shatter.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #cater diamond #rook hunt #fanfic #apologies for my odd writing style sjgdgjgn #looks kinda like a ship but i swear that wasnt my intention pff #star writes

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noona-clock · 5 years

Text

iKON When They Realize How Much They Love You

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gifs used in this post

Hanbin

I think Hanbin would be a bit... confused when he realizes just how much he loves you. He’s never felt this way before, and it would be pretty overwhelming and terrifying. He might need to take some time alone to think about things, but once he gets over the initial shock, he would declare his feelings for you in a song.

Jinhwan

Jinhwan would realize how utterly and deeply he loves you when you bring food over to his place -- but not just any food. Tacos. And you share them with him. But not only that!!!! You called him beforehand to make sure his throat wasn’t sore. As you’re sitting there trying to eat your taco, Jinhwan would just be staring at you with adoration. And he would say out loud, “I love you. So much.” And he would just be so cute and smiley and adorable for the rest of the evening.

Yunhyeong

When Yunhyeong realizes that he loves you more (or maybe as much as) his cherry lip balm, he would honestly get a little emotional. Tears would fill his eyes, and the smile on his well-moisturized lips would be so sentimental and sweet. He would tell you right away, of course, because he doesn’t want you to live even a second without knowing how he feels about you. And he would tell you every single day for as long as the two of you are together.

Bobby

Bobby would be hit with his true feelings when he notices that he’s spending more money on you than he is on his sneakers. And he doesn’t even really care that he hasn’t bought a new pair in over two weeks because you make him happier than shoes do! Bobby would honestly be so delighted, he would smile and laugh to himself. He might not tell you immediately because he wants to make sure he thinks of the right words to say, but you would already know how deep his love is for you. You’ve noticed the shoe thing before now -- days ago, actually. (And that’s one thing Bobby loves so much about you: you’re smart!)

Donghyuk

Donghyuk would realize just how much he loves you at the most random time. He would be doing laundry or something, and it would just hit him like a brick. He would freeze up and be like “whoa wait what.” And then, if you’re not around, he would get out his phone and call you immediately. “Hey, I just -- I really love you.”

Junhoe

Junhoe would experience it kind of like Donghyuk in that it would hit him pretty randomly. But instead of freezing up and not knowing what to think, he would immediately get out a pen and paper and start writing either a poem or a song for you. He would pour all of his emotions out into words and then he would invite you over so he could read/sing/perform it for you in person. It would honestly be so romantic.

Chanwoo

Chanwoo would realize his deep feelings for you gradually. It would take him quite a while, and he would take even more time to think about it. Rather than just letting himself feel his feelings, he would want to rationalize them and think them through. Finally, you would be the one to say ‘I love you’ first, and Chanwoo would be a little relieved.

Master list // RULES // Welcome to Noona-Clock

#ikon imagines #ikon reactions #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #hanbin #b.i #jinhwan #yunhyeong #bobby #kim jiwon #kim donghyuk #junhoe #ju-ne #chanwoo #ikon #ikon fluff

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1031

Do you usually take blame or blame others? Depends on the context, I guess? When things go wrong on a very deep and personal level between me and people I deeply care for, I usually try to find reasons to blame myself. But if it’s something superficial, like if someone messes up at work through no fault of my own, then I’m able to point my finger to whoever fucked up.

Have you ever been to a McDonald’s in another state? I’ve been to McDonald’s in different provinces and also in different countries. The McDonald’s we went to in Baguio was so surreal because we discovered that they were still using styrofoam containers that they had already phased out years ago everywhere else, and they also never changed the original spaghetti and chicken recipes I grew up with. It was such a blast from the past. As for other countries, I’ve tried out the McDonald’s in Malaysia, Indonesia, and China and made sure to order items that we didn’t have back home.

Have you ever seen 50 First Dates? Yeah, it’s one of my semi-guilty pleasures. It’s such a cheesy movie, but idk the concept is unique and the supporting characters made the whole movie enjoyable for me.

Do you like or hate the smell of fish? The fishy smell at the market can be pretty strong and bleck, but generally I don’t mind the smell of fish. I live in an archipelago, man. We live and breathe seafood. Idk anyone in real life who doesn’t like fish.

Have you ever been to Sea World? No.

Do you know someone who suffers from short term memory loss? I don’t think so, no.

Have you ever read any of John Green’s books? Yeah, but the only one I’ve gotten to read in full was The Fault In Our Stars. I also got to start on The Abundance of Katherines and Paper Towns, but because I only borrowed those copies from friends I never got to read either until the end. All were okay, but I don’t find John Green’s writing to be as great as it was once hyped up to be.

If so, which one is your favorite? I guess TFIOS, since that’s the only one I got to read through to the end.

Are you a protective person? With my loved ones and pets, yes.

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? Yeah I’ve felt a lot but fortunately it’s never been a severe one. Just super brief earthquakes where the most that happened to me was a little swaying.

Would you rather go to a beach or city for a vacation? I love beaches, but a change in scenery would also be nice because I already go to beaches for vacations fairly often. City.

Does your license plate number contain the number 8? I never actually memorized my plate number LOOOOOOL I think so? It’s either a 6 or 8.

Were you ever a ghost on Halloween? Nope.

Has someone ever held the door open for you? Yeah, security guards tend to do that for customers/guests. Sometimes, nice strangers that I enter a place with will do it for me too.

Are you a fan of penguins? I think fan is pushing it far lol. I like penguins, but I’m not obsessed.

Have you ever stayed up all night on a school night? Just a handful of times, and it was always as part of a groupwork. I’d never willingly go through an all-nighter for myself.

What’s your favorite brand of chips? Doritos or Pringles. We also have a local brand that makes these deeeeeelicious salted egg chips, but I’ve never actually taken note of what the brand is.

Has anyone ever sang to you? Not to me. But a lot of people have sung around me.

Are you a good painter? No. That’s why I opt for paint-by-number kits, because those come with a guide haha. I can’t actually craft images by myself – that skill belongs to my sister who has an insane talent for painting.

Before buying a car, do you usually test drive it? I’ve never bought a car by myself; my dad takes care of the car purchases. I know he test-drove the Vitara, but idk about the other cars we have.

Have you ever written a poem and then read it aloud? Hmm, I don’t write poems. I don’t find the vast majority of them appealing, and only once in a while will there be a poem that is able to speak to me.

Do you like pineapple? Nope.

Have you ever met your favorite author? I don’t have a favorite.

Do you look more like your mom or dad? Most comments point to my mom, but I’ll get the occasional remark that half of my face is my dad’s as well. I’m a good mix of both.

Have you and your best friend ever liked the same person? This hasn’t happened before.

When was the last time someone called you babe or baby? Maybe August? I’m not too sure. It’s been a few months.

Do you have an older brother? No. But I’m super close with my eldest cousin on my mom’s side and we grew up together and all that, and I pretty much consider him my older brother. He’s definitely more a brother than a cousin to me, and it has always felt and been that way.

Are you a fan of art? Yes, especially paintings and dioramas.

Did you get your mom or dad’s eyes? My mom’s, I think? I really don’t know, I’m bad at recognizing this kind of stuff. You’d have to ask people who actually see me on a daily basis.

Have you ever seen the movie My Girl? Is this the one with the really sad scene of a boy’s funeral and the girl’s like, “He can’t see without his glasses”? I haven’t seen the movie, but I’ve heard about that scene a million times.

Do you watch Teen Wolf on MTV? Ugh, MTV’s teen shows are such a cringefest to me. I never followed it, but I’ve had to watch a few eps back in high school when my friends would watch it while we were at someone’s place. Not my cup of tea.

When it was on, did you watch Cory In The House on Disney? I watched a few episodes, especially when it was still new. But we were also in the process of moving then and we didn’t have cable for a few years in our new house, so I had to miss out most of it.

Do you have any blackheads? I don’t.

Do you have any freckles? Nope.

Do you have a movie that you have to watch during the summer every year? No, but I have something similar. I like watching Love Actually at least once every year, during the Christmas season. I like watching Two for The Road once a year as well, regardless of the time of year.

Do you think that life isn’t fair sometimes? I mean yeah. It doesn’t revolve around me, so I know it won’t always be fair.

When was the last time someone bought you flowers? Valentine’s Day last year.

What was the last book you read? Midnight Sun. Haven’t touched it since September, though.

How many books do you plan to read this summer? It’s past summer, and I haven’t been doing a lot of reading in general.

Does your house have a dishwasher? No, not a common appliance here.

Do you know anyone who has a flower tattoo? I probably do. But I haven’t seen people outside of family for so long that I can barely remember who has which tattoos. I’m pretty sure I know someone who has flowers.

Do you like the name Carter? It just reminds me of the underwear brand honestly, so not a fan.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? No. Should there be one, they shouldn’t be having high hopes; I wouldn’t be interested in the least.

How many different languages can you say goodbye in? There’s English, Filipino, Korean, Spanish, German, French, Japanese – 7.

Agree or disagree: You like Adam Sandler movies. Disagree for the most part, but 50 First Dates is cute.

Did the last type of shoes you wore have laces? Yups. I wore sneakers when I went out to get Starbucks last Friday evening.

How much money did you spend yesterday? The charging cable that I ordered arrived yesterday, so I had to shell out ₱140 for that.

What genre is your favorite movie? It’s a romcom/drama. My other favorite is a drama.

Are you texting anybody right now? Nope. I’m all alone today, which is the way I want to be for this weekend.

Who was the last person you were in a car with? My parents.

Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? I really do, hahaha. I don’t know why the people at the LTO gave me a pass, but I had been allowed to smile with my teeth. That helped make my license photo turn out super well and I no longer feel embarrassed whenever I have to take it out and present it somewhere.

What’s your favorite thing to snack on while watching a movie? Potato Corner fries. Can’t be any other type of fries.

When was the last time somebody hit on you? July or August when this random guy slid into my PMs. I had never had so much fun blocking somebody so fast.

Was the last person you met a male or female? The last new person I met was male.

Which one of your friends do you feel most comfortable around? Angela or Andi.

Do you own a map of the world? I mean, I guess. I have a collection of the World Almanac for Kids books, and it had always included a world map in its Countries chapter every year.

What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.

Is the light on in the room you’re in? No, doesn’t have to be as it’s bright out and I can see the sun from my window.

Who did you last spoon with? Gabie.

Are you currently watching TV? No.

Have you ever had surgery or stitches? Never. Hope I’ll never be needing one.

Do you own any clothing that has animal print? I have a tank top with cheetah print that I sometimes wear at home.

Does your family eat dinner together? Yes, every evening. We don’t eat together when my dad is working abroad, but since he has stayed home for all of 2020 because of Covid, we’ve gotten to eat together as a family all year.

Where do you work? Somewhere in Metro Manila; I’m not giving the city away.

Are you in high school? I got out of there nearly five years ago.

Do you have a TV in your room? I used to, but not anymore.

Are any of your electronics charging right now? My phone and laptop both are.

What was the last video game you played? Mario Kart 8.

Are you hungry?: I can def go for a snack, or maybe even a full meal. It’s taking everything in me not to order Popeye’s or Army Navy from Grab rn.

What color is the chair you’re sitting on?: I’m sitting up in bed; my sheets are blue with gold/yellow prints.

What did you buy last time you went to the store?: I got bottled coffee when I went to 7-Eleven a week ago.

Do you like salsa that has fruit in it?: ...Don’t all types of salsa have fruit in them though? It would be brand-new knowledge to me if I was told not all salsas have fruit.

Have you ever opened up your computer to clean the fan on the inside?: No. I’d rather have professionals do that.

Can you count in binary?: No, and I never even understood how it works.

Do you think stained glass windows are pretty?: No. Mostly because it reminds me of cathedrals.

Are you a chocoholic?: Nah. I like chocolate, but I can live without it.

Are you scared of snakes?: I mean if they were venomous or obviously wanted to eat me whole, of course. But I’ve also already held a couple of snakes before.

Have you had your wisdom teeth removed?: No.

Do you like hard or soft pretzels better?: Soft all the way. I find the hard ones too salty.

What was the last magazine or catalog you looked through?: I don’t even remember. Maybe Tatler? My grandma has loads of those at her house.

When was the last time you wore a raincoat?: I don’t think I have ever worn a raincoat.

Have you ever been carded when buying something?: Idk what that is but nothing out of the ordinary has ever happened to me whenever I’ve made a purchase, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.

Do you eat meat?: Yep.

Corn and mashed potatoes, or beans and rice?: Both pairings aren’t really a part of our cuisine, so neither sound appealing to be honest. As someone who thrives on rice, I hate the idea of eating beans with it; so I would go with corn and mashed potatoes even though I’m having a hard time imagining how it would work.

Can you sleep with the light on?: I probably can, but it would take me a lot longer to fall asleep.

What’s your operating system of choice?: Mac/iOS.

Have you ever broken a bone?: Never.

Do you have a favorite highlighter color?: I don’t have a favorite color to use, but I prefer pastel shades in general over neon.

Do you have a flashlight?: My phone has a built-in flashlight, but we also keep a couple of emergency flashlights at home in case of blackouts.

Do you like watermelon?: I like some watermelon-flavored stuff like candies, but I’m not fond of the fruit.

…Honeydew?: Hahahahahaha. BoJack Horseman, anyone? Anyway, I’ve never had honeydew and probably wouldn’t like it considering my established opinion on fruits.

Can you shoot a gun?: I’ve never tried, so I’ll say no. I’ve always been meaning to go to a shooting range though; I feel like it’ll be such a cool experience.

Do you like salad?: Not for the most part. The only kind I enjoy is spicy tuna salad, which only has lettuce in it alongside tuna sashimi and spicy mayonnaise.

When was the last time you smashed your finger?: I don’t know if I ever have? This doesn’t ring a bell to me.

What color is your computer?: Silver/gray.

Have you ever made ice cream in chemistry class?: No, my chemistry classes in high school and college were never that fun.

Has anyone ever walked in on you while you were on the toilet?: Sure.

What color hair do you have?: Black.

Do you use the microwave often?: I wouldn’t say so; just a couple of times a month.

Are you good at spelling?: Sure, I’d claim that. Thank the movie Akeelah and the Bee; that movie made me super passionate about spelling and dictionaries for a time. I can still feel its effects today because I’m still very much particular about spelling more so than any other kind of writing/language mechanic.

Have you ever petted a donkey?: I’ve never even seen one before :o but I’d love to have the chance to pet one, heh. It would make me so happy.

When was the last time you went to the doctor’s for a physical?: 2016.

Do you like a lot of ice in your drinks?: Sure.

Have you ever painted a room? Never have, but would like to give it a try.

#survey #surveys #multiple ones again so feel free to chop up #might make this a thing just because #we'll see!#but i most likely will

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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831.

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? >> I don’t eat cereal anymore, but from what I can remember, I didn’t really like having a lot of milk in the bowl.

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? >> Not usually.

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? >> On the occasion that I’m reading a paper book, if it’s my own, I just dog-ear it. If it’s a library book, I use the receipt that I got from checking out the book.

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? >> Black (or in the case of some teas, with a little honey).

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? >> I’m self-conscious of my entire face.

6: do you keep plants? >> I just have the one spider plant in my room. It looks pretty done for, but like... it’s not dead, exactly, so I have no idea what to do with it. Sparrow, on the other hand, has about fifteen plants on the balcony, two in her room, etc.

7: do you name your plants? >> Sparrow has named at least one of hers.

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? >> I just wrangle the written word the best I can.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? >> Absolutely.

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? >> Side.

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? >> Sparrow and I have this thing where we just mangle words as badly as possible. Like “chicken” has become “chimkin”, stuff like that.

12: what’s your favorite planet? >> Mercury and Pluto, for completely opposite reasons (as I’m sure is obvious).

13: what’s something that made you smile today? >> I saw a random crop of mushrooms while walking. It was just... random! I don’t know what died there or whatever that made the mushrooms grow in that one little spot, but it was adorable.

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? >> ---

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! >> I don’t feel like it.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? >> I don’t have one.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? >> I don’t.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. >> ---

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? >> I technically have one, on Dreamwidth, but I never bother updating it. This is my journal, along with my personal blog.

20: what’s your favorite eye color? >> ---

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. >> I don’t have one of those. I have three different bags for different purposes.

22: are you a morning person? >> Sure.

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? >> I usually have 0 real obligations (aside from ones I impose on myself), so I have no idea how to answer this.

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? >> ---

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? >> I’m not sure.

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? >> There are no shoes that I’ve had for forever. I only have two pairs of shoes, so basically both of them get worn with every single outfit (the boots in the cooler months, the sneakers in the summer and for walking).

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? >> Well, isn’t bubble gum only one flavour?

28: sunrise or sunset? >> Both are good. Although I like saying hello to the Sun more than I like saying goodbye to it.

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? >> ---

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? >> Sure.

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. >> I like wearing socks with funky patterns and designs on them, and sometimes I mismatch them on purpose for my own amusement. I do not sleep with socks.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. >> I can’t really think of one right now.

33: what’s your fave pastry? >> ---

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? >> I don’t remember what I kept as a child. I think I had a lion or two. I only remember that because my father is fucking obsessed with lions so of course I had lion plushies.

35: do you like stationery and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? >> I do like them, but I don’t have occasion to use them.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? >> I don’t know.

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? >> I like keeping it tidy.

38: tell us about your pet peeves! >> I’d really rather not right now.

39: what color do you wear the most? >> Black.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? >> I don’t really have any stories behind any of the jewelry I own.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? >> Well, I reread The Phantom Tollbooth recently and I’ve been fond of that book for almost as long as I’ve been alive.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! >> No.

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? >> I don’t remember.

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? >> Oof...

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? >> I don’t know.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. Any burger of the day ever written on the board at Bob’s Burgers. I love them though. <-- I’m going to stick with that, those are just utterly shameless puns lmao

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? >> ---

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? >> I was afraid of thunderstorms and flying insects. I still have a reflexive aversion to flying insects when they’re flying around me (even though I actually like a lot of flying insects, like bees and moths and stuff), but I am definitely not afraid of thunderstorms anymore.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? >> I don’t buy CDs and I rarely buy records. I think the last record I bought was a deluxe copy of Pearl Jam’s Ten that I found at ALDI, of all places.

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? >> I don’t collect things.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? >> ---

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? >> I don’t remember what memes came out this year.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? >> I tried watching RHPS and Beetlejuice and didn’t like either one. Didn’t even finish them, in fact. Heathers was okay. Pulp Fiction was entertaining.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? >> *shrug* What even is a true look of sadness.

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? >> I have no idea.

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? >> Meh.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? >> Listening to Bohemian Rhapsody doesn’t really make me feel anything, but it’s fun to reenact sometimes, yeah. Especially in a car, Wayne’s World style.

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? >> ---

59: what’s your favorite myth? >> Oh god, that’s the worst question. I love so many different myths.

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? >> I can’t usually get into poetry, a lot of it is inscrutable in a way that’s just annoying to me instead of intriguing. There are some poems I like, though, but don’t ask me to remember them right now.

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? >> ---

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? >> Not usually.

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? >> I’m fussy about my everything. I don’t own enough books or physical copies of music to really warrant being meticulous about their organisation, though.

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? >> Pale blue.

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? >> I mean, sure, why not.

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? >> I used to have a really big one that someone on tumblr made for me a long time ago, lmao. That was good.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? >> It depends on how I already felt. If I was having an okay day, then it’s just dreamy and ~goth~ and I will probably make 100 Silent Hill jokes. If I’m having an off day, then the fact that the Sun isn’t even out just makes me feel worse.

68: what’s winter like where you live? >> Cold.

69: what are your favorite board games? >> I don’t have one.

70: have you ever used a ouija board? >> No, never got a chance.

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? >> Ginger, peppermint, etc.

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? >> No.

73: what are some of your worst habits? >> Picking at my lips, mainly.

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. >> ---

75: tell us about your pets! >> ---

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? >> No.

77: pink or yellow lemonade? >> Either is fine.

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? >> I can’t stand them.

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? >> ---

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? They are the colour of Nothing and I did not choose it. I rent. <-- “the colour of Nothing” is exactly what the fuck it is.

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. >> ---

82: are/were you good in school? >> I was great as a child. Once puberty (and trauma) hit everything went out the window.

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? >> I don’t even know where to begin with this... there are so many album covers I like, but I don’t feel like expending all my survey energy on one question, you dig...

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? >> No, I’m not planning on it.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? >> Sure. Promethea, Sandman, Preacher, Doctor Strange, various Lovecraftian comics, etc.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? >> I do like concept albums. Dream Theater has done some pretty interesting ones, and so did Vanden Plas with Christ 0.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? >> ---

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? >> I had been reblogging a lot of art recently that had a similar look and feel to it, and I was wondering if they were related, like part of a certain art movement... and then I was watching a Youtube video about the movie Silence the other day and I accidentally found my answer in that video! It was the Baroque movement. I really like the feel of some of those pieces, particularly the darker-hued paintings.

89: are you close to your parents? >> No.

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. >> What can I possibly say about New Orleans that hasn’t already been said by more poetic minds than mine, tbh.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? >> I don’t plan on travelling this year, thanks to the whole pandemic business.

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? >> Er, somewhere in the middle...?

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? >> I only have one hairstyle.

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? >> Somebody on one of the Discord servers I’m in.

95: what are your plans for this weekend? >> We’re going to the Wayland house for the first time since... early March, I think. Besides that, just the farmer’s market and grocery shopping as usual.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? >> My computers run on SSDs, so it takes like 2 minutes to do system updates and I’m right back in business. No point in procrastinating that.

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? >> I get a different result every time I take a Myers-Briggs test (which makes sense to me). My Sun sign is Gemini. My Hogwarts house is Slytherin, but being complex-natured like any other human being I know that I straddle both Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? >> I don’t remember the last time I went on a true hike. I would love to do that at some point, but aside from the M6 trail (which is just... parallel to a highway and not all that scenic), all the good hiking places in this region require me to be driven to the location first.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. >> Death Is the Road to Awe by Clint Mansell, Walker by Master Boot Record, Ich dachte schon by Selig, Little Black Submarines by the Black Keys, Nothing As It Seems by Pearl Jam.

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? >> No.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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justwritingscenarios · 5 years

Text

Another

Tenzo | Yamato x reader Fandom : Naruto | Naruto Shippuden Words : 2k (I don’t even know how it turned out to be that long?) Sum. : It’s New Year Eve but not everyone has a family to spend the night with. It may be time for you to share it with your senpai. A/N : Because I am that kind of people that write about New Year Eve in June. Fight me

You were quite young when you joined the Special Forces of Anbu. Not as much as great names like Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha… or Tenzo.

You were 14 when you became one of their agents, despite your family’s - especially your parents’ - worries. Both were shinobis themselves, and supportive for you to become a great kunoichi on your own, but it didn’t make them any less worried about their baby being a secret agent of Konoha.

Yet, the Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen at that time, encouraged you. You showed great skills in the different fighting arts. Your team sensei was a great help for sure, but you were a fast learner and your teammates couldn’t follow your rhythm. That’s why you ended up within the special forces with the Third’s recommendation, looking for acknowledge, challenges and people who could teach you more.

At first, you were placed in different teams with every new mission, so you could learn how to work along different shinobis with various fighting style and chakra nature. But then, there was Tenzo. At that time he was 20, still had long hair, dozens years of experience as an Anbu agent and was skilled like any other agent in your eyes ; you had facilities working with him. You had such a great respect for his person from the start, never forgetting the words he told you before your first mission together : “I like being nice and friendly, but I don’t have any problems with ruling by fear either”. It didn’t seem to you at first sight, but you learnt he really was a born-leader and deserved his rank.

For eight years you served in Tenzo’s team - most of the time at least - and you were positively ready to keep up this lifestyle for all your life. You were working with friends and becoming stronger to protect your loved ones and the village. And were by Tenzo’s side.

You realized your attraction for the brown-haired man soon. He was young, strong, pretty handsome - even more when he happened to cut his hair short -, intelligent and you loved that kind and respectful attitude of him. You were 14 and him 20, you thought it to be a teen crush based on admiration for your senpai and didn’t mind it much. It wasn’t a problem until a few years later when you get that that crush didn’t fade and worst, turned into love. You kept on denying for months, telling yourself it would be a phase but even with time passing, being always so close to him, you just kept on falling harder for the Mokuton-user.

You had just came back from a watch around the village. It was still early in the evening. While your partners were like you in the locker room changing, you noticed Tenzo kept his equipment on and went to a restroom. When you have gotten rid of your Anbu outfit, you followed him to the annexe room. He had crashed on on of the couch and put his mask aside, the back of his head resting on the backrest. Not long through, as something cold came in contact with the skin of his neck. He opened his formerly closed eyes to see you standing before him.

“(Anbu name) ?”

You held out a water bottle for him to take and sat next to him as soon as he took it.

“What are you doing here ? Shouldn’t you be heading home ?”

“I will. But aren’t you, senpai ?”

It was December 31. The weather was rather freezing but there wasn’t snow falling yet. Only black ice for Konoha’s inhabitants to slip and fall on ; a good way for the Katon-user genins to train on their chakra control.

For the last three years your mother had been complaining to not have you at home for the New Year Eve as you were on constraint. Luckily you successfully got your night free this year. As long as Tenzo got his since you were always paired up together. But you knew it wasn’t something he craved for ; having free days on important events was just a reminder he had no family.

“No. I think I’ll just stay here for the night, in case anyone need me.”

“It’s New Year Eve. You should be celebrating like any other normal human being, senpai.”

“You should know by now I am no normal human being.” He smirked to you as a joke.

”Tsk. I know that very well.”

Both of you chuckled a bit. The years had grew you closer and comfortable with each other despite the age gap. You watched him drink the water, thinking.

“What about we spend the eve together, senpai ?”

“You asked for your night free. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t.” You stood. “Come with me at my parents’.”

Tenzo raised an eyebrow with a little smile.

“Don’t kid me, (Anbu name).”

“I’m not. I’m serious. I’ve talked a lot about you to them, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to receive you at their table. There’ll be lots of good things to eat. My father’s always cooking for a whole army. I am practically sure we could feed a tailed beast with all the food they’ll be.“

You said that so seriously it made Tenzo let out a laugh.

“Ok, ok. I believe you.” He calmed down. “I am very thankful to you but I Don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. I’m inviting you.” He looked at you, hesitating. “So, you’re coming ?”

That’s how Tenzo found himself in front of your parents’ door.

“Tenzo-senpai, you should pick another name for tonight don’t you ?”

“Ah, yeah. I should. Then… Yamato ?”

You showed a large smile to him and nodded. “Sounds good, Yamato-senpai.”

“I Don’t even know your true nam-”

Tenzo hadn’t the time to finish his sentence that the door before you opened wide on your mother, your father just behind her. She shouted while jumping on your arms.

“(NAME)-CHAN ! My baby, you’re here !”

You laughed at her estatic behavior. She used to be calmer but since you Don’t pay much visits with your Anbu duty, both of your parents were overjoyed anytime they could see you - and your mother wasn’t one to hide it. She kissed your forehead before taking a step back and saw the man by your side.

“You didn’t tell us you would come accompany, (Name)-chan.” Your mother was greeting Tenzo with a large smile.

“Mama, it’s my senpai. Yamato.” You presented him as he bowed his head politely to your parents.

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Don’t be so formal, Yamato-san. Call us uncle and auntie. Honet, let the young people get inside before they freeze on the doorstep.”

You saw the uneasiness Tenzo had to call your mother auntie, when he thanked her for getting both of your coats, and how it made your father chuckled. Tenzo could only smile as he followed you and your father to the living-room and as you told him not to bother your senpai.

On the main room, Tenzo was surprised to find many pictures of the whole family. Truth be told he didn’t have an idea of what a family home looks like. But what he could see seemed good to him. From your parents’ wedding to your birth, what seemed to be your first steps, teeth, schoolay. Your genin promotion. The chunin one too. There wasn’t a picture without you or your relatives smiling happily.

“Senpai ?”

Tenzo turned to you and noticed you were sitting with your father around the kotatsu. Sure he had one but it never seemed so appealing to him. On the table, your parents had put so many dishes. You weren’t kidding when you said your father was cooking too much.

Ornament, offering, soba (noddle soup) - your family was respecting the traditional celebration of the New Year Eve almost completely. You even got to see Tenzo play uta-garuta (Japanese playing cards about poems). It was really entertaining and you were glad you got to see th Young man enjoyed the night.

Even when midnight was farely passed, and that you already had exchanged your vows of health, happiness, love and luck, Tenzo had stayed a bit longer to play shogi with your father. Both were extremely concentrated. You were looking sitting just next to them, talking with your mother about your visit to the temple in the Morning and how she wished you would wear a traditional kimono. Yeah because she had complained you went with casual clothes for the night.

What she didn’t complain about through was how she saw the look in your eyes everytime you were looking at Tenzo. She was once again watching you brought another orange slice to Tenzo’s lips who took it mechanically between his lips as he was so into his play. She hadn’t said anything about you bringing a man at home for the first time, but she knew it wasn’t insignificant.

“Checkmate.”

“Aaah. Uncle, you beat me. Well done.”

“Of course, son. Only the Nara can HAHAHAHA.” Your father laugh of his own lack of modesty.

“I could never thank you enough for tonight, Uncle, Auntie. Name-chan too obviously.” You looked up from the orange in your hands. It was the first time he called you by your true name of the whole evening. It made your cheeks burnt a bit.

“It’s nothing much. senpai.” You smiled at each other before he stood up from his place.

“I think it’s time for me to go home.”

Your mother invited him to stay but the brown haired man declined and promised to meet you and your family at the temple in the morning. You stood up at your tuen and went with him looking for his coat and bringing him back at the front door.

“You’re really sure you don’t want stay, senpai ?“

You watched as he put on his shoes then turned to you nodding.

“I don’t want to overstay yours and your parents’ welcome. Thank you, (Name)-chan.” He paused a bit before turning on his feet to take the exit. “Let see each other at the temple later.”

The door closed before your eyes.

Tenzo wasn’t doing his tenth step outside your house that he heard your voice Calling him.

“Wait, senpai.”

He stopped and turned to you. You seemingly hadn’t take the time to put on shoes and were walking in socks in the street. He couldn’t pay him much attention that you had cought up with him. You were fast to put your warm hands on his cheeks and bring his face to yours so your lips crashed on each other.

Tenzo’s eyes widdened and didn’t miss that yours were closed. He didn’t have time to proceed anything that you had already a few steps back away and his face was again feeling the cold of the air.

“I know it’s a bit late for a midnight kiss. But I really don’t to spend the following year alone. I want it to be with you, Tenzo-senpai.”

Tenzo’s heart was beating crazily in his chest and he had no doubt yours was as well. He could see the fear in your eyes ; fear of being rejected and worst that he would take his distance with you. You weren’t even looking at him but at the ground.

“I guess I took the right decision staying at your parents.”

You looked up at him, not understanding.

“You wouldn’t have kiss me back there, right ?” You shook your head no for response. “Then I did good.”

The growing smile on his eyes made you sighed in relief. However it didn’t last long as you felt him a mere inches before you in the slipt of a second.

“Happy New Year, (Name)-chan.”

He put a kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s spend another year together.”

You barely had the time to answer “Happy New Year, Tenzo-san.” that his lips were back on yours.

#naruto #Naruto shippuden #Naruto shippuden imagine #Yamato #Yamato imagine #Yamato x reader #tenzo x reader #tenzo #anbu #tenzo imagine #anbu reader #anbu tenzo #anbu yamato #new year eve #Naruto imagine #no request #original project #lara

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Word by Word | 01 (Bangchan x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, University/College AU

Pairing: Graphic design student!Bangchan x Literature student!/Irish!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (but what can you honestly expect when dealing with an Irish person?)

Summary: An ancient saying dictates that polar opposites attract, which is proven once again once an introverted whiskey-loving aspiring author meets a fairly extroverted boy initially proposing to survive the loneliness brought about by academic administration together.

But soon the meaning of ‘together’ expands as personal creative worlds are explored and understanding stirs up hidden emotions.

Masterlist

Next Part

For anxious people, friendly support from strangers oddly turning into companions is often needed to get through the day, finding solace in the kindred spirit of the bond has been established despite being not worth a dime. The previous semester could only be survived thanks to the small group of friends that made the seminars more bearable, huddling together and always having at least one to have as a research partner or discuss a primary source with. Withal, the university administration has different plans for the second half of the year, resulting in the complete split from familiar faces which will now only be seen on Monday for the start of the academic week with lectures.

Henceforth, yesterday was only the misleading silence before the storm, chatting and fooling around with curiously close relationships during the day. As per usual, multiple pairs of shoes found themselves to the habitual café by the canal to go for lunch together in between lectures, but a lonesome soul listening to the vivid chatter only settled for a cup of coffee since the stomach could possibly not handle more because of the all-nighter working on the next chapter of the attempted novel and composing a few more poems for a to-be-published-someday poetry bundle.

A chip off the old block, taking after the grandfather who raised a timid girl to become like this: full of too many voices and writing them down since that is the only acceptable form of schizophrenia in today’s society. Fortunately, it is while enjoying the company of Dante, a Birman with hellishly blue eyes of an extremely distrustful and arrogant nature except when being with an aspiring author rivalling with a relative. He mostly lies on the duvet on nights filled with the self-inflicted torture of bleeding behind a typewriter, occasionally jumping on the desk beneath the attic window where often a raven nicknamed Edgar settles down and demanding to be pet whenever a repose is taken for a glass o’ Irish whiskey when threatening to fall on hard creative times. Otherwise, dirty bean water is grand as well. Whatever the case, Dante conveniently though perfectly times it each time.

In the meanwhile, Virgil is likely functioning as company for Charles, who is also known as “Grandfather” during formal events of which most relate to publishing houses and to which he always has to be dragged while muttering unintelligible Gaelic profanities. Alternatively, it is the first full name whenever competing with one another or simply “Charlie” when the old balding man with a snow white moustache reviews the latest result of typing on the historic sidekick of every author. According to the in-house editor and occasional enemy, a typewriter is the sole source of ‘’pure writing’’ and imprinted the habit of working with the old school machine as soon as hands were able to write the letters formerly merely read in books.

For those unfamiliar with the cats, it is impossible to draw a distinction between the two, but those who look closer notice that Virgil does not share the same eye colour with his brother, the ocean grey betraying the fact the fluffy bastard is indeed that.

A bastard.

Exactly like his owner and the owner’s granddaughter who was also born out of wedlock.

However, even in Dante there is a trace of being not a full blood Birman since his slender skull hints at a Ragdoll influence though the selective sweetheart would never admit to it even if the ability of speech had been given to cats.

All in all, all of us are outcasts so it has become the running joke beneath the roof of the outskirts mansion we are glorious bastards. Honestly speaking, it has a nice ring to it because if being separated from others for whatever reason counts as a qualification for becoming this, then the lack of pals in primary and high school is not minded. The same goes for the adoption by a loving howbeit harshly critical grandfather because the son who should have been a proper father could not bear the sight of the offspring originating in a scandalous affair with a secretary who had no mother instinct at all, thus sharing in the shallowness with her one-time lover.

Whiskey story nights filled with almost empty pens, digits stained with ink, reading breaks and lots of swearing in frustration or joy have come to form a steady aspect of life, Charlie clearly in a better mood when settling down to shape the rough paper diamonds in each other’s company despite the exchange of insults pertaining to manuscripts or in a loving manner. An Irishman can leave Ireland, but the Irishness will never leave the individual and the island tales that at times seem mere fantastic fancies create a bond with a heritage that would otherwise have never been known.

It is because of Charles, his upbringing that has not been without it struggles, and Dante and Virgil I am still here, exerting power as an author on the Internet after creating a manuscript on the typewriter that once belonged to the moustached man’s close American friend who, too, had a taste for liquor and a talent for writing.

Apparently, one night at a party, this comrade was hit in the face by a drunken accountant who tried his hand at poetry nobody understood and insulted the boxer’s manhood, causing the offended party to strike the provoker down in drunken rage. Fortunately for the injured, the American was willing to forgive the insult after being offered an apology and the next day the papers reported the incomprehensible poet fell down the stairs, the accident resulting in a broken hip alongside other injuries, thus covering up the truth of being beaten black and blue.

When asking why nothing was done to stop the fight from escalating, the answer is always the same. ‘It was too much fun to see that idiotic sod being beaten up. Furthermore, he had it coming sooner or later because he was a fecking racist prick, Y/N. It was more of a service than a true crime.’

Basically, Granddad sat back with a bowl of popcorn and cheered his boxing buddy on.

Truly a gentleman bastard.

As proves to be an inherent characteristic, judging by the rage coming from the classically furnished writing room on the east side of the house bought with the royalties from writing pieces critical of the human condition and problems rooted in society under the guise of a cleverly composed story. ‘Virgil! For fuck’s sake, ye bloody gobshite!’

‘Charlie, how’s she cuttin’?’ Not so well, judging by the look of pure horror in fast passing stone-toned irises with elated pupils framed by deep earthy brown fur and liquid onyx paw prints creating a trail on the freshly mopped floor. What a way to leave the house before facing the horror of being left alone at the university because everyone has been placed in a different time slot. ‘Although, never mind.’

In the faux leather spinning chair behind the intricately designed baroque desk, agitated calloused fingers run through pale thin hairs while lips are pulled into a snarl at the sight of the obsidian pool of ink staining the pile of blank pages meant to be engraved with poetry. ‘Well, this is just fucking grand, isn’t it?’

‘Think about your blood pressure, ye aren’t all that spry anymore and your fans will not like it if you kick the bucket already.’ Grinning like the purple cat in the favourite story to listen to while sitting by the hearth during childhood, dark flats wander the afromosia floor to the stout big man with an irritated iron gaze that slightly softens at the sight of the lass raised as a daughter rather than a granddaughter, the pupil who has turned more and more into a peer as time went by. ‘And Virgil isn’t as graceful as Dante, prone to causing accidents yet you love him all the same.’

‘Ah, feck off.’ An eyebrow raises in question when settling down into the fauteuil in front of the bureau, casually crossing one leg over the other and endeavouring to suppress the pressing yawns as best as possible. ‘It’s yer first day of university after a week of being a dosser and you pulled an all-nighter while having to show up early. You’re not the full shilling, are ye?’

‘No. No, I’m not, but you are what you eat. I’m fine, Charlie. And I worked on a couple of poems, mind you, and also wrote two more chapters for Paper Wonderland. Furthermore, I read ahead for this block’s course so, overall, I’ve been productive.’

‘You haven’t been until I’ve seen the first drafts.’ It is a house rule: there are no actual original versions of a part of a tale unless the stern editor has seen it and given feedback. Otherwise, it is nothing more than stained paper.

‘Oi, I want to keep some element of surprise to blow you off yer socks when you read the full result. Where’s the fun in being spoiled beforehand when it can become the reason I’ll finally conquer the throne you’re currently sitting on. One day, one day I’ll finally be recognized as more than mere family.’

The mentor stands up to walk around the chaotically ruined heavy piece of furniture to put an encouraging hand on the shoulder and give it a little encouraging squeeze, which gets nullified by a comment that makes the characteristic need for rivalry flare up. ‘Keep dreaming about that day, ye wee chiseler, and maybe, just maybe you’ll manage.’

A sarcastic mirthless chuckle functions as a nullifying factor for the elder’s smugness while standing up from the oddly comfortable espresso brown chair to head for the door. ‘You really like throwing shapes, don’t ye, gramps?’

‘As much as any grand man.’ The old great man matches the pace to the young feet eventually coming to a halt at the entrance of the writing office.

At the double doors, on the edge of a casual temporary farewell, all devilishness fades away into fatherly concern due to the realization a difficult social challenge has to be faced, having had many conversations about the introverted anxiety of a mask-wearing lass who merely acts like a young professional while working as a barista to earn a little cash on the side. ‘Take that puss off yer face, Y/N. You’re gonna be grand because you’re a full-grown woman with an Irish background. We’re tough people made of iron who don’t take anyone’s intimidation.’

Two big wrinkled hands wrap themselves around upper arms clad in a neatly-ironed alabaster collared shirt as a moustached mouth places a familial hope-giving smooch on the forehead before giving the right cheek a weak playful slap. ‘Now, go, you fine thing. Maybe you’ll catch the eye of a proper laddie.’

‘Feck off.’ A playful punch on the shoulder undoes the intimacy and grants the opportunity to crack on to catch the bus towards doom after putting on a khaki trench coat and slinging the stone-grey laptop bag over the shoulder.

‘I don’t recommend effin’ and blindin’, though. Tends to give a bad image,’ is the last piece of laughingly uttered advice which is seemingly also disregarded howbeit with an absently-minded waving hand wandering down the sandstone cobblestone path towards the main road.

And before taking an immediate right out of the gate towards the nearest bus stop, the other one holds the habitual saviour in the form of a book already.

An opportunity to escape the nervousness brought about by cruel reality that is taken away when bumping into someone, an accident which still tends to happen despite the mastery of avoidance skills, and the account of the life of a bookseller falls onto the concrete.

Eyes as big as a doe’s when caught in the headlights of a rapidly approaching car stare in horror at annoyed molten chocolate irises above an admittedly adorable big nose, irritated by an ignorant daydreamer under the constant scrutiny of the world, which quickly gain a weird gentleness when truly looking back. ‘I’m so, so fe- sorry. I should watch where- no, watch my footing. Again, I’m so sorry.’

Please, don’t get mad. Grand job, Y/N. The day’s barely begun and you already messed up.

‘It’s alright.’ Bleached short locks clad in an onyx leather jacket squat down to pick up the paperback on the ground, long pale fingers dusting off the little dirt the impact of the fall has caused to stain the cover before handing it back. ‘You dropped this.’

Trembling hands accept a small piece of peace of mind, gaze averted from the small fading kind smile on the young man’s face to stare with burning cheeks and a raving heart at dark flats aching to flee the situation. ‘Thanks.’

‘Miss? Are you alright?’ The lost distant type of contact from just a second ago is futilely tried to be re-established, unable to connect thus to a soul with a thousand voices within now all rendered to a flustered whisper.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll- I need to go. Don’t want to miss the bus.’ A curt nod ends the conversation abruptly, turning away as fast as lightning while muttering a form of apologetic goodbye as the walking pace enhances to a speed barely shy of running. ‘Again, my apologies.’

However, as Fate or mere coincidence would have it, this meeting is not the last as tracks are silently retraced by foreign sneakers as blasting songs from various genres disclose the world from a never tranquil consciousness.

A few minutes more the blissful unknowing continues, reading irises stuck in the sceptic description of a man able to do what wants to be done in case becoming a writer does not work out.

A few minutes more the wind has the possibility to play freely with locks without it being noticed nor minded.

Then all changes with the approach of the awaited vehicle.

The loudness comes back with the bus.

And an ink-black leather jacket.

#Kpopwonderlandtag #Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids x Reader #Stray Kids fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Chris Bang

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what-even-is-thiss · 5 years

Text

I wrote a creative essay about my least favorite aunt. Yeet.

Read it if you’d like. I’m just happy to finally get the damage she caused me mostly dealt with to the point where I feel comfortable writing about it.

Language Barrier

Whenever I speak in German my expressions and hand gestures suddenly become ridiculously animated, like I’m trying to make up for my lack of vocabulary with a sign language that hasn’t been invented yet. One that only I know the meaning of. I flap my hands around like a maniac and point to things I don’t know the words for and make broken sentences that sound like a caveman made them as I misgender inanimate objects left and right.

Das. Das. That. That. This. This.

I can physically feel my brain rewiring itself. I speak like fool. Wrong order spoken are words. Sometimes anxiety make cry me. Social kind.

However, I speak much more German than my uncle’s mother and stepfather speak of English so I’m forced to use what I can and hope they can understand my thick American accent as we stay with them in Southern Germany. Everyone keeps trying to reassure me that my German is very good, but I can’t stop out of order speaking.

Kann ich habe Brot mehr bitte? Can I having bread more please?

I want to crawl into a hole and die.

My grandmother warned me that a person can grow tired of the amount of bread that Germans eat and according to that Bible thing that we both read man cannot live by bread alone. I’m starting to understand both of those things, eating bread and jam for breakfast yet again because I don’t like butter with marmalade and there’s no cheese left.

The weather, unlike my breakfast or Deutsche Grammatik, is perfect. Slightly cold, sunny and overcast at the same time. The neighborhood that my uncle’s parents live in is beautiful, suburban, on the edge of Schwartzwald, known in English as the Black Forest. I can’t remember the name of the town but I do know that we tried to get a brewery tour and my aunt, her twins, and I waited in the van as my uncle talked loudly at somebody in a local dialect until he got out of them that they don’t do tours anymore.

We went to a rope climbing course instead. My uncle, tall and skinny, balding, fit, took the twins, boy and girl, skinny like their dad, not taking after their mother, my mother’s sister, and went rope climbing in Schwartzwald.

I’m stuck talking with my aunt as we stand below the ropes course and I’m tired of speaking in German so we both take time to find comfort in each other’s distinctly Californian manner of speaking.

My aunt is a character. That’s a polite way to describe her if you don’t want to speak ill of someone that’s not in the room. She wears no makeup except for when she’s getting her picture taken or going somewhere important and she always looks stressed and tired with her eyes just a little too wide open. She’s maybe four inches shorter than me but she has the ability to make me feel like I only come up to her waist. In my mind she’s always wearing a knee length beige skirt and a green t-shirt even though she owns other articles of clothing than that, including more than 20 pairs of shoes. Her eyes are wide and her hands move in an animated fashion even when she speaks English. When she speaks German she becomes an exaggerated version of herself, perhaps to make up for her thick American accent and occasionally sketchy grammar. She has lived in Switzerland since the 90s and spoken German since the 80s. I once asked her how to tell what a noun’s grammatical gender is. She told me that she had no idea.

I didn’t know my mother for very long before she died but my grandmother tells me that when my mom was young, to describe her sister, she quoted a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The one about the little girl with the little curl who when she was good she was very good and when she was bad she was horrid.

My aunt’s hair is straight, but other than that the poem describes her very well. Today would be a day she was horrid.

I don’t claim to be a perfect human being. I can be a bitch sometimes just like anybody else. The thing is though, my aunt never let me know when I was doing something bitchy like a normal person would. Instead she let me keep on doing it until she was ready to explode. And then she exploded.

Or, no. Not exactly being bitchy. Just doing something that she didn’t understand or like. She’s a very animated person and her voice goes like

And

Up.

Down.

All the time.

She’s very expressive. I, on the other hand, am not that excitable. I smile, yes, I cry, yes, but I try to be stoic. I like being stoic. It feels natural. I don’t want to express to everyone around me every time I am excited or upset. In my opinion it’s none of their business. I also tend to express gratitude through actions and gift giving rather than hurting my face and voice smiling and screaming all of the time.

I had thought bringing gifts from America, delivering onto my aunt’s family the ever elusive box of grits and Bakersfield candy and trinkets from Disneyland Anaheim would show gratitude. I was under the impression that helping to cook dinner, pack the van, refill the ice trays, take care of the twins, carry the groceries, clean the house, would show how much I loved her. I learned though, in a firestorm under the canopy of dark trees and children riding on zip lines that our love languages didn’t translate properly and she thought that my lack of expressiveness meant that I hated her. She was hysterical about it. I then expressed myself by changing into a lovely shade of red and producing saltwater from my eyes.

Climbing hills is a thing you get used to when you spend time in Central Europe. Walking for three or four kilometers isn’t such a feat in a valley, where the ground is flat and rarely changes, but in hilly terrain you quickly learn just how long that distance is and how much walking can hurt. Locals take no pity on you because they expect that everyone has those muscles built up in their legs when you’ve never had to use your legs like that for long stretches of time before.

Navigating emotion and expectations at home is easy. There is one language being spoken and everyone uses it to tell each other what’s wrong. When staying with my aunt for long periods of time, however, you start to understand emotional exhaustion. Something that would take half a minute to communicate takes up ten minutes of screaming because she expected you to know everything. A flat crowded city turns into a hilly countryside with no help for miles. You quickly learn how to swear in German because she pushes her husband to screaming as well.

Scheiße.

Eventually my uncle finished with the ropes course and pulled me away from her. He gently explained to me in English what we were going to be doing for the next few days. I stopped leaking water from my eyes and tried to remember what had prompted her to start yelling at me but I couldn’t figure it out. Another talent she has. Distracting you from linear events.

While I was in Germany there was a terrorist attack in Münich. Brexit was fresh in everyone’s minds. My first presidential election would be happening in November. I only understood about half of what was said on the news. My little cousins and their dad took turns translating for me. I had the feeling that I still wasn’t getting the whole story.

My aunt and uncle have twins. Test Tube Babies. The girl is the older twin but strangely enough doesn’t hold it over her brother’s head, which would fit perfectly with her personality. The boy takes after his mother in some respects, namely her loud voice.

When we went to Prague we stayed in a campground because that’s a lot cheaper than a hotel and that family affords a second house because they’re stingy. Almost every morning it was a struggle to get the boy out of bed. He and his sister were almost ten and he screamed and refused to move. He cried. He was loud. No amount of discipline worked. His sister stood around quietly going about her business, as did I. We did the same thing when her parents got into screaming matches.

Prague is an old city. A busy city. I loved it, even with all of the pay toilets and Czech bluntness. Even when an angry Czech lady smoking a cigarette yelled at me in broken English for not knowing that I had to pay for the restroom. The old castles and cathedrals and statues and just the right amount of dirtiness in the subway more than made up for it.

My aunt payed for me to go look at a museum that she didn’t want to look at. She told me to take all the time I wanted as the rest of the family waited outside. I didn’t sense any passive aggressiveness that time, so I did. It was a complex that was part of the Prague art museum, a system spread out around the city. The section I walked through by myself was a collection of medieval Roman Catholic art. Stained glass windows, paintings, tapestries. I’m a Lutheran that lives with atheists, so my experience with Catholic art is mostly non existent. Atheists don’t have religious figures to draw and Lutherans are extremely stingy with their images, worried about crossing into the realm of idolatry.

One thing I noticed was that Mary appeared everywhere, even in stories I thought she didn’t belong. In some images she stood equal with Jesus, reminding me of a female God. She seemed mature, different from the outcasted teenage mother I had told children about in Sunday School classes. Different from the refugee that had been painted for me in sermons. I wondered what kind of mother this Mary was. I wondered what her Hebrew sounded like. Or, maybe this Mary spoke Czech and the Mary in Germany spoke German and the Mary in the Vatican spoke Latin and the Mary my Catholic friends at home looked to spoke Spanish. Maybe if I prayed to Mary she would speak English. Maybe she would turn out to speak German and would look down at the frantic dancing of my hands, trying to find meaning in it.

But I don’t pray to Mary, and neither do my aunt or uncle. I report to them what I saw and my observations about Mary. Namely that she seems to be everywhere. My aunt doesn’t quite pick up on the fact that I simply find it interesting and takes it as an invitation to rant about Catholics. I squint at her as we walk back to the subway. I’m trying to figure out if I’d somehow been speaking another language. She certainly seems to be. Maybe it’s a generational gap. Maybe it’s just her, but I try to turn the conversation back to a tone of tolerance rather than complaint. A battle I quickly lose.

Later, in a public park in that busy city, my aunt yelled at me and cried because I had been calling her by her first name rather than Aunt. I nearly start leaking again. I shake. I think she’s speaking English but I don’t understand it. I physically step away from her as she accuses me of not seeing her as family. At the bottom of the hill we’re standing on a dog plays fetch with his owner. Neither of them take notice of the screaming middle aged American woman throwing accusations her deceased sister’s child as her own children zone out and wait for it to be over. No help comes. Nobody translates for me and Google Translate doesn’t have a setting for this.

Twenty minutes later she jokes with me as we find a rare but welcome burrito shop. I buy a mango soda imported from Mexico and it softens my homesickness. We eat on the steps of a light rail station. I laugh. The twins laugh and bounce around, talking to each other in a mixture of English, Swiss-German, and high German. The boy takes a bite out of my burrito and thinks the fact I can eat something that spicy makes me the coolest person in the world. My aunt laughs with me. We make plans for when we go to Southern Germany and visit her husband's parents. That’s where his dentist is. He needs a bit of work done. We’ll have fun, she promises. We had a good time in Prague. I put the bad times in a shoebox for later and then agree with her.

After she yells at me in Schwartzwald for not showing emotion I go quiet. I put more things in the shoebox I’ve made in my mind to deal with later. I learn that all of them have been eavesdropping on the phone calls I’ve been making to my dad and friends back home. My aunt approaches me about how I complained about the yelling. I’m suddenly paranoid and wonder if she read some of the postcards I sent out. I watch my words now and put the ones that might set off her fuse in the box. The little house outside of Zurich has started to feel like home when I return to it and I’m slightly disgusted at that realization. The flowers all make my eyes water and I’m not given nearly enough allergy pills. I still don’t understand what language she’s speaking. Her words are in English or German, as are mine, but we still don’t understand each other.

Currants, especially the red ones, are beautiful fruit. Not easy to find in stores, even in Europe, so you’ve gotta pick them yourself. My aunt and uncle have a small city of currant bushes living in their backyard that hugs the bank of the stream that runs through the neighborhood. They’re beautiful and inviting, asking you to eat them please, but when you do your face scrunches up at the tartness. I never did care for sour tastes, so I found my own way to make the currants sweet by baking them into scones. At first my aunt was sceptical of my scones but after some reassurance from her kids that they didn’t taste like cinnamon she tried them and agreed that I did a good job. They were sweet and went really well with milk or tea. We all enjoyed them very much. Nobody had to translate anything.

Every member of that family gives excellent hugs when you can get them. They share drinks and food with each other, a concept that shocked me at first, but I quickly fell into the rhythm of it with them. They bought me my first beer and took me to Worms, Germany. I loved that place. I got to see one of the first print versions of Luther’s German translation of the bible. I ate pastries and tea with them at an outdoor cafe. It was cold and wet in the middle of the summer and the cobblestones made it even gloomier. The moving feet on the sidewalk seemed to have a language of its own and the new architecture standing by the old had no words to be translated but told a story nonetheless.

My experience in Europe was like Europe itself. Americans expect it to be shiny and beautiful, and it is, but you also have to pay to use the restroom which leads people to piss in the street. You will also find cigarette machines on almost every corner. There is one right outside my aunt and uncle’s second house. The packages of cigarettes have pictures of black lungs and diseased gums on them. The people smoke anyways. Europeans are people. They have drama, they worry about money, they cry, they abuse, they kick, they scream, they love. All the problems you had in America won’t disappear over there, and in fact you might find some new problems you didn’t expect. Like not finding salsa or not knowing how to deal with carnival rides that have no line and are boarded like a much more violent version of musical chairs. And don’t expect to practice your target language there either. The people will hear your accent and excitedly try and use you to practice English. And even if you do speak the language, don’t expect to understand with everyone. Hand gestures can only go so far.

When I got home I left the German language behind me for the most part. I also slowly cut off most contact with my aunt’s family. Six weeks spent putting things in a shoebox and not speaking whatever language my aunt was speaking with English and German words was enough for me. By the time I opened my shoebox a few months later it was rotten, smelly, and leaking. It took over a year to clean it out and it’s still warped and stained, containing whispers of my own desperate language that would never penetrate my aunt’s skull or jump over the barrier we had built together.

My rotten shoebox is revolting to look at, and while I was cleaning it parts of the mess got onto the happy memories but thankfully they’re still there. The cathedrals, the warm hugs, the new foods, and comforting rain are all there. Late nights and early mornings, potato pancakes and beer, museums and trees and the times I could honestly say; Ja, ich bin glücklich. Yes, I am happy. And thankfully that sentence is easy to translate.

#roman wrote a thing #religion mention #roman said a thing

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

Photo

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Three → in which the Baudelaires make new friends

“Class sucks.” said Nick. “I am not going again.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” said Lilac, as she held one of Solitude’s hands as they walked down the hall.

Their first night with the shack had been awful, mainly because after they had spent time trying to find a hay bale that was not infested with angry and territorial crabs, they realized there was, indeed, not room for all six of them to lay down in the shack, so they took Solitude’s suggestion and slept outside, shivering in the cold and wishing they still had blankets. When they awoke to the schoolbells clanging in the morning, they groaned and sat up and managed to find the bathrooms to wash up as best they could before heading off to their separate destinations.

Nick had not liked that he had to separate from Klaus and Solitude, and Violet basically had to drag him away while Soli called out that they were going to be fine and he needed to stop worrying, and Lilac took Klaus’s hand as they walked down the hall and dragged him to Room Two. Solitude took Sunny’s hand and helped her walk to the administration building, still working on helping her walk on her own.

In Room One, Violet and Nick were seated in the back of the class while the other students either ignored them or glared at them, with the exception of a boy who gave Violet a friendly smile and Nick a curious look, and Carmelita Spats, who was unfortunately seated right behind Violet and kept tossing erasers at her. Both Violet and Nick had been quietly horrified to discover that their teacher, Mr Remora, spent the entire class time talking about random stories that had happened to him, and then quizzing them on that. Nick looked completely and utterly bored out of his mind, as if he’d rather be back in the home of Count Olaf than here at the moment.

In Room Two, Lilac and Klaus also sat in the back of the class, with only one girl giving them a smile before Ms Bass entered and started placing items in front of them, telling them to measure them, write down how long they were, and then quizzing them on what they’d just measured. Lilac kept playing with her braids, or braiding the unbraided part of her hair, and Klaus struggled to pay attention, unable to comprehend how on Earth this was supposed to be helpful to their education.

Solitude and Sunny made their way to the administrative building and Soli sat at a typewriter and typed up whatever Nero dictated to her, which was usually letters to prestigious orchestras and other schools begging for attention. Sunny sat beside her, putting the letters in envelopes or stapling them together. Sometimes they’d switch up if Solitude saw a bug flying around and went to fetch it to feed to Babbitt, or if Sunny started getting bored and decided to bang on the keys for a bit. Once someone called, but after Sunny babbled her form of “Hello,” they hung up instantly. Soli suggested that it may have been a prank call, as Nero continued practicing his horrible violin playing.

“It was awful.” Nick said. “We heard nothing but pointless stories.”

“That’s just language arts.” Lilac shrugged.

“We spent the morning writing meaningless measurements.” Klaus sighed.

“That’s just math.” Violet said. “How was work, Sunny?”

“Yuck,” said Sunny, who was carefully walking between Violet and Lilac, each holding one hand. “Tedious.”

“Well, maybe lunch will be better.” Lilac said.

“All my old friends who went to public school said the food sucked.” Violet said. “Ben said he threw up once.”

“Well, this is private school, maybe it’ll be different.” Lilac said.

They turned a bend, and Nick put a hand on a locker on the wall as they passed. It almost instantly toppled over.

“I somehow doubt that.” Nick said.

They walked into the lunchroom, to see a huge lasagna, bigger than anything they’d ever seen; it seemed to be longer than all of them, if they stood on each others’ shoulders. Some lunch ladies were scooping parts out of a pan and slamming them onto plates for students. The Baudelaires got in line and tried to ignore the strange smell coming from the food, and Sunny put her hands over her ears to block out the noise of the other students running around and yelling towards each other, and Soli leaned against Nick and put a hand on Babbitt, who was hiding in her pocket.

At the end of the lasagna line was a basket of fruit, but they all looked very strange, so even Lilac didn’t insist they take any. They each put a glass of milk on their tray, and started to wander the cafeteria, looking for an empty table.

“Hey, orphans!” Carmelita Spats passed them by, flanked by two miserable-looking students. “There’s room at my table! Oh, but not for cakesniffing orphans like you!”

“Still don’t know what that means.” Nick muttered, giving her a death glare and stepping a bit closer to Klaus.

Carmelita gave him a glare, and then slammed her tray onto her table, and very loudly, she started chanting, “Cakesniffing orphans in the Orphans Shack! Cakesniffing orphans in the Orphans Shack!”

Violet pressed herself against Lilac as Carmelita’s friends took up the chant, and so did several other students. Sunny, only barely gripping onto her tray of lunch, let out a huff of annoyance, and Soli stepped a bit closer to Carmelita, looking prepared to throw Babbitt at her; Nick responded by moving a leg in front of the toddler and pushing her back slightly.

“Cakesniffing orphans in the Orphans Shack! Cakesniffing orphans in the Orphans Shack!”

At that moment, a boy stepped out in front of them, yelling, “Oh, piss off, Carmelita! You’re the cakesniffer, and nobody in their right minds would associate with you!”

Carmelita huffed, and the other students quietly glanced away. “Cakesniffing orphans stick together, looks like.” she said.

“At least we have someone to stick with.” said a girl who looked frighteningly similar to the boy, moving to stand beside him. She glanced towards the Baudelaires, and Lilac and Klaus recognized her from their class. “Come on. We have a table in the corner.” she said.

She grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him off with her and, a little confused, the Baudelaires quickly followed. The boy and girl sat next to each other at a table, and after a moment, Klaus and Violet sat across from them, and Nick beside his siblings, picking up Solitude so she could sit by him. Lilac sat beside the new children, picking up Sunny and helping her with her meal.

“You’ll have to ignore Carmelita.” the boy said. “She’s so horrible that Ms Bass is considering a life of crime. Isadora wrote a poem about her!”

The girl smiled and pulled a small black notebook from her sweater pocket, flipping it open and reading aloud, “I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats / Than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats.”

“That’s a couplet.” said Klaus excitedly. “Ogden Nash uses them.”

The girl brightened. “I know! I’ve read all of his work!”

“My name is Duncan Quagmire,” said the boy, “And this is my sister, Isadora.”

“Well, I’m Lilac Baudelaire,” said Lilac, and then she started pointing around the table. “And these are my siblings Violet, Klaus, Nick, Solitude and Sunny.”

“Timi!” shouted Sunny. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Whoa.” Duncan smiled slightly. “There sure are a lot of you.”

“We get that a lot.” Violet nodded.

“We should warn you,” Isadora said, “The apples taste like horseradish.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Nick said. “You heard that, Soli?”

“Roger!” Soli squeaked.

Sunny narrowed her eyes. “Armoracia,” she muttered, which meant something like, “That doesn’t sound right. Apples and Horseradish taste very differently.”

“You’re in our class.” Nick said, looking towards Duncan.

Duncan nodded. “Mr Remora’s stories are awful, aren’t they? Why would we need to know all of that?”

“It must be better than Ms Bass’s class.” Klaus said. “Why are we just measuring random things instead of learning calculations?”

“I know!” Isadora nodded. “I usually just measure everything as fast as I can and then get to writing in my commonplace book.”

“That’s a good idea. Wish we had notebooks.” Lilac said. “How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks.” Duncan said quietly. “We got transferred here as soon as…”

He glanced towards his sister, and she said, “We lost our parents in a terrible fire.”

The Baudelaires fell silent. “We’re sorry to hear that.” Violet said softly.

“We lost our parents in a fire as well.” Nick said.

“It’s not fair.” Klaus said, glaring down at his lasagna. “One minute you’re… safe and happy, and the next-”

“You’re in a shack full of crabs.” Isadora nodded.

“Speaking of which, how did you deal with the crabs?” Violet asked.

“It won’t matter, Vi, we can’t all fit in the shack.” Nick said.

“We might be able to if we get all the crabs out.” Klaus said.

“We couldn’t get them out,” Isadora said, “But we glued bits of metal to our shoes to make a tapping noise that scared them away.”

“It was a bit exhausting, though,” Duncan said, “Keeping our feet tapping.”

“Maybe we could build a noisemaker.” Violet said, starting to tie back her hair. “What about the fungus?”

“I think there’s some stuff about it in the library, but it’s only accessible through the dorms.” Duncan said. “We could sneak some books out- oh! Or we could sneak you in! Once the librarian goes home, nobody goes in, we can climb through a window!”

Klaus’s eyes lit up. “You’d help us sneak into a library?”

“We sneak into rooms all the time.” Isadora shrugged. “The science room is creepy, though, there’s a bunch of statues that’re still there. The art room is pretty fun, though.”

“Maybe we could sleep in the library.” Nick suggested.

“It would take a bit longer to get to class,” Duncan said, “And you don’t want to be late, it’ll get hard to eat.”

“I’ll just skip meals.” Nick said, leaning back. “This looks bad anyway. I’ll eat dirt.”

“You absolutely will not.” Lilac said.

“There’s probably some plants around here that aren’t dead.”

“Nick, no-”

“We’ll need a plan to get into the library.” Violet said. “Do you know how to unlock windows?”

“A little.” Isadora shrugged.

“I can get the windows,” Lilac said, “Should be an ordinary-enough pin-tumbler lock.”

“Yeah, there’s no locks.” Duncan said. “Bonnie said that they fell off a few years ago and never got replaced.”

“That’ll be way easier.” Lilac said. “Solitude, Sunny, you’ll have to be held by one of us, or helped in.”

“It really shouldn’t be too hard.” Isadora shrugged. “Nobody ever goes in there, except us.”

“You won’t have to do much work.” Duncan said.

“Thank you so much.” Violet said. “We don’t know what we’d do if we hadn’t run into you two twins.”

Duncan and Isadora fell silent.

“Did I say something wrong?” Violet asked, knowing that she and Nick tended to do that a lot.

“Twins.” Duncan said.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Nick asked. “Klaus and I are twins. I’m older, by the way.”

“Please shut up.” Klaus said.

“We’re not twins.” Duncan said.

“We’re triplets.” Isadora said.

“Oh.” Violet said. “Wait, aren’t triplets three children born at once?”

“Yeah.” Duncan nodded. “We are.”

“Our…” Isadora stared hard at the table. “Our brother, Quigley, died in the fire with our parents.”

“Oh.” said Klaus.

“Oh.” said Nick and Sunny.

“We’re very sorry to hear that.” Violet said.

“You didn’t know.” Isadora shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Klaus reached over the table, putting one hand over Isadora’s hand and one over Duncan’s. “I know I’d feel awful if Nick wasn’t here and people stopped calling me a twin.”

“I wouldn’t.” Nick said, though he clearly didn’t mean it.

Lilac glanced at the triplets, noticing their sullen faces. Shit, we need to lighten up this mood somehow. Unfortunately, Lilac was not very good at social situations, so before she could stop herself, she said, very awkwardly, “I mean. If you want, you could take one of my siblings.”

They all fell completely silent. After a moment, Lilac laughed a little, trying to clear the air. “Uh… please take one of them?”

“Forgive her,” Violet said quietly, “She doesn’t know how to people.”

Slowly, Isadora smiled. “It’s alright. Quigley probably would’ve said the same thing.”

“He’s such an idiot.” Duncan smiled a little, staring at his food. His face fell, then, and he said, “But, um… anyway, we- while you’re here-” He glanced up at the boys. “I just… did I see you two? In the bathroom yesterday?”

He looked over at the twins, and Klaus blushed a little as Isadora’s eyes widened. “Yeah, Klaus couldn’t tie his tie.” Nick said. “I remember.”

“God, Duncan, you finally found your soulmate.” Isadora said, as she started digging into her pocket. “Maybe if you learned how to do it-”

“Okay, so it is you?” Duncan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why?” Klaus bit his lip. “Did we do something wrong-?”

“Do you still have that spyglass?”

The Baudelaires all froze. “What?” Violet asked.

“You saw that?” Nick asked.

“How’d you know it was a spyglass?” Klaus asked.

“Because,” Isadora said, and as they watched, she pulled half a spyglass out of her pocket, a familiar Eye emblazoning the cover, “We have one, too.”

The Quagmires and Baudelaires stared at each other for a good while. Then, slowly, Klaus pulled the half-spyglass from his pocket. He flipped it and held it out, and Isadora put hers against it.

Click.

They fit together, into a full spyglass.

There was more silence, and then Lilac said, “Where did you get that?”

“From the ruins of our parents’ home.” Isadora said quietly.

“Same with us.” Violet whispered.

Klaus shut his eyes, and then said, “We need to talk somewhere nobody can listen in. Is the Orphans Shack safe?”

“We can’t fit.” Lilac reminded him.

“We can’t fit laying down.” Klaus said. “We could probably squeeze in if we’re sitting or standing.”

“Nobody ever goes there.” Isadora nodded. “Let’s head out. Just toss your food, it sucks anyway.”

“Can we eat dirt instead?” Nick asked.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Lilac hissed, her face still a bit red from embarrassment.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Nick shouted, and like that, he took off running.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Isadora cheered, and she ran after him, whooping.

Duncan sighed, and then looked to the remaining Baudelaires. “Is Nick just as wild as-”

“Yes.” Violet said.

“Oh, we’re in trouble.” Duncan said. “We just unleashed chaos.”

“Trust me,” Klaus said, “We’re used to it.”

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the austere academy #mine #my fanfic

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artisticallymusical · 5 years

Text

Consequences

They smile wide,

Their teeth are white like snow.

Their lips are red. The way they flow.

Their eyes are gorgeous. Oh how they glow.

They smile wide.

They do not hide,

Their bellies show beneath their tops.

Their shorts, they show a hell of a lot.

Their heels, their shoes, they put them on top.

They do not hide.

And yet they lie.

They suck in every inch of air.

“They’re mean comments, How come you don’t care?”

“Ew. Not enough makeup!” “Go get some better hair!”

And yet they lie.

It’s two in the morning and they can’t get to bed.

They hear the screaming of the wind and those comments in their head,

And they know it’s wrong and it won’t fix a thing, but it’s better then going to bed and dreaming those nightmares again.

So it's one or maybe two. We’ll stop at ten or twenty-two.

But the reality is, words have consequences.

They got quieter, but thats okay. Maybe their laughter just walked away, but it’ll be back another day. So what?! They’re a little quieter.

Their nights got longer, but that’s okay. They’re tennagers just texting away. But what if they’re not? Well they look just fine. They’re nights just get a little bit longer.

They got a bit bigger. That’s not okay. We can’t be seen with them, just walk away. Don’t say anything, look away. They got a bit bigger.

Their sleeves got longer but that’s okay. It’s the middle of winter and what can they say? The shorts are too short on their big fat legs. Their sleeves got a bit longer.

They’re gone for a month, or two, or three, but nobody notices that they’re gone lately.

The text's mean nothing in a time of hurt or rage, but it still meant something. It hurt there hearts, they felt the pain.

Why does it matter that it’s not face to face? Were the words digitized? Is there no definition connected to what they say?

They wanted help but got drama. Wanted friends but got foe. Why hurt instead of heal? Why do they shove them? Do they not feel?

And slowly they disappear.

But the reality is, words have no consequences.

So they grapple with hope and they grapple with faith.

They gets skinner. That means pretty so now their friends stay. Now they’re the yellers, the rumor spreader, burying the self hate that stays.

Because today's reality is, words don’t really have any consequences.

The scars on their wrists? Cat scratches.

The bones at the hips? A new trend.

The botox and implants? Mere enhancements.

Because 20, 30 years ago, those words, those people, never got any consequences.

They smiled wider,

Their teeth were once white like snow.

Their lips were red. The way they used to flow.

Their eyes were once gorgeous. Oh how they once glowed.

“Are you okay?” “Oh yes! I’m very happy!”

Because nobody cares or wants to talk about what “isn’t” there or what can’t be seen, and in the end, there are no consequences. Right?

This is a poem I made for English class a few months ago. I wrote this poem fairly quickly and, if I’m 100% honest, I wrote this poem during lunch on Tuesday in only 10-15 minutes. This is because, and a lot of people know this because it is basically all I talk about, but I’ve been through a few things in life I would have rathered I didn’t. I have major ADHD issues which started when I was diagnosed with at 8. I have BPD, OCD, a Generalized severe anxiety disorder, major impulse control issues, anger issues, abandonment issues, the list goes on. I’m not looking for pity or sympathy. Although this isn’t true for all the 7.53 billion people on earth, the reality is, not many people care. Or they’re to busy to care, you've heard the excuses. Many people don't truly care, not until it’s them. I live in a first world country, in a safe home with a loving, accepting family, and go to school with amazing friends and teachers. I do not have to worry about stepping on a landmine or getting shot or being kidnapped or assaulted on my way to school and home. I do have to worry about my mental health, my school work, relationships, eating habits, weight, looks, daily habits, social position, etc. My belief is this. When you take away war, destruction, political disaster, sever 3rd world country type poverty, and you just leave society; In a first world country, you are left with mental health, bullying problems, racism, political debates, fake news, drama about stuff that does not matter, at all, despite how it affects people. The biggest problem in Canada is that we don’t want to deal with any of it. “Your kid has mental health issues and wants to die? Doesn’t know how to socialize? Can’t read or write? Your kid is not my kid, sorry. Do your grandparents have dementia? Schizophrenia? Alzheimer's? Sorry, not my problem. You're broke? Poor? Have a family? Dog? Used to fight for our country? Well, you should’ve fixed yourself when you got back. It’s not my fault your poor.” This is a common occurrence. Nowadays no one will say you have to be perfect but you still do. Nowadays we have pink shirt day but the rule “snitches get stitches” runs the large majority of school systems because GOD forbid you stand up for what’s right if it deems you ‘uncool’. This is despite the fact that it is proven that over time the bullying, stress to be perfect, keeping up with family issues and bills mentally affects the person, and yet, nobody cares until it’s them. We just say we do because nobody wants the label of being uncaring or selfish or just outright mean sometimes, because GOD forbid you’re not perfect or loved by all or have 1000+ followers on Instagram; the basis of which is to literally judge people by their photos, and then decide whether or not you like them enough to follow them. There are so many rules in first world society, so many guidelines and social laws, but nobody wants to talk about them. “Consequences” is about just that. It mentions an eating disorder, insomnia, self-harm, bullying, social media, avoidance, faith struggles etc. Then it ends with the fact that we talk about how horrible it is to call someone fat or ugly or to tell someone to kill themselves, but more often than not, nothing happens or nobody does anything. My question to society is: when did we get so judgmentally that we do things to judge whole groups.? Example: we as a society have turned the word “Emo” into a negative thing, or an insult. Emo means emotional or overly emotional. We as a society now judge people for being or having too many emotions. Why? That is not the only example, but I hope “Consequences” challenges that thinking. Repost this so that those who need support can access it. Or maybe send it to someone directly to show your support. I want everyone of the 7.53 billion people out there that either have serious, mild or little to no mental health issues, as well as those just going through a rough patch or bad day, to know that even if 7.53 billion people don’t care, I do.

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