#Would rather die than contribute to that no offense to my friends & classmates | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Note

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

#twst #Divus Crewel #Trey Clover #Rook Hunt #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this

190 notes · View notes

ruinedlances · 7 years

Text

bloodline

Summary: Being ‘patriotic’ isn’t exactly your forte. In fact, there’s a lot of things you’d rather do than pretend to be proud of your rotting country. But seeing the new girl, all smiles and hope and cheer, makes you think that maybe it isn’t so bad after all. (original!! patriotic as FUCK, #filipinopride i guess, word count: 2229)

It’s easy to be cynical when there’s no reason for you to view the world in any other way.

People say to be proud of yourself, your loved ones, your country. As if you have ever contributed anything worthwhile in your life. You love your family and friends, bless their souls, but it’s not as if they’re doing anything life changing either.

And your country? Please. The thought of you being proud of this trash fire is painfully laughable.

Perhaps it’s less about the land itself – even with the crowded city streets and pollution, it’s easy to admit that the Philippines truly does have beautiful landmarks and an inspiring history behind it. If only that was enough for you to be patriotic. No, the real problem behind this is the people.

How can you be proud of a country populated by such a corrupt and selfish community? How can you look directly at the president who passes questionable laws, or the ex-politician charged for embezzlement and fraud, and tell someone that they are proud to be a member of this society?

In your opinion, you simply can’t. You can see your country rot before your eyes and you’re expected to be proud of it, but it’s not as easy as all that. You are sure this is how your mindset will be until you die. Or get out of the country, whichever comes first.

That is, until Tala came along.

Normally, you wouldn’t care less about new students. While they’re rare in such a small school as this, they’re still merely an additional voice in the white noise in the classroom. But there’s something about Tala that keeps you hanging.

“Tala, like the goddess!” she exclaimed during her introduction. “In Filipino mythology, I mean. She’s the goddess of stars, did you know?”

And just like the stars, Tala twinkles and shines more than any other person you’ve ever met. You’ve never met someone so positive and unabashedly happy before. It’s a little concerning.

Still, you didn’t take interest in her, and you presume that after she sees how antisocial you are, she didn’t care much for you either. It’s the typical arrangement between you and your classmates, so you thought nothing of it.

Until she did start taking an interest in you, anyway.

The thing is, the country on its own really is a beautiful place. Maybe that’s why you prefer drawing nature rather than people, who always obnoxiously asks you to draw a portrait of them. You’re glad that trees don’t talk.

There’s a little park only five minutes away from your school, hidden with clusters of trees. It’s less a park and more of an abandoned resting area, you think; the fountain isn’t working and there are only two benches on either side of it. There are beautiful flowers everywhere, though, so it’s not so bad.

You decide the flowers will be your subject of the day, and you flip open your sketchpad and start working. At the back of your mind, you realize that the flowers are too neatly arranged and looks too well kept for an abandoned-looking park, as if someone has been taking care of them.

“Um… hello? What are you doing here?”

Ah, damn.

You straighten up immediately and slam your sketchbook closed, turning away from the flowers. “Sorry. I was just passing by.”

“No, it’s okay!” they reply, and their – no, her – voice sounds awfully familiar to you. You look around and your eyes finally land on a girl with braided pigtails – oh.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you say. “What are you doing here? It’s almost sundown.”

“What do you mean?” Tala asks, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. “This is my family’s garden.”

“Huh?”

She points to her left, and you see a quaint house you never noticed before just steps away. “That’s my house, see?” she says. “I was the one who planted those flowers.”

“Oh. Um.” Damn. This is awkward. “Sorry, I thought this place was abandoned. I’ll leave-”

“No, it’s okay!” she says hastily, and she steps to stand in front of you when you start to turn away. “You were drawing, weren’t you? I’m not going to kick you out for something like that. You’re welcome to stay.”

You almost say that it’s fine, that you’ll be leaving, because this encounter is already awkward as it is. But you’ve never seen these flowers growing anywhere else before and it would be a shame not to get it on paper… “Okay. If you’re okay with it, I guess.”

“I am!” she beams at you, and as you crouch back down and open your sketchpad back to the page, she sits down on the ground beside you. You think nothing of it, assuming she’s just going to watch, but you’re surprised to see her take out a notebook of her own from her bag and starts writing.

“What are you doing?” the question comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Her head shoots up to look at you, and she subconsciously hides the words she’s written with her hand. “I’m writing.”

Really? You wouldn’t have guessed. “I know that,” you say, trying your hardest not to roll your eyes. “I mean, what are you writing? You already caught what I was doing, it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” She laughs, even though this whole situation is more awkward than funny, and says. “Just some ideas, opinions. They’re essays, I guess you can say.”

“For what? Schoolwork?”

“Nah, this is just something I do for fun,” she says, smiling at you.

Who in their right mind writes essays for fun? “That’s… diligent of you, I guess. What about?”

The light that shines in her eyes at your words is familiar – you see that every day during class. “Everything about the Philippines!”

Oh, god. She’s the kind of person who’s patriotic to a fault. As if you didn’t already feel like getting away from this conversation already. You scoff. “So, what, flowery words about how oh-so-proud you are to be a Filipino when there’s hardly anything to be proud of?”

She seems taken aback at your words, her eyes widening almost comically. “What’s wrong with being proud of your homeland?”

“Have you seen this place? All we do vote for horrible politicians, push each other down trying to get to the top, and break numerous laws because we know the system’s so horrible we can get away with it. There isn’t anything to be proud of here.”

She frowns and turns away from you, and you think you’ve upset her too much but she seems to be simply contemplating your words instead of taking offense to them. “… I can’t disagree with that.”

“No, you don’t get it – what?”

“I see your point,” she says, sighing. “It’s not a secret that Filipinos don’t behave in the best way. I know, I’ve seen it. But that’s exactly why I’m writing these ideas down.”

“Huh?”

“I know it’s possible to change our country.” She turns back to you then, eyes shining brighter than ever. “It’s only a matter of taking action. So, I’ve been listing down ideas on how to solve all our current problems. The corruption, the lack of discipline, all of it.”

The confusion must be painted on my face, because she only giggles and shows the notebook to me. It’s so filled with words that it makes you a little dizzy looking at it, but you do see the phrases ‘educate youth on politics and elections’, ‘create shelters for homeless’ and ‘fix school lesson plans for future generations.”

“A lot of these are a little too big for a seventeen-year-old,” you comment, giving the notebook back to her. She only laughs.

“Yeah, I’m more of a dreamer than a doer. I’m just listing down general ideas then breaking it down to simpler solutions. I don’t think I’ll ever have the opportunity to actually do these.”

That sends a spike of annoyance through you, and this time you really do roll your eyes at her. “Then you’re not being as patriotic as you seem to be.”

She looks at you again, and the light in her eyes has dimmed out. “What?”

“Look at you. You’re writing what could be something that could finally fix this mess of a country, thinking you’re so high and mighty because you’ve convinced yourself you’re actually doing something. But no one’s going to see that dumb notebook but you. And you’ve already said you don’t think you want to do anything with these ideas. You’re contributing to nothing here, just like everyone else.”

She just stares at you, motionless, so you press on.

“You want to make this place better? Than instead of planting some dumb flowers and writing in your diary all day, you can try actually standing up and doing something.” You close your sketchpad – it’s not like you actually continued your drawing anyway – and stand up. This conversation lasted long enough.

Just as you start walking away, you hear her. “As if you’re doing any good, either.”

You snort. “Yeah, because I know I won’t be able to think of anything worthwhile to do. I’m just here, as useless as everyone else.”

“That is so selfish.” Her voice is trembling.

“So are you. You have pages of something that could finally improve our situation and you choose to keep it to yourself. We’re both selfish.”

“At least I’m trying!” before you know it, you hear her standing up and stomping towards you, and her hands are on your shoulders and you’re nearly pushed off balance. When you turn to look at her, the light in her eyes are gone – instead her eyebrows are scrunched up and she’s red in the cheeks in anger. “At least I actually love my country and want to do something about it! You’re just ashamed, afraid that you won’t be able to do something for your country. You give up the race before you even start running.”

“Are you talking about me, or yourself?” you shoot back. “You have your ideas, but you don’t think all of them are going to work. You don’t think it’s easy as all that. So, all you do is lounge around, watering flowers and daydreaming. You’re just as useless as I am.”

She stays silent. It lasts an uncomfortable amount of time before she says, “You should go back home. The sun is setting and your family must be worried about you.”

You roll your eyes again. As if she actually cares. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

Even after you get home and lay in bed hours later, you still can’t get your argument out of your head. You’re just as useless as I am.

But I don’t want to be useless.

“Hey.”

“…Hi. You never finished drawing the flowers.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get out of the way, then.”

It’s weird, you decide, as you crouch down the same spot as yesterday and start drawing again. It’s weird that the cheerful, optimistic Tala is cold and quiet to you. You don’t like it.

“… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened yesterday,” you begin. “It wasn’t fair of me to shout at you. You really are doing something worthwhile and the fact that this is all you’re going to amount to just… angered me.”

“… It’s okay,” she says, and you’re relieved to hear the slightest bit of warmth back in her voice. “I shouldn’t have said you were useless. I’m sorry too.”

“It’s cool.” Your mood immediately lifts. You don’t even notice you were so sad until now.

“I’ve been thinking,” she begins, swinging her legs from her position on the bench. “This is going to be our country soon enough. People always tell us we’re the next generation and all that, but I think it’s just now that it sunk in.”

“Yeah…?”

“So, I think we should just, y’know, get over ourselves,” she laughs, and you pause your drawing again to look at her. “I mean, we’re both pretty scared of the future, I think. That’s why we’re not doing anything to change it. But if we don’t do anything, then we’ll be living the nightmare that’s happening right now in a few years’ time, right? So instead of me just writing here and instead of you brooding and hating about the flaws of our country, let’s actually stand up and work.”

“How are you so sure we’ll make a difference?”

“Every action made has a consequence. We just have to do something to make sure those consequences are good.” She smiles. “We’re young, but that’s the point. We can take influence quickly so we can form the Philippines into a country we’re proud of. We love our country – now it’s time that we show it.”

She holds up a hand, as if she was proposing a business partnership. The thought is actually kind of funny. Slowly, you take her hand and shake it. “Alright, alright. It isn’t too late to start, I guess. Maybe we could start with some of the homeless that hang around near our school? They’re probably starving…”

And no, you’re not exactly proud of the state your country is in right now. But slowly, you start to have hope.

You start to be proud in the blood that runs in your veins.

#original #ehhhh i wrote this for school #and this is my writing archive #so #i might as well #mghmdf

8 notes · View notes