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Post by yuki uchida on May 10, 2012 23:30:56 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]The moment the last brat had left his classroom, Uchida had a cigarette at his lips, lighting it up with a twitch of annoyance. He had pocketed his lighter and leaned back into the comfort of his chair, and he stayed as such for a while. He always needed a calming smoke before he had to start on these idiots' papers. Honestly.. He understood most of the children were not completely familiar with Japanese as their first language, or even a language at all, as it was in some cases.. but for those idiots, there was a class to teach them, but he still had to deal with their English essays and answers on tests.
Surely Japanese was not that hard, but for these idiots? It was probably the hardest thing they had ever had the displeasure of doing, or rather, being made to do by their rich daddies. Spoiled little bastards. What was the point of them again? Wastes of space, in his opinion. Uchida sighed heavily and leaned onto his elbow, it solidly planted on his desk, as he looked over the first paper which was, thankfully, in Japanese. He had studied English before, of course, and had found it irritating. Even more so, he had met children with English or American accents, and found them both to be disgusting. American even more so. Everything they pronounced was just.. wrong.
He took the last drag of his cigarette, lit up another after discarding the bud, then started onto grading... This was going to be insufferable.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 257 tags: open notes: C: credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 11, 2012 22:46:12 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.pn]a soft sigh passed his lips as the final bell rang. the other students were quick to jump to their feet, grab their bags, knock over a few chairs in the process, and dash out the door. him, on the other hand, took his sweet time. he carefully replaced his japanese history textbook inside his messenger bag, along with his pencil case and notebooks. for an international school, they should really focus on world history rather than one country. but, then again, the japanese school system must want other races to know of their past. it was pretty interesting, in a sense. it wasn't at all like the united kingdom's history he had learnt during the years he was in england, and it definitely wasn't like russian history.
russian history was a bit disturbing, but it was interesting nonetheless. there was a lot of blood, though. all nations had blood in their backgrounds, but the russian textbook he had been using at the time didn't hold back.
clasping the bag closed, he heaved the strap over his shoulder. pushing in his chair and any he saw on the way, he exited the barren class. he muttered a halfhearted goodbye to his history teacher and turned into the hall. his black nikon d7000 was placed at his chest, hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. the camera shifted as he walked, though it never bounced. he kept his strides calm and even, unlike the students who rushed past him to probably go off to jobs or clubs.
he probably should head over to the host club, but... they could deal with him being late. he was sometimes a few minutes late due to inspiration, anyway. they should be used to it by now.
his feet began slowing down as he reached the literature classroom. his visible bright blue eye glanced into the classroom, locking on the teacher who was currently working on grading papers. and smoking. was that even allowed? not wasting a moment, he switched on the camera, flipped up the flash-thingy (i dunno what to call it :B), and held it up to his visible left eye. a split second later, he snapped a picture. what was it about cigarettes that brought out the charm in certain people?
well, the raven always was a looker, but... eh, he'll just continue with his pictures. click, flash! click, flash! he probably shouldn't be standing in the doorway... the blue-grey haired boy lowered his camera, a slight smirk on his face. he turned and started heading back down the hall. maybe the principle would like these~?
ooc: everett probably would give them to the principle. :B gocatchhimsensei!
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Post by yuki uchida on May 12, 2012 15:18:30 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]He was considering a career change. He could live off his books and inheritance for a while, at least as long as these cigarettes would allow him to live. He was suicidal in the most meticulous way; no one could ever say he never gave thought in what he did, after all. The cigarettes helped with stress and anxiety, of course, but they also were a way of getting where he needed to go; some patch of dirt six feet under. What a depressing thought, wasn't it? But hey.. depression made him money, didn't it?
He took a drag before the first click was heard, followed by a more-than-familiar flash. Then again. He blinked in surprise before he shot his face from down toward his papers, toward the boy standing in his doorway. Ivanov. Of course. That brat was too damn attached to that damned camera. Uchida felt himself twitch with annoyance and he shoved his cigarette onto a tray to extinguish it. What right did he think he had, taking pictures of him! During class, after class, any time he could. The fucking annoyance was always at him, and it was time to quit. He shoved from his desk, scowl on his lips, and followed the menace out as he stepped away.
He reached out his hand; the kid was small, and he wasn't exactly running off. He was easy prey. He snatched his shoulder and yanked backwards to turn him, then shoved him against the wall. Keeping his hand on his shoulder, he leaned down with a scowl and held out his free hand. "Camera." His voice was lower than usual, anger and frustration turned to a cold quiet at his tongue, his brows furrowed and teeth grinding against each other. He was going to fucking break the damn thing. This brat had gotten on his last nerve.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 310 tags: open notes: >:C credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 12, 2012 15:35:06 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.pn]he knew the teacher absolutely hated having his picture taken. who wouldn't? after all, he had been taking pictures of the man since school started. not only did he get amazing pictures out of it, but the raven's reaction to it all was rather comical. at least, it was until now.
everett knew that breaking into a run was useless. uchida-sensei had the faster speed, with longer legs and all. it was times like these that he really hated being short. the boy clinched his jaw, keeping back a cry of pain as he was roughly shoved and slammed into the wall. surely there were rules against this, no matter what time it was during the day. tsk, tsk. uchida-sensei, that's two school rules you've broken today.
his visible bright blue eye glanced up at the literature teacher, staring at him with a defiant gaze. there was no way in hell he would give up his camera. he had worked hard to buy this one himself, choosing not to rely on his father for something as simple as buying a camera. play, that was a lie. the credit card he had was tied into his father's bank account, so he didn't have to really work to buy the camera.
"nyet." the single russian word slipped off his tongue with his usual bored, monotonous tone. he brought the black camera closer to him. he really couldn't do much to protect himself or the camera. for one, it was against school rules to harm someone else, let alone a teacher. and, two, have you seen his muscles? they're nonexistent. his finger hovered over the largest button on the camera, ready to click it if needed. after all, a flash while this close could momentarily blind someone, thus allowing his escape.
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Post by yuki uchida on May 13, 2012 15:39:55 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]Obviously, this kid had shit parents. A proper parent would beat the child into some sort of submission, or at least teach him to respect and obey their elders. Uchida was his elder, as old as that made him feel, irritatingly so. Nevertheless of age, he was this child's teacher, and that defiance he saw in that eye made his mind spin in aggravation. But as much defiance as the boy held his mind, he surely wouldn't act-- no, there, he went. Although Uchida did not understand a lot of Russian, or whatever that language was, he could guess what it meant by the simple tone of it.
It was a denial. He wouldn't do it, so Uchida would have to force the camera into his hands. The camera that the boy was curiously holding, finger over a button that Uchida could only guess was the one that took the damn pictures, something he did not want, particularly from this close. He ground his teeth and tightened his grip. Who the hell did this kid think he was? Some fancy little prince? Pathetic. If he were allowed to beat him himself, he would.. think about it, at least, or at the most smack him a few times. The kid deserved it; but he supposed he could wait until he saw him off of school grounds.
"If you press that button, I will make sure you lose the movement of that finger, is that clear?" Cold, controlled, hissed, deep.. He warned him against it; he wouldn't warn him again. Once, and that was all. If he clicked that damned button, he'd break his damnable finger. Only break, though. Cutting it off would just make a mess, and it was much harder to explain. Breaking could much more easily be an accident. Not to mention, if he broke his finger, it'd be more difficult for him to take those stupid pictures.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 319 tags: everett notes: hehehe. credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 13, 2012 15:54:35 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.pn]he could feel his muscles tense instinctively as the teacher's grip tightened. he was going to have a bruise in the shape of a hand print soon. oh, jeez. how would he explain that to his roommate? he'll just have to start changing in the bathroom. wait, he did that already. never mind, then. but, it was still a troubling matter. he did not like having something as disgraceful as bruises marring his skin.
he would complain to his father, but what good would that bring?
pushing the thought aside, his single eye blinked. everett's finger twitched, as though it were about to actually press down on the button, but stopped at the raven's threat. he wouldn't... would he? the boy didn't want to find out. sure, he had a couple more fingers and a thumb to press the button with, but he wouldn't be able to deal with the pain. his pain tolerance was rather low, and with the added occasional throb or sting from his covered eye it would be unbearable. the nurse saw him enough as it was.
keeping his bored facade up, everett sighed. "surely you wouldn't risk your job over a single junior's camera." he moved his finger away from the button, resting it on the side of the camera's black side. he moved the object even closer to his chest, really disliking the thought of having it taken away. there were such beautiful pictures on the memory card...
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Post by yuki uchida on May 15, 2012 16:57:55 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]He was insufferable.. A cheeky little brat with nothing to do. What did he do, anyway, besides take pictures of unsuspecting teachers, and fellow students? Uchida hadn't seen him do anything else, particularly anything moderately useful. Annoying, cheeky little brat. A pointless waste of space he had little to no interest in. All he had interest in was getting him to stop.
He hated pictures.. He had never had pictures when he was younger, and he particularly lacked them now. Why would some random kid want to take pictures of him? He didn't fucking mind if he took pictures of everyone else, but why him? Why did it have to be him? Not only once, but over and over and over again. It was driving him insane. He couldn't put up with it anymore. It made him uncomfortable, frightened him in a way. He couldn't.. process.. just, why?
"Surely you wouldn't risk your finger for a picture?" he countered the, admittedly intelligent, argument the boy tossed from his lips, with his own, and he ground his teeth in aggravation. "Do not take another picture of me again, is that clear? Not one more." Or he'd break that damnable camera, forget the finger. It looked expensive. Surely, it would take a bit before he could get another one. But a rich little brat like this? Tch.. spoiled bitch.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 227 tags: everett notes: grruchida credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 16, 2012 16:32:47 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.pn]everett scoffed at the counterattack. he wouldn't risk a finger. not only would it displease the customers of the host club, but it would give him an ugly, bulky cast on that finger. he kept his visible blue eye locked on her teacher, slowly lowering the camera until he could let go of it. the black box hung limply now, shifting slightly with the boy's breathing.
"yes, yes, uchida-sensei." sarcasm and insincerity laced his voice, and he rolled his... eye. "i won't take another picture of you for as long as i attend this school--ivanov honor." he would have laughed at the added two words. it was funny because, looking back at his father's side of the family, the ivanovs had little to no honor. his father broke promises and contracts left and right, and his great grandfather back stabbed a comrade during some random war he didn't care about.
but, a mere teacher wouldn't know that, now would he?
everett leaned back against the wall, seeing how he was still trapped between the wall and his literature teacher. he was glad the other hosts weren't here to see this. they would have had a field day teasing him about this.
ooc: i'm so good at describing cameras. :B
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Post by yuki uchida on May 22, 2012 19:26:08 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]To swear to one's own honor took pride and bravery... To swear on one's family took neither, particularly when the families Uchida was aware of were not those most would assume. He did not take pride his family name. He did not take comfort in anyone else's, even those with fame and fortune on their sides. He had no interest in either. Neither equated to honor, and for that, he had little faith when the child swore on his own name. Nothing was in a name. Nothing was in a family.
With the added thought on the sarcasm and dishonesty that laced the brat's voice from the prior statement, he was sure that the swear meant nothing than the paper it was written on, which, as was obvious, did not even exist in the first place. "You will have to do much better than that for me to even think of letting you go." His upper lip curled in a faint sneer. What did he think he was, an idiot? He was far from it, and he wasn't going to allow the brat to take any more of these damned pictures.
It would be easier to just break the camera, and he was sorely tempted to do as much, but he restrained himself. If the boy refused to stop, then he could take the camera and accidentally drop it from the roof, but for now, he'd give the spoiled prince a chance that not many others received. Uchida doubted the idiot even knew how merciful he was actually being.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 259 tags: everett notes: last chance, bby credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 22, 2012 19:44:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.png]at his teacher's words, a smirk curled one corner of his mouth upwards. it was really easy to twist around someone's words, and spending his time at the host club allowed him to acquire a bit of a skill for this kind of thing. the boy folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head up a little more to see uchida a little better. "i didn't know you wanted me that badly, uchida-sensei~."
if it weren't for his nature, he would have snickered or outright laughed. but, no, he wasn't like that. he laughed on the inside, no matter how embarrassing the comment would have been had anyone been walking past. not that he cared. rumors could fly and spread all they wanted. as long as his camera was safe, he didn't care.
speaking of his camera, that remark probably made his chances of leaving with it probably lessened. maybe he should hold his tongue around the teacher... no, that just wouldn't do. he needed more entertainment these days, and uchida proved quite entertaining. "of course, i do promise not to take pictures of you without your permission. for the... week, at least. there was no way in hell he would give up taking pictures of the teacher. if he wouldn't to anyone else, then why stop because a literature teacher wanted him to?
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Post by yuki uchida on May 27, 2012 3:20:39 GMT -5
[atrb=valign, top][style=border-left:4px solid #993333; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding-left:8px; text-align:justify; text-transform:lowercase; padding-right:8px;]What.. what did he just say? He had known whatever was going through the kid's mind wouldn't be good, with the smirk that had rolled across his lips like some delicate little viper, but he hadn't expected him to say such a blatant.. Ugh! He nearly shuddered, but the thought wasn't disgusting, it was just infuriating. He scowled even more and tightened his grip. "I see your parents' money cannot buy you manners, Ivanov." He sneered faintly, "Or make you less of a slut, for that matter." What sort of student came on to his teacher? In what sense did that seem logical?
It was immoral, and he'd lose his job if ever got caught doing such a thing, and with this brat around, there was no choice but to get caught, was there? He was at his heels, yipping with each click of that fucking camera like those chihuahuas he had seen in American films, or photos, carried in purses and dressed in pathetic little clothing. Overgrown rats, but much more annoying. At least rats were silent, for the most part. "Do you not have someone else to harass with your annoying little hobby?" He doubted the idiot would stop.
He was too much of an idiot to stop when he was threatened. He was a spoiled little brat. He wasn't used to being punished, but Uchida was more than happy to rectify that issue.[/style] [STYLE=font-size:10px; padding-left: 12px; font-weight: bold]words: 236 tags: everett notes: slut credit: template made by oxymoron! of btn[/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=style, width:400px, bTable][style=text-align:center;width:100px; font-family:courier new; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; border: 2px #993333 solid; width: 100px; height: 100px;][/style]
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Post by everett ivanov on May 27, 2012 16:01:13 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/2qakb2v.png]his smirk widened ever so slightly at uchida's words. his father's money did not buy him manners. it was only his mother who did, but not with money. more... with sweets. be a good boy, and you got cake. but, with her ten feet under, manners were thrown out the window. his father didn't care, and the servants didn't do anything to stop any sort of behaviors that came from him.
his visible, undamaged eye did twitch at the slut comment. he may be a host, but he certainly was not one of those. his comment from moments ago was merely just to annoy the teacher. and it worked. he could tell that his literature teacher was getting closer and closer to breaking the camera regardless of what he said. he just had that affect on certain people, and it amused him immensely.
"there are other people i could capture on camera, but they rarely mind. it also annoys me when people start posing." natural beauty was much more fun to capture than false beauty. that's why he liked taking pictures during class, when the teachers and students were too absorbed in their studies, in most cases, to notice the camera until it was too late.
ooc: :B
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