#All because her conversation was rudely interrupted by a certain GUARDIAN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarlettroubles · 4 years ago

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The color of your eyes will follow me

A chirping sound came out of nowhere, startling one Will Scarborough out of his thoughts. Causing him to backtrack and look upon the Hogwarts courtyard he had come to familiarize with over his time here at the school for wizardry and sorcery.

It was not the chirp of a small bird, that much was certain. Will knew the sound of a chirping birdling calling out for it's mother and the chirp he had heard mere seconds ago may not have resembled a bird's call, but it did sound eerily familiar.....

Will adjusted the straps of his messenger bag, silently coming to a decision, and went up to one of the bushes. He did not know what was so important about that sound that compelled him to search for the source of the chirping. But Will was nothing if not determined.

He dug his hands into the bush but found nothing, he was about to turn to the other one when suddenly a chirp sounded to his right. In the direction of a tree.

He got up and hurriedly stalked his way towards it and once he did, he came face to face with a moving green twig.

' A bowtruckle. ' his memory supplied, faintly remembering the time Professor Kettleburn introduced him and the rest of the class to the little green tree guardians.

He did not know why a bowtruckle was here of all places. He remembered they only guarded wand wood quality trees. So what was one doing here? It was possible the little guy had escaped the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, because although Kettleburn was a Professor, everybody knew he didn't really pay all too much attention to safety protocols. And with the creature being so tiny and having a natural camouflage to hide themselves from predators, it could have easily slipped out of there and into the castle entirely unnoticed.

He moved to scoop up the little guy and bring him back to Kettleburn before a more callous student came by and tortured the little creature but instead, the bowtruckle leaped out of the way and scurried farther up a branch, before stopping to look down at him and blowing a raspberry in his direction.

Will felt a touch of annoyance rise in him when suddenly, the creatures rude gesture sparked a memory. He remembered his classmates talking of a girl that carried a bowtruckle around her everywhere she went, he remembered passing by her once or twice in the halls of Hogwarts, never really getting a good look at her, with the little creature right on her shoulder and blowing a raspberry at her and the girl giving it a look of utter betrayal.

Ryder. That was her surname. He could not remember what her first name was but did remember the rumours surrounding her and the cursed vaults along with her family's reputation for being feared hunters, which he found a little worrying. Despite not being able to recall her face or her first name, he remembered that she had always seemed to treat creatures with gentleness and respect.

With that in mind he payed his attention back to the bowtruckle. He could not see the creatures face clearly but something told him the creature was just as curious about him as he was of it.

" I'm not going to harm you Mr. Bowtruckle, I just want to get you back to your owner- er, I mean friend."

The creature tilted his head and that gesture gave Will some reassurance that the creature was at least listening to him.

"Ryder? Right? That was the name of the girl that took care of you...?"

At the mention of her surname, the bowtruckle immediately perked up and Will smiled, knowing he had gained it's interest.

"I just want to take you back to her, she's probably worried sick about you. So why don't you come down and we can sort things ou-"

Something suddenly landed directly atop his head. He reached up a hand and felt something crawl on it. Before lowering his hand down and coming face to face with the bowtruckle.

The little creature bounced around in a circle, and moving his hands up and down like an impatient child. Silently demanding the bigger creature to get a move on and get him back to his friend.

Will let out a chuckle at the creatures apparent bossiness.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses little guy. I gotta go and find someone who knows where she is first. But for now, why don't you get in my bag? I promise I won't try to pull any funny business on you."

He tried to give the bowtruckle his most charming and reassuring smile and, to his relief, the bowtruckle complied and started to climb up his arm before dropping down to his bag and sliding in. Peeking it's head out just the tiniest bit.

Will gave the bag a few pats before making his way towards the hall, in search of a certain slytherin girl.

Will found Jules Farrier talking excitedly to Bill Weasley in a corridor. He watched as the older boy said something to her before Jules throwed her head back, laughing, her chocolate brown hair tossed back and her beauty shining brilliantly for all to see. And the former smiling lovingly at her, a soft blush gracing his handsome freckled face.

He went up to them and cleared his throat, the two immediately snapping their heads towards him. He watched as the smile that had graced both their faces vanish, instead replaced by a guarded expression on Farrier and an annoyed one on Weasley. As they looked upon the wavy haired, fractal covered boy.

Will felt himself start to sweat at the look of disappointment and annoyance on the both of their faces as a response to his interruption and prayed that Weasley wouldn't grow to have some kind of vendetta against him just for this.

" Er, Farrier, right? Jules Farrier?" He asked shyly.

" That's me. " She answered patiently. Soft brown eyes seeming to analyze him closely.

" You're friends with that Ryder girl right?"

" What do you want with our friend Eileen?" Bill suddenly spoke up, a hint of protectiveness wafting off of him.

' Yup, definitely gonna die. ' Will spoke absently in his mind.

" Relax, I don't mean her any ill will, I just found her bowtruckle companion and wanted to give the little guy back to her. "

He lifted up the flap of his messenger bag and the little twig like creature poked his head out and upon seeing Jules and Bill, gave them a friendly wave and a small chirp in greeting.

Both of their eyes widened at the sight of the little bowtruckle.

Both looked that the other, silently conversing with one another as Will just stood there awkwardly, clutching the straps of his bag as the little creature looked intently around. Seemingly keeping an eye out for his friend and wondering why these bothersome blokes haven't delivered him to Eileen yet. Didn't they have brains?

Farrier and Weasley seemed to had come to an agreement and payed their attention back to Will.

"She's probably at the transfiguration classroom reading a book. She loves to spend her free time there. " Jules finally answered him.

Will thanked them both but turned down their offer to bring the bowtruckle to Eileen themselves. And hurriedly made his way to the transfiguration classroom to return the creature and get to his next class in time.

He opened the door to the classroom and hurriedly stepped inside and finally got a good look at Eileen Ryder.

She wasn't at all what he was expecting. She was short, and had messy dark hair that reached past her shoulders. She had light brown skin with a scar running down from her right eye to her left cheek. It seemed to just be starting to properly heal which only made Will more curious about her. She had a book on her desk and seemed to be lost within it's pages.

Will once again cleared his throat and she lifted her head and he felt himself visibly stiffen as her eyes met his.

He suddenly remembered his housemates saying how intimidating she was. With her height and round face he didn't see how she could be but with those eyes trained on him now he could see why.

Her eyes were a deep shade of forest green and so intense. It was like the very sun was bearing down at you. Glaring down at your meek existence. She gave off an air of something dangerous and commanding. Like she knew she was better than you.

He suddenly found himself self-conscious. Knowing his scars could throw people off.

"Can I help you?" She asked the strange boy who wandered into her safe space. Her eyes unblinking and still trained keenly on him.

'Merlin she even sounds like some kind of commander.' Will thought.

"Uh yeah, I- uh, found your bowtruckle...? " He opened the flap of his messenger bag and the bowtruckle peaked his head and upon seeing Eileen, he jumped right out of the bag and scurried his way across the floor and hurriedly climbed atop her desk.

"Barnaby Jr.?!" She exclaimed as she quickly scooped up the little twig like creature and brought him close to her face. Will watched as Eileen's face changed to one of anger to disbelief to amusement at her little friend. the two seemed to be sharing some kind of conversation, but what it was about and how she could understand the little creature he had no clue.

Eileen, seemingly satisfied with her and Junior's talk. Looked back to the slytherin boy and quickly got up and placed the bowtruckle on her shoulder as she walked towards him.

"Thank you for bringing Junior back to me. I was wondering where he wondered off to."

Will visibly calmed down, relieved that she was less intimidating now.

"Junior here tells me you treated him well, thank you for not harming him."

"Ah- it was no problem really. If I had just let him be, another student probably would've hurt him. Couldn't let that happen to the little guy." He answered her truthfully.

"Besides he seemed friendly enough, well, minus the raspberry he blew at me when I tried to scoop him up."

"Better he blow a raspberry at you then poke your eyes out with his claws."

Will snapped his head back to her and found himself letting out a nervous laugh. But noticed that the girl and the bowtruckle were very much serious. He gave them both a look of disbelief which caused her to chuckle.

He didn't know why but he found himself quite liking the sound and sight of her laughing because of him.

"Bowtruckles, despite being tiny, can be pretty nasty , especially if they're defending their home from invaders. If you treat them wrong, chances are you're gonna end up finding yourself blinded." She explained calmly.

Will blinked before looking down at the bowtruckle and gave him a nervous smile.

"Well then, thank you for not poking my eyes then Barnaby Jr. That was awfully kind of you. " He said charmingly.

Junior seemed to visibly puff up at the praise and Eileen gave a smile that managed to make Will smile in return.

"Eileen Ryder, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She said as she extended her hand out for him to shake.

"Will Scarborough, and please, the pleasure is mine." He said and threw in a wink. Finding himself quickly growing at ease around her.

She raised an eyebrow at him at the wink but left it at that.

"I need to get to my next class but, if you would like to, may I seek you out again once their over and maybe we could properly get to know each other?" He asked her. Hopeful and eager for her response.

She looked at him softly, an amused glint shining in her emerald eyes.

" And what makes you want to get to know me Mr. Scarborough?" She asked as she tilted her head to the side.

"I don't know... You just.... You're an interesting girl Miss Ryder. " He answered plainly. Suddenly finding himself shy again.

She seemed to be taken aback by his response before quickly hiding it. Looking down at the floor for a moment.

"I would love to." She finally said.

Will felt himself smile broadly and Eileen couldn't help but smile in return.

"Okay." He said as he licked his suddenly dry lips. The three broomsticks? At 3 o'clock this Saturday?"

"Of course, I'll be looking forward to it Mr. Scarborough."

"To you as well Miss Ryder." He said earnestly.

Barnaby Junior looked at them both. Squinting his eyes, seemingly displeased at what he was seeing in front of him.

"Later." She said before quickly drawing out her wand and at a flick of her wrist, her belongings on her desk shoved themselves into her bag that was hanging beside her chair and made its way towards her. And he watched as her hand shot out to grab it before it could run right into her.

As she made her way out of the classroom, Barnaby junior looked back at him and blew one more raspberry at him. And just like that, Eileen Ryder was gone.

Even as he made his way towards his next class, he found himself still smiling at the memory of those intense green eyes and her raspberry blowing companion. And found himself growing excited at the prospect of meeting her again.

Yes, Will Scarborough was definitely happy to have met Eileen Ryder.

Will Scarborough and Jules Farrier belong to @cursebreakerfarrier

I said that I would write how these two met so there.

I headcannon that Eileen and Will met near the end of 4th year, a week after the sleepwalking curse was broken. And Will goes to Switzerland for the summer and Elly just so happens to be there because it's fate she and the rest of her family are there to spend the summer with her sister. And they just, go on wild adventures in Switzerland. And in 5th year they're quidditch rivals and banter and trash talk the other but then feelings happen and they're both scared. And then Rakepick's betrayal happened and Jacob left her again and Elly is a mess and she's hurting but Will is there and so it's okay and she just, finally admits to herself that she's fallen in love with Will Scarborough and maybe that's not a bad thing after all, she thinks as she's held in his arms and it feels right. And it's not easy for Will to love someone so headstrong and secretive. To love someone who's forced herself to bury her emotions and has the hardest time talking about how she feels and who works herself to an early grave out of guilt but it's worth it damn it. And it's not easy for Eileen to love someone who's so kind and charming but is willing to sacrifice everything for his loved one's and to do the right thing no matter the cost to the point he forgets how it affects other people. Who will gladly get in trouble for all the right reasons but for all the horrible consequences but it's worth it damn it. And when they finally say ' I love you ' to one another it is the most scariest yet most loveliest thing ever because they love each other and they're here and they're gonna be okay just don't stop holding me, just don't let me go okay? Okay.

#hphm #eileen ryder #will scarborough #other people's mcs #hogwarts mystery mc #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #my writing #this is probably really bad #like #can u tell i don't tend to write fanfics #hope its at least enjoyable #i might do one of Elly's pov of her and Will's meeting at the three broomsticks #idk #we'll see #i still have a lot to do #cries

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imaginationintowords · 4 years ago

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Human

Chapter 14

Stiles Stilinski x OC!Reader Original Character story

word count: 4908

Plot: A Teen Wolf fanfiction based on an original character, Sophia Tuteur.Sophia Tuteur is Scott McCall’s cousin. They are both the same age, and she has been living with Scott and his mom since she was eight years old, since her parents are always on the road due to work. This is Sophia’s point of view to everything going on.

[a/n: IT’S FINALLY BACK!!!!!!!! Sorry it took so long for me to update this story! Honestly, no excuses, I just sort of lost inspiration once Teen Wolf ended. Let’s all agree there were certain aspects in the last season that just didn’t work/make sense. But I started rewatching Teen Wolf from the beginning again, and boy did I miss writing this story! So hopefully it was worth the wait! And please let me know if you want to be untagged!]

"So wait, what did Derek want last night?" Scott asked as he, Stiles, and I walked through the school's halls towards the boys' locker room.

"The very same reason why Peter came to see me the night of the dance," I tell them, "to join his pack."

"What pack? It's just him," Stiles says confused, I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Why does he need you?" Scott asked.

"With a guardian in your pack it's sort of like an immunity," I tell him.

"Immunity for what?" Stiles asked.

"From what," I correct him, "Guardians are basically mediators between the shape shifters and hunters. When a guardian is in a pack it gives the pack a sort of immunity. Hunters are not allowed to attack without consulting the guardian. It's in the code."

"Woah. So, you're a peace maker," Stiles says in awe.

"Essentially," I smile, "Derek knows that if I'm in his pack the Argents can't try anything."

"So what did you tell him?" Scott asked.

"Told him that I would only join if you agreed to as well," I tell him.

"Well that's not going to happen," Stiles scoffs.

Scott and I share a look, I raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking him the question.

"Right?" Stiles asked with a slight panic in his voice.

"Right," Scott says, "I'm not joining his pack."

"Then neither am I," I nod my head agreeing.

"Now that we're all on the same page," Stiles says stopping just outside the boys' locker room, "The full moon tonight."

"Don't worry, I have it under control now," he tells us.

Stiles and I look at each other then back at Scott, sharing the same skeptical look.

"I'm serious," he says, "It's not like the last full moon. I don't feel the same."

"This is all you," I pat Stiles on the shoulder, "I'm heading to the library for my free period."

I walk away from them heading towards my destination. As I rounded the corner, another body came rushing into mine.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sophia," I look up at Isaac, who looks like a nervous wreck.

"No worries," I smile at him.

"Sorry, I thought I was going to be late for practice," he says lifting his lacrosse stick.

"Well, you better hurry, don't want to hear Coach yelling," I step to the side.

"Thanks," he said quickly rushing away.

As I continued walking down the hall, I noticed a lot of whispering going on between the other students. As I turned the corner I see why.

Allison and Lydia are stopped at Lydia's locker. Allison spots me while Lydia was grabbing things from her locker. She waves, but before I could wave back, I felt a buzz in my back pocket.

I pulled out my phone to see a text from Stiles,

Scott senses another werewolf in the locker room! Get to the field NOW!

Another werewolf in the school

I quickly turned back around and made my way to the lacrosse field.

[Third Person POV]

"Who are you waving at?" Lydia asked Allison, seeing no one down the hall.

"Oh, uh Sophia," Allison tells her, "but guess she had somewhere to be."

"Who?" Lydia asked confused.

"Sophia. Scott's cousin," Allison says, "she helped saved your life the night of the dance."

"Oh," Lydia uncomfortably shifts, "The one sleeping with Derek Hale."

"What? No, she's not," Allison says.

"That's what they all say," Lydia says closing her locker door and walking down the hall, Allison following behind.

[Sophia's POV]

I quickly walked over to Scott who was sitting at the players' bench.

"Do you know who it might be?" I asked him.

"No, I have no idea," he says as we both look around the field. Stiles comes running over to us.

"I told Coach you're switching with Danny for the day," Stiles tells him.

"But I hate playing goalie," Scott tells him not understanding what Stiles is telling him.

"Remember when I said I had an idea?" Stiles asks him again, Scott nodded his head yes, "This is the idea."

"Oh," Scott said.

"There you go," Stiles encouraged, smiling over at me.

"What's the idea?" Scott asked still not getting it, causing me to roll my eyes.

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes," Stiles exasperatedly said, rolling his eyes.

I shook my head at them and walked away to go find a spot on the bleachers. I sat down on the first row, getting myself somewhat comfortable to seeing how this will all play out.

I couldn't believe what I am watching. Scott is tackling all of the players and smelling them. I shook my head and put my head in my arms.

"He can't be serious," I whisper to myself in disbelief over how ridiculous this all is.

I hear a whistle and look over towards Stiles, who is pointing at Isaac and mouthing out, "It's him."

Shit.

I glance at Isaac who looks like he's trying to control his anger. Keyword, trying.

Jackson walks over and sits on the player's bench, opting out of getting slammed by Scott.

I nervously glance between Scott and Isaac as they take their places. They both take off at the sound of Coach's whistle, colliding with one another very dramatically.

Werewolves.

Coach blew his whistle obviously mad at Scott again.

I look to the right and notice Sheriff Stilinski and two deputies walking on the field. Stilinski ignores Stiles as he tries to ask his dad something and heads straight to Coach.

"Everyone take a break," Coach yells, "Lahey come here please."

Isaac walks slowly over to the deputies and Coach. I quickly make my way over towards the boys.

"What are they saying?" I ask Scott.

"His father's dead," he says, "They think he was murdered.

We watch as they slowly take Isaac away.

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asks."I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours-"

"Like overnight?" Scott interrupts.

"During the full moon," Stiles nods.

"That's not good," I say, looking at Scott.

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?" Scott asks Stiles.

"People? Good," Stiles grimly says, "Werewolves? Probably not that good."

"Remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah, why?" I ask.

"He does," he says pointing his chin towards Isaac.

We all turn our attention back towards Isaac who is being escorted towards the locker room.

Coach dismisses the team after ten minutes, probably to give Isaac some time to gather his things.

As we make our way to Mr.Harris's chemistry class, we quietly talk about the Isaac situation.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Stiles asks, the question more pointed towards me.

"I don't know," I lift my hands up in defense, "He didn't even tell me last night that he turned someone. Let alone another teenager."

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you, it can kill you," Scott says, "And maybe teenagers have a better chance at survival."

"Not entirely," I mumbled.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked me.

"Nothing," I quickly say.

"What aren't you telling us?" Stiles asks, stopping us before we walked into the class.

"Nothing that's for me to tell," I say, shifting uncomfortably.

I quickly made a dash inside the class before they could question me any longer. I took my normal seat in front of the boys and took my things out, letting them know that I'm done having this conversation while we're in class.

"Danny, where's Jackson?" I hear Stiles ask Danny, who sits behind them.

"In the principal's office, talking to your dad," he tells him.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac," he condescendingly says.

"Witness," I hear Scott whisper.

"We gotta get to the principal's office," Stiles tells him.

I shake my head and roll my eyes at them. These two are literally begging to get in trouble now.

"How?" Scott asks him.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three," Mr. Harris asks with his back turned towards the class, while he writes on the chalkboard.

All of a sudden a paper ball goes flying passed me hitting Harris right in the back of his head. I sat there shocked.

"Who in the hell did that?" He abruptly turned around.

I place my head in my hands, shaking my head as Harris tells the boys to go to the principal's office.

I didn't even bother to watch as the boys walked out of the class.

After a few minutes I realized I never went to the bathroom during my free period, and I really had to go now. I hesitantly raised my hand, hoping Harris won't give me a hard time.

"Ms. Tuteur, do you need to go to the principal's office as well?" He smugly asked.

"No, actually can I go to the restroom?" I asked.

"No," he rudely said about to turn around.

"Sir, you may want to reconsider your answer," I tell him, holding up a tampon, causing some of the class to snicker.

"Uh-okay go," he tripped over his words, face beet red as he quickly wrote a hall pass.

"Thank-you," I smiled, grabbing the hall pass on my way out.

I make my way to the restroom and forgot that I would have to walk pass the principal's office on my way.

"Sophia, come to join us?" Stiles asks with a smile on his face.

"Nope, just going to the restroom," I tell him, and for some reason I decide to stop.

"Harris let you out?" Scott asks surprise that I was let out.

I hold up a tampon. Stiles eyes went wide.

"You're not on your period," Scott announces, taking Stiles and I by surprise.

"How the hell do you know that?" I ask him, unsure how I should feel.

"Well, one, we've been living together for years," he says in a matter of fact tone,"and two, werewolf."

"Going to pretend that this conversation never happened," I tell him.

"Do you want to know what's going on?" Stiles says.

I thought that over for a second, "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyways."

Before they could say anything the door to the office opens, and Sheriff Stilinski and a deputy walk out. He looks over at the three of us completely annoyed.

"Why am I not surprised to see you three out here," he says, we all shrug in response like children who just got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Why are you three here?" he sternly asks.

I hold up my tampon and hall pass, smiling innocently. He quickly clears his throat embarrassed.

"Dad, what's going on with Isaac?" Stiles asks.

"Do you guys know Isaac?" he ignores Stiles' question.

"Not much, apart from lacrosse," Scott tells him.

"Kind of," I quietly say, suddenly finding my feet more interesting.

"Kind of?" Stilinski repeats.

"Well, we're friends," I say looking up and fidgeting with my fingers, "He also kind of asked me out to the dance."

"What? Why?" Stiles abruptly asks, standing up.

"You know guys do actually like me, right?" I snap at him, completely offended by his reaction.

He slinks back down in his seat, a bit ashamed at himself.

Stilinski clears his throat, "When was the last time you spoke to Isaac?"

"We ran into each other today on our way to free period."

"But other than that, I haven't spoken to him since a couple of nights ago," I say, "I offered to help with our chemistry. Homework. Our chemistry homework."

I tripped over the last of my words, feeling my face heat up a bit and avoiding eye contact.

Stilinski remained quiet, looking between the three of us trying to figure out if what we're telling him is the truth.

"May I leave now?" I ask holding up the tampon.

"Oh, yeah. Go ahead," he clears his throat.

I hurried away from all of them. Thankful that that was done. Guess that's what I get for lying about my period.

As I walk out of class I find Stiles waiting there for me. I go to ignore him until he says something that catches my attention.

"Gerard Argent is our new principal," he tells me.

"What? How?" I ask.

"No clue," he says, as we walk towards our lockers.

We walk in silence.

"So I got detention," he says.

"Good, that's what you get," I remark, stopping at my locker to swap out the things I would need for homework tonight.

"Soph," he quietly says watching me, "Sophia, can you please look at me?"

I remain silent, handing him a book as I place another one in my locker.

"Sophia," he says grabbing my hand with his empty one. I look at our connected hands.

"I know you're mad about what I said," he says, "but I didn't mean it like that. It just took me by surprise, that's all."

"What, that a boy can like me?" I ask, hurt by his lackluster apology.

"No, of course not," he defends, "Was just surprised to hear that Isaac had asked you to the dance. That's all. Trust me, I know that guys like you."

"If this is your way of apologizing, it's crap."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, "I didn't mean it that way. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Okay."

"That's it?"

"I accept your apology," I tell him, "but I have to go tutor some freshman and I can't be late."

"Sophia, I really am sorry," he says before bending down and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

"Apology accepted," I smile at him.

"I better hurry, don't want to be late for detention with Harris," he says before kissing my cheek and running off.

As I was cleaning up my spot at the library, my phone buzzed on the table. Seeing that I was the only one here, aside from the librarian I didn't see any issue with answering.

I looked down to see Allison's name flash across my screen.

"Hey Allison, what's up?" I answered, balancing my phone with my shoulder as I continued to pack.

"So we might have a problem," she says.

"What do you mean?" I asked, throwing my backpack over my shoulder and walking out of the library.

"My dad and grandpa were asking me all these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter, and then they sent this guy out-"

"What guy?" I spot Stiles walking in the parking lot towards his car, and yell out his name.

As I reach him I put my phone on speaker.

"He was dressed as a Sheriff's deputy," she says, "They're sending him to go get Isaac."

I look at Stiles with a worried look on my face.

"He was also carrying this box with something etched onto it," she says, we can hear shuffling on the other side as she searched for something, "Hold on, it's in one of these books. I'm sending you a picture."

"Did you get it?" She asked, as we wait for the picture to finish loading.

"Shit," I whispered once it loaded.

"What?" Allison asked, "Do you know what it is?"

"Yeah, it's wolfsbane," Stiles says, looking over at me just as worried as I am.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means they're going to kill him," Stiles says looking at me.

"I can slow him down," Allison blurts out.

"Allison are you sure?" I ask her.

"Yes, he just left. I can catch up to him."

"Okay. Call us immediately after and if anything goes wrong," I tell her before hanging up.

Stiles and I quickly get into Roscoe, as he starts up the car I start dialing a number.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking spot.

"Calling Scott and Derek," I tell him.

On our way to meet Derek, my phone begins to ring. I answer it pressing the speaker button.

"Hey, did you slow him down?" Stiles asks.

"You could say that."

"Okay, well we're heading to the station," I tell her.

"Where's Scott?" she asks.

"Isaac's."

"Does he have a plan?"

"Yeah, but not a very good one," Stiles says, "and unfortunately we don't really have time to come up with anything better."

We hang up the phone as we're approaching Derek's car a block away from the station. I climb into the back as Derek enters the car.

"Are you sure its wolfsbane?" he asks as Stiles continued down the street.

"Yeah," I say showing him the picture.

"Okay. Now, the keys to every cell are in a password-protected lock-box in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk," Stiles explains to Derek.

"I'll distract her," Derek says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You? You're not going in there," Stiles says placing his hand on Derek, causing Derek to glare at him.

"I'm taking my hand off," he says slowly pulling his hand away.

"I was exonerated."

"You're still a person of interest," Stiles debates.

"An innocent person."

"An-" Stiles says in disbelief, "You? Yeah right!"

"Stiles, cut it out," I sternly tell him.

"Okay, fine. What's your plan?" Stiles says turning towards Derek, arms crossed across his chest.

"To distract her," Derek slowly says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"How? By punching her in the face?" Stiles remarked, getting on both mine and Derek's nerves.

"Stiles, just let him do it," I roll my eyes, "We need to hurry."

"I just want to know what he's going to do."

"I'm going to talk to her," Derek says.

"Okay. All right. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?" Stiles skeptically asks.

Derek remains quiet just starting at Stiles blankly.

"Dead silence. That should work beautifully," Stiles sarcastically says, "Any other ideas?"

"I'm thinking about punching you in the face," Derek snidely says.

"Do it," I say in slightly serious yet playful tone.

Stiles whipped his head towards me completely offended. Derek starts climbing out of the passenger seat.

"Hurts doesn't it," I remark winking at him, then following Derek out.

Derek walks into the station with Stiles and I following close behind. While Derek approaches the empty front desk, Stiles and I watch from behind the lobby doors.

"Good evening, how can I help," the deputy trails off once looking up at Derek's face, "you."

"Hi," Derek smiles at her.

"Hi."

Stiles rolls his eyes, annoyed at Derek's plan actually working. I tried containing in my laughter at the scene in front of me. I don't think I've seen Derek smile like that before, or even flirt.

"Um, I had a question," Derek flirts, stumbling over his words a bit, "Um, sorry, I'm a little-a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone-"

"Like me?" she interrupts.

I tap Stiles on the shoulder, pointing for him to walk by while the deputy was distracted. Stiles dramatically looked around before dashing towards the door. I walked normally by, and giving Derek a thumbs up once I was through the door.

"Oh, I was gonna say so incredibly beautiful," he sheepishly says, "but, yeah... I guess that'd be the same thing."

"Next time you might want to have a little more confidence in Derek," I playfully tell Stiles as we make our way to his dad's office to get the key.

"I could've done that," he rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, sure you could've," I sarcastically say.

We quickly go into the office and Stiles finds the lock box while I stay on lookout. He puts the code in and opens the box to reveal that it's empty.

"It's empty," he says turning to me.

From the distance we can hear the keys jingling.

"He beat us," I tell him.

"I'll go find the key, you go get Derek," he tells me.

As we go into the hallway we run into a deputy.

"Oh I was just looking for-" Stiles says, but I grabbed his arm and nudged my head to the arrow in the man's leg.

This is the deputy the Argents sent to kill Isaac. Stiles and I looked at each other wide eyed.

The deputy looked between us, he went to reach for me but Stiles quickly got in front of me. The man settled on grabbing Stiles, and covering his mouth while holding the syringe of wolfsbane to his throat.

"Not a single scream," he threatened as he dragged Stiles away.

I looked to my right and noticed the fire alarm at arm's length. I quickly pulled the lever, and ran after the man and Stiles.

I stopped at the door way and noticed that Isaac's cell was opened and empty. The man let go of Stiles, just as confused as we were to see Isaac wasn't where he was supposed to be.

All of a sudden a werewolf version of Isaac leaped out at the deputy and grabbed him by the throat. They began to fight.

"Stiles, get behind the desk," I tell him grabbing his arm to take cover.

We watch as Isaac knocked out the deputy, as Derek made his way in stepping on the wolfsbane syringe.

Isaac is breathing heavily, before he looks over at where Stiles and I are hiding. Stiles holds onto me tight as Isaac growls at us and starts to make his way towards us. Before he could take a step towards us, Derek growls at him, which causes Isaac to cower to the floor and whimper.

Isaac looks up from his arms returning back to his normal self.

"How did you do that?" Stiles breathlessly asks.

"I'm the alpha," Derek smirks.

"We gotta go before Stiles' dad shows up," I tell Derek, getting up and making my way towards a still frighten Isaac.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," I kneel down in front of him, trying not to get too close so he has space to breathe.

"Isaac we're going to have to go now, okay," I stand up stretching out my hand for him to take.

He hesitantly looks between me, Derek, and Stiles.

"It's okay, you're not going to hurt me," I assure him.

He reaches up and takes my hand, I help him up onto his feet. I place his arm around my shoulder, even though our height difference is significant, him at 6ft and me at 5'2. I rub his back comfortingly.

"What am I supposed to do?" Stiles calls out.

"Stay here," Derek tells him, "Figure out something to tell you dad."

He comes over and helps me with Isaac, as I lead us out the back exit before we could get caught.

We quickly make our way to Derek's car. He helps me put Isaac in the backseat, while I sit in the front.

"Where are we going to take him?" I ask Derek as he begins to drive away.

"He'll stay with me," Derek says.

"With you? Where?" I ask, I haven't even had time to ask Derek where he's been staying at since the whole hunters fiasco.

"I got a place," he shrugs his shoulders like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where?" I ask, annoyed at the amount of no detail he's giving me.

"You'll see," he says, causing me to roll my eyes.

"You're annoying," I remark.

"So are you," he quips, trying to make light of the situation we are currently in.

"You two know each other?" Isaac asks from the backseat.

"Eh," I jokingly say.

"Sadly," Derek mockingly jokes back.

"How?"

"Yeah Derek, how do we know each other?" I playfully ask him, as if I didn't know the answer. I just wanted to know how he would answer it.

"Old family friends," he says, keeping his focus on the road ahead.

"Wow," I say at his answer.

"What, it's true."

"That's such a lame answer," I tell him, I turn around in my seat to face Isaac, "I basically lived with Derek and his family until I was about 7/8 years old."

"So you know about this, all of this?" Isaac asks.

"Yeah, I do," I softly say, "If it were up to Derek, he would keep me locked in a closet and out of the way."

"Unfortunately for me, you would annoy the hell out of me thus having me release you," Derek jokes with a serious tone.

"I'm lovable," I smile, shrugging my shoulders.

"Yeah, you are," Derek sarcastically says.

"Yeah you are," Isaac softly says, causing me to blush and turn back around in my seat.

I purse my lips, trying to fight back the smile on my face. I can feel Derek side eye me to get a look at my reaction.

"Shut up Derek," I say, trying to fight the smile on my face, and maintain the redness in my face.

After awhile we pulled into Beacon Hill's warehouse district.

"This is where you live?" I ask him, as he parks his car in front of an abandoned building.

"For now, yes," he says turning his car off, "It's a good place to stay hidden and away."

We all get out of the car and follow Derek into his building.

"Wow, so homey," I comment, looking around the large barren space, that was poorly lit by the cheap lights that Derek turned on.

"It's a place to stay safe, away from the hunters," Derek remarks in a serious tone, "It doesn't need to be homey."

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go grab some things for you two to stay the night."

"Oh, I'm staying the night?" I ask.

"Yes, I don't want to leave Isaac alone," he says, "and you insisted on seeing where I lived."

"I can just take the Camaro."

"Yeah, no. I'll drop you off early tomorrow."

As Derek goes to god knows where in this place, I look over at Isaac who is still a bit shaken up.

"You okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he says unsure, "I think. It's just a lot."

"I know. I mean I wouldn't know, but I can imagine."

"I'm now a wanted man," he says, the realization of what's happening sinking in.

"Don't worry, we're going to figure this out," I tell him walking over to him, and placing my hand on his back.

"Thanks," he softly smiles looking down at me, "You're the only one who's still treating me the same."

"I know you Isaac, and I'm going to make sure nothing happens to you," I reassure him.

"Thank-you," he whispers.

We continue to stare at each other in a comfortable silence. I notice his eyes looking down at my lips then back up at my eyes real quick.

The gravity between our two faces slowly pulls us both into one another. I can feel his breath on my face and vice versa. We close our eyes and lean in,

"Sophia," Derek yells causing Isaac and I to quickly jump away from each other before our lips could meet.

"Yes," I clear my throat, embarrassed about what Derek just walked in on.

"You're going to sleep in my room," he protectively says, "Isaac you'll be sleeping out here on the couch."

Isaac nods his head as Derek handed him a bag, "Got these out of your house earlier."

"Thanks," Isaac says grabbing the bag from Derek, avoiding eye contact.

"Say goodnight Sophia," Derek says, standing next to me.

"Goodnight," I tell Isaac.

"Night," he nods, catching my eyes for a split second before he turns away to get ready for bed.

Derek escorts me to his room, that is actually a bit nicer.

"Should I even ask what was about to happen before I walked in," Derek says closing the door behind us, as I pick up the clothes he left for me on his bed.

"Nuh uh," I shake my head, making my way to the en-suite dimly lit restroom.

"Soph," Derek softly says catching my arm, "I get it okay. The whole teenage thing, I've been there. I just, need you to be careful."

"I will," I sincerely say, nodding my head understanding where he's coming from.

"I don't want to tell you how to live your life, because I'm the last person to judge. I just don't want you getting hurt," he genuinely says.

"Why are you so sure that I'm the one who's going to end up hurt?"

"Because I know you. I might not have been around for awhile, but I still know you Sophia," he says, "You love with your whole heart. You see the good in everybody, you want to believe that everyone is somewhat good. You're the little girl who believed in fairytales so deeply you would cry when someone told you they were fake,

"But you are also the little girl who believed everything. You want to see the good, and I get that maybe I'm a little cynical after all I've been through, but not everyone is good. Not everyone cares about you the way that you care about them. And I just don't want to see you taken advantage of because of that. Simply because someone takes your kindness as weakness."

"I'm not weak," I retort, trying not to cry at what Derek is saying.

"I'm not saying you're weak," he shakes his head, "Hell you're one of the strongest people I know, especially after all you've been dealt. I just want you to be careful about who you give your heart to."

"Can I get ready for bed now, I'm tired," I say looking away from him, trying to hide my watery eyes.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh," I respond, closing the door behind me.

I'm not weak.

I am not weak.

"Yeah, then why are you crying?" my thoughts shoot back at me, as I glance in the mirror to see tears streaming down my face.

Series tag list: @cafe-sabor-a-chocolate @reganf @sarasmismyonlydefence @colie87 @wish-me-happy-landing @lbuck121

Permanent tag list: @rosegolddivinity @definitelynotafangirl @1awesomeash @princess-evans-addict @geeksareunique @24kbratz @introvertatitsfinest @imagine-all-the-imagines @whatthefuckimbisexual @also-fangirlinsweden @the-queen-of-the-nerds

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honeyrisuke · 4 years ago

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I wanna rant and this is my damn blog so you cant stop me

its gonna be a vague and I’m sure the person who this is about isn’t even following me here or active on here at all so dw about it

so, I used to have a friend for YEARS and in the beginning we were super close and besties, and then because I was honestly quite insufferable and at the peak of my self hatred, incapable of doing basic self care, dysphoric, all of that I ended up acting out horribly A LOT. It was bad and I honestly feel really terirble about it and it kinda broke the relationship?? like, I made some super weird and bad choices and sometimes provoked fights for absolutely no reason, plus other things I struggled with communication wise

and usually it would just result in me being insanely angry for seemingly no reason, screaming, getting super aggressive at everybody around me, spewing insults and getting extremely catty just to then at some point seemingly get what I was doing and start being extremely self destructive and depressed and tell the other person horrid, usually manipulative stuff trying to “make them believe how sorry I was”. In retrospect and after therapy I can tell that that’s a very typical behaviorial pattern of a kid with one or more parents/guardians who struggle with borderline, but back then I had no clue what to do about it or how to deal w it.

however, looking back I can definitely see the point where he stopped being sincerely upset and started feeding into it in order to make me act up worse. I know he had trauma, I know he struggled with stuff himself, so it might have something to do with that or learned behavior or something but he would wait till my anger died down and I started to just be self destructive and then push in on that, which usually started the anger back up just to make me fall again. It was honestly really strange and I remember that I tried to stop it at times but my head was reeling so bad that I couldn’t even be alone with my thoughts, I was sincerely terrified and since I had no idea how to cope with it I would keep on texting him and basically NEEDING HIM to tell me I was okay

ok so lil tangent because I feel like I need to clarify this:

that kinda behavior stands in connection with the general behavior of my mom. she needs constant arguments and fights to keep herself afloat, but she doesn’t wanna start them- because she likes putting herself into the victim role. to this day she provokes people until THEY have enough and get angry at her and then she argues until she starts crying and then demands an apology. However, since she NEEDS this type of stress in her life, it doesn’t need to be a real and calm and loving apology, she needs you to *make it clear how sorry you are*. Anything from full on crying to falling to your knees to telling her “I should never have been born” is okay and she will usually end that with a hug and suddenly everything is fine again- but an apology that is less dramatic and more sincere will never be accepted because its “not a real apology”.

so when I got angry for no reason, it was more so that my brain picked up on certain things that my mom would do to provoke an argument. little pokes, like eating loudly, dropping pointy comments, suddenly getting very loud, interrupting me as I speak. then, because I was conditioned to do that, I would get insanely angry and attack the person across from me who did absolutely nothing wrong, and at some point I would realize “oh no, why tf did I do that” and immediately slump down and insult myself and tell the other person I shouldn’t be alive. And the longer the other person didnt tell me “it’s okay” and have the world be okay again, the more violent my threats against myself become because my brain didn’t understand why I wasn’t doing enough.

it’s extremely toxic and it took therapy and learning to understand what the fuck is even going on to get rid of it- and I am absolutely not excusing it. I understand how bad it was for everybody around me and I’m honestly very proud to say that I haven’t done that in a VERY long time, at least not to that horrible extend.

so, that broke the relationship, but he kept on holding onto me and at the time I thought that was because he liked me, but didn’t know how to just move on from there. We had on/off moments, we stumbled a bit and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he really really disliked me. The fact that he sometimes wouldn’t respond to me for weeks while being very active and social in public servers and stuff and was obviously planning fun things in private with other people didn’t help it, because even if he was exhausted and needed time for himself, it meant that I was obviously not somebody he was comfortable with at this time-

but whenever I asked him about it, he told me it was nothing and I was being paranoid and toxic again

and I believed that!! It made sense, I have been paranoid about people randomly hating me forever and I was probably always wrong

until I wasn’t.

there were people who I was sure couldn’t stand me, and I would try to avoid them because it made me uncomfortable- but whenever I brought it up to him he would get angry at me for being paranoid- and then later I would learn that I was actually completely correct about my assumption and that person had already disliked me before I even took notice of it.

it was really odd how people surrounding him seemed to also dislike me, and I thought that was my weird warped self hating perception, but unfortunately it turned out to be right more often than not

and all of that reached its peak when I joined the same roleplay server as him, put a lot of work and effort into what I did in there and was eventually bullied out of it.

I’m not gonna get into that because that’s its whole own eco system of garbage, but the moment I entered I already felt weird pressure and like I was not exactly welcome. It all slowly got worse, what I did didn’t get anywhere and I eventually caught wind of it and tried carefully asking people if we are okay, if anything is wrong. Every last one of them always told me I was okay and I shouldn’t be paranoid until one of them, who would constantly write provocative stuff directed at me but never engaged in an actual conversation with me, told me how uncomfortable I made them and others and insisted that I stop texting them, blocking me.

to this day I have no idea what I ever did to them. I never attacked them, I never got rude. They just suddenly ghosted everything we started and then claimed I made them uncomfortable out of nowhere. the only thing: I just realized they seem to be best friends with my old friend.

there’s no morale here, I just.

He’s very charismatic. He’s the kinda person to enter a room and everybody immediately likes him. I’ve watched him enter servers that I struggled to be heard in and immediately make like 5 friends. People love this guy.

me not so much. I’m clumsy in social settings, I’m quiet, and sometimes I don’t dare speaking up at all.

and it’s honestly making me very uncomfortable that somebody who can pull people onto their side within a split second hates me enough to make other people dislike me.

#life #rant #sorry but this all was. very much stuck in my head today #im just scared bc im still involved in things barely out of his reach #and he could easily stumble into these things and at this point I'm sure that if he talks to the right people #he'd just push me back out of my friend groups #dude if you read this and turn it into another chapter of your 'i was abused' story idk what to say but that just proves me right

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years ago

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Girl Genius Liveblog #222

UPDATE 222: King on the Loose

Last time they had found the vault where the lantern they’re looking for may be at, and also stumbled upon one Madwa Korel who is dangerous and also a skillful Smoke Knight. In other news, Hoffman may be blind, but he’s taking that quite well. Let’s continue.

The vault is open! All thanks to Aldin, master lock cracker. Van Rijn would be so upset his work was so easily defeated. Is the lantern inside?

Hmmm...well I sure don’t see anything lantern shaped, I have to say. Unless that big glass thing is the lantern instead of like a glass cover. Pretty big lantern it’d be, then, but still...since that’s in the center and the composition is so obviously giving it importance, it must be incredibly relevant and I shouldn’t forget I saw it, if it’s not the lantern. Also, that sure seems to be a muse. Must be a guardian! At a first glance it looks like it’s deactivated but I sure wouldn’t let my guard down – this is a world of MAD SCIENCE. You can’t let your guard down! That muse may have a way to defend that object.

Apparently Prende is a muse and I just...missed that tiny detail. Hum. Well either way, looks like the lantern is there. Worth noting Van Rijn never wrote about the muse being here. Hm, she definitely is some sort of guardian, then. Violetta stops them from going on, surely she imagines there must be traps and other things in here. You may want to ask Hoffman to take a good look around with the goggles! He should be able to find everything, if there are traps.

Yup, there must be a trap here. Hoffman can’t see a thing, but Violetta insists. Hm. It may be the muse, really, I can’t think of any other kind of traps that could be in plain sight. And there goes Madwa! Triggering it, the muse grabs her right away. The clank is not fooled by Madwa’s tricks, she grabs her. I’m not very certain this is going to stop her for long, last I checked the muses were relatively fragile and Madwa sure isn’t going to let this stop her, right?

Well at least she’s not terribly hostile. She doesn’t take kindly to Madwa’s intrusion, but she’s talking politely with Agatha and pals. That’s better than throwing them out or trying to kill them. Agatha informs the new Storm King is currently trapped in a time bubble, unaware he has been freed very recently. Not that it isn’t a reason to get the lantern, they still have to set free the town.

Huh...well, Tweedle is the other option, really, but this clank was locked here waaaay before Tweedle even existed, no? So she can’t be saying she supports Tweedle over Tarvek. I’m not really sure what Prende means with this, but it’s clear: the lantern must not be moved. What now, Agatha?

Nothing to do but maybe let Tarvek convince her later, which isn’t a bad plan. Still, Agatha argues there’s a whole town needing help, and although Prende doesn’t seem so callous as to want to let all those people stay in stasis forever, she insists. The pleasant conversation is interrupted when the other Smoke Knights come by, telling them to not let Madwa escape.

Oh, she got out of the clank’s grasp. How does she do that? Smoke Knights are so bizarre.

How courtly of you to stand around to brag villainously, Madwa. You truly are aligned with Lucrezia. As seen in that image, it gives Violetta enough time to throw a pebble and...tell me she didn’t break the lantern. I see it’s disconnected from something, and I’d be willing to bet this is aaaall very delicate. They came all the way down here to get the lantern, if it got broken I’ll be kind of upset, honestly.

There are other immediate problems, though. Is that a skeletal hand?

Well what Madwa has really is close enough now. Also yeah, Madwa, how dare you break that lamp. It was you, totally not Violetta, nope, it was aaaaaall you. Let’s all pile the blame on her, for convenience. She took the lamp out of that nook on the wall, after all! Her fault.

Now that the lantern is broken, something is coming out of the wall, something enveloped in a green light. Prende talks about how she knew Agatha’s friend isn’t the Storm King, and the reason is...huh.

Okay, I didn’t see this one coming!

Would I be mistaken in thinking that’s the Storm King? And as long as he’s alive, nobody else can be the Storm King. Hoh, what a problem that is. Tarvek better get ready for some good ol’ fashioned regicide.

Apparently Van Rijn took the king right before, or during a fight, and Andronicus is real pissed off about it. He even is calling Van Rijn a sorcerer, which is rather curious. Maybe Andronicus wasn’t too familiar with MAD SCIENCE. He also refuses to believe anything about Van Rijn, not believing he’s dead. Well...seems like, to him, his imprisonment lasted only a moment, he doesn’t know it has been such a long time since then. If he escapes maybe he will notice. The thing is, I sure wouldn’t trust him to behave and not...try to smack people with that bloody club he has. Andronicus seems kind of volatile.

So, first things first: that beard looks ridiculous on him! What kind of curlers do you need to style that beard? Good thing this is just a costume, because it’s seriously a silly style. If anyone reading this has a beard like that one, I’m sorry for being rude, the beard looks good on you, but on Tweedle you have to be kidding me.

Now that the elephant in the room has been addressed, let’s address what’s important. He can feel where his sword is at, hmmm...I guess that means we know where Andronicus will be going, if he escapes from the vaults. I think I can already see where this is going now: is Andronicus going to crash the costume party? Will people believe he’s just another partygoer with a costume? I have to wonder.

Desperate and trying to get Andronicus from, you know, slaying the entirety of Paris with a sword, Prende says once again that Van Rijn is dead and that two hundred years have passed. Andronicus doesn’t seem to like that at all, he looks rattled by that revelation, and decides to go find out by himself. Then he orders Agatha to tell her nonexistent master he will receive a visit from Andronicus soon, not knowing he’s talking to the current scion of the Heterodynes. Alright! Looks like this will be a problem. How to deal with a rogue Storm King?

Well that sure sets the tone for the next arc or so. I mean, Andronicus being on the loose is kind of a big deal! I’ll be very surprised if this isn’t what they had to deal with for the rest of their stay in Paris, especially since Madwa escaped and took the lantern with her.

...oh my god, I love this. They just looted the vault! They took everything they could get their hands on! May as well have something so you don’t leave with your hands empty, eh? Yeah, I think I get it – they’re taking everything they can just in case there’s a clue or something, but still! It’s kind of funny they were all ‘welp we’re not gonna get out of here without some booty, are we now. take this chest of gold, it’s gonna sell great in the black market’.

Say, this may be a good spot to stop. I’ll continue next time!

Next time: next update

#girl genius #girl genius liveblog #webcomics #liveblog #webcomic liveblog

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amaranthinecanicular · 6 years ago

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hardly a time for sobriety

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Alfred, elementary math teacher extraordinaire, has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.”

[Written for @sterndecorum (a million years late, as per usual) for the 2018 @usuknetwork Gift Exchange. I’m so sorry, but I hope you enjoy! Happy belated holidays!]

....

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Like, Alfred has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.” Elizaveta, who teaches art, looks delighted. Kiku, the librarian, looks profoundly uncomfortable.

Alfred tries to grimace but it feels kind of sloppy on his face. “Don’t think I meant to say that. Too much eggnog?”

“Too much eggnog,” Kiku confirms. At the same time Elizaveta says, “Are you kidding? Not enough eggnog. I’ve had to watch you pine away every time Kirkland drops off lunch for his brother. You are ending my misery tonight.”

She hands Alfred another plastic cup of ‘nog while Kiku makes a despairing noise in the back of his throat. It is possible that Elizaveta has also had too much eggnog. Sober Alfred would probably be embarrassed to learn that his affections have been transparent for the last several months. Sober Alfred might also call it quits on the alcohol before he really makes a poor decision amongst all his coworkers and peers. Sober Alfred has left the building, thank god, because that guy is a drag.

He takes some fortifying gulps of his new drink and spies stealthily--he hopes it’s stealthy, he sure feels stealthy--on Arthur from across the faculty room, which was definitely not meant to accommodate this many drunk teachers. He’s chatting with the high school French teacher and the severe-looking middle school principal. (The holiday party is district wide this year. It’s a cutbacks thing.) It’s hard to tell if Arthur is enjoying the conversation or not. Mostly he’s scowling. It’s ten kinds of adorable. So is his stodgy old man sweater vest. Alfred wants to kiss his eyebrows.

“Please never say that again,” says Kiku in a strained voice. Whoops, that last part may have been out loud. Too much eggnog. He takes another sip anyway.

“Hey, s’your fault for calling in sick that day,” he says. September fourteenth, two PM, Alfred will never forget it. He walked the kids from math to the library and he thought hey it’s that one grumpy asshole and then the grumpy asshole spoke all soft and sweet to the kids and he read Charlotte’s Web so pretty and Alfred’s next thought was oh shit oh fuck I’m going to marry him someday. And that was completely sober. “Shame on you for marathoning the Silent Hill games so early in the school year. And also for not inviting me. No one but y’rself to blame.”

Kiku takes a grim sip of his tea. Yeesh, tea at a holiday party. “I am aware.”

Just then the French teacher laughs loudly enough for Alfred to hear it. A hand lands on Arthur’s shoulder. In the fuzzy recesses of his brain two stray thoughts connect with a spark: laughing and touching counts as flirting. The French teacher flirting with Arthur. The French teacher marrying Arthur, which would seriously impede Alfred’s plans to marry Arthur. The French teacher must die.

Well, okay, no, he doesn’t have to die die. But Alfred has to kill his chances. He mumbles something to Elizaveta and Kiku that might be an explanation or might just be drunken gibberish and he marches off in Arthur’s direction. The middle school principal is gone, off talking to a guy Alfred thinks might be the middle school Italian teacher. He wants to put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder like the French teacher did, but he doesn’t trust his buzzy fingers. His hands end up in his pockets instead. “Hey there, Mr. Kirkland. Fancy meeting you here,”

Arthur turns. So does the French teacher, but Alfred notices that peripherally. Maybe Arthur’s scowl softens a little to see him. Maybe that’s just Alfred’s drunk brain talking.

“Francis,” Arthur says to the French teacher, “Isn’t your presence required elsewhere?”

“And where would that be, mon cher?” says Francis, with a leer in Alfred’s direction. Arthur grits his teeth.

“Literally anywhere else.”

“Ah, yes, of course. An appointment I cannot miss. Joyeux Noël, my friends!” He flounces toward the refreshment table, and gives Alfred a wink on the way. It might be flirty, or it might be… a good luck wink? Is that a thing? He doesn’t really know, and he really doesn’t care. Arthur returns his attention to Alfred with a raised brow.

“Mr. Jones. Glad to see you’ve decided a conversation with me is preferable to staring.”

Ouch. Not so stealthy. “Ha, yeah. Didn’t want to interrupt earlier. So, are you and Mr. Frenchy an item, or?”

Okay, wow, not what he meant to say. Bad eggnog, no more eggnog. Luckily Arthur seems too appalled by the suggestion itself to be creeped out by Alfred suggesting it. “Good lord, no. Francis and I? The mere thought is repulsive. I may gag.”

“Oof, wouldn’t want that. Glad to hear it, though. I was worried.”

Arthur’s eyes snap up. Too strong? Maybe.

“Were you?” he says, and whoa, not too strong, apparently. Not too strong at all.

Alfred, smooth and confident in the way of the inebriated, says, “Wanna go to IHOP?”

....

The truth is it’s only half Kiku’s fault. The library incident wasn’t the first time Alfred met Arthur. For the past two years Peter Kirkland has been in Alfred’s rotating fourth and fifth grade math classes—a good kid, high energy and real bright—which meant parent teacher conferences with his brother and guardian. It’s… safe to say they didn’t get off on the right foot. Alfred has handled rude parents before. Whatever! Usually his incredible charm and wit were enough to makeup for it. But no, not with Mr. Kirkland. Mr. Kirkland was tenured, he had years of experience on naive little green-gilled elementary teacher Alfred, and in his professional opinion problem children like Peter needed to be disciplined rather than coddled, and quite frankly he did not think much of Alfred’s nonsensical, feel-good, soft-bellied teaching methods.

In response Alfred had maybe called him a crabby old geezer, and maybe mentioned something about teaching an old dog new tricks, and maybe that was all the PG version. Arthur Kirkland was nothing more to Alfred than a grumpy asshole. Albeit a grump with great bone structure and a sexy accent.

And then Arthur subbed in for Kiku, and everything was different.

“Here we are!”

Alfred sweeps into a bow and scoots Arthur’s chair out for him because he’s a gentleman. (At this time of night the IHOP is a seat yourself kind of establishment.) There’s cheery Christmas music playing over the speakers. Alfred wanted the corner booth—much more romantic—but some gooey-eyed teens are hogging it. Stupid gooey-eyed teens.

“Here we are indeed,” says Arthur. He’s eyeing the vinyl cushion like it carries a venereal disease. “Honestly, half the reason I agreed to come was because I wanted to see if you were taking the piss. But lo and behold: The International House of Pancakes.” He takes a seat. Gingerly. “That name always struck me as overly dignified for this establishment.”

“Hey, don’t hate. I eat breakfast here once a week.” The elementary school is across town, but it’s worth the drive. Thank god the high school is within walking distance. He adds, “So, that was only half the reason, huh? What was the other half?”

Arthur taps the side of his nose. “I’m very certain I’m not drunk enough to tell you.”

Alfred remembers, suddenly, what drink Arthur had been nursing at the Christmas party. He grins a slow grin. “You were spiking your tea, Artie?”

Arthur flushes, maybe because he’s a little drunker than Alfred thought, but probably because Alfred just called him Artie. Good idea, drunk Alfred.

“Only because conversation with Francis was otherwise intolerable. I much prefer talking to you.” He gets a look on his face like he just heard what he said, and he flushes even prettier. “Don’t get the wrong idea. A Christmas ham would be a better conversation partner than that frog.”

Any further research into how pink Alfred can make Arthur blush is interrupted by the arrival of their waitress. She’s new, a friendly girl named Michelle who smiles a lot and takes quick notes. By the time she’s got their order—a tea for Arthur, a little of everything for Alfred—Alfred has learned that she’s studying speech pathology, she’s home for holiday break, and that she got her sister a dinosaur building kit for Christmas.

“Oh sweet, what kind of dinosaur?” says Alfred.

“A ceratosaurus,” says Michelle.

“Ooh, deep cut! Nice!”

They high five. Alfred asks, “You don’t have any eggnog, do you?”

“I’m afraid not. We have eggnog pancakes, though, how does that sound?”

Arthur gags quietly. Alfred ignores this. “Sounds awesome! I’ll have an order of those too.”

After she walks away Alfred addresses the look on Arthur’s face. “Yes, professor?”

“You want to drink more of that swill?” he says, all dubious like.

“Dude! Eggnog is the drink of the season.”

“There are many drinks of the season. Sherry. Scotch. Brandy. Tea.”

“By that logic you’ll spend the whole holiday break completely sloshed.”

Arthur chuckles. “The holidays are hardly a time for sobriety.”

Alfred can’t really argue with that. “I’m pretty sure you drink tea all the time.”

“Because tea is a drink for every season.”

This is the moment that Michelle returns with the tea, because apparently she has a great sense of dramatic timing. Arthur prepares the cup and smirks at Alfred over the rim, as though that proves his point at all, and all Alfred can think about is how tea is a much more charming drink in Arthur’s hand than it is in Kiku’s. Alfred wants to know more about the kind of tea he drinks. He wants to learn how to make the perfect cup, so he can make it for Arthur every day. He wants to know Arthur’s opinion on coffee. What his favorite food is. If he likes cats or dogs. He looks like a cat person. What was his home life like? Where in Britain did he grow up? Did he always want to be a teacher? Alfred wants to know… everything. He never wants to stop learning about him.

He says, “Tell me more about yourself.”

Arthur goes very still. “Why?”

“Because this is a date.” Sober Alfred is pretty direct. Drunk Alfred isn’t much different.

Now Arthur goes very red. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.”

“That can’t be true. Why’d you come to America? Got tired of jolly old England?”

“My goodness, no. My heart will always belong to my dearest Albion.” Alfred suspects that’s an old nerdy name for England, but he can’t be sure. He’s a math whiz, not a history buff. “No, it was just typical family drama. Peter and I hopped across the pond to escape it. All very British, very boring.”

Maybe Arthur is a little more guarded as he says that. And wistful. The peppy Jingle Bell Rock has transitioned to the crooning I’ll Be Home For Christmas and suddenly Alfred is very sad. He wants to say so. He wants to say that Arthur’s family doesn’t deserve him or Peter, and that he can tell Alfred anything, everything, because he’ll never hurt him the way they did. But even smashed he can tell that Arthur doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead he says, “How is Peter?”

Arthur’s face softens. “A wee little shite, as per usual. He’s at a sleepover right now. But he’s doing better in maths, at least.”

He raises his cup in a small, half-ironic toast to Alfred’s awesome teaching skills. Alfred tries not to preen and isn’t so sure he succeeds. “Yeah, well, he’s a good kid. They all are. They make my job easy.”

“I doubt that,” Arthur snorts. “But you are Peter’s favorite teacher, which is saying something. He absolutely hated maths before you came along.” His tone turns thoughtful. He rests his chin in his palm. “You’re good with him. Good with all of them, I see it when I drop off Peter’s lunch. Though I maintain that you could stand to be a little more disciplinary.”

“You’re good with them too,” Alfred says, high on a cloud of Arthur’s regard. “You subbed in for Kiku once. I saw you. It was really sweet, and I realized…”

This is what Alfred realized after he saw Arthur in the library: Mr. Tenured Teacher, Sir High and Mighty, Cynicism and Discipline Incarnate, is a huge fucking softie. He quilts, crochets, and embroiders. (Thank you Kiku, mutual friend with all the secrets.) He’s hard on his students but he refuses to let any of them fail. (Also Kiku.) He criticizes Peter and the quality of his education because he cares—like, really really cares. Alfred picked up on that himself. He brings the kid homemade lunch every day. He leaves him notes in his lunchbox. Alfred’s not proud to admit it but he peeked over Peter’s shoulder the one time he pulled one out in math. It read: Always cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough. I love you. Alfred is willing to bet every note has some banal tidbit of advice and closes out the same way. If he and Arthur got together, would Arthur slip him notes, too? I love you.

“You realized?”

Arthur is watching him, has been watching him, and his eyes are super green, all bright and Christmassy under the IHOP fluorescents. Alfred is pretty sure the teens in the corner booth are watching them now but he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t care. There are so many things he could say and they all crowd together in his throat, vying for favor. In the time it takes for him to pick the perfect one Michelle arrives with the food, and the moment passes.

A veritable feast of greasy breakfast foods lands on the table: pancakes, waffles, eggs. Bacon and sausage. Various assortments of fruit and butter and jam. Alfred nudges forward his eggnog pancakes. “Want a bite?”

Arthur grimaces. “Absolutely not. That looks utterly unappetizing.”

Alfred will not deny this. Most of the food is green for some Grinch promotional thing IHOP is doing, but hey, at least it’s festive. And delicious. Alfred says so.

“No thank you.” Arthur’s stomach says otherwise. “Well. Those eggs look edible, I suppose.”

They eat (Alfred eats, Arthur pecks) and they chat, and it’s magical. Arthur tells funny stories about Peter’s terrible twos, grudgingly and then not so grudgingly, and Alfred talks about his brother and his totally-not-pot farm in Canada.

He’s finally sobering up—all the greasy food helps—and the night never gets any less magical. It feels more magical somehow.

He says, “So, have I made you an IHOP convert?”

Arthur sighs, theatrically put upon. “I suppose it’s charming, in a slovenly way. Something like you.”

Alfred rolls his eyes. “Ooh, you’re making me blush. Tell me more.”

But Arthur doesn’t tell him more because he’s too busy giving the stink eye to something over Alfred’s shoulder. Ah. The booth teens. Alfred gives a very extremely subtle glance back… yeah, wow, they are going at it. Teenage hormones are no joke.

“Kids these days, honestly. They should be studying,” Arthur seethes.

“For what? It’s Friday and classes are over next week,” says Alfred, but before he can finish his sentence Arthur has struck like a god damn cobra and stolen a bit of hashbrown and chucked it at the booth. It occurs to Alfred that Arthur might still be pretty hammered. How much rum did he put in his tea, for real?

It plops square in a mug of hot chocolate. At a loss for what else to do, Alfred kind of shriek laughs. “Oh my god, are you twelve?”

He dares a peek back at the spluttering teenagers and then back to Arthur and--Arthur is shrugging at the teens and pointing at Alfred. “You are twelve! Traitor!”

He spoons whipped cream off the top of his hot chocolate and daubs Arthur’s nose with it. For a second Arthur looks fit to bust, and sure a drunken temper tantrum sounds cute but it might lose Alfred a chance at a second date. Then Arthur reaches over the table, scoops the whole pile of whipped cream from the plate of pancakes with his bare hand, and smears it all over Alfred’s face.

While Arthur is cackling, Alfred says, “Marry me.”

Arthur stops cackling. He stares, and under the weight of it Alfred sobers up the rest of the way all at once. Did he just ruin everything? Of course he did. Drunk Alfred, that dumbass, always ruins everything and now he’s going to die old and alone, dreaming about what could have been if only he hadn’t asked Arthur Kirkland to marry him in an IHOP.

“Snrk,” says Arthur.

That’s the sound he makes—snrk. Then he’s snorting, then he’s laughing, and it’s inelegant and undignified and Alfred is in love.

“So is that a yes?” he says, and Arthur gives him a narrow look. He wipes his face with a napkin—Alfred belatedly follows suit—and flags Michelle down for the check.

Arthur scoffs, “You think I’d say yes to a proposal on a first date? In the International House of Pancakes?”

He’s not mad. Alfred can hardly believe it. He still has a chance. “Hey, depends on the date.”

They split the bill. Arthur is the faster tipper so in return Alfred pays for the Uber. The teens are gone from the booth, though Alfred didn’t see them leave. They’re not in the parking lot either, which is good, because it would be super awkward to have to wait for the Uber with them.

The air is cold. They’re standing very near. The sky is heavy and close with clouds, but Arthur is watching it like he might see the stars beyond. After a second, Alfred does too.

He says to the sky, “Wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.”

And Arthur says to the sky, “Don’t push your luck, Mr. Jones. We hardly know each other. Even you can’t be that idealistic.”

There’s not enough liquid bravery left in Alfred’s veins to tell Arthur that he is.

The Uber arrives. Arthur offers to share, but Alfred lives too far from the high school to leave his car there. He opens the door for Arthur. He closes the door for Arthur. It’s stupid but the thought of saying goodbye to him right now—not forever, not even for a whole weekend—is breaking his heart. He doesn’t know how to end tonight. Doesn’t know if they’re leaving on a good note or a bad one.

“Ask me again.”

The window is rolled down. Arthur is watching him. His eyes are glowing and his cheeks are pink and his breath is misting in the air, so Alfred can see the exact shape of his words when he says, “Later. Much, much later. Many dates from now. In a restaurant that lives up to its name, and preferably when we’re not both completely crocked. Ask me again. Maybe then I’ll be as idealistic as you.”

Alfred can’t think of a single thing to say and so he doesn’t. He leans down and Arthur leans up and the angle is awkward because Arthur is dangling half out a window but Alfred is certain he’s never had a more perfect kiss in all his life.

Joy is light, effervescent. It fizzes and bubbles and buoys Alfred and he wonders if there was alcohol in those eggnog pancakes after all. He watches the tail lights twinkle off into the night, and then he turns to start the trek back to the high school. He’s going to have to wait out the last of the buzz in his car, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bothered. It’s the holidays, after all. Hardly a time for sobriety. Overhead, it begins to snow.

#ran's writing #hetalia #usuk #usuknetwork #usukholiday2018 #sterndecorum

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adelmortescryche · 7 years ago

Text

YOI Cloud Mari AU (Evil Author’s Day I)

AN: Heya, here’s my first post for EAD, if a day late! For those who aren’t familiar with EAD, Evil Author’s Day gives authors the opportunity to post WIPs guiltfree, with no promises attached. Meaning there’s no set date on when I plan to fully post or complete these fics, though they are WIPs.

This is the 1st of three. And the shortest one: 1, 2, 3

Warnings/Tags: Victuuri, Crossover between KHR (Katekyo Hitman Reborn) and YOI (Yuri!!! On Ice), Tsuna and Yuuri are snarky bros, Mari is a Queen and Glorious, All Bow Down Before Her, Tsuna’s mild smiles are liable to incite homicide, Massive Canon Divergence for KHR, Minor Canon Divergence for YOI

Summary: That one in which Katsuki Mari is Tsuna’s Cloud Guardian. This... Changes things.

Yuuri’s in the middle of fending off a rather enthusiastic kiss from his fiancé, laughing all the while, when he hears his name being called out. The call makes him attempt to straighten himself out immediately - it might be nearing the end of the banquet, but that didn’t give him justifiable cause to be rude to any prospective sponsors, right? He didn’t make any move to back away from Victor, though. Because they’d both decided that any sponsors who found their relationship distasteful were safer vetted out right from the beginning.

When he actually turns around to see who, exactly, had called out to him, though, the face is enough of a shock that he goes still for a moment long enough that Victor gets alarmed.

“Yuuri?” He asked, while giving the brunet who’d approached them a cool glance.

Yuuri shook himself, and gave Victor a strained smile.

“It’s fine, just-”

“Unexpected.” the other man said, and gave a tiny smile when it earned him a harder look from Victor.

It made a laugh erupt from the back of Yuuri’s throat, harsh enough to hurt. Much to Victor’s alarm.

“That’s one way of putting it. What exactly are you doing here, Tsuna?”

Tsuna, for his part, continued to give that tiny, gentle smile. It made Yuuri want to catch him by the shoulders and shake him till it disappeared, because the other man was a lying liar who lied - and lied especially well when he had soft smiles on his face.

“I did say I’d come by sometime. Are you still that much against me sponsoring you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, his voice rising over the confused sound that Victor made. “And don’t even try to act hurt, it’s not like you didn’t know the answer to that question well before you asked it.”

“Wow, savage, Yuuri,” Phichit murmured, having drawn closer to where Yuuri and Tsuna’s altercation was taking place. When Yuuri looked up to shoot him an exasperated loo, it was to find that he’d drawn a lot more attention that he’d expected to the corner he and Victor had been hiding in. Or, at least, had been attempting to hide in, before Tsuna interrupted them.

Yuuri wasn’t even all that surprised, when he saw how curious both Phichit and Chris looked. Yuri might have looked curious, too, if it weren’t for how his face was screwed up in it’s usual expression of social discomfort and distaste.

“I would never,” Tsuna said, sounding unnervingly coy, and bringing Yuuri’s attention back to him.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Yuuri countered snidely, startling a laugh out of Victor, who seemed to have traded his confusion in for something far more inquisitive. It drew Tsuna’s gaze to him, and Yuuri could only watch with discomfort as the brunet’s eyes lit up with delight.

“Oh, where are my manners, I’m-”

“He doesn’t need to be introduced to you, Tsuna, turn around and walk away,” Yuuri cut in, irate, his ire only worsening when it drew more laughter from the other man.

“Okay, clearly you’re someone I should already know, if you make my best bud this irritable. Spill. Who are you?” Phichit said cheerfully, grin sharp and eyes bright. The words made Yuuri stiffen, because he knew how Phichit could get if he thought he needed to defend a friend. Or Yuuri in particular.

The words also made Victor perk up, though, a charming smile spilling across his face.

“I have to agree. I haven’t seen my Yuuri speak out against anyone so vehemently before. I have to assume that you’re acquainted, at the very least?”

The possessive in his words made Yuuri feel like his heart was fluttering inside his chest, but he sobered up uncomfortably quickly when he noticed just how amused the same words made Tsuna.

“Well,” the brunet began, before Yuuri cut him off with a snort.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why, Yuu-kun, that almost sounds like you don’t like me. I’m hurt.” He threw back, raising a hand up to his chest in affront, tone believable enough if one weren’t to see the impish grin on his face. Yuuri rolled his eyes, and made himself step away from Victor’s side, no matter how much he’d prefer not to.

“You’re not convincing anyone, Tsu-kun. Get over yourself.”

Obviously that got him another one of Tsuna’s irrepressible smiles. It made him sigh, just that bit more irritated, but he forced himself to sweep his gaze across the room behind the other man. He’d let their jousting run for long enough without taking care of certain measures. His shift in attitude must have been obvious enough to Tsuna, because he lost his teasing edge rather abruptly.

Not the soft smiles, though. Because he was a lying liar who lied.

“There’s no way you’re here alone. Where are they?” Yuuri had to ask, finally, once he’d lost neay 30 seconds to his sweep. There was no way he could have missed any of Tsuna’s guardians for that long. Possibly the pair of pineapple twins, but the rest…

“Not here,” Tsuna responded immediately, though not without throwing him a mildly amused glance. He could always tell when Yuuri had been thinking nasty thoughts, even when they’d been kids and Yuuri was a lot less inclined to be mean. “I managed to convince them that I’d be safe enough with you here.”

“…I knew you were a maniac, but this is pushing it. Really, Tsuna-”

Victor cleared his throat pointedly, making both of them blink and look back at him. The serious look on his face made Yuuri stiffen, while Tsuna gave a low whistle. Yuuri ignored the other man’s reaction, instead staring his fiance down for a long moment. Before sighing, again, and turning back to Tsuna.

“It might make sense if leave, if you’re actually here for a reason. If you’re just here to play at offering me a sponsorship, though…”

“I’m not playing at anything, Yuuri, I just wish you’d believe me when I say that.” Tsuna muttered, looking away from Victor and back at him, but Yuuri’s eyes only narrowed at his words. Because he hadn’t actually denied that he was in Barcelona on some other business.

“…do you need me to accompany you somewhere? You do remember what Mari told Reborn about stuff like that, right?”

“I remember, I remember,” Tsuna said hurriedly, wincing a little, and making Yuuri smile, amused in spite of himself. “No, I don’t need you to accompany me anywhere. I just needed to talk to you.”

“Okay. Talk.”

“Yuu-kun.”

The exasperation in his voice made Yuuri snort with laughter, glancing back at Victor, and stiffening when he noticed the way Victor was looking at the two of them. Tsuna apparently noticed it, too, because he made a soft, cooing noice that made Tsuna want to strangle him. Just a little. Phichit didn’t look any better than Victor did, to be honest, and it made Yuuri want to sigh, possibly sag into the ground, because this was why he didn’t want Tsuna to get involved with his life.

The young Don of the Vongola Family somehow made things more complicated just by the sheer power of his existence. Life had been so much easier when he moved back to Hasetsu with his sister after finishing school.

And then he’d moved away and left Hasetsu behind to train, and that just made life easier. Because Tsuna had cheerfully ignored him for the next few years without any real issue. Outside of getting a text message every once in a while, warning him that Tsuna wanted to sponsor his skating, he’d had no real reason to think back to the sheer insanity of his middle school years at any point.

Until now, at any rate.

“…fine. Lead on, Macduff.” He said, bland, making Chris and Phichit both choke back surprised snickers.

Victor didn’t react at all, and that was what hurt the most.

“I met someone.”

Yuuri glanced up from his notes, surprised. Mari-nee rubbed the back of her neck, looking awkward.

“Is this a good met someone or a bad met someone where I need to find some way to hide a body because that someone was dumb enough to try and hurt you?” He asked dubiously, because he knew his sister.

Predictably, she gave a snort of laughter, setting her school bag down by the battered floor couch they managed to get a hold of when they’d first moved into the apartment Mari had found for them. And then proceeding to throw herself on to it, making Yuuri grunt, lifting his pen away from paper to ensure his assignment didn’t get messed up.

"Probably a good met someone, little bro. I’m not sure."

“…well, as long as it’s not a dating good met someone, because that’d just mean I’d have to find some way to bleach my brain. Pronto.” Yuuri said, making her shoulders shake with ill hidden laughter.

"Why’re you always so defensive, Yuuri. I just said I met someone. Can I finish explaining before you jump down my throat?"

“Sure. Be my guest. But I’m not the one telling Mom and Minako-sensei anything if you castrated someone for knocking you up,” he said leerily, which just made her laugh harder, biting out a choked gross at some point, and making him lot less suspicious about the direction the conversation was going to take.

“He reminds me a bit of you, actually. And before you screech, he isn’t a potential boyfriend. Just… He’s really sweet, and he’s going through a bit of a rough patch, and I think I can help him out. Just a bit.”

“…Mari-nee, this is how scams start, you know that right.”

Yuuri yelped when she got the crook of her elbow around his throat, dragging him back into her and grinding her knuckles into the top of his head violently.

“At least meet him before you come to any conclusions, brat. He got me out of some trouble, too, so he can’t be all bad, right?”

And that was how he’d met Sawada Tsunayoshi for the first time. In a café the next day, with his older sister, expecting to walk into a meeting with a stereotypical Yankee or someone from a biker gang. With leather, piercings and either bleached hair or a pompadour.

He knew Mari very, very well, after all.

What he found instead was a short, stuttering kid who was probably the same age he was, with enough hair piled on his head to make it look like a big rat’s nest or a tiny hill, and a smile that somehow managed to light up the entire room and every dark corner of Yuuri’s black, shrivelled heart.

“Mari-nee was really kind to me,” he said earnestly, over the shakes and food they’d both ordered, while Mari stepped out to grab a smoke outside the café. “I was getting chased by these scary guys, and she stepped in and whacked them over the heads with a pipe.”

“Mari-nee does that a lot.” Yuuri agreed, bemused.

“She was so cool!” The other guy said, eyes glittering, hands coming up in little fists in front of him, and Yuuri choked on his next bite of waffles and cream, only snickering harder when Tsuna got confused.

Only a little confused, clearly, because Yuuri could see the flush high on his cheeks. Yeah, the guy clearly knew just how much of a fanboy he was being. Not that Yuuri could blame him, Mari-nee was awesome. Yuuri’d been where Tsuna was right now enough times that he could get exactly where he was coming from. The sight of Mari, with her pinned up and freshly bleached hair, dead pan expression on her face, swinging a pipe at some idiot hell-bent on bullying him, was still one of the sweetest memories Yuuri had of elementary school.

It had gotten her kicked out of the the escalator school she’d been in in Hasetsu, but she’d just shrugged, said it was worth it, and said she had friends out towards Tokyo who could get her into a school there. Much to their parents bemusement, though both their mom and dad had vocally been on her side all the way. Not about the pipe, no, but when Kenji’s dad had tried to get Mari arrested, their dad had shut him up because Kenji’d been Mari’s classmate and had come after Yuuri just because he was her younger brother. Looking back on it, Yuuri had no idea how the heck his dad had won that argument, but he had.

That said, Yuuri barely remembers how he managed to convince his parents to let him join Mari in Tokyo. Mari might have had more of a part in successfully convincing them, by the end of it, but however they’d done it, Yuuri had found himself enrolled in a school in a much bigger town far enough away from Hasetsu that it felt like he’d left home for another country. And for all that he understood the language, the absence of the easy cadence of Saga- ben in the background was unnerving. About the only good thing about the move was that Mari had managed to connect him to a good coach in the city, meaning his training hadn’t been stunted. If anything, a well experienced and more professional coach meant his training was going a whole lot better than it ever had been in Hasetsu.

“Mari-nee,” he said, cutting Tsuna off in the middle of his gushing, “said that you’re in some kind of trouble. And that she wants to help you. What exactly was she talking about?”

…there are very few things he’s openly grateful for in his life, but, honestly? Mari was definitely one of them. And for all that this guy seemed a whole lot nicer than what he’d been steeling himself to face, it didn’t mean that he was willing to blindly entrust his sister to him.

Mari could kick his ass and tell him to butt out of her business, but she was his sister damnit. And even if she could take care of herself a lot better than Yuuri could ever take care of her…

…okay. The kid’s eyes had gone orange in his head. Yuuri blinked once, twice, then shoved back hard enough that he nearly knocked himself out on the head rest of his seat in the booth.

#fanfiction #evil author day 2018 #crossover #khr #yoi #yoi cloud mari au #adel writes #katsuki mari #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #sawada tsunayoshi #wip #my writing #victuuri #yoi ensemble

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tintinxtintin · 4 years ago

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possession ch. 5

Jade

"I don't want you to go home." Brady says as we walk down the beach. We've been down here for about three hours playing beach games with all the guys, and thirty minutes ago, he suggested we take a walk. I agreed happily, really liking being alone with him. Not that I don't enjoy the other boys' company, I just like having some time alone with Brady.

I really like him, and it almost scares me. I've never felt this way with anyone the way I do with him, and it's only been four days. It's like I'm falling without a parachute, and I just know that I'll crash, but something else is telling me I won't.

Liking him is almost a dangerous thing to do. I know how popular he is and how big his fanbase is. I also know the amount of hate I could get for even being seen with him. But I just can't keep my distance.

Those two days when he was too busy to text me, felt like torture, like he was on his phone and just chose not to talk to me. But I know Brady wouldn't do that. He had to rehearse for hours, and also find time to sleep and eat.

"Yeah me either I love LA." Just as he's about to reply, two girls in rather revealing bikinis walk up to us, giggling and screeching. One of them, a blonde, pounces Brady, and the other glares at me. I look away, feeling awkward.

"OH MY GOSH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! WILL YOU PLEASE TAKE A PICTURE?" The girl hugging Brady yells. I glance around, hoping no one is paying attention. Luckily for us, the beach isn't really crowded, So no one even looks up.

The curly haired boy smiles a fake smile, and takes the picture. The other girl turns to me, shoves her phone at me, and rudely tells me to take one of all three of them. I want to say hell no, but I don't want to possibly ruin Brady's image before it's even fully developed.

I snap the photo and hand the girl her phone back. She snatches it away, and her friend snickers.

"Are you guys dating?" The blonde girl asks. I blush a little at the thought of dating him, but shake my head.

"No, we're just friends." I can't help but notice a little frown on Brady's face, but I keep it to myself that I saw. Both girls continue to glare at me before saying they love Brady and walking away giggling.

"Thank God, I thought they'd never leave." I gasp and lightly smack him on the arm.

"You can't say that about your fans!"

"I can if they're rude. The blonde one spit on me when she yelled." His face turns into a grimace, and I laugh at how cute he looks trying to be angry. It's like how you have that one friend who's small and adorable and when they get mad it's cute.

"They were really rude. I mean, she practically demanded I take that picture." A noise inside my pocket interrupts our conversation. I pull out my phone and see a text from Liv.

Liv: Your mom says we have to go. Phones are dying and the boys should get back to the hotel

Me: on the way back.

"We have to go back. My mom is ready to leave." He nods, and we walk back the way we came, conversing the whole way. He listens when I tell him about my childhood, and I listen as he tells me about his. Much to my dismay, we eventually arrive back where we left everyone.

"Goodnight Jade." Brady says as he and all the guys are gathering up to leave. I tell him goodnight as well, and look over to see a sight for sore eyes. Sergio and Liv are standing off to the side of everyone else, Sergio leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

I guess I'm not the only person who saw it because some of the guys howl in praise at their friend. He waves them off and starts to walk away with them. Liv comes over to me, and I shoot her a look that says she and I will have to discuss that later.

Before heading back to our hotel, we stop at McDonald's for dinner. I love every bit of my double cheeseburger, and Liv gets her beloved McChicken. How she eats those gross things I'll never know.

Once back in our room, I change into a tshirt and some gym shorts, and check my phone for any messages. There's only one, and it's from Brady.

Brady: I miss you already haha

Me: very smooth kid, very smooth

Brady: What can I say? I'm a go getter ;)

Me: get some sleep weirdo

Brady: Ugh, fine. Goodnight for the second time

Me: goodnight.

"Girls, I want to talk about some things with you. There a few things I want your opinion on, and one is based off of the other." My mom says, coming from the bathroom. Liv and I nod, waiting for her to continue.

"Liv I know that your home life isn't very great and I know that you hold a lot of anger for your parents. I want to know what you think about me officially becoming your legal guardian for the next two years. You basically live with us anyway."

Liv looks absolutely shocked, and I can tell she's never even thought about this before. I have considered it, but I never knew my mother was too. I think the whole thing would be amazing. I already consider her like my sister, so nothing would change.

"Yeah, I'm good with that." I nod in agreement, and my mom smiles.

"Okay good. I already have some paperwork drafted up, and I talked to your parents earlier today. It took some convincing, but I managed to get them to agree to sign. The second thing I want to ask you about is how do you feel about moving? Since you'd be living with us all the time, I'd imagine you want your own space."

"Moving where?" I ask. I don't really have a problem with moving, but where we would go is a concern. I want to live somewhere where there are things to do.

"I was thinking about moving here to LA."

That'd be so awesome! There's fun things to do, beautiful beaches, and not to mention I'll get to see Brady more often. The thought of moving here makes me happy, and I know Liv agrees. After we've all agreed that moving is okay, we throw on a movie to watch. Liv and I stay up talking about Brady and Sergio, and how we both really like them.

Sometime around 2:30am, we both fall asleep, I dream of my cafe run with a certain Italian singing hottie.

______________________________

#zendaya #in real life #brady tutton #chance perez

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weberina · 8 years ago

Text

Yuri Pliesetsky is a closet Victuuri shipper - Proof

OK, aside from the obvious teenager-ashamed-of-his-parents thing, I think there is quite solid evidence that Yuri P ships Victuuri hard. This whole meta will end in the glorious scene below in Ep 11, so bear with me, bear with me.

I've always thought this scene is a bit odd. Slightly unnecessary, rude and extra, even for Yuri P. What is the point of doing this at all? Why not intimidate Victor and Yuuri at the same time instead, when Victor’s only sitting one seat away? Why frighten poor Sara instead? What is he trying to say?

Muahaha.....What else can be it other than the fact that he is a hardcore Victuuri shipper and wants to prevent anyone else from getting to Yuuri K?

Proof?

It all begins with Sara Crispino’s mini and quite obvious crush on Yuuri K. Not sure how deep this crush runs, but you see her trying to get Yuuri’s attention repeatedly. Also, note her constant presence around Yuuri during the banquet (ep. 10). --> This is not Sara!

So, let’s just safely assume that Sara’s interest in Yuuri K is obvious and people kinda know about it. Including a short, angry Russian.

Now, in ep 11, after Yuuri K has finished his short program and Yuri P just broke the world record.

When Yuuri sits next to Sara, see how she blushes slightly:

Then, when even Chris scores higher than Yuuri K and he seems a bit upset, Sara notices this too and is about to say something (perfect time to comfort him?).

BUT is rudely interrupted by a certain somebody.

None other than the self-appointed guardian of Victuuri, of course.

Who sticks his feet between them to prevent any more conversations. Very specifically between Yuuri and Sara.

And his feet stay there throughout Otabek’s and JJ’s performance....

We could argue that it’s because Yuri P has a major major crush on Yuuri, and he probably did (keep 33 photos on your phone of half naked Yuuri for a year, why don’t you?!). But I think at this point he just seems very protective over Victor and Yuuri. And mostly Victuuri. Knowing Sara’s obvious interest and Yuuri’s slightly ambiguous preferences, he might be playing it safe. He will do whatever it takes.

Go, guardian Yurio. -_- May you keep this ship alive forever.

EDITS: A big thank you to everyone who noticed that the dark-haired girl in a blue dress is NOT Sara. My brain immediately equated anyone near Mila as Sara.

And sorry for calling her Sala......the way they pronounce it in the anime and the way it’s written in the subtitle is just permanently stuck in my head................but i know it makes no sense......

#yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuuri #victor x yuuri #yurio plisetsky #sala crispino #sala x yuuri #yoimeta #yoi meta #yoi ep 11 #victuuri ship #sara crispino #sara x yuuri

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spectrumscribe · 8 years ago

Note

how did you like the new episode!

Just watched it, and oh am I fucking salty.

I live reacted to the happenings in the episode as I watched it, so you can all see my opinion form as it did.

Read on below, spoilers for folks who haven��t seen Season 5 episode 1 yet.

Nice to see that Raph and Casey are still The Worst andbeing bros now where’s my jonatello friendship

Cults in the sewers. Nice.

They all look like ET tho.

Raph continues to be Casey’s self-restraint, which he sorelyneeds more of.

And cut to the opening sequence.

Okay so personally speaking, as a big fan of cowboy-bebop, I’mkind of digging the new opening? I mean they forgot Casey in it, but I like themusic. The animation could be better, but eh, I’ll take what I can get at thispoint.

Love how there’s nofucking continuity with the fact that they just lost their fucking dad. Fuckthis.

Why aren’t they mourning. Christ.

On the other hand, fanboy Leo is back. I like this Leo betterthan hero Leo by about 100%.

“-too disturbing forkids.” – right up my alley, then.

Okay so idk if anyone else feels this way, but captain Ryan’sbehavior and characterization reminds me of a certain other leader who needs to quite slapping around his team members. (emotionally and physically.)

That’s probably not what they’re trying to metaphor here,but you know, I can have my own opinion.

“-so Casey Jones andhis sidekick Raph gave chase.” – Casey you are a blessing to us all.

Love how pissed Raph is in this shot.^^^

Apparently Donnie has sensors in the sewers, and bothers tokeep track of the homeless population. Interesting. Would’ve been nice if they’dbrought this in earlier in theseries, when it would’ve been more useful.

EY IT’S CULT TIME NAUGHTY CHILDREN HOORAY

Why are there so many caverns under the city omg

FURBIES

FUCK FURBIES DONNIE WHY DO YOU HAVE THOSE

April’s powers are amazing and I love her?? So much.

WHY FURBIES THOUGH. DONNIE FUCKING WHY.

Does anyone else have irrational fear of those? Or that awestern side of the world thing.

oh god so many furbies everywhere

I’m enjoying the team ups. It’s a good change from theusually ‘b-team’ ‘a-team’ nonsense. Leo+Mikey and Donnie+Raph gives better roomfor their individual dynamics to shine. Plus you know, the team humans (if Aprilcan be really counted for that) deserve some time off from their crazy mutantfriends.

Chanting time. Lovely.

Guys no don’t interrupt chanting time, that’s rude.

Someone tell that alien-thing to wash its mouth out, who knows where Mikey’s hands have been.

You would all be dead 3000x over if not for Donnie’sinventions. Be grateful you little shits.

Oh they’re immortal-ish. Great.

Ah fuck there goes Mikey again. Why do they always do thisto him.

Jesus Christ his arm. Leo’s arm.

AH HA THE POLICE

Do these men even knowwhat shit goes on in this city.

Moving to the lair and-

THAT’S NOT HOW YOU FIX A DISLOCATED ARM I SWEAR TO GOD

I KNOW FIRST AID. THAT’S NOT HOW YOU DO IT.

Leo would be in so much pain, my god. I hate the blatant disregardof reality in this show sometimes. (fictional setting, yes, but still.)

Casey hates magic? Anyone remember him saying that before? Idk. (maybe something to do with him getting cursed last season? probably.)

Mikey no. This isn’t Ghost Busters. yet

Oh lovely, more domestic abuse. Fucking love that.

Had to stop the video, Jesus Christ. Wow I hate this showsometimes. Like right now. Fucking GOD.

“What did I tell youabout the imagination thing? Focus!” - what the shit Raph, what is yourdamage?? You hit Mikey out of the blue, fortaking a moment to imagine something? They’re not in battle, Mikey’s not inthe middle of an important conversation, the fuck is wrong with him thinkingabout something else for a moment?

^^^One of these days, this kid is going to fucking snap, and I amgoing to support him in his rage. (also, @redworld96 for the awesome video links. thanks for those.)

Once again, Donnie is the one who figures things out. Maybe they’llthank him this time around. spoilers: they didn’t

Oh no. The angst moment. I knew it was coming.

“Do not be sad, my son.”-SPLINTER YOU ARE DEAD, WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE BE.

Had to pause again, because FUCK. Here we go with the bullshitty nonsense where Splinterappears to exactly one kid, and one kid only, even when he has three other sons and a daughter, PLUS theother two humans he basically adopted.

Yeah, just show the fuck up Splinter and tell your grievingkid not to be upset you’re dead and have left them with minimal training and noguardian. Fucking sure.

My god I hate this. Telling them you’re always with them does not make it so. Holy fuck that’s nothelpful at all you’re just driving him crazier.

Oh and now he’s gone. SEE I TOLD YOU. AND LEO TELLS FUCKINGNO ONE ABOUT IT. HE’S GONNA HAVE LIKE TEN KINDS OF COMPLEXES WHEN HE GETS OLDERAND I WON’T BLAME HIM FOR IT.

Why won’t you kids just communicate how you’re all feelingfor once? FOR. ONCE.

Ninja time it seems. Nice to see them acting like a team, even though their ‘leader’ is keeping secrets. Ithink I’d personally be pissed if a sibling of mine kept the fact that our dead father was still sort of around and able to talk to us. What the shit.

I’m already tired of this. le-fucking-sigh.

Why are there so many weird caverns under NYC. Seriously. There’sa whole canyon, and now a cult cavern too. How have the people of NYC notnoticed this.

Love how Tigerclaw’s reaction to his master dying is tostart a cult. Bruh, fucking same.

But where did the weirdo ET’s come from.

Leo is visibly struggling with being a leader. I can feelanother arc all about him coming up. Yikes™.

Captured again. Beautiful. Now see? This is why Splinter’s whole “I have taught you all I know” was a fucking lie. They clearly do not know everything he had to teach them, andtelling them they did was really shit parenting and sensei-ing.

Honestly, Splinter at the end there was just shit allaround. Continued once again by him visiting only Leo, and not sparing even a peep to his other grieving kids. It’sofficial, 2014/16 Splinter is the best splinter, and 2003 Splinter was milesbetter than 2012 him. And- 2012Splinter is now on par for shittiness with 2007 Splinter, which I did not thinkwas possible. Ta-fucking-da.

“-so we can beat youagain?” – Leo exactly who is captured right now? You. It’s you. You are notbeating anyone here.

Wow. The ET’s are Mole people. Why am I not surprised.

When in doubt summon a demon. I can abide that. I’d do it ifI had nothing to lose.

Seriously how does New York not notice how batshit theircity is.

Shit. Shit.

Demons. Holy fuck.

I have a small crush on the dragon dude. I’m really digging his design. #it’snotbeingafurryifit’sscaley

I’m laughing bc Kravaxas definitelywants to murder TC for this. You can just hear it in his voice.

Hi yeah I’m down for the demon villain. I’m a sucker forthem, 100%.

Mikey can’t catch a break this episode. Poor sot.

Oh ho ho shit,Kravaxas really hates TC.

Why can’t Donnie do anything ever? Why won’t they give himthat?

At least everyone’s getting the same treatment.

Get fucked, Leo.

OH HEY. PEOPLE SHOWING CONCERN FOR DONNIE. A thank you to Raphand Casey for giving a shit, for once.

Slow-mo oh no. Thank god for red heads.

April is better than these people deserve. But fuck, not more people trying to use April fortheir own ends. Christ, can’t the narrative let her have control of herself/herlife for once?

The amount of murderous intent in Kravaxas’ voice is myfave.

Oh yup. There it is. Leo asking Donnie to solve theirproblems. Again. And no thank you insight, not for this favor or the work he did earlier.

“Can we get our handson, say, two or three dozen tanks?” – Casey. No.

At least I got some jonatello interaction, even if it wasextra stress on Donnie’s part.

April can read minds now? What??? That might be a problem,since she semi-lives with five teenage guys, lmao.

Why does TC love Shredder so much? Idk. Maybe they were athing, somehow. With the pairings this show comes up with, I’m not surprised byanything anymore.

Aaaaaaaaaand fade to black.

————————————————

Overall opinion? Salt.

I’m firmly in the part of the fandom, small as it seems tobe, that sees a good portion of the brother-brother dynamics as abusive, and I didn’tenjoy the moment between Raph and Mikey atall. It’s frustrating for me to watch, and it only fuels my vitriolicopinions on things. Hated that part, same as all the other parts in the seriesthat’ve been the same content.

Plus, Donnie being asked to solve everything for everyoneyet again. He looks so tired, give him a vacation and a restraining order onhis family.

The other parts were sort of… meh, for me? I mean, I’m happy for more canon content to fuel mywriting, but it didn’t give me anything in terms of emotion? Besides anger.

Like, there’s been zerocontinuation on the fact that their actualfreaking dad just died. You don’t just moveon like that. No one except Leo, because of course it was just Leo, showed any sort of mourning emotions overtheir dead dad. They’re seventeen maybe,and on their own in a world that wants them dead.How the hell are they supposed to just pick up and carry on fine like without any sort of grieving process?

0/10 for emotions, continuity, and satisfying content forme, excluding this-

-because Mikey deservesto get mad. If they ever address the amount of anger he’s got stored up in him,and do it properly, I’ll be over thefucking moon. But likely, even if they did, they’d devalue his legitamentfeelings, and tell him to get over it and grow up. Fuck canon for making meexpect exactly that sort of low quality writing.

Just. Augh.

So far, I liked onemoment in this episode, and it was only because it made me justifiably angry. That’s notexactly a resounding applause on my part of things.

Here’s to hoping they pull a hat-trick out their asses,because I’m not expecting anything good from this season so far. (I have hopesfor the vampire arc, but oh they are wishful ones.)

#tmnt #TMNT 2012 #tmnt 2012 spoilers #michelangelo #bc he was the focus for me here #ask the writer #my writing #writer's notes #fuck canon with a rusty pike i am SALTY #i have no joy anymore #only salt and rage #fuck this #tmnt season 5 #what a fucking wonderful start #scroll of the demodragon

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awomanthinks · 4 years ago

Text

Journal Entry: August 16 2020

It’s sunday.

A few sundays ago I went to church with another resident at the government owned hotel/shelter that I’m currently living in while I’m waiting to get subsidized housing for when I’m in school. She was my roommate. We had very good conversation, I went to church with her a couple of times and she expressed a strong liking of the pastor also referred to as “The Prophet”… At an evening service the pastor was going around blessing certain people in the church. He chose me to bless and not her.. A jealousy came over her and she became very confrontational and tried to lead me behind a building on the way home and said in a very angry tone “I need to talk to you ari” I refused. I could sense her anger and I have a lot of anger deep inside me too and I did not want it to be triggered.

She became more and more angry with the fact that I would not speak to her. I knew I had done nothing wrong, said nothing wrong, nor even looked at her the wrong way. In fact, I had enjoyed the beautiful service and found it so profoundly touching and powerful and I loved it and felt overjoyed during and after. It upset me that she tried to take that happiness from me in a selfish, jealous, envious attack at my joy.

We ignored eachother on the way home. When she had addressed me immediately after leaving the church she had been raising her voice at me and addressing me in a very rude manner. Fortunately another member of the church was walking behind us. I rode the bus in tears of frustration… My roommate sat at the back of the bus. Away from me. I had told her that I did nothing wrong, I thanked her for bringing me to the service, told her I had a great time and that I was upset that she was now randomly changing up but I also told her if she is upset at me when I’ve done nothing wrong that is on her, not me and I am not going to be yelled at for someone elses problem. This made her more angry.

When we arrived at the subway station I did not look to see where she was, the man from church began to speak with me and ask if I had been at that church before. If I thought the pastor had answered my questions well. (My questions were “When you speak of the second coming of Christ, in your personal opinion how do you believe that this will physically manifest? To which the minister replied “ It is a mystery, noone knows” My question that I later asked to the pastor who is referred to as the people and himself as “The Prophet” was: “ So I asked the minister ______ , and he said noone knows. So if noone knows, how will you recognize that it is christ that has arrived, and by this do you believe Christ may already be among us on Earth? “ To which he replied that when Christ arrives it will be the end of the world and that he does not believe that christ is among us. He said that Christ glows, and is known by the people of the church so he would be recognized. I don’t share this opinion, but I asked so that I could hear his personal opinion.) I replied to the man from church and I told him that they answered the questions with their opinions and that was good but ultimately did not answer my question as it was quite philosophical and noone can answer that question with a factual answer as these ideologies are strictly hypothetical. I was surprised at how well the church received questions from someone playing the role of the devils advocate.

Anyway, the man from church then continued into a conversation about religion, his perspectives on Jesus, and so on. Then he asked the question of “Who was that woman getting angry at you outside?” I explained and thanked him for speaking to me as I had felt that I would feel unwelcome going back to the church after being treated that way by the person who brought me. He made me feel as though I would be very welcome to go back. We exchanged numbers and he later sent me bible verses to read and asked to discuss them.

I got off the subway at St. George station to ride two trains east in order to save myself a few stops rather than go all the way south, then two stops east, then up north. My roommate and I hadn’t been sitting together, and she continued to ride the train south. I didn’t object, I didn’t say goodbye. After addressing me the way she had I wasn’t intending on speaking with her until I received an apology. I said some positive affirmations in my head. Stopped into seven eleven and got a strawberry drumstick and made my way back to the hotel.

I went up to our room and got ready for bed. I started to feel somewhat guilty about having left her on the train in case she had fallen asleep or something or not been paying attention to me getting off and thought I got lost and might look for me and be late for curfew. These were irrational thoughts but I am empathetic so I genuinely worried. I waited and watched TV.

She got back… When she entered the room she decided to address me now that I could not walk away, we were in the same room so I could not refuse conversation… This was worst case scenario for me and best case scenario for her. She started yelling at the top of her lungs and I have complex PTSD, when someone yells at me I instantly go into fight or flight mode and if I can not run nor fight I dissociate. So being that it is a few weeks later I don’t remember the details of what she said as well as i remember the rest because I had panicked and tried to tune it out because it was unpleasant. I do remember “YOU CANNOT CONTROL ME” amongst a bunch of other yelling…. I remember saying “Control you? I’m not trying to control you, what have I done to seem like that” She yelled over me and continued and continued… In tears and a bit shocked and upset about having had such a great evening at church and just as I had in my childhood, any good experience or any experience that was supposed to be good was stolen from me by the nature of my guardian. As was this beautiful night. Stolen once again, but this time by someone that I have no attachment to.

I went downstairs and let the staff know what had happened and how I felt it was quite inappropriate that that occurred, I let them know that I would be okay to stay in the room I just didn’t know where it came from. It reminded me so much of the way I was treated in my childhood and early adulthood at home- blindsided whenever I was happy by extreme, overwhelming anger. To be honest, I was in tears. I was very frustrated that I have learned to control my reactions, and I do so all the time now and have for the past year or so of significant personal growth. Just because I am capable of controlling my reactions though, does not mean that just below the surface I am not bubbling with intense emotion that would love to come out in an ugly display. Or a relapse, or many other impulsive, destructive coping mechanisms.

I had thought back to the few days leading up to this explosion from my roommate. We had talked about believing in a higher power. We had bonded and she had been kind to me. She had told me she thought I was strong for being in Toronto on my own, going back to school, and keeping a smile on my face and she expressed great appreciation of the way I conduct myself. In our conversations she made it seem as though she was in a much better place. She asked me if I would take part in her podcast about struggling youth and kept telling me it was divine intervention that lead me to her. These conversations filled me with love and excitement, comfort, hope and inspiration. Of course these conversations were before this night at church, although we had gone twice together before she ended up lashing out.

She needed help with branding herself on social media. So I edited a photo for her background, I helped her change her bio on twitter, instagram, and youtube. I helped her with trimming her video in preparation for posting it. Helped her with composing her first youtube video title, as well as posting it on twitter, and instagram. I went and shared it myself. While I was helping her she laughed and called me her personal assistant a number of times. She laughed very hard about this and I thought that it was with joy. I was laying in bed, ready to sleep because the next morning we had church. She kept me up asking me to do one thing after another for her until after 2 am. I struggled to stay awake, but I am a people pleaser and she was the first person that I had heard call me inspirational, and appreciate my presence and call it divine intervention in a long time, so seeing her excitement and joy made me feel it was the right thing to do. She repeated over and over while she laughed. “ I can’t believe I have a PA! I have my very own personal assistant” I laughed a bit with her, but on the inside I struggled to feel good about this comment.

I mean, I am in this shelter preparing to start school in september. I am here getting sober. I am here to focus on myself. “Is this how it’s going to be staying in this room? My sleep interrupted to be someone elses personal assistant in a homeless shelter?” I thought to myself. “I guess it’s a distraction to my own problems” I decided. I didn’t object to being called her personal assistant.

So- Fast forward back to the evening that she created a volatile situation. Yelling and belittling me. Another thing I remember her saying was “ I thought you were so nice but you are a MONSTER” Nothing had happened….. I ran it through my brain over and over….. I knew I didn’t do anything. The only rational thing that could have upset her like that that evening was that the Prophet of the church put his hand on my head and blessed me while she stood behind me. She calls him “papa” and expressed quite a liking for him and is very vocal and interactive at the church and tries very hard to be heard by him.. This was the only rational explanation for such a drastic change.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. Not only was the joy that I brought home from church with me dampened, but so was my future with the church. That night I had signed up for my baptism and was looking forward to it. After letting staff know about the altercation, going outside to smoke, and returning to bed… My roommate said to me “ Let’s not fight Ari, I don’t want to fight”.. I was oh so used to this. Not being heard or having a say while having someone take their anger out on me, and then being expected to just forgive and get over it… I said “What’s done is done” And turned over and went to sleep.

I will never forget my experience at that church. The energy was spectacular. I know that she does not own the church. She shared with me her mental health diagnosis and I remembered that as she took out her anger at me. I felt as though to her it may feel like if I continued to go to that church that it would be to piss her off. Although it would actually be because of how beneficial I found the experience of going to church I obviously learned that she does not do well when it comes to rationalizing her emotions, and if she felt that I “ Stole” her church from her (irrational I know, but that is the only explanation of her reaction, me receiving attention from the prophet) I really wanted to continue to go. I have experienced harassment and discrimination from the police, and previous homeless shelters in Toronto as well as one in newfoundland. My confidentiality has been infringed on and many of my other human rights and I’m currently dealing with that as it is, so although that church was a beautiful connection for me to have, she was there first. There are more churches and I did not want to risk it looking like I was asking for an altercation if I continued to go. Often people like to make me seem like the bad guy, because my name is a racial slur and I have an inverted cross on my chest. (really and truly I get treated ways because of these 2 factors)

I live in such a diverse city, but diversity isn’t synonymous with inclusion. I love how diverse it is here. I’m so interested to learn about the cultures of other people that live here and everywhere else. I make as much of an effort as possible to soak up as much information as I can, like a sponge and ask questions when I’m speaking to others. Without making them feel like I’m treating them any differently than anyone else. I am just an inquisitive person but people are sometimes off put by that. I am just very comfortable in who I am and a lot of people do not like that as not everyone is comfortable with themself.

Anyway I’m going off topic a bit here, but it’s on me to gravitate to my own church to go to. It’s sunday today, and I’m sad. I’m sad because this isn’t the first thing that has been ruined for me by someone else. I have to be the bigger person here and find my own path though, because obviously it triggered her that time so I don’t want to have to be a victim if she were to get triggered by it again and to a different degree next time. I’ve been a victim enough in my life that to avoid any conflict there, I had to look like I didn’t want to go back. I have to look like a liar, who after telling the prophet and the minister that I’d be back, I didn’t go back.

I’ve not kept my word before, for other things.. But that was often drug induced or traumatic family incidents that got in the way. Right now being sober and knowing the reason that I can’t go there because of this has made me a little bit jaded toward getting to know anyone else at the moment.

When something seems too good to be true it usually is. I could not go back to that church without being asked “ Why didn’t you come back to church for a few weeks?” And to answer the question honestly, I would have to shame a member of the church that all she has is that church. That’s where she goes and is proud to have gone from stripper to church goer. (it’s in her twitter bio so I’m not sharing anything that isn’t public) And I’m proud of her for being passionate about it too. It’s just unfortunate that she is in her 50’s and had to treat a 21 year old the way she did, for what reason I’m still curious to know…

The staff moved me out of that room, to another room that I ended up getting assaulted by an old lady (if anyone who reads this wants that story like this post). But despite all the DRAMA that came with going to church with someone instead of finding one by myself to go to, I learned a few things, I learned that I have some questions that only I can trust myself on what I believe in my heart, like the ones that I asked the Minister and the Prophet. I learned that no matter how much better than other people church go-ers think they are, church is not a free pass to be abusive to people in their lives, but notoriously people who go to church are said to be judgemental and I will never sacrifice my mental health to be able to be around a person or certain group of people. I mean for certain things it’s worth it short term to just bare it and take it for the bigger picture, like school, some jobs (but not all jobs if it’s a person above you who is abusing their power that’s not okay). But friendships? Church? Relationships? There are too many friends, churches, and people out there for me to put myself through pain to fit in. When you’re in the right place you won’t be getting abused in order to move forward. But! When it happens it happens for a reason. As everything does.

I try to rationalize, maybe she turned on me then so I wouldn’t have to continue biting my tongue while being referred to as a personal assistant. (haha) Moral of the story: My sunday felt a little bit empty today… and it’s up to me to find another religious study to pursue, and a new community of people who believe to learn from. I will be sure not to get too close to anyone who takes their faith seriously enough to cast out those who do not have the same faith though, open minded people are where it’s at!

Anyway. Thanks for reading. Say your positive affirmations, or write them. Listen to a meditation. Eat healthy. Treat yourself. Breathe. Laugh! Smile. Love yourself <3

The next part of my post will be my positive affirmations; I’ve been doing this practice since I was 14 in my journals. It has kept my mind emotionally strong, has helped me cope with addiction, has gotten me out of addiction. Has helped me rationalize the things I feel inside as well as override negative thought processes with positive thoughts, feelings, and intentions. How I write them on this post is going to be exactly how I’ve been doing it for years. I’ve been wanting to do this electronically for some time because I am able to type faster than I am able to write with a pen, although I do still write every day with a pen as well because I like how it feels. Grandma (aka me) is trying to get with the future and go electronic! Lol. Enjoy! :)

My positive affirmations for Sunday august 16:

1.I’m so thankful for our health. Our health is increasing every single day, getting better and better. The health of my loved ones, family, friends, animals, other people on earth, and earth itself! Thank you for our healing and our overall health. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. <3 ( I always put thank you 3x because three is the number of creation)

2.I’m tremendously grateful for the resources that are available for us in Canada. The tax paying citizens of canada and the government of canada do really have some good intentions in protecting those that aren’t in a position to protect themselves. Of course there is a lot wrong with the insides of these operations and there is abuse of power and neglect just like in any other business but I have to say that I’m very thankful that the system is willing to work with us if we’re willing to work on ourselves. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

3.I’m thankful for a comfy bed to sleep in. I’m so thankful after having spent different times in the past few years sleeping on the floor, sleeping on couches, sleeping on futons, sleeping on whatever i could, wherever I could, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t say “thank you” to whatever bed I’m sleeping in and have trouble leaving it because of how my body and mind appreciate the comfort of a good bed. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

4. I’m so thankful for creativity. The creativity that I possess and the creativity that I observe. Creativity is the nature of everything. Everything creates itself and creates am effect externally, I am a creation and a creator I am endlessly finding new ways to create and thus gaining appreciation for the thought and effort that goes into the creation of everything and everyone around me. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

5.I’m so thankful for connection. I’m thankful for the knowledge deep inside me that I always have been and always have been connected to “All There Is” “The Multiverse” Or in other words, God. I am a part of this creation, as is everyone else and that brings me joy to remember that we are all a part of something that is a mystery to all of us.. But many of us still have the desire to learn and are excited to find out more about the place in which we dwell and the things that dwell here with us. Thank you for this beautiful interconnected place! Thank you Thank you.

6.I am always appreciative of my family. My family has influenced me greatly throughout my life. Different aspects of my family have inspired me to be like them, and other aspects of my family have inspired me to be anything but ( No offense guys ). I have learned so much from them and above all else I have learned to love, and to forgive from them. I believe that you can’t truly love without forgiveness because when you love someone deeply when they hurt you it hurts so much more than when a stranger tries to hurt you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for family.

7.I am thankful for forgiveness. The ability to forgive and the ability to be forgiven by others. This is the mechanism on which we move forward and are able to enjoy our present. Resentment and other negative thoughts that plague our mind and our body and create stress and illness within us when we are angry, or hurt or emotional in any way that is harmful to our being because of something that another has done that makes us feel bad. When you can’t change what they’ve done, said, or made you feel..When you can’t and shouldn’t attempt to control anyone else and are left wondering what can take the pain away- Forgiveness. That is the only thing. This is the key to feeling lighter and feeling free from the pain… New things will always happen in our life to test our emotional strength and self awareness and if you’re holding on to old pain on a conscious level and refusing to set the intention to forgive it will not only hurt the other person (if they care, if they don’t it will not hurt the other person AT all ) It will hurt us. It will ruin us and tear us apart. I set the intention to have forgiven EVERYONE for their past actions every day. If someone hasn’t changed their actions and doesn’t necessarily make an effort to even pretend that they care or want your forgiveness, or act like it doesn’t make a difference to them if you forgive them or not.. I still forgive and this is quite possibly the most challenging thing for a lot of people because a lot of us have had things done to us that we still think about.. But every time that we think about the pain someone has caused us, also send out the thought that we forgive them and that it is present now and we forgive. Don’t only say that we forgive.. Wish them positive things, think positive things about them, the more anger that comes up when you think of them, the more positive affirmations we should say for them because to say we forgive them so that we look like the bigger person does not actually do anything to lighten the load if we say it and do not really believe it.. For me it takes constant, every day effort to forgive.. And I put it in. I love everyone on Earth. I forgive everyone on earth. This does not mean though, that I don’t hold everyone accountable for their actions. And that is why I am capable of loving and forgiving everyone, but I don’t have to give them my time, my mental health, and my stability just because I love them. I love everyone from a far. I forgive everyone from a far… Because out of everyone else on Earth, I need to spend the most time loving and forgiving myself. That’s the person who’s there for me every day and always has been and always will be. So I love and forgive myself, all while holding myself accountable the way I do with others. I forgive you all and I forgive myself. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for forgiveness.

Alright! I’m going to stop at seven because seven is my life path number.. If you don’t know what a life path number is look it up! It’s all the digits of your birthday broken down to one digit.

So mine for example:

October, 6, 1998.

10 6 1998

1+0+6 1+9+9+8

16 +27

4+3=7 !!

Life path 7 is said to be the mystic! I’ll speak more about that another time.

Here’s a site that explains a bit about life path numbers: https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/life-path-number-numerology-meaning#:~:text=In%20order%20to%20find%20your,so%20its%20number%20is%20seven.

A more descriptive website once you’ve figured out your life path number, read about it here!: https://feliciabender.com/seven-life-path-2/

The last part of my usual journal entry is my horoscope(s). I include my zodiac horoscope as well as my chinese horoscope! I am a because I was born in the year 1998. I usually do my affirmations at some random point in the day, but my horoscope at night so I can see if it was relevant at the end of the day, rather than read it in the morning and spend my day trying to act in accordance to what my horoscope “predicted”. That’s just me though :) And I also only write down the parts of it that are relevant for me. I sometimes read the regular horoscope, work horoscope,love horoscope, whichever ones on the list call out to me for that day!

So here’s my Libra horoscope for today:

-You need to be very vocal about your gratitude

-You will make it clear that you don’t believe in being petty or holding grudges

-Show the universe you are willing to wipe the slate clean and make a fresh start with anyone who is willing to treat you with respect.

-You don’t need to become a new best friend but you do need to start over.

Tiger horoscope:

-Good luck will smile on you today.

-You’ll benefit from certain invisible but efficient protections (I’ve been carrying amethyst with me all day)

-You risk cardiac palpitations. Slow your pace down a little. (Recently diagnosed with a heart condition and I’ve been slowing it down a lot, glad to receive this reassuring affirmation that I’m doing the right thing! <3)

That’s the end of my usual journal entry… It’s usually on paper but I’ve gone electronic and I thought I’d start using it to blog and maybe some of you will like the idea of adding this to your routine and I’d love to hear about if this benefits you at all! <3 Thanks for reading if you read it and I’ll be back tomorrow!

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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Its Boxing Day 2012 and Im at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland for my first ever football match. Its freezing cold; it begins to rain. And then it happens. A Sunderland player fires a shot that creeps past the Manchester City goalkeeper and into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium thunders as a sea of 46,000 bodies fall over each other, total strangers hugging their neighbours, while simultaneously jumping up and down. The man next to me screams so loudly in my ear that Im momentarily deaf. Then he turns me towards him, grabs my shoulders, locks eyes with me and shakes my body. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screams, in happiness and disbelief.

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

When I moved to London, I got a job as a junior editor on a luxury lifestyle website. The site was run by a flamboyant man from Croydon named Carlos, with coiffed salt and pepper hair. Never one to pass up an opportunity to show off, Carlos liked to introduce me to visiting VIPs as our New Yorker who speaks fluent Mandarin and went to Harvard.

None of these things was true. I grew up in a small town in Texas: Amarillo. For some reason, Carlos didnt think this as impressive as being from New York (despite Amarillo being the helium capital of the world and the home of Tony Christies sweet Marie). As for fluent in Mandarin, my dad is Chinese, but I speak only broken Mandarin after living and working in Beijing for a few years. I didnt go to Harvard I was rejected but I did go to a university an hour away. None of these things made sense to Carlos, so he went with his own version.

My exchanges with Carlos were stilted. Our interactions ended in awkward silences. He was twice my age and we had nothing in common. But he was well known in London media circles and I was desperate to get him on side.

After Beijing, I assumed it would be a breeze to assimilate in a country where I no longer faced a language barrier. In China, I had spent a good amount of time miming my interactions. I also had to get used to Beijing locals asking me how much money I made, or telling me I was looking fatter than usual. But it was a bluntness I came to embrace: at least I knew where I stood.

Not so in London. The city was so rife with passive aggression that I didnt know when people were being rude or kind. A woman thanked me on the train for moving my bag and I was almost certain what she was really saying was too fucking right. A man squeezed by me on the escalator and the pitch of his seemingly polite May I? was so snide, it nearly brought me to tears. Carlos asked me if I want to do something for him at work and I wasnt sure if it was an order, a helpful suggestion or sarcasm. The words themselves were unfailingly polite, but it was all in the tone. Other Americans I knew suffered the same way. I genuinely dont know if my colleagues are making fun of me or being nice, a friend from Chicago confessed one night over drinks.

London can be a tough city for newcomers to crack. Compared with the US, people prefer to keep to themselves, especially in public. Im shy, so this was wonderful at first. No one approaches you to chat. I once fell in a crowded street in broad daylight and began the, Im fine, Im fine, honestly protest. But no one had stopped. I lay on the ground, impressed with peoples dedication to not getting involved with strangers. I began to think that I might never find a way to break through the famous British reserve. Would I ever find common ground with Carlos? If only there was some magic key.

And then one day, I witnessed a man bite another man on live TV. This happened during a football match that was on in a pub I happened to be in. I was immediately intrigued: by the biting, the drama, the getting caught, the primal emotion of the incident. I didnt realise it at the time, but this was it: my in.

On a bus, I sat with a couple of friends who were discussing live scores; soon, the entire upper deck had joined the conversation. It was like a portal to another dimension in which everyone was chatty, friendly and open on public transport.

Football was everywhere, it turned out. Once I noticed this, I began to absorb football facts, though only certain things stuck. I loved it when footballers cried. Maybe it was the persistent myth of the stiff upper lip but seeing a player moved to tears, to me, showed he cared more than anyone else. It wasnt like watching an actor pretend to tear up. This shit was real.

I loved any sort of drama on and off the pitch. Family tensions, love problems, scandals, shoving matches; before long, I became a reliable source of useless, soap opera-esque information about players.

I also became a fervent Sunderland supporter. Why would a Chinese girl from Texas living in Highbury, north London, become a Sunderland supporter? Because I had married one. Ian, born and bred in Sunderland, talked about his teams players as if they were his family. That made them my family, too. I knew their names, their shirt numbers, their vital stats, their romantic histories. I was also a natural fit for Sunderland because I love an underdog and by God, I had chosen the underdog of underdogs. The big clubs, with their expensive superstars, were boring to me. Our wins were rare, but they were so much sweeter for it.

I watched televised matches, sometimes without Ian if he was busy or out of town, something that had my friends and family baffled. During visits home to Texas, Ian and I zealously woke early to catch the Sunderland game. My father would observe me, puzzled. My mother, who is Jewish, was also bewildered but said, Well, you were the most athletic of our family of klutzes. It was my childhood best friend Jori who called me out. We were in a Waffle House diner surrounded by grassy plains. I asked Ian if he knew how Sunderlands relegation rivals had fared in their six-pointer, when she interrupted me. Are you talking about British soccer? Who are you? I told her the truth: Im just a girl, standing in front of the TV, hoping a footballer scores a winning goal in the last minute of a high-stakes match and then weeps about it.

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

Do you know who really liked football? Carlos. We soon developed a rapport. Every Monday, hed rush to my desk and wed discuss the weekends matches. He was obsessed with playing style, formations and league tables. Meanwhile, I was the expert on the fights, the crying and the hissy fits. Suddenly, we were friends. He wasnt just my scary boss who got annoyed that I didnt know who Lynyrd Skynyrd were. We were bonding.

They say that to assimilate in a foreign country, you have to speak the language, and now I finally did. Did I make friends from learning about football? I would go out on a limb and say that yes, I did. I made friends with Dave at the Three store when I sat there for two hours after accidentally flushing my phone down the toilet. I bonded with a Ghanaian driver as we discussed a former Sunderland player from his country. In a hotel in the Lake District, there was a communication breakdown with a concierge that ended happily when we both agreed that Diego Costa was a jerk and Jermain Defoe a great goal scorer. When cab rides were too silent, no problem. Lets talk about the match, driver.

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

Ians dad, brother and uncles are lifelong Sunderland season ticket holders. Ask them a question about what they want to eat, or their favourite movie, or their preference for boxers or briefs, and they will reply, Im easy. Suggest that Jack Rodwell is a decent footballer and they are unleashed animated, passionate, opinionated. I enjoy bantering with Ians brother and dad about football, but we argue a lot mostly because there is one thing I havent been able to wrap my head around since my first game.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You know, like being positive and lifting them up? I was still trying to make sense of why 46,000 people would call themselves supporters when they gave the most vitriolic, abusive commentary on their own players. Their support was downright terrifying.

This was your first match, Jess. Weve suffered years of pain while watching players go through the motions. Ive been enduring this for 25 years, Ian says. Twenty-six years, Ians older brother says. His dad: Try 60 years. And finally, I understand the British subtext: You are a wide-eyed idiot.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

At my high school in Texas, there was a club called Senior Spirits. Senior Spirit members met to boost the egos of our sports teams and rally other students to support those teams. To quote from the yearbook, their mission was to make posters and give our school spirit. In the photo, a group of 20 girls wearing matching T-shirts and ponytails, grin at the camera, 100% heartfelt.

These werent cheerleaders. And they werent affiliated with the Steppers, the ultra-serious dancers who performed at pep rallies, the hour-long ceremonies dedicated to whipping up school spirit. Nor were they the student marching band that played during football matches to help stoke, yes, even more team spirit. Team spirit was like an elusive ghost permeating the school and we all had to worship it.

That spirit was partial to posters with marker pen and glitter, to ponytails, to cakes shaped like American footballs and prayers before the big game. It revelled in exclamation marks. It did not like folded arms and booing and sarcasm. It did not like being called a useless twat.

Apparently team spirit isnt a thing in north-east England. So how do English secondary schools pump up their sports teams? I imagine the halls of these schools are lined with posters of a different sort: You better not screw this up, Jones! and Dont do any of that long-ball shit, Gibbons.

I still struggle with this complete inversion, but it unlocked something core in the English mentality how ingrained the cynicism is, as well as the tendency to proceed from a position of cautious defeat. Expect to lose so it hurts less when it happens, and if we win, no harm done.

Diehard football fans remain sceptical of me. At matches, I ask questions. I get looks when I yell cheerful encouragement. I cant stop shouting, At least you tried! every time a player takes a shot but fails to score. Some have the gall to question my passion for football until I do well at the pub quiz football round. If you love something, does it matter if you love it for all the wrong reasons? Apparently, to them, yes. But one thing was for sure: I was emotionally committed.

In May 2016, at the end of that years season, Sunderland were on the brink of doom, as we are every year. Hundreds of fans gathered at the Old Red Lion in Angel, north London, for one of the last matches of the season. I am 5ft 2in, so I left Ian and his friends and waded through Mackems to get to a good vantage point to watch the match. We were playing Everton, and this would seal everything: would we stay up and relegate bitter rivals Newcastle in the process?

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The first time we scored, someones pint of beer, spilt in jubilant joy and shock, doused my head. On the second goal, the shouts were deafening. On the third, a man threw his arms around me and together we jumped up and down and screamed with pure joy. I left the pub dazed, half-deaf, hair soaked in booze and my face aching from smiling.

I became a UK citizen last year. At a city town hall, I swore my allegiance to the Queen and stumbled through the national anthem with 17 other newly minted UK citizens. But that moment didnt come close to the buoyant feeling of pure joy and belonging I felt in the arms of a stranger as we celebrated the victory of our beloved team. If the root of football passion is said to be a sense of family and place, then this Chinese Jewish Texan has found her new home.

Unfortunately, that home is sometimes a den of pain and despair. By the time you read this, we will have played three Championship matches in the new season. Ian assures me we will not have won one: Sunderland havent won a league game in August or September for four years in a row.

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

Commenting on this piece? If you would like your comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazines letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

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allofbeercom · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

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