#(usually applying it to the silly little gay people that live in my head)

[yes-i-read-sappho]

it is always such a violent attack to listen to Twin Fantasy and actually process a word being said bc it really is such a real and true reaction to a homoerotic high school situationship

[elliewritessometimes]

hello! me n @mattieswheelers wrote another fic!! tiff is the most incredible writing partner and i- i just love them???? thanky so much for writing with me you are a stunning writer aaaa (y'all there will be a second chapter stay tuned fdhhddh aLSO we are posting this on ao3 it will be there at some point)

in other news: this was originally a request!! @notsomightymightytiger it may have taken me uh- a good couple of months but here is your fic!!!

for reference, these numbers apply to these tropes: first kiss/flowers of romance/blind date

LOVE YOU KIERA AND TIFF AAAAA HOPE YOU LIKE

tw: swearing, alcohol and drunkenness but not in an angsty farrah way just in a silly oops first date way, as per usual if there's anything at all you want me to tag let me know :D

---

Eva thought she was doing perfectly fine without a romantic partner. Her life was normal, one filled with work and friends and scrolling through Pinterest.

Apparently, in the eyes of her best friend, this was not a normal life. Farrah had always been a bit extra, that one kid in highschool who always seemed to know where the best parties were, or who was known by name to the baristas at the local Starbucks, and by the ripe old age of 22, she believed that a romantic partner was crucial to living a fulfilling life.

Or, at least, that you should at least try romance once before becoming a hermit in the woods, especially if your name was Eva Sanchez.

(“Look, normally I wouldn’t be like this,” Farrah drawled, leaning against a counter, “But deep inside  you are nothing but a useless gay at heart-”

Her phone buzzed.

“-and you haven’t dated anyone, like, ever, and if I have to be the only one constantly dragging you out to social gatherings, I’m going to die early. So do me a solid, will you?”

“Hey-!”)

Eva did not agree.

But, she was a loyal friend, and that was how she found herself sitting in an overly posh restaurant on some random blind date with some random person that she’d never even seen before. It would be an understatement to say she was a little bit nervous, but then again, whenever Farrah was involved, that was normal.

***********: hi sorry i got your number from the blind date place thing but uh are you the person at the table in the corner

***********: ???denim jacket ?? pride pin??

Eva smiled, glancing up at the door. There was another person looking a little lost in the entrance, very obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, their phone held close to their face as they squinted around at the restaurant. They were pretty, dark hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, obviously not dressed for a restaurant as upper class as this one. Eva liked them immediately. Raising a hand, she waved in their direction, laughing as her date gasped dramatically, hurrying over and nearly overturning a tray of drinks on their way.

“Hello.”

“Look-” Eva’s date slumped in the seat opposite, one hand awkwardly held behind their back. “I dunno about you, but I certainly did not willingly sign up for this. You see, my friend wanted me to apparently live a more interesting life and stop relying on Tumblr as my only source of interaction with anyone, and my friend is very persuasive, so here I am.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I wanted to get that out of the way before we even introduce ourselves. I am here out of spite only, so, uh, I hope you’re not too desperate.” They paused, finally taking a breath. “Right. The more I think about this, the more embarrassed I get.”

“It’s okay.” Eva gave a noise which sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Let’s not think about it then. I’m Eva. She/her. It’s nice to meet you, unwilling datemate.”

They grinned. “Kate. She/they.” She gasped a little like she’d forgotten something. “Oh! I brought flowers. Chess said it would be romantic.”

Eva accepted the offered flowers with a blush. This date was going better than expected. Farrah was going to lose her shit when she heard about it. “Wait- You have a friend called Chess?? Like, the game???”

Kate rolled their eyes, casually snatching a bright pink cocktail off a passing waiter’s tray. “Duh. You didn’t really see me walk in this fucking posh ass restaurant in my flannel and converse and think I’d be normal, right?”

Eva laughed then, properly. It had only been a few short, chaotic minutes, but she was already warming to this mystery person and, God, they had good taste in flowers. Even if Eva’s nerd hermit brain did helpfully choose that moment to remind her that this particular bunch of flowers presented a meaning that translated almost exactly to ‘fuck you’. She wondered if Kate was aware of that. However, perhaps that was a fun fact for the second date.

-

“Hey, Eva?” Kate was slightly tipsy. Only a little bit! Really not that bad. Not at all. Definitely not too drunk for a first date. Shut up. “Hey! You’re- so cool.”

Eva giggled - she was equally as drunk, but not quite so intoxicated as to stop wondering why the restaurant hadn’t thrown them out yet. “Noooooo. ‘m a nerd.”

“Yeah, but a cool nerd.” Kate twirled the decorative candle between her fingers, drawing stares from disapproving patrons. The flame reflected in Eva’s glasses, making her just a little bit more smitten by the second. They enclosed their hand around the candle holder as best they could, standing up just a little shakily. “Eva-” It was like they got a rush from just saying her name. Eva thought it was endearing. “Hey- we- we should go…”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes, also standing up, her long-discarded denim jacket slung over one arm, the other naturally slipping to link arms with Kate.

“....Arson.” Kate sounded entirely serious, still twizzling the candle in one hand. Eva blinked dumbly at her, mouth slightly open. They pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Eva’s mouth, giggling uncharacteristically at the motion. “I’m jokingggg! Don’t look so shook, my dude.”

Eva stuttered a little, letting Kate pull her finally out of the restaurant, marvelling at the fact she’d only known this incredible, crazy person for a matter of hours. Who knew where tonight would take them?

-

They found themselves in a park, gazing up at the stars, now dim in the reflections of the city lights. Kate’s phone flashed 11:46 in the dark, the lock screen filled with notifications from a contact who’s name consisted only of a chess piece.

Eva lay down on the grass, spreading her arms out towards the stars. “Do you ever think about life?”

“Sure. All the time. I’m alive, and so are you, and I think you’re really pretty. Does that count?” Kate flopped down beside her.

“I- I mean, yeah- um,” Eva tried not to sound flustered, thankful for the darkness that hid the color rising in her cheeks. “But like, life. Scientifically. Relatively.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, I totally do. Um. Do I?”

Eva laughed, turning her head slightly to gaze at Kate. Under the light of the stars, they looked… ethereal. And really, really, really beautiful. And-

Eva coughed slightly, turning back towards the night sky. “Just… think about it. I’m lying here beside you, on a giant marble that hurtles through space. Relatively speaking, our orbit and path are unique, and all around us, the other planets are… swirling in harmony, and we’re just. We’re just here to see it.”

Kate hummed. “You sound like those philosophical people, all ‘if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall?’ and ‘relatively speaking I am relatively here, and I’m relatively certain… blah blah blah.’”

“Huh. Do I?” Eva shrugged, putting her hands behind her head. “I dunno. I’m drunk. I think. Oh, no, I’m relatively drunk, ha ha- okay no, I’m just drunk.”

“You are,” Kate nodded wisely. “We both are.”

“Do you know what Albert Einstein said once?” Eva asked abruptly, closing her eyes. “He said, ‘When you’re courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.’ And if that isn’t the most relatable thing he’s ever said, then, well- okay yeah I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Wow,” said Kate. “Did Albert Einstein court lots of nice girls?”

“Pfft.” Eva rolled onto her side, laughing openly in Kate’s face. “Sure. Why not.”

They rolled to face Eva, curling up into a ball, softer than the 22-year-old had seen her all evening. “Not as nice as the one I’m courting right now.”

“Even though neither of us really wanted to be here earlier?”

“Yeah. Y’know, I’m fucking glad our best friends basically set us up. It’s very pog of them.”

“You did not just say ‘pog’. You did not.” Eva groaned into the slightly damp, slightly disgusting grass, listening to Kate cackle next to her.

“Shit, dude, my secret’s out. I’m just as much of a nerd as you.” She leant their head on Eva’s outstretched arm, burrowing into her side.

Eva paused then, draping her other arm around Kate, thinking quietly. It was stupid, really, that they were cuddling in the openness of a park at almost midnight. Dangerous, definitely, especially when you took in the candle still flickering far too close to Kate’s now loose hair. Some more sensible people, maybe Farrah’s sister, would say that it was stupid how close they’d grown in so few hours. But Kate and Eva weren’t sensible people, not really, and maybe this was completely normal for them. Nerds lived life differently. “We’re not like other girls… we’re nerds.”

Kate barked out a laugh again, pressing yet another small kiss to the top of Eva’s head.

Eva thought she might melt into a puddle right then and there.

God, she was so in love.

Kate looked up at the sky. “Y’know, for all your philosophical talk, you should be an inspirational speaker. Be on goddamn TedTalks or something, blow the crowd away with all that ‘the future’s in the palm of my hand!!’ bullshit.”

“Well,” Eva said, trying to sound completely sober (and failing), “I think all I could ever want is in the palm of my hand, right now.”

Kate paused for a moment, registering the fact that Eva had just cupped her hands around their face. “Wow. That was smooth.”

“Right?? I’m honestly impressed and I was the one who said it. Wait, is that hubris? Oh shoot, am I developing an ego? Or maybe I’m just drunk?” Eva’s head was seriously starting to hurt.

“You deserve an ego,” Kate nodded sagely. “You are so amazing. Seriously. You should have an ego. Dab on the haters and all that jazz, right? Right.”

Eva giggled, unable to take her eyes away from Kate’s. “What the shit?”

“Dude! Dab on the haters. ‘m fuckin’ right, and you know I am.”

“Mkay.”

“Lit.” Kate dragged her gaze from Eva’s, instead staring up at the stars. “If we weren’t drunk right now, I’d be kissing the hell out of you.”

Eva pouted. Apparently Drunk-Eva was limited to the facial expressions of a twelve year old. “Who’s to say you can’t kiss me now.”

“We’re drunk, Eva.” They waved their hands, casually flipping off the moon. “Consent.”

“If you think about drunk...ness. Drunkenness? Drunkness. Whatever.” She coughed. “If you think about it like maths, then because we’re both drunk, it cancels out, right? Like, drunk you minus drunk me equals zero drunks overall, yeah?” Pausing, she ran a hand over her face, watching Kate smirk and wriggle closer out of the corner of her eye. “What I’m saying is, yes, I give you permission to kiss me-” Kate leaned closer and Eva laid a gentle finger on their lips. “But only if I get to kiss you back.”

The two met in the middle, naturally coming together. Some might describe them as magnets, two poles attracted, unable to stay away from each other. Others might say soulmates, meant to find each other from birth. Or, just maybe, stars, gravitationally pulled together, ready to explode into another plane of existence, one so different from our reality that we can’t even begin to imagine the wonders that they’ll find.

However, this is reality, and somehow Kate and Eva are still grounded on our Earth, stars maybe, but ones made of ancient stardust no longer free to travel the universe. They found themselves pulling apart after two worlds collided, an unknown period of time passing as it happened. Eva’s fingers didn’t untangle themselves from their comfortable seat amongst Kate’s hair, the closeness making their noses brush, spouting giggles from both young adults.

“Well, that was fun.” Kate brushed hair out of Eva’s face, one arm still wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her closer as she shivered in the night air.

“Yeah?” Eva pressed her forehead to theirs. “Why don’t we try it again, huh?”

---

“I told you so,” Farrah smirked, picking at a freshly baked blueberry muffin. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Eva huffed, failing to come up with an argument.

Over by the kitchen counter, Mattie snorted. “I find it kinda funny that the single girl insists that love is the answer to anything.”

“Well- it’s not like I’ve never dated!”

“Suuuuure,” Mattie rolled her eyes, hopping off the counter and snatching a muffin. “Anyways, at least Eva has a significant other now. That’s the biggest victory, right? Other than the celebratory muffins, of course.”

Eva sighed. “Is it really that big of a deal that Farrah’s plan worked?”

“Yep!” Farrah grinned, taking a bite of muffin.

“Technically, my plan, but okay,” Mattie shrugged.

Eva almost dropped her muffin. “What.”

Mattie grinned, a devilish glint appearing in her eye. “Believe it or not, I am also friends with none other than the amazing Chess, and since her friend Kate- who is also my friend, by the way- was being a mopey mess around the same time as you, I just had to take it upon myself to play matchmaker! So I’d like at least 50% of the credit and reward, please and thank you.”

“I- what-” Eva sputtered, trying to come to terms with the new information. “Mattie- you- oh my God.”

“Oh my God indeed,” Mattie bit into her muffin and swallowed. “So anyways, you’re welcome for getting you a girlfriend.”

Eva stared at the younger girl, mouth slightly open and muffin hanging loosely in her hand. Farrah clapped a hand over her mouth as she wheezed through a mess of sugar and blueberries, earning herself a death stare from Eva. Phone in one hand, Mattie continued eating her muffin as though nothing had happened, the teasing look on her face only exaggerating as her phone pinged with a message. “Oh! Speaking of, Chess is outside-”

She was cut off as the door burst open, the handle crashing into Eva’s bookcase, knocking her alarm clock to the ground and presenting two dishevelled figures in the doorway. One of them, a tall student probably in their last year of uni, puffed out a breath, a hand tightly clinging to a much shorter student squirming angrily. “Before you say anything, I tried to prevent any of this happening. Wheeler, I’m blaming you entirely for this.”

Mattie only laughed, offering Chess a muffin with her free hand, “Dude, it was totally your idea.”

Eva tried very hard not to stare as Kate finally freed herself from Chess’ grasp with an indignant yelp. “Fuck off! Eva, babe, sweetheart, love of my life, tell me you didn’t fucking know about this beforehand or I will break up with you.”

“No! God, no! You know I didn’t want to be there just as much as you did.” She rested her head gently on top of Kate’s, arms draped over their shoulders. “Believe you me, I’ve also been sorely betrayed today.”

Farrah gagged across the kitchen. “Ew. We should never have set you two up.”

“Bitch.” Eva grinned affectionately at her best friend, batting Kate’s hand down as they sent a middle finger in Farrah’s direction. Conversations carried on for a while, Chess finally being introduced to Farrah, with a muffin being forcefully placed into her hand. Kate whispered to Eva for a second before going out to take a call. Eva smiled knowingly, leaning on the counter to address Mattie, “So…”

Mattie made a face as Eva raised an eyebrow in her direction. “What are you thinking, Sanchez, I don’t like that face.”

“I don’t know…” She feigned thinking, sticking her tongue out as Kate re-entered the room. “Maybe, a little thank-you gift?? Y’know, me and Kate were thinking just now… Seeing as you set us up so nicely, how about you try a blind date yourself?”

Chess and Farrah stifled a laugh in unison, choking a little on their muffins as Mattie’s eyes got wider in horror. “You didn’t.”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Yup! Tonight, seven thirty. It’s payback time, kid.”

“I hate you.”

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 2

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Jennifer Jareau is having boyfriend troubles. Emily Prentiss tries to help and offers her cookies. 

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Jennifer Jareau tossed her phone down onto her bed and grit her teeth.

“What do you mean I can’t come visit?” He had texted her, “I’m your boyfriend.”

JJ huffed.  She couldn’t deal with this right now, it was too much. Classes were kicking her ass, and she barely had enough time to breathe let alone entertain her long-distance boyfriend.

She glanced at her whiteboard calendar, noting how the next week was absolutely covered in deadlines, tests and games all written in different colours in her small, neat handwriting.

She had this essay to do tonight, a midterm to study for tomorrow, close to two-hundred pages of readings and a dozen other commitments. On top of that she had promised her friend that they would apply to work in student government next week and she had some applications to fill out for that.

He didn’t seem to understand that she was balancing her increasingly challenging full course load, playing varsity soccer and trying to maintain her friendships with people who were actually still in the same city as her.

Finding herself working up to a panic, JJ realized she needed to calm down or she was going to have a full-blown anxiety attack and that was the last thing she needed.  

She was alone in her dorm room, feeling particularly alone without Penelope Garcia’s cheery presence on the other side of the room to keep her company. Penelope was currently at the library, working on some sort of group coding project and JJ didn’t expect her home until much later.

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, held it in, and then let it out through her mouth.

She reached under her blankets and retrieved her stuffed animal, a bunny she had named Fluffy when she was little, and clutched it to her chest, falling back into her bed. While she debated bringing him to college, JJ hadn’t slept a single night without the toy by her side, and she wasn’t about to start any time soon. She still remembers the time Rosaline helped her sew a shirt for him to wear. After her sister died, JJ found herself clinging onto Fluffy as much as she did when she was a kid.

She stared at her ceiling and her rows of fairy lights twinkled back to her. To her left, a photo of her and William LaMontagne Jr. smiled mockingly at her. He had his arm thrown casually across her shoulder, and she was leaning into his chest. It was from prom. Her hair was in long curls and a deep navy dress made her feel like a princess. Will matched her pocket square. He was looking at her with utter adoration while she smiled into the camera.

Things were so much simpler in high school when she had one goal, one focus: getting out. Last year was a rush of excitement, with everything feeling new and exciting that she blamed all her relationship problems on being overwhelmed with the transition. She promised Will, back when she was home this past summer, that things would be different this year, that they would have more time for each other.

What she meant was that she would make more time for him.

So far, she had not held up her side of the bargain. It was already October and she had not come home once, despite how she had promised to visit whenever she had a spare weekend. He was right to complain that he was always the one to call her, and not the other way around.

Now Will was coming to visit her, and despite her placating words, she really wished he didn’t. She couldn’t handle it.

She bit her lip. Why couldn’t she just be happy with her nice boyfriend who springs surprise visits on her? She understood why he was upset with her. He already bought his ticket and JJ did say that she wanted him to visit.

But now that it was happening she felt overwhelmed with the prospect.

She had noticed the weight lifting off her shoulders this fall, as she spent more and more time away from home. Away from him.

Which was so, deeply, incredibly selfish of her. They were nearing two years. Two perfectly nice years together. He always dealt with all of her baggage with such grace, her family loved him, and they had all these mutual friends who were talking about how JJ and Will were definitely going to get married.

Here, at college, JJ was just JJ. She wasn’t JJ and Will or JJ with the dead sister. He tethered her back to her life, her town. What she was desperately trying to get away from.

A hot, angry tear fell out of her eye and dripped down her cheek. She sat up.

Pulling a zip up sweater over her current outfit of sweat pants and a sports bra, JJ decided that tea would make her feel better. She tugged her long, blonde hair up in a high ponytail, wiping the last of the wetness of her face with her sleeve. She put her lanyard with the key around her neck, not really caring how she looked.

She needed to get back to her essay as soon as possible. She had wasted too much time on her fight already. Tea would help. Tea would get her brain working again and calm her down.

Whenever she couldn’t sleep, or she was up late studying for a test, her mom would always knock on her door, softly, and smile as she brought in a large cup.  When she sent JJ off to college, it was with a bright pink tin full of assorted tea bags and a new mug with a rabbit on it. Holding onto it made JJ smile.

Walking down the hall in her socked feet, with her tea, mug and packets of sugar in her arms, JJ made her way to the communal kitchen. JJ found that she was quite angry with herself for not listening to her mom and buying a kettle so she didn’t have to leave her room for hot water.

She made a mental note to order one online.

In the meantime, she passed through the common area and walked into the kitchen, which smelled amazing.

The air was filled with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies. It surrounded her like a hug, reminding her of baking with her grandmother when she was little.

She looked around the tiny kitchen, which was on the smaller side, populated with a round table, a couple of fridges, a microwave, the oven and stove top and the old kettle, which was the target of JJ’s visit.

JJ opened the oven and peered in, peeking at the beautiful cookies which looked about halfway done. Not quite golden brown yet, but definitely melting into shape.

She wondered who would be baking cookies at—she checked her watch—eleven at night on a Tuesday, but I guess it was college and anything goes here.

Seeming to answer JJ’s question, the kitchen door opened, revealing her neighbour Emily, who was wearing a baggy black shirt that was for a band that JJ had never heard before and colourful, cat patterned, PJ pants. She seemed startled to find JJ gazing down into the oven.  

“Admiring my handiwork?” Emily said, and JJ pulled back from looking longingly at the oven.

“It’s a bit late for baking, isn’t it?” JJ blurted out, then immediately kicking herself, worrying that she may come off as rude.

Emily took her comments in stride, laughing and sitting down at the table. JJ turned and began to fill the kettle with water from the sink, flustered at her own accidental hostility.  

She hadn’t seen Emily for a while, since that house party last weekend, despite their dorm room doors facing one another.

The other girl was a bit of an enigma to JJ. They travelled in similar circles, at least the ones that didn’t revolve around soccer. But, by some twist of fate, they had only really talked beyond pleasantries for the first time outside of that bathroom.

“No,” Emily retorted, “Midnight is the perfect time. I usually have the kitchen to myself.”

“Oh sorry,” JJ said, feeling bad for interrupting and kicking herself for being so bold, “I just need the kettle, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I don’t mind a visitor,” Emily said, “I just meant that this floor is always so busy and loud during the day. It’s peaceful at night.”

Emily was right. Their floor, while not that bad of a party floor, had really thin walls and people were typically more than aware of each other’s business. JJ found that with some people, she either had overheard enough of their conversations or had been told most of their business by her very nosey roommate, Penelope.

But Emily seemed to keep to herself, mostly. Her room was decorated with band posters, a few photographs that JJ had always been a bit too far away to examine in much detail, and a fun tapestry hung over the head of her bed. She knew she often heard loud music from her room, long past quiet hours, but never too loud that it was annoying. She mostly saw her hang out in Derek Morgan’s room, and wondered if the two were dating. Their relationship looked a lot healthier than JJ had with Will, at least, whatever they were.

JJ clutched her tea cup as the kettle heated up, leaning against the counter. JJ bit at her lip as she realized she had left her phone upstairs, mid-fight with Will. The sinking feeling that was overwhelming her upstairs was beginning to settle back into her stomach after the momentary distraction.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

JJ didn’t realize that her expressions were that easily legible.

“I had a fight with my boyfriend,” JJ admits, surprising herself with sharing the information.

Typically she likes to lean into the put together perception that people have of her. JJ liked to keep the messy details to herself.

But, even in the cold glow of the fluorescent flights, there was something warm and friendly about Emily, despite her edgy aesthetic, that drew JJ in. Maybe it was the smell of cookies surrounding them that made her relax.

“Oh!” Emily says, “I’m sorry. What’d he do?”

“ He didn’t do anything. He’s wonderful,” JJ explained, “Uh- He’s too wonderful. He booked a surprise visit for next weekend but I have a midterm that Monday.”

“Ah shit,” Emily commiserated.

“There are a couple people who he knows in town so he wouldn’t be bored or anything, I just worry that I wouldn’t be able to focus on school if he was here.”

Emily nodded.

“I just wish he checked first.”

He did that a lot. He made decisions for her, all in the hopes of making her happy or making her life easier, and often at the expense of her plans or feelings. She just wished he had spoken to her beforehand this time.

The kettle boiled.

“Do you want any tea?” JJ asked Emily, secretly hoping she would be offered a cookie in exchange. “It’s uh-” she checked the label “-sleepy time.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“I think there’s some spare mugs here,” JJ said, retrieving one from the drying rack.

JJ filled the two mugs, letting the hot water mix with the fragrant tea, watching the water turn a warm and rich brown. The slightly minty blend of chamomile and various other fruity teas competed with the cookies for JJ’s senses.  

“That smells amazing,” Emily commented. “What kind of tea is it again?”

“You’ve never had sleepytime tea?” JJ giggled. “I feel like my mom made me and my sister drink it any time we had bad dreams or were up past our bedtimes.”

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Emily said, trying a sip of her tea.

“Yeah,” JJ said, sipping her warm drink and bracing herself for the other girl’s reaction. “I did.”

“Oh,” Emily said, stunned. “Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

Emily’s phone went off, her alarm for the cookies blaring through the tiny speakers, interrupting the pity before it started. Emily smiled at JJ softly before waking over to the tiny oven and lifted the baking sheet out, using a bunched up dishcloth as an impromptu oven mitt.

“So why cookies?” JJ asked, changing the subject. “Is there a bake sale or something?”

“No reason,” Emily replied, “They’re better than the cookies from the café. Sometimes you just gotta do things that make you happy.”

JJ nodded.

“Anyways it lets me de-stress. An hour out of my room when all I have to do is make sure I don’t burn cookies.”

“That is important,” JJ said, “I would rather not have to stand out in the rain in the middle of the night because someone burnt some cookies down here.”

“I would never,” Emily said, “Scouts honour. If I set off the fire alarm, I’d do it with something better, something more interesting, like actual arson.”

JJ choked on her tea, giggling at the other girl.

Emily was funny. And nice. She never got the chance to thank her for helping out at the party last week, getting her teammate Kennedy some water and keeping JJ company in the hallway.

Emily grinned, scooping the cookies off the tray and onto a small plate. She returned to the table they were sitting at and placed it in the middle of the table, tilting it towards JJ, offering her one.

“For me?” JJ asked.

“It’s the barter system,” Emily said, “tea for cookies. We’re making our own economy here on floor two.”

“That makes sense,” JJ said through a mouthful of cookie. They were delicious, gooey and chocolatey and oh soo warm.

“Good?” Emily asked.

“Very good.”

“So,” Emily said, “What are you going to do about your boyfriend thing?”

“I have no idea,” JJ admitted, “I don’t think long distance is working.”

Emily nodded, and JJ could feel her eyes watching her, waiting for JJ to say something.

“He was my high school sweetheart, you know? I didn’t want to do what all the other people going away to college and just break up because we were far away. I thought we could do it.”

She sighed.

“Sometimes,” Emily said softly, “People just grow apart. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

JJ looked into her cup of tea. Maybe she and Will were just growing apart. Maybe that’s what it was. He was at the police academy and seemed to have endless free time. He was always calling her, checking in, his focus was entirely on her and JJ felt so torn. She wasn’t just busy, she felt like she was missing out on her new life here every time she spent the evening on FaceTime with him.

She sighed, it was too late to be thinking about this too much, she still had work to do, she still had to get some semblance of a night’s sleep before her practise the next day.

“What really matters,” Emily continued, “Is if you enjoy spending time with him.”

JJ looked away.

“I mean,” Emily said, “Isn’t that the point of dating someone?”

Her heart thudded with the feelings that tied themselves into knots in her stomach. Did she even want him to come? Did she even miss him?

The answer was clear to her, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit it.

“Thank you for the cookies,” JJ said with a smile.

She stood up and collected her things.

“I should probably go back to my fight with him.”

Emily opened and then closed her mouth, visibly confused.

“I am currently mid-fight,” JJ explained. “I left my phone in my room. I just needed a break.”

She paused and sighed.

“I also have an essay due tomorrow morning that I have to finish.”

“That's a lot,” Emily said frowning in sympathy, “Another cookie for the road?”

JJ accepted the gift and left Emily with her cookies, hoping that she didn’t bother the girl too much with her relationship drama. Emily waved at her as she left.

She went back to her room and found her phone buzzing with missed calls from her boyfriend. Gone was the peace and calm that surrounded her in the kitchen as she ate cookies with her new friend Emily. JJ fell back into a pit of frustration as soon as she picked up her phone.

Her thumb hovered above the call button, as she instinctively went to call him back. She hesitated, and instead, she turned off her phone.

Placing it on her night stand, JJ opened up her laptop and began to edit her essay.

[janetfraiserdeservedbetter]

Pins and Needles (Chapter Four)

(Read Chapter One, Two and Three here!)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1754

Fandom: Stargate SG1

Pairing: Sam Carter x Janet Fraiser

Summary:  Janet is a single mother and owner of a tattoo studio. Sam is a florist who has just moved into town. Janet's infatuated. Sam's a disaster gay. Flower shop/Tattoo parlour AU. 

Authors Note: Completely forgot to upload this chapter here! Chapter 5 is coming, slowly. Thanks for all the love on this fic so far though! I know this chapter seems heavily Sam/Jack but I promise it’s only for this bit and then we’re back onto the cute ladies! 

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After the disastrous morning she’d had, Sam only hoped that the afternoon would be better. She’d thought about sending a text to check in with Janet but the woman seemed rather cold when she’d left so Sam thought it best to leave it be. She’d spent the afternoon trying to meditate but when that hadn’t worked, she’d retreated to her garden - not that it was much of a garden at the moment. The soil was good but the last owners had let the yard go and before she could plant anything, there was a lot of work that needed to be done.      Sam pulled her bike into Jack’s driveway right at 5 pm; his garage door was open and the man sat by a sad excuse for a motorbike, beer by his foot. When he heard the rumble of the Ninja, he looked up and smiled at her. She climbed off the bike and removed her helmet, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down.      “Glad you could make it,” Jack held a beer out to her and she smiled gratefully, running a hand over the bare engine. “Heard you needed an expert's help,” she teased. The man chuckled, flipping a milk carton over for her and patting it.

     The afternoon passed quickly and they made good progress cleaning the body of dirt and rust and making a plan of attack. Before either of them realised, the light had faded and the temperature dropped, and Jack leaned back, groaning a little. Sam looked over and grinned, wiping her hands on a rag. “I think you’ll need to order the radiator but then we can go from there.” “What would I do without you?” He smirked and Sam blushed a little, tossing him the rag. “Got time for a drink?”

     “Sorry about the mess. Beer okay?” Jack called as he flicked the lights on, heading down the corridor to the kitchen. Sam peered around the living room politely, keeping her hands in her pockets. His house was tidier than she’d expected for a bachelor. There weren’t many personal items; instead, the coffee table held a few empty bottles, an array of fishing and hardware magazines strewn across it. A blanket was draped haphazardly across the back of the couch and if Sam didn’t know any better, it looked like he slept there too often. The only personal effects she could see were a handful of pictures on and above the fireplace, some of Jack alone in uniform, others with a pretty blonde woman and a little boy. She wasn’t trying to be nosy so when she heard Jack’s footsteps in the hall, she turned to him, ignoring her own curiosity. He held a bottle out to her and she took it gratefully, sitting on the sofa across from him in the armchair.      “How long were you in the air force?” She said after a long moment as they both took long swigs of their beers.      “Almost 3 decades. Most days, my body feels like it was five.”      “Why’d you get out of it? If you don't mind me asking. I just can't imagine that working at a hardware store would be as adventurous as piloting an F-16.”      He looked impressed. “Spent more than my fair share of time in and out of near death situations. Takes a toll on your body and your relationships. You seem to know a lot about the force. Because of your dad?”      “Yeah. I was fascinated with the stuff as a kid. Almost went into the academy...”      “But?”      “When my mom died...I kinda came to resent the military. All my dreams of being an astronaut just went out the window.”      “Probably for the best. After my son died, I couldn’t...I couldn’t go back.”      “God, I’m sorry.”      “No, it’s...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He exhaled sharply. “Another beer?”      “I shouldn’t have any more on an empty stomach. Got anything to eat?”      “No, I usually order in. Wanna go grab a Pizza?”

     Thank god they rang their order in ahead of time because the town was bustling with couples out and about on date night. They’d taken Sam’s bike but Jack had driven, leaving Sam to hold on tight to the man’s torso. She couldn’t deny that he smelt amazing, like Old Spice and grease and she could feel how fit he was under his shirt but she couldn’t get Janet out of her head.      Jack found a park down from the street from the pizza shop, right by ‘Lord of the Beans’, and he grinned as he took the helmet off.      “She rides nicely,” he patted the seat appreciatively and Sam smiled back, locking the helmets under the seat. They crossed the road together and Sam couldn’t help but peer back into her shop as they passed; it was dark and quiet but the lettering had finally been applied to the glass and the window was full of Peace Lilies. It was her dream come true and it was finally coming together. She glanced over at the tattoo parlour, half expecting to see Janet through the window but despite the lights, the shop looked empty.      “Vala usually stays back on weekends to mind the place so Janet can spend some time with Cas,” Jack explained and she bit back the questions she had about their relationship. She’d already made things weird with Janet, no need to do the same with Jack too.      Changing the topic, the pair chatted idly as they strolled, steering clear of personal topics, instead talking about the bike and Sam’s shop.      “My mom always wanted to be a florist but it just never happened for her. I know it sounds silly but after she died, that’s all I could think about. I wanted to do what she couldn’t. Then dad died and… well, I guess it was just the right thing to do.”      “It’s a big move to make by yourself,” he noted and she shot him a small smile.      “What can I say, I’m an adrenaline junkie.”

     On their way back to the bike, Jack with the pizza, Sam couldn’t help but notice the light’s still on in the studio but this time, Janet was on the sidewalk, phone to her ear, police cruiser by her side. Without a word, the pair rushed to the tattoo artist. “Jan, you okay?” She spun to look at them and Sam could see the frustration on the other woman’s face. Her gaze softened a little when she saw Sam and she let out a long breath, running a hand through her hair. She was all rugged up in a sweater and lounge pants, a cardigan wrapped tight around her; it looked as if she’d just gotten out of bed.      “Oh hey,” she looked to Jack quickly. The man touched her arm and she chewed her lip. “Yeah, the shop got broken into. They didn’t steal anything from what we can see. Sheriff Hammond thinks the alarm scared them away.”      As if on cue, a large, bald man strode from the store towards them. He nodded at Jack and Sam in greeting.      “No luck on fingerprints, I’m afraid. Whoever did this didn’t seem to have time to go through the cash drawer.”      “Thank god for that… I’ll get you the camera footage tomorrow when I call the security company.”      The man nodded again and touched Janet’s arm. “You let me know if you need anything.”      With that, he got into his police cruiser and drove off. Janet exhaled and stretched her neck, turning back to Sam and Jack. There was something in her eyes; disappointment? Vulnerability? Rejection? Whatever it was she seemed to push it down and took a deep breath.      “I’ll have to stay to tape this window up and hope the insurance covers the damned thing,” her voice was stiff and she squared her shoulders. “I can swing by first thing in the morning to help.” Jack watched the small woman grip the broom, brushing small defeated strokes across the dark grey tiles.      “Thanks Jack, really.” She gave a tight-lipped smile as she knelt, brushing the pile of the glass into the flat pan and casting it aside. It almost looked as if she was praying, her shoulder-length auburn hair gently swaying in the cool night air that invades the shop through the hole in the window. “Go, you two should go enjoy your night. Don’t let me keep you.”      “Don’t be silly. We’re worried about you.” Sam said, taking the cardboard from her hands the woman turned, her eyes wide and her body tense. Sam knew this woman would fight over flight any day.      “I’ll get some wood from the shop and I'll help you fix up for the night and clean up the glass. Sorry to cut this short, Sam.”      “No, it’s okay. I’ll stay with her until you get back,” Sam smiled, watching Jack leave with determination in the direction of the hardware store. She looked back to Janet who was back on her feet, staring into the pile of shattered glass distractedly.      “I am sorry. I didn’t want to ruin your night…” Janet sighed.      “You’re not. You didn’t…I was just helping with his bike. I’m a bit of a tinkerer, that’s all. Plus, it was more of a therapy session than anything..”      “Yeah, Jack does that to people.” For the first time that evening, Janet smiled at her and Sam felt herself relax slightly. The pair cleaned the glass from the floor in comfortable silence and Sam felt herself watching Janet from the corner of her eyes. She looked exhausted and stressed and all she wanted to do was give her the biggest hug but Jack strode into the store at that moment, a few thin sheets of plywood in his arms. He grinned at them and Janet moved over to take some from him.       Suddenly feeling not needed, Sam watched them work for a moment, Janet holding the wood while jack drilled.      “I should go…” she proclaimed, heading for the door. Her friends looked up at her as she dug for her keys.      “I can give Jack a lift home,” Janet offered, dusting sawdust from her hands. Sam chewed her lip and nodded, her chest tight.      “I’ll see you around…” her eyes moved to Jack. “Thanks for today.”      He smiled warmly and nodded and she felt eyes on her all the way to her bike.

[ariainstars]

Sorry, But I Don’t Support Minorities (Any More)

For a start: I will not use inclusive language in this text. (I usually don’t, only in this case I want to make sure it’s known from the start.)

Secondly, if you identify as trans or non-binary and / or are a huge Harry Potter fan, I am warning you: don’t read this.

If you do want to hear me out, be respectful in your comments or hold them back altogether. I won’t tolerate bullying merely because I am expressing my own opinion. Though the topic touches a sore spot in me, too, I will be as objective as I can.

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I am not and never was a fan of J.K. Rowling and her works. I found the Harry Potter hype strongly exaggerated, the books mildly unoriginal and biased, the films ok until they became so overloaded with derivation from other sources (dragons, elves, magic wands, brooms, unicorns, centaurs, phoenixes, basilisks, flying horses - stories like Star Trek or Star Wars at least have their own world-building) and later so dark that they were no fun anymore. In my opinion an average writer was lucky because she tapped into a trend and was at the right place and right time with her stories. I daresay years from now many fans will wonder why they liked these stories so much and realize that they just jumped on a train, having been too young and naïve to question it.

I don’t own any of Rowling’s books or DVDs or merchandise and I never have been part of the fandom. So, I come from a different corner when I say that I have my own attitude about the current shitstorm regarding J.K. Rowling now being coded as “transphobic”. This is due to personal reasons of my own.

  1. The Discussion Can Add Confusion

Rowling stated that in her youth she had problems with her own identity due to her father having wanted her to be a boy. I can understand that because I went through a long period in my late teens and early twens where I had difficulties identifying with the sex I was born with. At times I also felt physically attracted to females. In my case, it turned out to merely be a phase: I am an average cis woman. I can understand that for some people, such doubts may turn out to be more than a phase. But I know what Rowling refers to because I have been there. And I am grateful that there was no gender discussion when I was young because it would have confused me even more than I actually was, and I already had more than enough other problems. I was and I am a “common” woman, but there was a time in my life when I did not like it very much. That time was bad enough, combined as it was with other aspects in my life I had to come to terms with, which at times almost drove me to despair to the point where I contemplated suicide. So, I am glad that in my time being gay / straight / trans / cis / non-binary or other was not such an issue, at least not where I grew up. With my confusion and disorientation, well-meaning people might have taken the opportunity to encourage me to “embrace my lesbianism / trans identity”, when in truth I am neither. I was discouraged, from many sides, to liking myself, and that self-loathing took many forms. 

I am extremely cautious when it comes to gender identification because I know that finding one’s way in life under difficult circumstances can take years and years and end in a very different place from where it started, well beyond adolescence. In my case, for a long time I thought I was “not really female” because I love my independence and never wished for children: this is not due to some masculine trait inside of me but to my growing up with a disturbed mother who strongly invaded my life and mind and did everything that was in her power to trap me. I suspected that something was wrong with her since my early teens, but I found out the truth only about twenty years later. I had to accept her the way she is and put distance between us. 

Then there were my peers: where and when I grew up it was trendy to be (or appear) as tomboyish and easy-going as possible because this was seen as a sign of a “strong, modern, emancipated female”: fie on you if you wore your hair a little longer, liked clothes or only had to much as a flower-pattern on your notebook. Again: I simply had to get away. For many years I had been led to believe that my too “female” or “masculine” traits were a problem, when the actual problem was not mine. And if this happened to me, I daresay there may be many others in similar situations; which is something that who supports and encourages trans people usually does not consider. People who are confused about their sexuality without actually being trans need understanding as well.

  2. What About Us?

As a native Italian, I cringe when I only think e.g. of Lady and the Tramp’s silly “Bella notte” scene or films like Good Fellas or of The Godfather trilogy, cultural phenomena that did a lot to cement the general audience’s idea of how Italians are like. Not to our advantage. - No, “bella notte” is not correct Italian. No, we don’t play the mandolin, it’s an outmoded instrument that you are more likely to find in a museum. And no, spaghetti with meatballs are not Italian food!

Following the 2009 economic crises many countries in the European Community applied for financial “umbrellas”; Italy didn’t, it paid into those funds. Italy was the first Western country who went into lockdown as the Covid-19 crisis struck. The country functioned, though under huge restrictions and security measures. In both cases, other countries’ reactions in and outside Europe were like: “Typical - Italians are too lazy to work!” When it came to negotiating an economic pact to help Europe start again, the countries who had said this the loudest held their purse-strings tight - after having locked down too late and hidden the truth about the casualties in their own countries. Convenient.

Italians are generally often seen as silly and not trustworthy. And nobody talks about how demeaning and disrespectful, and on the long run damaging, it is to portray us in such a stereotyped way which at best is good for a laugh. The prejudices stick, and they have destroyed or turned into a living hell many existences.

There are huge now discussions about banning films like e.g. Gone With the Wind due to its “clichéd portrayal of Blacks”. Nobody talks about abolishing The Godfather or other films of that kind although they contribute to the stigma that Italians are either all in league with the mafia, or easy-going, silly folks who sing and drink wine all day and have no idea of what hard work means. Most Italians have too much personal pride to victimize themselves and bo-hoo “the rest of the world just won’t understand us”. They love their country but that does not make them not blind to its shortcomings. I hope they stay that way. In any case, I intend to.

  3. The Actual Problem: Bullying

I can sympathize with anyone who comes out as trans because I know what it’s like to be bullied. I was bullied myself for many years due to my Italian origin as well as my upbringing while I had to live among persons who were on a lower social level than I. I was e.g. accused of being stuck-up and “inhibited”. I know now that the female bullies were envious of my self-esteem and insinuating that I was missing “fun”; while the males were counting on another girl being at any guy’s disposal for free and were angry when I didn’t let them have their way with me. 

The actual problem with any kind of intolerance and discrimination is bullying. Whatever form it takes, bullying is or ought to be unacceptable. Bullies will be bullies, they do not care who they harass and why: if they e.g. can be convinced to leave trans people alone, they will vent their frustrations and build up their self-image by bullying people who are fat or black or whatever. Except trans people won’t be there to witness that (unless by coincidence they are both trans and fat / black etc.) 

We live in a world that gives a great deal of importance on competitiveness; as a result, even in families, schools and other institutions that ought to educate children and youngsters to be respectful towards themselves and others, bullying is often not seen as such, or simply downplayed as “assertiveness”. Bullies do not want to hear reasonable argumentation and learn to be sympathetic: they want to show off their power, provoke an emotional reaction from their victims to see how far they can go, and gloat when they can hurt them. They will not change their minds and they will never be trustworthy, no matter how many discussions about your particular situation you have with them. 

To bullies, the world is a jungle where only the strongest have the right to survive; any attempt to make them rethink their attitude will only make them laugh at their victims’ alleged stupidity (because that’s what a humane, respectful attitude is to them) even more. The only language they understand is violence. If you are bullied, protect and, if you can, defend yourself; never try to discuss. Minorities were silent and subdued for such a long time with good reason: because they knew that the more they held their heads up and did not hide what made them different, the more targets they offered for bullies. No one ought to go in hiding because he is queer or black or Jewish etc., but sometimes it’s unavoidable simply for self-protection. I am almost fifty years old and I have never witnessed a nasty person changing for the better. If anything, they became worse, because every time they got away, they felt more superior than before.

Particularly sly bullies will make their victims believe that they have changed, maybe even pulling off the role “I’m a victim myself”. Please, please, whether you belong to a group of minorities or not: don’t listen to them. Ever. Maybe they once were victims, but it turned them into arseholes, and now they are sunk too far in their own filth to care. Compassion is a good thing, but it should never go as far as to delude yourself, endure abuse and sympathize until you become an object for compassion yourself.

For instance, I like wearing dresses, cooking and sewing and looking after my household. Fifty years ago, that would have made me a pattern housewife; nowadays, feminists would either want to strangle me or at least have a good laugh at my expense. This just goes to show how short-sighted any kind of prejudice and bullying is. Any human being ought to follow its own nature with a healthy self-esteem, and esteem others as well. But with our today’s view of the world we are supposed to be not altruistic and respectful but “strong” so that “we will make our way in life” (i.e. feed capitalism in any way we can); and nothing can make you feel “strong” more easily than finding someone who is allegedly weaker and pick on him. We are expected to be “winners”, and the first thing winners need are “losers” to serve them as a foil. The pool from which to choose is large.

  4. Who Is Subject to Intolerance Can’t Be Intolerant… Really?

For many years of my life, I always found myself a supporter of someone who was ostracized for one reason or another.

A woman who had left her husband. (It was the early Eighties.) A gay man. A girl who had been harassed by being called ugly. A woman who had been abused sexually by a family member. A woman from East Germany (I live in the West and there are lots of prejudices.)

For the record: these persons were of different age, origin, upbringing, social status, intellectual level and character, and they did not know one another.

I knew and supported them for years, listening, loyal, supportive, interested in their problems and personal development. I never attacked or criticized them. And each and every one of them sooner or later accused me of “not understanding them” and “being prejudiced towards them”. In the case of the abused woman this was particularly unfair because I have been abused myself in my family, though psychically and not sexually. The divorced woman, my own mother, viciously accused me of lying and being in league with her ex-husband after I had been loyal only to her for entire decades.

It appears these people only were my “friends” as long as I told them what they wanted to hear. When I suffered, I was put off with “pull yourself together”. Like I had no problems, because the only people in the world having problems were them. Thank you very much. So, I was supposed to accept their growing insolence due to their being such poor victims, while from their point of view I deserved neither understanding nor respect.

Only recently, in the aftermath of the riots caused by the killing of George Floyd, I posted a comment on a video on youtube… guess what. I was immediately attacked by a black woman saying that my “stupid remark” just went to prove how a white person would never understand “things like these”. She had not even read my post carefully enough to understand what I actually wanted to say, she simply felt entitled to offend me.

I do not say that I dislike trans people or that they are bad, I’m sure there are as many good or bad people among them as anywhere. If someone says e.g. that though born with male organs they identify as female that is their very own affair. I must not like it or understand it. Tolerance means leaving other people alone to do as they please. Any person is “bad” only the moment they behave badly towards others; being different from the mainstream does not count.

But when I have to watch and read people nowadays defending trans or gays or blacks or some other minority, believing to be being open-minded or particularly noble and heroic by supporting them, all I can say is that I have been there and it did me no good. I won’t get caught up in another wave of “minority tolerance”: in my experience, it’s a waste of time. Many of those who now proudly burn their Harry Potter books and proclaim that they will no longer support the author, respectively that they “love Harry Potter but love trans people more” will make the experiences I made. Except they most probably won’t talk about that, because these experiences are so humiliating.

Minorities of any kind do not want to be supported, understood and defended by people who are not in their shoes: it hurts their personal pride. Which I can understand, although it’s a lame excuse for being mean to the very persons whom they expect help and support from. They will tend to envy the ones who do not have their problems due to being white / straight / cis etc., and consequently turn a blind eye to the fact that these can have huge problems of their own. Many of them expect their supporters not only to understand them but to support them enthusiastically at every turn, and if these don’t, (or if there is the slightest reason for them to assume that they don’t) these “victims” will feel entitled to be offended and become vicious aggressors, with a whole fan club behind them protecting their backs and convinced of promoting a honorable cause.

I am fed up with being tolerant. It seems you can hardly do anything anymore without offending someone: watching Disney movies or old classics, wearing a pink dress, calling a woman a woman instead of woman / trans / cis / non-binary etc. There is always someone who will point to these things saying why they’re not right.

I’m sorry but clichés, prejudices and stereotypes can’t be totally avoided: the human brain is not wired to know all facts about everything and everyone. What you can do is teach children and adolescents to be respectful towards everybody, even if they don’t like a particular person or group. Nobody has the right to force you to like everybody and to agree with every life style. But it seems the world has become full of people who seem to have nothing better to do but feel personally offended at the drop of a hat and make a fuss about how hurt their feelings are. Helping someone out who is in a difficult situation is not the same as catering to the keyed-up hysterics of some entitled brat. Seeing the difference between these two can be quite difficult because the latter often show their true face only after years and years, when they realize that for some reason or other, they can no longer squeeze you out for their personal benefit giving nothing back.

Who follows my account is aware that I did not like The Rise of Skywalker. Heaven knows I wrote enough about it. But I did not and will not harass the studios twittering, mailing, making youtube videos etc. ranting and raving about what rubbish it supposedly is for years, like the haters of The Last Jedi. Listening to them, one would think their whole reason for living had been destroyed on purpose. We most probably largely have to thank them for the Episode IX disaster, the flattest and most uninteresting Star Wars film ever made; not to mention the harassment the actress Kelly Marie Tran was subject to. Anyone has the right to dislike the development the authors chose for the saga, but for heaven’s sake: after all, it’s just a movie. If such a relatively insignificant thing can be hyped up like this, I don’t want to know what’s in store coming from people who feel offended for much more personal reasons, like race or gender.

Tolerance cannot be one-sided; it cannot mean that whatever one side wants does not have to be reasonable or useful, but they are entitled to scream and yell until the other side gives in. (If for no other reason than to satisfy them so they will finally shut it.)

  Conclusions (I did warn you…)

I. Hogwarts is not my world

Hogwarts is supposed to sound like a dream come true, but I never liked the idea of a “school” where pupils, who are still children and adolescents, are taught spells and engaged in games and tournaments where they have to risk life and limb. These facts are commonly overlooked, I guess, because “the heroes” usually don’t get hurt. The heroes overcome their traumata but do not get wiser from them, on the contrary: their suffering is supposed to make them seem nobler so that we will root for them more. Harry loses his parents before he could get to know them; his adoptive family mistreats him, but he doesn’t care about them; Cedric dies in his stead, but they were not close friends; Dumbledore dies when Harry was getting too old for a father figure; Snape dies, but Harry never liked him either. The list could go on. Harry always remains an innocent; he never gets to look into a metaphorical mirror where he has to see all of the bad that is inside of him, his darker sides are always projected and personified by someone else. (When he does look into a metaphorical mirror in the first book and movie, he finds out that the Philosopher’s stone is, magically, in his pocket. How convenient.)

I can’t invest emotionally in a fictional character who stands out before having earned or deserved it. Harry is like a Chosen One who skips the hero’s journey: from an abusive household, he is catapulted into a whole new world made of mystery and wonder, where he immediately is singled out, admired before he lifts a finger, unexplainably lucky, awed due to his heritage, envied by who is not as special as he. Harry remains untainted by own sins because other people do the dirty work for him; which seems ok because they are, for one reason or another, uncool - Dumbledore = old, Ron = weak / foolish, Hermione / Snape = unpleasant, his parents = dead, and so on. Yes, Harry sometimes makes mischief, but people usually cut him slack because of his past as an abused child, his parent’s tragic death, and his undefinable power that makes him resist the Evil One. The Dursleys, Snape and Draco don’t tolerate him, which is why they are coded as villains or at least very disagreeable characters. How do you recognize a villain in these stories? Simple, he’s being mean to Harry. Everybody else gives him special treatment because you don’t want to upset the person whom you expect to defeat the ultimate villain. I always found his character bland and uninteresting. We e.g. learned why Snape was so lonely and bitter, but not why Harry was so “good” although he had grown up unloved, in an abusive household, until he was eleven. 

For decades now Harry Potter fandoms and clubs gather all over the world proudly proclaiming that they are something really special and not like “them Muggles”. No wonder these stories are so popular with who feels misunderstood and downtrodden. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with capacities ordinary people can’t even dream of? When maybe you’re just a common person, shocking thought. Nowadays, if you want to be someone outstanding, make it up in your mind and it automatically becomes true. And if you identify with the protagonist, you get to be a hero before you did anything special into the bargain. Harry is a victim of other person’s sins and / or blunders and his story is about unfolding the details of his victimhood and correcting them so he gets his happy ending. We are supposed to sympathize with this: well, I can’t. Victimhood and alleged inborn virtue are insufficient to make a protagonist “overcome his trials” and emerge triumphantly over his sidekicks or enemies, without any real loss on his side, while they get killed or, at best, ridiculed. And I will not pick up the part of that sidekick any more.

 II. Feminism Is Not My World

While I am an advocate for women’s independence, I do not identify as a feminist. I have an independent nature: that does not mean I am or should be ashamed of being a lady. This where we live is the era of the tomboys, of the feisty, cool, tough females. And often they don’t just go their own way but feel entitled to scorn women who do have their own job and live with a man who respects them, but also like the color pink, pretty clothes, flowers, romantic stories and everything else the new wave feminism likes to dismiss as “brainwashing”. Today you can hardly let your daughter watch a Disney movie without being accused of undermining her identity with false ideas about womanhood because, oh wonder, it seems a “real woman” must think and act like a badass guy.

Louder for the feminists in the back: you can actually look and behave in a way that is coded as “female” and be intelligent, independent and self-respecting. Women who went their own way have existed in every age and culture, often making great achievements and changing the world around them; they were intelligent, compassionate and took matters into their own hands. They did not proclaim that they unfairly were victims of men: they knew how to make men respect them. Being a woman is not a stereotype thrust upon you, it’s natural. If someone rejects qualities that are identified as “female”, it’s their very own affair. If I wanted to return the offense, I might as easily say that “feminists” and “empowered females” are just too smug to do the dishes.

 III. Trans, cis, binary etc. is not my world

For millennia, people had to accept the sex they were born with. Now you can have surgery and take hormones to get rid of a problem which you can’t solve on your own. Sorry, but I can’t get my head around it: to me the gender diversity discussion is unnatural. Good and right things are always the same, they cannot change with time and “scientifical / medical progress”. Tomboyish females and same-sex lovers are as old as the world, but it’s only a few decades since you can surgically have your sex changed if you feel uncomfortable with it, and even less time since you can claim the right to be both male and female or not to choose any sex at all. Excuse me, what’s behind it? Fear of missing out? I know, nowadays we are supposed to “change the stars”, but excuse me, it’s not possible. Rowling did not change the stars: as I wrote above, she got lucky.

I can say from own experience that for healthy growth a person needs limits. It is not “tolerant”, in my opinion, to say that one can be male or female or binary or none of that, all by choice. If I raise a child calling it a boy because he was born with male organs, or by Catholic standards because I am a Catholic myself, I believe no one has the right to say that I am intruding into its personality. I would be intolerant if said child would later come out to me e.g. as trans or atheist and I would dismiss its identification and opinion as a matter of principle, or disown it altogether. Rejecting rules and values is like pretending that it is wrong to be e.g. female, or straight, or that Catholic values are rubbish. None of that is true. It is true that a trans or gay or atheist or Buddhist etc. is not automatically an immoral or inferior person.

I can accept other people’s choices about their gender identification; that doesn’t mean I must like or support their mindset. It doesn’t automatically make me “transphobic”. If it is intrusive or intolerant to say that someone is male because he was born with male organs, what will come next? Will “normal” females no longer be entitled to protect their most intimate privacy because any guy can share our private space, like a public toilet or dress room, claiming he’s a woman (and he might well not be trans, but a lying voyeur?) Will we no longer give our children male or female names? Not teach them any values? No longer send them to kindergarten, to school, maybe not even feed or clothe them or furnish their nurseries according to our own judgement, because the poor babies can’t choose by themselves yet?

We all did not choose to be born in the first place.

If you want to protect your children from suffering, don’t have them: suffering is a part of life. Trans is not my world. I don’t want to destroy it or to behave rudely towards it; I simply do not want to have part in it. I want people to care for me, and to do so because I am me, not because I come out with this or another sexual orientation or make myself an advocate for people who belong to this or another minority.

All of the above is why I will not jump on the current “I defend minorities” respectively “I defend downtrodden victims” train. The good part is that I don’t have any Harry Potter book or merchandise I could burn anyway. 😊

Anyone who is uncomfortable with my point of view can unfollow me. Bullies will be blocked and reported without further ado. Greetings from a notorious Muggle.

[blancheludis]

My second entry for @marveltrumpshate​.

Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff Tags: Developing Relationship, Dad!Steve, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Friendship, Love, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending Chapters: 1/? Words: 5.639

Summary: Tony and Steve are friends. That's all. Even if everybody seems to believe otherwise. Steve's not gay, after all, and he doesn't have time for brilliant billionaires who make him laugh. Right? 

---

The crowd is suffocating. Too many people in too small a place. The air might be filled with excitement and energetic chatter, but Steve expects to hear screams any second now. Panic can erupt so easily, and this hall is so packed with bodies that there is nowhere to run.

Familiar tension fills Steve as he sets one foot in front of the other, scanning the room for potential exit routes. He volunteered to come here; he keeps telling himself. Either way, his paranoia is ridiculous. He is a grown man and survived far worse places than a science exposition. Nothing will happen. He is just being silly.

Peter tugs at his hand, moving through the crowd without a single trace of hesitation. He is so short that he cannot see much more than a sluggishly moving wall of legs before him, but that does not slow him down.

The Stark Expo is all Peter has been talking about for weeks, ever since Bucky brought a brochure to a family dinner. Steve loved listening to them gush about whatever technical marvel they were most interested in. When Peter asked to go, there was nothing else to do but to say yes with a smile.

Bucky should be here. He would understand much more of what is being shown and talked about here, and while he has a number of his own issues, he is marginally better with crowds than Steve. But then Bucky’s prosthetic malfunctioned, and they talked him into taking care of it immediately instead of putting up with the strain of walking around with his arm as deadweight just because of the expo.

Steve never hesitated to go in his stead. Peter is the most important person in his life, and he would do anything for him. They have lost enough already.

“Can we go to the robotics hall first?” Peter asks, throwing an excited grin over his shoulder. Despite the surrounding noise, Steve hears him perfectly, too tuned to miss none of his son’s words.

One-handed, Steve reaches into his pocket to get out the map they got at the entrance. He unfolds it and tries to apply the colourful schematic on the paper to the brimming chaos around them. He is tall enough to look over most of the heads in front of him, and he thinks he catches sight of a sign to the robotics hall.

“We need to go to the left,” Steve says, staring back at his map. “It should be two halls over.”

Smiling in response, Peter immediately steers to the left, ignoring the movement of the crowd. Steve’s brain gets stuck trying to find gaps to move through. There are none. He should have expected that. At this point, Steve is sure he would fare better if he simply closed his eyes and let Peter guide him where they need to go – if only panic would not set in the moment he tried.

The famed Stark Expo is known to be brilliant and organised and filled with exciting, life-changing knowledge. A multitude of branches and fields of science get their own hall to fulfil everybody’s needs.

Steve is not a scientist. The closest he comes to ever working with any kind of precision or calculable form is when he draws circles on canvas. Peter, despite being only eight years old, already has the brain of someone who will shape the future at some point. Steve is sure he gets that from Peggy.

At the moment, Peter’s greatest obsession is robots. At fault for that is mostly Bucky with his prosthetic, a top of the line Stark model, they were lucky enough to get through a veteran program.

Somehow, they get to the left side of the main hall. Once they get to a side hall, the crowd becomes sparser. Steve takes a deep breath. The anxiety is not completely gone, still pressing down on his sternum, but he can walk without stumbling over someone else’s feet, and actually see where he is going.

The expo has only opened the day before and several speeches are scheduled in the main hall this morning, so the rush is expected. For now, fewer people have decided to seek out the specific exhibitions.

“Are you all right, Dad?” Peter asks suddenly, walking right next to Steve instead of hurrying ahead.

He looks worried, never one to miss other people being in distress. Steve is not sure how he managed to create a child that is not just brilliant but so very empathetic too, but he is grateful for Peter every day.

“Of course, Peter,” Steve replies and straightens a little to give his words more weight. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this outing for his son.

“I know you don’t like many people in one place,” Peter says and watches the surrounding crowd while he bites his lip. Then he looks back up at Steve, his expression completely earnest. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Steve winces. He needs to pull himself together. They have not even fully arrived yet and Peter is already offering him a way out. So much for making sure Peter will have a great day.

“We’ll stay as long as you want,” Steve says. When Peter does not appear convinced, he adds, “I’m really fine.”

Nodding, Peter quickens his step again, but makes sure to stay at Steve’s side. “Perhaps Uncle Bucky can come join us later,” he says with audible hope in his voice.

Steve doubts that very much. Even if the problem with the prosthetic can be dealt with quickly, it usually drains Bucky too much to be able to do much of anything after these appointments. Coming to the expo with hundreds of strangers around them is most certainly out of the question.

It would be nice for Peter’s sake, of course. While Steve is willing to listen to everything Peter has to say, never getting bored even if he sometimes does not understand a word, Bucky is better able to keep up.

“Perhaps,” Steve says, unwilling to reject Peter’s hopes outright. “But we’re here for you, so take all the time you need.”

A beaming smile works itself back on Peter’s lips. “There will be a workshop of Stark Industries’ prosthetic division later,” he says in a flurry of words tumbling out of him in excitement. “Maybe they can teach me how Uncle Bucky’s arm works. And when I’m older, I can do the repair work for him so he doesn’t have to go to the lab all the time.”

Steve’s eyes burn as he looks down at his brilliant son, always aware of other people’s needs. Peggy used to tell him this is his influence, but while Steve did not let any chance pass him by to fight bullies, Peter seems to actively search for ways to make people’s lives better at all times.

“He would love that,” Steve says, pride filling his voice. “And you’re undoubtedly smart enough.”

One of Peter’s elementary school teachers had wanted to test Peter’s intelligence level, but they rebuffed all her inquiries. They need no test to tell them that Peter is smart, but giving him a proper childhood and a chance to grow at his own speed is more important than prodding his brain to find out how much he can do exactly.

“But I’ll be too young for them to talk to.” Peter’s shoulders slump a bit when he shrugs, disappointed but unwilling to let it ruin his day for him.

“That’d be stupid of them,” Steve argues immediately. Even if he does not want to go around proclaiming his son a genius to everybody who’s willing to listen, he will not let Peter deny his own brilliance either. “It doesn’t matter how old you are, just what you can do and what you’re willing to learn.”

If anybody tried to give Peter any problems during that workshop, Steve will not hesitate to tell them exactly what he thinks of that. According to reliable sources, Steve can stare at people with so much disappointment that it feels like a punch to the gut. His muscles help too, of course.

“I want to learn.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

 ---

Watching Peter is a constant source of delight. Once he has been given permission, he runs ahead, checking out every booth and every plate with information. He talks to everybody willing to listen, firing questions as quickly as he can get them over his lips.

Steve is content sitting in the background as long as he can keep an eye on Peter from afar and Peter comes checking in with him at regular intervals.  

If a problem arises, Steve is ready to jump up and intervene. Experience shows, however, that people tend to only ever talk to Steve when he hovers at Peter’s side. Since Steve wants Peter to enjoy this day as much as he can, he is happy to stay back.

At one point he signals Peter that he will step out for a moment and gets an absentminded wave in return. The hall is slowly filling up and Steve could use some room to breathe. It is also nearing noon, so he should get something to eat for the both of them. They have sandwiches in their bag, but maybe it is time for a treat.

Steve wanders around for ten minutes tops. Ten minutes should not be enough for Peter to get into trouble. Yet, Steve returns to the hall only to find a man crouching in front of his son. He has his back to Steve and Peter does not apear frightened but more like he is excited to tell someone in great detail about the robot he will build out of Lego pieces and parts of their gutted toaster. Steve’s blood is boiling, anyway. They are quite a few paces away from the next booth and the man is clad in an expensive looking suit. He does not look like he is here for the exhibition. Strange men have no business talking to little boys who are not with their parents.

His heart is beating loudly in his ears as Steve takes long strides to reach his son and then he does not waste any time trying to listen in on what they are talking about.

“What are you doing?” he bellows, his voice automatically dropping to the ordering tone he adopted in the Army.

He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder and pulls him away from Peter, not enough to unbalance him but enough to send a message. Peter is looking at him wide-eyed, but Steve only notices that peripherally as he is concentrating on the stranger.

The man gets up and Steve is struck at the sight. He recognises him instantly. How could he not? This face is plastered all over the walls at the expo. Hell, Peter has a poster of this man up in his room.

This is Tony Stark. Head of Stark Industries. Figurehead of the Stark Expo. One of the smartest – and richest – men on the planet. And he is talking to Peter. And Steve just yelled at him.

Tony Stark, in real life, looks much more vibrant than any picture could ever convey. It might be the way the skin around his eyes wrinkle as he smiles or that, despite being a head smaller than Steve, he has a kind of entrancing aura that is hard to escape. He does not look the slightest bit intimidated by Steve bearing down on him. He is either braver than he looks or simply ignorant.  

“Is this bright young man your son?” Stark asks and stays right where he is, almost too close for comfort. “I must say his ideas for robots put mine to shame.” He smiles and Steve has to admit it could be charming if his thoughts were not running rampant and he would not be fighting the urge to hide Peter behind him.

“Has no one ever told you not to talk to children without their parents present?” Steve all but growls.

Peter is stepping closer to him, reaching for his hand. “Dad,” he says, a plea in his tone.

But Steve does not look at him. “Not now, Peter.” He is busy glaring at Stark who just now begins to seem a bit apologetic.  

“I’m sorry,” Stark says, creasing his forehead. “I didn’t mean to –”

Impatiently, Steve cuts him off. “Well you did.”

He is not usually so rough with other people, but Peter’s safety is more important than anything else. It does not matter that Stark is a celebrity or known for giving a ton of money to charities every year. Steve is already on edge, thanks to the crowd, and every uncertainty regarding Peter puts him in immediate attack mode.

“I could buy you a coffee to apologise,” Stark say, his smile back on his face, even if it is a little probing. His tone holds something playful, almost flirtatious.

The sheer audacity renders Steve speechless for a long moment. Who thinks it is appropriate to ask someone out for coffee after accosting their child? Worse, who flirts with someone who is obviously a parent? In front of their son?

“Are you serious?” Steve asks, watching Stark with growing disgust. Then he takes Peter’s hand, which is still clinging to his jacket. “Peter, we’re done here. We’re leaving.”

One step is enough to realise that Peter has no intention to follow. He stands rooted in place, looking up at Steve with wide eyes, spooked at his sudden roughness. It would not take much to pull Peter after him. Even for his age he is small and scrawny, although his energy levels never suffered from that. Steve is not that kind of father, however. His son is his life, and it does not matter that he wants to leave this place as quickly as possible.

“But I went to talk to him,” Peter argues, moisture gathering in his eyes. He has a sense of right and wrong closely following Steve’s own. Of course, he would want to make sure Steve does not blame Stark for this if it was Peter’s idea to talk to him.

“No, kid. He’s right,” Stark says before Steve can. The immediate gentleness in his expression as he turns to Peter mollifies Steve somewhat. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers. Especially not strangers who promise you to show you their robots at some point.”

There is that smile again, marred with some guilt but nonetheless bright. Steve is not sure why he cannot take his eyes away from it.

“You’re not a stranger,” Peter says, twitching like he wants to underline his point by stomping his foot. He is his mother’s son, though, and Peggy always knew when to hold back.

“Peter.” Steve sighs, exhaustion creeping up in his bones. This is a problem.

Peter’s love for science and learning things tends to make him blind to dangers. The man smiling down from posters and starring in guest lectures is very much a stranger, even if Peter likes to hang on every word he says like it is gospel.

Their family consists of a rather paranoid bunch, always prepared for something to go wrong. How Peter could have turned out this trusting is a mystery, especially since he has already gotten a taste of how cruel life can be.

“He wasn’t going to do anything,” Peter insists, glaring at Steve as if he is the unreasonable one here. “We’re surrounded by people and I knew you’d be back any minute. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him.”

And who would stop Tony Stark if he decided to take a child somewhere? A child obviously excited and chattering a mile a minute?

“I know. I’m just –” Steve trails off, clenching his free hand at his side. He is never sure how to take care of Peter without smothering him.

Peter tugs at his hand and waits until Steve looks at him. “I’m worried too when you’re not there.”

The back of Steve’s eyes burns, but he pulls his lips up into a smile, wobbly but honest. His son will be a good person one day. He is already taking giant steps in that direction.

Steve blinks several times until he is sure he will not start crying right here and straightens as he looks back at Stark. He almost takes a double-take because Stark’s smile has morphed into something far sadder, almost longing. He does not wipe it away when he notices Steve’s attention on him.

With a solemn nod, he says, “I’m really sorry, Mr. –”

Steve hesitates, long enough to fluster Stark. He is aware of Peter’s pleading eyes, though, so he decides to give Stark the benefit of the doubt. “Steve Rogers. You already know my son, Peter.”

He offers his hand out of habit and is surprised by the strength of Stark’s grip. He never expects much from the suit-wearing types. Especially not the ones Peter practically worships. One of them has to be prepared for the disappointment that inevitably follows.

“Call me Tony,” Stark says as if there is room for familiarity between them. Steve already knows he will ignore it. “How about that coffee? I’d love to hear more about Peter’s ideas.” With a small wink towards Peter, he adds, “Is he too young to offer an internship to?”

“No,” Peter calls, even when Steve throws him a warning glance. “I’m ready.”

Stark’s gall tastes bitter when Steve swallows. At the same time, he cannot help but find his daring intriguing. It reminds him of how Bucky was before they enlisted.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Stark,” Steve answers, deciding to ignore the last thing Stark said. “We haven’t seen everything here yet.”

He is polite mostly for Peter’s sake because he can only imagine the disappointment if he tells Stark no outright.

Peter has learned a thing or two from Natasha, though, and says with practiced innocence, “I’d like to sit down for a bit.”

That seals it. How could Steve deny Peter the chance for a break away from the humdrum of the expo when they both know exactly that he would like to get out of there for a while too?

Stark must recognise the shift in tensions and nods grandly with a smile. “Great, come on. I’ll get you the best coffee this place has to offer.” His expression holds no smugness but looks like he is really just happy Peter could convince Steve.

Steve does not believe it for a second but takes Peter’s hand nonetheless and falls into step with Stark.

They walk to a door in the side wall, labelled Personnel only, which Stark breezes through, leaving them no other choice but to follow. Immediately, it becomes easier for Steve to breathe. The chatter of the crowd behind them cuts off, giving way to the soft echo of their steps on the concrete floor and the faint scent of metal and cleaning supplies in the air. The hallway is narrow but widens soon into a series of open rooms, stacked with supplies. They are alone here, meeting only a few harried looking assistants hurrying through the space.

Their destination is a small employee kitchen, tucked into the side of a bigger room that is holding what looks to be several half-assembled machines and robots. Even Steve feels the urge to ask about them, having to shake the sensation that he stepped into the future here. Stark navigates the place like there is nothing to it, like he spends all of his days surrounded by this kind of tech. Perhaps he does.

The doctors and technicians they met while fitting Bucky for his prosthetic all had the utmost respect for Stark, which is, in Steve’s experience, not always the case with one’s CEO. The Hammer Industries’ employees were mostly practiced at rolling their eyes.

“We’ve got juice, soda or water,” Stark says as he waltzes into the kitchen, filling the entire room with his lively presence, turning what has been an unremarkable, compact space into something bright. “And coffee for you, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve nods absentmindedly as he puts down their things and watches Peter take a seat. Too late he thinks he should offer Stark to use his first name too if only because Stark was so eager to do it himself. He refrains from it, still not so sure they should even be here.

“Apple juice, please,” Peter says and sits down without hesitation. That ease is enviable but also worries Steve.

Much slower, he follows suit and then watches as Stark pushes different buttons on the coffee machine without even looking at it while getting out two cups and a glass with the other hand. That speaks of long practice and familiarity with the machine. Either Stark spent most of the preparation time for the expo in here, drinking coffee, or he made sure the employee kitchen has a decent machine. Steve is not sure what to do with that piece of information.

After serving their drinks, Stark sits down too. For a brief moment, a tense silent engulfs them, sealing their mouths shut with breathless expectation of what will happen next. At least Steve feels that way as his eyes meet Stark’s across the small table.

Then Peter slurps in his haste to drink before he puts down the glass with a sharp clang, excitement making him careless. That breaks the tension as Stark turns towards Peter.

“Have you ever built a robot yourself?” Stark asks, still giving no sign that he has any ulterior motive other than simply talking to Peter.

Peter, in any case, breaks into quick-paced chatter, determined to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime chance of meeting the Tony Stark.

It turns out that Steve’s input is not actually needed much. Peter looks at him every now and then as if to make sure he is still there, and the brightness of Stark’s smile is nothing compared to the animated way he talks. His eyes are wrinkling with mirth and his hands fly through the air, drawing the shape of things Steve has never heard of. He always waits for Peter to finish a thought before talking himself.

Steve cannot help but be charmed. He almost even regrets the way he laid into Stark earlier. Almost. Peter’s safety still means more than social niceties. But this is a man who knows how to listen, and who apparently does not care that he is talking to a child. Where other people might praise Peter’s intellect and then turn away, intimidated by someone much younger and smarter than them, Stark appears to really enjoy himself. Despite their unfortunate first meeting, Steve is endeared by that.

He lets them talk, listening to them without taking in the specifics. While he keeps an eye on Stark’s demeanour, ready to get Peter and himself out of there at the slightest hint of a change to the worse, he is glad to have time to just breathe. Away from the crowd, from having to follow Peter’s way through the hall, expecting danger from all sides.

Compared to Bucky, Steve integrated himself back into civilian life with ease. That was mostly thanks to Peggy, so it might not be surprising that he is deteriorating without her.  

“You weren’t here yesterday, yes?” Stark asks at some point, obviously including Steve into the question, which snaps Steve back into the present. “Shame, the opening speeches were great, lots of fireworks and new projects.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, then he glances at Steve while biting his lips. “Dad doesn’t like fireworks very much,” he says with audible protectiveness, but Steve also hears the hint of regret at having missed out on something grand. “Or many people in once place.”

“Peter,” Steve says quietly and swallows a sigh. It does not do to announce his weaknesses to the world like that, even though he does not care what Stark thinks of him, of course.

He wishes now he would have let Clint take Peter the day before as was offered, despite his worries that the opening day would be too chaotic, too easily pushed into a disaster.

“I understand,” Stark says, looking at Steve like he truly does, no pity in his eyes, but with a slight grimace as if in remembrance. “Well, then it’s probably good you’ve come today. Although there are still a lot of people here.”

The concern in Stark’s voice is too much. He is a stranger and something like a celebrity. What does he understand of Steve’s problems? Steve keeps his mouth shut, though. He realises he does not always react appropriately when it comes to sore subjects.

“He promised to tell me when he needs to leave.” Leaning forward, Peter adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t think he will, though. Because I’ve wanted to come here forever.”

Peter knows too much. Perhaps that is due to growing up with loss clinging to them, or because he is smarter than his peers. Steve would not change his son for the world, but he aches for him nonetheless, for that innocence he is already lacking.

“Then it’s my lucky day,” Stark says with an earnestness that Steve cannot find a fault with, no matter how hard he is looking.

Peter giggles and then they are off on another tangent that Steve follows only superficially because he is busy watching Stark’s face. As far as Steve can tell, he does not just pretend his interest in what Peter has to tell. His face lights up while talking and it is easy to see ideas forming behind his eyes even while he listens to everything Peter has to say.

Steve does not trust it one bit. As head of Stark Industries’ R&D department, Stark must be surrounded by brilliant people all day, people he can talk about actual science with instead of listening to the excited rambling of a child. This is no doubt a dream come true for Peter, but Steve cannot help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

“I could give you a tour of our research labs at some point,” Stark says, much to Steve’s chagrin. It will be impossible to get that wish out of Peter’s head again. “We’re always glad to have some bright minds over.”

With all this talk about robots and science, and meeting one of his heroes, it should be impossible for Peter to become even more excited. But there he is, his spine shooting straight and he whirls his head around to Steve, eyes gleaming with sudden want.

“Can we, Dad?” he asks, almost breathless as if he is imagining running towards Stark Tower this very moment. “That would be the greatest thing ever.”

Steve knows he has to refuse. If he were to agree and then this never happens, because Stark is obviously just being nice and will forget about them the moment they step out of the door, Peter would be crushed.

“I’m not sure,” Steve says and immediately cursing himself for being unable to break his son’s heart. It should not be so hard to say no. “I’d have to see whether it fits in my schedule.”

Stark’s expression changes minutely. If Steve had not been looking at him, he would have missed it. For just a moment, his smile turns strained and his eyes stray to something only he can see. Just a second later, he is back in the present like nothing happened, his smile bright again.

“The offer stands,” Stark says, voice full of cheer that sounds genuine despite the momentary lapse in composure.

This is the time to go, Steve realises, as long as Stark is still interested instead of throwing glances at the clock and decides they have overstayed their welcome. As long as this is still a pleasant experience for everyone.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Steve says as he gets to his feet, managing a companionable tone despite his doubts of Stark’s motives.

To his surprise, Peter does not protest. Then again, Peter already knows that nothing lasts forever. He might be disappointed that his time with Stark is coming to an end already, but he has learned to be happy with what he gets. It hurts that his son has had to learn that lesson already. Losing his mother does that to a child.

“I have to thank you for the stimulating conversation,” Stark says with a flourish as he gets up too and offers his hand to Peter, who takes it with all the unbridled enthusiasm of a child performing an inherently adult ritual.

Making a split-second decision, Steve turns towards his son, and says, “Why don’t you run ahead, Peter. I’ll be right behind you.”

He sees Peter’s hesitation, sees that Peter knows exactly that this is code for I want to talk without you listening in. Still, he does not protest but walks off with a wave and a last, brilliant smile.

Stark knows too what is going on. They are watching Peter vanish down the hall before Steve nods at the way and starts walking slowly. He notices that Stark’s expression has become more cautious and takes that as validation for taking him aside.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks, diving right in. He does not believe in subterfuge.

It might be because Steve is looking for a negative reaction, but he sees Stark’s shoulders stiffening and sees it as an admission of guilt.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Stark says, no bite in his tone. His gaze is sharp, however, when he directs it at Steve. “Why do I organise such a big expo and then don’t make my company the main contributor? Why am I spending time backstage instead of flashing my smile on a stage somewhere? Why –”

“Why did you take the time to come back here with us?” Steve interrupts. He has neither the patience nor the temperament for these games. “You must have more pressing things to do than to talk science on an elementary school level.”

Stark leans slightly away from him, almost offended. Then he realises what he is doing and smooths his expression into something neutral but cool. Considering how freely he has given his smiles up to this point, Steve feels a strange loss.

“First off, your son is way beyond elementary school,” Stark says curtly, leaving no doubt that he means it. “I’m not saying you should make him skip grades because look how that turned out for me, but he would definitely do well with some extracurricular classes.”

That sounded almost self-deprecating, Steve notices that even over the glow of hearing his son complimented. He is a simple man and his family is the most important thing in the world for him. Yet, it immediately rankles him to hear Stark talk about himself like that, if only in hints.

“And why I’m here instead of getting sore wrists from shaking hands with all those important people out there? This,” Stark continues and gestures at their surroundings, the robot parts and the expo beyond. “This is my day job. Organising projects and talking to people who are more than convinced of their own genius. The science always comes in second place.” He pauses, his eyes dark and earnest on Steve. “Children are different. They are still excited to learn new things, to learn the way of the world. It is nice to talk to someone who still cares about the things I love.”

He sounds honest. If the public estimation of Stark’s genius is correct, he might remember what it was like as a child to always be talked down to by adults, even when he probably knew more than them.

Steve finds he wants to believe Stark. Yet, he crosses his arms in front of him. “That sounds like a nonsense sob story.”

He regrets his words the moment he watches Stark withdraw. Even without the smile, Stark had been open with Steve, engaged in a way that disappears immediately as his expression shutters closed. Suddenly, the skin of Stark’s face seems too tight as it becomes a mask of polite disinterest. It feels like an acute loss.

“Then you’ve never sat through a budgeting meeting where people tell you we can’t make certain improvements to, say, our prosthetic line because that would cost too much money,” Stark says coolly, then clicks his tongue in impatient disappointment. “Helping others has become as much of a profit-seeking business as anything else.”

The air between them is now tense and awkward. Steve stands by his decision to question Stark’s motives but is thoroughly uncomfortable with the result. Compared to the person standing before him now, it seems ridiculous that he thought Stark’s interactions with Peter were not honest.

“Thank you for sitting down with Peter,” Steve says, knowing he cannot salvage the situation but wanting to offer an olive branch, anyway. He does not like being cruel, but it feels like he crushed Stark.

“It was my pleasure,” Stark answers. “And do think about having that tour.”

Steve will not, but he does not say that. Stark appears to be genuine, but that does not mean Steve will abandon all sense. Nothing good can come of nursing Peter’s hopes only to have Stark forget about them the moment they walk out of that door.

He is surprised when Stark offers his hand again but takes it nonetheless. As he walks out, he decides to take this as a good thing, a positive experience for Peter.

By the time the door falls shut behind him, he is convinced he will never see Tony Stark again.

[lavenderfebreze]

The Proposal

An 11th hour birthday gift for @ixiblitz.

Keishin had been thinking about marriage for a long time.

It was hard not to, when you lived here. Even when he was a kid, parents would tease their children about their future weddings, and the kids would play pretend and act out marriage ceremonies by pretending to drink from plastic cups and throw daffodils at each other. It was meaningless play, little nods to some future that didn’t make sense yet.

Later, when Keishin realized he was gay, marriage had taken on a different meaning. It had become a looming specter in his future, a family obligation that he would either fulfill with empty motions or avoid and break his family’s hearts. His 20s had been riddled with his parents and older folks in the community trying to set him up with women near and far. He couldn’t even bring himself to feign interest. In his darker moments, when friends began to boast of their happy wives and families, it felt like a cruel joke the world had played on him.

And then, he’d met Ittetsu. Bold, charming, clever Ittetsu. Keishin had fallen in love as soon as he’d gotten to know the man. And, for reasons that still seemed mysterious, it had turned out that Ittetsu loved him back.

That was five years ago. Keishin was 30 now. He’d long come out to friends and family. He and Ittetsu moved in together a few years ago, letting the town make of it whatever they would. He woke up every day next to the man he loved.

He was happy.

Keishin tapped his fingers on the desk of the farm office. The equipment ledger sat in front on him, his father’s handwriting stubbornly difficult to read. He squinted at a line, then typed it into the computer. Just a few more lines, and he’d be done digitizing their records.

He bit his lip and glanced at the clock. There was still a little time before he had to leave to meet Ittetsu.

He minimized the spreadsheet window. The web browser was still open to his search from earlier.

Wedding rings.

Dozens of wedding rings shone on the page, each claiming something unique. Fingerprints, phases of the moon, star maps, wood from special trees, the world’s hardest metals, thick gold bands inlaid with diamonds, silver and platinum…

Keishin sighed.

Ittetsu had told him ages ago that he wasn’t interested in marriage.

Ittetsu’s reasons made sense. Marriage was a social construct with a troubling history. It applied laws and norms to love, something that was as vast and complex as the human experience itself.

Ittetsu believed in poetry, and courage, and lifelong love. Ittetsu did not believe in marriage.

It was a conversation they’d had barely a year into dating, and Keishin had never had any reason to doubt it. He sighed and closed the window.

It was a silly fantasy, anyway.

Keishin finished his work and locked up the office. He stretched as he stepped out onto the gravel road and took in the view of the valley. The summer sun still shone high over the horizon, framed by little wisps of cloud. The world seemed perfect just how it was.

What did he even want to get married for?

He got into his car. He usually rode his bike to work, but today he’d driven so he wouldn’t mess up his nice clothes. Ittetsu had insisted on taking him out that night to celebrate their five-year anniversary. It fell on a Tuesday this year, which meant there’d be plenty of space at their favorite sushi place.

“Dress nice. I want it to be a night to remember,” Ittetsu had said that morning, far more suave than any man standing disheveled and half-asleep in his boxers had the right to sound.

Keishin glanced in the rear-view mirror at the dust the car left behind him. Yeah, it had definitely been a good idea to drive.

Maybe he should just propose tonight. Just lay it all out there. He wondered what Ittetsu would think. Would he laugh? Would he want to know why?

It’s not like Keishin wanted kids. The high school team kept them plenty busy enough.

And it’s not like a wedding would give them any extra legal protections anyway. Until the government got it’s shit together and recognized gay marriage, it was all ceremony.

Maybe he just wanted the world to know.

No. It was silly.

They didn’t need this. Keishin shook his head. He was being stupid.

Keishin pulled up to the restaurant. Inside there were mostly empty tables. He recognized the few patrons that were in that night. Shimada and Takinoue and some of the guys from the neighborhood team were at one table in the corner, a few coworkers of Takeda’s in another.

It was such a small town.

The bell on the door chimed as Ittetsu walked in. He was dressed in a nice button-up, his dress jacket draped over one arm to make the summer heat more bearable. He smiled apologetically, “Sorry I’m late, Keishin!”

Keishin smiled at the sight of him. “Yer fine. Just got here myself. You alright? You’re shaking a little.”

Ittetsu’s posture stiffened. “N-no! I’m fine. I just ah, you look good tonight. Shall we eat? I ah, took the liberty of calling ahead and having a few things prepared for you already…”

The server took them to a table in the middle of the restaurant, lit softly by candles with a beautiful first course laid out and a bottle of expensive sake between them.

“Y’really pulled out all the stops!” Keishin grinned and poured the first glass of sake. “Careful, or I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me.”

Ittetsu laughed and poured the second glass. “Well do I have news for you then. I uh, I do really like you.”

“Heh, I like you too. Wanna catch up on Midnight Diner when we get home?

Ittetsu smiled. “Yeah. Home is… actually what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I wanted to thank you, for how amazing all of this time with you has been. Whenever I come home, I feel at peace. And whenever I’m with you, I feel like I could do anything.”

Heat spread to Keishin’s cheeks. “What is this all of a sudden? Y’could do anything you wanted, with or without me.”

Ittetsu shook his head. “No, with you. What I want is to build a life with you. I want to make you the happiest man on earth.”

Keishin blinked. Ittetsu was standing up, then kneeling…

And now he was holding up a ring.

Ittetsu was still talking. “I’ve thought a lot about all the things marriage can mean. Some people talk about it as if it were a simple matter of fate, as if we’re tied by strings… But I don’t want to be bound. I want to weave the threads of my life with yours. I want us to keep creating this tapestry together. I want to keep coming home to you. I want the blessing of everyone in our lives. I want to give you everything I have. I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Everyone in the restaurant was standing around them. Keishin finally realized that they were all people they knew, that it was all planned.

“Yes!” Keishin practically shouted before he found himself choking up.

Phones were out and photos were being taken. Takinoue and Shimada were wiping tears off their faces. Keishin’s parents had made their way over from the back, wherever they’d been hiding. Ittetsu slipped the ring on his finger.

Keishin pulled Ittetsu into a kiss. Not for the whole world to see, but for everyone that mattered.

The ring fit perfectly.

[rockindragonz]

Home Is Where the Taaco’s Are

Angus McDonald would never allow himself to be a burden on anyone, so he tries to make it on his own following the Day of Story and Song. He ends up in an orphanage with too many kids, too few caretakers, and too little money. When Taako and Kravitz find out, they will not let that stand any longer.

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 4333

Chapters: 1/1

Read on Ao3

No one really talks about what they saw, or rather didn’t see, that day.  It's never mentioned when the Day of Story and Song comes around.  For many, it is a day of celebration, but, for many more, it is a day of mourning and loss.  So many died to the monsters before anyone could see them.  So many husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, children and grandparents.  Everyone knew someone who had died without being able to see their attacker, all they felt was blood spilling from them by the gallon.  What they do talk about is the story of the seven birds and how courageous and wonderful these people were.  They talk of the Bureau of Balance and some speak of Carey, Killian, and Angus who had the privilege of fighting beside the old adventurers.

Its weird for a while for Angus.  Going to school and trying to have a normal life all while being so related to the seven people who saved countless realities.  When he’s first recognized on the street as Angus McDonald, member of the Bureau of Balance, he is in shock.  People crowd him and ask him so many of questions about the IPRE crew that he loses track of them.

For the crew, the year immediately following the Day of Story and Song was the hardest.  Taako and Kravitz had rushed headfirst into their relationship and had spent as much time together as possible.  Magnus began to rebuild Raven’s Roost after the destruction it had faced.  Lup and Barry joined up with the Raven Queen, so they weren’t around much.  Lucretia spent all of her time trying to fix all the mistakes she had made and created the Bureau of Benevolence to aid in repairation efforts.  Merle moved to the beach and became the leader of a city he now ran.  And Davenport all but disappeared off the map.

As for Angus, he no longer had a home.  He was alone once again, without a mother or father to speak of, and his grandfather’s grave had been destroyed in the attacks.  He applied to Lucas’s school and got in with no problems.  But now he was living in an orphanage where there were too many kids, not enough caretakers, and not nearly enough money.  Many children had been orphaned on that fateful day.  Despite everything, Angus found himself happier than he had ever been.  He was learning new and challenging things and he was visiting constantly with Taako and Kravitz who lived so close to his school.  He was finally living the life a child deserves to live.  No one knew where Angus was calling home, no one even really knew that Angus had no family in Faerun that he could have lived with.  Whenever the subject was brought up, he changed it quickly with a dismissive answer and tried to focus on something not related to his living conditions at all.

That’s how it went for the first year.  Everything was calm and quiet and everyone had a new appreciation for life and love.

It's been almost three years since the day or Story and Song now and Angus is still in the orphanage.  Prospective parents have been few and far between for the orphanage this year and donations haven’t been large enough to support the displaced children so there wasn’t enough food to go around.  Besides that, Angus had some massive finals coming up that kept him locked in his shared room most days.  Those two things combined over the course of a month meant that Angus was starting to show some bone in his ribcage.  He was constantly hungry now, but he ignored it and continued working towards his goal of becoming as good of a wizard as Taako was.

His final for the year was held on the day before the Day of Story and Song, so the day after was when he finally found himself with enough time to once again visit Taako and Kravitz.  Normally the gang would gather in one house to celebrate and relate stories, but the party had been put off for a day or so because Davenport had gotten stranded briefly in some remote part of the world and refused out of dignity to let Kravitz help him.  Before knocking on the familiar wooden door, Angus hesitated.  He knew Taako was more on this day and he really didn’t want to bother him, but his decision was made for him when a surprisingly casually dressed reaper opened the door.

Kravitz blinked down at Angus twice before grinning ear to ear.  “Angus!  I was just about to head to the store to get some stuff for dinner, will you be joining us?”

“Oh, no sir, I wouldn’t want to bother you two, I know you’re both very-” he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach that caught him totally off guard.  The growling had stopped weeks ago but apparently the mention of Taako’s delicious food reactivated it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Go ahead and go inside, Taako is just in the kitchen getting some things prepared.”  Kravitz clapped him on the shoulder and stepped away from the wooden door and past Angus.  Hesitantly, Angus stepped into the warm home.

“Sir?  Mr. Kravitz let me in,” Angus said, calling towards where he knew the kitchen was.

“Angus, I’m in the kitchen, do me a favor and come give cha’boy a hand,” Taako responded.  Angus nodded to himself and dropped his book bag on the cozy couch that stood facing a lit fire.  He stared for a moment at the flames that licked up and around the logs burning, and he thought of Lup immediately as he stared.  Honestly, Angus was surprised she and Barry weren’t here; the twins were usually inseparable today.  Shaking his head, Angus walked to the kitchen to lend Taako the hand he had asked for.

“How can I help sir?”

“Just hand me stuff and put things I give you in the sink or something, I don’t really care as long as they get the fuck out of my way,” Taako said, passing him a dirty dish.  Angus nodded and dutifully placed it in the sink and ran the water to clean the bowl out a bit.  “Ango, gimme the salt.”  And so Angus did.  Things continued like this for a while, both of them existing in comfortable silence, despite the teasing that usually occurred at Angus’ expense.  Taako said nothing besides a few short words to indicate what he needed next for the recipe.  At one point, Angus got the feeling that Taako didn’t really need his help, he could tell in the way Taako would go to reach for something and then hesitate and ask Angus to grab it for him.  Honestly, Angus had no idea why the usually flippant man would allow him to help out, but he wasn’t complaining, anything was better than being stuck at that orphanage ny longer than he had to be.

“That’ll do boyo, we can chillax now and watch Fantasy Queer Eye if you want, though Krav might kill me if we watch a new ep without him.” Taako spoke loudly, almost as if he were trying to get someone else in the house to hear him, as he dried his hands off on a dish towel.

“Whatever sounds great to me sir!” Angus said with a smile he hoped was convincing.  The food he could smell that was now baking kept causing his stomach to growl loudly, but if Taako had noticed, he hadn’t said anything about it.  Taako plopped down on the couch in what Angus knew to be his usual place and waved his hand at the small TV above the fireplace.  A rerun episode of Fantasy Queer Eye came on, one where they were trying to help a gay man get a sense of style that he obviously didn’t have.  Occasionally, Taako would scoff at the clothing choices one of them would make for the client and he would mutter things like “Oh so you think you know everything about clothing, don’t you Tan?”  In these instances, Angus would only smile to himself in a fond way one would if one’s father was acting silly.

“So...how’re...things?” Taako said.  He had obviously grown bored with the rerun and was now trying to rope Angus into a long conversation about his life.

“Things are good, I am doing very well in school!”

“Yeah, no surprise there, boy wonder,” Taako said with a snort, “what are they feeding you over there anyways?  You look like skin and bone my dude.  I’m gonna have to take that up with Lucas and make sure that shithead is feeding you guys right.”

“There’s no need for that sir, I’m just...sick is all.”

“No, no, no, I know sick and this is not that,” he said with a scowl, “have you eaten a proper meal in the last few weeks?  I’m talking something other than a shitty ass school sandwich and a granola bar.”

“Oh sir, the shows back on!  I love this part of the episode, it’s so funny.”  Angus turned his face to watch the TV and rested his head in his hands, hoping to mask the bit of bone that had begun to show around his jaw area.  With no warning, the TV was shut off.  Angus turned to look at Taako only to be faced with a serious look that he had rarely, if ever, seen on Taako’s face.

“Angus, what is really going on?  I’m not a moron you know, I know malnutrition when I see it, and boy, am I seein it right now.”  Angus sighed and let his hands fall into his lap.  He was torn between telling Taako the whole truth and lying about his whereabouts and his food intake.  Lying seemed to be the better and less inconvenient option.  “Don’t bullshit me or I will get Merle to pop over here and cast Zone of Truth.”  Again, Angus sighed a deep sigh.  Taako wasn’t going to give up until he was satisfied with the answer, was he?

“Okay, well, I’m living in a home where they don’t have a ton of money right now and we haven’t been able to get much food together.  Most people have spent their money on the rebuilding efforts so donations are low.”

“Wait a second there boyo,” Taako said, his eyebrows raising rapidly, “donations?  What, are you living on the streets now?”

“No, I have a bed sir, I’m not sleeping on the streets anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Um, well yeah, after the Day of Story and Song three years ago, I had nowhere to go, so I was on the streets for a few weeks, but an orphanage took me in.”

“An orphanage?!  Are you fucking with me?!” Taako yelled, “You’ve been living in an orphanage with barely enough food, if any, for three fucking years and no one even bothered to check on you?”

“I didn’t want to impose on anyone, sir.  I felt wrong aking anyone from the BoB to take me in because I’m not their responsibility,” Angus said, voice soft.

“Well fuck that noise!”  Taako stood violently, knocking into the coffee table as he rose.  Kravitz chose that exact moment to enter the room carrying a small bag of rolls with him.  He looked from Taako to Angus and back with a look of total bewilderment.  Taako’s face was pure rage and Angus was sure his was one of fear and shock.

“What is going on here?” Kravitz said, his voice unnaturally calm given the current situation.

“Angus here hasn’t been telling us the whole fucking truth for three fucking years!” Taako shouted.

“What ‘whole truth’ is he talking about, Angus?”

“Ango here has been living in a fucking orphanage with nothing to eat for three.  Fucking.  Years.”  Taako spat.  “That shit doesn’t fly.  Krav, take us to the orphanage where Angus is staying so I can get those fucking adoption papers now.”  With those words, Taako stormed off to the kitchen.  Angus could hear some banging as he grabbed the dish out of the oven and dropped on one of the counters.  He heard Taako swearing a muttering to himself just loud enough that he could hear the noise, but couldn’t make out any of the words, he just knew that Taako was furious.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to make him angry Mr. Kravitz, I promise I didn’t, I’m just really tired and I’m not thinking straight and I couldn’t come up with a believable lie in time to tell him,” Angus said as he stood, “I just didn’t want to force anyone to take care of me, that’s-”  Before he could finish his sentence, he was wrapped up in a tight hug from Kravitz.  Despite Kravitz being dead and his skin being cold, Angus had never felt warmer in all his life.

“Angus, shhh, it’s okay, he isn’t mad at you,” Kravitz said in a soft tone, “he’s mad that he didn’t notice you were going through exactly what he and Lup had gone through back on their home world.”  Angus was stunned.  This information was new to him.  Of course, he could infer it what with how jumpy Taako seemed to get in a new place and how he always seemed to know the fastest exit out of any room, but he had never had such clear confirmation.  For a long while, they stood there, Angus wrapped up in Kravitz’s arms with his own down at his sides in shock.  It took him a moment to process all that was happening and, when he finally did, he felt tears begin to streak down his face.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Kravitz, who pulled him down onto the couch, never letting go of him for even a moment.  Kravitz combed his fingers through the thick and curly locks as Angus sobbed harder than he had in years.  Taako returned at some point and wrapped his arms around the other side of Angus, but no one could tell you when or exactly how it had happened, it just did.

Once Angus had finally calmed down fully, he pulled away from Kravitz, but was unable to escape Taako’s tight grasp.  It seemed as if Taako was unwilling to let go for fear that he might lose him or something.

“Don’t you ever do something like this again, okay Ango?  We are your dads now, and thats final.”  Taako spoke with such finality that Angus was once again overcome with emotions.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Taako’s neck and buried his face into it and found himself crying once more.  Not out of stress or fear but out of so much happiness that he couldn’t handle it on his own.  Taako was happy to oblige him, wrapping his arms tight around his magic boy.  They sat there for what felt like forever.  Kravitz eventually stood up and went to get something, and Angus faintly registered talking in a room a ways away, but he wasn’t coherent enough to process any of it.  After what felt like hours, Taako and Angus let go of each other and only stared.  Taako’s eyes were red and puffy just as Angus knew his were, but this was more of a comfort than anything to him.

“How’re you doing kiddo?” Kravitz said as he took his place on the couch once more.

“Better.”

“Good.  I just finished speaking with the lady who owns the shelter and she is aware that we are coming to get your things.  She sounded drunk.”

“I did some detective work while I was there and I think she knows that I found out she stole all the money we had for food this month to pay for her alcohol.”

“That would explain it,” Kravitz said with a laugh, “when we get there, grab your things and do not say a word to her.  Taako and I will deal with her and her employer.”

Angus only nodded in acknowledgement and went to stand up, but was stopped by a hand on his knee.

“Angus,” Taako began, “you are never a burden on any of us, remember that.”  His face was stone cold serious.  He hadn’t seen this look since three years ago when he was preparing to kick the shit out of Lucretia for lying to him.

“Okay.”

Once the three were calm and collected, they gathered a few bags and waited for Kravitz to rip a tear for them to travel to the orphanage with.  Upon their arrival, the woman was standing in front of the building with a scowl on her face.  She was yelling at a younger girl who was covered in mud.  Once she had been incredibly sweet and loving to all the children, but that was when people were giving all they could to the ‘poor little children who had lost their parents to the Hunger’.  Now she was bitter and mean and crude to all the kids she came across.  Taako cleared his throat as he stared her down.  She waved her hand dismissively and continued to berate the girl for getting her clothes messy, but Taako was having none of it.  He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to face him fully.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded before she laid eyes on him.  It was almost comical how wide her eyes got when she was Angus standing behind one of the seven birds.  She had known that he was related to them, but they never visited or even contacted him at the orphanage, so she thought they had forgotten about him completely.

“I’m Taako from TV,” he said.  And, with all the rage and anger he had pent up, he punched her square in the nose with all the force he had in his body.  Granted, it wasn’t much, but she fell backwards, out cold all the same.  Kravitz only whistled as she went down and the girl stared at Taako in awe.  Taako turned to the young girl and, with a wave of his hand, her dress was pristine again.  “Don’t hit people, kid.”  He gave her a genuine Taako (™) smile and strode into the orphanage.  Angus was left shocked with Kravitz by his side.  The man laughed quietly and shook his head, but followed after his husband.  Angus followed suit, trying to keep up with him so that none of the other kids would wonder why a Reaper was here with one of the seven birds.

When they stepped inside the house, papers were flying everywhere as Taako searched for the forms he needed to sign.  Kravitz nudged Angus towards the stairs and pointed towards where Taako was obviously beginning his search.

“I’ll help him, you go get your stuff, if you need me, just yell.”  Angus nodded and began the climb to the shared bedroom for all the boys.  He frowned as he got to the top and all the kids in his orphanage were hiding in the room.

“It’s okay,” he began, unsure of how to help the kids, “it’s just me.”

“She said to stay here and out of sight or else, so we did.  What’s all the commotion downstairs?” one girl said.  Her voice was soft, so Angus could barely understand her, but he smiled anyways.

“Taako is downstairs,” he said.  Before he could even finish speaking, the children were scrambling to get down there to meet one of the famous seven birds.  Angus was left alone in the giant room with only his thoughts and his stuff to grab.  He pulled a chest out from under his bed where he kept all of his things and began to unpack it and put it in the bags Kravitz had given him.  He took extra care to cushion his most valuable items: his spell books for school, his journal where he kept all of his detective notes, and a single silver spoon that had belonged to the set his grandfather had entrusted him with that he knew Taako and the other two had stolen on the train.  This spoon meant more to him than almost anything else he owned so he put it in the safest spot he could imagine.

With a smile, he looked around the room one last time, gathered his things, and went downstairs to tell the two he was ready to go.  It was no surprise to him that Taako had been surrounded by the children.  What was a shock was seeing Magnus and Merle there trying to act as decoys.

“Hey guys!  Look it’s me, Magnus Burnsides!” he shouted, striking a pose and flexing.  Immediately, all the children who had been surrounding Taako flocked to talk to Magnus who took it all in stride.  The attention was something that the three of them had gotten very used to in the past few years, so it was nothing for Magnus to be messing with a few of the kids and trying to lift them while Merle tried his damndest to even see over the sea of children.  It seemed that none of the kids noticed Angus follow Taako and Kravitz to a side room where they could hopefully have a moment to process everything.

“Thank you for getting those two for me Krav, I couldn’t handle those brats for a second longer,” Taako said with relief evident in his voice.  Kravitz only nodded with a fond smile to which Taako rolled his eyes.

“So, Angus, shall we?” Kravitz said.  He gestured to the desk where Taako and he had already signed the paperwork.  The ink was fresh with their signatures, but that of the orphanage’s owner’s was not.

“She must have signed all of the forms forever ago,” Taako said with disgust, “she wanted ou all out of her hair so badly, I bet she would have gladly given one of you to anyone with cash.”

“Sirs?” Angus said, voice small, “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course we are, Angus,” Kravitz said with a gentle smile, “we love you, and we want you to be happy.  Do you want this?”

“Absolutely,” Angus said with a gigantic grin on his face.  His eyes had gotten a bit teary and his vision was getting slightly blurred, but he was happy.  Taako handed him the pen to sign that he agreed to be adopted, and Angus drew his signature over the line with the biggest smile he had had in years.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of things.  Taako and Kravitz took him to the nearest city hall to turn in the paperwork and make it fully official.  The secretary there was shocked by Taako’s sudden appearance with a literal reaper’s scythe that dropped them in the middle of her office.  Once there, the woman only nodded in awe to the questions Taako asked.  When they brought up the lady in charge of the orphanage, the secretary shook from her stupor and began writing things down.  She assured them that the woman would be fired promptly and a new person would be instated as the caretaker.  Taako also insisted on making a hefty donation to the orphanages that fell under the jurisdiction of this city, to which the woman humbly accepted and tucked away.

“If I find out my money has gone to anything except the kids,” Taako spoke, his voice suddenly deep and filled with anger, “all hell will break loose.”  The woman only nodded, pupils blown wide in fear.  Satisfied his money would be used well, Kravitz tore open another portal, this one to their home.

As Angus stepped foot into their living room with all of his things in hand, it finally settled in his mind that this was real.  This wasn’t just a dream, this was actually happening.  He would be with a family, a real family, and he would finally be safe for the first time in three years.

“Your room is upstairs, I’m gonna heat up dinner real fast,” Taako said, all but sprinting away to the kitchen.

As if Kravitz could hear Angus’ concerns, he spoke, “Don’t worry about him, okay Angus?  He loves you, I promise, he’s just really bad at showing vulnerability sometimes.”  Angus nodded with a small smile.  He knew Taako loved him, he knew the trio loved him, because they teased him so often but they were also softer to him than anyone else.  Kravitz patted him on the head and started for the stairs to lead Angus to his new room.  When they entered, it was basically empty save for the massive bed against one of the walls and a dresser with a mirror on top.  Despite the lack of furniture in the room, Angus had never felt so at home.

“Welcome home kiddo,” Kravitz said, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad, you know.  So has Taako.  The last time he got drunk, actually, he talked about adopting you, but you hadn’t shown any interest in being adopted by anyone, so he dropped it quickly.  He’s really fucking happy about this.”

“I know sir, I am too,” Angus said, “thank you, sir, for adopting me.”

“Angus, you don’t have to call us ‘sir’ anymore.  You can call me dad if you want, or if you don’t want, whatever works for me.  I just want you to be happy here.”

“Okay, sir,” Angus paused, “dad.”  Absolute joy took over Kravitz’ face and he had to seemingly restrain himself from wrapping Angus up in a bear hug.

“Get settled in, and then come down for dinner, okay?”

“Alright.”  With that, Kravitz turned and retreated down the hallway and downstairs.  Angus watched him go for a moment, before he stepped into his new room and into his new life.

And he truly couldn’t have been happier if he’d tried.

[glitched-lullaby]

Chikuzu Chizuku

OC Template by @izukulove

Finally did a full profile for him! Read it below the cut. (Sorry mobile users)

Full name: Chikuzu Chizuku

Pronunciation: [Chih-koo-zoo] [Chih-zoo-koo]

Meaning of Name: I heard his given name the dream he came to me in, but I couldn’t remember if it was Chikuzu or Chizuku, so I just decided to make both of them his name.

Hero/Villain Name: Devil☣ist: The Gaseous Hero

Nicknames: Chi-san, a multitude of others

History of Nicknames: Chi-san is what a lot of the UA staff and student body call him as it’s easy to mix up his given and surname. A multitude of cute nicknames have been given to him by his friend Gray.

Aliases: The Gas-masked Assailant (more on this further down)

Nationality: Japanese

Affiliation: UA Academy Staff

Quirks:  Gaseous Breath and Devil Morph

 Age: 22

Gender: Male

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Gay

Birthday:

Appearance:

Eye color: He has three irises that range from bright yellow to neon green starting from his pupil. His sclera are black.

Eyewear: He sometimes wears sunglasses to hide his eyes.

Hair: Mulberry

Height: 5’8”

Body build: Average, very very average.

Complexion: Tan/light brown

Handedness: Right

Movement: A bit clumsy at times, also prone to sometimes shaking due to anxiety

Posture: Somewhat curled inwards, which manifests as slouching, slumping, and wrapping his arms and tail around himself.

Voice: Sounds faintly hoarse.

Speech Mannerisms: He tends to stutter and stall a lot in his speech when he’s nervous (which is about 90% of the time), though he speaks much more coherently when he’s comfortable. He speaks quietly, though not so quiet that people can’t hear him.

Defining physical traits: Eyes, small horns, demon/devil like tail.

 Statistics:

Power: ★★★☆☆ C

Speed: ★★★☆☆ C

Technique: ★★★☆☆ C

Intelligence: ★★★★☆ B

Cooperativeness: ★★★★★ A

Extra Explanation: He still has a lot of training to do, but he’s willing to work with anyone that doesn’t have an incompatible quirk (ie a fire based quirk)

Quirk and description: please view image profile

  Clothing:

Uniform: At school he wears a button up shirt, slacks, boots, and a flu mask or his half-face gas mask.

Casual outfit: Usually has a hoodie, jacket/cardigan, or a scarf on along with a flu-mask. Sneakers or boots for his feet.

Preferred outfit: Hoodie, sweat pants, sneakers, half-face gas mask.

Hero costume: Half-face gas mask, green-tinted goggles, two belts with pouches on, mini poncho, long sleeved shirt, gloves, cargo pants, and sturdy boots. It gives off a post-apocalyptic vibe. He usually has his horns a bit longer and his tail a bit shorter when he’s in his hero gear.

 Equipment / Support Items: In the pockets of his belt, he has a few first aid supplies and specialty flu masks (made to give to victims and allies to keep them safe from his quirk). He also has a few other bits and pieces in there that I can’t come up with off the top of my head.

 Characteristics:

Personality: Due to a childhood of bullying, he’s very reserved and anxious. He’s constantly paranoid that people will think he’s a villain based on appearances alone and tends to get skittish around certain types of people/heroes because of it. Despite that, he’s a very friendly person and does his best not to make assumptions based on first impressions. He wants to keep an open mind and even help comfort people who are in situations similar to what his was.

Big Five personality traits: anxious/paranoid, submissive, friendly, open-minded, cautious.

Most prominent personality trait: ANXIOUS

Best traits: Most people who know him consider him to be very friendly and understanding. He thinks his quietness is his best trait, as it means he’s not bothering anyone.

Worst traits: He’s tends to be a push-over as he hates conflict. His general submissive and quiet attitude also means that he doesn’t always speak up when he should.

Likes: His friend Gray, All Might and Deku, quiet places

Dislikes: Endeavor and like-minded heroes, open flames/sparks, confrontation

Quirks:  (not the superpower but little silly things they do)

Fear: Coming face to face with Endeavor (again), being mistaken for a villain

Skills/Talents: Due to his quirk, he’s studied chemistry extensively.

What his self-image is like: pretty negative, though it’s slowly getting better

Coping mechanisms: hiding away in a corner or in his room, curling up on himself in fetal position, breathing out colored smoke

Any life motto or quote they live by: Don’t judge others based on what they can’t help.

 Health:

Physical: Doing well, but needs to get into better shape for hero work.

Mental: His mental state is in pieces, though he’s slowly getting better.

Emotional Stability: Haha… what’s that?

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: could be any based on the situation, though flight is the most likely and is very closely followed by freeze.

Habits: Tends to breathe out a bit of smoke when he sighs.

 History & Background:

Upbringing: Nothing much to note here.

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: Not much.

What did they hate most about their childhood?: The constant “teasing” (read: bullying) from his classmates that he looked like a villain and he quirk was a very villain-like quirk to have.

Post-High School:

After he graduated from high school, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was scared of applying for any sort of normal job in case he was turned away due to his appearance, so he eventually decided to do “underground” jobs. Most of what he did was delivery for questionable people, though a lot of the people he worked for where people who were down on their luck or didn’t want to be out in public for whatever reason (mostly quirk related problems). During this time in his life, he lived in a mostly abandoned building in a hideout he put together himself and wore a full faced gasmask near constantly.

The Gasmasked Assailant:

The area around his hideout was a very bad area with a lot of criminals and villains causing trouble. One night, one of the common local scuffles escalated out of control and Endeavor along with some other heroes ended up being called in. Though he normally watched local conflicts from a balcony near his hideout to make sure it wouldn’t move into his building, Endeavor’s presence drove him to hide inside.

Endeavor suddenly burst through the wall after being attacked and scared the daylights out of Chikuzu. When Endeavor turned around, his freeze instinct turned to fight, and he transformed his tail into the shape of a blade in preparation to defend himself. As he lunged forward and reached for one of the vents on his mask, Deku suddenly grabbed him and carried him out of the building to a safe location. This all happened within the span of about 10 seconds.

After asking why Deku “saved” him, Deku explained that he thought that Chikuzu was just a terrified civilian who was fighting back against one of the villains, and didn’t notice Endeavor through the doorway until after he had entered the room. After hearing Chikuzu explain his side, Deku told him that he would cover for him in the event Endeavor had mistaken him for a villain.

Later that night, Endeavor filed a report on a villain he could only identify as “a Gasmasked Assailant.”

Chikuzu threw out his full faced gasmask and switched over to convenience store flu masks.

A few days later…

Chikuzu happened to run into Deku and went over to thank him. After some conversation and a coffee, then decided to stay in contact via Line message. Deku promised not to out Chikuzu out as the Gasmasked Assailant.

Slip of the Tongue and Employment at UA

After a string of odd events including Deku running into Chikuzu while out and about with All Might and then accidentally spilling some of Chikuzu’s history to All Might, Chikuzu was invited to work at UA as part of the general staff and also train there to become a hero if he desired. Chikuzu hesitantly accepted, but after meeting with Nedzu and explaining his full situation then still being welcomed as a staff member, he accepted whole heartedly. He’s extremely grateful to everyone involved in integrating him into the staff.

He lives on-campus in the staff dorms and works mostly as a go-fer, though will substitute for teachers or do any other errands that might need doing.

Shortly after moving into the staff dorms, Chikuzu ran into a former classmate named Gray Mellion who had become a reporter. The quickly hit it off and starting messaging and hanging out with each other.

Current Dream: to get out of the shadow of his past

Long-term goals for Future: become a support hero, have a stable mental state

  Relationships:

Gray Mellion

Status: Former high school classmates turned close friends

How well they get along: Ever since running into each other recently, they’ve become friends and gotten very close. They often hang out with each other when their schedules line up.

What Gray thinks of him: A person who’s been broken down by their past, but is gradually picking up the pieces and putting them back together kintsukuroi style. He has a strong admiration for Chikuzu for coming out of a very dark mental place with a desire to help people instead of a desire to get even.

What he thinks of Gray: Very reliable best friend; the human equivalent of a blanket cocoon.

What Gray calls him: Chikuzu (his given name), Chi-kun, Chi, Chizu (from his surname), C.C., a variety of other pet names. He switches it up a lot.

What he calls Gray: Gray (his given name)

 Midoriya Izuku

Status: Friendly acquaintances

How well they get along: fairly well

What he thinks of Deku: An amazing person who saved him from the biggest mistake of his life (even if Deku didn’t know it at the time). He thinks Deku is going to be an amazing hero, and is already a hero in his eyes.

What Deku thinks of him: Someone who’s been in a very bad place and is trying his best to get somewhere better. Deku likes to check in on him every now and then to make sure he’s doing okay at UA.

What Deku calls him: Chizuku-san

What he calls Deku: Deku (his hero name) or Midoriya-kun

[dipifica]

Heart on the Line: Chapter 2

woo! finally an update! thanks to everyone who waited patiently and supported me! i suggest reading it on ff.net!

READ IT HERE OR BELOW

“Alright, kid,” the older man cleared his throat loudly. “You’ll be manning the gift shop while I take these bozos on tours. Just take people’s money and sell everything you can. Real simple stuff.” He coughed again as Wendy wondered about his age.

“Okay, Stan.” She replied. She was used to working retail, she had been hired and fired from around five different stores and a low key, run down gift shop sounded like the perfect part time job for her. “Just leave it to me.”

“You can call me Mr. Pines.” He muttered as he walked away. “Some of your co-workers will probably be around today, so don’t waste your time trying to sell to them.” He grabbed his 8-ball cane from the wall, took a breath, and open the door. “Ladies and Gentlemen, are you ready for the weirdest, creepiest, most jaw-dropping-eat experience of your pathetic lives?!” Wendy could hear cheers before the door shut completely. She respected her new boss a little bit more for his stunning performance.

She leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up and scrolled through her phone. She read back her messages from Gideon from last night.

Gideon Gleeful: it seems pacifica’s attempt with dipper didn’t go so well….

Wendy Corduroy: what! why! did she say something to you?

Gideon Gleeful: the fact she didn’t say anything is telling enough, when i tried to ask she told me to ‘buzz off.’ she gets even more stereotypical mean girl when she's pissed

Wendy Corduroy: are we sure dipper isn’t gay? sorry but who WOULDN’T accept pacifica’s advances?

Gideon Gleeful: we’re sure. i wouldn’t, she’s an asshole. dipper probably thinks the same thing. we just have to make him see she’s not an asshole.

Wendy Corduroy: but she is an asshole

Gideon Gleeful: she’s gonna have to be a good actor. i’m adding her into this message.

Gideon Gleeful added Pacifica Northwest

Pacifica Northwest: ugh. i don’t have any updates losers.

Pacifica Northwest: you idiots know i can read the past messages right? fuck off, i’m not an asshole

Gideon Gleeful: it’s why we loooooove you paz!!

Pacifica Northwest: you make me want to vomit gleeful

Wendy Corduroy: wanna tell us how it went yesterday?

Pacifica Northwest: well, you figured it out already. it went not well. he snubbed me, the stupid dork. he’s too preoccupied with his dumb mystery stuff to even give a girl attention, i think we need to call it off.

Gideon Gleeful: that’s just what you want

Pacifica Northwest: well, yeah.

Wendy Corduroy: is there any reason he would reject you?

Pacifica Northwest: he’s always been like this, in his own world and shit

Gideon Gleeful: wait, what?

Wendy Corduroy: pacifica, do you and dipper have a past or something?

Pacifica Northwest: uh, no? i just have been in school with the pines for my entire high school career so i know things about them, and other people for that matter. its a small school, i don't need a “past” with anybody to know basic knowledge about someone.

Pacifica Northwest: you guys figure out what you want to do. i’m going to bed.

Pacifica Northwest has left the group message

Wendy Corduroy: that was weird

Gideon Gleeful: it was….interesting…

A loud slam hit the counter next to Wendy’s feet and she suddenly jerked up, face to face with someone she was certainly not expecting.

“Hi! Wendy, right?” Mabel Pines beamed from across the counter. “I’m sorry if I scared you with the boxes.” She did a similar little giggle to the one she had during their first encounter, making Wendy’s heart dance.

“Mabel, hi.” She tried to play it her usual cool self and it helped her calm down. “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but what are you doing here? Looking for some “Magic Frog Eyeballs?” She read the container full of obviously plastic eyeballs next to her.

Mabel laughed again. “No, silly, I’m dropping off the new shirts for the Shack. That’s what’s in the boxes.”

“Oh, do you work at the manufacture’s shop or something?”

“I work here, you didn’t know?” Mabel questioned. “Well, the Mystery Shack is family owned! My great-uncle Stan, Dipper, and I work here together. And our handyman, Soos, he’s basically one of the family too.”  

Wendy’s face burned bright red. She was her co-worker. Not only that, but her family owned her place of work. Fate either loved her or hated her. “Wow,” Wendy mustered a cool chuckle. “I gotta say, I’m embarrassed that I had no idea.”

Mabel gave another bright smile. “Oh don’t be! It’s not like the Mystery Shack is a huge sight for new-comers like yourself. I don’t think I would have known about it if my family wasn’t involved.” Mabel’s face turned a bit colder. “Besides, it’s more a curse than a blessing to be associated with this place.”

“Because of your brother?” Wendy put a hand over her mouth just after the sentence was uttered. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like-“

Mabel smiled again, only slightly and Wendy worried if she had just ruined her chances. Along with the fact she didn’t want to insult such a nice girl. “No, it’s fine. People talk and it seems like Dipper is usually the name in everyone’s mouths. I’m used to it.” Mabel pulled herself up from leaning on the counter. “I should go, I’m meeting up with some friends.” She began to turn away and Wendy felt utterly terrible. “Oh, Wendy?” She faced her again. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Please don’t believe everything everyone says about my brother.” Mabel said with pleading eyes. “He’s…my best friend. He’s a really sweet, good guy, he’s just passionate about…weird stuff. It breaks my heart people think he’s not good. I really want things to turn around for him.”

Wendy saw the pain Mabel endured whenever someone degraded Dipper in that moment. The pain of seeing a loved one suffer and not being able to help. “I won’t. If you say he’s a good guy, I believe you.”

Mabel smiled gently at Wendy. “Thank you.” Mabel laughed loudly, seemingly turning around her mood. “Wow, I’m sorry for getting so serious like that, and we just met, you probably think I’m such a weirdo. I guess I feel like I can trust you already, Wendy.”

Wendy blushed slightly and, for what felt like the hundredth time in this short meeting, tried to keep her cool. “You love your brother, nothing weird about that. I sure as hell know I love mine.”

“You are too cool, Wendy.” Mabel parted with this and seemed to flow out the door.

Wendy sighed and watched the door lovingly and thought about how whipped she was already.

“Uh, hi?” A voice said from the other side of the counter.

Wendy recognized the boy as the Dipper Pines. The vital piece to her plan to get her girl. She felt like this already knew him, having talked about him so much in her few days here, but realized they had never been formally introduced.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hi.” Wendy greeted. “You’re Dipper, right? I’m Wendy. I’m your new cashier.”

The two shook hands. “Yeah, Stan told me something about a new employee. I’m surprised someone even applied.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m not really one for hard work. This seemed easy.” Wendy admitted.

Dipper smiled and Wendy thought about how much he really did look like Mabel. “You chose the right job. Not many people roll through here. Trust me, I’m usually the one in your chair.”

“Oh, your sister doesn’t work much?”

“She’s more social than I am. Parties and friends and all that.” Dipper trailed off. “Besides, I guess you can say I’m more into the whole idea behind the Mystery Shack. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“I…uh…” Wendy stuttered, Dipper was more upfront than she thought he would be.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m aware what people say about me. I figured it would have gotten around to even a new kid like you.”

Wendy considered lying to him, saying she didn’t hear anything, but remembered Mabel could tell him at any point about their conversation from just moments ago. “I…have heard some things, yeah.” Dipper nodded. “But, uh, I don’t believe what everyone is saying. I know this is our first conversation but you have a sister like Mabel so I’m sure your just as good.”

Dipper remained silent for a moment and smiled again. “Well, I don’t know about just as good, but I appreciate you saying so.”

Just then, the door to the gift shop swung open revealing a familiar face to both Dipper and Wendy. “Helloooooooo, Mystery Shack!” Gideon greeted.

“Ugh.” Dipper mumbled.

“Gideon.” Wendy simply stated. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my favorite cashier at my favorite creepy, weird, and totally fake gift shop. Really, Pines, tell your uncle to step the game up.”

“At least we have a shop, you failed psychic.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“We don’t talk about that Pines. Besides, I was like nine, let it go.” He glared. “So how goes….things, Wendy?” Gideon eyed Dipper.

“Wendy, you don’t have to humor this idiot.” Dipper said. “Is she your new object of affection after failed Mabel attempts?”

“Wendy’s gay and we’re friends, try again.” Gideon snapped.

“You two are friends?” Dipper turned to face Wendy.

“He showed me around school my first day. He’s a little weird, but I’m having fun with it.” Wendy shrugged.

“A little weird?” Gideon repeated.

“You are really something.” Dipper told Wendy. “Well, I guess it’s good you aren’t so affected by high school gossip. Even when you should be.” Dipper’s eyes darted to Gideon.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. I’ve-been-suspended-three-times-for-putting-the-entire-student-body-in-danger!” Gideon growled.

“That’s way too long of a last name!” Dipper face palmed. “I’m going, I can’t stand to be around you for more than a couple of minutes.”

“Aw, best friends forever, Dippy!” Gideon waved sarcastically.

“Bye Wendy.” Dipper ignored Gideon and shut the door on his way out.

“I thought he would ever leave.” Gideon sighed.

“It’s his house.” Wendy remarked. “By the way, I had no idea the Pines owned this place! Ugh, I was so embarrassed when I ran into Mabel today.”

“How’d it go?”

Wendy thought back to the time. “Not as bad as you would think. I think she at least likes me as a person.”

“Well, it’s not you and Mabel we have to worry about anyway, it’s-“

“Me and Dipper.” A voice called from the door.

“You’re late, Northwest.” Gideon checked his watch.

“I’m a busy girl, and I had to make sure no one saw me come in here. I almost got caught by Dipper on his way out.” She slumped down in a stool next to Wendy. “Why did you call me here?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.” Wendy stated, she did enjoy the distraction from the otherwise boredom of work.

“Because it seems fairly obvious we need to have a more of a concrete plan set here. Pacifica,” Gideon turned to her. “You don’t have to tell us shit but you do need to do seduce Dipper, in any way possible. I think you need to apologize to him, since it seems like you did something to him.”

“You guys didn’t say anything about apolo-apologi- I can’t even say it!” Pacifica crossed her arms. She didn’t feel the need to inform them of her previous half-assed apology to him.

“What did you expect? He was still going to fall for you after you did something bad to him?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s happened plenty of times before.” She flipped her hair.

“This is Dipper. You are gonna need to show him you can be sweet. Even though you aren’t.”

“Hey!” Pacifica yelled.

“He’s not going to fall for the real you. So he will have to fall for the fake you.” Gideon stated simply. “Fake Pacifica is the opposite of real Pacifica.”

“So, ugly and boring?”

“I was thinking more nerdy and nice. Just…be interested in his weird habits, leave Mabel alone, and laugh at his dumb jokes. And apologize.” Gideon demanded. Wendy was surprised at how much her new friend took charge. “And you,” Wendy suddenly found herself the target. “Be prepared to ask Mabel out at any moment. Dipper’s unpredictable and we can’t have some other girl or guy showing you up when the news hits Mabel is able to date.”

“Is she that sought after?” Wendy asked.

“You fell for her with one glance and you aren’t exactly special.” Pacifica piped up. “As weird as Mabel can be, she's cute and nice to everyone, so people are naturally drawn to her. Don’t ask me why, I don’t fucking get it.”

“Unlike you who gets their suitors by being cold and demeaning.” Gideon replied.

“It’s not my fault guys love the chase.” Pacifica smirked. “Are we done here?”

“Do you have a plan for getting Dipper?” Gideon questioned. “It’s hard to trust you. No offense.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes and groaned. “Gleeful, I’m pretty and not dumb okay? I know how to make a dweeb fall in love with me. Of course I have a plan.” Pacifica picked up her purse and stood up. “I have some shopping to get to now. Meeting adjured.” She abruptly turned and walked towards the door.

“You can’t call meeting adjured when I called the meeting-hey!” Gideon shouted. “Are you at least going to tell us your plan!”

“Northwest secret, sorry!” Pacifica chuckled, shutting the door.

Pacifica Northwest stood in front of the Mystery Shack’s gift shop door with butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t place exactly why, but decided that the fear of losing her long standing queen bee reputation was probably causing the feeling.

She knew Dipper was beyond the door (thanks to Dipper’s schedule leak via Wendy), sitting at the cash register, probably reading some dorky book. She looked down at her outfit for the third time today; pleated flannel mini skirt with tights and tan pumps and a simple white sweater. Something simple, something Dipper would like. And she figured if all else fails, she could bend and snap for the guy and at least put the idea in his head.

She decided it was time to get this over with and pushed open the door, the bell alarming Dipper and causing him to look straight at her. “Pacifica.” was all he said.

“Dipper.” She said back. She had to admit, pretending for Dipper seemed somewhat pointless, the guy was sharp. She had the feeling he would see right through her.

“What are you doing here?” She figured the question would be asked.

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood and figure, ‘Hey, I’m in need of some…Eye of Newt, why don’t I stop by the Mystery Shack?’” Pacifica joked and leaned against the counter.

“Ha. Ha.” Dipper stated.

“But really, I do need something. And I think you are just the person to help me.”

“That is?”

“Temporary memory loss powder. I know you have it.” Pacifica said matter-of-factly. She remembered, ironically, Dipper also had a ton of the stuff on him during his hunts. She also knew he was weary with the stuff.

“I don’t think I can give this to you. I have morals and you are…you know…evil.” Dipper replied.

“You are just getting harsher and harsher, huh?” Pacifica sighed. “If it helps, I’m planning on using it on my dad when he catches me sneaking out. And I know how much you don’t like my dad.”

“Compelling. I’ll still pass. Besides, the Mystery Shack doesn’t sell it.”

“The Dipper Shack does.” Pacifica quipped. “I have an idea.” Pacifica smirked, half because of what she was going to suggest and half because her plan was going smoothly so far. And if she knew Dipper, the rest would be cake. “We’ll play for it.”

“Play?” Dipper questioned, his eyebrow rose and Pacifica took that as a sign of interest.

“Space Gladiators 5.” Pacifica smirked. “You even have the upper hand, since you’re the one that owns it.”

“What do I get if I win?” Dipper muttered. “The satisfaction I get beating you won’t be enough.”

“I can make you feel…other…types of satisfied.” Pacifica winked.

“No thanks.” Dipper groaned. She remembered how much he would squirm at her flirting before.

“No fun.” Pacifica sighed. “How about…I’ll completely leave you alone. And Mabel. For….the entire school year.” Pacifica’s more rational and anxiety-prone side nudged at her, but the Northwest in her overpowered her fears. Northwests bet big.

“Hm.” Dipper hummed, itching his head in thought. “Okay, fine. You also can’t shop here for the year.”

“Oooooh noooo, what ever will I do.” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Then let’s play. You should take your break now.”

It didn’t take long for Dipper to find the old game and set the system up on the TV in the living room. Pacifica noted the small changed since she was last here, back when her and Dipper were on good terms. The rug seemed to deepen a shade and one of the knobs on the TV was missing.

“What happened there?” She asked, pointing to it. “I’m sure Stan wasn’t happy.”

She swore she saw a smile come from him, but quickly faded away. “Mabel knocked it off while doing an impromptu gymnastics routine for Candy and Grenda. Let’s play.”

Pacifica knew she was doing this job for money and the blackmail, but his coldness still stung. They were friends. She didn’t think she was faultless, but people grow apart, how is it her fault she wanted to branch out in a new school? “Okay…” Was all she said as he handed her the old controller she used to play with. Hearing the start-up music, holding the almost broken controller, and sitting on the ugly shag carpet of the Mystery Shack felt like a living in a flashback, sitting next to Dipper, laughing at anything for hours; she missed it. She couldn’t help but feel relaxed even with her stakes.

“You got…dumber. Although, that doesn’t surprise me seeing as who you spend all your time with now.” Dipper perked up, a smirk on his face. Pacifica knew this as their regular trash talking while playing, at least, she decided to take it that way. Dipper probably was just being plain mean to her, but she played along anyway.

“And you got even…shut-in-e-er.” Okay, not her best.

Dipper left out a booming laugh. “Wow, good one.” He chuckled as he started the game.

“Shut up.” She barked, yet with a smile on her face. For a moment, it felt like nothing changed between them. Just two friends having a good time together. Like old times. They shared a light smile, one of reminiscence and longing.

The game left out a mechanical screech announcing the first round, and they snapped out of their trance. Dipper scowled at her before turning to look at the game again and the moment was gone as soon as it came.

The game echoed out a “fight!” and their characters were free to begin fighting. The two sprang into action, Pacifica thanked her muscle memory for remembering how to play and how to play good. However, Dipper was always a tough match. In Pacifica’s first few playthroughs, she thought it was impossible to beat Dipper. He always seemed one step ahead and just when she thought she was going to win, he would take her down with a power move. Pacifica learned from this back in the day and still remembered it today. His classic tricks wouldn’t work on her. She would not let them.

“I didn’t get more shut-in-e-er.” Dipper suddenly quipped. “People just got more cliquey.”

“What are the odds of everyone changing over you changing? You’re just going to blame the whole school for how you are?”

Dipper remained silent for a moment. “Whatever. You got more cliquey.”

“Always back to that, huh? I said I was sorry, there’s nothing else I can do.” Pacifica felt tense as her voice rose.

“It’s what you didn’t do then that matters.”

“God, you need a lesson in forgiveness. Or at least a lesson in not being so goddamn hung up on shit that happened years ago!” Pacifica looked away for a brief moment to face him and instantly heard her character fall to the ground in defeat.

Dipper smirked and hummed. “1-0.”

“You fucking cheater.” Pacifica whispered.

“Hey, we used to argue while playing before. Now it’s cheating? You are so easily manipulated by mind games, it really is like you don’t even know me.”

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel some truth in their conversation despite what Dipper said. She decided it was best not to bring up and possibly blow the situation up worse. “You got more sinister since we last talked. MY Dipper wouldn’t have pulled a stunt like that.”

“You left him behind, so did I. That’s something we have in common.”

Pacifica was the one to hit the next button this time, mostly because she didn’t have a rebuttal for his argument. “Round 2” appeared in bold text as the announcer yelled out the word “fight!” once again.

“I have let that go, by the way. I just don’t accept your apology or like you.” Dipper started once again.

“No. No, we are not talking about this again.” Pacifica exhaled.

“Why? Does it make you lose focus? I’m perfectly fine.” She could see Dipper’s smug look without even turning her head.

“No, it’s pointless to talk with you about something you are in denial about. You are very obviously not over anything about what happened between us, it’s sad that you are trying to convince yourself you are. If you were over anything, you would be fucking smart and accept the business of me and make money but instead you make me play this stupid game to get some fucking magic potion!” With the end of her sentence, Pacifica dodged Dipper’s attack and countered right on time for a combo, knocking his player out.

Pacifica took her turn to smile smugly, not caring if he made him hate her more. She did love a good gloat, and she knew Dipper did too. “I mean, that’s just the truth.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” That was all Dipper said before starting the third and final round. The regular announcer echoed through the silent room again.

Pacifica didn’t start strong as she was regretting the outburst she had. Yes, it was the truth and she had been holding that in for a long time, but she could have just ruined her chances with him. Would winning this make him like her more or less?

“You’re right.” He piped up. “I’m not over it. In fact, seeing you isn’t exactly pleasant for me.”

“I’ve…noticed.” She got a few hits on his player. They were an equal match.

“I’m hurt.” He said quietly, however, she heard him loud and clear. “I still am.”

“I…know.” She replied in the same tone. “I’m sorry, Dipper. I am. Things have changed for me, but I’m still…trying to figure everything out. I feel at a crossroads.”

“You always had things figured out.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t try to catch me off guard so you can win.”

Pacifica looked to him right away. She set her controller down and put her hands up. “I’m being honest. Take me out if you want…I won’t stop you. But, just a warning, after that year of not talking to you, I’m going to come back to do this again.” She smiled lightly.

Dipper looked at her, then to the game. He moved quickly to the system and shut the game down without finishing. “A draw.” He got up and went upstairs to the attic and returned with a small vile. “Your memory loss powder, that’ll be $40.”

“Jesus Christ that’s-“ Pacifica was about to finish that sentence with ‘expensive’ but opted to just giving him the money. Things had changed for her, but she wasn’t ready to tell him how things had changed.

“Since this is a draw, you still can’t come here for a year. But…I guess you can continue to talk to me, although no promises I’ll reply.”

“God, you sound like me.” Pacifica laughed. “So…what now? Ice cream?”

“No, now you get the hell out of my house, I’ve been on this 15 minute break for 30 minutes and you are violating our agreement as we speak.”

Pacifica stood up abruptly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t call the cops. I’m goin’.” She turned to face him once more. “Hey, good game.”

[gigiree]

A matter of words, a matter of time

a/n: day 9:pen pals day!:) still the same story!

He’s starting to feel stifled. He envied the ease with which the others can leave the village. They speak of their adventures in raucous tones, laughter and punctuating the conversations that echo in Yakiniku BBQ.

It’s not that he’s forbidden from leaving. Besides the few villages that hadn’t wanted to join the Alliance, everyone else has pretty much followed Konoha’s lead and given him freedom to travel through their borders. This had given him some measure of irritation because he felt as if he hadn’t earned it.

He finds himself bound by circumstance. With the countersuit still underway, his assets are all in review. The entirety of the Uchiha compound has been combed over for any more evidence of duplicity.

There are too many details to take into account and his missions to the far flung corners of the continent had been assigned less and less. He has no entertaining stories to tell, so he simply watches.

There’s Naruto and Sakura, illuminating the entire table like living bits of sunlight. There’s Shikamaru, a decidedly more calm discussion streaming lazily from his mouth.

Sasuke’s eyes are inexorably pulled to the next table, where Team Kurenai interacts quietly and sweetly with Team Gai.

The Aburame, Sasuke can’t remember his name, sits near the edge, leaning forward intensely to debate with Lee about the merits of long range attacks versus close combat. There’s TenTen idly comparing the sharpness of her kunai to Kiba’s claws.

And then, there’s Hinata. Sweetly paying attention to both conversations, giving Kiba the assurances his ego demanded and passing cooked bits of meat to everyone before serving herself.

There’s something strange about her. Sasuke hasn’t seen her in weeks. Not since she departed for Mizu with a determined look and a small pack of notebooks.

She looks tired, paler than usual. Her cheeks are sallow, and her wide eyes are more prone to staring off into the distance than usual. Her bangs hang lank over her forehead, longer than before. They nearly drape over her eyes.

Something’s not right and he wonders how no one’s noticed. — That night Hinata is pulled from her restless sleep by a delicate tapping on her window.

She slides out from under her many covers, barefeet landing on smooth cold wood. She shivers, eyes shifting warily to catch the silhouette that perches on her windowsill.

When her bleary sight clears, she sees that it’s a small crow. Its beady eyes are illuminated by the moonbeams, and it’s inky feathers ruffle with agitation as it waits for her to answer its call.

She slides open the window with hesitation, eyeing the letter attached to the bird’s leg.

“Who sent you?” She asks it quietly, scratching under its chin.

It rubs its head against her fingers, blinks curiously and lets out a soft caw before extending its leg out to her.

She detaches the rolled up letter, and her heart skips a beat or two when she reads Sasuke’s name in the signature. She recognizes the neat, no nonsense handwriting.

‘What’s wrong? You look like crap.’ -Sasuke

She laughs a little, wincing when a sharp pain threads through her head and she rubs at her temple a bit to quell the sensation.

She grabs a pen and writes just under her terse message.

‘What’s wrong is that you woke me up from sleep. Thank you for the honest, unneeded opinion.’ -Hinata. She ties off the letter to the crows leg with a white ribbon and watches it fly off into the night with a soft smile. —-

The correspondence continues. Even when he must leave for an extended period of time, they send brief but amusing messages to each other. It’s a natural continuation of the pattern she’d set when she left him a cheeky message on a fake scroll all those months ago in the library.

It’s…surprisingly pleasant. And grounding.

Here in Amegakure, with the rain falling perpetually, Sasuke feels a bit like he’s in a dream. There had been a search through old Akatsuki properties and a few of Itachi’s belongings had been found and deemed too innocuous to be kept for evidence and too personal to be thrown away.

So in between these broken reminders of the brother he lost, her letters give him a shred of reality to cling to. Something that doesn’t hurt too much.

His messenger crow arrives today with another scroll. It preens its wet plumage, before raising its leg in Sasuke’s direction with an almost resentful glare.

Sasuke gives an amused huff, before untying the letter and tapping the pretty red ribbon tied around the crow’s neck.

“You keep letting her decorate you, Kuro. You look stupid.”

Kuro merely caws balefully, before flying inside to roost on the dresser.

Sasuke shrugs and opens her letter with practiced nonchalance. He ignores the beating in his heart that threatens to pry open his heavily armored emotions, the gentle, soft manner in which Hinata has managed to inch under defenses.

“Hope all is well in the land of never ending rain. Is the umbrella you stole from me helping you at all? Kuro likes the new ribbon. Leave it on please.

Also I heard from Naruto-kun that this mission is a bit more personal. I checked with my cousin, Hiromi. Your affairs are all underway and I mailed the documents you needed sent out.

I pray that you find what you’re looking for.

Your friend, Hinata.”

He’s not sure if he feels angry that Naruto was out spouting his business to overly curious Hyuuga girls or if he’s touched that she even made an overture like this.

Her umbrella rests against the side of the cabin’s only bed, and it’s served him well. He’s still unsure of where she stands in his life.

Sakura and Naruto he calls friends. Karin, Suigetsu, Jugo could even be termed that. There are very few people he considers precious, and Hinata has managed to come startlingly close to becoming just that.

He’d be the worst sort of liar if he tried to tell himself otherwise. She clearly considers him a friend, and had he known her less, he would have placed less emphasis on her declaration.

But Hinata, as kind as she is, doesn’t bring many people into her inner circle. She’s as enigmatic as the starlit sky. The more you look at her, the more you find that shines within her depths.

He looks at the tarnished silver bracelet that rests on his nightstand. A delicate, silly trinket with one charm made of moonstone dangling from it.

He had heard the rumors of Itachi having had a lover in his early days. Itachi, nothing but a mere slip of an adolescent, young enough to love, old enough to kill that love for the sake of the village.

Sasuke takes it in his hands, applies a bit of chakra until a thin current runs through it, making the moonstone glow hot white. It leaves little spots of light where it shines, points of brightness that look like starlight against the cherry wood of his ceiling.

He remembers her painted in starlight, mourning over someone who isn’t quite lost. He wonders if he’d prefer to be in her situation, or if he’d rather just have the suffering end. If he would rather know that Itachi was for sure good and gone than wait by his bedside as he wasted away.

He stuffs away that thought. He never had a choice. She didn’t either. Different circumstances, yet similar enough to make his pity for her branch into empathy.

She’s trying so hard to find her place in this world. So is he…perhaps all they need is a little guiding light.

The rain is heavy outside, as the next letter he sends her containing a few brief words and a tarnished bracelet of little value. —

“I’m fine. How are you? You looked tired last time I saw you. The umbrella is working great. Thank for giving it to me.

Here’s a gift. It reminded me of you.

-S. –

[terresdebrumestories]

Daring Dates Night

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: General Audiences. WORDCOUNT: 2 615 words PAIRING(S): Taiyama CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya & Yamato Ishida, with background cameos from Sora, Mimi, Koushiro and Miyako. GENRE: Not-quite-first-date. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Technically a teacher and students on a date. They’re the same age, though, and nothing really happens in the fic. SUMMARY: Technically, Yamato came here to support Sora. Technically, this isn’t even a real date. Practically, Yamato may or may not be about to die. In a good way. NOTE: Inspired by a friend’s story. You know who you are ;)

DIGIOTPWEEK 2017: [Day 1: Coffeeshop AU] [Day 2: Fantasy AU] [Read on AO3]

“Oh. I didn’t realize they’d be providing a script,” Yamato mutters, half to himself, when he notices the laminated list of prompters, “this is just weird.”

Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he thinks he sees Taichi’s expression turn confused, then amused, like he’s said something funny. Yamato decides to apply caution and pretend to look at the list so he doesn’t have to look up just now. they’ve only just sat down, after all, it’d be nice if he could wait at least five minutes into this charade before he embarrasses himself.

Besides, the questions truly are ridiculously ordinary, considering. What’s your favorite color, what’s the last movie you watched and what did you think of it, do you tend to prefer cats or dogs...honestly the basics of any first date conversation as far as Yamato is concerned.

Well. As far as he’s concerned now.

There was a time, not that long ago, when he’d have spontaneously combusted just thinking about asking those questions on a first date. He’d probably have caught fire, or at least come to a nice simmer, just thinking of opening his mouth on a date, actually, but then he went to study abroad and, well. He had no choice but to adapt.

“I think they’re just trying to help,” Taichi says quietly, cheeks coloring as he pulls his chair up to the table.

His hair is as bushy as Yamato’s ever seen him, pose much stiffer than it is in the classroom, and he doesn’t seem quite sure whether he wants to stare down at his hand, joined on the dark wood, or look at Yamato’s face. Honestly, Yamato is in favor of the former. It’d make the whole thing easier.

He only signed up for Sincerely yours’ Daring Dates Night event as a joke, really. Well, alright, he let Sora drag him into it because she’s got a massive crush on the owner and needed a sounding board in case either her anxiety got in the way, or she forgot not to mix alcohol with her meds again. They’ve been friends long enough, and she’s done him enough solids, for him to owe him that, after all.

He could have just gone to the bar and stayed away from the main event, of course, but he figured, since he’d be there anyway, it was as good an occasion as any to practice acting like a normal human being in unexpected situations. He just forgot he was in Tokyo, after dating two French men. Compared to the average Japanese man on the first date, French people are mostly walking embodiments of over-sharing.

He hasn’t decided whether having one of the most outspoken Japanese person of any gender he’s ever met in front of him right now is more of a blessing or a curse.

“I’m surprised you seem so at ease with the concept,” he says after a pause, loosely clasping his hands in front of him until he can relax his shoulders, “these aren’t exactly first-date levels of questioning here, are they?”

If they are, things here changed a lot faster than he’d thought they would.

Taichi shakes his head though, blush creeping up into his ears, and Yamato has to make a conscious effort not to smile. They always do that when he’s caught in what he thinks is a wrong answer, which is both adorable and a threat to Yamato’s well being as a whole. At least here the lights are dimmed, meaning his won blush shouldn’t be quite as noticeable as it probably is in class.

Fuck, he really hopes it doesn’t show too much.

“Possibly,” Taichi admits with a shrug and an almost-steady voice, “but I knew what I signed for, so I wouldn’t be terribly offended if the conversation went deeper than that.”

Yamato’s guts contract, like some invisible hand tried to squeeze them dry and gave up right away, and he feels heat prickling at his armpits and the back of his neck at the words. Fuck. This is too fast. He’s met people who were a lot more direct, of course, ranging from guys in gay bars who were just looking for a quick fuck, to that one thirty-something woman who propositioned him when he was, what, fourteen?

This, however, is a guy who is being both respectful and daring, all things considered. Yamato wouldn’t be indifferent to that even if he didn’t already have a soft spot for him.

Still. He needs to slow things down before he loses it completely, so he decides to flip the tables:

“You’re my student,” he says, clinging to his stern voice like his life depends on it, “if people from the Institute see us together, they’ll disapprove.”

It doesn’t matter that they’re only a few months apart in age: Yamato’s authority on Taichi’s life as a French student remains the same. True, this is only a joke date, a challenge for the more daring residents of the neighborhood more than an actual promise to help anyone’s love life, but still. People could get the wrong idea, and if Yamato is going to brave that, he needs to know that the two of them are more or less on the same page.

That and, as expected, just stating this sends Taichi back to staring at his hands, ears redder than ever as he clears his throat in embarrassment.

Yamato uses the following silence to order himself a cocktail and sip on his glass of water, all his attention set on not letting his hand shiver. He has no illusions as to how at ease he’ll be tonight, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna show, thank you very much.

Eventually, Taichi breaks the silence:

“So, uh...what do you do for a living?”

“I’m an astronaut.”

Taichi gapes a little at the response, possibly also the tone, and Yamato feels his fingers tighten as he processes just what he’s done. Oh, this is off to such a great start—he’d really have been better off with a stranger. At least, when he glances at the bar, Sora seems to have much better luck with the perky woman who welcomed the crowd to her bar. The evening won’t be a complete disaster for everyone.

Taichi’s grown at least three shades redder by the time Yamato looks back, yes darting this way and that, all but squirming in his seat, and Yamato has to bury his face in his hands for a second before he gathers the nerves to say:

“I’m sorry. I have a problem with sarcasm. Plus, you already know what my job is.”

“I know, I know, it’s just—I don’t want to pretend like I’m at work,” Taichi replies with a well controlled stammer while Yamato tries to remember what his job is.

Oh, right. Journalist.

“Would you please agree to pretend we don’t know each other?”

“...okay.”

This is far from the weirdest thing Yamato’s heard on a first date, and at least it’s not a creepy request. Just an odd one. It’ll take a bit of effort not to look for the goof he knows hides under the current shyness, but he can probably manage. He just needs to pretend this is like any other date.

The good point about it, of course, is that he doesn’t feel quite as pressured to pretend he’s completely sure of himself anymore, and he doesn’t feel too much regret when he crosses his legs under the table and clasps his hands a little tighter in front of him.

Ah, yes. Much safer.

“So,” Taichi repeats, sounding a little more at ease now, “what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a teacher for the French institute in Shinjuku,” Yamato replies, hating the sudden moisture between his palms, the heat in his neck and the quickening of his heart that don’t have enough to do with how silly this setup is, “I give French and Japanese lessons. I’ve been living here for nine months.”

Yamato gives himself a mental slap in the forehead when he realizes he’s slipped back into his teaching voice, providing informations he only introduces himself with when he’s trying to get a student to talk. Come on. This isn’t a real date, but he could at least try to pretend as much properly, if only for the sake of not regretting anything.

“But in class you said—oh, sorry! I’m sorry—and here I’m the one who said—argh. Sorry.”

If asked, Yamato will say that the way Taichi lets his head fall on the table with a dull bump—startling the waitress trying to serve their drinks—was just too cute for him to repress his amused chuckle. He’s pretty sure he’d have smiled at that even at the lowest point of his depression.

Well, okay, maybe not then, but pretty close.

Point is, if Yamato looks silly, it’s entirely Taichi’s fault.

“I was born in Tokyo,” he says just to get the poor guy out of his misery, trying not to notice when his hands unclench, “when I got the job insisted I should come early and spend some time with them before I started working...eventually, I ran out of excuses.”

Taichi turns his head until it’s his cheek, rather than his forehead, that’s plastered on the varnished wood, and gives Yamato a disarmingly intense look that has him scrambling to refocus on the jazzy background music. It usually helps when he’s feeling a little too shy about something.

Not tonight.

“What?” He asks when he realizes he can either break the silence or start panicking, “what did I say?”

“You’re just so—direct. All the time. How are you not too embarrassed to do that?”

“I’ve lived in France for six years,” Yamato retorts, crossing his arms over his chest before he thinks better of it, “what’s your excuse?”

He’s turning red, he can feel it, the heat leaking from his neck to his throat too fast for comfort. He’s also really starting to question the wisdom of signing up for this event—he was never good at dating. In Japan, he’s too brash, too frank—too blond, too, although the drawbacks for that one can come wearing the face of blessings as far as others are concerned. In France, he’s too quiet, too reserved, too slow to get invested.

Not to mention, of course, the fact that his brain tries to sabotage him in both countries.

It makes a stunning effort in that direction when Taichi reddens again—stupid, stupid, stupid, his mind chants as he realizes he’s put his foot in his mouth again, probably ruined the evening or, at least, the easy atmosphere and he’ll be lucky if that doesn’t bleed into their classroom interactions—and then Taichi laughs.

It’s too loud for the quiet bar, would be too loud even in Paris, and a handful of patrons turn their heads in way that makes Yamato wonder if he should, perhaps, hightail it out of here.

Then again, if he were truly smart, he’d have done just that the second he realized Taichi got his number at the assignment lottery. At the very least, he’d pretend he only stayed because surprised paralyzed him too long to make a polite exit.

He’s never been a very good liar.

“My sister says I got swindled out of an appropriate bone at birth,” Taichi hisses when he’s mostly recovered his breath, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “She’s probably not wrong.”

A pause while he sighs and sniffs, and then:

“I’m not so certain you can completely blame France for you being...you.”

“Je vois pas du tout de quoi tu parles.”

“Oi! No using French against me, it’s not fair!”

Yamato grins at that, too wide and too bright and much, much too hot at the corners, and lets himself relax a little. It’s possible he didn’t entirely ruin the night after all. It shouldn’t be that much of a relief but, really, who’s going to check?

He does still blush when Taichi looks away, face flushing red again, before he croaks:

“I think it’s time for the next question? You can ask it if you want.”

“Okay. Why did you decide to take French?”

Yamato knows, from several class conversations, that Taichi doesn’t interact with international news often enough to need English on a regular basis yet, never mind French. There has to be another motivation there.

Taichi turns crimson—Yamato worries—and literally squirms for a moment before he takes a deep breath in and admits:

“I thought having other reasons to get out of the house beside work might help with my depression. I think it’s depression. I’m not sure.”

Yamato couldn’t help it: his eyes went down to his hands the second the word ‘depression’ entered the conversation, but when he looks back up, Taichi practically looks purple, so he says:

“Yeah. That’s how I started learning piano.”

He started that something like five years ago, but the principles remain the same, and they float into slightly embarrassed but deeply commiserating silence for a moment, before sharing a smile over their respective drinks. Yamato’s cheeks keep getting warmer tonight, and the invisible hand is back around his guts, but he’s be lying outrageously if he even tried to pretend he regrets being here.

He could use a smoke, though, just to settle his nerves, and he makes a mental note to either get a pack or steal one from Sora when they get out, just before Taichi blurts out:

“May I confess something else while we’re being inappropriately open with each other?”

Yamato blinks at that but, really, what’s he going to do? Say no?

He nods.

“I didn’t really get your number during the lottery, Koushiro did.”

Yamato follows Taichi’s nod to a short redhead a couple of tables over, in deep conversation with a bespectacled girl who looks absolutely riveted with what he’s got to say.

“He’s an old friend, so when I noticed he’d gotten you as a partner, I asked him to trade numbers and, well. He said yes.”

Scratch that bit about stealing a cigarette from Sora. Yamato is definitely getting his own pack. Preferably the minute he steps out of this place. Actually, he’s half tempted to just up and leave to buy one right this second, just to make sure he’s not going to do something stupid like start shivering.

That’d be rude, though, and exactly opposed to the kind of message he wants to send, so he grabs his cocktail again, fire coursing all over his body, and downs the remaining half of the glass in one go.

“I have to leave,” he says as soon as his glass hits the table again, voice far less stable than he’d like, “this is getting—I don’t date students.”

“Oh,” Taichi says, almost late in his surprise, “right, of course, I—”

“Ask me again after the exams.”.

Taichi’s face goes through several complicated expressions, including one that mostly just makes him look constipated, before he asks:

“What?”

Yamato is fairly sure the guy is trying to confirm he’s not dreaming awake.

It’s adorable, and flattering, and Yamato really, really needs to leave now.

“The exams,” he says, covering his nerves with purposeful sarcasm, “for the end of classes? They’re in two weeks, you should probably try and remember.”

“Right,” Taichi agrees, mouth widening into a blinding grin, “in two weeks. You got it.”

Yamato leaves money for his drink on the table before he beats a hasty retreat to the exit, fairly sure he sees Taichi flashing his friend a thumb up from the corner of his eyes.

[tea-and-cardigans]

What Fools These Mortals Be. Chapter One

Multi-chapter AU

The Riverdale Community Theatre Company is staging its greatest production to date: “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. Betty Cooper sees this as an opportunity to make the company’s most sought-after actor, Archie Andrews, hers. Unfortunately, new girl in town, Veronica Lodge has scored a lead role, putting her directly opposite Archie. Behind the scenes, Jughead Jones has returned to his usual role back stage but is soon drafted into the play when one of the actors has an accident. Meanwhile, director Kevin Keller just wants to stage a successful play and keep his actors private lives separate.

Big shout out to the awesome @jandjsalmon who is beta'ing and is amazing. She is a cornerstone of this fandom and I am so happy to have her help with bringing this story to life.

Also thank you to @zombiekittez who is answering my questions around the intricacies of community theatre, it has really helped me in visualising and creating this story.

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 7 / Ao3 / FF.net

I will be attempting to update this regularly as possible with at least one update per week, possibly more depending on my brain’s co-operation.

“I cannot just stand by and watch you do this again,” Kevin Keller huffed, watching his blonde best friend as she adjusted herself in the mirror. Betty Cooper had asked him to come by before the first meeting of their community theatre group, to give her a pep talk and to help her choose an outfit. He was not entirely holding up his side of the bargain though, instead he was trying to talk her out of whatever elaborate plan she had this time.

“You make it sound so dramatic, Kevin.” She looked at him briefly before turning back to her reflection. Betty was trying to decide between two lip shades, ‘perfect pink’ or ‘seductive red’. Her fingers itched to choose the scarlet shade, but as she applied the colour she immediately changed her mind and wiped it off, returning to her signature shade. She liked to play it safe, and tonight she needed the comfort of the usual.

“Every year you make moon eyes at him and every year he ends up bedding another member of the cast,” Kevin said, not unkindly, more matter of fact. He didn’t like to hurt her, but sometimes he had to tell it like it was.

“Well then it’s about time that it’s my turn,” Betty answered in her typical, self-depreciating humour. She knew pining was a silly thing for a grown woman to do. Chasing the boy around like a puppy, begging at his heels for any bit of attention he would throw her way.

Kevin scowled, upset that she thought so little of herself.

���Oh don’t look at me like that, it was a joke,” she added rolling her eyes, a half-truth.

“Betty, you know I love you, but don’t make a fool of yourself this year.” His tone was serious. He swore everyone in the damn group knew the feelings that Betty had for Archie, except Archie – who was a great actor but extraordinarily oblivious on the best of days.

“God, Kevin! You make me sound like a silly school girl,” she huffed, twirling her flaring skirt as she faced him, her make-up now flawless, looking every bit as perfect as everyone thought she was.

“Your words,” he quipped with a smirk before she grabbed a cushion from the nearby couch and threw it at him. Chuckling, Kevin caught it before it could hit his face and threw it back at her gently.

She knew what her friend was saying was true, it wasn’t like this was new thing. It happened every year without fail when the gang got back together to perform. Good old Betty Cooper was there being her perfect self, waiting for any tiny glimmer of an opportunity with Archie Andrews to roll around... but every year it was like she didn’t even exist to him as more than just a friend. Another year and another production meant yet another chance for him to see what he had been missing, for him to see her.

“So, great director of ours, what play are you having us do this year?” She asked, finally taking a seat next to him on the couch. She was flattering him to change the subject, and not being so subtle about it.

Kevin knew what she was doing, but let it go for now. “I have something special planned, a classic, Shakespeare,” he answered with an excited smile. He looked forward to these plays each year. The RCTC was a small community group with only enough funding to produce one show a year, but every year he made sure it was as grand as it could possibly be. Auditions were always open to the entire community but the usual suspects seemed to always turn out – of course, Betty being one of them. She had been performing with him in them since they were in high school, side by side until Kevin had been offered the position of director which he had been only too eager to accept.

Not that the job was easy by any stretch of the imagination. Keeping the private lives of his actors separate from the production was usually his main challenge. The ‘Betty and Archie Saga’ was a perpetual thorn in his side. He loved Betty, he did, but the poor girl just did not know when to quit. Most people would have been turned down once and accepted it, but good old Betty Cooper always came back for more.

If it wasn’t for Archie’s ability and talent to bring in the crowds, Kevin would have eliminated him from the show completely just to spare her - and in turn himself - from the heartache and drama. But he was talented and handsome and that combination brought in the young girls and their mothers which just so happened to be their main audience in town.

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” she pronounced dramatically, her hands making flourishes as she collapsed back onto the couch, with a giggle. Kevin couldn’t help but smile back at her. She was sunshine. Bright green eyes and blonde hair, with a laugh that made the birds envious and a heart that was genuine and kind. All he wanted to do was find her a nice man, a good man. All he wanted was for her to be happy and content. That plan did not and could not involve Archie Andrews.

“I don’t think so, Juliet. I can only imagine the torment that you would inflict upon me if I gave the role of Juliet to anyone else.”

“Yeah. Probably for the best,” she confirmed with a snicker.

“Something a little light though. I think a comedy.” He noticed her eyes light up at this. “Something with clever dialogue and witty banter, deception and disguise. Mistaken identities and twists and turns. Something fun.”

“Well, now I am intrigued, are you going tell me?” she asked, sidling closer to him on the couch, her bottom lip pouting in that way that girls do subconsciously when they want something from the opposite sex. It was something that never worked on Kevin.

“And take away the surprise? I think not,” he replied, and Betty slumped back on the couch, defeated.

“You do have a flair for the dramatic, Kev,” she sighed but with a smile.

“I think that’s why they made me the director,” He chuckled at her eye roll and helped her up from the couch.

***

Betty had arrived to the theatre for their meeting early to help Kevin with set up. She was busying herself with setting out the teas and coffees when she saw him enter the room. It was cliché she knew, but she could swear her heart skipped a beat when she saw Archie Andrews walk through the door. She had worshipped him since high school. Back when she had been the nerdy girl with the glasses with the gay best friend. He hadn’t even given her a second glance back then. When she had first seen him turn up for auditions, a year after graduation, she knew that this was her second chance.

Betty had grown up in that year apart. Her confidence in herself had become secure, a year in New York had enabled that. After a year of studying at Columbia, she had returned home for the summer to take part in one last performance, imagining that once her education was finished and her career took off that she wouldn’t have time to indulge in this guilty pleasure. Little did she know how soon she would be returning to this town to never leave again.

She broke herself out of her reminiscent thoughts before they took her further down a path that she couldn’t deal with right now, and focused instead on the red-headed man who had entered the small community theatre. She swore each year he was more handsome than the year before, and a familiar heat rose to her cheeks.

“Archie, hey,” she called out with what she hoped was a nonchalant smile. Her fingers brushed down her skirt as she tried to make her nerves still. She jogged over to him as he continued his path to the stage.

“Oh hey, Betty.” He slowed down a little for her to catch up.

“So, what have you been up to?” she asked, trying to simultaneously catch her breath and sound as casual as she could. She was twisting a strand of hair from her pony tail in between her fingers, a nervous habit that she could only hope played off as flirtatious.

“Well, working on my music mostly. Helping Dad out at the construction site. Had some gigs in New York too,” he offered, and Betty nodded eagerly.

“Wow! So this music thing is really taking off then?” she exclaimed. Of course, Betty knew full well that it was. She was a regular Facebook stalker and Archie literally had nothing private.

“Yeah, well it was just a few gigs, nothing big.” He shrugged.

“Still you’re out there making an impact.” She assured him.

“You still at Riverdale High?” She knew he was going to ask, but was happy that he had at least remembered where she worked.

“Yeah, I mean I have some extra responsibilities, team leader for the English department.” She said proudly, even though she was very aware of how her achievements stacked up to his. She wasn’t exploring New York, following her dreams like he was. She had followed her dreams once and it hadn’t quite worked out, but she was happy with her teaching position, she enjoyed imparting knowledge and being able to open the world of literature to her students made her happy.

“Do you have any idea what Kevin is cooking up for us?” Archie gave her that charming smile and she felt the ground fall from beneath her feet yet again.

“Only that it is a Shakespearean comedy. He wouldn’t divulge anything further,” she sighed and unconsciously tucked a loose bit of hair behind her ear.

“Well, you got more out of him than me.” He smiled again at her and she took a deep breath. This was it, she was going to do it, before she lost her nerve again.

“Anyway, Arch I was thinking…” she started but was curtailed by the ruckus of the other theatre members on the other side of the stage.

“Okay, guys, gather round. I think all the RSVPs are here. Reggie, you can have more of the snacks in a minute,” Kevin shouted over to the snacks table where Reggie was currently shovelling food into his mouth.

He grabbed a few more items in a napkin before walking over to the centre of the stage to stand next to Betty. Characteristically, Reggie Mantle’s eyes lingered a little too long, drifting momentarily over her body, causing her to cross her arms over her chest subconsciously and glower at him. She watched Archie, who was now standing next to one of his old football buddies, Moose Mason. Kevin had dated Moose briefly during the production last year but it had ended on closing night much to Kevin’s dismay. He and Betty had sat on the couch both eating triple fudge sundaes from Pop’s that night, commiserating in each other’s heartbreak.

“Techies, you too this way, don’t slink off into the background. I can see you.” The tech crew looked at each other nervously before making their way over to where the actors had already gathered. “And welcome back, Jughead. Glad you decided to join in again this year.” Betty looked towards the sullen figure that she had been trying to avoid eye contact with since he had arrived. Trademark beanie secured on his head, a passive look to his face as he, reluctantly moved from his position against the wall to stand with his fellow tech members.

“You may have heard some rumblings that we will be turning our hand to something a little more theatrical and classic this year.” Kevin threw a pointed look at Betty who he was sure had already divulged information from their chat that afternoon to the majority of the company by now. She shrugged her shoulders at him, blinking her big doe eyes and feigning innocence. “This will be the first year we attempt something from the great Bard himself, but I have faith that you will all be able to handle it with the same poise and dedication with which you have handled every other production.”

“Well don’t keep us waiting, Kevin, which play are we doing?” Cheryl Blossom piped up, her patience wearing thin already with Kevin’s monologue.

“Thank you, Cheryl. I was getting there.” He mumbled under his breath. “This year Riverdale’s Community Theatre Company will be staging a production of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Betty let out a squeal and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, attempting to muffle the sound. The other members looked at her with wide eyes following the outburst. Blushing and somewhat more subdued, she shuffled her feet in excitement instead. It was perfect! Kevin gave her a knowing nod, before he continued to outline the play and the schedule for the next few weeks. Everyone nodding attentively.

While the rest of the company followed along with Kevin, Jughead Jones continued to stare at her after her outburst and she mouthed an irritated ‘What?’ at him. When he shook his head at her, his expression something she couldn’t quite read. She stuck out her tongue at him, childish as it was. He rolled his eyes at her, looking away and continued to chat with Dilton Doiley, sharing a private joke, chuckling between themselves.

When Kevin had finished and the company had been dismissed she made her way over to her friend and director.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream! Kevin it is perfect.” She gave another delighted squeal as she hugged him tightly. “You know that is one of my favourites.” She smiled brightly up at him and once she released him from her hold he was able to resume breathing.

“So, can I presume that you plan on auditioning?” he questioned already knowing her answer.

“Do you even have to ask?” Her eyes scanned the room looking for Archie only to find he must have already left with the rest of the old football team, probably to catch up, probably to pick up girls that nagging little voice in her head told her. She couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face.

“Come on, Blondie. Sundaes at Pop’s to celebrate. My treat.” Kevin put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him as the two friends left the theatre together.

Chapter 2

[gayside-blog]

You have to do them all sorry I don’t make the rules

This about to be so long! But thank you! This kept me busy while at work! I didn’t include questions I answered already so scroll down a couple posts on my blog to see those.

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

Male, he/him

Amaryllis: Birthday?

July 18!

Angelonia: Favorite TV show?

The Office will always be a classic

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

“If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” I was always very indecisive until I heard this and it just made a lot of sense to me. Along the same line, “Take it easy, but take it.”

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

Water! But my favorite special drink is probably hot chocolate in winter and lemonade in the summer

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

I shouldn’t! (I don’t think I could)

Baneberries: Favorite song?

Literally changes every hour but The Good Side by Troye Sivan has been up there for a while. Iscariot is stuck in my head at the moment. Boy Meets Evil gets an honorable mention. This question is too hard

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

I have my mom who’s a teacher, my brother Scott who’s 20 (21 in a few weeks!) and studying applied math, my sister Amanda who’s 18 and studying animation! I also have a (beautiful) dog Lexie who is 10 and practicing vigilance. I also have a whole extended family that I love and who support me and a bunch of compassionate friends who I want to give the world to

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it?

I have many! Amanda, Lio and Alex, and Annie and Gabe :) And Lexie!

Begonia: Favorite color?

Yellow probably! The pale kind!

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

Literally any animal, but especially dogs and cats and squirrels and guinea pigs!

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

I think I’m going to be a morning person but I love staying up late & in college, everyone kind of has to be a night person

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

What happens to the animal when I become it?? If I become an animal does that animal then become me? Who’s going to my classes? Do I have work? Do people still know I’m me? Can I talk? What about to other animals? Am I still in Ann Arbor? I have a lot of questions

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

I like kids! I really am excited to be a parent! My number one priority in life is to be a good one

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

Uhh I remember none of it!

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

I’m not dating anyone right now

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

I think it’d be cool to leave the country! But I haven’t really travelled much so I still think going anywhere is exciting !

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?  

Nope!

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

Nope!

California Poppy: Height?

5’5

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

I don’t know! I think it’s a bit silly to say no because I don’t have any evidence that they /don’t/ but I don’t that they do either. The world is weird. I’d like to be a ghost for a bit so I hope they do!

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?  

Boots and jeans and a red t-shirt (I realize I wear this most Thursdays)

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

Yeah!

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?

My friend Kelsey

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

An ex

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

Hind

Columbine: Are you tired?

A little, yeah. I haven’t slept much these past few days & I think it’s time for a good night’s sleep

Coneflower: Dream job?

I recently am thinking I’d like to teach some college nursing courses one day but I’m not sure! I’d love to get my MSN or DNP and practice as an NP

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert?

A little bit of both. Almost an extrovert

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

This is hard. I would do almost anything for someone I care about. I don’t think I would let someone abuse me mentally, physically, or emotionally, but also I would save someone I really cared about over myself if it came down to it. Does that make sense? I think it matters that they also care about me and that what I do for others is out of mutual respect and love not manipulation or abuse.

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it?

I did! Her name is Rabby and she is a rabbit. She was initially my brother’s but he wasn’t interested so I got her when I was born. I also had Baby Blue and he is a very small blue bunny & Rabby’s adopted son.

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

Cancer

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

Depends who you ask, but I think so!

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

Becoming a kinder person

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

Amanda, I think!

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

I’m generally a good student! I have a good work ethic

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

Typing :( I failed fifth grade typing, so I still use the two-finger method. Also I’m not good at dancing but I’d love to be!

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month?

I had a really great spring break with Alex and Lio!!

I went to the Arb with Alex the other day and saw a bunch of deer right up close!

I’ve learned more about myself!

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

Honestly I’ve been feeling pretty anxious today but I did get lunch with Lio and it’s a pretty chill day at work so it hasn’t been too bad!

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

Yes. I appreciate where I’m at and how far I’ve come and I’m unbelievably proud of that, but I also have so much more to improve upon and grow with so I’m excited for the future as well.

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

I’m uhh considering coming out to my nursing friends as gay. We’ll see what happens

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?  

Music. If my thoughts are very loud then I turn up the music really loud and it drowns them out enough to calm down. If I’m anxious, very quiet music helps. The more anxious I feel, the quieter the music. I don’t know why it works but it does. (Note to include here is that what doesn’t help is touch!)

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

Actively working towards bettering myself and my life (still and always working more, but that doesn’t negate the progress already made)

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

I just love spending time with people I care about. It’d probably involve staying up late up to antics or chatting and cooking (and eating) some good food and not anything extravagant. Ideally there’d be pets involved too.

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?  

Usually I like to just take time for myself. Self care, working out, meditation, Netflix, reading, or practicing the things I’d like to learn (recently, this has been handstands). I think it’s good to enjoy spending time with myself!

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

Like I said, I have many! I’ve known Amanda for my whole life. We got Lexie when I was almost 9. I met Gabe in seventh grade, Annie in sophomore year (but we didn’t become really good friends until senior year!) and I met Lio and Alex September last year when I moved to AA!

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

Amanda

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

A lot! I probably have like 15 close friends but I couldn’t really sit down and list everyone

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

I don’t know! It’s nice when people believe I’m kind or cool!

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

I think I’m a pretty kind and genuine person. I tend to be optimistic and I like that because it took a lot of CBT to get to this point. I do think I’m smart but I also feel that a lot of that comes from work rather than natural kind of ability. I’m also becoming more assertive which is a big deal for me and makes me feel more confident! I think most of the time I look good but I want to work towards being more physically fit and feeling like I look cool because I’m not a big fan of the clothes and things I wear right now. Other than that, I think I come off as a good person and people tend to trust me and depend on me which I appreciate.

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

I tend to be a pretty open-minded person and I like that I try to empathize with and understand other’s positions and adapt to them

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?  

I don’t think I’m very fun, especially around people I don’t know very well

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

My siblings and I would spend a lot of time playing the colony game which I loved! It’s a simulation game we made up and as we grew it got more and more complex which was awesome

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

I had a few! Mallory, Lindsey, Kirsten, Summer!

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

Just every inconsiderate thing I’ve ever said or done

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

Being trans/gay

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name?

Charles means masculine! My mom just liked I guess and it’s also a little bit of a family name! Fun fact though I really love that my mom picked my name

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it.

I grew up in the house I live in now! It was always very cozy. The house is really a communal space 100% so I never felt like I couldn’t be anywhere growing up which is so good and it also has a nice backyard and we had a trampoline which was my favorite thing!! I would spend all day out there just being a kid and it was incredible

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

Sparse! We didn’t have many toys besides a couple stuffed animals each but my (and Amanda’s) room had a bunk bed, two dressers, and a bookshelf

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?  

From what I can remember, I was going through it from about age 10-16. When I started junior year, I ended a toxic relationship and started going to therapy a lot more and it’s only gone up since then!

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

She’s a fifth grade teacher and you’d know that as soon as you meet her! She talks a lot and is very excitable but I love that because for a long time she’s been mentally and emotionally not doing great. It wasn’t easy growing up with her the way she was but now we are both in such better places and I feel closer to her than ever. It’s a work in progress. She is big into physical contact in a way that I’m not comfortable with but that really allowed me to practice being assertive and setting boundaries in a healthy but kind way which has been good for me. She really loves me and my siblings and most people with her whole heart. I love her a lot even though we’re very different people.

Onions: Tell us about your dad.  

Oof. I don’t have much to say about him I guess.

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents.

They’re awesome!! Pop can be a lot sometimes but we all know it and he’s working on it. They both have such compassion and my grandma is the most graceful person in the world (she’d never let me say that about her if she could hear it but she really is incredible.) Pop is the person who pushes me the most academically but I know he is looking out for me and sometimes he softens up for a sec and goes on about how proud he is and I could cry every time. Both of them give the best hugs. I love them a lot and I’m so grateful they’re in my life.

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

I’m not sure what year it was—I think 14—but my sister had a softball tournament in Wisconsin that week so we were staying in a Wisconsin Dells hotel and it was very hot and I didn’t really want to be at the game. Then, the other team didn’t show up!! So we went back to the hotel and we spent the day at the waterpark and it was so fun and already a great day and then when we came up to the room, my mom pulled out a gift for us that I had no idea she had snuck along and it was just the nicest surprise of a day I’ve ever had :’-)

Peony: What was your first job?

Babysitting! But I guess the first proper job I had was as a janitor

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

At school!

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

I think I have a pretty high physical pain tolerance. Most of it is a mental game for me

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change?

I don’t know! I’m a strong believer in the butterfly effect so probably nothing (@alex this is a Jin move) but if everything else would be the same, I’d start focusing on recovering/therapy earlier and transition immediately

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

I look up to so many people but I haven’t talked enough about my brother yet so. He’s so cool! I always admired him for being smart and creative (he would make up the most fun games when we were kids!!) but he’s also super charismatic and likable and he’s great in social situations! And still overall, he’s a kind and reliable and caring person. I love talking to him about philosophy and things because he’s super passionate about it and he thinks through things thoroughly and in a way I never thought about before. We’ve grown so much closer in the past few years and I love that.

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

I just want to be happy and make the people around me happy!

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

Santa!

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life?

Amanda

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

Rain outside when I’m inside and it’s just a little chilly

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

I have so many great memories and I can’t pick just one!! I have nice memories of my family spending winter weekends all in pjs and sitting in our family room reading with fire in the fireplace and those are very nice! I also have a lot of great memories at the Culver’s by my house bc that was the high school place to hang out and it was always a fun, chill time :)

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory?

The most loaded question?? I have some bad memories from being a kid but I’m not going to talk about them in a Tumblr response

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

Usually kind of difficult if it’s got to with emotional things because I’m still working on distinguishing which emotions are which so articulating that can be a challenge when I’m already not feeling good

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

Lexie :(

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

5-6 hours

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

I try to get excited for something happening that day! I also will make time for meditation or something if I’m anticipating a rough day

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job?

I like it a lot! I work in the nursing clinical simulation lab and I’m learning a lot and it’s exciting to be getting the chance to practice stuff before doing it for class

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.  

I’m into the pastel inspirational quotes and things because they make me feel very calm. I’m also a big fan of things with symbols and stuff

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called?

I think the last non-textbook I read was The Stranger over winter break! It was really good!

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

I want to be applying for CNA summer jobs and spending time with my best friends and feeling accomplished about being halfway through nursing school!!!

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

I think so but I don’t want to

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

One day I drank like 150 oz of water in 3 hours and got very sick

[0nho]

Onho #9 please and thank you ❤

9. First time 

For two particular young men, it seems a lot of time has passed since meeting, becoming acquaintances, and then flirting their way into each other’s pants–to reach their current relationship.

For Lee Jinki, it has been the most effort he’s put into a lay in a while; though simplifying it that much at this point undermines the brewing commitment he’s been testing of himself. Away on conscription not six months ago, Jinki is back with newfound aspects about himself to explore.

For Choi Minho, it has been cautious; though a soaring optimist about life, he’s the one most recently out of a relationship that he tried his best to make work but it wasn’t meant to be, and it still stings.

A hotel room is booked for the afternoon, one of those cheap seedy places in the district known for gay men. It seems the only time of day between university classes and other commitments the two can make these days. And with neither living on their own, private time away from peers and family is hard to come by.

Jinki, the senior, made clear his parents do not know of his sexual identity; it’s always talk of marriage around them, and maybe he really will marry a woman some day.

Minho, the youngest of his family, has mentioned he thinks family is suspicious, himself not a great liar, but he’s never been asked. But find any young men like themselves, they all relate to the pressure of dating women and marriage.

Those are topics for another day, when a room isn’t booked for intimacy.

Bags and most their clothing is strung about the small room, both making it to the bed, one on top of the other, kisses deep and bodies grinding damp friction between them.

There have been handsies and blowjobs, ever since an adamant confession was made, by the junior, that they should explore whatever growing chemistry that was going on. Mostly wherever privacy could be attained briefly. Jinki hadn’t thought himself ready for anything more than maybe a one night fling since discharge, but Minho got his strong stomach in butterflies.

This time, the whole world is shut out for several hours, for the two to be confidently alone.

Jinki assists Minho’s lanky limbs trying to kick his briefs the rest of the way off, both having a chuckle over it, before Jinki is tugged back down, arms around his shoulders, pulled in for another kiss. Both bear to the bone, rubbing, elicits louder moans.

When Minho’s slender leg hooks over Jinki’s chubby waist, the older moves a palm up Minho’s thigh, then over his ass, pressing at his hole. Minho turns out of the kiss, eyes widening.

Jinki is surprised, but without protest, as he’s pushed to sit up so Minho can follow onto knees. The younger is just as quickly curled over to suck on Jinki’s half-hard, bobbing wet and vigorously. Jinki finds the sudden noise he makes embarrassing.

Trying again, with a lick of his own finger Jinki leans forward, hand down Minho’s bowed back, running between cheeks to, again, press and rub at Minho’s hole.

Everything pauses again, unusually stiff. Jinki has noted the younger being generally stiff in sexual activities, but that seems more a personality trait. This is a mood killing sort of different; startling.

Minho sits up, tongue run over wet lips, large eyes averted as he rubs fingers behind an ear. The sight is such, Jinki is reminded over again why his attention was captured. He wants to screw Minho silly, yet more road blocks fall in front of him, proving a difficult challenge. Is the effort worth it?

“I won’t ask you to go bareback,” Jinki smiles, leaning back on both palms with a shrug. He tries to cut the tension straining the arousal with a bit of humor. “I have condoms in my bag.”

“That’s..” Minho sighs, brows furrowed. He looks more frustrated by the second, not laughing like usual at a bad joke.

“What’s the matter?” Jinki’s smile begins to slip. Insecurity nips at his heels now.

“This isn’t really a good time to bring up exes–”

“It’s not,” Jinki blurts out, fists digging into sheets, intent not to sound like a jerk but he isn’t here to chat about ex lovers.

Minho looks back on Jinki, agape, then sprung into a flustered, speech-slurred explanation. “I don’t mean.. it’s just.. he literally tore my ass up, I wasn’t walking straight.”

Jinki’s brows rise. “Not enough lube?”

“Maybe..” Minho’s shoulders slouch. “But, let’s be honest,” he gestures, “You are well endowed and I’m not.. ready for that.”

Jinki laughs, nearly maniacally, thick thighs spreading wider to display proudly his large gift to mankind. And to think he was getting really worried all the sudden.

“I thought I had you pegged all wrong for a minute there..” Early on Jinki had quickly sized the junior up as receiver, maybe even an exclusive receiver. It’s a relief he wasn’t completely off the mark. He hates facing his misjudgements in people.

Minho half-heartedly laughs along with what Jinki said, but confusion is written on his small face.

“For one, your ex is an asshole,” Jinki states matter of factly, watching Minho’s alarm at the insult. But it’s true. “Who needs more lube, among other things,” his voice lowers under his breath. He doesn’t like what he’s heard about Minho’s ex, he sounds like a selfish person, but maybe it’s the jealousy of really liking Minho that much.

“And more, sex education is important for these reasons,” Jinki scrunches his nose, feeling irked as the subject derails to something exhausting and out of his hands.

Blinking eyes stare with confusion. “I.. do you want to go?” Minho offers, “I’m sorry I ruined the mood here.” He forces laughter that ends with an embarrassed cough and sniffle, hands busy trying to tidy the wrinkled sheets.

Jinki looks away, expression thoughtful. Would it really be better to leave now and figure it all out later or stay for the time they paid for?

Mind quickly made up, Minho is tugged in for a kiss, mouths smashing, before Jinki whispers at the younger’s ear. “Tell me how much better I am than your ex and I’ll let you put your dick in me.” A long drag of Jinki’s tongue behind Minho’s ear sends shivers through the younger.

An audible gasp leaves Minho’s body. It takes a moment to find his voice again. “Yo-uu’re better, you’re handsomer, you’re funnier..”

Jinki sucks Minho’s neck and shoulder, each word of praise above the ex lover titillating, a giggle slipping between his breaths. When he leaves the bed, finding condoms and lube, he tells Minho to keep going, purposefully slow so to hear the younger carry on.

“You’re smarter, you’re kinder..”

A cracking groan pauses Minho when Jinki is back to pump him firmer between the younger’s thighs, then a pinched condom is applied, Minho’s fingers curling over Jinki’s rolling it around him.

“Go on..”

“You’re gentler..” Minho’s eyes drift, “You.. you’re uhh bigger..”

Jinki laughs, legs spread across the bed, palm on himself in slow strokes. All that insecurity of before has fallen away, allowing arousal to take the forefront again. Minho’s flushed expression across a tiny face is really too cute to deny. Jinki can easily pump himself off to that any day.

Jinki moves to his hand and knees, head hanging. “Lots of lube,” Jinki reminds. “Douse me,” he adds for effect.

Minho squirts and smears the lube as Jinki wants, before applying a finger,  loosening the older. A hiss out of Jinki has Minho quick to apologize and pause.

“It’s fine..”

Jinki sighs and twists his face. It’s been a while since he’s been receiver; not out of hating it, but too lazy for the work involved.

“Relax..” Minho directs.

From over his shoulder, Jinki shoots the younger a look. Minho quickly apologies again with a duck of his head. Jinki exhales and tries to loosen up.

Soon more comfortable, Minho asks once more, getting a firm nod from Jinki, before he is pushing in, slow. Jinki fists the sheets, nose scrunched as he takes it. Each thrust is shallow and lacking; Minho keeps slipping out.

There is relief when Minho says “I want to see your face..”

Minho kindly helps Jinki instead settle on his back across the bed, pillow under hips, legs spread. It’s gentle, in the same manner Jinki is growing used to being cared for by the junior. It’s a tenderness Jinki didn’t realize until now he was missing in affection from family and peers.

Jinki is stroked, and legs bend in pleasant surprise as Minho’s tongue traces his tip and laps the foreskin. Jinki curls into the pillows, enjoyment without shame.

This time, when Minho lines up to enter Jinki, the older’s legs wrap around Minho, forcing him in a bit faster. Body hovered above Jinki, one of Minho’s gangly arms gives out, bending to the bed in a slight bounce.

Minho can’t quite catch his breath; Jinki moans, and their faces draw closer, eyes meeting. Jinki pushes Minho as far as he can go, which isn’t much, but thankfully merciful on Jinki’s backside.

Minho’s long pause has Jinki curious again.

“This isn’t your first time is it?”

Minho drops his head further, stalled there on his knees, tousled hair tickling Jinki’s chest. “It’s.. no..”

Jinki laughs in a holler, hands in Minho’s hair. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry..”

“Move,” Jinki drops his feet back to the bed, giving space.

“I really like you,” Minho gasps and grunts, shallowly jerking hips. “I really..”

“Keep moving,” Jinki breaths against Minho’s cheek, teeth brushing warm skin in little nibbles. Jinki feels he really is falling for this person, but it isn’t so easy for him to express in words. Hearing it though, from Minho, it has him spinning. As if he can say it enough for the both of them.

“Is it good..” Minho asks, flush and eyes blinking down at Jinki.

“Yeah..” it’s good enough. Jinki attempts to maneuver Minho’s hips, to slightly give rotation. It’s enough his head rolls to the side, a loud moan released.

Jinki’s hands reach for Minho’s ass, gripping roughly, wanting it a bit harder, but he will take what he can get. The sounds made as Minho pants surprise Jinki; voice at just the cracking pitch that is humorous but also cute. Enduring is the word he tries to find.

“You.. it’s tight.. it’s..” Minho whines, lips bitten, but Jinki turns in for a deep kiss, sucking him in, silencing words Jinki’s heard before and doesn’t want to hear him trying to be just like the others.

“Don’t stop,” Jinki murmurs, sure to hold eye contact a long moment, encouraging. Still, Minho is stiff and ridged, needing to be the one to relax. He really won’t last long.

Jinki’s palms knead and squeeze Minho’s backside, pushing the younger forward when all Minho can do is let out a squeak of a cry when he cums inside.

Jinki let’s go, as the orgasm is ridden out, and a quick kiss is planted on Minho’s face as erratic, thrusting hips slow, the one coming away flattered. It’s the first of the younger finally feeling loose to the touch on roaming fingers. The bashful, yet intimate experience felt longer than the few minutes it lasted.

Minho slips out, a small bulge left in the tip of the wet condom. His face stays buried in Jinki’s warm shoulder, breathing heavy.    

“I’m still going to tear your ass up,” Jinki teases, a light slap given across Minho’s bare backside. “Gently with lots of lube.”

Minho jerks the whole bed with laughter, palm searching out Jinki’s hand to firmly hold. The older’s eyes crease in a wide, warm smile.

Jinki wants Minho to decide when he’s ready, though he can wish it won’t take long. But he thinks he can stick around and wait for it; he wants to commit to that next stage of their relationship. Something tells Jinki the wait will be worth it.

Suddenly wiggling beneath Minho, Jinki rubs his length against the other with a long sigh and desire to cum. “Don’t leave me hanging now.”

This is only the beginning.

[wilshireyedek]

Ace - If something is ace it is awesome. I used to hear it a lot in Liverpool. Kids thought all cool stuff was ace, or brill.

Aggro - Short for aggravation, it’s the sort of thing you might expect at a football match. In other words - trouble! There is sometimes aggro in the cities after the pubs shut!

All right? - This is used a lot around London and the south to mean, “Hello, how are you”? You would say it to a complete stranger or someone you knew. The normal response would be for them to say “All right”? back to you. It is said as a question. Sometimes it might get expanded to “all right mate”? Mostly used by blue collar workers but also common among younger people.

Anti-clockwise - The first time I said that something had gone anti-clockwise to someone in Texas I got this very funny look. It simply means counter-clockwise but must sound really strange to you chaps! I think he thought I had something against clocks!

Any road - Up north (where they talk funny!!) instead of saying anyway, they say “any road”! Weird huh?

Arse - This is a word that doesn’t seem to exist in America. It basically means the same asass, but is much ruder. It is used in phrases like “pain in the arse” (a nuisance) or I “can’t be arsed” (I can’t be bothered) or you might hear something was “a half arsed attempt” meaning that it was not done properly.

Arse about face - This means you are doing something back to front.

Arse over elbow - This is another way of saying head over heels but is a little more descriptive. Usually happens after 11pm on a Saturday night and too many lagers! Some Americans say ass over teakettle apparently!

Arse over tit - Another version of arse over elbow, but a bit more graphic!

Arsehole - Asshole to you. Not a nice word in either language.

Arseholed - Drunk! Usually in the advanced stages of drunken stupor, someone would be considered “completely arseholed”. Never me, of course!

As well - You chaps say also when we would say “too” or “as well”. For instance if my friend ordered a Miller Lite, I would say “I’ll have one as well”. I often heard people saying something like “I’ll have one also”. You’d be more likely to hear someone in England ordering a pint oflager!

Ass - Your backside, but mostly a donkey!

Au fait - Another one of those French expressions that have slipped into the English language. This one means to be familiar with something. I’d say at the end of reading all this you’d be au fait with the differences between American and English!

Baccy - Tobacco. The sort you use to roll your own.

Bang - Nothing to do with your hair - this is a rather unattractive way of describing havingsex. Always gets a smile from Brits in American hair dressers when they are asked about their bangs.

Barmy - If someone tells you that you’re barmy they mean you have gone mad or crazy. For example you’d have to be barmy to visit England without trying black pudding!

Beastly - You would call something or somebody beastly if they were really nasty orunpleasant. Most people would consider you a snob or an upper class git if you used this word. People like Fergie can get away with it though.

Bees Knees - This is the polite version of the dog’s bollocks. So if you are in polite company and want to say that something was fabulous, this phrase might come in handy.

Belt up - For some reason I heard this quite a lot as a kid. It’s the British for shut up.

Bender - I used to go out on a bender quite frequently when I was at university. Luckily bender doesn’t only mean a gay man, it also means a pub crawl or a heavy drinking session.

Bespoke - We say something is bespoke if it has been created especially for someone, in the same way that you say custom. For example a computer program might be bespoken for a client, or you may order a bespoke holiday, where the travel agent creates an itinerary around your exact requirements.

Best of British - If someone says “The best of British to you” when you are visiting the UK, it simply means good luck. It is short for “best of British luck”.

Biggie - This is unusual. A biggie is what a child calls his poo! Hence the reason Wendy’s Hamburgers has never really taken off in England - who would buy “biggie fries”? Yuck - I’m sure you wouldn’t buy poo fries! The other meaning of Biggie is erection. It just gets worse!

Bite your arm off - This is not aggressive behaviour that a football fan might engage in. In fact it just means that someone is over excited to get something. For instance you might say that kids would bite your arm off for an ice cream on a sunny day.

Bladdered - This rather ugly expression is another way of saying you are drunk. The link is fairly apparent I feel!

Blast - An exclamation of surprise. You may also hear someone shout “blast it”, or even “bugger and blast”!

Blatant - We use this word a lot to mean something is really obvious.

Bleeding - An alternative to the word bloody. You’ll hear people say “bleeding hell” or “not bleeding likely” for example.

Blimey - Another exclamation of surprise. My Dad used to say “Gawd Blimey” or “Gor Blimey” or even “Cor Blimey”. It is all a corruption of the oath God Blind Me.

Blinding - If something is a blinding success - it does not mean that any eyes were poked out with sharp sticks - it means it was awesome.

Blinkered - Someone who is blinkered is narrow minded or narrow sighted - they only see one view on a subject. It comes from when horses that pulled carriages wore blinkers to stop them seeing to the side or behind them which stopped them from being startled and only let them see where they were going.

Bloody - One of the most useful swear words in English. Mostly used as an exclamation of surprise i.e. “bloody hell” or “bloody nora”. Something may be “bloody marvellous” or “bloody awful”. It is also used to emphasise almost anything, “you’re bloody mad”, “not bloody likely” and can also be used in the middle of other words to emphasise them. E.g. “Abso-bloody-lutely”! Americans should avoid saying “bloody” as they sound silly.

Blooming - Another alternative to the word bloody. You might hear someone say “not blooming likely” so that they don’t have to swear.

Blow me - When an English colleague of mine exclaimed “Blow Me” in front of a large American audience, he brought the house down. It is simply an exclamation of surprise, short for “Blow me down”, meaning something like I am so surprised you could knock me over just by blowing. Similar to “Well knock me down with a feather”. It is not a request for services to be performed.

Blow off - Who blew off? Means who farted? Constant source of amusement to us Brits when you guys talk about blowing people off. Conjours up all sort of bizarre images!

Blunt - If a saw or a knife is not sharp we say it is blunt. It is also the way most of us speak! In America the knife would be dull.

Bob’s your uncle - This is a well used phrase. It is added to the end of sentences a bit likeand that’s it! For example if you are telling someone how to make that fabulous banoffee pie you just served them, you would tell them to boil the condensed milk for three hours, spread it onto a basic cheesecake base, slice bananas on top, add some whipped double cream, another layer of banana and Bob’s your uncle!

Bodge - We bodge things all the time here. I’m sure you do too! To do a bodge job means to do a quick and dirty. Make it look good for the next day or two and if it falls down after that - hey well we only bodged it! Applies to building, DIY, programming and most other things.

Bogey - Booger. Any variety, crusty dragons included!

Bollocks - This is a great English word with many excellent uses. Technically speaking it meanstesticles but is typically used to describe something that is no good (that’s bollocks) or that someone is talking rubbish (he’s talking bollocks). Surprisingly it is also used in a positive manner to describe something that is the best, in which case you would describe it as being “the dog’s bollocks”. Englishmen who live in America take great delight in ordering specialised registration plates for their cars using the letters B.O.L.L.O.X. Good eh?

Bomb - If something costs a bomb it means that it is really expensive. We say it when we see the price of insurance in the US, you could try saying it when you see how much jeans orpetrol cost over here!

Bomb - If something goes like a bomb it means it is going really well or really fast. Or you could say an event went down like a bomb and it would mean that the people really enjoyed it. In the US the meaning would be almost exactly the reverse.

Bonk - Same meaning as shag. Means to have sex. E.g. “Did you bonk him/her?”.

Botch - There are two expressions here - to botch something up or to do a botch job. They both mean that the work done was not of a high standard or was a clumsy patch. My Dad used to always tell me that workmen had botched it up and that he should have done the work properly himself.

Bottle - Something you have after twenty pints of lager and a curry. A lotta bottle! This meanscourage. If you have a lotta bottle you have no fear.

Box your ears - Many young chaps heard their dads threaten to box their ears when I was a littlun. Generally meant a slap around the head for misbehaving. Probably illegal these days!!

Brassed off - If you are brassed off with something or someone, you are fed up. Pissedperhaps.

Brill - Short for “brilliant”. Used by kids to mean cool.

Budge up - If you want to sit down and someone is taking up too much space, you’d ask them to budge up - move and make some space.

Bugger - This is another fairly unique word with no real American equivalent. Like bloody it has many uses apart from the obvious dictionary one pertaining to rather unusual sexual habits. My father was always shouting “bugger” when he was working in the garage or garden. Usually when he hit his thumb or dropped a nail or lost something. Today we might use the sh** or the f*** words but bugger is still as common. The fuller version of this would be “bugger it”. It can also be used to tell someone to get lost (bugger off), or to admit defeat (we’re buggered) or if you were tired or exhausted you would be buggered. You can also call someone a bugger. When I won £10 on the lottery my mate called me a “lucky bugger”.

Bugger all - If something costs bugger all, it means that it costs nothing. Meaning it is cheap. If you have bugger all, it means you have nothing.

Bum - This is the part of your body you sit on. Your ass! It might also be someone who is down and out, like a tramp. You might also bum around, if you are doing nothing in particular, just hanging out. Finally to bum something means to scrounge it from someone.

Bung - To bung something means to throw it. For example a street trader might bung something in for free if you pay cash right now! Or you could say “bung my car keys over,mate”.

Bung - A bung is also a bribe.

Butchers - To have a butchers at something is to have a look. This is a cockney rhyming slang word that has become common. The reason “butchers” means a look even though it doesn’t rhyme is because it is short for “butchers hook” and “hook” of course, does rhyme.

C of E - The Church of England. Our official protestant church - of which the Queen is the head.

Chat up - To chat someone up is to try and pick them up. If you spotted a scrummy girly in a bar you might try to chat her up. Or a girl might try and chat up a chap!

Cheeky - “Eee you cheeky monkey” was what my mother said to me all the time when I was a kid. Cheeky means you are flippant, have too much lip or are a bit of a smart arse! Generally you are considered to be a bit cheeky if you have an answer for everything and always have the last word. My licence plate on my MX5 (Miata in American) was CHEEKY, which most Texans thought was something to do with bottoms - wrong!!

Cheerio - Not a breakfast cereal. Just a friendly way of saying goodbye. Or in the north “tara” which is pronounced sort of like “churar”.

Cheers - This word is obviously used when drinking with friends. However, it also has other colloquial meanings. For example when saying goodbye you could say “cheers”, or “cheers then”. It also means thank you. Americans could use it in English pubs, but should avoid the other situations as it sounds wrong with an American accent. Sorry!

Cheesed off - This is a polite way of saying you are pissed off with something.

Chin Wag - This is another word for a Chat. You can probably tell why!

Chinese Whispers - This a good one. It refers to the way a story gets changed as is passes from one person to the next so that the end result may be completely different from what was originally said. Sound familiar?

Chivvy along - When I’m standing patiently in the checkout queue at Tesco I like to chivvy along the old ladies in front of me. If only they would stop fannying around and hurry up!

Chuffed - You would be chuffed to bits if you were really pleased about something.

Clear off! - This expression brings back memories of being a kid and stealing apples from people’s gardens. Sometimes we would get caught and some old bloke would come out and shout “oi clear off you lot”. It basically means get lost.

Cobblers - I have heard people say “what a load of cobblers” more than once. Maybe that’s because I talk so much rubbish. An equivalent would be what a load of bollocks. It means you are talking out of your butt and has nothing to do with any kind of dessert! Derived from the cockney rhyming slang where Cobblers Awls = Balls!

Cock up - A cock up means you have made a mistake. It has nothing to do with parts of the male body.

Cockney rhyming slang - There are lots of words that make up cockney rhyming slang. These are basically rhyming words like “butchers hook” which means “look”. If you are in London and you hear someone talk about a Septic they are probably talking about you - because it’s short for “Septic tank” which equals “yank”, which is our word for an American. How do you like that!

Codswallop - Another one I heard a lot as a kid - usually when I was making up excuses for how the window got broken or why my dinner was found behind the sofa. My Dad would tell me I was talking a load of codswallop. American kids might be talking baloney under the same circumstances.

Cor - You’ll often hear a Brit say “cor”! It is another one of those expressions of surprise that we seem to have so many of. It will sometimes be lengthened to “cor blimey” or “cor love a duck”, depending on where you are. “Cor blimey” is a variation of “Gawd Blimey” or “Gor Blimey”. They are all a corruption of the oath “God Blind Me”.

Cracking - If something is cracking, it means it is the best. Usually said without pronouncing the last “G”. If a girl is cracking it means she is stunning.

Cram - Before a big exam you would be expected to cram. This simply means to study hardin the period running up to the exam.

Crap - The same word in both countries - but less rude here. I loved watching Brits being interviewed on US chat shows and embarrassing the interviewer when they said something was “total crap”.

Crikey - Another exclamation of surprise. Some people say “Crikey Moses”.

Crusty dragon - A booger. One of the really crispy ones.

Daft - My Dad used to call me a daft ‘apeth which is short for a daft half penny (in old money). It basically means stupid.

Dekko - To have a look at something.

Dear - If something is dear it means it is expensive. I thought Texan insurance was dear.

Dicky - Dicky rhymes with sicky and means you feel sick.

Diddle - To rip someone off or to con someone is to diddle them. When you visit England, check your change to make sure you haven’t been diddled!

Dim - A dim person is stupid or thick or a dimwit. Dimwit - Someone a bit on the dim side.

Dishy - If someone is a bit of a dish or a bit dishy it means they are attractive or good looking.

DIY - This is short for do it yourself and applies not just to the DIY stores but also to anything that you need to do yourself. For example, if we get really bad service in a restaurant (oh, you noticed!) then we might ask the waiter if it is a DIY restaurant - just to wind them up.

Do - A party. You would go to a do if you were going to a party in the UK.

Do - If you go into a shop and say “do you do batteries?” it means “do you sell batteries”.

Do - If you drive along a motorway in the wrong lane the police will do you. You could then tell your friends that you have been done by the police. Prosecute is another word for it!

Doddle - Something that is a doddle is a cinch, it’s easy. Unlike ordering water in Texas with an English accent, which is definitely not a doddle!

Dodgy - If someone or something is a bit dodgy, it is not to be trusted. Dodgy food should be thrown away at home, or sent back in a restaurant. Dodgy people are best avoided. You never know what they are up to. Dodgy goods may have been nicked. When visiting Miami I was advised by some English chums that certain areas were a bit dodgy and should be avoided!

Dog’s bollocks - You would say that something really fantastic was the dog’s bollocks. Comes from the fact that a dog’s bollocks are so fantastic that he can’t stop licking them! Nice huh? Often shortened to just “The dog’s”.

Dog’s dinner - If you make a real mess of something it might be described as a real dog’s dinner. A bit like some joint Anglo-American approaches to Eastern Europe for example!

Donkey’s years - Someone said to me the other day that they hadn’t seen me for donkey’s years. It means they hadn’t seen me for ages.

Drop a clanger - When I asked a large lady on the tube if she would like my seat since she was so obviously pregnant, she took the seat then told me she was fat, not pregnant! Boy did I drop a clanger. You might make a gaffe. Either way it was horrendously embarrassing, especially as half the people on the tube had heard me!

Duck - In and around Leeds you will find older people might call you “duck” in the same way that they might call you “love” or “dear” in other places. Usually pronounced more like “dook”, which rhymes with “book”.

Duff - Anything that is duff is useless, junk, trash. It usually means that the object doesn’t do the job it was intended for. Our last Prime Minister was pretty duff!

Duffer - Any person that is duff could be referred to as a duffer. The Prime Minister was a duffer.

Dull - You would say something that was no longer sharp was dull. We would say blunt. To us something is dull if it is boring. It can apply to things - like a film could be dull. It also applies to people - I can think of several people who are dull!

Easy Peasy - A childish term for something very easy. You might say it’s a snap.

Engaged - When you ring someone and they are already on the phone you will get the engaged tone. In other words, they will be engaged. You would say you get the busy signal or the line is busy.

Excuse me - This is a great one! It’s what kids are taught to say when they belch in public. We are also taught to say “pardon me” if we fart out loud. Unfortunately in American “excuse me” means you are encroaching in someone’s personal space and you say “pardon me” when you don’t hear someone properly. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that actually Americans are not belching and farting all the time.

Faff - To faff is to dither or to fanny around. If we procrastinated when getting ready for bed, as kids, our Dad use tell us we were faffing around.

Fagged - If you are too lazy or tired to do something you could say “I can’t be fagged”. It means you can’t be Bothered.

Fagging - Fagging is the practice of making new boys at boarding schools into slaves for the older boys. If you are fagging for an older boy you might find yourself running his bath, cleaning his shoes or performing more undesirable tasks.

Fancy - If you fancy something then it means you desire it. There are two basic forms in common use - food and people. If you fancy a cake for example it means you like the look of it and you want to eat it. If you see someone of (hopefully) the opposite sex then you might fancy them if you liked the look of them and wanted to get to know them a little better!!!

Fanny - This is the word for a woman’s front bits! One doesn’t normally talk about anyone’s fanny as it is a bit rude. You certainly don’t have a fanny pack, or smack people on their fannys - you would get arrested for that! Careful use of this word in the UK is advised!

Fanny around - I’m always telling people to stop fannying around and get on with it. It means to procrastinate. Drives me mad!

Fiddle sticks - I have an old Aunt who is much too well mannered to swear. So when the need arises for a swear word, she will substitute “fiddle sticks”.

Filch - To filch is to steal or pilfer. The origin is apparently unknown.

Fit - Fit is a word that I have heard a lot recently - it seems to be making a comeback. A fitbird means a girl who is pretty good looking or tasty! A fit bloke would be the male equivalent.

Flog - To Flog something is to sell it. It also means to beat something with a whip, but when your wife tells you she flogged the old TV it is more likely she has sold it than beaten it (hopefully!).

Fluke - If something great happened to you by chance that would be a fluke. When I was a kid my Mum lost her engagement ring on the beach and only realised half way home. We went back to the spot and she found it in the sand. That was a fluke.

Flutter - I like to have a flutter on the horses. It means to have a bet, usually a small one by someone who is not a serious gambler.

Fortnight - Two weeks. Comes from an abbreviation of “fourteen nights”. Hence terms like “I’m off for a fortnights holiday” meaning “I am going on a two week vacation”.

Fruity - If someone is feeling fruity then they are feeling frisky. Watch out!

Full monty - Since the movie has come out of the same name I have heard some odd Texan descriptions of what the full monty means. It really has nothing to do with taking your clothes off. It just means the whole thing or going the whole way. That’s it. Clearly when applied to stripping it means not stopping at your underwear! The origins of the expression are still under discussion. There are many theories but no conclusive evidence at the moment.

Full of beans - This means to have loads of energy. It is a polite way of saying that a child is a maniac. I was often described as being full of beans as a kid and now it is my wife’s way of telling me to keep still when she is trying to get to sleep. Strangely the same expression in some parts of the US means that you are exaggerating or talking bollocks!

Gagging - Desperate, in a fat slaggy kind of a way. Not nice.

Gallivanting - The dictionary says “to gad about”, which probably doesn’t help much! It meansfooling around or horseplay.

Gander - When I was a kid, my Dad often used to go off for a gander when we were visiting a new town or village. It means to look around.

Gen - Gen means information. If you have the gen then you know what is going on.

Gen up - To research a subject or to get some information.

Get lost! - Politely translated as go away, this is really a mild way of telling someone to f*** off!

Get stuffed! - Even politer way to tell someone to get lost is to tell them to get stuffed. However, this is still not a nice thing to say to someone.

Getting off - This seems to be the objective of most teenagers on a big night out. Getting off with someone means making out or snoggingh them.

Give us a bell - This simply means call me. You often hear people use the word “us” to mean “me”.

Gobsmacked - Amazed. Your gob is your mouth and if you smack your gob, it would be out of amazement.

Good value - This is short for good value for money. It means something is a good deal.

Goolies - If you have been kicked in the goolies, your eyes would be watering and you would be clutching your balls!

Gormless - A gormless person is someone who has absolutely no clue. You would sayclueless. It is also shortened so you could say someone is a total gorm or completely gormy.

Grem - The form of gob meaning to spit something out. e.g. Did you see him grem? Yuck. Usually associated with that ghastly noise as the content of the lungs are coughed into the mouth before gremming can take place. Grem is also the word that describes the green lump that is created in the process. You might call it hacking up a hacker.

Grub - Food. Similar to nosh. I remember my Dad calling “grub’s up”, when dinner was ready as a kid. A grub is also an insect larva. Not usually eaten in England. Actually is available in some Australian restaurants!

Gutted - If someone is really upset by something they might say that they were gutted. Like when you are told that you have just failed your driving test!

Haggle - To haggle is to argue or negotiate over a price. Most people that wangle stuff are usually quite good at haggling. I just learnt that in the USA you dicker over a price, particularly for used cars!

Hanky panky - Hanky panky - or “slap and tickle” as some older folks call it - would bemaking out in America.

Hard - After your 20 pints of lager, the curry or the doner, your average 20 year old feels hard. Since his male organ has no chance of working at this stage, hard clearly refers to something else - it means he is ready to fight anything or anybody or to take on any bet. This is the time to make fun of drunken lads by betting them they can’t jump off the end of the pier, hang on to the back of a bus etc.

Hard lines - This is another way of saying hard luck or bad luck.

Hash - The thing you call a pound sign! Before you ask, yes it is also something you smoke - see wacky backy. Also to make a real hash of something means you really screwed it up.

Have - This one used to wind me up a treat in Texas. When we were in restaurants with friends, they would say to the waiter something like “Can I get a refill”. And the waiter would go and get them a refill. No no no - that’s completely wrong. It’s “Can I HAVE a refill”. Not GET! If you say “Can I GET a refill” in the UK, the waiter will give you a funny look and tell you where to go and GET it - yourself!

Healthy - Healthful. I’m not really sure if this is slang or whether the American use of healthful is the real alternative to the English “healthy”. We talk about a healthy lifestyle and about healthy food. I never heard anyone say smoking was “unhealthful” in the US but I suppose that must exist too!

Her Majesty’s pleasure - When visiting England, try to avoid being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. This means being put in prison with no release date!

Hiya - Short for hi there, this is a friendly way of saying hello.

Honking - Honking is being sick or throwing up. Presumably this is a problem in New York where there are signs on the streets that say “No Honking”.

Horses for courses - This is a common saying that means each to his own. What suits one person might be horrible for someone else. If my Dad was trying to understand why my brother had wanted to get his ear pierced he might say “Oh well, it’s horses for courses I suppose”!

How’s your father? - This is a very old term for sex which plays on our apparent British sensitivity. Rather than saying the actual “sex” word you could refer to having a bit of How’s your Father, instead - nudge, nudge, wink, wink. The sort of old fashioned saying dragged up by Austin Powers.

Hump - If you have got the hump it means you are in a mood. If you are having a hump, it means you are having sex. Care is advised when you try using these words for the first time. It could be embarrassing!

Hunky-dory - My English dictionary tells me that hunky-dory means excellent. We would generally use it to mean that everything is cool and groovy, on plan, no worries and generally going well.

I’m easy - This expression means I don’t care or it’s all the same to me. Not to be confused with how easy it is to lure the person into bed!

Irony/sarcasm - The cornerstones of British humour. This is one of the biggest differences between the nations. The sense of humour simply doesn’t translate too well.

Jammy - If you are really lucky or flukey, you are also very jammy. It would be quite acceptable to call your friend a jammy b****rd if they won the lottery.

Jimmy - Actually short for Jimmy Riddle. i.e. I’m off for a Jimmy Riddle. This is Cockney rhyming slang for piddle!

John Thomas - Yet another word for a blokes willy! I always felt a bit sorry for people who were actually called John Thomas. What were their parents thinking?

Jolly - You hear people use this in all sorts of ways, but basically it means very. So “jolly good” would mean very good. A common exception is where you hear people say “I should jolly well think so!” which is more to emphasise the point.

Keep your pecker up - This is one way of saying keep your chin up. Use with caution as in some places your pecker is also your willy!

Khazi - Another word for the toilet. Our version of your bathroom.

Kip - A short sleep, forty winks, or a snooze. You have a kip in front of the telly on a Sunday afternoon.

Knackered - The morning after twenty pints and the curry, you’d probably feel knackered. Another way to describe it is to say you feel shagged. Basically worn out, good for nothing,tired out, knackered.

Knees up - If you’re having a knees up, you’re going to a dance or party.

Knob - Yet another word for your willy.

Knock off - To knock something off is to steal it, not to copy it!

Knock up - This means to wake someone up. Although it seems to have an altogether different meaning in the USA! At one time, in England, a chap was employed to go round the streets to wake the workers up in time to get to work. He knew where everyone lived and tapped on the bedroom windows with a long stick, and was known as a “knocker up”. He also turned off the gas street lights on his rounds. Another meaning of this phrase, that is more common these days, is to make something out of odds and ends. For example my Dad knocked up a tree house for us from some planks of wood he had in the garage, or you might knock up a meal from whatever you have hanging around in the fridge.

Knockers - Another word for breasts.

Knuckle sandwich - If somebody offers you a knuckle sandwich you’d be best to decline the offer and leave at the next convenient moment. It isn’t some British culinary delight - they’re about to thump you in the face.

Leg it - This is a way of saying run or run for it. Usually said by kids having just been caught doing something naughty. Well it was when I was a kid!

Left, right and centre - If you have been looking left, right and centre, it means you have been searching all over.

Love bite - You call them hickies - the things you do to yourself as a youngster with the vacuum cleaner attachment to make it look like someone fancies you!

Lurgy - If you have the lurgy it means you are ill, you have the Flu. Don’t go near people with the lurgy in case you get it!

Luvvly-jubbly - Clearly another way of saying lovely. Made famous by the TV show Only Fools and Horses.

-ly - These are two letters that seem to be left off words in America. I never heard anyone say something was “really nice” or “really cool”, they would say real nice and real cool. We would be sent to the back of the class for grammar like that!

Mate - Most chaps like to go to the pub with their mates. Mate means friend or chum.

Momentarily - As you come into land at an American airport and the announcement says that you will be landing momentarily, look around to see if anyone is sniggering. That will be the Brits! I never did figure out why they say this. Momentarily to us means that something will only happen for an instant - a very short space of time. So if the plane lands momentarily will there be enough time for anyone to get off? Weird!

Morish - Also spelt “moreish”, this word is used to describe desserts in my house, when a single helping is simply not enough. You need more! It applies to anything - not just desserts.

Mufti - An old army term for your “civvies”. Civilian clothes that is, rather than your uniform.

Mug - If someone is a bit of a mug, it means they are gullible. Most used car salesmen rely on a mug to show up so they can sell something!

Mush - Rhymes with “push”. Slang word for your mouth as in “shut your mush”. Also meansmate as in “Alright mush?. Which means "Hi”!

Mutt’s nuts - If something is described as being “the Mutt’s” then you’ll know it is fantasticor excellent. “The Mutt’s” is short for “The Mutt’s nuts” which is clearly another way of saying the “Dog’s Bollocks”! All clear now?

Naff - If something is naff, it is basically uncool. Anoraks are naff, salad cream is also naff. You could also use it to tell someone to naff off, which is a politer way of telling them to f*** off!

Nancy boy - If someone is being pathetic you would call them a nancy or a nancy boy. It is the opposite of being hard. For example in cold weather a nancy boy would dress up in a coat, hat, gloves and scarf and a hard guy would wear a t-shirt. It’s also another word for a gayman.

Nark - If someone is in a nark, it means they are in a bad mood, or being grumpy. It’s also the word for a spy or informant. For example a coppers nark is someone who is a police informant - which you might call a stoolie or stool-pigeon. The origin is from the Romany word, nak, meaning “nose”.

Narked - In the UK you would say that someone looked narked if you thought they were in a bad mood. In the US you might say that someone was pissed. We definitely would not say that, as it would mean they were drunk!

Nesh - My Dad used to call me a nesh wimp when I was a kid and I wanted him to take me places in his car because it was too cold to go on my bike. He meant I was being pathetic or a bit of a nancy boy. He might have had a point!

Nice one! - If someone does something particularly impressive you might say “nice one”! to them. It is close the Texan good job that you hear all the time.

Nick - To nick is to steal. If you nick something you might well get nicked.

Nicked - Something that has been stolen has been nicked. Also, when a copper catches a burglar red handed he might say “you’ve been nicked”!

Nitwit - See twit.

Nookie - Nookie is the same as hanky panky. Something you do with your bird!

Nosh - Food. You would refer to food as nosh or you might be going out for a good nosh up, or meal! Either way if someone has just cooked you some nosh you might want to call it something else as it is not the nicest word to describe it.

Not my cup of tea - This is a common saying that means something is not to your liking. For example if someone asked you if you would like to go to an all night rave, they would know exactly what you meant if you told them it was not exactly your cup of tea!

Nowt - This is Yorkshire for nothing. Similarly owt is Yorkshire for anything. Hence the expression “you don’t get owt for nowt”. Roughly translated as “you never get anything for nothing” or “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”.

Nut - To nut someone is to head butt them. Nutting is particularly useful when at a football match.

Off colour - If someone said you were off colour they would mean that you look pale and ill! Not quite the same as something being off colour in the US!

Off your trolley - If someone tells you that you’re off your trolley, it means you have gone raving bonkers, crazy, mad!

On about - What are you on about? That’s something you may well hear when visiting the UK. It means what are you talking about?

On the job - If you are on the job, it could mean that you are hard at work, or having sex. Usually the context helps you decide which it is!

On the piss - If you are out on the piss, it means you are out to get drunk, or to get pissed.

On your bike - A very polite way of telling someone to f*** off.

One off - A one off is a special or a one time event that is never to be repeated. Like writing this book!

Owt - This is Yorkshire for anything. Similarly nowt is Yorkshire for nothing. Hence the expression “you don’t get owt for nowt”. Roughly translated as “you never get anything for nothing” or “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”.

Pants - This is quite a new expression - I have no idea where it came from. Anyway, it is now quite trendy to say that something which is total crap is “pants”. For instance you could say the last episode of a TV show was “total pants”.

Pardon me - This is very amusing for Brits in America. Most kids are taught to say “pardon me” if they fart in public or at the table etc. In America it has other meanings which take us Brits a while to figure out. I thought I was surrounded by people with flatulence problems!

Parky - Either short for Michael Parkinson, a famous chat show host, or more likely a word to describe the weather as being rather cold!

Pass - This means I don’t know and comes from the old TV show, Mastermind, where contestants were made to say “pass” if they did not know the answer to the question.

Pavement pizza - Well here the pavement is the sidewalk and a pavement pizza is a descriptive way of saying vomit. Often found outside Indian restaurants early on a Sunday morning.

Peanuts - I hated one of my summer jobs as a kid because it paid peanuts. The full expression is that if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys. It is a fairly derogatory way of saying that manual labour doesn’t need to be bright and doesn’t need a lot of pay. Typically these days peanuts means something is cheap. For example we would say the petrol in the USA is peanuts or costs peanuts. Compared to our prices it is.

Pear shaped - If something has gone pear shaped it means it has become a disaster. It might be preparing a dinner party or arranging a meeting, any of these things can go completely pear shaped.

Piece of cake - I remember saying it’s a piece of cake in front of one of my American friends, who then started looking around for the cake! It means it’s a cinch!

Pinch - This means to steal something. Though when you say “steal” it is a bit more serious than pinch. A kid might pinch a cake from the kitchen. A thief would steal something during a burglary.

Pip pip - Another out-dated expression meaning goodbye. Not used any more.

Piss poor - If something is described as being “piss poor” it means it is an extremely poorattempt at something.

Piss up - A piss up is a drinking session. A visit to the pub. There is an English expression to describe someone as disorganised which says that he/she could not organise a piss up in a brewery!

Pissed - This is a great one for misunderstanding. Most people go to the pub to get pissed. In fact the object of a stag night is to get as pissed as possible. Getting pissed means gettingdrunk. It does not mean getting angry. That would be getting pissed off!

Pissing around - Fooling about, in the sense of messing around or making fun or just being silly. Not terribly polite.

Plastered - Another word for loaded. In other words you have had rather too much to drink down your local. It has nothing to do with being covered with plaster though anything is possible when you are plastered.

Porkies - More cockney rhyming slang. Short for “porky pies”, meaning “pork pies”. Rhymes with lies. My Mum always used to tell me I was telling porkies! And she was right!

Porridge - Doing porridge means to serve time in prison. There was also a comedy TV series called Porridge about a prisoner starring Ronnie Barker of The Two Ronnies fame.

Posh - Roughly translates as high class, though if you look at Posh Spice there are clearly exceptions to the rule! Comes from the cabins used by the upper class on early voyages from England to India. The coolest (and most expensive cabins) were Port side on the way Out andStarboard on the way Home.

Potty - This isn’t just the thing you sit a toddler on - if you are potty it means you are a littlecrazy, a bit of a looney, one card short of a full deck.

Pound sign - Ever wondered why Brits flounder when voicemail messages say to press the pound sign? What on earth is the British currency doing on a phone anyway? Well, it isn’t. To a Brit, the pound sign is the wiggly thing we use to denote the UK pound (or quid), in the same way you have a dollar sign.

Prat - Yet another mildly insulting name for someone. In fact, this one is a bit ruder thanpillock so you probably wouldn’t say it in front of Grandma.

PTO - This is an abbreviation for “please turn over”. You will see it on forms in the UK where you would see the single word over in the USA.

Puff - If a Brit starts giggling in your local drugstore - it may be because they have just found a box of Puffs. To some of us Brits a Puff is another word for a fart. Stems from the cockney rhyming slang, to “Puff a dart”.

Pukka - This term has been revived recently by one of our popular young TV chefs. It meanssuper or smashing, which of course is how he describes all his food.

Pull - Me and the lads used to go to the disco when we were on the pull. It means looking forbirds. Of course, it works the other way round too. The ladies may also be on the pull, though probably a bit more subtly than the chaps!

Pussy - This is what we call our cat, as in “pussy cat”, or in the fairytale, Puss in Boots. So if you have a Brit neighbour who asks if you have seen their pussy - try to keep a straight face and think back the last time you saw their cat!

Put a sock in it - This is one way of telling someone to shut up. Clearly the sock needs to be put in their loud mouth!

Put paid to - This is an expression which means to put an end to something. For example you could say that rain put paid to the cricket match, meaning it stopped play.

Queer - Apart from the obvious gay link, this word used to be used a lot to mean someone looked ill. As in “You look queer”. Of course you might not say that these days in case you get either picked up, or thumped!

Quid - A pound in money is called a quid. It is the equivalent to the buck or clam in America. A five pound note is called a fiver and a ten pound note is called a tenner.

Quite - When used alone, this word means the same as absolutely!

Rat arsed - Yet another term for drunk, sloshed or plastered. You might say loaded. In the UK, loaded is a men’s magazine that covers sex and football.

Read - If someone asks you what you read at university, they mean what was your major at school.

Really - This is one of those words where you say almost the same thing as us, but just can’t be fagged to finish it off. The word is “really”, not real. You say things like it’s real hot, something’s real cool, a baby is real cute. If we said that we would be sent to the back of the class for our grammar - or lack of it!

Redundancy - If you are made redundant it means you are laid off.

Reverse the charges - When you want to ring someone up and you have no money you can call the operator and ask to reverse the charges in the UK. In the US you would call collect.

Right - I’m feeling right knackered. That would mean you were feeling very tired.

Ring - You would ring someone on the phone not call them, in the UK. Try saying “give me a ring” to the next Brit you meet. This does not work well in reverse. I asked someone in a shop to ring me up and he dragged me to the till and pulled my head across the scanner!

Roger - Same kind of problem that Randy has here, except we have people called Roger and no Randys. You will see a strange smile on the face of a Brit every time “Roger the Rabbit” is mentioned!! To roger means to have your wicked way with a lady. My Oxford English Dictionary says to copulate. You might say screw.

Round - When you hear the words “your round” in the pub, it means it is your turn to buy the drinks for everyone in the group - nothing to do with the size of your tummy! Since beers are more and more expensive these days, the art of buying the rounds has developed into ensuring you buy the first one before everyone has arrived, without being obvious!

Row - Rhymes with “cow” this means an argument. You might hear your Mum having a row with your Dad, or your neighbours might be rowing so loud you can hear them!

Rubbish - The stuff we put in the bin. Trash or garbage to you. You might also accuse someone of talking rubbish.

Rugger - This is short for “rugby”. It is a contact sport similar to your football but played in muddy fields during winter and rain. Not only that, but the players wear almost no protection!

Rumpy pumpy - Another word for hanky panky, or a bit of nookie! Something two consenting adults get up to in private! Theoretically!

Sack/sacked - If someone gets the sack it means they are fired. Then they have been sacked. I can think of a few people I’d like to sack!

Sad - This is a common word, with the same meaning as naff. Used in expressions like “you sad b***ard”.

Scrummy - This is a word that would be used to describe either some food that was particularly good (and probably sweet and fattening).

Scrumping - To go stealing - usually apples from someone elses trees!

Send-up - To send someone up is to make fun of them. Or if something is described as being a send-up it is equivalent to your take-off. Like Robin Williams does a take-off on the British accent - quite well actually!

Shag - Same as bonk but slightly less polite. At seventies parties watch the look of surprise on the Englishman’s face when an American girl asks him if he would like to shag. Best way to get a Brit to dance that I know! You can even go to shagging classes!

Shagged - Past tense of shag, but also see knackered.

Shambles - If something is a shambles it is chaotic or a real mess. It’s also a very old name for a slaughterhouse. So if you ever visit The Shambles in York, then the name does not refer to the somewhat shambolic nature of the buildings; it’s a reference to the site it’s built on - an old slaughterhouse!

Shambolic - In a state of chaos. Generally heard on the news when the government is being discussed!

Shirty - “Don’t get shirty with me young man” was what my Dad used to tell me when I was little. He was referring to my response to his telling off for doing some terrible little boy thing. Like tying my brother to the back of Mum’s car or putting my shoes in the toilet. It meant I was getting bad tempered.

Shite - This is just another way of saying shit. It is useful for times when you don’t want to be overly rude as it doesn’t sound quite as bad!

Shitfaced - If you hear someone saying that they got totally shitfaced it means they were out on the town and got steaming drunk. Normally attributed to stag nights or other silly events.

Shufti - Pronounced shooftee, this means to take a look at something, to take a butchers! It’s an old Arabic word, picked up by British soldiers during World War II, in North Africa.

Sixes and sevens - If something is all at sixes and sevens then it is in a mess, topsy turvy or somewhat haywire!

Skew-whiff - This is what you would call crooked. Like when you put a shelf up and it isn’t straight we would say it is all skew-whiff.

Skive - To skive is to evade something. When I was a kid we used to skive off school on Wednesdays instead of doing sports. We always got caught of course, presumably because the teachers used to do the same when they were fourteen!

Slag - To slag someone off, is to bad mouth them in a nasty way. Usually to their face.

Slapper - A slapper is a female who is a bit loose. A bit like a slag or a tart. Probably also translates into tramp in American.

Slash - Something a lager lout might be seen doing in the street after his curry - having a slash. Other expressions used to describe this bodily function include; siphon the python, shake the snake, wee, pee, piss, piddle and having a jimmy.

Sloshed - Yet another way to describe being drunk. Clearly we need a lot of ways to describe it since getting plastered is a national pastime.

Smarmy - Another word for a smoothy, someone who has a way with the ladies for example. Usually coupled with “git” - as in “what a smarmy git”. Not meant to be a nice expression, of course.

Smart - When we say someone is smart, we are talking about the way they are dressed - you might say they look sharp. When you say someone is smart you are talking about how intelligent or clever they are.

Smashing - If something is smashing, it means it is terrific.

Smeg - This is a rather disgusting word, popularised by the TV show, Red Dwarf. Short for smegma, the dictionary definition says it is a “sebaceous secretion from under the foreskin”. Now you know why it has taken me 3 years to add it in here. Not nice! Rather worryingly smeg is also the name of a company that makes ovens!!!

Snap - This is the name of a card game where the players turn cards at the same time and shout “snap” when they match. People also say “snap” when something someone else says has happened to them too. For example when I told somebody that my wallet was stolen on holiday, they said “snap”, meaning that theirs had too!

Snog - If you are out on the pull you will know you are succeeding if you end up snogging someone of the opposite sex (or same sex for that matter!). It would probably be referred to as making out in American, or serious kissing!

Snookered - If you are snookered it means you are up the famous creek without a paddle. It comes from the game of snooker where you are unable to hit the ball because the shot is blocked by your opponent’s ball.

Sod - This word has many uses. My father always used to say “Oh Sod!” or “Sod it!” if something went wrong and he didn’t want to swear too badly in front of the children. If someone is a sod or an “old sod” then it means they are a bit of a bastard or an old git. “Sod off” is like saying “piss off” or “get lost” & “sod you” means something like “f*** off”. It also means a chunk of lawn of course. You can usually tell the difference!

Sod all - If you are a waiter in America and you serve a family of Brits, the tip is likely to be sod all or as you would call it - nothing. Because we don’t know about tipping.

Sod’s law - This is another name for Murphy’s law - whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

Sorted - When you have fixed a problem and someone asks how it is going you might say “sorted”. It’s also popular these days to say “get it sorted” when you are telling someone to get on with the job.

Speciality - This is another one where you chaps drop your “I”. when I first saw specialtywritten down in the US I thought it was a mistake. But no! We love our I’s!

Spend a penny - To spend a penny is to go to the bathroom. It is a very old fashioned expression that still exists today. It comes from the fact that in ladies loos you used to operate the door by inserting an old penny.

Splash out - If you splash out on something - it means you throw your senses out the window, get out your credit card and spend far too much money. You might splash out on a new car or even on a good meal.

Squidgy - A chocolate cream cake would be squidgey. It means to be soft and, well, squidgey!

Squiffy - This means you are feeling a little drunk. Some people also use it to mean that something has gone wrong.

Starkers - Avoid being seen starkers when visiting England. It means stark naked.

Stiffy - Yet another word for erection.

Stone the crows - This is an old expression with the same meaning as “cor blimey”.

Stonker - This means something is huge. Looking at the burger you might say “blimey what a stonker”. It is also used to refer to an erection! Clearly English modesty is a myth!

Stonking - This weird word means huge. You might say “what a stonking great burger” if you were in an American burger joint.

Strop - If someone is sulking or being particularly miserable you would say they are being stroppy or that they have a strop on. I heard an old man on the train tell his wife to stop being a stroppy cow.

Stuff - A recent headline in the New Statesman read “stuff the millennium”. Using stuff in this context is a polite way of saying “f*** the millennium”. Who cares! Stuff it! You can also say “stuff him” or “stuff her” meaning they can sod off.

Suss - If you heard someone saying they had you sussed they would mean that they had youfigured out! If you were going to suss out something it would mean the same thing.

Sweet fanny adams - This means nothing or sod all. It is a substitute for “sweet f*** all”. It is also shortened further to “sweet F A”.

Swotting - Swotting means to study hard, the same as cram does. Before exams we used to swot, not that it made any difference to some of us. If you swotted all the time, you would be called a swot - which is not a term of endearment!

Ta - We said “ta” as kids in Liverpool for years before we even knew it was short for thanks.

Table - We use this word in exactly the opposite way. To us a motion is tabled when it is brought to the table, or suggested for consideration. You table a motion when it is left for a later date.

Taking the biscuit - If something really takes the biscuit, it means it out-does everything else and cannot be bettered. Some places in America they said takes the cake.

Taking the mickey - See taking the piss. Variations include “taking the mick” and “taking the Michael”.

Taking the piss - One of the things Americans find hardest about the Brits is our sense of humour. It is obviously different and is mainly based on irony, sarcasm and an in-built desire to “take the piss”. This has nothing to do with urine, but simply means making fun of someone.

Talent - Talent is the same as totty. Checking out the talent means looking for the sexy young girls (or boys I suppose).

Tara - Pronounced “churar”, this is another word for cheerio or goodbye. Cilla Black, a scouseTV presenter has probably done most to promote the use of this word as she says it all the time on her programmes.

Throw a spanner in the works - This is an expression that means to wreck something.

Tickety-boo - If something is going well with no problems we would say it is tickety-boo.

Tidy - Apart from the obvious meaning of neat, tidy also means that a woman is a looker,attractive or sexy.

To - We go to school from ages 5 to 18. You might go to school from ages 5 thru 18. We don’t say thru in that context at all. If we did though, we would say “through”!

Todger - As if we don’t have enough of them already, this is yet another word for your willy, or penis.

Toodle pip - This is an old expression meaning goodbye. However, I only hear it when Americans are doing impressions of Brits as it has fallen into disuse, along with steam trains and gas lights.

Tool - Yet another word for your willy or penis. You’d think we were obsessed.

Tosser - This is another word for wanker and has exactly the same meaning and shares the same hand signal. Unfortunately my house in Texas was in Tossa Lane, which was a problem when telling older members of the family where to write to me!

Totty - If a chap is out looking for totty, he is looking for a nice girl to chat up. There is an Italian football player called Totti - which is pronounced the same. It’s really funny hearing the commentators when he gets the ball saying “it’s Totty for Italy”. It sounds like some beautiful Italian girlies have invaded the pitch.

TTFN - Short for “ta ta for now”. Which in turn means goodbye! Said by older folks and one Radio Two DJ in particular.

Twat - Another word used to insult someone who has upset you. Also means the same asfanny but is less acceptable in front of your grandmother, as this refers to parts of the female anatomy. Another use for the same word is to twat something, which would be to hit it hard. Get it right or I’ll twat you over the head!

Twee - Twee is a word you would generally hear older people say. It means dainty or quaint. A bit like the way you chaps think of England I suppose.

Twit - You twit! Not so rude as calling someone an idiot but it amounts to the same thing. Remember Monty Python’s “Twit of the Year” competition? Other versions include “nitwit”.

Two finger salute - When you see a Brit stick up two fingers at you in a V shape, he may be ordering two of something (if his palms are toward you). The other way around and it’s an insult along the lines of your one finger salute. Which, by the way, is very popular here now too!

U - A letter used far more in British. It is in words like colour, favour, labour etc. I think this is why UK keyboards have 102 characters on them instead of your 101, or is it because they have a pound sign on them?

Uni - Short for university, we would say we went to uni like you would say you went to school. School here is just for kids.

Wacky backy - This is the stuff in a joint, otherwise known as pot or marijuana!

Waffle - To waffle means to talk on and on about nothing. It is not something you eat. Americans often think that Brits waffle on about the weather. The truth of course is that our news reports last 60-120 seconds and the weather man is not hyped up to be some kind of superstar as he is on the TV in the US. If you want to see an example of real waffle watch the weather channel in Texas where there is nothing to talk about other than it is hot and will remain so for the next 6 months. Another example is the ladies who waffle on about anything on the Home Shopping Network. They would probably be classed as professional wafflers!

Wangle - Some people have all the luck. I know some people that can wangle anything; upgrades on planes, better rooms in hotels. You know what I mean.

Wank - This is the verb to describe the action a wanker participates in.

Wanker - This is a derogatory term used to describe someone who is a bit of a jerk. It actually means someone who masturbates and also has a hand signal that can be done with one hand at people that cannot see you shouting “wanker” at them. This is particularly useful when driving.

Watcha - Simply means Hi. Also short for “what do you” as in “watcha think of that”?

Waz - On average, it seems that for every pint of lager you need to go for a waz twice! A complete waste of time in a serious drinking session. It means wee or pee.

Well - Well can be used to accentuate other words. for example someone might be “well hard” to mean he is a real man, as opposed to just “hard”. Something really good might be “well good”. Or if you were really really pleased with something you might be “well chuffed”. Grammatically it’s appalling but people say it anyway.

Welly - If you “give it welly”, it means you are trying harder or giving it the boot. An example would be when accelerating away from lights, you would give it welly to beat the guy in the mustang convertible in the lane next to you. Welly is also short for wellington boots, which are like your galoshes.

Whinge - Whingers are not popular in any circumstance. To whinge is to whine. We all know someone who likes to whinge about everything.

Willy - Another word for penis. It is the word many young boys are taught as it is a nicer word than most of the alternatives. Some people also use it for girls as there are no nice alternatives. Hence “woman’s willy”. Also used by grown ups who don’t wish to offend (this word is safe to use with elderly Grandparents).

Wind up - This has a couple of meanings. If something you do is a “wind up” it means you aremaking fun of someone. However it you are “wound up” it means you are annoyed.

Wobbler - To “throw a wobbly” or to “throw a wobbler” means to have a tantrum. Normally happens when you tell your kids they can’t have an ice cream or that it’s time for bed.

Wonky - If something is shaky or unstable you might say it is wonky. For example I changed my chair in a restaurant recently because I had a wonky one.

Write to - When visiting the US one can’t help noticing that you write each other. You don’t “write to” each other. Here it would be grammatically incorrect to say “write me” and you would be made to write it out 100 times until you got it right.

Yakking - This means talking incessantly - not that I know anyone who does that now!

Yonks - “Blimey, I haven’t heard from you for yonks”. If you heard someone say that it would mean that they had not seen you for ages!

Zed - The last letter of the alphabet. The English hate saying zee and only relent with names such as ZZ Top (Zed Zed Top does sound a bit stupid!).

Zonked - If someone is zonked or “zonked out” it means they are totally knackered or you might say exhausted. When a baby has drunk so much milk, his eyes roll into the back of his head, it would be fair to say he was zonked!