#did Cannoli let the kids have too much sugar or something?

[queer-whatchamacallit]

Weird little thoughts about the Berzatto family past

When Carmy was about 8 and Sugar was 15, she started trying to tutor him in math

After realizing that he just couldn’t manage to focus on what she was teaching, she tried to connect math with Carmy’s interest in food by assigning ingredients to different numbers

So now Carmy has a bunch of weird associations with numbers and has a hatred for certain numbers because it’s a bad combination

It ended up being too convoluted to actually get multiplication to stick, but it did lead to him spending a couple days trying and failing to figure out different ingredient-number associations that would work better

Mikey would go with Richie up to Lake Michigan a lot to just swim and drink and hang out

When they started getting a little older, he’d sometimes take Sugar and Carmy up with him too

The last time they all went together, Carmy was 16 and had just started asking about working in the restaurant, Sugar was 23 and had just moved back to Chicago after getting her law degree, and their mom hadn’t dumped the Beef onto Mikey yet who was 32

So Carmy, Sugar, Mikey, and Richie all drove up to the coast, and Carmy convinced Richie to pour some beer into a pop can Carmy just finished

Sugar would have never let them hear the end of it if she found out for sure, but it just ended with Carmy (who hadn’t eaten much that day) putting his head on her shoulder and sleep talking the whole ride home

I don’t know if this one necessarily lines up with the timeline of the show, but I think it could be fun anyway

It was Christmas Day after Carmy turned 21, and Richie and Mikey were joking around about how he could finally drink with them without worrying about getting caught

Carmy wanted to help his mom with the fishes, but he figured a couple drinks would help him loosen up a little

Eventually, she just kicked him out of the kitchen and swapped him for Mikey because he couldn’t manage to keep track of half the things she was telling him to

He hung around the Faks most of the night, but after dinner and cannolis and presents and such, Mikey and Richie dragged him upstairs instead of letting him go home

They just dicked around for a while and told stories, but at some point, Carmy just stood up and started walking toward the door, saying he needed to do something but not really knowing what

Mikey managed to convince him to put a coat on because it was completely freezing outside, and Carmy just walks into the yard and falls back into the snow

He seemed satisfied with this, and just stayed there for a while with Mikey and Richie shivering by the front door until Richie launched a snowball at his face

And that was how Carmy, Richie, and Mikey got a noise complaint for having a drunken snowball fight at about 10 pm on Christmas Day

Whenever Carmy got sick as a kid, he’d go to sleep it off, but at some point, he’d come out of his room and lay on the couch, oftentimes in the lap of whoever was on said couch

He doesn’t remember this happening, so it’s just a complete mystery of whether he was awake during these times

When Carmy was stressed about something, it made his stutter worse, and because his mom wasn’t exactly patient with him, she’d tell him to just write things down pretty often

Because he was made to feel embarrassed and like he was taking up too much of her time already, he learned to write inhumanly fast and legible

While it didn’t exactly come from a good place, it’s almost become a sort of party trick (if he was ever given the opportunity to use it) that he can write about as fast as people normally talk and still have it be easily readable

[firebirdsdaughter]

So…

… New Ryusoulger scans are out.

Part that stuck out to me (and I think we can all guess originally why >////////<):

Okay, first off, please don’t mean a romance plot, please don’t mean a romance plot. DX I’m not a huge fan of ‘one off ep romances’ (though I can enjoy them, and have, on occasion), plus it really wouldn’t feel in character for Banba, at least, not yet. In all likelihood, though, I’m getting anxious about the small, unlikely things again like a doofus. I mean, I can’t read any of this, and the image translator doesn’t do columned text. All it got was that the caption under the lady’s picture is something like ‘who is this woman?’ and something about Banba, and for some reason wording like that always makes me scared it’s a one-off romance ep…

On the other hand, that picture on the right? Anyone else remember the first behind the scenes photos we got of Gold? That’s the same set! I’m pretty sure we also saw untransformed Kou there w/ Kanaro… So either the scene here is from a different point from that one, or Kou just isn’t in frame, both of which are pretty equally possible. Additionally, I can’t tel if they’re fighting, or… Something else? It’s a frozen picture, anything could be happening. Also, the whole thing is unfortunately too blurry to see what’s going on in the upper right images. I can make out Ui and Asuna, and Banba in the second one, but have no idea what they’re looking at or what he’s musing about.

Anyway. For some reason, I felt the need to bring attention to the fact that my attention beelines for Banba whenever possible. ^^;

(x)

[abbacchios-sunflower]

Cute Christmasy Abbacchio x Reader Drabbles uwu

I love Christmas and I’m way too soft for Abbacchio, what can I say? I’ve never really wrote self insert stuff before but like, it’s kinda fun lol, if people like actually this stuff enough/I’m feeling confident, maybe I’ll try writing an actual self insert fic with some of the scenarios lol, maybe?? idk

It’s more or less self indulgent, sfw, reader is a short af stand user in Passione, everybody lives au because fuck you canon, let my goth man and his pals be happy lmao.

Under a cut just because it’s kinda long lol.

Abbacchio loved Christmas as a kid, but kind of fell out of love with it the older he got, especially after he was thrown out of the police force. He doesn’t hate the holiday or anything, it just kind of depresses him seeing the others having fun and he can’t find a whole lot of joy in much anymore. The only thing he tolerates is the little Christmas party the gang has at the hideout, but even then, he’s only there for the booze when it comes down to it (which Bruno always keeps an eye on him, just in case he tries to have too much).

But he has you now too, and having someone always around that deeply cares about and loves him makes things a little better every day, so he tries to enjoy the holidays again, indulging you in whatever little traditions you always keep.

He wasn’t really one for decorating or anything himself, his mother and grandmother did all that when he was young, but you do need him to hang some stuff you just can’t reach, to which he obliges (he finds your short height so darn cute). After it’s all done, he kind of forgot how cozy and nice everything looked this time of year, he’s glad you wanted to do this.

Without you realizing however, he himself decides to help more with decorating and manages to hang some mistletoe in every single doorway in your shared apartment, that way he has an excuse to kiss you every time either of you come in and out of a room, and he definitely holds true to it.

He doesn’t care for the cold, but it also means he gets super extra cuddly when you’re together. Most nights you both fall asleep on the couch together, snuggled up to each other as close as you can get, watching old black and white movie reruns

Surprisingly, Abbacchio knows how to bake thanks to his grandmother, but he rarely did it for just himself. None of the guys know about it, he’s a pretty private guy anyways, so it’s definitely a special thing that he let you know something like that about him. It just came up one day when he saw you bought some boxed sugar cookie mix to make Christmas cookies and was frankly appalled by its presence on the counter.

“Dolcezza, amore mia, what are you doing with that cheap, boxed shit? Have you ever had one of my nonna’s cannolis?? Get a bowl out and come over here, she gave me the recipe, if you tell anyone this, I’ll kill you… pfft, you don’t ever buy this store bought shit with me around” (he doesn’t mean it of course, he can just be a bit hyperbolic, but if he’s sharing a family recipe with you, that’s huge honor, he really adores you)

You get those matching ugly Christmas sweaters for you both, sure he’ll say he hates it when you first show it to him, but you see him wearing it whenever you put yours on, silently accepting it, you make sure to get a picture of him in it.

The power goes out for the night thanks to a thunderstorm so taking the opportunity for a cozy night in, you light the fireplace and make a blanket nest on the floor in front of it for you both to sleep in. You fall asleep tangled up together, exchanging many soft kisses and snuggles.

It’s a bit tricky hiding gifts because he can be so damn impatient and can use Moody Blues to trace where you hid the gift. You manage to catch him in the act of using replay though on you and he gives up the search.

You spend Christmas Eve alone together, Abbacchio takes you out to dinner and when you get back to the apartment, you turn on the radio for a bit while you get ready for bed when he gently grabs your waist, holding you very closely. You giggle as he slowly dances with you for a bit, just enjoying your presence.

Christmas morning was rather quiet, you make breakfast together and finally exchange gifts. Your day has been crashed though because Trish and guys show up to the apartment. Abbacchio’s visibly irritated by the intrusion, wanting it to be a nice day with you, but you kiss his cheek and smile, that alone softens him up.

“Thank you for a wonderful Christmas, dolcezza” he quietly rubs noses with you and sweetly kisses your forehead.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: PTSD, imprisonment, references to past physical violence.

A/N: Like I said last time. Getting into (aka only scratching the surface) of the Bucky feels that are coming. Tbh it’s Bucky/Reader feels because, this character... woo. I hope y’all love her/love reading yourself as her as much as I love her/love writing her.  Also 5 chapters in a week... who does that? I’m going to try to space them out more (1 or 2 a week prob) but... I’m just eager af because I’m having a blast writing this. 

Word Count: 1461

Tags are open!

@l0kisbitch @disagreetoagree

You take a deep breath and pluck the Glock out of the air, the knives clatter to the floor released from your hold. Part of you suspects he’ll rush for them but he just sits there, hands up eyes shining and glued to the books on the bed. You de-cock the gun and tuck it in your waistband. Not wanting to take your eyes off him you lift the bag and its contents from behind you and dump them in his lap.

Immediately he begins to look through them, checking each, mouthing the title. “There was another boo-“ the spine of Silent Heroes slams into his temple, admittedly a little harder than you intended, he flinches but as soon as he sees it’s ok he visibly relaxes.

“Who the fuck are you,” your voice is low without an ounce of softness. Your gut may be telling you he’s not an immediate threat but that does not mean you trust this man.

His mouth opens to answer and snaps shut. His eyes look to the books, to the bed, the wall. Anywhere but at you. “I… I don’t really know.” He appears small to you suddenly. Like a kid that’s lost at night with no clue where to go.

The fight drains from you and you plop heavily onto the bed. He’s just staring at the book, at his photo from so long ago. Suddenly you feel guilty for going through his bag, a ridiculous emotion given the situation but it rankles all the same. “Do you really think Lombardi’s is shit?”

He lights up. A raspy chuckle escapes. “Yeah.” Your eyes meet and again he’s a different man. “Everyone thought because it was first it was best but man, Totonno’s, that was pizza.” His tongue flicks over his bottom lip and he looks ravenous, you can relate.

“The sauce,” you both longingly groan at the same time and laugh despite everything.

“Wait…” he sounds excited, like a kid on Christmas, “Is it still there?! I mean you’re not… I was… it was…” He takes a moment, “a long time ago…” with that a cloud befalls him again.

“As of 2007 it was still there slinging the best pies in Brooklyn.” You pull your phone from your pocket to check.

“So you’re not…”

You look up, “Not what?”

“Like me…” you stare confused and he says with a small dark laugh, “A relic.”

“I don’t know how alike we are but no, I’m not a relic. I’m…” honestly you hadn’t thought about it in a while, how old you were. “Fuck I guess I’m about 30.”

Your age was always an awkward subject. You’d ran away at 15 and landed in New Orleans, where you met Nix. He was a few years older but was just like you, a kid alone. He helped you get fake documents, a new birth certificate, social, everything. A new date of birth made you 18, a new last name made you someone else, and a high school diploma complete with transcripts made college an option. You can’t help but sigh, you had already killed one version of yourself before Hydra had even found you.

Google has graciously saved you from this line of thought and informed you that Totonno’s is in fact still in business. “Yup, Totonno’s is still there to this day. Thankfully all the aliens seem to be destroying is Manhattan. They’re smart enough to leave the best borough alone.”

His face breaks into a breathtaking smile that genuinely surprises you. “I guess that’s a bit of silver lining in this mess of a world.” His voice is rich and melodious. At this point you’re honestly wondering how there are so many different sides to one person.

The silence hangs for a moment. His hand runs over the cover of one of the composition books that has ‘Home’ scrawled in a shaky hand. “So…” he trails off. “Are, uh, you from there, Brooklyn I mean.”

You scoff, “No. I’m from nowhere.” That’s always been your answer. Ghost girl.

“Everyone’s from somewhere.”

You stare at him a moment, his face is open and, frustratingly kind… dammit. You slump a little, “Yeah well most people have a hometown, someplace they grew up, but I never really stayed anywhere long enough for that.” He remains quiet, giving you space to form your thoughts. “But,” your voice cracks and you clear your throat to reel in your emotions, “Brooklyn, was the first place I made a home.” The only place.

“It’s a good place.”

“It was.” And you could never go back. You stared at your phone. The little red dot marking a place that may as well have been on Mars. When the screen turned black you kept staring into it, your reflection warped in the shattered screen. When you looked up he was flipping through pages in that composition book looking so serene it almost made you want to throw something at him.

“Ferdinando’s?” he whispers. Then again, “Ferdinando’s,” as though he’s answered a question and scrambles for one of the pens on the floor. You watch him quickly jot something down.

“Ferdinando’s?”

“Oh!” It was like he had forgotten you were there. “I… just something I remembered. Sorry.”

You smile despite yourself. “You’re talking about that old Italian place in Cobble Hill?” His head shoots up. “Yes, that’s still there too last I knew. And they made a damn good cannoli.”

A small chuckle skips past his lips and he stares into the middle distance for a moment. “I,” another little laugh, “used to take dates there.” He runs a hand absently through his hair and writes something down.

His pen freezes, his eyes don’t leave the paper, “To make Him they had to kill me…” He’s so quiet you have to strain to hear, “this,” he gestures lazily to the books, “is my attempt at raising the dead.”

Mournful eyes, more grey than blue meet yours. “But I can’t pretend the bad didn’t happen too… that He, I, didn’t do horrible things.” He pulls a three subject spiral from the pile, thicker than all the others. There’s no title here. “I’m not sure what book you belong in… but if it’s this one,” he lays his palm flat on the cover, “and I think it is. I…” his voice breaks and you think he’s going to sob, “I’m truly sorry.” No tears fall but you swear you could drown in his eyes, in his grief.

A very strong part of you doesn’t want to give him anything, push him away, make him leave. Wants to shut him out. But if you’re being honest with yourself your loneliness is far stronger. And his loneliness… I mean for fuck's sake he just opened up to a woman who he only thinks he knows, who knocked him unconscious and chained him, however ineffectively, to a wall a few hours ago.

Fuck it. 

“No…” You stare at your hands, unable, unwilling to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t really think that’s where I belong in your story.” You hear him let out a breath. “How do you know me, or think you know me, Mr… Sargent-“

“Bucky,” that crooked smile again.

“Mr. Sargent Bucky, then.” It’s a shitty joke, hardly even a joke, but he gives you a little laugh all the same.

The slight humor isn't enough to lighten his next words, “When I saw you nine days ago-“

“Nine?!” You can’t help but be alarmed. Nine days, nine fucking days he had been following you and you didn’t notice a goddamn thing.

“… Yeah.”

It hits you, “You wanted me to see you today… You wanted to see how I’d react.” He just nods. Small again despite his size, shoulders slumping. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“If it’s any consolation you’re doing a great job laying low.” You snort. “No really,” he says insistent, “I mean you did pick the same city as The Winter Soldier, that says you know how to disappear.” There’s an awkward beat, “I don’t know that anyone else would notice you.” You don’t say someone already had, in Berlin.

“But… yeah…” He picks up again. “I saw you, your face, and I saw.” He stops suddenly his eyes  staring at his hands, balled into fists sitting on his knees, “I thought I remembered…” He just can’t get it out and his eyes find yours begging you silently to tell him he’s wrong.

You feel for him, you do, but you won’t sugar coat this. “You remembered,” your hand wanders to your right cheekbone where a thin scar runs up from there up around your eye socket, “beating me.”

[choisgirls]

Hey hey do you have anything on MC cooking for RFA+Saeran? Perhaps a nice meal or some sweets or pastries?

A/N: I do now dearnonnie~ Only I have cooking /with/ instead, hope that’s okay!

Masterlist~

*YOOSUNG:

10/10 wants to make ameal with you. He loves cooking, and yeah he’s a college kid but cooking realmeals? Full? Delicious? Meals? Of course he wants to do that. Even if you’rereally good at it, he ends up hovering over you and telling you what you shoulddo. He really doesn’t mean to!! It’s just a habit he picked up from cookingwith his mum and he nervously laughs it off while scratching the back of hisneck. He’ll try his best to hold his tong- MC YOU AREN’T PUTTING THE POTATOES INTHE POT RIGHT PLEASE MOVE LET ME DO IT INSTEAD.

*ZEN:

Sweets are horriblefor your body, MC. Let’s make some. Only his idea of sweets were…. not thatsweet. Also this man has no idea what he’s doing. He thinks he’s got the sugar-it’s salt. Flour? Nope, baking soda. The batter from the mixing bowl is allover the kitchen. “MC, can you bake with beer too??” You have him watch the timer, hand you things, and lick theremainders of the mix in the bowls instead. He’ll help you put cookies on thecookie sheet, though! "I’m a master at balls! …. THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANTMC, STOP LAUGHING AT ME!”

*JAEHEE:

Wins the Great BritishBake Off (I’m kidding ((no I’m not))). No really, she’ll bake with you. Butshe’s…. so skilled, so fast, you finish tying your apron and bam! She’salready got the cake in the oven. She gets really embarrassed and apologizes alot for not letting you help and you just have to rush in there really quick tohelp out. She thinks you’re absolutely adorable with flour across your…everything. It’s everywhere. There’s no clean spot on the front of you. How didyou get flour from head to toe, she never once saw you… spill… or… rollaround in it. You aren’t the most clean person in the world- and she’ll sighbefore picking up after you, though.

*JUMIN:

Getting him to helpyou cook can be like pulling teeth unless you catch him at the right moment.Most of the time it’s, “But why bother MC when I can tell the chef whatwe’d like and we can sit in the living room,” but if you tell him it’s abonding experience he’ll be behind you taking things out of cupboards beforeyou could bat an eye. He’s not that bad? You would think he has some skills inthe kitchen since he can at least make pancakes and not set the house on fire.He’s pretty good at timing it all so everything comes out perfectly. The steak?Perfectly cooked. The potatoes? Just right. He’s made time his bitch. Alsoreally good at presentation? You would think the chef actually did make thedinner. Why the hell doesn’t he cook more?

*SAEYOUNG:

Drags his feet like achild. Throws himself onto the counter like a child. Drops to the floor like achild. He just wants to eat chips and drink soda what do you mean “We haveto cook an actual meal”?? He follows you around, handing you whatever youwant. He forgot there was water boiling for noodles though and…. the entirepot of water just.. evaporated. How do you fuck up water, Saeyoung? You willadmit that he’s pretty skilled with the oven and flames of the stove. Thosefancy TV cooking shows where you see the chefs entire pan catch on fire and thefood inside is still perfectly cooked? That’s him. Except one time, when hisshirt sleeve caught fire too. Yeah, that was a sight Vanderwood didn’t want towalk into. Burnt food everywhere, the wall had sear marks, Saeyoung was shirtlesson the ground and the two of you plus the room were covered in foam from thefire extinguisher. Vanderwood just turned around and left without a word.

*JIHYUN:

Oh he loves cookingwith you. Like Yoosung, he’s pretty skilled, but he doesn’t try to hover overyou. Sometimes he’ll put a gentle hand on your waist and softly tell you ifyou’re doing something wrong, and how to fix it. REALLY good with spices.Doesn’t need to taste much while he’s cooking, he can work with just his senseof smell. He doesn’t measure /ANYTHING/. “Put some basil in there”“How much, Jihyun?” “Some.” “Okay, thanks.” Usedto be bad at cooking in all honesty but decided to take it up when he gotbored, so practice makes perfect. He still burns bread though. It’s up to youto make a loaf of dinner bread if you want it, last time he forgot about it andyou had a hockey puck.

*SAERAN:

He’s actually reallygood at baking! Well rounded in his baking skills too. He can whip up somesimple chocolate chip cookies or bake a full tray of cannolis. Also makes hisown ice cream when he just isn’t feeling like going to the store or you know,sharing. He’s actually pretty against having you help him? He wants to have allthe control of it and /maybe/ share when they’re done- but every now and againhe’ll let you help. He likes to see how bright your eyes get with excitementwhen you do something right and get praise- or how cute you look with frostingon your nose. He has to fight himself to not just take the mixing bowl awayfrom you though- it’s not that you aren’t doing well, it’s just that you do it/differently/. When he bakes he can actually take control of what he does andmake something soft and sweet from his hard work- the feeling is… surreal tohim. So he’ll apologize if he gets upset when you ask to help, you just have tosoften him up so he agrees.

[lifeafterten]

RtN 08: Bhulbule Bhulbule it’s Rocky E’rywhere

Shut the hell up-- That title made you fucking giggle, I know it. Don’t worry I wont tell anyone you fell for one of my dad jokes.

We had to be up early. No skin off my nose-- I was already up. (Shocker, I know.) Another night of me painting mental pictures behind my eyelids as I waited for the sun to come up. Super fun. {heavy on the sarcasm}

I went down for breakfast--- the staff was ready for me. They picked up on my crackhead hours from yesterday, I wasn’t gonna catch them sleepin’ (literally and figuratively) again.

We were a bit on a time crunch-- Hannah and Maxine were to meet us so we can split the jeep cost amongst ourselves, so we needed to have our shit together, again, literally and figuratively. 

There was some contemplation on what I should take and what I shouldn’t. I definitely needed my medical supplies (I was basically carrying a mini pharmaceutical on my back) because of my leg, so my pack was already filling up quick.  I made some rough cuts-- not everyone can make varsity.  Hopefully I was able to cover all my bases. Then again, it’s not like I’ve done this before so what the fuck did I know?  Next to nothing. I hoped to Christ my rationale and my common sense was enough.  The things we decided to leave behind would be stored at the Hotel.

Soon enough, we were loading our packs and getting ready to skedaddle. Off to Besisahar... God help us.  

For the second time on this trip, I longed for a damned seat belt. I seemed to have welded my feet to the car floor and was gripping the edge of the seat. I was squeezing so fucking hard my fingers began to tingle while anticipating hard turns and rough stops. 

I was not wrong in my prediction.

The driving is insane here. First off, the roads were not roads they were dirt trails that vehicles decided to drive on for what seems like funzies; shits n’ giggles; lapses in fucking sanity-- Holy cannoli-- Breathe Ashley, breathe...

That’s the fucked up thing about anxiety: it messes with you. Bad. I can look at something and think about a million and one things that can go wrong, like that (please insert finger snap here, thanks).

Our driver was not the friendliest of the friendlies if you can catch my meaning. And he was young.  Real young. If the furry caterpillar he was trying to grow on his face was any indication-- yeah, he was definitely in his early twenties if not twelve.

The drive itself had me on edge, since we were so perilously close to the edge about 80% of the time.  My nerves were just about threadbare at this point and we haven’t even gotten started yet. But it wasn’t just driving cliff side; it was the near misses, and the constant honking (holy fuck was this kid liberal with that shit-- handing out honks like it was fucking Tic-Tacs) as our driver over took buses, jeeps, and motorbikes alike.  He was a very aggressive driver, which I was sorta thankful for. The trip to Besisahar was an estimated seven to eight hour drive.  He was able to cut it down to six. But I was almost certain the ride alone had shaved off a few years off my life. 

We stopped for bathroom and snack breaks along the way, but I was too tired mentally to muster up the strength to get out of the car. So I stayed in there, slumped at the backseat, reveling at the stillness of it before we went off-roading again.  Yes, I considered it off-roading.  During those times of rest, Adrian slid into the backseat with me. We talked about nonsense, but I had an inkling he was checking in on me.  Well not really and inkling-- the dude literally asked if I was good.

I’ll admit there were moments where I allotted a small head to shoulder touch (meaning, my forehead to his shoulder), only to convey that I was fine. Sometimes I do these things. My actions these days are more honest than my mouth is. I don’t lie about a lot of things, but somehow when it comes to my personal shit and physicality status... lying about it came almost as naturally as breathing. My body status because I was tired of the hovering, and my feelings because I’ve been doing it for so long I don’t know how to stop sometimes.  I’m working on it, okay? Half way there I was almost certain that our driver was trying to kill us. I was being dramatic, of course, but I swear to Christ the next time that little shit picks up his phone to talk to someone while he’s playing the Nepali version of Chicken with the other cars; while driving cliff side; while honking like a madman-- I swear I was gonna slap the puberty outta this mother fucker. GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE! I would have screamed if my heart wasn’t in lodged my throat; choking me into silence.  My palms were sweating. The relief was palatable once we reached Besisahar.

Since our driver was part Nepali part fucking Speed Racer, we arrived earlier than we anticipated. So the plan to walk to the next location came into motion. “You guys just wanna walk straight to Bhulbule?” Bhulbule was about a two and a half walk from Besisahar, and since we’ve been cramped in a jeep for the better part of our morning... I was not opposed. I had a lot of nervous energy pent up, so some walking might do me some good.

The roads were dusty, but I liked that I was surrounded by green. I thought the rice fields were actually rather pretty. It could be the Filipino in me, but I don’t think my family grew rice-- I think it was pineapples?

I think this mini trek to was a pretty important learning session about the personalities of our group, which had expanded plus two. 

Hannah had a very bubbly personality. Lani had dubbed her Hermoine, probably in regard to her accent and the unruly curls that donned her crown. She was short in stature, but her personality was definitely larger than life. She was an opera singer by occupation (amazing), and when she and Zach would break out into impromptu songs it was the sweetest thing. Apparently the girl had a penchant for nicknames for she went from Hermoine, to Hannah-Darling, to finally Hannahpurna. The last one tickled my fancy-- mostly because I’m a sucker for puns or any play on words, really. Hannah was a firecracker with the tendency to “wee” every fifteen steps (total exaggeration, but she did need a few stops, and it was cute). She was very hydrated. How to describe Hannah... She had these curls the color of light brown sugar, and big doe eyes that darted everywhere like she wanted to take everything; experience everything at the same time; all at once. She had a wonderful lilt to her voice that sounded almost musical-- whether it be because of her accent or her occupation-- either way it was pleasant, and made it even more hilarious when she would say some off the wall shit.

Maxine-- I had dubbed her Maxie, because... I’ve always wanted to call a someone that-- was from the Netherlands. I can’t say I know much about the Dutch, but Adrian tells me that they’re the nicest people. Next to Canadians, I imagine. From what I learned from Lani-- Maxine was involved in research for exoskeletons for paraplegics, and I am awed by... everything? Can I be awed by everything? Fuck, I guess I am. Max was quiet, but sure of herself--- The best kind of quiet confidence. I felt she had good energy. She was tall and blonde.. and apparently gets sunburned easily. I liked her high cheekbones and the strong, sharp angles of her jawline. At first she seems a bit severe, but when she smiles her eyes crinkle at the corners that’s when you really see her shine, and Max smiles a lot. Shit. We’re getting a bunch of bright people now. I’m getting nervous. Just kidding. ... Kinda-- ANYWAY!

Then we have Lani. Her optimism was infectious and you can just feel her excitement just to be here. And I’m glad we’re here-- glad I was able to see it with her; be here with her. I’ve never quite described Lani have I? Hm... She’s probably one of the most beautiful people I know. Her physical beauty is as effortless as the inner. She doesn’t need to try, she just is. She’s tall, she’s almost graceful in her movements until she remembers she has limbs and almost trips or hits something. (Why we’re actually friends.) She has her own demons to contend with, but she’s not like me and lets it fuck with her-- thanks to her optimism. It’s like she has a full reservoir of the shit. She drives me up the wall with it sometimes-- because I’m just allergic to things not fucked up apparently, but I’m glad I have her in my life. Perhaps when my bitterness dwindles as I fumble along this path of self-whatever-the-fuck maybe, just maybe, that optimism can rub off on me. Now onto the brightest of the bright-- dare I crown him the King of Sunshine, Zach. I have nicknamed him Zackerooie, because he’s just so damned adorable. Swear to Christ I have never met a more positive human being in my entire life-- and I was fucking surrounded by them back home. I appreciate the eye contact he gives when you’re in conversation with him.  All smiles and bright blues just aimed at you. It’s neigh impossible to not adore him. He’s just a genuine person-- a rarity. Back home, genuineness appears to not only a be fallacy but an actual needle in a damned haystack.  It’s like when someone calls themselves humble nine times out of ten they are anything but. When someone has to compliment themselves, that’s usually a huge red flag.

And alas there was Adrian. Adrian likes to pick on short people-- I’m not short by any means (pretty average for my ethnicity and gender-- thank you), just shorter than he is.

I will concede that we certainly have our similarities (insert your “no shit, Ashley” here). Which makes sense on why I found him to be so infuriating. We bickered. A bit. A lot. Fuck you, fine-- we bickered most of the time. It wasn’t too bad. I only half joked / threatened him with bodily harm. Then he’d say some stupid shit like I was too small to do dick, which made me actually want to punch him in the daddy bags. Repeatedly. In rapid succession. Just to make sure such assholery will not dare procreate. But during my observations I found that he is a lot more... thoughtful than I had initially pegged him to be. And let me tell you, my initial thoughts of him were not very flattering-- he kept picking on me, okay! It’s 2018 goddammit, no bullies allowed! In any case, we can safely say that Adrian is blunt; that Adrian is opinionated, but I found that his actions didn’t often match what his mouth was saying. There was a lot of “who cares” or “I don’t care” or “that’s someone else’s problem” or my personal favorite “whatever”. These things weren’t easy to spot, but when you’re trailing in the back of the group or existing in corners... You tend to catch on to how people really are relatively quickly. 

But I started to note these things and the more I learned, the easier he was to understand. But then again he has probably the longest eyelashes I have ever seen-- which switches me back from understanding the guy to being annoyed by him. 

I finally crossed my first bridge. I was anticipating/dreading, actually. Had a thing about heights, even though technically I’ve never really put myself in a situation where I would have to deal with heights.  So does that mean I was scared if the idea of heights? Interesting thought. Well we were about to test that theory considering now I was looking at it dead in the face.

“You good?” Adrian asked me.. again. “Fine. Just panicking internally.” I found myself admitting honestly. Wow, that made my mouth feel weird. I don’t know what made me say it, but It felt strangely freeing, but considering I was still panicking I didn’t dwell too long. I’ll fuck with that shit later.

My ears were full of the water flowing under the bridge. I concentrated on putting one boot in front of the other, just look straight ahead. Don’t look down, if I stepped in shit (seemed to be... everywhere) I would dutifully scrape it off on a brick, or a rock, or an Adrian if he continued to piss me off. Or a Lani that kept smirking at my plight.  Plotting which person to rub my just-in-case shitty boot on helped me across. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, but it fucking works.

Zach was the captain of our merry band of misfits. He had the book. He had the map. He controls the futu-- Okay, sorry, that’s too much I know.  But we basically followed his lead. He was great at getting the skinny from the locals (he has one of those faces). But we appeared to be following the Book (context: he purchased a trekking guide through the Himalayas from Lonely Planet. So when I say “The Book”, I mean the guide book-- not the bible, I didn’t finish Sunday school-- don’t know how to read it). The Book suggested we stay at two places: - Thorung-la Guest House - Heaven Guest House

It was getting late, so we went to the closest one:

Taking a shower was... Interesting.  I couldn’t get my leg wet (as was my only requirement from my wound care doctor for her to give me the green light to fly), so I was basically doing some weird lean in butt fuck cold water (until I figured out how to use the heater) while keeping my leg elevated and away from the spout. Which is why my right leg is great at balancing.  It felt nice to wash off the dirt. Took me a while to dress. My body and my leg.

I don’t think I packed enough warm underclothes. Just a few thermals and a rain jacket. I still had my down, but hardly think I can trek with that shit on.  During the day it’s relatively warm, night is what kicks me in the vajeen.

In any case I walked down to beer and Dal Bhat. 

I had brought a notebook down to write in (it was Lani’s diary and while she took pictures I wrote) and sat down. Everyone was already finishing up their plates-- considering the size of the plates-- considering the size of the plates, they were either hungry, or the food was bomb, or I was slow af getting dressed. I would guess the latter.I was already cold as shit. During dinner I was shivering and clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. Although the teeth clenching could have been me biting my tongue whenever Adrian would remind me, for what seemed like the billionth time, it would only get colder. Or how he couldn’t believe I was already feeling that cold. Dude. I’m an island girl. The lowest the temp goes is 70 and that’s only if there’s a storm a’brewin’. So you bet your sweet ass this bitch was cold! Although I could not complain about the dude too much... He did try his best to keep my Island Popsicle ass  warm throughout dinner by rubbing my arms.  Maybe he’s not a bastard... still an asshole.  A warm asshole.It was about seven or eight when everyone started turning in. I was reluctant because one, it was early, and two, I don’t sleep.  Adrian was commenting that he couldn’t sleep too early because he’d wake up in the middle of the night. So it felt normal to agree when he asked me if I wanted to stay downstairs longer. One: it was early. Two: At this point I had buried myself under his arm and merged myself into his side like some weird warmth parasite. God that man was so warm. So we stayed up talking shit--bickering--whatever. I saw my first firefly (one of many firsts on this trip). I know what you’re thinking-- it wasn’t fucking romantical. Gag yourself. In fact I felt rather silly for admitting I haven’t seen something as apparently common. We don’t have those bugs on the island.  Adrian kept his teasing to a minimum-- thank Christ-- and we eventually made our move back up stairs. Zach and Adrian’s room was across the hall from Lani and I’s. 

I mumbled a quick goodnight to Adrian as I turned (left) into the... empty room. The room was empty. Where the hell was Lani?

I’ve read multiple books about a “sinking feeling” in your stomach when you mentally ask a question you already knew the answer to, but you hoped that maybe this bitch was in the fucking bathroom or something and, in fact, did not stay in the room across the hall leaving a now pretty sleepy Adrian bedless. I quickly pitter-pattered my way to the other room (right). My eyes had already adjusted to the dark enough to make out an Adrian standing in at the door way. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. Fuck if I knew what the fuck to do.

I had a belly full of Dhal Bhat and I had my fill of Adiran Warmth to last me... Just a couple more minutes if I didn’t get under warm covers soon.

“Lani?” I whispered at the dark lump I thought could be her. I don’t know what kind of Zombie/sleep cracked out Lani this was, but she moved fast. Like the zombies in World War Z fast, like I Am Legend Zombie fast. “Are you okay? I’m sleepy. I’m gonna go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. Mm, love you. Night.” She had said this over my, “What? Uh. Okay. Are you-- aaand you’re laying back down. Okay.” I stood there staring at the Lani-Lump. Incredulous; unsure; mostly confused.

This. Fucking. Cunt.

Deep breaths Ashley. This isn’t a huge deal. Except that I haven’t allowed anyone to sleep in the fucking same room with me for over a year-- besides my hospital stay.

That didn’t count.

I had drugs. I, at the moment however, did not have drugs. To his credit Adrian did ask if I was okay with us rooming together.  ... Fuck it. Whatever. It was fine.

It was cold as shit outside; it was dark; I now (apparently)  had an extra bed... He may as well use it, right? I mean, he wasn’t a complete stranger-- he actually seemed pretty cool when he wasn’t busting my balls.

I told myself I was fine with it. Actually, I told myself to stop being a little bitch. He wasn’t going to bite me. And if he did I’d have a reason to beat that ass.  The possibility of violence made me strangely okay with it.

So we went to bed. It did not take me long to realize that usually bodies warm the sheets before it stays warm throughout the night. So whatever Adrian Warmth I had left dissipated once I slid under the sheets. Fuck. You. I knew I was going to be miserable the whole night. I rubbed my feet together in hopes the friction would help. No help. My feet were cold.

“You cold?” I heard the question from the bed across mine. Adrian. Didn’t trust my mouth to speak so I made a negative mouth sound of “nuh-uh.” Have you ever heard a silence that was deeper than silence...? Like someone was quietly judging your idioticy from across the room? Well, he as nice enough to not verbally call me out on my bullshit. Both he and I knew damn well I was cold as fuck-- but my stupid mouth still lied about it. Pride? Probably. 

I saw his blanket open up, motions of his hand to hurry up and get in. I hesitated. Of course I did. I hesitate about everything. Fucking Pride... Stupid. But I couldn’t resist-- my bed wasn’t doing me any fucking favors-- so I did what Lani... and Kristin... and Jessie were always fucking telling me to do.

Go with it. (I had way too many free spirited friends..)

And fuck you, once Adrian dropped the blanket around me and I was immediately surrounded by that delicious, precious warmth, I swear that man could have asked me to kick a puppy and I would have done it gratefully.  Okay maybe not-- but I would have heavily considered it. How the fucker got his bedding that comfortably warm in such a short amount of time I will never know. Or I didn’t ask. Fuck it man, I was just happy that I was warm. That’s his super power. 

I don’t remember falling asleep, but it was the first sleep I’ve had since we landed in Nepal. I knew needed that sleep. So I’ll say this: Thank you, Adrian...  You fucking asshole.  What? Gotta keep it balanced.   TBC... 

[cozywine]

More than Once pt. 2

Spencer Reid/OC

TW: none

_____________________________________

After one of the longest weeks of Dana’s life, it was finally Friday. It had been one hell of a work week, confronting a serial killer and being asked out by her long-time crush on the same day. She’d also managed to scald the bottom of the office coffeepot on Wednesday afternoon, embarrassing herself in front of a senior agent from counter-terrorism. So that was fun. 

“Ok, Derek. Happy Friday - cookies for everyone.” She said, hoisting a large platter with a variety of treats on it onto the filing cabinet in the center of their desks. She folded up the reusable grocery bag and tossed it onto her desk before pushing up the sleeves of her pink button down.  “Help yourself and please don’t leave any leftovers for me to take home.” She adjusted the french tuck of her shirt into the navy slacks she'd worn, and took a seat on top of a nearby desk with her travel mug of coffee.

“Richie!” Derek exclaimed, rolling his chair over. “Just when I thought you’d forgotten my plea for some sugar. Come to Papa…”

“Of course you think all of those are for you.” Penelope scoffed. “Dana obviously remembered my favorite - peanut butter!”

Dana rolled her eyes, but enjoyed the familiar banter. The rest of the team made their way over. 

“Oh my god, Dana. These look awesome.” said JJ. “Can I take some home for Will and the boys?”

Dana pulled out a separate Tupperware, decorated with Frozen’s Olaf and Sven. “How could I forget Henry and Michael? Apologies in advance for the sugar rush. And please keep the Tupperware - my sister left it at my house a few weeks ago when she and my niece were visiting from Boston.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister!” Derek exclaimed, scooting over to make room for Emily, Rossi and Hotch.  “Older or younger?”

“Two years older, and I have another sister who’s a year younger than me. She lives in Vancouver.” Dana responded, trying to decide if she wanted a chocolate chip or white chocolate cherry cookie. As she contemplated which would go better with her coffee, Spencer walked into the bullpen. He stashed his book in his bag before setting it down at his desk and coming over to see what all the fuss was about. Dana tried not to let her face get too red as he caught her eye and grinned. He looked absolutely adorable, in a dark purple cardigan and navy checked shirt with a matching navy tie. 

“What’s all this for?” Spencer asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Dana brought cookies!” Penelope squealed, tucking a couple into the pocket of her skirt and dashing towards the glass doors. “I’m going to bring one to Kevin… hope that’s ok, sweetie.”

“Yeah, of course Pen. There’s too freaking many, please take several. Get them out of my house!” Dana laughed. “Cooking things and forcing other people to eat them is my love language. See you later!”

Rossi laughed. “You and I have that in common, Richards. Speaking of, we need to plan another family dinner… What’s everyone up to this weekend? Seems like we got lucky with no case.”

“Oh no Rossi, you’ve jinxed it.” Emily groaned. “You know we can’t ever say that on a Friday?!”

“Maybe the good omen of cookies will balance out the bad omen of the L-word on a Friday.” Dana suggested, sitting down on the nearest desk. Spencer nodded, and swallowed the bite of monster cookie he was chewing. 

“I definitely hope so. Besides, most historical omens were things like birds flight patterns, weather, and the movements of certain animals. Not too much on saying the uh, L-word on a Friday. So, nothing should ruin this weekend.” Spencer rambled, speaking quickly and lowering his volume on the last part. He wasn’t quiet enough though and Derek picked up on it. 

“Whats so special about this weekend, Pretty Boy? Do you have plans? Getting a little sugar of your own?”

Spencer blushed, shrugging. “Just looking forward to some time out of the office.” His eyes darted briefly over to Dana and she had to look away as they made contact with her gaze so she wouldn’t blush or smile too big. 

Dana was looking forward to the weekend too. She and Spencer had been walking on eggshells around each other, trying not to tip the team off that they were going out over the weekend. Dana also didn’t want to spoil their first date by spending too much time getting to know each other personally beforehand. Why waste those first conversations by having them in hushed moments over office coffee? She would rather savor the time on Saturday, and was hoping for some sparkly banter, nerdy jokes and stories shared over a glass of wine or decent coffee. She couldn’t wait to find out why he picked the ballet over anything else. Did he like performing arts? What was his favorite book? Favorite movie? Favorite smell? Did that favorite smell remind him of a specific memory? She hoped she’d find out what his hands felt like in hers… maybe what type of kisser he was. Would his lips be soft? She sighed, audibly. 

“Hello…. Earth to Richie. What’s going on in that head of yours, girl?” Derek teased. “Thinking about your weekend plans?”

“Hm, sort of.” she tried to brush off his question, quickly stopped playing with the charm on her necklace and decided to change the subject. “So, team - if you were a cookie, what kind would you be and why?”

“Ooh, a new profiling question. Good one!" JJ laughed. “Hm... A snickerdoodle. I’m sweet and soft, but a little spicy too."

“Ha! You, spicy?” Emily laughed and JJ made a face at her. “I would be… a molasses cookie. Unexpectedly delightful. Rossi, your turn.”

Rossi made the argument that a cannoli counted as a cookie (“Is not,” Dana countered. “That is a pastry!”) and Derek said that he would be a chocolate chip cookie because everyone loves him. 

“Ok then, Spencer… what kind of cookie would you be?” Dana asked, still laughing at Derek. The corners of her eyes were probably crinkling and her cheeks were probably looking round and a little too red, but she tried not to think about it as she waited for him to finish thinking. He looked bewildered, never having considered the idea of his personality reflected in a cookie. “Don’t think too hard, Reid. Your brain might short out.” she teased. 

“Ha Ha, very funny.” He shot back, his tone light and not angry. Almost… flirtatious? “I have no idea what kind of cookie I’d be. All I know is, this one is my favorite.” He held up his third monster cookie. “It has all of my favorite things in it - even pretzels!” Dana laughed, but she felt overwhelmingly pleased that Spencer had said something she made was his favorite. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate that. All of the snacks, in a convenient handheld package.” Spencer looked overjoyed. She hoped he would always look like that in her presence. 

Hotch had gone back into his office to take a phone call after grabbing a couple of cookies. He popped his head out of the door, looking very stern. 

“Guys!” He exclaimed. “I know we are all excited about the unexpected cookie party, but please… Eat them while working. And don’t forget to say thank you to Richards!”

They all scurried back to their desks to tackle the piles of paperwork that always awaited them during their down time, and Dana went back to counting down the hours until Saturday night. 

______

Saturday morning, and still no case. Sleeping in was utter bliss - Dana hadn’t had a chance to sleep in for weeks and she’d relished the opportunity to go without setting an alarm. The sun peeked in through her bedroom windows and she rolled over to see what time it was. 9:38… not too bad. She hadn’t been able to sleep past 10am in years. 

Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her notifications… a couple Instagram posts from Penelope, a late night Snapchat from Emily, a video message from her sister… and a voicemail from Spencer Reid. Of course, that was the first thing she listened to. 

“Hey Dana, it’s Spencer. I know we haven’t talked about details for tonight so I wanted to make sure I called and told you what I was thinking… Hopefully you’re still free and hopefully this plan works for you. If you’d like, I can pick you up around 5:00 and we can get drinks and dinner at Billy Sud in Georgetown. The ballet starts at 7:30 so I figure that would give us plenty of time to get to and from and find parking or take the train and everything… Let me know if this sounds good or if you’d rather go somewhere else, I wasn’t sure what sounded good to you but I thought I remembered you and Emily talking about French food a couple of weeks ago so I thought you might like it. Ok, talk to you soon, bye.”

Dana held her phone to her chest, swooning just a tiny bit. She was so excited for this date, it was ridiculous. She’d video chatted with her sisters and planned her outfit the evening prior over a couple glasses of rose, which made her a little tipsy and she may have gushed a bit to them about the sweet, sexy Doctor she was going out with. God, she was such a loser. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, so with butterflies in her stomach she hit the call back button. It rang twice before he answered. 

“Hello?”

“Hi Spencer, it’s Dana.” 

“Dana, hi, how are you?” 

“I’m really good - sorry I missed your call, I took the day off from setting an alarm and just woke up to your message.” She snuggled into the covers. 

“Oh, that’s okay, I figured something like that…”

“Yep. Such a rare occasion to have a weekend off… but yeah, 5:00 sounds perfect. Billy Sud sounds perfect. I think you might actually be a mind reader!” 

She could almost hear him grinning through the phone as he chuckled. “Oh really? Why is that?”

“Well, first,” she started, getting out of bed and sliding on her slippers so she could pace around her apartment while talking on the phone. “You choose the Bolshoi ballet. Romeo and Juliet. An excellent choice, and one of the companies I haven’t actually seen yet. Then, you pick Billy Sud, which has been on my list to try since I moved here. It’s actually pretty close to my apartment.”

“You’re kidding! That’s lucky… or maybe just excellent profiling. Are you in Georgetown?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Dana answered, pouring a cup of coffee. “I’m renting a condo on O street.”

“That’s awesome. I’m actually also in Georgetown but on Q street. It’s a great area, how did you decide on it when you were moving here?”

“I’d been to DC a few times, and usually found myself over this way on the weekends. Plus, it’s a short commute to the office downtown… I figured since we don’t usually have to go down to Quantico unless it’s training days, it would be better to be up here rather than outside the District… That’s weird though that we haven’t run into each other in the neighborhood.”

“Well, I don’t get out much…” Spencer said, sounding a little embarrassed. “I probably spend too much time inside or at the office working.”

“Well then, I’m glad we’re going out.” Dana smiled, sipping her coffee and wincing as some of the steaming brew spilled out of the cup onto her chest. She swore loudly, grabbing a towel. “Oh my god, sorry Spencer… I just spilled my coffee.” He started laughing on the other end of the line. 

“I was so confused! Are you ok? I hope there’s more coffee?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for my shirt but I’ll live.” She continued mopping up the mess, juggling the phone and the towel. 

“I’ve never heard you swear before. It was kind of hilarious once I knew you weren’t actually in danger… You don’t swear at work.”

“Oh Spencer… I swear like a sailor outside the office. I mean, only when things are really stressful or surprising I guess? I’m still on my best behavior around everyone… it’s only been 6 months and I really love the job and I just really want to do well, you know? I don’t want to be unprofessional or too casual just yet, you know?”

“That’s probably a good idea. Hotch is a stickler for that sort of thing. I don’t want to talk too much about work since you know, this is a personal call and we spend so much time at work anyway, but… you’re doing a good job. I think you’ve impressed everyone.”

“Even you, Dr. Reid?”

“Of course. One of the first things I noticed about you was how quick you picked up on how the team works and figured out the best questions to ask to get us out of our comfort zones. It’s a really essential skill and I don’t know, it just made me realize how sharp you are. Then one day you were dropping Shakespeare references and models of persuasion theory in the same sentence and I don’t know… I was smitten.”

She felt like her heart would leap out of her chest. “I am so glad this is a phone call. You should see my face. That is so sweet and so embarrassing all at once… Was that the first thing you noticed about me?”

Spencer coughed. “Um, no, it wasn’t the first thing I noticed… one of the first but uh, no. Not the literal first. Now I’m the one who’s glad this is a phone call.”

“Ooh, can’t wait to ask you more about this tonight.” Dana teased. “But fair is fair. I’ll own up to my first impression as well.”

“Ok then. Then we’re even. Well I guess I should let you get back to your coffee. What’s your address?”

She gave it to him, and provided instructions for the finicky buzzer system at her building before saying goodbye. She was feeling more excited and less nervous for their date. He was adorable, even over the phone. Dana finished her coffee, perused the fridge and decided to go for a quick jog to a local breakfast spot. Getting out of the house would help make sure she didn’t spend the entire day mooning about waiting for 5:00 to arrive. 

[seniorbrief]

37 Hilarious Phrases Parents Say to Avoid Cursing in Front of Kids

Dean Drobot/Shutterstock

“Mrs. Andersen? We need to talk about your son’s new favorite word.” I’ll never forget that phone call from the preschool teacher of my adorable, cherub-cheeked four-year-old. Like many kids his age, my son had discovered a fun new word and wanted to use it all the time—and the fact that it got a major reaction from all the adults around him made it just that much better. The word? Motherf*****.

The day prior, I’d been bending over to tie his shoe when his older brother threw open the front door, nailing me right between the eyes with the metal doorknob. I’m not much of a curser but there’s nothing like pain so searing that you see stars (literally) to make a mom lose her, um, shiznits. I let out a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush. And of course, my kiddo remembered the best one.

When he got home that day, we had to have a long talk about appropriate language and I learned as much of a lesson as he did. If you don’t want to hear your toddler call their friend a “d*****bag” then you’d better not say it in front of him. As a parent, your creativity is one of your best skills—and we don’t just mean with Play-Doh. Here are some of our favorite swear-substitutes real parents use.

1. “My curse words come out sounding like a mix of Yosemite Sam, the Swedish Chef, and (before we knew what a horrible person he truly is) Bill Cosby, along the lines of Flootin’ frappin’ shligmen durnkin!” —Ted Williams

2. “I will call someone a ‘Richard’ as shorthand for ‘d*ck.’ My twins and several adult friends actually think my boss’s real name is Richard.” —Tracey Having a “creative vocabulary” is one of the 11 surprising signs you’ll make a great parent someday.

3. “The other day I dropped something in the kitchen and, because I could see my son watching me, I exclaimed, ‘Ugh, fork me!’. He thought it was so silly; I was glad it was safe.” —Kylie Larson

4. “Once, when I was opening a fizzy drink, it sprayed purple juice all over the bench top, the floor, the ceiling, and my clothes. ‘F…’ I started to say until I felt three sets of little eyes staring at me. I immediately changed it to ‘F… or coughs and colds take medicine!’ It was so funny that now we just use ‘for coughs and colds’ to express frustration.” —Nate Hamon

5. “Shut the f*** up used to be a part of my pre-kids vocabulary but now it’s ‘shut the front door!‘ which is way funnier anyhow.” —Amber Graves (Here’s why kids behave so much worse at home.)

6. “During the Great Lice Outbreak of 2015 (from which our household will forever be scarred), I discovered my new favorite phrase ‘holy cannoli!’ It replaced holy sh*t whenever I found another bug and it’s even better because it rhymes.” —Maryrose DeGroot

7. “My son once told friends from church that ‘my daddy says the F-word all the time at home.’ I had to quickly explain that I say ‘fart’ instead, and that’s what we call ‘the F word’!” —Tor Bailey

8. “‘The classic ‘fudge!‘ is my go-to for anything from stubbed toes, to an eggshell in the omelet, to a realization that I posted a comment on social media with a spelling mistake.” —Nate Hamon

9. “I’m from Minnesota and for whatever reason parents here always say ‘Uff da!’ I’m not sure if it’s from our Norwegian roots or even what word exactly it’s supposed to replace, but it always makes me smile.” —Kim DeBerge

10. “The c-word is the curse word I hate the most but if I ever have to say it, I spell it out with ‘see you next Tuesday.’ Adults know what I mean and young kids don’t even pick up it’s a bad word.” —Alison Hill (Have you read these hilarious texts gone wrong, from parents?

11. “As a foster mom, I’ve had quite a few kids that come with serious potty mouths, so I have a lot of practice with fake cursing. The one I probably use the most is ‘friggin!’ which I don’t love but it’s better than the real thing.” —Lisa Gunn

12. “Oh shnuck! It gets my kids laughing every time—mostly because it comes out like oh shhhhhhhhhnuck!” —Emily Tessman

13. “‘Fart knocker‘ is the one I use as a direct cuss at the kids. As in, ‘Stop fighting you little fart knockers!’ For emphasis, I’ll add frickin’. ‘Stop fighting you frickin’ little fart knockers!’” —Nate Hamon

14. “When I slammed my finger in the door, I yelled out ‘son of a… nutcracker!‘ Another favorite for when I hurt myself is ‘cheese and rice!‘” —Casey Wetjen

15. “I like to yell ‘shoot a monkey!’ when I drop things, break something, forget something. I have no idea where that came from but it works!” —Presley Salmon

16. “‘Shiitake mushrooms!‘ is apparently my go-to swear for when I’m in pain. Like, I’ve sliced my shin open on the dishwasher twice and both times I end up yelling about produce? We all know what word I was really thinking!” —Presley Salmon

17. “I like to say ‘well butter my bum!’ and ‘son of a biscuit!‘ I guess I like food curses!” —Jeni Svestka (Polite language is just one of the 17 forgotten manners parents should be teaching their children.)

18. “Clusterfluff. It has almost all the satisfaction of saying the original but it’s way more kid-friendly.” —Anda Teverzczuk

19. “I started out by using ‘hells bells‘ a lot and somehow it morphed into ‘hells bells and cockle shells’ which my kids mistakenly heard as ‘hells bells and taco shells‘ and so now I just yell ‘taco shells.’ Yep, it’s like playing ‘telephone’ but with cursing.” —Carlie Pehrson

20. “Sometimes I say ‘sugar dumplings‘ but, let’s be honest, I just straight up curse most of the time.” —Cheri Gould

21. “Some parents are so creative! In the heat of the moment, all I can think of is ‘curses!‘ Because I’m original like that.” —Shanae Briggs

22. “I go full-on sound effects. Like I say, ‘Are you (beep noise) kidding me?’ so that the part that is censored can be filled in by whatever curse word the listener imagines.” —Tor Bailey

23. “I say ‘shoot the dog!‘ when something goes unexpectedly wrong, like a house project or when the dryer breaks. Ironically, I only use it when I’m in a good mood.” —Rosalie Davis (Want more? Check out these 11 parents quotes that will have you dying with laughter.)

24. “My family loves to bowl and whenever I throw a gutter ball everyone waits for me to yell ‘the F-word.’ However, my ‘f-word’ is ‘fooey!’ Or is it ‘phooey?’ but that doesn’t start with F. Whatever, my curse word, my spelling!” —Shirley Jamiel

25. “Instead of ‘what the f***, I say, ‘What the monkey?’ It works even better because it’s so random it usually diffuses the situation.” —Tor Bailey

26. “I’m a big curser but when I don’t drop a real f-bomb, I go with ‘frack.‘ It works and there’s the potential for some interesting environmental conversations.” —Sarah Barak (Know a funny parent? Here are 17 of the best compliments you can give a parent.)

27. “My mother’s favorite swear word when I was growing up was ‘Christopher Columbus!‘ I didn’t realize how funny that was until I became a parent myself and said it.” —Janet Elise

28. “I say ‘darn‘ a lot. So when we moved to a new city and I got lost trying to figure out the GPS directions, I’d yell ‘darn!’ every few seconds. It got so much that my oldest just assumed that yelling ‘darn’ was just a part of driving, like turning on the blinker.” —Rosalie Davis

29. “I normally swear like a sailor. But there are some moments when even four-letter words aren’t enough to express my feelings. In those cases, ironically, I yell ‘ALL THE SWEARS!’. Which doesn’t technically have any curse words in it at all!” —Marste McDonald

30. “A colleague and I were brainstorming ideas for curse words you could say in front of her young kids at home. ‘Shootskis‘ was a favorite. So was ‘fahrfegnugen.’ The best part was though is everyone started saying them in the office too!” —Lara Wiz

31. “‘Sugar Honey Ice Tea!‘ is my favorite because it’s cute for kids but adults can quickly figure out it’s an acronym!” —Anne Poirier

32. “At three feet tall, my youngest is the perfect height to nail my very patient husband right in his tender parts. He yells ‘sunny beaches!’ or ‘fudgenuts!‘. Depending on how hard the hit was, there might be some real ones mixed in too!” —Marianne Farquhar

33. “My husband and I have four daughters so ‘oh my hell…o kitty‘ has come out of our mouths more than once!” —Nicole Westenskow

34. “‘Mother trucker!‘ is my favorite kid-safe curse word to use around my two young daughters.” —Jennie Berglund

35. “My grandmother used to say ‘god d*mnit’ quite frequently, until the grandkids came along. I grew up hearing her yell ‘God… bless America!‘ I always wondered why she sounded so angry about America.” —Adrianne McMahon

36. “I almost don’t want to admit I actually say this but here goes. ‘Oh my freakin’ heck!‘” —Kacy Moller

37. “If I want to curse and don’t want my kids to hear it, I just swear in German. ‘Schiesse‘ is my favorite. It means sh*t but sounds so much nicer!” —Jill Fairchild

And if you find you can’t stop cursing, don’t sweat it. Turns out swearing is one of the weird habits that means your smarter than everyone else.

Original Source -> 37 Hilarious Phrases Parents Say to Avoid Cursing in Front of Kids

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/37-hilarious-phrases-parents-say-to-avoid-cursing-in-front-of-kids/