#nor did the second mouse originally get the cheese after the early bird got the worm

[rob-nobody]

asjdhkfgjk, I'm sorry, but this is one of my pet peeves. As fun as it is to think that many of our sayings and proverbs were originally a lot more subversive than their common interpretation, it often just isn't true.

"The customer is always right" was popularized by Selfridge, but versions were used by retail magnate Marshall Field and hotelier César Ritz before him. None of them qualified it with anything like "...in matters of taste" anywhere I can find. Now, maybe it was implied that's what they meant rather than "Give the customer 90% off if they ask for it," but it wasn't explicitly part of the original saying.

"Jack of all trades" goes back at least to Geffray Minshall in 1612, though the similar "Johannes factotum (Johnny do-it-all)" was used in the 1500s (hilariously used in 1592 by English writer Robert Greene to disparagingly describe this upstart young playwright, William Shakespeare.) "...and master of none" was added in the 1700s, with the first known usage by Charles Lucas in a 1741 letter. Near as I can tell, "...but ofttimes better than a master of one" was added circa 2007.

"Blood is thicker than water," in that form and with the conventional meaning, dates back to at least 1652, where it was used in a sermon by William Jenkyn, and the way it's used makes it clear it was a known expression at the time that he was merely quoting. It appears frequently in 18th and 19th-century literature, particularly Scottish literature. The "covenant/womb" version comes from the Messianic Rabbi Richard Pustelniak in 1994, who claims that was the original meaning without citing any sources.

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" dates back to at least 1820, when Charles Colton wrote in his book of proverbs "Imitation is the sincerest of flattery," while the idea goes back to at least a 1714 newspaper article by Eustace Budgell, where he says "Imitation is a kind of artless Flattery." ("Artless," here, meaning "unintentional, and thus pure and sincere.") The version that adds "...that mediocrity can pay to greatness" is attributed to Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), though searching through his works on Project Gutenberg doesn't turn up an actual source, so grain of salt. Regardless, at best this version was a later commentary on the original sentiment.

On the other hand, "The love of money is the root of all evil" IS indeed the original version of the saying, coming from the 1611 King James Bible, 1 Timothy 6:10. "To pull oneself up by one's bootstraps" DID also originally mean a ludicrous or impossible task, dating back to at least 1834 (though the original version specifically referred to carrying oneself over a river or a fence by one's own bootstraps, the meaning is clearly the same.)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Any Other Tuesday (ch3, baon)

Summary:   It started the same as any other Tuesday

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Notes: You guys have been watching the tags on this one, right? Okay, then, let’s go.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Any college student in Ebott could tell you that Golden City was the best place for Chinese in town. They served obscene portion sizes of delicious food, at a price that kept them very busy throughout the week. Despite that, they didn’t have to wait long after they walked in the door. A tiny Asian woman in a large apron came up to them almost immediately, chattering away as she gestured for them to follow.

Stretch prattled along with her, not a single word that Jeff could understand. Possibly Mandarin? He didn’t know. Neither Edge nor Antwan seemed surprised by this turn of events, only following her to a corner table where they were promptly sat.

“i’ve got a standing reservation here,” Stretch leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “featured them on my twitter once and the owner loved it. course, the edgelord here doesn’t like to eat out that much, so i mostly use it for lunch.”

“Eating out is perfectly fine for an indulgence, not as a daily practice,” Edge told him. He was trying to surreptitiously wipe the table with one of the napkins. It looked perfectly clean to Jeff, but he didn’t ask, and when Stretch absently picked up his water glass and the soy sauce bottle on his side of the table so that Edge could wipe beneath it, Jeff automatically did the same with the little basket of sweeteners and the salt shaker.

Cleaning off the table, no matter how unnecessary, seemed to calm Edge somewhat. He allowed Stretch to take one of his gloved hands, twining their fingers together. Beneath the table, Antwan did the same, closing his warm hand over Jeff’s, his thumb stroking the smooth skin of his wrist, and Jeff felt like his heart might burst.

No menus appeared but that didn’t seem to matter. Hot tea was on the table in minutes and not long after there were plates loaded with food, bowls filled with rice, all wedged together on the table between water glasses and sauces, piled together family-style.

Thinking of that way pinched, a little, but…yeah, they were good friends, the best of. Jeff didn’t think Stretch would mind if he thought of them as family.

It was fun. Stretch was just…Stretch, but Edge showed more than a few glimpses of the bone-dry sense of humor that Jeff knew lurked beneath the surface of his scowling veneer. There was plenty of food; sesame noodles and fried wontons, vegetable stir fry and egg foo young. Antwan and Stretch battled with chopsticks over the last egg roll, neither of them noticing until it was too late that Edge stole it out from under them, and Jeff couldn’t stop laughing at their outraged expressions while Edge smugly chewed.

There was more tea and laughter, and by the time they were splitting up the fortune cookies, the Great Action Figure Catastrophe was mostly out of his mind.

“okay, okay, let’s see what i got,” Stretch broke open his cookie, absently munching on a piece as he unfolded his fortune. “’the early bird gets the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese’,” he read, then scowled. “that’s not a fortune, that’s a proverb. bleh.” He crumbled it up and tossed it on the table. “what did you get, babe?”

“It says my lucky numbers are 7, 14, 26, 32, 47, and 59,” Edge said, so seriously that at first Jeff didn’t see the sparkle in his eye lights.

“turn it over, asshole,” Stretch sighed, “come on!”

“Ah, there it is,” Edge squinted at the tiny print. “Hm, it says a beautiful, smart, and funny person will be coming in to my life.”

“that one’s a little late.”

“It is,” Edge said agreeably. He set the broken bits of his cookie on Stretch’s plate, where they were promptly consumed. “Once they find me, I’ll have to explain to them that I already married you.”

Stretch choked on his last bite, chewing furiously before reaching over to give Edge a rough shove.

“you shit,” Stretch said fondly, and didn’t resist when Edge took hold of his hand, drawing it up to press a kiss against his knuckles.

“You see?” Edge murmured against the delicate bones. “This is why no one should set their path to the declarations of baked goods.”

Antwan only shook his head and opened his. “’To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing’.”

“must be why people are always bitching at you, antwan, you don’t do any of those.”

“I’m a lawyer, I thrive on criticism,” Antwan said easily. He gave Jeff a nudge with his elbow. “All right, what about you?”

Jeff broke the cookie over his plate to keep the crumbs from scattering, unfolding his fortune.

Don’t worry about money, the best things in life are free.

He only realized he was staring at it for too long when Stretch said, cautiously, “andy? you okay?”

“Um, yeah.” He crumpled it up, tossing it on the table. “I’m going to hit the restroom before we take off, be right back.”

He didn’t wait for anyone to say anything, pushing back his chair and heading towards the long hallway that led to the toilets. They were meant for a single person and he went in gratefully, locking the door behind him. Inside, he ignored the toilet with its little basket of potpourri on the tank and went to the sink. Splashing cold water on his face helped ease the stinging heat and he braced his hands on the sides, breathing deeply as the water trickled down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he told himself, “It’s okay, they don’t mind.” Yeah, didn’t mind that he was a fucking freeloader, all starting with his student loans getting paid off for the low, low price of being a decent person.

Jeff sighed, yanking a few paper towels from the holder and drying his face. They really didn’t care, he honestly knew it. Knowing it didn’t make him feel better, though, and the food was sitting heavy in his belly when he opened the door…and almost ran headfirst into Antwan.

“You were taking a while. You feeling okay?" His dark eyes searched Jeff’s face with visible concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine,” Jeff summoned up a smile, settling a hand on Antwan’s chest before he asked lightly, “So, am I headed back to your place with you tonight?”

He knew the answer before Antwan said a word, the apologetic expression that crossed his face said it all, and his hopes fell.

“I can’t tonight, I’m heading out as soon as we’re done with dinner. We have a big court case coming up and I need to polish my opening statement.” He glanced out of the hallway and whatever he saw must’ve satisfied him because he leaned in to nuzzle a soft kiss at the base of Jeff’s throat, soft and teasing. “You’re too much of a distraction to have laying around.”

"Aww, not even a cuddle at bedtime?” Jeff tried. Going home alone tonight sounded like a misery. if he could just sleep in Antwan’s bed, wake up in the middle of the night and know someone was sleeping beside him, maybe—

Antwan only shook his head. "I’m not very good at only cuddling around you. Better not to have the temptation.”

His fragile soap bubble hopes popped just like that and Jeff nodded, keeping his smile firmly pasted in place. But some of his disappointment must’ve shown, because Antwan’s reached up and cupped his face in one hand.

“What about this weekend?” Antwan suggested. “Stay over Saturday night and Sunday morning we can sleep in.”

It was a good compromise, a few nights on his own to earn a morning in Antwan’s bed. “I like the sound of that. Come on, before they send out a search party.”

Stretch and Edge were waiting when they came out, bags of leftovers sitting in wait. The bill was on the table, signed in Edge’s precise hand and Jeff couldn’t help looking, wincing as he saw the total. The bags only made it worse and he couldn’t decide if he should carry one to help out or leave it so it didn’t look like he was claiming it as his own. Antwan and Edge took the choice out of his hands, gathering up the bags between them.

Whatever cheerful farewell Stretch called to their hostess got him a chorus of the same from the kitchen, the entire staff waving as they went out in the cool night air. It was almost dark, the sun just dipping below the horizon.

“is all that gonna fit in that suitcase you call a trunk?” Stretch asked. He was lighting a cigarette almost before they were out the door, deliberately walking ahead of them so he couldn’t see Edge’s scowl.

“There is nothing wrong with my trunk,” Edge said coolly. The bag rustled at his side, almost creaking from its burden as he walked a little faster. “At least my car fits four people, unlike someone else.”

“Don’t be shitting on my car, it didn’t do anything to you,” Antwan grumbled.

“Oh, please, I have serious car envy from both of you,” Jeff said, wryly. That much he could admit, couldn’t he? “Someday, I’m going to own a car like yours. Or maybe a car at all.”

“nothing wrong with the bus,” Stretch said loftily. He danced nimbly aside as Edge tried to pluck away his cigarette. How he moved that quickly without actually shortcutting, Jeff did not know, but somehow he was suddenly on the other side of their little group, taking a hasty drag as Edge stalked him determinedly.

“Yeah, but you only take it to prevent vehicular homicide,” Antwan said with a snort.

“please, it would be manslaughter at best…okay, okay, i’m done with it, edgelord, fuck me.” He tossed the butt down, grinding it out under his sneaker and retrieving the squashed remains to toss in a nearby trash can.

Edge watched Stretch a moment longer, until he was sure the lighter wasn’t making a reappearance, then said, "Jeff, if you’d like, you can drive mine for the ride home.”

That made him stop, staring at Edge in disbelief. Edge’s car was gorgeous, sleek and cherry-red, and probably way out of Jeff’s lifetime budget. "Seriously?”

“Of course.” Edge pulled out his keys and started to hand them over, then drew them back inches from Jeff’s hand. "You can, I assume?"

“Yeah, yeah, of course I can!" Jeff laughed. He snatched the keys as they were offered to him again with a whoop of joy. Fuck it, if nothing else, he could enjoy driving an awesome car, even if it wasn’t his own.

Edge always parked in the back of any lot, away from the crowd of other cars. Jeff ran ahead, all his attention on that gorgeous cherry-red paint job and it had been a while since he’d driven, sure, but he wasn’t worried. Maybe this was only an excuse for Edge and Stretch to make out in the backseat, but Jeff didn’t care. This was going to be awesome.

When he tried to remember what happened later, nothing stood out. He saw them standing there, sure, but didn't think anything of it, why would he? It was barely nine o'clock and Ebott was a nice town. Three men in t-shirts and work boots, nothing remarkable about them, standing around on the sidewalk with cigarettes in hand. It was about as normal as could be.

That one of them swung into his path only brought surprise, not fear, and Jeff nearly ran into him, apologies automatically coming to his lips, “Oh, sorry about—"

He broke off, couldn’t even cry out at the sudden shock of tearing pain.

“That's what you get, monster fucker." The face so close to his own was unshaven, bloodshot eyes boring into his own. His breath was rank with alcohol, sickeningly thick, and he spit when he talked, a fine spray of foulness against Jeff's face.

Past that first jagged thrust of excruciating pain, it didn't even really hurt, not at first. Like a weak punch, once, twice, three times, against his belly, and then Jeff staggered back, away from the man, who had tiny blossoms of bright red suddenly speckling his white t-shirt. Jeff looked down, saw the handle sticking out and all he could think was that it didn't belong there. He fumbled at it with numb fingers that turned crimson and slippery when he touched it.

Later, he would think how strange it was that everything was sort of blurred in his memory, but he could still remember some detail vividly. There was shouting, cursing, screaming, but none of it was him. He only stood, wavering on his feet and staring at the redness dripping from his hands.

He stabbed me, Jeff realized numbly, I’m bleeding. It was a knife handle, the knife was still in him, and there was the pain, sharp and wrong and terrible. He opened his mouth to cry out and couldn’t, warm copper choking him, blood bubbling out from between his lips.

The screaming cut off abruptly into a new, terrible silence broken only by scuffling against pavement, but Jeff was sliding to his knees in slow motion, falling back on the sidewalk. There was a street light over him, pouring harsh fluorescents down in a glaring circle.

"Jeff?" Antwan was suddenly there, the light behind his head cast his face in shadow, but Jeff could still see his eyes, so wide the whites showed all the way around, "Jeff? Baby? Fuck, oh, god, oh fuck—“

He's never called me that, Jeff thought hazily, reaching up to touch him but his hands were bloody, couldn’t touch him with dirty, bloody hands, tried to pull away. Antwan grabbed his hand anyway, the wetness squelching between their palms, and that was blood, his blood, he was bleeding.

More scuffling sounds and feet appeared next to him in worn converse with untied laces dragging in the dirt.

"edge, let them breathe. if you kill them, the paperwork will never end." Each word was bitten off with sharp precision, colder than he’d ever heard Stretch talk. “antwan, i need you to move, pal. come on, we need to hurry. give me your jacket.”

The knife handle vanished beneath Antwan’s jacket spread over him, and Stretch was crouching next to him now, his bones stark in the garish streetlight. His eye lights glowed fiercely in his sockets, no, it was only one eye light, strobing orange with seizure-inducing intensity.

“jeff? jeff, look at me, kid." No, not, Jeff, Stretch never called him Jeff. He was Andy, Handy Andy. Jeff tried to correct him and coughed, gagging on the thick taste of iron in his throat. “i need you to listen to me, okay? i’m gonna help you, but the police are on their way and we can't have this much blood and no one hurt, do you understand?"

Police, yes, he could hear sirens, distant still but getting closer.

“Stretch, you need to hurry.” Edge’s voice was further away, oddly strained.

"i know.” He leaned in close, whispering softly, “don't worry, kiddo, you're going to be all right. I promise."

I promise. It sounded so fierce, no hilarious little pinkie swear, but more like a vow, an unbroken oath.

The feel of long, bony fingers sliding under his shirt was impossibly ticklish, strange to feel anything outside of the pain. They were cool against his skin, then suddenly they weren’t, warming, almost painfully hot. From beneath the jacket came an eerie, greenish glow, mostly stifled but Jeff couldn’t look away from it, mesmerized. It went brighter, streaming out through the sleeves and the seams. The pain receded some, draining into that heat, swirling away and leaving a strange weakness behind. Until that faded, too, and the glow dimmed to nothingness.

Suddenly, Jeff could breathe much easier again; his mouth still tasted foul, but it was easier. Next to him, Antwan leaned in close, gathering up Jeff’s hand again. His knuckles were grimy even in the streetlight, rusty with drying blood.

“there you go.” Stretch wobbled where he was crouching, falling to his knees on the sidewalk. Sweat was beading on his skull, running down his face in translucent orange rivulets and his eye lights were back to their normal pale, soft white. “it's all good, kid, just like i said. go to sleep now, all right? we'll be there when you wake up.”

He pulled his hands out from beneath the coat and tossed something aside. It was the knife, Jeff realize distantly, it wasn’t in him anymore. “antwan, here, you need to keep pressure on this still.” And when he didn’t move, Stretch grabbed his hand impatiently. “come on, help out here. jeff’s gonna be okay.”

"Supposed to call me Andy," Jeff mumbled. It still hurt, but not as bad, a tooth-ache sort of throbbing in his gut as Antwan did as he was told and pushed the bunched-up fabric of his jacket down where only moments ago his blood was spilling out.

Stretch let out a tired chuckle. "sorry, running jokes were disrupted by injury. okay, andy, go to sleep, yeah?”

It was hard to resist that order, darkness dragging at him even as the sirens soared in volume, other voices raised around them. Two hands were holding his own, uncaring of the mess. One was bony and hard, but comfortingly warm and the other gripped almost too hard, trembling in his grip.

I’m okay, he tried to say but the words didn’t come. Instead, his eyes drifted closed on their own and the darkness pulled him down.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Four