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b-kip · 1 year

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British Slang, Phrases and Idioms!

Finally getting this done! Special thanks to my Pa, because without him I wouldn’t know as much slang as I do LOL, we talk about this kind of thing on the regular, and he's my point of reference for this.

Remember, all of these phrases are very informal/casual, and the point of perspective is from England specifically, some of these words could mean something completely different to someone from a surrounding country. Some are moreso used by older people, while others are typical of a brit of any age. I’ll try my best to indicate as such!

If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! Whether it's in the replies, a DM or an actual tumblr ask! I may do another list/add to this list if I remember more later on. Of course, others are free to add on to this, offer corrections or clarifications, etc! :)

Warnings: Vulgar language, very very brief NSFW mentions

Anyway, Slang and Phrases under the cut!!

Nouns

Berk: an insult, a stupid person. Might be more common with people who are older.

Bird(s): Woman/Women ("A couple of birds") - Can sometimes come off as a little sleazy, but not always. Depends on the way it's used. I'd say it's kind of mostly used in reference to women you aren't that familiar with? Can also be used to mean someone's girlfriend "That's X's bird," Used by all.

Bloke(s): A man/men. Again, I'd say it's mostly used in reference to a guy you aren't very familiar with, but it's not always the case. Used by all.

Bollocks: Nonesense, an exclamation used when you’re annoyed/disagree with something or someone. Used by all.

"That's a load of bollocks," / That's a load of bullshit

"Bollocks to it," / Fuck it

Typically used out of anger or exasperation, but can be used in a light-hearted and joking way.

Bollocking: A strong reprimand. Used by all.

Chops: Mouth or jaws, ("Hit him right in the chops,")

Lad: A guy, typically indicates youth. Used by all.

Lass: A girl, typically indicates youth. Used by all.

Muppet: Also an insult, meaning incompetent or foolish. Used by all.

Mard Arse: someone who is sulking. Used by all.

Can also become a verb - "Mardying"/ Or an adjective: “Mardy”

Telly: TV. Used by all.

Trolleys/Kecks/Knickers: Underwear. First two are likely used by older people, whereas knickers is more commonly used by all. Knickers also specifically alludes/refers to women's underwear.

Yank: An American (Used by Ghost in the first MW2) Can very much have a derogatory tone to it. Used by all.

Adjectives

Battered: of an object, damaged by age and repeated use. Of a person, injured by repeated blows/hits. Used by all.

Bonny: Pretty/Beautiful

Buzzing: Very excited and happy, probably moreso used by younger people

Chuffed: Extremely happy or proud. Used by all.

Daft: Foolish. Used by all.

Dire: Very poor quality (Can still be used to mean serious or urgent) Used by all.

Dodgy: Unreliable, potentially dangerous, dishonest Used by all.

Fancy: Want/Like. Used by all.

Flatter than a witch's tit: Extremely flat

Gutted: Disappointed/Devastated. Used by all ages.

Hammered: Very drunk. Used by all.

Jammy: Lucky, getting lucky without effort ("You jammy bastard.")

Knackered/Shattered: Tired, exhausted / Can also be used to describe something that is broken. Used by all.

Minging: Disgusting/Unpleasant.

Pissed/Pissed-up: Drunk (But can still be used to mean Pissed Off/Angry) Used by all.

Piss easy: Very easy. Used by all.

Piece of Piss: Very easy. Used by all.

Thick: Stupid, dumb (Can be extended into a simile Ex, "Thick as pig shit") Used by all.

Verbs

Batter: strike repeatedly with hard blows, beat the shit out of someone. Used by all.

Collar/Collared: Seize/apprehend, or to stop someone in order to speak to them. Used by all.

Faff/Faffing about: Waste time, doing something (typically something useless) in a really disorganised or pedantic way. Used by all.

Kip: to sleep/nap (literally where my name comes from lmao) Ex. "I'm goin' kip," Used by all.

Leg-it/Legged it/Legging it: Run for it. Used by all.

Mouth/Mouthed/Mouthing Off: talk in a loud, unpleasant or rude/disrespectful way. Used by all.

Nick/Nicked: To steal. Used by all.

Scarper/Scarpered: Run away. Used by all.

Shag: To have sex with someone

Skive/Skived/Skiving: Avoid work or a particular duty by staying away or leaving early. Used by all.

Yank: Pull something very hard. Used by all.

Phrases and Idioms

All over the shop:

Can be used to mean "everywhere" ("You're getting it all over the shop!" / "You're getting it everywhere!")

Can also mean to describe something or someone as being in a disorganised or confused state. ("He was all over the shop,")

Used by all.

Armed to the teeth: Carrying a lot of weapons. Used by all.

Bastard: Can sometimes be used in a similar way to "Dammit!" - an expression of frustration. Used by all.

Can also be used like "damn" when referring to something in frustration. (Ex. "Close that damn door!" would be "Close that bastard door!")

Bastard can also be added after an adjective for added effect "Thievin' bastard," / "Mardy Bastard,"

Bastard in general is a very versatile word, it can be used as an insult but also can just be used to refer to someone generally. See it as a sort of replacement for "guy" in some aspects (but not all). ("Poor guy,"/"Poor bastard,")

Combining the above two, you can get the wonderful phrase "All over the bastard shop."

Bone to pick: Having a grievance with someone. In some cases may indicate reprimanding. Used by all.

Built like a brick shithouse: Describing someone who's very big and very strong. Used by all.

By the skin of one's teeth: By a narrow margin, only just, ("Hanging on by the skin of his teeth"/"Barely holding on") Used by all.

Cheers: Casual term for "Thanks" Used by all.

Christ on a bike: Used to indicate shock, surprise or exasperation, a more humerous take on "Jesus Christ" Used by all.

Fuck me: An exclamation used to indicate annoyance, exasperation and frustration. Can also be used to express surprise or disbelief (Kind of in the way you'd use "Jesus Christ") Used by all.

Gagging for it: sort of like "begging/asking for it" / really wanting something/tempting fate. Can be used in a taunting or threatening way. Used by all.

Ex. “He’s gagging for it.”

Give/Gave someone a seeing-to: Similar to battering someone. But can also mean fucking someone (often used humerously in that context). Used by all.

Have a laugh/Having a laugh: Also has two meanings depending on context, used by all.

1. Joking around, generally having fun with something

2. To express annoyance when you think someone is being unreasonable or unfair

Hell's Bells: an exclamation of annoyance or anger. Can be made into an angrier expression by throwing fuck in the middle. Ex. "Hell's fuckin' bells!" - I'd say used by all, but probably moreso older people.

I'll have ya: A threat, similar to "I'll get you," Severity of the threat depends on context, ranging from collaring someone, to beating the shit out of someone to straight up killing them. Can also be used in a joking way between friends. Used by all.

Innit: Short for "Isn't it" or "Ain't it" Used by all ages.

Pack it in: Stop it/Cut it out. Typically used in a frustrated way. Can be emphasised by adding fuck, ex. "Pack it the fuck in!" Used by all.

Pissing About: Wasting time. Used by all.

Pissing it down: Raining really hard. Used by all.

Piss(ing) Oneself Laughing: Laughing uncontrollably. Used by all.

Pissing Oneself: Very scared. Used by all.

Shaking like a shitting dog: To describe someone who's shaking a lot/shaking badly. More of a northern phrase, I think.

Shit/Shat me/you/them up: To scare someone/make them jump

Ta: Short, casual term for "Thank you" Used by all.

Take the piss/Taking the piss: Used by all, has a few meanings

1. Making fun of/mocking someone in a way that isn’t intended to be serious (teasing) (Sort of like “Fuck with,”)

2. To lie about something in a really obvious, sometimes outrageous way. (”What? Really?” “No, I’m taking the piss.”)

3. To describe someone who’s taking something for granted, taking liberties or being unfair.

Rhyming Slang

Tits-up: something going horribly wrong. Used by all. ("It's all going tits-up,")

Wind(ing) someone up: Similar to taking the piss, purposefully being annoying by making fun, teasing or playing practical jokes. ("Where's X?" "He's winding Y up.") May also be used in disbelief when you think someone is being unfair or dishonest ("Are you winding me up?") Used by all.

Wind up merchant: As above, a wind up merchant is someone who enjoys winding someone up, this name is often given in annoyance by the victim

Rhyming Slang gets its own section because it's a wide and wonderful topic. I can't put every possible option, but I'll pick a few favourites. I highly reccommend anyone who's interested to look into it more. Rhyming slang can also just be made up on the spot, and I'd say it's moreso used by older folk.

To use rhyming slang, you just use the phrase in the place of the actual word you're substituing out. Basically just like using synonyms.

Some rhyming slang can be shortened further into just a word.

Bell Ringers/Bellies: Fingers

Boat Race/Boat: Face

Brown Bread: Dead

Butcher's Hook/Butcher's/Butch: Look

Hank Marvin: Starving, hungry

Pat and Mick: Sick

Plates of Meat/Plates: Feet

Septic Tank/Septic: Yank (An American)

Tea leaf: Thief

Two and eight: State (Describing someone who is dishevelled or upset.)

Extra/Misc

Depending on the situation, "fucking" can be turned into just "kin"

Ex. "Fucking Hell" can become "'kin 'ell!"

This also applies to "Fuck Off" which can just become "Koff"

Ex. "'koff with that shit,"

Depends on the situation honestly, sometimes the "fu" sound can be a lot more emphasised. The art of british swearing is a delicate one.

Insults can also be made out of pretty much anything, so long as it's put after "You absolute-"

Cunt can be a little divisive when used (some have no problem using it, others find it to be too abhorrent to use) but it's used pretty commonly.

#simon ghost riley #john price #gary roach sanderson #kyle gaz garrick #ghost cod #cod mw22 #there's definitely a lot ive missed but here we go!#hope these are helpful in some way!#i'm sorry for the sheer amount of piss mentioned in this post #also i hope these are wide spread - it's hard to tell sometimes what's a britishism and what's a dadism #like koff. i don't know if that's just smth me and my dad say or if it is infact a general thing

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watermelonsugarsigh · 2 years

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fraction of your heart ~ part four

summary: Y/N’s math skills aren’t the best, but she thinks she has a pretty good judgement of character - and Peter Parker does not pass the test. Find the masterlist here!

warnings: swearing, alcohol, drunk antics, mention of drink spiking but no actual drugs, sad drunk flirty y/n yes this chapter is a self insert of how i act when i'm at parties, mildly suggestive language/content if you squint

word count: 4k

A/N: There's a reason I never posted a schedule because I was never going to stick to it also sorry not sorry for certain character introductions in this chapter? you'll know who I mean when you get there lmao. Unedited as always

Y/N woke to a text from Peter Saturday morning.

Hi, I can’t make it today. Something came up and I can’t get out of it. Sorry. See you in class :)

Y/N wasn’t surprised, in fact she was expecting it. After last week, where she had basically said she hated him straight to his face, she couldn’t even get mad about it; after all, she was actually to blame for his behaviour. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, her throat tightening to the point where she struggled to swallow. It irked her that she wasn’t going to see him today, and she didn’t understand why.

Lauren noticed Y/N’s grumpy mood as soon as she walked out of her room.

“What’s gotten into you, pouty?” Y/N rolled her eyes as Lauren turned on the espresso machine. It was a luxury item in their bare-bones college apartment, but with the amount they were spending on lattes at the campus café, they decided that the expense was worth it.

“Nothing,” she lied. After turning her head to see Lauren’s unamused and expectant expression, she elaborated. “Peter’s still avoiding me. He cancelled this morning.” He’d been avoiding her all week. Each time she saw him in class she attempted to talk to him, only to find he had vanished at the exact moment she found an opportunity. It was almost as if he could sense when she was approaching, and found an exit strategy every time. She had no clue how he was managing to step away from her so quickly.

“I thought you didn’t want him helping you,” Lauren opened the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk, checking the expiration date before placing it on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t,” Y/N started. “But I also didn’t want him to avoid me more than he already did.”

“I mean, you did basically say you hated him to his face,” Lauren replied. “That’s gonna be a tough one to bounce back from.” Y/N put her forehead in her hands.

“Ugh, I know.”

“Look,” Lauren put the milk back into the fridge before coming to sit next to Y/N with two mugs of coffee. Y/N gratefully accepted the mug being handed to her and took a sip, the warm liquid coating her throat and landing in her stomach. “There’s not much you can do about it right now. Peter’s a good guy, he’ll listen eventually, but he has the right to be pissed off at the moment.”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m going shopping for something to wear to Flash’s party tonight,” Lauren placed her already half-empty mug on the coffee table in front of her. How she drank coffee so quickly, Y/N would never understand. “Come with me! Nothing like a bit of retail therapy to make you feel better.”

“Alright, but I need a shower first.”

“I agree. Respectfully, you smell.”

…

Flash Thompson’s party was in full swing by the time Y/N and Lauren arrived. Red cups were strewn all over the floor, and the music was loud enough to be heard from the street. Upon entering the house, Y/N made a beeline to the kitchen, shouting greetings to a few faces she recognised in the midst of the dimmed fluorescents and vape residue.

She was glad she didn’t dress warm tonight. The goosebumps that had littered her skin in the walk from the car to the front door vanished as soon as Y/N stepped inside. She felt as if she had stepped into a sauna; the humidity was making it moderately difficult to breathe. She could feel her hair threatening to frizz from the sheer moisture in the air. So much for the hour that she had spent trying to tame it, she thought as she concocted a drink from the wide variety of spirits and mixers available on the kitchen bench.

“Fuck me,” Lauren caught up to Y/N after being held back by one of her classmates, “It’s like a goddamn festival in here.” Y/N handed her the drink she had just made and found another cup, mixing a second one for herself.

“I know,” Y/N scanned the room, trying to find a familiar face. Her heart lurched when she spotted Tara, laughing at something from across the room. Under the dim but warm lights her ochre skin glimmered. Y/N didn’t know whether she wanted to press her lips to Tara’s exposed collarbone or ask her for her skincare routine. She downed her drink as she continued to study her, knowing she would need a lot more alcohol in her system if she wanted to survive the night knowing she was here, looking like that. Her jet black curls were thrown up in a carefully structured mess, further elongating her bare neck and making her lemon coloured bustier stand out from the crowd. Simply put, she was irresistible.

A tap on her shoulder pulled her away from the fantasy she was concocting in her head.

“Hey, Y/N.”

She turned to meet a pair of sky blue eyes accompanying a devilish smirk. Blonde, tousled hair framed his round face. She couldn’t deny it; Harry Osborn was attractive, but as she flicked her gaze back to Tara one more time, she came to the conclusion that brunettes were more her type.

“Hi Harry,” Y/N shifted her attention back to the boy standing in front of her, who was currently holding a cup in each hand. She tried not to think about the way his slender fingers wrapped almost entirely around the circumference of the drink as he gently offered the signature red plastic to her. Her eyes narrowed, lips slighting upwards at the corners. “I was always told never to accept a cup from a stranger at a party.”

“We’re not really strangers though, are we?” He shuffled closer, voice dropping so Y/N needed to lean in to hear him. She chuckled. While she wasn’t exactly the type of person that garnered a lot of attention from potential romantic interests, she wasn’t oblivious to the tricks someone like Harry pulled when he was looking for fun. “We have chemistry.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the entendre.

“First of all,” she glared at Harry, taking the cup from his hand and making a beeline back toward the kitchen. He followed her like a lost puppy, which sent a small swarm of butterflies to Y/N’s stomach. Since when did she have this much of an effect on someone? “I don’t take chemistry. We’re in Comparative Politics together.”

“So you have noticed me.”

“Secondly,” she continued, ignoring his retort. She poured the liquid down the sink and threw away the cup, instead filling her own back up with the closest unopened can she could find. Harry scoffed and put his hand over his heart, feigning offense at her actions. “Drink spiking is more likely to happen from someone you know, because you trust them more.” Y/N took a sip of her new, verifiably untouched drink. “Unfortunately for you, I’m smarter than that.”

“Okay,” Harry put his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Even though there was nothing in that cup except a shot of vodka, I’ll concede. But,” he inched closer. For the first time all evening, he couldn’t make eye contact with her, instead staring at his shoes. “I could make it up to you. Buy you a drink?”

Her eyebrow quirked. “It’s an open bar, Harry. Nobody’s buying drinks.”

“I meant,” he said, looking back up at her. His expression had drastically changed from the perpetual confident smirk he seemed to always have painted on. His pupils had dilated; Y/N couldn’t tell whether it’s because the lights were dimmed or if it had to do with how he was pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at hers. “Maybe I could take you out. To dinner, or something.”

Oh.

She didn’t think he was into her like that. With the attention he was giving her, she was expecting a distraction, some fun for a night, or maybe a friends with benefits proposal. Harry was notorious for keeping things light, in fact, she didn’t think she had ever heard of him asking someone out before. A buzz ran up her spine; the two drinks she had finished must have started taking effect.

Harry’s face deflated at her extended silence.

“Or not,” he stepped back. “It’s fine either way.” He went to walk away, but Y/N surprised the both of them by taking hold of his wrist and shifting his weight back toward her.

“I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either.” A small flicker of hope danced across his features; his charming essence that she was used to threatening to emerge from the cheeky glint in his eye. Y/N bit her lip, causing his blown out pupils to dilate further. Okay, she thought. So it wasn’t just the lights.

She had to confess that she was enjoying the attention. To put it lightly, getting blipped off the face of the earth didn’t do wonders for her romantic life. Everyone she was interested in before were either five years older than her now, or processing the fact that they had disappeared into thin air for a significant amount of time. She took a moment to look at Harry. He wasn’t her type, not by any means, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander. It had been a while since she had put herself out there. Maybe this was something she needed, especially to take her mind off of Tara. The hand that was still attached to his wrist fell lower to his fingertips. He manipulated her fingers until they were interlocked with his, the back of her hand pressed against his palm, calloused thumb tracing small circles over her knuckle. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Let me think about it,” she replied after a beat. “I can’t say yes right now, but I’m not saying no.”

Harry smiled. Not a smirk, but an actual, genuine smile. Y/N couldn’t think of a time she had seen him do that, not since last year when his father passed away. She knew he had a lot of responsibility, practically inheriting an entire company with little interest in the business operations of it. He was only taking PoliSci classes to understand the international market more, but she had heard through the rumour mill that he was closer to the likes of a scientific genius.

“Give me your phone,” he demanded softly, in a tone that she wouldn’t mind hearing again in a much more intimate situation. His fingers untangled from hers and he waited, palm outstretched for her to fish her phone out from her jeans pocket. Once she had unlocked it, he swiftly made quick work of typing his phone number under a new contact. “Here,” Harry handed her phone back, his number listed under ‘H’. She didn’t miss the way his fingertips brushed hers as he let her go. “This way you can let me know your answer when you’re ready.”

…

Two hours and eight (or was it nine?) drinks later, Y/N was past sufficiently inebriated. Lauren had forced her to take a shot of vodka as she grilled her about her conversation with Harry, which had then led to a very intense game of beer pong, which Y/N proceeded to lose abysmally. She had ended up leaning against a wall, participating in her favourite pastime - staring at Tara.

She truly couldn’t understand how someone could be so gorgeous. She was so animated when she spoke; her full lips framing her perfect smile every time she laughed. God, she would kill to make her laugh like that.

Y/N tore her eyes away from the dimple in Tara’s cheek and glided across to follow her line of sight. Her throat tightened at the sight of Peter, gesturing wildly with his hands as he tried to explain something. His head was tilted toward the floor, and Y/N watched as he looked up at Tara from under his eyelashes, both pausing for an extended moment to smile at each other.

She couldn’t blame Peter for the blush that creeped onto his cheeks, ears turning red as Tara responded to his rambling with just as much enthusiasm. Her fingertips brushed the outside of his still extended forearm and his jaw dropped slightly, lips parting as his gaze followed her movements. Her grip tightened slightly, and she gently pulled him closer, his hand finding purchase on her waist.

Y/N couldn’t watch anymore. She pushed through the crowd, finding the sliding doors that led to the backyard. Unfortunately that meant she had to pass the couple she was directly trying to avoid, and her shoulder bumped against Peter’s on her way through. She mumbled an apology as he whipped his head around to look at her for the first time in over a week. She refused to let him see the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. Coughing slightly at the cloud of cigarette smoke as she opened the back door and almost tripping over the small hinge that allowed the door to slide open and close, Y/N found her way to a secluded corner of the backyard, practically falling onto the floor. She had found her way behind a bush, secluded from sight of the rest of the party guests. She leant her head up to the sky and blinked rapidly, willing herself to contain the tears. It didn’t work. They spilled over and began running down her cheeks, an exasperated sob managing to sneak its way through the barrier Y/N tried to keep closed in her throat. Y/N didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or her feelings, but she felt like she was going to pass out. It was a few minutes before she was able to compose herself to a point where she could breathe at a steady pace again.

“Uh,” Y/N looked up to find the one person she didn’t want to see. Peter had a hand stretched out halfway toward her, as if he wasn’t sure whether tapping on the shoulder would cause her to shatter completely. Wiping under her eyes to try and conceal any sign of crying, she sniffed. “Are you okay?”

“Like you care,” she bit back, wincing at the way her voice cracked. She was expecting Peter to leave, but he did the exact opposite, crawling into the confined space next to her. She could feel his body heat radiating to subside the goosebumps that were littering her upper arm. “Just go back to living your perfect little life with your perfect girlfriend.”

“What?”

“You and Tara. Obviously there’s something going on between the two of you.” Y/N shot daggers in his direction.

“Who, T?” Y/N rolled her eyes at the nickname. “No - there’s nothing between us. We went on one date last year and it was a disaster, we’re just friends.”

“Didn’t look like you were just friends in there.”

“She’s a very flirty drunk. I was just trying to make sure she didn’t go home with someone in that state. She’s really shy and has trouble with conflict, I didn’t want anyone to take advantage of that.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Do you-” Peter whispered, then paused, mulling over his choice of words. “Do you like her?” Y/N barked out a laugh.

“How could you not?” A tear dropped from the inner corner of her eye and fell onto her lap, leaving a small dark patch on the denim covering her inner thigh. “She’s smart, beautiful, nice, like I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect. Honestly, I can't believe she went on a date with you.”

“I didn’t know you were into girls,” Peter muttered, mainly to himself, choosing to ignore her last comment. Noticing Y/N’s incredulous expression, he smacked his hand onto his forehead. “Shit, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Y/N giggled, earning a shy smile from Peter.

“I’m bisexual,” she said. “People are pretty.”

“Ah, so you were flirting with Osborn earlier,” he joked. There was something dark in his eyes, like he was waiting for confirmation. When she nodded, he turned his body so he was directly facing her. “It’s none of my business, and I know you hate me, but just be careful with him, okay?”

“I know,” she said. “He has a reputation.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. Forget it,” he shook his head, as if he was trying to shake a memory out of his brain. “As I said, none of my business.”

Another moment of silence passed.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” Y/N was definitely drunk. She couldn’t stop words tumbling out of her mouth. “You’re just, so frustratingly good at everything. And everyone seems to love you, so I guess I just didn’t like you out of spite? It’s stupid, I know. And then you always seem to avoid me in class, I thought you hated me so I decided to hate you.”

Peter chuckled.

“What?”

“I thought the same thing about you. I only avoided you to stay out of your way so you wouldn't hate me more.” He laughed again, harder this time. Y/N processed Peter’s words, and soon the two of them were laughing together. The giggles subsided, and they sat, knees brushing, lazy smiles mirroring each other. Y/N cleared her throat.

“Can we start again?”

Peter’s smile grew wider.

“I’d like that.” He stood up, and held a hand out to her. She took it, willing herself to ignore the thought in the back of her mind that compared Peter’s rough hands to Harry’s. While they were both physically fit, she didn’t pick either of them to be the type to work out enough to have so much texture hardening their fingertips. Peter’s were worse than Harry’s, and his grip was stronger, yet more gentle, as if he was acutely aware of his own strength and was ensuring he wasn’t hurting her. He pulled her up like she was weightless, feet lifting slightly off the floor, to the point where she overbalanced into Peter’s chest. He was quick to steady her, hands wrapping around her biceps as hers met his sternum. Even in her inebriated state she noticed the defined muscle under his T-shirt. Y/N looked up at him, but he wasn’t staring back. His eyes grazed over her limbs, studying her to ensure she was steady on her feet before letting her go. She felt the breeze against her arms in the absence of Peter’s touch and she shivered.

“I'd offer you a jacket, but-" He gestured vaguely to himself and the lack of outerwear on his person. "Do you have a ride home?” Peter cocked his head to the side. She shook hers in response.

“My roommate and I were going to get an Uber or something, but I have no clue where she is now.”

“Let me drive you, I have my car. The heaters work pretty well. Do you have a house key?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you been drinking though?”

“Yes, but not enough to affect me at all.” She narrowed her eyes, distinctly remembering seeing him around the beer pong table an hour ago. “I promise. I was driving myself anyway so I barely drank anything, and I have an extremely fast metabolism so I'm probably 100% sober by now.”

“Okay,” she said. While she normally would be more concerned, the way he steadied her only seconds ago made her feel pretty comfortable that he was telling the truth. Still, it didn't stop her from scrutinizing him the entire way to his car, to make sure he didn't trip or stumble, even a little.

The drive home was quiet. Apart from the radio humming at a low volume and Y/N’s occasional directions, there was no sound. It was a comfortable silence, no tension charging between the two upon their confession that they were both a little envious of each other. Y/N’s drunk mouth spoke before her brain could catch up.

“Where do you live?”

“Uh,” Peter said, startled at the break of silence. “A couple of blocks from here. I live by myself, I didn’t really know anybody when I moved.”

“What about home then? Where did you grow up?”

If she was sober she would have noticed the crease forming between his eyebrows; how his shoulder blades tightened and lips pursed at her question. But the alcohol, while waning slightly, was still in effect, so she couldn’t hear the gravel in his voice as he spoke.

“New York. Queens. My parents passed away when I was a kid so I lived with my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, and it sounded like he meant it. “I was young, so I don’t really remember much. Ben and May were basically my parents. I was really lucky to have them.”

“Was?”

“They, uh,” Peter’s voice cracked, and even Y/N could notice the shift in his demeanour. “They also died.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know any of this before tonight. Thinking back to what he had said about Tony Stark, she realised just how many ghosts haunted his past. How did he go on? “This isn’t any of my business, but are you seeing anyone? That’s a lot of weight on your shoulders.”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I don’t think anybody could really understand. There’s-” he paused for a moment. “There’s a lot about my life I find really hard to share, and I don’t really let people in.”

“Why are you telling me then?” He pondered the question, mulling it over in his head.

“I don’t know. Probably because it’s been a rough week. And you’re drunk, so you probably won’t remember much of this tomorrow.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Tell that to your mascara," he retorted. Her hands came up to wipe under her eyes, praying that she didn't look completely like a raccoon. Peter snickered. "And the wicked hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.” She hadn’t noticed, but her directions were clear enough that he had made the last couple of turns to her apartment unprompted. Peter shut off the engine and opened his door, walking around the front of the car to open the passenger side door. He held out his hand to help her out. She stepped out of the car moderately more gracefully than when he picked her up before, but still stumbled as the heel of her foot missed the curb. Once again, Peter managed to grab her, this time wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush to his chest. He shut the door with his other hand, keeping her put. She chanced the moment to look up at him. Under the streetlight she could barely see the mess of freckles that littered across the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes were impossibly long, and she cursed whatever god decided that men were to be blessed with such pretty eyelashes. He glanced down at her, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before her slowly sobering mind remembered that staring at someone was not usually socially acceptable.

“Thanks. Again.” She cleared her throat. “I feel like you’re always catching me.”

“Must have really good reflexes,” Peter whispered, finally letting her go. It was as if the two of them were scared to talk too loud, even though nobody else would be able to hear them at a regular volume. Y/N stepped to the side, careful to look first to where her feet would land, lest she toppled over again. "Or you're constantly tripping, so I'm always on guard."

“Thanks too, for bringing me home.”

“Anytime. Please drink some water before you get some sleep.”

“I will. Bye.” She raised a hand at a half-assed attempt at a wave, but every movement she made felt awkward.

“Bye.” Peter lent on the door of his car and watched as Y/N found her apartment key and let herself inside. Something compelled her to look out the window once she made her way to her room. Peter was still in the same spot as he was before she went inside, eyes glazed over seemingly staring at nothing. After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his haze and swiftly got back in his car, driving off almost as soon as the lights turned on.

She didn’t know what it was about that picture, but it made her completely sure about what she was about to do.

Hey Harry, it’s Y/N. I’m free next Saturday night if you are.

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lobster-peach · 4 years

Text

The Girls Bathroom

•••

Part 1

Part 2 -

This is a short story I wrote for my 10th grade creative writing class and I thought I'd share:)

*trigger warnings*

Eating disorders

Mental disorders

Drug/alcohol use

Violence

Child predator/abuse mention

Implied suicide

Another night without sleep. It’s growing less uncommon now. I’ve taken so many things to help me sleep, you’d be surprised that something hasn’t worked by now.

My window is open. I’ve always liked it that way. It lets the night time air into my room, and it fills my lungs with the sweetest scent, that if it were bottled, I would keep it on me at all times. I’d be the girl people would ask what perfume I was wearing. I’d be the one they complimented. I’d be the one they talked to, in an admiring way.

The smell reminds me of my childhood home. It reminds me of the smell of a thick and damp forest. It reminds me of the silent happy times. I let the night breeze create ripples in my curtains.

And It’s peaceful.

It’s peaceful to watch a force of nature calmly move something as simple as a sheer white window curtain to the beat of its own rhythm. To make it move like it’s dancing in water.

I’m writing all my thoughts down again, like I do every time my mind won’t sleep. I’ve noticed that everything feels so surreal at these times. Everything is quiet, the moon is the only light source in sight, the wind making the only other movement besides myself, and the world is still. I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling, just stare and think about the world, and about life. Stress comes and goes at these times but it usually doesn’t stay that long.

I think about my family, about myself, about strangers. I wonder if strangers do this too? Do they wear themselves out in the adventure we call curiosity?

I keep asking questions until I finally fall asleep to the sun peaking over the mountains.

...

I haven’t been to school in weeks. I haven’t actually left my room in weeks either, if you’re not counting the trips to the bathroom. I feel like I've just been a whirlpool of emotions. One second I feel fine, and the next I feel like I’m in someone else’s body, wanting to scream. But today- today is the day I’m changing that.

I get up, take a shower, and apply the minimum amount of makeup I actually have.

No one is awake in the house, so I slip out without a sound.

If I’m honest, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go to school now, because the second I stepped through the glass doors, I was bombarded with shouts, shoves, and the smell of axe body spray. But right as I was about to turn around, get back into my car, and drive far, far away from this hell-hole, the vice principal noticed me. I saw the shock, and excitement light up in her eyes.

She made a b-line for me.

There was no escape.

...

After an hour or so of sitting and listening to her gush about how much the school had missed me, and that if I "Ever needed anything to come talk to her, or any of the school faculty", I was able to leave her office. If I knew that I would get this bombarded with unwanted attention, I would have never left my house in the first place.

I would just dwell in the thought that I would have to make a living becoming a fast food worker, or selling my body to Sin City herself.

But that would still be better than this.

...

The brick walls of the school seemed to piss me off even more than they used to now. They seemed to mock me, to make me feel like even more of a failure, with their posters of encouragement and activities. I headed into the girls bathroom to take a breather. Everything starting to kick in. I dashed into a stall and let my empty stomach empty itself even more. Nothing had actually happened to trigger any sort of panic, and I hated myself for it even more. I hated the fact that I couldn't be around people with no filters. I hated that I couldn't sit still in class. I hated that I couldn't just be normal. And now I'm just sitting on the floor trying not to think. But then I hear a knock, and a voice, gently, and quietly asking if I'm alright. My eyes widen. I don't know why I didn't think I would be the only one in a public highschool's girl's bathroom. Theres a part of me that hopes if I stay silent then whoever it was on the other side of the door would go away. But the voice comes back a second time. Still quiet, still gentle, but more urgent. Sounding like they were actually worried. Coming to the conclusion that I can't hide, I stand up and open the door to see one of the school's cheerleaders, Vanny. Her real name was Savannah, but everyone only ever called her Vanny. She looked as surprised as I was when she saw who was standing in front of her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. I just heard.. gagging, and I wanted to make sure that whoever it was, was alri-”

I quickly cut her off.

“It’s okay! Really!”

Wow, I sound flustered.

“I just needed to let some things…uh… out.”

She let out a small breathy laugh at that.

“Yeah, I can tell.” she said

I can just feel the temperature in my cheeks raise at record breaking speed. My internal panic growing with it.

“I- uh- sorry…”

God, I'm a mess.

She lets out another laugh at that, but this time something that looked somewhat like sympathy showed in her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. Really. I get it. It happens to me too.”

I gape at her a little.

But not so much that she would notice. Or at least I hope I so.

What on earth is happening.

But before I can even finish that thought, she's speaking again.

“I haven’t seen you around all year. I didn’t think about it that much till now. Do you wanna talk about it?”

She didn't wait for an answer and made her way into the handicap stall and sat against the wall. She just gestures for me to do the same. Part of me wonders if this was some kind of joke. If she had people outside the girls bathroom just waiting to torment me. But against my better judgement, I sit. I can't figure out how I am supposed to act, sit, or even breath. Is there even a right way to handle this?

She begins talking about her history with depression and anxiety. And normally when I hear someone say they have it, it’s not actually the “real deal” if you will. It’s just someone who thinks that it’s the end of the world when something unexpected and bad pops up in their life.

And I know it sounds terrible to judge a person like that, but it's just how things tend to be around here.

But she, she wasn’t like that.

She tells me everything. How she can’t sleep at night, so she goes on drives. And how she finds that puking her guts out, nasty and as toxic as it seems, feels a little like a release. She tells me about her “friends” and how much she wishes that she could talk to them about everything that’s going on. She just tells me everything. Every feeling she gets. Every reason a tear sometimes slips from her brown eyes.

Everything.

I didn’t know that a person could feel the same way I did. I didn’t know that I could understand a stranger more than myself in just 30 minutes.

These talks become a regular thing for us. After our second period classes, while the rest of the school left for lunch, we would go into the girls bathroom on the second floor. Into the handicap stall on the far right. And we would talk about everything.

Vanny was kind. She held the door for me when we were together, she spoke to me like a real person rather than a joke, and she felt like home. There were days however, where she didn’t talk to me. She would send me apologetic glances from across the room so I tried not to think too much about it. I understood. She had a reputation to uphold. And I wasn’t apart of that. If I was, everyone would think of it as a joke. That she was just getting close to me to make fun of me. That was the part I worried about.

I just wanted to mean something more to her than that.

I just wanted a friend.

Everyday that I spent with Vanny lead me into a deeper spiral of what I would call bliss. It was almost like, any trouble I had, any insecurity I had, she could instantly wash away with one look.

...

I was stopped at an intersection driving home from school, when I noticed the people in the car in beside me were fighting. I didn’t want to invade their privacy, but then I noticed who was sat in the passenger seat. Vanny. The guy, was much older. Dark grey hair, and stubble across his chin. He had his hand on her thigh. I couldn’t see what his expression was clearly, but I had a pretty solid guess. Vanny looked very uncomfortable, she slapped his hand away and said something with her brows furrowed. The guy just laughed and put his hand back. She tried to push it away again but the guy wouldn’t budge.

I decided to try calling her to make sure she was alright but the phone went straight to voicemail. I started to panic. I didn’t know what to do. I started to roll down the window and shout but the light finally changed to green and the car sped off. I wanted to change lanes and potentially follow them, but I couldn’t with all of the traffic of eager teeangers wanting to go home after a long day. I tried to try calling a few more times, but failed to get any sort of answer.

My phone was hot from being pressed to my cheek for so long. I got home and the house was empty once again. This time though, my heart sank. I didn’t know who to ask about what I should do.

Me, in my panicked state decided to call the police.

I started blurting out everything that happened but it didn’t help. Without the guys name, plate number, or address, there was nothing they could do besides go to Vanny’s house and see if she was there and OK.

I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing with all of the possible things that could be happening right then to my Vanny.

No.

Not my Vanny.

Just Vanny.

I got a call from the police station just hours later. They told me she was safe at home and that I had no reason to worry.

Everything was fine.

...

I still however rushed to school the next morning, calling and texting her trying to get some sort of insight to if she was really alright. I kept tapping my foot all through my first two periods. My mind couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the thought of Vanny.

She needed to be okay.

What felt like years of waiting for that wretched bell to signal my release from this prison of unmatched bricks and books, it rang.

I all but ran to the second floor bathroom. And let me tell you, I have never been so happy to hear someone crying. I knocked on the door precisely six times to let her know it was me. I heard her shuffle and stand up. When the door unlocked I rushed in to hug her.

Her face was tear stained, but her eyes were empty.

We sat down and I held her.

Everything just felt... wrong.

I didn't know how to ask her what happened.

I didn't know if I even should.

She felt so fragile in my arms, that I was scared I would break her by saying anything else.

We sat in the bathroom in silence for the rest of the day.

I just let her cry.

At the end of the day I offered to take her home but she fervently said no.

I took her to my house instead, only so I could make sure she was safe.

...

The car ride home was quiet. I was waiting for the right time to ask her about what had happened but I still just didn't know how.

She had stopped crying hours ago but she kept the same empty look in her eyes.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, just staring at the passing houses.

Her brown hair falling over her shoulders like silk.

I finally spoke up.

"Savannah, what happened?"

She jumped at the sudden sound of my voice.

I couldn't tell if she was going to answer or start crying again.

She was so unreadable.

But her dry lips parted, and her voice rasped out.

"My..."

She breathed out, sounding so wounded.

I had pulled the car into an empty grocery store parking lot and faced her.

"My stepfather... tried t-to...."

She couldn't finish. Her eyes welled up again with tear and she broke.

Her face buried in her hands.

I didn't know what to say.

So many thoughts were racing through my head.

I couldn't speak.

I just stared at her completely horrified.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

She lifted her face and looked me in the eyes.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Vanny we have to call the cops we-"

"No!" She yelled, I had never heard her yell.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone. Not your family, not any teachers, not the police."

She was urgently begging me.

"Vanny I can't just let this be. This is serious. He needs to be put in prison for this-"

"Please." She said once more.

"Please."

I looked at her.

Red, wide, eyes staring deep into my soul.

"I-I can't..."

...

I called the police once we got to my house explaining everything.

They got a warrant to search Vanny's stepdad's things and found digital folders of child pornography. They didn't have enough to charge him with the assault, but the files were enough to put him away.

When it happened, Vanny didn't speak to me for weeks.

She was convinced I had betrayed her.

But she eventually came back.

#wlw advice #wlw aesthetic #wlw blog #wlw mood #wlw post

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orangeccreamsicles · 5 years

Text

Dirk: ==> update your BBF(best bro friend)

TT: It's so incredibly inconvenient that you're deleting. How am I supposed to tag you in horrible fashion choices and pro-arson-anti-establishment moodboards slash aesthetics? Actually send them to you, like some sort of mad man? How am I supposed to send you horrible anonymous messages meant to do nothing but make you question who the fuck has enough time on their hands to think of that shit? TT: And this? Body horror cw, but how can I possibly be sure you'll see this and understand it's for you? There's literally no possible way to be sure it'll reach you in any other form, even though I'm sending it to you directly right now. [TT] is sending the image(s) https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/526894347430527000/575448556949995543/SPOILER_tumblr_p4nd82yl6e1t5zyeuo1_1280.png ! TT: Actually, it's mostly just poor fashion choices and cat gifs that end up in your tag, but there's a good few aesthetic pieces sprinkled in for flavour. There's a neon "Cherry Bomb" sign in this funky ass font that's recent, if nothing else. An elaborate :ok_hand: prank, too.

CA: Sorry, bud. You knowv howv it is. CA:Actually, you don’t, because you’re still there. Tumblr sucks so much chute. Can’t stand it anymore. Plus, I’vwe been so busy vwith my actual life. CA: But you can alvways just spam random shit at me on here. Just like that! CA: That’s perfect. TT: Yeah, well, you know me. No life, and loving to suffer. That's the Strider aesthetic and brand. We're all about putting up with things for the sheer sake of it(slash spite) and literally nothing else. Surely you must have picked up on that just a little. CA: Hmm, maybe a little. CA: Howv you been? Sorry I havwen’t been around. [TT] is sending the link(s) https://orangeccreamsicles.tumblr.com/post/182819433708 https://orangeccreamsicles.tumblr.com/post/183585507085/daggers-drawn-audacityinblack ! TT: These two are also very important. What's your Tshirt size? TT: Not super fantastic, but you know. The world keeps turning, nobody's died yet. It's cool man, you've got irons in the fire, balls in the air, etc etc etc. CA: Uh, small. CA: Not super fantastic? You vwannaaaaaa. CA: Talk about that? TT: Hahah, twink. CA: Shut up. TT: Ehhhhhhhh. It's all boring interpersonal shit that I'm not sure is even resolved yet or not. I got magicked into a mermaid for a couple days a while ago, so that's something. TT: I'm not really. On speaking terms with Bo anymore, that's another one. CA: Oh. CA: Damn. I’m sorry, man. CA: VWhat happened?? TT: Did I ever mention that he and Sock are rails now? CA: VWhaaaaat. CA: You mentioned Sock has a moirail but I didn’t think it vwas him. CA: That’s. CA: VWeird. CA: I don’t see it. TT: I didn't either, LMAO! TT: But it happened, guess I wasn't really paying attention. Seemed like Bo'd been more distant for a bit but I thought that was my fault for not asking how he was doing or initiating shit more often. TT: Anyway. Turns out I'm a jealous piece of shit. I lashed out at Sock, said a lot of shit I very much regret, and now. TT: I'm pretty much positive Bo wants me dead. As in like, he's mentioned killing me. Which is a cool thing. Sock says he doesn't hate me flat out but the trust is gone. I have done an absolutely piss poor job of rekindling any kind of friendship there. CA: Tch. That guy. CA: Not gonna get into it. CA: I’m not gonna talk shit. Gonna be mature about this. TT: Hah. CA: I’m just really sorry. I knowv you liked him a lot. CA: Howv you liked him, I don’t knowv. But. TT: I liked him so much. TT: He was so straight up about shit. That's a problem I have for sure, everything's gotta be behind seventeen layers of irony, but he just said whatever without thinking. It got him in trouble a fair amount, maybe he tripped over his words, but he said it. And he was trying so hard to be good; to help his kids and his crew and himself, to recover from [redacted]. And he was nice. Not to everyone, I know, but TT: Hm. We are now over the line of things I can just let air out on their own. That particular train of thought is being halted at the station, please reschedule all flights. TT: It's cancellations and delays all across the board. CA: Mmhm. CA: No going back on it, huh. CA: Yeahh. It happens. CA: I knowv. It really sucks. CA: It sucks.. losing someone you really cared about. Like fucking up so bad you can nevwer evwer recovwer vwhat you had. CA: You knowv I knowv vwhat that’s like. TT: Ughhhhhhh. CA: I’m not good at making people feel better. CA: I’m a realist and I’m telling you like it is. TT: That's probably for the best. At least in this case. TT: He knows so much shit about me. I know a whole load about him. What do I do with it now? I can't just toss all that information aside. Does it mean anything? TT: I don't know how to word what I'm feeling. TT: I willingly gave him information about myself, which is something very few people including yourself get access to, and now that we're nothing, what is he going to do with it? I hate it when people know things about me but I let him and the reasoning is gone but he still knows. It's like he's got this chunk of me with him and vise versa that we can't give back and I don't know what the fuck to do with it now! Especially because I still like him, and I can see when he gets bad, but I can't do shit about it, even if he wanted me to. TT: And he sure as fuck doesn't want me to, because he wants me dead! TT: God, this is fucking gay. CA: I dunno vwhat to tell you. I really don’t. CA: The best you can hope for is. Uh.. CA: Somethingbadhappenstohimcausinghimtoforget. TT: Har har. CA: I vwish I vwas kidding. TT: I don't want anything bad to happen to him. TT: I want only good things to go his way and for him to be unbelievably, unabashedly happy because I'm fucking stupid and gay. TT: (Imagine me hitting my head on a desk and doing the verbal equivalent of a keysmash here.) CA: I’m imagining it. CA: I’m sorry, man.

#ooc #cherry8om8 #2cumlord m #wwickedspirits m #internalized homophobia #body horror #dudes being bros #guys being dudes #bros being gays #death m #feelings jams #ask to tag #hoping this works first try...

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