It had been thirty-four hours since you’d yelled at Jungkook and he had left your office. It had been thirty-four hours since you’d collected yourself after shattering your phone set into pieces and ran out of your office looking for him. Jaebum told you with a dejected frown that Jungkook had left. Where to? His guess was just as good as yours, if not worse.
You ran out to your car, the chill of the night air biting against your bare arms and cheeks, but you’d be lying if you said you felt it. You went at a crawl through the streets, stomping down on the brakes and squinting to make out the face of each and every pedestrian you past who resembled Jungkook in any way. You had even called out to a few of them, earning you nothing more than odd stares or blatant ignorance. You didn’t believe he could have gotten very far, but after two hours of driving, there was no sign of him.
The hospital’s visiting hours were long over, which cut that out as an option. And it took a persuasive conversation and a few slow swipes of your tongue across your painted lips to convince the security guard of Jungkook’s apartment building to tell you that no one had come in or out since six that night. He’d left your building much later than that.
You returned to the building, your jaw aching from hours of clenching your teeth and your eyes downcast, staring at nothing in particular. Jaebum greeted you, and before he could get the chance to ask you what had happened, you held your hand up to him. You were tired of questions, you were tired of explaining things. But, mostly, you just didn’t want to relive the truth of the matter–this was entirely your fault.
“Around two years after I had joined Manfred Mann and we had just released Ha Ha Said The Clown, [c.1968] two music papers, Disc and Music Echo were both running a competition called ‘Win a Mike D'Abo Siamese kitten’ because I simply love cats. It was a good bit of publicity for the record, for me and also for Disc and Music Echo. I don’t know how he got hold of my number but George Harrison called me and said “Hello Mike, it’s George here. Have you got any kittens left?”. I told him that I had and he said that he wanted to buy one for Pattie’s birthday and asked if he could over and buy one from me.
“He came over and climbed up the four flights of stairs to my flat in Knightsbridge and there he was, George Harrison was standing at my door wanting to buy a kitten. I invited him in and showed him all of the kittens and he chose the one that had climbed right to the top of the curtains saying “that one looks like an individual; I think I’ll have him”. George insisted on writing me a cheque for £10 and of course I kept that cheque for ever and ever in my wallet to show off with (laughter). However, one day when I was low on funds and really needed to use that £10 I cashed George’s cheque only to get a letter back from the bank a month later to say that the account was closed and they never returned my lovely George Harrison cheque. So I never saw it again.”
[Mike D’Abo, Nottingham Post, 2nd March 2017]
I thought that the Siamese cats, Jossstick and Rupert had come as a pair, but apparently not. I wonder if George got two or if one of them came later…?
Here are some ideas of things you can do to make you feel like you have achieved something. This can be helpful to do once a week, once a day or just on a bad day… I personally to one or two things everyday. To keep myself striving forwards…. See what takes your fancy!!
1. Spend uninterrupted time with family or children
2. Go shopping for items you NEED (Toiletries, groceries etc.) stick to a list and a budget
3. Go to the bank, balance your account…Pay off some money…Cash that cheque etc.
4. Go to work or do some work from home
5. Finish a task you have been delaying
6. Ask for help with a task you are finding hard
7. Challenge yourself by completing a new task without help
8. Help your child with their homework (little sister or brother….)
9. Wash the dishes or load the dishwasher
10. Wash your clothes and sheets or take them to the launderette
11. Hang up your clothes
12. Fix something that needs repairs or a new button or battery
13. Clean your room or bathroom
14. Take a shower or have a bath (wash your hair, exfoliate, face mask etc.)
15. Organise a shelf, drawer etc.
16. Prepare a healthy meal for yourself (and others)
17. Write a letter or email to someone you have been thinking about, miss or who you have been avoiding. (An older relative might love a letter!)
18. Take care of the way you look (Bleach your roots, dye your hair, paint your nails, cut your toenails, straighten your hair) This can boost confidence too.
19. Do something creative…. Cut up last years calendar and make a collage for your room. Achievement and art!!
20. Take your car for a service
21. Plant some seeds, or do some weeding
22. Redecorate your room, or move furniture around to make it more spacious
23. Take care of your physical health; make an appointment for a health check with your GP or just take the steps for that needed visit you have been putting off
24. Get involved in your local community; offer to walk the dog for a neighbour, volunteer, ask your sister if she needs a babysitter…
25. Return a phone call you have been avoiding
26. Resolve a situation or conflict that has been bothering you in life
27. Take your pet to the vet; or just give them a good brush or long walk.
28. Do some exercise; go for a walk (or run), have a good stretch, do an exercise DVD etc.
Francis Bacon :: Enlarged contact sheet of two men wrestling, New York, from the studio of Francis Bacon, circa 1975.
From: ‘The Image as Question: An Exhibition of Evidential Photography’ at Michael Hoppen Gallery / src: theGuardian
“An enlarged contact sheet of two men wrestling in swimming trunks and caps, originally taken by Francis Bacon in New York in 1975, nestled for years in a bin bag in the attic of a Mr Robertson
from Surrey, who turned out to be the artist’s electrician. (Other bin
bags given to him for safekeeping included personal diaries, cashed
cheques, letters and holidays snaps.) The photographs highlighted in red
were used by Bacon as models for painting particular body parts in
motion. They echo another exhibit, a 17-frame series of a nude man
walking by Etienne Jules-Marey, whose motion studies preceded those of
the better-known Eadweard Muybridge.” (quoted from source)
Sweet Jessica Christ, my disdain for Theresa May truly knows no bounds.
So the short version here: After spending the entire campaign pushing the lines that Jeremy Corbyn’s policy proposals are unaffordable (the phrase ‘magic money tree’ was mentioned just enough times to make me want to take an axe to whoever says it) and that he’d lead a ‘coalition of chaos’ if elected, here is where we currently stand in terms of our government post-election:
Theresa May lost her party’s majority and is clinging onto power with a weakened minority by signing a confidence and supply agreement with the bigoted regressive fucks known as the DUP. And to secure this, she made a deal with them for £1 billion.
That’s not a typo.
Theresa May, Mrs. Strong and Stable, is propping up her minority government with a backwater party from Northern Ireland and having the taxpayers pay £1 billion for the privilege of this ‘government’ existing.
Labour’s policies to benefit actual people are unaffordable claptrap but £1 billion to prop up a Tory minority government? No problem mate, cash or cheque?
I fucking hate these arseholes with the fiery intensity of a thousand suns.
transferred to your high school, all of the other girls – be it freshman or
senior, cheerleader or band geek – were drawn in to his green eyes and freckles
and that ‘devil-may-care’ attitude.
You, on the
other hand, found it boring.
it before dozens of times, be it in movies or on TV shows, and you couldn’t
bring yourself to give a damn. He was the hot new bad-boy who would swoop into
town and fuck everything with a pulse in a skirt, break apart friendships and
You weren’t interested in that. You wanted to get your diploma and leave. High
school was for passing tests so you could cash cheques, and some wannabe
gangster wasn’t going to change that in your last year.
Alright, so I have Ideas™ about a convoluted Moulin Rouge Laurent/Crime Lord Damen AU, so bear with me, bc I’m probably never going to write this.
Um, TW: Violence, prostitution, the Regent being gross via implied CSA (but I’ll try to go into minimal detail for that), anything else let me know oh but Laurent!Satine doesn’t die so there’s that at least. Also a warning bc this was written in the early hours and has not been proofread at all.
Okay, so I’m real into Dual plots, so we’ll start with Damen, who is in this crime empire of some sort, I don’t know a lot about organised crime but the Akielos family is a Big Deal. So they make most of their money from the usual stuff: ‘protection’, drugs, etc. but they also have a name in prostitution, but the high-class kind. Their escorts are perfectly trained and come in all shapes and sizes etc, and in return for giving their lives and bodies (and most of their earnings) to the Akielos Family, they get to choose their own customers. So it’s shady, but like, not as bad as it could be. youtried.jpg
Except, our boy Kastor isn’t happy with being swept to the side and Damen being the inheritor so he’s been trying to get a following of his own (and Jokaste is helping him, but more bc she’s one of the escorts and she knows beauty runs out eventually and she’s got to move up in the world or get thrown away eventually. And Damen won’t marry her, so yeah, Kastor). And then surprise! Theomedes dies suddenly and totally mysteriously like wow, he was so healthy, how did that happen? (Murder!!).
And Kastor is all: Suprise, bitch! This is a coup @ Damen, but he manages to escape with his life bc Jokaste has feelings of remorse and gives the poor guy a hand. So then it’s like the Crime Family equivalent of a civil war, Kastor’s got half the territory loyal to him, Damen has the other half, shit is going down.
Anyway, so at this point, it’s basically just mayhem: Damen’s trying to reason w Kastor and keep things together, and Nikandros is like, “We need to expand our territory,” so they can beat Kastor and regain control.
This leads Damen one night to Vere, the notorious burlesque club that happens to one of the places Damen wants to take over.
(Now time for a readmore, bc this is just the prologue, baby, it’s time for Laurent’s story)
I was always out playing. With Lizzie, mostly. Up and down Mare street, nicking whelks off the one-eyed man with the seafood stall. And she’d distract him by asking for a pint of prawns and a blank stare and I’d blindside him and pocket a fistful of cockles. Oh, I adored Lizzie! And she adored me. Every night, when we dragged ourselves away from each other, I’d say, “Cash or cheque?” And she’d say, “Cash.” And I’d get a kiss on the cheek. Our favourite game was wedding day. She was always the bride, of course, and I would be the groom. I’d get my dad’s best coat. Grey tweed, leather buttons, smell of sweat, coal. Bits of dried-up tobacco in the breast pocket. I’d have to wait for her at the end of the aisle, the back alley where our mothers would hang the washing. And I’d watch her, holding my breath, as she picked her way through the grey sheets and stained drawers, a huge, stupid smile on her face. And when she reached me and put her arm through mine… I fair exploded. I loved her. I knew that. I longed to take her in my arms and kiss her neck. Would she allow it? Could she? I just didn’t know. Then bloody William Foyle turned up. All big muscles, crooked smile and twinkly-eyed. And she fell for him straightaway. He bought her a tuppence bag of aniseed balls and she was lost. I was heartbroken. She still said “cash” when we did manage to see each other, but… I could see her heart wasn’t in it. She looked sad. But not for her, for me. “Don’t be like that, Ellen,” she’d say. Touching my arm. Once, she took me in. She took pity on me. And we sat by the fire. I had my arms wrapped around her waist. And… I just let my hand drop lower and lower until it was resting in her glorious lap. I moved my hand slowly, slowly. She froze… then relaxed. I waited. Minutes groaned by. She let me. She… let me. And then, all of a sudden, she jumped up, grabbed her shawl and ran out the back door. I called after her, but she didn’t turn back. It was exactly two weeks later than I ran into her buying a loaf of bread. “Lizzie,” I said, “I’m sorry. Please, please speak to me.” “Don’t,” she said. She sort of hissed it. I searched her face for a sign of softness, but there was none. There was only fear. Only fear. She turned on her heel and marched off.
At the age of 20, Christopher Knight parked his car on a remote trail in Maine and walked away with only the most basic supplies. He had no plan. His chief motivation was to avoid contact with people. This is his story
Christopher Knight was only 20 years old when he walked away from society, not to be seen again for more than a quarter of a century. He had been working for less than a year installing home and vehicle alarm systems near Boston, Massachusetts, when abruptly, without giving notice to his boss, he quit his job. He never even returned his tools. He cashed his final pay cheque and left town.
Knight did not tell anyone where he was going. “I had no one to tell,” he says. “I didn’t have any friends. I had no interest in my co-workers.” He drove down the east coast of America, eating fast food and staying in cheap motels – “the cheapest I could find”. He travelled for days, alone, until he found himself deep into Florida, sticking mostly to major roads, watching the world go by.
Eventually, he turned around and headed north. He listened to the radio. Ronald Reagan was president; the Chernobyl nuclear disaster had just occurred. Driving through Georgia and the Carolinas and Virginia, blessed with invincibility of youth, buzzed by “the pleasure of driving”, he sensed an idea growing into a realisation, then solidifying into resolve.
This is for the awesome and talented belated birthday girl @howeverlongs for her love and that gorgeous cover, I hope you like this mini drabble in the meantime.
New Orleans (present day - 6 months after the TVD finale)
Klaus thought he was going mad. His eyes flickered opened, slowing trying to gain his bearings as his nose picked up a very familiar scent. It wasn’t just any scent either, it was hers. It was Caroline. It wasn’t the first time though and Klaus knew it wouldn’t be the last given his frequent visions.
“So, is this how you treat all your guests? Or am I just lucky, Mikaelson?” She asked, appearing in the doorway hands on hips. She looked gorgeous as usual, her golden waves falling over her shoulders and those expressive blue eyes staring him down. What he couldn’t quite work out was whether she was real or a figment of his imagination, yet again.
New Orleans - Three months post TVD finale
Klaus remembered that day well. It was a Friday and he’d stumbled out of his studio around 10am after a long night painting. The morning sunlight was spilling in through the large bay window as Klaus walked into his expansive kitchen. He flipped on the kettle switch, hoping that some tea would aid some much needed sleep.
It was the third night that week he’d painted through the night, too restless to sleep. Klaus knew why of course, not that he’d admit it aloud. It had been three months since he sent the cheque. Klaus hadn’t really expected a response but it didn’t mean that he didn’t want one. His thoughts had been filled with her and her reaction. She hadn’t cashed the cheque, that was all he did know. But Klaus needed to know more.
“That scruffy, homeless look is really becoming on you, Niklaus,” Rebekah drawled, breaking Klaus from his thoughts. He didn’t respond just emmited a low growl of frustration. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Can’t a girl want to spend time with her brother?”
“No,” he shot back.
“I think its time you get some sleep, grouchy, unbearable insomniac isn’t your best look.”
“No, its time he got laid,” his younger brother interrupted, swiping an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. Klaus rolled his eyes, all he wanted was to have a nice cup of tea and here he was stuck with the bloody peanut gallery. “All of that brooding over blondie isn’t going to relieve the stress.”
“I am not brooding,” Klaus scowled, not even bothering to deny that she was on his mind. “And not that it’s any of your business but I happen to relieve plenty of stress in the studio.”
“Only because all you do is paint Ms Forbes,” Elijah added, opening the fridge door and inspecting its contents.
“Could I maybe get at least two seconds of peace?”
“Not until you open the letter that arrived for you from blondie which Rebekah has in her greedy, little hands,” Kol scowled. Klaus suddenly felt buoyed, he’d been desperate to hear from her for what seemed like forever. He immediately narrowed his eyes in his sister’s direction.
“You took my letter?”
“I was about to bring it to you,” she replied, defensively.
“Only because I insisted she did,” Elijah murmured.
“Did you read this?” He insisted, snatching it from her grasp unexpectedly.
“Unfortunately not,” Kol muttered. “Elijah went all overbearing big brother on that possibility too.”
“Maybe we should leave Niklaus in peace to read his letter,” the eldest suggested, attempting to steer his younger siblings from the room.
“But we’re just getting to the good part,” Kol whined.
“How about I leave instead,” Klaus growled, leaving quickly his cup of tea long forgotten. He wasn’t sure what to expect but all Klaus cared about was that she’d responded. After shutting his bedroom door, he undid the flap equal parts nervous and excited.
The first thing he noticed was his cheque as it fell from the envelope, and floated onto the floor beneath him. Klaus should have known the obstinate blonde wouldn’t take his gift so easily. He sat down on the nearest chair and finished unfolding the white stationery, her neat cursive coming into view.
“Klaus, while I appreciate your kind gesture I cannot accept your rather enormous and quite frankly over the top gift. Might I suggest flowers or chocolate for the next girl you want to impress?” She’d signed it quite formally at the bottom and Klaus let out a small chuckle. In two sentences she’d captured everything he loved about her. That unapologetic pride, that snappy wit and her apparent need to impart advice.
Klaus wasn’t going to let this go and walked towards his desk, scooping up his cheque as he went. It would be a crime not to respond given how much her words spoke to him. He produced a piece of paper and began writing.
Join Ally Cat and his friends on their journey to find out the importance of saying salaam!
A printed version of my hand written and illustrated book is now available.
This will make a great gift for the little ones for Eid!
For orders, please message me or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Books are $10 and all proceeds will go towards supporting The Zahra Trust. Orders can be made by cash, cheque, chase quickpay or paypal!
Shipping is available and personal delivery if you are in the Chicago or Dallas area. Thank you!!!!
I saw that you did a list of vocabulary for working in fast-food. Could you do a list for retail workers/cashiers? Grocery/Clothing/department stores? We also have a Russian speaking community here in Anchorage Alaska. Thank you!
Sure, but please note, Russian customer service is (how could I put that mildly?) not so much customer-oriented. People from the Russian communities in the US expect from the Western customer service way more than from the Russian one, so the phrases below are not exactly what you would hear in Russia.
- Доброе утро/ добрый день/ добрый вечер! - Good morning!/ day/ evening! - Вам помочь? - Could I help you? - Чем я могу Вам помочь? - How could I help you? - Вас интересует что-то конкретное? - Are you looking for something specific? - Какой размер? - What size? - На размер больше/ меньше? - One size bigger/smaller? - Эта вещь сегодня на распродаже - This is on sale today. - Отличная цена! - Great price! (Good deal) - Сегодня у нас распродажа на … We have …. on sale today. - Это в пятом ряду, внизу - It is on the fifth isle, on the bottom. - Молочные продукты - справа, в самом конце. Dairies are on the right, to the very end. - Сколько штук? (how many pieces?) - Сколько взешивать? (How much - regarding the weight - a pound, two pounds etc) - Что-нибудь ещё? - Anything else?
- Мы принимаем оплату - we accept …
– чеками - cheques – наличными - cash – кредитными картами - credit cards - Это в подарок? - Is that for a gift? - Вот ваш чек - Here’s your receit.
I had to cash a cheque with my birth name and title on (from someone I haven’t seen in a while) and my account has my new name and title on. The cashier went to check it for me, then called me “Mr. [My surname]”
I grinned and told them that I’d never been called Mr before. They immediately and calmly responded “well, that’s who you are, isn’t it?” as if it was completely obvious, then a lot of courage to be who I really am.
I was really nervous when I first went to change my name at the bank, but every time I’ve gone since then I’ve looked forward to it because they’re so helpful and make everything really easy :)
“If they lay a finger on you, I swear I’ll kill them.” Pretty please with sugar on top
Prompt: “If they lay a finger on you, I swear I’ll kill them.”
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Luke Alvez x Reader
Thanks for the request, quite a few people asked about this one so I hope you all enjoy reading it! Let me know if anyone has any other angles they’d like this prompt to be approached from. It’s quite a fun one to write for - I’m a sucker for protective!Luke.
Your heart rapidly thudded in your chest as the cries of the frightened and injured echoed across the room.
“Shut up!” One of the assailants roared as he unleashed a series of bullets into the ceiling. Dust covered the floor as people cowered in fear.
This was not meant to be happening. You’d just went into the bank to cash in a cheque before work. Now, you were caught up in a armed bank robbery.
You cursed your misfortune, realising that you didn’t even have your weapon on you. You didn’t carry your gun unless it was an on-duty requirement.
You wondered if the rest of the BAU team were aware of the event. It must have made the news by now. Just the thought of your teammates reassured you that you could escape this situation.
Your mind wandered to your boyfriend Luke Alvez. You’d sent him a text this morning informing him that you were stopping by the bank on your way into work, he knew where you were. He’d know what to do.
The robbers had lined everyone up, forcing them to kneel down on the hard floor with their hands on their heads.
You risked a glance towards the assailants, attempting to gain knowledge about their behavioural characteristics. It could all be vital for both your own survival and that of the many hostages around you.
A loud moan beside you broke your concentration. A man had sustained a severe gunshot injury to his leg. Unhesitatingly, you rushed to his aid.
“What’s your name?” You murmured quietly, swiftly assessing his wound. You had to keep him conscious.
“T-Th-Thomas.” His pained rasping breath concerned you greatly. You had to stop the bleeding if he was going to have a chance at survival.
“Hi Thomas, I’m Y/N and I’m going to help you. But to do that, I need you stay awake for me please. Can you do that?” Your voice was calm and steady as you held his gaze. He nodded fervently, his chest heaving with the strain of breathing.
You smiled at him softly, before quickly grabbing your jacket to stem the blood loss. “That’s great Thomas. Now, just keep focusing on me.”
You reached for your bag, hoping to search through it to find something you could secure the jacket in place with. But, you were rudely interrupted by someone grabbing you hair and sharply yanking you backwards. Your bag fell from your grasp, its contents noisily clattering to the floor.
“I said for everyone to shut up. Now, shut up.” A menacing voice growled down your ear. You could feel the pressure of the gun at the back of your head.
You fell forwards, your arm painfully colliding with the cold marble floor. You bit your lip to trap your hiss of pain.
“Well, well…what do we have here?”
The dangerous intrigue in his accomplice’s voice instantly made your blood run cold. All of a sudden, black boots stood in front of your face. You took a deep breath, trying to control your racing heart.
“What are you doing with an FBI badge? Are you a fed?” He snarled, glowering at you sinisterly.
You gasped as you felt yourself being roughly dragged upwards by your neck.
“Are you armed?” He bellowed down your ear. You shook your head vigorously. “No. I was just trying to help-”
The loud explosion from his gun made you jump as he fired more shots into the ceiling.
“You’d best not be lying to us.” He threatened, digging his nails into your throat. You croaked in pain, your vision starting to blur.
“Are there other Feds in here? Do they know where you are?”
Before you could respond, a shrill noise was omitted by the telephone.
“You should answer that. They’ll want to negotiate.” You advised, closing your eyes as the gun was pressed tighter into your side.
“And, thanks to you, we have a very valuable negotiating tool.” His sinister whisper made you cringe as he ran a hand across your collarbone.
“Listen to me, we want a clear exit from this place and no cops stopping us from escaping with the cash.” His accomplice demanded, brandishing his gun at the hostages. “If you don’t guarantee that we’ll kill these people.”
You silently prayed, hoping that this situation would end soon.
A loud cackle echoed around the room from the aggressor. “I don’t think so. We have one of yours in here and she’ll be the first to go. So how about it, do you want us to execute your fed?”
Your breath hitched as you realised it must be the FBI on the phone to the robbers. Something in your heart told you that it was the BAU, probably Rossi given his experience in negotiation techniques. You wished you could hear your teammates reassuring voices.
“Proof of life? Fine, I’ll put her on. But, you’ve only got a minute.”
You were shocked as he strode over to you, thrusting the phone to your ear.
It was Luke. You took a deep breath of relief. It felt so good to hear his voice.
“It’s me. I’m fine.” You said willing your voice to remain strong and composed, you could not show any weakness to these assailants.
You heard Luke sigh heavily as if he was trying to control his emotions. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.
“We’re coming for you. I promise that we’re going to get you out, okay?”
“Okay.” You replied firmly. You always believed Luke. He’d never broken his promises before and he wasn’t going to start now.
“Y/N…” His tone suddenly changed, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice as he continued to speak. “If they lay a finger on you, I swear I’ll kill them.”
Little Miss Perfect,
Never been hurt yet,
Reached the age of 21,
Never had any fun,
Her daddy says it hurts less,
Just stay in school try her best,
But inside she’s yearning,
For things that would hurt him.
I know you wanna do your best for me,
But don’t go to school just cash this cheque honey,
Scrap all your plans made for the best trust me,
Let’s give them up and then let’s stay in bed til three.
If it was all down to you,
What would you chose?
Would you be singing a sweet song,
Or living the blues?
I don’t wanna fight,
Can you assure me your alright?
I wanna see through to your truth,
Beyond what I’m dreaming.
Would you let us burden your youth,
With our vein endless scheming?