grocery receipts

101 Pen Pal Challenge

101 things to send you pen pal

1. Origami

2. Photo’s of you pets (or garden)

3. A Souvenir from your town/city (Post card, etc.)

4. Homemade bookmark

5. Collage of your favorite things

6. A recipe

7. A photo of the food you made with your friends recipe

8. Homemade pinwheel

9. A small gift from a cheap variety store or op-shop

10. A local tourist pamphlet

11. A poem

12. A button, a piece of ribbon, and some colored paper

13: Homemade card (using the above items from your friends)

14: Photo’s of your local area

15: A challenge or dare

16: Proof or results of challenge or dare

17. A blank coloring in page

18: Your finished coloring in page that your friend sent you

19: A playlist (saved on a disc, usb, tape, etc.)

20: A list of things you like about the other person

21: A “get well soon” kit for the times your friend gets sick

22: A piece of clothing or jewellery

23: A voice recording (saved on disc, usb, etc.)

24: A keyring

25: Your favorite quotes

26: Stickers

27: A newspaper cutting

28: A homemade friendship bracelet

29: A paper chatterbox

30: A list with a book, a movie, and a tv series for your friend to try

31: A paint hand print

32: A perfume sample

32: A selfie

33: A DIY craft pack

34: A questionnaire

35: Questionnaire results

36: A picture or art print of something you friend likes

37: A temporary tattoo

38: A photo of you with the temporary tattoo your friend sent

39: Some facts and pictures of your favorite animal

40: A coin or token (or coin rubbing)

41:  List of 3 foods you want your friend to try

42: Critique of the food you tried

43: A paper plane

44: An “open when you feel down” pack for your friend

45: Something weird you found (or bought)

46: A homemade crossword puzzle

47: Your bucket list

48: An acrostic name poem using your friend’s name

49: A souvenir from your country (Postcard, etc.)

50: A prank

51: A grocery shopping receipt

52: A small poster

53: A knitting or sewing pattern

54: Something you knitted/sewed

55: A playing card or game token

56: A comic

57: A piece of candy (or candy wrapping if unable to send food)

58: A fictional story

59: 21 Questions for you friend to answer

60: The answers to your friends 21 questions

61: A coded message or cipher

62: A photo of the sunset or sunrise you took

63: Homemade koinobori

64: Your local tv guide

66: A homemade finger puppet

67: A bunch of jokes and riddles

67: Something miniature

68: A flier for a local festival or event

69: A short home video (Saved on disk, usb, etc)

70: A picture of your oc or favorite character (drawn yourself or printed out)

71: Something yellow

72: A small flag from your state/country

73: A holiday item or cultural item (decoration, symbol, etc.)

74: An invitation to an online event (movie stream, online chat, etc)

75: A leaf rubbing

76: 5 photos of your favorite local places, animals or things

77: A novelty pen, pencil or eraser

78: 3 items or pictures that remind you of your friend

79: A cookie cutter

80: A photo of cookies you made using the cookie cutter your friend sent

81: A list of 10 things you love most, and 10 things you hate most

82: A good luck charm

83: A local story, myth or legend

84: A list of words in your local language, or a list of local slang words

85: A used move ticket or transport ticket

86: Either your countries national anthem, a local song, or a cultural song

87: Junk mail (brochure, advertisement, grocery pamphlet)

88: A list (with photos) of animals you often find in your home (insects, etc)

89: A collector’s card

90: A selfie of just after you woke up in the morning

91: A wish, promise, or prayer for your friend

92: Lyrics of a song you wrote, or of a song you like

93: A secret message written on the inside of your envelope

94: A small homemade kite

95: A recipe for a natural remedy

96: An article from a local magazine

97: A card signed by all your local family and friends greeting your friend

98: A photo of someone special (family, pets, friends)

99: A fitness challenge

100: A recording of outside sounds (Save on disc, usb, etc.)

101: A thankyou



November 14th.
In the coffee shop,
the man in the
Make America Great Again hat
smiles at me, so I take this
as an invitation.

“Pardon me, but I have to ask—
do you think Trump’s
ideologies keep every person
in this country safe?“

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Ma’am, I can’t get wrapped up
in identity politics, all I can
worry about is how
I’m going to feed my girls.”


At my 40th birthday party,
an acquaintance asks
why we have “so much
Mexican art in the house.”

“It might be because I’m Mexican,” I say.

“No,” he laughs, “you’re not Mexican.”

“Yes. I am.”

“No,” he continues, reassuringly,
“and if you are, you’re only, maybe, 17%.“

The winter air stiffens between us.
An old, familiar pain.


There was a time when I
would have thanked him.

The early years,
when I wanted only to pass,
to rid myself of my last name—
the dead giveaway,
its muddy lineage

crawl out from the burying shame
that held me down every time
my father picked me up
from school in our shitty car,
his bushy mustache
& brown face
magnified by the sun.


A local white woman
posts a photo of her new tattoo:
a Mayan god etched eternal
on her flesh. When I point out
the disrespect, she assures me
she speaks Spanish fluently,
spent three years
in South America.

For the next six hours,
I argue with her friends.
They demand I quit being so
divisive. Judgemental. Close-minded.

“We have a racist running for President,
and you’re complaining about a tattoo?”
asks the white boy, who spray paints
murals all over this city
with impunity.

O, to be permitted the luxury
of only worrying about one thing at a time.

O, to be white in America,
to wake up knowing every god is your god.


When you never see yourself,
you search for yourself all the time.

You know the white girl
in the sombrero isn’t you.
The bro dude in Calavera makeup
isn’t either, not the ponchos
and glued on mustaches,
not the lowrider Chevy
in the Disney movie
or the hoochie-coochie
sex pot on the Emmy
award-winning television show.

Maybe you are only this:

the scorched bird pulled
from the chimney,
covered in soot.
Not the actual bird,
its velvet sack
of jigsaw’d bones,
but the feeling
of recognition.

The ash of knowing.


A white comedian tells this joke:
“I used to date Hispanics,
but now I prefer consensual.”

The audience laughs.
And you do, too.
Until the punchline hardens,
translates into a stone
in your throat.

You swallow it, like you always do.

You don’t change the channel,
but you also can’t remember
a single joke she tells after that.

A few months later, the comedian’s career
blows up. She’s so real. So edgy.
Such a hardcore feminist.
When someone writes an essay on
her old stand-up routines—
noting her blindspot when it comes to race,

her response is:

“It is a joke and it is funny.
I know that because people laugh at it.”


If two Mexicans are in a car, who is driving?
A police officer.

How do you starve a Mexican?
Put their food stamps in their work boots.

What’s the difference between a Mexican and an elevator?
One can raise a child.

What do you call a Mexican baptism?
Bean dip

How do you stop a Mexican from robbing your house?
Put a help wanted sign in the window.

What do you call a Mexican driving a BMW?
Grand theft auto

What do you call a Mexican without a lawnmower?

What do you call a building full of Mexicans?

How do you keep Mexicans from stealing?
Put everything of value on the top shelf.

What do you call a bunch of Mexicans running downhill?
A mudslide.

Why don’t Mexicans play Hide ’n Seek?
No one will look for them.

What does a Mexican get for Christmas?
Your TV.

What do you call the Arizona man shot to death
by his white neighbor, screaming, “Go back to Mexico!”
Juan Varela


November 29th.
For weeks, I’ve avoided
eye contact with strangers.
My face is a closed curtain.
My mouth, the most
decorated knife.
I pay for groceries,
grab the receipt &
let my half-hearted
thank yous trail like smoke.
I no longer want to see
who refuses to see me.

Anyone is everyone.


December 1st.
I keep waking up.
There isn’t anyone
white enough to stop me.

Pantomime the living until
the body remembers:
wicked bitch. Bloodwhirl.
Patron Saint of the Grab Back.

Still. Still. Still. Still. Still. Still here.


I etch my own face upon my wicked flesh.
I am my own devastating god.


Rachel McKibbens, Dec. 2016

Grocery Store

Genre: Fluff.
Pairing: Taeyong x Reader Summary: For some reason, you always hated going to the groceries. But one guy changed it all.

A/N: This is based on a true story that’s been going around in Twitter, though I tweaked a little parts in it. But I hope you like it!

“Y/N! Can you please go to the market and buy the ingredients that I’ll be needing to bake this cake?” Your mom said, earning a groan from you but you were left with no choice but to comply. You always hated going to the groceries for some reason, it takes time for you to find the things to buy. You hated the long line when it comes to paying. After you slipped on your jeans and oversized t-shirt, you didn’t bothered combing your hair.

You left after your mom gave you the money to shop, reminding you once again to be careful. You only gave her a nod and left to the market while you slipped your earphones on. It didn’t took you long enough to arrive as you headed inside the grocery store and went to the push-cart section to get a small one. You were busy going around in the store that you didn’t noticed a guy was following you, or so you thought.

Taeyong’s POV :

I felt really flustered when my mom asked me to buy her pads, it’s such a shame for guy to be seen buying out pads. A sigh escaped my lips knowing that I can’t decline my mother’s offer, she gave me a grateful smile and blabbered things like how she was lucky to have a son like me. I only gave her a smile and nodded as I headed off to the market.

Once I got inside the market, I almost bumped into a girl who seemed to be in a hurry. I only looked at her before grabbing a basket and tried to find where the pads sections are. As I was looking around the market, the same girl kept running into me.

I grew curious of her suddenly, then a thought came into my mind. I decided to finally follow her. Feeling quite uneasy of what I’m doing but I’m just about to ask something to her. When I saw her walking to the napkins section I gathered up my courage and walked towards her as I tapped her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Taeyong said, making you jolt up a little. Your breath getting caught in your throat as you were mentally squealing inside when this cute guy approaches you “Y-yes…?” You almost stuttered but tried to get yourself together. Taeyong smiled and you melted, he cleared his throat “I need help, it’s my first time buying napkins and I dont know what to buy” He said looking confused and cute. You giggled at his cuteness and nodded so you helped him out and told him the different kinds of napkins.

“Who is this for again?” You asked as the both of you headed towards the cashier “Ah.. it’s for my girlfriend.” Taeyong said, of course. You thought, feeling sad but who wouldn’t have a girlfriend for a guy like him? He’s so handsome and cute, you thought as you managed to smile at him

He offered to carry the bags for you when you both paid “Oh, no it’s okay” You said, smiling at him but Taeyong being the stubborn guy he is insisted, which eventually you gave up and let him carry your bags.

As the both of you walked together, you notice he wanted to say something. And when he finally looked at you and grabbed your arm, he cleared his throat and started off “Actually… these aren’t for my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend, and they’re actually for my mom. I lied because I was nervous and I thought you’re really cute..” Taeyong said, as he feels like his cheeks are already tinted pink by now. You couldn’t help but explode in happiness as you smiled, He took your grocery receipt and wrote his number “I’m Taeyong, by the way. Make sure to give me a call, okay?” He said winking at you. Which made you blush and shy of course. “No pressure, only if you want to.” He said, winking again making you die inside as you gave him a nod “And when you text me, just say cute girl from the groceries then I’ll remember.” He said as he smiled at you, before the both of you parted ways.

As soon as you got home, you dropped the bags on the kitchen and ran inside your room screaming “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!” You said, as you try to calm yourself. Your hands were shaky when you took out your phone. You saved his number first before giving him a message.

You: Hi, I’m home!
- Cute girl from the grocery store.
Taeyong: Oh hi! You never really told me your name, so I’ll just call you cute girl with the groceries. ;)
Taeyong: But it’s too long so I’ll just call you cute girl. ;)
You: Oh, my name is actually “Y/N!”

And suddenly you thought maybe going to the groceries store wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: This is my first time writing off a fanfic which based on a true story. If you’d like to know the story, this is the link! ( )

Now enjoy. ;)

tea time for anon. prompt: getting old

“What’s this?” Levi squints at the grocery receipt, because if Levi is anything, he’s thorough. Nothing slips by their finances. He’s in the off season, and they’re living off of savings and Erwin’s salary. There’s a reason for the organized coupon folder. Each tab is an aisle, sorted then by expiration date and coupon type. He makes sure they only go to grocery stores that double them, has loyalty cards to all of the local chains. They have a stockpile large enough to live on for six months, because it’s a real possibility. Teachers don’t make much either.

“What, hun?”

Levi grabs his highlighter, fluorescent pink and wide tipped. He streaks it across the line item, and then pushes it across the table toward Erwin. “That.”

Erwin leans over, sticking a piece of toast into his mouth as he skims across the receipt. “Let me see… Oh… Oh.” He looks up at Levi, his cheeks growing noticeably red.

“I know what it is.”

“I should have asked.”

“Yes, you should have.” He takes the receipt back and files it into his monthly budget folders. “I have a coupon.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m confused.” Levi motions Erwin to come closer, and like a good husband, he obeys. Running his hands through Erwin’s hair, hair that is already styled and sticky with pomade, he tugs stiffly at the roots to pull him in for a closer look. Eyes narrow, fingers curling and piling strands of hair about like a big nest of yellow straw. “How can you tell?”

“I already used it.”

Levi pulls on Erwin’s hair, makes Erwin whine against hair that threatens to be pulled out. “But you’re blond. Blond as the fuckin’ sun. How could you tell you were go–”

Erwin pulls aways even though his hair is still tangled in his husband’s fingers. “I’m going to be late.”

“No no no.” Levi gets up and follows. He’s a whole foot shorter than Erwin, but he nearly climbs on top of him to continue combing his hands through his hair. “Are you really going grey?!”

“Stop it, Levi!” Erwin tries to shoo him away, nearly trips over his feet as he tries to pry his small husband off of him.

“I can’t believe you give a shit!” Levi says, finally giving Erwin a rest. He stands in the foyer entrance as Erwin slips on his work shoes. He crosses his arms and plays with the plush fuzz on his robe. “You know I don’t care, right?”

“Yes, I know that.” Erwin doesn’t look at him. He stands up and looks at himself in the mirror above the entryway table. He tries to push his hair back into place, but can’t seem to get a few of the strands to stick down. Sighing, he grabs his leather satchel and slings it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, darling.”

Erwin turns to go for the door, but Levi tugs his arm back so hard that he spins into his arms. They nearly stumble into the stairs, but Levi is a dancer–he has enough muscle for the both of them. He pulls Erwin down, kisses him deep, mussing his hands in his husband’s hair again, smiling coyly against his lips as they part. “Old men are kinda sexy, you know.”

“Lee.” Erwin groans.

“You’re stuck with me, babe. Just like I’m stuck with you.”

“This isn’t helping.” But Erwin’s smiling. He pecks Levi’s lips and nuzzles his nose against his cheek.

“I don’t ever want to see hair dye on our grocery list again, you hear me?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good.” Levi pushes himself away, waits for Erwin to turn before slapping a broad hand across his ass. “Don’t rob any cradles with your geriatric good looks.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

They smile at each other. Erwin puckers and blows a kiss as he leaves out the door, and Levi catches it tightly in the palm of his hand and sticks it in the pocket of his robe.

anonymous asked:

How do u think the MM characs would propose to MC?? Like an alternate version than of the game?Thank you!!


  • Spends the day with you
  • You go on a motorcycle ride, together
  • He takes you to that one spot in the mountains that he loves.  He tells you that he wants to be able to share everything with you.  Of course, you feel the same way.
  • You watch the sunset, together, then for some reason, he moves away from you.
  • You turn around, and he’s on one knee with a ring.  Surprise!


  • The first day of his job at the clinic, you both go out to dinner to celebrate
  • You both dress up nice; you’re so proud of him for finally getting his dream job
  • He orders champagne to celebrate; makes a toast
  • The toast ends up being all about you and how he loves you so much; how weird.  Why would he toast like that?  Oh, well; it’s his party; he can do that I guess?
  • You’re in mid-sip of your champagne when you see the ring at the bottom of the glass.


  • once your marriage is considered legal, you simultaneously just know that you have to do it!
  • Not a proposal, so much as, “Let’s do this!”


  • You know that it’s coming, you’re just not sure how.
  • He takes you to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant that you have ever seen.  There’s a string quartet, full waitstaff, a bouquet of roses at the table, champagne… But then nothing happens.
  • He takes you with him during a business trip to Rome.  You go sightseeing, together.  You go to lovely bistros every day.  …but nothing.
  • Next, it’s Paris!  He kisses you at the top of the Eiffel Tower.  More sightseeing. Cafes and wine-tastings everywhere!  …still nothing.
  • You’re not complaining.  I mean, you’re tired, but your boyfriend definitely knows how to show you a good time.
  • Then, you’re spending an evening at his place.  You’ve both turned your phones off; you’re finally getting some quality time, together, away from work.  Elizabeth the 3rd is napping, somewhere.  It’s dark, out; you’ve just finished dinner, and are looking out at the cityscape, admiring the view.
  • You don’t realize he’s behind you until his arms are already around you, holding you close.
  • Whispering his adoration for you into your ear, finally, he asks you.  
  • He didn’t want to propose as Jumin: the Director, or Jumin: the Heir.  He wanted to propose as Jumin: the man who loves you most in this world.


  • You get to his place and see a Post-It with a riddle for you on the front door.
  • It leads you to somewhere in the house, and another Post-It.
  • Eventually, you find yourself visiting all of your favourite date spots with him; sometimes the notes are on the backs of photos from the last time the two of you visited there, or a little poem based on a memory the two of you made. One stop, at a grocery store, has the receipt for the time you both bought 707 Honey Buddha Chip bags and 606 Dr Pepper bottles.
  • Finally, you end up at a local planetarium.  He’s near the display for the International Space Station, a bouquet of flowers and a little velvet box in hand.


  • He wouldn’t have planned it; it would be spontaneous
  • He wouldn’t think that he deserved a happy ending like a wife and family of his own; not after everything that he’s done.
  • You would have to almost die.  He would have to be reminded how short life is and that he has to make the best of the time that he has with you
  • So, spontaneously, without a ring or anything, “…marry me.  Please.”

anonymous asked:

Hey if it's not to much could you do rfa+V+Saeran like they are cheating on mc and she finds out about it?? Sorry this is my first time requesting so sorry if it sucks I just really like your writing and all.

Okay, I’m gonna tell you straight up that this is gonna be bad. It’s also only Yoosung, Zen, and Jaehee. I will be writing the other four, I just cant right now. This specific request has gotten deleted multiple times, and I’m kinda over rewriting it. I swear that if you don’t like it at all, I’ll rewrite it next week. I’m sorry that this isn’t anywhere near my standards. I just wanted to put something out while I can’t get this to work.


  • A couple of your friends wanted to go out for a movie tonight, so you left with them and told Yoosung to text you if he needed anything from the store
  • Turns out, you had gotten the movie time wrong and nobody wanted to wait another hour and a half
  • Everyone promised to meet again soon, and you left to go to the grocery store
  • Once you were done, you started driving back to the dorm
  • The traffic was a bitch, but you got home alright
  • You were struggling to open the door two trips is for the weak while maintaining a conversation on the phone with a friend you left earlier that night
  • Swaying open, the door finally moved and you got hit with the moans of two people coming from the couch
  • Hanging up the phone quickly, you shut the door and dropped the bags to the floor
  • “Am-am I interrupting you, Yoosung?” you spoke uncertainly as you walked towards the living room
  • He got up so quickly it would’ve been funny in any other circumstance while apologizing profusely
  • You started going through your key ring and unhooking the dorm key while the person was hurriedly getting dressed and leaving
  • The key clattered to the floor when you dropped it and made a small noise when you kicked it towards him
  • “The groceries have the receipt in the bag. You know the address to send the money to. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough for you, Yoosung”
  • At this point, he started bawling while you were laughing softly and bitterly
  • Turning around to go back to the car, you took a final look around the living space, shook your head, and left a sobbing Yoosung calling for you
  • Once you sat down, your eyes started to heat up and you saw him run out as you were backing out
  • Tch, so much for the innocent one
  • You were currently sat back at the apartment thinking over today’s previous happenings
  • And to think that you thought Zen was deathly loyal
  • He always turned down everyone and anyone, even if they mattered, just for you
  • Now you were wondering why the hell he would do all that just to do what you walked into today
  • Going into the kitchen, you started to think it over again
  • Zen was shooting all day for today and he was stuck in a trailer for half of it, so you decided to go out to get some food
  • While walking back with the paper bag in hand, you were humming slightly to the music coming from the earbud you had in
  • You walked through the hallways of the dressing rooms but stopped short at his door when you heard some not so family friendly noises
  • And they sure as hell weren’t from your music
  • Shaking your head slightly in denial, you knocked sharply on the door
  • Sounds of harsh whispers, zippers, and the other door opening and closing were silenced when a disheveled-in-all-the-wrong-circumstances Zen opened the door
  • “H-hey, MC! Oh, what’s the foo-?” “Don’t you ‘Hey, MC’ me, Hyun. Shut up for a moment, will you?”
  • Glaring at the vanity, you stepped in and set down the bag heavily and looked him over
  • “How long was this going on for, Hyun? How long? Were you even going to tell me? Is this why all the crew kept looking at me dejectedly?”
  • He stayed silent, knowing that words couldn’t fix what he’s done
  • “I hope that you’re far happier with them, Hyun. Just like your cheesy scripts, when you love someone, you just want them to be happy, regardless if it’s with you or another. Better yet, I hope you have to work with the on every. damn. set. for the rest. of . your. career. I want you to see them and taste me, but you probably don’t. You probably see them when you look at me, don’t you, Hyun?”
  • You turned to leave after going off on him and all he had to show for it was puppy dog eyes
  • Bitterly, you thought that they would’ve worked any other day
  • Before leaving, you stood in the doorway without facing him and decided to leave him with a thought
  • “It’s fried chicken and goldfish bread by the way. I thought it’d be nice to celebrate the day we met, even though you were on set all day”
  • Looking back on it, now in a dark room by yourself, you laughed a bit hoping that it was dramatic enough for him
  • Jaehee hadn’t answered any of your calls or returned them since she stayed at the office that night while forgetting to tell you
  • You decided to bring her lunch the next day because she probably wasn’t eating anything good or anything at all
  • Walking into the office building, you stopped to tell the person at the front desk who you are, what you’re doing, who you’re seeing, blah blah blah
  • When you mentioned Jaehee, they told you that she didn’t want anyone in her office at the moment but you insisted it was alright
  • They gave you clearance to go up on the elevator but not without a “You’re not going to like it if you’re who you say you are”
  • Attempting to brush it off, your head buzzed with thoughts but you still walked through cubicles and hallways to find the door marked ‘Jaehee Kang’
  • Suddenly, you took a step back from the sounds coming from behind the door as you started feeling numb
  • Unconsciously, you opened the door quickly even though you usually knocked
  • After seeing your girlfriend bending over her desk, with that intern of all people, you turned around with your face warm
  • You weren’t sure if it was from anger, tears, or embarrassment at this point
  • “M-MC? I swear that it’s-” “Jaehee, you know what this is. I know what this is. Please don’t lie. Not now”
  • You set down the bag of food you made earlier by the door as the intern walking by you with a quick apology while you turned back to face her
  • “I hope that they’ll take care of you like I liked to. I hope they can service you in more ways than one, Jaehee. Your things will be in the garage,” you said coldly as she was stumbling over words
  • Jaehee looked a mess kicking on her heels and buttoning up her shirt while pulling up her skirt
  • You turned back to leave while trying to sort out everything you had just heard, seen, and said
  • While leaving the elevator for the last time, you looked over the person at the front desk
  • When would have I figured this out if I just listened?
  • As you were leaving, you saw Jumin walking up to the building with a handful of guards
  • You held the door open for him while mentioning Jaehee would probably be staying at the office for a few more nights

Alright, I’m so so sorry that I got frustrated and that this took so long and its even worse than the usual. I’ll try to get the others out as soon as possible. Again, I’m sorry that this isn’t that good, but I can probably rewrite it in next week. Much love to you all!

cesy  asked:

More Andy?

(Extension of this headcanon, inspired by reading this article; I’m inventing people rather than writing real ones. TW: Fatphobia and bullying)

In 1998 Bethany Greene dominated the pop charts and Andy, 13 years old, had hated her ferociously.  So it feels kind of weird to wake up in Bethany’s guest room.

The LA mansion is easy to navigate. By LA standards, it isn’t even large. After she’s pulled on jeans and a shirt, pushed her hair back with a wet brush, Andy follows the balcony over the front entryway and descends curving stairs to the kitchen, where the gleaming granite countertops are scattered with ordinary debris: Grocery receipts and school permission slips, a washed-out milk jug, half-empty coffee cups. Bethany slides off her stool at the kitchen nook when Andy comes in. “Can I get you something?” she asks, reaching for the coffee pot.

“No coffee,” Andy says with a queasy wave. “Thanks.”  Maybe she should have showered and woken up more. She’s not really seeing the face under the mask, as it were; Bethany’s already made up for the morning, face flawless, eyes bright, Barbie doll hair in a crisp and perfect ponytail. She’s wearing a pastel track suit.

“Yeah, Kenny said you were having some acid reflux,” Bethany soothes, refilling her own cup. “I’ve got some yogurt if you want, or I could make you a smoothie.”

Andy, feeling guilty as hell, lets the woman make her a protein shake.

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  • me: *writes another meta about how Chaol annoys me because he reminds me of my ex boyfriends and how I will never enjoy his character*
  • also me: *freaking out over the Chaol novel title reveal because despite my salt I am so excited to see Nesryn and the Southern Continent and tbh I would be excited to read SJM's grocery receipts*
  • also me: *sheds small tear for Aelin, Fireheart, trapped in the dark until May 2, 2018*

For those who haven’t been following me long, I do sometimes and will continue to post about ADD/ADHD, even though this is a fandom blog.  I do this, and honestly should probably do it more, because I want to be visible as an adult with ADHD.

There is so fucking little out there addressing adult ADHD that even my psychiatrist sometimes gives me informational stuff targeted at children.  This despite the fact that at least 1/3 of children with ADHD don’t ‘grow out of it’, and inattention can even become more pronounced in adulthood.  This despite the fact that ADHD is a really damaging disorder in adulthood and heavily associated with comorbid mental disorders and life problems, and yet a great many of the people we might want to talk to about it will still think it’s a fake diagnosis that lets people drug unruly kids.

So yeah.  Here’s me, diagnosed at 35 as ADHD Inattentive Type, still trying to find the balance of medications and mental tricks and external supports that will allow me to stop being late to everything, stop forgetting everything, stop failing to notice everything.  To be able to reliably pay attention to the important people in my life, like they deserve.  Maybe even achieve a personal goal or two if we’re dreaming big. 

Adults with ADHD exist, and they’re really, really underdiagnosed.  Visibility would make a difference.  I might well never have considered it as a possibility if @becausedragonage hadn’t talked about her struggles publicly.  If I could do that for just one person, it would be well worth it.

And I just had to fish my grocery receipt out of the recycling because I forgot that I would need to know how much I owed my housemate because I forgot to bring my wallet to the grocery store, and I only went at all because he nagged me all day.  So there’s me.

Prozac 32

Before sleep, a red scythe swings behind my eyelids.
The fresh leaves thumb-tacked into them hold words I’ve forgotten.
Safe from reaping.
Sometimes, I rip one down.
Memorize it.
Fold it in half for my front pocket, like every grocery receipt.
Before, I said I was learning to multitask productivity with guilt.
Now, I’m trying to bond memory with placement.
There’s a term for that, somewhere, but of course it fell from my hands and, in slo-mo before my very eyes, angled into an impossibly narrow crack.
Was it written on that leaf?
But I could’ve sworn I put it in my back pocket…



Can I request a taehyung bestfriend smut story

This was something I took down a while back for editing….so its an edited repost I guess (except I think it got worse :/) Feedback greatly appreciated 

Originally posted by bangts

Taehyung was alone. 

He lay buried under the numerous pillows on his couch with a blanket only half draped over it all, staring at the screen of his phone lazily. His calloused thumb scrolled mindlessly, his face hidden behind a cushion so only his glassy brown eyes peered over. The rest of him was concealed by the cushions and the dimly lit room so no one could tell he was there.
He wasn’t supposed the be like this right now.
He was supposed to be here with her.

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anonymous asked:

"S-scared? Me? I'm not scared." Prompt request

Harada crosses off another item on his shopping list. He had written it hastily on the back of last grocery shopping trip’s receipt, which had only been less than a week ago. Due to unforeseen circumstances, he had had to buy food enough for three people: himself, Shiranui, and … Shiranui.

The pen poked a hole through the flimsy receipt paper, causing Harada to get slightly irritated, and this in turn reminded him that he had not gone shopping alone. So, why was he alone? And where the devil was that oni?

He surveys the colorful vegetable department landscape, which thanks to his height, was a fairly easy task. Not here, so where? He had an idea, but Shiranui Kyo was predictably unpredictable, and Harada had soon learned it was best to keep an eye on his unlooked-for roommate when in public.

He hastily scans each aisle, and almost runs into a young mother and her toddler. He apologizes, yet she stares at him in shock, (or recognition?) and stays rooted to the spot. He circles the shopping cart around her and continues his search. There at last, halfway through Aisle 42, Shiranui is standing alone, staring intently at one of the thousands of boxed, brightly colored and processed breakfast products. Harada’s shoulders droop. It could have been worse. He slowly pushes the cart towards him. The wheels squeak, but Shiranui does not let that distract him from looking fixedly at the box before him. The trembling snarl suggests disgust, yet Harada notices something akin to pure horror in Shiranui’s gaze. The eyebrows are arched, the eyes are open wide and twitching, and the pupils shrunk to pinpoints. Shiranui manages to lift a shaking finger at the offending item.

Harada looks at it, and his shoulders tense. A moment later he asks, “You scared?”

“S-scared? Me? I’m not scared.”

“I am.”

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anonymous asked:

I just read the condom hcs and it reminded me of this one time I was at my friend's apartment and they live in this BIG apartment so they had like, three roomates. one of them was reading the grocery store receipt from the other day and just yelled "WHO THE HELL BOUGHT CONDOMS LIKE SERIOUSLY WE HAVE A BOX OF THOSE ON THE TV SET'S SHELF WHY DIDN'T YOU CHECK BEFORE BUYING?" and it was honestly the funnies thing ever because that girl was genuinely angry bc someone hadn't checked that b4 buying rip



Zen -> roomate who yelled

Seven and Yoosung -> the other roomates, pointing fingers at each other because they swear they didn’t do it

Jumin -> leisurely sipping tea knowing full well he was the one who bought the condoms

Jaehee -> you

A Note Written on the Back of a Grocery Store Receipt

23 dead.
And that’s only in the parking lot.
This storm came out of nowhere,
with lightning like nothing I’ve ever seen.
It keeps striking, again and again.
People are burning, convulsing,
their shoes blown off. Things I never
thought were flammable are on fire.
The lightning isn’t stopping.

A woman ran out of the store just now.
I drove toward her, thinking I could help.
Stupid of me. If I’d opened the door, we’d
both be dead. But, oh God, I never imagined
the horrible things a human body does
when it’s fighting to survive.
24 dead now.

I don’t know what’s happening.
I went out for milk, came back
to the car, and the radio was making
loud screeching sounds.
Then the lightning started.
My phone’s dead. The radio’s just
pops and crackles. I’m safe in my car, I think.
I need to go home to check on my family.

If I don’t make it, please,
whoever finds this note—
My name is Mike Edwards. Tell my family
I love them, and that I died trying
to get back to them.

I made it. I’m parked in my driveway.
I can see my kids in the front window
of our house. They’re only 20 feet away,
but I can’t help them.

Going outside is impossible. Opening
a window is suicide. The garage door
doesn’t work because there’s no electricity.
All we can do is wait.
Storms don’t last forever.

It’s not stopping. Everything’s burning.
There’s smoke at the back of our house.
The milk is warm.

Not much room left to write (sorry about
the receipt—it was all I could find).
I’ll make it short.

I have a plan. I’ll drive straight through
the front window, get far enough inside
so the lightning can’t reach.
I’ll load my family into the car, and we’ll drive.
Somewhere without lightning.

We’ll live through this. I feel it more strongly
than I’ve ever felt anything in my life.
And when we’re all together again,
and my wife and children are safe,
I’ll write their names at the bottom of this note,
as proof that we survived.


How to fall in love with a writer:
1. Trace the spine of her name with your soft whisper, like calling a secret into the mist. And repeat the sound as it hits the chamber of your heart.

2. The real poetry–lies within the magic of the eyes and what words can never be fully conveyed. Catch the flicker of her eyes, as she takes in the view of an empty city street or falling snow or even just a melancholic sunset. Take it in, bask in that image. That’s her–vulnerable and accepting. 

3. Read every anecdote being spilled by her shaky pen-fingers. This is her–naked, in the truest form of beauty even fashion magazines could never attain.

4. Immerse yourself within the abundance of her complexity. No, not the nuisance of being a shadow. But rather, the contrasts of her contradictions to the world’s norm. Sink your teeth to every thought she breathes out.

5. Don’t fret the characters she dances with at nights. The many books that adorned her bedroom, once were lovers who taught her to gild and sharpen her wings. Let her dance; and win hearts.

6. If she closes all windows, and shut you out. Just wait at her door. Sometimes, the chaos in her mind, like treacherous ocean waves, she wouldn’t want you to be drowning in that chaotic rapture. Once she reaches out her hand to saved, don’t just take it. Don’t let go.

7. Once you start noticing similarities of yourself within their pages, you involuntarily see colors different, taste with a different tongue, and listen with a lighter yet burdened heart. Because, a thing isn’t a simple thing anymore. It never will be.

8. You will start collecting intangible sentiments in your head. Like little pennies in your pockets. Even train ride tickets to groceries receipts to mid-arrangement sighs–collected.

9. Love isn’t just a word anymore. It has its own weight now, like a density made heavier by the meanings of each moment and years that passes by. And how she makes you want to be better than the younger bones that shared your memories.

10. Even if tomorrow would be a lottery lost in your favor. It’s okey, because you know deep down somewhere around the unpredictable future–she is very much stronger and she’ll find happiness and be loved.

11. To love a writer is to brave an ocean with a fear of drowning, and live to want to swim over and over again.

—  You left this list on my doormat, but I was four years too late.(How to fall in love with a writer.) -s.p.

Okay, so how cool would it be …

You get a penpal, right? And you send each other a letter a week. But wait! Its not just a letter, but an envelope full of little notes that have been scribbled down throughout the week - about a funny story, a rant, a movie you saw, etc - and little tidbits from your life like your grocery list or receipt from the drugstore. I think it would be really neat and a cool way to see into each others lives and get to know each other.

What do you think, Tumblr?