old register

Day One Hundred and Twenty-Six

-A woman’s total came out to $6.32. She handed me $5.07 and waited patiently for her change. I let her know that there was $1.25 left, to which she let me know that this was the correct amount for her to receive back. Upon getting my point across, she handed me $1.00 more. Hesitantly, I pointed out the discrepancy, at which point she took the balance out of my hand and passed me a crisp ten.

-A bouncing baby with, what I suspected to be, a full diaper, showed me his talent of fitting his entire fist inside his mouth. Already, he has accomplished more in life than I could ever dream of achieving.

-When asked how she was today, a woman replied with only silence and a single thumb raised to the sky. This fleeting moment spoke volumes more than any mere words could.

-In one of the most tragic moments I have yet to witness, a jar of salsa slid out of a man’s cart and shattered into thousands of spicy shards, spraying all over his sandal-clad feet. This was not a tragedy for his loss of mild picante pleasure, nor did the sadness lie in the hot mess left for me to clean. The deeply troubling nature of the situation stemmed entirely from the squelches that accompanied each of his steps after.

-A man asked me not to bag any of his items, as he had, instead, brought along with him a large bucket.

-A five year-old girl approached my register, got up on her toes to rest her arm along the bar, and, holding up five of her little fingers, ordered as many stickers, to go. With a flick of my wrist and a wink of my eye, I served up this order, receiving only a blank expression in return. True artistes are never appreciated in their time, but I will never give up the Craft of Flair.

-I handed a child a sticker. His mother prompted him to thank me. When he did not, his mother revoked his sticker privilege and insisted that he say his thanks. Instead, he turned to me, looked directly into my eyes, and said, “Voodoo.” I deeply wish she had just let him keep the sticker. Another curse is the last thing I need right now.

-I saw a man in his eighties walk into the airlock at the store’s entrance, perch himself upon a motorized cart, and drift swiftly to sleep. I want this man to take me under his wing and teach me, as I could never achieve such sound slumber so speedily in such a trafficked place, but I know that I can never ask him as much. That would involve waking him up, and that simply will not do.

-I watched a young boy walk up to my lane, brandishing a pixelated sword from Minecraft and a Peter Quill mask from Guardians of the Galaxy. He asked me if I could ring up his aforementioned “Star Wars toys”, and after a brief pause, if I had heard of that new movie about the galaxy guards. When I told him that I had, he informed me that he was, in fact, the guy from that. Naturally, I was starstruck and asked him for more details. This rare celeb sighting was sadly cut short, as Star-Lord’s dad leaned over my counter, stole my hand sanitizer, and demanded to know what exactly was with these credit card chips he kept hearing about everywhere.

-A newborn child, scarcely two months-old, rolled through my lane and, in the moments that followed, changed my life. I smiled. She giggled. I waved my hand. She waved her foot. I stuck my tongue out. She waved both her feet. This is now, and will forever be, our secret handshake.


Im sorry but this is too funny and interesting for me to ignore

Mori calling Dazai and he’s avoiding him lmao look at his expression ! basically what’s going on Dazai’s mind:

Dazai:*beep beep* who is this?
Mori: Its me
Dazai: *boutta end the call*

But fully knowing that it is Chuuya:

Chuuya:*calling Dazai*
Dazai: Oh its Chuuya, *picks up anyway* Hello?

The Long Game - Derek Hale Imagine

Requested by @derangedangelImagine request :) Reader is the same age as Scott & the others but has a crush on Derek & is always flirting with him but Derek doesn’t reciprocate those feelings because of the age difference. But reader is in it for the “long game.” Like a GMW Maya & Josh situation. A few years later reader comes back & Derek likes her back. Thanks :D

Word Count: 4,502

Warning: Derek being abused and injured. 

My Teen Wolf Master List

Originally posted by agsztrashbouquet

Y/N couldn’t keep her lips from forming into a smirk as she saw Derek’s picture appear on her phone. She had just moved back to Beacon Hills earlier today into her new apartment. She had spent most of the day unpacking her boxes, and was already in bed watching a movie on her laptop. She quickly swiped her thumb across the phone and answered. “Hello, stranger. It’s after midnight. No guy ever calls a girl after midnight except for one-" 

"Y/N…” Derek interrupted followed by a loud growl. Y/N could hear Derek’s heartbeat going crazy and his labored breathing. What caught her attention was hearing another heartbeat. “I need you." 

His voice was filled with worry, which caused Y/N to sit up straight in her bed alarmed. "Derek, where are you?”

“I don’t know…” he whispered unexpectedly. He no longer sounded like he was in pain or fighting against someone. He now sounded weak and hurt.

“Derek, I need you to talk to me. What do you see?” She asked as she quickly got out of bed to get dressed.

“I can’t… see anything…” he mumbled. She rushed as she heard his heartbeat getting weaker by the second.

She swallowed hard as she closed her eyes, letting a tear fall down her cheek. She was absolutely terrified for him. “Derek… I’m going to come and get you, okay? But I need to call Stiles to help me. Can you answer the phone if I call you back?”

“My phone… is going to die…”

“Fuck!” She whispered to herself. She put on her shoes as an idea crossed her mind. “After you hang up with me, turn off your phone and save the battery for about 10 minutes. That’ll be about the time it will take me to get to Stiles’ office at the police station. I’ll call you back but you have to answer, okay?”

“O… kay…” he mumbled weakly.

“Derek?” Her voice trembled. He hummed a small ‘yes’. “Please answer the phone." 

"I promise,” he said before he hung up and turned off his phone like he was told to do. 

Y/N grabbed her keys before rushing to her car. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Stiles’ number. For some strange reason a flashback flooded her mind to the first time she went to Stiles for help with Derek.

Keep reading

Sylvia Plath’s voice, reading her poems on tape, is a daunting, not to say intimidating, astonishment. It is not, as you would expect so many decades after her death, ghostly, a vaporish backwash; it is instead a voice made of marble, the diction burnished, precise, almost inhumanly perfected: as if Eliot’s tones, so pervasive in that period, had, with all the authority of their ritualized cadences, been transfused into a woman’s veins. The voice is dark and deep and dangerous, the sound not of youth but of some overripe being, an old woman, or even an old man; its register is surprisingly low and nearly sinister; it surprises and unsettles.
-Cynthia Ozick, from The Din in the Head

Transference (M) – Chapter 03

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst

Word Count: 8,370

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: Prepare yourself, this is the shibari chapter. Shibari practice comes with many risks, so always consult professionals before playing.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

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Soulmates (Part 1)

Originally posted by soluscheese

A/N: Hey guys! So I decided to do a series, and I’m really excited because I’ve never done one on here, so I think it’ll be fun. My writing may be a little rusty, but thanks to Supernatural, I’m getting back into it and I’m falling in love with it all over again, so I appreciate feedback on this stuff. I really hope you enjoy this story so give it a like/reblog if you do and hit that follow button! 

Words: 1,222

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Keep reading

I work at a big name department store. One day, a mother, after completing her purchase, went to the bathroom, leaving her about 11 year old child at the register with me. I was left alone with this child, which was terrifying because I don’t know how to talk to children. The child said that they were going to go get a smoothie afterward, and so I asked if they were going to the bubble tea place which is also in the mall. They said yes. They also remarked that the shampoo their parent had bought had been expensive and then said “I wish things weren’t expensive. I wish everything was 1 dollar.” I agreed, and then said “that’s capitalism for you.” I think that my attempt to tell this child about economic systems was unsuccessful, but there is still hope

McLovin' It

My brother used to work in a McDonald’s, in Australia. Now, it seems pretty absurd to me given what you’re about to hear, but apparently they used to have a policy stating that if a person was physically able to serve customers, that was the number one priority, regardless of any emergency situations that might be developing. 

So anyway, he’s there late one night. It’s  team of three- him, a seventeen year old register guy, one other team member, a Stoner, and the Manager. 

Manager and Stoner were doing the cooking, and Brother was on the counter. Unfortunately, there was an Incident. 

Specifically, there was an incident where the Manager fell over and immersed her ENTIRE ARM in the chip fryer, which was, of course, full of boiling oil. 

Cue Manager falling to the floor and screaming her lungs out (as you would) while Stoner and Brother, neither of whom were qualified for this shit, went into complete panic mode. 

Then in came a carload of customers. 

So, according to what I’m told was Store Policy at the time (someone please feel free to chime in because I’m not sure Brother was entirely honest about that), the show must go on. The show being, in this case, the serving of fast food. 

So, Brother went to Man The Counter, because those customers Need Their Big Macs, no matter what.  

Pay no attention to the blood-curdling screams in the back, or the Stoner trying to remember how to dial 000.

All just another classic Maccas night. 

Jaybird, Jaybird P.1/2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Reader and Jason both have difficult lives before they met one another, but together, it seems alright.

Warnings: angst, night terrors, implied abuse, death, mention of drug use, cursing – Reader can be ANY gender, really.

Part 2

Jason Todd saved you from a life worse than death.

Nineteen years.

Nineteen years you lived under that monster.

Any second longer would’ve killed you, honestly.

It’s totally truthful what they say about Gotham City; it corrupts people, right to down to their core. Growing up here, you almost seem immune to it. The chaos and violence rolls off you like beads of water, leaving a trailing but one that will vaporize quickly. But it was there and the memory of that horror is a phantom on your skin. Despite this, no one cares in Gotham.

No one cares except Jason.

Keep reading

Bad new: I had to deal with my creepy coworker all day so I’m super stressed Good News:I’m channeling all that stress into writing my favorite salty cashier duo from @keithvkogane​ ‘s au

  • Pidge is good with numbers and has memorized the prices of basically everything in the store.
  • Kieth is the exact opposite
  • “Hey Keith, how much does this $5 candy cost?“//”Fuck if I know“
  • Neither of them can do math under pressure though
  • *punches in cash amount*//”“Oh wait I have change!“//*internally*”FUCK“
  • The registers are old and never work properly
  • The card scanner doesn’t work half the time-even the old receipt paper trick fails- and the general scanners need to be reset every few hours and the printer is always jammed
  • Pidge has tried everything in their power to fix the computers, but alas they are all still old rust buckets
  • On a happier note, they all have nicknames
  • The names are Betsy,Cheryl, Sharon, and Peggy
  • Pidge always refers to them by name, confusing many customers
  • “Come on Betsy, work with me old girl!“//”What did you just say to me?”//”Oh I wasn’t talking to you”
  • “Don’t speak to me or my registers ever again“
  • The store is empty 95% of the time but the very second one of them leaves the register there is suddenly a huge line.
  • “Keith I need you on Sharon“//”I was just there!“
  • Totally talk about customers once they leave
  • “Why did that lady buy 10 bottle openers? Who needs 10 bottle openers!“
  • They have the most inside jokes out of anyone in the store
  • Whenever they hear a weird noise*Both lock eyes and whisper* Mothman
  • *humming the X-Files theme over the PA*
  • *Lance does something stupid*//”It’s your turn to deal with him“//”No I think its yours“//*loud sigh*
  • *Computer breaks down*//”This is homophobic“//”How?“//”I’m gay and it inconveniences me“
  • “Keith if i die tell Peggy, Sharon, and Cheryl that I love them“//”What about Betsy?“//”Not her, she was being a little shit today“
  • They have competitions over who can make the most money in a day
  •  Sometimes till report time is the most exciting part of the day
  • “Yo I made $516 today“//”HA! I made $524! SUCK IT“
Don’t Speak

Title: Don’t Speak

Word Count: 1140

Summary: An AU songfic wherein the reader is given the cold shoulder by Spencer because she allowed him to believe Emily was dead. Song: Don’t Speak by No Doubt.

Rating: T (Swearing and angst)

Requested by: @UnburnableTrash


You hold the door open for Emily as the two of you walk into the bullpen. You smile, loving that she’s finally back to the BAU. You (and Hotch) had known all along that she was alive, but you’d missed her while she was so far away. All is right in the world.

Well, almost everything, you think, watching Spencer stalk across the room, not even sparing you a glance. Since he’d found out about the way Emily’s case had been handled, he’d been giving you the cold shoulder. On cases, he’d speak to you as little as possible to get the main idea across. On the jet, he sat as far away from you as possible. Outside of work, he refused to see you. Even when you knocked on his apartment door. You’d spent the night out there once, knocking on his door every few minutes. No answer.

You sigh. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

“Don’t worry. He just needs time to cool off, that’s all.” Emily says, her dark eyes following the young genius’s progress.

“I don’t know, Emily… it’s been nearly two weeks.” You say, sighing again.

You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together always
I really feel
That I’m losing my best friend
I can’t believe
This could be the end
It looks as though you’re letting go
And if it’s real
Well I don’t want to know

    “Y/N and Reid, you go to the abduction site.” Hotch says on the jet later that day. You glance over at your best friend, offering a tentative smile. He looks away.

    As Hotch continues to pair the team up, you look out the window, tears forming in your eyes. You blink them away, hoping that no one sees. Nevertheless, Rossi spots it in your expression. He looks at you with concern, mouthing, “Are you okay?”

    You nod, then lower your eyes to your lap so that no one else can tell. It doesn’t work. As you get off the plane, you get multiple pats on the shoulder from your concerned friends. Hotch even gives you a sympathetic look.

Don’t speak
I know just what you’re saying
So please stop explaining
Don’t tell me cause it hurts
Don’t speak
I know what you’re thinking
I don’t need your reasons
Don’t tell me cause it hurts

    Spencer is waiting for you inside the black SUV. He looks away when you try to catch his eye. Sighing again, you turned the key and started the engine, pulling out onto the road. The drive is entirely silent, no matter how hard you try to engage him in conversation. He ignores you, looking out the window with a blank expression on his face.

    You park the car in a parking lot near the abduction site. You get out, not looking back for Spencer as you start walking. You know why he’s mad, but how are you supposed to fix it? What’s done is done. And for Emily’s sake, you couldn’t have told him. Yes, he had come to your apartment crying, but what were you supposed to say? ‘Oh, you can stop crying, Spence, because Emily’s actually alive! Surprise!’

    Too late, you realize that you’re muttering to yourself. Spencer is next to you, and from the expression on his face, he heard every word.

    “The fact that you hid it in the first place-” He begins heatedly.

    “I was under orders! What was I supposed to do?” You say, turning to face him on the sidewalk.

    “I came to your apartment crying for weeks, Y/N! You could have said something!” Spencer answers, his eyes blazing.

    “What? What could I have said?” You ask, near tears now.

    He sees your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment his face softens. Only for a moment, though. “How about, 'Hey, Spencer, Emily’s actually not dead?’”

    “And you think you’d have taken that well? I couldn’t tell you, Spencer. It was for Emily’s safety!” You say, your tears spilling over into your cheeks.

    He turns away from you, leaving you crying there on the sidewalk. Your back slides down the building behind you and you sit there, trying to slow your tears.

Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry

    When you’ve finally pulled it together, Spencer has finished checking out the site. You do a little looking around yourself, but not much. You’re too upset.

    Back at the station, the team begins to put together a working profile. You sit it out in a chair, your chin in your hands. No one bothers you.

    By the end of the day, you’re miserable. You head back to your hotel room quietly, wanting to sleep and never wake up.

Don’t speak
I know just what you’re saying
So please stop explaining
Don’t tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don’t speak
I know what you’re thinking
I don’t need your reasons
Don’t tell me cause it hurts

    The next morning, your mood hadn’t improved. Spencer’s has, but just slightly. He actually acknowledges your presence today. With slightly more to go on, the rest of the team is in a good mood, too.

    You can hear Pen’s cheery voice on the line. She gives a name: Howard Anderson, along with his address. The next thing you know, you’ve got a Kevlar vest on and are on your way with the rest of the team to arrest the guy.

    When you get out of the car, you notice a shape in the window of Anderson’s dilapidated old house. It doesn’t register until you see it raise an arm.

    And bullets begin to fly through the air.

    “Get down!” You scream, drawing your gun. You fire a few shots into the glass, but Howard continues to shoot. A sudden, searing pain in your chest makes you drop your gun. You clutch at your wound, then feel another bullet whiz by, so close to your head that you can feel it knock some of your hair back.

    “Y/N!” Spencer yells.

It’s all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are…
You and me I can see us dying…are we?

    Spencer jumps forward, shielding you from bullets as he pulls you back behind the car. Your head is spinning from the blood loss, but you can see him clearly enough to note the tears in his eyes.

    Just before you black out, you hear him say, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

anonymous asked:

how do you know when an ESTP is being condescending? i have an ESTP acquaintance who is WAY smarter than i am academically (i'm still smart but not as smart as they are). whenever we play review games and i get questions correct they seem rather impressed and encourage me. are they trying to be condescending or something? it confuses me so much. thanks friend, keep up the lit blog.

tbh trust your gut. It’s probably unintentional, but if it’s bugging you u have every right to voice your opinion about it. The good thing about ESTPs is that they tend not to get all up in arms if you call them out on a behavior– they might just be testing to see how you’ll react (or again, they could be doing it completely by accident). Either way, it won’t hurt to assert yourself.

Idk I get how u feel, and I’ve learned that with a lot of people you might just have to laugh it off (Like, I look like a prepubescent boy but I’m 17, so I get a lot of people maybe a year older than me giving me the “where’s your mom” look…and it’s just, I know better than them in that situation)

But yeah, if they’re a friend, or someone you’re on a level playing field with (and believe me, you are) you should probably tell em to fuck off.