I make your girlfriend scream louder then steamed eggnog.
I make her wetter than a latte. You just leave her dry like a cappuccino.
I make her moan loader then when you’re on bar for Frappy Hour.
Make her squirt like an empty whip cream cannister
kleeneck said: Being a barista is not my career. It's my job. I like my job; but it's not exactly the dream, you know? If you're an asshole to me; you're getting decaf. It's the truth. I am providing to you a service and that doesn't make me less of a person than you, so don't dehumanize me in front of an entire store just because you wanted "two extra shots of [expresso] in your coffee [frapp]" and there's only one. (Surprise, you're a dick, you told the cashier one, so they wrote one, so i used one. Liar.)
Yassssssss. I feel you. I have a college degree, but not in coffee. People come in and treat us like we are “less than” and it is disgusting. I am so grateful that I work in customer service because it has taught me how to treat others with respect. I just don’t get it. WE ARE SERVING YOU. Why would you be a dick?
"i’m sad and idk how to feel better"
"i don’t know what to draw"
"i always mess up"
"BUT I SUCK"
Tagged by febricant, with the following rules:
In a text post, list ten FICS that have stayed with you in some way. Don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard — they don’t have to be the “right” works, or even all the same pairing or fandom, just the fics that have touched you or that stuck with you somehow.
Tag ten friends, including me, so I’ll see your list. Make sure you let your friends know you’ve tagged them!Nope. Sorry. I never do this. Just weird that way.
Basically: FUN. So, in no particular order:
Remus goes with him down the supermarket on Tuesday; Sirius has nothing but bread in the cupboards, a few turquoise tins of beans, some cheap wine. (He likes to think if he keeps his cabinets full, if he gets rid that manky smell in the ice-box, Remus will stay the night, the month: to save the seven-stop tube ride, and take the other half of the wardrobe Sirius leaves empty, on purpose. That maybe Remus will call the flat in Islington with the yellow door, populated by twelve sorts of mould and one scared, scared boy with scabbed elbows — he will call it home, like the way he cupped his palms and told Sirius about fireflies; like the swell of Lily’s stomach.)
It may sound strange, but this 700 words of fanfiction has affected my writing more profoundly than, I think, any other piece of writing ever has. I found it as a teenager and fell in love with the way the words fit together, and just — the simplicity of it, the poignancy, how much was communicated just in that one line about Remus standing in front of the frozen peas. It has stayed with me, in a way I could not begin to explain, for the last decade. I expect it will stay with me a few decades more.