dripping coffee

Since I consider myself a big sis to all of you, I have made a small list of academic and misc. tips to make college/university not suck as bad.

Academic

  1. If you get distracted in large lecture halls, sit in the front row. I discovered in large classes that I was sometimes more focused on the girl in front of me being on facebook, than I was on the actual lecture. Sitting in the front is always a good idea. It is honestly the easiest tip I have for you.
  2. RECORD YOUR LECTURES! How ever you decide to take notes, you can also record your lectures. I use notability to take notes and to record my lectures with. When reviewing before an exam, recordings are a lifesaver. Also just reviewing after class, it deff helps to clear up anything that was slightly unclear in your notes.
  3. Dress comfy for class. Literally no one care what you wear to class. Don’t feel like you haaaave to look cute, I understand wanting to look good to feel good for yourself but sometimes nike shorts are gonna be your best option.
  4. Book group study rooms in the library. If your libraries on campus are anything like mine, they’re always packed. BUUUUUT it is very likely that your library has a way to reserve library rooms, thus guaranteeing you a silent study place on campus. Book ahead for finals week!!
  5. GOOGLE DOCS. Once you make a good study group, condense all of your notes together on a google doc shared between you all. Google docs and slides  are also amazing for group projects and presentations. Become familiar with both, they are your new best friends.

Misc.

  1. Starbucks has a loyalty program, get on it. I worked as a barista and literally the gold card program starbucks has will safe you a ton. There are literally 10 Starbucks on my campus, you will become familiar with yours. Download the app and start collecting points now! Also a pro-tip, skip the lattes and frappuccinos. Drip coffee is the best option for you, it is cheaper, better for you, and has the most caffeine besides the iced coffee. Also, once you’re a loyalty member at starbucks, refills on all coffee and tea is FREE
  2. Keep snacks in your bag, it’s not rocket science. You get hungry, eat. The more protein, the better. 
  3. Easy way to talk to someone in class. Pull out a pack of gum. Has not changed from high school. Having “class friends” is needed. They’re great for getting notes from if you miss class and for getting together to study with!

anonymous asked:

Omg, Sky, what if pastel!Dan was being bullied for wearing skirts and dresses and so one day he breaks down in the bathroom and punk!Phil comes in there and tries to talk him out the stall but can't at first. Eventually Dan does come out of the bathroom (fluff or smut, your choice)

warning ; transphobic slurs, bullying, physical and verbal abuse, pro self harm

Stay strong, Dan. C’mon, stay fucking strong. 

You’re strong, right? You’re not a wimp like they say you are. 

Dan felt his lip tremble, and he clenched his fists at his sides, bunching his soft blue skirt in his hands. Damn it. 

But really if Dan was being honest, he couldn’t take it anymore. The teasing, the shoving, the random insults in the hallway. He didn’t know what he had done to any of them. 

Dan flinched as another of the boys shoved him against the lockers, right after he had gotten up. The guy sneered at him; Dan avoided his eyes, calmly trying to move past him. Someone laughed. 

“Fuckin’ tranny. No boy who’s right in the head would wear a skirt to school,” one of the by-standing girls whispered, not trying very hard to keep it quiet. 

Dan bit his lip; he could feel the tears welling in his eyes but he refused to let them spill. It wasn’t fair. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, wiping at his eyes. 

School was an arena. It was a bloody showcase, and he was under the lights. He felt like everyone gathered around just to watch him be hurt, day after day. And none of them ever spoke up! 

“Aw, look! It’s gonna cry. Poor thing,” one of the boy’s said loudly, mocking him, snickering, and everyone laughed. Dan moved faster, and the boy who had said it followed.  

Dan sniffed, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood, and held a hand to his face. It was hot. 

Suddenly something hit his back, something that burned, and he could feel it explode. He stopped in his tracks, letting out a cry, feeling the boiling liquid drip down his thighs and onto his socks. 

Someone had thrown their coffee at him. 

Dan let out a soft whimper, trying to comprehend how much that actually hurt. The laughter rang in his ears like an alarm he couldn’t find the off switch to.

He caught the gaze of a boy, standing by his locker, watching all this with wide eyes. 

Dan knew him, he was in several of his classes, but they never really spoke. He didn’t think he even knew Dan’s name. He was tough, cold and dark, the opposite of Dan. Dan would be scared of him, but he had never really done anything to him. 

 Dan held his gaze for a moment, before looking away and bursting into tears. Choked sobs fell from his lips as he spun around, running straight to the nearest boy’s bathroom, the still hot as hell coffee dripping down his back. 

He had no doubt his sweater and skirt were both ruined, but he didn’t check. He rushed to the back of the room, pushing open one of the stall doors and locking it behind him. 

He crumpled to the ground, burying his face in his arms, shaking with sobs. It wasn’t fair; he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. His back hurt, everywhere the coffee touched, actually. He had no doubt he had burns. Wasn’t that assault? Why did no one stop them?

Because no one cares, Dan. You’re a toy to all of them, a spectacle. 

Dan whimpered, trying to keep himself quiet. He didn’t want them to hear him like this. 

Even his family couldn’t help him. When he had told his mum about the bullying, she had said, ‘Well, i’m not surprised. With how you dress, there’s sure to be hate. Maybe try dressing a little less flamboyant, honey.” He hadn’t tried telling his dad after that. 

Dan thought about the forums he had been on the night before. He had been searching for something, anything, to help him keep sane. He came across all these pro-sites… pro ana, pro self harm… and he had fallen too deep. He had spent hours reading all the awful posts. 

Dan, don’t cry. Crying is for wimps, weak people. You’re not weak, are you? You’re a big boy, keep it in..

Dan shook his head, tugging at his hair. Even he was abusing himself now. 

“Dan…?”

Dan jumped at the voice from the other side of the bathroom, the door creaking open. He didn’t recognize it. It was low, and husky; laced with worry. 

Dan kept quiet, trying to camouflage into the white tile wall. 

“Dan, I know you’re in here,” they said again, a small sigh echoing against the walls. 

“N-No,” Dan stuttered, hiccuping. “’M not.”

A quiet chuckle, and they knocked on the door gently. 

“Please let me in,” he said quietly. Dan bit his lip. 

“No. You’ll hurt me.”

Another sigh. 

“I won’t, angel,” they boy said, and he sounded sincere. “I would never.”

There was a moment of silence as Dan thought, chewing on his lip. 

“Why not?”

“Because no one should hurt someone as sweet as you, doll,” he replied immediately, leaning against the stall door. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you, honey.” 

Dan felt his lip tremble again, the tears threatening to spill again. 

“I’m not coming out,” Dan whispered. “it’s not safe, they’re gonna hurt me.”

There was silence, and then - “I won’t let them hurt you, angel. I promise.”

Dan took a shaky breath, rolling the boy’s words around in his head. He sounded sincere… 

Dan decided he would take a chance, just this one time. 

He unlocked the door, pushing it open. 

It was him. It was the boy from the hallway, and up close, Dan could see how blue his eyes really were. He grinned, tugging at his leather jacket to straighten it. His happy expression soon turned to worry as his eyes flickered over Dan’s red eyes, messy hair, and stained clothes. 

“Shit, are you alright, angel?” He asked, his eyes widening, and he held out his arms as if to hug him. 

Dan took the offer, sinking into his arms without a second thought, sobbing into his shirt and clinging to him like a baby. Phil immediately embraced him, running his fingers through Dan’s hair like he had been waiting years. 

Dan sniffed. “You’re surprisingly cuddly. What’s your name?”

Phil chuckled, dipping two fingers under Dan’s chin to bring his face up. “Phil. Are you alright, angel?”

Dan rubbed his eyes. 

“I dunno.”

Phil wordlessly spun him around, tutting at the stain on his sweater and lifting it up to reveal his back. Dan heard a gasp. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, turning and trying to see what Phil was seeing. Phil let out a low, growl-like noise. 

“They burned you, babe,” was all he said. 

He grabbed Dan’s wrist, tugging him over to the sink. He started to take Dan’s sweater off, raising his eyebrows to ask for permission. Dan nodded slowly. 

Phil folded it up, although it was already ruined, and set it on the counter. He got a paper towel wet, pressing it to Dan’s lower back. 

Dan jumped, flinching away from the sting, and Phil put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, love,” he said softly, running his thumb over the skin. Dan shivered.

After Phil was done soothing his burns, he turned him back around, smiling at him. 

“I have a solution, no need to fear,” he said, grinning and shouldering off his jacket. He tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his pale chest. Dan frowned. 

Phil turned his own black shirt back right side out, gently pulling it on Dan, and picked up Dan’s sweater, putting it on, stain and all. Dan blinked at him. 

Phil looked down at himself, grinning. “Damn, I look good in pink.”

Dan giggled. “I think so too.”

“Well,” Phil held out a hand, tilting his head and licking his lips. “Shall we go? What’s your next class?”

Dan bit his lip, nodding and taking his hand, a shock running through him when their fingers intertwined. 

“English.”

Phil smiled crookedly. “Hey, me too. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

So… maybe someone did care. 

sushi || pjm (f)

Going out on a date with some guy you met at a café could bring more with it than meets the eye.

❀ genre: fluff.
❀ word count: 5,3k+
Spotify playlist | Youtube playlist

With slow steps, you dragged your feet towards the bathroom, feeling really tired from the nap you just woke up from. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to sleep before a date, but you couldn’t help yourself as you had woken up really early for work. A small smile played upon your lips as you thought about it, work. It’s where you met him.


‘’Y/N! A caramel macchiato!’’ your co-worker yelled from the counter as you hastily wiped away the mess you just made.

‘’Coming right at ya,’’ you just told him, still wiping the counter and now also the floor, as coffee dripped from the edges. Brown droplets splashed in front of your white shoes, almost making them brown too, but with a few more wipes it looked like nothing was ever there.

A heavy sigh left your mouth and you heard a shy voice speaking a few metres away from you.

‘’Please, t-take your time,’’ the voice said as you whipped your head around, gazing at the guy to which the voice belonged with surprised eyes. When you met his eyes, your heart was about the burst and you could feel your head getting lighter.

Warm, chocolate brown eyes, a bit puffy and a face handsome as hell. Lips plump at first, but when his mouth went upwards, the cutest smile ever appeared, making his eyes smile as well. You had no idea how a stranger could make you feel all giddy, but he did. His ash blonde hair fell in front of his face in various ways, and it gave him this chill and cute vibe.

‘’Oh Jesus, Lord, save me,’’ was the only thought going through your mind,

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IF SOMEBODY HAD TOLD YOU...

Originally posted by jjks

anon said : I was the person who asked about requesting ealier but I just have time know to request so - a jungkook scenario where you or him are a waitress at a restaurant/cafe and flirts with the customer (you or jungkook) and then they wait for the place to close and walk you home and stuff?? if that makes sense??

Summary : Sure, you like the coffee at the cafe. But you like the barista working there even more…

Warnings : none

Word Count : 1k+  


Everyday for the past month Jungkook had been watching you. Not in a creepy way. At least, he hoped not in a creepy way…

It’s  just… for the last month you’d frequented the cafe he worked at nearly every day. It had started a rainy Thursday. You’d found shelter in the cafe, cursing yourself for not remembering an umbrella on a day you knew it was going to rain. Jungkook had noticed you standing there, droplets of rain slipping off of your coat and onto the floor and he’d made you a warm cup of tea. He wasn’t sure what kind you’d like, but he’d somehow correctly guessed your favorite tea.

Ever since that day, you’d gone back to the cafe as often as possible and Jungkook had taken note on how often you came in. In all honestly, he was trying the pluck up the courage to ask you on a date. Everyday he’d compliment you or laugh at some dumb joke you told or tell you a dumb joke of his own. The more he got to know you, the more he wished to ask you out.

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Laura Harvey

Laura Harvey orders a simple drip coffee. Before she drinks it, she strikes a deal with Boston to get their cappuccino for her coffee and a sip of her next drink. She trades that cappuccino for FCKC’s java chip frappuccino, drinks half, then trades that for Washington’s espresso, sandwich, fruit cup, and smoothie. She walks out owning half the store.

Another WIP of the Modern Male Witch Kitchen! I’ve been working on it a lot lately.

I’d love to hear your opinions! 

The color scheme is brown/orange/green. The main lighting will come from the window. 

Animation ideas: orange slices turning, coffee dripping, cauldron fumes, pumpkin carvings glowing, smartphone blinking, weird red stuff in drawer flying around, basil plant floating, kitchenaid mixing.
Not sure if I’m gonna use all of those. Suggestions are welcome!

Coffee

Note: Hi Everyone. I wrote a Thing. Many thanks to @mulder-fight-him and @kateyes224 for encouraging me to write it and for making it not suck. As this is the first Thing I’ve written in over a year, I’d appreciate any feedback. Except the feedback of “You suck, this sucks, never write again.” My brain tells me that every time I write a Thing, I don’t need you telling me that too. :-) 



She is a coffee connoisseur. Dripped from a contraband coffeemaker in a dorm room during an all-nighter to try to understand biochemistry. Gulped without tasting, still scalding hot, as she ran between patients. Sipped from a mug that warmed her hands as her eyes twinkled at her lover in his parents’ cabin after an unsuccessful ice fishing expedition.

And then…Styrofoam cups in police stations, ranging from barely palatable to resembling raw sewage. Fuel just to keep up with her brilliant partner and his spooky leaps of logic. Picked up from gas stations and drive thrus, as they ran from case to case. Chipped mugs in diners with free refills, as they tried to find enough motivation to chase down endless dead ends on the search for the one lead that would answer the question, slay the monster, save the day. Pots made in a dingy basement office and then ignored as their arguments about the merits of the case energized them more fully than any caffeine could, where winning meant they would stay in the musty dark room but losing meant traipsing through fields in the rain and chasing Bigfoot. She’d never admit it, but she there were times when she preferred it when she lost, because losing meant a new chance to share a secret world with this man, one no outsider would ever understand.

She had opinions on the quality of coffee around the country. She could tell whether she’d have heartburn from it with just a sniff of the air as she walked into the convenience store – often before the bell on the door had stopped chiming. She knew which chains refilled their carafes regularly and would request stops there.

One convenience store in Utah had no coffee, the Mormon cashier saying that caffeine was against his religion, but could he interest her in a coke instead? Mulder had laughed as she had ranted about ignorance, the comparative levels of caffeine in cola versus coffee, her First Amendment rights, and the heartburn caused by the carbonation for the next 50 miles.

But she didn’t remember the taste of the most important cups of coffee in her life.

The mug she left half finished at her mother’s kitchen table after scattering her father’s ashes, claiming a work emergency so she could make a quick escape because she couldn’t handle expecting her father to join them any second, complaining that they hadn’t saved him any, stealing sips from her mother’s cup as they talked and he waited for a refill to brew.

The disposable cup Mulder had pressed into her fist in a Minneapolis field office, giving a statement as she tried to regain her professionalism after losing her composure in front of 20 agents.

The pots she made in her mother’s kitchen, drifting on autopilot after they had buried her sister. That day, she tried a bag of “Tranquil Moments” herbal tea Melissa had left in the cupboard and had once tried to make her drink because it “isn’t healthy for you to be running around nonstop, Dana, you need a chance to breathe too.”

The cup a week after her first round of chemo, which tasted like metal covered in dirt. She had spat it back into the mug and thrown up in the kitchen sink. For months afterwards, she’d silently accepted every cup Mulder offered her, but threw it out as soon as his back was turned.

The coffee breaks she’d shared with Mulder while they were stuck on Kersh’s fertilizer duty, walking down the street to the hipster coffee shop with the twenty year old whose facial hair changed weekly. After one particularly awful session in the AD’s office, Mulder had asked for an application, and the barista laughed, assuming he was joking. She was only half sure he wasn’t.

A thermos full of Irish coffee as they propped themselves against the chain link backstop of an abandoned baseball diamond, talking about everything and nothing, still feeling the heat of his body pressed against her back and wondering if she should have turned around and kissed him when she had the chance.

The slow brews she’d shared with Mulder on lazy Sunday mornings, the taste chased from her tongue by Mulder’s slow kisses.

The ones she’d refused while pregnant and nursing, the lack of sleep and caffeine adding a dream-like state to the months, so that when she looked back at that time, it took on an otherworldly sheen. (It didn’t help that any explanation of those two years sounded absurdist to any outside observer – “My partner was abducted by aliens, returned dead, buried for three months and then exhumed because he wasn’t dead, just in stasis.” “Even though I had no ova due to experiments conducted on me against my will by a shadow government, I had a baby who was considered the greatest single threat to an alien invasion and consequently was in constant danger until I gave him up for adoption.”)

The cup that sat on her mother’s table as she tried desperately to explain herself, (“I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” her mother had responded tearfully), her own tears blurring her vision as her mother kissed her grandson goodbye for the last time.

The rushed caffeine fixes on the run, cups she picked up at 5AM in truck stops, wearing a hoodie that covered hair dyed blond, brown, black, and even for a little while back to red, while Mulder hid in a run-down motel room. She couldn’t remember the taste of anything during those months, fear chasing all the flavor away.

And then, once again, gulping scalding servings down between patients, children this time, as she saved other people’s babies because she was unable to care for her own.

Impromptu coffee dates with Mulder, him sipping his morning coffee with bleary eyes and bed head, her drinking a cup of decaf before bed, smelling of antiseptic soap and latex, fighting sleep because she hadn’t seen him in three days and she missed him.

The cup she made all alone in his kitchen (no longer hers, all her belongings packed up and in the back of her car), leaving the pot mostly full so he’d have something to drink when he ambled out of his lair, washing the mug so it wouldn’t sit in the sink for days before walking out the door.

Then one day, the coffee pot ignored once again in the basement as they discussed cases, tentatively at first as they tried to regain their footing, then found themselves and each other again. One morning, as she dropped her briefcase off in her area, looking at his desk in his office, she wondered if she hadn’t found herself back in the same endless circle. Then Mulder had shaken her out of her musings with a hand on her shoulder and a discolored mug as an offering. Their fingers touched and she realized that they aren’t circling back to the start but traveling onwards together.

The coffee Mulder made as she tried to arrange her mother’s funeral, untouched in the carafe as she thought about her reuniting with Ahab and Missy, and jealously wishing that she’d be with them soon (but only for a moment before pushing the forbidden thought out of her mind).

And then, one night, the specialty coffees Mulder brought to her apartment, sitting untouched on her kitchen counter as they fell into bed together again. She made a fresh pot for him the next morning.

Image (Taehyung/Reader)

Prompt: Hey they~ can I request an angst scenario where reader and taehyung are both idols and are forced to date for public. It’s up to you on how you want to end it. Thank you! 😊

Genre: Angst

Words: 3.4k+

Author: Admin Meyg

Originally posted by bloodsweatearss


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2

Silas: Heyyyy sis! Good job dumping this loser! 

William: I am standing right here, you know…

Sophronia: Don’t mind him. Sometimes he feels the need to put on this “overprotective brother” persona. Not that there was any need, seeing as there was nothing going on between us anyway, right? 

Willliam: Yeah…right. 

The memories of our love roll down my cheeks and drip into Sunday coffee we use to share
—  L.S.
How to not be a shitwaffle customer

1. Make eye contact. Say hello, please and thank you.
This is basic “how to be nice to people” level shit. Baristas are people. Dont forget that. 
 
2. Tip. 
2a. Spare change is standard for a drip coffee. $1 for anything you can’t make yourself. $20 minimum for ordering frappuccinos for your kids entire soccer team. 
2b. If the difference between a good tip and a great tip is less than a dollar, leave a great tip. 

3. Put things back where you got them from. 
If you’re looking at merch and decide you don’t want something you’ve picked up, walk your happy ass back to where you got it from. 

4. Clean up after yourself. 
If you spill something, clean that shit up. If your kid pukes all over the chairs, FUCKING ASK FOR A GODDAMNED ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS AND CLEAN THAT SHIT UP. We didn’t choose to birth that hellspawn, we’re not cleaning up it’s bilious secretions. 

5. Stop trying to game the system.
You’re a goddamned adult. Pay for the drink you want and stop thinking that ordering it in a clever way will save you 30 cents. Just don’t do it, you galactic fucktrumpet. 

6. Don’t hit on the barista.
You’re creepy and your tired, flabby assed joke about “tall blondes” was never funny.