Summary: Based on the prompt: “you give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and I just want to know your real name bc ur cute but here I am scrawling “batman” onto your stupid cappuccino” but with Roman emperors because Bellamy is nerd. Obviously.
Clarke knew she would regret volunteering to work the early shifts when she started working at Starbucks, but it aligned with her class schedule and she was hoping at least the free coffee would do something to wake her up in the morning.
She wasn’t five minutes into her first shift, barely past five-thirty am, so early even the sun couldn’t be bothered to show itself yet, before she knew for certain that her hopes were misplaced.
She did her best to tame the scowl on her face on the off chance they actually had customers before six. By seven, she could very nearly manage a smile when serving the pre-coffee grumps that dragged themselves through their doors. But before six, or really, if she was honest, six-thirty, people were lucky if she didn’t glare at them like she wanted to splash the hot coffee in their faces.
Her manager would probably be more bothered by this if most of the customers seemed to care much about the look on her face. She almost didn’t mind serving those people, the ones who were clearly just as amused at being up at such an absurd hour as she was and were just trying to get themselves a halfway decent cup of caffeine to get through their day.
That, she could handle.
What really, really made her want to poison someone’s cappuccino were morning people.
Part of her already hated him the moment he walks through the door; it was her third shift and she’d only seen two people that morning, verging on five-forty-five, the slight smirk seeming plastered on his face like he existed to charm every person on the planet.
He saunters up to the register and grins at her. She’s just awake enough to register the fact that his smile could literally end wars, (or start them, she thought, that would be more historically accurate) but it still did little to brighten her mood.
She takes his order and his voice in every way matches his overwhelmingly attractive exterior. He had it all, really; the dark, curly hair, the dark eyes, the endearingly freckled skin and muscles she was sure made other girls swoon.
Other girls, that is, who were not raging monsters before six am, face to face with a man who seemed determined to radiate sunshine. She finds herself just as annoyed by his good looks as she is by his good mood.
She manages to keep herself composed while taking his order, but catches herself only after making a snide comment about The Fault in Our Stars when he says his name is Augustus.
In her moment of horror that she’d just made fun of a customer’s name, sure he’s going to get upset and tell her manager and she’s going to lose her job before she’s even finished her third shift, he has the audacity to smirk.
“More like the emperor, Clarke,” he says with a pointed glance toward her name tag.
She almost would’ve preferred if he’d gotten her fired; that, at least, would’ve likely prevented her from seeing him again.
Viscount Melbourne50 presents his humble duty to your Majesty, and being aware that your Majesty has already received the melancholy intelligence of the death of his late Majesty, will do himself the honour of waiting upon your Majesty a little before nine this morning. Viscount Melbourne has requested the Marquis of Lansdowne to name eleven as the hour for the meeting of the Council at Kensington Palace.
Footnote 50: Lord Melbourne, so far as can be augured from his handwriting, which is extremely difficult to decipher, appears always to have written his own name Melburne. But it is not the correct spelling, and no one else seems to have employed it.
oKAY SO THIS IS WHAT MELBOURNE SENT VICTORIA ON THE MORNING OF HER UNCLE’S DEATH before he came to meet with her for the first time as his Queen!
AND OH MY GOD MEL. PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW HOW TO SPELL YOUR OWN NAME.
I have a character who is Iranian. Her last name (her first isn't mentioned since she's just a police officer and only in the story a short while) is David (Da-veed), but I'm afraid people are going to mispronounce her name. It's not that important, but I don't know how to make sure people know that she's not officer "day-vid", without like being somehow offensive.
There are a few ways to go about it. But basically, the easiest and most natural is to have her correcting someone who’s made that mistake.
“Dah-veed? Wait, how do you spell that?” said the reporter, brows furrowed.
“D-A-V-I-D. Like David Bowie.”
“Yo, Officer David.” The informant slid down into the chair across from her.
“You know that’s not my name,” she said. “Get it right or you won’t be paid for your time.”
“Whoa, whoa, all right. Chill, Officer Dah-veed,” he said with an exaggerated pronunciation.