#Coffee sourcing sustainability

[scottbiffin]

Exploring the Growing Coffee Trading Market in Australia- Trends and Opportunities

Australia has long been known for its vibrant coffee culture. From bustling cafes to artisanal roasters, the country has cultivated a deep passion for coffee. While much of the spotlight has traditionally been on the consumption side, the coffee trading market in Australia is becoming a significant area of growth. As the world experiences shifting dynamics in coffee production and demand, Australia is carving out a niche as both a consumer and player in the global coffee trading market. In this blog post, we will explore the trends shaping the coffee trading market in Australia, examine the opportunities it presents, and highlight the challenges the industry faces.

Australia’s Coffee Culture: A Foundation for Trade

Australia’s affinity for coffee is well-documented. Since the post-World War II migration waves, when Italian and Greek immigrants introduced espresso machines to the country, Australians have developed an unyielding devotion to quality coffee. This cultural foundation laid the groundwork for an emerging coffee trading market, as consumers demand high-quality beans sourced from diverse regions across the globe.

The popularity of specialty coffee has transformed the way Australians consume coffee. They no longer seek just a caffeine hit; instead, they want to know the story behind their cup—the origins of the beans, the farm where they were grown, and the sustainability practices involved. This growing consumer awareness has encouraged coffee traders and roasters to source premium, ethically produced beans, fueling the demand for diverse and specialty coffee.

Trends Shaping the Australian Coffee Trading Market

1. Rise of Specialty Coffee Trading

One of the most significant trends driving the coffee trading market in Australia is the rise of specialty coffee. Specialty coffee refers to beans that score 80 points or more on the Specialty Coffee Association (SCA) scale, indicating high quality in terms of flavor, aroma, and production processes. The specialty coffee market has been growing steadily, with many traders now focusing on sourcing beans that meet these premium standards.

Coffee traders in Australia have begun forging relationships with smallholder farms and cooperatives in countries like Ethiopia, Colombia, and Kenya. Direct trade models are becoming more prevalent, allowing traders to work closely with farmers to ensure higher-quality beans and better pricing for growers. This trend is also tied to increasing consumer demand for transparency and sustainability in coffee sourcing.

2. Sustainability and Ethical Sourcing

Sustainability is now a major consideration for Australian coffee traders. With growing awareness of climate change and its impact on coffee-growing regions, there is an increased focus on sourcing beans from farms that use sustainable practices. This includes everything from water conservation and organic farming methods to ensuring fair labor conditions for farm workers.

Ethical sourcing practices, such as Fair Trade certifications and direct trade relationships, are also becoming more common. Australian consumers are willing to pay a premium for coffee that is sourced responsibly, and traders are responding by prioritizing partnerships with coffee producers who adhere to ethical and sustainable practices.

3. Technological Advancements in Coffee Trading

Technology is playing an increasingly important role in the coffee trading market. Digital platforms and marketplaces have emerged, allowing traders to connect with farmers and buyers more easily. These platforms provide greater transparency in the supply chain, enabling traders to access real-time information on pricing, availability, and quality of beans.

Blockchain technology is also making waves in coffee trading. It enables the tracking of coffee beans from farm to cup, ensuring traceability and authenticity. This is particularly important for specialty coffee traders who need to prove the origins and quality of their beans. In addition, blockchain can help ensure fair pricing and reduce inefficiencies in the supply chain.

4. Growing Interest in Coffee Futures Trading

While Australia is traditionally more involved in physical coffee trading, there is a growing interest in coffee futures trading as well. Coffee futures are contracts that allow traders to buy or sell coffee at a set price on a future date. This type of trading is common in global commodity markets, particularly in New York and London, but Australian traders are starting to explore this avenue to hedge against market fluctuations.

Coffee futures provide traders with a tool to mitigate risks, especially as the price of coffee can be highly volatile due to factors such as climate change, geopolitical events, and global supply and demand dynamics. As Australia becomes more integrated into the global coffee market, futures trading could offer an opportunity to strengthen its position.

Opportunities in the Australian Coffee Trading Market

The evolving coffee trading market in Australia offers several exciting opportunities for both local and international players. Here are some key areas to watch:

1. Expanding Specialty Coffee Market

Australia’s specialty coffee scene is thriving, and the demand for high-quality beans is only expected to grow. This presents a significant opportunity for coffee traders to focus on sourcing and importing beans from regions known for their specialty coffee production. By building strong relationships with coffee growers and cooperatives, traders can secure exclusive access to some of the best beans in the world.

Additionally, the growing consumer demand for unique and diverse flavors creates opportunities for traders to introduce lesser-known coffee origins to the Australian market. Traders who can differentiate their offerings by providing rare or exotic beans stand to benefit from a market that values exclusivity and quality.

2. Direct Trade Models

Direct trade has gained popularity in Australia as a way to ensure better quality and transparency in the coffee supply chain. By cutting out intermediaries, coffee traders can establish direct relationships with farmers and cooperatives, allowing them to negotiate better pricing for both parties and ensure higher-quality beans. This model benefits both the trader and the grower, creating a win-win scenario.

In a direct trade model, traders can also support farmers in improving their growing practices, investing in infrastructure, and obtaining certifications that meet the increasing consumer demand for ethical and sustainable coffee. This mutually beneficial relationship strengthens the overall supply chain and enhances the reputation of traders committed to responsible sourcing.

3. Investment in Sustainable and Organic Coffee

With the focus on sustainability and ethical sourcing growing, there are opportunities for coffee traders to specialize in sustainable and organic coffee. Consumers are increasingly looking for certifications like Fair Trade, Rainforest Alliance, and USDA Organic, which can boost the appeal of beans sourced under these programs.

Traders who invest in building relationships with coffee farms that prioritize environmental sustainability and social responsibility are likely to find a receptive market in Australia. Promoting organic, shade-grown, or bird-friendly coffee options can differentiate traders from competitors while also aligning with the values of environmentally conscious consumers.

4. Increased Role of Digital Platforms

Digital platforms and coffee trading marketplaces are revolutionizing the way traders do business. By using these platforms, traders can streamline the process of sourcing and selling coffee beans, gaining access to a broader network of buyers and sellers. These platforms also provide greater transparency in pricing and quality, reducing the risks associated with coffee trading.

Coffee traders in Australia who adopt these digital tools can benefit from increased efficiency and reach, opening up new business opportunities both locally and globally. Moreover, leveraging data and analytics from these platforms can help traders make more informed decisions about sourcing, pricing, and inventory management.

5. Exploring the Growing Asian Coffee Market

Australia’s proximity to Asia presents a unique opportunity for coffee traders to tap into the rapidly growing coffee markets in countries like China, South Korea, and Japan. These markets have seen a surge in coffee consumption, particularly in urban areas, creating new opportunities for Australian coffee traders to export high-quality beans to these regions.

The increasing interest in specialty coffee in Asia further boosts the potential for Australian traders to establish themselves as key suppliers to this market. Building partnerships with Asian distributors and roasters could open the door to a growing consumer base that is eager to explore premium coffee options.

Challenges in the Australian Coffee Trading Market

While there are numerous opportunities, the Australian coffee trading market is not without its challenges. Traders need to be mindful of these potential obstacles to successfully navigate the industry.

1. Price Volatility

Coffee is a commodity that is subject to price fluctuations due to various factors such as weather conditions, political instability in coffee-growing regions, and global demand shifts. For traders, managing this price volatility can be challenging, especially when operating on tight margins. Futures trading offers one way to mitigate some of this risk, but it requires a deep understanding of the market.

2. Supply Chain Disruptions

The global coffee supply chain is complex, involving multiple players from farmers to exporters, traders, roasters, and retailers. Any disruptions in this chain, whether due to natural disasters, political instability, or logistical issues, can affect the availability and pricing of coffee beans. Traders need to be prepared to handle these disruptions and have contingency plans in place.

3. Climate Change

Climate change poses a significant threat to the coffee industry, as many coffee-growing regions are experiencing shifting weather patterns that affect crop yields and quality. For traders, this means dealing with potential supply shortages and increased competition for high-quality beans. Investing in long-term relationships with farmers and supporting sustainable farming practices can help mitigate the risks posed by climate change.

Conclusion

The coffee trading market in Australia is an exciting space, driven by trends such as the rise of specialty coffee, sustainability, and technological advancements. For traders, the key to success lies in understanding consumer preferences, building strong relationships with coffee producers, and staying ahead of the curve when it comes to sustainability and innovation.

With the right strategies, traders can capitalize on the growing demand for premium, ethically sourced coffee, both in Australia and beyond. The opportunities are vast, and for those willing to invest in quality, transparency, and sustainability, the future of coffee trading in Australia looks promising.

[ajcrowlor]

i live in Quebec and have access to both American and European chocolate and like. it's all shit imo.

since i've tried specialty chocolate literally everything else now tastes too oily, too acidic or too sweet

i know it all comes down to taste preferences and very much affordability, but i also do think a bar of speciality chocolate is worth 10-20 bars of cheap chocolate, especially bc i don't feel sick after having one bite anymore

The European mind cannot comprehend what it was like to be a person who'd only had Hershey bullshit chocolate my entire life and then have European chocolate for the very first time and it made me realize why people were acting like that in the Willy Wonka movies

[nthummars]

Premier Coffee Supplier & Exporter from India: N Thummars 

India, known for its diverse climate and rich soil, is home to some of the finest coffee plantations in the world. Among the leaders in this sector is N Thummars, a premier coffee supplier and exporter renowned for its high-quality products and exceptional service. Let’s delve into what makes N Thummars a standout name in the global coffee industry. 

A Legacy of Excellence 

N Thummars has carved a niche for itself in the competitive world of coffee by consistently delivering superior quality beans. The company’s journey began several decades ago with a passion for coffee and a commitment to excellence. Today, N Thummars is synonymous with premium coffee that caters to the sophisticated tastes of coffee connoisseurs around the world. 

Commitment to Quality 

One of the hallmarks of N Thummars is its unwavering commitment to quality. The company sources its coffee beans from the best plantations across India, primarily from regions like Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu, which are famous for their ideal coffee-growing conditions. The selection process is meticulous, ensuring that only the finest beans make it to their processing units. 

Sustainable Practices 

N Thummars is deeply committed to sustainable and ethical practices. They work closely with local farmers, providing them with fair wages and training in sustainable farming techniques. This not only ensures a steady supply of high-quality coffee but also supports the local communities and protects the environment. The company's sustainable practices have earned them several certifications, underscoring their dedication to ethical sourcing and environmental stewardship. 

State-of-the-Art Processing 

The journey of N Thummars coffee beans doesn’t end at the farm. Once harvested, the beans undergo a rigorous processing procedure. N Thummars employs state-of-the-art technology to process and package their coffee, ensuring that the beans retain their natural flavor and aroma. This meticulous attention to detail guarantees that every cup of coffee brewed from N Thummars beans is a delightful experience. 

Diverse Product Range 

N Thummars offers a diverse range of coffee products to cater to different preferences. From robust and full-bodied beans to smooth and aromatic blends, there is something for every coffee lover. Their product line includes green coffee beans, roasted coffee beans, and various blends, each crafted to perfection to provide a unique coffee experience. 

Global Reach 

With a strong network of clients and partners, N Thummars has established itself as a leading exporter of Indian coffee. The company exports its premium coffee beans to several countries across the globe, including the USA, Europe, and Asia. Their ability to consistently meet the demands of the global market while maintaining high standards of quality has earned them a loyal customer base worldwide. 

Customer-Centric Approach 

At the heart of N Thummars’ success is its customer-centric approach. The company values its customers and strives to build lasting relationships by providing exceptional service and support. Whether it’s timely delivery, customized solutions, or addressing specific client needs, N Thummars goes the extra mile to ensure complete customer satisfaction. 

Conclusion 

N Thummars stands out as a premier coffee supplier and exporter from India, thanks to its commitment to quality, sustainability, and customer satisfaction. Their legacy of excellence, coupled with a passion for coffee, makes them a trusted name in the global coffee industry. For those seeking the finest Indian coffee, N Thummars is the ultimate choice, promising a rich and delightful coffee experience with every sip. 

[gatorpond]

for those who would like to support Palestinian olive farmers, equal exchange has Palestine-sourced olive oil! they're an amazing worker owned co-op that works closely with local farmers to support sustainability and pay fair wages.

i frankly cannot afford it, but i know some folks can and would like to get some. it comes in packs of 6 bottles, so if you can get 6 friends together, each person can pay for one bottle!

they also have some of the most delicious coffee and hot cocoa mixes that i've ever gotten, and the same approach applies. given how horrific farming and labor practices are in both of those industries, i highly recommend supporting them and getting some amazing products in return if you can afford it.

[thecoffeetongue]

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The Rise of Specialty Coffee Shops: How Third Wave Coffee is Changing the Industry

   Coffee has come a long way since the days of instant and drip-brew. In recent years, a new movement has emerged in the world of coffee, known as third-wave coffee. This movement is characterized by a focus on quality and sustainability, and it has brought about a resurgence in the popularity of specialty coffee shops. In this article, we’ll explore the rise of specialty coffee shops and how third-wave coffee is changing the industry. We’ll examine the history of specialty coffee, the defining characteristics of third-wave coffee, and the role of specialty coffee shops in this movement. We’ll also discuss the impact of third-wave coffee on the coffee industry and other industries, as well as the challenges and opportunities facing specialty coffee shops.

  The History of Specialty Coffee

A. The first wave of coffee can be traced back to the early 1900s when coffee became widely available to consumers through mass production and marketing. This wave was characterized by the rise of instant coffee and the proliferation of coffee chains such as Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks. The focus was on making coffee readily accessible and convenient for consumers.

B. The second wave of coffee began in the 1960s and lasted until the early 2000s. This wave was characterized by a focus on the quality of coffee and the emergence of specialty coffee shops. During this time, coffee became more than just a commodity, and consumers began to pay attention to the origin, roast, and flavor of their coffee. This wave also saw the popularization of espresso-based drinks and latte art.

C. The emergence of specialty coffee can be traced back to the 1980s when a group of coffee enthusiasts began to focus on sourcing and roasting high-quality beans. This movement was driven by a desire to showcase the unique flavors and characteristics of different coffee beans. Specialty coffee shops began to open up, offering customers a more personalized coffee experience. The emergence of the internet and the ability to source beans from around the world further fueled the growth of specialty coffee. Today, specialty coffee has become a global phenomenon, with coffee lovers seeking out the best roasters and beans from around the world.

  The Third Wave of Coffee

The third wave of coffee is a movement that emerged in the early 2000s and is characterized by a focus on quality, sustainability, and a more artisanal approach to coffee.

A. Definition of third-wave coffee is a movement that seeks to elevate coffee to an artisanal food, much like wine or craft beer. It focuses on the origin and processing of the beans, the roasting process, and the brewing techniques used to prepare the coffee. Third-wave coffee also emphasizes the importance of sustainability, fair trade practices, and the relationship between the coffee grower and the consumer.

B. Characteristics of third-wave coffee One of the defining characteristics of third-wave coffee is the emphasis on the quality of the coffee. Third-wave coffee shops will often only serve single-origin coffee, which means that the beans are sourced from a single farm or region and are not blended with beans from other sources. This allows customers to taste the unique flavors and characteristics of different beans.

Another characteristic of third-wave coffee is the focus on the brewing process. Third-wave coffee shops will often use alternative brewing methods, such as pour-over, siphon, or cold brew, to extract the flavors of the beans. This approach requires more time and attention to detail but results in a more nuanced and flavorful cup of coffee.

C. The focus on quality and sustainability The third wave of coffee places a strong emphasis on quality and sustainability. Coffee roasters and shops will often source their beans directly from small, independent growers who use sustainable and ethical practices. This allows the growers to receive a fair price for their beans and ensures that the coffee is of the highest quality.

The third wave of coffee also emphasizes the importance of environmental sustainability. Roasters and shops will often use compostable or recyclable packaging, and they may have a focus on reducing waste and energy use. This sustainability focus helps to ensure that the coffee industry is not only producing high-quality coffee but is also doing so in a way that is ethical and responsible.

  Specialty Coffee Shops

Specialty coffee shops are an essential component of the third wave of coffee. These shops offer customers a more personalized and elevated coffee experience and play a vital role in the growth and popularity of third-wave coffee.

A. The growth of specialty coffee shops have seen significant growth in recent years, with consumers increasingly seeking out high-quality coffee and a unique coffee shop experience. These shops often offer a more relaxed and intimate atmosphere than traditional coffee chains, and they may serve a range of alternative drinks and food items, such as matcha or artisanal pastries.

Many specialty coffee shops also have a focus on community and may host events or provide a space for customers to work or socialize. This focus on community helps to create a loyal customer base and can contribute to the success of the shop.

B. The importance of the coffee shop experience Specialty coffee shops offer customers a more personalized and elevated coffee experience than traditional coffee chains. The atmosphere of the shop, the quality of the coffee, and the interactions with the barista all contribute to this experience.

Specialty coffee shops will often have a focus on customer service, with baristas who are knowledgeable about the coffee and brewing methods and who can provide recommendations based on the customer’s preferences. This personalized approach helps to create a unique and memorable coffee shop experience that customers are more likely to return to.

C. The role of the barista is a crucial component of the specialty coffee shop experience. Baristas are often highly trained and knowledgeable about the coffee and brewing methods used in the shop. They play a vital role in ensuring that the coffee is prepared correctly and that the customer has a positive experience.

In addition to brewing and serving coffee, baristas may also educate customers about the origin and characteristics of the beans used in the shop, and they may provide recommendations on brewing methods or other drinks. The barista’s expertise and passion for coffee can help to create a welcoming and knowledgeable environment in the coffee shop, contributing to its success.

  Third Wave Coffee and the Industry

The third wave of coffee has had a significant impact on the coffee industry, as well as on other industries that are closely related to coffee. This section will explore the influence of third-wave coffee and the challenges and opportunities facing third-wave coffee shops.

A. The impact of third-wave coffee on the coffee industry The rise of third-wave coffee has disrupted the traditional coffee industry, which has long focused on low-cost, high-volume production. Third-wave coffee has instead prioritized quality and sustainability, leading to a shift in consumer preferences and a demand for higher-quality coffee.

This shift has led to the growth of specialty coffee shops and the emergence of artisanal coffee roasters. It has also led to a greater focus on direct trade and ethical sourcing practices, with coffee producers and consumers alike becoming more aware of the environmental and social impacts of coffee production.

B. The influence of third-wave coffee on other industries The influence of third-wave coffee extends beyond the coffee industry, as other industries have taken note of the success of specialty coffee shops and the importance of the customer experience. Restaurants, bars, and hotels have all started to place greater emphasis on the quality of their coffee offerings and the training of their staff.

In addition, third-wave coffee has also influenced the design and architecture of coffee shops, with many shops opting for a minimalist and modern aesthetic that prioritizes natural materials and an open layout. This design trend has spilled over into other industries, such as retail and hospitality, where the focus on creating an immersive and memorable customer experience has become increasingly important.

C. The challenges and opportunities facing third-wave coffee shops While the growth of third-wave coffee has been significant, there are also challenges facing specialty coffee shops. One of the main challenges is the high cost of quality beans and the need for skilled labor, which can make it difficult for small coffee shops to compete with larger chains.

However, there are also opportunities for specialty coffee shops to differentiate themselves from traditional coffee chains by offering a more unique and personalized customer experience. Shops can also take advantage of the growing demand for sustainable and ethically sourced coffee and can differentiate themselves by sourcing from independent growers and using environmentally friendly packaging.

Overall, the rise of third-wave coffee has disrupted the coffee industry and has led to a greater emphasis on quality, sustainability, and the customer experience. While there are challenges facing specialty coffee shops, there are also opportunities for these shops to continue to differentiate themselves and grow in the coming years.

  Conclusion

The rise of third-wave coffee has brought about significant changes in the coffee industry, with a greater emphasis on quality, sustainability, and the customer experience. Specialty coffee shops have emerged as a key player in this shift, providing consumers with unique and personalized coffee experiences.

Despite the challenges facing specialty coffee shops, the continued growth of third-wave coffee and the influence it has on other industries are promising signs for the future. As consumers become increasingly aware of the environmental and social impacts of coffee production, the demand for sustainable and ethically sourced coffee is likely to continue to grow.

It is important to support specialty coffee shops that prioritize sustainability and ethical sourcing practices, as well as independent coffee growers who are working to produce high-quality, environmentally friendly coffee. By doing so, we can contribute to a more sustainable and equitable coffee industry and enjoy a delicious and unique coffee experience at the same time.

In conclusion, the rise of third-wave coffee has transformed the coffee industry, and the continued growth and influence of specialty coffee shops are signs of a promising future for coffee lovers everywhere.

[yungpilk]

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[drinkinlovecom]

Support Your Local Coffee Shop Today!

Support Your Local Coffee Shop Today!

“Sipping on Success: Support Your Local Coffee Shop Today! Supporting local coffee shops is an important way to promote economic growth in your community. Local coffee shops provide unique experiences and opportunities for people to interact, as well as offer a variety of coffee flavors and specialty drinks. By patronizing local coffee shops, you can help to create jobs, stimulate the local…

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Two.

You finally go get your $500 - and more than you bargained for.

A follow up to this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/ghouldtime/761732918458597376/alone-truly-alone?source=share

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Crazy. You’re certain you’re crazy.

You’ve finally lost it. Gone off the deep end, as they say. But not just into the deep end of a pool, no. Straight into the Marianas trench, home to nightmares and abominations of nature alike.

There’s no way that you saw that… thing. There’s no way that thing could exist, right? There’s simply no plausible way. No mutation that horrible would result in anything living, sustaining, breathing. Nothing with that much dead, rotten flesh was alive. Nothing could be. Nothing should be.

Yet the picture that lay on your coffee table begged to differ. The glossy photo seemed more like found footage than anything as it lay there, almost mockingly in its freshly printed state. Blotted ink remained a little bit grainy and blurry around the edges, a little too dark - but the substantial figure was there, nevertheless, lying on the bed in the corner of the picture, tucked away in the darkness. All six arms lay on its chest, heads turned curiously towards you as it reclined.

Even if it was rough around the edges, there was no denying the proof that the nightmare of a creature was, in fact, real and not just a vivid hallucination brought on by the delirium of wandering through endless hallways and inhaling mold. It wasn’t a perfect picture, or even a good picture. But it was a picture, substantial proof, something you could wave around and say “SEE! I’m not making this up!” all the same.

The longer you stared at it, the larger the pit in your stomach grew. It had been there the whole time - watching you. That monstrosity had been there the entire time, lurking, watching. A wave of nausea hit you as the phantom smell of it resurfaced, your hand finding out mouth as you gagged and averted your eyes to the ceiling. You didn't want to think about it or look at it any longer.

Such a thing couldn’t be real. Shouldn’t be. There’s no such thing as monsters.

Sleep evaded you, lingering on the precipice of your consciousness, always just out of reach as you stared at the TV.

After all, what if that… that thing came after you? What if it followed you back? With six hands, surely it could pry apart the fencing and any door it wanted. And with how silent it moved, you wouldn’t notice it until it was too late. The only thing that brought you a modicum of comfort was the fact that it would have to pass several dozen houses and streets to get here, at the very least. And that wasn’t even including the drive it took to get there. Someone would notice it before it got to you.

But that doesn’t mean they would stop it. No one in their right of mind would confront such a thing.

You checked that every single door and window was locked with trembling hands and rechecked them again and again. Darkness bathed the inside in its inky wash as all the drawn curtains and blinds shielded you from the outside world that you wished would go away.

White noise from the TV sounded throughout the house as your favorite show aimlessly played loud enough to provide you something so you wouldn’t have to think. The voices were something familiar that you could hold onto amidst the raging storm of emotions and flurry of thoughts in your head. They were something that drowned out the chatter in your skull that nagged you, threatening to eat you from the inside out. But they couldn't tune out every rustle outside or every bump in the night.

Sporadic flickers of color and light danced continually as the hours waltzed on in agonizing slowness. The people on the TV prattled on and scenes changed, but you didn’t move. Not one bit. Every slight creak and shift of the house had you hunching down closer to the couch, eyes darting around as your heart froze and breath caught until the noise passed, praying for day sooner rather than later.

By the time the birds began singing their all too merry songs outside and the faintest slivers of sunlight finally peeked through the bottom of the curtains, you’d run over the possibility of how this thing could exist twenty times over, questioned your sanity nearly just as much, and were no closer to an answer.

You should just forget all about this, tear up the photo, and pretend it never happened. Maybe you could convince yourself that it was all one terrible, awful melatonin-induced dream if you tossed the damned photo down the paper shredder and fed the evidence to a blazing fire.

You'd never have to see - or think about it again. Out of sight, out of mind, was how the saying went anyways but a sinking feeling told you it wouldn't be that easy.

But the ugly, salmon colored flier reminded you of what awaited - of what you could get if you pushed through this nightmare long enough to throw the offending picture at the guy in exchange for the money you would really like right about now instead. It would still be out of your house, out of sight, and maybe one day out of your memory if you got rid of it fast enough.

Which, thinking about it - you didn’t know where to go to offload the accursed possessions you'd swiped. The guy had never given you his address. You only had his number and maybe he’d given his name, not that you understood much of whatever he said. A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone determined it was 7:30 AM. As far as you were concerned, that was early enough to make the call after the hell of a night you just had.

Dialing the number, the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang some more.

If it went to voicemail, you’d kill that son of a-

“Aye - John speakin’” The gruff voice crackled through, interrupting your thoughts.

You could’ve sworn you heard a yawn from the other end. The little bit of sympathy you might’ve had for waking him up ‘early’ went right out the window though with one quick, furtive glance at the picture of the being that would haunt your dreams for many moons to come.

“Hey, it’s me.” You breathed out, your own sleep-deprived brain not exactly being the best at conversations

The pause on the other end, the silence that lasted for what easily could've been centuries (or only a few seconds, it was hard to tell), shocked you into a slight stupor as you stuttered out in a single breath, “The person who spoke to you last night. About the flier.”

Licking your lips, you nearly grimaced at just how poorly you thought this call through. Maybe it would have been a good idea to take a nap before you dialed his number - or maybe an energy drink to stir yourself to alertness. Well, it was too for that late now. Far too late. “I went. Got what you asked.” You stated, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

The other end went still, silent, you couldn't even hear him breathing for a few, painstaking moments that drew on as the clock on your phone blinked 7:32. Checking to see if he hung up, you turned the screen of your phone on again before the voice came through once more.

“… you did?” By some miracle, you could distinguish the words through the slurred Scottish brogue addled with sleep.

“Mhm.” You tried not to look at the picture that watched you from all angles. “Got the, the.. thing, got the picture. Like you asked.”

Each unsteady beat of your heart thudded louder and louder against your chest as the seconds ticked away. Outside, someone starting up their lawnmower echoed through the silence. The steady humming of the machine in the near distance cutting through the air like a knife.

The man hummed a noise of approval, or what you’d classify as that. Maybe he just was a fan of awkward silences.

“Brilliant. When are you free?”

“Today. Now.” You wanted this done and over with before you could think about it anymore.

He paused for a split second before agreeing with a non-committal noise “Right. See you soon.”

It seems he too wasn’t keen on taking his time to meet up either. Before you could ask for the address, he hung up. Staring in disbelief at the now blank phone, a flare of indignation rose right in your soul. Who was this guy and what the hell was up with him?

First time you talked to him, he was near erratic and all over the place. Now he hardly seemed to be breathing. And he just hangs up on you? The gall of that man. You certainly were going to flip him the bird for all of this after you got your money.

Before you could text him a slightly passive aggressive message asking where, pray tell, you're supposed to go; a text bubble lit up the screen with the address. A residential address, come to find out with a quick mapping search. Great. Just great. Now you were likely going to this psycho’s house.

Once again, this really wasn’t your brightest idea and started to increasingly seem like a good way to find yourself lying six feet under, taking a permanent nap in the dirt. But money was money and turning back now meant kissing that sweet cash goodbye. Not to mention, it meant going through all of that would’ve been for nothing. At least you could cuss him out face-to-face if something else went wrong. Knowing your fortune, and luck, it was probably already written in the stars.

Turning the location on on your phone, leaving a note on the counter (though no one else would see it, aside from police investigators if everything truly imploded), and pocketing a switchblade, you grabbed your things and got in your car, ready to ride off to your doom.

The drive, as it turns out, wasn’t long at all. It was maybe fifteen minutes at best, including traffic. He’d been that close this whole time? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or to cry at the idea of this (possible) psychopath being almost in your own back yard. Maybe you'd even run into him at the store and not even known it.

The engine of your car sputtered out as you took your keys out and parked, your fingers tightening on the wheel as you stared out at the house in front of you. The address was exactly as he texted you. No errors, and no doubt about it. This was the place.

A normal, too normal, place. A residential neighborhood filled with cookie cutter houses and families alike.

Nothing about it screamed suspicious or intimidating or ‘likely a place you’ll be murdered’. Nothing about the neighborhood did, either. Plenty of normal people were out enjoying the early morning sun without the blistering heat of the day looming over them. They walked their dogs, chatted to one another, dug in their garden beds, all blissfully unaware of what was out there. They even waved to you, for Christ’s sake.

The quaint ranch style house settled in a cozy corner lot hardly seemed to be the kind of place where a man who knew of such horrors would live. It seemed like your average, basic, everyday house that you wouldn't think twice about; a house that blended in and was as in-line as the community surrounding it. A house where you just may meet your end.

Taking a deep breath, you let the air fill your lungs til it ached before you steadily exhaled to calm your frazzled nerves. Every lingering doubt and second guess was pushed to the corner of your mind. You’d come this far already. Okay. You’ve got this. In and out. If you could make it through the building and out with that… thing existing, you can go up to the door.

The dull thud of your car door shutting behind you sealed your fate as you steeled your nerves and approached. Graveled pebbles and stones alike crunched underneath your shoes as you strode up to the door. A river rock lined flowerbed dotted with daisies, red carnations, yellow pansies, and poppies wrapped around the front in a cheery garden that swayed blissfully in the light breeze. Bright, delicate petals dappled with dew sparkled brilliantly, so bright, so unaware of the world that you had found yourself in. They stood in stark contrast to the building dread that gnawed at your sanity, a polar opposite to what you'd seen.

Wooden planks creaked underneath your weight as you stepped up onto the tiny porch, moving even closer. With one final steady inhale, you rang the doorbell. The merry chime might as well be your death bell tolling.

Stepping back, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as the shuffling inside began. Each small thump and pad closer matched a beat in your heart. Your breath hitched slightly as your hands grew clammy, the steps getting closer and closer, yet staying so far away inside all the same. Every tick of a second passing added another layer to your anxious anticipation as millions of questions ran through your mind. Was this a mistake? Was this really the right house? Did he know what was there in that building? Is that why he sent you?

All thoughts sputtered to a halt the moment the door swung open, creaking on its hinges, and you were greeted with a sight you never expected to see.

"Mystery man" was nothing short of classically handsome. You’d expected some batty old geezer with spectacles that made his eyes seem like full moons who wore his shoes backwards and smelled like old potpourri. Yet John, as he stood, was the furthest thing from it. A strong stubbled jaw, eyes as blue as the Circassian sea, and a grown out mohawk that curled on the top seemed more befitting of someone you'd see in a modeling catalog, not someone who would be tracked down by a poster haphazardly stapled to a telephone pole. Blinking in sheer, utter surprise, you nearly didn’t catch the words flying out of his mouth.

“-come in, then. No use in waiting out here. The lawn doesn’t deserve to be gifted my AC.”

Caught in your stupor, anything you had to say about not stepping foot in stranger’s houses or protest of “no really, I’m fine out here” died in your throat. A mute nod was all you could muster as you stepped in with tense reluctance, leaving your shoes on because you half expected to run out of there screaming anyways.

It is only when he held the door open for you that you realized the gap in the sleeve of his shirt. He was missing his left arm. All lessons about not staring at strangers, especially strangers who looked any bit different, that had been drilled in your head since you were a young kid (and were common sense and empathy, really) went right out the window as you couldn’t help but to look - you're not sure at what exactly, all of him was equally distracting. The whole ‘not being a batshit insane old man’ still hadn’t quite registered fully either and still rattled around in your skull. Or maybe it was the fact that he was unexpectedly attractive enough to make you forget the nerves that held you hostage the night before.

His eyes shone with a knowing gleam as he gave a lopsided grin, “I know, bonnie. The smile is… disarming.”

If you weren’t so caught up in the familiar heat of a blush rising to dust your cheeks a rosy hue, the pun wouldn’t have gone over your head for the first few awkward seconds. That was a thoroughly terrible joke. Much like this whole situation.

When it registered, the words slowly sinking into your brain instead of going in one ear and out the other, the warm blush only doubled as you half-heartedly chuckled. Like a deer in the headlights, you didn't know quite what to do now that he caught you staring. Your brows furrowed as you cleared your throat and looked anywhere but at him as your blush darkened, the warm feeling of embarrassment embracing you like the old friend that it was.

Unphased (much to your relief), he didn’t seem to think twice about it or read into the tension held in your frame as he led you into the house as unbothered as could be like this was a normal Sunday morning for him. Your limbs were on autopilot as you trailed at his heels, following him further in against better thought. A pungent, sterile whiff of rubbing alcohol and bleach caused you to wrinkle your nose as you passed into the kitchen but you snorted and pushed that aside. At least he liked to keep things clean.

Despite the cozy exterior, the inside more closely matched a modern museum in furnishings. Though the walls bore warm, flowery wallpaper and the appliances similarly outdated - nothing donned them. Every bit of furniture you set eyes on, from the couch to the tables and chairs, were sleek, cheap, and modern; as if everything had been bought in a rush and assembled in a weekend.

None of it fit with each other. All items stood mismatched in the same bland basic style that didn't remotely blend with the warm, earthy tones of the wooden accents of the floor and moldings alike. The feeling of unease crept up along your spine once more despite his welcoming presence, whispering in your ear about how you should probably hurry up and get out of here.

Like everything else though, it seemed fate wasn’t on your side. He pulled out a chair - John, you repeated his name to yourself, pulled out a chair and nodded for you to sit as he busied himself in the outdated kitchen. You watched as he buzzed around, moving pots and pans with seemingly little purpose or agenda aside from moving.

Once again, it didn’t register that he was talking until he was half-way through a sentence as he spoke a mile a minute. How fast he talked certainly didn’t help and your theory of him being easier to understand in person was only minimally true. Every bit of concentration you had went into straining your ears as you watched his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying.

“- so I’m sorry ‘bout the mess.” You weren’t even sure what mess he was talking about as there hardly seemed to be a speck of dust around, “Didn’t exactly expect someone��” He paused for a split second, nearly too fast to notice, “To take up on it and so fast.”

He finished polishing down the already spotless countertops, tossed the paper towel away, and headed back towards the table. Pulling out the chair beside you, he sat himself down. That bright, award winning smile back on his face beamed warmer than the early morning light streaming through the windows. “Now… best be on with it. Show me what you got.”

His unblinking eyes followed your movements, as your fingers jammed over your bag’s zipper. The intense stare didn’t ease your nerves one bit nor did it let up. Nevertheless after some awkward fumbling, you set the photo down on the table, pushing it towards him and the clipboard you had swiped too. You didn’t dare breathe a word about the thing you got a picture of. That was up to his own discretion and if he questioned, it would be his funeral.

With how nearly normal he seemed in person, he likely didn’t expect to see something like that. Sure he was a bit eccentric and things weren’t quite adding up, but showing a person a creature born of the abyss as casually as you might show them a picture of a flower you saw on a walk one day usually wouldn't elicit a great reaction.

Snapping up the clipboard the moment you placed it down with a motion so fast you jolted back, his bright blues frantically scrolled from smudged word to word. He didn’t say anything for a few, long moments as his eyes darted back and forth, his one hand near trembling as he grasped it. Silence reigned supreme as you sat on the edge of your chair, watching him with increasing unease. The turmoil only grew as he set the clipboard down and picked the picture up, bringing it closer to his face to study.

Nervous was an understatement to describe how fast your heart beat. Struggling to swallow, it was like sand clogged your mouth and lead had been poured in your stomach. Your nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms as you squeezed your hands together, trying to remain calm. Would he think it’s a joke? A prank? Photoshop gone wrong? Demand you get out and rob you of the money you so deserved? It was hard to tell the emotions going on behind his once expressive face as it drew into a contemplative line, the bags underneath his eyes that you hadn’t noticed prior seeming more pronounced.

An instant later though, he snapped back to the smile all too fast. Much to your joy, he didn't bring it up or think twice. But he smiled, a grin that didn't quite reach his sunken eyes. “Aye, that’ll do nicely. I’ll be right back with your money.”

Good, you thought. Breathing a sigh of relief to yourself, you watched with tired eyes as he stood up, taking the clipboard and picture to match along with him. He shuffled off, humming to himself, seemingly very pleased. And you simply stared at his retreating form. You didn’t know what to think about it, him, or any of this and you most certainly weren’t going to try to think too hard. Not when you were about to be out of here with money in hand and monster all forgotten.

In the other room, John moved at a leisurely pace as if he had all the time in the world. Nothing more than a slow shuffle as he whistled a tune too low to make out, the ruffle of papers flying and drawers opening and closing sounded through the thin walls.

Your fingers idly fidgeted with one another as you glanced around the stark home, trying to find something to distract yourself with. The contrast in the awkward environment reminded you much of John himself. Odd, to say the very least. There weren't any decorations or anything to note aside from the clash of it all. All of the furniture was brand new, cheap, but the bones of the house itself hadn’t been touched in years. There wasn’t anything personal - aside from a mangled wooden frame that caught your eye on the otherwise barren kitchen wall.

A lazy glance at the otherwise drab frame resulted in a double take. Two figures dressed in all black tactical gear stood side by side, illuminated by the blaze of a summer sun. Who you could guess was John, based on the bright grin and equally intense blue eyes, had his arm slung around a figure. A figure that caused your blood to run cold. In the same skull mask that you'd seen the cerberus, the mutant, was someone who bore a remarkable resemblance. An uncanny amount, as if they were twins.

Rising from your chair, your eyes widened as you took a closer look. The steady thump, thump, thump of your heart picked up bit by bit as things started to seem a bit too identical the longer you looked. The masked figure held nearly all the same gear you'd seen on the thing, albeit in significantly better shape. He had the same muscles and overall stature too. But instead of faded, opal eyes and too many limbs to match, it was a normal man with a cold, dark brown gaze.

“Not a bad picture of us.”

You jumped out of your skin as you whirled around with a suppressed yelp, your heart skipping a beat as you paled. John stood in front of you, so close you wondered how you didn't hear him sneaking up.

The forced, tense smile on his face didn't reach his wary gaze that drifted to the portrait. The contrast of bright teeth underscored by deep lines, etched into his face as his thousand yard stare drifted back to you made your hair stand on end.

“Uh… yeah…” You managed to stutter out as you choked down more of your nerves.

The lingering look he held on you dug in like thousands of knives, tearing you apart bit by bit, looking for a weakness. It made you squirm as you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth finding your inner lip the moment you sucked in a breath.

Gathering the confidence you finally asked, “So… the payment…”

You couldn't meet his gaze. Not when he was looking at you like that. An indiscernible, scrutinizing gaze that burned hot in your soul, as if he saw right through you and inter your mind.

There’s no way he didn’t know. There’s no way he doesn’t know that thing. There's no way he didn't know when he put that ad up.

And he knows that you know. Oh gods, he knew. You took the picture and were kind enough to pull that trigger yourself. You gave him the proof in a neat little glossy square and a clipboard alike.

Not a single word was spoken about it as he nodded, holding out a stark white envelope in his hand. “Sure, bonnie.” The eerie smile didn’t leave his face, nor did the unflinching stare.

Before you could take it though, he held it out of reach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him in confusion. The tired, gaunt look in his face only seemed to deepen with the shadows as John leaned forwards, closing in on your personal space. Your hackles practically raised as you bristled, shuffling back a step that caused you to bump into the wall. The rattle of the frame was the only noise for those tense moments.

He didn't lean in nor did he cage you with his body, but you felt trapped, cornered, as he sighed. “You have every right to run and never speak of this again. But…” There always was a but, for fucks sake. Why couldn't he just pay you and let you leave?

You wanted to curse him out or at least do something vindictive and petty, and oh how you wanted to run. Yet you hesitated. For some, stupid reason you hesitated. The sheer tiredness etched all over his very being as he held your gaze tugged at something deep within you. He swallowed, forcing the smile to linger as much as he could.

“I need someone who won't ask questions. Someone who can help.”

Someone like you.

The silence between you spanned all too long as you simply stared, unsure of what to say or do. You didn't know exactly what he was asking you but you knew all the same. It has something to do with the thing in there. The thing he wasn’t outright acknowledging. The thing that both of you didn't dare say a word about but were talking about all the same.

“I'll pay you well. Name your number, I’ll have it. Please…” The last uttered syllable and the near pathetic look he gave you carved a like deeper into your heart than you care to admit.

Every word that fell from his lips was breathed out like a desperate prayer, a cry for help in a world that otherwise might not hear it. He was a man at wits end, a man who had no where else to turn. A man asking something of a stranger because there was no one else to ask.

It was your turn to study him as you held your breath, unable to tear your eyes away from the pitiful sight. The exhaustion radiating from him went beyond skin deep, deeper than the silvers of scars that littered his face. It set in his bones, the slight slump in his posture, ate away at all that he was, and consumed him in such a way he couldn’t hold the smile anymore nor did he bother to. The desperation was palpable as he glanced up at the picture, the only one there, once more for a second, before dropping his attention back to you and uttered a word so soft, it fell barely above a trembling whisper.

"Please."

You should've said no and run out. You should've put this nightmare behind you and never thought about the creature again. You should've told him he's utterly insane, especially to send you back to that thing and to ask you for help. You really should have. But since when did you make good choices?

When your eyes met his, you didn't say a word. But a simple barely-there nod cemented your fate and spoke more than any words ever could have.

જ⁀➴

The second the front door slammed shut as the new-found help hurried off in a scamper, Johnny collapsed onto the nearest chair. The littlest part of his heart left intact ached, feeling a bit bad for scaring the poor thing but the line of normality had long ago faded in the sands of time for him. There was no normal for a man damned by fate itself.

His chest heaved with shuddering, raspy breaths as his eyes misted. The weight of the world pressed down onto his shoulders for so long that he forgot what it was like to have an ounce of it lifted and replaced with a glimmer of hope. Hope. A word that tasted foreign on his tongue after it had evaded his clawing grasp for so long that he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt such a thing, always taunting him on the horizon of his periphery so close yet so far away.

His all too exhausted gaze went right back to the only picture on the wall - the very thing that haunted him every night but kept him going all the same. It always stood as a stark reminder of what had been, what should have been, and what he still should've had. As much as it ripped him apart, sent a harsh pang through his soul and plunged him into the icy depths of despair every time he thought about it, he couldn't forget. He couldn't let it go. Not when it's all he had.

For so long, he has clung to those desperate memories that still remained fresh in his tormented mind. Though faces changed and faded with time, though the words blurred, they never did when it came to the person who had understood him the most.

The person who he trusted with his life.

The person who he had failed.

Johnny didn't bother to wipe the tears that slid down his face. The crystalline drops marred his roughened, unkempt features even further. His chest heaved as he took a shuddering breath, blinking away enough tears to see the picture clearly; to see the man that he had lost.

He couldn't save Simon then. But now...

It's like the lights of heaven finally graced him for once. This was it. A second chance, the very thing he prayed for hours upon hours each night until his knees bruised on the wooden floors and his joints ached.

He was still alive in a way that mattered. And that was good enough for a man grasping at straws who had long ago given up any logical thought or reason. Such things didn't matter in manners of the heart and soul. The gaping maw of desperation and grief had swallowed him whole, torn him apart with its razor sharp teeth, and drowned him in the acids of madness before spitting him back up to wither away and rot.

But Johnny was a fighter. Nothing would stop him. Not even a challenge larger than life standing in the way with its scythe drawn and poised, ready for harvest.

Nothing.

"We'll have you back home, Simon." He breathed out to the portrait in a broken rasp, fingers rubbing over the tranished cross dangling from his neck.

"I promise."

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Part two! I'm honestly so grateful and overwhelmed by how many people liked my little drabble, I hadn't expected much from my silly idea. I'm turning it into a series with many more chapters ahead!

Any feedback is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. Thank you all so so much 😭

Next chapter we'll be back with our boy!

[victusinveritas]

The Tres Hombres is the only trans-Atlantic sailing freighter without a motor! She is the flagship of Fairtransport and the sailing ambassador for cleaner sea transport.

And here are some shots of her unloading a sustainably sourced cargo (coffee, possibly cacao, though there's also rum in her hold I think):

[buffetlicious]

I missed the Breakfast Bagel McDonald’s Singapore made available for a limited time last year. This year, beside the Breakfast Bagel Sausage, there are two new renditions - Breakfast Bagel Smoked Chicken Ham and Breakfast Bagel. The Breakfast Bagel cost $5.95 for an Extra Value Meal while the other two are priced at S$6.80 for the set meal.

I went with the Breakfast Bagel Sausage Meal which comes with a Hash Brown and a hot coffee or tea. I changed the hot beverage to the new Caramel Custard Frappé (top up S$1.75). Unwrapping the brown paper wrapper, I see a donut-shape sandwich with oozing melty cheeses. The chewy bagel buns are loaded with a slice of sausage patty, juicy grilled mushrooms, a round egg, and two types of cheddar cheese.

Got mum the Breakfast Filet-O-Fish Meal (S$6.65) with a Hash Brown and a cup of hot black coffee. This popular fish sandwich uses sustainably sourced fish, topped with melty cheese and creamy McDonald’s tartar sauce between soft, steamed buns.

Selected image and video courtesy of McDonald’s Singapore.

[soursturniolo]

𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚌𝚑. 𝚘𝚗𝚎

- a wizarding world!au ft the sturniolo triplets

- intro post here

main pairing: unspeakable!slytherin!nick x tea shop owner! hufflepufflex-quidditch player!oc

A biting late autumn breeze felt as if it cut down to Nick’s bones as he hustled down the dark winding street. It had been a long work day, he had clocked in promptly at eight in the morning for his shift. Due to some mysterious circumstances that puzzled even his superiors, he had been forced to work overtime. The time was now nearing eleven at night, but he was walking at a brisk pace to get to the one thing he’d been craving all day: his favorite latte from a quaint little coffee shop he had visited a couple times since they opened. After a few more quick steps, he finally arrived in front of Teetering Teas & Apothecary; an unassuming little place that Nick firmly believed to be a small slice of heaven on earth.

As he pulled the shop door open, he was greeted by a warm golden glow of light and the heady smell of cinnamon, coffee grounds, and herbs. A rare soft smile painted his features as he stepped inside, a sigh of relief leaving his lips from making it to the shop before they closed.

“Hey, made it just before I locked the door to close,” an unfamiliar but warm and deep voice called out from the counter, “what can I get you?” the stranger asked.

Nick found himself frowning in confusion, where was the young girl who usually was working at this hour, he wondered to himself. But as he looked up at the sound of the voice, he was struck by the beautiful person in front of him. Short and curly hair, warm and tan skin, tall and strong with obvious muscles under the warm yellow sweater the man was wearing. He was gorgeous. He looked oddly familiar in a way, but Nick knew they had never met before.

“Hi, um, sorry im stopping in right before you close, work was a nightmare today,” Nick stuttered a bit, “where’s the girl who normally is here? I think her name is Quinn?”

“Quinn had to take tonight off, she’s not feeling well. Are you one of her regulars?” The taller man asked as he finished wiping down the counter with a damp cloth.

“Yeah,” Nick found himself chuckling lightly, “I guess you could say I am.”

“Well, what’s your usual? I’ll give it my best shot,” he said with a smile.

“I usually get a caramel macchiato,” Nick said, “are you new here?”

“No,” the man chuckled as he turned towards the coffee machines to begin making the drink requested, “I’m actually the owner of this place,” he said with a smile, hands working over the coffee machinery with an ease and skill showing he had plenty of experience.

Nick felt himself flush a bit in embarrassment at unknowingly asking the owner of one of his favorite shops if they were a new employee. He looked down at his loafers, dull and black like the rest of his work attire. He was a stark contrast from the bright and warm shop, full of color and life. There were plants all over, various herbs in different states of growth. There were cozy seating options, a few tables with comfy chairs on either side, and a few large booths along the left wall. Along the back wall was Nick’s favorite aspect of the shop, all the various homegrown and sustainably sourced potion ingredients.

“Hey, I remember you said work was a nightmare,” the kind owner remarked as he watched the espresso brew out into the small glass, “what do you do?”

Hearing this question, Nick had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. There it was, the question he dreaded most in life.

“I cant say, I work as an Unspeakable,” Nick explained, somewhat dryly. Usually, this brought on a gamut of questions, all of which Nick was clearly forbidden to answer. It was always irritating, not only because he was unable to answer, but also due to the sheer fact that even if he wanted to talk about his work, he cannot.

“Oh,” the shop owner responded, sounding thoughtful, “that must be a hard thing, not being able to talk about work and having to keep everything secret,” the owner sympathized as he poured Nick’s drink into a to-go cup before offering it to him.

“Yeah,” Nick responded, stunned by the owners thoughtfulness towards him, as he reached into his pocket under his work robes to pay.

“Oh, no, its on me tonight, no worries,” he says, placing the warm to-go cup into Nicks hand with a beaming smile.

“Are you sure? I’ve got it,” Nick questions, surprised by the generosity.

“Yeah, take it as a gift. All I ask is that you come back soon,” the owner smiled.

Nick found himself softly smiling again for the second time of the night, this time at the owner instead of the ground.

“Sure, I can do that. By the way, I never got your name?” Nick inquired softly.

“Thomas,” he says with a bright smile once again, brown eyes twinkling in the candescent light of the homey shop.

“I’m Nick, its really nice to meet you,” he responds, “hey, would you happen to be working again tomorrow sometime? I had some potion ingredient shopping to do, my list is at home but I wanted to ask some questions about some of your inventory, if that's alright?”

“I’ll be working from ten to two in the afternoon tomorrow, feel free to stop in any time, I’ll be glad to help,” Thomas cheerfully responds.

“Okay, I’ll see you then, have a good night,” Nick responds as he turns to head out.

“Have a good night! Be safe out there!” Thomas gleams with another infectious smile, giving a small wave.

As he stepped back out into the cold and unforgiving night, Nick found himself grinning to himself as he walked back to his apartment down the block. He took a small sips of his coffee as he walked, the warm and sweet drink seemingly warming him from the inside out even in the biting cold air. After a few minutes of walking, Nick arrived back at the large apartment which he, along with his two triplet brothers, called home. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the laughter of his two brothers coming from down the hall, along with the comforting smell of laundry that was doing itself magically down the hall.

Shutting the door behind himself, Nick took off his robe and hung it up next to Chris’s Auror robe. The two were a stark contrast from each other; warm, scarlet red next to the dull and sharp black that Nick wore. Walking down the hall past the laundry room, Nick entered his brothers bedroom, leaning up against the doorway as he watched his two brothers sit at Matt’s desk, playing a muggle video game. Nick quickly found himself laughing as he watched Chris step the wrong way in the game, causing their characters on the game to fall to their deaths.

“CHRIS SERIOUSLY” Matt bellowed, angrily slamming the controller down on the desk.

“IM SORRY I GOT CONFUSED” Chris hollered back, just then noticing Nick in the doorway.

“Hey, how was work?” Chris asked, causing Matt to turn and look at Nick too.

“Must've been a good day, look how smiley he looks, usually he looks ready to kill someone” Matt commented with a slight smirk, which caused Nick to roll his eyes and turn to walk up the stairs to his own bedroom.

“Goodnight guys,” Nick called as he reached his bedroom door.

“Goodnight!” his two brothers chorused back, as they quickly engrossed themselves back into their video game.

Nick sighed softly and contently to himself as he shut his bedroom door, moving to quickly get ready for bed. He quickly jumped in the shower before bed, his thoughts drifting a few times to the sweet shop owner he had met, and the prospect of talking to him again tomorrow. As he finished his shower, changed into pjs, and got into bed, Nick found himself almost giddy at the thought of what tomorrow might bring.

thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 🖤

[scottbiffin]

The Growth of Specialty Coffee Trading in Australia- Opportunities and Trends

The Australian coffee scene is globally recognized for its exceptional quality and unique culture. From bustling city cafés to regional roasters, Australia has cemented itself as a hub for coffee enthusiasts and professionals alike. Over the past decade, a growing trend has been the rise of specialty coffee trading, which has transformed the industry and opened new doors for traders, roasters, and consumers. Scott Biffin, a seasoned coffee trader with deep expertise in the specialty coffee market, has played a pivotal role in this shift, helping shape the future of coffee trading in Australia.

This blog will explore the growth of specialty coffee trading in Australia, identifying the opportunities and trends that traders, like Biffin, have helped pioneer. We will also delve into how the Australian market is uniquely positioned to thrive in this space and what the future holds for specialty coffee trading.

Introduction: What Is Specialty Coffee?

Before diving into the specifics of trading, it's essential to understand what qualifies as specialty coffee. Unlike mass-market or commodity coffee, specialty coffee is defined by its high quality and distinct flavor profiles. Specialty coffee beans are usually scored 80 points or higher on a 100-point scale by certified tasters, meaning they are free from defects and exhibit unique characteristics in aroma, body, acidity, and aftertaste.

The emphasis on quality extends beyond just the beans—specialty coffee involves a commitment to traceability, ethical sourcing, and sustainable farming practices. For traders like Scott Biffin, dealing in specialty coffee is more than just a business; it's about fostering relationships with farmers, ensuring fair wages, and promoting environmentally friendly practices throughout the supply chain.

The Rise of Specialty Coffee Trading in Australia

In the last decade, Australia has witnessed a significant rise in the demand for specialty coffee, driven by both consumers' desire for higher quality and a deeper appreciation for the craft of coffee-making. Specialty coffee shops have mushroomed across the country, especially in cities like Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane, which are known for their strong café cultures. This boom has, in turn, fueled the specialty coffee trading market.

Factors Contributing to Growth

Several factors have contributed to the rapid growth of specialty coffee trading in Australia:

Consumer Preferences Australian consumers are becoming more discerning about the coffee they drink. There is a growing demand for coffee that tells a story—from where it was grown to how it was harvested and roasted. Specialty coffee aligns perfectly with this shift in consumer behavior, offering a superior product that emphasizes origin, quality, and sustainability.

Café Culture Australia's café culture is deeply ingrained in its urban lifestyle. People are not just looking for a cup of coffee; they want a unique experience, which specialty coffee provides. This growing café culture has spurred demand for high-quality beans, further promoting the growth of specialty coffee trading.

Focus on Sustainability and Ethical Sourcing Specialty coffee trading often emphasizes ethical sourcing and environmental sustainability. Australian consumers, like many around the world, are increasingly concerned about the environmental impact of their purchases. Coffee traders who focus on sourcing beans from environmentally friendly farms and promoting fair trade practices have gained a competitive edge.

Technology and Innovation The rise of technology has made it easier for traders and roasters to connect with coffee growers across the world. Platforms and trading hubs have emerged that allow coffee traders to access new markets and form direct relationships with farmers, ensuring higher-quality beans and more transparent trade practices.

The Influence of Pioneers Like Scott Biffin Pioneers like Scott Biffin have played a crucial role in fostering the specialty coffee market. Biffin, with years of experience in the coffee trading industry, has been at the forefront of advocating for sustainable coffee trading practices. His dedication to quality, ethical sourcing, and innovation has helped open new opportunities for Australian traders and roasters, setting the foundation for future growth.

Opportunities in Specialty Coffee Trading

With the growth of specialty coffee trading, several opportunities have emerged for traders and businesses in Australia. Whether you are an experienced trader like Scott Biffin or someone new to the coffee market, understanding these opportunities can provide a competitive advantage.

1. Direct Trade Relationships

One of the most significant trends in specialty coffee trading is the direct trade model, where traders build direct relationships with coffee farmers. This approach bypasses traditional middlemen, ensuring that farmers receive fair prices for their beans while allowing traders to have greater control over quality. Direct trade relationships also foster transparency and trust, helping traders differentiate their products in a crowded market.

For Australian traders, engaging in direct trade offers a chance to secure exclusive, high-quality coffee beans while supporting sustainable farming communities in coffee-growing regions like Africa, Central and South America, and Southeast Asia.

2. Expanding Export and Import Markets

While Australia's specialty coffee scene is thriving, the demand for high-quality coffee is not limited to domestic consumers. Exporting specialty coffee beans to international markets presents an opportunity for traders to tap into regions with growing demand for premium coffee, such as China, Southeast Asia, and the Middle East.

Conversely, importing specialty coffee beans from emerging coffee-producing countries can offer Australian traders a way to diversify their product offerings. Specialty coffee is not limited to traditional regions like Ethiopia or Colombia—new coffee-growing regions in Asia, such as Vietnam and Thailand, are producing beans that can appeal to adventurous coffee drinkers.

3. Specialty Coffee Subscription Services

Subscription-based models have gained traction across various industries, and specialty coffee is no exception. Specialty coffee traders can take advantage of this trend by partnering with roasters or establishing their own subscription services, offering curated selections of premium beans delivered directly to consumers' doorsteps. This model allows traders to build a loyal customer base and create ongoing revenue streams, while also introducing consumers to new and unique coffee origins.

4. Sourcing for Micro-Roasters and Independent Cafés

Australia’s micro-roaster and independent café scene is booming, with businesses striving to offer their customers something distinctive. Specialty coffee traders can cater to these niche markets by providing small-batch, high-quality beans that help roasters differentiate their offerings. By sourcing unique varietals or limited-edition beans, traders can supply micro-roasters with the materials they need to create stand-out products.

5. Coffee Tourism

As the world becomes more interested in the origin and journey of its coffee, coffee tourism has emerged as a niche but growing sector. Traders and coffee professionals, like Scott Biffin, who are knowledgeable about different coffee-growing regions, have the opportunity to organize tours or experiences for consumers. This not only deepens consumer appreciation for coffee but also helps strengthen relationships with producers and traders in coffee-growing countries.

Trends Shaping the Future of Specialty Coffee Trading

While the specialty coffee industry has grown significantly, several emerging trends are likely to shape the future of this sector. For traders looking to stay ahead of the curve, keeping an eye on these developments is crucial.

1. Focus on Sustainable and Ethical Sourcing

Sustainability continues to be a key factor driving consumer behavior. Traders who prioritize sustainably sourced coffee and support ethical practices, such as paying farmers fair wages and reducing environmental impact, will continue to thrive. Consumers are increasingly demanding transparency in the products they buy, and the specialty coffee market is no exception.

Scott Biffin, an advocate of ethical coffee trading, has long emphasized the importance of sustainable practices, and traders who follow his lead are likely to find long-term success.

2. Technology and Blockchain

Technology is playing an increasingly important role in coffee trading, particularly through the use of blockchain to improve traceability. Blockchain technology allows traders to track the journey of coffee beans from farm to cup, providing consumers with proof of origin, quality, and ethical sourcing. This added layer of transparency can help traders build trust with consumers and strengthen their reputation in the market.

3. Diversification of Coffee Varietals

The specialty coffee market is constantly evolving, with traders exploring new and unique coffee varietals to meet consumer demand for distinctive flavor profiles. As climate change impacts traditional coffee-growing regions, traders are also turning to resilient varietals and lesser-known origins. Traders who can source these varietals stand to gain from offering something truly unique in a competitive market.

4. Cold Brew and Ready-to-Drink Specialty Coffee

Cold brew and ready-to-drink (RTD) coffee beverages are gaining popularity, particularly among younger consumers. Specialty coffee traders can capitalize on this trend by sourcing beans specifically for these brewing methods. As more consumers look for convenient, high-quality coffee options, traders who cater to this segment can diversify their product lines and expand their customer base.

Conclusion

The growth of specialty coffee trading in Australia offers numerous opportunities for traders, roasters, and consumers alike. From direct trade relationships to expanding into international markets, the specialty coffee sector presents a wealth of possibilities for those willing to embrace innovation and sustainability.

Pioneers like Scott Biffin have helped shape the future of specialty coffee trading by advocating for ethical sourcing, quality, and transparency. As Australia’s café culture continues to evolve and consumers demand more from their coffee, traders who focus on specialty coffee are well-positioned to thrive in this dynamic and growing industry.

By staying attuned to emerging trends, such as sustainable sourcing, technology integration, and consumer preferences for unique coffee varietals, traders can continue to build successful, long-term businesses in the specialty coffee space.

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #10

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel tries to rob a superhero and you try to stop him.

Word count: 5,750

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It’s another mundane morning in your office. You’re hiding away in your cubicle with your breakfast croissant and coffee, scrolling the news on your phone. 

Ever since the cosmic murder attempts have started, reading news hasn't been the same for you. It’s no longer a case of innocently keeping up to date with current events. Because now you can’t read the sensationalist headlines without a small pang of guilt that you may have been the unwilling root cause for so many of them. 

‘Apocalyptic blizzard in August.’ 

‘Stampede escape from Brooklyn zoo.’ 

‘Freak electric storm causes wide city blackout’. 

It’s all just too macabre for you this early, it’s not even 10am. Your eyes flicker down, only skimming to make sure that there has been no casualties involved with each incident before scrolling away again. Then you opt for the technology section instead. Hoping it is a little bit less catastrophic and kinder on your nerves. 

‘Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor Returns Home to Stark Tower.’

Your fingers pause at the headline. Stark always makes for a good read and good gossip, you think to yourself as you take another sip from your morning coffee and start to read:

‘Tony Stark, the notorious billionaire philanthropist and avid Star Wars memorabilia collector, has announced his decision to move his iconic arc reactor back to his home in New York City. The self-sustaining fusion power source kept Stark alive during the infamous hostage incident where he was captured and detained in Afghanistan by the Ten Rings terrorist organization’.

‘Self-sustaining fusion power source…’ you repeat the phrase in your head, parsing over the words. Why does that sound so familiar to you? 

You read it again, and this time instead of your own voice, the memory of Miguel’s sleep husked voice fills your ears: 

“Your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed.” 

Adrenaline buzzes bright in your brain, and you stand up from your desk so fast you nearly knock over your chair.

Finally! It’s the Eureka moment you have been waiting for all this time. 

You peer over the cubicle wall, scanning the room for Miguel. It doesn’t take you long at all to spot him; his oversized frame is hard to miss. Besides, even if you couldn’t see him, you’d be able to sense the anger vibrating off of him a mile away. 

In the corner at the far end of the open-plan office, Miguel is abusing the poor printer again. He’s cramming a fistful of papers into the feeding slot like it’s a duck he’s trying to force feed to make foie gras, and judging from the vein straining on his forehead, the man is about two seconds from lifting the 50 pound machine and launching it out through one of the building’s windows.

You shake your head at the scene. You don't understand how someone so smart, so intelligent, so apt with technology—he built an A.I. so advanced it would make the most high tech of Stark Industry's prototypes look like a kindergartener's chicken scrawl—can be so inept when it comes to dealing with a basic printer. 

“Miguel,” you whisper loudly, and despite the fact that he’s on the other side of a bustling office, he immediately turns to look at you. 

You beckon him over, practically bouncing with excitement as you wait for him to cross the room, and as soon as he’s within reach, you stand on the tip of your toes and cup a hand around his ear so you can covertly whisper the news of your discovery. 

“Stark has an arc reactor.”

You’re beaming with pride that you’ve found a solution to your dilemma, and look up at Miguel expectantly for him to celebrate with you and maybe even praise you. 

Instead, he looks down at you without reaction. “What’s Stark?” 

"Wait, are you serious?" 

You almost think he’s doing one of his sarcastic comedic bits with you, but the angle of his right eyebrow, raised in cluelessness tells you otherwise.

"How do you know so much about Dr. Strange, but not know who Tony Stark is? He’s like the main Avenger."

Miguel merely shrugs at you. "Avengers aren't really a thing where I'm from."

You shove your phone into his hand and watch as his eyes flicker over the screen, reading through the article in a matter of a few seconds. When he’s done, he places the phone back on your desk, then grabs your left hand, leaning down as he lifts it up towards him. For a second you think he’s about to kiss your hand.

"Lyla," Miguel announces, and the watch buzzes warmly against your wrist as Lyla's hologram reforms in the small space above.

"Give me the layout of the Stark Tower, identify vulnerabilities in the security system and outline the most optimal entrance points for a break-in."

Did he just say break-in?

"Wait, wait,” you interrupt quickly, trying to defuse the situation, before he gets too far ahead of himself. “Miguel, we are NOT breaking into the Stark Tower."

"How else would we do it?"

“We could just talk to him.  Lyla can hack into his schedule and book us a meeting with him, right?”

“And then what?”

“We’d ask him to help us?” you suggest, not understanding why he skipped straight over the most obvious answer and went right to breaking and entering. Though from the way Miguel is staring at you in blank confusion you may as well have spontaneously grown horns on your head. 

“...Nicely,” you add, in case that wasn’t already clear.

“Because that would require us to talk to him. He would just say no, Cielito. I’d prefer to break in. Cleaner that way. More efficient. Easier.”

You can’t believe this man just admitted to being so socially awkward he thinks committing a felony is easier than having to hold a conversation with a stranger. 

"Asking is pointless. No scientist is just going to hand over something like an arc reactor to a couple of strangers because they asked nicely. Besides, even if we arrange a meeting with him by hacking into his calendar, he’ll know something is up the moment he sees us. You’ll just wind up getting thrown out by security.”

Ok maybe he has a point there. 

"What if we tricked him? Made him think we have something he wants?”

"Like what?"

"Stark collects rare Star Wars collectibles. We can lie and say we're collectors with a rare piece to sell like the Kenner Star Wars Boba Fett prototype?"

His right brow raises at a skeptical angle and he’s staring at you like you’re speaking a foreign language. 

"Cielo, that's insane."

You bristle at that. 

"How is your idea any better?" you demand.

"A break-in wouldn't require much effort or rely on the goodwill or stupidity of someone else. It’s much easier–"

“You’re talking about breaking into the personal home of an Avenger!” you interrupt because you’re not listening to any more of his madness, “He’s arguably the smartest member of a team made up of the mightiest heroes on Earth, and you want to try to steal from him, Miguel!? That is not easier!”

The office has gone alarmingly quiet around you. You look around to see that your heated discussion is gaining unwarranted attention from the rest of the office. All of a sudden, the endless click and clack of the keyboards stop. 

You give your curious coworkers a strained smile, then lean up close to Miguel again, muttering under your breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel his eyes pinned to your back as you walk to your chair and sit back down at your desk to finish your croissant in two mouthfuls, chugging down the remainder of your coffee. 

An hour before noon, Miguel comes to your cubicle. He sets down a lunchbox and from the logo on the plastic grocery bag you can tell that it’s from your favorite Bodega round the corner. 

“I have a quick errand to run for work at lunch. I’ll be back within the hour,” Miguel tells you, “Lyla will guard you, and if something happens she’ll alert me immediately. Don’t go anywhere.”

You look up from your screen to see him stand over your desk with that passive expression etched onto his stoic face, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary. 

In the last month, Miguel hasn’t let you out of his sight for longer than a handful of minutes (primarily to get more snacks when they run out).

Miguel thinks he’s being so slick. It’s insulting to your intelligence that he thinks you don’t know what he is up to: he’s obviously going to spend his lunch hour trying to rob Tony Stark. 

But that’s fine, you’re not going to openly question Miguel on his suspicious behavior. If he’s not here that means you are free to get up to whatever you want. 

… Including approaching a certain multibillionaire that has the one item in his possession that could save both your life and the universe as you know it from collapsing.  

It’s why you wave at him as he makes his way to the exit and pay close attention to him leaving through the front glass door and take the elevator down to the ground floor. Then for good measure you wait another five minutes to make sure that he will fully be out of hearing range with his super-senses before you raise your wrist to your face. 

“Lyla,” you whisper. 

“Hello, boss girl! Wasssuuuup,” she greets, elongating the word sassily for comedic effect, and you can’t help but smile. 

Lyla, as entertaining as she is, is an enigma to you. You don’t understand how Miguel with his short patience-span and entirely lacking sense of humor would have programmed this A.I. to have this kind of personality. Not to mention a deep archive of a millenial’s pop-culture media reference from this dimension.  

“What can I do you for?” Lyla asks, shooting you gun-fingers with a cheeky flare. 

You part your mouth, but hesitate to make the request. 

This is illegal isn’t it? Hacking into someone’s calendar to arrange a meeting with them under false pretenses. God, what if you get taken away in handcuffs within the first 30 seconds of entering the building, featured on Deuxmoi as a crazy stalker fan. 

So far the only “illegal” thing you’ve used Lyla for is to generate Netflix passwords and hack into HBO Max to watch Succession. This is a significant next level step. 

Maybe you should run downstairs and catch Miguel before he leaves the building? You could plead your case again. Try to reason with him that breaking and entering isn’t the way to go about it and the two of you should approach Tony Stark by having a mature and adult conversation. 

Yeah. Right. You snort even as you think it. Miguel is never going to be persuaded on this point and you are quickly running out of time. There’s only one thing to do: 

“Lyla, can you please arrange a lunchtime meeting for me with Tony Stark today.��

The lobby of Stark Tower is much like any other commercial buildings you’d find in the Financial District. Heck, it's not that much different from the one you navigate every morning at the Chrysler building. If anything, the only surprise is how ordinary the Stark Tower is.

When you enter the main lobby, you have to sign in with a stern but clearly bored security guard, then use the guest security pass you’re given in order to access the elevators.

Once you reach the 90th floor, there is a distinct lack of staff up there. Only a single, sweet-looking old man, with a well trimmed mustache above his upper lip. He's swathed in a soft-knitted cardigan and wearing gigantic vintage-styled sunglasses indoors that make him appear bug-eyed as he peers up at you and walks with you to another set of elevators using a retinal scan for security and sends you on your way. 

The door closes around you in the metal box, with a swift jump to the 91st floor.

When the door finally slides open it feels like you’ve entered another world. Minimalistic opulence is the keyword for it. There are windows along the entire space. A 360 view of the New York landscape and you almost feel like you are at an Aquarium with the amount of glass surrounding you. There’s pieces of half-built tech and prototypes everywhere. Imagine having so much money that you can allocate a whole floor of a manhattan skyscraper to essentially be your garage workshop. 

“So you’re my 1pm that magically appeared today,” a happy-go-lucky voice sings out. 

You jump in your skin, breaking your concentration from the view, as you turn around to see the infamous man of the hour standing behind you. 

“Gotta say, when I was envisioning the sort of person who might be selling me a Kenner Star Boba Fett figure, I did not imagine a gorgeous knock-out,” he says, with an outstretched hand as he greets you.  

Tony Stark is shorter in real life. Less formal than in the gettymarked photos you’ve seen of him at red carpet events and fancy galas, dressed up in the most tailored fit suits that money can possibly buy. He’s also a lot more charming than in photos. All big brown eyes, and pouty lips. He might be half the size of Miguel, but Tony Stark has more than enough charm and confidence to make up for it

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” 

He is quick witted banter and dazzling diamond smiles as he shows you the residential suite of the Stark Tower. His hand rests on the side of your waist as he guides you through the long hall, making strong eye contact all the while down the hall. 91 floors up and you cannot hear a hint of the chaotic traffic noise downstairs, it’s oddly quiet save for the faint scratching noises you hear from the ceiling. (Guess even Stark towers cannot escape the city’s rodent issues). 

“Anyone ever told you, your eyes really sparkle?” Stark says, as his hand slips from your shoulder to rest at the small of your back. “You’ve got this whole Disney princess thing going on. I dig it.” 

Wait, is he flirting with you?

Tony Stark, Chief Executive Officer of Stark Industries. One of the top 20 richest men in America (according to Forbes). A man who can afford to buy the whole of planet Mars is flirting with you. 

God, you are already seeing dollar signs. Lobster. Caviar. All the rare exotic and poisonous puffer fish sushi you've only dreamed of eating. You've always wanted to be a gold digger, you've just never been close enough to a gold mine.

Maybe this will be easier than you thought. If he likes you, maybe you can just flirt your way into getting the arc reactor. Ask him to lend it to you. 

The two of you make your way past the glass doors and into another imposing large room, bare and minimalistic. Oddly, it feels dimly lit, given the size of the windows in the room. 

It’s the size of the front lobby of your office building, and you realize halfway through that this room serves no other purpose except to store more of his junk. There are half built machines piled up in every corner. Boxes and boxes of tools haphazardly strewn across the room. It’s an outrageous waste of prime New York real estate that speaks to the man’s wealth. 

In the middle of the room, there’s a silver medal that glows an eerie blue in the middle, encased in a display case. With the way it sparkles, you could almost mistake it for a precious aquamarine gemstone the size of your fist. 

“Wow, is that the arc reactor?” you ask. 

Stark doesn’t answer. Suddenly his chattiness is nowhere to be found, and as you turn to look at him you notice he’s not paying any attention to you. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling behind you. 

You whip your head around and follow his gaze to see the familiar blue super-suit trailing behind you. The unmissable angry red spider embellished across his wide chest, as he hangs upside down like a cat burglar. 

Has he been trailing behind you since you got here? Was that what the noises were?  

Air whizzes through the space and the force of it reverberates across your cheek. A piece of red armor flies through the air and attaches itself to Stark’s arm. 

You’ve seen enough highlight reels of Iron Man on the news channel to know what it means. 

“Wait wait wait,” you shout out as you step in front of Stark in mid-transformation. 

You fling your hands up high in a gesture of a white flag to de-escalate the situation. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Stark’s eyebrow quirks up, tipping his head sardonically. "So your costumed sidekick hasn't been stalking us this entire time? Breaking and entering, not just into my tower–which is private property, by the way–but also bypassing security to access my private office? Yeah, I'm sure your intentions are entirely on the level."

Despite the sarcastic hostility in his tone Stark hasn’t summoned the rest of the armor. The rest of his iron suit is suspended in the air on standby two feet away. He’s only got the arm piece strapped to his arm as insurance and is clearly willing to give you at least a few seconds of a benefit of a doubt. Long enough to hopefully explain yourself and not start a Superhero brawl.  

“He’s not dangerous,” you say, and the moment you say it, you want to kick yourself because of how suspicious that makes you sound. 

You turn your head around to Miguel who’s done an aerial somersault with the grace of a ballerina despite his build and soundlessly landed back onto his feet on the ground. 

“I can’t believe you went behind my back! We agreed to put a pin in this and wait to deal with Stark until we agreed on a plan. You said you weren’t going to break in!”

His masked eyes narrow into accusing slits, “Yeah? And what are you doing here then?” 

“Stopping you before you do something stupid!” you hiss. 

Before Miguel has a chance to retort, there is a loud clap from behind you that redirects both your attentions to Stark. 

“Jarvis, how did our lovely Disney princess make it onto my calendar and how did Hulk Spiderman over here manage to slip past every layer of your security net?”

The voice of a posh British man sounds out across the room but there’s no person attached to it. 

“I can find no record of these events in my logs. Performing internal diagnostics now, Sir.”

“Huh, interesting…” Tony hums to himself in consideration before he turns his attention back to you both. 

“I have to say I'm quite impressed, but I’m hoping for an explanation. Is this a Bonny and Clyde situation? You two lovebirds here to rob me?”

“No!” you both shout in unison. 

“Not lovebirds, got it.”

“That’s not–” Miguel starts, whipping down his head in your direction. 

At the sight of your face, he seems too flustered to continue his train of thought and he quickly looks away from you. “None of your business,” he snaps at Stark. 

You don’t know why, but that dismissive glance from him hurts. Like the very idea that you two would be in a romantic relationship is off-putting to him. It’s kind of insulting. You turn from him, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing ache somewhere in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. 

From across, Stark observes the two of you, whatever he sees makes him tip his head in curiosity. The intense pinch between his brow relaxes and the subtle shift in his expression is like witnessing the moment a shark senses blood in the water, then he grins and turns his attention towards you.

Stark grins, turning his attention towards you. "So you're single then?" 

You peer up at Miguel and hesitate because that’s a damned good question. You of this dimension is certainly single, but there’s another version of you (a dead one) that’s married to the man next to you. 

But that’s not you. 

You turn to Stark, "Yes," you answer.

Miguel whips his head to you, eyes wide. "No!" he bellows. 

"The lady says she is, big blue."

"And I say she's not!" Miguel growls, the last word ends on such loud volume it could break the sound barrier.

Miguel isn’t the best at reading cues. You’ve known Tony Stark for all of five minutes, and even you can tell that the man enjoys riling up people, Miguel is feeding right into that. 

Stark acts like Miguel is speaking at a decibel that he is unable to register. He saunters up to you, with the most carefree gait you’ve seen anyone carry around Miguel. 

"So are you free tonight?" Stark asks.

You spot Miguel’s bristling expression and hesitate for a second time. 

It’s mean, you shouldn’t rile Miguel up like this. His entire back is curved up like a hissing cat. The man looks like he’s about to blow a casket, acting like a jealous spouse. And somehow under Tony Stark’s attention you feel like you are the adulterous wife. 

Except once again, you’re not. Because you are not Miguel’s wife. 

… Why exactly are you pining after a man still grieving his dead ex-wife who happens to look like you? 

You're currently homeless. Your take-home salary as an insurance adjuster can’t afford you a new apartment in New York, not with the rising inflation and the current state of this economy. This is your highway express ticket to the charmed life of being a billionaire ex-wife. 

Bye bye to 9 to 5’s and having to manually enter data into thousands of excel sheets everyday. Jeff Bezos' former wife, Mackenzie Bezos was awarded 25% of their Amazon shares valued at over 38 billion dollars. Stark is twice as rich as that.

You slide closer to Stark. "Maybe? Where are you gonna take me? Somewhere fancy?"

"Yeah, no! Absolutely not!" Miguel interjects. 

He steps forward to drag you behind him, until his mountainous body blocks you from the man. 

“We need the arc reactor.” Miguel announces brusquely, with no fanfare and even less by way of explanation. “If you won’t give it to us, I’ll just have to take it.”

“What do you need it for?” Stark asks curiously. 

“That’s none of your business,” is the blunt reply. 

Stark tilts up his head, gaze pinned to Miguel’s mask. “You know, I’m not really minded to give away proprietary technology to a man wearing a wrestling mask in broad daylight.” 

There’s a stalemate between the two men as they stare each other down (or up in Stark’s case). The showdown is silent, you can practically feel the tumbleweeds rolling by, waiting to see who’s going to draw first. 

“He can take his mask off,” you interject. 

At your offer, Miguel’s eyes narrow, nose turning up in the air in a put off gesture, refusing to do as he’s told. 

“Mig,” you warn, and despite the clear scowl etched onto the features of his mask, this time, he complies. 

The blue and red fabric recedes into nothingness, until the fierce cut of his bare jawline is revealed. Eyes glowing an angry crimson. 

The scowl on Miguel's face is so ferocious, you can see his fangs in clear view. But instead of scary. Instead of intimidating. He looks... almost cute. All you see in front of you is a teething puppy with no real bite. He's harmless.

Stark makes a low whistling sound at the dramatic reveal of Miguel’s face. “Didn’t expect the fifth member of One Direction under there.” 

Miguel glares at the man, even though you know fully well that he doesn’t understand the pop-culture reference that’s being made. 

“So let’s take this from the top,” Stark says, and he starts to pace the length of the room until he reaches the arc reactor and gives the display case a light smack like he’s tapping the rear of a mare. 

“You need my arc reactor, but you won’t tell me why, and you’re not offering me anything in return, except for El Tigre over here not trying to kill me, is that about right?”

“What’s your price?” Miguel asks, voice in that low growling tone that always precedes a threat. 

“I’m a multi-billionaire, cash doesn’t really interest me, and I can’t exactly have this fall into the wrong hands.”

“We’re not bad people, and we’re not going to use it for anything nefarious. I know this sounds absolutely nuts, but we need your arc reactor to save the world,” you say. 

Stark chuckles at you, the way an adult would at a naive child. “That’s not really much to go on hon, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.” 

“Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, he can vouch for us.”  

Stark considers you for a moment then tilts his head to take an appraising look of Miguel, eyes dragging from the sole of his suit-clad heels and up to his neck where the suit ends. 

“The unstable molecule fabric you have for the suit is interesting. I’ve been meaning to give my suit an upgrade, and having it disappear into thin air would be convenient. Wouldn’t have to constantly lug around 2,000 pounds of metal everywhere I go with me. Hand me a sample of the tech along with full intellectual property rights and we’ll talk.”

“No.” Miguel says. 

He straightens up his posture and crosses his arms over his chest with a haughty expression on his face. “My suit is technologically superior to all the technology you’ve got in this building combined. It’s a bum deal. Your arc reactor has palladium in it and would be poisonous for long term use. It’s practically defunct and I only need it for a one time use.”

God, this man really doesn’t know how to endear himself to anyone does he. 

“He doesn’t mean that,” you step in. 

“Well if it’s practically defunct, I wouldn’t want to pawn this junk off on you,” Stark responds, throwing up his hands in feigned defeat. “Besides, it has sentimental value to me. Not sure I’m willing to just give this away to some random guy who broke into my house.”

Miguel’s lip twitches in irritation until you see another flash of those fangs like they’re itching to sink into Stark’s throat. 

That only seems to entertain Stark further. “Look, you clearly need this reactor for something big, and for some reason you’re not able to build it yourself even with your advanced tech on display here. You’re obviously in a hurry, and in a desperate situation. Desperate enough to break in, and you know the saying: beggar’s can’t be choosers. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

Miguel narrows his eyes, glancing around at the electronic equipment stored in the corner of the room. “I need you to throw in the laser scalpel along with the 3d printer and genetic sequencer,” he says, cocking his head in its direction. 

“Wow, toots, your boyfriend has real expensive taste,” Stark teases. 

Your cheek warms at the term boyfriend, but you don’t correct him. 

Neither does Miguel. Instead Miguel looks him squarely in the eyes and juts up his chin. “I want the Sonic disruptor too.”

“Fine,” Stark announces, holding up his hand in the gesture of a time-out to stop Miguel from listing out more expensive items. “You drive a hard bargain, Blue, but what the hell. It’s a deal. I’ll even give you a newer palladium-free model of the reactor so I can keep old sparky here for myself.” 

The sun is setting against the skyline of the city, washing it in strokes of warm amber-orange hues. Miguel is still grumbling next to you as the two of you stroll along the Brooklyn bridge. 

“Supergenius, Ha! Si los zombies comen cerebros, él sería invisible para ellos. What do you see in that guy anyway?! He’s not even good looking. He’s like what? 5 feet tall? He was wearing built in heels, you know! Es más corto que las mangas de un chaleco–”

"Can you pipe down?” you say, cutting off his tirade, “Just let it go, please. It's been hours! I didn’t see anything in him. I have no desire to be the next notch on Tony Stark's bedpost.” 

That finally seems to end his rant, or at the very least slow it down. Miguel shuts his mouth, staring out over the river. “Then why did you tell him you were free?”

“Because I wanted the arc reactor! I figured letting the guy flirt with me might help. Catching flies with honey and all that.”

He folds his arms over his chest, with a skeptical furrow in his brows. “You wanted him to take you somewhere fancy; that’s what you said,” he points out. 

Damn him and his super-genius memory. 

“Well, maybe I also wanted to eat at a Michelin star restaurant one time in my life. Manila Social Club is supposed to have a golden donut made with champagne jelly and actual gold on their dessert menu. 

“That doesn’t even sound tasty,” Miguel mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mouth settles into an unhappy frown. 

“It would have been if I didn’t have to pay for it!”

“I could’ve gotten it for you,” he says, and it’s not until you take a better look at his face that you realize it’s not so much as a frown he’s sporting. It’s a pout.  

Oh, is he… ? He is, isn’t he!

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know. I’m not interested in Tony Stark,” you reassure him. 

In front of you, the rigidness in his shoulder seems to melt at your words.

That surprises you. You’d have expected him to deny the accusation that he’s jealous. Adamantly object that he wasn’t, and why would he be, you’re nobody to him. Just a random stranger that happens to look like his wife that he cannot leave well enough alone. 

He doesn’t do that though. Instead, his only response is a quiet, “Okay.” 

His docileness takes you by surprise. 

Is he admitting that he was jealous? 

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't take even a morsel of enjoyment in the comical way that Miguel is getting himself riled up over you. To have him flustered and openly jealous of Tony Stark flirting with you. 

As if Miguel had anything to worry about. 

As if Tony Stark, a man who has ‘philandering philanthropist’ as a description for himself on his twitter bio, isn't known to be so indiscriminately flirtatious he’d eagerly court a voluptuously shaped tree. 

As if that man of 5 foot 6 (with platform shoes) would ever hope to occupy every one of your thoughts the way Miguel does.

Immature and childish and inane as your behavior back at Stark Tower was—and you feel mildly ashamed of it now—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it in the moment. Not because Tony Stark, multi-billionaire, GQ's Most Eligible Bachelor five years running, was flirting with you. 

No. Because for a moment you got to experience what it was like to have your rude protective Spiderman treat you as his girlfriend. Someone he was possessive of. Someone he treasures. Someone that is his. Instead of your current reality, where you know he belongs to someone else entirely.

“If anyone has anything to be jealous of, don’t you think it should be me?” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth before you can reign them back in. 

Miguel tilts his head, regarding you like a cute, confused pup, so you continue. 

"Because I could never compete with her, right?" 

"Her?" he asks, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Your version of me," you say, "your Nena." You try to smile, try to keep it light-hearted, like the funny joke you had meant it to be, but it hurts even just to hear yourself say it. Because you know it's not a joke. 

It's true. You’re in love with a man whose affections aren't yours to win.

Miguel stops in his tracks, and that makes you stop as well. 

"It's not a competition," he says seriously. "You're two different people. You can't compare like that.” 

You feel like you’re being scolded and probably rightly so. You’re being childish and unreasonably trying to compare yourself to his dead wife. But that doesn’t mean that it makes it hurt any less to hear you don’t compare at all. Your heart fissures and cracks, and  the first sting of tears starts to well up behind your eyes. 

"You're important to me too," he continues. 

The words stop your heart, your eyes dart up to his face. The look on his face is gentle and soft, and it soothes the pain in your chest away, a gentle warmth rising to take its place. 

“Oh,” you say. You can’t help but smile up at him, squinting against the bright sun behind his back. 

“You’re important to me too,” you tell him.  

His lips quirk up into a small but genuine smile at your response. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You nod, and then you have to turn away, feeling bashful under his attentive gaze. Embarrassed heat prickles your cheeks, and you need a second to catch your breath and let the evening breeze cool you down. 

There are cyclists and pedestrians going past you as the two of you continue to walk in silence. You sneak a look at him to see that, like you, he’s turned away. He’s gazing out over the bridge as he walks and against the amber sun, you see a faint flush riding high on his cheeks. 

Your fingers lightly brush against the side of his hand, and he turns back to you and smiles, sliding his pinkie to hook around yours. 

You walk all the way home this way, heart feeling full, and you think to yourself that maybe, this time, things really are going to be okay after all. 

~ Next issue

Author's note: So for fellow marvelheads checking, wouldn't Tony be dead after Endgame when Wong was made Supreme Sorcerer? This is another version of earth -- Thanos and the snap never happened. My baby Tony isn't dead how dare you!

The Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it’s left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

Dedication & Credits: To @guruan for her incredibly kind help and donating her time to check the Spanish used in this chapter.

And to the kind @forwantofwill and her generosity for doing this beautiful fanart of Miguel Folding Origami that has stolen my heart!!

And finally to @thirstworldproblemss I love you and hope you're eating all the yummy sukiyaki that you deserve. Thank you for coming with me on this wild ride.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Following in his footsteps

Finished this idea off on the commute so apologies for typos, clumsy wording and for inconsistencies in the sounds Brains stutters on…

It’s a bit of a mystery as to why Scott, the first born, was named after the 4th of the Mercury Seven whose flight and piloting decisions were somewhat controversial and left him in conflict with flight control (sound familiar?). Anyway I find myself intrigued by that particular 1960’s flyboy, particularly as to one thing he did 1/3 of the way through his trip with his fuel running low…

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

“S-SCOTT C-C-CARPENTER TRACY!!!”

John later confirmed that this was indeed the first time in Tracy history that Brains ever been apoplectic enough to middle name any of them. His ire was usually quiet and dry, with occasional sarcasm. Every so often some non-vital but comfort-providing item might be removed from a Thunderbird for “essential maintenance”… the cushioning of One’s pilot seat, the power supply to Two’s coffee machine…

But generally, after more than a decade living with the Tracys, their long-suffering engineer had cultivated the talent of providing emotionally restrained feedback. Albeit there was good reason MAX was unable to mimic the phrases that were muttered over mangled landing gear, flooded engines, overstrained thrusters and the like.

This Wednesday morning, however, something had clearly pushed him over the edge.

“What did you doooo?” Alan hissed in alarm and was immediately shushed by a heavily frowning Virgil, whose fingers appeared unable to release the unfortunately tense chord he’d just leaned into. John’s hologram popped up looking serious. Even Gordon looked incredibly uncomfortable.

From the guilt-ridden look on Scott’s face, he could think of least three reasons his neck might be on the block this morning.

A tightly wound ball of fury approached the seating area and the speed with which International Rescue’s commander leapt from the couch betrayed his initial instinct to bolt from the room and never stop running. However, decades of experience of facing the music from many and varied sources meant his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor, while the rest of his body sought the security of parade rest.

Brains stood in front of him vibrating with rage. The ends of MAX’s arms were positioned at an approximation of where the robot’s hips might be. The room held its breath. Virgil’s foot remained wedged against the sustain pedal. The melodramatic chord continued reverberating around the lounge.

The engineer suddenly raised a hand and everyone flinched. Had their friend finally resorted to violence?

Scott closed his eyes and awaited whatever engineering justice was deemed merited for… whatever it was he had done.

But the shorter man’s movement as he reached up to Scott’s face was slow, deliberate and with a slight frown of concentration he stuck a 75mm square of blue duct tape precisely in the middle of Scott’s forehead.

Virgil jaw dropped and his foot finally slipped off the pedal. The dampers clunked back into place, allowing an ominous silence to reign for a few moments.

The colour coded rolls of multi-purpose tape included within each baldric was one of Brains’ affectionate little thematic touches but also acted as a crude fingerprint… blue tape could only ever have been used by one person.

The Commander’s eyebrows twitched almost audibly as he tried to puzzle out the strange sensation but his eyes remained screwed shut.

When Brains spoke it was barely more than a whisper and the brothers in the room found themselves leaning in. The brother in space appeared to have located a bucket of popcorn.

“D-do you h-happen, to know how l-long I have spent p-perfecting One’s fuel reserve s-system, S-Scott?”

Scott swallowed, hard, and opened his eyes again.

“Quite a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh, did I ever thank you? I should have, I’m very sorry - thank you for that and for all your work, Brains. It really is appreciated.”

“Is it?”

“Of course!”

“Hmmm.”

Scott opened his mouth again but, accepting that his attempt to divert the conversation had failed, clearly thought better of digging any deeper until the nature of the situation became more clearly defined.

Brains’ hand lifted for a second time, another square of blue tape delicately held between thumb and forefinger. This was placed with some care on the very tip of Scott’s nose.

Alan snorted. Gordon punched him in the arm and was elbowed back. Virgil glared them into silence then nearly lost control himself at the sight of his elder brother going cross eyed in an attempt to establish what on earth he was being decorated with.

Brains spun on his heel to face the rest and they all leaned back hurriedly, feigning casual interest. Nobody wanted to appear to be aware of, to be accidentally associated with whatever crime it was Scott had committed.

“Th-thunderbird One uses t-two fuels but h-has th-th-three fuel tanks. As you all know, th-the balance of fuel t-to achieve m-maximum speed is p-precisely c-calculated and th-the system that g-governs it is h-highly sophisticated.”

Everyone nodded except Scott who was trying and failing to pretend he was unbothered by the additions to his face. His nose twitched compulsively.

“D-due to certain t-tendencies of her p-rimary p-p-pilot, One h-has a reserve t-tank. Th-that blend of fuel w-will not achieve the h-highest speeds b-but will ensure she is able t-to return h-home if a SENSIBLE…” the word was ground out as if it was painful “…speed is m-maintained.”

Brains paused. Every eye in the room shifted to Scott. Max bleeped, judgementally. Brains continued, his voice deadly calm and deeply terrifying for it.

“T-to ensure One’s p-pilot d-does not m-miss the fuel status w-warnings amongst th-the p-p-plethora of information on the h-holographic display I installed th-three LED bulbs t-to m-make it QU-QUITE CLEAR w-when l-levels w-were running low and w-when speed n-needed t-to be m-m-m-moderated in order t-to avoid d-damage t-to her supply p-p-p-p-pipeline a-a-a-and e-en-en-engines!”

Brains’ veneer of calm was cracking and Scott, who had clearly solved the mystery, appeared to be chewing through the inside of his face. Brains spun back to face the object of his wrath. MAX’s mechanical eyes narrowed.

“W-warning l-lights are only effective w-when th-they are v-visible!”

Scott gulped and fell back on the only defence he had left - he gave his old friend a dimpled half-grin and a doomed attempt at mitigation:

“They were a little… distracting?”

“D-distracting.”

The full stop was potent and echoed around them. Brains appeared on the edge of an eruption the like of which Tracy Island had never seen, even when the volcano was active. But he mastered himself and produced a final square of tape which he held in front of Scott’s face for a moment before slapping it down on to the top of his head, rubbing it slightly to ensnare as much perfectly styled hair as possible before storming from the room.

MAX remained just long enough to shake a medium-weight hydro-spanner with extreme prejudice before flouncing impressively and trundling after his master.

Alan and Gordon clung to each other, faces contorted with silent mirth. Virgil caught John’s eye then cleared his throat and appeared about to speak before being forestalled by his Commander’s raised palm.

Lacking a little of his usual gravitas due to the tape fluttering gently in the huffed breath from his nose, Scott still poured every ounce of authority he had left into an order of three short syllables:

“Not. A. Word.”

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name ch.3

You can read the whole story on AO3!

If you prefer tumblr: Chapter 1 can be found here. Chapter 2 can be found here.

---

Danny was big. Like seriously big, with a tall frame and wide shoulders, but Tim didn’t think he had been for very long. He still moved his body as if he wasn’t quite used to the size of it yet. Maybe Tim should have been intimidated, but he was too used to big enemies and siblings to really take notice. 

No, what he had taken notice of was the prosthesis making up the other's left arm. A prosthesis that Tim would bet his whole hidden stash of coffee in the Batcave was homemade, a fact that had spurred him to start talking with the guy when he had spotted him sitting alone at lunch.

A prosthesis that currently lay on the table between Tim and Danny where they sat in an otherwise empty room usually used for construction and prototype testing.

Tim hovered with his hands over the arm as he looked up at Danny and asked for the third time, “Are you sure?”

Danny nodded, straightening the liner covering his now exposed upper arm. “Yeah, man. I’ve been doing this solo ever since— well, since I got it. If you could help me work out some kinks that would be great!”

Tim let his hands fall to the prosthesis, tilting it this way and that to get a better look at it as he took in the patchwork of metal. He didn't have any trouble believing that no one else had worked on it as it was clearly cobbled together from whatever Danny had been able to find. The soldering was stable, but looked patchy from where it had been stretched thin to cover what it needed to.

It was an impressive piece of machinery to have been made by one person, even more so from what were clearly scrap-pieces, but if Tim was being honest the most impressive thing was that it moved at all.

Considering its weight, its many functions, and the length at which Danny could use it without charge, there was no known source that could possibly power it. 

Danny had given him some vague explanation of batteries, sustainable energy, self-sufficiency, and a whole lot of nonsensical buzzwords. Tim might not be an expert in prosthetics, but even he knew that it wasn't possible to have batteries big enough to sustain it for a whole day, and small enough to keep the arm as lightweight as it was.

“So,” Tim said as he placed the arm back on the table. “What do you need help with?”

Danny looked up from where he was fiddling with the fingers of the prosthesis. “I can’t get the thumb to move but I'm thinking of adding something to make the articulation of the fingers better, so if you have any ideas about that I would love to hear it.” He perked up, “Oh! I also need to make it lighter, I think, so that I can keep it on for the whole day. It’s starting to become too heavy for me.” Danny gave a strained laugh. “Not getting any younger, you know?”

Tim didn't buy the excuse of age, Danny wasn't old by any means and he certainly was big enough to be able to support the weight, but he had noted that Danny didn't use the arm every day. Which meant that there was another reason for it. 

“Is this related to your… Illness?” Tim asked carefully.

Danny didn’t answer. Which in itself was answer enough.

“Can I ask… What it is?”

He really didn’t want to pry, but maybe Danny didn’t seek out treatment because he lacked the money for it. If so, Tim found that he wanted to help. “If it’s a question of money, then I can—”

“It’s not,” Danny cut him off. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Alright.” Tim dropped the subject as he reached for a small, closed hatch at the underside of the arm. “What’s this part? The power source, right?”

He had just managed to get it open an inch, peeking inside to see something glowing green when Danny snapped the lid shut with a harsh, “Don't touch that.”

Tim held up his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry.”

Danny kept his eyes narrowed and fixed on Tim a second longer, but then relaxed. “No, I'm sorry. I just—It feels personal, okay?”

“Hey, no worries. I get it,” Tim assured him, trying to curb his own curiosity by reminding himself to feel grateful that Danny had trusted him enough to let him work on the arm to begin with. “Thanks for letting me take a look at it.”

“I know it’s not much,” Danny said self-consciously.

It was, but Tim understood what he meant; understood the frustration of being restricted by material things. Tim would love to see what Danny could do with better materials, and there were some benefits to being the son of the richest guy in town. 

“I might have some materials lying around, if you're interested. And I might have an idea about that thumb.”

Danny's whole face lit up.

Tim realized that they were actually starting to become friends. Wish meant that there was only one thing he could do in this situation.

——

Tim scanned the results of the background check he had just completed on Danny.

He had come up clean. Almost too clean. But he also came from a small city in the middle of nowhere; maybe there hadn’t been that many opportunities to get into trouble in Amity Park.

Tim had found no signs that Danny was in any way out to get them, which was great since Tim really didn’t have the time and energy to fight some new villain pretending to be his work-friend and coffee-buddy. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He did trust in Wayne Enterprise’s HR-department (and security department’s) ability to screen new employees but since he had started to run into Danny more often he wanted to investigate himself. But to his surprise, those accidental meetings seemed to just be actually accidental. So even if Tim had been burned one too many times, Danny was starting to look like an actually nice guy. No matter his big size, slightly uncanny looks, and cobbled together technology. The villains can’t get all the cool people, Tim thought smugly and found that he was more relieved than he wanted to admit that Danny had come up clean.

“A new friend?” Dick asked with a raised eyebrow and an infuriating smirk as he leaned over the back of Tim’s chair to get a better look at the screen.

“A colleague,” Tim corrected distractedly as he scanned the documents.

Danny almost seemed too perfect; a friend factory-made to suit Tim.

He liked coffee, he was witty, not afraid to tease him even though Tim was his boss, quick-witted, and had a big interest in technology and inventions. A fact that was proven in his work as well as his prosthetic arm.

In truth, Tim had already started to sneak Danny some projects under the table. Not bat-classed project, but… Maybe some personal things he had under development and would like a second pair of eyes on. And Danny’s insights had proven to be invaluable. Tim looked over his shoulder at the still-smirking Dick. Danny was also non-judgmental and non-infuriating, in contrast to certain other people that should not be named.

As if hearing his thoughts, Dick laughed and nudged his shoulder. “This is a thorough check for a colleague.”

Tim averted his eyes. Maybe it had been longer than he thought since he made a normal friend.

Dick smiled. “I’m glad it came up clean. You could really need some more friends.” 

Dick ignored Tim’s outraged “Hey!” as he scanned over the document before pausing with a frown. “Amity Park? Where's that?”

“No idea.” Tim clicked away on the computer. “Apparently a small town that mostly makes its living as a tourist trap. And their draw is…” Tim trailed off as he digested the last word before exclaiming, “Seriously?!”

Dick leaned in. “What?”

“Ghosts. The whole town claims to be haunted by ghosts.”

“Alright? That's eccentric, but it's not that strange.”

“No, it's just…” Tim dragged a hand through his hair. “It's the second time lately that ghosts have come up.”

And he really didn't want to associate Danny with the two lunatics from a couple of months ago.

“Well, maybe it’s a sign that you should change careers and become a ghost hunter! Can you imagine? A superhero ghosthunter!” Dick laughed and punched him in his shoulder.

Tim snorted and swatted at him. They were really lucky that ghosts weren't real.

——

Of course, after foolishly tempting fate, ghosts stayed not real for far shorter than Tim would have preferred. It wasn’t even a month later when his entire worldview reoriented itself (and really, he should be used to that by now) as that belief died and didn’t come back to life. Which seemed to be a rarity all of a sudden.

At first, they hadn't realized what they were; seemingly harmless and, most unsettlingly, impossible to catch. The blobby apparition had fazed through any and all containment devices they had tried to capture them in, and more often than not they hadn't even been able to touch them. None of their sensors worked, just spouting nonsense readings that fluctuated wildly.

The blobs were hard to handle but thankfully they weren't very destructive since they mostly caused confusion and some accidents brought on by gawking bystanders.They weren’t really attacking anyone—yet, the cynical part of Tim’s mind added—but they were causing enough of a panic to be a problem.

Thankfully, Gothamites generally knew to keep well away from new and unknown possible threats.

The real problem was that they had no idea what they were dealing with and no idea on how to make it go away, but overall Gotham’s green and glowing new decor didn’t really take president over all the daily attacks from both villains and normal criminals.

Tim had foolishly (once again, damn it Tim) believed that was it.

And then he got a message on his communicator masquerading as a cellphone summoning him to the cave for a new type of threat. Tim straightened up from where he had been sprawled over Danny's sagging armchair. “I'm sorry, I have to go. Something came up.”

“Oh?” Danny looked up, eyes immediately jumping from the video game on the TV to Tim. “You okay?”

Tim waved him off, feeling a bit guilty at the clear worry on his friend's face. “Yeah, yeah, nothing bad. Just… A family thing.”

Danny grimaced and Tim guessed he'd had his fair share of family things. He let go of the controller in his right hand, instead grabbing at his prosthetic left, rubbing at it as if in pain.

Tim got to his feet. “It was nice hanging out though. Same time next week?”

Danny's grimace immediately turned into a smile and even though it looked genuine, there was something strained at the corners. “Sure! Good luck with the family.”

There was real fear there, barely visible under the happiness. Tim reluctantly discarded the observation, reminding himself that his friend wasn't a mystery for him to solve. “Thanks. Good luck with the boss without me.”

Danny laughed and shucked a pillow at him. “As if your so-called skills make any difference.”

Tim ducked the soft projectile with a smile before leaving, mind already focusing on what new threat could have come up for him to be called in on one of his few nights off.

Said threat turned out to be an intangible, periodically invisible, glowing, and floating villain. All of those characteristics wouldn’t necessarily lead Tim to the conclusion that he was facing off against a ghost—Gotham was filled with a lot of weird people with even weirder powers—but what sealed the deal was the fact that this new villain just wouldn’t shut up about being one. The ghost of boxes, to be more specific.

Tim would say that he had higher hopes for his own afterlife, but who was he to judge?

And, sure, if that had been the end of it then maybe the easiest answer would have been that they were facing off against a man with very specific interests and an unfortunate chemical accident in his recent past (it had happened before, more than once) but now they were staring down a new villain every other week. All of them proudly proclaiming themselves to be ghosts, and all of them freaking every sensor and scan the Bats threw at them the fuck out.

So ghosts. Were apparently a thing.

Tim wished he was more surprised than he was.

So far, most ghost attacks would stop seemingly by themselves. The ghost in question would be mid-rant and mid-destruction, only for them to suddenly pause, eyes wide. Every time this happened, the ghost’s focus was directed at the group of innocent civilians unwisely trying to catch a glimpse of the action that always accumulated during attacks that weren't too destructive. Their leading theory was that the ghosts were simply scared of the living.

Which was lucky, because the ghosts were both frighteningly strong as well as too many for comfort. Tim was desperately looking for more dependable ways of combating them, but so far he had come up with nothing.

It was hard to fight an enemy you couldn't touch and they weren't used to feeling so powerless.

Which also meant that the small and round creatures that shared all the characteristics of the bigger ghosts, except for the fact that they were shaped more like jelly than people, were also—more than likely—ghosts. It had taken them a frankly embarrassing amount of time to reach that conclusion. Yes, Tim was well aware that Bruce was a world-known detective and that he himself was a genius. No, neither of them had mentioned this slow deduction to anyone.

All of this led up to Tim stumbling into work on a Wednesday, definitely late and definitely operating on way too little sleep. They had all stayed up late yesterday (or maybe it was today? It was hard to even think) facing off against a ghost that claimed to be able to control technology. Okay, facing off might have been an exaggeration. The truth of the matter was that they had ran. The risk of an unknown villain, someone with largely unknown powers and unknown motivations, getting into their tech had been enough of a threat to warrant a tactical retreat.

Which had proven to be a good choice since not even half an hour later there was an attack on their servers. And then another. And another. All of them seemingly from the same source. They had taken readings and scanned everything five times over, but the source of the attack seemed to adapt and change and move in a way that was almost… conscious.

Tim would swear off coffee forever if it turned out not to be the ghost that claimed to be able to control technology. They had been able to stay on top of the attacks but only barely, which was very worrying considering their top-of the line and frankly absurdly paranoid firewalls and assorted protections, as well as the fact that they had, well, Tim on their side.

He promised to never mock Bruce and his paranoid precautions again. At least for a week.

Thankfully they managed to contain the possible (probable) ghost in one of the computers stored in the basement by continuously upgrading and changing their fire walls. But this thing was learning and adapting faster than they could keep up with. It was only a matter of time before it broke out.

Too bad they had no idea who to reach out to. Or even where to start looking for a person who specialized in supernatural possession of computers. The science of ghost hunting didn’t exactly amass reputable scientists and inventors, or if it did, they were probably laying low so as to not get lumped in together with their more… eccentric colleagues. Understandably.

Which meant that trying to find a reputable expert on ghosts was as impossible as grabbing a hold of the ghosts themselves. But Tim knew that he would never be lucky enough for an expert to just stumble into his life, so they kept on searching.

So. No sleep. A whole work-day in front of him. If only he didn't have to keep up appearances. 

Tim tried to keep a brave face and go about his normal duties in his day job and nightly activities, but the threat hung heavy over his head. As well as the lack of sleep, but that didn’t feel as heroic.

Thankfully, his tiredness seemed to act as a homing beacon for his new friend and before he even sat down at his lunch table, Danny was there with two extra-large coffees.

Tim accepted one of them with teary eyes. “You’re a life-saver.”

Danny laughed. “At least I can keep you from joining me.”

And Danny did look tired. He always did.

He was holding his own coffee in his shaking right hand. Apparently the little tweaks and upgrades they had made on the arm hadn’t been enough to make it as reliable as he had wanted, if Danny chose not to use it. Instead it was hanging at his side, looking a little less cobbled together with a new top-plate and Tim felt happy knowing that Danny had taken him up on using the materials.

Tim had started to be able to anticipate what kind of day it was going to be just from how Danny held himself and today didn’t seem like a good one. He was still unsure of what exactly was wrong with his friend, but he was scared to ask again and risk offending him. Their relationship was still too new.

So Tim sipped his coffee and simply said, “I appreciate you keeping me alive.”

“We don’t need any more ghosts,” Danny muttered under his breath and took a sip from his own coffee.

The comment made Tim’s exhausted brain suddenly remember that Danny came from a town known for being haunted. It was a slim chance—since it probably was a cheap way of luring in tourists—but maybe Danny had some insights that could help them with the newly appeared ghosts. And especially the one trapped in the computer in the basement.

The only problem being that Danny had never revealed where he was from and Tim couldn't very well admit to doing a background check on him. That would probably ruin the mood since he was fairly certain that wasn't normal behavior between friends. Admittedly his perspective on what was normal or not was pretty skewed; something his siblings never hesitated to point out to him. Which was true, but they really didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to being normal. 

Tim made sure he sounded casual as he tapped the logo on his coffee cup and asked, “Hey, do they have Crabby Coffee where you’re from?”

Danny paused, something suspicious in his eyes. Then he smiled and asked in an almost casual tone of voice, “What, you don't believe I'm a local?”

Tim snorted. “You asked me if Arkham was an arcade just last week. Besides, you don’t have the right accent.”

“Fair,” Danny allowed with a shrug and a grin that was only slightly strained at the edges.

“So...?”

“I’m from Amity Park,” Danny said in a way that indicated that he didn’t like the fact, mumbling the last words as he looked away from Tim

Tim pretended to be surprised. “Amity? Never heard of it. Is it known for anything special?” And then he almost winced at his own clumsy and obvious fishing for information. Bruce would be so disappointed if he saw this. Okay, maybe he was more sleep-deprived than he thought.

It was lucky that Danny seemed distracted by some sort of inner conflict as he shuffled from foot to foot, not meeting Tim's gaze. “Well… It's a tourist thing…”

“Oh? Like what?” And now Tim was interested why Danny seemed so hesitant to share. Not a mystery, Tim reminded himself.

Danny deflated, looking defeated. “It's ghosts.” Then he switched to the overly-enthusiastic way of speaking inherent to all slogans, clearly mimicking some commercial, “Come on down to America's most haunted town! Guaranteed to scare the ghost right out of you!” and then in a fast paced mutter, “The city of Amity Park is not liable to retrieve any ghosts that decide to leave their bodies during your visit.”

Score.

“That's so cool!” Tim didn't even have to fake his interest as he asked, “Was it really? Haunted?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Danny hedged.

Tim gestured at Danny with his coffee cup. “I'm asking you.”

Danny paused with a worried frown on his face that he quickly tried to hide, looking at Tim intently as if he tried to work something out. Then he shook his head and simply said, “No.”

And it was the first time Tim had detected a lie from his new friend. Which meant that he did know something. Tim felt himself get excited at the prospect of a challenge, a mystery, and this time it was connected to their current problems which meant that it was fair game. He finally had a lead and he refused to let it go.

Why would Danny lie about his town being haunted? Was he scared of being made fun of? Didn’t he think that Tim would believe him? Ghosts was a rather eccentric thing for your town to be known for, maybe he had been ridiculed before.

Or maybe, a more jaded part of his brain supplied, he had been threatened to not say anything. Maybe he was hiding something.

Maybe Tim would have to show him some things related to ghosts and see how he reacted sooner rather than later.

“You sure?”

“Yes. It's not haunted.”

“Ah, so it's just a tourist trap, then? To make money?” Tim asked, trying to keep the excited interest out of his voice, trying to keep the conversation casual.

Danny wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, but it's nothing special. Just like any small town, you know?”

“Some people always take it a bit more seriously, right? There's always some believers,” Tim fished for more information. In every tourist attraction that claimed to be the home of Bigfoot or Mothman there was always someone who actually believed in what they were selling.

And if they believed, maybe they had some real information. Maybe even ways of combating them.

“Yeah, sure. There's those that believe and even—” Danny paused, swallowed, and then said, with real anger in his voice, “even some nut jobs that claim to study ghosts.”

Some people were studying ghosts? Tim made a mental note to look into them.

Danny cleared his throat as if embarrassed by his outburst and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Tim allowed the subject-change, not willing to push it and risk Danny suspecting him. “Haven’t you seen all the new villains on the news? They look kinda ghostly, don’t they?”

“Most newspapers write about them as if they’re a new kind of meta-humans.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tim shrugged. “But I don’t think ghosts would be much stranger.”

“You’re not scared?” Danny asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Of course!” Tim laughed. “But I don’t see why they would be more dangerous just because they’re dead. If anything, that only shows that they’ve already been killed once!”

Danny smiled at that and Tim took it as a win. His new friend might not feel comfortable opening up about everything just yet, but at least he could show that he’s open to talking about it when he was.

[anarchywoofwoof]

Full Article Text:

The United Kingdom is facing dire food shortages, forcing prices to skyrocket, and experts predict this is only the beginning.

What's happening?

According to a report by The Guardian, extreme weather is wreaking havoc on crops across the region. England experienced more rainfall during the past 18 months than it has over any 18-month period since record-keeping began in 1836.

Because the rain hasn't stopped, many farmers have been unable to get crops such as potatoes, carrots, and wheat into the ground. "Usually, you get rain but there will be pockets of dry weather for two or three weeks at a time to do the planting. That simply hasn't happened," farmer Tom Allen-Stevens told The Guardian.

Farmers have also planted fewer potatoes, opting for less weather-dependent and financially secure crops. At the same time, many of the potatoes that have been planted are rotting in the ground.

"There is a concern that we won't ever have the volumes [of potatoes] we had in the past in the future," British Growers Association CEO Jack Ward told The Guardian. "We are not in a good position and it is 100% not sustainable," Ward added.

Why is it important?

English farmers aren't alone — people are struggling to grow crops worldwide because of extreme weather.

Dry weather in Brazil and heavy rain in Vietnam have farmers concerned about pepper production. Severe drought in Spain and record-breaking rain and snowfall in California have made it difficult for farmers to cultivate olives for olive oil. El Niño and rising temperatures cut Peru's blueberry yield in half last year. Everyone's favorite drinks — coffee, beer, and wine — have all been impacted by extreme weather.

According to an ABC News report, the strain on the agriculture industry will likely continue to cause food prices to soar.

If these were just isolated events, farmers could more easily adapt — bad growing seasons are nothing new. The problem is that rising temperatures are directly linked to the increasing amount of gases such as carbon dioxide and methane in the atmosphere.

Since the start of the Industrial Revolution, humans have burned dirty energy sources such as coal, oil, and gas, which release a significant amount of those gases. Our climate is changing so drastically that the 10 warmest years since 1850 have all occurred in the last decade.

"As climate change worsens, the threat to our food supply chains — both at home and overseas — will grow," Energy and Climate Intelligence Unit analyst Amber Sawyer told The Guardian.

What can we do about it?

"Fortunately, we know many ways we can make the food system more resilient while reducing food emissions. The biggest opportunity in high-income nations is a reduction in meat consumption and exploration of more plants in our diets," said Dr. Paul Behrens, an associate professor of environmental change at Leiden University in the Netherlands.

If we replace a quarter of our meat consumption with vegetables, we could cut around 100 million tons of air pollution yearly. It may seem strange to suggest eating more vegetables with the decline in crop production. However, reducing the land and water used for animal agriculture and diverting those resources to growing more produce would drastically help the declining food supply.

Growing our own food is also a great way to reduce our reliance on store-bought produce, and it can save you hundreds of dollars a year at the grocery store.