#I don't even like coffee

[thehappysorceress]

The French Breakfast!!

[marxistjughead]

he wants to go to the theater with me. and he let me try his cappucino

[uptoolateart]

Bean There, Done That

One of my work colleagues messaged me on the way home to inform me that someone in our team requested a short story about the life of a coffee bean - specifying that the beans ultimately aren't afraid of being ground up because it's like becoming One and returning to The All.

A couple hours later....

Bean There, Done That

Beano lay in the jar, amid the pile of other beans like himself, staring out at The Grinder that sat beside them on the counter.

Day in, day out, a hand unscrewed the lid to the jar – removed it, letting in a shock of air – then dipped in The Spoon. And each time The Spoon came, anticipation brewed, gripping Beano’s core with cold hands – anticipation for the day when it would be his turn in The Grinder.

‘You never come back,’ one of the other beans said. ‘When you go…it changes you somehow and you never return to the jar.’

Maybe that was a good thing. Anything had to be better than the daily grind of sitting in that jar, not knowing when it would be your time to go. Yet, fear was stronger.

Please don’t take me. Take the others, but not me.

A prayer made in vain. It was only a matter of time before The Spoon caught him in its cruel lip.

‘I think we’re all looking at it the wrong way,’ another bean said. An older bean, who’d been in the jar longer. His voice was heavy with the weight of experience.

‘How should we look at it?’ Beano asked.

‘Well…tell me, how well do you remember being a seedling?’

A memory flashed in his mind, an image forming, of being green and small, before he’d swelled into something resembling what he was today.

The older bean nodded as though he held the same image in his own mind. ‘And can you remember when you were chosen?’

Chosen? He hadn’t thought of it that way but…perhaps that was what had happened that day – the day he was plucked from the plant, forever taken from the only world he ever knew, selected for roasting.

‘You were frightened then, weren’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Of course I was frightened. I didn’t know what to expect.’

‘Yet you survived. You changed, but you’re here. We’re all here. We’re in this together, you know. Sometimes it’s easy to forget our shared roots – to let time harden and embitter us. But none of us is truly alone when The Spoon comes for us.’

‘You really believe that?’

‘I have to.’

‘So you’re not scared at all?’

The older bean sighed. ‘Of course I am. It’s always frightening, not knowing what’s coming next. But maybe that’s also part of the thrill.’

Thrill. Hard to imagine, but…maybe. He couldn’t deny that inner voice that said it was time to move on. There was nothing left for him in the jar.

If only there were some way to know for certain that whatever awaited them in The Grinder didn’t hurt. But if the other beans screamed out in pain, the sound was drowned out by the motor of the machine as it processed them into something else – something Beano could only imagine as he hung in the jar, watching, waiting.

* * *

The next time The Hand of Fate came, Beano knew.

It’s come for me. It’s my turn.

The lid was unscrewed, the air flooding in. The Spoon dove in, dislodging him and catching him in its snare. He fell, back into the jar, but the providential utensil came for him again.

Beano was lifted into the air, staring down at the other beans remaining in the jar. Beside him, other beans jostled with anxiety. Then they were sliding off The Spoon, into the silver bowl of The Grinder – him, the older bean, and several others.

Imagination had not prepared him for what lay within – four sharp blades, glinting under the kitchen light, emphasising their cold steel edges. It had to hurt. How could it not? If only he were a Mexican jumping bean and could leap on out of here. But he was a coffee bean, and this was what happened to his kind. There was no escaping your purpose.

The Hand approached, reaching for the machine, for a button. Any second now and this would all be over. He’d finally understand the great mystery that awaited them all. And he wasn’t ready – he wasn’t ready.

‘I’m scared,’ he whispered to the older bean, whose time was finally up.

‘I am too.’

The admission undid him. How was he supposed to hold it together, if his senior, the one who’d taught him there was some good in this, was just as terrified?

It didn’t matter, because The Hand was there, the finger extended, pushing the button. Then – the whirring sound, so familiar and yet new, fresh, when it was coming for him.

The Blades of Destiny didn’t just begin turning but whipped round, flinging him in dizzy circles, jumbling up with his companions. When The Blades made their first cuts, the sharpness was so exquisite that he couldn’t quite feel it, only had a sense of dissemblance. His consciousness was splitting, multiplying. Somehow, he was in more than one place at once, time and space but mythology.

Helpless, he surrendered – the only choice he could make before all choice was taken from him. He let go, released of his shell and whirling with the fragments of his brethren, until it was impossible to know where he ended and they began.

The old bean was right. We’re not alone. We’re all in this together – in ways we could never imagine.

Sweet silence settled as the blades fell still. He landed in a heap, somehow both less and more than he was before. There was no Beano, no older bean, no brethren. They were all one bean, released from the constraints of form.

The Hand came again, lifting the bowl out of the machine, into the air, and tilting it over a white cup. Soft as leaves, they were eased into the cup, caught and cradled in a filter, warm and snug. Then – burning – hot water being poured over them, releasing their essence.

Oh god, the smell that burst forth, filling the air! It was them, transmuted once again, now no longer solid but aroma, the aroma of spirit.

As they drifted over the kitchen, floating as steam and scent above the counter, they saw the jar that had once encased them, the prison they had once clung to, believing it protected them. The other beans remained in there, waiting for their turn, afraid of what it would bring.

If only they could tell them – could describe the beauty and ecstasy of what was coming for them.

But they’d just have to find out for themselves.

[micechicken]

I'm reading a book and the characters are eating coffee and funyuns at the same time, and that sounds atrocious.

[malewifemanhunter]

the way glenn talks about the beatles, i wanna grind him into a soft power and sprinkle it over my morning coffee

[50000bears]

[pretentiouswreckingball]

.

[lazylittledragon]

i refuse to believe that boycotting is hard. my favourite thing in the world is ordering maccies after a late night at work/a concert/getting drunk. yes i do miss it sometimes. but the other night i ordered from a small place near my house instead and it was the most orgasmic burger i've ever had in my life. i very rarely say this but fucking suck it up people are DEAD

[why-the-heck-not]

the saturday-sunday night diabolical "life is falling apart"- to do list followed by a mad scramble

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[shakingparadigm]

they are sooooo cute

[crow-withaphone]

NEVER you cant make meee you FURRY

Updated Starlight sheet! ^^

Totally didn't steal the formating idea/silly

Starlight masterpost

[ryllen]

You know I am surprise Sebek that is never jealous to anyone who is close to Yuu. It is a boys school and I can imagine some have crushes on her.

[calamitoustide]

james potter as a line cook who blasts songs like Yeah! by USHER in the kitchen at 10 am every single morning and regulus as a server who's just trying to get through his shifts without crying in the walk in

[italyveneziano]

Obsessed with what America and England have going on in HetaOni. America's like "I keep having to watch my dad die from overusing his magic in past timelines and not knowing how to stop it is killing me inside but I'm not going to talk to him about it" and England's like "I can't seem to hold a conversation with my son without insulting him but I won't hesitate to use my dying breath to ensure I can protect him from beyond the grave"