#coffee's writing

[4acoffee]

a snippet of the ex jy fic i’m cooking up…

based off this lil blurb

-

you go a little hot all over when you find that those honeycomb eyes are now very much trained on you, blatantly ignoring the words of the Master Diviner from right next to him as she prattles on passionately about something you're sure is very important for the good of the Loufu and should require his full attention.

his gaze is far more piercing than you remember.

a little too sharp, too perceptive — penetrating through you in a way that makes you worry that he may just know every single thought and intention running through your head and have physically keep yourself from squirming.

he's gotten taller too, you realize with a flicker of irritation.

he was always a head taller than most, but now, even from across the room, you can feel how he towers over everyone else, commanding attention like he was born for it.

and you think, maybe he really was.

he looks exactly how you would imagine the Great Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance Cloud Knights: powerful, confident, a beacon of intelligence and experience, with a frame that commands respect. thick, sturdy thighs—

— you have to physically shake the last few, incredibly uninvited thoughts from your head and turn away from his overbearing gaze to refocus on your council, standing together in a little circle, looking very out of place and uncomfortable in the bustling unfamiliarity of the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Your heart twists with guilt, knowing you can’t provide them any more reassurance than the fact that you were once close with the General. A small smile slips onto your lips each time you meet their eyes, but you can feel the tension in the air growing heavier with every passing moment.

a moment later, you feel the weight of a heavy arm curl over your shoulders. an all too familiar flash of silver hair tickles the edge of your vision and you immediately know who it belongs to.

the tension in your shoulders tightens once again, and though you try to shift away, his hold doesn’t falter. the confliction that's been brewing up inside you since you first stepped foot back on the Loufu flares up all over again with full force.

your struck with the realization that you can’t decide if you want to pull away as would be appropriate, or lean into the painfully familiar comfort of his presence. the kind of comfort you have no right to be missing.

the room has gone unnervingly silent, all eyes on the General now, but you can’t focus on them. your mind keeps drifting back to those years when things were simpler, before everything fell apart.

you remember how quickly you left, how you never even bothered to offer a proper goodbye. and now you're back, not out of the craving of your heart, but to plead to him for help.

you can feel it in the air—the weight of unspoken words between you and the general, like a wall you can’t quite break down. The arm on your shoulder is still there, but it feels less like reassurance now and more like an unspoken claim, an unrelenting reminder of the past you left behind.

a soft laugh escapes the General’s lips, but it’s not warm, not even close, it’s something darker, and it makes the skin of your arms go cold, you have to suppress the shiver threatening to wrack through your body.

and when he speaks, it cuts through the tension like a blade.

“well, hello” he begins, his voice dripping with something too heavy to ignore. "look who finally decided to come pay me a visit."

you stiffen at the words, but you know you can’t afford to show any signs of being so deeply affected right now. not with so many eyes on you.

his hand tightens on your shoulder, and you can almost feel the bitterness in his touch. he must know what this feels like for you— the weight of returning to someone you once left behind—and he is blatantly using that knowledge to dig the roots of his anger deep under your skin.

he meets your eyes when you finally gather the conviction to look up at him, his gaze flickering with something unreadable at whatever he sees in you. but then, like a predator circling its prey, his smirk deepens, and the words that follow seem to pierce straight through your chest.

“You know, if I’d known you were going to return like this, I might have made sure I was better prepared for your... company." The word is slow, deliberate, and he drags it out as though he’s savoring every second of your discomfort.

"After all, last time we met, you were so terribly eager to leave weren’t you? Even after everything we’ve done together.” and you are absolutely shocked at the way he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your form, an unspoken but horribly clear implication to everyone.

The council shifts uneasily at your side, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

the rest of the room, realizing this should likely be a private conversation, begin to go about their business again. but you are all too aware that it’s nothing more than a facade, and that your discussion with the general is anything but.

you keep your gaze fixed on him as steady as you can, already feeling the weight of the upcoming discussion bearing down on you.

“i have to say, it’s impressive,” he continues, lowering his voice just enough to make his words more personal, “the way you thought you could just walk away, disappear, and expect me to forget.” his hand flexes on your shoulder, and the subtle pressure makes your breath catch. “And now you come back, as if nothing happened. how charming of you.”

your fists clench and you shift uncomfortably under the pressure of his arm, not at all expecting him to bring up your shared past so quickly and ruthlessly in front of everyone.

Aeons, how were you going to explain this one to them.

The council remains quiet, clearly unsure how to handle this, but the General doesn’t care. He’s using them, his gaze flickering from one face to the next before landing back on you. His eyes are sharp, studying every little shift in your expression, waiting for you to crack. you think he wants to see you squirm, just a little bit.

The heat in your cheeks flares, and you open your mouth, about to say something—anything—to defend yourself, but the General cuts you off, his voice a smooth but taunting drawl.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckles softly. “i’m sure you’ve come up with a perfectly reasonable excuse.” he glances around the room, giving the council a knowing look. “why else would you come back to me now, sweetheart?”

You can feel the burn of shame curling up like thorns in your throat, spreading over your cheeks, the sting of his words seeping into your skin. You can’t tell if he’s enjoying this—this quiet torture, playing on every vulnerable part of you that never really healed from the past—or if he’s still just trying to process the fact that you’re here, asking for his help.

The Master Diviner, who you didn’t even realize was around to hear your conversation, clears her throat. glancing almost hesitantly at the two of you, and the General seems to snap out of his momentary indulgence, his gaze flicking back to her. But there’s a lingering smirk on his face, one that suggests he’s not quite finished with you yet.

“Well,” he says, his tone shifting slightly, more businesslike now, though you can hear the edge of amusement still lingering in his words. “Let’s not keep the lady waiting. I suppose we should discuss your, issue.” The way he says the word makes it sound almost condescending, as though the problem you’ve come to him with is nothing more than a trivial matter to be solved with ease.

But even as he says it, there’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture. He’s no longer the impenetrable wall of passive aggression he was moments ago. Now, there's a flicker of something softer underneath the teasing. you swear you can see the way he shifts, from the General, to your Jing Yuan.

only you have to remind yourself that he is no longer yours.

For now, the council is still too uncomfortable to say much, leaving you to face the weight of his words alone.

You hold his gaze, a deep breath escaping your lips, and you finally find your voice, low but steady.

“I didn’t come here to dredge up the past,” you say, your words measured, even if your heart is pounding in your chest. “I came because I need your help. And whether or not you want to give it to me is up to you.”

Jing Yuan’s smirk fades slightly, and for just a brief moment, you think you see something like regret flash in his eyes—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice returning to its usual command. “i suppose, this time It’s up to me then, isn’t it?”

And just like that, the tension between you both returns, thick and palpable. You know that despite everything, he hasn’t made up his mind yet. Whether he’ll help you—or whether he’ll make you regret leaving him all those years ago—remains to be seen.

-

up next.. the general is a pervert 🙂‍↕️👍😀⁉️

[joytri]

[academia-lucifer]

Read, read, read. Read everything -- trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it's good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.

— William Faulkner.

[andrewminyardslawyer]

PSA for those writing coffee shop AUs, bakery AUs, etc.

I have worked in the food service industry for 20 years and I just wanted to make an informational list of common mistakes or misconceptions I see in writing about said industry. Not trying to be a jerk, just thought I would try to make a helpful list! I will add more if I think of any and please feel free to ask any questions you may have!

- it's cookie dough, not cookie batter. Doughs are for thicker stuff, typically something you can pick up in your hand (cookies, bread). Batters are more liquid and pourable (cakes, brownies, muffins)

- one person cannot make all the products from scratch and bake everything themselves unless they are a very slow business. Most of the time someone has a specific thing they do weather it's focused on specific products or split up like one person does the batters/doughs, one person preps and bakes, one person decorates. Sometimes one person does multiple things but generally not every single thing every day by themselves

- Front of House = people interacting with customers like barista, waiter, person at the register. Back of House = people making the food (line cook, baker, etc), dish washer (the worst job in the world, I salute all dishwashers everywhere)

- if they're doing stuff like bagels, doughnuts, breakfast pastries, cinnamon rolls, bread, etc they are there EARLY. Depending on the product some people start working at 2 in the morning. I saw a published book that had someone making dozens and dozens of cinnamon rolls from scratch in like one hour. Not possible even though I wish it was

- frosting, icing, and glaze are all different things. Frosting is the thicker stuff you see on cakes and cupcakes. Icing is typically for cookies, especially the decorated cut out sugar cookies. Glaze is thin, like what you get on doughnuts

- 99% of people who work in the food service industry will immediately go home and shower. I've seen lots stories where the character gets done at work and goes out. You are covered in various substances with powdered sugar in places you didn't know it could get, a shower before Literally Anything is a must

[logophilist1982]

Cottagecore aesthetic

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Dead Tired Coffeeshop Accident

For one reason or another, Danny is now living in Gotham and working in a coffeeshop. For one reason or another, Tim frequents the same coffeeshop.

Now, both of them are honest to god messes who treat sleep like a grave enemy. Meaning they both survive on coffee, spite, energy drinks, and their respective hyperfocuses.

They don't even talk, really, they just see each other from time to time: Tim knows the barista who looks like he's been dead for weeks is named Danny, and Danny knows how to make Tim's Death Wish with his eyes closed, but other than that, they are just strangers who largely don't care about each other.

That is, until one time after his patrol, Tim comes to the said coffeeshop in his Red Robin gear. He doesn't even think about it, he simply needs coffee. He comes to the counter. He orders. His voice is tired and emotionless. He just wants his coffee and maybe stare at a wall for a few hours until his brain reboots. Danny takes his order without even looking at him. He has been sitting and staring at a wall for a few hours, night shifts are literally killing him.

They are both so done.

Red Robin waits for his coffee. Danny makes it almost automatically, his mind elsewhere. The coffeeshop is empty, save for them two. It's four in the morning. Nothing feels real.

Danny sets the cup on the counter.

"One Death Wish for Tim," he says out of a habit, not fully registering they are alone, and he doesn't need to do that.

Tim takes the coffee without thinking, nods a silent 'thank you'. Brings the cup up to his mouth-

And notices a glove on his own hand.

He is in Red Robin get up.

He freezes and looks at the barista, who is cleaning the coffeemachine. Danny, noticing him looking, also looks back at him. Did he make the wrong order? He knows Tim's soul, he's seen it a lot, he couldn't have mistaken him for anyone else, but maybe he forgot to add syrup?..

There's a domino mask on Tim's face. A vigilante domino mask.

They stare at each other. No one moves. No one blinks. The sun is rising somewhere over the city.

Tim takes a sip of his coffee. Danny goes back to cleaning the coffeemachine.

They never speak of this again, but Tim becomes a regular here in both of his personas.

[arkieve]

Green | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 291

James places a glass of a sickly green concoction in front of Harry, instantly killing the little boy’s mood. It’s James’ special recipe—the ultimate health drink, packed with vitamins. 

Harry looks down at his glass with a crestfallen expression, lower lip protruding into a pout. James, completely unaware of his son’s predicament, moves away.

It happens quickly. The moment James is out of sight, Harry tilts his entire body toward Regulus, who’s pretending to be blissfully unaware, nursing his own unhealthy tall glass of coke, fizzing in the summer heat. 

Harry tugs at Regulus’ shirt, forcing his attention on him. Regulus peers down at him, paper straw caught between his teeth. Harry’s pout becomes impossibly pout-ier. 

He glances at the glass on the table, beads of condensation gathering in the hot sun before closing his eyes and heaving a sigh— resigning himself to his fate. 

Regulus eyes the patio door, calculating how much time he has before setting his own drink down. He grabs Harry’s glass and downs it one go. 

Afterward, he sits frozen, left eye twitching as he swallows several times to keep the revolting drink down. The grassy taste of it makes him stick his tongue out, revealing its now green color. Harry claps happily at the display before leaning over in his seat and taking a few unbidden sips from Regulus’ coke.

When James returns, he’s none the wiser.

Later, when the table is cleared and Regulus is upstairs putting Harry to bed, Sirius finally brings it up.

“You do realize Regulus has been drinking those for Harry, right?”

James smirks, looking smug as he takes a sip of his glass. “Oh, I know,” he says, eyes gleaming as he looks at Sirius. “They’re actually for him.”

[somerabbitholes]

home

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[4acoffee]

thinking about.

being Jing Yuan's first and only lover back when he was training under Jingliu.

say you come from a family where the eldest child is always blessed with the power of an aeon or something, but in your case your constitution is a little weaker or they in some sort of sick experiment gave you more power than what your body can handle and it leaves you sick every time you use your powers.

but say you study in the alchemy commission and slowly train your abilities. maybe you worked as a nurse or assistant just trying to figure yourself out, and one day the apprentice of the fuckin Sword Champion of the Loufu ends up in your care and he's so sweet and handsome with his honey eyes and boyish smile and he makes you laugh, but you send him off that day and think that's that.

but all of a sudden you find that he is finding every excuse to be able to see you and it's so obvious he has a little crush but he's just so cute that you can't help but fall so easily for him too

you bandage his hands after training and kiss his bruises better when he pouts and he brings you the prettiest jewelry from off world missions with his master and carves your initials together somewhere on the training ground with his favorite sword.

you make out in the dark alleys of the alchemy commission and explore what it is like to love and to care for someone in a way neither of you have experienced before and it's clear to everyone how smitten you both are with each other

then something comes up and you have to leave the loufu for your home planet and when you are saying goodbye, he is not just upset, he is bitter, a little resentful because he never even thought about leaving your side, and he never considered that it may be different for you

you don't want to leave him, but you have to because you have responsibilities on your own planet and maybe you never planned to stay on the loufu forever in the first place

jing yuan grows and more people leave him, but he stays, and the pain never goes away, but it grows duller with him.

you grow as well and you are weighed down by the responsibilities of your family and you realize that your beloved aeon is not what you thought and you and your most trusted friends leave to find a way to free your people.

you turn to the loufu for help because you know that he is the general now and you hope that even if he hates you, you trust that he will be kind enough to save your people.

just imagine you request to have an audience with him and he is shocked to see you back, standing before him in the seat of divine foresight with the conviction of a leader in your eyes, as if you didn't tear his heart out of his foolish chest centuries ago and squeeze it rotten and dry in your deceiving hands.

but he plays along, brings your group to a meeting room and you are there pleading your case.

.

"If you remember, my body did not well receive the blessing of our aeon as it has previously in my family.

"I remember, I was very well acquainted with your body, if you recall."

He preens shamelessly, in front of everyone.

[joytri]

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

Robert Frost

[academia-lucifer]

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.

— John Green.

[thedeadpoets-blog]

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

[ping-ski]

shrödinger's plex fic (they are real to me)

EBY eclipse and y/n ref here!! :3

[logophilist1982]

Old library

[shepscapades]

Posted to Twitter for the first time in 5 years /silly DSFGNFGB So here’s my atttempt at a more finished piece, inspired by Doc’s newest episode :D

Actually recorded a short timelapse for this one too, so that’s below the cut :D