#New Order Coffee Roasters

[insomniacs-keyboard]

Bruh

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it’s hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dark roast, black. You're tempted to order one for yourself but the extra dose of caffeine might unhinge you after the morning you've had. Transfer, no desk, a firing, a stolen desk, and two painfully aloof bosses.  

You go back up to the office, the short reprieve offering some clarity but not solutions. There has to be some way to get more than a grunt and a closed door from these men. Geez, if you wanted to work with children you would've done so. 

You knock on Mr. Barnes' door. The one next to it opens first. Laufeyson considers you from head to toe and Barnes appears not a second after. He takes his cup without a thanks. 

"Mm, and where is mine then?" Laufeyson challenges. 

You blink, long and hard. Of course. Of course! You let out a slow breath, "what would you like, Mr. Laufeyson?" 

You don't miss the quiet snort from the other door and it closes before you can glance Barnes' expression. You have a suspicion he expected this. It's like your first job when you worked with a bunch of men in stocks. Their numbers were as bloated as their egos. 

“Matcha.” 

The door shuts in your face. Again. You bite down and stretch your fingers wide. It’s fine. It’s fine. Growing pains. 

Matcha... what? Iced? Latte? Hot tea? Smoothie? Wonderful, a guessing game. 

You will be getting yourself another coffee for the trouble. Another trip to Roasters and you settle on the simplest option; just tea. You’re certain if you’re wrong, he’ll let you know.  

You stand at the two office doors and contemplate your life decisions. Is this worth it? Can you beg Odinson to take you back? To send down another poor soul? You almost feel bad doing that to someone else. You’re about to give when that innate stubborn ticks in your jaw. It’s only been a few hours. You don’t just give up that easy. 

Knock, knock. There’s a delay before Laufeyson answers. You’re not put off by it. You know the tactic. It won’t work on you. If his tea is cold, it won’t be your fault. 

“Matcha, sir,” you hold out the cup. 

He accepts it and reads the sticker on the side. He narrows his green eyes and looks at you, “note for next time, I prefer Garcon’s to Roasters.” 

Click. Another shut door. You’re really starting to get angry. You laugh out the flurry of agitation and turn away. What else can you do but think of it as a joke? It has to be. It’s just that absurd. 

You sit at the desk and open your laptop. You get it hooked up to the monitor and refinagle the cords. That’s an accomplishment at least. A tiny morsel of victory. You glance around and frown. It’s like the waiting room in Beetlejuice; everyone looks miserable. Well, can you blame them? 

Your phone buzzes and you check the messages. Girl nights hangs like bait at the end of your day, keeping you swimming through dark waters. It’s a bit ridiculous. Your friends are all like you in one way but all vastly different in many other ways. You all spend your days taking care of men who couldn’t give a shit about any of you. 

You can already taste the Paloma; bitter grapefruit with the burn of tequila. You are dying to drink away this day. You look at the clock and nearly whimper. It’s not even one o’clock. Ugh. 

You plug away at your desk. You get the daily agendas templated then spend time scouring the web. You have something in mind. You’re pretty sure you can make it work. As long as those grumps can do the simplest of tasks. 

You customize the survey and send the link. You doubt you’ll get a response today or even at all. It’s a hail mary, really. Barnes’ door opens, then Laufeysons. Your chest fills with dread. Great. 

“Hello, sir and... sir,” you sit up as they approach. 

“What is the meaning of that quiz?” Laufeyson demands. 

“It’s not-- 

“Asking a lot, aren’t you?” Barnes crosses his arms. 

“No, I just--” 

“What business do you have about my dry cleaning?” Laufeyson hisses. 

“I have lunch when I have lunch. I'm not a child at grade school,” Barnes sneers.

“Okay, woah,” you put your palms out, “first, there’s an n/a column, you can choose not to disclose the information. Two, I need to know what to do. What do you want from me?” 

Both men frown and look at each other, then back to you. 

“I can think of one,” Laufeyson raises a finger, “don’t treat us as children who need you to put our socks on.” 

“Good one,” Barnes scoffs, “also, you could stop with calendar reminders.” 

“Those are automatic,” you mutter. 

“And the arguing,” Laufeyson points at you. 

You sputter, dizzy at their onslaught of criticism. They can tell you exactly what they don’t want but they can’t give you a clear answer as to why you are there. You calm yourself with a breath and sip of coffee. 

“Mr. Laufeyson, Mr. Barnes--” 

“Why him first? My name’s first alphabetically,” Barnes says. 

“I--” you stop yourself and take another taste of your coffee, “if my presence is getting in the way of your work, I will go back upstairs and talk to Mr. Odinson--” 

“Mr. Odinson? Thor?” Laufeyson says, “no, you won’t do that. In fact, that is another item for your list, no talking to my brother. Especially of me.” 

You could tear your hair out. You could hit your head on the wall. You could gauge your eyes out and drown yourself in your coffee. Instead, you smile. 

“Got it,” you say, “well, sirs, good luck with your meeting this afternoon.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Laufeyson intones. 

“Mm, sure,” Barnes says and they both turn on their heels then stop at once. They face you in sync with each other. 

“Meeting?” They ask. 

“Mmhm,” you nod, “it’s in your calendars.” 

They stare at you. 

“If that’s something you’d like me to brief you on,” you say tritely, “you can submit that in the survey.” 

Laufeyson hums dryly and Barnes growls. Neither says anything further as they retreat. You keep your eyes on the screen as your heartbeat races. You can’t believe you said that. 

[rosanna-writer]

That's That Rhys Espresso (1/2)

Summary: Hoping she'll get an espresso machine as a rejection gift, Feyre invites a famous coffee influencer to her wedding…only for him to show up instead. Warnings: None Word Count: ~4k

I love a good group project (almost as much as I love my friends - go read their fics!).

My entry is inspired by this post by the brilliant @the-lonelybarricade and her beautiful brain. And a huge thank you to @thesistersarcheron for the beta read!

You can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Honestly, the matcha was a red flag.

Feyre had nothing against it, but The Roasters Under the Mountain specialized in rich, dark, extra-bitter espresso. If someone wanted a latte that tasted like grass, the tea shops down the road would do a much better job of it. And yet, she found herself making one for Tamlin daily, the green drink a perfect match to his gorgeous eyes.

If Amarantha didn't threaten to flay her skin from her bones if she took too long filling orders, Feyre would have already written her number on his to-go cup. But under the watchful gaze of her bitch of a boss, she'd been forced to merely smile a little extra warmly at her favorite regular.

Once, when Amarantha had been busy firing Andras for calling out sick too often—health codes, food safety, and labor laws be damned—Feyre had a precious few extra seconds with Tamlin. As she'd slid him his drink, he'd blushed and stammered something about her hair looking clean.

She'd ridden that high for weeks.

Each day, Feyre left The Roasters Under the Mountain with aching feet, exhausted by entitled customers, public restroom shitstorms, Amarantha's threats, and the constant pressure to serve increasingly complicated drinks in less time. The early mornings left her so drained that she hadn't cracked open a can of paint in months. And despite the hard work, she still barely covered the rent for the ramshackle cottage she shared with her family.

So when another opportunity arose to ask Tamlin out, she wasn't exactly in the headspace to identify red flags.

She'd clung to him hard in those early days. It was impossible not to—after years of just scraping by, the relief she felt each time he rubbed her shoulders after a long shift or paid for a date was damn near euphoric.

And yes, maybe she should have been concerned when he'd asked her to move in with him after only a few short months of dating. And that he'd told her not to worry about the bills—he wanted her to focus on her art for now, and she could always pay him back later, when her career took off.

He'd always been so sure she'd make it as an artist. No one else had believed in Feyre like that.

Working her final shift at Under the Mountain had felt like such a victory. As much as Feyre wanted to just leave and never come back, she hadn't wanted to give up the chance to rub in the fact that she was moving on to bigger and better things.

On every latte she served that day, she'd drawn a penis in the foam.

It had been worth it, just to watch Amarantha seethe. Even better, her other favorite regular, pumpkin-spice-for-Lucien, who often arrived with Tamlin, had posted a picture of it and tagged her. It went viral, directing some of the traffic to the online store where she sold prints of her work, resulting in a nice little boost to her revenue that month, enough to pay down some of the credit card debt she'd amassed keeping the lights on at home during one of her father's hospital stays.

Things were looking up. So of course when Tamlin asked her to marry him, she'd cried happy tears and said yes.

Feyre let herself get swept up in the new whirlwind of wedding planning. It was easier than thinking about why she still woke up at 3 AM in a panic, convinced Amarantha would snap her neck for arriving late to her opening shift. Most nights, she ran to the bathroom with a racing heart and shaking hands and heaved the contents of her dinner into the toilet.

Tamlin never woke up. She tried not to think about it.

Once, Feyre stopped at their neighborhood coffee shop, intent on bringing home a treat, but before she could order, she'd found herself hyperventilating. She'd left. And when Tamlin came home exhausted from a long day at work, she decided not to tell him about the incident. It seemed so silly in retrospect.

Maybe when he'd added her to his health insurance after the wedding, she'd try therapy. For now, watching Black as Knight was healing enough.

Elain had sent her the first video she'd watched. Feyre's sister devoured all sorts of online cooking and food content at an alarming rate. Under a joke about the swill Feyre drank—god Feyre, Folgers??? you drink that BLACK??? you're worse than Nesta—Elain had included a link to a video of a coffee expert blind taste-testing bargain brands.

Feyre had opened it, not expecting that Rhysand Knight would be the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

In the weeks and months since, Feyre had devoured every last espresso machine review, tiramisu recipe, and AeroPress instruction video Rhysand made. His voice was so soothing that she'd even taken to putting him on as background noise when she painted. With his trademark glasses, swoopy greying hair, and cocky smirk, he was utterly captivating to watch. And as a past winner of the world barista championship and pioneer of the third-wave coffee movement, he was incredibly knowledgable, too.

It was a small thing, perhaps, but if it weren't for Rhysand, Feyre doubted she'd ever manage to enjoy a latte without flashbacks to her time at Under the Mountain.

Once, she'd tried to get Tamlin to watch Rhysand's video detailing the different methods for decaffeinating coffee beans. Two minutes in, Tamlin had scoffed and told her to find something else.

"I just don't know how you can stand it," he'd said. "He's all 'notes of cinnamon' this and 'finely ground roast' that. It's just coffee."

A tiny, embarrassing wobble had creeped into Feyre's voice when she replied, "I'm trying to be better about remembering I can afford nice coffee sometimes. That I don't have to keep living like I'm poor now."

After that, Tamlin hadn't pressed the issue. Mostly. Feyre stopped trying to coax him into watching Rhysand's content with her—instead, she put up with the unfunny violin duo that Tamlin adored, though she could do without the endlessly repetitive you should be practicing jokes.

Sure, Tamlin never seemed to compromise and put on something she preferred. Annoying maybe, but making love last meant picking your battles, didn't it? Feyre could live with that.

But for some reason, the emerald ring on her left hand felt like a deadweight more often these days.

It might have been the reason Feyre put off building a registry as long as possible. But also, she'd never gotten over how presumptuous it felt to give her guests a list of items to gift. The price tags made her nauseous, no matter how many times Tamlin gently reminded her it was time to replace all her mismatched secondhand kitchenware.

"And maybe," he'd said with a wry smile, "that'll actually motivate you to learn to cook."

She'd forced a smile and tried to forget about the way he'd picked at the soup she'd made the week before, then ordered takeout after declaring it inedible. But with all the extra hours he'd been working at his high-pressure sales job, Feyre couldn't blame him for wanting a home-cooked meal at a reasonable hour every night.

Even if that meant cutting her time at the studio shorter than she could afford with her career just getting off the ground.

Feyre tried to put that thought out of her mind. Tamlin had blocked off the entire afternoon just so they could wander Williams Sonoma hand-in-hand. She intended to enjoy his company as best she could before he jetted off on a business trip for the week. Again.

They turned the corner, and in an aisle full of espresso machines that cost more than Feyre made in a month, Rhysand Knight's face smirked down at them from every box on the shelf. Apparently, that YouTube channel had expanded to a line of matte black coffee equipment.

Feyre glanced at Tamlin. And before she could even get a word out, he said, "Absolutely not."

"I take it you don't want to invite him to the wedding?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Tamlin didn't smile back; if anything, his frown deepened. "No."

"It's not like he'd show up—he doesn't know us. We'd probably just get an autographed photo and a nice card from his publicist. But who knows, if this kitchenware line is taking off, maybe he'd gift us an espresso machine. He can certainly afford it."

It seemed like the sort of thing a celebrity would do. Elain mostly sent their group chat bouquet inspo these days, but in the middle of all the aesthetic pictures of baby's breath, Nesta had said something about the host of her favorite game show getting wedding invites from fans. He'd joked about attending, and the internet had adored him for it.

A famous barista sending a top-of-the-line espresso machine to an couple who'd invited him to their wedding on a lark—feel-good stories like that always went viral.

And as much as Feyre loved her coffeemaker, it was still a far cry from the ones that would let her make specialty espresso drinks as home. Those cost thousands of dollars, more money than she'd ever feel comfortable spending on something unnecessary.

"We can get our own damn espresso machine if you want one so badly," Tamlin said through gritted teeth.

"I've heard that coffee tastes better when the machine you made it in was free."

Tamlin's glare made it obvious that he wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Feyre's smile dimmed. But they really did need to get their registry in order, so she looped his arm through his and let him drag her over to a different aisle to look at linens instead.

Tamlin only drank tea—Feyre suspected he would have reacted more positively if she'd floated the idea of angling for a gift they'd both use. But he wasn't the one carrying coffee-related baggage from the worst job of her life. Maybe he'd never really understand.

Feyre found herself glancing back at the wall of boxes emblazoned with Rhysand's stupidly attractive face. If he definitely wasn't attending the wedding, there was no need to pay for his plate. The only cost would be postage.

There wouldn't be any harm in sending him an invite.

Would there?

On the morning of her wedding, Feyre woke up with a knot in her stomach. Probably just the jitters—after all, she'd never liked attention or public speaking or posing for photos. And a proper wedding involved all of those things in spades.

She'd slept soundly, which was odd. Tamlin was staying with Lucien for the night; his other friend Ianthe had arranged for it. Apparently, everything would go to shit if the groom saw the bride before the wedding, so Feyre had elected to have the house to herself. Without Tamlin holding her as she drifted off, she thought she'd struggle to get some rest.

Instead, it was the best sleep she'd gotten in years. Perhaps the feeling of Tamlin's arms around her had been suffocating, not restful.

Feyre pushed that thought aside. She was marrying him today, and it was far too late to doubt that decision. Everything was paid for. Guests had flown in from out of state. She couldn't back out now.

Like every morning, she ground the beans, filled up the water tank, and hit brew. The familiar smell hit her nose, and Feyre just tried to enjoy the quiet while she could. To breathe while she could.

Her heart was already racing, but she hadn't even ingested a single milligram of caffeine. And it didn't stop, no matter how much she willed it to. As she poured coffee from the carafe to her mug, her hands shook, making the ceramic and glass clink together.

The feeling didn't dissipate, even as she brushed her teeth and threw on clothes. She probably should have had something more substantial for breakfast, but she wasn't sure she could keep it down. It was nearly a relief when her sisters arrived, and she could focus on the orders that Nesta barked at her on the way to the venue.

The concern in Elain's eyes was harder to face.

Feyre felt like a passenger in her own body while someone applied her makeup and someone else curled her hair. Close your eyes. Open your eyes. Tilt your head. Other way. The day had barely started, and she was already feeling overwhelmed from being poked at, plucked, and pinned within an inch of her life.

By the time they finished, a stranger was staring back at her in the mirror.

The photographer had arrived at some point, and Feyre grimaced her way through getting-ready pictures with her sisters in the matching robes they'd bought for the occasion. A feeling of utter wrongness crawled its way up her spine, despite the fact that this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

The prospect of getting into her dress didn't help, either. The endless layers of tulle made wearing it feel akin to being mummified, and today, the boning in the bodice reminded her of prison bars. Feyre had wanted to wear something more loose and flowing—why pay thousands for something she couldn't properly dance in at the reception?—but in the end, she'd let Tamlin and Ianthe talk her into something more traditional, feminine, and restrictive.

Sure, she looked like a cupcake with great tits and a snatched waist. But slipping on a gown wasn't supposed to feel like getting closed into a trap.

They staged a few pictures of Nesta lacing up the back of her dress. It was far from tight—the corset back was nothing more than an embellishment over a hidden zipper—but Feyre's breath began to come in pants.

"I— I think I need some air," she said.

"Did you remember to drink some water today?" Elain said, frowning.

Just coffee. But her sisters didn't need to know that. Feyre nodded, though Nesta's gaze slid to Elain anyway, as if they were having a silent conversation.

"Yes. I'll be right back, I promise. I just need a minute. Alone."

Feyre pushed past the photographer before anyone could argue. She fisted her hands in her voluminous skirts and barreled out the door, heedless of where she was going. It didn't matter. All she needed was to be out, with as much distance between her and everyone else as possible.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she ran. They'd gotten ready in some back room of the venue, a scenic country club with a golf course—Tamlin had picked it. There had to be an exit somewhere.

She was dimly aware of hurried footsteps behind her. Someone was calling her name. Feyre wasn't quite sure who—it was hard to tell with her pulse pounding so strongly in her ears.

She made a few turns, just trying to get away. With panic flooding her mind, she didn't think about signs or directions, just a need to get to safety.

At some point, she found herself running towards a pair of shiny metal doors, the kind that led to an industrial kitchen. Shit. She must really have gotten turned around again. Feyre wanted to scream or cry or both.

She glanced around, not quite sure where else to run. Perhaps it was time to give up, to pull herself together so he could force herself down the aisle and marry Tamlin with a smile on her face. Things would sort themselves out eventually.

A warm, broad hand closed around her upper arm. The grip was firm, yet gentle, and Feyre welcomed it like a drowning woman who'd just been thrown a life preserver.

"There you are," a sensual, strangely familiar voice said. "I've been looking for you."

Someone else was calling her name now, telling her not to make such a fuss. The stranger, whoever he was, seemed to understand the urgency, and Feyre let him lead her through another door she'd hadn't noticed in her panic.

Feyre didn't have it in her to protest, not when there was something about this man's touch that quieted her racing thoughts. She was hopelessly turned around, but he seemed to know where he was going. Perhaps he worked here. The catering staff probably dealt with more than their fair share of psychotic brides.

But he didn't take her back to the bridal suite. They stepped through door, and a breeze caressed Feyre's face. Outside. He'd brought her outside.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. The walls had stopped closing in around her, for long enough that something inside her cracked.

Feyre had never been much of a crier—there had always been too much that needed doing to properly fall apart. But for once, tears flowed easily, and her whole body shook with gasping, embarrassing sobs.

Feyre felt herself being gently nudged backward, then down onto a hard bench. The stranger was murmuring something to her, but she was too far gone to make out the words. Whatever it was, it was soothing.

And Feyre needed soothing. Badly.

Without thinking, she reached for the man beside her. He pulled her close, and she buried her face in the soft fabric of his jacket. Heedless of the possibility she'd ruin his clothes with snot and tears, she cried until she was nearly spent. The godsend of a stranger merely ran a hand up and down her back through it all, grounding her.

At some point, her sobs turned into words. Half-coherent phrases at first, until she finally said, "I can't marry him."

Voicing it aloud made it real. Feyre couldn't walk down that that aisle and vow to love Tamlin forever. Not when every instinct that she'd tried so hard to bury screamed danger.

"You certainly can't marry anyone in this state, darling."

Her mind snagged on that last word. Rhysand Knight had said it once in a video—he'd greeted his fashion-blogger cousin with a hello, darling and an air-kiss to the cheek in a collaboration video. Feyre remembered because it had sent a bizarre pang of jealousy lancing through her.

And yes, maybe she'd replayed those two seconds of audio more times than she wanted to admit. Rhysand just had that effect on people.

But that was neither here nor there. As much as Feyre wanted to shut out the world and re-watch the video where Rhysand compared immersion and percolation techniques, there were things she had to take care of first. Namely, leaving, changing out of her godforsaken pastry-shaped dress, and telling Tamlin she was moving on with her life.

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to face everyone after this," she said.

"Then don't."

"What?"

"I'll help you sneak out, if you'd like."

His eyes glinted with mischief. Now that her head head cleared, she realized she couldn't quite place his face. Those eyes alone, so deep blue they were nearly violet, would have haunted her if she'd seen them before, never mind his heartbreaking, ethereal beauty. But she had the strangest sense they'd met before.

Feyre wanted to go with him, more than she'd ever wanted anything. But she'd regained enough composure that another reality of the situation hit her. If she didn't recognize this man, he was a guest from Tamlin's side.

And she'd just cried on his shoulder about not wanting to get married.

"Sorry, but who are you exactly?" she said.

The man merely pulled a pair of glasses out of his breast pocket and slipped them on. "Recognize me now?"

Feyre blinked, not quite believing it at first. But after several hundred hours of watching his videos, she'd know those spectacles anywhere.

Rhysand Knight had actually come to her wedding.

"I— I thought you were just going to send a gift."

"I RSVP'd yes, didn't I?"

"But you don't know me. Or Tamlin. Why would you even bother?"

He picked an invisible speck of lint off the lapel of his suit jacket, heedless of the wet spot she'd left with her tears. "Would you believe me if I said I searched your name and found myself intrigued by that phallic latte art?"

"No."

"Forgive me for thinking that a woman who lovingly crafted a penis in steamed milk would be the sort of person to host a hell of a party for her wedding reception, then."

A teary laugh escaped Feyre. She wiped at her eyes, coming away with a dark smear of mascara on the side of her hand.

"Tamlin was so mad I didn't private those posts. He said they were undignified. Which was so stupid when he has that poetry account full of erotic limericks, if you can believe it. Amarantha, my boss at the cafe, was such a terror, so I put a dick in the foam of every drink I made during my last week."

"I'm sorry Tamlin didn't appreciate your sense of humor, then."

Rhys was looking with her with such softness in his eyes that Feyre was sure he meant it genuinely. Or maybe not. After all the times she'd replayed that AeroPress review to soothe her after a bad day or a fight with Tamlin, she couldn't be sure the wires weren't getting crossed somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind.

But there wasn't one iota of pity in his gaze. That much, she was sure of.

"Thanks," she whispered, then moved to stand up from the bench. Her foot wobbled.

She nearly screamed in frustration—she'd wanted to wear a pair of white Keds and be done with it, but both Tamlin and Nesta had agreed heels were so much more bridal. They saw eye to eye so rarely that Feyre had gone along with it, and now she was paying the price.

Rhysand reached towards her, intent on preventing her from face-planting into the flagstones. On instinct, Feyre lifted her arms to break her fall.

Her hands settled on his chest. His landed on her hips.

It might as well have been an embrace. The polite thing to do would have been to apologize and put a healthy amount of distance between them. But Feyre couldn't quite bring herself to.

Rhysand didn't move, either.

"Easy," he whispered, voice low. "Do you need help getting home?"

"I— I don't want to go back. I'm not sure if I can really. One of my sisters would probably let me stay with them, at least for a while, and maybe once I've taken a nap I can start thinking about getting my things from Tamlin's place, and—"

"You can hide with me, if you'd like. My offer to help you sneak out still stands."

In all honesty, Feyre wasn't sure what other choice she had. But it was awfully convenient that he'd decided to come to her wedding and that they'd crossed paths at just the right time.

More than convenient, really. This felt closer to fate.

"Alright. Maybe just until I can make some arrangements for something more permanent."

Rhysand actually tutted at her. "At least promise you'll stay long enough for me to make you a cup of coffee."

She could use a warm drink, caffeine jitters be damned. Besides, after all those miserable months making coffee for other people at The Roasters Under the Mountain, it was high time a handsome barista brewed something for her instead.

"I think I'd like that," she said.

After that, she found herself wrapped up in his jacket—"can't do much about a conspicuous white dress, but it's better than nothing"—and wearing his glasses. When she'd questioned whether it was all really necessary, he'd winked and told her that in the years since his channel had hit a million subscribers, he'd gotten adept at slipping out of places unnoticed.

It had drawn a giggle out of her. Feyre couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that.

She'd slipped her hand into his as they dashed towards the parking lot. Partially in case her heels gave her more trouble, but also…because it had felt natural. Like her fingers belonged intertwined with his.

They sprinted across the grass, laughing like children. With each step that Feyre took away from the wedding, she felt lighter. Freer.

Her phone and keys were still in the bridal suite. Tamlin had probably already convinced himself she'd been kidnapped. But Feyre didn't care.

All of that could wait until after she'd finished her coffee.

[thesistersarcheron]

WIP Wednesday: Devil in the Details

I heard my wonderful beta @rosanna-writer say something about a Feysand group project? How are we feeling about the intersection of coffee shop AUs and the secret baby trope?

…the little silver bell over the front door gives a sharp chime, slicing through the low hum of magic and murmured conversation. A cool gust of early morning air sweeps in, carrying the salt-and-citrus scent of the city with it, and on its heels a tall, golden-haired female that Feyre has never seen before drifts inside, the ribbons of her teal gown fluttering gracefully around her strong, bare legs.

She knows she's never seen this woman before because she stands in the doorway like most newcomers who are unfamiliar with Falling Star do, eyes flicking this way and that as they drink up the chaotic jumble of the place. To the left, a wall covered in bins full of mismatched, secondhand art supplies and faeries seated at minuscule tables; to the right, a gallery of paintings and tapestries and sculpture for sale, a discordant clash of mediums and techniques. At the back of the shop, a cluttered counter is covered in a dozen different kettles and coffee presses and jugs—one for every strange new blend of coffee or tea the owner devises in her little workshop on the second floor—in addition to the packed pastry case and, well…

And the shopgirl with a baby strapped to her chest.

Feyre can tell the instant the golden female in the doorway spots them. Her head tips like a particularly curious cat, her lips parting as she studies the bulging angles of Nyx's wings through the silk of his wrap—

And Feyre feels a bit of instinctive defensiveness rise up. The freshly washed cream pitcher she's drying off with a clean towel clatters to the counter, and she splays her hands over her son's back. 

"Good morning!" she says with forced pleasantness before the female can voice the morbid curiosity that Feyre has come to expect from strangers. 

How precious! Whose is he?

Yours? 

But… how? With the wings, I… You know…

Her polite, plastered-on smile becomes a bit more genuine when the female twitches and, with apparent difficulty, meets her eyes. 

"Welcome to Falling Star Coffee Roasters & Art Supply. How can I serve you?"

The female pauses. "Excuse me?"

"Coffee or tea?" Feyre lifts a hand off of Nyx's back and points firmly at the menu above her head. It's enchanted to update each morning with what is available, thank the Mother for yet another small mercy, and Feyre has been experimenting with giving new customers no choice but to order from the menu before they can demand yet another impossibly difficult, spellbook potion. "We have about half a dozen different roasts, and several house blends of tea. Freshly squeezed juice, too. It's pomegranate today."

"No, I," the newcomer starts. Her eyes, feline and tilted, flicker up to the menu before she shakes her head. "I…"

Feyre's eyes narrow. 

"We also have baked goods…" she tries, enunciating her words carefully. Slow and firm—the best way to deal with challenging customers, she's found.

"Oh?" The female's question is distant. She nods slowly, her brow furrowing as she surveys the sparkling glass case, because she is evidently flabbergasted by the concept of a shop serving breakfast and hot drinks. "I don't… That is, that's not—"

"Here for materials, then?" Careful not to bump Nyx's diapered bottom against the hard marble edge, Feyre leans over the counter and points at the bins that had first drawn her to the cafe like a moth to a flame. But the female doesn't look at those; Feyre watches as her coffee-colored eyes go directly to the fussy ribbon of darkness one of the High Fae seated by the window is still patting. "It's all secondhand, but it's priced fairly. Brushes and chisels are half off this week, and next week we'll be restocking fabric scraps and remnants."

Jostled, Nyx gurgles, his little legs kicking. After four months of motherhood, Feyre is seasoned enough to anticipate the tiny sock that flies right off his foot and lands on the counter, and she reaches for it with a silent sigh— but pauses as she catches the female's eyes darting back to her son, sharp and curious, catching on the chubby, golden-brown foot now wiggling in the air. 

She stares, silent for a beat too long, as if her train of thought is completely decimated by the sudden appearance of baby toes. Her lips part slightly, the intensity in her expression startling in its suddenness. 

And then a spark flares to light in those eyes, and an immediate weight in the atmosphere makes the small hairs at the back of Feyre's neck rise. Her mouth fills with the coppery taste of foreign, Night Court magic, and for a moment she feels stripped bare beneath that gaze. As if the female in the doorway can see through Nyx, through her clothes, through her flesh, and right into the very heart of her.

A hushed shuffle and a low murmur of voices break the tense silence, the other customers shifting uncomfortably, all of their eyes glued to the female in the doorway as the burst of power falters and she stumbles backward a couple of steps. 

[hotcryptidsinyourarea]

Falling for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio

story synopsis: Molly is a 30-something cookbook editor who has decided to move from New York to Loveland, Ohio after a bad breakup and a desire for a fresh start. She is instantly attracted to her neighbor Jeremiah's midwestern charms, but this local guy is much more than meets the eye...

human (she/her) + interdimensional humanoid frogman (he/him) cw: social anxiety, existential pondering, negative self-talk

Chapter 3

My body and mind are so exhausted, I sleep in an hour later than I usually do. The fact that my new bed is very comfortable also facilitates this late start, but I don’t really have it in me to complain about that. I finally pry myself from between the sheets and get dressed for my first full day in my new home. First thing’s first: coffee. 

I do a quick search for the closest non-chain coffee shop to my place. Part of the appeal of moving to a smaller community is supporting the local business culture. Never again will I spend $10 on a tall, burnt-ass latte from the Bucks. There’s one on Loveland Madeira alongside all the other fast food chains, but I’m going to avoid it like the plague. It’s the weirdest thing in New York: everybody talks about how much they love their neighborhood coffee shops, but no matter when or how you see them in real life, there will always be that ubiquitous siren-logo’d cup planted firmly in hand. It’s like some grand delusion we all pretend we’re not a part of. 

No that I think people in a small town are paragons of virtue or anything. I know there is hypocrisy and assholes everywhere you go. But you spend enough time in one place and eventually you have the right to gripe about it as much as your little black heart desires! Or that’s what I tell myself, I guess. Part of me will always love New York and I truly look forward to going back and visiting. But the agitation I feel at just a passing reminder of the city tells me I made the right move leaving town. I just hope this place ends up being where I’m supposed to be. 

Well, what better way to get a feel for a new town than running a couple of normal, domestic errands? Namely: coffee. Let’s fucking gooooooo!

_____________________________________________________________

I’m loving the decor at the Blue Chip Roasters coffee shop. The amount of hearty wood furnishing and exposed burl fixtures gives it a Twin Peaks vibe without being derivative. It’s warm and homey and the scent of fresh coffee brewing makes my mouth water. There’s a huge wraparound counter that isolates the staff area behind the machines and cash register, which lines up with the doorway so you can walk right up to it. On the other side of the counter are bar stools occupied by various coffee drinkers who are all immersed in their books or laptops. It’s simple but welcoming. A satisfactory first impression, for sure. 

It’s a blessedly simple menu. They only have two types of milk, whole and oat, but I’ve never strayed from the classic whole milk-coffee combination anyways. Full fat means full flavor and that’s what I want. I order a double iced latte and a cinnamon roll for breakfast. As I drop in a dollar for tip, I notice the jar is covered in stickers and such all depicting some artists’ renditions of an anthropomorphic frog. In big block letters it reads: 

>> DON’T FROG-ET TO TIP! - LFM <<

“Who is LFM?” I ask the girl working the register. 

“Oh, it stands for Loveland Frogman. You’ve never heard of it?” 

“I can’t say that I have, but I’m new in town. Like, brand new.” 

“Oh, well it’s just a dumb local legend. Years ago, a couple cops saw a lizard standing on its hind legs and told everyone they saw a Frogman. Locals have kind of taken it on as a mascot of sorts even though it’s fake as fuck.” 

“It’s NOT fake,” says the kid behind the espresso machine pulling shots. “The Frogman is real. That lizard story is a cover-up ordered by the FBI. Ask anyone from around here and they’ll tell you a story about them or someone they know spotting him at some point.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” the cashier rolls her eyes. “The people that claim to see him are just dumbasses lying so they can be the center of attention for a moment. Either that or meth heads.” 

“It wasn’t a frog at all,” says a third worker sweeping something up behind the counter. “It was an alien. A being from another dimension. That’s why the FBI wanted to cover him up. No one cares about some overgrown science project.” 

The local color of it all has me stunned silent. I am not used to talking this much with strangers. Honestly, I felt like I was pushing it by asking the cashier in the first place. I was half expecting a snide fuck-if-I-know dismissal. And now after instigating the conversation, I find myself at a loss for words. Great! I have no idea how to get out of this in the correct, polite way. I’m a decade out of practice. Thankfully, a voice coming from a bar stool in my periphery offers me a blessed interjection to keep me from looking as dumb as I feel.  

“Don’t listen to them. They’re just messing with you because you said you’re new in town. We don’t get a lot of ‘new’ around here often. A lot of the same,” says the guy. I turn to look at him, remembering the most rudimentary of manners, but what I see doesn’t help my muteness because this dude is good looking. 

Very good looking, one might say. 

Ridiculously, if you’re so inclined. 

I get that feeling in my chest that makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again and my friend Jessica’s older brother Adam would walk in the room while we watched TV– like it’s suddenly difficult to to take a full, deep breath and a heat spreads across my shoulders and chest. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I am completely flustered. I break eye contact to fumble through my wallet for an extra couple dollars to throw in the tip jar. Fuck! I need to work on my spontaneous conversation skills. I wasn’t expecting to experience culture shock quite to this extent, but I guess even just one state away is a whole other place, isn’t it? 

“Where are you from?” asks the guy. A straightforward question that I am perfectly capable of answering… hopefully. 

“I moved here from New Yor–” I manage to croak out, stumbling over that last syllable. I clear my throat. “York. I moved here from New York.” 

“New York City?” 

“The very one.” 

“Why would you leave New York to come to Loveland of all places?” he asks. “Most people are doing everything in their power to make it out of here.” 

“Oh, you know, sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I reply. Looking back at the cashier, they have an incredulous look on their face like I’m speaking crazy talk. 

“Whatever you say, lady.” They hand me my coffee, my transaction finally complete. I lift the cup in salute and give a tight mouthed smile to the hot guy at the bar. He lifts his cup in return, a good humored smile plastered on his face. 

As I leave the coffee shop and settle into the driver’s seat of my car, I’m suddenly hit with the realization that I answered that hot guy’s question with the kind of trite bullshit normally reserved for Pinterest quotes. 

“Sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I repeat back to myself. “What the FUCK does that mean, you dumbass weirdo bitch?” The heat I felt across my chest has definitely spread across my face. Luckily, there’s no cute coffee guy to see my embarrassment as I drive back home. 

_____________________________________________________________

Once I’m back home with my coffee and cinnamon roll, I park it back outside on the iron patio set and enjoy my breakfast. With a little food and caffeine in my system, I realize I may have been overreacting to the little interaction at the coffee shop. It probably wasn’t as bad as it was in my head. I was just hungry and fatigued from moving. No big deal. 

I hear the doorbell and go to let the internet installation technician inside. I’m impressed that he showed up so early in the estimated service window. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wait all day for a tech in New York only for no one to show up when they said they would. The next day or so, I’d often get a call while out and about. 

“Hi ma’am it’s George from Concast. I’m here to install your internet. Can you let me in?” 

“Let you in? You were supposed to come yesterday. I didn’t get any notification that you’d come today– I’m not here.” 

“Well, I need to be let in to install your internet…”

“But I’m not there. We’ll just have to reschedule.” 

“Next availability is in two weeks.” 

“GODDAMMIT. Wait right there– I’ll be back as soon as possible!” 

But none of that rigamarole is happening now. At this moment, I am reading a book on my back patio with an iced coffee and a cinnamon bun while Lyle sets up my fiber internet at the exact time he was scheduled to do it. Life is good. 

Okay, I may be looking at everything with rose colored glasses, but I’ll allow myself to bask in my new home serenity for a little while longer. What can it hurt to take the time to enjoy the fact that things are going smoothly? Back in the city, it felt like I was constantly having to strive for things to work. They rarely did and any hint of them possibly doing so was dashed with such expedience I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking that I possibly deserved for things to be easier. 

There was no way for me to get to that point when stuck in constant survival mode. The city is a beast, constantly growing. So even if you get to a point where you’re realizing some sort of comfort, the beast will continue to expand and shift until your complacency gets you displaced. It’s exhausting! I guess the hustle gives you something to live for– that’s why you see so many 80-year old women wandering around the streets of Manhattan. But they’re a hard eighty. And you can’t help but think they’re not there because they want to bust their asses just to make it through a day, but because they simply don’t even know there are other ways to live. Humans are creatures of habit. We find comfort in conformity. We create these confines and then tell ourselves because we made them, we must also work within them. 

It’s logical: as animals, we are bound by evolutionary instinct to find and keep a lifestyle that enables us to be productive– namely, reproductive– so that drives us to make choices that are safe and keep us connected. But I don’t think it’s extreme to say we as humans can and should continue to evolve past base evolutionary drive. It’s not imperative for all of us to be constantly productive. We have machines and programs that help us do a lot of the heavy lifting so that we may spend more time enjoying the world we’ve been gifted. And just as these advancements further separate us from any quote/unquote “natural way” of existence, we should consider the possibility that breaking free from our patterns and choosing not to conform to the established expectations may serve us positively. 

Of course, it’s that “new is better” mindset that led Mark to breaking up with me. He saw moving in together as conforming to the established expectations of those around us and he couldn’t do it. So perhaps I’m a hypocrite waxing poetic on the evils of conformity. No ideology would’ve stopped me from moving in with him. I was dead set on doing the expected. 

Except, I didn’t see it as settling. I saw it as an exciting new experience that just happened to promise a bit of security alongside the novel. There is adventure to be found alongside someone you can rely on. I guess at the end of the day, we broke up over a difference of perspective. If you’re going to build a life with someone, you should both see your future from the same vantage point. 

_____________________________________________________________

With the internet working and full stomach, I’m ready to continue unpacking. It’s not so much the unboxing that’s taking up my time. But with every essential item I unwrap, I’m reminded of something I’ll need to buy in the process of turning this house into a home. It feels a little consumerist, but I fully intend to take my time in accumulating these items and purchase with quality in mind, so I don’t sweat it.

Well, I don’t sweat the prospective shopping. Unpacking boxes does work up quite the literal sweat, however. It’s almost 6 pm and I am in desperate need of an end-of-the-day shower. Before I hop in, I pull up a food app and find the best rated Thai restaurant in my delivery area. I put in an order for pad thai and spring rolls and receive an hour delivery estimate– plenty of time to get clean before dinner, so I hop in the shower. 

I’m right in the middle of rinsing the conditioner from my hair when I hear the doorbell. An hour was either an incredibly inaccurate delivery estimate or it took me much, much longer to wash my hair than it normally does. 

“WAIT!” I holler towards the door as I wrap myself in my favorite extra large, super fluffy bath towel. “I’M COMING! I’M COMING!” I scurry as fast as I can to the door, probably looking like a drowned rat. 

“I’m so sor–” I halt as soon as I see who’s on the other side of the door. It isn’t my Thai food at all. It’s the guy from the coffee shop– the hot one who rescued me from my social awkwardness. He has that charming smile on his face, but it fades a bit as he gets a good look at me. In a breath of realization, his eyes go up to the sky as a pink blush spreads across his face. It’s kind of adorable, to be honest. 

“I am so sorry,” he says. “I’m your… we’re neigh– I live a couple doors down,” he fumbles through. “I wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood.” 

“We– we met earlier, right? At the coffee shop?” I find myself once again in a situation I haven’t experienced in quite some time. Fourteen years in New York and not once did I have a neighbor come to my door to introduce themselves. I’m not even certain if I’m expected to invite him in. I certainly don’t know how to proceed when I’ve opened the door but a single layer of terrycloth between my nude body and the– admittedly gorgeous– welcome wagon. Thankfully, the wagon in question seems steady on the trail. 

“Yes! Yeah, that was me. Hey– I can, you know, wait here a second if you want to…” he makes a vague gesture towards the towel. 

“Oh! That would be great, yes. But you don’t have to wait outside. Please, come on in.”

He gives me a wary look. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s not exactly best practice to let some guy I just met into my home while I’m changing, huh? I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not, I promise. Go ahead, I can wait here. I’m patient.” 

Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Blushing a nude in front of a strange man. Mother would be so proud. I give him a sheepish smile as I close the door then scurry back to my room to throw on the nearest clothes I can get my hands on. I make a pit stop to take a peek in the bathroom mirror, rub the smudged mascara from under my eyes, and run my fingers through my hair. It’s not much, I think looking at my sorry state, but it’s what I got. 

I head back to the front door and take a moment to compose myself to come off with a false air of nonchalance. Fake it til you make it, right? 

I open the door and see him leaning against the wall and looking through his phone casually. I notice for the first time he’s holding a bottle of wine in the other hand. He looks up and catches my eye. A smirk sprawls across his face. 

“Woah– that was quick!” he says. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot of things unpacked here at the moment, so I don’t have much to sift through. Cuts down on the decision fatigue when choosing what to wear, for sure.” 

His smile brightens and it puts my entire body on high alert. I may not be nearly naked anymore, but looking at this guy makes me feel so exposed, like he’s seeing things about me that I’m not even aware of. I’m a grown ass woman, but this guy has me feeling bashful for the first time in years. 

“Come on in,” I move aside and open the door completely to let him inside the house. “I think you’ve proven you’re trustworthy enough.” 

“Cool, yeah.. I mean, thanks.. Yeah.” His stammering is endearing. There’s something comforting in the shared awkwardness as if the meeting of two awkward nerds cancels us out into being normal. “I’m Jeremiah,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake. 

“Molly,” I grasp his hand in return. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

“Yeha! I hope you don’t find this creepy, but earlier I noticed the internet guy in your driveway and realized someone had finally moved into this place. The for sale sign was taken down about a week ago and I was wondering when you’d show up. Then when you said you just moved here at the coffee shop earlier, I thought maybe the new owner could be you.”

“And it is!” I interrupt. “I mean, I am. That is to say… It's kismet.” Jesus Christ. Is that something people say? Can I even define “kismet?”  Am I just embarrassing myself here? 

“Exactly!” His smile breaks my shame spiral. “It’s always worth noting when we get to witness the stars aligning in real time.” He holds the bottle of wine up to eye level for me. “I brought you a housewarming gift. It’s nothing special– I wasn’t even certain if bringing wine to a stranger is appropriate. But it’s a pretty dry red. I thought if you don’t drink, you can use it for cooking.” 

“I do! I mean, I do drink. Thank you, you’re very kind and I feel quite welcome.” I take the bottle and scan the label. It’s a Chianti I’ve never tried before. “This looks beautiful. Would you like to have a glass with me?” 

“Um… sure! That sounds nice. Do you have glasses?” 

“I don’t have stemware, but I have a couple cups that will do. Plus,” I pause to rummage in the drawer where I stashed my well loved wine key the night before, “I have this!” I grab the water glasses I have from the cupboard and start working the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. 

“Please, allow me.” Jeremiah takes the wine and key from me and effortlessly drills deep into the cork, angling the bottle away from him. He looks me directly in the eye as he pushes the lever away from him and removes the cork with an muffled POP.

What in the actual fuck? How was that so… hot? 

He grabs the glasses and distributes even, modest pours in each of them before handing me one. “Cheers,” he says, lifting his own glass, “to your new home.” 

“And new neighbors,” I clink my cup against his, immediately questioning whether that was smooth or just pathetically thirsty. Either way, I take a sip. I notice his eyes darting around, taking in the details of the house. 

“This place is almost the exact same layout as my place, just reversed.” 

“Really?” I ask. “Is that unusual?” 

“Not really, no. These subdivisions are financed and built before they’re ever sold. Developers will have a handful of blueprints and rotate between them while building. I guess keeping everything as uniform as possible allows them to churn out houses quickly and reduces the risk of error. You build the same house over and over again, you can probably throw them up in your sleep.” 

“Or they get so overconfident and cocky, they begin to slack off and make mistakes.” 

“Oof. You’re telling me. Complacency can definitely lead to miscalculations.” He takes another sip before continuing. “Happens in my work all the time.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

He winces. “It’s kind of hard to explain– not that it’s beyond your understanding,” he reassures me and my heart melts ever so slightly. “But, basically, I track and predict rainfall.” 

“You’re a meteorologist?” 

“No. I don’t really know much about weather in general. It’s more like I use statistics to estimate which places will experience flood or drought in the near future. I then use those estimates to inform the purchase and sale of certain commodities.” 

“Commodities. Like food?” 

“Food is a big part of it, yes. But also a lot of precious metals and whatnot. And oil. There’s always oil.” 

“So you’re a gambler,” I tease. He grins in response. 

“An informed gambler, yes. But, you know– no risk, no reward.” 

“Well it does sound pretty interesting. More so than what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“I am an editor for a publishing company that specializes in highly stylized cookbooks. A lot of Housewives for housewives kind of content. I basically make sure that what the authors– or, at least, their ghostwriters– put in their drafts all make sense. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve caught cups– multiple cups– of salt from being added to a dessert recipe.” 

“That sounds interesting to me,” he says, being polite. I appreciate it nonetheless. “So does that mean you know how to cook a lot of different things?” 

I guffaw. “In theory, at least. I’m not a talented chef by any means, but I can make a meal.” I realize that at every chance I get, I’m diminishing myself in this conversation. When did I fall into that little habit? But before I can think much more about it, my doorbell rings. “Speaking of meals, that would be the takeout I thought you were.” I answer the door and thank the delivery person after they hand me my order. When I come back, I see Jeremiah rinsing out his now empty glass of wine before gently placing it in the sink. 

“Well this seems like the perfect opening for me to make a graceful exit. I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner.” He gives me a genuine smile and reaches out to shake my hand goodbye. “It was really great meeting you. I’m excited to have someone cool in the neighborhood. And if you need anything, anything,” he gives my hand a squeeze on the emphasis and while making some very effective eye contact, “don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Damn. My new neighbor is hot.

[treethymes]

“In his study of [the international coffee] market, scholar Joseph Nevins finds that the big changes occurring between the mid-1970s and the mid-1990s are related to the “longer-term struggle over the distribution of income related to the crop.” In the early part of this period, growers pulled in an average of around 20 cents for every dollar of coffee revenue. They were aided by an agreement called the International Coffee Accord (ICA) of 1962, which acted as a sort of cartel plan, constraining and arranging supply. In the wake of the Cuban Revolution, the Kennedy administration supported the ICA and its concessions to Third World workers as a Cold War tool to head off communist onshoring in the Western Hemisphere. But as the U.S. strategy changed, the country and its free-market Latin American proxies abandoned the ICA in 1989. The results were quick: By the mid-1990s, the grower share was down from 20 to 13 percent. Roasters, traders, and retailers in the drinking countries improved their share from 54 to 78 percent. That big, fast shift was partly thanks to repressed grower wages, partly thanks to repressed domestic service wages in the West, partly thanks to consolidation in the industry, and partly thanks to new high-priced coffee drinks. Starbucks went public in 1992, and if it seemed to be growing like a tech company in the ’90s, that’s because both thrived on the same social changes.

“Worsening conditions for workers in Mexico and in the rest of the Americas pushed people north, rapidly increasing the undocumented immigrant population in the United States. The Bracero program was over, but the jobs still needed doing. Caught in between employers who were hiring migrants and nationalist restrictionists, the Reagan administration legalized a few million undocumented workers while increasing border enforcement. Even though the vast majority of narcotics came into the country via legal ports of entry, conservatives and liberals alike framed border enforcement as a central front in the war on drugs. Increasing the costs of crossing couldn’t stanch the increase of people—they were responding to larger factors: Out-migration from Mexico’s coffee-producing areas increased after the dissolution of the ICA, for example. This tendency intensified after the North American Free Trade Agreement went into effect in 1994, pushing Mexico further toward cheap manufacturing exports and cheap imported American corn.

“The glut of cheap labor and commodities in this period undermined labor protections in the center as well as on the periphery, and the United States lost union jobs at a rapid clip. Reagan undermined the bulwark of government jobs by bringing Boulwarism to the White House. His signature incident occurred in his first year, when he fired more than 11,000 striking air traffic controllers and decertified their union. To the press, the president quoted an air traffic controller who quit the union and reported to work as ordered: “How can I ask my kids to obey the law if I don’t?” Once again, questions of individual criminality put the Reaganites on firm ground. Organized labor took to rearguard action, holding on to its institutions by agreeing to two-tiered contracts that reduced benefits and protections for new or future members. Capital shook off the midcentury labor agreement like a bad habit, reducing its accountability to its own workers the way it previously reduced accountability to the broader communities. The second part didn’t require as many votes.”

Malcolm Harris, Palo Alto

[space-coupe]

I went to a fav coffee roaster for a new bag of coffee in my little fall lesbian flannel look and the barista told me she ran across the bar to take my order bc I'm so cute. Ma'am I'm single....

[joemuggs]

The Local is the Local

OK this is another unfinished article. Entirely my fault this time. I wrote it as a draft for a magazine, who asked me to rejig it (fairly in this case - it's a bit bitty), but life events stopped me doing the rewrite in time - and the longer it sat on my hard drive the more of a burden redoing it felt.... So I just need to dump it here, get it out there, and then develop the theme in a new way next year. Because it IS about something important to me (to all of us really), so hopefully having it out in the world will help me get my thoughts in order. Interesting sidetone: I had not heard of Cory Doctorow's concept of "enshittification" when I wrote it!

**********

To paraphrase Dickens, they were the shittest of times, they were the even shittierest of times. The litany of war, pestilence, impoverishment, looming destruction, failing institutions and all the rest really, really isn’t funny any more. Just shit. Even the lowest-information of punters notices the decline daily: not just when they need services like police or doctors or public transport, but in the very fabric of things. Even the relatively cosy market town where I live with my family – having moved out of South London to the New Forest in 2017 to give our two then-small kids space and fresh air – noticeably has crumbling building facades and a lot of shut-down shops, and the big towns are worse.

Our nearest cities are Southampton – which to be fair has never recovered from its PTSD from World War II anyway – and Bournemouth. Bournemouth, too, has always been a bit tatty – seedy too, the epitome of faded Victorian glamour – but nonetheless energetic, like the party town it is: a kind of Brighton minus the airs and graces. Lately, though, that energy is muted to say the very least. The city centre is eerie as anything with some of the biggest department and chain stores boarded up with nothing to replace them. It’s not quite a wasteland, but it’s not itself, either. It’s not right. It feels sad.

It’s easy to get angry about this stuff. It’s even easier to get down and defeated. A decade and a bit of neglect of… well…everything in the name of austerity has weakened everything, eroded the resilience needed to ride out the latest economic shocks. And the state of towns and cities doesn’t just symbolise this, they are the heart of the problem, the ebbing away of commerce and socialisation in them drives atomisation. Often it feels like too many people are beaten down, resigned, heading not towards riots but just towards a creeping anomie, distancing and acceptance of inevitable worsening of… well… everything.

There are oases of hope though – albeit slightly odd ones. Some of the best times I’ve had in Bournemouth lately have been at record fairs. Now, yes, I’m a middle aged man with decks and Kallax shelves in the garage, but honestly, this isn’t what you’re thinking. These aren’t just forums for people like me to jostle and hustle over dusty crates and bore on about rare pressings. They’re family affairs. They’re fun. The Eats’n’Beats fair takes over coffee roasters’ courtyards, with food, clothes and craft stalls. Re:Warm’s pop up shop is run by Balearic geezers, taking over a craft brewery taproom so people of all ages can eat, drink and socialise all day long around the music.

There’s two vital parts to this, the first being the food and drink. Food halls, stalls and fairs have maybe got a bad name lately, thanks to blanded out mall versions, price gouging at festivals and – worst – the gentrification spearhead affairs masterminded by hospitality industry wideboys to create bourgeois enclaves in big cities where almost all white attendees can sample safe packets of “ethnic” experience for £8 a recycled cardboard plateful. But step outside the metropoles and the picture is very different. People are thrilled by culinary variety, and very glad indeed to support local cooks and produce merchants. Food fairs are actual special occasions.

Back in late 2020, Covid still running amok, Owen Hatherley wrote a piece for the Guardian about high street regeneration focusing on how the people of Preston, Lancs took the initiative in what he called “craft beer social democracy, based on small trades doing interesting things.” My antennae sparked on reading it and I couldn’t get the phrase “craft beer social democracy” out of my head. If an arch Corbynist like Hatherley could find things to love in something so close to the Cameronian Big Society / Jamie Oliver Big Lunch model, odd things were afoot.

The second element in play is music, especially club music, and the culture that comes with it. The Balearic aspect in particular – laid back, anything-goes, not beholden to the doof-doof, but smart and interesting sounds – provides the perfect atmosphere to come-one-come-all daytime events. Even in a staid village, get a few people sitting around on haybales drinking craft cider and eating pizza, play “I’m Not in Love”, some Soul II Soul and some Róisín Murphy on nice speakers, and hey presto: vibes upon vibes. And just as importantly, the hypersocial, and now cross-generational, nature of club culture provides its own infrastructure to build on too – again, something easy to take for granted or write off as facile if you’re in a major hub city, but a lifeline if you’re out in the gammon-infested sticks. I already knew this thanks to my wife being a founder of the Big Fish Little Fish family rave organisation, and getting to see the joy it brings to relatively socially isolated parents, but seeing the same vibe connections seeping into genteel school fetes and pub gardens has been an eye-opener.

That linkage into subculture in turn links into a different sort of urban regeneration: the DIY venue. Last year, not that long after I’d made contact with the Bournemouth record fair crews, I got invited to write about the music scene in Tyneside and was bowled over by the sense of an area relatively overlooked by arts funding and the culture industry determined to build its own infrastructure. Venues like Cobalt, Star & Shadow, The Lubber Fiend and World Headquarters are created and maintained not just for their own scenes but with a sense of adding to the fabric of the city. Again, as with the Preston story, something that stood out was the "odd blend of hard-left politics and entrepreneurialism" that comes when communities pull together.

My weekend in the Northeast made me think again about other spaces I’ve attended, been in touch with or heard friends enthuse about. Sheffield’s Hope Works, a proper down and dirty techno dive that every year blossoms into the No Bounds arts festival across the city. Rye Wax in Peckham, the record-store-café-venue that’s been in suspended animation since Covid lockdown but is about to be reborn with an Arts Council funded youth mentorship programme in tow. Futtle brewery in Fife. Spit And Sawdust skate art cafe bar in Cardiff. Partisan, The Carlton Club and White Hotel in Manchester. The Golden Lion, Todmorden. The Cellar Arts Club in Worthing. Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh. Future Yard in Birkenhead. Club Uniquity in Somerleyton, Suffolk. Café Indie in Scunthorpe...

There are dozens more besides, crucially each with its own approach and character, a million miles from the sanitised O2 / Carling / Live Nation owned £7 plastic-glass-of-rat’s-piss monoculture that has taken hold of venues and festivals in this country. Some are built around dance music, but many around indie rock or noise/experimental music, or LGBTQ+ scenes, or all of the above. Often there’s radical politics behind them, but just as often you’ll find a hodge-podge: as in Hatherley’s “craft beer social democracy”, necessity makes for interesting alliances, and hard left and woolly libs, idealists and bootstrap entrepreneurs, rigorous ethical frameworks and widepersons of the blag economy, will rub along together.

But whatever their individual slant, they tend, crucially to have deep roots in some kind of subcultural history. At the time of writing I’m preparing to head up to Bristol to chair panel discussions at the Black Gold Vinyl Fair at Lost Horizon HQ. This gig/rave venue, cafe, gallery, marketplace and VR studio (!) is run by the team behind Shangri La – the successor to Lost Vagueness as Glastonbury Festival’s “naughty corner” – with an ethos eyeballs-deep in mischievous hippie/anarchist-leaning squatter history, but also the organisational nous that it takes to be part of the 21st century double-fenced Glastonbury megalopolis. That sense of subcultural history – folk culture, even – has been brought brightly to life just recently by the celebrations of what would have been the late, great Andrew Weatherall’s 60th birthday. They may have begun in superclub fabric, but they progressed through smaller venues in Belfast and Glasgow to close with a weekender in the strange, storied Golden Lion in Todmorden.

All of this – the food fairs, the vinyl and beer all dayers, the record shops with charcuterie, the little rave dives with coffee machines and yoga classes in the daytime, all of it – is sorely needed. The triple whammy of Brexit, Covid and the Cozzy Lizzy (as we must now call the economic collapse) have hit the music industry very, very hard, and gigs and festivals worst of all. Even international acts are finding it hard to tour and will do for the foreseeable future, which is going to be career ending for some – and for many of the tens of thousands of people who prop up the infrastructure. It’s hard to overstate the damage, but there are at least crumbs of comfort for young acts, local scenes and little venues held together with gaffer tape and deranged strength of will.

And our towns and cities need them, too. It’s been wild seeing the conspiratarians and antiwokers turn on the 15 Minute City as the latest target for spittle flecked ranting. But hopefully, maybe this can be a galvanising force for all the rest of us to remember that actually, yes, our neighbourhoods can be better. The craft beer and food court aspects may have got a bad rep as being bougie or gentrifying, but that is a misunderstanding and ultimately snobbery. Thankfully the subculture parts – whether it’s punk, rave, balearic, queer scenes or whatever – do still manage cut across class and other social boundaries. And ultimately, given the right welcoming atmosphere, having a drink or a cake and listening to tunes is pretty inclusive as activities go.

Oddly enough, there isn’t really any map to this territory, there’s no guidebook to where to find the truly independent happenings. Perhaps that’s because those big brand sponsored faux-popups, box parks and gentrifier vanguard food courts with their PR budgets suck up all the air of publicity, perhaps it’s because the indie spaces are too cranky, too individual, too busy just staying afloat to link up into a movement. They need each of us to seek them out.

We don’t really have a flagship community space in this bit of the south coast just yet – at least I don’t think we do: I’d love to be surprised and proved wrong. My exploration of our nearby cities has been cursory until recently, having had social life limited first by young children, then by two years of Covid disruption. Only now, with my kids hurtling into their teens, am I really finding my feet socially and musically. But between a few ramshackle bars and shiny breweries and those fun afternoons rifling through tunes and eating fancy cookies, I am finding a few glimmers of hope. And in these shittest of times hope is, of course, the most precious commodity of all.

[formeryelpers]

Rouses Market, 701 Baronne St, New Orleans (Warehouse District), LA 70113

Needed to buy a few things and Rouses certainly impressed me with its wide variety. The shop was large, clean, and had wide aisles. I spotted many local products like New Orleans gingerbread, apple pies, muffalettas from Central Grocery, hot sauce, Creole seasoning, Creole mixes, Cafe Du Monde (full line of coffee and beignet mix), Aunt Sally's Pralines, local coffee roasters, hot sauce, etc.

There was a wide variety of prepared food and food that could be made to order, including panini, sushi and poke bar, hot food bar ($8.99/lb), coffee bar with pastries, in-house bakery, deli salads, etc.

Rouses had some of its own branded products. It’s a large supermarket with organic produce, flowers, wine/liquor, and everything you’d expect to find. I was impressed with their dry aged beef display.

The checkout lines were long and slow (probably because of the Saints game earlier that day). There was no self-checkout station and the cashiers seemed slower than usual.

Rouses has multiple locations and is a third generation family owned business. They had some tables out front for dining and a security guard.

It’s not as fancy as Whole Foods but it does have a lot of local products. I believe there’s some Italian connection (maybe the owners are Italian). And it's the official supermarket of the New Orleans Saints!

My pick:

Rouses kombucha: not bad and made with less sugar than usual

Evamor water: Naturally filtered, rare alkaline artesian aquifer water, clean tasting

4.5 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[webzent21]

Shopify Development in New Mexico: Powering Local Businesses with Digital Growth

In the heart of the American Southwest, New Mexico is becoming more than just a hub of cultural heritage and scenic beauty — it’s steadily rising as a center for digital innovation. As businesses across the state shift towards online commerce, Shopify development in New Mexico is playing a critical role in helping small and mid-sized companies thrive in the digital marketplace.

Whether you’re an artisan in Santa Fe, a retailer in Albuquerque, or a local food brand from Las Cruces, having a powerful e-commerce platform like Shopify can make all the difference in reaching a broader audience and increasing revenue.

Why Shopify?

Shopify is one of the most popular e-commerce platforms globally, and for good reason. It offers a user-friendly interface, reliable hosting, secure payment integration, and a wealth of customizable features. But what makes it particularly appealing to businesses in New Mexico is its scalability and flexibility. Whether you’re launching your first online store or upgrading an existing one, Shopify can support your growth every step of the way.

Here are some standout features that make Shopify the go-to solution for many New Mexico entrepreneurs:

Easy to use and maintain

Customizable design themes

Mobile-friendly interfaces

Built-in SEO tools

Seamless third-party app integration

Robust inventory and order management

The Rise of Shopify Development in New Mexico

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable surge in local Shopify developers and agencies offering specialized services in New Mexico. These developers aren’t just coding experts — they understand the unique needs of local businesses and the challenges they face in a competitive digital world.

From responsive design and theme customization to app development and SEO optimization, these professionals are helping business owners create e-commerce experiences that reflect their brand identity and speak directly to their target market.

Local Expertise Matters

Hiring a Shopify developer based in New Mexico offers distinct advantages:

Cultural insight: Local developers understand the regional consumer behavior and trends.

Timezone alignment: Working with someone in the same or similar timezone improves communication and turnaround time.

Community connections: Developers may already be familiar with local vendors, influencers, and markets, giving your store an edge in networking and collaboration.

Key Services Offered by Shopify Developers in New Mexico

If you’re planning to invest in Shopify development, here are some essential services offered by professionals in the state:

1. Custom Theme Development

Local developers can create themes tailored to your brand’s look and feel, ensuring your site stands out from the competition.

2. App Integration

Shopify’s app ecosystem is vast. Experts in New Mexico can recommend and integrate the right apps for everything from marketing automation to inventory syncing.

3. Performance Optimization

Fast load times and smooth navigation are key to keeping customers engaged. Local developers help ensure your site performs optimally on all devices.

4. Search Engine Optimization (SEO)

Many Shopify experts offer built-in SEO strategies to help your store rank higher in search engines. This includes keyword optimization, meta tag creation, and schema markup.

5. Ongoing Maintenance and Support

Your store needs to stay updated and secure. Developers in New Mexico often provide post-launch support to ensure your site stays in top shape.

Industries in New Mexico Benefiting from Shopify

A wide range of industries across New Mexico are leveraging Shopify to expand their reach:

Retail boutiques — from handmade jewelry to vintage apparel

Local food and beverage brands — including chile sauce, wines, and coffee roasters

Native American art and crafts

Tourism-related products and souvenirs

Health and wellness businesses

With the support of local Shopify developers, these businesses are not only selling within New Mexico but also reaching customers nationwide and even globally.

Choosing the Right Shopify Developer in New Mexico

When selecting a Shopify developer or agency, it’s important to look for:

Proven experience and a strong portfolio

Client testimonials or reviews

Transparent pricing and communication

Understanding of your specific business goals

Many developers offer a free consultation, which can be a great way to assess fit before committing.

[dailyrisecoffee]

Top Wholesale Coffee Suppliers for Cafes, Restaurants, and Retailers

In today’s competitive coffee market, finding a reliable wholesale coffee supplier is essential for ensuring consistency, quality, and profitability. Whether you’re running a specialty coffee shop, managing a restaurant, or stocking shelves in a retail space, the supplier you choose plays a critical role in the customer experience and your bottom line. In this comprehensive guide, we highlight the best wholesale coffee suppliers, key selection factors, and tips for maximizing your supplier relationship.

What to Look for in a Wholesale Coffee Supplier

Choosing a coffee supplier isn’t just about finding the lowest price. Here are the critical criteria that every business should consider when selecting a coffee wholesale partner:

Coffee Bean Quality and Freshness

Ethical Sourcing and Certifications (Fair Trade, Organic, Rainforest Alliance)

Customization Options (private label, custom roasts)

Shipping Reliability

Customer Service & Support

Equipment and Training Support

Top-Rated Wholesale Coffee Suppliers in the Market

1. Coffee Bean Direct

Coffee Bean Direct is a well-established supplier known for its wide variety of freshly roasted beans, including single-origin, flavored, and espresso blends. They offer bulk discounts and ship directly to cafes and restaurants.

Key Offerings: Arabica beans, green coffee, flavored roasts

MOQ: Flexible for small businesses

Roast Options: Light to dark, custom profiles

Ethics: Offers fair trade and organic beans

Shipping: Fast delivery across the U.S.

2. Java Bean Plus

Java Bean Plus offers competitive pricing and over 30 varieties of bulk coffee, including private label options for businesses looking to build their brand.

Key Offerings: Organic, decaf, and flavored coffee

Private Labeling: Yes

Roast Facility: State-of-the-art for consistent quality

Value Adds: Green coffee beans for in-house roasting

Support: Consulting available for new coffee shop owners

3. Klatch Coffee Roasters

Klatch is recognized for its award-winning coffees and ethical sourcing from micro-lots around the world. Perfect for premium cafes and gourmet retailers.

Key Offerings: Direct trade coffees, micro-lots

Training & Support: Extensive barista training and cupping sessions

Reputation: Multiple international coffee awards

Sustainability: Direct relationships with farmers

If you’re aiming to offer high-end specialty coffee, Klatch should be at the top of your list.

4. Joe Coffee Company

Based in New York, Joe Coffee offers wholesale partnerships for cafes, offices, and grocers. Their beans are roasted in small batches and sourced through sustainable practices.

Key Offerings: Seasonal single-origins, house blends

Training Services: On-site barista training, equipment setup

Private Labeling: Yes

Minimum Orders: Low minimums for easy onboarding

Their approach is ideal for businesses that want a balanced mix of quality, ethics, and brand prestige.

5. Copper Moon Coffee

Copper Moon is a large-scale wholesaler offering both ground and whole bean coffee in various roast levels and flavors. Their global sourcing program emphasizes sustainability and traceability.

Key Offerings: High-volume capacity, specialty blends

Retail Packaging: Available for stores

Certifications: Rainforest Alliance, Organic options

Supply Chain: Scalable for growing businesses

Perfect for hospitality chains, corporate offices, and retailers.

Benefits of Working with a Wholesale Coffee Partner

Partnering with a professional coffee supplier provides more than just beans. Here’s what your business can gain:

Consistent Quality: Trained roasters and strict standards ensure every batch meets expectations.

Brand Differentiation: Offer unique blends and private label coffee to stand out.

Better Margins: Bulk pricing increases profitability over time.

Expertise Access: Many suppliers provide training, equipment consultation, and brewing support.

[beansmittenuk]

Discover Top Independent Coffee Roasters UK

In recent years, independent coffee roasters have taken the coffee scene in the UK by storm. Consumers are shifting away from mass-produced blends and looking for quality, flavour, and ethical sourcing. Independent coffee roasters, like Bean Smitten, offer an alternative that is rich in taste, community-focused, and responsibly sourced.

These small-batch roasters focus on creating a unique coffee experience. They carefully select green coffee beans, roast them in-house, and often offer detailed information about the origin, processing method, and tasting notes. This hands-on approach guarantees freshness and flavor not found in supermarket brands.

Why Choose a Local Coffee Bean Roaster?

Choosing a local coffee bean roaster supports more than just great coffee. It supports small businesses and sustainable practices. Independent coffee roasters typically roast beans in small batches, ensuring maximum quality and freshness.

Moreover, local roasters often have direct relationships with coffee farmers. This ensures transparency, ethical trade, and better conditions for growers. It also allows roasters to offer seasonal varieties, providing customers with fresh and exciting new options throughout the year.

Bean Smitten, for instance, is an independent coffee roaster near Kent that roasts specialty coffee by hand. Their commitment to sourcing responsibly and roasting with care has earned them a loyal following of both home brewers and wholesale clients.

The Benefits of Freshly Roasted Coffee Beans

One of the main reasons to buy from independent coffee roasters is freshness. Coffee starts to lose its aroma and flavour shortly after roasting. When you buy from a local coffee bean roaster, you often receive beans roasted just days before delivery.

Freshly roasted beans offer a fuller flavour profile, better crema in espresso, and a more enjoyable brewing experience. Whether you use a French press, espresso machine, or pour-over, fresh beans elevate your cup to café-quality.

Additionally, these roasters often offer grind-to-order options and custom subscriptions. This means you get coffee tailored to your brewing method and personal taste preferences.

Supporting Craft and Sustainability

Small-scale coffee roasting isn’t just about quality—it’s about responsibility. Many independent coffee roasters are deeply committed to sustainability, from using biodegradable packaging to reducing their carbon footprint during the roasting process.

By supporting an independent coffee bean roaster, you’re also contributing to a supply chain that prioritizes fair wages, environmentally friendly practices, and community development in coffee-growing regions.

Conclusion

If you’re searching for more than just a caffeine fix, turning to independent coffee roasters is the way forward. These passionate businesses bring craftsmanship, sustainability, and bold flavor to every cup. Whether you’re a home brewer or café owner, buying from a reputable coffee bean roaster ensures your coffee is fresh, ethical, and delicious.

Experience the difference with roasters like Bean Smitten—where every bean tells a story, and every sip is a journey worth savoring.

[allcoffeeusa]

Looking for the Best Coffee Deals Online? Try Small Batch Roasted Coffee, You’ll Love

Are you someone who can’t start the day without a fresh cup of coffee? If so, you’re not alone. Whether you're a casual sipper or a true coffee lover, there’s nothing like the rich aroma and taste of freshly brewed coffee. The good news? You don’t need to visit expensive cafés or settle for average supermarket coffee. Now, you can find the best coffee deals online—including premium, small-batch roasted coffee delivered right to your door.

At AllCoffee, we bring you quality and convenience with Café La Carreta Nespresso-compatible capsules, made from carefully selected beans and crafted for true coffee lovers.

Why Buy Coffee Online?

Buying coffee online gives you more variety, better quality, and great deals. Instead of being limited to the same few brands in stores, you can now choose from top-rated roasters, unique flavors, and freshly roasted blends—all from the comfort of your home.

When you shop online at AllCoffee, you not only get the best coffee deals online, but you also discover roasts you may never find in a local store.

What Is Small-Batch Roasted Coffee?

Small batch roasted coffee means the beans are roasted in smaller quantities, usually by artisan roasters who focus on quality, not mass production. This process allows for more control over flavor, aroma, and freshness.

Café La Carreta is a perfect example of this. The coffee is made using a traditional roasting style, ensuring bold taste and smooth texture in every sip. If you love rich, authentic espresso, this is your new go-to.

Why Choose Café La Carreta Capsules?

If you use a Nespresso Original Line machine, these capsules are a game-changer. Café La Carreta capsules are:

Compatible with Nespresso Original Line machines

Made from premium, small-batch roasted beans

Rich in flavor, bold in aroma, and perfectly smooth

Affordable and convenient to order online

You no longer need to go out for café-quality espresso. With Café La Carreta, you bring that same rich flavor home with every cup.

Get the Best Coffee Deals Online—Without Compromising Quality

At AllCoffee, we believe that great coffee doesn’t have to cost a fortune. That’s why we offer the best coffee deals online—so you can enjoy premium blends at unbeatable prices. Whether you’re restocking your favorite roast or trying something new, we make it easy to enjoy great coffee every day.

Our deals include bundles, discounts, and fast shipping, so you never run out of your favorite brew.

How to Order

Ordering is simple. Just visit AllCoffee.com, choose the Café La Carreta Nespresso-compatible capsules, and enjoy a quick checkout process. We’ll deliver your coffee straight to your doorstep, fresh and ready to brew.

Taste the Difference of Small Batch Roasting

Once you try small-batch roasted coffee, you’ll never go back. The flavor is stronger, the aroma is richer, and the experience is simply better. It’s the kind of coffee that makes your morning routine feel like a luxury.

So why wait? Shop the best coffee deals online today at AllCoffee and treat yourself to real, flavorful espresso every morning.

Reference Blog by apsense.com - https://www.apsense.com/article/852520-looking-for-the-best-coffee-deals-online-try-small-batch.html

[insourcecorporation]

How to Make Money with a Label Printing Machine

In today’s product-driven world, everything from gourmet sauces to handmade candles needs one essential thing—a label. And behind every eye-catching label is a label printing machine. If you’re looking for a low-overhead business idea or a way to diversify your current offerings, learning how to make money with a label printing machine could be your gateway to a profitable venture.

In this article, we’ll walk you through the most profitable ways to turn your label printer into a money-making asset—whether you're starting from scratch or adding it to an existing business.

1. Start a Custom Label Printing Business

The most direct path to income is offering custom label printing services to small businesses, product creators, and event planners.

Target Markets:

Local food & beverage producers (jars, bottles, pouches)

Cosmetic brands (lip balm, skincare, perfume)

E-commerce businesses (branding and packaging)

Event planners (wedding favors, custom stickers)

Breweries and wineries (bottle labels)

How it works: Create a portfolio of sample label designs, invest in quality materials, and offer short-run or bulk printing services at a markup.

Bonus Tip: Use label design software to upsell design services.

2. Sell Private Label Products

Already selling products? Why not make them your own brand?

Ideas:

Essential oils

Candles

Cleaning sprays

Spices or herbal blends

Homemade sauces or jams

You can design and print your own product labels in-house, giving you full control over your brand image and cutting down outsourcing costs. This also allows you to quickly test new ideas without waiting on external vendors.

3. Offer Branding Services to Startups

Many new businesses lack the tools or budget for professional branding. Offer small-batch label runs and branding packages, including:

Logo design

Label design

Printing and delivery of custom labels

You can market this as a "Brand Launch Package" and include mockups, physical samples, and brand guidelines.

4. Produce Event & Promotional Stickers

Short-run stickers are perfect for:

Weddings (thank-you labels, favor tags)

Birthday parties (custom stickers for return gifts)

Corporate events (logo stickers, badges)

Schools and clubs (team logos, achievement stickers)

With a good label printer, you can offer quick-turnaround sticker printing for clients who want personalized, high-quality results without bulk minimums.

5. Sell Pre-Designed Label Packs Online

Platforms like Etsy, Amazon Handmade, or Shopify are great for selling label templates and pre-printed packs for niche markets.

Examples:

“Handmade With Love” labels for crafters

Kitchen jar labels (spices, pantry items)

Bottle labels for home brewers

Planner stickers or teacher reward labels

Soap and candle labels for hobby sellers

Once designed, these can become passive income products if you offer digital files or print-on-demand.

6. Print Labels for Subscription Boxes or Local Retailers

Subscription box companies and small retailers often need custom, low-volume labels for packaging and branding.

Reach out to:

Monthly subscription box brands

Coffee roasters or micro-breweries

Local soap or skincare makers

Florists or gift basket services

They need flexibility, customization, and small-batch runs, which large printing companies rarely provide—making your business the perfect fit.

7. Offer White-Label Printing Services to Designers and Agencies

Graphic designers and creative agencies sometimes need label printing but don’t have the equipment. Offer white-label services where you print labels under their brand.

This can lead to ongoing B2B relationships and consistent bulk orders.

8. Add Label Printing to an Existing Business

If you already run a business—such as signage, embroidery, promotional products, or packaging—you can upsell custom label printing as a complementary service.

Examples:

A printing shop can bundle product labels with brochures

A gift box company can offer branded stickers and tags

A sign-making company can branch into small product labels

This increases your average order value without needing to acquire new customers.

What You’ll Need to Get Started

A high-quality label printing machine (inkjet, laser, or thermal, depending on use case)

Compatible label stock and adhesives

Label design software (e.g., Adobe Illustrator, Canva, or specialized label software)

A cutting tool or plotter for custom shapes (optional)

Basic marketing (a website, Instagram page, local business outreach)

Key Tips for Maximizing Profits

Start small, scale smart: Don’t invest in large-scale production equipment until you’ve tested demand.

Offer design and print bundles: Charge more by combining creative and technical work.

Automate your workflow: Use templates, preset sizes, and bulk-print settings to save time.

Build niche expertise: Become the go-to label printer for a specific industry (e.g., candle makers, spice brands).

Keep your MOQ flexible: Small businesses love suppliers who accept small orders.

Final Thoughts

A label printing machine is more than a piece of equipment—it's a business opportunity. Whether you're creating your own brand, helping others launch theirs, or offering a much-needed service to your local community, there's money to be made with the right strategy.

Focus on quality, customization, and niche marketing, and you can build a reliable income stream from label printing—one label at a time.

[naresh38]

Discover the World of Specialty Coffee in Lebanon OH and Cincinnati

Introduction

Coffee is more than just a drink — it’s an experience, a ritual, and for many, a passion. In recent years, specialty coffee has taken center stage in coffee culture across the U.S. Cities like Lebanon, OH, and Cincinnati have embraced this trend, offering coffee lovers rich, diverse flavors that can’t be found in your average cup of joe.

Whether you're a seasoned coffee enthusiast or just discovering the magic of specialty coffee, this blog will guide you through the best local options, the thriving coffee community in Ohio, and why fresh roasted coffee makes all the difference.

What is Specialty Coffee?

Specialty coffee refers to the highest quality coffee available, sourced with care and crafted with precision. From bean to cup, every step of the process is designed to bring out the unique flavors of the coffee bean, from its origin to the roast profile.

Unlike mass-produced coffee, specialty coffee is often grown in smaller batches, meticulously harvested, and roasted to highlight its distinct tasting notes — whether fruity, floral, nutty, or chocolatey.

Specialty Coffee in Lebanon, OH

Lebanon, OH, may be a small city, but it boasts a growing community of coffee lovers and roasters passionate about quality. Local cafes in Lebanon prioritize sourcing the best beans from around the world and roasting them in small batches to ensure fresh roasted coffee every time.

Whether you're strolling through historic downtown Lebanon or attending a local farmers' market, you're likely to encounter vendors offering specialty coffee Lebanon OH — an experience that’s hard to beat.

Specialty Coffee Scene in Cincinnati

Moving down to the Queen City, specialty coffee Cincinnati is on an entirely different level. With a vibrant coffee culture and a wide variety of third-wave coffee shops, Cincinnati is quickly becoming a coffee lover's paradise.

Baristas here are artists and scientists, perfecting brewing techniques from pour-overs to siphon brewing, and using beans sourced from ethical farms. The emphasis on craft coffee Cincinnati ensures each cup is a true work of art.

Why Fresh Roasted Coffee Matters

When it comes to specialty coffee, freshness is key. Fresh roasted coffee offers superior flavor, aroma, and complexity. The difference between fresh and stale coffee is noticeable even to casual drinkers.

Most local roasters in Cincinnati and Lebanon roast their beans weekly or even daily, ensuring that what you brew at home or sip in a café is as fresh as possible.

If you're looking to stock up, many offer bulk coffee beans for sale, so you can enjoy the freshest coffee at home without frequent trips to the café.

Where to Buy Specialty Coffee Online

In today’s digital world, enjoying specialty coffee at home has never been easier. Numerous Cincinnati-based and Ohio-based roasters offer buy specialty coffee online services, shipping their finest beans straight to your door.

When shopping online, look for:

Roast date on packaging (always choose recently roasted beans)

Origin and tasting notes

Roast profile (light, medium, dark)

Local Coffee in Cincinnati — A Community Experience

Cincinnati's coffee culture is built around community and connection. Visiting a local coffee Cincinnati shop often means supporting local artisans, sustainable practices, and direct trade relationships with coffee farmers.

Next time you're in the city, try visiting some local favorites and strike up a conversation with the barista. Many are passionate about sharing their knowledge of coffee and can guide you to new flavors and brewing methods.

Conclusion

Whether you’re exploring specialty coffee Lebanon OH, experiencing the vibrant specialty coffee Cincinnati scene, or ordering your favorite beans online, Ohio’s coffee culture offers something special for everyone.

Invest in fresh roasted coffee, explore the variety of brewing methods, and join the growing community of coffee lovers in the region. The next time you sip your morning cup, you’ll appreciate the craftsmanship and care that went into every drop.

[kupofk1]

Convenience Meets Quality: How to Buy Coffee K Cups Online and Enjoy Green Mountain Coffee K Cups at Home

People who love coffee don't have to settle for what their local grocery shop has to offer anymore. It's never been simpler to purchase K Cups online since more and more people are shopping online and having things delivered to their homes. This new way of buying coffee saves time and gives you access to a far larger choice of alternatives, from everyday items to speciality brands. Shopping online lets you choose both the range and amount of items you want for your house or business without having to go to many stores.

Why Coffee Lovers Still Love K Cups

There is a solid reason why single-serve coffee has lasted so long. Coffee K Cups are first-rate for tense mornings and afternoon choose-me-u. S.A.Since they're always identical, brief, and easy to smooth up, when you purchase espresso K Cups online, you are no longer just getting convenience; you're also getting fresh coffee with a notable taste.Many online stores get their K Cups directly from roasters or official distributors. This means that the K Cups you get will taste better and last longer than boxes you buy in stores that may have been sitting on shelves for weeks or months.

Looking at All the Different Flavor Profiles

One massive gain of purchasing K Cups online is that you can select from a huge range of alternatives. You can get strong dark roasts, smooth medium mixes, or even flavoured coffees like hazelnut, French vanilla, or caramel. Green Mountain Coffee K Cups have constructed up a dedicated fan base because their blends are well-balanced and their finish is nice. These cups provide you with a regular espresso flavour without the bitterness that comes with rapid brewing techniques. These K Cups constantly flavour well, whether you want your coffee black or with milk and sugar.

Green Mountain Coffee K Cups: A Trusted Choice

There are loads of companies that want your interest inside the single-serve market, but Green Mountain Coffee K Cups are always a top pick for folks who care about taste, consistency, and the environment. These K Cups are regarded for their careful sourcing and dedication to fantastic beans. Every time you use them, you will get a smooth, satisfactory cup of coffee. You can also choose from robust roasts to clean morning blends, so that you can change things up depending on your mood or dependency. Green Mountain Coffee K Cups are best for people who want to start their day without work on a pleasant note. They don't make the brewing procedure too complicated.

Cost-Effectiveness Through Bulk and Subscription Choices

Buying coffee K Cups online is also a great way to save money by ordering in quantity or signing up for a subscription. You may plan to have your favourite K Cups delivered to your house on a regular basis instead of running out of them and having to go to the store at the last minute. When you buy more, the price per cup usually goes down. Some stores even provide rotating flavours or seasonal options for those who want to sample different things without having to buy a whole box. For the contemporary coffee lover, it's a win both financially and practically.

How shopping online makes your coffee routine better

Online ordering takes away the uncertainty of not being able to find what you want at the shop and having to wait in huge queues to check out. More importantly, it helps you to pattern new blends, flavour consumer favourites, and ensure you never must accept less than satisfactory.You won't find user reviews, comprehensive flavour notes, and brewing recommendations simply by gazing at a package in a store aisle. These extra facts enable you to make better, more customised choices with each buy.

Conclusion:

To make a suitable cup of espresso, you want the right blend and the proper way to make it. Now, you could additionally start with the right buying experience. You may try a new roast or stay with your old favourites like Green Mountain Coffee K Cups. Either way, taking the effort to purchase K Cups online makes sure that every drink is of high quality, easy to get, and different. Visit KupofK.com to find a better way to power your day and make your next coffee purchase easy and fun.

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