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tinkerbelle05 · 1 year

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The Way They Love Their Drinks

Characters: Neteyam, Lo’ak, Ao’nung, GN!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 760

Summary: Headcanons about these characters’ hot drinks. Modern AU, aged-up characters. Think like early 20’s

Warning: none :)

Tags: @love-me-a-good-prompt, thank you for write such a creative prompt.

Taglist & Masterlist

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Neteyam

In general, Neteyam loves coffee with 3 sugars and one cream

He attempted to drink it black like Jake but he couldn't take the bitterness and briefly feared for his father’s sanity

He loves coming to your apartment to make it because “your coffee machine is just so much better what can I say?”

He wasn’t wrong. The coffee machine was a house warming gift from your mother. It was one of those fancy coffee makers that you didn’t know exactly how it work with all of its different functions and buttons.

Sometimes, if it’s a calm day you will put on a random playlist of songs you both like and he’ll make the coffee.

But mostly Neteyam likes to have his coffee after his morning run with you and drinks outta that one cup you brought from a souvenir shop a decade ago

He has grown weirdly attached to the cup too. Like he wouldn’t drink any coffee if it wasn’t out of that cup and would spend an ungodly amount of time looking for it

It’s weird but you find it cute how childish he could be

Especially when he’s so mature about everything else in his life

Once in a while, he’ll drink hot chocolate with whip cream and a dash of cinnamon to top it off

If it’s a chilly day outside and you guys were inside, just enjoying the other’s company. The relaxed atmosphere added with the warm sugary drink made everything just feel right

It’s one of Neteyam’s favorite days, where he could just be, just exist

Whenever he drinks hot chocolate, he’ll get a whipped cream mustache that you’ll tease him about even after he licks it off his mouth

Lo’ak

Hot chocolate lover all the way

He’s only drinking tea if he’s sick, and coffee if he’s exhausted

And you know it’s bad if he’s drinking coffee because of how much he hates the taste against his tongue

No matter how much creamer, milk, or sugar he puts into the drink, it retains its bitter taste. He has no idea how his parents or Neteyam can drink it with no problem. Every time he wonders about their sanity

On your 2nd date, you and him stumbled into this Mom and Pop store that sells unique flavors of hot chocolate

You were hesitant to try it just like you were hesitant to go on a date just aimlessly walking until something “feels right”

Lo’ak, however, went right up to the counter with no hesitation with a smile on his face and ordered based on what “sounded good”

He ordered Fluffernutter hot chocolate with peanut butter and marshmallow inside while he got you a Red Velvet hot chocolate. It was the only “tame” options on the chalk board menus that decorated the walls of the homey shop

He was impulsive like that. Something you love and hate about him because how many situations he gets in

Surprisingly the drinks were really good. While the thought is definitely something people would protest, somehow it tastes heavenly

The red velvet and the hot chocolate flavors mix deliciously in your mouth together

The shop easily became a go-to for the both of you

Sometimes Lo’ak goes alone to get some peace and quiet or just needs a pick me up in the form of warm mug filled with sweetness

Ao’nung

You would be surprised but he loves himself some tea

Blame his mother for the addiction

Whenever his family was sick with something his mother would go into the kitchen and make some tea for them to drink

It worked like magic everytime

Though eventually, Ao’nung found himself drinking tea even if he wasn’t sick. His favorite is green tea because of how calming it is and the health benefits too

When he drinks the warm beverage, the warmth travels down his throat and soothes him to his very soul

Takes him back to a simpler time when he could be himself unapologetically, and all of these expectations weren’t suffocating him

He will die before he lets anyone knows because he knows it’s not what people think of him

And he cares what people think about him but when you found out

People make assumptions about him and when they think of him, college basketball player, it’s not a tea drinker. Maybe a energy drink after a long game to regain energy but not green tea to calm his nerves

You were in this little shop that sells teas, loose and bagged ones one day. Then you saw him carrying a shopping basket with tea boxes filled to the brim walking into the aisle you were randomly wandering in

He tried to avoided you but you quickly caught up to him. You were friends with his sister Tsireya and became sorta-friends with Rotxo, so you guys were used to being in the same room.

When he told you why he was in the shop, you didn’t judge him nor laugh at him like Ao’nung expected you to. You were surprised he loved tea because he didn’t seem like the type to

You two have been a lot closer through your shared love for tea. Trading secrets, giving recommendations, trying out new tea shops or restaurants together, sometimes with friends and sometimes just you two

Because of this new found connection, you guys got a lot closer in terms of friendship. Ao’nung let you in on why he felt the need to shut this part of himself out, to not let anyone but family and close friends know

It was hard work and there were many setbacks but eventually, you helped Ao'nung get to a place where he didn't care about what others thought of him. Not caring if they thought that his interest or hobbies fitted the cookie-cutter mold they put him in.

Eventually, those outings grew from friendly hangouts to romantic dates

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Like, comment, reblog, see ya in the next one 👋🏿

#avatar: the way of water #atwow loak #atwow fluff #atwow headcanons #avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #atwow neteyam #atwow ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung x y/n #loak x reader #loak x y/n #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #atwow x reader #atwow x y/n #gender neutral reader

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bettyist · 4 months

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sleepy girl mocktail it come with egg roll 100 gecs deftones opener oldhead sephora 10 year olds virus au smile virus puppet virus beige flag liquid latex no more parmesean cheese twilight sparkle bite peach cobbler hennessey sweet potato donut wellness check livestram grwm hoarder edition unalived guess the drink challenge japanese man found dead in septic tank high visual weight disneybounding child labor eye surgery the monkeys fist instacart ai art he waited 1 year for this ride baby cheese slap a blinding stew that escalated quickly his first backflip bloody cuticle nails lip combo geometry dash theyre running out of ideas crack wings jesus has risen mandarin oranges pesticide red 40 diet chemical peel im custom wood burning i wish i was special self care era alt phase just one more kiss gay obama be like let me be queer chiitan pro wrestling wet rat chicago rat hole memorabilia fastest sandwich maker i know can you wrap my burrito on your day off from taco bell yeah we have an ice dweller in the chat let me get rid of this ice dweller lying on your dead mama im not upset with yall because i know you're mentally ill which is why one day im gonna open up a hospital how to wrap a casket we're never making it out the hood goofy beats free brick in washing machine yes and say that shit with your chest barbieland contempt hearing rexona 24 hour intensive action pussy wind hello kitty antiperspirant crooked nail underground tunnel new york hi im spongebob creepypasta miku papyrus font cigarette shame hi im bunny money spread y2k mcbling gothcore emo criteria for getting a lobotomy coffee milk tea a skirt should be the size of a belt farmersonly.com you are not the father you are not bulgarian yes chef haggis teenage dirtbag huge crush on pomni claires perfume valentines day jewelry do not visit elephant park psychosocial they ate humans new years miami mall speedrunning skip malice mizer

#ramble tag

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vonev · 1 year

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Operation: Ivory, 5.

CH 5, Returned.

MW2, Simon "Ghost" RileyxReader fanfiction

Omg nev returning to update her fanfic!!

Self-insert, AFAB, she/her pronouns.

Word count, 3695 (haha 69)

Chapter summary: You found yourself reminiscing the old times, albeit unwillingly. ____________________________________________________

“You know. if you wanted help, just ask for it.”

You hear a rough, husky morning voice behind you, irritation laced in his voice as he leaned against the wall of the kitchen entryway, eyes sunk into the back of your head.

To say that you were annoyed would not be enough to describe the mood you were in ever since the start of the morning. You resisted the urge to turn around and give him an earful, instead, you continued to operate the coffee machine to the best of your ability. Hands fumbling around with the industrial coffee machine, you had spent the past 10 minutes in the kitchen trying to figure out how to work the steam wand.

If you were able to graduate from secondary school with a summa cum laude under your belt, you could use a simple, non-complicated coffee machine.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Because as you stood in front of the quirky machine, you glared at it. You had been craving a cup of joe that morning, though you were usually an avid tea drinker and were not one for coffee. The pressure got to you—and you concluded that a cup of piping-hot Arabica bean black coffee would soothe the tension in your mind and body.

Now, you were always accustomed to the sleek, minimalistic coffee maker—not whatever monstrosity this was.

Admittedly, it intimidated you when you first laid your eyes on it.

Attempting to run the coffee machine served as a problem to be solved despite your intention of not wanting any more issues to deal with that day. You pressed a knuckle against the countertop, and you looked around the device, even going as far as to bend over the countertop so you were able to inspect the back of the machine—you wanted to make sure there weren’t any hidden mechanisms.

As per your luck: you found nothing of the sort.

Though, as you squinted your eyes, you noticed a small stub protruding from the side, your finger reached over to press it out of sheer curiosity.

A loud hiss instantly spilt from the machine.

You jumped at the sequences of hisses that sounded; you pressed the button you had found earlier and finally, the piercing noise stopped—you sighed in relief and defeat.

“That’s for frothing milk,” Ghost’s monotonous voice broke through, his tone demeaning with a special touch of sarcasm. Your eye twitched at his voice—you had been avoiding the entire task force for a few days now and still counting, and you weren’t planning on breaking the streak.

Moving into the task force’s safe house hadn’t been easy. You weren’t a stranger to foul mouths and dirty looks directed at you—but you hadn't been having the best time of your life dealing with a group of grown men acting like absolute children around you. They would more often than not slide in sly remarks regarding the way you handled things; even down to how you prefer your tea.

It had been a start too early in the morning for you—having had an abundance of paperwork you weren’t able to finish the day before piling atop your desk since you fell asleep rather quickly the previous night. You had gotten up earlier than usual to complete your work before proceeding with the next: the planning of the infiltration of Joseph Williams’ humble adobe.

You had thought your job with the task force would be easy—but you were proven wrong, oh so wrong.

The first day you were recruited, Laswell dumped a pile of folders filled to the brim with information on you after having assigned you to the safe house.

“Just sort through these, and we can get started,” she said.

“It’d be easy work for you, sergeant,” she said.

You did not miss the glimmer of smug tugging the edge of her mouth as she watched the life drain out of you at the sight of the papers. It was worse knowing you had no choice but to obey, and for once in your life—you wished you were dead.

Groaning at the mention of the leftover paperwork still seated in your room, you turned to the kitchen for comfort; you needed a fix of your tea before you started losing your exhausted mind in front of the computer for the rest of the day.

Stirring your tea, you stood idle in the kitchen as your mind wandered further into the void—completely blanking out as you continued the smooth motion of circling the teaspoon in the cup. Your eyelids were heavy, they felt like weighted sandbags threatening to close shut, feeling the sleepiness seeped back into you like a sly fox.

“Really? Sugar, in your tea?”

Your eyes snapped open; a soft gasp slipped out of you, being caught off-guard.

You turned around and found the Scottish man seated at the kitchen bar, his eyes lidded as he watched your subtle movements. You could feel the tiredness oozing off of the man like liquid gold—yet as he stared at you, the familiar vicious intensity behind his gaze still remained.

The deadpanned expression you wore must’ve struck a nerve in his fragile ego, his eyes narrowed until he was blatantly glaring at you.

You brought the cup of tea you held to your lips, blowing the steam away and as you took a sip, you dragged it out as long as possible—watching the man in front of you grow irritated by the passing seconds. After a while, you were satisfied with your sip and pulled your cup away from your lips, the animosity in you only intensified.

“And what about it?”

Ever since then, the unspoken hostility between you and Soap never ceased to dissipate from the face of the earth.

It wasn’t as though your relationship with the rest of the team had been smooth-sailing, either. You remembered the nights you’d spend fixing the broken bike in the garage, and Gaz would come in—only to turn on his heels after spotting you and leave the vicinity.

Inactions are an action.

You took the silent treatment Gaz had given you as a solid response. And as for Ghost—

—He had started being a constant in your life.

His eerie presence would always be around the corner wherever you were as if he had been a keen spectator of your life. At times, you would be caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. You still remembered when he crept up on you once, an apple in his hand whilst he chewed away the fruit with big bites and watched as you busied yourself with stashing away box after box of tools you used on the shelves in the storage room.

“I know,” annoyance evident in your tone, you moved to open the refrigerator to your right, picking up the gallon of milk and pouring yourself a glass of the white liquid before putting it away. All while Ghost stood from afar and watched—as he always does.

You fixed yourself a glass of frothed milk, but not before wincing at the loud hiss that you were sure would never get used to. Maybe the idea of getting a cup of joe had been bad.

In one fluid motion, you raised the cup of already made americano and poured the frothed milk in. Fully knowing that it was not the proper way of making black coffee—but you were too far gone, and the thought of embarrassing yourself further in front of Ghost pushed you to make yourself a watered-down latte.

You could deal with the bland taste of your coffee, but Ghost’s judgemental stare? Not so much. You already had too much of that going around—you didn’t need another, especially one that seemed to constantly know your exact location every time.

Ghost hummed, seizing you up.

“If you know so much,” as he spoke, you could hear the condescending note in his voice; footsteps started tracking toward you. “Then you would know how to take Joseph down, wouldn’t ya?” Soon, the footsteps stopped.

“Ivory.”

Ivory.

It almost took you a minute too long to realise he had been speaking to you, your callsign dripped off of him, and it almost felt downright malicious. You knew he didn’t fancy your presence when he laid eyes on you during the interrogation, but you were sure as hell he would soon leave you to be consumed by danger—than to pull you out of it.

You hadn’t gotten the callsign on your own accord, no. Apparently, Price had it set for you before you had even questioned it. You weren’t mad, Ivory wasn’t half-bad of a callsign—though, you don’t think you would figure out the reasoning behind the choice of name soon.

“More than you do, that’s for sure.” you rolled your eyes and turned around to walk away from the tense atmosphere, but rather than the open view of the kitchen, you were met with a wall of muscles barricading your path.

You peered up at the man; he still wore the mask that had the infamous skull etched on it, you noticed. He, too, was staring down at you; his eyes held reminisces of the sombreness that you knew him by. You were certain this man had never smiled in a day of his life; still, even if he did, you wouldn’t have known considering the mask he brought around everywhere.

Your eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Move.”

He, in fact, did not move.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. “Let me guess,” you scoffed. “You don’t take orders from anyone?”

Instead of giving you an answer, his arm reached above you; he took out a box of earl grey tea that sat in the open cabinet. Both your eyes are locked in a battle of unwavering gazes, and you weren’t about to back out anytime soon.

What felt like an eternity passed by, whilst in reality, it had only been 30 seconds—but with the way Ghost trapped you with his stare that bore through you, puncturing your skin, and keeping you grounded on your heels.

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat had the both of you snap your head in their direction. “You guys done?” Gaz rubbed his eye, and he grumbled, sounding defeated.

“Wasn’t doin’ anything.” Ghost huffed a coarse breath, irritated. He instinctively scooched away from the tight space, and you took that as a chance to silently slip away from underneath him—not forgetting to send him a final glare before ascending the stairs to your room.

You heard the men conversing, though, their voices muffled as you moved further and further away from them.

“Men.” You rolled your eyes, one hand on the doorknob and another holding your warm cup of tea. Pushing the door open, you were greeted with a sore sight: your room, messy and unclean as papers atop papers decorated your pitifully tiny desk. You had even left a stack of folders on the ground in a feeble attempt of keeping your workspace manageable.

The weather had been nice. Soothing, muted pebbles of raindrops slid down one after another in gentle streaks as the cold temperature of the weather flooded into your room. The subtle chill reminded you to wrap yourself in a comfortable pair of animal slippers that you stole.

From whom? No clue.

But you would soon sell an organ than trade these adorable, cosy pair of goodies away.

Once you settled yourself down on the familiar office chair, you started your productive morning shortly after—going through the magnitude of files with peak efficiency; occasionally taking small, needed breaks where you would sip your tea away. And soon enough, your cup of tea bottomed out, and it wasn’t long before you were practically finished with work.

You took a quick glance at the table block; you were ridden with a level of stress that could equate to the size of a mountain if you had to picture it.

The pitter-patter of the rain only had intensified over the quiet, mundane hours whilst you slowly lost your sanity over a mumble-jumble of words—some coherent, and some blurred as the torturous hours passed by. You had been ignoring the drowsiness in the back of your head all this time, but you could feel it knocking at your brain and letting itself it.

“Just a little more.” You let out a heavy sigh and caressed your tight temple; your hand grabbing the remaining papers and getting back to work.

Though, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fight off the fatigue that crept up your back. Gently, you lay your head on the busy desk, your eyes still scanning the piece of information on the paper you held up.It was the perfect weather, and the perfect temperature to cuddle up with yourself; to fall asleep to. And as soon as you let your eyelids drop—you were gone out like a light.

“Welcome home, soldier.”

The cypher voice had been undeniable—it belonged to the only comrade that stuck with you for as long as you could remember.

Your captain—a comrade, a companion, a friend you could call dear.

Tears collected at the brim of your eyes, the momentum of how fast your head flicked to the familiar voice could rival that of light.

It had been an especially tough time for your task force—having been sent out to Mexico City for a recon mission; it was supposed to be an easy, get-in-get-out mission to retrieve some intel. But the surprise ambush by the Shadows had swept you all off your feet, your heads firmly planted to the ground with no way out.

You were trapped.

And the only way to escape their tight grasp?

Kill.

You could still recall the blood on your hands that rainy night—out in the middle of nowhere, hidden away in the back of an alley feverishly crossing your fingers in hopes that you could lead your squadron to somewhere safe for a while.

All of you had been on the edge, still shaken by the imagery of a few of you being picked off by the men from the Shadow Company.

You should’ve expected it—it had been quite suspicious of Shepherd to let your task force travel to another country’s ground only to gather simple intel. But he had been so convincing that your task force had been the right choice, despite how he could’ve opted to send a rookie team out instead.

Your task force had been one of the remarkable abilities—all of you specialised in various fields and balanced each other out.

But to you? They were family.

They had your arms in theirs from the minute you stepped into their team despite being less experienced than all the other members. It had been a small team as well, consisting only of the 5 of you as you all fought through horrendous situations with even worse odds. You remember being given a callsign in the midst of an active field—tucked away behind a tall concrete slab.

“Taint.” Niel coughed up a fit, spitting droplets of blood everywhere—a few had even gotten on your uniform as you cursed him out softly. “Taint sounds about right.”

You cocked an eyebrow as you harshly tugged at the bandages wrapped around his calloused thigh, undressing the ruined fabric as you tossed it aside in a moment of a hurry, hands fishing out a small roll of dressing you kept in your medical pocket—you knew it would come in handy despite not being a trained medic.

“Yeah?” You ripped out a strip of the bandage with your teeth, quickly made work of the wound and poured a generous amount of gauze onto his cut.

He had been stabbed in the thigh just last week, and today, you were dressing him up for another similar injury.

Instead of a dagger, it had been a bullet.

You winced. Your eyes would not leave the sight of his wounded leg—it was just as though you were watching a trainwreck, you could not take your eyes away from how the wound festered in his thigh. Quickly, you reached a hand behind, getting a feel for the wound opening.

There were none.

Looking up at Niel, you took in his beaten state. He was a man that walked through hell and came back, just to pay it another visit that evening. And it showed on his hardened features, his face bruised and cuts dotted his freckled cheeks.

He was foolish—how he had naturally jumped in front of the enemy that had sneaked up behind with you a gun drawn.

Now you were left to deal with his stupidity. You swore to curse him out once you were both back at the base later.

“Wanna know why?” His voice was soft, a tone of attentiveness as he seized your hunched figure with his eyes. “You've tainted us.” That caught your attention.

“Go on…” You said; your fingers caressing the side of his wound, feeling the rough scab that started to form.

“Haven't you noticed?” You heard the smile in his voice, your head still held down low. “You’ve tainted us with your pretty little hands.”

He coughed again. “You’re contagious, Taint—in a good way, of course. And we wouldn’t have settled for anything less.”

He didn’t have the heart to admit part of the reasoning behind it was because of the nights he’d see you come back drenched in blood, and how you seemed to not be bothered by the amount of bloodshed you were dealt with.

No, he chose to keep that to himself, forever he’d hold his peace.

And now, huddled away in a secluded shelter, Niel stood at the small entryway—his head ducked below the doorframe as he limped through. You immediately stood from your chair and practically ran to him, your arms catching his frail body as he fell onto you—if you hadn’t been trained physically, you would’ve been easily suffocated by the hunk of a man.

Your gloved hand trailed to his face, and your eyes frantically scanned his pained features.

Days since you last saw the man at the back of the alley. Days since he sacrificed himself to the wolves as he let you swiftly escape the ambush.

And there he was, in your arms, once again hurt and beaten.

You hadn’t been able to keep in touch with your other task force members—gone as quickly as they were ambushed.

You could only pray that they were safe.

Niel hissed. His face contorted in agony, and you felt his hand sat on your shoulder. Pulling back from him, you audibly gasped at what you saw. His uniform had been basically ripped to shreds, and what appeared underneath them were countless cuts and bruises. You noticed his hand pressing against his thigh, in a moment, you forced his palm away from what he had been hiding from you.

He had been stabbed—and the wound? Deep. Deep enough to draw shaky, distressed breaths from the man beneath you, now seeming more and more feeble in your grasp. And you are desperately clinging onto him.

You dragged his limping body to the sofa that looked like it had seen better days, almost falling over at one point due to his sheer size and weight; you carefully laid him down on the loveseat and sprinted toward the bathroom—one that you barely wanted to touch due to how ruined it was. Your hands scrambled to pull open the medicine cabinets and fished out the first aid kit you miraculously scavenged when you first came to the wrecked shelter.

Out of the bathroom, your eyes found Niel now instead attempting to stand on his own two feet but was struggling way too much.

You scoffed, your feet paced to him, gently placing a hand on his chest before pushing him back down onto the sofa. Niel let out a soft, “Oompf.”, as his bum hit the firm cushion.

“Stop. Let me help.” You kneeled on the ground beside the sofa, flicking the lid of the first aid kit open and grunted at what little resources were left in the kit. You had to make do with what you had.

And as you gave him an apologetic glance, he got the memo and helped remove his trousers with your help. You recoiled at the sight of his bloody wound, so much blood—and it was ugly. The wound had seemed infected to your heart’s discontent, and knowing how he had been gone for days, god knows how long he had been injured.

You wasted no time. Feeling the tears poke and prod your gut whilst your jittery hands moved to patch his wound up. As you poured the gauze over his injury, you felt the tears drop—and once they slipped, they never stopped. You worked with tears streaming down your face, and the process took longer than you would’ve liked with your emotions that had gotten in the way.

Your lips trembled, fingers gliding across his now bandaged wound. Niel grabbed a hold of your chin, his eyes now weak, his hand shaking as he looked at you with such care in the eye—as if you had been the one to get hurt.

“Thank you, for what you do.” And with the lights going out behind his eyelids, he muttered. “Taint.”

Just as fast as the word slipped out, he was gone.

In just one moment, you had lost someone so dear to you.

You lost it.

Never in your life had you wailed for another.

That night, it rained harder, as though the heavens above knew of your suffering and wept for your loss.

The next time you awoke, you found out that you had shed tears whilst you slept—and that a comfy, weighted blanket sat on your pair of drooping shoulders. As confused as you were, you appreciated the amount of added cosiness and comfort it gave you. God knows how much you needed it. And as you wrapped yourself into the thick blanket even further, you soon drifted off into sleep once more, letting it embrace you like a mother would a newborn.

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repulsiveliquidation · 2 months

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ok so, my dad is a coffee aficionado (read: picky af) and he did initially start off with a mystery pack, but the man liked the first one he tried so much that he ordered it on a reoccurring schedule after like a couple days… well turns out he didn’t like that brand as much as he thought and now there were 4 months worth of that brands coffee pods in the pantry (said coffee pods ended up going to my brother at uni in a “care package”)… this was like 2 years ago now, and he has since purchased an espresso machine and meticulously writes down the formula in a notebook so the shot is the exact same every time (genuinely don’t know how he does that but my mom’s happy that he’s not complaining about the coffee anymore)

i do have to hand it to him though when i’m home the coffee i have each morning is *chef’s kiss*

😂 your dad sounds like a fun guy

I am Indian and we live for hot drinks (my mouth is so burnt and used to the heat that i can drink boiling hot stuff and be fine) and every family has one person who is the official tea maker and that person in my house is my sister. I hate tea with milk and will not drink it unless she makes it. We have an espresso machine too and i love making them in my special double walled glass cups when I’m home! We also only drink Nescafé Gold in my house and all other instant coffee tastes like shit to me lmao (also coffee + whole milk is how i take it because ✨diabetes✨ is the family disease)

#liquidation asks

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psychosomaticdeicide · 3 months

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Information about coffee I've learned after trawling through several recipe sites and Reddit:

Coffee is more acidic and caffeinated when not/less roasted, therefore a white/medium roast will have more caffeine than a dark/espresso roast. Additionally, the difference in taste will transfer with a difference of brewing method.

(Inverse correlation btwn caffeine/acidity and roast)

Cold brew coffee is less acidic than hot-brewed coffee.

People on r/Coffee know the exact specs of every machine they use and a lot of coffee-related chemistry/biology. With the way my eyes keep skipping over the words, they might as well be explaining the finer points of rocket science BUT AT LEAST I CAN COMPREHEND PHYSICS.

Everyone has their own cold brew ratio but they never specify what type of coffee they're using so aggregating data based on several recipes will not work unless they mention what type of roast they're using.

(1:2 might actually kill me, tbh.)

Coffee can actually be brewed like Japanese Royal Milk Tea (brewed with milk instead of water and with sugar).

The only issues that crop up are how the particular roast may interact with the type of milk is being used because while whole milk is recommended, the way the sugars and lipids break down or bind to specific parts of the coffee are dependent upon which milk or coffee someone may choose. And some choose nondairy for completely understandable reasons, but it will not be the same as the dairy.

(I really want to try this one day because I like Royal Milk Tea and lattes.)

Quality of the water will also affect the taste of the coffee.

(People in New York who drink tap water are drinking microscopic crustaceans and I still can't get over that.)

Lots of people have specific ways they like their coffee down to the machines/brewing methods used. Most of these coffee lovers also advocate for grinding your own beans to a coarse texture.

(There is at least one bean-grinding implement in this house [likely older than me] but there is no telling whether it will work, or if it's broken and lost, or so covered in spiderwebs and dust that it will never be truly clean again.)

There are several ways to grind beans that do not require a bean grinder. These include: mortar and pestle, food processor, spice grinder, and other food processor with a different type of blade.

(I get my coffee pre-ground because I am not at all prepared for the amount of cleanup I need to not kill grandpa who is on several blood pressure medications [yes, all at once] and has been drinking decaf for multiple decades now. On a related note, this is why I can't use the coffee maker.)

Some people do coldbrew by putting the grounds directly in the water and others use a filter like a tea bag. Direct water is kind of gross looking and comes out with sludge.

(Note: I don't trust the woman who secures her filter bags with rubber bands and puts the whole thing in the water. Is it so hard to get butchers' twine or something????)

It is also recommended that cold brew be done in glass containers (specifically mentioned: pitcher, mason jar). This is likely due to staining, but I didn't really read why they were recommending glass containers.

#incoherent screeching into the abyss #coffee #long post

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cherise54 · 1 year

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Cherise - Automating the daily cuppa

Automating the daily cuppa From Cherise Global. The difference between the Cherise India machine and others is the kind of investment and manpower that has gone into its development and support, Shah explained. Shah added that he put together a team that included mechatronic specialists with a view to building, supporting, and maintaining their smart IoT and android-based vending machine which is an integral part of Cherise’s farm-to-cup ecosystem. Visit Website

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alan-duarte · 11 months

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TIMING: Mid April LOCATION: Duarte Real Estate PARTIES: Wynne @ohwynne & Alan SUMMARY: After Alan offers Wynne help with the hiking trails online, they show up at his company and the two have a coffee and a chat. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

While Wynne had decided to get a map from the tourist office by themself, they still felt an itch to take up Alan Duarte on his offer. Maybe it was their previous experience in the woods around Wicked’s Rest that pushed them towards advice, or maybe it was simpler. There had been an offer and within them, there was something that longed for strong community and connection. If there were people in this town with a mind like theirs – filled with a need and want to help those around them, as it ensured a functioning society – Wynne would like to get to know them.

They walked through the wooden doors, looking over their shoulder to make sure it closed properly. Wynne was mindful of keeping drafts outside, after all. Eyes took in their surroundings before they made their way up to the face belonging to the name. Distantly, they remembered a piece of advice offered to them in another town, another place: don’t trust people you meet online.

A polite smile graced their lips as Wynne approached, placing the map on the counter. “Hi. I’m Wynne. I think we talked online, about some hiking trail recommendations? I’ve been trying to go at it by myself, but …” A small frown creased their brows. They didn’t want to mention monsters in the woods, lest they were considered crazy. “Well, I haven’t had much luck out there.” They shrugged. “I hope it’s okay I stepped by.”

___

"Wynne?" Alan was supposed to know that name. He knew that name, didn't he?

Before you throw him a stone for his sins, you had to understand that he spoke to more people than you could count one one hand in just a morning and that he tried his best to remember said names because it was good for business. They weren't a client then. Hiking trail recommendations managed to hit the spot, and Alan's face warmed up as he realised they had indeed spoken before. "I'm so sorry. Of course."

With a smile, he invited them to follow after him. He didn't have an appointment for another 30 minutes, but his coffee break could not wait. "Would you like something to drink? An espresso? Tea? Water?"

___

Sometimes people just said things to be polite, but this was a fact lost on Wynne. Raised in a place where people looked after one another and lived in harmonious unity (except that one time a decade where they drained a member of their blood), it was simple expectation that people were willing to help and not just saying so. Alan Duarte’s surprise made them wonder if perhaps this was a bit silly of them.

They lifted their shoulders as if to say don’t worry about it and then followed him. “An espresso would be nice,” they said. They hardly drank black coffee these days, so used to all the syrups and milk at work. “This is a very nice place of work. I hope you’re having a good day so far?”

___

An espresso it would be then, the realtor invited them to take a seat at the break room table while he fetched a box of coffee grains in a sleek wooden cupboard. While he often ended up at A Latte To Love, he felt like the break room’s espresso maker somehow managed to be just as good, though he wouldn’t have been able to explain why. Their machine was hardly any match to the professional one they had there, it was fancy, but it was not nice like that. This was a mystery he couldn’t crack (mainly because he didn’t stop himself to question if perhaps there was something going on here).

He put the cup down before them and picked up his own while he sat on the other side of the table. Picking up one of the company pens from a pen holder sitting there, Alan leaned forward to take a look at their map. He wouldn’t start with that, but at some point, he’d make sure to let them know about which parts of the forest were no-go zones. His parts. “Alright, let’s have a look at those hiking trails, heh?”

They watched with wide, careful eyes how the other prepared their coffee, feeling a little bemused by the turning of events. Wynne was so used to making coffee for others that they almost wanted to step in and finish the drink, to tell Alan Duarte to sit down and let them handle it. They decided to just leave it be, though, as interrupting him seemed more rude than wait for him to finish. “Thank you,” they said, wrapping one hand around the small mug and swirling the substance for a moment.

They nodded, pointing at the blue trail in the state park. “I’ve walked this one.” Not fully successfully, though that was a detail easily omitted. “And I’ve explored a fair bit of the Wormwoods –” Their finger moved, tapping on the woods south of the park. “– and I think I’m a bit done with it.” Considering the vampires that apparently lingered there. “It’s a bit eerie. So, the main thing I’m considering is whether I should head to the coast or perhaps try Mossthorn Forest, sometime?”

“Mmmmh,” Alan wrinkled his nose. “Wormwoods huh?” It wasn’t really the best for hikes. All those worms… His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at them with the air of someone who was trying to pick whether he felt impressed, intrigued or disgusted. “I mean, you do you, but I personally don’t like it there.” He felt a lot better about Mossthorn. The earthy smell from this area was comforting. It was mostly safe, and he nodded along to their words. “I think you’ll like it there. The atmosphere is unlike any other, and it’s quite a nice walk.” He paused. “I would advise you to never hike alone, however. There've been a lot of people disappearing in the area,” it was quite the grim thing to say, but they seemed like a good kid, and he didn’t want the locals to get hurt. “You don’t want to hike near sundown either, or at night.” A pause. “Wolves.” He wrinkled his nose, and brought his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Anyway. Have you been to the Pines yet? Or the Seven Peaks?” Those were dangerous, depending on where or when you went, but if you didn’t go alone, or at night… It wasn’t so bad, was it? “It’s quite stunning. Make sure not to stray from the paths, obviously, but that applies anywhere, doesn’t it?”

They didn’t much like the way Alan looked at them, but they tried not to make it obvious. Wynne shrugged. “It’s close to where I live, so I went there out of convenience more than anything.” But no, they wouldn’t be returning, at least not at night. Maybe it would be a good idea to cease their late night walks, anyway, but Wynne was so used to getting into nature in the evenings that it was a hard habit to shake. “Alright, I’ll try out Mossthorn. Do you have any tips, trail-wise?” There was the tip again, to never hike alone — it was said over and over again, and Wynne was starting to understand why. Did Alan Duarte know why, too? Or was he just a cautious person? “That makes sense. I do try not to make a habit out of it, but sometimes you just need to stretch your legs, you know?” And pacing their bedroom wasn’t much better, nor was walking Worm Row — which wasn’t much safer than the woods.

“I’ve only been in the state park part of the Pines, and around the motel there.” It’s where they had resided when they’d first come into town, but that was a fact they chose to omit. “I’ll try and see if I can find a buddy to walk around Seven Peaks with me. On the path, of course. Seems a bit more challenging, considering the mountains”

___

“Oh absolutely. I’m big on stretching my legs myself, but even then, I know better than to plan them too late in the evening,” sure, in the summer, it was tempting. It was so warm during the day, you could be easily tempted into going for walks at dusk or dawn. This was precisely when the beasts still roamed around freely. A lot of them hid during the day, but felt a lot more comfortable when the woods turned real quiet. That wasn’t to say that you were safe during the day, but seeing the threat certainly helped.

“Sure, let me see, “ he clicked his pen, leaning toward the trail map. It was tempting to draw the shortest path leading to safety, but Mossthorn was far from the worst place to hike, and there were spots worth seeing that strayed from that safest road. “If you head up there, you get a really nice view of Silver lake. You can also get a good look at the abnormality,” without fighting off the crowd that gathered at the official viewing point. “Bearcliff motel?” He nodded along. They were quite young, and while the motel probably was affordable, he sure hoped they didn’t live there. The owners might have been lovely, that was no place to live long term. “You’re new to town, right?” He couldn’t recall whether this had been discussed before, but he had a feeling that they were. “If you pick someone to accompany you, make sure someone else knows who you are with and where you’re going,” because that person might try to eat you. “It makes things easier for the local fire department. The Pines are a great place to get lost, unfortunately.” With a hum, he circled a few numbers on the map, trails that he deemed safe enough.

___

Wynne looked at him for a moment, as if trying to gauge the other’s knowledge on the things in and outside of the forest. “Why is that?” They wondered how forward they could be. They weren’t sure how widespread this knowledge was, and didn’t want to make the other think that there was something wrong with them. They tried to take on a joking tone, “It’s not like there’s vampires, right?” Their eyebrows creased, though, as if to reiterate that last word. Right???

“Alright, that sounds good,” they were glad that the other was drawing on their map at least a little, so they didn’t have to take notes. “I like that pen, by the way. And I know the abnormality, I don’t live too far from it. It’s always so busy, though.” People flocked to this town, and Wynne couldn’t blame them entirely. They had come here as an outsider too, after all. They nodded at his question. “Yes, I’ve lived here for about four months. Been in town a little longer.” They were glad they had their own bed and sheets now, living in a space that was more their own than a temporary motel room. They had gotten depressing very quickly. “Good tip, I’ll try and remember that one.” Maybe they could continue their schtick of telling Zack where they went. He didn’t ask too many questions, but seemed like someone who might raise the alarm if they didn’t come home. Which wasn’t a scenario Wynne wanted to think about. “How long’ve you been here, again?”

___

“Vampires?” He looked at them. “In the forest? Don’t they typically hang out in cemeteries?” He didn’t want to lie to them. He didn’t want to tell the truth either. “I’d be more concerned about werewolves, trolls… Sasquatch,” he wasn’t joking, but they didn’t need to know that. His expression remained serious while he attempted to assess whether they believed in those stories or not.

“You do? You can keep it,” in your face Emilio. Alan offered them an earnest smile this once. “I don’t get the appeal for that thing, it’s made things a lot more complicated for me, that’s for sure,” entire plots of land rendered completely useless for building houses, or anything at all,” with a sigh, the realtor finished his circling of a few areas, and even took the time to add a legend to the map so they’d know what he meant with his arrows, crosses, circles and such. “I think you’re good to explore the area now,” he declared, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it away in the sink. “Me? I grew up in the area. I’ve spent around 40 years in this town, I suppose,” which could sound a bit depressing, but he’d seen enough while travelling abroad, to know that this was where he belonged.

—

Wynne shrugged. “I’ve seen something vampire-like in the forest. Maybe it was an a-typical one, though.” It had been a strange one, but it had been a vampire. “I ran, though, so no harm. Maybe I was just seeing things.” They didn’t want Alan Duarte to think they were crazy, but they knew what they’d seen. Knew what they’d help Emilio kill. “I suppose if we’re both right, there are many things to look out for in the forest.” Their tone was serious, too. “No going out alone, hm?”

They were surprised by the other’s sudden broad smile and took the pen. “Oh, well, much appreciated.” Wynne looked at the pen, which held his name. “I’m not Alan Duarte, though. Shouldn’t it just be for you?” The abnormality was just another inexplicable thing, they thought, one they tried not to think of too much. If there was an explanation, they’d find it, but for now it was not high on the list of things they wanted explained. And it was a long list. “It’s just dark and weird.” They looked at the map and smiled a little. “That’s looks very good. I’m excited to go out and explore some.” Wynne made quick work of taking a long sip from their coffee, not wanting to overstay their welcome. “That must be very nice. This is my first time moving, but I can imagine wanting to stay here for a long time. I guess this town doesn’t tire.”

“Vampire like?” Alan pursed his lips into a thin line. “You’re probably wondering whether I believe in those stories or not,” he set his eyes on them. It was obvious right now, that he too wondered the same. And yet, wasn’t he revealing the answer to their question with his statement? Surely, if he thought it was rubbish, he wouldn’t have ever said such a thing.

The werewolf smiled. “If you are aware of your surroundings, you should be fine. Make sure to follow my tips, and you’ll be safer than most,” he concluded.

Finishing his coffee cup, he set it down into the sink, coming back to the table to fold the map for them. “Really? Well if you ever have any more questions, do let me know. Knowing every little corner is sort of our job, isn’t it?” That, and he was certain he hadn’t seen them before. He wondered who they had been dealing with for their housing. His smile broadened. “I mean it, we’re always happy to help.” Even if that didn’t get them business most of the time, he believed that people would remember them when the time would be right.

—

Wynne was wondering that, he was very much correct. It was a curious thing to ask: he wasn’t calling them foolish or naive for believing in things from horror films. He just posed the question. They nodded their head, trying to gauge his reaction but assuming that this – the lack of laughter or confusement – meant he had some kind of knowledge. They decided against asking more questions, though: if he had answers, he’d have responded more openly, right?

“Got it,” they confirmed, watching his back and watching him return. It was nice of him to fold the map. Nice of him to give them his pen, too. They smiled at the realtor, not quite getting that he was somewhat insinuating that he could help with housing. Wynne was in no position to buy a home, but neither of them really knew that. “I will keep that in mind. For now I really do like where I live, though.” They took the map back from him, putting it in their bag. “I really appreciate you helping me out. I’ll leave you to get back to your work though.” They extended a hand, because it seemed like the best way to wrap this up. Alan seemed like a formal person. Once it was shook, they gave another dip of their head and smile, and found their way back to the exit.

#wickedswriting #ohwynne #under blue moon threads

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willowworkswithwords · 2 years

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Irish breakfast and coffee (imagine me taking very careful notes)?

irish breakfast: what country do you want to visit?

I've never been out of the US, so anywhere!! But especially England and Ireland, and of course, can't forget Canada. I would like to see a moose.

coffee: how do you take your coffee?

*sets up my 45 slide presentation* *cracks knuckles*

Ahem. So. For myself, I usually just do a standard black coffee either with a phin (Vietnamese coffee maker) or just a normal drip coffee maker, whichever is gonna be quicker.

For a regular drip coffee maker, I get out my trusty Walmart brand, medium body, cheap coffee and put two heaping tablespoons (apparently, the metric equivalent is a heaping 30ml). Just pop those bad boys into the filter, add about two cups or so (475ml) of water into your machine. Hit go, and viola. Coffee. If I'm feeling zesty (usually for an afternoon coffee) I'll put in a dash of milk (I measure by sounds i make, so like, a zzzoop! of milk) and two spoons of sugar.

tea ask game!

picture of phin and brief little tutorial under the cut bc lots of people don't know what it is and it's such a nifty little dude

ok so for this dude. I have one that make a cup of coffee. Like. Idk if it's actually the proper measurement of a cup, but it fills a decent sized mug. Put two heaping spoons of sweetened condensed milk into your chosen mug. Set aside.

I have Vietnamese coffee, which is kinda chocolatey and strong, and I put about two tablespoons ish into the phin. Basically until it hits the little ledge inside. Screw the filter on snug but not over the top, microwave (or kettle, I guess) your water until it's nice and hot. I do two minutes. Put phin onto your mug, then pour water into phin and cover with the cap. Let it brew right into your mug, and stir when it's done! It's super good especially if you like sweet coffee

#thanks Red<333 #i hope you feel properly schooled on coffee #i ranted a little #but you asked for it soooo #can you tell I love coffee #tea ask game #willow talks

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teacoffee99com · 2 years

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10 Fun & Interesting Facts About Coffee Drinkers

Coffee drinkers are some of the most productive, anxious people alive.If you’re one of us, you’ll surely enjoy to learn some facts about us. By Marcelo.

#1 We like coffee for breakfast

When do people drink coffee?Two out of three coffee drinkers report that they drink coffee for breakfast - much more than with any other meal.Some of us might even enjoy coffee itself as a breakfast, which is fine from time to time, but be sure to accompany it with some real food, too!

#2 Only a third of coffee drinkers prefer black coffee

Black coffee drinkers are the darkest souls around. It’s really not a contest of who can endure the most bitterness, you know?Only about 35% of coffee drinkers say they prefer black coffee to other types of coffee.As for the rest of us, we like milk and sugar too much!

#3 Women are outnumbered

If only by a few numbers - only 62% of women report drinking coffee everyday, in contrast to 68% of men.In the US, that’s about 1.82 cups a day for women vs. 1.93 cups a day for men.Slightly higher, but probably not enough of a difference for some people.This is particular to America, however, and might not be the same in all countries.In general, the numbers are quite even around the world when it comes to men and women coffee drinkers.What can we say? We love coffee, no matter our sex.

#4 Millenials love coffee

That’s right! Millennials, you win.You drink way more coffee than all of us - even more than baby boomers.Although “millennials” tends to be associated with a certain type of subculture in America, it turns out that this trend is true of many other countries.Millennials all around the world have an affinity for coffee that other generations just can’t match.Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve lived through several economic collapses, or the internet, or all that mercury in the fish we eat.Whatever the reason, we just love coffee.

#5 15% of the world population drinks coffee regularly

…Which might sound a little underwhelming to some.I mean, some of us have identities that almost completely revolve around coffee!Don’t worry, though: that number varies greatly from place to place.And although only about 15% of world citizens can be considered true coffee drinkers, the number of people that drink coffee varies from 30% to 40% of the population any given day.So maybe they’re not drinking coffee every single day - but I’d still consider them coffee drinkers.

#6 Europe is home to the most coffee drinkers

Almost 70% of Europeans drink coffee on a daily basis. That’s crazy! The number is even higher in some particular countries, like Germany and Finland.They drink more coffee than Americans, who are already notorious coffee drinkers.This may have to do with tradition - coffee did arrive in Europe earlier than it did in America.It wasn’t until quite late that Americans started to favor coffee over tea, which was the drink of choice for a long time.

#7 Americans drink 3 cups of coffee a day

…on average.You probably read that and thought “hold my coffee”, but that’s on average.In reality, most self-proclaimed coffee drinkers drink way more than that a day - even though doctors recommend around four cups a day!To put that into context, coffee drinkers over in Finland drink an average of nine cups a day.That is three times more than Americans, so next time you want to brag about how much coffee you drink, think about Finnish people.

#8 We like to make coffee at home

That’s right.Why go to a coffee shop when you can make better coffee at home, that’s suited to your taste?And for free?!It’s estimated that about 79% of Americans own some sort of coffee maker at home, while 12% say they have an espresso machine at home. An espresso machine is the real deal. And even if you don’t have one, coffee is coffee.To a true coffee drinker, form doesn’t matter - it’s all about the coffee.

#9 Americans love Colombian coffee

Sure Colombian coffee is objectively great and anyone would love a cup of it - but we Americans drink more of it than anyone else!Most of the coffee grown in Colombia ends up in America, because there’s so much demand for it.It may have something to do with the fact that Colombian coffee has been famous in America since the 50’s, so we as a nation are very aware of how good it is.Or maybe we don’t really know many other good producers like Colombia - whatever the reason, we drink a lot of it.

#10 There are 1 billion coffee drinkers around the world

That’s 1 in 7 people. But what is a coffee drinker?We mentioned before that a coffee drinker is someone who drinks coffee every day.That’s what constitutes a coffee drinker: someone who can’t, won’t, go without coffee even for a single day.And if you count all the people who drink coffee often but not every day, the number goes up a lot.Almost half the world population could be called coffee lovers!Which may sound a little disappointing - how aren’t there more coffee drinkers in the world?!Well, you have to remember that tea is still the preferred traditional drink in many Asian countries.China, in particular, even though it is home to many coffee lovers, most of the population doesn’t drink coffee. At all.Photos by Vadim Pitz and ge yonk. Read the full article

#coffee coffeefacts whodrinkscoffee coffeedrinks drinkingcoffee

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