grind & brew

STUDY TIPS FOR RADFEMS

🌹hot water bottle, covered in a few drops of your favourite essential oil (I vote jasmine), wrapped in a beautiful scarf.
🌹put a disk of fresh ginger, and a shake of cinnamon and cardamom in your coffee grinds. Brew, and add soy milk as you like.
🌹imagine the centuries of women who were denied education cheering you on and sending you their energy, rage and intellect.
🌹sit down in a beautiful place, put your mind to it, and get studying.
🌹if you get stuck, take a shower, cleanse your space, and get back to it.

Dream A Little Dream of Me - Dean Winchester

Summary: You’ve been taken by a Djin and trapped in a dream world. Your dreamworld that consists of you and Dean, together. While you wait to be rescued by the Winchesters you enjoy your time in your and Dean’s make believe world.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,287

Warnings: Swearing, very light mention of smut.

Originally posted by tearinmyeye

You blinked open your eyes only to be met with immense darkness. Your head throbbed as you tried to asses the situation you had somehow managed to get yourself into, although you weren’t quite sure what that situation was due to the fact that you were in the dark and you couldn’t remember what had happened nor how you had ended up here, wherever here was. What you did know was that there was obviously something over your head making you incapable of being able to see your surroundings, also you couldn’t move your arms or legs indicating you had been involuntarily tied up. After a few minutes of complete, tense silence, footsteps could be heard in the distance slowly making their way towards you. With every second that passed by your heart thumped faster and faster, and you could swear that at the moment, anyone who was in the room with you could hear it. Beads of cold sweat could now be felt dripping down your face, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the object that had been previously placed over your head was removed.

“What’s a sweet little thing like you doing with the Winchester’s?” A smooth, female voice questioned softly. You opened your eyes, looking up and meeting a set of deep, dark eyes. Your eyes roamed around the room you were in, and you looked for any key features that could help you figure out where you were. “You’re in Oregon dear. That is what you were wondering, isn’t it?” Your mouth was slightly agape as you whispered to yourself “Portland?” Your mind raced as you tried to figure out what you had been doing in Portland. Then it hit you. You had been working a case with the boys, and you had spent days looking into local legends and lore while trying to figure out what patters there had been with the disappearances and deaths. After 3 days you had finally figured out what the damn thing was that you were hunting, and how to kill it. Dean had suggested a supply run, which you volunteered to do on your own because you were stubborn and believed you could do it without any backup, which was obviously a mistake seeing the situation your in now because while you were out on the run you had been jumped, knocked out and brought to where you were now. You focused your attention back on the woman before you, your eyes trailed to her arms, more specifically the blue ink that had started to spread further, and further up her skin. Drawing your focus back to her eyes, she smiled when she noticed you had been staring at the designs on her arms. “Your a Djinn” you stated, “She’s not just a pretty face after all.” The smile on her face grew when you gave her your best impression of Sam’s infamous bitch face. “I’m gonna enjoy seeing the look on their faces, when they find your corpse, completely drained of life.” Your stomach churned and you felt sick as you thought of the scene she had just described. “Sweet dreams sweetheart.” She cooed before touching her fingers to your forehead, submerging you into darkness once again.


The next time you awoke you were no longer tied to a chair with a blindfold covering your eyes. Sure it was dark, but you could make out your surroundings and you could definitely move your limbs. You were in a bedroom being audibly lit by the moonlight. You were nestled comfortably in a large bed, warm, but cold at the same time. You rolled over being met with a large empty space, that recently had someone laying there as it was still warm, and the covers were disheveled. ‘I guess it’s time to investigate’ you thought to yourself as you sit up, sliding your legs to the side of the bed and touching your toes to the chilled floor. You stretch out your aching limbs and let out a tired yawn, sluggishly making your way towards the door.

When you reached the living room you were relieved to see a familiar face. Your breath was hitched in your throat as it had been many times before when you were met with those mesmerizing, candy apple green eyes. He grinned, which drove you over the top because you knew how contagious that little grin was, because whenever he gave it you always gave a wide smile right back. You felt the corners of your lips lift up, as his grin grew into a smile as well. After a few seconds had passed you cleared your throat and got straight to business. “Okay, Dean where the hell are we?” His eyes squinted, and he looked at you with a confused expression written across his face, “y/n are you okay, did you hit your head or something?” He asked confused. “No, well actually maybe I did…” He laughed at your confused state, “Well since it seems you’ve forgotten, we are in the living room of our house.”  You looked at him and studied him closely to see if he was just messing around with you, but there was no hint in his eyes that led you to believe he was lying. “What do you mean 'our house’?” Now you were really confused. Dean stood up from the sofa and made his way towards you, placing his hands on either sides of your arms. “Well y/n generally when someone says 'our home’ they mean one that they live in together. Babe what has gotten into you? Are you sure your alright? ” His hands slowly slid from your arms to your waist, your hands instinctively rested on his chest when he pulled you a little closer to him than you’d like to admit you were comfortable with. Not that you didn’t like being this close to Dean, but he had only ever seen you as a friend and now you didn’t know what was going on. “I- I’m fine” You stutter, as he leans in closer and connects his lips to yours.

This caught you off guard and you pushed him away, he looked at you with clear confusion written all over his face. “Dean what the hell” you ask taking a step back from him,  "y/n what is going on, first you don’t know where you are, then you won’t let me kiss you?“ He asks quizzically. "Oh my God” you whisper quietly to yourself, you had finally clued into what was going on. This wasn’t your world, this wasn’t your Dean, you were in a dream world induced by the Djin. When you had found out about them you had read that with a single touch Djin can send you into a dreamworld made up of your own desires, but while you were in there your body was being drained of all life. There was nothing you could do to get out, only hope that the boys would find you in time.
You looked back up at Dean, “I’m sorry, I’m just a little tired.” You use as an excuse, “Are you sure that’s all?” He asks, you think for a moment before nodding your head and moving closer to him. You rest your hands against his chest again and he settles his hands back on your waist, this time when he leans down to kiss you you’re ready and obliged. The kiss was long and passionate, with your fingers tangling in his hair, and your hearts beating in unison. When you finally parted for the need of oxygen, you thought about how soft his lips were, and what he tasted like. He smiled at you and slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You followed along as he led you to the room you had previously exited. You both crawled into the bed, but you kept a little distance between the two of you, well you did until he rolled over and slung his arm across your waist. Your whole body tensed, not quite used to this yet. After just laying there for a while you finally let yourself relax, and sink into sleep with Dean’s arm around you. 

You knew none of this was real, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

That night you were able to sleep, actually sleep. You didn’t have to worry about the things that go bump in the night or only being able to get the 'necessary 4 hours of sleep’ as Dean would put it. You were able to be comfortable, let yourself be vulnerable, which was something you didn’t let yourself do. The bright sunlight pouring through the windows was what made you stir. Blinking open your sleep filled eyes you sighed, forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make your way towards the kitchen. You managed to find the pans and cooking utensils pretty easily, almost like you knew exactly where they’d be. Making your way towards the fridge you rummaged for bacon and eggs. After you finally found them you went back over to the stove and began cooking. When everything had been situated you went over to the coffee maker, placing in a new filter and grinds you brew your coffee. You went back over to the stove and continued flipping the eggs and bacon. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and you breathed in deep, inhaling the rich smell. You jumped a little when two arms snaked around your waist, but relaxed into them when you realized it was Dean. He nuzzled into your neck, peppering your neck with soft kisses. You turned yourself around, slipping your arms around his neck and rising up on your tip toes so you can plant a quick kiss to his lips. When you lean back you give him a small smile before turning back around to continue cooking. He squeezed your hips before sauntering off to the kitchen table earning a squeal from you, and a smile and wink from him. You smiled to yourself as you dished the food out onto two plates placing them on the table then walking back over to the coffee pot and pouring two cups of coffee. You added milk and sugar to yours, but kept his black, just the way he liked it. You placed his cup on the table in front of him, he smiled up at you and you smiled back. Sitting down at the table you both began eating.

A little while had passed, and you two were just sitting in silence, sipping your coffees until he said something that confused you. “How did I get so lucky?” You looked up at him from the rim of your mug and gave him a confused smile “What do you mean?” You asked, “I mean to get someone like you. Your too good for me y/n I don’t know how I ever managed to get you to go out with me, let alone marry me.” You spluttered the sip of  coffee currently in your mouth back into the mug in your hands. Looking down at your left hand you noticed the gold band on your finger, and all the air you had in your lungs had somehow disappeared as you couldn’t seem to breathe. You and Dean were married? What the hell.
You drew your gaze back up to Dean, meeting his green orbs with your own y/e/c ones, and suddenly all the air had returned to your lungs along with the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach. You and Dean were married. You chuckled to yourself a little before standing up and walking over to Dean, placing yourself on his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders, and his loosely holding your waist. You both just looked into each other’s eyes for awhile before you spoke. “I think I should be the one asking that question Mr. Winchester, I mean how did I manage to end up with the most brave, selfless, caring man I have ever known. And let’s not forget the sexist man either.” You winked at him after saying the last part. He smiled and you leaned down planting a long, slow kiss to his lips. “God I love you.” He whispered, and you smiled “I love you too.” You pecked his lips again before standing up, taking your dishes and placing them in the sink.

He stood up as well, placing his dishes in the sink with yours, “I’m gonna hop in the shower” you nodded. He came up behind you and whispered in your ear, “You can join if you want” at this you could feel your cheeks heat up, and you contemplated his offer. You nod your head “Uh- yeah I’ll be in a minute.” He smiles at you and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you flustered. What have I gotten myself into. You let a couple minutes pass before you made your way to your shared bathroom. You creaked open the door, stepping inside and closing it behind you. The air was hot and thick, from the steaming water. You peeled off you clothes from the day before, discarding them in a corner before stepping into the hot shower and stepping behind Dean, wrapping your arms around his waist. He placed his hands over yours before turning around to face you. You felt a little self conscious considering you were revealing everything to him, but at the same time you knew he would never judge you, one of the qualities you favored in him. You placed one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, and you both leaned in to connect your lips together. Your bodies were pressed against one another, hands tangled in hair, exploring each other. Lips moving in sync, and reconnecting after gasping for breath. Everything that happened after that was a state of bliss.

The two of you were now curled up on the couch, where you have been for most of the day, beer in hand watching Caddyshack. Interrupting your movie was a knock at the door. “Ugh.” You sigh as you stand up going to see who interrupted you. When you reached the door you swung it open revealing a very relieved Sam. “Oh thank god y/n your okay.” He sighed, embracing you in a big bear hug. “Nice to see you too Sam.” You say as he squeezes you tight, “What are ya’ doing here Sammy?” You questioned. “I’m here to bring you back y/n.” He answers, “Bring me back? Sammy what are you talking about? Bring me back to where?” You asked confused. “Home y/n, I’m here to bring you back home.” He states, “Home? Sam I am home, where I belong. This is where I’m supposed to be, this is where I want to be.” I raise my voice a little, starting to get defensive. “y/n, baby is everything alright?” You hear Dean’s voice before he makes his way to the door, standing beside you and placing his arm on the small of your back. You seen Sam give you a look before you averted your gaze to the floor, “Hey Sammy what are ya’ doing here?” Dean questioned, “Oh ya’ know, just came by to say hi, actually Dean do you mind if I talk to y/n for a minute?” Sam asked hopefully. “Uh, yeah sure. I’ll just head to our room, uh night Sammy.” He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before turning, and walking towards your room.

“Dean? Really y/n, Dean?” Sam questioned. “Sam!” You hit him in the shoulder. “Uh, yeah sorry, I mean your really happy?” He asked. You smiled to yourself before answering him, “Yeah Sam, I really am.” He sighs, “What Sam?” You ask angrily. “y/n I’m really sorry, but this isn’t real, none of this is real except me. You got touched by a Djinn, this is all just a dream, and we’re trying to save you.” He confesses. You take in a sharp breath, and then whisper “I know” he looks at you, not quite hearing what you had said. “What?” Sam asks, “I know Sam!” You shout, “I know that none of this is real, and that this is something I can never have, but here I can. I’m happy here Sam, and I don’t want to leave.” You cry, “y/n I’m sorry but you know you can’t stay, you know what will happen to you.” He tries to reason with you. “Sam it’s not fair. It’s not fair that we don’t get to be happy, that we’ll never get to have this. I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay here where I’m happy, with Dean. Please.” You plead, “I’m sorry y/n, I really am but sometimes life isn’t fair, and this is one of those times, but you can’t stay.” He says sadly. You nod, feeling your eyes start to burn with tears, but you don’t let them fall. “Okay Sam, I’ll go, just let me say goodbye?” You ask, he nods and you turn away making your way to your room. You slowly walk through your door, and sit on the edge of the bed next to Dean. You take his hand into yours and examine it, nervously playing with it. He leans forward, placing his hand under your chin making you look up at him. When you look into his eyes your heart breaks, and you can feel the tears involuntarily cascade down your cheeks. “Baby what’s wrong?” He asks worriedly, you try to smile through the tears, but a whimper escapes your lips. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You ask, cupping his cheek with your free hand. “Everyday baby, but what’s going on? Talk to me.” He asks stroking your cheek, “Thank you” you whisper, “For what?” He asks, “For making me happy, for giving me what I can never have.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You press your lips to his, savoring your last kiss with him. You could taste your salty tears streaming down your face, you smile into the kiss before you pulled away. Dean reached his hand up to wipe away your tears, “I love you Dean” you smile, “I love you too y/n” He smiles. “Goodbye Dean.” You whisper. Squeezing your eyes shut. When you open them again your alone, wallowing in your own tears. You stand up and take a deep breath before exiting the room, and leaving with Sam.


The next thing you know your waking up in a hospital, with an IV in your arm, and two bodies by your side. Slumped back asleep in a chair on your right was Sam, his limbs were stretched all over the place which made you let out a dry laugh. You turned to your left and Dean was asleep in a chair as well, but had his head resting on your bed. You smiled a sad smile. When you heard rustling beside you, you looked down at your left side and were met with those beautiful green eyes. He smiled up at you and you tried your best to give one back, but it was hard. 

“Hey” you croaked, “Hey” he whispered. Sam stirred and you looked over to see him looking at you, “Hey” he said. “Thank you.” You whispered, your eyes welling with tears, Sam gave you a sad smile. You blinked and everything was back to the way it had been before you sank into that beautiful dream.

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Coffee Quest
How to make some pretty dope coffee!
By adding the spices and flavors to your grinds they get brewed in and taste way better than adding them post brew to your cup.
I find this mix kinda removes that “this is coffee taste/ smell ” for my friends who don’t normally like coffee and they really enjoy it . I really like a bold coffee that can light your hair on fire but for those who don’t use only one or two scoops of grinds.
💫The Make more cool stuff artist support line:
Patreon.com/ItsRainingNeon

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anonymous asked:

*psst* since you seem to like Mccree a lot (and who doesn't tbh) do you have some headcanons about him?

Anon, I do, I do. He’s a sweetheart, and I just want him and many people to be happy. But I have a lot of conflicting ones because they all seem plausible and appealing. There’s a ton of angst here (but that’s not really surprising). Thanks for the request!

  • Jesse McCree is a coffee man. A gourmet coffee man courtesy of Gabriel Reyes whose first kind gesture to give him a cup of coffee that he brewed himself.
    • Gabriel Reyes taught McCree how to roast, grind, and brew coffee. He’s never tasted anything so heavenly–he never really liked coffee before, he only ever drank shitty coffee. But now, his day begins and continues on a nice cup o’ joe. 
    • He judges restaurants and cafes by their coffee. He keep a book of reviews to determine what to expect if he has to go there next time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a place famous for its pie, he won’t go back if the coffee sucks.
  • This is now more of a character analysis on my end, and is somewhat off-putting to people, but contrary to what I like to write, he seems like a person to keep people at arm’s length. He’s a charmer, he’s a smooth-talker, sure, but he’s not one to open himself to a relationship or let someone into his heart. Everything he’s ever loved, everyone who’s ever cared for him was violently taken away from him. He’s not going to open himself to that sort of pain. Besides…
  • He hates himself. He hates dealing with the reality of what happened. Jesse is cocky, but it’s an act. He has a ton of self-loathing for many reasons. 
    • He’s like, who is he kidding? He’s no hero. He can’t even be a proper bad guy–he got caught, turned a new leaf, got that leaf turned to ashes, and now he’s lost again. 
    • He feels like he’s a curse. His sniping mentor, Ana, died. The man who took him in and gave him another chance, Gabriel, died. Jack Morrison, his boss’s boss, was also dead. Who’s next? He couldn’t handle that nonsense. 
  • He had some sort of friendly rivalry with Fareeha. He often trained with her. They were close in age when they met, but Fareeha was better than him at hand-to-hand. But he was better at shooting. 
    • This vaguely contributed to the rift between Fareeha and Ana. It’s the start of something that they couldn’t see, but I might leave that for a different post. 
    • Even now, they engage in some friendly competition
  • Jesse McCree is afraid of the cold. He won’t admit he’s ever cold, however. But when it’s freezing, he’s just sluggish and wants nothing more than to go back to bed. 
  • In Blackwatch, he learned a lot of things:
    • He learned how to write. No, not like the alphabet, but he learned how to write compelling reports and had a way with words. He already had a silver tongue, but to put that into writing, he’s golden. 
    • He learned a lot of weird things from Overwatch and Blackwatch–ballistics, hunting, tracking, drinking, cheating at cards, cooking, taking care of kids. He may have been an angry kid, but he was kept very, very busy. 
    • He’s not great at doing analysis or the tedious stuff, but he can manage it. 
  • Ana was his mentor, but not entirely by choice. Gabriel thought Ana would be able to tenderize this bad-mouthed kid. At first, Jesse had no respect for her, but when he saw her skill, he’s immediately starry-eyed. 
  • He doesn’t drink as much as he wants everyone to believe. He’ll take a small sip here and there for courage and to warm himself up, but it’s not like he’s drinking 24/7. He has good tastes, also. His palette is very particular. 
  • This is a little evidence to support this, however, a elaborate headcanon I have is that Joel Morricone is Jesse McCree’s real name. When Gabriel Reyes made him pick, “Jail or Me”, he had Joel change his name to Jesse McCree to protect himself from members of the Deadlock Gang who would be pissed to that he betrayed them. He brought it back as a civilian when Blackwatch fell. No one in Deadlock remembers him anymore anyway, most of them are rotting in jail.  
    • He’s using his blogger position to slowly cover up Overwatch’s return. He’s a sneaky guy. 
Recipe: the perfect iced coffee

Forget Starbucks. Make your own damn iced coffee.

Instructions:

  1. Make sure your container is cold before you brew. 
  2. Grind your coffee a little finer than traditional filter batch brew.
  3. Weigh your coffee: 165 grams (Don’t give us that look. You want the perfect coffee, right? So, get yourself a kitchen scale! Geez. )
  4. Weigh your ice: 750 grams
  5. Measure hot water for brewing: 1,800 grams
  6. Brew directly over ice and cool immediately. Brew time should be extended as long as possible – approximately seven minutes.

Need more information? Have faith. You can do it. 

And don’t be afraid to fail … or experiment. Don’t lose sight of the goal: to discover the magic coffee-to-ice ratio that meets your own very specific tastes and brings you immense pleasure. 

Photograph: Getty Images/StockFood

We’re Wolfmen

He truly did love his job. Coffee had become such a central part of his life, and it was a return to normalcy to smell the coffee beans, to grind them himself, to brew them, and make every customer’s day a little easier to deal with.  He came home that night, a bright smile upon his face as he walked out of his beloved shop, seeing the familiar face waiting for him, just as he had been for months. The autumn had fallen into winter, and he pulled his coat over himself a little tighter. “It’s good to see you… Did you have a good day?” he asked, and his smile couldn’t be any happier to see the other. 

THIS IS A CRISIS my new workplace has a STARBUCKS DISPENSER that grinds the beans and brews the coffee THE MOMENT YOU WANT IT and you can make an account and pay for your coffee with a swipe of your THUMBPRINT oh  no I AM GOING TO GO BROKE HELP ME

The idea that a corporation is entitled to anything other than its costs of operation (overhead, supplies) plus a reasonable labor cost, which I would include in costs of operation, should not be ridiculous. Corporations should exist to provide meaningful services to communities, not to garner profits for a few bosses by selling what hundreds of workers create. Of course, that is not how corporations actually function and probably not how they ever will funcion. “Profit” is a coded capitalist term used to describe the theft of value which a worker has produced and no, bosses are not entitled to that. The prioritization of profit over human worth and over actual contribution to the world is a cornerstone of capitalist reasoning though- “profit” as a valid gain for corporations has been naturalized but it is in no way natural.

This is why capitalism is exploitative at its root- in order for “profit” to happen, the capitalist hires a worker at a wage less than the value of what the worker creates. This wage allows the worker a certain amount of time to use the means of production in many physical settings- Starbucks workers need machines, beans, water, milk, tea, etc in order to make espresso and tea drinks. For $7.25/hour (to start) they use these, but make more than $7.25 an hour in sales, creating a profit margin for the company. That extra value (surplus value) is soaked up by the capitalist. Part is funneled back into the business but much is kept as a profit. Their money, as such, goes from being capital (here, money that will be used) to a temporary loss (paying the worker for say twenty minutes until they make $7.25 in sales, buying machines and supplies, etc) to being a profit for the company. But the profit itself is created by the worker- the latte doesn’t become a latte until the working crafts it by hand, and customers won’t pay for the raw materials of a few espresso beans and a half cup of milk. When a customer wants a cup of coffee it is all good and well that Starbucks has provided cups, beans, and a machine for brewing. But the customer will not pay for these things and if the customer won’t pay there is no profit. Profit is created by the workers using the materials and creating a product which can be sold- when the worker grinds and brews the coffee and sell it, they create profit. This is what we meant when we say workers create the world’s wealth and understanding profit as theft is what we mean when we say that they are robbed of the value they create.

Anyway, all of this is very basic and I probably used some terms incorrectly but this is the basis of the post I made before this, which I want to be understood as a joke but a joke expressing something I do very earnestly believe. These are actually very serious things I think of every time I clock in at work or come up short for a bill.

loyalbadgerlove  asked:

Hi! I'm a little confused as how is possible to burn coffee? In which step that happens?

Cheap beans (which tend to be the ones found in most American homes and large chain franchises unless stated otherwise) tend to be a little sub par in their roasting preparation, which can lead to the beans being burned and creating an acrid taste, regardless of how finely you grind or brew them.

Coffee can also be very easily burned during the brewing process, by heating the water in use to over boiling point (100′c or 212′F) which burns the coffee grounds, creating that burnt taste.

So while you need your water to be over 90′c (so about 195F) to allow for maximum extraction of coffee goodness, you really don’t want it to be any hotter than say, 95′c. Unfortunately mos people just crank that sucker machine up to maximum because the hotter the better, right? (side note: that boiling hot function is there for CLEANING not brewing)  It’s the same with tea, tea should never be brewed with boiling water because it burns the leaves, and there are varying degrees at which different types of tea should be brewed at too. When I worked in the tea house we had individual kettle urns which we had to repeatedly check the temperatures on to ensure they were the right temp, otherwise you could ruin a very expensive batch of tea.

It’s also possible to get that burnt taste in chain houses from burning the milk. You know when the steamer machines screech steam? Yea, that’s too hot. It should be a gentle gradual heat to gain maximum foamy goodness and temp. And the thing is it takes roughly the same amount of time to make a coffee in a hurry, as when you do it properly, because you don’t spend so much time banging the steamer mug up and down on the counter or trying to get the fucking thing to foam because you’ve burned the shit out of it and your hand when it overflows because you overheated it, and your customer is left with a flat, slightly acidic cappuccino and no one is happy.

So yea, there’s a few ways in which coffee can be ruined and burned.