This is a perfect example of an easy bread that can be made every day. I mean, sure, it would be just as easy (if not easier) to use a sourdough starter, or to bake a large batch for several days in a row*, but if you are a fan of fresh, chewy, crusty bread every dang day than this is the one you want to use. This is the recipe I use whenever I need (or want) fresh bread for dinner. It’s easy. Seriously, it can be done in less than an hour. Plus it’s one of the best breads I’ve ever made, so there’s that too :)
*When one is involved in all the menial tasks to survival that we take for granted, sometimes we forget just what goes into ‘survival’. Peoples of Middle Earth would naturally have to work very hard, since not everyone can go on adventures and have everything taken care of for them. I like this little saying, even if it’s just household chores (leaving out planting, weeding, butchering, harvesting, thrashing, preserving, spinning, weaving, knitting, chopping firewood, etc.) I suppose I’m guilty of romanticizing the ‘olden lifestyle’; it sure sounds fun but if it came down to it I’ll stay in the 21st century, thank you very much. “Wash on Monday Iron on Tuesday Mend on Wednesday Churn on Thursday Clean on Friday Bake on Saturday Rest on Sunday.”
One time I dreamt that I was hunting werewolves in the California redwoods when suddenly Danny DeVito does a 16 foot horizontal leap out from behind a tree and looks me in the eye and says “I’m gonna piss on your cat”
I promptly woke up to go look for my cat at 2am
Summary: Pretending to be drunk isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Written for @bionic-buckyb writing challenge; Prompt: “I want to make you this happy for the rest of your life.”
Bucky x Reader
He blamed the alcohol. It made his world lag, like he could see the physical seconds between when an action actually occurred and the moment of perception. He could see the faint film of fog over glassy eyes, the dull buzz of a shot of vodka or a glass of whiskey and Coke creating a screen between the person drinking it and the world around them. The room was full of people, but they were all in their own heads.
That was the thing about drunk people; they always pretend to be more sober than they are. They realize when something they’ve said sounds drunk, so they overcorrect in order to sound sober. Or something they’ve done, they do it again so it looks like they’ve been doing it on purpose all along. Everyone around them would laugh and the subject would change in another flicker of an action-to-perception beat. The room would spin as fast as those changing dialogues.
top five fantasies victor had about yuri that yuri accidentally shattered
1. yuuri katsuki: international man of mystery
yuuri katsuki is not an international man of mystery. he is not an assassin, or a spy, which victor had begun to suspect by the time he first arrived in hasetsu. and that was a shame, because victor thought he could only be seduced that thoroughly by spies, and being an assassin would explain why he never called once, vanished into thin air, never to be seen again, probably not having existed at all. victor scours his room for clues while yuuri is in the bath, but instead of coming up with a secret weapons cache, all he finds is a hastily stashed collections of posters featuring himself. yuuri katsuki is definitely not an international man of mystery.
however, he is the most beautiful skater victor’s ever seen in his life. he lets music possess him, and when he smiles it sets victor’s whole body on fire because he feels like he earned it. yuuri katsuki is beautifully, wonderfully ordinary. he likes bad hip-hop, milk-flavored candies and he still reads comic books. when he speaks, he’s painfully sincere, more than victor’s ever been about anything in his entire life. he’s completely see-through, once you know where to look. and victor likes that even more.
2. yuuri katsuki is not a classy broad
when victor dreams of yuuri katsuki after the grand prix banquet, he anticipates a man more cultured. which is stupid, because yuuri was a mess the night of the grand prix banquet, but victor had seen him dance, and he thought only a man of refined tastes and pleasures can move so delicately when hammered, and so when he would write dream dates in his dream date diary he would write about taking yuuri to staraya tamozhnya or percoso or EM after a night at the opera, where victor would have blown yuuri thoroughly during an act of carmen in a private box. they would order ten course meals the size of their palms and yuuri would dissect the the wine menu and demand to see the sommelier. he would let victor spoon feed him sweetbreads and sea urchin and shark fin soup, close his eyes and moan.
on the way back from cup of china, they stay overnight in nagasaki before heading back to hasetsu. the restaurant they go to was secretly booked two months in advance, because if victor hadn’t kissed him by now, he was setting himself a deadline. the menu is a 14-course pre fix that thematically incorporates black walnuts.
yuuri orders the house red for 600 yen on happy hour. he wears the same terrible suit with the same awful tie he’s worn everywhere since victor’s known him. he does not like black walnuts. victor eats both of their portions.
which is fine, but it’s mildly disappointing. but on the way back, yuuri’s stomach growls, and victor feels so dumb about the whole thing until they pass by a small supermarket in a mall by the hotel, and yuuri tugs him by the hand inside without saying a word. he quietly picks out ingredients that amount to 1000 yen altogether, roughly 39,000 less than victor spent on dinner, and takes them back to the hotel. then he’s almost mad about it. they get back to the hotel and victor feels a Mood coming on, but then he looks at yuuri who is smiling shy to himself.
“i did this a lot in college,” he says, pouring water from the sink into a cup of noodles. he’s got the hotel’s iron upside down on the vanity and is cooking an egg on it.
“what,” victor says.
“you’ll see,” yuuri replies.
three minutes later, victor has the best meal in his life, second to only yuuri’s mother’s katsudon.
3. yuuri katsuki doesn’t have a foot thing
“what do you mean you don’t have a foot thing?” victor says confused. “everyone has a feet thing.”
“everyone does not have a foot thing, victor,” yuuri says, rolling his eyes. he wiggles his toes at victor anyway, feet in the air. “now c’mere.”
he lets victor fuck his feet anyway.
4. yuuri katsuki is not afraid of ghosts
“victor, what did you expect?” yuuri asks after the movie.
victor had expected to have yuuri curl up under his arm. victor had expected yuuri to hide his face during the scary parts and breathe against his chest, tuck his forehead in the curve of victor’s neck. instead, victor almost threw his drink at the screen and screamed yelled no less than six times.
“i thought you would be scared,” victor admits. the ghost girl made him cry.
“victor, i’m japanese,” yuuri says.
5. yuuri katsuki had an awkward phase
yuuri freaks out when he finds a video of an old performance on the internet, and immediately contacts the person who uploaded it to get it removed.
victor just sees part of the costume over his shoulder and stills. “yuuri. is that you?”
yuuri turns around, wide-eyed, trying to hide the screen behind his back. “no! definitely not me! just some–some weird kid!”
“when was that taken?” he hadn’t seen it in his first yuuri katsuki youtube fest 2014. or his second, two months later. or his third, fourth, or fifth for that matter. if someone out on the internet had more videos, he needed to know who it was.
“never,” yuuri says.
“yuuri.” victor frowns at him, and when that doesn’t work, tries puppy dog eyes.
“my freshman year of college,” yuuri admits. “it was–college in america was weird. i let go for a little bit.”
“like you overate?” victor asks. he’s heard from other skaters in juniors who left the sport for school in the states–they called it the “freshman fifteen.”
“no, like i,” yuuri says, stops, looks away. “i may have spent an entire month on ecstacy.”
“what,” victor says.
“i, i, i liked to party? for awhile, anyway, and it was fun, and i lost control, and anyway, it was just for awhile, but i was still listening to a lot of terrible music by the time i started working on the first free skate for my senior debut, and–”
victor’s snuck around him as he’s been shamefully staring away, and he starts laughing. “are you kidding? you skated to darude’s sandstorm? we have to watch this.”
yuuri tackles victor straight into the table, breaking the laptop. it is three more days before victor can finally watch the video in peace, hiding in the bathroom with his cellphone, before he contacts the guy to ask if there are more.
(A langst fic inspired by @alienslovetea’s “Frost.” Check their blog out!)
Lightening surges beneath his fingertips. His muscles convulse, clench, loosen. His eyelids flutter as he seizes.
Garbled screams come through the intercom, distorted and lost to his electrified ears. Lance wants to answer back, but he’s locked in place, his body contorting against his will.
Blue shuts down completely, overloaded with power. Electricity still runs through her, burns under Lance’s skin and creates tracks of fire up his face.
All at once the electricity stops dead, though a cooling wave of relief cannot crush the way his body tingles, the way his body aches the way it does.
Lance heaves a great breath, head rolling limply in his seat. He is dazed, shocked — literally and figuratively — lost to the pain he feels. Light flashes and pops outside of Blue, faint behind the dead screen. Lance feels himself being carried, but cannot move to try and fly away. He only hopes it is his team.
The world swirls around him, dips in and out of his vision, plays a game of catch with his eyes. Lance can hear himself breathing, a dry, rattling noise he can’t stand, but he is so, so tired and is willing to put up with it if he can sleep.
Just shut your eyes.
It’s so quiet here.
“LANCE!” A voice shrieks in his ear, jolting him awake. The pain that streaks through him wakes him up more than whoever just screamed, though, but the saltiness of his tears shocks him more. His tears burn, sting, somehow reminder this situation is all too real.
Lance can’t move himself to speak. He tries, he really does, but his throat screams when he swallows to say something. Lance settles for humming.
“It's— it’s Shiro. We’re taking you back to the castle. I’ve got you buddy.”
He hums in acknowledgment, and… promptly blacks out.
“Just a few more ticks,” Allura snaps. Keith gets a vague, sickening feeling of deja vu, a mirror of a situation from years past.
“What’s a few more ticks going to do? Let him out!” Keith urges, impatient. He’s waited so long for Lance to leave the pod, and how’s a few more fucking ticks going to affect his recovery? Keith huffs.
“Calm down, Keith. You’re not the only one waiting on a friend,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith briefly wonders if he’s talking about Lance before turning his attention back to the pod.
“It’s been a “few more ticks,” Allura. I’m opening the pod.“
From the corner of his eye, Keith can see Pidge glaring at Lance’s pod. She looks just as tempted to press the button as he is, but Keith wouldn’t be surprised if Pidge actually—
A hissing sound followed by mist leaks from the pod, which was then followed by a body falling forward. Keith steps forward, catches him, whispers “I’ve got you,” and hope no one hears.
Hunk barges forward, and nearly snatchesLance away from his arms, eagerly searching for signs of life on his groggy face. “Heeeeeeey buddy,” Hunk begins, patting and petting his friend’s hair and face. “I know it’s been a while but how do you feel about eating?”
Keith inches forward a little closer. He wants to see Lance’s face.
“How long have I been out?” was the response instead, Lance’s voice thick and quiet much like one waking up from a nap.
“Too long, pal,” Hunk grins, and Pidge says “Like, a month! Do you know how long we waited for you?”
Lance stands, slinging his arm around Hunk’s shoulder. “Maybe a month?”
Pidge immediately looks surprised before laughing, and even Keith has to admit that was pretty clever. He won’t tell anyone he laughed, though.
“Alright Lance, let’s get you to the kitchen. Some food goo will do you good.” Hunk secures his grip on his friend, totters away chatting like nothing ever happened. Pidge trots after, chattering like a bird.
Keith makes to follow, but he feels a heavy hand, albeit warm, on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?” Shiro asks, just as familiar as always. “I know you were pretty anxious to see Lance again.”
“I’m fine, Shiro,” Keith says, even though he knows Shiro is right and he’s already feeling jittery to catch up. “Thanks for asking.” He says, though it’s more of an afterthought than anything.
Shiro blinks, chuckles, pats Keith on the back. “Alrighty tiger.” He nods his head in the direction Hunk and Lance and Pidge went. The second Keith feels Shiro’s hand retract, he’s off, ignoring Shiro’s laughter and Allura’s inquiries.
“Let’s calm down, okay Lance?” Hunk smiles at him, but the way he holds his body screams of defense. Lance knows Hunk is feeling threatened. His body language reflects that, but Lance doesn’t know how to shut this off.
Frost. Frost everywhere.
It sears his fingertips, encompasses nearly the entire kitchen except for the patches Hunk and Pidge stand on. She stares at him with owlish eyes, fascinated and frightened. “I— I am calm,” Lance says, though it sounds more like a question even to his own ears. A burst of ice shoots from his hands seeing his friend’s distress. “I don’t.. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Maybe it’s.. you…” Pidge starts, before something clicks and she gasps. “When you were electrocuted inside Blue, maybe, maybe she transferred some of her powers to you. Maybe it was through quintessence, in an attempt to help you survive all the electricity— that really was a huge ball of electricity that fleet through at you, there was no way you and apparently Blue alone could take a hit like that and survive, so, so—”
“Right, sorry. I think you have Blue’s powers now.”
Lance winces, and the frost hardens, thickens to what may be ice. “How do I… how do I control this?”
Pidge shrugs like it isn’t a big deal.
Hunk, however, takes a step forward, nearly melts like the ice does around his foot when he makes it safely. “It seems you want to protect us, maybe? I guess we shouldn't— we should keep you calm, huh?” Pidge starts again, taking a tentative step towards Lance as well. Lance feels like a livewire, jittery, stripped raw and nervous. One wrong move, He thinks. One wrong move.
“What’s going on in here?” Keith stops in, crushing the frost beneath his boot. “Keith, wait—” Hunk and Pidge shouts, but it’s too late. Lance starts, jumping, a spout of cool mist covering the floor and freezing all four paladins in the room up to their knees.
Lance’s heart races, and he feels so terribly stupid for letting go like that. Now his feet are cold and his friends are covered in ice… and he has no idea how to voluntarily melt it.
i love alexa but dude……..this just throws everything off the months of build up for sasha and bayley’s eventual feud to come to an abrupt holt like that someone please explain to me who’s behind this i just wanna talk
Which characters do you think would most likely wear a matching onesie with their s/o? I have no idea where this came from except that I'm currently wearing my own onesie. 😂
We have a secret for you, anon… Us admins had extensive onesie headcanons long before you sent this in. This was just fun to write, though! ~Admins Emma, Alyx and Ellie
Asahi: You got him a Totoro onesie for his birthday; it was about 50% a joke, but it backfired, because he’s addicted to the thing. Suga makes fun of him and Noya judges the hell out of him but he doesn’t even care because he’s toasty as hell and he looks adorable, so there! The fact that it was a gift from you? Even better; plus it gives him extra excuses for extra cuddles, so it’s fantastic. It doesn’t really fit all that well, considering how tall and broad he is, but he doesn’t really care, so long as he’s comfortable.
Bokuto: Super pumped always. Super into cheesy matching stuff either way, but in his opinion, nothing beats a super cozy onesie. It’s cliche as hell, but he definitely has an owl one (he’s committed to his aesthetic). Problem is no matter what he does, it’s about two sizes too small in the shoulders and too short on the arms and legs, so he always has to roll his up and leave it a bit open on the collar. #Baraproblems
Kuroo: Nya, bitches! He wears his cat onesie with fucking pride and he’ll fight you if you say anything about it. Kuroo is social, studious, and dedicated as hell, so he’s out and about 90% of his life. When he has a day with just you, he refuses to human and just burritos in his cozy-ass onesie with coffee and Disney movies. If you manage to special-order one to fit his titan ass, he will be forever grateful.
Oikawa: Let’s be honest, he’s at least partly into it just for the cutesy couple selfie. To be fair, though, the two of you do look absolutely adorable. Besides, the things are cozy. What better to curl up in and watch alien movies with you? (Oikawa does have about a foot of ankle sticking out at the bottom, but that’s what his extensive sock collection is for.)
Ushijima: Honestly, he is down for just about anything you’re into, and if it’s matching onesies, then he won’t fight you. He might not 100% get it, but he must admit the thing is comfortable. Sadly, it is so small on him, he basically has to pull the ankle cuffs right under his knees, which sort of defeats the purpose, but all the better to admire those calves, really. Even if he totally overwhelms the little cow onesie you got him (“Ah, because the first character in my name means “cow.” I get it.”) he looks totally precious and is 100% down for snuggles no matter the wardrobe choices, so everything is great by his standards.
Tendou: Pokemon onesies, anyone? It really doesn’t matter which pokemon, Tendou will love it. However, he’ll look entirely too adorable in a pikachu one–his hair matches the cheek spots. Okay so maybe it’s like 50% adorable and 50% ridiculous, but you love him for it. Even when he keeps saying ‘pika pika!’ even after you told him that it was funny the first fifty times, Satori. It’s still worth it though, because eventually he will actually stop, and you get to enjoy the coziest, toastiest cuddles ever.