#dry bread crumbs

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

The Apple Pie and the Banana Bread.

#banana bread was a little dry but i didnt have eggs so i used an oil/water/backingsoda mix in their place #shoukd have added a little applesauce. i knew the dough was to doughy. #its not over dry its actually really good with a little peanut butter or butter and a cup of tea. its a bit dense to the crumb is tight. #and yes the skins are on the apples. i like them that way.

[stumblngrumbl]

had some bread that was getting on in age and unlikely to be eaten as its successor loaf was about to be made

i chopped it up and it into the blender (not all at once but what could be blended reasonably)

since the bread wasn't totally dried out, the blender just shredded it most of the way but not down to the typical "bread crumb" size

put in the oven on super low to dry out, this will go really well on stuff similar to panko

#if the bread is totally dry it's very tough to cut be very careful with the knife #and i suggest doing it outside because dry crumbs to flying #this bread had a great crumb structure which contributed to the blender not reducing it too far #sourdough #cooking

[prokopetz]

It never cease to amaze me how comprehensively store-brand gluten free bread manages to suck. Not only does the stuff I'm trying this morning have a faint chemical aftertaste and the texture of open-cell styrofoam and fall into crumbs at the slightest touch, but when you toast it, it gets dry and hard but doesn't turn brown. Like, abolishing the very concept of flavour is practically expected at this point, but defeating the Maillard reaction? Now that's impressive.

#life #food

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image is of a golden brown boule studded with blueberries and covered with seeds; second image shows the boule cut in half to show a holely bread with blueberries throughout. End ID]

Rustic no-knead blueberry bread

This is a crusty, no-knead, sweet-savory bread that pairs blueberries with spices and herbs inspired by West Asian cooking. Fennel, anise, sesame, and mahlab powder are reminiscent of the دُقَّة كَعْك ("duqqa ka'k"; cake powder) used in pastries, while za'tar and caraway skew more savory.

The long rise yields a well-fermented dough with a robust flavor that stands up well against the sweetness and pungency of the fennel and aniseed. The result is a jammy, complex, aromatic boule.

This bread has an open, irregular crumb, great for slicing, toasting, dipping, or spreading. Try it with labna and honey, olive oil and za'tar, or a spreadable cheese. I've also made sandwiches with thick slices of this bread and fried, glazed tofu drizzled with tarator and topped with Iraqi mango pickles, to excellent effect.

Recipe under the cut!

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Makes one medium-sized boule.

Ingredients:

3 cups (360g) bread flour

2 tsp kosher salt

1/4 tsp dry active yeast

2 tsp mahlab powder (optional)

1 tsp fennel seed + 1 tsp aniseed, coarsely ground

About 1 2/3 cup water (room temperature)

1/2 cup firm fresh blueberries

1 Tbsp za’tar (wild thyme), crumbled

Additional fennel seeds, aniseed, caraway, and sesame, to top

Mahlab (محلب) powder is the ground-up pits of Mahleb cherries. It can be purchased at a halal or specialty spice store.

Za'tar (wild thyme) can be found in dried form at a halal grocery store. Note that the spice blend, which includes wild thyme, sumac, sesame seeds, and other spices, will also be labelled "za'tar." If you don't have or can't locate any of the herb itself, use any dried woody herb of your choice (e.g. rosemary, thyme, sage), chopped.

Instructions:

1. Making the dough. Measure flour into a large mixing bowl. Add salt, yeast, seeds, and thyme and stir to combine.

2. Gradually add water until a soft, sticky dough forms. You may need more or less than 1 2/3 cup.

3. Flatten dough in the bowl and top with some of the blueberries. Fold the dough to enclose the blueberries, add more blueberries on top, and fold again. Repeat until all blueberries are incorporated.

4. First rise. Shape dough into a ball and place in the bowl seam-side down. Pat the top of the dough with some olive oil and cover the bowl with a kitchen towel. Allow to rest at room temperature for 16-20 hours.

5. Shaping. Gently remove the dough from the bowl and allow it to deflate. Shape the boule by folding an edge in over the center, rotating the dough slightly, and repeating until you have gone all the way around.

6. Flip the ball over so the seam side is down. Place your hands on either side of the dough and then move them down towards the base of the boule, tucking some of the dough under and towards the seam, to tighten the top of the ball. Rotate the ball slightly and do this again, repeating until you've gone all the way around a couple times.

This is the basic method for shaping a boule, lightly adapted to avoid breaking any blueberries. If any of the blueberries start to pop out of the surface of the dough, just press them back in.

7. Second rise. Place your boule on a piece of parchment paper and cover with a kitchen towel. Allow to rise for 1-2 hours, until noticeably puffy.

8. Baking. Place a Dutch oven in your oven and preheat to 450 °F (230 °C). Remove the Dutch oven and place the boule, along with the parchment paper, inside. Put the lid on the Dutch oven and return it to the oven. Bake for 30 minutes.

9. Remove the Dutch oven's lid and bake bread for another 20 minutes, or until the crust is deeply golden brown.

To bake the bread without a Dutch oven, preheat a baking tray in the center of the oven, while preheating a skillet (rated to at least 450 °F) in the bottom; once preheated, transfer the bread and parchment paper to the tray, and pour a few cups of water in the skillet; bake for 30 minutes. Remove the skillet and bake another 20 minutes until golden brown.

Allow the bread to cool completely before cutting into it to avoid creating a mushy texture.

#vegan recipes #vegetarian recipes #recipes #bread #blueberries

[jjkeremika]

Peanut Butter Kisses (levi ackerman x reader)

levi’s guilty pleasure food is peanut butter. he loves the goopy spread, pairing it with apples, celery, breads, or even just on its own. he sneaks downstairs in the early morning for a taste, hides in the kitchen during the film to take a heap. you’ve spotted him a few times dipping his finger in the jar and plopping a bulky glob into his mouth; like he didn’t just make a scene over you unhygienically eating out of the crisps bag. you never said anything; you let him play his persona and kept his secret a secret held close to your chest.

normally he was maybe a little plain but especially very clean when he ate, rarely applying condiments and leaving little crumbs, keeping the plate tidy, and stacking everything up at the end.

but peanut butter was sticky and gooey and oily and residual. it left water-impartial remnants and unsavory textures on utensils and dishes and clothes. it left a dry and sappy mouth with a smacking tongue and a double need to swallow. it lingered with a ghostly veil over lips and a distinct smell.

he’s embarrassed because he’s conflicted; he shouldn’t like it; kenny told him that when he was young—because it was a messy, rare commodity back then and levi “will become a tidy, tasteful, and thoughtfully-frugal man.”

one day, a little before levi usually woke up for his snack, you peaked into the kitchen, immediately went to his “secret stash,” fished out an open jar, and ate a spoonful. you ran your fingertip along the spoon, collecting a film of peanut butter and applying it to your lips like a balm.

he tiredly walked into the kitchen, yet still brightly smiled once he spotted you near the counter, hiding the loose jar behind you. his hands graced your hips and your lips joined for a kiss, one that he immediately moaned into once the taste of peanut butter touched his tongue, “h’oh, you taste so fucking good.”

you exhaled hot breath onto the skin behind his ear, heard the sharp inhale and felt the hairs rising to meet your lips. “i applied some to my nipples, too,” you said in a hushed, half-whisper, leaning back to see his gorgeous face and dilated pupils, “wanna’ see?”

the whine he released was gutturally primal, escaping from the depths of his lungs and breaking from a caged lifetime of unnecessary guilt. his pupils veered towards max dilation, and his restrained erection eagerly ached as his eyes roamed your face, struggling to focus between your eyes and your lips. “oh, yes,” he answered desperately, “absolutely yes.”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #aot levi #snk levi #jjkeremika #levi smut

[ghostboneswrites2]

Dirty 30 || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Request from @mrs--hiddleston on my old blog: It's my 30th Birthday today and I was wondering if I could request some fluff of all fluff related around the reader turning 30? They're very shy, always been told they're not good enough, escapee of a abusive relationship, never really been shown love?

Summary: Daryl plans a special day for you on your 30th birthday.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, mentions of past abuse, mostly fluffy

        "Why didn't ya tell me?" Daryl asked from behind you. You were doing your usual; morning coffee for everyone, heating some bread and jam for everyone, other general morning duties to give everyone a start tot heir day. You were always the first to rise and the last to fall asleep.

        "Uh.. Tell you what?" You asked nervously. Had you forgotten to relay an important message? You hoped you hadn't messed up anything important.

        "Ya know." He urged.

        "I do?" 

        The only thing you could think was your birthday, but you'd never told anyone about it before and it wasn't a problem then. Plus, you'd hate to walk around begging for self celebration. 

        "Thirty?" He asked. You paused spreading jam on the toasted bread and turned to face him.

        "I..."

        "Why wouldn't ya tell me?" He pushed.

        Why would you? You two had grown pretty close since his arrival at Alexandria, where you'd spent the majority of the apocalypse. He visited you constantly, and a few of his friends lived with you. He took you on rides on his motorcycle, you two walked through the woods together. Still, you couldn't see it for what it was, and that was blatant interest in pursuing you.

        "I -- I don't know." You mumbled sheepishly.

        "Yeah ya do."

        "I.. forgot?" You tried to excuse it. The truth was just that you didn't know when or how to tell someone you had an upcoming day to be celebrated. You had never been celebrated, not once in your life. These people you had come to know and love had better things to do than spend their time on you.

        "No ya didn't." He shook his head, stepping closer to you.

        "I -- What's the big deal?"

        "It's your birthday." He said plainly.

        "Yeah, but I mean.. lots of people have birthdays. People that do a lot more for the world than me."

        "So?"

        "So I dunno.."

        "Didn't think it was important?"

        "No." You admitted. "I'm sorry."

        " 'S alright." He shrugged, grabbing a slice of toast from behind you and taking a bite. "C'mon," he talked through his full mouth, dry crumbs falling from his lips. "Eat and get ready."

        "W -- Where are we.."

        "Just hurry up."

        He was annoyed he didn't have time to get you a gift, but he still had a plan. You didn't talk much, or, really, you were borderline silent. He liked that about you sometimes, but he often wished you'd give him more. More about you, more of your interests, more of your thoughts, more of your voice, just more.

----

        "Ever been out this far?" He wondered. You shook your head. "Mm. Should take ya out more."

        You blushed a little. Nobody had ever taken you out, except maybe when your grandpa was still around and he took you for ice cream.

        You followed closely behind him. He had taken you on his bike until about a mile ago, from there the two of you had been hiking through the Virginia woods, mostly in silence. He wasn't much of a talker and you never felt like you had anything interesting to say. You came to a stop and gasped. He led you to the edge of a cliff. Not a big one like the Grand Canyon or something, but it was tall. It overlooked a waterfall on the far left, the mist raising and creating prismatic rainbows all around. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he took in the scene. His eyes landed on you, a small half smile playing at his lips.

        "Like it?" He asked. You nodded quickly, eyes falling back to the grand display of the earth's natural beauty.

        "I always wanted to see a place like this." You breathed. "You brought me here to show me?" You turned your attention back to him. He nodded as he looked down at you through the corner of his eyes. "Wow." Was all you could say.

        "Thought ya might like it. Ya didn't give me heads up enough to find you a real gift."

        "A real gift?" You scoffed. "I've never seen anything this beautiful."

        He struggled to contain a smile. Triumph. He found the perfect thing for you, even when you didn't want him to.

        "I have."

        "You have?" You asked innocently. "Like a bigger waterfall?"

        "Nah." He shook his head, eyes still on you, as nothing, not even a waterfall, would compare to that sight.

        "Oh." You choked. Was he talking about you? Of course not.

        "You have too." He told you. You pushed your eyebrows together in confusion.

        "I think I'd remember that."

        "Ya look in the mirror every day, don't ya?"

        "Well, yeah but I don't -- " Your eyes grew wide. He did mean you. "I -- I -- Oh."

        You stuttered and stumbled. Your ears and cheeks felt hot and you didn't even register the cheesy grin on your face. 

        He studied your face, grazing over every detail like words on a page. You were shy and reserved, much like him in a lot of ways, but unlike him your face was very expressive. Your eyes could tell him a thousand words in a mere second, and right now you read pure, astonished joy.

        "This is--"

        "Got somethin' else to show ya."

        He led you along the side of the cliff and helped you climb down some large boulders before he stopped you, gently tugging your arm down behind one of the boulders. 

        "Ya see?" He whispered. You peered over the surface of the large rock and scanned your eyes before you saw them. A Doe and her fawns. They were grazing the grass and drinking from the still water at the foot of the lake where the waterfall dumped into.

        "Oh my.." You breathed, eyes watering. Such purity in this world was a rarity at best.

        "Found 'em when I was trackin' a buck." He told you. "Didn't have it in me to kill 'em."

        "They look so happy." You nearly cried. He placed a hand on your back, right between your shoulders. He was always respectful of your body, never once touching an area that felt too intimate. Maybe one day, he thought, but never before you were ready.

        You leaned in closer to him, resting your weight into his side. You couldn't peel your eyes away. A family of deer knew more peace than you had ever known, and you had the privilege of witnessing it. You never would have, had it not been for him.

        "Got one more surprise for ya." He whispered. You looked over at him, daring to break away from the beauty before you. He reached in his pocket and pulled something out. The glimmer of metal against the sun caught your eye first. When he let the thin chain hang from your fingers you realized it was a necklace. A dainty thing that looked like silver, with what looked like a handmade pendant. You slowly took it from him, looking closer at it.

        The pendant was a river rock, one that was naturally tumbled to a perfect little oval by the rushing waters of whatever stream he found it in. He had wrapped it in a thin metal wire, intricately weaving it in a pattern that looked neat and tidy. You ran your thumb over the smooth surface.

        "It's quartz, I think." He told you.

        "I think so too." You smiled, a tear spinning down your cheek. "You made this?"

        "I found the chain but.. Yeah." He nodded. You couldn't restrain yourself. You threw your arms around his neck, clutching his gift tightly in your fist. Salty tears glistened down your cheeks. Nobody had ever been this kind to you, let alone a man. Men had abused you, called you names, reminded you every day how worthless you were. Your father, every boyfriend, your brothers, your uncles. Not a single masculine soul had showed you kindness before, let alone put so much thought into making a day special for you.

        "This is the best birthday I've ever had." You whispered.

        His arms settled around you, embracing you in a strong hold.        

        "C'mon. It ain't that special--"

        "No." You shook your head, releasing him and looking him in the eyes as you quickly wiped your tears. "No, you don't get it. This is the most anyone has done for me. Ever."

        His eyes bore into yours, deciding you were serious. How disappointing to know that something as simple as a rock on a chain could sweep you away like this. Surely you deserved better.

        "I'll make the next one even better, if you'll let me."

----

        It was nearly nightfall by the time you made it back to Alexandria. He helped you off his bike, ever the gentleman, and held his hand on your mid-back the entire time he walked you home. You led him inside, planning to pour a glass of homemade mead for the two of you, but you realized there was light coming through your back windows.

        "What's that?" You inquired as the two of you walked to the backdoor. He stepped in front of you, wanting to open the door first. He held it open for you.

        As you stepped outside you nearly cried all over again. He admired your wide eyes as they glistened under the lights that had been strung up all around, marveling at all of the people, food, and drinks that had been waiting for you.

        "Happy birthday!" Everyone shouted. Rosita was the first to run up and hug you.

        "You didn't think we'd let you keep it a secret, did you?" She grinned as she stepped to the side. Everyone else came one by one. Tara, Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, a few of your friends from before Rick's people arrived. You didn't know this many people even liked you.

        Abraham stepped forward with a glass of wine for you. "Happy dirty-thirty." He winked as you accepted the glass. You spun and looked at Daryl, who was watching with a satisfied little smile.

        "You did this?" You asked. He shrugged.

        "Yes, he did. Don't let him tell you any different." Carol spoke up for him.

        "More like, he planned it." Tara interjected.

        "Yeah, we did all the hard work." Rick teased.

        And there it was. The first time you felt free to just talk. To enjoy people and be enjoyed. To allow others to celebrate you, and to celebrate the love they had for you.

        Daryl spent the rest of that night by your side, a large gesture for someone who tended to avoid social gatherings. You ate food, chatted with people, opened up about silly little things you would have never thought anyone cared to hear. You drank, giggled, laughed, danced, and for the first time in a long time -- maybe ever -- had a good time.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #mdni

[kit-williams]

Rein Raus

LETS KICK OFF 2024 OFF RIGHT

Remember when I said I would use Powerwolf titles for Black Templars... well none of them fit for this.

Thank you to @bleepblood236 and @egrets-not-regrets for wanting and encouraging me to continue Brother Roland and his Bäckerin

Thank you @bispecsual for double checking this

tw: smut, yandere, religious overtones?, black templars, scent stuff? appreciation of musky males

There's POV switching from what is happening and what led up to it

Rein, raus Rein, raus Rein, raus

She threw her head back as she could not stop the moan that ripped from her throat as her eyes rolled back and drool ran down her chin. She tried her best to suck it back into her mouth but still some splatted against Roland's broad chest. Her hands pushing hard into the muscle gut as his Bäckerin did her best to lift her hips but it was so hard given how spread she was.

A hand of his rested on her thigh as he couldn't wait to fatten them back up. He remembers the way she was when they had first arrived how soft and curvy his Bäckerin looked... she had lost so much of her softness... he would make sure she was back to her old self. She was far too lost in the pleasure to see the dark look in his eyes as soon she would be in his room fat with his sons.

The xenos were dead... and she had finally made good on her offer of bread as soon as there were some supplies. Perhaps Roland had gotten some ingredients from the ship... she smelt so good... so FECUND he tasted the air running his tongue against the gland on the roof of his mouth as she had kneeded the dough. Of course it would take time before the bread was done so it gave him an excuse to get away from her before he pounced on her.

Roland wasn't a monster... he had to make sure that she wanted him. Even if it wasn't to the same extent that he wanted her... she could learn to feel the same a crumb of her love would sustain him he would starve until he could eat her whole. He bit into the warm bread trying to not moan as it was the same colored as the sunkissed skin of hers... like her thigh.

She offered to show him her home... she led him into the musty ruined home as she just smiled sadly at how others had gotten in... food rotting from the ripped open fridge. He kept close to her and even the smell of rotting food could not stop her smell from reaching him. He wanted to run his tongue at the source and smear it over his face. He wanted that scent stained onto a purity seal... stained onto a cloth he would bring with him and just to INHALE his Bäckerin scent.

She moaned as one of his hands wrapped around her throat and just held it. He didn't need to squeeze but he watched her eyes flutter as she pressed her throat against his hand. How his Bäckerin rutted against his cock deep inside of her, her breasts bounced, her drool running down his wrist... the way her eyes were half rolled back.

"Oh they didn't take them!" She says so happily as she pulls a box out compartment in the floor. She looks at the little box of treasures, Roland doesn't understand the sentiment of them but they mean something to her. He sits on the mattress on the floor, his eyes flicking between it and her and then to something that just reaks of her. "Oh sorry I was told I was probably going to come back... so I left my dirty laundry... probably contributing to the bad smell."

"It smells like you."

"I hope you're meaning that in a good way."

"I do. Bäckerin." He purred out his nickname for her and he watched her look to him. "Come here... klein Bäckerin."

His throat went dry as she crawled over to him. Her eyes wide and he could smell her. He felt his will start to falter. He could still clearly hear her screaming how she wanted to have babies... so many babies. If we was recalling correctly. His legs were spread as the rough material of his tunic did little to deter his pulsing between his legs. He had to bite his palm as she started to sniff the air... he was always told how intensely he could smell all that testosterone... it could be an unpleasant musky smell... like her potent pheromone smell that wasn't much of a smell but it just made part of his brain itch. A prior partner did not enjoy his "musk"... but his Bäckerin? He watched her breathing deepen... and her face break out into a blush. Why he had to bite his hand? She dove between his legs pressing her face against the rough material near his cock and just inhaling. Her feminine smell growing stronger. Before she pulled away looking ashamed. "My Lord... I'm sorry... you... you just smelled so good."

Rein, raus Rein, raus Rein, raus

He chanted in his head as his hips rolled against hers. Her face buried into his tunic... more importantly the spot that was around his crotch. She was moaning against the rough fabric as there was no way for either of them to deny what they were doing by this point. Oh at first she could have said that she had fallen face first into his crotch... his heavy hand pushing her on accident back in... they were going to pray... her poor breasts with their small scratches on them from the rough material of his tunic. Yet she seemed to hardly care just focused on him fucking her.

"Please tell me you're close." She whined having already gotten off three times just by him thrusting in. His smell was the only thing keeping her wet for him.

"Ja, Ich bin." His hands gripped her hips harder as he moved just a bit harder and faster. He finally feels that cord inside of him snap and he feels his toes curl as he pulls her hips to his slowly grinding against hers as he moans softly painting her insides.

"Oh by the throne...." His Bäckerin moaned as he pulled his tunic away from her and pulled her to his chest.

He held his Bäckerin close just running his fingers through her hair. He felt so complete in this moment. "Bäckerin..."

"Hmmm?" She hummed to him as her hand trailed along an old scar.

"Come with me." He states and feels his throat tighten as a beat passes. "Come with me... you can still bake your breads on the ship. Honestly my brothers and I would appreciate them more. I can give you what you want. I can give you those babies you want... my dearest Bäckerin... come with me." He said softly

Good Girl End

She looked to him and her eyes sparkled with joy. "Roland... but... I... I don't know what to say."

"Say yes Bäckerin." He whispers to her leaving tender kisses along the top of her head.

"How long until you go? I've got affairs to wrap up. I've got to make sure the family business stays in the family... Oh by the throne. Oh Roland!" Her arms wrap around his neck as she kisses him hard. "Yes... yes I'll follow you."

This is how Roland dreamed of getting his Bäckerin just wooing her with his strength and devotion... their bodies joining cleanly at the waist... and her saying yes. It was all perfect.

Too perfect if you ask me.

Bad End? Persuasion end Bad Girl End

She looked to him with concern in her eyes as she slowly shook her head. "Roland... I can't."

For Roland his world turned to a finite point and he could hear the snap of that reality breaking. He keeps a calm face but inside... inside he is screaming. This was not how it was to go... she was suppose to be swept away... he earned her. By the will of the God Emperor they both survived... he prayed for her death if it wasn't meant to be.

"I've got to find my family... rebuild my business and my life... all these petty little mortal worries." She looks ashamed as she sits up on his stomach, she rubs the back of her neck where not even an hour earlier she was wearing pretty pearls... in her joy to find her heirlooms. "I just... I just don't think it would work."

Roland forced his hearts to beat slowly as of course it was her being a mortal... looking at the wrong picture. He saw her look at him with a worried expression, "Please don't be mad." She whispers softly.

He gave her a tender look, "Oh meine Bäckerin I could never be mad at you. Ja... perhaps you're right I was so caught up with it all. C'mere." He purrs sitting up and she easily and willingly crawls back into his lap. She sighs happily as their naked flesh moves against each other before his hand moves up and over her mouth and nose. She tries to pull her head back but that fails and he watches her eyes widen with fear and panic as she starts to make muffled cries.

Roland sat there like a stone statue as she desperately clawed as his skin... as her muscles grew heavier... her small hands clawing at his wrists. "Bäckerin this hurts me so much more than you. You'll thank me liebe. I'll give you so many sons... so many babies." Roland coos into her ears as he watched her eyes roll back and waited before he released her mouth and nose.

She didn't snap awake but was still alive. He hummed as he grabbed several items she had deemed important including that box of heirlooms. He pulled a dress from her closet on over her... the sundress was a bit too showy for Roland's taste but it would only be for a short bit.

And when she would wake up he'd happily explain himself. She would certainly understand... it was the will of the God Emperor! She would have to understand that he had no choice.

And his will must be done.

#warhammer 40k #yandere #yandere Space Marine #Space Marine #Black Templar #Yandere Black Templar #tw: smut #tw: yandere #tw: religious themes #tw: kidnapping #Bäckerin #Brother Roland

[copperbadge]

airmidcelt

I realllllly want to try making bread, do you have a yeast bread recipe rec for a beginner? I have a stand mixer that I want to use.

I have many recipes! I’m throwing a handful behind the cut. I’m including Beer Bread, Hokkaido “Milk” Bread, and King Arthur Bagels. 

I will say that I’ve yet to have a bad recipe from the King Arthur website, so if you’re looking for bread recipes that’s a great resource, and any recipe that asks you to knead bread for any length of time will work in a stand mixer -- generally, you should stir the ingredients by hand until reasonably incorporated, then attach the dough hook and knead.

A note -- using bread flour instead of all-purpose really does make a difference in the quality of the bread. All-purpose is fine, but you’ll get a better and more consistent product with bread flour. I also add King Arthur’s “Bread and Cake Improver” to make for a fluffier crumb and softer crust.

Beer Bread

adapted from https://www.agardenforthehouse.com/rustic-beer-bread-hand-kneaded/

4 cups (555 grams) bread flour

2 teaspoons (7 grams) instant yeast

2 teaspoons (12 grams) salt

12 ounces (341 ml) beer of your choice at room temperature (uh maybe stay away from pale ales, they get real skunky)

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Now, I was baking with Off-Colour’s beer, which comes in 16oz cans, so if you have a 16oz can of beer, the amounts are:

694g Bread Flour

2 1/2 tsp yeast

2 1/2 tsp (16g) salt

16oz beer

1 1/4 tbsp olive oil

If you do this larger recipe, it’s best to make two loaves, or one loaf and one batch of rolls.

Stir together the flour, yeast, and salt in the mixer’s bowl and make a well in the middle. Add the beer and olive oil, and stir until a stiff, shaggy dough develops. Knead for 10 minutes (I use a dough hook in the stand mixer on low to medium speed, works fine).

Transfer the dough to a large greased bowl, flip to grease its other side, and then cover the bowl with clingfilm or a damp towel. Let the dough rise in a warm location until doubled in volume -- 90 minutes to 2 hours.

When the dough has doubled in volume, punch it down, pat it out, and form it into a tight ball. Pinch the seam to seal it. Then place the ball seam side down in a greased bowl. Cover and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in volume -- usually 30 to 45 minutes.

While the dough is rising, place a heavy, oven-proof pot (covered with its lid) on the lower-third level of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Generally people will use cast-iron dutch ovens for this, but I’ve also used an aluminum dutch oven, which is quite light and doesn’t hold as much heat; it still works fine. This dough is very versatile and will also do fine in a loaf pan without a cover, just keep an eye on the browning.  

When the dough is ready, remove the pot from the oven. Flip the dough into the pot, its seam side now facing up. Cover the pot with its lid, and return it to the oven.

Bake for 30 minutes. Uncover the pot, lower the oven temperature to 400°F, and bake until the crust browns -- 10-15 minutes. Transfer the bread to a wire rack. Cool completely before slicing.

Hokkaido Milk (Tangzhong) Bread

This is a softer, fluffier bread, more like store-bought. It has one or two extra steps but is still a pretty versatile, low-skill dough. 

Tang: 

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup milk

3 tbsp flour

1 large egg, room temp

1/2 cup cold milk

Dough: 

2 2/3 cups flour (390g)

1/4 cup sugar (35g)

2 tbsp dry milk powder, optional (15g)

1 tsp salt

2 1/4 tsp yeast

4 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

In a small saucepan off heat, whisk together the first three Tang ingredients. Heat over medium heat, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens and streaks from the whisk do not disappear. Remove from heat and pour in the remaining cold milk. Whisk to combine. Add the egg and whisk to combine.

Mix together all of the dry ingredients (all “dough” ingredients except butter) in a stand mixer bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the tang, then stir until combined. Attach dough hook and continue to knead with dough hook on low speed. 

After 5 minutes on low speed, the dough will be very sticky, sticking to the sides of the bowl. This means the gluten has started to develop. Add the softened butter in 3 additions, allowing to incorporate fully. Between additions, scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula if needed. The butter will look like it's not being absorbed by the dough but be patient, it will.

Once all the butter is incorporated into the dough, increase the speed to medium (4 or 5) and let dough knead for 6-8 minutes, scraping down the bowl occasionally. The dough is done when it no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl. It will be smooth and should very easily come off from the sides of the bowl.

Remove dough from mixing bowl and shape into a ball. Return to mixing bowl and cover with cling film/tea towel and let rise until doubled in size (either at room temperature for ~2 hours or overnight ~12-14 hours in fridge).

After dough has proofed, remove covering and gently deflate the dough by scraping down the sides with a spatula. Remove from bowl. You can bake this as a loaf, just shape and put in a greased loaf pan, or divide into 14-16 portions depending on size and shape into balls with floured hands, then place in a greased dish. I use a cast-iron skillet but a casserole dish will work too, or even a cookie sheet. 

Cover with greased clingfilm or foil and let dough rise at room temperature until doubled in size (~up to 2 hours).

Preheat oven to 350F. Brush the top of the bread with egg wash if desired. Bake for 20-30 minutes. If the bread starts to brown too quickly, cover the top with foil paper to prevent bread from burning. Remove from oven and let cool.

And finally for something a little more complicated, the King Arthur “sandwich” bagel recipe: There are more thorough instructions at the KA website. 

King Arthur Bagels

Starter: 

1 cup (120g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/16 teaspoon instant yeast

1/3 cup (75g) water, cool

Dough: 

3/4 cup (170g) water, room temperature

2 teaspoons (14g) barley malt syrup or 1 tablespoon (13g) dark brown sugar, packed

3/4 teaspoon instant yeast

1 1/4 teaspoons salt

2 1/2 cups (300g) King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

Water bath: 

8 cups (1808g) water (I just fill the pan I’m using half-full and don’t bother measuring this) 

2 tablespoons (42g) barley malt syrup or honey (I use brown sugar, works fine)

Knead together starter ingredients until thoroughly combined in a stiff dough (you can use the dough hook but it doesn’t work super well, I usually just stir it until it’s stiff). Cover and rest at room temperature for 4 to 14 hours; it should expand. I do this in the bowl of the stand mixer because why not? 

Add remaining dough ingredients in the order listed, on top of the starter. Knead the stiff dough until it’s supple and elastic, 8-10 minutes with a mixer. Rest, covered, 2 hours.

Divide into eight equal pieces (80g to 85g each; I prefer mini bagels of roughly 40g each). Shape each piece by forming it into a ball, then rolling on an unfloured surface to tighten. Cover the pre-shaped dough and allow it to rest for 10 to 15 minutes.

Line a baking sheet with parchment and lightly grease, or sprinkle the parchment with cornmeal. To shape dough, poke a hole through the center and rotate to expand the hole, forming a ring shape. Place the shaped bagel onto the prepared baking sheet. Cover and let them rest until they feel slightly puffy to the touch, about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Combine the water and barley malt syrup or honey in a wide, shallow pot; the water should be at least 1 1/4" deep. Bring the mixture to a boil. Boil the bagels for 60 seconds, then use a dough whisk or slotted spoon to turn the bagels over (I often use chopsticks for this). Boil for another 60 seconds before removing from the water and placing back on the prepared pan. Bake until golden brown, 18 to 22 minutes.

#food #sam cooks #bread

[muzzlemouths]

I know the meaning of the words ever after

This was a small oneshot I wrote up for the DCAH server's writing contest, which I've since tidied up some to post here! It takes place somewhere between 1940-1950 — which isn't super relevant to the story, but it's important to me that you know. lol.

There is a song mentioned in the fic that I feel really adds to the atmosphere when listened to while reading. I am so insistent on you listening to this song that I've linked it in the fic's wording below. please do this one thing for me I promise it's worth it

Sun&Moon centric // wordcount: 1109

This house is full of ghosts.

Nothing ghoulish, mind you. The floors have been swept of evil fiends long before now. Rather, these old, yellow walls are haunted by the ghosts of memory. Like dust embraces the morning as it pours through open blinds, here before your eyes and gone by the afternoon, so, too, do the inhabitants of this old home move within it.

Even now, your hands buried in the kitchen sink and worrying over a piece of china, can you see them dawdling your peripheral vision. The sunflowers on your table dance on invisible strings and arrange themselves with endless repetition.

You hum, “Leave them be,” your words undeniably hidden behind the fondness of laughter. The arrangement stills, its orchestrator caught red handed. You settle the rinsed teacup on a cloth to your left and return to the sink for the two that remain. “They’re already perfect, Sun,” your insistence brings with it a smile, “stop fussing and help me set the table, won’t you? I’m almost done with this.”

Though normally eager to lend you a hand, today it seems they are all too happy to ignore your request. The gentle ting of a bell precedes their arrival at your back, instead, where they waste no time in stealing the cup right out from under your fingers.

“Hey,” you make a lazy grab for it only to see the cup raised just out of reach, a lighthearted taunt that doesn’t go unheard, “that’s not what I asked you to do, mister,” you tut. There’s no real anger behind your words. You know this, and they certainly know it, too, because the cup remains where it’s at. “Fine, fine, be that way. You can finish washing up, then.”

You expect to be thwarted for a second time, teased a while longer. They answer with the song of more bells, instead, the noise like a windchime carried through an open window, and — to your pleasant surprise — it’s followed by the unmistakable sound of your china dipping beneath the faucet.

Offering them a satisfied thrum, you begin to collect the readied teacups from where they rest, dry and ready to find their way to the table. One by one you arrange them until each cup is in its place. Sun offers you the final cup a moment later, patted dry by hand, and you hesitate in setting this one down. Its starry pattern catches your eye and for a moment, only a moment, you’re brought back to a time when these cups held more than memories.

Sun grounds you with a sympathetic touch to your shoulder. It’s impossible to miss the expression you know is there. To worry is their second nature.

You wave them off with a dull smile, “just getting sentimental,” you promise, and the cup is settled into place a minute after. With this, the table is finally set just how you like it. The centerpiece breathes life into the picturesque assembly of it all. Life that is welcomed as much as it is necessary, for the bread bin is only stale crumbs and the door creaks with the weight of a decade. Your pantry has gone stale over the years. 

The frames that hold up this home of yours have forgotten what it feels like to keep a gift which is new — alive, but you remember, and you aren’t going to let yourself forget any time soon.

Having already noticed your dwelling again, you find Sun’s hand has slipped its way into your own and, just like that, the thoughts pass quickly as they came before they’re given the chance to become anything worse. All too soon are they leading you out of the kitchen, an insistence in each step that has you tripping over your own feet with anticipation and laughter.

The fireplace roars to life following your arrival to the livingroom. Though the wood in its castiron mouth has long since been devoured, your chime-tongued companions somehow find a way to recreate the wonderful flame time and time again.

Across the room, your zenith radio clicks and coughs through a thick layer of dust, untouched by any hand. It chugs along, filtering through countless voices before landing on something specific; Frank Sinatra's Polka Dots and Moonbeams.

“I love this song,” you croon. But they already know. They know you like no one else. “We used to dance to this song, do you remember?” Your chest warms as nostalgia plays the memories for you like an old record. The many times you’ve spun circles over this same carpet, ragged now beneath weightless feet, and the first time you heard its wonderful tune. That day they helped you fold new wallpaper into place, the way in which it peels away after all this time now something like small petals along the wall.

“Do you remember?” You repeat yourself with more insistence this time, a breathless whisper. Tears begin to stray from the corner of your eyes — not anguished, but grateful. You can’t imagine anyone else you would rather spend the rest of your days left, regardless of if those days are few or forever.

You’re answered with a hollower bell’s ting and the wonderful scent of lavender. The tattered blinds fold together on their own, enveloping the room in a darkness only broken by the fireplace at your back. Cool, lithe hands sneak beneath your palms, fingers curling between your own. 

You’re lead a step backwards, then forwards once more, a graceful motion that is all too familiar. 

“You do remember,” said in such a whisper, tucked behind a smile, you aren’t sure they even hear you. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Moon guides you across the room in small, rhythmic circles, your footsteps leaving no trace in their wake. The voice in your radio sings of lilacs and laughter. When your dance slows and your cheek rests pleasantly against their chest, you come to decide the only thing that matters is already right here in front of you.

One day, inevitably, this house will no longer have the strength to stand. It will crumble and it will fall, and it will take with it your teacups, and your music, and your fancy vase with its old, dried flowers, but it will never steal away this moment. All too soon the day will come when someone stumbles upon the ruins of this home, when the tap has run dry and the frame is brittle as an elder tree, and beneath the garden, between the roots, they might just find each of you forever in each other’s reach. After all…

this house is full of ghosts.

#drabbles #sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sundrop #moondrop #DCA Fandom #it's been so long i've forgotten what to tag these with lmao #hope you guys enjoy this one! #it's short n sweet <3

[nelladivinita]

the papas helping you fall asleep

primo: you’ll find him praying alone in the chapel, and though he will initially react with some frustration, he will soften when he notices your dark circles. it’s best to come to him when something troubles you, some bad dream or worry that can’t wait until tomorrow. no one seems to listen quite like he does. “you are like the death walking! why do you haunt these halls, little spirit?” will guide you gently into a pew, and sit beside you, his arm warm around you, his mouth close to yours. intermittently, his voice, a deep whisper, will come through with a question, but eventually, you will feel too relieved of your troubles to respond. you’ll fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. careful not to disturb you, he will take you to his quarters to hold you through the night.

secondo: you will find him in his office, burning the midnight oil, a habit he feels only he is allowed to have. he is ever practical, an endlessly busy man, so if you come in with messy hair, pouting with insomnia, he will brew you a cup of tea and pull you into his lap, letting you rest your eyes. may sing softly in his native tongue, or allow the sound of his breathing, of parchment rustling (because the work is never done), to coax you to twilight on their own. they’re a lullaby in their own right, really, when they come from him. will press his lips to yours, so warm and inviting, as rest begins to take you, and will grin back as you smile in your sleep. eventually will carry you to the leather sofa in his office and cover you in a thin blanket, setting a fire in the hearth so he can see your face beyond the glow of his solitary desk lamp.

terzo: a warm bath; what else? he will be on his way there already when he finds you weepy with exhaustion, roaming the abbey halls. will tut to you softly, “shh, shh, venire, venire…” and lead you by the hand to his lavish bathroom, snickering when you comment on his clawfoot tub. he is papa! the lap of luxury is where he feels he belongs. will fill the tub hot, and step in, guiding you in by the hand to lay against his chest. will whisper sweet nothings, hushed jokes and quiet laughs pressed to your ear, his stubble giving you chills that spread across your body before being swaddled away by the warm water. eventually your head will begin to nod, and he will lift you from the tub to your tired feet, drying you with a warm, plush towel, and taking you to bed with him.

copia: after checking his empty office, you’ll find him instead in the kitchen, the light from the refrigerator spilling out into the hall. copia is no stranger to late nights, and timely sleep has eluded him all his life; “quello che funziona per me è uno spuntino a tarda notte. che ne dici, eh?” nutella on bread with a glass of warm rice milk, that is his secret. will joke with you as he prepares it, speaking in a hushed tone about nothing in particular, teasing when he finally gets a yawn out of you. “ahh, am i boring you, little nutmeg?” you’ll eat together, sat side by side on a loveseat in the lounge. you’ll have the sweetest smile on your face, and when you finally finish, crumbs on your lap, papa will pull you to lay against his chest and you’ll fall fast asleep. even his snoring won’t wake you.

#mine

[roryintheir90s]

[1] [2] [3] Aaahhh, I'm thinking about Jardog again.

Just imagining, Ren wrapping Jimmy's wounds in bandages with a sturdy hand, making sure the other is alright, while Martyn is right by his side, handing whatever the other would need. They were short on supplies. They might have enchantments, but there were no potions to help the canary recover; he would need to heal at his own pace as of now.

Ren asked Martyn to hand some food to Jimmy. He did so begrudgingly. It wasn't much—only some bread that had seen better days and scraps of ham. Still, it was something, and Jimmy was willing to take something over nothing.

His throat felt dry, but there was no hesitation as Jimmy's sharp canaries bit into the bread, like a man who hadn't eaten in weeks.

It wasn't long until the two excused themselves, telling Jimmy to rest, leaving him all alone. Bread still in his hands, he took another bite, this time much softer and unsure. When his food was finally finished, he looked at the crumbs that had fallen onto his lap and brushed them off.

Suddenly, the room felt a lot longer without the presence of two men.

With a huff, he fell onto the bed on his side, laying there unmoving for a while. His eyes wandered towards his forearm, where a neatly wrapped bandage had been resting. It was as if he still could feel the sturdy yet soft touches of Ren on him.

Jimmy wondered if Scott was alright.

On the other side of the door, Ren stood with Martyn, both men unsure what to do exactly with the canary they'd housed now. Martyn kept scowling, whether it was still of anger or concern for the other, Ren wasn't sure. Both of them knew something had happened, and Ren felt like Martyn knew something more and wasn't telling him anything.

Martyn didn't think that it was a good idea to keep Jimmy with them now, full of doubt and uncertainty. He voiced it to Ren, as if trying to convince the other lightly not to do it, to throw the other out. It didn't work. And maybe, just maybe, in that moment, Martyn tried to convince himself that he shouldn't help Jimmy. Yet Ren was adamant about helping him, not leaving the other behind, reassuring Martyn that Jimmy would be their comrade in all of this.

Both of them would take care of him, and in that moment, Martyn knew. He felt it in his bones, that whatever Scott had done, he would pay the price twice as much."

#romy can't write #Jardog #solidarenwood #rendog #ren #renthedog #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #itlw #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #trafficshipping #3rd life #fanfiction #ff #dogwards #Dogwards canary AU

[shoku-and-awe]

Veggie lunch! Featuring @baronmagikcarp's delicious peasant bread (halved), roasted beets with dill sauce, and green beans with almonds. Recipes behind the cut. Yes, emotionally I still feel like some kind of fuzzy mold growing inside a forgotten tupperware but this was very tasty and fun to eat.

The bread looks like it has a very dense crumb (my yeast may be dead or dying; time to check!), but the texture was extremely pleasant and doughy. It was delicious and very crusty! My husband said it was the highlight of the meal, and I ate so much I feel slightly sick, but I still want more.

Beets: Wash, wrap tightly in foil, and roast at 210C until slightly soft. (This took at least an hour? I did it yesterday.) Chill, peel, slice, serve with dill sauce.

Dill sauce: Greek yogurt, fresh dill, green onion (supposed to be chive but they are still in winter hibernation), garlic, lemon, salt, pepper, and a little bit of mayo for fat. Mix it up. Taste continuously.

Green beans: While salted water is boiling, snip off bean ends and snap in half. Boil about 30 seconds, strain, and run under cold water until cold. Toast almonds in a skillet and add to green beans with melted butter, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

Peasant Bread　 (Thanks again, @baronmagikcarp!) Make: Two 14-ounce loaves

4 cups (512 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons kosher salt 2 teaspoons sugar 2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast 2 cups lukewarm water Softened unsalted butter for greasing

1) In bowl, whisk together dry ingredients 2) Add water, mix with rubber spatula until absorbed and sticky dough ball forms 3) Cover and let rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours 4) Set rack in middle of oven and preheat to 425 F 5) Grease two 1-quart oven safe bowls 6) Using two forks, deflate the dough by releasing it from the sides of the bowl and pulling towards center 7) Separate into two pieces and transfer to bowls to rise for 10 to 20 minutes uncovered 8) Transfer to oven and bake for 15 minutes, reduce heat to 375 F and bake for 17 to 20 minutes more, remove to cooling rack (if pale, cook for 5 minutes more), let cool for 15 minutes.

Note from shoku-and-awe: I had to make the following modifications knowing my oven and because either my yeast is dead or my kitchen is cold/inhospitable even when it feels warm. (I've generally had difficulties baking since we moved here, both with yeast and sourdough alike.)

My dough had barely risen after nearly 90 minutes, so I proofed it at 40C for maybe an hour and it still did not seem to need deflating in Step 6. I did score it, though!

Since my oven is weak, I baked it covered in a pre-heated pot for 15 minutes, then uncovered it and went for another 20.

#also i ate the beets with my hands like gollum #so my fingers look like my childhood friend's who had raynauds #it made me so nostalgic! i hope she is well! #easy recipes #make again

[namazunomegami]

prince!toji x imperial concubine!reader

a/n: Part 3 of my drabble series is finished!! I'm not a Toji simp but writing him was a surprisingly easy process. And for the love of god I just can't finish Gojo it's so hard to handle him in this specific setting.

Sorry Toji girlies but I just can't imagine him as an emperor in the AU, but being a disgraced prince goes sooo well with his character. Hope you'll enjoy this part as much as I did while working on it!

Likes and reblogs are still appreciated <33

wc: 1060, I got carried away with the exposition

cw: Toji is a dick, smut, period accurate euphemism for an orgasm, angsty ending

credits: My one and only @notveryrussian did the proofreading again, thank u darl <33

MDNI, if you do, I'm gonna block you so hard you'll feel it in your next life

When an emperor dies, his mandate dies with him. The death of a god can shake the whole realm, it shakes the whole family. Anomalies start to happen because heaven’s throne shouldn’t stay vacant for long.

Toji almost lost the last bit of his sanity when he was summoned to the capital. It’s sickening that the court wanted him to go back to the palace and pay his respects to the recently deceased Naobito. Another blow to his already wounded pride. They want him to venerate the uncle who cast him out of the family, who banished him to a rural town to live in conditions so unfitting for his rank, with no support on top of all of that. Luckily, he’s familiar with many shortcuts to easy money.

The embalmed corpse of the late emperor is his only delight. The spacious halls and courtyards of the palaces, the carvings, the decorative paintings, thangkas, the ginormous, lush gardens made him yearn for that small house he was sent to. This place just wasn’t home anymore. Those related to him weren’t family anymore. They get through with the funeral rites, the relatives and the officials will settle the line of succession, and then he’ll leave, he has no other reason to stay here. He has no hopes to be chosen as emperor. Naobito and Jinichi already did so much damage to his name. Maybe the rest of the family just want something to gossip about for a few years, that’s why they called him back.

It’s all so tiring. The vigils, the march to the tomb, the prayers the monks recite, the offerings. He has nothing to give, not even an incense stick or a plate of fruits. He endures the rites in silence, he has no pleasant memories to reflect upon or kind words to say about him much to his cousins’ dismay. He wants to tear everything to pieces, burn the whole city down and piss on the ruins because that’s what Naobito always deserved.

After the funeral, the whole palace descends into chaos. Naobito failed to appoint an heir, every one of his kids has an equal chance to inherit the throne and the whole court sits in the Hall of Mental Cultivation to argue about the distribution of wealth, the army, and the provinces between the family. They’re like jackals, bickering over the meat on a rotten corpse.

Before he planned to sneak into the Hall of Three Rarities to look at (and maybe steal) some of the relics, the issue of the concubines was brought up.

You’re a lovely little bunch. Naobito wasn’t a man known for his gentleness, the mutual torment made you stick together, support each other. Just the thought of it makes his cold heart fill with a strange kind of comfort. You’re all so lost, having no idea what will happen to you, who will have ownership over you. You out of all of them pray every night that Naoya will never be crowned emperor. You’d rather escape, beg for money and crumbs of dry bread on the streets before you’d let him touch you.

Maybe your prejudice towards the royal family and your gut feeling was wrong this time. He’s not like any other member of his family. He’s rough around the edges but treats you all with an odd form of kindness. You and the other concubines soon grew to like his company. They await him during leisure time to serve him tea, sing to him, you even dusted off your guzheng to play an ancient melody. With each passing day, the concubines are glowing more and more, melting in his presence. He has them wrapped around his fingers and you start thinking about whether you’re an exception or not.

It’s too late to realize that you’re not.

You walk back to the Palace of Eternal Harmony together after you picked some plums in the gardens. You’re not suspecting anything. It’s already dusk, he just wants to protect you, right? He notices your hairpin, an exquisite and costly thing with dangling pearls and jewels embedded into the flower petals shaped with gold. Naobito must have liked you, he says. You shake your head and confess that you weren’t a particular favorite of his. He has seen you only for a few nights, and you don’t know how but he manages to get all the details out of you. He’s not surprised that Naobito didn’t care about your pleasure, or if he’d caused you any pain and then just threw you away like a used toy.

What a perfect match, a disgraced nephew and an unfavored concubine.

He doesn’t care about the rules in the concubine’s quarters, he lets himself into your small room. You serve him the plums just to hide your own flusteredness. He splits the fruit in half with ease and offers it back to you, handfeeding you. Drips of sweet juice stream down on your chin. There’s depravity and starvation in your eyes. Poor soul, maybe even you can’t remember the last time you were touched. He pities you.

He’s so unlike Naobito.

He has the patience to prepare you, gives you time to adjust to him. This is your first time laying on your back, belly up, every inch of you revealed to him. It makes you feel vulnerable but at least he’s looking at you. Right in the face as your features distort in pleasure. You finally experience what the older consorts called “cloud and rain”. A nice name, you think, but it’s not the right idiom to describe what you’re feeling. It’s like ascension to another plane of existence. A rumble. Rippling warmth. Overflowing joy.

You’re too absorbed in the afterglow to notice how cold he is. The sweat sticking to his skin, the tips of his fingers, everything is so cold about him. But maybe you can warm his heart up. If only he would take you with him after the succession crisis is solved. Get away from this horrid place, let you two finally heal.

But when you wake up he’s gone. He has taken your hairpin, maybe as a memento or to put a price tag on it. The only thing that remains is his seed inside of you. You feel ruined, just like he intended with everything Naobito ever owned.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #toji fushiguro x reader #meesa writes

[sashimiyas]

osamu having a midday snack with his baby, the little guy looking up at his dad with drool coating his chin. his old man’s got his hands full, focused on preparing the next perfect bite for him. it’s a small, bite-sized piece of bread with a fine slather of butter. osamu grabs a generous pinch of sugar to sprinkle on top.

it’s a good thing mini osamu’s inherited his father’s helpfulness because the little guy reaches for the napkin on the table. his eye hand coordination is jerky, as expected of a one year old, and aggressively pats away the crumbs from his dad’s face.

his hard swipes surprises osamu, sputtering when the dry napkin lands on his tongue that forms into a good-hearted chuckle.

“di’ty,” the son explains before he can ask.

“dada dirty?” osamu engages, a little smirk teasing his lips when his son nods. “yeah, that’s what ya ma says.”

he pinches the little guy’s belly to distract him when he bites his cheek. he lets go before the kid can whine, rubbing his now clean cheek with the slobbery dribble of his mini.

“thanks for looking out for me, little man.”

#reinas.inretrograde #REINA.LOVESOSAMU #SHE LOVES HIM SHE LOVES HIM SHE LOVES HIM #reina.writeshaikyuu!!

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons for my One Piece hotties - Something they always need to have on them and why

Kizaru ✨: chewing gum, he stopped smoking a while ago and gum helped him stop.

Akainu🌋: his reading glasses, he doesn’t have good eyesight so he always keeps his glasses on him in case he needs to read something.

Ryokugyu 🌱: spf lip balm, he hates chapped lips.

Fujitora 🐅: eye drops, his eyes get dry often.

Sir Crocodile 🐊: a hair comb, so he can brush his hair if it gets unruly.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩: condoms, because he doesn’t want to get just anyone pregnant😉

Benn Beckman 🔫: handkerchief, he’s old school so he has it just for the sake of having it.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡: AirPods, he loves listening to music all the time.

Killer🔪: cough drops, he tends to lose his voice often.

Kaido🐉: cologne to mask the alcohol smell on him.

King 👑: a mini fan, it gets hot under all those clothes and with his flame.

Queen👑: snacks, he loves his food.

Izou🔫🔫: a mini mirror, so he check his make up.

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒: a sweater, he tends to get cold often.

Oven Charlotte 🍞: a cooling pad, he tends to overheat after a while.

Buggy🤡: sinus medicine, he has allergies.

Marco the Phoenix 🦅: a cloth to clean his glasses

Eustass Kidd🤘🎸: sunscreen, he burns easily.

Rosinantè Donquixote aka Cora-San💕: his makeup so he can do a touch up when he has the time.

Who’s Who ❤️‍🔥👹: a hair tie, just in case he wants to tie his hair up

Gecko Moria🦇: sunglasses, he’s not fond of sunlight.

Iceburg💜: bread crumbs, to feed birds when he’s bored.

Gild Tesoro⚜️🏅: cash, so that he needs to buy something he can do so immediately.

#one piece #sir crocodile #one piece akainu #akainu sakazuki #crocodile one piece #donquixote doflamingo #one piece kizaru #king one piece #killer one piece #rosinante donquixote #aramaki ryokugyu #Ryokugyu one piece #one piece fujitora #fujitora issho #benn beckman #katakuri charlotte #Katakuri one piece #izou one piece #kaido one piece #queen one piece #monkey d dragon #eustass captain kidd #marco the phoenix #buggy the clown #Charlotte oven #who’s who one piece #gecko Moria #iceburg one piece #gild Tesoro #Kizaru Borsalino

[eretzyisrael]

By Deborah C. Tyler

Gazan Arabs are the political undead because of the falsity of calling them Palestinians.  The origins of the name “Palestine” are disputed, but it is not disputed that the unbordered desert once called Palestine no longer exists.  The 1948 Israeli War for Independence is not called the Palestinian-Israeli War; it is the Arab-Israeli War.  Arab-Israeli citizens are not called Palestinian-Israelis; they are Arab-Israelis.  The pseudo-national identity of Palestinian was reborn and weaponized in the 1960s, when it became clear the Jews were not going away.  Even when a region called Palestine in English existed, which included Jerusalem, it had no unifying political organization.  (God likes to put sacred sites in dry, difficult places so believers won’t be rushing through prayers to get to the beach.)  In addition to making a few terrorist leaders rich, affixing the defunct identity Palestinian to Gazans guarantees they have no functional political governance, nor do they need one because their special purpose is death to Jews.

Another term that may have outlived its usefulness is the political label “Zionism.”  The connection between Islam and Mecca is not Meccaism; it is Islam.  The connection between the Jews and the biblical Zion is not Zionism; it is the essence of Judaism.

Judaism is the world’s longest running book club.  While Jews don’t do violent conquest, they have enough book-learning to use the right words.  In this heartbreaking moment of never again again, the Israeli government needs to decree that it will officially terminate the use of the term “Palestinian,” will not recognize Palestinian anything, nor enter into agreements, accords, or associations with any entity or persons calling themselves Palestinians.

Post-scarcity abundance resulted in control-by-crumbs socialism and the compensated victimhood of Gazan Dependistan.  There is no God-given right to any material possession, nor an unalienable right for people to live on any land.  All inhabited land has been claimed, conquered, and controlled many times.  The very study of world history is more or less a chronology of military conquest.  Until very recently, life on Earth for most people was a daily struggle for sustenance and survival.  When a people were conquered and their wealth and lands seized, they were neutralized through mass killing or enslavement.  Conquered people who were not considered a threat might be allowed to survive as exploited undesirables among the conquering people.  This has been radically altered by scientific progress, which allowed billions of people to rise above struggling for daily bread.

Among the great advances provided by scientific post-scarcity, one negative is that many able-bodied adults no longer need to work at all.  The Gazans are the first national identity group living off other people’s money in the “Death to Israel” gig economy.

#gazans #gazan arabs #the undead #undead #palestinians #gaza #hamas #antisemitism