#I scraped a C in German but that's about it

[morningstargirl666]

Hello, sorry to bother you. I’m an avid fanfic reader and i am bilingual. I’m wondering how fanfic writers feel about translations of their work (with permission obviously). Is it flattering? Is it something that you would want so more people can read your work? Or is it more neutral? Obviously you can’t speak for all writers, but i’m curious about your opinion and what you know of other’s opinions

I think, generally speaking, most writers including myself are okay with translations of their work as long as you ask permission first and give credit to the original author. They may also not want their work posted to another site, so as long as the translation is posted on the same site as the original work, you're good then too. To offer to translate something is normally seen as the highest compliment, as the idea someone loved their work so much they wanted to share it with more people - presumably in their native language - is a HUGE compliment. Of course, every writer has their own preferences, so may not like the idea for their own reasons - hence why you always need to ask permission and if they say no, respect that decision. But as long as you stick to those three unspoken rules (ask permission, give credit, don't post to another site), it's normally all good.

There's a lot of AI scraping and copying of original works to other sites happening right now, so writers can be nervous. I, myself, and several others I know, have locked down our fics on AO3 so only AO3 users can view them due to the AI shit. Just be polite and respectful to them and their fics, and you're golden. I'm sure there's plenty out there that would love to see fics translated, including myself! 👍

[boozenboze]

Hiii!! Hope you’re doing great! Love your writing btw!

Just had a request. It’s been stuck in my mind like a post it for a while.

So what would be the task force 141 + Alejandro, Rudy and König’s reaction to a reader that’s known for being sweet and caring. (Code name Angel)

They’re a field medic but haven’t been on the field in a while, somehow they have to protect the sweet boys and they find out reader is in fact ruthless when fighting and v deadly. (Maybe they gotta change the code name to Archangel lol)

Anyways have a good day/night. No worries if you can’t write it!

Árchangel In Battle

Task Force 141 +Los Vaqueros+Konig x Medic!Male reader

Summary:Angel is the code name M/n aquired because of his gentle nature though it’s always changed when he’s on the field.

You will be referred to as Angel in most parts

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

If the other soilders had to choose the nicest member out of the 141 all answers would be the same.You,aka M/n was a total sweetheart to everyone.Always giving a gentle smile when walking around the base which naturally made everybody fond of your presence.

When you first met the Los Vaqueros they were immediately delighted by your presence.Alejandro was the first one to call him Angel and sooner than later it became his official unofficial code name.Rudy can remember the way M/n smiled at them when they first met.A smile in which he believed only a Angel could have.

When König had first arrived he was quite nervous.Sure he’s 6’10 and was the tallest guy but he seemed awfully shy and nervous to speak.After a few days of him being at the base,one day during training he had grazed his arm.So of course he’d went to go see a medic.Angel being the specific medic he was going to see.König enjoyed the males prescesnce especially since he was so caring and gentle,it seemed unrealistic for a guy.

“Hey Angel~!”König said happily as he walked towards the medic who already had a smile on his voice before the Austrian walked in.

“guten Abend Schatz what brings you here?M/n spoke with a little german added on which made König giddy.

“One of the seargents accidently made me scrape my arm I was wondering if you could take a look at it.”König g said while sitting on one of the beds.

“Ok let me have a look.”M/n stood from where he was seated and approached the taller male.M/n grabbed the arm König was talking about and slightly grimaced by the torn skin.

“Well this is one hell of a scrape if I do say so myself.Well,no matter I can make you feel better Liebe.”M/n spoke out while grabbing the needed supplies from a tray.König was blushing M/n kept speaking to him normally at one moment and the other he started speaking to him in German.M/n continued talking to König ig till he completed his given task and König was in a trance.M/n’s voice practically had him in a trance and his feather like touches were the only thing getting his attention.

“Alright big guy your good to go!”M/n chirped in enthusiasm as König g sulked under his mask.He wanted to stay in the room and keep the Medic company but he knew he had other things to do.

“Okay..., bis gleich Liebes!”König yelled out while exiting the room.M/n smiled as he cleaned up the small mess left by the adhesives and bandaids.

Angel was called back into the field.It had everybody on edge since the Medic hadn’t been on the field in a couple years.Price was skeptical about letting Angel come since he didn’t want want the male to get hurt but with the mission they were going on he was needed,many soilders were bound to get hurt and Angel was a quick man on his feet.On the following days M/n was training just to make sure he was still cabable if doing what he was best at.The male was good with snipers and he could’ve been a sniper if he really wanted but he’d rather stick with his current position.

Today was the day of the mission and everyone besides Angel came up to an agreement.They were all gonna do their best to protect the h/c haired male even though they had new clue what the man was still capable of.Now exiting the vehicle M/n was paired up with Gaz to take down the guards blocking the front of the building.When Price was giving orders M/n didn’t wanna waste time so he quickly sniped both of the in the head.

“Geez doc,ya didn’t even let Price finish?”Gaz exasperated as Angel huffed.

“Well we gotta get this down as soon as possible.Can’t afford to do anything last minute ey?”Angel asked as Gaz shrugged his shoulders as they made their way to the buildings entrance and walked inside.

“Angel,Gaz How copy?”König’s voice could be heard on the other end of the radio.

“All is well on our end,what about you and the others?”Angel spoke out as Gaz listened into the conversation as he shot down a few spotted enemies.

“Start headin towards the fifth floor we’ll meet up there.”Ghost spoke out in his usual rough tone of voice.Gaz and M/n began making there way up the stairs having to take down a few enemy soilders down.

“They should be up here.”Gaz murmured as Angel held his gun up prepared to shoot.

Gaz slowly opened the door just to be lucky enough to see the rest of 141 and the Los Vaqueros.

“Angel I’m glad to see you hermano-!”Alejandro was cut off by the click of several guns.They all turned around and they were surrounded

“Don’t fucking move!”One of them spoke out as König grabbed Angel’s arm in attempts of pulling him back to which Angel yanked his arm back.

“Angel du musst zurückbleiben!”König whispered yelled into Angels ear to which he responded.

“I can handle myself König.”Angel spoke out while slowly dispersing himself away from the huddle.

“Hand us the files and we’ll let you go.”A deep voice spoke out while aiming his gun at Rudy’s chest.

“Nae pumpin' happening assholes!”Soap yelled out defensively as one of them began moving closer and putting a gun to Alejandro’s skull.

“You’re going to regret doing this estúpido!”Alejandro yelled out as the man pressed his gun into Alejandro’s head harder which made him grunt.The leader was about to speak again until a muffled scream was heard gaining everyone’s attention.Price looked around and noticed that Angel was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait where’d Angel go?!”Price yelled out which made the rest realize the h/c haired male wasn’t with them.Suddenly a thud was heard and one of the enemies saw his teammates head rolling towards him.

“What the fuc-“The man was cut off by a knife lodging in to his skull.

“Stand your ground stay alert!”The leader yelled out only for another soilder to get shot in the skull.

“What the hell?”Gaz whispered as he saw something run across the room.He noticed the figure put two fingers up which Gaz remembered was a signal that Angel had taught him.Peace sign meant get ready in Angels code of silence,so Gaz grabbed his gun.At that moment M/n shot another soilder in the head and Gaz did the same.Angel rushed at another guy and slit his throat and used his now limp body as a shield.Ghost punched another one,knocking him to the ground and Soap tackled another one of the others to the ground and began punching him senseless.

König broke one of the men’s spins over his leg killing him instantly before throwing his knife in another’s skull.Alejandro was punching the guy who held the gun to his skull while Rudy stabbed one of them repeatedly.Gaz was about to turn around but the leader grabbed him and held a knife to his throat.

“STOP NOW!”He yelled out gaining everyone’s attention.“Drop your damn weapons.”He spoke out while pressing his knife onto Gaz’s throat making the Brit groan.They all lower their weapons now worrying for Gaz’s wellbeing.

“Just give me the damn files and I’ll let him go!”He yelled out as Price glared heavily at him.Nobody said anything and it seemed to have made the leader angrier.

“Ok..,y’all asked for th-AHH!”The male yelled out as Angel appeared from behind him biting into his neck.The man cried out as he pulled a chunk of skin off the males throat while also ripping out his vocal cords.The look the e/c eyed male gave him was nothing but cold as he ripped the mand vocal cords out his throat.Angel got down and began strangling the male with his vocal cords and the others could only watch as the man’s body went limp against his own appendage.141 and Los Vaqueros watched the male stand up before looking them all in the eye.

“What?I couldn’t just stand there he was gonna kill Gaz.”Angel spoke out as König jumped happily in place.

“No no it’s just the uh-we ain’t expect that out of ya considering you haven’t been on the field in a while.”Price spoke out as everybody made noises of agreement.

“Seems that the Angel has turned to the Archangel.”Soap spoke out jokingly as Angel chuckled.

“Yeah I think that’d have to be my new name on the field.”Angel spoke out as they began to exit the building.

It was decided Angel off the field and Archangel upon it

[shabbytigers]

the tragic fact of the matter:

i can’t speak german

written exercises go fine. i pick up grammar and syntax tricks quick once i see them laid out. the odd misplaced nicht or wrong gender but solid A- on the exercises that use given text. writing from scratch on a blank page i’m gonna produce shitty clumsy B- prose, but it’ll execute whatever grammar we’re trying to instantiate at the time correctly, and for serious test purposes i think i could do better by not trying to say anything too fancy

listening is C+: can scrape through comprehension questions but not getting much of the incidental color and feel bad about it. terrible one today, a bunch of vignettes at a party with background noise, i only got about two thirds of the basic comp. mostly i can hear enough to pass a test about it. and it does improve

speaking is at best word-by-word as i strenuously connect the dots one at a time and at worst not fucking there: i open my mouth with the intent to convey something and produce deafening paralytic silence. probably a D. feels like an F but that might be because i’m super not used to being this bad at academics

(Germans grade, I gather from the stories in our book, on a scale of 1 to 6 where 1 is top marks and 5 is failing badly enough to have to repeat the class: heaven only knows what 6 is. I think I’m at 1 or 2 on written exercises, 2 or 3 on free response writing, 3 or 4 on listening and 4 or 5 on speaking, depending how harshly they were grading. we aren’t actually getting grades along the way and they don’t formally test till the end of the next two month chunk of curriculum)

this is so profoundly demoralizing that an intense nope field is developing around “practicing” spoken german and i don’t see an obviously feasible way for it to get any better. please don’t suggest fixes that amount to practicing bc i’m mentally bogged down spinning my wheels in the mud right now and i think i have to go ahead and actually feel bad first before i can try to fix it

[janacariad]

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass it on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thank you for the tag @charlotterhea, and for encouraging me to just ramble about my WIPs even though they might never see the light of day ^^ I'll try to keep it short.

Fandom: Tanz der Vampire (German language musical by Michael Kunze and Jim Steinman) This thing is supposed to be a trilogy. The general thing even has a working title, "They have feelings", taken from a line from the musical that has been cut. So the basis is that vampires have the same feelings as mortals. In part 1, Professor Abronsius and Alfred manage to capture Count Breda von Krolock at the Midnight Ball because for Krolock there's nothing more important than protecting his son Herbert from the hunters. Abronsius brings him to Königsberg and starts "researching" - there are lots of experiments and LOTS of torture and angst and all that stuff you need as a healthy basis for Hurt & Comfort. At some point, Alfred can't stand seeing the torture of a fellow human anymore and decides to rescue Krolock and bring him home. In part 2, back home in Transylvania and a few years on, a young woman called Katharina Abronsius shows up at the Krolocks' doorstep. Breda being Breda with his taste for mortals that has already almost cost him his life falls in love with her despite her relation to the man who tortured him (she's his niece). There are heaps upon heaps of trauma and more torture and angst, but also one of my very favourite OCs I've written myself. I'm so proud of Katharina, and she and Breda are just alkdsjösdjakjdsaslk ♥ He calls her Rina and she's his everything (because of course, yes, they end up together, that's the only reason Rina exists at all) In part 3, the Prof makes a reappearance, but that's all that's there for this part so far in terms of plot. And neither part 1 nor part 2 are in any way close to being finished ^^

Fandom: Les Misérables (a wild mix of Brick and musical, I suppose...) Well, after the barricade disaster, Javert is trying to round up some stray rebels and gets shot a few times. He doesn't manage to jump into the Seine before he's scraped off the street by Marie, a nurse who was on her way home and took him in. Problem is, she's a graverobber by night... But she finds out lots about his past and cruel childhood... At some point, Javert does end up in the Seine, gets pulled out by - you guessed it - Marie, and because we all want to see some suffering, he's as battered and bruised and sick as you can get. Think lots of broken bones, pneumonia, other waterborne diseases, and MISERY. And Marie... she's in love. Now she has to try and save Javert and then maybe teach him how to person and what love is and that he actually deserves kindness and all that... Trauma, angst, and all the other stuff I love is here everywhere, too. Marie is the other OC of mine that I absolutely adore. I've always written OCs, but none have ever felt as good and proper as she and Rina.

And nothing of all this massive indulging in my guilty pleasure that is H&C would ever have happened without @forestthechonkykitty ♥

So, if anyone would like to ramble about their stories or add to the original prompt, feel free and enjoy! :)

[vampsquerade]

Hello, hope you are having a good day. If you request are open... Can you do jäger x fem reader? Where reader went MIA in Extraction and he want to save her? (Angst and Fluff)

Sorry if your request box is closed.

hello! i will be happy to write this for you, and i hope you have been doing well anon! thanks for sending in this request c: and thanks for your patience! i hope you like it!

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Jäger x Female!Reader: Fear of Loss

Trigger Warnings: angst, eventual fluff, mentions of: stab, scratch, and scrape wounds; comatose reader, anxiety, crying, comfort/hurt

The world around you was burning hot yet freezing cold at the same time as you lay on the floor. You were in and out of consciousness as the stasis foam covered your entire form, locking your position in place until you could possibly hope to be saved. You were completely overwhelmed and managed to be separated from Gustave and Olivier in an attempt of getting rid of a newly formed nest. “(Y/N)! Quickly, we need to get to her!” you hear Gustave faintly yell. “No, it’s too late! The stasis foam has already overtaken her! We’re getting overwhelmed right now, we need to leave!” Olivier yells over the bullets spraying fire into Archæns. “Merde…we’ll come back for you later (Y/N)!” Gustave yelled. You wanted to reach out to them, hope you would be able to be rescued at some point once the Archæns realized the threat of you coming in and killing their nest was gone.

But there was nothing you could do but fully enter the stasis state.

Back on REACT base, a man has just had the sensation of his world crashing. Upon seeing only 2 of his 3 fellow operators, one of which being his wife walking back into base covered head to toe in anti-Archæn body armor, Marius was frozen. He saw the two Frenchmen you had gone along with distraught and disheartened. They couldn’t bear looking Marius in the eyes, for they knew they were filled with fear and an undeniable pain. “Where is she?” the German spoke, voice barely above a whisper in the now quiet hall they were in after removing their gear. “Mon ami, please—we did not want this to happen to (Y/N). We were completely surrounded and separated; Gustave and I barely made it out of there together.” Olivier says, voice usually loud as always. “We need to hurry and get back to the central room to input and strategize who’s going and when.” Gustave spoke, carefully putting a hand onto Marius’ shoulder before walking away.

Marius reached out and grabbed Gustave’s hand, eyes filling with tears, “Let me go, please.” Marius said, voice panicked and filled with desperation. “Non. If you go with the extraction team in this state you can risk getting them, yourself and (Y/N) killed. You must stay here.” Olivier said. “Please understand, this is for your wife–for (Y/N).” Gustave pleaded gently.” Marius just stared at him before letting go of his hand. A soft “merci” was whispered before the Frenchmen walked away, looking at the distraught husband of their colleague like he was just a puppy.

A few days would then pass before the rescue extraction team set out, and Marius found himself standing in the exact same spot he had been when he realized you were left behind once it was announced you were safely recovered and they were set back on their way with you. Marius’ heart pounded wildly in his chest, knowing you were safely rescued was half the battle. He knows you’ll be comatose for a good bit, as is protocol when someone is rescued after being reported M.I.A.

Marius wouldn’t have to wait too long for you to come back, as the entrance to the decontamination room was opened and you were rushed inside in a gurney. Being rapidly decontaminated, you were then transferred to a sterile gurney and wheeled to the infirmary. Marius then ran through the facility to get to you and once he was about to step into your room, someone quickly stopped him by firmly placing their hand on his shoulder. “Why in such a rush, малыш?” l Did they get (Y/N) back?” the person, now recognizable as Aleksandr, asked. “Ja…she’s back…I’m so relieved and I want to see her so bad…I don’t care if she isn’t awake, I want—no, I need to be right next to my wife…” Marius said softly.

Aleksandr, despite wearing his balaclava, smiled sadly at the German. “Not right now, you must wait a bit more. I am sorry.” he said. Marius just sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I always have to wait…” he mumbled. “Hey, remember when you were two years into your relationship with (Y/N) at the beginning of this? She was terrified when she heard you went down, acted the exact same way as you малыш. Just like I told her, it is the same for you now.” Aleksandr said. Marius simply looked up at him with teary eyes, remembering the whole ordeal. “Come, let us sit together and wait for someone to give you the all clear.” Aleksandr said, leading Marius to sit on the chairs outside.

The two sat there, with Marius eventually finding himself able to sleep for once. Aleksandr let the poor man rest his head against his shoulder as he slept, eventually falling asleep himself and allowing a good 14 hours to pass. Being gently woken up by Gustave, Marius did the same to Aleksandr and the two stood up. “(Y/N)’s vitals are steady and she’s ready to see you. Be gentle, okay? She was comatose for a good while.” Gustave suggested. Marius looked up at Aleksandr, who simply pushed him gently towards the infirmary.

Stumbling a bit, he just walked inside and closed the door carefully behind himself. Your head came up once you heard the door open and turned to see Marius, noticing his mildly disheveled state. It was a bit out of character for him, but you knew it was because of what happened. “(Y/N)..!” he exclaimed. Before you knew it, he was right beside you, on his knees with his hands gripping tightly onto the sheets that were covering you. Feeling yourself beginning to cry, your hands tangle into Marius’ hair to try and calm him down. “I was so scared…” he whimpered into the mattress of your bed. “It’s okay, I’m right here…” you whisper.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, I know exactly what it’s like to be surrounded by those Archæns…” Marius whispered, looking up at you. “It’s awful…getting completely surrounded and knocked down by something like them…” you say. “But it’s okay…you’re here and you’re back with me…” Marius said. He stood up a bit to give you a gentle kiss, one you were happy to reciprocate. You put both hands onto his face, gently holding onto him like that. Marius eventually pulled away from you, bringing his own hands up to cup your face as well. “Once you’re more recovered, we’ll do anything you want…” he said. “Sounds great…I love you…” you whisper against his lips. “Ich liebe dich auch, liebling…” Marius whispered before you pulled him into another kiss.

[quex-your-local-witch]

Herb Spotlight: Fleabane

Guess what bitches? It's ~Fleabane Season~

Fleabane is a "weed" (i.e., a wildflower in the Erigeron family) that is prevalent throughout North America, and grows like crazy if left to prosper in meadow-y areas. It looks very similar to domesticated daisies, albeit much smaller in flower size, more akin to German Chamomile. There are actually many different types of Fleabane, and the color of the petals can vary from white to yellow, or even a pinkish/purpley color. It's a composite flower, and it will have many flower heads per stem. Neat, huh?

Anyways, Fleabane had been used for thousands of years in North America by the indigenous peoples. It has both a variety of magickal and medicinal uses!

Magickal uses include:

Exorcism. Yes, like banishing-bad-sprits type of exorcism, along with banishment of negative energies. Burn it as you would any other herb bundle (sage, rosemary, cedar, etc) to exorcize a space of any negative entity or energy.

You can also use it to protect yourself by preventing bad spirits from arriving by hanging it around your home - either in bundles, or small sachets. Can be done in combination with St. John's Wort, wheat, and a few capers for best effect.

The seeds of the Fleabane flower tossed between the bedsheets promotes chastity. I guess if you really need someone (or yourself) to remain celibate for a time, this can come in handy - especially if the person co-sleeps with a partner.

Alignments of: feminine aspect, the planet Venus, and the element of Water.

Along with the metaphysical uses of Fleabane, there is a wide variety of medicinal uses for this plant (note: I am not a medical doctor. Do not take this as medical advice. Consult a physician or certified herbalist if you plan on taking it for any of these... ahem... more serious uses).

Medicinal uses include:

To reduce inflammation. Can be used in a poultice or a tea to treat inflammation about the body.

Wound ointment. Traditionally, the Cherokee made an ointment using the herb and tallow to made a balm or salve for cuts and scrapes, as it has astringent properties.

You can steep it in a Witch Hazel Extract solution to further enhance the astringent properties for use on skin.

The roots can be boiled in water to make a solution for "menstruation troubles" (i.e., to bring about a miscarriage. Dangerous. Do not do this).

Drinking a tea can also help break fevers and treat symptoms of the common cold

A diuretic, can help with certain kidney conditions (consult a doctor for this one to make sure no medications you are taking with interfere with its use. Do not use if you have a history of kidney disease) by breaking up any of the smaller particulates that would lead to kidney stones

Using the herb as an incense and inhaling the smoke can be used to treat head colds

Has antioxidant and neuroprotective properties from something called caffeic acid, which this plant has LOTS of!

Aids in digestion and can be used to treat diarrhea

May help with passive bleeding or minor hemorrhaging by being applied directly to the wound (don't take this advice, go to the fuckin ER)

Had been shown in some circumstances to inhibit the growth of cancerous tumors (for the love of God, see a doctor for this, don't take the advice of a post on tumblr dot com to treat cancer)

Isn't this plant so cool? And you cloud have it growing in your yard right now! I know I do, because I harvested a fuck ton of it today, evidenced here:

I'm going to dry all of these bundles and process them into cut and shifted leaves/stems and flowerheads. The two small bundles in the middle will be hung from the ceiling to ward off negative spirits and energies.

Now for some fun facts!

Despite the name Fleabane and the association of repelling fleas and ticks, there is no proven evidence that this works... at least for the dried herbs. I haven't found any studies on this for live plants.

The entire plant is edible, and is high in vitamin C! It was used to treat scurvy, and the cooked leaves taste like spinach (you can eat them raw, but there's little hairs all over it, which are not pleasant to consume)

These plants are high in caffeine! If you make a tea out of the flower heads the same way you would Chamomile, you get a nice floral tea with a kick to start your day off right.

Remember kids! I am *not* a doctor, so don't be using this to treat some weird ailment or cancer. And please, for the love of God, do some research on herbs before you use them medicinally. But in terms of the metaphysical properties, go ham! Have a blast! Banish that weird ghost in your house that likes to watch you pee!

And as always, have fun with your craft!

Sources:

Department of Agriculture, United States. Erigeron Philadelphicus, L. USDA. https://plants.usda.gov/home/plantProfile?symbol=ERPH. Accessed April 17, 2023.

Cunningham, Scott. Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs. Llewellyn Publications, 1985.

[abramsbooks]

RECIPE: Zwetschgenkuchen (German Plum Cake) from Peace, Love, and Pasta by Scott Conant

When I lived in Germany, I worked for a time at a bakery in Bavaria where, during the summer, they made a traditional plum tart that blew me out of the water. The tart itself was very thin, with a nice crust on the bottom and a top that was super moist from absorbing the custard that was layered above it with caramelized plums cooked on top. My favorite part was always the sweet spot where the tart and custard meet. In Bavaria, the tart was referred to as zwetschgenkuchen (for the variety of plums that were used), elsewhere it is called pflaumenkuchen (plum cake), and close variations of this recipe go by other names throughout Germany and Austria. Call it whatever you like; it’s delicious in every language. (While you can make this tart any time of year, it’s best when plums are at their peak.)

Makes one 8-inch tart

Tart Dough

1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar

1 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

¼ cup unsalted butter, cold, thinly sliced

2½ tablespoons beaten egg

Scant 1 teaspoon ice water

Using a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, add the sugar, the flour, and the butter to the bowl and mix on low speed until the ingredients come together in a way that resembles a crumble topping, with the dry ingredients coating chunks of butter. Add the egg and water and continue to mix on low speed until just combined. (Do not overmix.) Wrap the dough with plastic wrap and refrigerate for several hours.

Custard Filling

½ cup softened butter

½ cup powdered sugar

½ teaspoon granulated sugar

1½ teaspoons lemon zest

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

1 whole + 2 teaspoons large eggs

1 tablespoon whole milk

2/3 cup all-purpose flour

Using an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, combine the butter, powdered sugar, granulated sugar, lemon zest, and salt and mix on medium-low speed until ingredients are creamed (about 4 to 5 minutes). Add the egg and the milk, scraping the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as you go. Add the flour and continue to mix until the flour has just disappeared. Set aside while you prepare the plums.

Caramel Plums

½ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup corn syrup

¼ cup white verjus (or white wine)

3 black plums, ripe but not soft, halved and pits removed

In a large sauté pan, combine the sugar and corn syrup. Cook over medium heat until lightly caramelized. (Do not stir; gently swirl the pan.) Carefully add the verjus to dissolve the sugar, then reduce the heat to low.

Add the plum halves, cut side down, and cook on low heat for 10 minutes. Flip so they are face up and cook for another 10 minutes, until the plums are soft but not falling apart. (If syrup starts reducing and caramelizing, deglaze with a little warm water.)

Remove the pan from the heat and let the plum halves rest until they are cool enough to cut into quarters, lengthwise. Reserve the juices.

Assemble the Tart

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

Roll out the tart dough 1/8 inch (5 mm) thick, then drape it over the tart pan, using leftover dough to press it into the sides. Level the top with a rolling pin, then prick the dough a few times with a fork. Bake the tart for 10 minutes, then remove it from the oven and let it cool.

Once the tart shell has cooled, spread the custard filling over the crust and arrange the plum segments over the top in a circular shape. Bake at 350°F for about 25 minutes, until there is a slight browning on the edges of the plums, where the skin and flesh meet. Remove the tarts from the oven, brush the plums with the reserved plum-cooking syrup, then return to the oven for 5 more minutes. Cool to room temperature, unmold, and serve.

From award-winning chef and Food Network personality Scott Conant, a cookbook of restaurant-quality Italian meals that you can make easily in your home kitchen

Thirty-five years into an illustrious career of restaurant openings across the country, widespread acclaim, and frequent appearances on the Food Network’s Chopped and many other shows, Scott Conant has returned home to create his most personal cookbook yet. Meals cooked from simple, fresh ingredients were staples of Conant’s childhood in a New England family with roots in Southern Italy. From his grandparents’ garden to the dinner table, he learned early on to appreciate the nuances of different flavors and ingredients, and the strong connection between food and family.

Focusing on these foods Conant grew up with and the ones he makes for his loved ones today, Peace, Love, and Pasta compiles simple, fresh, and flavorful Italian recipes for the home cook to bring to their own family’s table. These recipes are built on the art of cooking for love, fascination with flavors and ingredients, and the simple pleasures of taste and conviviality.

For more information, click here.

[softspeirs]

Almost 500!! 🥳 Here we go: Kat×Ron. On D-Day they land, oddly enough, on the very same place. She has to dress some minor wounds of his and feels she needs to boss around because he's not cooperating at all. Thankuuu💕

A/N: Ahh thank you so much for asking for prompt with Kat! This is part of the next chapter of Barren Soul - thank you for the opportunity to re-work parts of this! 

The roar of the C-47 engines rattles Kathryn’s teeth. She forces herself to focus, to steady her breathing and control her fear. She feels like she’s going to vomit, but she fights it off. 

The only thing she can see in the near-dark is the glow of a few burning cigarettes, and the low light from the early morning out the open door of the plane. She forced herself to look out, as much as she could from her position, and her jaw had dropped at the sight below and above her.

As far as the eye can see, the armada is terrifying in its might. She has never seen the war machine truly in action, but now she’s part of it, and she pauses a moment to say a prayer in hopes that she’ll make it through. 

She feels slightly buoyed by the fact that the men around her seem just as nervous as she is, though they all are trying to hide it. As if on cue, the light flicks on above them as the air starts to come alive with anti-aircraft fire and artillery. 

She follows the commands automatically, her hands shaking as she hooks up. 

“Sound off for equipment check!” 

The rest of the plane sounds muffled, time seeming to slow down around her as everyone prepares to jump. She goes through the motions on autopilot, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.

The plane lurches, and someone screams, and then the light turns green. She doesn’t allow herself to hesitate. 

Remember your training. Say a prayer, she tells herself and then, when it’s finally her turn in the door, she jumps. 

Immediately everything around her roars to life and speeds back up to real time, the cold wind whipping at her face waking her from her trance-like state. Tracers zip around her as she goes through the air, and she curses wildly as she feels her leg bag flying off. 

When she finally pulls her chute, she lets out a small scream when she realizes how close she already is towards the ground. She’s going too fast, and finds herself careening towards a tree. 

She braces herself and feels her leg scrape against a branch. She swears and fights off tears. Please don’t let me get stuck, she thinks. She hangs there for a second trying to get her bearings, and then with a rip and a whoosh of wind, she falls loose, landing on the ground in a heap.

With a quiet groan, she takes a second to catch her breath. She prepares herself for the inevitability of a severely sprained or broken ankle if not her entire leg. She knows she can handle the pain, but she’s more worried about being alone and caught by Germans when she can’t walk or run.

“Kat!” A hissed whisper makes her startle, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out. Looking up, she sees familiar paratroopers - Malarkey, Guarnere, and Toye. She could cry at how relieved she is to see friendly faces. “What the hell happened?” 

“Malark, do me a favor and keep it down, will you?” Bill hisses. Looking back at Kat, “Are you hurt?”

Kat shakes her head. “My ankle hurts, but it’s not serious. I almost got stuck in the tree.” 

Toye’s expression shifts to amusement, though there’s still an edge in his eyes. “You fell out of a tree?” 

“Leave her alone,” Bill says. “Where’s your med kit?” 

She scowls. “Flew off with the prop blast.” 

Bill groans. “Great. Ours too - I’ve got some ammo but not much.” 

“We need to get moving,” Toye reminds them. “See if we can find anybody else and get to the CP.” 

Suddenly overcome at the realization that she got so lucky that they found her, Kat throws her arms around Bill and Joe, and to their credit, they don’t hesitate, hugging her back tightly. Next she moves to Malarkey, who stumbles back in surprise, but gives her a squeeze. 

Clearing her throat, she straightens her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re all okay.” 

They walk for what feels like hours, but is only a few minutes. Kat forces herself to get it together - it’s just that every noise seems like the enemy, and she has very little in the way of supplies to help her guys if they get hurt. It’s unsettling, and the realization that this is real, this isn’t training, hits her all at once.

They take a break near a copse of trees, taking only small sips from their canteens. While they wait, the hair on the back of Kat’s neck stands, and she stiffens. 

Malarkey notices, “What? What is it?” 

“I thought I heard something.” Kat murmurs. Instantly, they all crouch low.

“Flash--” comes a harsh whisper.

“Thunder.” Kat replies instantly.

Through a thicket comes a now-familiar face. He’s wincing, but for a brief moment, he looks just as happy to see them as they are to recognize the unmistakable form of Lieutenant Speirs.

“Sir--” Kat gasps, unable to help herself. He looks exhausted, and he’s bleeding.

“I’m alright.” He says right away, looking over his shoulder where two Sergeants are standing, watching Kat warily. She doesn’t recognize them right away, but the way they wait for Speirs’ command signals they’re likely from D Company.

“You should let her take a look, sir,” Malarkey says quietly.

Speirs sighs. “Fine.”

Kat steps closer, and Guarnere, Toye, Malarkey, and the others start to quietly converse.

“I don’t have much in the way of supplies. Not sure when we’re going to be able to hook up with the rest of Easy,” she explains. She learned long ago that it’s best to talk to the patient, even if you don’t have anything other than the obvious to say.

“We’re roughly 4 miles from our objective.” Speirs says. “Easy won’t be too far off from there. Hopefully you’ll find others along the way.”

Kat gently pokes and prods, and he hisses at one spot in particular. Kat’s eyes shoot up to his. 

“Got into some trouble on the way here?”

“You could say that.” He says. His face is impassive, giving nothing away. Kat’s aware that there’s blood on his ODs that clearly isn’t his. She says nothing.

“I think it’s just bruised ribs. I can’t do anything for you now.” She looks at the arm he’s favoring, keeping it tight to his chest. 

“Shoulder or arm?” She asks.

“It’s fine, Corporal--”

“Sir, due respect, but you need to be able to move your arm if you want to stay alive, and right now I’m the one who can guarantee that. Let me do my job.”

He looks almost amused. Kat doesn’t let herself worry that she keeps speaking to him out of turn. Something about his cavalier attitude about his own wellbeing makes her teeth grind. 

He gestures that she should continue, that small smile still on her face, and this time, she’s acutely aware of his sharp eyes watching her every move.

“Take a breath,” she instructs, and as soon as he inhales, she places pressure on the front of his shoulder, and quickly presses up and in, putting his shoulder back in place. 

He hisses again, getting the attention of the other men, but Kat waves off Toye’s questioning stare.

“Go to the aid station whenever you find it,” she says, “Just to make sure there’s nothing else serious.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. For some reason she doesn’t care to inspect too closely, Kat doesn’t mind the words so much when they’re coming from him.

“We should get moving, Sir.” One of the Sergeants says. 

“Be careful,” Kat says to all of them. They’re too big of a group to keep traveling together, and Kat knows Speirs will want to try to find more members of his stick before they make it to the objective. Kat wouldn’t mind finding more members of Easy, either.

“Sir.” She says finally, with a salute, and then they’re gone, disappearing into the darkness like they were never there at all. 

When Kat turns back, Malarkey has a strange look on his face, the shadow of a smile there like he’s thinking of a funny memory from long ago.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, “I’ve just never met someone who talks to him the way you do and gets away with it.”

Kat rolls her eyes, and tries not to let them see her blush as they begin their trek yet again.

----  A/N: I got my info about Speirs’ Normandy account from the family website.

[alonelysimp]

Ты тоже красивый

Characters: Tartaglia x GN! Traveler! Reader

WC: 1683

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of violence, swearing

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, M/GN, fluff, Established relationship, Love confession, Lots of flirting

heavy simping, send help ;-; i cried way too many times writing this /pos

Also full disclaimer: no i no not know Russian, apologies if anything is mistranslated. the closest thing ik regionally would be dutch or my shitty half assed excuse for german qwq

Your foot stays firmly planted on his chest as you lean down and press the blade of your sword to his neck.

“You wanna kiss me so badly right now it makes you look stupid.”

“Shut up, tortellini.” His dumb smile probably reflected your own, a light blush dusting his cheeks at the intimate position. You could feel your rapid heartbeat in your chest, whether it be from the adrenaline of fighting or your proximity to him. Excitement sparkles in his eyes, almost as if he were asking for a rematch. His breath tickles you as your gaze traces the minor cuts and bruises on his face. His hands tug at the front of your shirt, lips ghosting across yours. “I hate you.”

“That’s not what you were saying an hour ago.” You scowl at him and push up from the floor, leaving him on his back. The sound of your sword sheathing echoes off the walls of the golden house.

“At least you didn’t destroy it this time. You can’t rely on your fatui money forever,” you mutter. The metal pieces of his coat clink against the floor, scrambling to go stand by you.

“Can we go again?” You glare up at him with the most annoyed, deadpan expression you can muster. He huffs, flicking your forehead.

“Hey, hey, watch the pretty face. I worked hard for this shit,” you hiss and cover your forehead with both your hands.

“I could say the same, жизнь моя. (zhizn moya ‘my life’)” He pauses after every syllable of the nickname, gesturing to the tiny marks on his face.

“Oh, shut up, you’re fine.” You turn to the door; his arms wrap around your waist from behind. He buries his face in your hair, lifting you off the ground slightly.

“You’re so mean to me~”

“Tartaglia, I feel like a cat getting picked up by a toddler. C’mon, let’s go home and get you fixed up, attention whore.” You blink as your eyes adjust to the daylight outside and grab his hand. He intertwines your fingers. The smirk on his face burns through the back of your head.

“Aww, so you really do care about me.”

“I hope you trip and fall on your face.” He pulls you closer beside him as you walk down the dirt path to your home, the midday sun shining down on the two of you from above. You only had to pull on his arm a few times to slow down on account of the difference in your strides.

As soon as you step inside, he releases your hand, opting to collapse on the bed.

“Dipshit—” you pull the supplies from the shelf, “up.” He doesn’t move, even when you nudge his shoulder, pretending to sleep. You sigh, summoning your sweetest voice and sitting down next to him. “Darling, can you please sit up for me? I need to take care of you~” His eyelashes flutter open just enough to peer at you. You grit your teeth, burying your face in his chest, embarrassed. “I hate you,” you mumble, muffled by the fabric of his coat. His fingers gently run through the hair at the bottom of your hairline and slowly work their way up before cupping your face and making you look up at him.

“Thank you for caring about me.” Your eyes narrow, heat pricking at your cheeks.

“I should’ve left you back at the golden house.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and sits up, letting you lean against him still. The post-battle heat radiates off him but the smell of sweat is beginning to get to you.

“So are you just gonna lay there or..? I know how comfortable I am, but I was under the impression you were gonna help.” He laughs when you push yourself away quickly and set the supplies down on the nightstand. You begin to unclasp his coat, fumbling with them slightly before getting it open. You punch him lightly when he opens his mouth, knowing full well what he was about to say. “So mean~” He pulls you into his lap while you work, dabbing the soaked cloth at the various scrapes.

“Was I too hard on you?” you ask him softly. He laughs, leaning back and resting on his hands.

“It’s not an easy task to defeat me, ангел (‘angel’). I’m proud you were even able to land a hit.”

“You won’t fight me using your delusion. What if I go overboard and hurt you?” Your fingers dance across his skin, flitting over his muscles.

“Is it bad that I want to make sure I don’t kill my beautiful ангел (‘angel’)? If you don’t want me to hold back, you better not either.” He giggles, pressing his lips to your forehead and smiling “Wouldn’t it be fun?” The soft linen sheets brush against your skin as you shuffle to face his back, taking care of any wounds, regardless of how slight they may be.

“I’d have to patch your weak ass up after, though.”

“I wouldn’t mind watching you turn beet red undressing me.” You choke, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. The alcoholic smell from the cloth quickly deters you from keeping your hand there, but it doesn’t stop the mindless panic you’ve been thrown in. At least he wasn’t watching you burn up, you’d never hear the end of it.

“S-shut…” you stutter out, failing at a desperate attempt to regain your composure. He laughs and turns to take the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Hmm, I didn’t expect such a rare treat today.” He sets the things back on the nightstand. “Is this your way of apologizing after being so mean to me earlier?”

“Not to your crusty dusty ass,” you mumble, not making eye contact with him. “Go take a shower, you reek.” The palms of your hands press against his chest, more in a gentle urge than a demand. He chuckles, sighing, and presses a kiss to your forehead before standing up to head to the bathroom.

You take the opportunity to stand up and put away the antiseptics and clean the cloth. The soft white noise from the shower fills the house as you hang the towel up to dry. He steps out a few minutes later though, you wonder how he always manages to take such short showers. Yours takes a few minutes longer, and you slip into a clean set of your usual clothes after.

“I have to go do guild stuff, you coming?” You stand by the door, messing with your hair. He glances up his food, a chicken mushroom skewer leftover from breakfast. He hums, tossing the bamboo skewer in the trash.

“Of course ангел, (‘angel’)” he says cheerfully, moving to stand by you. He takes your hands in his, fixing your part line himself. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close in a hug. His lively heartbeat drums against your ear as the scent of sandalwood floods your nose. His fingers run through the back of your hair with one arm around your waist, pressing you closer.

“Hey, darling?” He hums, waiting for you to continue while stroking your hair. “I like you.” You look up at him. He melts, the dumb smile on his face making it quite evident. He buries his face in your hair, mumbling out a “м-милая. (m-milaya ‘[you’re] c-cute’)” You manage to pry him off you, taking him by the hand as you lead him to the harbor.

The commissions you received were nothing out of the ordinary, just little deliveries around Liyue and a few hilichurl camps to clear. You sighed, plopping on the edge of the cliff. The grass rustles as Childe sits next to you, leaning back to watch the sunset.

“I have to admit,” he breathes, “the sunset in Liyue is unlike any other I’ve seen.” The fiery sky matches his hair, a sight you could never see from such a city like Snezhnaya. Your breath hitches when you turn to glance at him. He looks… stunning. The way his hair glitters in the light, cerulean eyes shimmering. How in Teyvat did I manage to land someone like him? He looks over at you, concern shadowing his eyes as he brushes his thumb across your cheek. “What’s wrong котёнок? (kotonok ‘kitten’)” You reach up to your face, fingers coming away wet. You laugh softly and wipe them away.

“Nothing, just thinking about how lucky you are for having such an amazing partner.” He pauses, realization flashing on his face after a few seconds. He huffs, pouting, and pokes at your side.

“Hey! Stop making me think I messed up somehow.” You push his chest lightly, turning away. He huffs, breath tickling the back of your neck as he pulls you into his lap and nuzzles your hair.

“...You’re beautiful.” The waves crash against the cliffside as you stare into the sunset. He pauses, resting his chin on your shoulder. The salty Liyuean breeze ruffles his hair and tickles your cheek as the sun dips below the horizon.

“What do you mean?” His hands shift against your waist, holding you ever so slightly tighter. Your brows furrow together slightly, chewing your bottom lip as you pause to think. You sigh, the hesitant silence lasting between you for a short while.

“Do you know how much you mean to me? You’re incredible. Everything I hope to be and more. I can’t stop thinking about you and it messes with me so badly. I can’t get enough of you, your smile, your touch, your voice. You make me feel ways I never knew I could and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m so... mad, how irreplaceable you are, how much you’ve become in just a year but I love it and—” Your breath catches in your throat, tears beginning to well up. He takes your hands in his rubbing them with his thumbs. He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your neck.

“Ты тоже красивый. (ty tozhe krasivyy)”

omg thank y'all for the support I'll try to post more consistently (｡ŏ‿ŏ)

[bagelbright-tok]

Mafioso

Lisa Lisa and her group of hamon users are on the hunt for the stolen Stone of Aja. Turns out, the Nazi's are too. Both groups are at a race to get it first. They've caught up with the train, but when the soldiers look inside for the package, it's nowhere to be seen. Who else is after, and has gotten the item?

Words: 2598 Warning(s): Nazi's, violence, usage of bad, bad words, Mafia, column fellows, guns, threats of violence, mentions of killing, Stroheim, probably a lot of inconsistencies

[FINISHED FIC]

Italics are a different language. Sometimes.

___

You're Welcome. ___

A loud slap was audible as Caesar threw his hand into Joseph's face to wake him up. "Oi! Joseph, get up!"

"AGH-!" Joseph yelled and rubbed his face which had just been assaulted. "You're gonna regret that Caesar."

"Pay attention. The train's stopped." Lisa Lisa pulled their attention onto the train which they had been following.

After the Stone of Aja had been stolen, it was packaged and sent to Kars. It was on the train they were following in hopes of getting the package. Right now, though, the train was stopped. Even worse, the Nazi's had just shown up.

Honking was heard repetitively behind them. Joseph grew annoyed by it and stepped out of their car to holler at the one behind them. "Just go around!" Joseph regretted this immediately when the car did go around, revealing to the gang that the Nazi's were after the stone too.

Aforementioned soldiers stopped just in front of the car Caesar, Lisa Lisa, and Messina were sat in. Joseph remained outside of the car. They all watched in disbelief as the soldiers got out of their vehicle, opened a boxcar, and entered. Everyone was dreadfully expecting them to find their package and take it. Instead, they were all surprised to see the soldiers exit the boxcar empty handed.

"Is the stone of Aja not there..?" Joseph asked in a whisper to Lisa Lisa while simultaneously getting back into their car.

"It has to be. Where else would it be?" Lisa Lisa answered, just as bewildered as everyone else.

"Hey!" One of the soldiers yelled at the Hamon warriors, hopping off of the back of the car. "Where is it?"

His familiar voice hit Joseph. Though, the Joestar could not quite place where he had heard the German accent. "The stone? We have no clue." Joseph responded. "Even if we did know, why would we tell you?"

"Shut up, Jojo!" Caesar harshly whispered to Joseph.

"Joseph. Caesar. Lisa Lisa. Messina," The man listed everyone one of them. "You will all follow us in your car."

"And why is that?" Messina asked, as the driver.

Every soldier there made noise as they brought out their guns and artillery. Most were in the car, but there were a few outside who had their weapons pointed at the Hamon users.

"Well, we insist." The Nazi gave no explanation. Right now, with everyone's lives threatened, they had no choice but to listen.

Everyone remained as calm as they could. Messina nodded, removing the car from parked. The Nazi's returned to their car and began to drive off. Messina made sure to follow.

"Great going, Joseph." Caesar hissed at Joseph.

"How is this my fault?" Joseph retorted back at the blonde Italian.

"Calm down everyone," Lisa Lisa commanded. She was the calmed of them all, like she knew what was going happen, "Be prepared. I think this is the best outcome we could get."

Now everyone was even more confused. The stone was missing, and the Nazis had basically kidnapped them. How was this the best case scenario? Everything would make sense soon. Unbeknownst to Joseph, Caesar, and Messina, Lisa Lisa had written to an old friend of hers. [Y/N] [L/N].

Only 10 minutes had passed when another car came driving down the narrow road. This wouldn't have been much to pay mind to if the car were on the right side of the road. It came storming towards the Nazi car, showing no signs of stopping.

"What the hell!" One of the soldiers yelled.

They tried honking, but it was clear that the car had full intention of crashing into them. All of the soldiers abandoned vehicle and the other car swerved, causing only the rear to crash into the front of the Nazi vehicle. This then propelled the Nazi car to the right of the road into the dirt, flipped and destroyed. The car that had just crashed into the soldier's car had stopped just before hitting Lisa Lisa's car. Messina had slammed on the breaks when the vehicles collided.

"What the hell is happening?" Joseph asked, looking at everyone's confused faces.

The only one not confused was Lisa Lisa. "We must follow them. This is our chance to get the stone back."

The crashed vehicle swerved around, now facing away from the squad and peeled out of there. Though that car was totaled too, it still ran and drove off. Messina hit the gas and sped off as well, following the car that had just saved them.

"Coach, what's going on?" Caesar finally piped up and asked.

"I asked for some help before we left. Seems she's answered." Lisa Lisa vaguely explained. This usually meant that it was not safe to talk about at the moment.

It grew even less safe when shots were fired in their direction. The soldiers recovered quickly and began shooting at Lisa Lisa's car. "Oh shit!" Joseph yelled, as he ducked down.

Everyone had done something similar, even Messina. The car began to lose control, but remained on the road, following the other car. This car's driver signaled for Messina to drive ahead of them. Messina immediately did so. Caesar and Joseph looked behind to see their rescuers pop out of their car with guns. Craziest shit anyone had ever seen. While their driver calmly followed Messina, the passengers stood up and returned fire. By the sounds of it, the rescuers were winning. Taking precise shots, they took down many of the shooters. The rest had run off, unable to provide any resistance. One stood in the road, facing them. He was obviously pissed off, it could be seen, even from a distance. It also appeared as though bullets hit him, but he was unaffected. What was this guy? Mechanical? The rescuer's shooters put their guns away and sat back down. Most of those people were wearing dark clothes and suits. Even large hats that mostly covered their faces. The driver signaled again, this time to tell Messina they were returning to the front. Messina allowed them to do this, even slowing down as they sped up.

***

After an hour or two of driving, there was finally a sign of the destination. It looked to be a small wooden cabin. One an individual would have for camping or sledding. Especially sledding as it was winter and in this area, there was around three to five inches of snow already on the ground. The sun had set and the only thing lighting the area was the moonlight and the light shining from within the cabin. Everyone was tense and nervous. They still had no clue as to what was going on and what was to happen. The cabin had two other cars parked in the front. These cars weren't just casual cars. They were cars driven by the wealthy. The car leading them to the cabin was not like that. It was casual and just resilient enough to take a car accident and several gunshots. This car parked beside the other wealthy cars, being the odd one out of the bunch. Lisa Lisa's car had been relatively untouched if not for the few bullet holes in the back and a few scrapes. The Hamon group parked beside their rescuer's car. First, Joseph hopped out, then Caesar, then Lisa Lisa and Messina. Out of the other car, four strangers popped out. All of them had a gun at their side.

This wasn't threatening however. They meant no harm towards Joseph, Caesar, Lisa Lisa, or Messina. "Please come with us inside. We have what you seek." One of them- likely the leader- spoke.

Joseph still felt he couldn't trust them. Caesar felt as though they didn't really have a choice. Lisa Lisa had full trust in these people. Messina trusted Lisa Lisa and in turn trusted these people. Lisa Lisa and her warriors were led into the cabin. It was warm and brightly lit. Furniture was neatly placed around in the living room.  From the living room, there was a flight of stairs to the second floor. Movement could be heard from upstairs. It sounded like pacing.

"Aspetta un momento." (Wait a moment.) Another of the four asked politely in Italian

That same one went up the steps and opened a door, shutting it behind them once they were in the room. The pacing stopped and the murmurs of speaking could be heard. A small stomping was heard until it went quiet again.

"What is happening up there?" Joseph inquired quietly to Caesar.

"No clue. We just have to wait." The blonde explained what he could.

Footsteps came towards the door. It opened and shut again and the individual came down the stairs, slightly disheveled. Their hat was tipped up to the back of their head and their clothes were wrinkled.

"Adesso.. puoi salire." (Now… you can go up.) The- now clearly a lady- stated, now very shocked and confused.

Joseph was about the only one who didn't know Italian, so just followed everyone when they started moving up the stairs. All of them were going up to what was assumed to be just one person. Even if it were a threat, four against one would surely allow them to win. Lisa Lisa, however, had no intention of fighting. Neither did Messina. Lisa Lisa went up first, opening the door and entering the room above. Then Messina went in, Caesar followed, and Joseph came in last. They all stood in a horizontal line, facing the person who had brought them there.

They turned around, their large black coat swaying with them. "I'm so happy you guys got here safely!" The lady said excitedly, raising her arms up with joy.

"And it's so good to see you safe, [Y/N]!" Lisa Lisa responded, throwing her arms up too.

The ladies hugged each other with happiness. They removed themselves from each other.

"You gonna introduce yourselves, gentlemen?" [Y/N] was a very happy and affectionate individual. This took everyone, even Messina, off guard.

"C-Caesar Zeppeli, ma'am. Nice to meet you." Caesar spoke up first, putting his hand out to shake [Y/N]'s.

She immediately slapped Caesar's hand, grabbing it in the process, and throwing it up and down like a madman. "It's so nice to meet you, too! I've heard so much about you from Lisa Lisa!" She chuckled, genuinely happy.

Caesar was shocked by the amount of force this lady put into a handshake. After it ended, he was left hunched over and confused.

"Joseph Joestar. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." The Joestar winked at the lady.

She responded by laughing and grabbing Joseph, hugging the life out of him. [Y/N] was a very strong woman, physically and mentally. "A pleasure to meet you too, Joseph! Un piacere!" (A Pleasure!)

She finally put him down and he braced himself onto his knees to catch his breath.

"Messina." Messina got smart and immediately signaled to [Y/N] that he wasn't up for the physical greeting.

"I know you're busy, [Y/N]. Sorry for the last minute request for help." Lisa Lisa apologized,

[Y/N] shook her head and hands, "Don't be! It's an emergency. I know how long you've been working to defeat the Pillarmen." So, she was in the know. Was she a Hamon user too?

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket and brought out a familiar package. "I got something for you guys." She chuckled.

"The Red Stone of Aja!" Both Caesar and Joseph were shocked. No wonder it wasn't in the train. [Y/N] had intercepted it before the Nazis had.

"Thank you so much, [Y/N]. We are truly in your debt and Passione's." Lisa Lisa accepted the package, opening it to reveal that the Stone was indeed now in their possession.

"You're welcome." [Y/N] chuckled a bit, taking off her hat.

"Hang on.. Passione? The Passione?" Caesar asked, now extremely concerned.

"What's Passione?" Joseph asked, not being knowledgeable in any Italian history.

"You didn't tell them?" [Y/N] looked back at Lisa Lisa from Caesar and Joseph. She had a light smile on her face.

"I planned on it." Lisa Lisa admitted.

"Oh." [Y/N] nodded, turning back to Caesar and Joseph. "To answer your question, Caesar. Yes. The Passione." She looked at Caesar to answer him. Then she turned to Joseph. "Passione is the name of the Italian mafia. We run the cities and many of the businesses within Italy."

Both Caesar and Joseph were dumbfounded. They were in the presence of a very powerful lady. Which was very surprising. It was the late 1930's. It was bizarre to see a woman with a high powered position. It was also very impressive.

"What? Seriously?" Joseph asked. "Yup. Seriously. It took a while but I made it!" She chuckled happily. [Y/N] was very proud of herself.

Messina was wondering in the corner for his safety since he didn't allow the Passione boss to give him any physical affection. A sudden pounding was heard moving up the stairs. A man, missing his hat, came up panting.

"La signora [L/N]! Siamo sotto attacco!" (Lady [L/N]! We are under attack!) He yelled, obviously terrified of the threat at hand.

"What!?" [Y/N] was surprised by how quick it happened. "Non impegnarti. È troppo pericoloso!" (Don't engage. He's too dangerous!) The man nodded and went back down to fetch those still alive.

"What's happening?" Joseph, now panicked, asked.

"The Pillarmen. I believe Kars is here." [Y/N] turned to Joseph. Her bright demeanor turned serious and concerned. "Allow me to handle it. My people are in trouble."

[Y/N] bolted down the stairs, leaving everyone safe upstairs. The scene downstairs was horrendous. The neat furniture had been destroyed and turned inside out. The walls were torn, the floorboards had been scraped and scratched. Worse of all, the blood of [Y/N]'s soldiers and capo were splattered everywhere. She was horrified by the dead bodies of her workers. The horror turned to anger when she laid her eyes on Kars. The blade in his arm spinning, tossing the blood from it onto the walls and floor.

"You have something I want. Give it to me, or you'll die too." Kars demanded and threatened.

[Y/N] scowled at the pillarman. "Is it a brutal beating? Because that I can give to you."

"You are strong. Very… confident. And very stupid." Kars commented, his tone being very sinister. "Where is Joseph Joestar? I'd rather fight him than you."

"Is that so? Pick an easy fight rather than a fair one?" [Y/N] insulted.

Right on cue, Joseph, Lisa Lisa, Caesar, and Messina came down the stairs. They tried to step forward to fight, but [Y/N] blocked them.

Kars had his focus on Joseph. "You will pay for what you did to ACDC."

"Sorry Kars. You aren't dealing with Joseph today. Right now, I'm your biggest worry." [Y/N] pointed at Kars.

"Not for long." Kars slashed his blade around. He'd done this same move to kill all of [Y/N]'s colleagues.

She didn't move. 

"[Y/N]!" Lisa Lisa cried out, concerned for her former student.

"Please. Go upstairs. I got this." [Y/N] smirked, having nothing done to her. "I think you underestimate me, Kars."

The pillarman was confused. Not even the area around [Y/N] had been sliced. This was no Hamon use. She took a step forward and threw her coat off to reveal her suit underneath. White button down shirt, black dress-suit vest, and matching black leather pants.

"My mistake to do so." Kars admitted, preparing himself for the fight to come.

___

E N D

A/N: I was gonna do a fight scene and all that but decided to leave it at that. The suspense. 

[borskovlegacy]

CHARACTER SHEET:

BASICS.

full name. ivan nikolaievich borskov

pronunciation.  ee-vahn nee-co-lye-ee-vic boars-cawv (i tried lol)

nickname. Ivan, Iv

gender. cis male

height. 6′2′’

age. 84

zodiac. pisces

spoken languages. chechen, most slavic languages, english, french, german, japanese

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. dark brown

eye colour. dark brown

skin tone. tan

body type. broad, muscular, athletic, but also thicc (same lol)

accent. chechen, faintly

posture. excellent posture. almost always poised, stands/sits straight, etc.

scars. various littered across his body from wounds he’s taken over the course of his career (blades, bullets, burns, scrapes, etc)

tattoos. none.

most noticeable feature. soft eyes, big smile.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. moscow, russia

hometown. moscow, russia/ grozny, chechen republic (moved to and lived at until 10)

birth weight. 6 lbs

birth height.  18 in.

manner of birth. c-section, in razvitiye lab

first words. da

siblings.  1 older sister: liliya vetrov (born 1919)

parents. nikolai borskov and nadya vetrov

parental involvement. up until he was 10 years old, the only people ivan had any substantial contact with. they were his world, and they loved him dearly. his mother taught him basic things (reading, writing, arithmetic, etc) and tidbits about the world at large. his father taught him some things about survival and self-defense. they didn’t get too far in his education before, when he was 10, they were killed in front of him. he’s forgotten details about them (exactly what they look or sounded like), but he still clearly remembers being loved. his view of them now is complicated after he learned about their involvement in razvitiye and how they failed his sister.

ADULT LIFE.

occupation. mercenary for hire(former), consultant of s.h.i.e.l.d. (former), unemployed (current)

current residence. a home in new york

close friends. , steve rogers, bucky barnes

relationship status. verse dependent

financial status. wealthy af

driver’s license. yes

criminal record. nothing on record

vices. smokes, drinks, drug abuse(former)

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. bisexual

romantic orientation. demiromantic  

preferred emotional role. submissive  |  dominant  | switch  

preferred sexual role. submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  |  sex repulsed

libido.  fluctuates. in the ideal scenario (nothing pressing, getting to be in one place, etc) it can be relatively high when he’s with someone, but he spends a lot of time on the move so he doesn’t really think about it. Also isn’t overly concerned with sex when not in some sort of relationship already.

turn on’s. striking eyes, quick wit, intelligence, confidence.

turn off’s. restraints, violence, humiliation (agreed)

love language. he’s pretty verbal about it when he cares about someone. he also gets physically affectionate with people he’s closer to, though it’s mostly just pats on shoulders and brief hugs if things aren’t romantic

relationship tendencies. tends to lose himself when things get serious. it’s rare that he really connects with people, so the part of him that is starved for that dives in wholeheartedly. Sometimes this can cause him to get wrapped up in the idea of things rather than the reality, but he’s gotten better at tempering that with age.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. I don’t really know what his theme song would be. I’ve never considered it, but I might come back to this one day.

hobbies to pass the time. tinkering in his lab, playing video games, streaming shows/movies, card games, traveling

mental illnesses. ptsd, depression,

physical illness.  none

left or right brained. both, but veers more toward left (same)

fears. helplessness, losing control, being forgotten

self confidence level. medium to high social situations, very high in combat

vulnerabilities. stubborn, arrogant, short-sighted socially

tagged by: stole from @cryostore

tagging: @zzapzzaptasers, @thearcherprotocol, whoever else wants to idek who still follows ivan at this point

[iilovemusic12us]

Give’m Hell

Bill Guarnere x Pilot reader

Okay so this is my first ever imagine or x reader request so I hope you all enjoy!! 🥺❤️

Request: @rayleighshughes after that divinely anointed holy grail that was your ship i'm going to have to request some bill guarnere x pilot!reader content because hooooooo buddy only you can put back the shattering world with your writing ilysm

Y/P/N = Your Plane’s Name

It was the fifth of June and the airfield was dead silent. The sun was just starting to rise basking your skin in its warmth. The harsh chill in the air made it hard for you to enjoy. The dark leather bomber jacket stuck out to the men that were walking around preparing for the bombing run that was about to happen. Your hair pulled into a tight french braid keeping your hair out of your face. As you approached your P-51 time seemed to slow. The paint glistened and reflected the bright orange and pink the sun was casting off. If the circumstances were different you would admire the moment a lot more. You were to be escorting B-17’s to drop bombs on Germany, before the big invasion of Europe. Your heart unusually beating at a steady pace, maybe because you felt more at home in the sky. As you geared up and doing a quick walk around of your plane, that you named Y/P/N. Seeing that everything looked fine, you climbed up the ladder and into the single seat in the cockpit. As you strapped in you quickly went over the flight plan in your head. You did not want your mind to wander to the night before.

You were out drinking with some of the RAF and American pilots at a small pub in town. Usually you did not do this the day before a mission, but you needed to get out of that stuffy barrack. As you sat back, sipping on your beer you took a look around. There were a lot of men in the pub tonight which made you internally groan. Not that you minded, but you have been stuck around men for the past two years and they were all the same. “OH honey, I might not make it back. So we need to live in the moment tonight”. You were brought out of your thoughts when your eyes landed on a pair of chocolate ones staring back at you. Quickly scanning over his face you noticed his strong jawline, broad shoulders, dark hair. The moment was quickly broken when the pilot next to you nudged your shoulder, laughing.

“Earth to Y/N” A small chuckle left your lips, and you quickly smacked his arm for pulling you out of the trance you were in. The conversation at the table you were at continued and once they were deep in conversation about something flying related. You turned your head to see if that mysterious man was still there. But to your dismay he disappeared from the table. Taking a sip of your beer, finishing up the last in your cup. You stood up deciding to head back to the barracks, knowing you had to be up early. Saying a quick good night to everyone you headed out the door of the bar. The fresh air was a relief to your senses. Clearing your head for a split second till you heard someone’s voice cutting through the silence.

“What’s a beautiful doll like you doin’ here?” You spun around quickly to see that man you were staring at earlier looking at you. His tall, muscular frame leaning against the wall of the pub. A cigarette sitting between his plump lips. You were breathless from his words. Quickly composing yourself you simply answered his question.

“You want to win this war don’t you”. You stated jokingly. The corners of his mouth turned up at your response. He kicked himself off the wall and walked toward you. Once he reached you, he stuck his hand out. “The names Bill”. You smiled at him and reached for his hand. It was rough and calloused, but the way he held yours was soft and tender. “Y/N”.

He walked you back to your barracks, as you both talked about your lives. It was the best night you’ve had in awhile. Bill didn’t know, but he weaseled his way into your heart. You both sat at the steps of your barracks not wanting the night to end.

You were pulled out of your day dream at the sound of your engine starting. That little memory made you feel warm, but you had to push it to the back of your mind. You had to focus and give your all. The men in those B-17 bombers relied on you. As you saw the other planes take off, you taxied and waited. The sun brighter, thick white clouds littered the sky. It was a beautiful day, but something in your gut felt off, lighting your nerves on fire. As you finally took off that feeling disappeared. Your body sat back more in your seat and you found your spot in the formation of the planes. It was going to be a longer flight than usually, but you were prepared. This mission was important and you did not want to fail. You wanted this war to end sooner rather than later.

The flight was smooth for the most part till after you hit Germany. Chaos ensued and Luftwaffe swarmed behind the B-17’s trying to shoot as many of them down as they can. Your heartbeat picked up as you start to ascend and try to loop behind them. You were successful in doing so and shooting down two German fighters. While shooting those two planes, a Luftwaffe fighter got right on your tail and started firing. You could hear the bullets whizz by and hitting your wing. Looking to your left you noticed a huge hole in the wing. Luckily an RAF fighter heard your distress over the radio and got to you in time. The damage was not severe and you could still make it back.

Once you were over the English Channel it calmed. Your hyper focus started to break apart and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That’s when you could finally see those famous white cliffs on the horizon.

As you parked your plane, you noticed the familiar faces of the mechanics run towards you. You took a shaky breath and started to wind down everything. Your mind buzzed with adrenaline, that was your first ever close call to being shot down. Quickly you got out of the plane to survey the damage. You could see where bullets scraped the paint, ricochet off the belly of Y/P/N. Then you came across the hole in the wing. It was a lot larger than what you saw in the air. Your head could fit through it. You ripped off your bomber jacket as the sweat beaded at the back of your neck. Just like this morning, you surveyed the airfield. This time it was loud and bustling with paratroopers. As you looked around from your spot next to your plane you noticed Bill standing near a C-47. He had waited to see some of the fighter planes land before he put on his gear. Seeing your plane having damage, honestly worried him more than he would like to admit.

You noticed the cam paint smeared all over his face, and it made your heart leap from your chest. Your eyes met his and you both walked toward each other hastly. Once you reached him you wrapped your arms around his neck. He then snaked his arms around your waist. Nothing was said. The realization of what was about to happen hit you both. Your usual nerves of steel broke and you started shaking.

Bill lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look over your face. Without thinking he grabbed your cheeks and smashed his lips on yours. The kiss was quick but passionate. All of your feelings for him was communicated through that kiss. You rested your forehead on his trying to stop your mind from spinning. In the distance someone was calling for Bill. This was it. A sad smile appeared on both of your faces. You swiftly kissed him on the cheek and whispered:

“Give’m hell”

[aelaer]

The Blood in Our Veins (a serial)

This came out faster than I expected.

Prompt (via @ironstrangeprompts): Kidnapped to play doctor for a still unseen other prisoner; Stephen realizes there is only one person on the planet who would have palladium in their blood.

This is unbetaed; apologies for any errors.

Part 1 |

Part 2 - Get Me Through the Night

The time on Stephen's watch read 5:24 P.M. on April 24, 2010. Doctor Baar caught him looking at his wrist as he helped prepare samples for the pharmaceutical chemist.

"If your watch is set for New York time, it will not match here. I do not think we are in America."

"What makes you say that?" Stephen asked. He was told that talking was allowed so long as they still worked, but a couple doctors gazed over at the camera as that was said. He got it; they were being both watched and listened to. Great.

"Breakfast should come in the next two to four hours. Or at least, they are more breakfast-like foods. Eastern European, maybe Middle Eastern. I am not entirely sure." The German doctor adjusted the microscope he looked into and kept his head down. "They do keep us well-fed, for what it is worth. You will not starve here."

Playing lab technician was not something Stephen had done since medical school and it was not something he particularly enjoyed. He wasn't exactly in the position to change his circumstances at the moment, however—and there were a lot of blood samples that needed preparation by someone, and he wasn't one of the lab specialists. So he took on the prep work. It was tedious, but necessary in their situation.

"Breakfast?" Stephen frowned. "Then when do they let us sleep?"

"At the beginning, when Doctor Ferguson and I were first brought here, we were permitted to sleep seven hours. They even dimmed the lights." Again the doctor kept his head down, appearing very focused on his work.

Stephen followed his lead and kept his eyes on the centrifuge tubes he was preparing. "How long have you been here?"

"For us, it has been a month. It was maybe two weeks later when Doctor Mahajan joined us. Doctor Weston has been here for only a few days." Doctor Baar typed a few notes into a computer and replaced the slide with another one; both slides had a small drop of blood upon them.

"I don't suppose that computer has an internet connection," Stephen muttered.

The chemist smiled dryly. "That would be useful, wouldn't it?"

Stephen had nothing to say to that and the conversation petered out into nothing.

————  

Stephen's watch read 6:41 P.M. when Doctor Mahajan asked if Stephen could be spared for more sample handling at her work station. He had hundreds of more questions, but Doctor Baar had asked for silence soon after their conversation and Stephen understood that need well and had followed his request.

"Thank you for joining in the work so quickly," Doctor Mahajan said after relaying her instructions to him. "I am surprised you didn't elect to sleep further first. You were heavily drugged."

"I get through stress best by working," Stephen replied, "though I haven't done lab work for some years." The knowledge that he had been kidnapped was a thought he had pushed into the back of his mind, placing it in a spot to deal with later (when he inevitably had to). In the meantime, he wanted to distract himself as much as possible and gather what information he could regarding his circumstances, and he had the opportunity to do both right now.

Doctor Mahajan continued lowly, "Doctor Weston has been helping us a lot since her arrival, but she deserves further rest. She remained awake during her time to sleep to monitor you."

Stephen had been instructed by her to place samples onto slides and label them in a specific manner on both the slide and computer, so he was in the process of doing just that. "What is this about taking shifts to sleep? Doctor Baar mentioned it had not always been like this."

"It changed about a week ago," she answered. "It was just before Doctor Weston was brought here. Before, during my time here, they had only come in once to deliver new equipment that Doctor Ferguson requested."

"How're food and messages usually delivered?" Stephen asked.

"Through the slot at the bottom of the door," she said, then lowered her voice even further into a near whisper, leaving Stephen straining to hear her. "But they came in again." She went off on a tangent to add, "If they come once more, put your hands on your head, quickly. They're impatient." Doctor Mahajan then paused to enter something longer on her own computer before continuing to speak in a whisper. "They said the last time they came that only one of us could sleep at a time, and we needed to eat meals faster. There would be 'consequences' if we didn't." She quickly pivoted the subject. "Let me know when you are starting to get tired; my sleep shift started an hour ago, but Doctor Weston needed it more. We will need to adjust to about five hours a shift with your arrival, too."

Stephen frowned down at the slides as he listened to her words. "What could be so damn important that we can only sleep one at a time? What are these samples for?"

Doctor Mahajan didn't answer immediately. When she did, he again had to strain to hear her. "The less you know and the less you guess, the safer it will be for you. Please don't ask me again."

————  

The time was 8:30 P.M. in New York when Stephen finished his prep work for Doctor Mahajan. She had gone for her sleep shift about 45 minutes ago. Just as he finished, he heard a metallic scraping sound that sounded near-deafening in the quiet room.

"That's breakfast," Doctor Ferguson told him as she turned to face him. "We have a table to eat at over there." She waved a hand at a corner of the room. "They don't like us eating together all at once. We'll eat first."

She sent a couple silent gestures to the other two doctors, then went towards the door. Stephen followed her and eyed the entrance up and down. It looked like it was made of steel and in no way was going to be forced open. Beside the door were two large closed containers. Doctor Ferguson picked one up, leaving Stephen for the other, and he followed her to the table.

The containers turned out to be filled with an ample amount of food: several pieces of flatbread, a chunk of cheese, a chunk of butter, another container filled with a porridge of some type, and something that resembled yogurt but didn't quite smell like the yogurt he was used to. There were also two canteens of what turned out to be tea and coffee, and enough dishes and cutlery for them all.

"Doctor Baar wasn't kidding," Stephen muttered. "They do want us well-fed."

"It wouldn't do them any good if we were too weak to work," she replied. "Help yourself to whatever you want."

Stephen avoided the yogurt-looking substance, but took a bit of the rest and helped himself to some coffee. It wasn't spectacular, but it was manageable. "Doctor Baar mentioned that you, alongside him, have been here the longest Doctor Ferguson."

"Call me Jada," she answered. "It seems ridiculous to me to stand on titles in a situation like this. Summer—Doctor Weston—agrees with me." 

He raised his brows. "And the other two?" 

"Steffen doesn't seem to care either way; he's a tough read. Doctor Meera Mahajan always refers to us by title, and seems to want the same. I think it helps her disassociate from our circumstances—helps her cope. We're all worried, but she's having the toughest time of it." 

Stephen looked sidelong at the British woman as they spoke about her; she was currently asleep in one of the beds along the far wall. The stress lines across her brow had hardly faded. His eyes quickly caught sight of the unlabeled pill bottle on the floor just beside her cot. "Pills?" he asked. 

"Oh." Jada paused for a moment in thought. "She has a condition—best if she tells you, rather than me. I'm not her doctor, but…" 

"I get it," Stephen said with a slight smile. 

"Steffen has his own pills, too. A different condition. But you need to let us know now if you need anything daily; they'll have it to you within a day, if it's like when they got the other pills." 

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He then glanced towards the camera at the corner near the door. "They're very well-stocked." 

"Very," she muttered. 

"Who are these people?" Stephen muttered back. "What do they want with us?" 

"No idea who they are, but I can show you what they are having us do after breakfast." Jada jutted her chin to his plate. "Finish up; we've been talking too long without getting work done. They're even starting to get annoyed at longer showers. Though to be honest, I don't know why I still try and bother with long showers; that white people shampoo has completely ruined my hair." 

Stephen snorted softly at the unexpected comment. "Should send a complaint to management." 

She half-smiled. "We've gotten a few changes of clothes, extra towels, and water containers as needed—they brought stuff in for you when you arrived, by the way—but even I wouldn't push my luck with this group." Jada then turned fully to her meal and Stephen followed suit. 

After they ate, she led him back to her workstation. Doctors Baar and Weston took their turn to eat breakfast as Doctor Ferguson opened a cabinet. 

Stephen stared blankly at the contents within. On one shelf were a number of inorganic compounds: calcium hydroxide, lithium carbonate, lithium hydroxide, hydrogen peroxide, and lithium peroxide, to name a few. On another shelf chlorophyllin, several supplements in the form of vitamin C, vitamin B12, magnesium, calcium, and iron, and a bottle of Calcium EDTA were all in sight, though there were other things behind those. There were also various fruits, of all things, on the very bottom shelf. 

"The fruits aren't for us, by the way." She tapped a handwritten recipe beside the cabinet. "You can make the drink right now. We're making it twice a day at this point. Refrigerated items are over there." Jada gestured over to a small medical fridge. 

His bewildered gaze went from the cabinet to follow her hand, then fell on the recipe. "What the hell is this for?" 

"Our patient." She went to her microscope and placed a slide under it. After a moment of adjusting the focus, Jada said, "Come take a look at this." 

Stephen stepped up to the microscope and frowned to himself as he looked at what happened to be a blood sample. The white blood cells showed clear signs of toxic granulation and he saw both basophilic stippling and microcytic anemia in the red blood cells. 

"Well," he started, "the patient does not have normal-looking blood cells. I hope you have more than blood samples to work with." 

She half-smiled. "Lucky for us, we didn't have to search for what was causing these abnormalities. The patient has palladium poisoning." 

Stephen lifted his head from the microscope to stare at her. "Palladium poisoning? Is the patient chewing on engagement rings?" Seriously, palladium? 

"It gets weirder," Jada answered. "Calcium EDTA could solve the trick, but for whatever reason the patient is being continually exposed to this palladium and it's not leaving the body. The smoothie," she nodded to it, "was on us to make from the first day we got here, to treat symptoms and to limit the spread of the poisoning. We've added a couple other things to try and help the patient's body fight it. Start making a cup; we leave it at the slot and they collect it with our dishes." 

Normally Stephen would not be thrilled to be ordered around as such, but again, his circumstances weren't exactly normal—and his brain was still trying to come up with an idea as to where someone would be continuously exposed to palladium, of all things. 

As he began to make the drink and Jada returned to her own work at the microscope, he asked, "And I suppose that you've been tasked to find some sort of permanent cure against continuous palladium exposure." 

"Bingo," she answered. "During my second week here we began experiments with lithium compounds after we saw potential in the samples. After Doctor Mahajan arrived, she suggested lithium dioxide which has had the most effective results in slowing the poisoning. Several tests later, Steffen synthesized a stable mix with the least likelihood of side effects. 

"But as you saw, it slowed down the spread of poisoning; it hasn't done anything to fully stop it or repair the damage. We're still seeing a deterioration in the patient's tests. The current trend is leading into a direction that, if we don't figure something out soon, will leave the patient dead in two months—even with regular lithium dioxide injections." 

Stephen's frown remained a permanent fixture as he mixed the strange smoothie and listened to her. "Do these people know this?" 

"Yeah," she answered. "And a couple days after we told them, Summer arrived. We're still trying to find a more permanent solution, but she was given X-rays yesterday." 

"Doctor Weston did mention an X-ray earlier." 

"I haven't had a chance to look at them yet. I guess they are having her explore another avenue." Jada jutted her chin to the smoothie. "Cap the smoothie and leave it by the door; Steffen will put everything that needs to go back to them into place in the container. And if you're up for it, I could use a hand inputting all my notes into the computer." 

It was something to do, so he agreed.

—————  

It was 11:13 P.M. according to Stephen's watch when he agreed to take the sleep shift after Doctor Mahajan starting at about 12:30 (at least in New York). Steffen Baar had been after Meera Mahajan before Stephen's arrival, but the chemist wanted to finish some experiments that would take more than two hours to complete, apparently, so they 'may as well start the new shifts now'. 

So Summer Weston pulled him away from his transcribing work with Jada Ferguson to discuss some matters with him before he went to sleep. 

"Your latest paper on neurogenesis was fantastic, Doctor Strange. Some of the more complex concepts went beyond my medical knowledge, but what I did understand really excited me for what we may see in neurosurgery in the future."

His ego ate the compliment with ease, but he replied politely, "Thank you, Doctor Weston. Your own pioneering work with robotic cardiovascular surgery is bound to help cardiothoracic surgeons across the world."

She waved a hand. "Summer, please."

"Call me Stephen, then," he said. "You mentioned you had some X-rays?"

"Yes." They reached her workstation and she clicked on a folder on her desktop. "They're not incredibly helpful, though."

He was about to ask what she meant, and then the first image came up. Stephen raised his brows. The image was of a male torso with several splinters of some sort of foreign body scattered throughout the chest. But instead of showing the entire affected area as an X-ray usually would, the image was cropped midway up the torso, leaving off the upper chest entirely.

"And this one is why you're here, I'm afraid," Summer said, and again he was presented with a strangely cropped X-ray. This one was taken from the side; the spine and a couple inches of the body was shown, but it was cropped before the sternum. In what he could see from this X-ray and in comparison to the first one, there were a couple shards dangerously close to peripheral nerves and one uncomfortably close to the spine.

"How is this man still alive?" he muttered. "Are these shards causing the palladium poisoning?" What palladium item would create such trauma in the first place?

"It's amazing he's alive," she said in agreement. "And take a look at the heart X-ray." She went to the image (again cropped to cut off view of the sternum) and, other than the foreboding shards lodged about the area, he immediately saw the issue.

"His heart is too far left," Stephen muttered. "What's pushed it there?"

She offered him a slight smile. "I have written to them," she gestured to the computer, "that I will not be able to give them an accurate idea of surviving a surgery without full chest X-rays at the least, and that I would definitely need an orthopedic surgeon or neurosurgeon for the shards near the nerves." She then gave him an apologetic look.

Stephen didn't bother answering; what was done was done. "They can't expect us to perform surgery on this man without a full X-ray at the least."

"I don't think they want us to," she answered. At his questioning look, Summer clarified, "They're still trying to find a more permanent solution to the palladium poisoning with the other three, but they are running out of time. We're more of a last resort."

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being a last resort (he felt a bit miffed, actually, but he had enough sense to realize that this was not a good time to express his annoyance). "Doctor Ferguson said two months at most." Stephen looked again at the X-ray, and he found himself frowning; something was tickling at the back of his mind, some piece of knowledge that was relevant to all this, but it remained elusive.

"Hopefully they won't wait until last minute for the surgery, then," she answered.

Stephen spent the rest of his time awake studying what imaging and tests had been made on this male patient (obviously no MRIs); but alongside the cropped X-rays there were extensive blood tests, images from a CT scan, urine tests, lung function tests results, and cardiac function tests. There was more than enough data to read through and get a better idea of the overall health of the man he might have to perform surgery upon.

When he eventually took his turn to sleep, he was exhausted and fell quickly asleep. Stephen's last waking thought was the puzzle of the palladium and the niggling, niggling suspicion that he was missing something he already knew.

————— 

A/N: Tony's injected with lithium dioxide in Iron Man 2 to slow his poisoning. In reality, this chemical compound doesn't exist. Its real-life cousin, lithium superoxide, would definitely not be good for his body considering you use Kelvin to measure its temperature (aka very very very cold). It's other cousin, lithium peroxide, doesn't seem nearly as bad, but not exactly what you'd call anywhere near accurate science. But this just means that the fic can get away with some Hollywood Science. 

Hollywood Science is used in the ingredients for his symptom-counteracting drink (for instance, chlorophyllin has no proven health benefits, just conjectures, and treating metal poisoning is a good deal more precise than I write here and the ingredients are all rather loosey-goosey, though I try to put some real world logic into it). Huzzah!

Medical people: if you see anything blatantly erroneous (and clearly not Hollywood Science in the form of fictional treatments), please let me know.

Tag requests: @sobeautifullyobsessed, @tashacumberbitch @babywarg, @nishtha3012, @ragingstillness, @walkin-in-the-cosmos, @lafourmii20. Others: Let me know if you want to be tagged for future updates in a comment (as it won't be on AO3 for a while and has no steady update schedule planned). Or let me know if you want to be removed.

[loganarmstrong]

B A S I C

NAME: Logan Mayumi Armstrong

NICKNAME(S): Lo

AGE: 29

DATE OF BIRTH: 5 February 1992

GENDER: cis male

PRONOUNS: he/him

F A M I L Y

MOTHER: lyra armstrong, nee karingal

FATHER: michael armstrong

SIBLING(S): sean (older brother), mason (older twin brother)

P H Y S I C A L

FACE CLAIM: darren criss

RACE/ETHNICITY: english, german, filipino, spanish, chinese

NATIONALITY: american

HEIGHT: 5 feet and six inches (5′6)

WEIGHT: 152 lbs

BUILD: slender, skinny, will often describe himself as scrawny

SCARS: inside of wrists, one above eyebrow

HAIR: black, curly

EYE COLOR: hazel

DOMINANT HAND: left

ACCENT: american (though rarely speaks)

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: none, though needs glasses

MENTAL DISABILITIES: autisim, selective mutism

ALLERGIES: shellfish

DISORDERS: anxiety, depression

FASHION: prefers soft fabrics, often wears with overalls and doc martens

NERVOUS TICS: wringing hands together, fidgeting

L I F E S T Y L E

HOME ADDRESS: bridgeport, somerton, maine

RESIDES: medium sized loft apartment

BORN: conway, new hampshire

RAISED: conway, new hampshire

VEHICLE: range rover suv, black

PHONE: iphone xr

LAPTOP/COMPUTER: macbook pro, ipad pro

PET(S): service dog, northern inuit named ella

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: kennett high school

COLLEGE EDUCATION: the institute of fine arts, nyu

MAJOR: fine art

MINOR: illustration

CAREER: head baker

EMPLOYER: golden flour bakery

DIET: vegetarian 

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

MARITAL STATUS: single

CHILDREN: none

LANGUAGES: english, american sign language

PHOBIAS: loud noises

HOBBIES: art, reading, journalling, soccer, video games

SOCIAL MEDIA: inactive on most, privacy settings high due to ex partner

F A V O R I T E

LOCATION: the reading nook in his apartment

VIDEO GAME: skyrim, animal crossing, horizon zero dawn, spyro, stardew valley

ARTIST: vincent van gogh

MUSIC: varying

SONG: radio gaga - queen

TV SHOWS: the umbrella academy, the witcher, friends, stranger things, doctor who, sherlock

MOVIES: the addams family, my neighbor totoro, jurassic park, hook, forrest gump

FOOD: asian

COLOR: yellow

C H A R A C T E R

MBTI: infj-t: the advocate

ENNEGRAM: six

TEMPERAMENT: melancholic

WESTERN ZODIAC: aquarius

CHINESE ZODIAC: monkey

PRIMAL SIGN: dolphin

B I O G R A P H Y

tw suicide attempt, self harm, abusive relationship

Logan Mayumi Armstrong is precisely three minutes and forty two seconds younger than his twin brother, Mason, and six years younger than his oldest sibling. He was a quiet baby who hardly ever cried and mostly kept to himself, even as a toddler. None of the family knew anything was wrong with Logan until he was five years old. The Armstrong family thought that maybe Logan was just a quiet child, or even a late bloomer. But soon enough, every other child in his play group could speak and Mason was already stringing together full sentences. Logan hadn’t uttered a single word and was taken to see a doctor, put through weeks of testing until finally, a result came through.

Logan was diagnosed with selective mutism. He had the ability to speak - the tests showed he had the physical ability, but he was unable to do so. The Armstrong family learned sign language in an effort to help their youngest son communicate and it was something he appreciated - he could actually ask for things now! More tests followed and eventually Logan was given a diagnosis of autism. He didn’t fully understand it, not when he was young, but he understood enough to know it made him different. He struggled to make friends in his class and often spent recess alone. Mason on the other hand, was confident and never shy of any friends. He was always around people, always out playing with his friends and happy.

Logan tried hard not to let his differences bother him. People didn’t understand him, that was what he told himself. He focused on the things he enjoyed instead, such as art. For Logan, it was a way of expressing himself without the need for words and he spent hours practicing, filling sketchbook after sketchbook. Art became his outlet, how he showed his feelings although most of his work he kept to himself. He didn’t want to upset anyone with his difference. He’d heard his mom crying when he was first diagnosed as autistic and understood being different made her sad. He’d heard his father say they could get through it and at least they had his siblings who would be able to lead “normal lives”. Those were the words his father had used and it hurt, to know he wasn’t normal. He’d known he was different, sure, but the thought of not being able to live a normal life hurt.

Logan never told either of his parents he’d overheard their conversation. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it but he was sure it wouldn’t be good if they knew. He began to withdraw even more than before, stopping using sign language and only used simple, one-word answers to questions. Logan was battling with himself. As he got older, he realised he was even more different to his peers than he thought. Everyone started getting girlfriends when he entered high school and Logan wasn’t really interested in that. He thought girls were beautiful, sure, but Logan thought guys were too. He told Mason one day who seemed taken aback by the confession. The people in their school found out that Logan wasn’t quite straight and things only got worse. He was already picked on relentlessly for his lack of speech and being different but with new fuel to the fire, they made Logan’s life miserable.

The most difficult thing for him to accept was that no one wanted him around. He felt isolated, more alone than ever and didn’t know who to turn to for help. What could he do? He struggled with communication at the best of times. His parents were concerned at how withdrawn he’d become and heard from Mason how the bullying had gotten worse at school. They took him to a doctor and Logan was diagnosed with depression. He refused to take his medication and hid the pills from his parents - he didn’t need another thing wrong with him and he didn’t want the medication. He was careful though and everyone thought he was taking them when he was supposed to, believing it would just take time for him to get better.

Death wasn’t something that scared Logan. He wasn’t afraid to die and it was something he’d welcome. He wasn’t really sure what spurred his decision; he hadn’t been on his medication since his diagnosis and he was gradually getting worse. He couldn’t think of any other way to deal with the mess that was him. So when Logan’s mother found him on the bathroom floor, barely conscious and in a pool of his own blood, no one had expected it.

Logan was forced to stay in hospital for three months after that. Physically he was fine, merely left with deep scars marking the insides of his wrists. But mentally, Logan wasn’t okay. He was forced to take his medication, made to attend counselling and managed to tell his therapist everything. It took a long time, what with his lack of communication, but eventually, they understood the reasoning behind it and Logan began to recover.

He finished the school year in between his home and the hospital, Mason bringing the work home to him and helping him set up his online classes. Logan managed to graduate with a respectable grade. He wanted to pursue college, wanted to take his art further and make a career out of it. His parents were terrified to let Logan travel so far away. But they understood and after a lengthy conversation and the promise he would keep in contact with them, Logan was off.

He flew to New York City to study Fine Art and Illustration. It was a new sense of freedom for him. He still wasn’t okay, but he made sure he took his medication and stuck to a strict schedule for himself. It helped him focus and Logan was able to enjoy himself, even make a couple of friends and get a job as a barista in a local coffee shop. It was in this coffee shop that he met the person who changed his life.

Matthew was a kind and caring man at first glance. He didn’t let Logan’s lack of speech bother him, continuing to visit the younger man every day with a bouquet of flowers until Logan agreed to go on a date. Things started off well - Matthew was patient with Logan’s difficulty communicating and he made him laugh. Logan thought he could actually be happy and was excited when after a few short months, Matthew asked him to move in with him.

But that was when things began to take a turn for the worst. Matthew seemed to lose the patience he had before. He grew frustrated at Logan’s inability to speak and would fly into a fit of rage more often than not. The first time he hit him was one of the worst. Logan told himself he’d leave him, he wouldn’t let himself be pushed around like this. But Matthew had broken down, told Logan he needed help and said he wouldn’t be able to survive without him. He told Logan he’d been suicidal in the past and he would die if Logan left. So Logan stayed, forgave Matthew each and every time he was hit, when he was shoved or when he was beaten. Matthew told him this was what he deserved and Logan started to believe it. The bruises were always carefully hidden and Logan accepted that this was what his life would be. He was afraid no one would believe him if he told the truth so he kept quiet. Even after he finished his degree, he stayed with his boyfriend. Months turned into years and still, Logan was too afraid to leave.

The sixth time he was hospitalised from his injuries was the breaking point. But it also provided Logan with a way out. Matthew was arrested and Logan discharged himself from the hospital before he recovered fully and ran. He managed to scrape some money together and left the city, travelling as far as he could.

He settled in Somerton, Maine, a town he’d heard about often growing up. No one knew him there and he’d be able to start again, that was the main thing. He was still terrified Matthew would find him, especially as Logan fled without giving a statement against him. But he settled into life, got a job at the local bakery and kept his head down. It was just him and his faithful Ella now, his service dog. She kept him grounded and he knew he owed a lot t her presence. The residents of Somerton were nice and didn’t ask too many questions, for which he was grateful. Now all he had to do was hope he stayed safe.

[honestsycrets]

Rus | Sy’s Resource

Timeline

793 | Viking attack on Lindisfarne.

Late 8th-9th c  | Vikings attacks on Europe- leading out into the Baltic sea, resulting in exploration through the Dvina river.

859-862 |The arrival of first Rus in E. Europe as raiders then leaders.

873 | Ivar the Boneless dies.

882 | Oleg expands from Novgorod to Kiev.

907 | Oleg attacks Constantinople, success. Results in a trading treaty giving Rus privileges in Constantinople.

912 | Oleg dies.

941 | Igor’s failed attacks Constantinople: failure, Byzantines has more success.

988-989 | Vladmier converts to Christianity in order to marry a Byzantine daughter. Upon his return he forcibly baptized Kiev.

1018-1054 | Golden age of the Rus: Interconnections with Europe, more Christianization.

Who were the Rus?

Most likely, Swedish Vikings, lasting from late 800s to early 1200s. In The Primary Chronicle, written by some monks est eleventh century, Slavics invited a Varangian Rurik and his brothers to rule over them. Sound funny? Yeah, probably is. This was probably written to legitimize their rule.

Rus Vikings popped up around 8th-9th c in Novgorod (hi Rurik)! But, these (most likely) Swedish Vikings interbred with Finns, Bals, Slavs, and Volga Bulgars. They concerned themselves with furs, slaves, and silver.

Lifestyle

Princes | Nobles | Merchants | Artisans | Peasants | Kinda Free (you really tho?) People | Slaves

Most of the Kievan Rus were probably farmers, hunters, trappers, beekeepers, and herdsmen with simple lives. They probably ate what they produced, got their wee butts taxed. Their goods included furs, honey, animal hides, and wax with trade to other areas like the Byzantines.

Kievan Rus were often banded together in farming families, sort of like most Viking communities, including extended families since farming ain’t no easy work. Especially when you have crap tools. 

boyars | fighting men of Kiev. Nobles.

Slavic upper class. Small amount of members but important for the prince, towns, and states.

Merchants | Had a good amount of influence. At times political power. Often imported the luxury items: silk, fruit, spices, wines, metal, and pretty things.

Smerdy | peasants.

can i say this means “stinkers?”

Slaves | Important to early Kievan Rus.

Trade Route with Scandinavian Vikings

General trade during the Viking age included:

From Russia, as preciously stated, exports of slaves, furs, wax, and honey.

From Norway timber, iron, soapstone, whetstone, barley, tar.

From Sweden, Iron and Furs.

From Iceland: Fish, Animal Fat, Wool, Sulfur, FALCONS.

From England: Tin, What, Honey, Silver, Barley, Linen.

Most trading was done in short distances. as trading grew, Norse traders would trade widely. In trading to Russia, there were two main routes as well as two through central Europe to the Baltic. Both would drag ships up rapids and over land. Traders would begin in the Gulf of Finland, to Lake Ladoga (a major trading center c 9th-10th c), Then they would sail along the Volkhov river to the Lake Ilmen to Novgorod. Then the ships would row up rivers to be hauled to either Volga (to Caspian Sea) or the Dneiper (to the Black Sea).

Religion

Kievan Rus converted to Christianity in 988 after Vladmir smashed all pagan idols and uh, you know, forcibly baptized fuckers (The Primary Chronicle). But, heathen belief and practices still floated around after that. The Christian church was still one church. But in 1054, the Church split into the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church.

Orthodox Christianity enjoyed building churches, forming saints, and mass. many old pagan practices were adapted into Christianity. Most arts were religious.

Women and Marriage

Queen Olga rules in 855: the first female ruler, a Christian, but did not adopt Christianity for all the Christians. Well respected for legislation reform of the tribute system. She had a seal, indicating her power.

Most women were homebodies preoccupied with bringing up children and managing the household. Women could control lands in her dowry, lend money, donate to the church, buy or sell slaves. Women could speak on their own behalf or appear as witness. Restrictions depended more on class than gender. Princesses could be judges. Women could hire fighters if a duel came to pass, but if they were both women, they would do this themselves. There was intermarriage with families in German areas and Scandinavia.

Male infidelity was not grounds for divorce, but it was expected when a female was unfaithful female. Men could also divorce women for attempted murder or theft as well as a wife eating or sleeping, visiting public entertainment against her husband’s wishes. Rape and lying was grounds for a woman to divorce her husband. Being unable to conceive was also grounds for divorce. Physical abuse was not alone grounds for divorce.

Orthodox Church forbid marriage between social class, heathens, or those not of faith. Rape would result in the same fine as murder, as was infantcide, abortion, beating a pregnant woman which results in child loss. Birth control was also punished by the church.

Fashion

Previous Resource

Women’s Clothing in Early Rus

Women’s Clothing in Kievan Rus: Medieval Textiles

Writing

Tiiiinnnnny section of population was literate. They might use birch-bark for manuscript codices or waxed wooden tablets. They might use coins and seals, pictures to label or caption, and also had graffiti. Parchment was made from animal skin, birch bark (scraped and boiled) and wooden tablets. Writing included a stylus and ink. Wooden tablets could be reused by smoothing wax with the flat end of the stylus to renew the tablet. Literacy often related to the church; the purpose of books was often devotional. It was also used by rulers and traders to conduct their businesses.

Terminology

kniaz’ | prince or duke.

There is some debate on this term in relation to other ruling classes as it’s debated Rus rulers were not ‘kings’ in the sense of say English kingship so this titlature can be inconsistent.

The etymology of kniaz: comes from Germanic root *kun-ingaz, same roots for “konungr,” and English “king”. Kniaz often were rules of city based territories (Kiev, Novgorod) with surrounding regional control. Stress upon a right to rule rather than a birth right (later did become this).

 Roles of kniazia: ruler, military leader, lawgiver, tax collector.

velikii kniaz’ | grand prince

Scholars disagree with its use. It’s not used frequently but may mean eldest member of kindred, regards a deceased ruler, or is similar to a tsar.

konungr | ruler (old norse) chief, king.

Problematic use of word as there was about 45 kings at one point who bore this title est 800. This word seems to have a loose meaning that can be applied to lesser known people and more well known such as Harald Bluetooth.

gardariki | name given to the Rus in Old Norse.

rex, reges p. | ruler (in relation to anglo-saxon england but also poland (who also used the term dux)).

Also another area where there was an excess of kings in areas like Wessex and Mercia.

rí | king (in relation to ireland).

More than 150 kings during the 5th-12th c. A rí would rule over his own people and were responsible for them. Another term of consideration is an ard-rí, a high king, but that concept is under debate.

How does Vikings (tv) fit into this?

In short, it doesn’t really fit well. But that’s TV for you. While Hirst does use important figures to pull a more well rounded experience for viewers, these dates do not correlate with the people who indeed lived within them. Christinization was not until 988, and when we start with Ragnar in the late 8th century, there would have been no successful wide spread Christianity. In conclusion, Hirst does bring important elements in... but its a bit disconnected over all.

Works Cited

Duczko, Wladyslaw. Viking Rus Studies on the Presence of Scandinavians in Eastern Europe. Leiden ; Boston: Brill, 2004. Northern World ; v. 12. Web.

Franklin, Simon. Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, c.950–1300, Cambridge University Press, 2002. ProQuest Ebook Central.

“Land Travel in the Viking Age.” Hurstwic, www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/manufacturing/text/land_travel.htm.

Thompson, John. Russia : A Historical Introduction from Kievan Rus' to the Present, Routledge, 2017. ProQuest Ebook Central.

Young, Matthew. Folk Epics and the Role of Gender in Medieval Kievan Rus. Simmons College, beatleyweb.simmons.edu/scholar/files/original/aea362ec44e5d72e3014bd40a9d07c6f.pdf.

[rainbow-scarab]

It’s fanfiction time!!

A mini crossover between @kuttiesstuff​‘s Human Candy AU and LanternDay AU (but mostly LanternDay).

I found out about LD Sans's story a few days ago looking through Kuttie's art tag (I had seen him in the Twitchy Timeloop comic but didn't really know what he was about). Aaaaaaaaand somehow a fanfiction happened XD

I've taken some liberties with the AUs, especially since there's only so much revealed about LanternDay (as well as some things I didn't notice went against canon until it was too late WHOOPS), but I hope it's fun anyway. ...Pretend everyone speaks German lol I don't want to butcher it with my attempts

(Also....this is the first fanfic I've actually completed since like....2009 o__o;;; I'm not much of a writer. But I still enjoyed myself c: )

Title: Tastes Like Home

-------------------------------

Chance wasn't used to the stares he was getting from monsterkind on his long trip back to Snowdin from the surface. In fact, he wasn't used to any part of the journey--that's what teleporting was for! But today that wasn't an option. Not for a human.

Of course, he had been human all along! But now it was visible to the outside world (even if no one recognized him anymore as "Sans"). Ever since he found that one universe with its unique candy... Well, it had only been a day, but already it was a new chapter in his life--he just knew it! He'd finally be able to go home, whole, in his body... The universe had promised him.

When it would happen, he didn't know. But in the meantime, he explored the surface. This time, where other humans could recognize him as such, and he could fit in! Malls, movies, food........he could be just another human teenager.

But human teens had to sleep eventually, so it was back to his house in Snowdin. A big grin spread across his face as he walked. He couldn't wait to tell Papyrus about his day.

---

Papyrus pounded the bread dough with all his might. And again, and again. It made an odd crunch each time.

It had been two days since Sans came home from another universe, ate some strange magic food, turned into a human, and ran off excited! Leaving the Great Papyrus behind!!

He punched the dough so hard it flew off the counter, joining half a dozen others on the floor. He sighed and started on another. At least one loaf of his surely soon-to-be-famous spaghetti noodle bread had made it to the oven.

Sans had seemed so happy in this human form. But there was no reason he had to go off by himself. He would have gone with him, if he even knew he was going somewhere! It frustrated Papyrus to no end. But most of all, he was worried. Worried at how long Sans had been gone. Worried that he was alone as a squishy human. And worried that....

That...........

Papyrus didn't want to think about it, and he threw himself back into breadmaking. Grillby was out there looking for him anyway. Sans would come home one way or another.

Then came the sound of the front door.

"SANS!?"

---

The moment he opened the door, Chance was swooped up in a huge hug. "papyrus!" He smiled and wrapped his own arms around the taller brother. Before he could get out any more words, Papyrus spoke up at his typical volume.

"SANS!" Papyrus, stern, put him down quickly (but gently) in favor of putting his hands on his hips, and stomped his foot down. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? WHY HAVEN'T YOU BEEN ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?"

"oh, uh..." He should have expected to be taken to task for something like this. "sorry paps, phone ran out of power. i didn't think too much of it since it was only a day--"

"TWO DAYS!"

His good mood was slowly deflating. Had he really lost track of time that badly? No wonder he was so tired. "sorry. i guess i got too excited at the thought of going home."

"H....home?" He realized his mistake immediately. Papyrus's shoulders sagged, and his face looked less angry than....scared.

"i, um, papyrus..." His mind struggled against the twinge of pain in his heart. Of course he'd be going home! That was how it always was gonna be. Papyrus knew of his origins too, so...so....why was this so hard!? Not being able to bear the look on Papyrus's face, he looked to the side. Leaving him staring at the house he'd lived in for so many years now. But...not for much longer, right? He'd have to say goodbye to it.

"Sans?" Papyrus was waiting on him. Looking back at his little brother just made his heart hurt more. For years, he hadn't wanted to think about it, but with the promise of going home closer now than it ever had been, the fact was unavoidable, standing in front of him. If he wanted to go home, he'd have to leave Papyrus behind too.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he shot forward to hug his brother. "don't worry about it, paps..."

Papyrus returned the hug. "I'm going to worry about it if you......" There was a strange pause. "Sans, your body!"

"...huh?"

"YOU'RE BACK TO NORMAL!"

A quick glance at his hands confirmed it. Skeletal, again. Back into the strange magic costume he'd been trapped in for years. "....oh."

He pressed back into his brother, tears flowing in earnest. Somehow this wasn't a shock to him. It made sense. Despite everything, he was too attached to this place and the people who came with it. In this moment, being here, as Papyrus's brother, even in monster form, was more important than going home. That was what what his heart told him. But it still hurt.

---

Papyrus held Sans until he calmed down. There was a lot he didn't understand. Sans's mood had changed so quickly. Was it related to where he went? Did it have to do with being human? Was it all those "mood swings" teens were known for? He didn't know. He was still worried about what Sans said, about going "home"...but it could wait for now.

Sans's breathing finally evened out. "you're the best, paps."

"NYEH??" That brought a smile to his face, and some of his usual attitude. "Well...OF COURSE! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS."

A loud beep sounded from the kitchen. "...MY BREAD!"

---

The brothers sat on the couch with a plate in front of them, as Papyrus put on the finishing touches. Bread, full of spaghetti noodles, marinara sauce on top, and a sprinkling of herbs.

"MY CREATION IS COMPLETE!" Papyrus sprang to his feet for dramatic effect. "THE FIRST SPAGHETTI BREAD!" He cut off a slice and held it out for Sans, looking at him expectantly.

Sans took and bit into the slice, bits of dry crunchy noodle crumbling out of it. The bread's contents scraped against the inside of his mouth, and he found out the hard way an entire bay leaf made it into the bite as well. "it sure has a lot of texture, paps."

This pleased Papyrus. "NYEH HEH! BUT OF COURSE! TEXTURE IS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT COMPONENTS OF A DISH."

"yeah you always know what a dish kneads." He took another bite.

"OH MY GOD SANS. DON'T START."

"what? my puns are the yeast of our problems." Another bite.

"SANS!!"

"just roll with it paps." Crumbs and sauce were getting everywhere.

"SANS! NO MORE...HALF-BAKED PUNS OUT OF YOU! NYEH!"

Sans burst out laughing, and kept laughing, until tears streamed down his face. He kept grabbing more bread, and shoving it in his face as best he could through the laughter and tears. Papyrus had to wonder again if he was okay.

Was he okay? Sans really wasn't sure. He so desperately wanted to go home, but it just wasn't happening. He felt like he was given an amazing opportunity, and he missed his chance. He couldn't prove to the universe that he wanted it enough, and so not only could he not go home, he couldn't live life as a human either.

All he could do was laugh, cry, and eat more and more of this bread. It hurt. But somewhere inside him, he didn't want to admit, he couldn't help thinking maybe this was what home was like. A home anyway. The taste of the bread...the old couch...a little brother. And, maybe home hurt sometimes. A reminder that he couldn't have everything to make him whole. Torn between his origins and his current life.

At least this life came with a cool brother.

He curled up against Papyrus, still slowly attempting to munch on bread, and drifted off to much needed sleep.

-------------------------------

The end!

.....Papyrus eventually remembers to call Grillby to tell him Sans is back.

I didn't know how much canonically Papyrus knew about Chance's past as a human, and how Chance expected to go "home" someday. I just kinda made him know here....and be low-key anxious that someday his brother would leave D:

I might have seen too late that Papyrus doesn't make his own bread, but.....it's spaghetti bread??? XD Which I found out after writing IS A REAL DISH!? ...WHY XD I thought for sure I was making it up but no...real life beat me to it. But at least the version in this fic is a true Papyrus original 😉 Also going under the assumption here that these skeletons can taste cuz...why would they love bread so much otherwise?? Well, doesn’t matter so much in the actual fic anyway.

I had Chance stay human for so long, longer than in the Human Candy comic, cuz of the magic that makes up the candy. Using hypnotism to trick the soul into thinking its human. Chance already believed he was human so strongly it enhanced the effect.

In fact I wonder if it could possibly work so well he could be in that form for weeks, or indefinitely, so strong is his conviction. But, well.... Some things are more important to him. (Yeah, this picture was a big inspiration for the direction the fic took).

Because the candy would have naturally run out well before he actually turned back, this wavering in his conviction was enough to end its effects. So...while Sans wasn't correct in thinking the universe had something to do with it, he was a little correct in that his mindset had an effect.