#i don't know if this was baking or culinary crime

[batrachised]

Adventures in Maud's Recipes

Tomato Jelly Salad

The Recipe

It's been a while since I've picked up LMM's cookbook, after the successes of the New Moon Pie, the cornbread, and the potato soup! I experienced hit after hit - New Moon pie was light and delectable, the cornbread a taste of Eden, and the potato soup apparently academy award worthy. Why at this point, I thought to myself, I should trust Maud's judgement implicitly when it comes to the dinner table. But then I pondered: I'd only tried the recipes that are difficult to get wrong. What if I tried one of the more out there recipes? Cornbread is one thing; raisin pie another. I considered my options. There was dandelion wine, but that required wild dandelions and I didn't feel like curling up with a book and a glass of pesticide; salmon jello molds (yes, really) but that was too much for me (there are some paths even I dare not tread for the sake of lm montgomery); or, I found, there was the aforementioned tomato jelly salad. This salad involves tomato juice, vinegar, onion, sugar (hold on, now we get crazy) which you combine with gelatine to make a jello (keep holding on) and then while the molds are forming, you add a vegetable such as peas or cabbage. For the crunch, I suppose. After all, everyone wants their jello to be crunchy. For obvious reasons, I hesitated. While I do not hate jello, I am suspicious of jello combined with tomatos and peas. In fact, it took me months to build up the emotional resilience to try. Yet, try, I have, and you shall hear of it.

The Results

After a rather disastrous mold experience (I made the mistake of pouring into a floppy dish instead of a metal one, thus meaning any movement of the dish resulted in tomato jello liquid everywhere), we landed on this:

Do you see the peas? Waiting, in the jello like little minnows? What's not to like about this presentation? I love all of my meals to look like bloodsoaked peas. I go for "Veggie Tales mass murder" when it comes to meal presentation, personally.

After bravely moving past the Veggie Tales crime scene, I popped a piece out onto a plate. Here's what it looked like out of the mold (featuring wizard hat roommate's banana chips in the background, my food photography skills are truly impeccable):

That looks vaguely pretty, if it weren't for the peas. One last photo - much like a crime scene, I feel obligated to provide photos from multiple angles. The mold is definitely molding. I suppose you could argue this is vaguely Christmas themed due to the red and green.

The Review

You're supposed to eat this wrapped in a lettuce leaf, but I detest lettuce leaves in that form and refused to do so. I would take this pure, raw, unfiltered by any form. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on watching as I took the first bite. Tremulously, I took up the fork. Would it taste all right? Would the texture be too much? Would Lucy Maud deliver? I paused, then boldly took a bite.

I want you to imagine the flavor of ketchup. Then I want you to imagine this flavor transmitted via the medium of jello. Then on top of that, as the cherry on this veggie tales sundae, I want you to imagine this ketchup has peas in it. Needless to say: I did not enjoy it. It tasted wrong...disordered...as if the earth itself shuddered as I bit into it. Is this how Frankenstein felt, feeling his creation lurking in every corner of the world? Haunted by the work of his own two hands?

Okay, in all honesty: it wasn't that bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. The taste was okay - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The texture was weird - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The two combined admittedly pushed it, but it only toed the line of being gag worthy.

It didn't help that the color of the jello meant my subconscious kept expecting a sweet cherry flavor, only for my mouth to meet vinegary tomato and peas. Ketchup jello with peas on top is not for me personally, though I won't speak for anyone else. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on trying one, and actually finished hers. She described it as something she'd never make, but she could eat. We shall see if Clifford Roommate has the same opinion.

So, what would I rate this? Well, if a zero is a mouse in a pudding sauce, and a ten is Susan's monkey paws, I rate it Aunt Martha's ditto served cold and topped with peas.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware isekai'd househusbands, what a great idea that was. The Vil piece was so fun that I wasn't more!

Can you write Riddle as an isekai'd househusband? Thank you!

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, blood, murder, death, violence, stalking, unhealthy relationship, obsession

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

Imagine, you are the male equivalent of a magical girl in villain version who got isekaid into the normal world

One would think that world domination or something to that would follow, right?

Well no.... said magical girl is right now starting holes into a cookbook

And he kinda likes it- no, he loves to study the culinary arts

Not just for anyone of course

Riddle has become a little helping hand in your home after you found him one day drenched to the bone outside of your little safe haven

But at this point the two of you might be married with you being the breadwinner

In the morning he wakes you up, makes you breakfast, hands you your lunch when you are heading out, cleans the house, spends his time doing... things, greets you when you return gives you food and does more things that would stereotypically be considered as stay-at-home-partner activities

How calm... how sweet... how-Riddle, what are you doing?

Riddle wakes up one hour before you usually do. So what does he do in that hour?

So, half an hour before you wake up he prepares breakfast but the thirty minutes before...

Well he is just standing there, staring at your sleeping figure

Ok. Creepy but at least the time from breakfast till him being done with chores is normal

So uh... remember those “things” I mentioned earlier? Well...

There are those noisy neighbors everyone has, right?

So uh... please don't mention them annoying you in any way. Please don't. Just don't. Oh why? Hehe... don't think too much about what I just said, yes?

When you return Riddle emerges from the kitchen, asking you if everything is alright

Following to that he scolds you for staying out too late

That crazy maniac is running freely out there! All those poor souls lost to them

Your neighborhood might have a... uh... “spontaneous death through decapitation” problem

The crime scenes are clean or rather they are until you enter the room in which “that” happened and you find a surprisingly clean you-know-what sitting there in a chair with their you-know-what laying in their lap, a white rose tucked somewhere in that meat pile as well

Of course Riddle knows that his actions aren't good in any way but when you good him that the old creepy neighbor next door had been scaring you for so long he saw red and...

Let's just say that magic makes it incredibly easy to leave a crime scene without any trace

Ah yes, roses! Let's talk about something easier on the stomach!

Riddle plants of course roses. White ones

Sometimes you even get a few of them, them now being red

You once asked why the roses are red considering that he always plants white ones which he answered with him painting them red just for you

Ah yes, you totally forgot that little thing about his dorm. And isn't it cute? Such a pretty red as well... although the paint is a bit fragile and falls off in flakes if you aren't careful

His pastries are a bit dangerous to eat, he adds sometimes odd things because someone wrote a tip in a baking forum as a joke, but his lunches are pretty good

When you try to help him though he is strictly against it. Especially when it's about doing the laundry

Meh. Probably nothing. Although... you have found splatters of that red paint once or twice on a piece of clothing of his before... probably go it on there the last time he painted the roses red

Though, you do wonder... where is that cleaver that had been missing from the kitchen?

[soldat-buck]

holy shit you guys, look, there's more.

bg3 culinary headcanons: Absolute Edition

- Minthara: would accidentally fit in as the Addams Family home chef (and be angry about it). Gomez would praise her assassination attempts which flusters her (internally) because she's cooking with the normal amount of poisonous mushroom and not an attempted murder amount (and also she would hate loud, in-your-face-chaotic Gomez SO MUCH. if she wanted him dead, he would be dead, do not insult her assassinating abilities). makes the coolest Halloween party food until you realize it's not fun, spooky-mimicry decoration, those are real black widows on those cupcakes (what? they're venom and merlot flavored) (she used cricket flour, too). you don't know where she gets the "red" for her red velvet cakes, but you *do* know that ignorance is bliss and this is a pretty bitchin' birthday cake, so don't think too hard and just eat it

- Dark Urge (pre-game/embrace): slaughterhouse nightmare aesthetic - chef's apron is leather and something more appropriate for blacksmithing, there are way too many cleavers around (why in the blue fuck is there a meat hook over a drain in the floor?). some people watch tv when they cook. some listen to music, podcasts, or nothing. Durge listens to the Toy Box killer kidnapping tape (not to be mixed up with the (not safe for LIFE) Tool Box killers torture tape. that one is for relaxing baths). watches Dahmer documentaries for culinary inspiration. Hannibal Lecter would find most Durge dishes tasteless and over the top.

- Ketheric: listen, he didn't want me to tell you this [so you did NOT hear it from me], but he actually doesn't eat. he has a symbiotic relationship with the bacteria and fungus that keep his body animated and undying (they're why his blood is black). he consumes rotten things to keep his corpse puppet fungus happy and the corpse puppet fungus allows him to keep his consciousness/sentience and keep serving Myrkul. Myrkul's cool with it, as long as his bidding continues to get done

- Orin: Martha Stewart would have a nervous breakdown upon entering Orin's kitchen. the average person would consider Orin's cooking to be a hate crime. if someone doesn't vomit uncontrollably upon first sight, she considers it an insult (she grew up with a gross misunderstanding of what a Roman vomitorium is). her spaghetti and meatballs is wrapping a handful of uncooked noodles in unseasoned ground meat (she neither knows nor cares whether it's fish or chicken or cow. meat is meat), then baking it in a casserole dish sprinkled with still-condensed tomato soup from a can. Midwestern casserole cooking brought to you by Hell. doesn't use salt because she finds it too spicy. she has an entire pantry section for savory jello

- Gortash: culinary techbro. kitchen is spilling over with unitasker gadgets ("and THIS contraption evenly distributes heat for the perfect boiled egg! what do you mean 'what else does it do'. it boils eggs perfectly i already told you, why the fuck weren't you listening"), and the most stupid, overengineered 'smart' devices ("no no no, you don't understand, this is so helpful. the fork connects to the plate to measure the temperature of the food, and then the plate changes color to warn me if it's too hot, and then i don't burn my tongue, because i really hate that"). despite all of the pricey kitchen shit that he keeps buying, he's skilled at making exactly one dish: microwaved Totino's pizza rolls

(i'm sorry if Gortash is out of character; my brain replaced his voice with John Oliver's and won't put the original back)

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Companion Edition

[bellatrixnightshade]

MY INTRO POST

Hello!

I am Mara. (Only close people online can call me by my irl name in private, though I have to admit I am curious to see what people think my name is.)

I love reading, writing, arts and crafts, cooking, baking, and travel. And history, too, especially anything involving crime or assassination. I don't mind things like true crime, autopsy, surgery, so you don't have to worry about me getting upset about it. My blog will be a jumble of things. Oh! And also, I can't forget the very things my ever changing themes are based on: fantasy, dreams, astronomy, and deadly plants and ones that can also have a medicinal purpose are things I love.

I hope to stay as bellatrix nightshade, but I warn you my url changes all the time.

I can also be found on:

This SGE plus prequel themed discord server: https://discord.gg/PE7pCq72Nx

Wattpad

Ao3 (though I'm not too active on here)

Spotify

and instagram, which is private and only followed by a few people.

As of now, my main fandoms are SGE-related, especially the prequels and classical literature stuff. I hope to expand my horizons, though. I also am part of the Lunar Chronicles fandom, and I have read the Belladonna series by Adalyn Grace. I have a looong tbr so I hope to finish that...eventually.

About me:

I am still in school and I am homeschooled. BUT I have a job (oh sorry, two) and i do have weekly co ops so I'll mostly be on here when I am not busy.

I really want to get into the culinary field, especially working as a pastry chef. And I want to also eventually become a general manager or some form of high manager of a restaurant! My ultimate dream is to save enough money to study to work in a university as some sort of literary professor. (Aight I'll stop since this is sounding wayy too much like a resume.) But lastly, I would love to study on how to invest so I can have shares and all that, responsibly.

I don't take it seriously as a real life thing that should dominate anyone's lives, but here are some of my "personality stuff:"

☀♓🌙♋⬆♋

INFJ-T

Melancholic-choleric

Type 5

I am spiritual as of now, and while I respect other religions don't really wish to be a part of an organized one. My beliefs are something I am set on and things I would rather research or seek out myself if I wish to.

Some things to keep in mind:

I don't care which pronouns you use for me as long as it isn't related to inanimate objects (outside of jokes, of course)

I don't mind most "politically incorrect" jokes or anything that otherwise may bother some people, but please be considerate when there are other people around. They may take it the wrong way, and understandably so. What I don't tolerate is religious blasphemy, suicide jokes, and jokes about SA and pedophilia

Be respectful of people's religious, political, fandom related, and so forth beliefs, even if they don't align with yours. if you really don't like someone, block. It's that easy. I don't accept most forms of cancelling on this blog.

No doxxing or plagiarism. Especially don't plagiarize my writing please, otherwise that earns you a block.

No NSFW and no pedophile behavior, please.

No discourse, especially political, activist, and religious debate on this blog. I am interested in these issues, but only in certain spaces and tumblr is not one of them.

No DMs from most people. If you really have to tell me something or it is out of consideration for another blogger, then please just ask me or let me know. ALSO, do NOT expect me to continue engaging with you in dms on an intimate level.

Asks are totally welcome, as long as they aren't NSFW, trolling, or hate. I also don't take writing requests.

Toxic behavior is not welcome, whether that comes from snowflakes, rad-SJWs, sexist and so forth.

Thank you for checking me out!

With love,

Mara.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

If Clint were to happen to look in his fridge he would find a LARGE glass jug of chocolate milk (We are talking fresh from the farmers market expensive organic stuff) as well as a wrapped up pastrami sandwich fresh from the BEST jewish deli in all of new york (At least in peter's opinion). This sandwich was absolutely GIGANTIC and quite possibly bigger than Clint's WHOLE HEAD.

If all of that wasn't enough? There was even a handful of fresh bakery made chocolate chip cookies to go with it all. On the jug of milk was a little light blue post-it note.

' Hawkebae <3 Was thinking about you today Saw you earlier in the Hudson, you looked cute ; D Mayday and I should be home for dinnnner, text me if you want me to pick something up. <3 <3

Love, Pete <3 P.S. I put some towels in the dryer so they would be warm for you when you got home.

AT THIS POINT, HE SHOULD BE GOING FOR A RECORD.

How many times can he take a dunk into the Hudson in one week?

Clint thinks he should get a reward for that, an honorary prize and dinner, picture put up in the Avengers Hall of Fame just to make him feel like even more of a dunce for how many times he went for swim this week alone. Beat out all the other notable Hudson swimmers, earn a big prize for looking like the biggest wet fool around. LIKE BUCKY, he was joining the club of looking like a wet cat against his will.

He's actually considering telling Helen, with all her smarts (he may hate a lot of this thunderbolt gig besides the part where he puts on a suit and shoots with his bow but he can at least give Helen credit that she is very good at her job) to do some kind of analysis as to why every supervillain and his grandmother was obsessed with committing crime next to a body of water. He would really like to know, so he could avoid joining Bucky's Look Like A Wet Cat club.

Nothing against cats, he actually like the creatures, he just did not want to join Bucky's exclusive club. So he was going to need to figure out how to prevent this next bath (why would there be a NEXT) and how to get crime to move mor inland, if only so he could not be the first to join Bucky's Wet Cat club.

THIS YEAR ⸺⸻ God, it has been a whole year and than some extra months, of being a Thunderbolt with New York's still fucked superhero laws (seriously wilson fisk was a dead man if Clint ever met him again) with still several months left in his contract to complete out the two year contract they locked him in for (wait, what do you mean, your contracts were only six months) ⸺⸻ THIS YEAR HAS BEEN SOMETHING.

Exhausting, and this week he is wondering if he should take up swimming as a sport and go for the Olympics because he's getting surprisingly better at swimming quicker to the shore or climbing onto a boat (commandeering for official tbolts business, don't worry the mayor's office will cover this).

He's still wet, much to his annoyance, but he gets to get home for that very reason instead of simply changing at the headquarters (office ⸺ he hates calling it an office). SOMETHING OF WHICH HE WILL BE GLAD FOR ⸻ AS DAMP SUIT HITS THE FLOOR AND HE'S ALMOST NUDE GOES TO THE FRIDGE.

There's already a smell to his apartment, different from what he remembers when he woke up this morning. IT SMELLS GOOD. So that's nothing to be concerned about. There's a glass jug of mug, of which he knows he did not own this morning, and there's wrapped sandwich as well with the sticker from Peter's favorite deli which he knows was not in Brooklyn.

AND THERE'S COOKIES, which Clint does not recall baking because he was not a baker. Asking him to make a salmon, you'll be wondering if he didn't secretly go through culinary school (exaggeration), ask him to bake cookies and get goo (and him being unenthused about being covered in flour ⸺ he'd take glitter over flour).

Clint's pulling out the the sandwich, because swimming against the current takes a lot of stamina and energy out of him, so FOOD was like the first thought on his mind. Note is taken off the milk jug, and there's a lot about the note to process.

FIRST ⸺⸻ Hawkbae with the the heart; hawkbae may be the only mispronunciation of Hawkeye he will ever tolerate SECOND ⸺⸻ He's teasing him about the dive he took THIRD ⸺⸻ He gets to see Mayday tonight, BUG, she's become his best little buddy FOURTH ⸺⸻ he absolutely does not deserve the love that Pete gives him, but Johanna would remind him he can't make that judgement for other people. Still doesn't quite know what he does to receive any of this (actually he does put a lot of effort into not screwing this relationship like he did all the rest; sorry ex-girlfriends and ex-wife).

The sandwich, unwrapped, is left bare on the counter (no plate) as he finishes going completely nude to grab the towels from his little laundry unit he has installed outside his bathroom up on the loft bedroom of his apartment. They were still warm towels, which means that Peter either put the dryer time on very long, or he hadn't left his place that long ago.

SPEAKING OF TEXTING PETER ⸺⸻ He peels himself from the couch, to fish out his phone, and hope that the water didn't kill it. IT DIDN'T. He's got about thirty percent battery, the touch screen is screwed up and Clint really should take up Tony's offer on a more indestructible phone made special for him because (he really can't keep wrecking the cheapest phone he picks up at the stark store or the apple store much to tony's offense).

✉ [ Captain Dork of the Spiderprise ] -> PHO? ✉ [ Captain Dork of the Spiderprise ] -> for dinner ✉ [ Captain Dork of the Spiderprise ] sent 5 minutes later -> i love you ✉ [ Captain Dork of the Spiderprise ] -> a lot ✉ [ Captain Dork of the Spiderprise ] -> thx 4 everything

[erabundus]

@monogatcri &&. said... fortunately i don’t mind a smushed cake, so long as it still tastes like cake.

❝  it's  not ...  ❞  the  wanderer  starts  to  say,  only  for  the  reply  to  FIZZLE  OUT  on  his  tongue  alongside  his  enthusiasm.  he's  always  been  an  emotional  creature,  despite  his  best  efforts  to  the  contrary  —  a  fact  that  niwa  is  no  doubt  well  aware  of.  (  even  better  than  most.  )  though  many  things  about  him  have  changed  over  the  years,  that  peculiar  quality  of  his  has  remained  —  eternal  as  ren  himself.  it  simply  chooses  to  manifest  in  a  slightly  different  way;  where  the  kabukimono  would  have  no  doubt  spouted  a  flurry  of  apologies  and  frantic  promises  to  fix  his  mistake,  the  wanderer  merely  buries  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groans  softly  into  palms  that  smell  nauseatingly  of  SUGAR.

that's  just  what  he  gets,  ren  can't  help  but  think.  pride  was  going  out  of  his  way  to  construct  some  elaborate  dessert  from  fontaine  —  and  the  fall  is  the  inevitable  failure  his  INEXPERIENCE  with  the  dish  brings.  he  should  have  tested  it  first  before  trying  to  show  off.  he  was  too  eager  to  impress  niwa  with  his  culinary  expertise  —  and  now  the  only  thing  he  has  is  a  mess  to  show  for  it.  punishment  for  his  sins  on  a  much  smaller  scale.

another  sigh,  and  the  wanderer  drags  his  hands  down  his  face.  he  peers  at  the  mess  over  his  fingers  —  just  for  a  moment.  it's  so  annoying  to  look  at,  he  finds  himself  squeezing  his  eyes  shut  once  again.  ❝  it's  not  just a  cake.  ❞  ren  clarifies,  voice  somewhat  muffled  behind  his  palm.  ❝  it's  a  souffle.  ❞  a  chocolate  one  —  albeit  with  a  ratio  of  cacao  more  centered  to  niwa's  sweeter  tastes.  the  center  was  meant  to  stay  molten,  like  a  rich  sauce  —  cradled  by  an  exterior  layer  of  fluffy  cake  and  garnished  with  berries  bright  as  little  jewels.  that  was  his  original  intention;  the  plate  before  him  resembles  a  crime  scene.  collapsed  in  on  itself,  somehow  simultaneously  undercooked  and  overcooked.  middle  too  liquid,  cake  too  dense.  niwa  may  only  see  a  dessert  as  a  dessert,  but  ren  cannot  possibly  serve  something  so  despairingly  under-representative  of  his  baking  capabilities.  it's  personal.

the  wanderer  shakes  his  head  and  pushes  the  failed  dish  to  one  side in disgust.  ❝  forget  it.  ❞  he  mutters.  ❝  i'm  starting  over.  ❞  second  time  is  the  charm,  right?  (  he  knows  optimism  doesn't  suit  him.  )  he  simply  needs  to  learn  from  his  MISTAKES  to  ensure  this  rendition  comes  out  as  perfectly  as  he  imagines.  shooting  niwa  a  stern  look  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  ren  says,  ❝  don't  you  dare  try  to  eat  that  mess.  ❞

MISC SENTENCE PROMPTS

[orlissa]

I posted 4 468 times in 2021

1229 posts created (28%)

3239 posts reblogged (72%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.6 posts.

I added 3 629 tags in 2021

#shadow and bone - 938 posts

#personal - 558 posts

#accurate - 379 posts

#fanfic - 293 posts

#ben barnes - 283 posts

#lol - 262 posts

#ask - 256 posts

#darklina - 245 posts

#fashion - 214 posts

#marvel - 201 posts

Longest Tag: 121 characters

#i know there is no genetic reason for a beauty spot to be inherited and to manifest at the exact same spot as on a parent

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

EGGY prompt list

We all love the EGGY guy from TikTok (B. Dylan Hollis), so why not have a prompt list of all the things he has said in his videos? :D 

Or, you know, now you can just have his quotes on your blog, because he is funny

The man looks like he does taxes for fun.

Have you no mercy?

This is culinary terrorism.

Tastes like a bookshelf--books included!

Thought this was a joke. Turns out I'm the joke.

Or what? I'm gonna ruin your disaster?

Can a cake be tried for treason?

Either the chocolate fixes everything, or this is alchemy.

What have you perfected? Garbage?

Don't look at me, I couldn't tell you where this is going. I just know it's the wrong destination.

You know the other word for al dente is correct.

You see this? This is concern.

The author calls it her comfort food. I call it a mistake.

It doesn't need salt, it needs help.

Now, in my personal experience, depression and ice cream are a match made in heaven.

Which is an interesting idea, because it's awful.

It tastes like an identity crisis on a plate.

If I cut off my feet, do we still have to do this?

This is from 1938. It's only electrocuted me twice.

Before pumpkin pie became king, people ate this. Now they're dead.

Welcome to the world! It's awful.

I'm a fool, not an idiot.

It's like reading directions to Purgatory.

Honey, you can't dilute a war crime.

You know, it's horrible now, but I hope it turns out okay. Like children.

One of the many questionable substances people experiented with in the seventies.

Suppose any less and it might gain consciousness.

A little late in the century for war crimes.

You know, I've never been particularly religious, but today might be the day.

I feel like if I do this correctly, I'm gonna invoke the spirit of Richard Nixon.

This ain't food, honey, it's a bio weapon.

Bake to your liking. Sweetie, none of this is to my liking.

I bet this recipe is just all the wrong answers on a baking test.

Not bad, dead people.

It's incredible and I'm mad about it.

Stir until disgusting.

Do I call the police or a priest?

I think I summoned something.

Brush with egg to make it presentable. Honey, that ship has sailed.

Tastes good, but feels like a pre-existing condition.

It looks like a failed grave robbery.

You know, it's not bad, just vaguely tastes like a felony.

At least it's not moving.

Don't tell Gordom Ramsay.

Are we sure this recipe wasn't written by a cat?

210 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 20:30:21 GMT

#4

Christmas tunes used as suspensful background music *chef's kiss*

222 notes • Posted 2021-11-24 09:29:31 GMT

#3

Holy crap. They went there. They really went there.

Isaiah from ep2 of fatws? That’s Isaiah Bradley, the protagonist of the miniseries Truth: Red, White & Black, written by Robert Morales and drawn by Kyle Baker--a.k.a. the heaviest, most disturbing comic series I’ve ever read.

Basically: during WWII, 300 black American soldiers are taken, against their will, to parttake in the super soldier serum experiment (the remaining soldiers in their camp are killed). Only five survives, all the others die in agony. The five remaining are taken to Europe to fight (basically treated like dogs), where four of them die in various ways, until only Isaiah remains. He steals the costume meant for Steve Rogers, and goes to a concentration camp to destroy the German branch of the supersoldier program (there is a gas chamber scene. It makes your chest constrict and your heart clench), he succeeds but then is taken hostage and brought to Hitler, who plans to dissect him to reverse-engineer the serum. He is freed, but then court martialed for stealing the uniform, and setenced to prison. He is freed after nearly twenty years, and becomes a legend amongst black people, while no-one else really knows about him. Steve leanrs about his existence in present time (the series was released in 2003) and visits him--by then the serum has mosty destroyed Isaiah’s body and mind.

The whole thing is way more disturbing than what is seen on the show, and that was already plenty disturbing.

1093 notes • Posted 2021-03-26 11:09:19 GMT

#2

What if...? episodes so far

Ep1: Fun story where Peggy gets to beat up Nazis

Ep2: Heartfelt tribute to Chadwick Boseman

Ep3: ...Let’s kill everyone you love

4506 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 10:15:22 GMT

#1

Do you sometimes read a fic writer’s work, and just... thank all the gods this person managed to get obsessed with the same fictional people you did?

50750 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 15:03:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[deadbiwrites]

28, supercorp please! :D "i don't care that it's 2:00am, we need pie."

(excerpt from an upcoming Culinary School AU...)

“I don’t care that it’s two AM, we need pie!”

Lena groans, head thunking heavily onto the workbench. “We’ve made 11 pies. None of them have worked. I need you to just admit you were wrong and accept the D you’re getting on your baking exam. We’re not even supposed to be in here this late.”

Kara frowns at this. “I’m not taking a D in baking, Luthor. Only idiots get D’s in Bake Tech.”

“If the Crocs fit…”

Kara valiantly ignores her. “C’mon, teach me something!”

Lena huffs and stands, brushing off the flour she can feel on her face. “I don’t even know what else I can teach you, honestly. I mean, we’ve been at this for hours, now- you might just be bad at baking.”

And Kara is. Like, she really is.

There’ve been flat, too-dense baguettes, loaves of bread that are tough because she kneaded them overzealously, lumpy muffins, and let’s not bring up the time she’d mixed up the sugar and salt for her pastry cream and had made a smooth, gag-inducingly salty mixture that’d had both of them sprinting to the nearest trash can (and Lena’s still not entirely convinced that that hadn’t been Kara’s attempt at a prank).

And now tonight, she’s made pie after pie after pie, and they’re all just… fucked, somehow. All in different ways. A crust that’s crumbly instead of flaky, a massive crack down the center of the pumpkin pie, burnt edges, forgot to blind bake before putting in the filling… the list of crimes against baked goods goes ever on. It’d be impressive, if it weren’t so sad.

Lena’s always thought herself a good tutor- she’s always managed to help her students improve by at least a full letter grade, and that’s something she’s prided herself on. But it seems she never realized that much of her success hinged on having had good students.

Not that Kara is a bad student. No, if anything, she’s one of the better ones- driven, dedicated, enthusiastic… she’s had Lena reevaluating the entire concept of idiot Culinary jocks a few times. But then she forgets to use oven mitts or a towel and burns the shit out of her hand, or Lena looks down to see the obnoxious Crocs Kara loves so much (“Mario Batali is a bad dude, and the fact that Crocs are associated with him is a crime. I’m gonna fix it.”), and the need to rethink the order of things vanishes.

Kara’s pouting down at her with big, sad eyes. “Please? One more try?”

Lena sighs. “One. One more. But if you fuck up again, I’m going home.”

“So if I don’t fuck up, you’ll stay?” Kara asks hopefully.

Lena wipes a smear of blueberry filling from two pies ago off of Kara’s nose. “I’m going home either way.”

“Rats.”

Lena snorts. “Alright, c’mon. What other ones are on your list?”

Kara flips through her list. “Um…. lemon meringue! Oh, I like lemon meringue!”

“You like everything,” Lena chuckles, clearing her throat when she hears the fondness in her own voice. “And no, we’re not doing a lemon meringue.”

“Aw, why?”

“Because I seriously don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to watch you destroy a hundred eggs tonight. Stick to easy stuff.”

Kara blows a raspberry at her, but she grins after, so it’s probably fine.

Two hours later, they sit, watching as the pie cools on the rack. Kara hovers anxiously in the background.

“It looks good, right?”

“It does,” Lena confirms, surprised herself.

“And the edges aren’t too brown?”

“Golden and perfect.”

“Pecans are, um… nutty?”

“Kara, it looks great, okay? Honest.”

Kara lets out a breath. “Okay, sorry, just… I’ve been, like, super nervous about this class… pretty much the whole time I’ve been at NICA, ‘cause I know I suck, and you’re being, like, so cool, helping me out and trying to help me get better and I just super appreciate all your time, and help, and, y’know, you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m not trying, or something, because I promise I am, I just suck, is all. And-”

“Kara,” Lena says, gripping the sleeve of her no-longer-white jacket and tugging her to a halt. “I know you’re trying. And you’re… getting better. A couple more months and you’ll be golden,” she assures her, setting up a joke that could possibly backfire but could also possibly cheer her up.

“My exam is in two days,” Kara says with that rare wry tone that Lena likes.

Lena puts on a showy grimace. “Oof, yeah, then you’re fucked.” Kara starts laughing, and Lena allows herself a grin. “Come on, if we leave the pastry lab looking like this you’re gonna get us both kicked out of the program.”

They clean the lab in companionable quiet, Kara no longer needing to ask where everything goes after several weeks of working in the lab with Lena. Once the dishes are washed and dried and stored away, the wooden tables are wiped, the floors swept, and the stainless appliances polished, they again approach the pie. It hasn’t fallen or started emitting a toxic gas as yet, so Lena is hopeful. They grab two plastic sporks that’ve been living in the student lounge for at least as long as they’ve been at the NICA.

Lena cuts into the pie, holding her breath and letting it out in a relieved woosh when it cuts clean and even. At Kara’s questioning look, she smiles. “Good so far.”

Lena ‘plates’ a slice on a napkin, and Kara watches anxiously as she takes a (very small) bite. “So?”

Lena chews thoughtfully. “Smooth, with a good crunch element from the candied pecans. Crust is light, flaky, but holds the filling… good flavor balance…” She grins over at Kara. “That is a B+ pie, Kara Danvers.”

Kara whoops, the sudden noise echoing in the empty kitchen lab. “Heck yeah!”

Lena watches with begrudging fondness as Kara leaps and dances around victoriously. “How’d you even think of chocolate pecan pie, anyway?”

“Oh! It’s my fo- eep!” She trips over seemingly nothing and crashes to the ground, taking a stack of stainless mixing bowls with her. 

Lena hurries over and finds Kara sprawled on her back and groaning (and what a sight that is), a large metal bowl over her face. She squats and lifts the edge hesitantly. “You okay?”

Kara’s flushed a brilliant red. “I’m dandy, just... very embarrassed.”

Lena laughs and flips the bowl off of her completely. “Why, are you trying to impress me? Because I have to say, you made good progress with the edible pie but lost it with the… this.”

“What? Impress- why would I wanna impress you?”

Lena grins, taking in Kara’s still-red face and how she avoids meeting Lena’s eyes. Huh. “No idea.” She looks around at the bowls. “You know you have to wash these again, right?”

Kara groans and drops her head back onto the floor. “I hate baking.”