#Mr Macaroni’s Wife

[abibliophobiaa]

Idea for ya: Reader and Eddie are in a competition to see if Elena's first word will be "mama" or "dada," with no success thus far. Uncle Steve comes over and picks her up, only to be greeted with an ecstatic: "TEEB!"

Elena's first word is Steve.

xoxo @munson-blurbs

a blurb from the daylight world.

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader.

——

It started around the time Elena began trying to form words. Granted, they were never full ones. Just the rounding of vowels, the formation of letters, all of which she seemed entirely enthused with.

And because of it, Eddie had started a sort of competition. Your ever competitive (now) husband thought you’d make a game of what Elena’s first would be. Which led to countless dinners spent with her little feet kicking in her high chair as you both took turns cooing, “Say Mama” and “Say Dada,” in voices that seemed out of place on your thoroughly tattooed rockstar.

But for her — for her he was always unabashed, ever doting, in love beyond words would ever come close to explaining. Those first months of tour, when you’d been unable to join him, he made true to his promise to call nearly every day. Trying his hardest to never go a night without telling you he loved you, nor a day without talking to his baby girl before she laid her head down to rest at night.

Tonight, however, happened to be one of those nights. Chrissy and Steve would be arriving soon, their newest baby girl, Brie, and Melody along with them. And given that your table would be expanded to fit from seating three to seven in mere moments, Eddie worked overtime.

He presently had his fingers curled around a waving fist, his lips smacking loudly into his giggly baby’s cheek as he repeated, “Dada” over and over again into a wrinkly neck. Repetition was his game, but you were relentless too. Distracted her with her dinner, which earned a pouted argument from Eddie, as you then reminded her “Mama” was the one who fed her from quite literally your own body for the first months of her short life, and still continued to do so now even as she’d moved onto more solid foods. And if you’d thrown strawberries onto her plate in a form of bribery she wouldn’t even understand, which you knew were her favorite, then so be it.

“She was close to saying it,” Eddie argued, watching Elena struggle a bit to force a piece of macaroni into her mouth, orange already mushing against her cheek.

“Technically the doctor says she’ll talk when she talks,” you told him, moving over to the kitchen to throw some final ingredients into the salad bowl you'd started. “And then she won’t stop after that. But I know how much it means to you, what with you being away so much.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he exhaled, fingers running through his curly mane, “She'll be walking soon too.”

“I know, baby.” He leaned into your hip as you slid up to his side, fingers rubbing against his shoulder. “I know it weighs on you, but everyone always says how happy of a baby Elena is. A lot of that is thanks to her dad, you know?”

The edges of his smile spread across the palm that came up to stroke along his cheek, his fingers reaching up to tangle with your free hand. “I love you, Mrs. Munson.”

“Still with the Mrs. Munson, huh?” you teased, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, slinking back to the countertop.

“Until I get over the shock of calling you my wife, yeah,” he said, a pair of arms looping around your waist from behind, your body shuddering as lips pressed to the curve of your neck. “Which, by my estimation, will be till death do us part, and all of that romantic hub-bub.”

“You are a flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“I do what I can,” he chuckled, dropping another kiss to your temple, fingers edging along the hem of your jeans to dance along delicate skin, just as the doorbell rang out. “I got it.”

Said husband disappeared down the hall in a flash, voices filtering through the front door as you lifted Elena from her high chair, using her bib to wipe her dinner from her messy cheeks. The baby on your hip immediately bounced in attention as Chrissy called her name into the living room, Brie’s carrier clutched in one hand, with Melody rushing in ahead.

And then, the room fell into silence as Elena shrieked out, “TEEB.”

Oh no.

Your eyes darted to Eddie.

Then to Chrissy.

Lastly, to Steve, who only chuckled awkwardly, a hand curled around the back of his neck.

Eddie’s face reddened. “Oh, you’ve got to be f —”

Steve clapped a hand over Eddie’s mouth.

——

“Can’t believe Steve was her first word,” Eddie grumbled, head resting against your stomach, fingers curled around your hip.

“Technically it was ‘Teeb,’” you teased, laughter making Eddie’s head shake.

“Not helping.”

“How do you think I feel? I grew her in my body and pushed her out of it a few months later. I have the stretch marks to prove it.”

“Maybe we can start charging her rent,” Eddie murmured, squeezing your hip tighter. “Start charging her now, so when she’s older she can’t leave the house until she pays it off.”

“Ed.”

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hope Harrington realizes I’m going to make sure Brie’s first word is Eddie. Only fair.”

Your reply was another laugh.

True to his word, that next weekend when you gathered around Steve’s living room, Eddie perched in front of baby Brie, repeating Eddie over and over again (careless to the fact she was quite literally a few weeks old).

“What is he doing?” Steve asked, appearing at your side in the kitchen, peering out at the sight together.

“He’s playing the long game of revenge,” you giggled, nose wrinkling humorously as Steve tipped his head to the side.

“I see,” Steve said in understanding, snorting.

Elena didn’t learn any new words that week. Nor the next. Nor the one after it. But a month after the now dubbed ‘TEEB Travesty,’ Elena was settled on her bottom in the living room, crashing blocks together where they lay scattered around her on the floor. You sat behind her, her form tucked between the curve of your thighs, leaning in to receive a kiss when Eddie appeared.

“Dada!” Elena wailed, chuckling her block to the floor, arms elevated in front of her on the floor where she immediately began to whimper and whine for his attention.

And Eddie beamed — brighter than you’d ever seen before as he leaned down to grab her, and told his favorite girl he loved her more than anything else in this world.

——

[amphibious-thing]

This is maybe a dumb question, but looking at the portraits of Hervey, I have a hard time noticing anything about how he's dressing that seems out of the ordinary or especially more 'feminine' for the time period (barring that one where he just has his coat buttoned super low and his whole shirt out?). Am I missing some obvious detail (material they were made out of maybe?) or was the his effeminacy/the perception of him as effeminate just more based on behavior than 'presentation'?

Not a dumb question at all. It was combination of his sexuality, his diet, his androgyny as well as his clothes & makeup. While Hervey's femininity was almost certainly exaggerated in satire written by his enemies there was some basis to this satire.

Sexuality

In the 18th century there was an association between effeminacy and sodomy. I don't think we can discount the role the rumours surrounding Hervey's sexuality played in the public's perception of him. William Pulteney's 1731 pamphlet A Proper Reply to a Late Scurrilous Libel satirises Hervey as Mr. Fainlove. Pulteney describes Fainlove as a "delicate Hermophrodite", a "pretty, little, Master-Miss" and insinuates that he's a pathick who "enjoys every Moment and Fruits of his Guilt". The 1739 pamphlet The State of Rome, Under Nero and Domitian satirises Hervey as Sporus (an allusion to Pope's satire of Hervey) describing him as a "Male-female Thing," who is "Fit only for the Pathicks loathsome Trade".

Pope's choice to satirise Hervey as Sporus in An Epistle from Mr. Pope, to Dr. Arbuthnot (1735) was itself a comment on Hervey's sexuality. Sporus being the boy that Nero is said to have castrated and taken as a wife.

Diet

Hervey was epileptic and suffered from a chronic colic. He details his medical history in An Account of My Own Constitution and Illness. At the recommendation of his doctor's George Cheyne he adopted a milk and vegetable diet. Cheyne believed that such a diet was "absolutely necessary for the total Cure of the Epilepsy” and also prescribed milk and vegetable diets in cases of “extreme Nervous Cholicts”. (The English Malady, p167 & 254) Hervey ate no meet for three years before reintroducing white meet. This diet was seen as effeminate by his contemporaries. Lady Louisa Stuart cites his refusal to eat beef as an example of the “extreme to which Lord Hervey carried his effeminate nicety”. (Stuart wrote this anonymously in the introductory anecdotes included in the 1837 edition of The Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.)

Hervey also drank "ass’s milk with powder of crab’s eyes and oyster-shells" for his heath. This is mocked in the poem The Lord H-r--y's First Speech in the House of Lords (1733-4) that calls him "a perfect curd of ass's milk." Alexander Pope included a similar line in An Epistle from Mr. Pope, to Dr. Arbuthnot (1735) describing him as a "mere white Curd of Ass's milk".

[Certain City Macaronies drinking Asses Milk, print, c.1772, via The British Museum.]

The association between effeminacy and asses milk features in the satirical dialogue The City Macaronies drinking Asses-milk, at the Lacteum, in St. George's-fields published in the November 1772 edition of the Oxford Magazine which was accompanied by the above illustration. The dialogue mocks macaroni for drinking asses-milk as a treatment for "nervous cases" and "hysterics" claiming that it's "delicate men" such as the macaroni "whose fine feelings are sensible of the slightest pressure, that are acquainted with hysterics". The son of the milk woman wonders aloud whether the macaroni are men or women. His mother tells him "they're neither, they are a kind of half and half breed."

Androgyny

With his slim figure and a bit of a baby-face Hervey was considered to be naturally androgynous. When Lady Deloraine said to him and Miss Fitzwilliams that "in her opinion a woman could never look too much like a woman, nor a man too much like a man" Hervey admitted that "considering the two people she said this to, it was certainly well said; and I can forgive her having bragged of it to every creature she has seen since" (Hervey to Stephen Fox, 18 September 1731)

Satirical descriptions of Hervey liken him to a cherub or a fairy describing him as pretty, little, soft, dainty, delicate.

In A Proper Reply to a Late Scurrilous Libel (1731) Pulteney satirises Hervey as "pretty Mr. Fainlove" who he describes as a "delicate Hermophrodite", a "pretty, little, Master-Miss", a "pretty, little Scribbler", and comments that he shouldn't "sully those pretty Fingers with Ink" that "a Fan would become them much better than a Pen."

The Lord H-r--y's First Speech in the House of Lords (1733-4) describes him as "the softest, prettiest thing". In An Epistle from Mr. Pope, to Dr. Arbuthnot (1735) Pope describes him as having a "cherub's face". Tell-tale Cupids (1735) satirises him as the "pretty baby fac'd Lord Dapper".*

In A Fairy Tale (1743) by Horace Walpole depicts Hervey as a literal fairy describing him as a "Dainty little Figure", "most delicately Fair and light" who "would have been vastly Pretty if it’s cherry-lips had ‘nclos’d any Teeth".

*quoted in Lord Hervey: Eighteenth-Century Courtier by Robert Halsband

Clothes & Makeup

Pope didn't describe Sporus as a "bug with gilded wings" and a "Fop at the toilet" because of Hervey's natural androgyny, clothing & makeup absolutely played a role in the public perception of him.

The Duchess of Marlborough described Hervey as a having "a painted face, and not a tooth in his head". Pope described him as "painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings". And the The Court Garland refers to him as "Thou powder-puff, thou painted toy". (see The Opinions of Sarah Duchess-Dowager of Marlborough p42, An Epistle from Mr. Pope, to Dr. Arbuthnot & Lord Hervey: Eighteenth-Century Courtier by Robert Halsband p138)

The fashionable look of the period required pale clear skin, flushed red cheeks and dark eyebrows. While washes and creams were used to achieve clear pale skin, white cosmetic paint could also be used to lighten and smooth the skin. Rouge was used to give colour to the cheeks. Burnt cloves could be used to darken the eyebrows. While some of these cosmetics contained lead or mercury not all of them did.

[Lord John Hervey, oil on canvas, c.1741–1742, by Jean-Baptiste van Loo, via Art UK.]

It's hard to know how reliable the accounts of Hervey's makeup use are however his portraits do depict him with this fashionable look (in particular the rosy cheeks of the Jean-Baptiste van Loo portraits and the Enoch Seeman portrait). While modern depictions of 18th century fops will sometimes exaggerate makeup depicting men with pure white faces and almost perfectly round red circles on their cheeks, Hervey's portraits are more accurate to the look these cosmetics were trying to achieve.

The use of cosmetics are highlighted in satirical depictions of effeminate men throughout the 18th century century. As early as 1691 Mundus Foppensis: or, the Fop Display’d was mocking men for the "wanton use" of "Spanish Red, and white Ceruse". In 1773 The Old Beau in an Extasy depicts a "Fop at Sixty two" who uses "Chinese Paint for Artificial Bloom". In 1812 Regency A la Mode depicts the Prince Regent applying rouge to his cheeks while he gets laced into stays. The Court Garland's satire of Hervey is just another example of a satirical depiction of a fop in makeup:

Thou powder-puff, thou painted toy, Thou talking trifle, H----y; Thou doubtful he, she, je ne sçai quoy, By G-d, the K--g shall starve ye.

[Left: The Old Beau in an Extasy, print, c.1773, by John Dixon, via Lewis Walpole Library.

Right: 1812, or, Regency A la Mode, print, c.1812, by William Heath, via Lewis Walpole Library]

As for clothing I have to admit I'm better at late-18th century menswear. That being said material and colour seem to have played a role in what was considered effeminate.

A letter to the Read's Weekly Journal or British Gazetteer published on the 8th of May 1731 complains; "Rich and coloured Silks are in themselves effeminate, and unbecoming a Man; as are in short, all Things that discover Dress to have been his Study- 'Tis in vain for a Fop of Quality, to think his Title will protect him." In particular the article criticises poke sleeves and green waistcoats. While poke sleeves are absent from Hervey's portraits the Seeman portrait depicts him wearing a green waistcoat.

Green waistcoats are also mentioned in a story published in the Universal Spectator and Weekly Journal on the 18th of October 1729 describing and effeminate man's clothing as follows:

He had a flower’d pink-colour Silk Coat, with a Green-Sattin Waistcoat lac’d with Silver. Velvet Breeches, Clock’d Stockings the Colour of his Coat, Red-heel’d Pumps, a Blue Ribbon at the Collar of his Shirt, and his Sword-Hilt he embrac’d under the Elbow of his Left Arm,

This green waistcoat is laced with silver. In the Jean-Baptiste van Loo portraits you can see a embroidered silver waistcoat peeking out from beneath Hervey's coat.

[Left: Lord John Hervey, oil on canvas, c.1737, by John Fayram, via Art UK.

Right: Lord John Hervey, oil on canvas, by Enoch Seeman, via The Collected Verse of John, Lord Hervey]

While the quality of the photo leaves much to be desired I wonder if the coat from the Seeman portrait is supposed to be silver. The coat he wears in the The Hervey Conversation Piece could also be silver but it might simply be grey. Sarah Osborn thought that silver coats looked effeminate. She wrote to Robert Byng on the 2nd of June 1722:

I believe the gentlemen will wear petticoats very soon, for many of their coats were like our mantuas. Lord Essex had a silver tissue coat, and pink color lutestring waistcoat, and several had pink color and pale blue paduasoy coats, which looked prodigiously effeminate.

Hervey wears a "prodigiously effeminate" pale blue, possibly paduasoy, coat (possibly a long sleeved waistcoat?) in the Fayram portrait.

The low buttoned waistcoat is somewhat interesting and consistent throughout his portraits, buttoned particularly low in the Fayram portrait. The effeminate Captain Whiffle from The Adventures of Roderick Random (1748) is described wearing his waistcoat "unbuttoned at the upper part to display a brooch set with garnets" but Hervey is broochless and looking at other portraits from this period the low buttoning doesn't seem to be unusual.

[Left: Detail of The Hervey Conversation Piece, oil on canvas, c.1738-40, by William Hogarth, via Fairfax House.

Right: Lord John Hervey, oil on canvas, c.1741, by Jean-Baptiste van Loo, via Art UK.]

Fur-lined suits like that worn by Hervey in the Jean-Baptiste van Loo portraits were imported from France or Italy and could be very costly. Mary Delany describes Lord Baltimore wearing "light brown and silver, his coat lined quite throughout with ermine" at a ball where "finery was so common it was hardly distinguished". (Mary Delany to Ann Granville, 22 Jan, 1739/40)

Fur-lined suits were somewhat of novelty in England and would become a feature in Grand Tour portraits. Peter McNeil explains in Pretty Gentleman (p123):

The novelty and glamour of new fashion goods generated excited responses to Lyons silk waistcoats, Italian velvets and fur-lined suits. There was a well-established tradition of wealthy men acquiring clothing on the continent and then having themselves painted in them, either in Italy or back in England.

(see Benjamin Lethieullier 1752, Lord Archibald Hamilton 1755-56 & John Scott 1774 all by Pompeo Batoni an artist well know for his Grand Tour portraits)

Hervey's buckles in the Jean-Baptiste van Loo portraits look to be set with paste (glass) or gems (buckles could even be set with diamonds). While it's impossible to tell what Hervey's buckles are set with these buckles could get very expensive. Later in the century macaroni were mocked for their expensive taste in similar buckles. (see McNeil p90)

[Left: Shoe buckle, metal & paste, 18th century, British via The MET (83.1.103).

Right: Detail of Lord John Hervey, oil on canvas, c.1741, by Jean-Baptiste van Loo, via Art UK.]

While Hervey was certainly a fashionably dressed man he doesn't take it to the extent you might imagine of the archetypal fop. Satire exaggerates. Hervey's enemies chose their words deliberately to humiliate him. The amphibious thing of Pope's poetry was in reality a chronically ill queer man with a taste for fashion.

[five-miles-over]

For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 2: Mrs. Laufeyson

A/N: Thank you everyone for all of your positive comments! I really appreciate it, and hope you'll like this little continuation from the suburbs AU inspired partly by Wandavision.

Summary: After Loki leaves for work, you explore your new house and try to fit in with this world that feels too perfect to be real.

Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader

Warnings: None really. Talk about 'traditional' gender roles. A surprise cameo. And silliness.

You waved goodbye, standing at the doorway as a black Chevrolet Bel Air departed from the house with Loki in the driver's seat. And like the doting wife that he thought you were, you blew a kiss in his direction.

When the car disappeared from your line of sight, you meandered into the sea green kitchen and filled a steel kettle with water, letting it sit on the stove the way a hen sat on her eggs. While the kettle grew hot, you searched the cabinets for tea bags,…and anything else that might help you understand this new, suburban world. A world in which you were the newlywed wife of a TVA employee who shared a name with the Norse God of Mischief. 

Next to a box of Earl Grey Tea was an entire section of the cabinet dedicated to biscuits of various brands and flavors: chocolate Hobnobs, Jaffa cakes, McVitie's digestive biscuits, shortbread, Bourbon cookies, and Oreos. At least three, unopened tubes of Oreo cookies. Were all of these sweet treats for you, or for your - you couldn't believe you were actually using this word - husband?

With a shrug, you grabbed a tube of the Oreo cookies, ripped it open and started eating them one by one. Holding the blue wrapper in one hand, you continued searching through the other kitchen cabinets. 

You found nothing but flour, brown sugar, white sugar, spices, marmite, extra virgin olive oil…, and two jars of strawberry jam from the same brand for some reason. And then, something next to a box of spaghetti caught your eye. A cookbook, with various pages dog-eared, titled Delicious Recipes For All Time, Always.

You blinked, carefully taking the book from the shelf. For All Time, Always? That's a weird title to call a cookbook…, a vague title as well. Inside the cover was a handwritten note, scribbled in blue pen.

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Congratulations on the wedding, Mrs. Laufeyson! Loki's a lucky guy.

-Mobius M. Mobius

So that's who Loki was talking about at breakfast. He mentioned cancelling plans with someone named 'Mobius'. Someone who was making him watch tedious videos at work today. 

Jumping to the dog-eared pages of the cookbook, you came across various recipes: poached eggs, blueberry pancakes, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti bolognese, green bean casserole, Cumberbatch pie, curried chickpeas in coconut milk, angel food cake with strawberries and cream, chocolate mayonnaise cake…

Whiiiiiiieeee!

You whipped your head over your shoulder and immediately silenced the kettle's whistle, turning off the stove. Damnit, you went looking for tea bags and found yourself exploring everything except tea bags. Shaking your head, you shoved an Oreo into your mouth and opened the box of Earl Grey tea bags. 

Then, you opened a cabinet filled with plates, bowls, and cups, grabbing a white ceramic mug for your tea bag. On the top shelf of the cabinet was a pastel blue gift box. While the tea bag steeped in hot water, you reached for the box using a chair as a makeshift stepping stool. Inside the gift box were two mugs labeled 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' in gold calligraphy And like the cookbook, there was a handwritten note as well. 

For all the mornings you'll have together. Congratulations to you both, Mr. and Mrs. Laufeyson! May the years ahead be filled with lasting love and happiness.

-Jeremy, Joyce, and Bill Hazeldine

With a gasp, you quickly closed the box and put it back on the shelf…only to open the box, taking another peek at the note. Mrs. Laufeyson...you underlined those words with your fingertip. Taking a deep breath, you put the box back on the shelf for good, promising to never use those mugs unless you were with Loki. 

By this point, the tea was hot enough to be enjoyed but not scalding that it would burn your throat. You took a sip, relaxing in its warmth, holding the mug with both hands. "Mrs. Laufeyson", you repeated to yourself. You looked down at your left hand, the emerald ring still on your middle finger just the same way it was this morning. 

After you finished drinking your tea and scarfing down the rest of the Oreo cookies in the container, you wandered into the living room. It was just across from the kitchen, a pastel yellow room with white bookshelves containing all kinds of hardcover and paper cover works. One would probably need an entire decade just to finish reading all the books kept inside the living room. You tilted your head and wondered which of the books were your husband's choice. But before you could sit down on one of the couches, you heard the doorbell ring.

"Who is it?" You asked, fixing your hair. 

A light, female voice came from outside. "It's Joyce!" As you made your way to the front door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in mirror hanging in the hallway. Your hair was miraculously styled, and you were wearing a cute set of pajamas…It almost made you stand still for a moment just so you could admire how desirable you looked. No wonder your husband was so lovey-dovey this morning.

The doorbell rang again. Putting on your best smile, you dragged your feet towards the door and opened it. 

Standing outside was a thin, middle-aged woman -presumably Joyce - with a bowl cut hairstyle, wearing a light blue shirt and straight-leg jeans. "Oh hello, dear. So good to see you again!" She gave you a warm smile and a hug, rocking you in her arms.

"Good to see you too, Joyce." You politely reciprocated her hug and let out a small laugh. "Thank you again for the mugs, they're lovely."

Joyce placed her hands on your arms for a moment, looking up at you. "I haven't seen you both since you came back from your honeymoon. Oh, look at you…" She marveled, "Married life seems to be treating you well."

"Thank you so much," you looked down, deciding to be as demure as possible, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions about the honeymoon. "I…I couldn't be happier, Loki is so sweet to me." When your eyes met Joyce's, you touched the back of your neck. "I…He makes me feel like the luckiest lady in the world, Joyce."

Joyce quietly laughed with you. "You remember my son Bill, right?" Towering over Joyce was a lanky teenage boy with golden curls, blue eyes, and the face of an angel. He wore a grey t-shirt, worn-out jeans, and beat-up sneakers. 

You reached out to shake his hand. "Of course I do," you lied. "Hi, Bill."

"Afternoon, Mrs. Laufeyson." Bill greeted you with a smile that could make London light up during a blackout. "Congratulations again."

"Thank you." You placed your left hand on your heart, showing off your wedding ring just a little. "How are you, Bill?"

"I'm alright, thank you." Bill nodded. "I've been working with the church, teaching Sunday school. Thought it'd be a nice way to spend my summer after my first year of college."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"Thank you. I thought it would be good for my theology course to do something like that," Bill admitted before reaching into one of his jean pockets, procuring a small blue velvet box. "Actually, I have something for you, Mrs. Laufeyson." 

You covered your mouth in disbelief. "Oh, Bill…"

"Please, take it." He extended the box to you. "I bought it for my former-girlfriend Jewel." Blinking, you gingerly accepted it, running your finger along the lid. "Former girlfriend…You broke up with her?"

Joyce intervened, "He had to do it, dear. She was nothing but trouble."

"I'm so sorry."

 "No, I'm sorry." Bill shook his head. "I bought it for her a long time ago, but I suppose it was never meant to last. But, I really want to give it to someone. Please, consider it a belated wedding gift, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You smiled, opening the box to find a sterling silver bracelet. Simple, yet elegant. "Thank you, Bill. I'll treasure it. If you ever want to talk, or just stop by for some tea, the door will always be open for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Laufeyson," he graciously said. "And I hope Jewel finds someone else who'll make her happy."

The three of you stood quietly outside your house before you spoke up. "Joyce, would you and Bill like to come inside for some tea?"

"Not today, dear. I'm so sorry, Bill's coming with me to do some errands. And I'm sure you might need to catch up on some sleep after such a busy honeymoon." Joyce teased you a little with the last bit. "Might only be a matter of time before you and Loki get a visit from the stork."

You laughed, looking down again. You remembered how Loki hugged you from behind this morning and teased you with the idea of "finishing what you started on the honeymoon". Almost instinctively, your free hand rested on your stomach.

"We should have dinner sometime, Loki and I would love to have you over, we can catch up," you blurted. Joyce enthusiastically agreed and said she and her husband would love that.

"Tomorrow night," Joyce promised. "Would seven-thirty be alright?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded, already imagining how to tell Loki when he came home from work. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"See you tomorrow." Joyce and Bill waved goodbye as they climbed into their car and drove off. 

Something ached inside you as you watched them drive off, maybe because it reminded you of the way that Loki drove off this morning while you stood at the doorway waving goodbye. As you closed the door once again, you pondered over going out tomorrow, even if it was just something as small as a mid-morning stroll while Loki was out. But for now, there were other things that needed to be done.

Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness @lokiforever

[anachronistic-falsehood]

YOU GOT IT BOSS. 🫡🫡🫡 IN YOUR INBOX ABOUT YOUR AUS. villain au...... you know I gotta ask about clarence. was he a hero or a villain...... if u domt have clarence figured out then. tell.me about mark <3 my wife. still not over the fact that he's a hero in this i have a lot of feelings about it.

i think clarence was a hero. bro was out here doing GOOD and HELPING PEOPLE!!! and mal. well tbh im not even sure wtf he was doing. i still have 2 figure out clarence and mal (if u have any ideas abt them LET ME KNOW PLS I THINK I NEED HELP FLESHING THEM OUT MORE) but mark. oughhhgh mark wimters. that man. i think the winters’ backstory stays mostly the same here. trickster kills mrs winters etc etc u know how it be. and mark. well he is clearly not doin super hot after that!!! idk how long in canon he was involved w overlord and villain stuff in general but i think it would be a few years at least. so i think before he got Too into villain stuff tide approached him and etc etc he joined watch. u know. he does not Want 2 be a big hero tho. he works with tide a lot but very clearly tries not to be seen too much. he and tide work as a Team. tide is the face of their duo and mark works behind the scenes. if they have a stealth mission and need a distraction tide is always the one outright attacking henchmen and being a nuisance and mark is sneaking in undetected. tide is fighting villains in the middle of the street and mark is in a back alley readying a beam of energy to knock out the villain from afar while they’re focused on tide. he doesn’t want to be well known!!! bro is Paranoid as fuck!! wants to keep ashe safe!!! tide gets that and they work as a team so fucking well they GET each other ok i love u tidalwave

also i have decided. mark is the one training the prime defenders. purely bc i think it would b fucking funny. his main focus is ashe and trying 2 keep him safe and everything he doesn’t care about the prime defenders!!! NO he is not going to get attached to these stupid fucking ex-vigilante kids who are only being heroes so they can stay out of supermax. no he doesn’t care that they’re basically in the same situation as him where they’re just doing hero work to stay out of prison. no him decking out cantrip in kevlar so she doesn’t die doesn’t matter he’s just trying to make sure his wards (that he totally doesn’t care about) stay alive so he doesn’t get in trouble with watch. he’s making extra macaroni for alan because the kid is big and needs more food it’s just logical to make extra for him so he can actually do well in missions don’t worry about it. he’s getting xavier a switch because the old wii console they had before is broken and x keeps complaining NO he’s doesn’t care don’t ask how much it cost the complaining is annoying just go play mariokart ok this is nothing. he’s such a fucking Dad he would quietly get a little attached after spending so much time with them. yeah he would give them up for ashe in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but after spending months training them and making them overcooked pasta and hearing cantrip yell at the boys for stealing her knives and watching alan run across the base with x on his back and putting blankets over them when they fall asleep on the couch…….. i think he would hesitate for a second at least

[queeniecook]

December 9

August Lewis is in the nursery of his family home with his twins and his nanny.

"I'm sure she'll be home as soon as she can." Paris tells him, while rocking Edgar Allan to sleep. Thankfully Emily had already drifted off and August had laid her down in her crib. 

His wife, Aubree, is still at the office - working on a deadline for the paper she works for, which is published and distributed over several towns and cities, including BrindleBay, Hendford-on-Bagley and Willow Creek, to name a few.

"Right." August agrees but doesn't mean it. This is the third time in the past few weeks that Aubree has missed having dinner with him due to her work.

After Edgar Allan finally falls asleep, the duo head downstairs. Paris gets to work whipping up a simple Macaroni and Cheese with tuna dinner.

"Anything I can do to help?" August asks her. When they hired Paris, he didn't foresee her doing anything beyond helping with the twins but she also helps clean and cooks half the meals that are ate in the house. It helps a lot when he gets home and just wants to relax and Aubree gets home late usually as well. They both have to work, August knows this and he loves his wife's dedication and ambition - it's one of things that drew him to her - but sometimes it means the couple rarely get any alone time. 

Paris shakes her head with a small smile. "I'm good, thank you Mr. August."

Usually if Paris fixes dinner for the Lewis', she heads to her apartment across town after she's down but tonight she's been invited to eat with August. Normally she would decline but he seems a bit down, so she agrees.

They make small talk while eating their food. August shares a bit about his family growing up, Paris shares a bit about how she found her birth mother after all these years. At the end of the meal, Paris offers to clean up but August says he'll do it and sends Paris on her way because it's getting late and she'll have to come back tomorrow to look after the twins again.

[bu1410]

Since TUMBLR won't allow to post more than 4,500 carachters I'm obliged to put an additional post in order to complete the report of

Ch. I - August 1975 - Italy - Tunisia – Algeria – Morocco – Spain – France – Italy.

BENALMADENA COSTA - SPAIN Luxurious residence, swimming pool right in front of the entrance to the apartment, we were already looking forward to the two weeks of complete relaxation after so much travelling. We were close to the fence, it was very early, and my friend uncle's family were certainly still sleeping.

''Let's try to guess who owns the clothes hanging out to dry, right in front of the apartment windows'' I told Gianluigi. . Then suddenly something unexpected happens: the door of the apartment opens and an elderly lady comes out, dressed with a nightgown: she didn't look like Mrs. Proserpio at all! We look at each other bewildered:

''Maybe the apartment booked was not available, and the management assigned another one?'' It was my friend guess.....

''Well .......it happens sometimes...'' I reply. At this point we went to Residence reception in order to ask where the Proserpio family is staying. The kind receptionist consults a list and than, with a smile says:

''Disculpa, but Senora Proserpio called me' and canceled the apartment reservation'' -WHAAAAT??

Yes, asi es…….disculpa Senor…. Disconcertion - great - mine and Gianluigi's……….also because August 15th in the Costa del Sol - as in many other parts of Europe is the peak of the summer season. ''Do you have a free apartment for the next 15 days''? We ask hopefully. ''Forgive me, but the residence is complete''.

And this was the phrase we heard repeated from the ''1267 hotels'' where we asked for a room for the whole holiday, along the coast from Benalmadena to Torremolinos and surrounding areas. Desperate, but not defeated, we resorted to ''Plan B'': the tent! We had brought, just in case, the tent purchased a year earlier from Bertoni Camping for the holiday in Riccione '68. And now it was good to have it! We found a campsite but? Worn out! And what do we do? We installed our tent just beside the campsite entrance, so we could use the campsite services without paying a pesetas! In short, a reckless life, just a week, to allow the mid-August crowd to leave and vacate some apartments. We found an apartment just a week later in Benalmadena: a decent residence, but at this point we certainly couldn't be picky. Having found a roof for the day (we used to spent the night somewhere else) we only had to find a place to refresh ourselves in the evening, and once again our lucky stars met us: we discovered el ''Restaurante de Raoul! ''. He was an Argentinian by origin, married to an Italian woman, and domiciled in Biella, Italy. For the summer of 1975 he had rented a small restaurant on the road between Benalmadena and Torremolinos, and delighted the customers in a mix of Argentine, Spanish and Italian cuisine. The female cook was Spanish, and Roul had brought his twelve-year-old son from Italy, but not his wife, since she was managing a Bed & Breakfast in Biella. It was our luck: not only did the cook prepare us timbales of macaroni, delicious fish baked in foil, but we had become friends with Roul: so off to the aperitifs and sangria that flowed like rivers! And at the end of dinners Raoul was always asking us:

What do you want to pay??!!

In short, it was a lucky step from the unfortunate surprise of the Mr. Proserpio's non-arrival and we had few ''dias feliz''. By the way, we learned more about the reasons for Mr. Proserpio's giving up, once we returned home. They had arrived - it seems - all the way to Alicante, where they had had mechanical problems with the Opel Rekord they were traveling with. Hence the (absurd) decision to turn around, return to Italy, and cancel the reservation of the apartment in Benalmadena (did we recover the deposit? No, that was lost too…) Until the end of August nothing special to report, just a quiet life, sea-pool-sleepless nights, big moguls in the evening and revelry chez Roul. Then, inevitably, the day of returning to Italy arrived, and a request from Raoul literally left us speechless: - Guys, you know that I trust you, right? - Yes Raoul… - Well I ask you a favor: my son has to start school again soon, and I instead will have to stay here at least until the end of September - So? - If you agree, could you take him with you to Italy? The car is big, and there are only two of you…. - Well…yes……why not? This will only make us take a detour towards Biella, but in a journey of over 2,000 km it's a small thing in the end…… In truth we had decided to accept, given that, as it was the end of the holiday, money was scarce. So we were counting on the help that would certainly come from Raoul, since he would surely provide his son with a sum of money for a trip of at least 3 days……. (or not?). The moment we start our journey back to Italy, it always brings mixed feeling: returning home, seeing relatives and friends..... but also sadness for the end of the holidays, and the awareness that the easy life of the Saniard's was over. And we'll have to wait a whole year to the next holiday…. We left Benalmadena in the morning (not early because Gianluigi let's say he wasn't an ''early bird' guy) and the first stop was Valencia, some 800 km away, where we arrived in the evening. A drab city then, later the European Community funds and investments for the America's Cup sailing will transform it into a more pleasant place. That evening we choose a typical Valencian restaurant, because it is true that the city was not so nice like other Spain's cities, but the Valencian cuisine is excellent, starting with the famous ''Paella a la Valenciana''. The restaurant is called El Pederniz, typical local cuisine. Great feast of seafood appetizers, cold and hot, then paella para todos, and finally ''Arnadi'', a typical Valencian postre, a mixture of pumpkin and sugar, cooked in the oven and subsequently decorated with almonds and pine nuts. All washed down with excellent Blanco Bodega Reto.

We pay, but we were certain that Paolino (Raoul's son) will have enough money in store to guarantee us a night in a hotel nearby, but..... INSTEAD NO!!! After leaving the restaurant and returning to the car, while we were discussing which hotel to choose for the night, Gianluigi asked the fateful question that we should have asked BEFORE departure: - Paolino how much money did your dad give you? - Nothing…….. - ……….Silence……. - How….nothing? - Yes, says Paolino after a hesitation, Dad said that you would take care of everything…….'' - Machecazzzzzz……………..(Italian bad word) And now we were in the sh*****… if we had known we wouldn't have spent all those pesetas in the best restaurant of Valencia. But than it was like that.... cursing Raoul and sending him all the insults in Spanish we know, I started the car and go out of Valencia, took the motorway again, and then stopped at the first service area and slept in the car. Lucky for us, the Citroen DS19 has a paddle shift and front-wheel drive, so it was equipped with seats which, when lowered, form a comfortable bed. And this is how we slept, and how we would sleep next night too. After a trip in which we spoke little, we then took Paolino to Biella - his mother was very happy to see him again after more than two months of absence. The kind Lady also hosted us for lunch (goodness of her…) after which we set off for the last stage, towards our hometown. (sigh)

Benalmadena - Spain

[queennicoleinboots]

Taco Thanksgiving Shopping (entertainment purposes only)

Count Vanilla Manilla, Lindsay, and I were at Publix shopping for the essentials of a Thanksgiving meal with tacos because that's what King Chocolate-Covered Gummy Bear said his sister loved to eat. We also had to take into account that there were vegans at the reception, which is the original reason we were sent to the store.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel flew smack dab into us. We told him about our great bullshit adventures of this year, and he mentioned that he and his wife, Coraline were doing well and that they were in a spiritual war.

Count Vanilla Manilla was rattling off ingredients from his long list after things were, in his opinion, getting too political: corn tortillas, black beans, pinto beans, great white beans, brown rice, white rice, spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, jalapenos, onions, cilantro, serrano peppers, Annie's vegan macaroni and cheese, Daiya cheddar cheeze shreds, red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, orange bell pepper, green bell pepper, limes, ground pepper, green tomatillos, red tomatillos, Tabasco, Tofurkey, potatoes, green beans, vegan flan, and whole golden kernel corn.

"Are we getting more margarine?" Lindsay asked.

"Oh yes, I forgot," Count Vanilla Manilla said.

"But we are not getting Blue Bonnet," I clarified.

"No, but are we getting Smart Balance with olive oil?" Colonel Mac asked.

"No," Lindsay said.

"Really? That's the kind I usually get for Mr. Williamson and his wife," I said.

Lindsay then stared at me as we were picking up all necessary items from produce: spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, serrano peppers, potatoes, jalapenos, onions, cilantro, red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, orange bell pepper, green bell pepper, limes, green tomatillos, green beans, and red tomatillos. She said, "I heard Smart Balance wasn't very balanced at all."

"Everyone's been saying that lately," I said.

Lindsay sighed. "Let's go to the margarine aisle. All of life's questions will be answered there," she said.

So we travelled clear on the other side of the store to the margarine aisle.

She pulled out the Smart Balance Margarine with olive oil from the refrigerator and read the ingredients. "Vegetable Oil Blend (Canola, Palm, Extra Virgin Olive, And Flaxseed Oils), Water, Less Than 2 Percent Of: Salt, Pea Protein, Natural And Artificial Flavors, Sunflower Lecithin, Vitamin A Palmitate, Beta Carotene (Color), Vitamin D, Monoglycerides Of Vegetable Fatty Acids (Emulsifier), And Potassium Sorbate, Lactic Acid, TBHQ and Calcium Disodium EDTA (to Protect Freshness)."

"Oh yeah, that stuff is evil!" I said.

"Precisely," Lindsay said.

Count Vanilla Manilla looked up what TBHQ was on his smartphone. "Tert-Butylhydroquinone (TBHQ, tertiary butylhydroquinone) is a synthetic aromatic organic compound which is a type of phenol. It is a derivative of hydroquinone, substituted with a tert-butyl group," he read.

"It's an oil we have no business eating it in the first place," I said.

"Exactly!" Lindsay shouted.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel said, "Wow. What the fuck? Thank Goodness I don't get that. But I must check my butter at home to ensure that there is no TBHQ in it again. I shall return." He then flew out of the store.

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

Crickets with Angel wings chirped as they flew through Publix. When we walked by the free sample booth, a FreeLee the Banana Girl video popped up on the screen.

https://youtu.be/ZRuytGHlpNc

Too long didn't watch (or maybe you did): It is about what she eats on a high-carb fruitarian diet... with a bunch of sugar.

Lindsay rolled her eyes and moved on with her life.

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

Makolai the Great Arc Angel then screamed as he flew to the margarine aisle.

Everyone in the store looked at Makolai the Great Arc Angel and gave him their undivided attention.

"Fucking hell! Smart Balance invaded my refrigerator! So what if it is on sale?! It is poisoning humankind! I must burn it! NICOLE! Open the glass door with the Smart Balance margarine in it!" Makolai the Great Arc Angel shouted.

I opened the glass door with the Smart Balance margarine in it.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel shot blue death rays out of his eyes and burned all products related to Smart Balance margarine and screamed.

Lindsay screamed. Everyone in the store screamed. The cast of PeeWee Herman also screamed. Apparently, they needed to go grocery shopping, too.

"But remember. Save the Earth Balance margarine that's soy free. It's legit," Lindsay said in a normal voice. She then grabbed the Earth Balance Soy Free margarine and put it in the cart.

The Grinch then hobbled over and screamed. "Smart Balance is a balance of over-price and chemical deathhhhhh," he said. Then he hobbled away.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel then announced, "If we were not making vegan Taco Mac with Count Vanilla Extract..."

Lindsay, Count Vanilla Extract, The Grinch, Sir Paul the Goat, Smeagull, the cast of PeeWee Herman, and everyone in the store screamed. "Taco Mac with Count Vanilla" was still the phrase of the last three years.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel then continued, "Then I would prefer butter or a buttery spread."

"Agreed!" Count Vanilla Extract, Lindsay, other non-vegans, and I said with authority.

"Wait? I'm Vanilla Extract now?" Count Vanilla Extract asked as he raised his eyebrow.

"Not that I use much butter, but I know better than to use margarine on my own account. It is evil," Makolai the Great Arc Angel shouted. "And yes. I dub thee Extract. It's Thanksgiving, a holiday of using vanilla extract. Manilla is not sufficient for your caliber."

Sir Paul the Goat bleated loudly. "But it rhymed!" he shouted.

"In that case, am I granted the powers of baker?" Count Vanilla Extract asked as he walked around Publix with Makolai the Great Arc Angel.

"Absolutely!" Makolai the Great Arc Angel said with a salesangel smile as he pointed his two index fingers at Count Vanilla Extract dramatically. "And a baker's cap and apron to boot!"

"Oh boy! Grant me baking powers!" Count Vanilla Extract spoke with excitement.

"As you wish," Makolai the Great Arc Angel said with a huge smile before he chanted in a dark angelic language.

All shoppers were watching with awe.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel continued to chant as Publix was getting darker.

Count Vanilla Extract was smiling widely, and his teeth were getting whiter. He growled with excitement.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel continued to chant before he sang and danced to Lazy Town's song, "Cooking by the Book." https://youtu.be/ZD71JeX4Vk0?feature=shared

He was definitely one of the citizens of Lazy Town before he moved here.

OH SHIT!

Makolai the Great Arc Angel stopped everything after he sang "Caaaaaaaaaake" for just a liiiittle too long.

Count Vanilla Extract turned into a gray cub who wore the same outfit as the Pitsbury Doughboy.

Everyone gasped.

Makolai the Great Arc Angel looked over and gasped in horror. "OH SHIT!!!! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I held that note for just a liiiiiittle too long. Oh God I gotta reverse this!" he spoke quickly and frantically.

Count Vanilla Extract looked down at his strong paws and grinned widely. "COOL!!!" he said in a higher-pitched Southern accent.

"You're okay with this?" Makolai the Great Arc Angel said with his eyebrow raised.

"YEAH!" Count Vanilla Extract said as he jumped out of his chair. "I can bake! I can bake! Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart!" he started to skip. "And I'm wearing an apron, motherfuckers!" He skipped around the store and growled cheerfully. His white apron swished.

"Awwwww!!!!" everyone in the store said.

"Vanilla Mac is so cute," I said.

He turned around, skipped over to me, and looked up to me. "I like that name more than Count Vanilla Extract. I am a baker, not a count. I was a vampire Cub, so I had to be a Count," he spoke with a cute cub growl.

"YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT!" Makolai the Great Arc Angel shouted. "Keep going."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Vanilla Mac said.

Everyone said, "Awwwwwwww."

"You are welcome!" Makolai the Great Arc Angel shouted.

The cast of PeeWee Herman, FreeLee the Banana Girl, the Grinch, Seagull, and Paul the Goat screamed.

"And I am Chef Makolai!" the angel said before thunder, lightning, and light came upon him. He transformed into a chef. His wings were as white as Vanilla Ice. He now wore a big white chef's hat, sea green tie with a cupcake on it, a bright white dress shirt, bright white slacks, white shoes, and a long sea green apron. His skin was as white as snow, and he had a fiery red beard. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mother Fuckers!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Chef Makolai," Vanilla Mac said.

"Thank you. Also, I dub thee Chef Vanilla Mac," Chef Makolai said with a booming voice.

"OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY!" Chef Vanilla Mac shouted. "I am only seven after all."

"I have spoken!" Chef Makolai said.

"King Bruce Ice has a story with a title of him speaking," Chef Vanilla Mac said.

"I read that months ago!" Chef Makolai said with excitement.

"That meeting was bonkers. But we really do need to finish this shopping. I don't want him speaking about our tardiness," Lindsay said.

"No thank you. I don't want THAT AS A STORY!" Chef Makolai said.

Lindsay, Chef Makolai, Chef Vanilla Mac, and I continued to shop. We picked up Annie's vegan macaroni and cheese, canned pinto beans, canned black beans, canned great white canned beans, corn tortillas, bags of brown rice, bags of white rice, vegan flan, Tobasco, Tofurkey, and Daiya cheddar cheeze shreds.

Lindsay then looked around the canned vegetable aisle to look for the canned whole golden kernel corn.

I looked frantically for the golden whole kernel corn while Lindsay and Chef Vanilla Mac were absent-mindedly putting the other groceries in the cart.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CORN?” I screamed loudly to the point where the whole store could hear. The ground shook.

Chef Vanilla Mac dropped the list because he was shocked at the random loud volume of my voice. “Chef Vanilla Mac, find the fucking corn now! What the hell?! Where the hell’s my corn, Chef Vanilla Mac?!”

“I don’t know! I'm trying. Stop yelling at me!” Chef Vanilla Mac said as he was crying and slumping his shoulders.

He was slightly shocked when a woman named Karen joined in with her voice. “Yeah, where the fuck is ze corn? You’d think canned corn would be easy to find in a fuckin’ grocery store,” she yelled.

A store associate rushed to the scene in a panic. “What kind of corn are you looking for, ma’am?” she asked.

Another woman sales associate chimed in, “We’d love to help.”

“Golden kernel,” I said.

Everyone in the store was looking for the corn she mentioned. Even Chef Vanilla Mac and Lindsay were in on looking for it. Lindsay lifted Chef Vanilla Mac in her arms as they looked for the corn.

“No, no, not here, dammit,” a fat Karen said. “Son ov a bitch!”

“Not here,” Chef Vanilla Mac said.

“Is this it, ma’am?” one of the customers asked me as she presented me with a can of God-forsaken creamed corn.

Chef Vanilla Mac randomly farted. It smelled like too much tacos.

“No! I said ‘Golden kernel,’ you stupid mother fucker!” I yelled as I got in her dopey-looking face. “I already told you. ‘Golden kernel’ ‘Golden kernel’ Goddammit!”

“Sorry, ma’am, Lord, please help us find this ‘Golden kernel’ corn,” she said.

The fat Karen interrupted, “SHIT WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKASS WOMAN'S CORN?”

“All of a sudden my corn is gone. It has been on this particular aisle for like three fucking years. Why is it gone? Where the fuck is the CORN?” I ranted.

Chef Makolai carried several cans of whole golden kernel corn as he flew to the carts we were pushing. Angels and Doughboys literally sang as he flew. It had no added salt, so the angels and Doughboys sang even louder.

He saved Publix.

"Really Publix saved Publix. It had this corn in stock. And I found it. They didn't move it 40 feet down like the Publix on I-11 did five years ago," Chef Makolai pointed out. He flapped his wings quickly for effect.

"But you still found the corn and saved Publix," I said.

He stared at me. I stared at him. We blinked. There was a moment in which I was honored by his existence.

"Thank God Publix can stay alive. Now can we pleeeasssse get out of here!? I would like to get over this Taco Mac with me series and move on," Chef Vanilla Mac said. "And if I have to listen to chemically-induced ingredients, I am going to scream."

Chef Makolai, Lindsay, the cast of PeeWee Herman, the Grinch, Smeagull, Garfield, and everyone in the store screamed.

"At least no one is reading ingredients. Ugh!" Chef Vanilla Mac said as he ran like the cub he was to the check-out.

"In non-GMO, organic, gluten-free corn tortillas, they have WATER, YELLOW CORN MASA FLOUR ENGINEERED BY DR. ROBOTNIK AND MAMA LUIGI, ORGANIC GUAR GUM, and LIME" I said as I read the ingredients just to troll Chef Vanilla Mac.

Chef Vanilla Mac screamed so loud that everyone else started screaming. "THAT'S ABUSE!!!!!" he shouted.

Paul the Goat even walked back in the store and bleated.

Then we went to check-out because Chef Vanilla Mac just couldn't take anymore.

End Credits: https://youtu.be/Tx-oMRYpH4U?si=eIh7N2AX5dOsEC_q

[abbatoirablaze]

Thankful, Black Noir

Word Count:  1.8k

Warnings:  fighting, angst, mentions of violence/aggression, critical injuries, manipulation, and sabotage.

“COMING!”

“COMING MOM!”

“Mikayla, make sure your little brother washes his hands,” you called from down the hall, “and you better wash your hands too!  We don’t need any dirty hands at the table.”

The man who sat his bag down as he entered his room in the tower chuckled.  You turned around to see your husband of nearly six years smiling at you.

“What?  You think that’s funny?” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest.  He smiled and licked his lips, the smallest of nods coming from him, “you try keeping those children of yours in line, Earv…it’s harder than dealing with anyone on that superhero team.”

“They listen to you more than they listen to me baby,” he smiled, taking a few steps until he crossed the threshold of the entrance area and into the framework of the kitchen where you stood, “and they’re our kids…half me and half you!  And they got more of you running though their veins than me.”

“Thankfully more like me,” you teased, “non super powered.  Just wholesome, sweet babies without a nut allergy.”

“And they inherited your listening skills too!”

You gave him a smile, rolling your eyes at his playful jest, “you better get washed up too!  I made your favorite!”

“Hot damn…a home-made roast with sweet potato and macaroni?”

“And home-made corn bread too!”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you, and he pulled you into a breath-taking kiss, “god, I love you, woman…”

“I love you too!” you smiled, gently touching the athletic fabric that he often wore under his suit, “go get changed while you wash up though, “you got some blood on your collar from training.”

“T-the twins…not mine,” he muttered with a frown, “soldier boy took out his aggression on Tommy today.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t you again, Earv,” you whispered sadly.  You reached up and touched the remnant of the split lip he’d gotten from the last run-in with the unstable leader of Payback, “you need to talk to Mr. Edgar, Earving…he-he’s getting worse.  He’s sabotaged your career.  I know you wanted to move into acting, and you almost had that one role before they gave it to Eddie Murphy.”

“Beverly Hills Cop…”

“You could be a real star, baby…without the mask…”

“Hey…I just want to enjoy the night with my family…” he cooed, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your waist, “want to spend time with my beautiful wife, an-“

“DADDY!”

“DADDY!”

Earving smiled, releasing his wife to see two smiling faces, the perfect combination of his wife and himself in six- and three-year-old forms, “my kids!  And look at you two, all washed up and ready for dinner just like your momma asked!”

“Momma said-“

“ALL CLEAN!” Jackson grinned, cutting his older sister off, “Daddy, tell me what you did wif Payback.  My friend Arlo says you’re going to Nam like his daddy did!”

“Yeah buddy, but it’s not Vietnam, it’s, well we-“

“What?”

“Shit!” he muttered, quickly remembering that he’d forgotten to tell his wife about the last-minute trip, and that Stan had released the information to the media already.

“Ohhh, daddy said a bad word, momma!”

“Quarter in the swear jar, daddy!” Mikayla smiled.

“Earving!”

“Baby, I-“

“Daddy momma’s mad at you!” his daughter warned.  She was quick to grab her little brother’s hand, “Come on Jackson…let’s go grab a plate and eat in my room.  Momma and daddy are gonna fight again!”

“When were you going to tell me this?” you scolded, it feeling like your world was falling apart, “Earving, you barely got out of-“

“Trisha…not here!” he said quickly, “not in front of the kids.”

Your eyes teared up as you looked at your children.  Your daughter was far too familiar with the fighting that had been happening of late, because of the leader of Payback and how little disregard he’d had for his teammates.  But Jackson didn’t understand why you were so fearful and upset. 

“W-we’ll talk about this later,” you said firmly as you tried to push the tears back, “Mikayla…Jackson, go sit at the table…Earving…get washed up…we’ll say grace in five minutes…okay?”

“Trisha-“

“You’re right, Earving!” you pointed out, “n-not in front of the children.”

You could barely stop the tears when you’d seen the news. 

The tower had gone into lockdown when they had informed the significant others of the deaths.  They had gone to Nicaragua, not Vietnam, and they were sent there for a reason that you weren’t told…only that it ‘had to happen’ and there was ‘no going back.’ 

It was nearly a week before you found out that Swatto and the leader, Soldier Boy had been the ones to die, but that your own husband and some of the others were seriously injured in the mission.  Unfortunately, Earving had gotten the worst of it.

He had taken some sort of blast while protecting the rest of the team, and it had caused sever brain damage, and melted half of his face when he landed against a burning jeep. 

All the machines were hooked up to him, creating highways of tubing and medicines, but one thing was for certain.  You couldn’t let the kids in. You didn’t want them to see their father wrapped up like that. 

“I need to talk to you, Trisha!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Mr. Edgar…wh-what are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were holding up,” he said firmly, “I had spoken with Earving before the attack, and he and I were talking about you and the kids?”

“Me and the kids?” you asked softly, “wh-what on earth do you mean?”

“If something were to have happened to him…like it did…he wanted you to have this.”

You looked down to see an envelope in his hands.  Tears welled up in your eyes as he held it out a little more for you.  You could see Earvings smooth writing of your name, the cursive reminding you of his gentle personality outside of the suit. 

A tear slipped down your cheek and Mr. Edgar sighed as you took it from him, “he wouldn’t have wanted this for you and the kids…he won’t be the same, Trisha…he’s not there anymore.”

You did what Mr. Edgar told you to do and left with a small settlement check after you read the letter where he explained the mission could be one that he died in; and that if he did, he wanted you to raise the kids where he was born. 

You were told to tell the children that their father died, and that another man would be taking over the mantel of Black Noir. 

But you were told that he was going to be placed in an assisted care facility that Vought ran, and that the Earving that was left would receive the utmost and gentlest care until he passed. 

When the kids were ten and thirteen, you received a packet from Vought.  Not only had the children manifested powers like that of their father, but you were informed by Mr. Edgar that Earving had passed in his sleep, finally succumbing to the injuries he’d received on the mission as his body just stopped healing. 

The checks came in every month, dotted with Mr. Edgar’s signature.  He made sure that you were well taken care of…well enough that you didn’t have to work.  Especially when he found out about Jackson.

He was a supe.  He had powers akin to that of his father.  Super reflexes and strength.  Mikayla had shown that she was a supe when she was 13.  She was able to heal fast.  She lent her talents to Vought, helping improve a compound that would enhance abilities in those born without powers so that they could unlock their genetic potential. 

But Jackson stayed by your side, despite wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps. 

He knew how much you loathed Vought.  And he’d grown to hate them as well, the more that he learned about his father’s history within the company. 

His father wanted to be an open black superhero, an icon to anyone of color, but they shut that down…and he let them. 

So, he stuck to vigilantism on the side, making sure the city they lived in was safe.  Mr. Edgar came by on holiday, and you soon learned that he’d had a daughter who was superhero abled himself.  The kids ended up getting along with her, but Mikayla found a real friend in her. 

She became convinced that she wanted to be part of Vought, just like her father was.  And it took every bit of you to hold her back until she was eighteen.  But when she became of age, Mr. Edgar was there to pick her up. 

Jackson refused of course, but you could see his heart breaking at the thought of his sister leaving.    

“Tell me, Mikayla, how is your mother and little brother doing,” Mr. Edgar asked as he leaned against her workstation, “It’s been years since I’ve seen either of them.”

“I don’t have time to talk, Mr. Edgar,” she said quickly, eyes turning back towards the door, “if Doctor A-“

“I’ll deal with Allen…and you’re just as distinguished as he is.  Don’t let that jerk boss you around,” he said dismissively, “tell me…did your mother ever tell you why she moved you and your brother to Minnesota?”

“She wanted us to be closer to dad after he died…”

He nodded, the smug grin on his face never faltering, “dear child…your father never died.”

“Yes, he did…on the mission in Nicaragua in 84.”

“Swatto died…soldier boy died.  But your father was in critical care…his regenerative abilities kept him alive.  The same regenerative abilities that you have,” he chuckled, “you and your brother took after him after all…I see a lot of posts on social media about a young boy, dressed like your father used to…why hasn’t he followed in your father’s footsteps?  I wonder if it’s because of your mother?  She always hated Vought.”

“My father is dead, Mr. Edgar…”

“I guess you should be thankful to think that,” he shrugged, “the truth is far more gruesome…”

Just before she was about to argue, Black Noir appeared in the doorway, mute as ever.  Mr. Edgar smiled and looked at him, “right on time, Noir…please…show Miss. Black your face…”

The superhero didn’t move, and Mikayla felt the anxiety bubbling up in her chest.  Mr. Edgar’s smile fell to a look of displeasure, “Noir…now!”

There was a moment of hesitation before the mask came up.  Mikayla gasped in horror at the mottled, aged face of her very alive father, “d-dad?”

“Your mother lied to you, Mikayla,” he said firmly, knowing the one way to get the newly eighteen year old boy to come to Vought, “and it’s time for dear old dad to hang up the boots soon…I need you to call your brother.”

[lagmennet]

Mr. Macaroni Addresses Controversy Over Children's Skit

Adebowale “Debo” Adedayo, also known as Mr. Macaroni, has responded to the controversy over a reenactment of his famed “Daddy Wa” farce. Lagmen Net is aware that a video of children copying the comedian’s routine has gone viral. The children dressed in adult costume for the reenactment, portraying Mr. Macaroni’s sugar daddy, an interested young girl, and his wife, respectively. However, users…

[belovedindierock]

Capitol Hill Rewind | Browsing bootlegs with Kurt Cobain at Orpheum Records

Posted on Sunday, December 3, 2023 - 7:03 am by Todd Matthews

Exploring the neighborhood’s record-shop history

Roughly 40 years ago, Bruce Bonifaci was living on Capitol Hill and commuting via ferry to downtown Bremerton, where he owned Penny Lane Records & Tapes, when he spotted a ‘For Lease’ sign at 618 Broadway E and decided to open a Penny Lane store closer to home. Opened in the summer of 1984, the store was later renamed Orpheum Records in “tribute to the demolished theater and an allusion to Orpheus, the legendary musician in Greek mythology,” Bonifaci explained. “I ran the place, and my wife, Barbara Baker, did the office stuff, including the books. We employed her brother, Ashley, as a manager.”

For nearly 20 years, Orpheum Records served shifting musical tastes—from 1980s new wave to 1990s grunge—and hosted countless in-store performances and record signings.

Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain shopped at Orpheum Records. “Every rock star would at least stop through, but Cobain was a regular,” one former employee told Seattle Weekly. “He would come up and be like, ‘What’s new, man? What can you show me?’ At the time, that was like absolute, utter heaven. I was like, ‘You’re asking me?’” In 1992, Cobain and his wife, Courtney Love, stopped by the store, with Love incensed by all the Nirvana bootlegs for sale. She left a terse note for Orpheum employees: “I need for you not to make extra money off my husband so I can feed my children. Mrs. Cobain.” Cobain scrawled his own message: “Macaroni and cheese for all. Love, Kurdt Kobain.”

“I was at home when the counterperson called asking for my permission to simply give Courtney the Nirvana bootlegs,” Bonifaci explained when asked about that note. “People who claim their issue with bootlegs is the financial harm inflicted on artists are off base. Buyers are the very definition of fanatics, typically already owning every last bit of the available licensed material out there. Maybe Kurt agreed, scribbling [his] postscript at the bottom.”

Bonifaci added, “The funny part was that he was in there searching for a particular Negativland album the label had officially recalled due to some legal kerfuffle—in other words, contraband. And, no, we didn’t have any on hand.”

Orpheum Records closed in 2003. Today, the restaurant Lionhead occupies the space.

[alexpeteronoja]

Anikulapo (2022) – Nollywood Yoruba Movie

A mystical folklore drama revolving around the life of a young zealous man seeking for greener pasture in great Oyo Kingdom. Unfolding events & his illicit affair with the king’s wife leads to his untimely death & encounter with a mystical bird believed to give & take life.” Cast: Kunle Remi, Bimbo Ademoye, Sola Sobowale, Kunle Afolayan, Aisha Lawal, Mr Macaroni, Dele Odule. Director: Kunle…

[a-goldentouch]

Bio For "Otto Nicole Midas"

Character Basics

Character’s full name: Otto Nicole Midas Birth date: March 30, 2006

Physical appearance

Age:16 Weight: 115 Height: 5'8" Body build: Scrawny and lanky Eye color: Golden Yellow Skin tone:  Pale fair skin with freckles Distinguishing marks: Freckles Predominant features: Droopy eyes with slight under-eye bags Hair color: Bright ginger red Voice:  Voice Claim (TBA) Physical disabilities: wheelchair-bound

Personality

Good personality traits: Kind, level headed, easy going, caring Bad personality traits: Anxious, nervous, clingy, overbearing Mood character is most often in: Cheerful Character’s greatest joy in life: Character’s greatest fear: Otto’s biggest fear is dying alone, he’s got serious abandonment issues. What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? If his current family fell apart in any way. Character is most at ease when: Miles! Life philosophy: You won’t live forever, so do everything you can while you’re alive! Wish: Get rid of his curse so he can’t hurt others anymore Character’s soft spot: Friends Is this soft spot obvious to others? Yes Greatest strength: Big kind loving heart Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Trusting to easily Biggest regret: Hurting his brother on accident

Goals

Drives and motivations: Friends and Family Immediate goals: Moving to Gotham and settling in (to be changed over time) Long term goals: Find a way to lift his family curse How the character plans to accomplish these goals: He has no clue How other characters will be affected: Some will be potentially stressed out or hurt as otto searches for answers.

Past

Hometown: Nevada City, California Type of childhood: Abusive childhood Pets: pet rat named Bloom, Cat named Booger Childhood hero: Superman Dream job: Superhero Education: Highschool

Present

Current location: Gotham City Currently living with: Older Brother and his wife. Pets: Dog named Carpet, 2 cats (booger and Pickes) Occupation: Highschool Student Finances: Lower Middleclass income, soon upperish middle class

Family

Mother: Margret Midas Relationship with her: Poor Father: Elias Midas Relationship with him: Poor Siblings: Paris midas Relationship with them: Great Sister-in-law: Hellen Troy Retationship with them: Great

Favorites

Color: Blue Least favorite color: Orange, brown Music: Imagine Dragons -  Enemies (current) Food: Macaroni and Cheese Least Favorite food: Apples

Traits

Optimist or pessimist… Introvert or extrovert… Daredevil or cautious… Logical or emotional… Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat… Prefers working or relaxing… Confident or unsure of himself… Animal lover!!

Self-perception

How he feels about himself: Otto has a bit of self-loathing and dislikes himself from time to time. But he tries to stay positive even when thinking bad about himself but it is often times hard. One word the character would use to describe self: Otto feels as if he’s unwanted and disliked by others. He would use the word useless, waste of space, and unwanted.

Relationships with others

Miles Kuunuaq: Miles is Otto’s best friend and current crush/love interest. Miles is oblivious to Otto’s feelings and Otto has made peace with the fact they might never get together. He will always care deeply for Miles. Mr. Freeze: Victor Fries intimidates Otto slightly, but Otto has a lot of great respect for him. He idolized the man's talent and intelligence and partially inspired what he wanted to pursue in college.

[aadazzy]

Why I Might Stop Playing the Role Of ‘Mummy Wa’– Mr Macaroni’s Onscreen Wife Wife Reveals https://mcobose.com/why-i-might-stop-playing-the-role-of-mummy-wa-mr-macaronis-onscreen-wife-wife-reveals/ #mercyvlog #mummywa #mrmacaroni

[metastarfinancehub]

I Feel Depressed When People Look at Me with Lusts - Comedienne, Mummy Wa (Kemi Ikuseedun)

I Feel Depressed When People Look at Me with Lusts - Comedienne, Mummy Wa (Kemi Ikuseedun)

Kemi Ikuseedun, Mr. Macaroni’s matrimonial wife in many of his comedy skits has revealed how she usually feels when people look at her body shape. This is revealed in a recent interview she had with Saturday Sun. Kemi is known for her characteristic slaps and being a no-nonsense woman who will go at any length to stop Mr. Macaroni from engaging in any out-of-marriage affairs in some of their…

[nghubs1]

Kemz Mama Biography, Real Name, Age, Career and Net Worth

Kemz Mama Biography, Real Name, Age, Career and Net Worth

Kemi Ikuseedun popularly known as Kemz Mama is a Nigerian actress, comedienne and content creator. She is popular for playing the role of Mr. Macaroni‘s wife in his comedy series. She is known as Mummy Wa in Mr. Macaroni’s comedy. Kemz Mama was born on 29th September in Lagos State, Nigeria. Educational Background Kemz Mama attended Queens College Lagos. She proceeded to study accountancy at the…

[the9jafresh]

Mr Macaroni Biography - Age, Career, Education, Early Life, Family Comedy Skits, Instagram And Net Worth

Mr Macaroni Biography – Age, Career, Education, Early Life, Family Comedy Skits, Instagram And Net Worth

Mr Macaroni Biography – Age, Career, Education, Early Life, Family Comedy Skits, Instagram And Net Worth Let us discuss Mr Macaroni’s Biography in terms of his Age, Career, Education, Early Life, Family, Comedy Skits And Net Worth and much more. Mr. Macaroni is a well-known Nigerian actor, film producer, comedic actor, and MC. On May 3rd, 1992, he celebrates his birthday. Mr. Macaroni was born…