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the-unspeakable-tsar · 7 months

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Chapter 2 - X-Manson by Doctor Benway - Annotated By Tsar. End of Chapter 2

In this portion, we learn a bit more about Robert Kelly and the larger world that this AU resides in. I might argue it's a better world than most, but i will leave that up to your interpretations.

[Shot of a gaunt, handsome, mesmerizing man on the podium, outside on a windy day. He is wearing a dark suit and horn-rim glasses and has John F Kennedy hair.]

[Caption: Senator John B Kelly]

JK: My fellow Americans, we all have a friend who is a mutant, or know a mutant who is a friend of a friend. If you asked, they may have told you that they were happy with their lot but, if they did, ask yourself how you asked them. Did you ask them how it feels to be hated or feared, or did you ask them in the hope of being assured that this is the best of all possible worlds? My friends, this is not the best of all possible worlds. If it was, we would not have had to pass the ERA or the King Amendment or the Chavez Amendment or the Wounded Knee Amendment or the Milk/Moscone Amendment. Anti-mutant bias is one of the last redoubts for those who would preach public hatred in America, who would feed their pride on the blood of the innocent. I ask you go to the polls one last time and vote for legislators who support the MRA. Then, and only then, will we be able to hope that this may one day be the best of all possible worlds.

Okay, there's a lot going on in this speech, but lets hit the major points:

ERA, equal rights amendment for women. Real-world amendment that exists.

The King Amendment. I assume this is about the civil rights protestor Martin Luther King Jr. The implication here is that an official amendment was recently passed that supports civil rights for black people on an actual, constitutional level.

The Chavez Amendment. This one i might be off on, but I think it is referencing Cesar Chavez, the civil and labor rights activist.

The Wounded Knee Amendment. Possibly a bill put into place to protect the human rights of Native Americans, possibly with a focus on protecting tribal lands. I don't really need to explain the refrence to its name. It's pretty plain to see.

Milk/Moscone Amendment: Without a doubt, a reference to Harvey Milk and San Franciso Mayor George Moscone. A bill that protects the rights of gay people, perhaps?

[Caption: Erich Lehnsherr, Vienna]

[Lehnsherr is alone, in a different room than the one shown previously. It might be his office in the Hofburg, or his office in the UN HQ in Vienna. Wherever it is, it's the kind of office that people have when they possess a great deal of power. His wife is nowhere in sight.]

EL: Cape Citadel. Terrible business, terrible.

*First appearance of The X-Men and Magneto was them fighting at Cape Citadel.

Int: How did you become involved?

EL: It was John Kelly. He was in his first term as Senator. He was a junior member of the Armed Services Committee. It was 1964, I believe.

*it was said earlier that xavier didn't purchase the school until '68.

Int: 1963.

EL: I'm getting old. Kennedy had just been buried and the American Navy had begun their criminal applications of nuclear power and weaponry to the potential destruction of their enemies. In the race to develop the submarines, they made errors. Contractors made mistakes that were not caught. They had had one submarine fall apart six months before they lost contact with the Philadelphia off Norfolk. I was at UN headquarters in New York, negotiating details of the transfer of the headquarters to Vienna when Senator Kelly arrived by helicopter and asked for my help.

Int: Did he pressure you in any way?

EL: He told me that 40 young men were about to be crushed to death by the sea. That gave me very little choice.

Int: Why did you go to the base at Cape Citadel?

EL: It was the closest military installation to the last reported location of the submarine. Also, because there was a plutonium processing installation on the site, they had the equipment necessary to contain any spills of radioactive material from the submarine.

Int: It was also a missile base, wasn't it?

EL: It was. Not a place that I would normally have visited.

Int: How did you get in?

EL: John bluffed our way in. He made a big noise about being on the Armed Services Committee and needing to see the base commander. The Americans were very lax in terms of security in those days. When the base commander found out who I was, he very nearly had a heart attack. My actions curtailing the attacks in the Tonkin Gulf prior to the peace settlement in Hue were well known to the US military, as was my opposition to the placement of nuclear weapons in Europe.

Int: But you convinced the base commander to allow you to help.

EL: It took valuable time, but, yes, we did. They had regained contact with the submarine and I was able to put a field around it to prevent any further structural failure. I was beginning to raise it when we were attacked by masked children dressed as bumblebees.

*I mean...they don't not look like bumblebee costumes.

Int: These were Xavier's students?

EL: I believe so, yes. They went straight for the command post where I was concentrating on the submarine, telling anyone who would listen that I was seizing the submarine for some nefarious purpose. Utterly ridiculous, but then it fit perfectly with the rather paranoid spirit of that time. Many in the military blamed me for 'losing' Viet Nam, and now I was going to further emasculate their great republic, or some such thing. Xavier may have influenced them in some way, but I was fighting almost as certainly the limitations of the military mind.

Int: So some of the garrison attacked the command post?

EL: It was chaos. I was in the command post, besieged by the half of the garrison that wasn't guarding us. I tried to put up a shield around the building, but Xavier's students started attacking psionically and with force beams and with ice. I had to stop lifting and hold the submarine in place while I reinforced our defenses. It was a tremendous strain. We held out for almost an hour until the one with the force beams sliced open a tank containing pressurized liquid hydrazine. The entire fight vanished in a fog of explosive gas and I further reinforced the shield just in time for the explosion. It was too much, even for me. I lost consciousness.

Int: The Philadelphia was lost.

*possibly a reference to The Philadelphia Experiment Conspiracy Theory?

EL: After I passed out, the submarine began to sink again. It disintegrated before I could regain consciousness.

Int: What happened at the base?

EL: An unconfined vapour cloud explosion, a detonation of almost nuclear levels of destruction. I was able to protect those inside the command post, but over 500 of those outside lost their lives and over a thousand more were injured. Of those, some 300 lost limbs and senses. Worse, six of those atomic missiles that the phone company built to defend New York had their propellant explode inside their silos and plutonium was scattered over much of the site. I was able to contain most of it, but it might have even been worse, had one of the attackers not erected a wall of ice between the main fire and the majority of the missiles.

Int: What happened after?

EL: They tried to arrest me, in spite of my assistance and my diplomatic passport. I still had enough of my power to prevent them from taking me away, and I was able to fly to safety. There was a congressional enquiry of course, but the officers at the base came through for us. What surprised John was the anti-mutant backlash that struck after. Although the loss of the Philadelphia was the responsibility of Xavier's assault, the general public blamed the loss upon me, identifying me as a foreign threat, as a contagion. John based the rest of his political career on fighting that hatred. I did what I could, but of course the part that I could play was limited.

Int: Why would have Xavier have gone after you?

EL: I am not certain. I have no idea how he knew I was there, which suggests that he had another goal in mind, though I have no idea what it might have been. To put children at such risk, it chills my heart even now. Once he knew I was there, he might have attacked me in revenge, or to deliberately provoke an anti-mutant response. He doubled the size of the school shortly thereafter, and I cannot imagine that the anti-mutant reaction did not assist his recruitment efforts.

It's ironic that part of Xavier's goal in the comics lead to more anti-mutant hysteria following his shitty actions.

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walkonandtwo · 1 year

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The most hated citizens in America, Referred to as Other.

For many years these Indians were tramps, vagrants, objects of charity, panhandlers, and casual laborers around Great Falls, Havre, Big Sandy, Box Elder, and other Montana towns,” the author observed. “The white people of Montana looked upon Rocky Boy’s people with contempt and called them scavengers and alley cats, because many of them gleaned their food from garbage cans.” [Foster p214]

Foster continued, “Unwelcomed outside the towns where they sought food, the Chippewa and Cree bands suffered both hunger and harassment by local officials. . . Eventually conditions became so bad that the destitute bands won the support of a few sympathetic and influential citizens of Helena and Great Falls. . . As their circumstances worsened, the landless bands intensified efforts to secure support for a reservation. Rocky Boy, less burdened than Little Bear by the Stigma of being Canadian Cree, was more successful . . . efforts to secure a reservation for the Rocky Boy began in earnest. Initial attempts to locate the band on the Blackfoot or Belknap reservations failed when reservation officials, like those on the Flathead Reservation, opposed situating the band within boundaries or on allotments nearby. A variety of problems and misunderstandings subverted every effort to secure land, including the hostility of some of Montana’s native people toward the Metis members of the band. Fort Peck reservation briefly became a possibility for settlement of the band until the agent there assured government officials that the resident Indians (traditional enemies of the Metis) would never tolerate “French mixed bloods” on or near their land. The comment of Fort Peck’s reservation agent reflects the double bind under which the Rocky Boy Chippewa labored. When the argument suited opponents, they might be accused of being Canadian Crees and therefore the responsibility of Canada. On the other hand, since many members of the band were Metis, they might be accused of being “French breeds” and not Indian at all. [Foster pp215-6]

The Hostility of the Montana tribes definitely did not facilitate finding a home for these people.

In the face of heated opposition from nearby the population and press of nearby Havre, Rocky Boy was ultimately successful in securing a reservation for his band and that of Little Bears in 1916. The Army had closed down its Fort Assiniboin near the Bear Paw mountaisn just south of Milk River, near where it had run down Chief Joseph’s Nez Perce band in 1877. Rocky Boy’s petition for the surplus land was able to gain the support of crucial Great Falls and Helena business people. Some Metis names from among the many mixed-descent relatives of the two bands that were submitted to Washington included the Allery, Belcourt, Bushie, Courchane, Capalete, Dechamp, Demontyne, Favel, Hamline, Houle, Henderson, Jackson, Ladue, Larance, Morissette, Sangray, Valley, and the Walls families. Officials would actually only submit 658 names to Washington, and 206 of those were denied enrollment. The final roll of July 16, 1917 included just 451 individuals. Though some of those dropped from the rolls . . ”eventually won enrollment, many more joined the Little Shell band members in the growing ranks of Montana’s “landless Indians.”

[Foster p 217-18]

In 1907 as part of a broader effort to severely limit non-European immigration into the U.S., and ultimately citizenship, the Bureau of Immigration and Naturalization made a number rulings involving the Metis. The Bureau confirmed the ineligibility of “half-breed Canadian Indians” for U.S. citizenship.

Strengthening this ruling was a 1909 district court case that found that persons who were half white to be half-breeds and, as such, belonged to neither of the parent “races.” . . . “French breeds” remained in danger of deportation. Again, the publicity left the impression that all Metis were illegal Canadian half-breeds with no rights to U.S. residency or citizenship. . . . No longer in public documents or publications were Rocky Boy Metis referred to as “French breeds.” And since, in Montana French breeds were associated with Canada (and possible deprotation), the Chippewa-Crees were unlikely to identify themselves as Metis, Michif, or Mitsif as did many Turtle Mountain enrollees. For mixed-descent people in Montana, even more than those of North Dakota, a mixed-blood designation risked not only loosing rights as Indians but also as U.S. residents. [Foster p219]

As for actual deportations, they did happen. One junior officer that got in on the action while on assignment with the 10th Cavalry was First Lieutenant J.J. Pershing. In 1896 he arrested a group of Crees encamped near Great Falls. For two months Pershing and his African American Troop D covered a thousand miles of Montana territory “rounding up” Crees who were subsequently deported. [Foster p176] . Good training for taking on Poncho Villa on the southern border in 1915, and then Hindenberg and Ludendorf on the Western Front in 1918.

The battle of Poplar River, Montana, fought between the U.S. Army and Gall's Sioux on January 2, 1881 was witnessed by the Courchene family, who were camped nearby.

He is listed with his family at the South Fork of the Sun River, Lewis and Clark County, and also a John Courchene, age 20 born in Canada is listed in 1880 at Judith Basin, Meagher County, Montana. He was either enumerated twice or the were two John Courchene's in Montana at that time.

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correctmongolia · 2 years

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Get a preference of Mongolian culture by investing

Mongolia is a country situated in East Asia and also is the world's second-largest landlocked country after Russia. The surface contains mainly desert and also steppe. Regarding one-third of the populace are nomadic or semi-nomadic animals herders. The main language is Mongolian, although Russian is likewise spoken. The capital city is Ulaanbaatar.

One of Mongolia's most popular tourist attractions is the Genghis Khan statue, which is the largest equestrian statue in the world. Various other preferred traveler destinations consist of Gorkhi Terelj National forest, Khustain Nuruu National Forest, and also Lake Khovsgol National Park.

Mongolia is an interesting nation to go to, with its distinct society and history.

The climate in Mongolia is a continental steppe environment, with big temperature level extremes. The winter seasons are really chilly, and the summers are reasonably warm. Rainfall degrees are reduced, however have a tendency to be higher in the mountains. The nation experiences extremely solid winds, specifically during the winter season.

Mongolia is house to numerous standard yurts (known as gers in Mongolian). These circular tents are constructed from felt and wood, and can be easily put together as well as taken apart. They are usually made use of as houses or guesthouses in rural areas.

Mongolian cuisine is greatly influenced by its nomadic heritage. One of the most typical meal is mutton, which is cooked in a variety of means. Other preferred meals include noodles, rice, and also borts (a sort of dumpling).

Mongolia is one of the most sparsely booming countries on the planet. Covering an area of 1,564,116 km2 (603,909 sq mi), it has to do with the size of France, Spain, or Texas. The official name of Mongolia is the Mongolian Individuals's Republic. It has a populace of around 3 million individuals, that makes it among one of the most sparsely populated nations worldwide. The resources and biggest city is Ulaanbaatar.

Mongolia is a landlocked country located between Russia and also China. The people of Mongolia are referred to as Mongols. They are a nomadic individuals who reside in yurts, which are round, tent-like homes covered in pet skins or really felt. Yurts are mobile, so the Mongols can relocate their residences with them as they relocate their herds of livestock.

The Mongol diet regimen contains Mongolian yurt mainly meat as well as dairy products. They also consume a lot of grains, such as wheat and also barley. One of the most preferred beverage in Mongolia is airag, which is made from fermented mare's milk.

Mongolia is home to many historical sites, consisting of the burial site of Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire. There is likewise a gigantic statuary of Genghis Khan situated in the capital city of Ulaanbaatar.

Mongolia is known for its vast as well as magnificent landscapes, as well as its nomadic society. A large percent of the population still participates in typical nomadic herding, which has actually been a way of life in Mongolia for centuries. The Mongolian yurt, or ger, is a hallmark of this culture. These short-term homes are conveniently collapsible and also easily transportable to make sure that they can be relocated with the herds.

The food of Mongolia is additionally heavily affected by its nomadic heritage. Traditional recipes typically contain meat and also vegetables cooked over an open fire. Milk tea is a prominent drink, and dairy products are common active ingredients in many recipes.

Mongolia is likewise residence to some outstanding historical sites. The Genghis Khan statue near Ulaanbaatar is the globe's biggest equestrian statue, portraying the creator of the Mongolian Realm.

The Mongolian economic climate is succeeding essentially. The country has actually been delighting in an influx of tourists, many thanks partially to its numerous tourist attractions, including its conventional yurts and also Genghis Khan statues. The yurt, a round tent-like structure that is popular in Mongolia, can be rented for short-term remains, and the nation's food is likewise getting appeal, with restaurants providing traditional dishes such as buuz (fit to be tied dumplings) and tsaa (a type of salty milk tea). Although there are still some areas of the economic climate that might utilize some enhancement, such as the mining market, Mongolia is seeing positive growth overall.

When it involves the yurt, there are lots of things to like concerning it. It is lovely, environment-friendly, as well as economical. If you are trying to find a distinct means to experience nature, or wish to attempt something brand-new, the yurt is a wonderful option. You can also purchase a yurt available for sale as well as set it up on your home.

The Mongolian ger is a conventional yurt that has been utilized for centuries. It is made from products that are natural as well as lasting, such as wool, cotton, and bamboo. The ger is also really mobile, which makes it best for outdoor camping or traveling.

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yandere-sins · 3 years

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How bout a ficlet of noble! reader coming home from a ball or something and finding her house on fire (obviously from servant Rhys) and Rhys comes up to her and hugs her and says they can be together now thanks!

Thank you for requesting my boy ♥ Hope you like it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

“Milady...”

Anyone’s arms would have sufficed in bringing you comfort at that moment. With the picture of flames eating away on your childhood home burned into your mind, you turned to your butler, burying your face in his shoulder. It was only a small comfort, but part of you was still relieved that he survived. At least one person you didn’t lose. He had been serving your house since his own childhood, and you two grew up together. Rhys had been by your side on the bad days and the goods, serving you hot milk at night and held the umbrella for you on the rainy days. At least, so you thought, he was here with you while everyone else was... well. Inside.

“I can’t believe it,” you sobbed into the dark fabric of his jacket. When you left, everything had been perfect. Everyone was cheerful and waving after you as you left for the ball. But in the middle of your first dance with the Earl, you had been asked to leave immediately. They didn’t even tell you why, but when your carriage finally reached the street your home was located in, you could see the ravaging flames and the thick, ashen smoke rising from it. It was hard for your brain to understand how and why this happened, as well as why no one could stop the flames from spreading.

A voice nagged you in your grief as it called out to you, and Rhys’s hand on your shoulder squeezed you reassuringly before he received the information that should have been passed on to you. How could anyone expect that you could listen to the fatal news that your heart already knew? “No one survived,” the voice said, but how could they know? The fire was still spewing sparks, so how could they know?

“We couldn’t stop it from spreading further, but we pulled out their corpses. There’s nothing we could do for them. I’m so sorry.”

Your sobs only grew louder, revealing that you had been listening. You could feel the countless stares of bystanders and helpers, their pitiful looks and snarky thoughts they had all the same. At least you are rich. That’s what they all thought. They saw your grief and pain, but all they could think about was your status, envying you for the loss of everything you ever had. No riches would be enough for the things that you couldn’t buy back. And it was lost in such a tragic way too.

Two arms embraced you tightly, squeezing you back to reality. So lost in your thoughts, you had almost forgotten everything, but Rhys hadn’t. Nonetheless, when you looked up at him, he only wore a smile for you, his eyes dull and commiserating. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “But you have to keep face, Milady.”

Sniffling, the tears wouldn’t stop, even when you tried to step back from him, but contrary to what he said, Rhys wouldn’t let go. He supported you, and only now did you realize you felt like collapsing on the spot if not for his arms holding you up. Reaching for the tissue in his jacket pocket, you wiped away the ashes that had settled on your face and your ruined make-up. Hiding in Rhys’s shadow, you felt safe, even if what happened was too gruesome to calm down completely.

When he was sure you had composed yourself enough again to stand on your own, he shrugged off his jacket to hide you under it from the many gazes. While he talked to the officers and firemen, thanking them for their help and telling them he was going to have you rest at a nearby hotel, your thoughts began to spiral again as you thought about why this had to happen to you. He led you back to a carriage, his arm tightly around your waist, letting you know you weren’t alone. Neither of you cared too much about your image as you were seen so intimately, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care for the bright smile Rhys wore on his face as he helped you inside the carriage, following you.

All throughout the drive, he held your hands, just like he had when you were children and experienced a nightmare. His thumb rubbed circles on your skin, and his long fingers tangled with yours. “Rhys... I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, tears shooting back into your eyes, but he only shushed you gently, wiping them away with his thumb. He, too, lost everything that night, and here you were, distraught and selfishly grieving on your own. You lifted the back of his hand to your forehead, sobbing quietly while praying quietly for the people you both lost.

Time passed you by in a haze. You still remembered Rhys leaving briefly before helping you out of the carriage and into a room in some hotel you had never heard about. So lost in thought, it was hard to think about anything else but the fire. When Rhys came back, he found you still sitting in the same position on the bed as he had left you in. Handing you a glass of water, he admitted putting some medicine inside that would help you calm down, and at that moment, it made sense to you. You were exhausted, but you had enough strength to drink on your own, feeling drowsy the moment you set down the glass.

He helped you loosen your corset and lay down when you were already unable to lift a finger anymore, but at least Rhys never left your side anymore. You were glad for his company. For knowing that you weren’t all alone. For a while, you only stared at each other, and he held your hand, his face graced by a smile. How could he still smile after all this? In one fire, he lost everything, and now he had to take care of this miserable you.

“But I didn’t lose you. In fact, now we’ll always be together.”

Had you accidentally spoken out your thoughts? Or was he able to read you so easily? In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you two had been so close. Ever since you grew up, your relationship had matured as well. It would have been inappropriate for you to be seen with him like you had that day if not for the tragedy.

“I did it for us. You know I would do everything for you, Milady.”

His eyes lowered to your hands, and he gently brushed over your fingers as if they were precious porcelain. His cheeks were flushed lightly as he gazed upon your ring finger, still unadorned since you didn’t have suitors to choose from. This ball should have been your chance to meet someone. “Find an earl or a duke,” your father had said, and you would have tried for your family.

“There’s no need for you to marry a stranger anymore. We can start over, just the two of us.”

“Rhys,” you wanted to say, but you couldn’t open your mouth anymore from the exhaustion you were feeling, your eyelids threatening to close any second now. “What is the meaning of this.”

“They wanted to separate us. Your father would have never approved of our love, but I know we are meant for each other! We always were!”

He was your butler, nothing more, nothing less. Even if you were close as kids, you had long started to go your own way as the only child of your family. There had never been a question about who you loved or not since you’d be married to the person from who the family would benefit most.

“I made sure nothing stands in our way.” When Rhys looked up, he appeared so enamored, even if your reflection in his eyes was pitiful. But with the last strength you had, your eyes widened as you realized what he said, a tender, almost shy giggled escaping him as he revealed the truth. Not a reaction that a butler should have after he murdered the family he served all these years. “There are no pieces of evidence left behind after that fire, I made sure of it. Now, nothing can separate us anymore.”

Bowing his head down to your hand, he kissed it gallantly, and you couldn’t remember when he learned these manners. But you were so tired. Tired and terrified, but your body could only comprehend the effects of the medicine, pulling you into a deep sleep fit for what was going to happen.

Rhys brushed away some of your hair as he admired your sleeping face. It almost felt like all these nights he spent by your bedside watching over you. Even when you didn’t need him anymore, relying on your handmaids more than your ever-loyal butler, he still checked on you even when you didn’t want to see him. You two weren’t the adorable children anymore, walking hand in hand through the gardens, but it could be like this again. Being the sole heir to everything, you two would be able to afford a new home with a pretty garden. Enough to build the family that you dreamed of when you asked him to marry you at the tender age of seven. Rhys had never forgotten these feelings, even if you seemed to have put them aside to tend to your responsibilities.

Gazing at you fondly for another second, he finally got up to pick you up from the bed. The carriage was already waiting outside, and he had given the address of the new ‘summer residence’ he had bought in your name to the officials so they could send the important documents there. The person he hired to set the fire was driving you two there. Rhys felt blessed he could stay in the carriage with you, tending to your needs while he had already assembled loyal servants of his own for the new life he wanted to build with you. And now he’d take you to the home you’d share with him, the ring already waiting for you there. Now, everything was going to be perfect, and no one would get in his way. Or else, he’d have no qualms over getting rid of that person as well.

Next time, it would be the whole town if he had to.

#Rhys #Rhys Aspen #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #OC

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bartistic · 3 years

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Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #crack fic babey #my writing #written over the course of 2 hours following an 8 hour shift #shameless self-insert time

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egregriousstaemen · 4 years

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Teatale

Teatale is an AU where monsters naturally create tea leaves with their magic, and their clothes sprout and shed them. The quality of the leaves and tea directly correlate to the monster’s health and mood, and weekly checks are done to assess the health of each and every monster.

The Royal Guard(eners) conducts these checks. Each member has a tool pouch that contains pruning tools and collection trays.

There is a crack in the mountain range that allows natural sunlight to filter in. Monsters have devise a method to capture this light in containers, and use that for most lighting fixtures. The crack is also how the Underground tells time, though the stars are obscured.

This AU takes place in a timeline where Asriel and Chara did not pass, and only Frisk fell after Chara.

Home (Also known as Castle Town) is where the Royal Family resides. It features a large castle, with businesses and the Royal School surrounding it. The notable residents of Home are

Frisk (Tapi) - The last fallen human. Younger than Chara. They are mute, communicating with sign language or written words. Humans do not produce tea. Instead, their determination can be forced into balls, akin to tapioca pearls.

Chara (Oca) - The first fallen human. Younger than Asriel. They always hang out around Frisk, and tend to cause mischief at school. Also produces tapioca like balls of determination.

Asriel (Chamo) - The son of the King and Queen, but doesn’t like being called the Prince. The oldest of the Dreemurr siblings. Shy at times, but not afraid to stand up for his friends. His tea is Chamomile, and makes the drinker very sleepy.

Toriel (Lady Grey) - The Queen of the Underground. Motherly and kind, but stern when need be. Often bakes pie. Is also one of the teachers at the Royal School. Her tea is Earl Grey, and makes the drinker alert.

Asgore (Dandy) - The King of the Underground, and an aspiring landscape artist. Softspoken and timid, but warmhearted. His tea is Dandelion, and it makes the drinker calm.

Snowdin is a forest town up the caverns from Castle Town. It most notably features Grillby’s, a popular cafe with quality, but inexpensive food, and the Snowdin Inn, a nice place to rest on a journey through the Underground. Notable residents are

Papyrus (Hibi) - Younger brother to Sans. Member of the Royal Guard(eners). Aspires to become the Guard Master one day, but can always fall back on being a Underground renowned chef. Worries about his brother often. His tea is Hibiscus, and makes the drinker energetic.

Sans (Chai) - Older brother to Papyrus. Member of the Royal Guard(eners). The reason the Guard has a pun as their official name. Enjoys making jokes. Has the highest quality leaves in the Underground, and sheds a lot. Worries about his brother a lot. His tea is Masala Chai, and makes the drinker relaxed and lost in thought.

Monster Kid (Lem) - Aspiring Royal Guard(ener). Wants to be just like Undyne someday. Has trouble sitting still in school, but tries their best. Their tea is Lemon, and gives the drinker vivid dreams.

Grillby (Green) - Owner and barista at his sef named cafe. Doesn’t speak often, but does go on tangents when he does. Is frustrated with Sans’ tab, but doesn’t really mind too much in the end. Is made of steaming water. His tea is Green, and it makes the drinker focus.

Waterfall is past Snowdin, and consists of many rivers, lakes and swamplands. It is a popular sightseeing spot, as the flora there glows blue, and so does the water. The cavern ceiling also sparkles with mineral deposits. Notable residents are

Undyne (Bucha) - Guard Master of the Royal Guard(eners). A warrior at face, but understanding at heart. Lives in the swamplands of Waterfall. Likes to show off her strength, and also loves anime. Her tea is Kombucha, and it gives the drinker a stamina boost.

Napstablook (Whi) - Ghost DJ. Often plays sets at the City with Mettaton. Cries often, sleeps moreso. Is always wearing their hat. Their tea is White and it makes the drinker nostalgic.

Temmie (Sweetie) - An energetic monster that leaves Temmie Village to go to school, so that one day they can graduate from college. Likes long walks and the smell of cookies. Their tea is Sweet and will give the drinker a sugar rush.

Hotland (Also known as the City), is a large part of the Underground. The City is about the size of two Castle Towns, and is the only place in the Underground with artificial lighting. Hotland is most notable for the MTT Hotel and Suites, a hotel and restaraunt branch owned by Mettaton. Notable residents are

Alphys (Matcha) - Royal Scientist(a). A recovering shut in and top tier anime fan. Loves Mew Mew Kissy Brewy far too much. Is trying very hard to go outside and socialize. Likes Undyne. Her tea is Matcha and it makes the drinker have an ephipany.

Muffet (Cider) - Baker of the City. Knows everyone’s favorite flavors and tries to coordinate her wares with other food places in the Underground. Has a nasty habit of overcharging. Her tea is Apple Cider, and it makes the drinker hungry.

Mettaton (Oolong) - The Star of the Underground. Owns MTT Hotels and Suites, and hosts the news daily, along with other entertainment programs. Fashionable, outgoing, and confident. Loves singing and posing. Their tea is Oolong and makes the drinker want to dance.

The Core is a large facility in the center of Hotland. Upkeep is done by Alphys. No one else is there. No one knows who made it. No one knows but

[ W.D. Gaster (Milke) - Former Royal Scientist(a). Designer of the Core. Vanished from time and space and all memory. Was distorted and destroyed almost instantly after a freak accident wiped him from existance. Makes visits. His tea is Milk and ?????????????????????? ]

#muns art #my art #undertale au #undertale #sans #teatale #papyrus #alphys #undyne #temmie #toriel #asriel #asgore #muffet #grillby #napstablook #mettaton #frisk #chara #monster kid #AUInfo #gaster

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southeastasianists · 3 years

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On the western shore of the Chao Phraya river, south of the Wat Arun temple, lies Bangkok’s small Siamese-Portuguese enclave, Kudeejeen. Within its maze of narrow alleyways that weave past aging teakwood houses lies a 250-year-history of cultural commingling. In that time, the neighborhood has been home to Siamese-Portuguese, Thai, and Chinese residents of different religions. This diversity can be seen in the local architecture, with the Catholic Santa Cruz Church, the Buddhist Wat Kalayanamit, and the Kudi Khao Mosque a few minutes’ walk from one another. The combination of cultures is also deliciously evident in the enclave’s sweet specialty: khanom farang Kudeejeen, or the Kudeejeen “foreigner cake.”

Behind a bright teal door down an alleyway is Kanoom Farung Lan Mea Pao. The dark interior of the family-run bakery features big mixers in the corner, several blazing charcoal braziers in the middle of the room, and the sweet aroma of freshly baked khanom farang Kudeejeen. Along with Kanoom Farung Pa Lek and Thanusingha Bakery House, it is one of the only three bakeries that makes the cupcake. The small, golden discs resemble sweet muffins, their flat tops adorned with pieces of dried fruit—usually raisin, persimmon, and winter melon—and caramelized sugar. Crispy and crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, the cupcakes are not made with raising agents. In fact, for such a rare treat, the cake itself has a shockingly plain ingredients list: eggs, wheat flour, white sugar, and the dried fruit.

Although it sounds simple, spinning these basic ingredients into khanom farang Kudeejeen is an art that dates back at least 252 years, to the time when Kudeejeen was established. Navinee Pongthai, a Kudeejeen native and the owner of the Baan Kudichin Museum, which chronicles the history of the enclave and the Siamese-Portuguese people, believes the cake’s origins might go back even further, to when the first Portuguese traders settled in the capital of Ayutthaya in the 16th century.

According to Pongthai, the cake is the result of Portuguese settlers and their descendents struggling to recreate European-style sweets. “At first, they tried to make cakes with rice flour, since wheat flour was hard to come by. But the cakes were too hard,” she says. While many classics of Portuguese confectionery revolve around sugar and egg yolks, the lack of available flour and milk forced Kudeejeen bakers to adapt. “Traditional Thai desserts are made from sugar, coconut milk, and duck egg yolks, which are very different than what they were used to. So the Siamese-Portuguese tried to make a replica of European cake without milk and butter.” The result is a cake that is less moist and more flat, as it doesn’t rise up like regular cupcakes, but is still fluffy and tasty.

Khanom farang Kudeejeen is not the first fusion dessert nor the most famous among Thais. Many of the most popular Thai sweets can be traced to Maria Guyomar de Pinha, an Ayutthaya-born woman of Japanese-Portuguese-Bengali descent who was married to a high-ranking Greek official in the 17th-century Ayutthaya court. One of her most iconic creations is foi thong, a nest of egg yolk–based golden threads boiled in sugar syrup. Anyone familiar with Portuguese confectionery will notice the treat’s striking similarities to Portugal’s fios de ovos. Another classic attributed to Guyomar de Pinha is sangkhaya, a coconut jam that may have been inspired by Portuguese custard. However, her recipes did not include cakes, making khanom farang Kudeejeen a dessert unique to the enclave.

Though the cake’s roots lie in the 16th-century intermingling of Portuguese and local traditions in Ayutthaya, it is forever associated with its home in Kudeejeen. After Burmese invaders sacked and destroyed Ayutthaya in 1767, many Siamese-Portuguese, along with other residents of the former capital, migrated to the kingdom’s new seat of power in the town of Thonburi. Here, the king gifted the Siamese-Portuguese community with the land that would become their enclave in 1769. The plot was a reward for aiding in the fight to successfully drive out the Burmese invaders.

Also spelled “Kudi Chin,” Kudeejeen's name is a nod to a nearby Chinese temple and the local Chinese community. Diners can see the influence of these Chinese neighbors in khanom farang Kudeejeen’s toppings. Considered symbolic of health and fortune, the dried fruit was originally added to the cakes just for Lunar New Year celebrations. But the decorative, auspicious additions proved so popular that bakeries have since incorporated them into the cupcake year-round.

Thonburi’s time as a major hub was short-lived: The capital moved across the Chao Phraya river to what would become Bangkok in 1782. But the Siamese-Portuguese community of Kudeejeen stayed put. Still very close to the capital, Thonburi is now a district within greater Bangkok. Despite the staggering size of Thailand’s largest city—it has an estimated 10.7 million residents as of this year—just the three, hole-in-the-wall bakeries continue to make khanom farang Kudeejeen from their small, diverse enclave. For the Kudeejeen locals, they are a special occasion treat and a New Year staple or gift. For visitors, they are a great souvenir and a must-buy when visiting the area.

While not all of us have our own charcoal brazier, it’s still possible to make a version of khanom farang Kudeejeen at home with the recipe below.

Homemade Khanom Farang Kudeejeen

Yield: 10–12, depending on the size of your cupcake liners and muffin pan Special equipment: An electric mixer with beaters Cupcake liners Muffin pan For the cupcakes: 6 eggs (the small eggs used in this recipe were around 45 grams each) 1/3 cups of flour 1/2 cups of fine white sugar A splash of vanilla extract (optional) For the toppings: 2 tablespoons of assorted raisins and dried fruit 1 tablespoon of white sugar 1. Preheat your oven to 360° F and place the cupcake liners in the muffin pan. 2. Measure out all the ingredients and set them aside. As there is no raising agent, the fluffiness of the cupcakes relies entirely on the aerated eggs, so it’s important to move quickly. In a mixing bowl, add the eggs, sugar, and—if desired—a splash of vanilla extract, then beat the ingredients using an electric mixer until the mixture is foamy and very pale. This should take at least a minute; the mixture should double in size and be a little stiff. 3. Gradually sieve and stir in the flour (do not pour it in all at once). If you end up with lumps, whisk the mixture again with the electric mixer. Make sure to do it swiftly so that it doesn’t deflate. Don’t worry about it being too runny. If the cupcakes are thick with too much flour, they will become too dense. 4. Fill up each cupcake liner to 3/4 full and place the tray in the oven. 5. Let the cupcakes bake for two minutes before adding the dried fruit on top. Add as many as you like then sprinkle the cakes with some sugar before putting them back in the oven. 6. Let the cupcakes bake for 12–15 more minutes before pulling them out (check about halfway through and rotate the tray if they’re baking too much on one side). Do the toothpick test to check if they are ready. They might deflate and wrinkle a little afterward, but that is normal.

#Southeast Asia #Thailand #food cw #Khanom Farang Kudeejeen

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

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Sticky, Sweet

Author’s Note: I’m so pleased to tell you that this is the first of my 1000 Followers Requests! Again, how do 1000 people like me enough to read my words? I don’t know!! But I love you all! Also, bless my beta - @sammy-jo1977 ... she lets me drag her to hell and back, and goes willingly. Lots of Love, lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from many of the Avengers Tower residents Summary: This was requested by the amazing, adorable and always supportive @alexakeyloveloki ... As I hit my milestone, she was having a birthday, and this, I hope will be a gift she’ll enjoy. You deserve it girl! The request was: One with Loki and a Curvy Reader where she works in the Tower, maybe the canteen, and people are mean to her and Loki likes her for some odd reason and... smut ensues. I did make some changes, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, @alexakeyloveloki !! Warnings: This one might give you a toothache! There’s smut, but it’s sweet!

“Uh, yes. Might I trouble you for a chocolate croissant and… a cappuccino, large, please.”

You knew the owner of that voice without raising your eyes. Today he was wearing charcoal grey slacks with straight creases all the way down. A shirt, starched, bright white, with rolled back sleeves revealing the articulate length of his forearms. All of his dark locks were gathered over his open collar in a low man bun, which is something you had laughed at other men for doing. Somehow, the tall, trim man in front of you was making it work in a way that made your mouth water.

Flashing him a megawatt smile, full of promise, “My pleasure! Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. Thank you, though.”, warm and caramel sweet, his response made you melt.

Clearing your throat, struggling to maintain some sense of composure, “A name… for the order?”

“Loki… that’s L, O, K, I…”, his own grin widening at the request.

You knew his name. He’d been coming to your little dessert cart for months now and every time you asked, just like you did for all of your customers. And each time he spelled out the letters for you, as if you were taking his order for the first time. Handing back change only for him to drop it into the tip jar, you let your eyes linger over Loki just a moment more, enjoying the view.

Most of the visitors to Avengers Tower paid you little to no attention. Outside of offering a cup of joe and a giant cookie, you had no bearing on the day to day business of the super hero syndicate, and that was just fine by you. Everyone else? They all had important things to do. Meetings and appointments were near constant as apparently saving the world took a lot of planning. And, thankfully, a lot of coffee, danish and muffins.

Of all your customers, the actual, swear to God heroes were the most colorful. They were also the most loyal of your clients, stopping in at least daily, although, there were occasions where you would see Wanda two or three times in a day. Especially if you had made those little mille-feuille stacks that reminded her of home.

Thor would buy out your stash of jelly donuts, to the chagrin of the office workers in line behind him, but then divvy them up as a way of apologizing. Ms. Romanoff had a tendency to whisper her order, lest anyone realize her secret desire for a sinfully sweet White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream. Captain Rogers? His routine was the most straight-forward. Black coffee, ma’am, Blueberry muffin, thank you so much.

Loki, from the start, had been different. Unlike Mr. Stark, Loki looked you in the eye when placing his order. He never seemed distracted by the technology buzzing around or the high ranking officials clustered in these hallowed halls. Loki also didn’t order 12 shots of espresso, steamed skim milk, no foam, and one donut hole. No, that was Tony to a t.

But Loki? This giant guy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, always ordered your daily special. Frilly pink cupcakes, jam filled eclairs, fruity hand pies, Loki had tasted them all. And he still turned up, day after day, eager and kind. That had to mean something, right?

Honestly, it was the pinnacle of your day when, looking up from the grinder, you’d see him towering majestically over the office drones all in a row. Knowing that smooth voice would soon be speaking to you, even if it was just to get a snack on the run, was almost enough. Almost.

Letting your gaze linger after Loki’s retreating figure, you got lost in a daydream, one where you were making Loki coffee in your kitchen. His lengthy legs tucked under your tiny table, a tray of fresh cookies in front of him as he read, sometimes with his shirt on… sometimes without. Feeling your cheeks warm up at the image, you shook your head, ready to refocus on the caffeine craving customers still in line.

As closing time drew near, you began the daily task of cleaning up your cart. Sweeping, wiping, sterilizing, washing, drying. There was a rhythm to it all and you often found yourself entrained in the work, as usually there were few distractions at this time of day.

“Excuse me?”

Spinning, surprised, you barely kept hold of the carafe in your hands as you spotted Ms. Pepper Potts standing at your kiosk, “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Waving away your worry, Pepper took a moment to introduce herself properly before getting down to business, “I was wondering if you had ever considered catering before? You were highly recommended by a colleague and I am looking for assistance with an event we're hosting in a few weeks. What I really need is someone to help with an after hours sort of thing.”

Your heart leapt in your chest, thumping wildly, threatening to bust out of your chest. Now, you’d be lying if you said that expanding your business wasn’t part of the dream. Always hopeful that your little cafe cart could somehow be expanded into a little sweet shop or bistro bakery, you had been hard at work for the last two years, slinging lattes and refining recipes until the right moment arrived.

When you said as much to Ms. Potts, her gracious smile lit up, “Then this, my friend, is that moment.”

Details were exchanged, pricing negotiated, plans put in place. In ten days you were going to be providing The Avengers and their guests with pastries, cookies, coffee and tea. There was a select menu so that you wouldn't be running around like crazy, which would make prep time easy, but Pepper had told you to be creative. In short, you were getting your shot and the excitement of that put you on cloud nine.

As you had arranged with Ms. Potts, while the guests attended one of Mr. Stark’s lavish galas downtown, you were given access to the Avengers Suite near the top floors of the tower. Seeing the building, well past your normal 5:00 pm, was energizing. Getting to sneak a peek at where the most important people working here spent their days was overwhelming, but you were giddy at the prospect.

In a sweet spot, just inside the expansive glass doors which led to the sky rise patio, you set up your display. Feeling pretty proud of yourself, you only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator dinged on the first arrivals, including the host and hostess for the night. "Here we go!", whispering to yourself, you took an anxiously excited breath.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the glitz of it all. Tony Stark, wearing a plum colored tuxedo, had his Rolex draped arm around Pepper. She was stunning in her black column gown, purple jewels at her throat and ears, the perfect counterpoint to Tony’s ensemble. You struggled not to stare.

More people filtered in, some went to the bar, where champagne popped regularly. A few grabbed frosty glasses of fresh beer. And for a time you thought you were invisible among all the glamour around you. Honestly, you were surrounded by the type of people who graced magazine covers and had in depth chats with Oprah. That wasn’t you by a long shot.

Then, of course was the difference in your shape and size compared to the elegant group assembled for the evening. You certainly weren’t as stately as Ms. Potts, nor as thin as Ms. Romanoff because she was trimmer in hip and bust. Carol, stately and graceful, was a sheet of well hewed muscle. All of them shone tonight, regal and lovely, while you wore your best black pants and white button down, the uniform of catering professionals world wide.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, temping your coffee pot, your mind churned. There was no shaking the idea that even though you had been invited here, hired to be here, you were woefully out of place. And just as your confidence was at its lowest, you heard it… or rather, him.

"Um… yes. May I have… well… I don't know what to have. Normally you have something special prepared."

Even over the din of chatter and softly played music you heard his baritone register. A little flustered, disarmingly charming, Loki’s buttercream smile triggered your own. Laughing, lifting a small tray towards Loki, "I am keeping it simple tonight. These here are individual peach melba pies, topped with homemade whipped cream."

"And, what’s that?" Looking like a little kid, ready to tear into a birthday present, Loki's face lit up with anticipation of what you might be hiding under the cover of a chafing dish.

"Mocha mini-cheesecakes, or-" Here you lifted the silver lid of your best party dish, "-my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies! What would you like, Loki?"

Hearing his name in your lilting voice, Loki couldn't avoid the hot blush that rolled over him, turning his cheeks pink. As if your delicious snacks weren't enticing enough, the way your shirt buttons could barely contain the bounty of your bosom made Loki's hunger real in a different way. It was true that Thor had plied him with a great deal of Asgardian mead at the gala, even as the others drank up the less potent Midgardian spirits, all getting well past tipsy.

And maybe that's why he felt so bold, flirting with you casually, teasing you about your treats. Also, he was shamelessly ogling your rounded ass in those tight black pants as you bent to retrieve a napkin. Deep down, Loki longed to know if you tasted as sweet as your sugary confections. Would you be slick like syrup? Sticky like cinnamon buns? Dark and delicious like chocolate fudge?

Shaking those long locks, which you couldn't help noticing were down and free tonight, Loki was struggling to decide among your snacks. If his thoughts were lustful, your own weren't too far behind, because it was hard not to appreciate the fine figure in front of you. At some point Loki had shucked his tuxedo jacket and the slim black bow tie that accompanied it. Again his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows making him casual and cool, red cheeked and rambunctious. Never had Loki seemed so at ease.

There was virtually no one else around, most of the remaining people were clustered by Clint at the piano singing show tunes, oblivious to you and Loki. Looking from left to right, leaning in conspiratorially, "Ya know… I could let you have one of each, then you wouldn't have to decide."

Those dark brows arching, bright eyes smiling shrewdly, "You'd do that… for me?"

“That and more.” It tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, your eyes widening in surprise at your own admission.

Leaning against your table, a lascivious smile on his face, “Do tell.”

And in the low light of the Avengers’ loft, with the soft smell of sugar filling the air, you felt yourself drawn to Loki’s aura. Biting into your bottom lip, looking at him through your thick lashes, “Um… well… I could make you a little snack bag. Ya know for later tonight…”

“Later tonight… I really like the sound of that.” And to his unending surprise, Loki really did. Maybe he’d find out about your favorite flavors in the dark of night, under the covers in his bed. And if not, if he was somehow mistaken about your interest in him, then Loki would welcome some little cake that would make him think of you while he sat in his solitary room, brooding over you.

He shouldn’t have worried. Genuinely smiling, Loki was beyond grateful to see the same look of desire reflected in your own face. As you busied yourself packing up the little box of selected snacks for the sweet toothed stud, a voice called out, "Lokes!! Get over here!! Thor says you can dance and I need proof!"

Wavering slightly, Loki ducked his head in the direction of Sam Wilson's shout, not entirely eager to end your chat. He was worried that somehow the sugar spun bubble you two were in would burst, and that, well that just couldn't happen. Conspiratorially, invading your space across the narrow table, "I will be back. Please, don't go away?"

Feeling like a movie heroine, you felt yourself nod, giggling a little at the spectacle of Loki's clear need. In the glimmering low-lights, under the clink of champagne flutes and husky hum of conversations, Loki wanted to spend his time with you. It was surreal and surprising, but you wanted him too. There was no shame in that, right?

Glued to the spot, feet unmoving, Loki wouldn't leave until you said, "Go on, then. Show me what you've got. I'll be right here."

With a cocky grin, Loki loped toward the waiting circle of people and the makeshift dance floor. Tinny, tinkling piano music was replaced by electronica, pumping through Tony's beyond state of the art sound system. It felt like you were inside the speaker, thumping and bumping, in time with the dance hall beat.

What a sight! You guessed it shouldn't have been so surprising, but seeing Loki, normally so reserved in your daily interactions, grinding and bouncing to the rhythm… it made you feel things. Pulse pounding, deep sighing, clenching your muscles things. Sexy things.

You could have stood there, enchanted from afar, for hours. And you would have too, if Thor hadn't stumbled to your stand, nearly toppling the table with his unsteady bulk, "Oof! A thousand apologies, my dear sweet bakery maiden."

Diverting your attention, you quickly stepped back into vendor mode, "No trouble! No trouble at all! What can I get for you?"

"Well, I have been wondering, what did my brother get a taste of that made him smile so wide? It must have been a truly delicious nibble." Thor, mimicking a mouse nibbling at cheese, was clearly past the point of sobriety.

Turning thoughtful for a second, you realized Loki hadn't eaten anything of yours tonight… at least not yet. So it had been your easy back and forth that made the frosty boy happy. Smiling secretively, suddenly supremely pleased, "Um… I have some special items this evening. Would you like to try a peach pie?"

Blowing a raspberry, rolling his eyes, "Did Loki like it?"

"He hasn't tried it yet! You'd be first!" Trying to redirect the sloshed slab of man in front of you, offering the pastry up on a dainty napkin, it’s funny how quickly he snatches it from your hand. Looking tiny in Thor's enormous paw, he devours it whole, swiping at the leftover crumbs on his chest.

"Delicious! Another!" Even shouting, Thor's voice doesn't crack through the party goers busting their moves. Sighing, you hand over another, only to watch it be gulped down without thought or consideration.

Spitting crust at you, Thor bows over the display you painstakingly built to showcase your wares, his weight making the table creak, "You know, my brother normally likes little women."

"Excuse me?"

Waving his hands, pontificating, "Small, shapely… you know the type! Waifs. Skinny, like him. Narrow hips and-" attempting to whisper, "-tiny breasts."

Clearly, Thor was hammered, you knew that. But what he was saying was just hard to hear. You didn’t want to be compared to other women Loki had known, and you certainly didn’t want to hear that they were prettier, or smaller, or skinnier than you. But your roller coaster ride of emotions was derailed when Thor slapped his hand on your table, making you jump.

"Now, you… you're a woman. Strong, sturdy. Could really ground him, you know? Give him children worthy of Valhalla."

In his stupor, Thor couldn't read the warning in your expression. Willing him to stop, shut up, go away with just your monosyllabic responses wasn't working. But, alas, the Space God continued on, "It's all your sweets, you know? Candy and cupcakes and… all those little… What do you call them? The circles, fried and filled with jam?"

Flat, without feeling, "Donuts."

"Donuts! Yes!" Pausing for a breath, which you hoped would last all night long, Thor caught your eye. "I approve. Of the match… that is. Loki has been alone too long. He needs a thick woman to warm his bed, a fair, faithful filly to take-"

Thor's voice cut out, a thin line of shimmering red glowing around his throat, stopping his words. You could still see his mouth moving but the sound was, thankfully, muted. It was then that Wanda slunk close to Norse God, wide orb-like eyes full of knowledge, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Mumbling, struggling to sound bright as you gave too much attention to arranging cookies on the tray, "It's ok."

Her delicate hand rested on your own, "No it isn't. Thor's a buffoon when he's downed too many bottles of mead. I hope he didn't say anything too… unpleasant."

Waving her off, working hard to regain your composure, "Naw… it's fine… Thank you, though."

Thor, shrugging off Wanda's limited charm, "What's the big idea? I was telling this lady that my brother likes her! Her ample bosom, her gracious bum… and he always talks about her tasty cakes!"

Steve, sidling up at the first sign of trouble, grabbed Thor's arm, "Come on buddy. Time for bed."

"But! I am not tired! I want more pie! And mead!"

Wanda, rolling her eyes, "May I have another? For the road?"

Quickly wrapping up a few of your crusty delicacies, you handed them over, now eager for the night to end. It seemed tarnished somehow, spoiled by Thor's observations, like an unrisen souffle. Glancing at the clock, you were amazed at the time! It was late even for a late night event and you began packing up regardless of the people still partying their evening away.

You were hoping for a quick departure. Seamless, silent, without distracting anyone, including a certain raven haired hottie. No one would notice if you snuck away now, you were sure, and you had already fulfilled your obligation to Pepper. In fact, with Thor's little outburst, you were well over your allotted time. And, you reasoned, Loki could find some small little twig, more to his taste, if you weren't there to distract him.

That thought made your throat burn and your eyes water as you quietly broke down your area. Even now you could see him, a head above everyone else, spinning with a smile on his face. Loki looked so at ease, you refused to be the wet blanket on his good time. Besides, flirting was one thing, but Loki wasn’t yours and you were old enough not to be crushed by a crush.

With one last, longing look over the assembled Avengers, you bumped your bottom into the exit door, shuffling toward the service elevator. As the doors closed, shutting out the jubilation inside, you slumped against the wall. How could you think Loki would want you?

Having spent a significant amount of the late evening busting a move, Loki had managed to keep one eye on you most of that time. Noticing Thor bumble your way, he was nervous about what his brother might say, but Natasha had challenged him to a dance off. How could he resist?

By the time Loki stopped to catch his breath and collect his cookies, you were gone. Vanished. The only trace of you? A small, golden box, stuffed with your divine delicacies. Loki needn't see the name scrolled on the label to know it was for him.

But like Cinderella, you had fled and Loki had no way to find you. Sinking his heart, Loki clutched the box, padding away to his room and the solitude of silence. At least he had your thoughtful gift of goodies to keep him company. It was almost enough. Almost.

For all the numerous things The Avengers were good at, it was a non-hero who observed Loki slide away, sad and silent. Never one to let a party end on a low note, a new plan was formed to unite the Trickster and the Treat Maker. But it would need time to rise, like decadent cinnamon rolls, and like those sticky sweet buns, would be totally worth the wait.

When Monday dawned, you loaded up your goods and trudged to work. For the first time since starting your business venture your heart wasn't in it. Not when you plated blueberry buckle with lavender scented whipped cream, not when you swirled almond milk into fresh brewed coffee, not when you bagged cheesy bagel bites.

And it was, apparently, to be a day of firsts. Because this was the only day that Loki failed to make an appearance at your stand since you’d opened. Thor, pushing people aside, had made a point of apologizing for his behavior. It was kind and honest, yet, hollow since it didn't make Loki materialize in your line. But you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Before long, the day was done, your cleaning ritual initiated, your mind wandering. That it circled back to a certain blue eyed mischief maker over and over wasn't shocking. Where had Loki been? Had you driven him off? Would he come back tomorrow?

"Ahem… Excuse me!"

Squealing, you dropped the tray you'd been wiping with a clanking clatter, "Miss Potts! You startled me!"

"I didn't mean to!", stooping to hand you back your platter, she lifted her smart eyes to yours.

"I know… I'm so sorry! I've been… a little off today."

Shrewd, searching, Pepper looked you over, "You're not the only one."

Laughing nervously, “Oh? Who else is having a tough Monday?”

“A friend… listen, I wanted to thank you for the other night. It was really wonderful having your exceptional snacks at the ready.”

Allowing yourself a small smile, nibbling your lip nervously, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Pepper, shifting on her high heels, “I’d like to hire you again.”

“Really?” Snapping your head up at the offer, you were a little surprised by her request. Even though that night hadn’t ended the way you had hoped, necking with Loki like a teenager after prom, it had still been a lucrative evening for your little start up company. But so soon?

“Yes! This is a smaller event. Actually, more of a date than anything. This Friday evening. Would you be free?”

Grabbing your phone, confirming the date on your calendar, “It works for me! What time were you thinking?”

Blinking, Pepper took a minute to contemplate before answering, “Let’s say seven. Upstairs, on the outdoor deck?”

“That sounds great, Ms. Potts! How many people are you expecting?”, making notes, head down you missed her gentle smile.

“Just two.”

That made you giggle. So, it was a night of romance with Tony she was after. Flashing your benefactor a knowing smirk, “Sounds lovely.”

“I hope it will be!”

You didn’t see Loki all week. There was rumor going around the tower that he was off on a mission somewhere, very hush, hush. Your limited intell was gained only because of Thor’s inability to lower his booming voice while waiting for a croissant on Tuesday morning.

It got easier. Not seeing him in your daily line, not giving him his cappuccino, not buttering his scone. By Friday you finally felt like Loki was out of your system, which was a good thing, because you knew Ms. Potts was expecting you to knock it out of the park tonight.

“Things are going to be a little different for this evening, if that’s ok. I thought you could set out your dessert courses here, on the counter, and we’d have someone bring them out to the patio area.”

Unafraid to go the extra mile, you were quick to volunteer, “I’d be more than happy to act as a server if-”

Talking over you, “Oh no, dear! I have someone for that already. Really, all you have to do is make sure your treats are in order.”

Slightly crestfallen, but always a good sport, you agreed. As she’d requested, you had prepared three special desserts for the night, hoping you covered all of Tony’s favorite flavors. First, lemon cake with a cracked sugar glaze and fresh raspberry sauce to garnish. Next would be the white chocolate cheesecake studded with plump blueberries and piles of fresh vanilla flavored whipped cream. Last, and perhaps most importantly, was your personal favorite, tiramisu. Simple, delicious, and perfect with a strong cup of espresso.

Clapping her hands, Pepper was so pleased at the thought you had put into each plate, “Wow, does this look amazing! There’s really only one other thing that we need for this.”

Wiping a stray stripe of sauce from the plate, a piping bag cupped in your hands, you lifted your head, “What’s that Ms. Potts?”

“Why, you of course.”

Stalling in midair, you slowly lowered the tool of your trade, wiping your sugary fingers on the seat of your jeans. “I’m right here! What can I do to help?”

Coming around the island now, Pepper drew close enough to take your hands in her own, “You’ve already done it. Tonight is my way of saying ‘Thank You’... and I hope you’ll accept a small gift as a token of my appreciation.”

As the last word hung in the air between you, the lift doors parted, and Loki stepped into the room.

Pepper had summoned him, asking only that he arrive on time and not “look a mess”. Since Loki had never been anything less than elegant in all things, he had no intention of breaking that streak this evening. If only he knew what to dress for?

So, he split the difference, going for casual cool. A jet black polo shirt, unbuttoned, clung to him like a second skin, caressing every muscle. Black trousers and a black belt made him look dangerously seductive as he sauntered closer with each step.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Missing Loki all week made seeing him like this stupefying. Fuzzy brained and dull minded, you weren’t capable of wrapping your head around what was happening.

“Pepper? What… what is all this?” Loki’s husky baritone questioned the set up, your presence, the pretense. At least you weren't the only one who was confused.

Pulling you along, Pepper maneuvered you next to him, “Loki, It’s all arranged. Dessert by candlelight, under the stars… FRIDAY, start my Date Night playlist.” The strains of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins filled the air.

It was right then that Loki got it. The strange summons, the dress code, the secrecy. He knew why you were here, with your bespoke baked goods, looking like a snack yourself. Pepper had listened when Loki recommended you for the first gig, and somehow she had heard the unspoken recommendation of his heart. A rush of feeling flowed over him at the idea.

Looking sheepish and flustered, Loki caught your eye, “Hello.”

“Hi…”, bashful yourself, you struggled not to look too giddy.

“See, you’re already on your way. Have a good night kids!”

You and Loki stood there, staring, until the click of Pepper’s heels on the marble had faded away. This is awkward, you thought, unsure of what to do next. Here with the man you wanted, you weren’t entirely sure what to do, but luckily for you, Loki knew how to take charge, “Shall we?”

Lacing his fingers with yours, Loki led you to the open deck where a small bistro table was waiting, already set for the two of you. Pulling out your chair, Loki made sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat at your side, as opposed to across the table. It was a cozy and romantic scene.

The song shifted. Now The Platters crooned, “Only You”, and your hand was itching to grab Loki’s under the table. Before you could, Pepper’s hired server for the evening brought your first plate, and a bottle of Prosecco.

So far, neither of you had really spoken. Words seemed too difficult to use when the situation was so formal. And yet, it really was lovely of Ms. Potts to do this for you… and for Loki.

“Did you make all of this?”

Picking up your fork, giving Loki a small nod, “Yea… I thought Pepper was planning a date night with Tony. I had no idea that this… any of this… was happening. Did you?”

“No. But, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. She did hire you because of me.”

Taken aback by his admission, “Really? Care to elaborate?”

Tucking into the lemony piece of heaven in front of him, Loki closed his eyes in bliss, “Hmm… that is delicious. You are really so good at this! And that, my purveyor of pound cake, is what I told Ms. Potts.”

“Well, thank you! I mean, I knew you liked me!”

Hotter than opening your oven, a blast of heat swept over you, reddening your cheeks in shock. Flustered now, you could barely speak, cursing yourself for letting your real feelings slip out like that unfiltered. Mortified, you grabbed your glass, slugging half of it down in a second.

Loki’s fork froze, almost to his lips, as his own eyes widened. Sighing, he placed the utensil, covered in lemon and raspberry deliciousness down gently. Feeling his scorching gaze, you sat stock still, Loki’s wry whisper reaching you, “I do. And I should have told you that before… before Pepper had to go to such great lengths to prove it.”

“But Loki… I’m just… I’m not…” Stammering, you couldn’t quite find the best way to explain the reservations you had been carrying, the reasons Thor had so clearly defined.

“You are though. You are so kind hearted… to everyone. Even the dullards and bores. I hear you, you know? What you say, how you say it. No one leaves your little station without being complimented, enlightened, enriched. It is the best part of my day, coming down to see you… and taste whatever marzipan masterpiece you’ve graced us with.”

Starting to feel the bubbles of Prosecco in your brain, your lopsided smile spread at the emotion Loki expressed, “Loki… it’s the only thing that gets me through sometimes. Seeing you, knowing that you’re in line. And how cute you are when you spell out your name, like I haven’t written it a hundred times before.”

It was his turn to blush, “I knew that. I knew it was adorable.”

Playfully pushing against his shoulder, you chuckled, “Loki! That’s not fair!”

“Then you won’t like this, darling.”

Catching your arms in his firm hands, Loki tucked your body into his, finding your mouth as you laughed at his antics. Using his top lip to trap your own, Loki’s bottom lip gently parted, as the softness of his kiss blended into the lemon scented sweetness of his sigh. His tongue, probing slowly, pressed between your lips stealing a shaky breath for Loki to treasure.

Rising, Loki’s hands cradled your cheeks, ensuring that you couldn’t break away from his kiss. As if you wanted to! Your own hands wandered, with one resting on the warm slope of his wide thigh and the other pressed against Loki’s broad chest.

Deepening the kiss, you pushed forward, nestling between Loki’s spread legs. Trailing a hand along his hip, scooting closer, you moaned at the luscious texture of his tongue on your own. When Loki pulled back, you followed, unwilling to break the beautiful bond your mouths had sealed.

Swallowing hard, unable to believe that he was really here with the flavor of your candy kisses filling his senses, Loki shook his head. Seeing your own dazed expression made his heart soar. He was going to have to write Pepper a thank you note or have you bake her a cake, because this was the best thing that had ever happened to the Prince of Asgard.

“Are you ready for the next course?” The server, having popped out of the compound, was struggling to hide his own smug smile at the sexy little show you two had put on.

A new song started, the notes drifting through the air, making you smile. Sam Cooke’s eternally youthful voice sang, “Cupid… draw back your bow…” and Loki slowly stood. “Uh, please, hold the next one, if you don’t mind.”

Coming around behind you, offering you his hand, “Loki? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done last week… Ask you to dance…?” Voice brimming with hope, Loki quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your acceptance.

“About time.”

Rumbling through Loki’s solid torso, his laugh greeted you as you fell into his arms easily, chuckling yourself. It was so familiar and yet so different. His hands rested over the curve of your back, pulling you tighter, controlling the sway of your hips. Circling the delicate strength of his neck, your fingers teasing into those long locks of tousled hair, you let Loki take the lead.

Tipping you back, over balancing you but still in control, Loki’s look was pure lust, “I apologize for running late. I should have-”

Cutting in, husking into the shell of Loki’s ear, “Don’t. We’re here now. And besides, you were worth the wait.”

Squeezing you, putting every ounce of feeling into his hug, Loki found it hard to loosen his grip. Now that he had the thing he wanted, he never wanted to be separated from it… you… ever again.

Twirling you out, tugging you back in, as the song came to its close, Loki took the opportunity of dipping you low enough for your head to graze the ground below. Breathless and giddy, you were lifted back to standing, clinging to the demi God before you. Parting your lips, anticipating another of Loki’s kisses, your eyes fluttering closed, “Sir? Madame?”

Shifting his focus from your glossy, eager mouth to the server once more, Loki’s own giggle shining in his face, “My good man, please… just pack it all up! We’re not staying.”

“We’re not?” A hint of surprise colored your tone as you took in the ecstatic look on Loki’s face.

Nodding at you, “Nope.”

Waiting only a moment or two for a bag stuffed full of your goodies, Loki slung it over this wrist before taking your hand and leading you through the Tower’s maze of floors. Of course, he stopped at almost every corner to sneak a peck, pat your tush or cage you against the wall so that his hips were flush against your own as he licked the soft spot under your ear.

“Hmmm… Loki… That feels so good.” Mewling softly, your nails scratching into his scalp, as he swung open the door to his room.

Ushering you inside, Loki paused only to set his blistering, needy eyes on you once more, “We are not children, you and I. If you want to wait, I will be patient… but, believe me, my darling little patisserie, when I say this: I want you. I want to devour you… I want to know if you’re as sweet as strawberry shortcake or tart like key lime pie.

“I need to see if you-” here he swallowed so hard his Adam’s Apple bobbed, “-sigh when I kiss you the same way you do when you slide a hot cup of tea over the counter. Or how you’ll sound when you call my name in ecstasy. Because I’ve already thought about these things a hundred times over. While I wait in line for a moment of your attention or when I taste those lovely delicacies, you fill my thoughts.

“Do you always smell of vanilla and butter, I wonder. Will my sheets be scented with marshmallow and marzipan? Almond and cherry?”

Advancing on you now, hunger heating his look, “But just know, little one, if you do come to my bed, I will make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever need.”

Stepping closer, baiting the bear in him, you bit into your bottom lip, “Are you saying that everyone will know I belong to you… L, O, K, I… Loki?”

“My sweet, sweet thing. That is exactly what I mean.”

In a flurry of movement, Loki swept you against his kitchen table, the wood strong and sturdy behind you. Kisses, hot and happy melted you like butter, as Loki spread your legs to stand between them. When you heard the sound of paper crumpling, “What’s that?”

“Oh! Our to-go bag! Your luscious desserts!” Sounding slightly panicked, Loki quickly removed the items from inside the bag, before turning to you with a look that said trouble.

“What? What’s that face?”

“I’ve told you how much I fancy your food… and now you know how much I adore you... “

“Uh huh…”, still unsure about where this was going, your eyes followed Loki as he pulled your tub of whipped cream from the ruined sack. Snapping off the lid, his long finger scooping out a big glob, only for Loki to brush the airy confection over your mouth.

Licking the cream from your lips, Loki tongued the seam of your pretty pout, moaning at the burst of vanilla he tasted there, “I don’t know what’s more delicious, your frothy garnish or this mouth.”

“What if I want some, huh?” Grabbing at Loki’s finger, the one he’d used to snag the sample with, you pulled it into the warm inlet of your mouth, sucking lightly.

Growling low in his throat at the erotic scene before him, Loki issued a command, “Bedroom. Now.”

Sliding off the table, right into Loki’s space, “Bring the whipped cream though, ok?”

Clothes were shed in a rush. Each piece unveiling soft skin and new places to explore, reminding you of a creme brulee’s hardened caramel layer. The way you crack it open, revealing the cool custard beneath the scorched sugar crust, a gift unwrapped for all your senses.

By the time Loki lowered you onto his bed, he had already sampled swatches of your skin, leaving behind the marks of his possession. His hands never seemed to stop. First they were dusting over your shoulders, then across your thighs, next on your generous bottom, squeezing hard.

Sighing in contentment, you closed your eyes, lost in the moment of making love to Loki. As he lay down over you, the press of his rigid planes met the soft curves of your figure, you wrapped yourself around him. Tangling those rich, dark locks in your hand, forcing your mouths together, panting with shared passion.

Connecting with his hip, you slid your palm over the rise of his bottom, squeezing just a little, “You know, you have a great ass, right?”

Sucking against the ridge of your clavicle, Loki kissed over your jaw, “I do?”

“Oh yea… I watch you walk away everyday thinking, damn. That ass.”

Brushing stray strands from your face, “That’s funny, because I think the same thing every time you bend over to get those little swizzle sticks for stirring coffee!”

Setting off a fit of giggles, the pair of you with arms and legs akimbo, laughed like children. There was something so freeing about being naked and comfortable with the man beside you. Quieting only when you heard the pop of the frosting bowl's lid coming off, you sucked in a breath as Loki lowered his lips to your waiting nipple.

Playful and pleasing, he released you just long enough to sit back on his heels, surveying the state of you. "Now, It's my turn."

"Your turn to what, exactly?"

"Decorate!" Producing an assortment of sprinkles and frosting, sanding sugars and coconut shreds, caramel sauce and raspberry coulis as if from thin air, Loki grinned at you wickedly before setting to work.

For every place that was home to a dollop of icing or a squirt of sauce you were licked, nibbled, nuzzled or bitten. As Loki worked lower, you squirmed in anticipation, as your pastry chef in training sucked your inner thigh free of chocolate fudge. Before you could prepare, Loki's tongue parted your slippery center, making you call out, "Oh! Yes, Loki!"

Parting your swollen sex, circling your stiffened bud, Loki lapped at your sensitive skin gently. His fingers, long and reaching, stroked into your sticky channel, stretching you sweetly. Rocking against Loki's oral affections, the beginning of bliss burning in your belly, you gripped him tightly seeking release.

For his part, Loki needed no encouragement. Bringing you to the pinnacle, alternately sipping at your slick core, and sucking on your sweet pearl was making Loki ache with want. Even when you pulled at his onyx locks, inner thighs trembling, struggling to stave off your peaking pleasure, Loki only worked harder, "Don't hold back. We've already wasted too much time!"

"Uh huh… um… shit… Loki…" mumbling was the most you could do as you felt a third finger enter you, widening you, readying you. It was enough. Cumming hard against him, stiffening and then softening like taffy, you gave yourself over to the pleasure Loki provided.

Smacking his lips lewdly, licking his fingers, "I knew it… I knew you'd be delectable."

Grinning broadly, happy and satisfied, "Am I gonna get a taste? You're not the only one with a sweet tooth, ya know!"

"Only when I've had my fill… and I'm not close to being finished, darling!"

Sticky, sweet and satiated, you and Loki lay in each other's arms smiling. He'd asked about a gift for Pepper and you were already planning a cupcake basket for your matchmaking mentor. You had just licked the last of your lemon curd from his abs, curling into his side, "I need a shower."

"Oh, yes! Let's do that!" Rising, dragging you with him, Loki could picture you under the steaming water, begging him to please you. He liked that idea!

"And after…"

Pausing to look at you, "After?"

"Can you find me something salty to snack on… ya know, for a change?"

Pressing a kiss to your hand, Loki flashed you that megawatt smile, "Absolutely, darling. Absolutely."

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antoine-roquentin · 3 years

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Myanmar: Vast arsenal and notorious troops deployed during nationwide ‘killing spree’ protest crackdown – new research

The Myanmar military is using increasingly lethal tactics and weapons normally seen on the battlefield against peaceful protesters and bystanders across the country, new research by Amnesty International has revealed.

By verifying more than 50 videos from the ongoing crackdown, Amnesty International’s Crisis Evidence Lab can confirm that security forces appear to be implementing planned, systematic strategies including the ramped-up use of lethal force. Many of the killings documented amount to extrajudicial executions.

Footage clearly shows that Myanmar military troops - also known as the Tatmadaw - are increasingly armed with weapons that are only appropriate for the battlefield, not for policing actions. Officers are frequently seen engaging in reckless behavior, including the indiscriminate spraying of live ammunition in urban areas.

‘We are frontliners’: Youth brave bullets and arrest to keep protests alive

While the early street protests against the February 1 military takeover remained largely peaceful, attracting people from all strata of society, the police and army have violently broken up more recent demonstrations, killing more than 70 so far. This has whittled down protests to younger, more daring groups engaging in cat-and-mouse games with security forces: making tactical retreats and reassembling the moment forces move on. To avoid death, injury or arrest, they have had to quickly adopt new methods and tools.

Mayangone Township resident Ko Phyo Tin, 25, who joins the Kyun Taw protest group every day, uses a shield improvised from a piece of steel as protection against rubber bullets and live rounds, and dons a Chinese-made combat helmet.

“Most of us are using protective equipment made in China. We don’t trust its quality but we have no alternative,” he said, adding that the group would gladly accept donations of quality gas masks, hard hats and body armour.

Women have also taken up positions as “frontliners”, the protesters bearing the brunt of the police and army assaults and shielding those behind them. They include Ma Thu Thu, 23, a founder of a team of frontliners that operates in Hlaing and Kamaryut townships, where such groups proliferate.

Thu Thu said her team comprises a core group of more than 10 people that is supported by about another 50 volunteers, who have learned from the street tactics used in dissident movements overseas.

“I saw the protests in Hong Kong and they gave me ideas about how we could defend ourselves,” said Thu Thu, whose small frame belies a capacity to endure gruelling confrontations with security forces.

She has been protesting against military rule since February 6 and is increasingly convinced that the people need protection from the lethal force police and soldiers used against striking dockworkers in Mandalay on February 20, when security forces fired live rounds on a crowd of more than 1,000 demonstrators at a shipyard, killing two and injuring dozens.

On February 26, Thu Thu watched a violent crackdown by police on big crowds of protesters at the Myanigone and Hledan junctions in Yangon.

“Police opened fire to disperse protesters, who fled in chaos. Some were arrested. When I saw that, I thought we needed to be able to protect protesters during demonstrations planned for February 28, Milk Tea Alliance Day,” she said, referring to a loose alliance of pro-democracy movements in Thailand, Hong Kong, Taiwan and now Myanmar.

“I posted [these thoughts] on Facebook and one of my friends said she would donate 30 shields. I talked with some of my male friends and we decided to volunteer as frontliners,” she added.

“When we first started posting [about our plan], about a hundred people contacted us [wanting to join]. Members of our group are from many different townships in Yangon.”

Myanmar junta hires Israeli intelligence veteran for international lobbying campaign

Defense Minister Mya Tun Oo retained Ari Ben-Menashe and his Montreal-based Dickens & Madson Canada to “assist in explaining the real situation in the country,” according to a consultancy agreement dated Thursday. The firm is tasked with lobbying Congress and the Joe Biden administration as well as the governments of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Israel and Russia in addition to the United Nations, the African Union and other international organizations and NGOs.

The firm is expected to file a formal lobbying contract with the US Department of Justice early next week, Ben-Menashe said in a telephone interview Friday morning from Myanmar, where he’s wrapping up his second trip in the past few weeks. He said the contract was for a “big amount” but declined to get into specifics.

(Update: Dickens & Madson said the contract with Mya Tun Oo was for $2 million in a Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA) disclosure filed Monday, March 8 with the US Department of Justice. The amount is to be paid “when legally permissible by controlling jurisdictions” since the minister and other military leaders are under US sanctions.

“Within the United States, Registrant will provide advice and counsel to the foreign principal and advocate before the executive and/or legislative branches of the government of the United States to seek support and humanitarian aid for the benefit of the citizens of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar and to strive for the removal or modification of current sanctions,” the lobbying disclosure states. “Additionally, Registrant proposes to provide media and public relations services to further the country’s goals and activities. Registrant also provides lobbying services to the foreign principal in other countries.”)

Ben-Menashe indicated that he plans to present the country’s military rulers as a counterweight to alleged growing Chinese influence in the country under Aung San Suu Kyi, the government leader whose National League for Democracy swept legislative elections in November. The Burmese military declared the elections to be illegitimate on Feb. 1 and deposed Suu Kyi and President Win Myint, sparking international condemnation.

“Aung San Suu Kyi moved toward China while she was in power,” Ben-Menashe said. “And these guys [in the military] don’t like it.”

He added that officials in Saudi Arabia and the UAE had offered to assist with the return of Rohingya Muslims, almost a million of whom have fled to neighboring Bangladesh in recent years amid what the United Nations have labeled a campaign of genocide. Ben-Menashe said he had advised the country’s rulers in the 1990s and warned at the time against having Suu Kyi in the government, claiming she had shown anti-Muslim animus.

“Aung San Suu Kyi as leader was the one who did in the Rohingyas, not the army,” he insisted.

Democratic shadow government taking form in Myanmar

Myanmar’s banking system, always feeble, looks close to collapse. With banking havens for the junta’s finances, namely the US and Singapore, restricting capital flows, the Biden administration’s freeze on $1 billion of Myanmar’s US-held assets and an ongoing national boycott of military-affiliated businesses, the junta’s finances are being squeezed.

All this definitely means the junta’s strategy of carrying on with business as usual has gone out the window and makes large-scale violent escalation likely.

The writers disagree with the view that the disparate Civil Disobedience Movement can win by sheer power of will and personal sacrifice. Look at the numbers: In some ministries, such as health and education, participation in the movement is substantial, with estimates that a third of staff are actively involved. In others, it is much smaller.

Some 600 policemen are said to have defected so far. Overall, the number of Civil Disobedience Movement participants is likely in the tens of thousands, out of a million or so civil servants across the country.

The junta is cracking down hard. Participating civil servants have been suspended by the junta, with some losing their pay and benefits and others potentially charged with treason.

One senior civil servant told us: “I really want to participate in the civil disobedience campaign but I have to take care of my family – we rely on my salary [and] the housing provided by the department.”

One month on, the story of Myanmar’s coup has become a tale of two governments, the junta and the acting administration of the Committee Representing the National Parliament (CRPH), a group of MPs mostly from Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) party.

With many of its members including Suu Kyi detained and least one who has died in the junta’s custody, the democratically-elected NLD has been hit hard by the coup.

“We cannot operate as a political party right now. [The junta] seized our leaders… Our party headquarter is closed. But we are trying to connect with our party members,” Phyo Zeya Thaw, NLD Central Committee Member, told the writers.

The CRPH has sought to challenge the junta while running and hiding. It has already announced a public administration program that established local councils led by MPs and loyal local officials to run affairs in Myanmar’s 360 townships in competition with the junta.

Preliminary data from a survey we are conducting on this parallel governance bid suggest that early success is mixed: In parts of the country, the NLD’s grassroots networks have been able to set up structures, in particular in Yangon, Mandalay and Sagaing regions, all part of the NLD’s heartland. In other townships, the junta has the upper hand.

Significantly, the CRPH is now putting itself firmly at the head of the disparate civil disobedience movement. On its website, the CRPH is registering civil servants participating in CDM who it will provide support.

It has also formed an ”acting administration” of acting ministers. They will cover all portfolios of the toppled NLD government until a new unity resistance government is formed.

To form this unity government, the CRPH is competing with the junta in reaching out to both civil society leaders and to ethnic political parties and ethnic armed groups. The success of these overtures may decide the ultimate fate of Myanmar’s coup.

Two other resistance organizations, a General Strike Committee and a General Strike Committee of Nationalities, that sprung up to organize a general strike in February are still organizing protests and strikes independently.

Business revolt brewing in coup-crippled Myanmar

Western business groups, namely European, American, British, Italian and French chambers of commerce, rejected the regime’s invitation to meet on March 4. At the same time, major Asian business groups such as the Thai, Hong Kong, Japanese and Chinese have not released any statements of concern since the coup and lethal crackdown on protesters.

The Western chambers’ refusal comes at a time of widespread and rising condemnation against the regime’s brutal crackdown on unarmed protesting civilians, with more than 50 killed as of March 3, according to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (AAPP), an independent monitoring group.

Australian business group AustCham Myanmar said on Wednesday it has “serious concern over the increasing use of violence against the people campaigning for a return to democratic Government in Myanmar.”

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coreastories · 3 years

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Corea News: Another grey day in Corea

APRIL 17, 2021

The palace has confirmed that Her Majesty the Queen has been admitted to CorGen today at 10:17 A.M.

This follows nationwide curiosity when news crews now on round-the-clock surveillance of the palace and CorGen spotted one of the royal helicopters landing on the CorGen helipad

His Majesty the King is still in the UK

The palace website has been updated with a note that His Majesty has been informed and is on his way back.

Not mentioned in the note, but we can properly deduce the king is no longer attending the funeral of His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, scheduled for tomorrow, Sunday, April 17. If that confuses you, it’s still Saturday in the UK

Is the queen in peril?

Corea’s online communities are fairly screeching because the palace website has since removed the static banner saying the queen and the baby are both well.

Why the brouhaha over that? After all, an update is imminent, isn’t it?

This author, as should all of you, take comfort from the fact that if the queen had been in less than perfect health, the king wouldn’t have left her side.

The queen is young and was a former officer in the police force, not counting her position in the kingdom’s classified investigatory services. Both posts have vigorous physical qualifications. That should assure us, too.

Until we have statements from authorized sources, why should we conjure panic and outcomes none of us want?

Well-meaning ahjummas I otherwise adore and respect are understandably shaken after the queen’s accident in November. (See our coverage here and here). They wonder if the queen was injured somehow in the palace or elsewhere.

Several spring and flower festivals are ramping up across the country in conjunction with the Royal Horticultural Society’s Annual Flower Show. (See the royal floral mystery attached to the Show here). Her Majesty’s last public appearance was on White Day, but today’s report had Corea’s citizens posting their photos of the queen with messages of support hoping she’s okay.

Here’s one such photograph from user JungjeonTaeEulah, posted on the palace website’s update comment section, and with 450,000 hearts as of this writing

It turns out the queen had popped up for a surprise incognito visit here and there, and it really drove up morale-- and the Corean spirit of excellence.

Not only is the kingdom absolutely bananas over their king and queen, they’re also excited about this royal baby. Add to that a queen whom you never know might drop in on your town’s festival preparations and I’ve never seen a lovelier country in all my years as a nomad correspondent. I might stay here.

But I digress. Aside from acknowledging that this is a day of suspense for all of us, this author will refrain from--and condemns-- sensationalist hysteria.

Don’t think I’m made of stone. I’m barely hanging on to my training as a journalist by my fingernails. And I just had them done.

Is the queen delivering the heir?

The Royal Public Affairs Office has declined to give any statement at this time, except for announcing that Mo Jin-ha, the private secretary to the sovereign, will hold a press conference, time to be determined.

The media and all members of the press (and all Corean citizens) are requested to stay clear of the roads between CorGen and the airport. (My team is stationed in several spots with telephoto lenses the size of small cannons).

CorGen and the office of Doctor Chae Song-eun, the queen’s OB, also decline to comment.

This is speculation on this author’s part and by no means should my dear readers take this as reliable information even if we do have confirmation from past releases: The queen is within thirty-five to thirty-six weeks. At most, barely thirty-seven weeks.

If she delivers, the royal prince or princess will be considered late preterm or early term.

As far as we’ve been told, the queen reaches full term in the first to second week of May. This means the baby would be born 3 to 4 weeks early.

A kingdom expectant

As we wait with bated breath for updates, here’s what we know:

This is the kingdom’s first royal baby since the king himself was born in 1987, also earlier than his due date, but only by four days.

This baby will immediately bump the Lady Se-jin from succession, and if a princess, will not be displaced as heir apparent by male siblings. The king has done away with male primogeniture in succession, recognizing it unconstitutional alongside the country’s laws on equality.

Across the kingdom, bets have been placed on the baby’s gender. Boy and girl have equal odds, with some bets on multiple births (twins).

Unlike in other royal pregnancies you might know of if you love royals, the name has been left well alone in Corea. No bets about the names here. No Corean citizen is willing to place bad luck on the baby. In Chinese and Corean tradition, you call the baby by a “milk name” to confuse evil spirits who might...well, spirit it away.

We will receive an announcement within 24 hours of the birth, although the king and queen might decide to wait. It’s their prerogative.

When the king was born, his birth was announced within the day. His name followed a day after.

Because the king was the first Catholic heir apparent, the Catholic churches throughout the kingdom rang their bells on the day of his birth, ranging from peals that lasted three hours, shorter songs that lasted five minutes, to joyful rings of three every minute.

The current royal baby will also be Catholic. The Royal Court still hasn’t issued any standard protocol for the bell-ringing, but they do have specific rules for the gun salute, a long-standing tradition since the 1900s.

If you want to go to one of the royal palaces and residences to watch the gun salute, see our report here.

Unlike other royal families, Corea doesn’t release portraits of their royal babies.

Unless the current king and queen breaks tradition and recognizes our need to see their baby, we’ll see the prince or princess in the official portrait of the royal family when it’s released for the kingdom’s textbooks.

FLASH UPDATE:

The king has arrived in the kingdom and is on his way to CorGen.

Photographed here on his way to his car. His Majesty was immediately escorted to his awaiting convoy. (Telephoto lenses pay for themselves. This author is willing to do endorsements wholeheartedly).

It hasn’t even been six hours since we knew of the queen’s condition. Either the king’s jet made the flight in half the time, or the king had already been on his way before the queen was even taken to the hospital.

Stay tuned for updates. Our thoughts and prayers are with Her Majesty and the baby.

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #the king: eternal monarch #the king eternal monarch #tkem fanfiction #tkem fanfic #CoreaStories

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vancafreader · 3 years

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Fine Art Comics of Canada: Sixties to Seventies - Heart of London, Snore & More by Robert Dayton

Part One: The Heart Of London

There was a time where artists were making vast ripples away from Toronto and other outsized hubs. London, Ontario was such a place, all eyes were on it in the late 60’s and not Toronto. The Heart Of London comic book from 1968 was actually an exhibition catalog, an overview of the art that was happening there at the time. Organised by The National Gallery of Canada, this exhibition traveled from London to Toronto, Kingston, Edmonton, Victoria, Charlottetown and, of course, The National Gallery H.Q. itself in Ottawa.

This catalog/comic book consisted of fumetti, comics done using photos for the images. Fumetti was most prominently used in the 60’s by Harvey Kurtzman in Help and Playboy, prolifically in numerous Mexican comic book melodramas, and in Italian comics featuring the masked master criminal Satanik. Heart Of London’s particular fumetti is further stylized by heavily contrasted processing causing colours so bright that they make everything heightened artifice, buzzing as if emanating from a higher plane of being.

Cover of the Heart Of London catalogue

The Heart of London logo in Pepto-Bismol pink is rendered somewhere between Archie and underground comix titles. Above it, The Comics Code of Authority symbol -a comic book mainstay of the day implying that the work is of safe moral quality- has been altered to “National Gallery of Canada”, the institution that made this comic book and exhibition happen. The cover features what appears to be London public workers, perhaps? These men in yellow hard hats casually stand in front of a store with a Coca-Cola logo also coloured Pepto-Bismol pink, Pop Art style, at the city’s main intersection in what very well may be the heart of London.

The comic opens with a quote placed above a looming Brutalist parking lot, huddling various small businesses below it. This quote contains the phrase “heart of London” but it is rather self-deprecatingly not about London, Ontario but London, England in World War One. Sharing a name with London, England has often made this Ontario city the butt of many a joke, ie. “I live in London… (long pause) Ontario” with its population being just over 200,000 in 1968. Named in 1793 by Lord Simcoe, Upper Canada’s first Lieutenant-Governor known for starting the abolition of slavery, he was also fervently British, his vision for Canada was for it to be like England which he looooved, desperately (but stiffly) wanting this particular London to become Ontario’s capital. Alas, Toronto was chosen instead. Related, always related to everything: the term “cosmic consciousness”, the higher state of consciousness, was coined in London in 1872 by Richard Bucke, a psychiatrist and head of The Asylum For The Insane, after he received a blinding vision, illuminating him. Besides being active in asylum reform, Bucke was heavily involved in the arts -the vision occurred after an evening spent reading Romantic poetry as well as poems by Walt Whitman, who he later befriended. Yes, London, Ontario is an eccentric place.

The artists involved in the Heart Of London show were part of what was known as “London Regionalism”, a loose-knit movement of artists who were adamant about residing in London, away from Toronto or New York. Artist Greg Curnoe helped establish some of the very first artist-run centres there. He was an early member and huge proponent of CARFAC, a Canadian organisation that fights for artists to get paid and paid fairly for their work. CARFAC was founded in London by Heart Of London artists Jack Chambers and Tony Urquhart -along with Kim Ondaatje.

Besides Curnoe, Chambers, and Urquhart, the eleven artists in Heart Of London included John Boyle, Bev Kelly, Murray Favro, Ron Martin, David Rabinowitch, Royden Rabinowitch, Walter Redinger, and Ed Zelenak. They are all profiled in fumetti form talking about their practice through speech balloons and captions, along with quick biographical details. Many of these artists were known for their inventiveness, they were influenced by a variety of subject matter -including comic art- without falsely delineating these influences into false boxes of high or low art. They didn’t just make work in the visual art field either. Along with a Hart Of London work-on-paper, Chambers made an experimental film with the same name in 1970. This film intensely shows brutal shots of an abattoir in Spain interspersed with London scenes; it has been described by Stan Brakhage as “one of the greatest films ever made.” Both Curnoe’s Heart Of London painting from 1967 and Jack Chambers’ 1968 work-on-paper Hart Of London are in the show.

Noted curator and historian Judith Rodger told me that Curnoe’s Heart Of London piece depicts The Forks Of the Thames downtown, “arguably the heart of London” near many of the artists’ studios with Greg’s studio as the main hub or heart of it all. As for the idea of a comic book catalog, it was a mystery until Rodger guided me to Katie Cholette’s PhD thesis Memory and Mythmaking: the role of autobiography in the works of Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe which states that it was the idea of William Bragg, assistant to the director of The National Gallery’s extension services. Cholette’s paper quotes Bragg from the Sept 29, 1968 New York Times’ Arts Notes column, “…The idea was to make a kind of scrapbook, to talk as a group, not individuals. Their work is kind of echoed by the comics—it’s really their bag […] Everyone likes to read comics once in a while, anyway.” Due to its uniqueness, the catalog garnered a lot of press for the show. Beverley Lambert (Bev Kelly in the show) says, “I think we all thought it was pretty neat and it was funny. It got people’s attention.”

When I talked to artist John Boyle about this comic book catalog, he said right away, “It’s too bad that Greg Curnoe isn’t with us anymore, because he was really interested in comic books. And he always did comic book or comic-like drawings from the time he was a little kid.” In the book Greg Curnoe Life And Work, author Judith Rodger’s description of his 1963 painting Myself Walking North In the Tweed Coat could be ascribed to many of his works. “The flat, vivid colours; schematic outlines; and text all come from his love of the comic book.” As well as the inclusion of the name of the newspaper strip Mary Worth in the piece. Another colourful painting casually inserts Dick Tracy into the frame as a representative of one of his interests. Curnoe’s series of cut-out collages were often shaped into cartoony and anthropomorphic forms.

Curated by Pierre Théberge at The National Gallery, Boyle readily notes, “Both Curnoe and Chambers talked up all the other artists who were around in London, and ended up persuading Théberge to have a group show to get a sense of the whole London art scene.”

The comic book itself doesn’t give William Bragg’s name at all, nada. The designer is credited: Roger Duhamel, FRSC, Queen’s Printer and Controller of Stationery, a federal government official, as well as the design firm: Eccleston + Glossop International. All of the photos, however, were done by the late Don Vincent, of whom Boyle says, “He was a friend of ours, of all of us. And a really terrific photographer. And he documented the whole London scene as it unfolded taking photographs all the time of everybody in this show and just of London, his whole life was photography.” Vincent’s work also appeared in 20 Cent Magazine, a delightfully scrappy local art magazine started in the mid-60’s with many of the people in the show, including Boyle and Curnoe, contributing writings and drawings. 20 Cent Magazine sold for 25 cents, ha! Vincent also photographed The Nihilist Spasm Band who are regarded as the first noise-rock band; this amazing, mind-blowing, intense and milk-spurtingly funny act was founded by the late Greg Curnoe, with Boyle and Favro (playing unique guitars that he builds himself) as still very active members over fifty years later. They are unique cultural ambassadors bringing such songs as “No Canada” to the world, having performed in Japan and in Vancouver at The Western Front with poet George Bowering guesting on guitar, and have had a documentary made about them by the late noise artist Zev Asher.

In one of Heart Of London’s comic book panels about Boyle an early issue of the four color MAD sneaks its way in. I asked him if he read MAD, “Yeah. Although that is from the designer. I read MAD, although not madly.”

A very young Boyle states in one of his panels, “The day I can truly defile myself in public, I will have accomplished everything, and I will no longer have a need to paint.” Reflecting today he says, “I still think that actually, and I think I may have succeeded. Because I do still have the need to paint. But I don’t have the need to show it anymore, or to get applause or approval from anyone. And I don’t know how that arose in me. But I kind of had a fair amount of attention and approval and acceptance and shows in fancy places and meeting important people and pleasing art administrators. And I kind of reached the conclusion that most of them aren’t worth pleasing and their opinion was not as good or not as important as the opinions of other people that I happen to know. And I thought they made a lot of mistakes and people that they chose to support. And also, their approval was very fickle. They were very fickle about it because as soon as fashions would change, their eyes were directed elsewhere and the people they thought were geniuses today were no longer geniuses tomorrow. I did kind of lose my enthusiasm for the art world, but not for painting. So, I was mistaken.”

The final pages of this catalog feature a few reproductions of pieces from the show itself, including Bev Kelly’s window paintings which, with its window panels, adapt quite easily to the comic book form, comparable to an ornate and mysterious painted comic page. The layout, however, was a bit fast and loose with one of her works being printed sideways. In her fumetti section she says, “These windows aren’t ‘real’ windows, they are still paintings. They don’t have sashes and you can’t see through them. A real window is to look through, these are to look at.” Painted on canvas, the window pieces used lumber to make the frames of the paintings, carved to look like the ribbed mouldings of window frames.

Bev Kelly was the sole woman in the show and when I asked her about this she said, “I’m very happy that they didn’t concentrate on this issue that I was the only woman. I didn’t want to be known as an artist because I was a woman.” Having recently moved to London from Saskatchewan with her husband, they were warmly welcomed by Curnoe and she would go see The Nihilist Spasm Band play every week at The York Hotel. Her first solo show was at The 20/20 Gallery in London.

She spent the first two years of her life in Biggar, Saskatchewan where the signs read, “New York Is Big, But This Is Biggar.” Being in London changed her notions of places like New York being the absolute cultural mecca. Beverley says, “There was a really vibrant cultural community there. You know what a regionalist Greg was. He really believed, as a lot of writers do, that you should write about what you know, or you should do your art about what you know, including where you live and so on. And, of course, when I started on the windows that was right out where I was living. The first ones were of my house and then I walked around and took pictures of various houses that I thought looked interesting. When I got a studio in London above one of the businesses downtown I used some of the windows there as inspiration for my works. And then when I went back to Saskatchewan, I was very into that, looking around at what is there where you live. I even got a grant to travel around small-town Saskatchewan and look at the local -in air quotes- ‘folk art’ or untrained artists, let’s say, just painting odd things on their house or their property or whatever. So, I went and I did interviews, took pictures of them, and I imagine I must have produced some kind of a report on it because I probably had to for my grant. So that led me into being more observant and looking more at where it’s from and what is around you and that you don’t have to go to some huge, big place to find art.”

Bev Kelly was her married name and she returned to using her original name, Beverley Lambert in the 1970’s. Lambert did a series of three large lithographs for International Women’s Year in 1975 on women’s issues dealing with real news stories that happened on the prairies. Many of these prints were donated to many women’s centres across the country. She has also worked in clay doing an entire main street based on the fictional Saskatchewan town in the humour book Sarah Binks by Paul Hiebert. Beverley Lambert currently resides in St. John’s, Newfoundland where she makes art and is active as a conservator.

Flip the comic over and it is the same but in either French or English depending on where you first started reading!

Boyle comments, “Last night, my wife and I were looking at the Heart of London catalog. She was amazed that this was a National Gallery touring show with a lot of artists who became major artists in the country. And it looked like they were trying to spend as little money as possible by making this skinny little comic book-like thing on newsprint and I think there’s a large measure of truth in that. Because, again, I remember when Greg Curnoe had a big one-man exhibition retrospective at The National Gallery and the catalogue that they did for him was kind of a minimal thing. It was like a paperback book with one colour reproduction and a number of inferior black and white reproductions and basically a list of artworks in the show. And in the same year, The National Gallery did a big one-man exhibition of Donald Judd, the American sculptor, and his catalogue was a huge coffee table book that weighed about 15 pounds and was three inches thick and loaded with colour from beginning to end. And that just, I think, represented a specifically Canadian problem.” When I mention this to Hairy Who member Art Green he responds, “Well, of course, because they’re trying to impress their betters in New York, so you get a job at The Whitney or The Museum of Modern Art. Canada has been an incubator for museum directors since forever.”

Hairy Who catalog page by Art Green, courtesy of the artist

This style of catalog for Heart Of London corresponds nicely with The Hairy Who, another such grouping of artists around that time who were part of “The Chicago Imagists.” Their three Chicago art shows starting in the mid-60’s were accompanied by comic books that also doubled as exhibition catalogs. The Hairy Who weren’t very aware of the underground comics scene then just barely getting started, they chose this method out of creative necessity, printing a glossy catalog was cost prohibitive. Green explains, “And the printing was expensive and not very good. And we didn’t want to have a show that was called ‘Six Recent Graduates’ or something unexciting like that. And so, we realised we all liked comics and we all knew how to do colour stripping because we’d taken silk-screening courses, we figured out we could do it. And it was cheap.”

Delineating further, The Hairy Who made playful art inspired by a wide range of neat stuff. The London artists were well aware of The Hairy Who. In fact, The Hairy Who were even going to show in London at The 20/20 Gallery. Boyle notes, “20/20 was kind of a precursor to the art in the so-called artist run centres, most of which aren’t run by artists anymore. But anyway, it was one of the first and it was all sponsored by local people in London. And I don’t think it lasted longer than a couple of years, but it was a terrific gallery while it lasted.” Many of the artists in The Heart Of London show were active in 20/20, which lasted from 1966 to 1971. Greg Curnoe discussed the show with Hairy Who artist Karl Wirsum, who in a letter to Art Green wrote, “Well, if they go ahead and publish a comic book, that would be all right.” Green notes, “He may have thought that the 20/20 Gallery was more well-funded than it probably was. But it was on, we all agreed to do it. We were looking forward to it.” Green himself left Chicago for Canada in 1969. The 1968 Democratic Convention had transpired and as Green puts it, “Everybody was angry at everybody.” He was dissatisfied with his teaching job there as well, so when offered a job at NASCAD, the art school in Halifax, he leaped at it.

Alas, the show didn’t happen. In a letter to Art Green, Curnoe writes, “We had to cancel The Hairy Who show and a lot of us were disappointed.” Boyle notes, “I suspect that it got caught up in the death throes of the gallery. And they would have had to cancel whatever exhibitions they had coming up.”

Green notes that both London and Chicago are far enough away from the more major centres that artists can, “…be free to go their own way because there’s not much at stake partly and nobody’s paying attention. And I remember the first time I had been in London, we were driving on our honeymoon to Halifax where I got the job. And I thought, ‘I’m gonna stop here and get a Canada Dry.’ I’m driving down what’s the main street that runs north south and pulled into a corner store. And I said, ‘Do you have Canada Dry?’ ‘No, but we got America Dry.’ I have never before or since seen a bottle of America Dry. I bought it and it wasn’t as good as Canada Dry. And, and that’s not a dream. I mean, I have never seen it ever again. But that made me say, ‘Wow, this is a weird place.’”

While Green was teaching at NASCAD, Curnoe came for what Green calls, “One of his annual excoriations, if that’s a word, he would rip them up one side down the other in public, for being a Canadian art school with no Canadians teaching, hardly any, and all yanks -and it was true! And so anyway, they would invite him and it was almost like a ritual. He would be in the public, there’d be 400 students there and Greg would just rip the place apart. I had known Greg, I heard about the show and so on, and we got along fine. And afterwards he’d come up to me and say, ‘Well, how did I do?’ ‘Greg, you’re doing great, but you do realise I’m a yank’, but I agreed with him 100%.” Both Curnoe and Green commiserated on how Canadian art was neglected at the school. “If he had been in Chicago, Greg would have been a member of The Hairy Who or maybe started it. But he was more political, he had to be, and Chicago, the politics were so acidic that you wouldn’t have wanted to be to be involved in it, unless you went in full immersion. And we were decidedly unpolitical. Although we all agreed on the politics of it. We were a collective in the sense that we wanted people to collect us.” On this, Art Green is a tad glib, having made art responding to and criticizing Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. Both Art and Greg would visit with each other in various Canadian cities: Halifax, Vancouver, Toronto. “Nobody appreciated Greg in Toronto, they went out of their way to un-appreciate him. And luckily, they did put a put up a pretty nice retrospective after he was safely gone.”

Of London, Green notes, “I think that for a period of time. I don’t know how long it was maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe a few months? Maybe a few years. London, Ontario was most interesting art scene and literary scene in the whole world.”

The propensity for great art still ran in the water there, the stream flowed, there was a continuum and a recognizing of that history. London has some great galleries including Forest City Gallery, founded by Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe, where The Nihilist Spasm Band plays every Monday night.

In 2013 The London Museum held the group show L.O. Today with artists Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, Jamie Q, Billy Bert Young, Amy Lockhart, Peter Thompson, and James Kirkpatrick. Many of these artists are a part of the Canadian Psychedooolic art comic movement that began in the 1990’s, captured and collected in the book Nog A Dod, edited by former Londoner Marc Bell and released by Conundrum/PictureBox. Much of the work in Nog A Dod occurred in Vancouver with a couple of these London artists relocating there, immersing easily, doing a lot of collaborative drawing and art books with other Vancouver based artists. Yes, ‘Canadian Psychedooolic’ was named after the fact by Bell, but we weren’t thinking of ourselves as a movement or a group at the time. Yet all of these art books had an unfettered comic wildness, funny, and expansively playful. And Nog A Dod got out there, impacting and influencing a lot of artists the world over. Furthering the connective tissue, in 2003, The Western Front in Vancouver put on an art show featuring ‘documents and ephemera’ from musical acts The Nihilist Spasm Band, The All Star Schnauzer Band (a somewhat fake band as mail art project involving Bell, Mclean, and Thompson) and July Fourth Toilet, a Vancouver based group that often involves many Nog A Dod and Nog A Dod related artists, including yours truly occasionally wearing outlandish semi-functional semi-nude costumes specially designed by Jason Mclean. The show was curated by Jonathan Middleton, who is now Executive Director at Art Metropole, a Toronto based artist-run centre dealing primarily in artists’ publications.

Getting back to Greg Curnoe. Released in two parts in 1970, The Great Canadian Sonnet contained numerous images by Curnoe. Described as a “Beaver Little Book”, the format was modeled after the popular Big Little Books, distant cousins to comic books so named for being small, square and thick. Big Little Books were marketed to children and featured popular comic, cartoon, radio and film characters of the day in text-based stories with illustrations on every other page. Some Big Little Books had flip-it cartoons in the top corner so one could make the character move. With its second volume The Great Canadian Sonnet does this as well, stating “See ‘em move – just flip the pages” on the cover and, sure enough, in the corner a spot rolls up a hill-like abstract shape transforming into a medley of human faces.

Written by poet David McFadden, Curnoe riffed off lines in his text creating a great many detailed pen-and-ink drawings for the book with titles that included “Proud Possessor Of Meaningful Pain”, “One that will be Truly Loved by the Prime Minister”, and “The Empty Universe” which featured a drawing of a tin of apple juice and a packet of bird seed -the book’s drawings contained many such absurdist pairings. The Great Canadian Sonnet was published by Coach House Press who were -and still are- known for releasing all manner of experimental works including poetry, prose and beyond. Both volumes together weigh in at over 400 pages, with every other page being a drawing by Curnoe.

Many thanks to Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, and Judith Rodger for their immense help with this piece.

Thanks as well to Art Green for use of his respective artworks.

Part Two: Scraptures, Snore and More coming tomorrow, Friday, August 20!

Robert Dayton

www.robertdayton.com

www.patreon.com/CanadianGlam

#comicsjournalism #canadiancomics #theheartoflondon #hairywho #nihilistspasmband #vancaf #vancouvercomicartfestival #robertdayton

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