#Washington State Toy Show

[heckyeahponyscans]

Hey folks, I'll be vending at the Washington State Toy Show at the Puyallup Fairgrounds tomorrow, May 10th 2025! :) (Pictured: my setup from a previous year but I bought ~two~ booths this time so expect even more toys.)

Admission is $10 for early birds at 9am or $8 at 10am onward. Free admission for kids under 12.

I'll be in booth # 1836 which is solidly in the middle of the show floor. :)

[whosthatpony]

I'll be at the Washington State Toy Show today. I'll be on the lookout for some unique pony items! Feel free to say hi if you see me. I'll be wearing a vintage MLP t-shirt and I'll be in a wheelchair.

[plasticnpastel]

Today’s haul from the Washington State Toy Show! My total budget was $150. I don’t think I got any screaming deals, but I did get some wishlist items.

There was an RC Popple I wanted to get but I prioritized Salty and Catrine with the last of my budget. Other highlights include some MIB G3s (including my first one ever, Kimono!) Only thing I didn’t see I was really hoping for was Bratz or Winx dolls.

The Flutterina came from a stall where a guy bought an abandoned barn and went through it. He found someone’s entire G1 collection (they have G. written under a paw or hoof) along with a ton of MIB Transformers. Sigh. The things you wish went to actual collectors…

[redvelvetstars22]

Stolen Dance

~Josh Washington x reader fluff! 💖~

———————————————————————————

“Josh?” you called from upstairs. “Josh, honey, come quick!”

You could hear your boyfriend groan tiredly, clearly not happy about being woken up from his nap. He slowly climbed the staircase up to the second floor, every step on the wooden boards creating a slight creaking noise that echoed throughout the house. Upon reaching your shared bedroom, Josh pushed the door open and looked around for you. After a few minutes of searching, he eventually found you knelt down in the farthest corner of the closet.

“Uh, babe? What are you, uh, doing back there?” He questioned, the corner of his lips lifting into a confused smile.

You didn’t really give him a proper reply. Instead, you smirked and spoke only two words.

“Zombie. Dinosaurs.”

Josh quirked a brow at first, but then realization slowly crept across his face. His eyes went wide and that tiny smile he was wearing quickly got swept off his lips.

“No way,” he muttered, “There’s no way you found it.”

“Oh but I did, my dear Joshua. You’re old laptop, just filled with allll your high school films~,” you cooed, now holding up the computer in both hands and waving it around teasingly. The best way to describe Josh’s reaction to this was pure horror. He immediately tried to snatch the computer from you, but to his dismay you jerked away and hid the device behind your back with a giggle.

“Babe come on!” he whined. “I was in 10th grade when I filmed those! They’re terrible!”

“Whaaat? No way! I just watched half of the first movie and saw a 16 year old Mike playing the president of the United States. That’s peak cinema, Josh.”

“Yeah, he took his role wayyy too seriously…But still! That whole film was so bad,” Josh groaned dramatically. Despite his actions though, he dragged himself over to you and plopped down beside you on the floor. Then before you knew it, you were tugged onto his lap, where he kept you trapped by wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

“Oh? Do you actually want to watch your cringy movies now?” You joked.

“Not really, but Chris played a dinosaur in this one and it was hilarious,” Josh chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You and Josh ended up watching the entire movie together. It was, of course, very silly and nonsensical but you two did get some good laughs out of it. The Brainosaurus was definitely the funniest part though. All Josh had done was scribble on a toy dinosaur to make it look “zombie-like” and then zoomed in on it while filming so that it looked way bigger than it was. You had asked if he still had the toy, but he unfortunately didn’t since he gave it to Chris as a sort of souvenir for being in the movie.

Your guys’ banter was quickly cut off however when the credits finished rolling. To both of you’s surprise, there was more footage that had been recorded.

The computer screen showed a younger Josh walking around the school’s cafeteria with a fake microphone in hand. He was playing the role of a news reporter and was speaking to the camera about the “brain-eating dinosaur situation”. After giving his short report on the dinosaurs getting more dangerous, he shouted “cut” while giving a quick clap of his hands. A relieved sigh sounded from behind the camera, which earned an amused laugh from Josh.

“Chris, dude, you’ve only been recording for 10 minutes! There’s no way you’re tired already!” Josh exclaimed.

“I haven’t eaten all day! Can’t we just take a lunch break? Since we’re at lunch??” Chris asked, sounding exasperated. With a short sigh, Josh gave a quick, somewhat defeated nod. The camera was then pointed at the floor for the next few minutes as the two of them went to get their food. Once they found a table to sit at afterwards, the camera was placed on the table and positioned to face them.

The boys rambled to each other about various subjects for a little while. Josh had been yapping about a recent failed test he had gotten back before suddenly pausing mid story to stare at something off camera. Chris raised an eyebrow and followed his friend’s gaze. He then smirked and nudged Josh’s shoulder.

“Ah, staring at Y/N again, huh? Just go ask them out already, bro.”

“W- What?” Josh sputtered. “No way! You remember the last time I tried that…”

“Oh yeahhh! The ketchup incident-!”

“Don’t remind me!!…Ughhh why did I point the bottle at them..??”

Chris let out a loud cackle which caused him to also start choking on his food. Josh slapped his back a few times, stopping only when he was sure Chris was breathing normally again. Instead of being grateful for his best friend’s help though, Chris grinned wickedly and shouted for you.

“Y/N! Josh has something he wants to ask youuu!” Chris called in a sing song voice. Josh jolted upright in his seat and immediately smacked the other’s arm while telling him to “shut up” through gritted teeth. But then he seemingly noticed you walking over and shrunk back down in his seat. A younger you was now in frame as you sat down beside Josh, giving him a curious smile.

“What’s up, Washington?” You asked, tilting your head slightly. Josh cleared his throat and was right about to speak when Chris cut him off again.

“He wanted to ask you to Homecoming,” Chris blurted and his smile grew even wider. Josh simply blinked at first, caught off guard by the interruption. Then his face flushed and he turned around to shoot daggers at Christopher. When he turned back around to face you again, he simply mumbled a quick “yeah, what he said”.

Your eyes practically lit up at his words. With a wide smile, you cupped his face in your hands and squealed ecstatically.

“Yes! Definitely! Absolutely!” You smiled brightly. So brightly, in fact, that it completely distracted Josh for a few minutes. He hastily shook his head to snap out of it and put on his best confident expression.

“Cool, super cool. I’ll pick you up around 7:30, that sound good?”

“Yup!”

“Great, it’s a date then~,” Josh winked flirtatiously. You blew him a kiss in return before getting up from the table to giddily run off camera. The two boys watched you for a few more moments, and then turned to each other with wide grins and loud cheers.

The video then suddenly shut off.

You and Josh sat there staring at the screen in complete silence. Which he almost immediately broke as he leaned closer to your ear.

“Y’know, you looked super hot that night~,” he purred, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. You felt a small shiver go down your spine, your own breath hitching quietly. Upon noticing your reaction, Josh pulled away and shot you his usual relaxed expression, though a hint of mischief twinkled in his eyes.

“Buuuut we never did get to slow dance ‘cause, well, those fries gave you food poisoning.”

That’s it. That memory completely ruined the mood. You almost wanted to throw up right now just remembering how awful you felt that night…

“Ughhh, I thought we weren’t ever going to talk about that again??” you whined.

“Oh no, I will *always* remember what those fries stole from me,” Josh pouted as he crossed his arms. Honestly, you’d never forgive those fries for what happened either. It was completely embarrassing. You threw up in front of Josh like five times that night and honestly, you thought he’d never want to even look at you ever again. But then he actually came over to your house the next day just to check in and see how you were feeling. He ended up staying over the whole day all so that the two of you could play video games until you were feeling somewhat better again. You’re definitely sure that that’s the day you knew you were completely and utterly in love with Joshua Washington.

Now that you think about it, maybe there is a way for you and Josh to have that dance after all.

“Josh,” You spoke up suddenly, “Put on your best suit and meet me downstairs when you’re done, okay?”

Your boyfriend furrowed his brows in confusion and slight suspicion. “Why? What are you planning, babe..?”

You closed the laptop and set it down on the floor beside you as you began to wiggle out of Josh’s grasp. Once you were free you stood up and held out a hand for Josh to take.

“We’ve got speakers and mood lights… It’s perfect for slow dancing, don’t you think?”

Josh’s lips quickly upturned into a warm grin. “You wanna do that now?”

“Is that a problem, Washington?”

“Nah, not to me. I’m just surprised you’re so eager to be swept off your feet.” Josh took your hand in his, allowing you to help him up. His arms then slid around your waist as he stepped closer to press a soft, loving kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be sure we finally get that slow, romantic dance. And this time, no gross french fries are gonna get in our way…”

[beardedmrbean]

A wave of protests over factory closures in China in recent weeks appeared to show the impact of U.S. tariffs on a highly exposed sector that employs millions.

The demonstrations, a reflection of the export-driven economy's early pain, came as Chinese officials quietly engaged with U.S. President Donald Trump's team weeks before last weekend's high-profile meeting in Geneva.

Why It Matters

The deal that emerged from U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent's talks with Chinese Vice Premier He Lifeng has cut the countries' respective tariffs by 115 percent for 90 days.

The pause halted what was approaching a trade embargo—one that led to higher prices and recession risks in the United States and deepened deflationary pressures and a manufacturing glut in China.

Newsweek reached out to the Chinese embassy in Washington, D.C. via email for comment.

What To Know

Both sides had portrayed the other as more desperate to return to the negotiating table.

Trump hailed the interim deal as a win, calling it a "total reset" of bilateral ties. Hu Xijin, former editor of state-run outlet Global Times, called it "not only a win for China, but also a victory for international trade norms and the proper global order."

Yet despite the public posturing, a quiet meeting between the two governments had already taken place weeks earlier.

The Financial Times reported on Tuesday that Bessent and Chinese Finance Minister Lan Fo'an met secretly in the basement of the IMF headquarters in Washington during the agency's annual spring meeting.

The talks came as protests erupted across China, where the loss of the U.S.—the country's largest single export market—was forcing factories to shut down. Hundreds of workers turned out to protest unpaid wages and what they described as unjust dismissals, Radio Free Asia reported.

One such company was Guangdong Shenzhen Weilixing Toys Co., a toy manufacturer based in Shenzhen. According to a video shared by @YesterdayBigcat, an X (formerly Twitter) user who frequently posts about China protests, the company abruptly announced its closure on May 6 after U.S.-bound orders ceased.

A notice visible in the footage stated that the company had been operating at a loss for some time: "We will do our best to address issues such as salary payments, social insurance, and other legally required responsibilities."

According to the account, some 400 workers gathered over two straight days to demand compensation.

China's official manufacturing Purchasing Managers' Index (PMI), a key gauge of factory activity, dipped to a 16-month low in April.

The prospect of losing millions of manufacturing jobs—still central to China's economy—is what drove Beijing's swift willingness to enter talks, Trinh Nguyen, an economist with the research division of investment bank Natixis, wrote on X.

China's economy has already been grappling with a years-long property market crisis, high youth unemployment, and tepid consumer demand as the economy cools after decades of sky-high growth.

"The [tariff] pain will be immediate and it will hurt the most vulnerable. Full stop. And after years of economic slowdown already," Nguyen said.

"And this is why we got de-escalation. Not just Trump needing an off-ramp but also one that China cannot afford, unless tolerating pain is a strategy and pain on the U.S. side may or may not come as they can try to buy toys somewhere else."

What Happens Next

Markets jumped on the deal, and Goldman Sachs lowered its U.S. recession forecast to 35 percent from 45 percent. But analysts caution there's a long road ahead during the 90-day cooling-off period.

It remains to be seen whether the Trump administration can meaningfully reduce the nearly $300 billion trade deficit with China, which has been a long-standing grievance for the president.

[whencyclopedia]

US Presidential Election of 1789

The US presidential election of 1789 was the first presidential election to take place after the ratification of the United States Constitution. Held on 4 February 1789, it resulted in the unanimous election of George Washington (l. 1732-1799) as the first president of the United States, with John Adams (l. 1735-1826) elected as the first vice president.

This election was very different from modern-day presidential elections in the United States. For one thing, candidates did not campaign for office, as outward displays of political ambition were viewed with suspicion by the public; instead, aspiring politicians discreetly made their interests known while their allies publicly lobbied for them. Additionally, as there were not yet any formal political parties, presidential and vice presidential candidates did not run on a shared ticket. Instead, the candidate who received the most votes from the Electoral College became president, while the runner-up became vice president. Finally, the president was chosen by electors – who were themselves selected by each state through various methods – who were each allowed to cast two votes. Washington, after his unanimous election, travelled to the temporary US capital of New York City, where he was inaugurated on 30 April 1789.

Background

In March 1781, as the American Revolutionary War neared its end, the Articles of Confederation went into effect as the first framework of governance for the fledgling United States. The Articles, which bound the 13 states together in a league of perpetual union, deliberately kept the new central government weak to protect the sovereignty of the individual states. Congress' lack of authority would soon lead to problems, however; the central government's inability to raise its own taxes meant that the national treasury was constantly depleted, while its lackluster response to Shays' Rebellion (1786-87) showed that it was ill-equipped to handle domestic crises. By the mid-1780s, many Americans viewed the Articles of Confederation as ineffectual and demanded they be revised, if not replaced. George Washington certainly spoke for many of his contemporaries when he called the Confederation Congress a "half-starved, limping Government that appears to be always moving upon crutches and tottering at every step" (mountvernon.org).

On 25 May 1787, the Constitutional Convention met at Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with Washington presiding. While the initial goal of the convention had been merely to revise the Articles of Confederation, it was soon decided that an entirely new framework of governance was needed, and the delegates got to work debating and drafting what would become the United States Constitution. As suggested in the Virginia Plan (drafted by Virginian delegates James Madison and Edmund Randolph), it was ultimately decided that the new federal government should consist of three distinct branches: executive, legislative, and judiciary, each expected to exert checks and balances on the others. Debate over the exact powers and functions of these branches consumed much of the convention, particularly regarding the executive branch; under the Articles, the US had no executive officer, as the 'president of Congress' had served more of an administrative role.

On 1 June, it was decided that the nation's chief executive would be a single person rather than a group of persons and that this officeholder would be called the ‘president'. Believing that the masses were too easily manipulated, the delegates decided against electing the president directly through a popular vote and instead set up an Electoral College, wherein voters in each state would choose electors who would, in turn, elect the president. After toying with the idea that the president should serve a single, seven-year term, the delegates instead went with the notion that multiple terms could be served. While the idea of the presidential office seemed foreboding to many convention delegates, who still feared the tyranny of kings, most were lulled into compliance by the idea that Washington would become the first president. Time and again, Washington had demonstrated his patriotism during the American Revolution and had voluntarily resigned his position as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army. The idea that he would be the first one to define the office of president did much to ease fears that the office would become an elective monarch.

Washington at the Constitutional Convention, 1787

Junius Brutus Stearns (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[tetedurfarm]

hello! i was wondering... do you happen to have any contacts who raise meat rabbits in seattle who you could put me in touch with? i've been thinking about raising meat rabbits for years and always thought it'd be a like. once-i-finally-leave-the-city project, but. i have a pretty stable rental situation with a large backyard from a very chill landlord, and... i'm toying with whether it'd be feasible to start now rather than waiting til some not-guaranteed point in the future where i move east or to the peninsula or something and would love some advice. tysm either way

i mean. i live in western washington, lol. i am at shows and other events across the state all the time, am pretty much willing to drive anywhere along i-5, and my usual kicking grounds are shohomish, king, and pierce counties as it is. i have a friend on the peninsula too if you end up in that area who also loves giving away rabbits and helping newbies.

as for seattle specifically breeders i don't know any off top my head, but i am super willing to help anyone, it's kinda my whole thing lately :)

[shachaai]

[Hetalia Version] The Lindworm’s Lullaby

Chapters: 4/14 Rating: Explicit (For Gore) Main Relationships: Arthur Kirkland (England)/Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal) Characters: Arthur Kirkland (England), Gabriel Cardoso Fernandes (Portugal), Original Child Character(s), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Julia Blumenschien (Fem Prussia), Kiku Honda (Japan), Lovino Vargas (South Italy), Assorted Others Other Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human AU, FBI Murder Mystery/Thriller, Case Fic, Adapted from a Hannibal Fic, Baby Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Gabriel Fernandes, Omega Arthur Kirkland, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Single Parent Arthur Kirkland, Violence and Gore Canon-Typical to Hannibal Levels, Cute Moments and Murder, Murder Scenes, Dead Bodies, Poisoning, Discussions about torture/infidelity/rape

The FBI is called in to investigate when a series of bodies shows up around Ohio: all of them alphas, and all of them skinned alive. With the killer’s motives a mystery, Ludwig Beilschmidt pulls Arthur Kirkland from the classroom and his vigil at the comatose Madeline Williams’ bedside once more to lend his insight to the case - with very little mind paid to the fact that the busy Arthur, omega and single mother to a six month-old daughter, might have some scheduling issues. Necessity - and pressure from Ludwig - drives Arthur into reluctantly asking Gabriel Fernandes for a favour at short notice. Gabriel is delighted to help Arthur with babysitting - once he has, of course, recovered from both the surprise of learning that Arthur Kirkland even has a baby to care for and, presented with the adorable armful that is a sleepy Lenore Kirkland, feeling a little skinned raw himself.

*****

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3

*****

*****

Chapter 4: fancy unto fancy

Arthur’s advice to Gabriel, mostly sent via text, is to take a longer and more circuitous route from Quantico to the Kirkland home in Wolf Trap rather than relying solely on the interstate highways. Fairfax County, where Wolf Trap is located, is part of the Washington metropolitan area and has the notorious achievement of being the third-worst area in the entirety of the United States of America for congested traffic. The effect is at its worst during rush hour, tired workers of the 9-to-5 regime making the commute to and from D.C., but the demands of the capital necessitate a workforce available at all hours of the day and night - and, thus, ascertain that the arteries which supply aforementioned workforce will never be clear.

Gabriel takes the - unavoidable - I-95 north from Quantico in Arthur’s thoroughly-used car, the faint odour of damp canine and baby shampoo in his nose. The olfactory mix is strange but infinitely preferable to the overpowering and abominably artificial pine of Arthur’s car freshener which had assaulted Gabriel as soon as he had gotten behind the wheel of Arthur’s Volvo, drilling something sharp, chemical and lime green straight through to the back of his skull with all the painful, migraine-inducing grace of an ice-pick. Snatching up the little tree dangling from the rearview mirror, Gabriel had (after reading the 100% biodegradable obnoxiously emblazoned across its chemical-soaked surface) thrown the freshener out of the driver-side window with extreme prejudice, wiping his befouled hand - somewhat - clean afterwards on the leg of his trousers.

Lenore Kirkland immediately demonstrates better taste than her mother by clapping her little starfish hands together and shrieking with glee as the little tree, caught at once by the wind, whips past her window, dropping her drool-wet stuffed dog toy from her mouth onto her lap.

The infant’s absolute delight at such a simple thing is a pleasure to witness, the joy of discovery suffusing Lenore’s little body entirely and rendering her a creation of pure and innocent grace. A spotless child of the biblical Garden, still unaware yet of the difference between the corrupt definitions of Good and Bad. Still unspoilt by either serpents or gods, untainted by the taste of bittersweet knowledge on the tongue.

Lenore all but glows and her sweetly childish jouissance draws the twitch of a smile from Gabriel when he glances at the infant every so often in the rearview mirror. Focusing on the night black of her curls when the memories of another happily shrieking little brunette girl threaten to rise up close to the forefront of his mind, distant days where it had been bubbles blown through golden baby bracelets entertaining the little one, Gabriel humming nursery rhymes himself rather than listening to the vibration of recorded strings on the radio.

For all she remains obstinately awake, Lenore is a pleasant enough companion on their hour-long journey through Virginia to her home. She ba ba bas her way through several Mozart suites on the radio and listens in rapt silence to Saint-Saëns’ The Swan. (Relative silence. There is something coloured neon yellow and green rolling around in the passenger-side footwell that rattles loudly every time it moves, which Gabriel strongly suspects is one of Lenore’s baby toys.) She coos in fascination at the bright yellow car in the lane beside them at one set of traffic lights, and makes a long drawn-out ohh of wonder when Gabriel points out a whale-shaped cloud to her on their right.

Gabriel turns off the interstate as they approach Wolf Trap, taking the smaller roads that twist and turn through affluent suburbia in an effort to avoid the Dulles Toll Road. Multiple signs point to the way to the Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts and all its associated performance halls, to the Meadowlark Botanical Gardens and countless parks and nature reserves full of winding trails and fishing spots. Woods and forests nestle leisure, culture and art in their bosom, and each turn in the road brings a new little patch of houses, a few shops, another sign pointing the way to another park - or a much less halcyonic Walmart.

Lenore is still quietly singing to herself (motivated, now, by Bach’s Air on a G String) as Gabriel makes the turn down the road that the sat-nav promises him will be the final one before the Kirkland home. The road is lined with trees. The red evening sun flashes down on Gabriel’s arms as he passes beneath the foliage, the asphalt ahead lined by the shadow bars of overhead branches and the speckled pattern of leaves swaying in the breeze. Here and there, between the trunks either side of the road, Gabriel catches glimpses of endless fields and scrubland, large individual homes at the end of long driveways. As fewer newer builds - McMansions - as older, more traditional ones.

Obviously - and more obviously by the second -, Arthur Kirkland lives as far away from other people as both convenience and suburbia will allow him to. Even though he’s still driving down the same road as before it has been some time since Gabriel last saw a patch of dwellings clustered close to one another, and the distance between mailboxes along the road is growing cumulatively longer and longer with each one passed. And yet. The turn-off to the home of Arthur’s nearest neighbour, the one Arthur had referred to as Nancy, is, truly, quite difficult to miss. One bright red mailbox thrusts itself prominently out into the road beside a well-kept and clean beige gravel drive, with multiple bright flower stickers covering the mailbox and multi-coloured yarn knitted around its pole. Someone has hung Chinese-style lanterns in the nearby trees - along with what looks like a giant knitted ladybird.

Gabriel ignores it. (Both the turn-off and the ladybird.) He had made up his mind about what he planned to do with Lenore that evening the moment he had laid eyes on the child, and none of it had ever involved foisting Lenore on the infamously be-permed Nancy.

Almost a full eight minute drive after Nancy’s mailbox, Gabriel’s sat-nav announces the turn-off to the Kirkland residence - apparently the last residential stop on the road for miles.

Gravel and dirt ping quietly off the body of the Volvo as Gabriel makes his way up the Kirklands’ drive, the vehicle's wheels crunching over dried leaves and browning sticks that have fallen onto the lane. The land around the drive - Arthur’s land - is still heavily wooded, obscuring the much-awaited sight of the FBI professor’s home until, quite abruptly, the treeline reaches its end and Gabriel is there.

In contrast to many of the large houses and mansions Gabriel had seen driving through the county, the house Arthur and Lenore Kirkland call home is a relatively normal-sized abode. Built farmhouse style, the house is a glimpse of rustic domesticity amidst fields of long, whispering grass, its clapboard walls painted a homely white in defiance of the not-too-distant shadowy woods. Ivy and honeysuckle climb the posts supporting the covered porch and local vegetation grows wild right up to the steps.

The front of the house is slipping into dark shadow as Gabriel inches up the gravel drive, the sun descending in the sky behind the building to the right, over what looks like a large barn or shed out in the nearby field. The sunset blazes some of its last glory even as Gabriel parks the Volvo and lets its engine die, a moment of perfect, still beauty hanging in the air like a teardrop from a phoenix’s eye.

Lenore Kirkland abruptly realises that the car’s radio has been switched off and starts shrieking in outrage, bursting apart the moment’s peace like a soap bubble in the sink.

Gabriel winces but leaves the infant to it. No doubt something else will take Lenore’s attention soon and the shrieking will stop, leaving Gabriel free to occupy himself with the other distractions Wolf Trap has to offer him. Just stepping out of the car he can hear multiple dogs barking inside the house - prompting the ruefully belated realisation in Gabriel that he had neglected to ask Arthur just how many dogs the professor actually owned. Too lost in his own starry-eyed wonder at the revelation of Lenore’s existence at the time, his thoughts sent in too many directions at once after only just learning about Arthur’s motherhood.

Some of Lenore’s charm begins to fade when the little girl, rather than quietening down, screams all the louder when Gabriel unbuckles her from her car seat, thoroughly upset now that music time is at an end. Even bringing her small body up against his shoulder does nothing; Lenore stubbornly refusing to be placated by her mother’s scent on the scarf that Arthur had loaned Gabriel, turning her face away from Gabriel’s throat and throwing a truly impressive baby temper tantrum with flailing hands and feet kicking against Gabriel’s chest. All the while shrieking. All furious infantile betrayal and upset. Endless wordless noise that makes Gabriel’s eardrums ring with Lenore so close to them in his arms.

With the infant protesting so much and so physically, Gabriel settles on taking just Lenore up from the car to the porch for now. Leaving their bags in the car, the tall grass parting around Gabriel’s ankles like Moses’ first faithful steps out into the waiting Red Sea. A divine miracle of timely seasonality.

Lenore rewards Gabriel’s focus on her care by kicking him rather hard - for a six month-old in soft footed pyjamas - in the ribs, prompting Gabriel to lift her teary scowling face up and away from his shoulder when they reach the cover of the porch. She throws Kitty behind them in the grass, and tears the clip of her pacifier from her cardigan when Gabriel tries to offer her the nub to chew on, flinging both pacifier and its beaded cord down in a melodramatic clatter on the porch’s planks. 

“That is hardly becoming behaviour for a little princess,” Gabriel firmly informs his charge, giving Lenore a gentle bounce in his arms. One, two: her mittens and the hood and little stubby tail on the back of her cardigan bounce as well. Her cheeks are red with fury. “Aren’t you going to welcome me to your home?”

Lenore yells even louder than before - directly into Gabriel’s ear. “Na! Nabayah!” And, louder and more defiantly to Gabriel’s third bounce - “NA!”

Her screeching has worked up the dogs inside the house even more. Judging by all the different barks, there has to be at least four canines in the pack; Gabriel can hear the thud of multiple heavy paws against the inside of the front door, the screen door rattling on the porch.

Inwardly, Gabriel sighs. It would be a bad idea to try and enter the house with Lenore in such a temper. Gabriel has some concern that Arthur’s dogs might actually attack him if they think he - a stranger - is endangering a member of their human family, so he takes a seat on the battered and creaking swing-seat nearby him on the porch instead. Rubbing soothingly against Lenore’s back even as the infant continues to scream, kick and flail at him, pushing his feet against the boards beneath them to set the swing-seat gently rocking.

If nothing else, Gabriel has to grudgingly admire the size of both Lenore Kirkland’s determinedly stubborn streak and her impressive lung capacity. Her passion for music. Perhaps Arthur has some fae banshee blood in him for his daughter to have inherited such a penchant for ear-splitting wailing, mother and daughter alike dark twin omens of imminent death and woe.

Gabriel will have to recommend Arthur get Lenore invested in swimming when she is a little older. With some training to accompany her natural ability, the child would be lethal underwater. Another Olympian for America or Great Britain’s swim-team - or a traditional ama of Japan, should the interest take her in that direction.

The wild grass in the fields continues to ripple and flow with the wind. In the distant trees, the shadows of birds take flight.

Gabriel begins to tell Lenore about ama as she continues to shriek against his shoulder and he continues to gently rock them both back and forth in Arthur’s creaking swing. Of the dwindling numbers of those freediving omega women of Japan who still dive without scuba gear or air tanks to bring up treasures from the deeps: seafood and abalones for shrines and the Japanese emperors. Shining sea pearls that had once birthed pearl aquaculture in Toba, Japan.

Ama begin their training in early adolescence, even before presentation of their secondary gender. Girls are favoured for the life due to the distribution of fat within their bodies, their perceived superior ability to hold their breath underwater for longer than boys. Of the secondary genders, omegas are preferred for their perceived purity. The touch of an omega is unable to taint the food or lustrous gems ama search for the way more carnal betas or alphas might do - but a truly talented beta or alpha could still, with enough persistence and patience for cleansing rituals, still be considered pure enough to remain an ama after presentation. The white uniforms - once, traditionally, only simple loincloths - worn by ama reflect their intensely honed skills and innate virtue, and their equally traditional headscarves are decorated with wards to bring them luck and protection whilst they dive.

Eventually, Lenore has to pause for breath. Eventually, Lenore has to pause for breath at a point when she is just too exhausted to pick up her wailing again afterwards, her small chest heaving against Gabriel’s larger one with tiredness. Sticky tears spot her cheeks like pearls and sea-spray.

“All finished?” Gabriel asks her then, his ears still ringing in the - relative - quiet.

Lenore hiccups back at him and burbles a long nonsense string of sad stuttering syllables, raising one of her hands to clumsily pat at Gabriel’s face again. Tug at one of his dangling curls. She smells like sour sweat and salt tears now over the creamy breastmilk note inherent to all infants, over the soft fruit and spice scents of her baby skin lotion and shampoo. Sadness and frustration.

“I know, ma boulette,” Gabriel comforts her, offering Lenore another gentle bounce when she hiccups wetly again, “I know. The universe is a large and uncaring place to exist within, and you are still so, so small. If God exists he answers prayers so rarely that to pray is to waste one’s breath, so scream as much as you feel the need to. If one cannot move Heaven, they must raise Hell instead.”

Lenore stares at him quizzically with her big, watery blue eyes, fat wobbling tears still clinging determinedly to her inky eyelashes. Gabriel brushes them away with the back of his knuckles before he lets Lenore snuggle-slump into the comfort of Arthur’s scarf again and all the scent trapped in its fibres, patting Lenore’s back with the slow and steady pace of a metronome to help her hiccups subside.

The sun has slipped well below the horizon now, somewhere behind the house, and long cool shadows snake their way up onto the covered porch where Gabriel sits with Lenore. It would hardly do for the infant to catch a chill so, after retrieving the abandoned Kitty and pacifier from the respective places Lenore had thrown them, Gabriel tries the door with the key Arthur had given him.

The dogs had stopped barking when Lenore stopped wailing, but they still rush out in an urgent wave of concern the moment the door swings open. And yes, dogs, plural: not two, not three, not even four but seven, a swirling maelstrom of wet noses and lashing tails that butt strongly against Gabriel’s ankles, knees and thighs. Two bark again at the sight of a stranger and one of the littlest - some terrier mix - growls, but all of them calm again when Lenore reaches down from her safe perch in Gabriel’s arms and babbles at them. Gives another little hiccup-hic, then giggles at herself.

Tails start tentatively wagging, and Kitty gets dropped again - bonking a momentarily confused border collie on the nose. Four of the seven dogs switch their priority from the stranger in their home to their need to go and relieve their bladders against a tree outside, leaving three - the terrier, an obviously elderly chihuahua mix with a tremendous underbite that may just be too tired to race off after the others, and a brindle-haired mutt with a sharp glint of intelligence in its eyes - to shadow Gabriel’s heels as he moves deeper into the Kirkland home, leaving the front door open behind him.

Even in the twilight gloom, Gabriel can see the continuous flow of being that moves through the Wolf Trap property, outside to inside to outside again. The interior’s colours are that of nature: that of stone and wood and foliage. The furniture is mismatched but alike in either deep orange, green, blue or brown, and the walls are painted a deep blue-green. Wide, open windows everywhere give sightlines to the fields everywhere around the main building, making the sky as much a backdrop of the rooms as the walls and ceilings are.

The front room - the living room - has a double-sized camp bed in it on one side. Arthur must use it as a daybed or casual nest for three sides of it have been piled high with overstuffed pillows, and the sheets in the soft basin that forms the middle of the nest are rumpled and unmade. It’s been recently used and smells strongly of both Arthur and Lenore from even a few metres away, a floating cloud of contentment that is drowsy with milk, with warm sunshine and sleep. The scent is as heavy in Gabriel’s nose as Lenore’s warm lulling weight is against his ribcage, a gentle tickling like featherdown at the back of Gabriel’s brain.

He turns his nose down into the collar of his shirt for a moment, breathing in the scent of his own cologne until his thoughts have lost some of their hazy edges.

The rest of the living room is dominated by bookshelves - packed tightly with a truly (fascinatingly) eclectic mix of fiction and non-fiction -, a fireplace, a dusty piano covered in tchotchkes, and several chairs. A table covered in shadowy unidentifiable objects has been positioned just so beneath one window so that, during the day, it must catch a favourable amount of light, but Gabriel cannot figure out what it might be used for until he switches on the overhead lights and literally illuminates himself.

Fishing. The crafting of fishing lures to be precise, though a line of fishing rods stand sentry on the wall beside the table, just waiting to be used. Drawers of bright threads and birds’ feathers sit beside rows of gleaming hooks, scavenged deer velvet and rabbit hair, a magnifying glass set up at the front of the table to study a half-finished lure waiting in its clamp for Arthur to return to it.

Gabriel admires both it and the rack of finished lures sitting at the back of the table: from what he can see, the craftsmanship of each of the lures is exquisite, the hooks beautifully, deceitfully, hidden from the sight of unsuspecting fish by glimmering scales and bright sprays of feathers. Lure by name, lure by nature.

Arthur has made an art of a bloodsport. Fishing is a hobby for the patient - and for the productive, taking life to bring life to others through food.

“Your mother is quite a remarkable man,” Gabriel informs Lenore, hoisting the little girl up in his arms again after she reaches down to wiggle her fingers at the brindle-haired mutt still dogging his footsteps. (Seeing that Gabriel is doing nothing of particular interest, the other two have given up.) “Isn’t he?”

“Ah-burr,” says Lenore quite seriously, and decides to wiggle her hot little fingers against Gabriel's face again instead, clumsily tracing the ridge of his nearest cheekbone.

Gabriel chooses to take that as agreement, silently observing the way the child’s pupils widen in wonder when she discovers the softness of his eyelashes - and making her giggle again when he blinks deliberately for her and tickles those lashes against her fingertips.

Brave curiosity ought to be rewarded.

The Kirkland home is, of course, not all rural serenity. Though the house is generally clean and obviously well-maintained, it cannot be denied that all the signs are there that Arthur Kirkland is the single mother to an infant child, with seven dogs, a very demanding and time-intensive job, and very little in the way of a support network. There is no dog hair on the furniture but the floor near the fireplace could do with some work, and chewed-up rope toys and tennis balls have been pushed under several seats and the nest Gabriel doesn’t dare to get too close to lest he mark it with his own alpha scent. Nearly every surface - including the piano’s closed lid - has been conquered by the type of clutter that always accumulates when raising a young child, and used baby bottles and empty mugs have been abandoned here, there and everywhere where an exhausted Arthur had no doubt left them during long and sleepless nights feeding Lenore.

Setting off to find the kitchen, the floorboards creak welcomingly under Gabriel’s feet. The brindle-haired dog and Lenore’s babbling keeps him company: both seem in happier spirits now, both equally fascinated by Lenore’s attempts to stick out her little pink tongue and blow raspberries at herself.

Gabriel wipes away the accumulating drool on her chin with Arthur’s scarf.

Beyond the living room, a small hallway leads to the dining room. The dining room table itself and two of its seats are currently occupied with dirty laundry - pre-sorted for a dark wash, lighter colours and woollens still dumped together at one side. Arthur must keep on top of the laundry; the dark pile is not too large and its contents seem relatively fresh, muddy towels, a few plaid shirts and some plain, darkly-coloured baby onesies waiting to be loaded into the washing machine in the dark kitchen just a little further on.

To the left is an open doorway leading upstairs. To the right is a mudroom, leading to another doorway outside.

Decisions, decisions.

Gabriel returns to the front room, negotiating with Lenore for a few moments to, firstly, wipe away the sticky tracks of tears from her face with wet wipes he finds on the piano, secondly, remove her from her little panda/fox cardigan, and, thirdly, place her in the baby rocker he’d spotted down by Arthur’s daynest. It isn’t the electronic kind but Lenore is still able to bounce herself if she wishes to, and the baby-proofed arch that hangs over her head is decorated with dangling bells and plush stars to encourage her to reach up and grab at them. Retrieving Kitty, once again, from the floor and handing her it earns Gabriel another point in the youngest Kirkland’s books - and the brindle-haired dog’s, who sits itself patiently and protectively down beside Lenore’s rocker as Gabriel leaves the house to go and retrieve both his and Lenore’s belongings from where he’d left them in Arthur’s car.

(As a group, Arthur’s canine pack make terrible guard dogs, but one of them, at least, might make for a ferocious nanny.)

Lenore is still, stubbornly, not asleep when Gabriel whistles all the dogs inside and returns to her side, but she seems placid enough with one of Kitty’s ears in her mouth again and her guardian dog’s nose resting on one of her little feet. The picture of a darling cherub, still all pink cheeks and glossy curls.

(As dangerous and deceitful a lure as the ones on the table.)

Surprisingly, peace reigns.

*****

*****

*****

*****

Northern Virginia, including Fairfax County, is part of the Washington metropolis area: the third-worst congested traffic area in the USA, in terms of percentage of congested roadways and time spent in traffic. Of the lane miles in the region, 44 percent are rated "F" or worst for congestion. Northern Virginia residents spend an average of 46 hours a year stuck in traffic. (Fictional Special Agent Arthur Kirkland, dragged hither and thither at the behest of the FBI and with probably over a 100 hours stuck in traffic per annum with all his travelling to crime scenes, Baltimore and Quantico, is an outlier and should not have been counted.)

A little about ama. [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ama_(diving)]

If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell. - Virgil, Aeneid, Book VII.312

NEXT CHAPTER

[mariacallous]

I grew up in the town of Lexington, Massachusetts, the self-styled “birthplace of American liberty,” and my first summer job was giving tours of the Battle Green. I would plunk my tricorne hat atop my head and meet the incoming waves of visitors, herding them around the Common and telling them the story of the April morning in 1775 when brave townspeople made their stand against the British and their king in the first fighting of the Revolution. Eight of those men died that day because they wished to rule themselves; as the Declaration of Independence put it the next summer, all men are equal, and that to secure the rights they are due “governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” By legend, John Hancock—a target of the British raid on Lexington—signed the document in script large enough that King George could read it “without his spectacles.”

Democratic self-rule was a novel construct at the time, and it appears it may be tending back toward novelty again. On Wednesday, Donald Trump’s official White House social-media account sent out a picture of him wearing a crown; as he proclaimed on his Truth Social page, “Long Live the King.” It is a mug’s game to respond to every trollish provocation that Trump provides, but this one can’t pass with the day’s news. If America has a founding idea, that idea is “no kings.” Since the colonists didn’t have one close at hand, they couldn’t dethrone him, but the new nation took pains to insure that a monarchy would never arise. George Washington, who could have been a king, set the tone by abdicating after two terms, a precedent followed by all his successors until F.D.R., under wartime exigency, broke it. But Congress, led by a unanimous Republican caucus, quickly adopted the Twenty-second Amendment to—in the words of the 1940 G.O.P. platform—“insure against the overthrow of our American system of government.” In the long history of our civil religion, an American President declaring that he was a king would have been roughly equivalent to the Pope cheerfully tweeting out the news that he was now the Antichrist.

Trump, though, has long flirted and teased with the idea that he might want more than two terms in office, and he has never been shy about regal imagery. Consider the famous photo that showed him with his wife and young son in Trump Tower. The boy was astride a giant stuffed lion, with toy limousines scattered on the floor beneath him; Trump himself sat on a gilded throne. But it’s in the early weeks of this second term that he seems to have fully embraced the concept that he rules instead of governs. He has been issuing diktats—the Gulf of Mexico has a new name of his choosing—and sending his regent, Elon Musk, out to usurp the spending power of the Congress. Last week, he proclaimed that “he who saves his Country does not violate any Law,” which might as well have been “L’état, c’est moi.” Wednesday’s declaration that he was indeed a king came attached to a ruling that New York could not control its own traffic laws, announcing an end to what has been by most accounts a highly successful Manhattan experiment with congestion pricing. That this violates every Republican notion about the rights of states and localities is no matter; Trump clearly considers himself the mayor of New York (easy to do, since he last week ordered the Justice Department to drop all charges against the current occupant of that office, though the charges could be refiled if Trump’s bidding isn’t done).

It’s not clear whether Trump’s fiat on congestion pricing will hold—like many weighty issues, it now rests with the courts. But it’s also not clear whether Trump will allow the judiciary to overrule him; in any event, the deeper question is whether Americans will let him get away with his self-coronation. On Monday, across the country, groups of people marked Presidents’ Day with demonstrations against his blitzkrieg—the one I attended, in the whistling cold of Middlebury, Vermont, featured several signs proclaiming “No Kings,” and one placard showing the entire Gettysburg Address with its insistence that “government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth” underlined. Still, those protests were relatively small, and they must compete with an energized right wing, including an evangelical Christian vanguard that asserts that Trump rules by divine right. As his newly appointed leader of the White House Faith Office, Paula White-Cain, once put it, any Christian who didn’t vote for Trump would have to “answer to God,” a sentiment that seems to have worked its way into the President’s thinking after he survived an assassin’s bullet. Before the assassination attempt, he told the National Prayer Breakfast earlier this month, “I believed in God, but I feel, I feel much more strongly about it.”

Trump’s sense of his own royalty helps explain at least some of the bewildering changes of recent days. The United States appears to have abandoned its support of Ukraine, as its top foreign-policy officials scramble to the monarchy of Saudi Arabia to cut deals with the Russian tsar; kings favor other kings. In one of those ironies that history delights in, it’s the United Kingdom that has taken up the cause of Ukraine most vociferously, with Prime Minister Keir Starmer reiterating his support for Volodymyr Zelensky after Trump’s bizarre lie that Ukraine had “started” the war. Britain, with its tamed king, was one of the very few places where last year’s anti-incumbent tide swept committed democrats into power; Starmer’s Labour Party likely has four years left on its mandate, and it may well be a redoubt of the faith in the rule of law, not men. Perhaps the Trumpian example will convince at least a few others—polling in Canada, where the Tories fled after the Revolution, seems to show a drop in support for that country’s own demagogue in upcoming elections; Vice-President J. D. Vance’s shout-out to the far right in Germany may be backfiring as well.

But back home, who knows? This past election seemed to be a referendum more on the price of eggs than the price of freedom; one winces to recall Ben Franklin’s proclamation that “those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither.” (Also, the price of eggs is soaring.) My ancestors have been in this country since before the Revolution, Appalachian stock; I have spent my life imbued with that Lexingtonian sense that we want no king. But in our present moment I think that it’s likeliest to be recent immigrants who still viscerally crave the American promise of liberty; in so many cases, they came here to escape arbitrary rule. That many of them now hunker down in their homes against Trump’s raids doesn’t change the fact that they understand what America stands for. Or stood for. 

[therogerclarkfanclub]

Roger's* 2024 Comic Con Schedule

Interested in knowing if Roger is coming to your city or town? Check the listings below. Updated as new info becomes available.

If you've been waiting for the opportunity to meet Roger & The Gang, or you would like to meet him/them again, feel free to bookmark ("Like" 😉) this post if you want to keep up with Roger's Comic Con appearances. I will update and reblog this list as soon as new info becomes available.

Alternatively, you can always keep tabs on Roger's social media for the latest dates.

*This is listing is not limited to just Roger, it will also include any other cast members attending a specific Con.

⭐ LAST UPDATED: October 01, 2024 ⭐

JAN 07 - Added: Fanboy Expo

JAN 25 - Added: FANEXPO Cleveland

JAN 31 - Added: RetroGameCon

MAR 04 - Added: Fanboy Expo Orlando

MAR 06 - Added: Washington Gaming Expo

APR 10 - Added: Florida Supercon

APR 21 - Added: Stellar Con York

APR 22 - Added: Sci-Fi Valley Con

MAY 04 - Added: Fanboy Expo Orlando (Alex, Roger)

MAY 04 - Added: WonderFest 2024

MAY 07 - Added: Rob to Sci-Fi Valley Con

MAY 15 - Added: New York Comic Con

JUL 02 - Added: Brasil Game Show

JUL 26 - Added: Pittsburgh Gaming Expo (Roger)

JUL 28 - Added: Pittsburgh Gaming Expo (Benjamin)

AUG 06 - Added: FanEXPO San Francisco (Rob)

AUG 11 - Added: Soda City Comic Con (Roger)

AUG 26 - Added: Rhode Island Comic Con (Alex)

AUG 31 - Added: Comic Con North East (Roger, Rob)

OCT 01 - Added: Rhode Island Comic Con (Benjamin, Roger, Rob)

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

🌟🌟 Animate! Raleigh 🌟🌟

Dates: January 5-7, 2024 City: Raleigh, North Carolina Venue: Raleigh Convention Center 500 S Salisbury St. Raleigh, NC 27601 Confirmed attendees: Roger, Benjamin, Peter Cancellations: Rob

🌟🌟 Fanboy Anime Toy Gaming Knoxville 🌟🌟

Dates: March 9-10, 2024 City: Knoxville, TN Venue: The Knoxville Convention Center 701 Henley Street Knoxville, Tennessee 37902 Confirmed attendees: Roger, Rob

🌟🌟 GameOn Expo 🌟🌟

Dates: March 15-17, 2024 City: Phoenix, Arizona Venue: Phoenix Convention Center - North Building 100 N 3rd St. Phoenix, AZ 85004 Confirmed attendees: Roger & Rob

🌟🌟 Washington State Gaming Expo 🌟🌟

Dates: March 29-31, 2024 City: Puyallup, Washington Venue: Washington State Fair and Events Center 110 9th Ave SW Puyallup, WA 98371-6811 Confirmed attendees: Roger & Rob

🌟🌟 FANEXPO Cleveland 🌟🌟

Dates: April 12-14, 2024 City: Cleveland, Ohio Venue: Huntington Convention Center of Cleveland 300 Lakeside Ave E Cleveland, Ohio 44113 Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 PopCon Indy 🌟🌟

Dates: April 26-28, 2024 City: Indianapolis, Indiana Venue: Indiana Convention Center 100 South Capitol Ave. Indianapolis, IN 46225 Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 WonderFest 2024 🌟🌟

Dates: June 1-2, 2024 City: Louisville, KY Venue: Crowne Plaza Louisville Airport Hotel 830 Phillips Lane Louisville, KY 40209. Confirmed attendees: Rob

🌟🌟 Sci-Fi Valley Con 🌟🌟

Dates: June 7-9, 2024 City: Altoona, PA Venue: Blair Country Convention Center One Convention Center Drive 100 South Capitol Ave. Altoona, PA 16602 Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 Stellar Con York 🌟🌟

Dates: June 15, 2024 City: York, Pennsylvania Venue: York Fairgrounds 334 Carlisle Ave York, Pennsylvania 17404 Confirmed attendees: Roger

🌟🌟 Black Hills Redemption 🌟🌟

Dates: June 21st - 23rd, 2024 City: Deadwood, South Dakota Venue: The entire town of Deadwood Panel will be held at: Homestake Opera House Meet & greet sessions: Saloon No. 10 Confirmed attendees: Rob, Steve, Benjamin, Robert Bogue, Mick, Peter, Alex, Jim Santangeli, Howard Pinhasik, Kaili, Meeya, Jim Pirri, Curzon, Roger, Samantha, Jo, Gabriel, Penny O'Brien, John Hickok, Sophia Marzocchi Cancellations: Gabriel

🌟🌟 Florida Supercon 🌟🌟

Dates: July 12 - 14, 2024 City: Miami Beach, Florida Venue: Miami Beach Convention Center 1901 Convention Center Drive Miami Beach, FL 33139 Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 Comic Con Wales 🌟🌟

Dates: August 10-11, 2024 City: New Port, South Wales Venue: International Convention Centre Wales Coldra Woods Newport South Wales NP18 1HQ United Kingdom Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 Soda City Comic Con 🌟🌟

Dates: August 24 & 25, 2024 City: Columbia, South Carolina Venue: Columbia Metropolitan Convention Center 1101 Lincoln Street Columbia, SC 29201 Confirmed attendees: Roger

🌟🌟 Fanboy Expo Orlando 🌟🌟

Dates: September 6-8, 2024 City: Orlando, Florida Venue: Orange County Convention Center - West Concourse 9800 International Drive Orlando, FL 32819 Confirmed attendees: Benjamin, Roger, Alex, Rob, Peter, Kaili

🌟🌟 Pittsburgh Gaming Expo 🌟🌟

Dates: October 4-6, 2024 City: Monroeville, Pennsylvania Venue: Monroeville Convention and Events Center 209 Mall Plaza Blvd Monroeville, PA 15146 Confirmed attendees: Roger, Benjamin

🌟🌟 Brasil Game Show 🌟🌟

Dates: October 09-13, 2024 (10th and 11th only for Roger) City: Sao Paulo, Brazil Venue: Expo Center Norte Rua José Bernardo Pinto, 333 Vila Guilherme São Paulo - SP 02055-000 Brasil Confirmed attendees: Roger

🌟🌟 RetroGameCon 🌟🌟

Dates: October 11-13, 2024 City: Syracuse, New York Venue: The Oncenter Convention Center 800 South State Street Syracuse, NY 13202 Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 New York Comic Con 🌟🌟

Dates: October 17-20, 2024 City: New York City, New York Venue: The Jacob Javits Convention Center 429 11th Avenue New York, NY 10001 Confirmed attendees: Roger, Rob, Benjamin, Peter, Alex, Kaili, Meeya, Mick, Curzon, Noshir, Robert Bogue, Gabriel

🌟🌟 Comic Con North East 🌟🌟

Dates: October 26-27, 2024 City: Newcastle upon Type Venue: Utilita Arena Newcastle Arena Way Newcastle upon Tyne Tyne & Wear NE4 7NA, UK Confirmed attendees: Roger and Rob

🌟🌟 Rhode Island Comic Con 🌟🌟

Dates: November 1-3, 2024 City: Providence, Rhode Island Venue: Rhode Island Convention Center & Amica Mutual Pavilion 1 Sabin Street Providence, RI 02903 Confirmed attendees: Alex, Benjamin, Rob, Roger

🌟🌟 FanEXPO San Francisco 🌟🌟

Dates: November 29, 30, and December 1st, 2024 City: San Francisco, California Venue: Moscone Center West 800 Howard Street San Francisco, CA 94103 Confirmed attendees: Rob

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Full focus

In working out like a maniac for at least 1 hour a day before going to bed, Carmy had found his solace.

He hadn't completely conquered his insomnia, but his sleep patterns had improved considerably since he'd collapsed into bed after a hot shower and an intense and painful workout session that always left him aching all over and sweating like a sinner in church. Every muscle burned like hell and every joint felt like a death threat after working out to the point where exhaustion was just a fogbank his body would trespass in a state of welcome mindlessness. Like a zombie. The only reminiscence of life he felt after the fact was the blood rushing through his veins and the pain coursing through his limbs.

Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting company when in the middle of his third set of Russian twists he had to let go of his beloved kettlebell, get up, and jogg to the door.

His sweaty face and messy hair framing it, his labored breathing that made his voice sound different, sexier, his old football jersey that he had cut shorter because he had partially burnt it trying to put out a fire a few years prior and now showed his perfect V-lines and sometimes even his bellybutton, his dick printed grey sweatpants that also showcased his perfect V-lines, his incredibly blue eyes showing surprise and also satisfaction, all of it was what Sydney saw as soon as he opened the door. And she had to remind herself to breathe after taking it all in.

"Hey there!"

"Hi, hello!"

"Come on in… What’s going on?"

"You forgot these."

She handed him a manila envelope that contained forms he had to fill out, sign, and submit the next day, well in a few hours actually, first thing in the morning.

"Natalie was furious so I thou-"

"So you saved the day, as usual…"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Sorry for the mess, Syd… I wasn’t expecting…"

"Oh, no no, don’t be. I gotta go now anyway, it’s almost midnight so…"

"Oh that’s not what I meant, please stay, give me a sec, and I’ll take a quick shower and drive you home. K?"

"No, it’s OK. I’ll catch a cab if I miss the train. Don’t sweat it. Well, too late for that, but, it’s fine. No worries. I mean. It’s cool, it’s fine, it’s-"

She was ranting, her speech rate had skyrocketed.

"This late? Good luck with that… No way! Lemme give you a ride, it’s the least I can do. Just… just help yourself in the kitchen and I’ll be right back. OK? Make yourself at home. Give me 5 minutes!"

"Um… OK. OK…"

Before jumping in the shower he speedily picked up his “toys” and put the kettlebell, the dumbells, the push-up bars, and the cast iron disc away as he casually tried to make conversation:

"So.. who… who let you in?"

"Your neighbor, the one with the little brown dog that looks like a squirrel."

"Oh, Mr. Washington! Yeah, he told me once you reminded him of his daughter."

"Yeah! He just told me that too. Shouted that at me, actually."

"He’s hard of hearing…"

"Yup. I’ll just wait here. OK?"

Syd sat down in the living room and texted his dad to let him know why she was running late and to reassure him that Carmy was going to drive her home soon.

"K, as you wish, I’ll be right back."

The more she went through his books the more she found herself wanting to ask him about what he had learned from each of them.

She wanted to know it all, what recipes had he already tried, which ones he didn’t like, where had he purchased that other book that was so hard to get, etc.

The pile of books by the window also served as an impromptu coffee table on top of which a little black ashtray was on display. She found that so endearing, so very “Carmy.”

She ran her index finger along the edge of that ashtray and could see him standing there by the window, smoking a cigarette, thinking about the restaurant, about Michael, about a recipe maybe… Did he ever think about her? She wondered. Her finger was still on the edge of the ashtray, tracing circle after circle, then venturing inside the receptacle to play with the ashes, drawing more circles in there. Sydney was deep in thought by then and had completely forgotten about the books, she was now only thinking about Carmy. 

In a state of semi-trance, she unknowingly got to the shelves on the wall and started inspecting each of the items there. Her curious mind was having a field day.

This red hard-cover sketchbook caught her attention and she couldn't help it, she had to know what kind of Sistine Chapel-level drawings with shading and all Carmy had come up with, so she opened it. 

If she momentarily forgot how to breathe earlier when her EC opened the door looking like a Greek God of testosterone, stamina, and cross-fit, covered in sweat, what she saw in that sketchbook straight out made her forget how to maintain a proper brain function altogether.

Each page, dozens of them, showed a different expression of her face, a different hairstyle of her braids, and a different design of her headscarves. A flawless variation of her. She was all over those pages. The resemblance was uncanny. She was beautiful on that paper, she was like enhanced but not to the point of not looking like herself, her essence was captured perfectly and she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her own features.

That’s when Carmy showed up behind her.

She didn’t even have to ask. 

He started explaining himself immediately. He stuttered his way through that explanation as his cheeks started to burn and his mouth began to feel dry.

Her surprise didn’t allow her to close her mouth. She kept it open all along, while Carmy tried to talk his way out of that predicament.

He kinda did by saying that he always drew portraits of people and that he didn’t think they were any good so that’s why he hadn’t shown her those yet, but that if she liked them she could keep them.

After a few more moments of silent blinking, Syd, while still flabbergasted, finally managed to shut her mouth, compose herself, swallow, and then form a short sentence:

"Um… thanks."

Carmy tried to fake calm. He wanted to sound as if he had everything under control and nonchalantly said:

"So you like them?"

"Sure."

"Wanna keep them?"

"I wanna frame them."

"Oh well… OK, thanks, I guess…"

"You are sooo talented, Carmy. These are… great, I’m—I’m in awe! I don’t know what to say, really…"

"Thank you."

"How did you-"

"I see you every day Syd."

"So… you didn’t take any pics or anything like that? I mean, I never posed for these…"

"Nope, just… I thought of you… that’s all."

"Wow!"

"You wanted my full focus, didn’t you? Well, there you have it."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I’d say…"

They both laughed on the way to the car.

That ride was awkward. The tension in the car was palpable. They couldn’t hold each other’s gazes. They would just steal a look at each other now and then, at a red light mostly… Then the tension continued to build up and they kept trying to ignore it and act as if nothing happened. Syd was holding on to that red sketchbook for dear life, she held it firmly against her chest like a shield.

When he pulled to the curve in front of her house, he looked at her intendedly, but couldn’t say a word. He was still too nervous and too embarrassed. His cover had been blown.

He had been caught red-handed, loving her.

His cover was up in the air like a fucking zeppelin.

Loving the memory of her.

His cover was now a satellite orbiting around Earth.

Loving the very thought of her.

He was sure she knew that by now. She was too smart to not have figured it out.

Syd looked at him and this time she was able to hold his eyes for a moment, then she stuttered something along the lines of: “Thanks for the ride” and got out of that car as fast as she could.

The walk to her door felt endless. Torturous even.

She wanted to go back in her tracks and kiss the genius out of him but she kept walking.

When she heard him drive away Sydney felt equally sad and relieved.

As soon as she got in bed she started going over the drawings again, and she was still so blown away by them that she couldn’t get any sleep that night.

She twisted and turned and her mind kept playing tricks on her. She pictured him alone, at his place, smoking a cigarette by the window, maybe wearing sweatpants, perhaps *only* those grey sweatpants that looked so hot on him, surrounded by his amazing books and thinking of her, drawing her perfectly by heart.

Her heart was all of a sudden a wild horse.

She wanted to call him up, wake him up, listen to his voice, and ask him about each drawing. She wanted him to walk her through each of those masterpieces. She wanted him to tell her why he did that, the truth this time around, not the PR version. She wanted... him.

6:00 AM Sydney was on her way to The Bear, still wired up, with the image of her own charcoal face firebranded on her brain and her every thought circling back to Carmy.

6:40 AM She was already at work, going through her to-do list, which included a lot of things that Carm usually did because he had to run that errand downtown, that morning.

9:07 AM Carmy walked through the front door of the restaurant and went straight to the office trying to avoid Sydney.

9:08 AM Syd was in the office telling him they needed to talk and do it elsewhere because Natalie was on the way.

9:08 AM Carmy was kicking himself on the inside.

9:10 AM They were outside, in the back alley, trying to sound like 2 adults having a serious yet friendly conversation about art.

9:11 AM They were making out. No, they were obscenely sucking face. Syd’s tongue was deep in his mouth and his hands were on her back pulling her closer.

9:20 AM They were still making out in the back alley, now her back was pressed against the wall, her hands were in his hair and his mouth was exploring hers as if his life depended on it, they were running out of oxygen, but that didn’t stop them, they continued locking mouths for a moment longer.

9:21 AM They finally broke the kiss to catch a breath, now their eyes were locked, they were panting, and they were nowhere finished. He went for her neck. Then back to her lips, she did the same. His hands on her waist, keeping her pinned to the wall, pressing himself against her. Her hands all over his back, trying to learn it by touch, like blind people learn to recognize faces with their hands.

9:22 AM Tina went out the back door carrying a huge trashbag, quickly made her way to the container, and dropped it there. She only saw them when she turned around and headed back to the restaurant. At that point, her spidey senses told her *something* was up, but Carm and Syd tried their best to look like 2 innocent people who happened to just be chit-chatting about the weather. Tina decided to play it cool and shot: “Morning!” Then promptly left them to it.

9:23 AM Syd and Carmy were back in the kitchen, pretending to fully focus on the tasks at hand. Not looking at each other. Still feeling their lips on one another. Still trying to control their respective heart rates.

11:08 PM Syd was on his couch, he was on top of her, he was all over her, inside her. She was grabbing his ass and urging him deeper as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and commanded him to fuck her.

11:29 PM Carmy was smoking a cigarette by the window, in his white boxers, using the ashtray he kept on top of his pile of books and looking at her, basking in her naked beauty, memorizing it. Syd was still on the sofa, lying on her side and resting her head on her hand, looking at him, enjoying the view as well. Their full focus: On each other, only this time around none of them were trying to hide it.

:The 💋 end:

You can find more fics like this one by me on AO3.

Thanks for reading!

XOXO

[heckyeahponyscans]

I had such a blast at the Puyallup toy show and met a couple people who follow / recognize my Tumblr, including someone who does G3 MLP panels at Everfree and someone who gave me this amazing print of their art! I looove it!

Thanks for coming to my table everyone! <3

[kyistell]

What kinda headcanons do you have for California

I didn't think the list was going to be as long as it is but once I started thinking more and more I couldn't stop lol

California-

Wet cat

He/They and no he won’t stop reminding you

Was very obsessed with shiny things, especially gold, when he was younger, now he’s only a “normal” amount of obsessed

Very pretty, like the definition, like if you look up the definition of pretty in the dictionary he comes up

Has an obscene amount of stim/fidget toys, squishies, the poke ones, even fidget spinners, they have them all 

Worked at the Berkeley laboratory in the 90s, specifically Berkeley’s element hunting team

Used to be obsessed with Creepypastas, however is now obsessed with cryptids (“They aren’t the same thing shut up *state name here*” has been said a lot)

Will slip into a southern accent without warning, has given multiple southern states heart attacks because of this on more than 10 occasions

Loves to write, especially fanfiction, however there is no way they would EVER willingly show anyone these, they did once when he was drunk but New York never mentioned it and Cali did not remember

Loves Stardew Valley and Minecraft, will play them both for hours without realizing

Has absolutely horrible time management, as well as their general perception of time is also atrocious

Loves podcasts, tends to listen to them more than YouTube videos

The times that Jersey dragged him to Action Park ended with hospital stays and praying that the doctors wouldn’t notice that he should definitely be dead

Been watching Smosh since it first started

Disney adult and proud

He started streaming on Twitch during the pandemic, occasionally being joined by Jersey, Nevada, or York, Florida joined stream once and has since been banned

Don’t listen to what York says, he definitely knows how to cook (re: he has no idea what they are doing in the kitchen without help)

Knows a handful of languages but only fully knows English and Spanish, though he can read and understand Russian, they just can’t speak it

Was forced to wear a dress once by Nevada and that’s how they realized he wasn’t fully male

He doesn’t actually mind feminine pronouns, just prefers He/They

Has a ridiculously long skincare routine, at least 2 hours at night and an hour in the morning

Used to be attached at the hip with Washington and Oregon, they are all still close in a similar but not as much way like the NE are

They and New Mexico go out with Arizona once every few weeks to different areas of their respective states, occasionally Texas will join

Cali and Texas aren’t related, they were both raised at one point by Mexico at the same time sure but they aren’t related

Loves to learn about different cultures, especially Asian cultures

Didn’t hate crowds until the pandemic, now can’t stand them

His room is extremely cluttered and disorganized, can’t even be considered organized chaos, their working on it (York had a stern talk with them about it)

They actually do understand Football, he just doesn’t like the sport all too much

Feel like this is obvious but he is a HUGE nerd, like a bigger nerd than New York not that Cali knows that of course

[chaoticxbeast]

@raptorprowl

A van screeched to an aggressive stop next to them, and Donnie leaned out of the window with a little wave. "Hey guys. Hop in! Raph, you get in the back. Guests get to sit in the front."

"You just wanna show off the new computer, don´t you?"

"Well yea. And I think you mean Kusanagi. That´s her name you know."

"It´s not a she." Raph said, and got into the van, and took a seat behind the drivers-seat.

"That´s not up to you. She can be a she..it´s 2024." Don said.

To humans ( or to anyone who didn´t know them ) Don looked a lot like Raph, but for those who had a keen eye, their differences were several. Don was shorter, had a smaller, less stocky build and in general softer features. Looking a lot like a typical nerd, with headphones around his neck, a pair of black glasses on his beak, and a fannypack on his belt for extra storage. He also had a kind, honest and open expression on his face, and as a younger voice, as if he was a late bloomer. Nothing about that seemed to affect his self confidence though.

The van has space for about seven people, but three seats had been taken out to make extra space for storage. The inside of the van was pimped up with lights along the floor, modern sturdy leather seats ( that seemed easily customizable to make more room, or to turn around, if needed ) lot of little trinkets Don was working on, some bananas, anime stickers and toys from various popular anime shows, but most of all the high tech dash stood out.

The dashboard contained a long touch screen that stretched across the dashboard. The screen was buzzing with information, on things like reports on traffic problems, some news updates, text messages from Splinter, to a live map with twitters from the police, and some kind of AI; that looked like a green female form that slowly spun, floating in a fetus position. She looked just like the protagonist from the ghost of the shell anime movie. Yes..it was a naked lady.

"My name is Donnie. Nice to meet you. I like your style, it´s cool!" Donnie said with a smile, offering to shake Nero´s hand."

"Master Donnie. There is a stranger in the van. A human." The computer said.

"That´s right." Donnie patted the dashboard proudly, before swiveling the wheel. "Great job on noticing Kusanagi."

"Thank you." The computer replied, updating its memory in response to the positive feedback.

"Is there any problems in traffic right now, Kusa?"

"Give me a moment. Scanning.."

"Sure" Don said, contently.

"There is a traffic jam across George washington bridge."

"Do you have to chat with the van like it´s an actual person?" Raph said impatiently. I mean it´s cool with a computer and all but."

"Raphael, I am an actual person." The computer replied, and Raph rolled his eyes"

"Don´t mess with her, Raph, she´ll remember this you know. You don´t want her not to like you.. Anyways shut up for a moment, I need ask her for the best route to the junkyard."

"Memory updated. State which junkyard."

"Maybe you should get some more actual friends Don."

"Noted. Master Donnie should get more actual friends." The computer repeated, and Raph laughed.

"Big junkyard and Autogallery." Donnie then glanced back at Raph, turning the car. " Raph I´ve got more friends than you." Don said, with a little laugh."

"Noted. Master Donatello has more friends than Raphael." The computer replied, updating it´s memory.

"Remind me to work on your programming later, because I can´t let Raph fill your memory with his lies."

"Noted. Fastest route to ...big junkyard and autogallery is ready."

[appleicecream]

i'm going to the washington state toy show tomorrow! i'm so excited, fingers crossed i hope i am able to get some g3 ponies i don't have!!

[http-paprika]

MEET THE OC! a tedtalk by paprika that no one asked for

after writing GOLD RUSH and spending some time toying around with the little character of Beau, I decided I'd take a chance and share her with you! If you have any further questions and want to know more about her or her story, please reach out in the comments or my inbox!

GENERAL INFORMATION Government Name: Beaumont Khalil Summerlin Preferred Name: Beau

Date of Birth: June 23, 1991 Star Sign: Cancer

Hometown: Yuma, Arizona

Native Languages: English and Arabic Learned Languages: Spanish and a Bit of Russian

CAREER Occupation: Linguistics and Intel Officer; Special Field Agent Branch of Government: Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) Supervisor: Kate Laswell Former Occupation: Translation and Negotiations with the US Marines under Captain Yoko S. Tanaka

RELATIVES and ASSOCIATES Father: James H. Summerlin, Sr. -- Retired US Marine Mother: Sana E. Summerlin -- Arabic and Anthology Professor

Brothers: James H. Summerlin, Jr. -- Enlisted Military Police in the Army; Asher G. Summerlin -- Enlisted Air Force Linguist Sister: Mona R. Summerlin -- Student at the University of Texas

Best Friend: Jolene H. Maxfield-Graves -- Intel Officer Partner: Alex Keller -- CIA-SAD Officer

APPEARANCE Height: 5'11 Build: Athletic

Complexion: Tanned Noticeable Markings: Scar from Bullet Wound on Left Shoulder, Barbed Wire Tattoo on Lower Back

Hair: Light Brown, Wavy Texture Eyes: Dark Green, Almond Shaped

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION Favorite Book: Jack Reacher; Running Blind by Lee Child Favorite TV Show: The X-Files Favorite Album: Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel

Choice of Cuisine: Vietnamese Favorite Dish: Duck Pho

MBTI Personality Type: ENTP Ennagram Type: 8 - The Active Controller Love Language: Words of Affirmation

HER PAST In 1982, when James Sr. was stationed in Lebanon during a peacekeeping tour with the US Marines, he met his wife Sana who was a local working as a translator for the Marines. The two often worked together and quickly fell in love, and when his deployment came to an end, he promised to return to Lebanon for her so they could be married. In 1984, he returns to Lebanon and much to the displeasure of her religious parents, Sana leaves with James and they elope. Bringing her back to the states, he is stationed in Jacksonville, North Carolina where Sana persues further education and later gives birth to their firstborn son, James. Jr. in 1888. In 1990, after being restationed in Yuma, Arizona they have their second child and first daughter, Beaumont.

Beau spent her first years of life moving from one place to another and was often withdrawn as a child. Prefering to be alone than playing with her brother and younger siblings. From an early age her parents noted that she had a greater interest in knowledge and reading, being more idept in Arabic than the rest of her siblings. In her teen years, with newer gained confidence, she sought higher education with hopes to attend university in Hawaii where her family was stationed at the time, receiving a handsome scholarship from the school of her choice. But an old colleague of her father, Scott Hardy, encouraged her to join the Marines and follow in her mother's footsteps as a trained translator, later becoming a negotiations specialist who was known for being level-headed and quick witted.

Feeling unfilled with her career choice, Beau left the Marines at the age of 22 to return to academics. But received attention from Kate Laswell after narrowly saving a whole Marine Corp Squard from bombing with her quick ability to process intel. Laswell, determined to recruit Beau under her, offers her a position that'll allow Beau to attend university in Washington, DC while working for the CIA as a linguistic and intel analyst.

After a few years of office works and receiving her degree through excelurated work, Beau accepts a field assignment to work in her mother's homeland of Lebanon. Stationed there, she spends time reconnecting with her heritage whilst helping filter through intel for all of the middle east. During her time in Lebanon is when Beau first meets Alex Keller during his time in SAD. And though there is an instant spark, the two are off and on, never having the avaliabity and emotional energy to commit to a full-term relationship.

Beau is referred by Laswell to a new field assignment to work alongside the US Marines and International Corp in Urzikstan as tense begins to arise between forces. (Where MWII starts up) During her time in Urzikstan, her relationship with Keller becomes more serious in the threat of terror and her specialty and skills catch the eye of Captain John Price who tries to recruit her as a support member of TF141. Hoping it'll give her a chance to return and finish her work in Urzikstan along with letting her be with Keller, Beau accepts the position and begins working alongside TF141.