#red jacket jamboree

[annieandro]

Gwendolyn The Miracle Hen

Stevie

Look At Me

At Night

Sam

One, Two, Where's My Shoe

Swimmy Track Picture Book

My Little Brother

Goggles

ABC Of Cars and Trucks

Peter's Chair

Maybe A Monster

Cluck The Captain's Chicken

Moving Day For Manuel

Who Will Wake Up Spring

Welcome Roberto, Bienvenido Roberto

I Am A Hunter

Mommies At Work

Tom In The Middle

Play With Me

What Do You Say, Dear

Where Are The Mothers

Will I Have A Friend

I Have A Tree

The Story Grandmother Told

Dandelion

5A and 7B

The Circus Baby

Clyde Of Africa If I Had

Tony and The Toll Collector

I'll Fix Anthony

Ask Mr.Bear

Go Away Dog

Chicken Little Count To Ten

The Snowy Day

Birthday Presents

Whistle For Willie

My Friend John

Katie Goes To Camp

What Is Your Favorite Thing To Touch

What Do I Do

City In The Summer

Dear Uncle Carlos The Cat Who Thought He Was A Tiger

Six Foolish Fishermen

A Kiss For Little Bear

Corduroy Some Of The Days Of Everett Anderson

Chicken Soup With Rice

Where The Wild Things Are

The Lorax

Clifford The Big Red Dog

Mr.Uppity

Thomas Snowsuit

My Funny Animal Alphabet

Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Hideout

Insects and other small creatures

Clifford The Big Red Dog: Tummy Trouble

The Animal Alphabet Book

My Little Pony: Twilight Sparkle's Magical Journey

Horton Hears A Who

Oh The Places You'll Go

Old MacDonald Had A Farm

My Little People School Bus

Socks

Are You My Mother

Fluffy Bunnies

Chicka Chicka 123

I Can Read With My Eyes Shut

Barefoot Bear and The Ice Cream Factory

Green Eggs and Ham

The Berenstain Bears and The Attic Treasure

Goodnight Moon

In A People House

The Pigeon Finds A Hot Dog

It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

Parachuting Hamsters and Andy Russell

Mr.Brown Can Moo Can You

Care Bears: Meet The Care Bears

Little Monster At School

Rugrats: The Rugrats Versus The Monkeys

The Pigeon Loves Things That Go

My Little Pony: The Perfect Pumpkin

Pink Panther and Sons: Pinky Saves The Beach Bullies

Monchichi's ABC

Curious George and The Dump Truck

Bad Kitty

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

Big Bird's New New Nest and Other Goodnight Stories

Little Critter: I'm Sorry

The Foot Book

The Cat In The Hat

Alphapets: Bradley and The Great Swamp Mystery

Curious George At The Parade

The Jacket I Wear In The Snow

The Gingerbread Bear

Blast Off Barefoot Bear

Can I Have A Stegosaurus Mom Can I Please

Sprout's Valley Adventure

Blue Skidoos To The Beach

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

Richard Scarry's Find Your ABC's

Ernie's Big Mess

Bad Kitty Does Not Like Dogs

Spongebob Squarepants: Spongebob Goes To The Doctor

The Backyardians: The Mystery Of The Jeweled Eggs

Shopkins: Lights Camera Shopkins

Llama Llama and The Bully Goat

Posie The Kitten In Pink

Goodnight Sweet Butterflies a Color Dreamland

A Boy, A Dog and A Frog

Disney's Aladdin ABC Animal Jamboree

Please Mr.Panda

Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You Book

Max and Ruby: Bunny Cakes

Skeleton Hiccups

W Is For Woof A Dog Alphabet

Barefoot Bear and The Dragon

Splat and The School Trip

Blue's Clues: Blue's Bedtime

Scooter Computer and Mr.Chips: The Computer In The Candy Store

How Do You Say It Today, Jesse Bear

A Big Ball Of String

The Cat In The Hat Comes Back

Blue's Cool Idea

[animatronictism]

Today's mechanic friend is Barney Bear

Barney Bear was created by Advanced Animatronics. He was part of the band Circus World Jamboree at Circus World Pizza. He played a single marching band snare drum on a stand. As far as I know, only 8 Circus World Jamboree sets were created. I'm unsure of how many complete sets are still around.

Here is a set performing on stage!

Fortunately, we have all the music played by the band which I will link below

Spotify YTMusic Apple Music

Here is some example of their showtape, posted by BullFrogs Banjo

Thank you so much for reading! Ask any questions you may have and come back tomorrow for another animatronic friend!

ALL IMAGE IDS:

[An image of an animatronic bear in a red marching band jacket with gold tassles on each shoulder. He wears a red marching hat with a white plume and a gold medal on the front. His head is turned slightly to the side. His arms are bent up and forward. He is holding drumsticks and stands in front of a silver snare drum on a black stand. He is standing on a stage with purple curtains behind him.] END IMAGE ID ONE

[A cropped image of the same animatronic bear holding a white banner on a yellow background. He is looking towards the viewer with an open-mouth smile. His eyelids come down slightly over his eyes giving him a relaxed expression. The character next to him has their hand on his shoulder.] END IMAGE ID TWO

[An image of the same animatronic bear in a back storeroom. His head is tilted to the side. His red jacket is dusty and the tassles on his shoulders are falling off. His hat is still intact but the plume is slumped over looking bent or broken. His arms are bent out in front of him with one higher than the other. He is holding drumsticks. There is no snare drum in front of him and a sculpted belly button can be seen] END IMAGE ID THREE

[An image of an animatronic band on stage. There is a lioness in a red marching band jacket, white button down shirt, black bow tie, white leggings, and a mini black top hat sat on a swing hanging from the ceiling. To her left is a lion holding an animal crop wearing a red tail coat with black accents, a white shirt, and a black top hat with a white ribbon. Next to him and slightly behind him is a penguin sitting on a block of ice. His body is facing the wall but his head is turned to look at the audience. He is playing an anthropomorphic organ with a purple body and brass pipes. Further to the left is a bear facing the audience in a red marching band jacket with golden tassles and a marching hat with a white plume. He is holding drumsticks and playing a snare drum on a stand. Directly next to him is a red, white, and blue performance cannon. It is facing towards the audience. Though not clearly visible, a clown wearing green goggles with his arms out in front of him is inside. Behind both the bear and the cannon is a small bear-like animatronic hanging on to a gold bar that hangs from the ceiling. He is in a blue acrobatic outfit with a red and yellow belt. Sitting on the stage in front of the band is an adult with long brown hair surrounded by various small children. They are all posing for a picture.] END IMAGE IDs

[scoutandvioletfan]

Gwendolyn The Miracle Hen

Stevie Look At Me

At Night

Sam

One, Two, Where's My Shoe

Swimmy

Track Picture Book

My Little Brother

Goggles

ABC Of Cars and Trucks Peter's Chair

Maybe A Monster

Cluck The Captain's Chicken Moving Day For Manuel

Who Will Wake Up Spring

Welcome Roberto, Bienvenido Roberto

I Am A Hunter

Mommies At Work

Tom In The Middle

Play With Me

What Do You Say, Dear

Where Are The Mothers

Will I Have A Friend

I Have A Tree

The Story Grandmother Told

Dandelion

5A and 7B

The Circus Baby

Clyde Of Africa If I Had

Tony and The Toll Collector

I'll Fix Anthony

Ask Mr.Bear

Go Away Dog

Chicken Little Count To Ten

The Snowy Day

Birthday Presents

Whistle For Willie

My Friend John

Katie Goes To Camp

What Is Your Favorite Thing To Touch

What Do I Do

City In The Summer

Dear Uncle Carlos

The Cat Who Thought He Was A Tiger

Six Foolish Fishermen

A Kiss For Little Bear

Corduroy

Some Of The Days Of Everett Anderson

Chicken Soup With Rice

Where The Wild Things Are

The Lorax

Clifford The Big Red Dog

Mr.Uppity

Thomas Snowsuit

My Funny Animal Alphabet

Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Hideout

Insects and other small creatures

Clifford The Big Red Dog: Tummy Trouble

The Animal Alphabet Book

My Little Pony: Twilight Sparkle's Magical Journey

Horton Hears A Who

Oh The Places You'll Go

Old MacDonald Had A Farm

My Little People School Bus

Socks

Are You My Mother

Fluffy Bunnies

Chicka Chicka 123

I Can Read With My Eyes Shut

Barefoot Bear and The Ice Cream Factory

Green Eggs and Ham

The Berenstain Bears and The Attic Treasure

Goodnight Moon

In A People House

The Pigeon Finds A Hot Dog

It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

Parachuting Hamsters and Andy Russell

Mr.Brown Can Moo Can You

Care Bears: Meet The Care Bears

Little Monster At School

Rugrats: The Rugrats Versus The Monkeys

The Pigeon Loves Things That Go

My Little Pony: The Perfect Pumpkin

Pink Panther and Sons: Pinky Saves The Beach Bullies

Monchichi's ABC

Curious George and The Dump Truck

Bad Kitty

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

Big Bird's New New Nest and Other Goodnight Stories

Little Critter: I'm Sorry

The Foot Book

The Cat In The Hat

Alphapets: Bradley and The Great Swamp Mystery

Curious George At The Parade

The Jacket I Wear In The Snow

The Gingerbread Bear

Blast Off Barefoot Bear

Can I Have A Stegosaurus Mom Can I Please

Sprout's Valley Adventure

Blue Skidoos To The Beach

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

Richard Scarry's Find Your ABC's

Ernie's Big Mess

Bad Kitty Does Not Like Dogs

Spongebob Squarepants: Spongebob Goes To The Doctor

The Backyardians: The Mystery Of The Jeweled Eggs

Shopkins: Lights Camera Shopkins

Llama Llama and The Bully Goat

Posie The Kitten In Pink

Goodnight Sweet Butterflies a Color Dreamland

A Boy, A Dog and A Frog

Disney's Aladdin

ABC Animal Jamboree

Please Mr.Panda

Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You Book

Max and Ruby: Bunny Cakes

Skeleton Hiccups

W Is For Woof A Dog Alphabet

Barefoot Bear and The Dragon

Splat and The School Trip

Blue's Clues: Blue's Bedtime

Scooter Computer and Mr.Chips: The Computer In The Candy Store

How Do You Say It Today, Jesse Bear

A Big Ball Of String

The Cat In The Hat Comes Back

Blue's Cool Idea

Little Bear

The Gruffalo

Q Is For Duck

Sesame Street: A My Name Is Alice An Alphabet Book

Pink Panther and Sons: Fun At The Picnic

Spongebob Squarepants: Ice Cream Time

Alpha Bugs

How Many Bugs In A Box

More Bugs In Boxes

The Day It Rained Hearts

Peppa Pig Class Trip

Socks For Stan

The Three Bears ABC An Alphabet Book

Harry The Dirty Dog

Gummi Bears: Zumi's Magic Spells

Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends: Sidekick Showdown

Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends: Go Goo Go

Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends: Eduardo Goes Extreme

Rainbow Brite: The Risky Rescue

The Care Bears Picnic

The Care Bears: The Mystery Of The Missing Dreams

Fox In Socks

Hop On Pop

Ronald McDonald Alphabet

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

Wuzzles: Bumblelion's Funny Money

Wuzzles: Butterbear's Surprise Guest

Wuzzles: Hippopotamus Goes To Hollywuz

Wuzzles: Eleroo and The Brahma Bullfinch

Thomas and Friends: Thomas and The Treasure and Other Stories

Thomas and Friends: Track Stars 3 Thomas and Friends Stories

Thomas and Friends: Hooray For Thomas and Other Thomas and Friends Stories

The Bernstain Bears: Go Green

The Bernstain Bears: No Girls Allowed

The Bernstain Bears: Computer Trouble

The Bernstain Bears: and Baby Makes Five

Riddles Riddles From A To Z

3 Little Witches Trick Or Treat Halloween The Berenstain Bears and The Tooth Fairy

Spot's Halloween Spot's Halloween Party

Barbie: The Big Splash

Biscuit and Friends A Day At The Aquarium

Biscuit's Birthday

Schoolhouse Rock: 3 Ring Government Sesame Street: Oscar's Rotten Birthday

The Taxi That Hurried

The Wonderful School

You're A Good Sport Charlie Brown

Sesame Street: Grover Goes To School

Master Of The Universe: Castle Grayskull

Master Of The Universe: He Man and Battle Cat

Masters Of The Universe: The Revenge Of Skeletor

Rocky Versus Clubber Lang

Scooby Doo: Scooby Doo and The Mystery Of The Strange Paw Prints

Strawberry Shortcake and Her Friends

Pound Puppies: Fun From A To Z

Barbie: Camping Adventure Barbie: Barbie Goes To The City

Benji Goes Camping

My Little Pony: Lost In The Clouds

Halloween Cats

On The Night You Were Born

The Berenstain Bears: New Baby

Barbie: Soccer Coach

Barbie: The Missing Wedding Dress

Jim Henson Muppets: Trouble With Twins

Jim Henson Muppets: The Wonderful Wagon

Jim Henson Muppets: What A Mess

Spot Loves His Daddy

The Berenstain Bears and The Ghost Of The Forest

The Berenstain Bears and The Spooky Old Tree

Sesame Street: Big Bird Follows The Signs

Alphaoops The Day Z Went First

Sesame Street: How To Be A Grouch

Alphaoops H Is For Halloween

Sesame Street: Cookie Monster and The Cookie Tree

It's A Mystery Charlie Brown

The Berenstain Bears: Go On A Ghost Walk

Fraggle Rock: The Legends Of The Doozer Who Didn't

Muppet Babies: Gonzo Saves London

Pucasso The Cat Who Wanted To Be A Artist

Muppet Babies: Animal Go Bye-Bye

How The Alphabet Came To Be

Muppet Babies: Baby Gonzo's Treasure Hunt

Heathcliff: Pigs Out

Little Critter: Being Thankful

Spot's Birthday Party

Robo Machine Challenge Of The Gobots: Collision Course Comet

Gobots: Battle For Gobotron

The Transformers: Battle For Cybertron

Gobots: Battle Target Earth

Fraggle Rock: What Do Doozers Do

Gerry The Giraffe

Alf: This Place Is A Zoo

Clifford The Big Red Dog: Thanksgiving Parade

Alf: A Day At The Fair

Corduroy's Thanksgiving Muppet Babies: Baby Piggy's Mermaid Tales

Little Critter: Just A Special Thanksgiving

Fraggle Rock: No One Know Where Gobo Goes

Muppet Babies: Gonzo and the Great Race

Fraggle Rock: What's A Fraggle

Muppet Babies: What Is A Gonzo

Spot Love His Mommy

Muppet Babies: Kermit The Hermit

Corduroy Goes To The Doctor

Winnie The Pooh: Pooh Can, Can You

Fantastic Four: The Island Of Dragon

Corduroy's Busy Street

Thomas and Friends: Christmas In Wellsworth

Corduroy's Day

Corduroy's Halloween Hooray For Halloween

Goldilocks and The 3 Bears

Curious George Sonny Says Sorry

The Little Sparrow

Why Anansi Has Eight Thin Legs

The Story Of Rama and Sita

Donald Duck's Christmas Tree

Biscuit's and Friends: A Day At The Aquarium

The Little Red Hen

The 12 Days Of Christmas

Little Owl: ABC and Counting

The 3 Billy Goats Gruff

The Princess and The Pea

Tredicino

Schaefer and The Raccoons: The Mystery Of The Disappearing Forest

The Berenstain Bears: Meet Santa Bear

Care Bears: Where Are You

Care Bears: Caring Contest

Care Bears: What Makes You Happy

Sleepy Kittens

Don't Put Mustard In The Custard

Richard Scarry's Christmas Mice

Corduroy's 4th Of July

Merry Christmas Uncle Scrooge McDuck

Spot's First Christmas The Christmas Helpers

The Poky Little Puppy's First Christmas

Thomas and Friends: Thomas and The Missing Christmas Tree

Once A Mouse

The Little Engine Could

Little Christmas Star

Winnie The Pooh: The Merry Christmas Mystery

The Little Engine That Could and The Snowy Blowy Christmas Merry

Christmas Curious George

Dreams

Two Ducks and a Turtle

Shangool and Mangool

The Hare and The Hedgehog

Please Baby Please

Dinosaur Vs Bedtime

Blue's Starry Night

[annieandropinkpawsfan]

Annieandro Pinkpaws Stories Part 1

Gwendolyn The Miracle Hen

Stevie

Look At Me

At Night

Sam

One, Two, Where's My Shoe

Swimmy

Track Picture Book

My Little Brother

Goggles

ABC Of Cars and Trucks Peter's Chair

Maybe A Monster

Cluck The Captain's Chicken

Moving Day For Manuel

Who Will Wake Up Spring

Welcome Roberto, Bienvenido Roberto

I Am A Hunter

Mommies At Work

Tom In The Middle Play With Me

What Do You Say, Dear

Where Are The Mothers

Will I Have A Friend

I Have A Tree

The Story Grandmother Told

Dandelion

5A and 7B

The Circus Baby

Clyde Of Africa If I HadTony and The Toll Collector

I'll Fix Anthony

Ask Mr.Bear

Go Away Dog

Chicken Little Count To Ten

The Snowy Day

Birthday Presents

Whistle For Willie

My Friend John

Katie Goes To Camp

What Is Your Favorite Thing To Touch

What Do I Do

City In The Summer

Dear Uncle Carlos

The Cat Who Thought He Was A Tiger

Six Foolish Fishermen

A Kiss For Little Bear

Corduroy

Some Of The Days Of Everett Anderson

Chicken Soup With Rice

Where The Wild Things Are

The Lorax

Clifford The Big Red Dog

Mr.Uppity

Thomas Snowsuit

My Funny Animal Alphabet

Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Hideout

Insects and other small creatures

Clifford The Big Red Dog: Tummy Trouble

The Animal Alphabet Book

My Little Pony: Twilight Sparkle's Magical Journey

Horton Hears A Who

Oh The Places You'll Go

Old MacDonald Had A Farm

My Little People School Bus

Socks

Are You My Mother

Fluffy Bunnies

Chicka Chicka 123

I Can Read With My Eyes Shut

Barefoot Bear and The Ice Cream Factory

Green Eggs and Ham

The Berenstain Bears and The Attic Treasure

Goodnight Moon

In A People House

The Pigeon Finds A Hot Dog

It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

Parachuting Hamsters and Andy Russell

Mr.Brown Can Moo Can You

Care Bears: Meet The Care Bears

Little Monster At School

Rugrats: The Rugrats Versus The Monkeys

The Pigeon Loves Things That Go

My Little Pony: The Perfect Pumpkin

Pink Panther and Sons: Pinky Saves The Beach Bullies

Monchichi's ABC

Curious George and The Dump Truck

Bad Kitty

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

Big Bird's New New Nest and Other Goodnight Stories

Little Critter: I'm Sorry

The Foot Book

The Cat In The Hat

Alphapets: Bradley and The Great Swamp Mystery

Curious George At The Parade

The Jacket I Wear In The Snow

The Gingerbread Bear

Blast Off Barefoot Bear

Can I Have A Stegosaurus Mom Can I Please

Sprout's Valley Adventure

Blue Skidoos To The Beach

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

Richard Scarry's Find Your ABC's

Ernie's Big Mess

Bad Kitty Does Not Like Dogs

Spongebob Squarepants: Spongebob Goes To The Doctor

The Backyardians: The Mystery Of The Jeweled Eggs

Shopkins: Lights Camera Shopkins

Llama Llama and The Bully Goat

Posie The Kitten In Pink

Goodnight Sweet Butterflies a Color Dreamland

A Boy, A Dog and A Frog

Disney's Aladdin

ABC Animal Jamboree

Please Mr.Panda

Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You Book

Z Is For Moose

Max and Ruby: Bunny Cakes

Skeleton Hiccups

W Is For Woof A Dog Alphabet

Barefoot Bear and The Dragon

Splat and The School Trip

Blue's Clues: Blue's Bedtime

Scooter Computer and Mr.Chips: The Computer In The Candy Store

How Do You Say It Today, Jesse Bear

A Big Ball Of String

The Cat In The Hat Comes Back

Blue's Cool Idea

[davidastbury]

History Of The World In Three Jackets And A Raincoat

Celebrating a windfall of cash I went to Simpsons in Piccadilly and treated myself to a sports coat. The salesman was delighted with my choice and said that with the exception of loud stripes this was the only true summer coat in their entire range; a gorgeous pale biscuit brown, sort of straw coloured, tight weave with a faint speckle of red; pocket flaps, narrow lapels. It was fabulous; a perfect look for a regatta or the cricket ground.

Memorable occasion wearing it … attending a Hertfordshire gymkhana and pretending to understand something about horses.

The raincoat was an Aquascutum, bought at roughly the same time. Cost nearly a month’s salary. Dark blue, belted, ‘Man From Uncle’ look.

Memorable occasion wearing it … being given a weird address by someone who might have been an actual spy, it was a code that would reach him instantly.

Then there was a fabulous blue jacket from Daks; it had a sublime elasticity - in this case a very loose weave, a mix of silk and something else.

Memorable occasion wearing it … job interview, having the nerve - once the great man had seen it - to take it off and toss it onto a spare chair. Got the job but sadly the jacket had a stitching defect and the retailer (House of Fraser) passed it to their tailoring department who promptly lost it. It was irreplaceable and I had to accept a simple apology and a refund.

The last jacket was a cashmere blazer by Canali. Very expensive even though ‘pre-loved’. I suppose it’s a memory of the posh old days; incredibly stylish, a joy to wear, must have cost a fortune when new.

Memorable occasion wearing it … Oilmen’s jamboree in Aberdeen; talking to the petrochem high rollers from Texas and Iran and Saudi Arabia, nudging them to the bar for single malts. And the woman reporter who felt the arm of the jacket when introduced - who was enchanted by the texture of the cashmere - and then came back to feel it again!

[jamboreeartsupplies]

i got them! tumblr shoelaces!

should i put them on my docs or on something else??? i wish the shoelaces were darkmode lol!

what's that Aesthetic Blog? My converse shoes? hmmm...

oh yeah, this looks great!! thanks!! i guess that's why your name is Aesthetic Blog!!

[mistsandshards]

What Would Magnus Bane Wear? — 1950s-90s Edition

Magnus Bane's fashion in the 20th century, between The Last Hours and The Mortal Instruments:

“Saving Raphael Santiago,” The Bane Chronicles (late summer, 1953)

On the covers of books and in films, most detectives looked like they were dressed up in Sunday suits for a small-town jamboree. Magnus wished to wash away the stain of his newly adopted profession and dress in a way that was both suitable to the profession, pleasing to the eye, and on the cutting edge of fashion. He ditched the trench coat and added some green velvet cuffs to his gray suit jacket, along with a curly-brimmed bowler hat.

The heat was so awful that he had to take off his jacket as soon as he set foot out of doors, but it was the thought that counted, and besides, he was wearing emerald-green suspenders.

He knew he looked extremely sharp. He was wearing an amazing brocade tie.

“What Really Happened In Peru,” The Bane Chronicles (1962)

Magnus was wearing more than a dozen scarves all in different colors and carefully arrayed to swirl about him like a fantastic rainbow.

“The Fall of the Hotel Dumort,” The Bane Chronicles (June 1977)

Magnus looked down at his red-plaid-and-black-vinyl oversize suit with a shredded T-shirt underneath. It was au courant for the London punk set, but New York wasn’t quite there yet.

For the occasion Magnus had decided to skip his new look. There would be no punk here—no vinyl or fishnet. Tonight was a Halston suit, black, with wide satin lapels. This passed the test, and he got a nod and a light smile.

“The Last Stand of the New York Institute,” The Bane Chronicles (1989)

Magnus was used to a certain amount of attention. His clothing invited it. He wore silver Doc Martens, artfully torn jeans so huge that only a narrow shining silver belt prevented them from slipping entirely off, and a pink T-shirt so big that it exposed collarbones and quite a slice of chest—the kind of clothing that made people think about nakedness. Small earrings rimmed one ear, ending in a larger one swinging from his earlobe, an earring shaped like a large silver cat wearing a crown and a smirk. A silver ankh necklace rested at the point over his heart, and he had shrugged on a tailored black jacket with jet bead trimming, more to complement the ensemble than to protect against the night air. The look was completed by a Mohawk boasting a deep pink stripe.

“The Last Stand of the New York Institute,” The Bane Chronicles (1993)

If he wished to forgo a shirt and wear scarlet drawstring pajamas patterned with black polar bears, and a black silk bed jacket, he could do so.

See also:

What Would Magnus Bane Wear? — 18th Century Edition

What Would Magnus Bane Wear? — 1878 Edition

What Would Magnus Bane Wear? — 1903 Edition

[qhostqizmo]

Thirty More Minutes

“You are very cute,” Essie mused. Her fingers wrapped through the lengthy strands of Amon’s hair; appreciating the silky texture and how long it had grown out. She rested her palms along the side of his head, and her fingernails buried deep through his locks to rake against his scalp.

“Cute enough to eat.”

The nobleman raised his brow, rasping a low and delicious laugh. “To eat?” he echoed uncertainly, resting the weight of his noggin in her grasp.

“Mmmhm~” She hummed her approval, leaning in to caress her lips against his. “Is that not an expression?”

His breathing hitched. “I believe the expression is: ‘good enough to eat’.”

She grinned wildly. “Yeah, you’re that too.”

He laughed once more, returning her kiss softly. Definitely good and cute enough to eat. She’d become attached to his shaggy mane; pulling it back, digging her digits in it, brushing it from his face. It was a good look on him. It was also a convenient place to hold when she really got into the kiss; groaning as the scrape of his whiskers rubbed against her chin.

Amon gasped against her lips. “We’re supposed to be getting ready,” he accused, making no attempt to stop himself either.

“Stop distracting me by looking so sexy then,” Essätha retorted, smothering his mouth with hers. He obliged her with a wonderful throaty sigh.

Her fingers and lips were pens, stroking a love letter against his face and through his hair; across his beard, his throat, the open collar of his shirt, anywhere she could touch. She memorized him in every language; in every alphabet, in every symbol and syllable. She knew him in words that were extinct, in words that didn’t exist, and those that never would. She knew him, and loved every corner, ebb, and flow of him more sincerely and profoundly than she thought possible to love anyone. He was her muse and her compass, and she adored him with every fiber of her being.

All the while, he swallowed air desperately, and tried to keep up. His hands cradled her face as hers carded through his hair, and those deep dark eyes devoured her; pupils blown, into a homey abyss. Shivers raced down her spine as she tried to catch her breath, and he kissed her tenderly; sweet and chaste, boldly endearing. He was gentle, and thoughtful, and terribly lovingly heartfelt with her. Warm careful hands, a giving mouth, and gods the way he asked permission without saying a thing as he tilted his head and nuzzled his nose to hers, his tongue tracing the seams of her mouth in an unspoken question, made her heart race.

Essie was far less dignified, and more blunt in her response. Her hands tugged him forward, tingles moving through her but more pronounced where his touch lingered. It was intense. He was a warm sun against her; radiating heat under her skin straight through her soul. It felt comforting, and reliable, and safe. She knew she could rely on the beckoning feeling of home of being in his hands.

“Mmm, love you,” she sang in a breathy mumble, smooching the corner of his mouth.

Amon hummed his approval, a goofy crooked smile on his face “I love you too.” He kissed her back, still achingly languid and filled with affection. “You look mesmerizing Essie. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, inside and out.”

Her face felt flush under his hands and soft-spoken compliment. She kissed his cheek, his nose, all the way up to his eyelids.

“And I haven’t even done my hair yet,” the Yuan-Ti joked.

“You haven’t finished mine, either,” he reminded her.

“I’m getting there,” she teased, giggling as she bunched a handful of his locks towards the back of his neck. Her fingernails scrapped against the base of his hairline, down his neck, along his spine, and he shivered involuntarily.

Amon’s lashes brushed against her cheek as he kissed her jawline. His mouth trailed along it; skimming her skin so she broke out in goosebumps as he left open-mouth kisses against her chin, and the side of her neck. Laughter bubbled up in her chest as his beard tickled the sensitive skin of her throat, and she pushed herself lazily against his chest while stroking her fingers through his hair.

Planting her lips against cheek, Essätha appreciated the rounded shape of his features with his smile. Slowly, she skimmed her fingers along the back of his neck to circle around and rest against the stiff fabric of his coat. The shoulders had a little padding in them to give structure, and give the garment the snazzy professional look for their excursion. She plucked at the jacket, and flattened her hands to smooth out the wrinkles. Her eyelids fluttered slowly down to a half-mast, lost in the feeling of his lips on her delicate skin.

Lightly, her nobleman peppered kisses up to her mouth. She giggled, giving him trouble in bestowing her an actual kiss through her smile. It didn’t matter. He broke into a beaming smirk of his own, making it all that much harder for him to actually initiate canoodling.

Kissing his cheek, she sighed dreamily while stroking his dress-coat flat. “This color looks very regal on you, m’lord Amon.”

“You’ve seen me wear this shade of blue before,” he snorted with disbelief.

“Then you are always quite regal.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. Pressing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back to kiss her once more.

Three solid thumps echoed from the doorway just as she parted her lips.

Muffling her gasp against Amon’s mouth, Essätha tore herself away from him as swiftly as she could. She turned to look at the threshold just as the door opened, her fingers running over the front of her gown to straighten it out.

“Good evening you two-”

Abernathy blinked, his sing-song voice stalling out.

The edges of his toothy grin turned up. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Amon responded a little too quickly, and a bit too gruffly.

Smooth, Essie thought to herself. It was bad enough they’d nearly been caught making out, but his guilty answer hadn’t done them any justice at all. Their lips were probably a bit swollen from kissing, and certainly the sorceress’ knew that she was still blushing as bright as her lipstain color…

Wait.

Her lipstick.

Daring herself, she looked sideways over to her nobleman.

Yes, he looked flushed pink. Yes, his pupils were still dilated. Yes, his mouth was a bit bright in color and puffy.

And yes, his face was covered in pale pink impressions of her lips. Her lipstick marks were on his mouth, on his cheeks, on his nose, his eyelids, his throat. She’d even left a few faded traces on the pure white collar of his undershirt, and along his hairline.

Essätha swallowed loudly, horrified to see her smudged makeup all over her Illiad. Her hand shook as she reached up to touch the corner of her mouth, where only a bit of residual pink still remained and came off on her fingertip.

Her blush deepened immensely.

She needed to buy a more expensive lipstick; one less likely to come off with such ease.

The half-orc’s gaze twinkled, and he puffed out his chest broadly. “I only came to say that we’ll be meeting within the next thirty minutes for the jamboree downstairs.”

“Fantastic, we’ll be there,” Amon wheezed. He appeared as sweaty and clammy as a kid caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

Dadbernathy nodded in response. He began to back out of the door again, his thousand-watt smile baring his tusks.

“Oh, and Amon? Wash up before you come downstairs.”

The door was shut gently, with the sound of stifled laughter on the other side.

“… Wash up?” the nobleman echoed, looking down at himself. “But I did, a few hours ago. What…”

Essie reached for him, trying to get his attention. As he stared into her eyes, baffled, she offered him a sideways sloppy smile, and reached for the handkerchief hanging from his pocket. Her other hand reached, pawing for her silver hand-mirror she kept with her cosmetics to offer to him silently as she began gently wiping at his face.

Accepting the mirror, Amon turned it on himself.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, immediately turning it away.

“Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly. Her cheeks began to burn a darker shade of red as she blotted the lipstick marks, trying desperately to remove them. “You’re going to need to change your button-up, too.”

Amon exhaled heavily, covering his eyes with his arm. Taking a breath back in slowly, he lowered it to peer back at her ashamed expression.

“… Thirty minutes?”

“What?”

“Abe said we had thirty minutes,” Amon verified.

“Yes, why?” Essie muttered, focusing on removing her cosmetics from his face.

Taking hold of her arms gently, he tugged her closer. “I can swap shirts in probably five.”

“M’lord, what are you-”

Her whole body trembled as his lips met hers. She succumbed to the bliss of the moment once more, folding her arms around his neck and sighing as they locked into an embrace.

Thirty minutes was plenty of time.

[atc74]

Indulgence

Warnings: Porn with Plot, fingering, nipple play

Summary: Y/N is anxiously waiting for Jensen’s hiatus when Gen calls her out for a girls day. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: ~1600

Written for: Written for @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and her Still Dirty at 30 Birthday Challenge (2018).

*Thanks to Tumblr and the fact that they refuse to allow me to appeal the original post, here is the edited version.* Thanks in advance for reading again :)

Like Jensen’s scent? Buy it here!

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

The days leading up to a hiatus were always the longest. This one was no different and you struggled to find enough to keep your mind occupied. If you scrubbed the floors one more time, they would need to be refinished. Just as you were about to wash the windows in the kitchen for the second time, your phone buzzed.

Gen: Hey, I found a great new boutique! Let’s go find something to welcome the boys home. Be there in 10!

You: Ugh. Fine, but you’re buying lunch too!

You stowed your phone and went upstairs to freshen up. You quickly brushed your hair and pulled it back in a loose braid. You slipped on a pair of boots and grabbed a light jacket. By the time you made it back downstairs, your front door was opening and Gen peeked her head in.

“Ready?” she asked and you nodded, grabbing your purse and keys. You closed and locked the door before you followed Gen back to her truck.

“Where are we going, Gen?” you probed as you gazed out the window, the sights of your quiet neighborhood flying by.

“My girlfriend told me about this great little boutique that sells lingerie. I thought it would be fun if we picked out a welcome home gift for our men. You know…something a little sassy, maybe a little naughty. Give them an incentive to work harder and come home a little more often!” Genevieve laughed and you found it contagious.

“Jen and I talked about trying for a baby. Maybe this can kick start the trying part,” you thought out loud.

“That’s great, Y/N/N! I can’t wait to be an Auntie! Truth is, we are trying, too,” Gen revealed as she pulled into a parking spot.

“Then let’s do this. Let’s get some naughty lingerie and get pregnant!” you exclaimed, possibly a little too loud, as you got out of the vehicle, your cheeks heating up as you got some sideways glances. “Oops!”

You and Gen entered the little shop. It was clean and brightly lit. There was warm, natural wood flooring and shelving. There were some very conservative pieces toward the front of the store, but as you wandered farther inside, the choices were definitely a little racy, racier than you were used to. Sure, you owned lingerie, but it was sort of run of the mill. It isn’t like you and Jensen needed it to boost your sex life; you definitely didn’t need any help in that department…but maybe Genevieve was right.

Gen caught you daydreaming and brought you out of the trance you had been in. “So I rented out the store for an hour. Here,” she held out her hand handing you a few things to try.

“What? Who even does that? I didn’t even know that was an option!” you gasped, never able to fully embrace this lifestyle.

“Hon, it’s a Tuesday at eleven in the morning; it’s not like people are swarming the place! Besides, they have champagne! So let’s get our drink on and try on some sexy shit!” Gen whisper yelled at you and you gave in, taking the items she handed you.

As you made your way to the dressing room, an employee greeted you with a glass of bubbly and took the items from you, hanging them in a dressing room. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Ackles. I have already spoken with Mrs. Padalecki and we have some things already in your dressing room for your convenience. Relax, take your time and have fun.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Gen, who tried feigning innocence at your accusatory grin. “You totally planned this!”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Now sit down, drink and enjoy. You spend too much time cooped up in that house waiting for him to come home. Let’s have a girl’s day and have some fun,” Gen pleaded with you.

Within the hour, you had drank enough to make you loosen up. You tried on everything the salesperson had brought you, plus Gen’s selection. You had narrowed it down to seven and let Gen pick five. You honestly loved them all, but thought purchasing all of them would be overindulgent and that just wasn’t who you were. Gen made her choices, then showed you hers. Finally you checked out and were back in the vehicle, headed to lunch.

“Gen, this was a lot of fun. Thank you for taking my mind off everything for the day,” you thanked your friend as she pulled up in front of your house a few hours later. You weren’t sure what you would do without her.

“It was my profound pleasure. Let me know how he likes his presents,” she called as you walked through your front door. You took your bags up to the bedroom then returned to the kitchen for a glass of wine. It felt like a bath night, you decided. Taking your wine back upstairs to the master bathroom, you filled the tub, dumping in some of your favorite bath salts.

You stepped in the foamy water, setting in until you were neck deep. The aromatherapy scents cleared your mind and eased your tired mind. You sipped your wine until it was gone, then set about shaving and exfoliating until you were soft and smooth. You drained the water and toweled off before you wrapped your robe around you to retrieve the bottle of wine from the kitchen.

Pouring another glass of your favorite red, you stared at the bag on the bed as it silently dared you to put on one of your new purchases. Maybe just one, you thought. You searched through the bag and found one of the risque pieces you picked out. It was a pair of light pink and black high waist panties, almost like a corset, with a black lace ‘x’ up the front. The silky fabric felt amazing on your smooth and softened skin as you pulled them up your legs. You slipped the bra over your breasts and fastened it in the front.

You had never taken the time to look at yourself in lingerie before, because it was always for him, but as you stood in front of your full length mirror, you couldn’t help but feel sexy. It was a waste though, seeing as you had no one to show. Jensen wouldn’t home for a couple more days. You sighed and unclasped the bra, letting it fall open, revealing your full breasts, your nipples hardening as the cooler air hit them. You slowly ran your hands up your hips and stomach, before cupping them, a tit in each hand, and gently massaged them. A small moan left your lips as you continued, wishing it was your husband’s large hands on you. Just as you pinched your nipples, tugging slightly, you heard a growl behind you and whipped around, covering yourself as best you could.

“Jen! Jesus Christ! You scared the fuck out of me!” you shrieked, then reality hit you. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be home until Thursday?”

“Well, if this is what I come home to, I should surprise you more often,” his husky voice rolled off his tongue and went through to your core, making you shudder.

“It’s new. You like it?” you crooned seductively as you returned your hands to your breasts.

“I like what’s under it better. You are a sight for sore eyes, Darlin’,” Jensen admitted as he stalked toward you, replacing your hands with his. His plush lips came crashing down to yours, the kiss hot and demanding. His tongue was warm and wet as it probed your lips and you sighed, opening to him without hesitation. Your hands smoothed up his back to his neck, playing with the opening of his henley.

He roughly turned you around in his arms, but continued his ministrations of your breasts, roughly squeezing the nipples between his fingers, as you arched against him. You felt yourself moving and found yourself seated on the corner of your bed, Jensen still held you firmly against his chest, one hand on your left tit, as the other trailed down your torso, landing between your legs.

Jensen’s feet wrapped around your ankles, pulling your knees apart, giving him easier access. Your moans filled the room as he massaged your mound, but not going further just yet, “Jen, please. It’s been too long and I need you.”

“Not just yet, Darlin’. Gonna make you work for it,” his breath hot on your neck. “Just let go for me and I will make you feel so good.”

You obeyed your husband’s command and let yourself go under his touch, leaning back into him. His right hand applied more pressure, rubbing your pussy through the fabric and it quickly dampened with your arousal. His lips attacked your neck, licking and sucking at the spots he knew made you weak with desire. His hand snaked inside your panties and picked up speed. Your orgasm approached in a flash as you came with a shout all over the silky material and his hand. Jensen continued to work you through your high until your breathing returned to normal.

“If this is the result of indulging myself, maybe I should do it more often,” you giggled, still wrapped in your husband’s arms.

“God, I missed you, Y/N/N,” Jensen murmured into your neck, placing sweet kisses along it’s length. “Let’s make a baby.”

Ready for the smuttier sequel…

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Tags: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean  @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace  @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @linki-locks11​ @evansrogerskitten​ @hennessy0274-blog​ @hobby27​ @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104​ @blacktithe7​ @the--blackdahlia​ @fortisetgloriosusinarduis​ @roseblue373​ @hannahindie​ @pinknerdpanda​ @cherrycokegirls1​ @mogaruke​  @4llmywr1tings​

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen​ @maddiepants​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @amanda-teaches​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​ @kathaswings​ @deansgirl215​ @x-waywardaf-x​  @elara98azalea​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @pretty-fortune​ 

[johndavey]

Red Jacket Jamboree - Summer Solstice Show (6/21/2018)

I'm a little late in getting to this, but a couple weeks ago, Harry South and I drove up to Calumet, Michigan to perform at the Red Jacket Jamboree at the Historic Calumet Theater. Harry was part of the house band The Copper Cats which included Jerry Younce (guitar), Bill Carrothers (piano), Carrie Biolo (percussion), and Harry South (bass). These guys accompanied me on a few songs and it was a real thrill to hear jazz and classical players translate my songs.  Mean Mary graced the stage for the second part of the show and was a real doll.  Some highlights were standing on that beautiful old stage, watching the sunset in Copper Country with Carrie Biolo and Harry South, listening to Cole Porter songs with Harry late at night and sharing some of my favorite country songs with him. The Copper Cats did great renditions of "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)", "Don't Fence Me In", and "Up a Lazy River".  We also had a nice visit to the new Keweenaw Coffee Works the day of the show. The weather was perfect and the whole thing was awfully fun.  Below is a video of me performing the Billy Hill song "There's a Cabin in the Pines" with Jerry Younce accompanying me on guitar.

[sirkkasnow]

11 When Opportunity Knocks, Answer

Ao3 link

07/20/13 Saturday

Activity around the Shack kicked into overdrive through the next few days. Mabel scheduled her slumber party for Saturday evening, cackling in delight all the while as she took over the shared attic room for a thorough redecoration.

Dipper accepted his exile to the upstairs study with at least a little grace - he set up his laptop and and settled in for hours of journal work and game planning. The abortive DD&MD session was definitely back on for sometime early the following week.

Stan found himself pulled in too many directions at once. He squeezed in one more full day with Ford up at McGucket’s place working on the Fairlane, trying half in vain to dampen their more harebrained schemes. Apparently letting those two share the same space for any length of time resulted in exponential nerdery, or whatever the hell it meant when you got nerdery squared - he wasn’t sure but they made each other worse.

Soos sidled up to him early the following morning. “Hey, Mr. Pines, business is awesome! We’re in great shape to host the dance next week! Here’s the thing, though, I’m really close to having the new Dreaming Denizens darklight exhibit done.” He clasped hands together in anticipatory delight. “We could do a grand opening that night but I can’t find time between tours to work on the critters. Can you maybe help out for a day or so?”

So he’d had to leave the two lunatics unsupervised while he assembled a batch of fierce, hissing, taxidermied flying minks. There was no way to turn down Soos or an opportunity to upsell the dance tickets.

He cornered Ford for a lecture before Tate swung by to pick him up, something like that thing had better still be street legal when I get up there or so help me. Ford made a bunch of almost-certainly-hollow promises that they’d respect the sanctity of Clary’s mom’s precious vintage touring vehicle and that was that.

Stan put the whole thing out of his head for most of the day, focused on patching together the little monsters they’d need for the exhibit, and was washing up in the kitchen when he heard Clary’s level voice spike in surprise.

He stuck his head out into the hallway and found her by the side door, staring in disbelief at her phone. Ford’s voice was just audible on the speaker. " - sure you still want to keep the old paint color? This is a fine opportunity to change it if you'd like!"

She had a hand pressed to one side of her face, fingertips pushing in hard at the temple. "Ford, that was mint-condition factory-original paint when I got here. Arcadian Blue. What happened to the rest of it? You were just supposed to fix the hood!"

"Well, Fiddleford and I thought we'd rechrome everything while we had the opportunity, since we had the windshield out. Then we saw a chance to improve the safety features while we were at it - did you know cars of this vintage are practically death traps? I'll have to take it up with Stanley - " A distant, hollow boom sounded on the phone. Clary's visible eye squeezed tightly closed. "Whoops! I'll get back to you shortly!"

The line went dead.

Clary slumped against the wall for several seconds. “I have made a terrible mistake.”

He bit his lip and patted her shoulder warily. “I’ll, uh. I’ll give him a call an’ make sure they behave themselves. It won’t end up any more of a death trap than it was when y’got here.”

She laughed at that, the same ragged laugh he’d heard when the piston blew up in the first place, then looked up to him with a pinched smile. “You sure you mean that? I get the impression that those two can get a bit out of hand.”

Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. About that. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve taken a day off, but we’re so close to havin’ the new display done...I’ll get up there an’ have it all under control before things get too weird.”

“Promise?”

“Trust me, sweetheart.”

She laughed at that, too, just a little cynical pfft, but her eyes softened in a way he very much liked and she hooked her index finger into his for a fleeting clasp. “I trust you,” Clary murmured. He damned near bent to kiss her right there before the racket of Dipper coming down the stairs set him rocking back two steps and clearing his throat.

Dipper paused before he made the left turn to the outside door, looking them over in scandalized confusion. Clary just smiled. “Good luck with the winged weasels, Stan. See you for dinner.”

By Saturday morning there was a menu tacked to the fridge. Clary’s tidy angular script promised things like ‘baking powder biscuits with honey butter’, ‘brown sugar bourbon baked beans’ and ‘deviled egg red potato salad’. She’d been running all over town with her little borrowed pickup to line up supplies.

At this point Stan was pretty sure anticipation might kill him if the stress of getting everything done on time and keeping the Fairlane project on track didn’t get him first.

He managed to swing by the manor to check on the station wagon - still blue, thank mercy, the hood now snapped back into its original shape and the cracked windshield replaced. Ford showed off the GPS they’d installed and McGucket chattered endlessly about the new frictionless coating they’d applied to the engine cylinders. Half of it went right over Stan’s head and at length he waved hands in frustration. “Just tell me it’s gonna run as well as it did before she got here!”

“Oh, much better!” they replied in tandem.

Stan stopped dead, squinted at their innocent faces in profound suspicion and groaned. “Y’know what. I don’t have time t’ double-check all this right now, you both know that, and so I’m leavin’ it to your tender care. I swear if anythin’ you two do harms a hair on her head, there’ll be hell t’pay. Got it?”

McGucket blinked in rheumy surprise. Ford had that faint thoughtful look Stan was getting really tired of, but he nodded in agreement. “You have my solemn word, nothing but some very minor improvements to safety features and performance. It’ll be more than safe enough to trust the kids in.”

“Fine. Fine. You’re both gonna sit down an’ explain everythin’ before she leaves, though.”

“Of course!” Ford’s most reassuring smile was in full force. Stan didn’t trust it for a second, but it would have to do for now.

There were a few more errands to run as the long afternoon wound down. Stan tacked up posters for ‘Mr. Mystery’s July Jamboree!’ around town as he went. By the time he finally pulled into Greasy’s he’d relaxed, humming an absent tune as he headed in to hang one last poster and pick up a coffee.

“Hey, Susan,” he called as he parked at the counter, swinging a look around the joint and its collection of regulars in for an early dinner. He was the center of attention, because of course he was and no one in this burg was any good at being subtle about it.

“Oh, Stan! It’s so nice to see you, sweetie,” she said in her usual tone of cheerful obliviousness. “How’s it been going this week? I hear the party’s going to be quite the thing!” Susan poured him a cup of familiar potent black sludge. “That tourist lady of yours has been through a couple of times. She’s really nice for an out-of-towner, good tipper and all. Was in the other day for breakfast, you know, wearing your jacket. Went pink as a petunia when I asked her about ya!” Her laugh was surprisingly sweet and she tugged her slack eyelid up, then down. “Wink!”

Stan busied himself with dumping too much sugar into his coffee. “Yeah, I mean, she’s all right I guess. Pretty good company for a hoity-toity type.”

“She came in yesterday asking about supplies.” Susan set her elbow on the counter and leaned in, conspiratorial. “Said she was gonna do a picnic at the Shack next Friday right before your big event.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Why, she asked if I could bake a couple cherry pies for her! What’re you up to, Stan?”

“Well. Y’know. An exclusive little gatherin’.” Stan settled himself, sat back and sipped slowly for effect. “Just friends an’ family.”

“I’m surprised she’s stuck around this long, nice city girl like that.” Blubs anchored the end of the counter, Durland seated one stool over and working his way through a ham-on-rye. “She has to have seen everything Gravity Falls has to offer by now. The Shack, the mall, the museum, the bottom of the lake….” Both of them chuckled over that one. “Maybe she should just hang up a shingle out there. We could use a lawyer.”

“Well, Stan could use a lawyer,” said Durland to a general rumble of laughter.

“You guys trashed her car, right?” came from one of the far corners. “That weird brother of yours made the brakes cut out or something so now she’s stuck here getting it fixed? We all know you’re too cheap to actually send it up to Portland.”

A prickle of annoyance nudged at the back of his eyeballs. “We offered and she decided she liked my face enough t’let us do the work. Should be done in a couple days. She’s just hangin’ around for the dance party.”

“Oh, I’m sure she likes ya, sugar.” Susan hid a giggle behind one hand.

Blubs tugged down his shades for a direct glance. “You did fish her out of the drink.”

Manly Dan scoffed from the far side of his mountain of meatloaf. “Stan Pines hasn’t managed to keep a lady around for more’n a couple days in all the years he’s been here. I’ll believe it when I see it!”

Stan slugged back a swallow of bitter, bitter coffee in an effort to not spout off, then did it anyway. “What, y’think we kidnapped her or somethin’? She’s here because she wants t’be!”

“Now calm down, all of ya.” Susan looked around the murmuring diner in reproach. “She’s been nothing but sweet to everyone in town. I’m sure it’s gonna be a real nice picnic.”

“Excuse me!” Mayor Cutebiker’s skinny arm went up from a few booths down. “Is that going to be included in the party ticket price? I need to know when I should show up!”

“What?” Stan’s shoulders twitched in surprise. “No, no, the party thing’s only for the dance, people.”

Dan bared teeth in one of his terrifying smiles. “I’d pay just to meet the woman willing to put up with Pines for three weeks.”

“What’s she serving, Stan?”

“Are you two going to dance?”

The whole place got the wrong idea in about three seconds. Stan could barely get a word in edgewise as conversation erupted, people pestering him about prices, about the new exhibit, about who’d be hosting the party that night.

Something snapped in the back of his brain.

“ALL RIGHT,” Stan roared, and the chattering crowd quieted in anticipation. “Listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once: Miz Merrick’s willin’ to make a very limited number of tickets for dinner available. Eighty-five a head. That’ll get you into the dance party and the Dreamin’ Denizens exhibit, too. This is a one-time engagement, folks, the lady’s a class act an’ I’ve seen the menu. It’s gonna be an event for the ages.”

He zeroed in on the nearest pretty face, hit her dead on with the full-headlights smile and the finger-guns, and was gratified to see her half-swoon against her companion. “Whaddaya say? First come, first serve!”

Fistfuls of money appeared as if by magic. Stan leaned over to whisper to Susan. “Sweetheart, lend me that ticket book, would’ja?” Starry-eyed, she handed over both the book and her pencil stub, and he started scribbling out tickets for Clary Merrick’s Chicken Picnic! on two-part carbonless guest checks as fast as he could.

Half an hour later he was driving back up towards the Shack. Almost eighteen hundred bucks was jammed into his back pocket along with a stack of IOUs. He was already puzzling out where to beg, borrow or steal enough chairs and tables to accommodate a crowd this large, and wondering just how much fried chicken Greasy’s could crank out on like four days’ notice.

He was also figuring out how the hell to survive through the end of the day, because Clary was going to kill him.

tumblr: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

Ao3: [00][01][02][03][04][05][06][07][08][09][10][11][12]

The whole diner erupts in excited conversation, and everyone in here has got the wrong idea. They want to come to Clary’s picnic! And they’re willing to pay for the privilege!

Absolutely not!

Talk up the dance instead.

Sell tickets!

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 8: EGGMAN NEGA

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don't like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That's where this comes in.

This is a series of mine in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I'll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don't bite. :>

Anyhow, for today's installment, we'll finally be tackling Sonic's beloved arch-nemesis, the rotund doctor himself, the scheming conquerer in the making, the forever determined mad scientist...

...'s clone.

Eggman Nega.

The Gist: It was just an ordinary handheld adventure for Sonic the Hedgehog, as he made his way through the opening act of Sonic Rush to foil the nefarious ambitions of Dr. Eggman yet again. The doctor hinted early on that there would be more than meets the eye this time around, to which Sonic initially disregarded as typical Eggman talk. However, he changed his tune when he met a purple cat who he had never seen before... and later, a mysterious fellow who looked rather derivative...

“Look, no disrespect, but I’d rather not stumble over my vowels and offend an entire section of the human race by accident.”

It's quickly established that this man, who went by the name of Dr. Eggman Nega, hailed from an alternate dimension. The same applied to the aforementioned feline, Blaze, who in turn was revealed to be the Sonic to this Eggman's... Eggman. So she was well-acquainted with Nega's dickery, and it didn't take long for her to conclude that he was responsible for the regular Eggman's presence regarding her side of affairs.

Eggman and Diet Eggman, in league with each other, planned to use the growing time-space rift between the two dimensions to, scientifically speaking, fuck shit up. But together - after having an unnecessary scuffle (because all new heroic characters in this franchise are obligated to fight Sonic for trivial reasons) - Sonic and Blaze went Super and Burning, kicked the Eggmen's Eggasses, and restored everything back to normal. And that was the end of that, right...?

Pfft, ANYONE who looks exactly like Eggman can say that.

Not necessarily. Nega made a surprise return in Sonic Rivals, where he was revealed to be the mastermind of attempting to turn the world into a card, a plan that even the actual Eggman would probably laugh at. This cemented him as the... by my estimation... sixth antagonist to screw the doctor over. And that's if we're not counting villains who were unaffiliated to begin with.

Somewhat more concerning however, his backstory was completely different. Rather than being Blaze's arch-enemy in an alternate dimension, he was now inexplicably Silver the Hedgehog's arch-enemy IN THE FUTURE!!!!!, having been revealed to be the descendant of Eggman. Nevermind that this would imply Eggman found someone worthy of his affection (himself notwithstanding). At least Blaze's backstory remained intact, right.........?

Not that it stopped Nega from reestablishing himself as Blaze's dimension foe in Sonic Rush Adventure.

That would explain the Eggman jamboree.

And then that didn't stop Nega from reestablishing himself as Silver's future fiend in Sonic Rivals 2.

YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

It's been said that the future interpretation is the true and honest one for Nega, because with a character like this, you clearly have nothing to lose by picking the more confusing option. Not that it matters too much nowadays, since he's been spending his decade long retirement at the Olympics. Best place for him, really.

The Design: Nega's appearance is a masterstroke of telling a story purely through the visuals. The grey-haired moustache establishes how Nega is older, and thus wiser, than the real Eggman. The red tracksuit confirms that Nega is always quick to call for action, unlike the defeatist outlook implied by Eggman's black pants. The use of the Classic yellow tusks on Nega's jacket, as well as the bumblebee shoes, make it apparent to the viewer that he is more Eggman than Eggman will ever be, as he encompasses the heart and soul of the character, of which the original simply cannot live up to.

Now you see, anything can sound deep when you talk a lot of shite.

He should really get that hip checked.

All sarcasm aside, Nega's design gets a solid place in the "not particularly great" tier, and that's putting it nicely. Whether it took five days or five minutes to come up with him, we are given no point of interest outside of the very thing that makes him unoriginal. After all, why should we care about the thought put into his look when they didn't...?

Even his poses are the fucking same.

Sonic got himself a counterpart in the form of a serious-minded cat with pyrokinesis. Tails got himself a counterpart in the form of an excitable raccoon with (implied) hydrokinesis. But all Eggman gets is a guy who looks just like him, right down to the name. I would say there's some injustice here. If you're going to make an alternative equivalent of the doctor, go wild with it. Think up as many physical contrasts as you can. Make the character their own being, rather than a halfhearted copy and paste of another, better villain. Especially when the latter is the villain of the series.

The Personality: Nega is set up to be an eccentric yet brilliant mastermind, even though Eggman is also such.

Nega is set up to provide a polite contrast to the often childish Eggman, even though Eggman is also capable of maintaining a polite facade when he feels like it.

Nega is set up to be capable of some truly evil things that can shock and disgust others, even though Eggman is capable of that too.

Noticing a pattern?

That said, there is one notable difference: Nega's lapses in logic are ten times more unintentionally hilarious.

“And I’ll have, you know that, my grammar has, always been, perfect!”

“...By removing myself as well in the process! On another note, what's 2 plus 2?"

There's really not much to add about Nega's personality. Whatever you can say about Nega, you can say about Eggman too. And I'd prefer not to be redundant when it's the turn of the real deal.

The Execution: If it wasn't obvious at this point, Nega falls flat as his own character and as a counterpart for Eggman. Either he's a repetitive second wheel (the Rush duology), or he's a straight up poor man's replacement (the Rivals duology). He has very little going for him that the original Eggman doesn't already have, which makes his shortcomings all the easier to spot.

Now you might be willing to think "But Nega is a darker mirror of Eggman! He shows a more vicious and sadistic side of the doctor! This type of character provides a fascinating insight into Eggman's character!"

Well here's the thing.

We already have a character who fulfills the role very well as a darker mirror of Dr. Eggman.

His name is Dr. Eggman.

Contrary to popular belief (which I'm sure has been influenced by certain adaptations), the real Eggman is still a massive bastard when you look past his outwardly silly demeanour, and as such, he's fully willing to commit surprisingly cruel acts of villainy that you wouldn't initially expect from him. This includes the enslavement and corruption of an innocent alien race, breaking the entire planet apart for the sake of waking up an ancient beast, and going full suicide bomber on Station Square when Chaos is seemingly defeated.

Part of the genius with Eggman's character is that he has two contrasting sides: the playful manchild, and the monster within. Giving the latter half to an uninspired recolour simplifies Eggman himself in the process, because by doing that, he's only one half of himself, and he's less effective as a villain in his own right because of it.

Well at least even the official cast don't seem to take Nega seriously.

“Oh no! He’s going to turn the planet into a card!” *smiles joyfully*

This review was a hard one for me, because there's only so many times I can point out that Nega is a complete ripoff, and aside from that elephant in the room (eggaphant in the room?), I don't have much else to work with. So I'll just reiterate that Nega has fortunately been reduced to Olympic fodder and call it a day.

Meanwhile, the real Eggman literally conquered the world. Just a reminder.

Crusher Gives Eggman Nega a: Thumbs Down!

[hemogobbler]

catradora game night: devil may cry

“Who’s your little dude?” Adora asked, pointing to the white-haired man that Catra was controlling and watching him run around some fleshy hellscape. 

“His name is Dante and he’s really cool,” Catra said with certainty.

“Oh, yeah, of course he is, with a name like that? Watch out Shadow Weaver! Dante’s come to take your seat at the annual villain’s jamboree!”

Adora laughed and rested her head on top of Catra’s to watch her play.

“For your information, Adora, he’s a good guy and would totally wreck her shit like no problem.”

While Catra spoke, the man in question was playing air guitar and making enthusiastic noises to himself, or possibly the demons that were surrounding him? Either way, he was clearly having fun.

“What are you doing?”

Adora struggled to understand the genre. Dante was clobbering a monstrosity with some shiny gauntlets, and then backflipped into an upside-down bullet-storm with a couple of oversized pistols, and was now suddenly dancing on the spot.

“IT’S CALLED BEING STYLISH, ADORA!” 

Distracted, Catra let Dante take a hit and watched the nice big 'S' disappear from the screen. She growled and let a frown take over her face.

"He seems kinda dumb," Adora noted, draping her arms around Catra's neck.

"He is!" Catra perked back up. "And that's not the only thing you guys have in common, watch."

Adora did so, and her eyes went wide as she saw Dante instantaneously switch from his fisty monster mashers to an elegant sword. Catra held down a button and they saw Dante charge up a strike, the blade crackling seductively with red electricity.

"Cool..." Adora was too caught up in watching it drive a bloody slice through the air to offer more of a response.

"AND, it's name is 'Rebellion.'" Catra realized, and peeked up at Adora through her loose hair, finding her utterly drawn in by the sword techniques on display. "No wonder I like this idiot so much! I'm just playing as you! Look, he's even got your Horde jacket!"

Sure enough, flowing wherever Dante ran was an eye-catching red coat.

"Next you'll be telling me he can transform into some warrior goddess."

"YEAH PRETTY MUCH!"

Another button and Dante turned into a devil: a beefy, sharper, more magical version of himself who did just about everything better. His hair wasn't anything special, though, so Adora chalked that up as a win for her.

"Weird..." Catra murmured, counting the similarities on one hand and racking her mind for more.

"Well, since this game knows so much, can it give us any hints on defeating the Horde? What would Dante do?"

"Uh, go to hell and fight your brother?"

"Mm-hm, oo-kay," Adora called it for the night, kissed Catra on the top of her head, and went to bed.

Adora had hoped for a second the game was some obscure, ancient First Ones tech; maybe a lost tutorial of sorts on fulfilling one's cosmic destiny. Shame she didn't have a brother.

[actingdeep]

Conrad Fair

There was a knock at the door, and Jackson turned the lock to meet cordial eyes with his buddy Maxxy, who was grinning maniacally and clutching a puffed backpack, a twenty-watt Fender practice amp and the accompanying electric guitar. He threw his hand on Maxxy's shoulder and brought him inside. The two had a full weekend of plans together and could not be more ready to welcome it due to the anticipative nature of the week. The small town of Conrad, Indiana was preparing for it's annual summer weekend of small-town festivities sponsored by the local high school that Maxxy, Jackson, and all of their mutual buddies attended. The two had not seen each other since that last day at the end of their Sophomore year the previous month. The weather was sultry and inviting, and a general town buzz could be detected murmuring around them in the toasting Friday morning country air. Maxxy shed his supplies as a mangy tabby rubbed against his calf, and the buddies settled in the couches to figure out what to do first.        "Is the library open yet?" inquired Maxxy.        "Yup, I was just there."        "Any computers open?"        "Probably, no one was there besides me and Zadra." Jackson let off his purposefully overly-hokey and sputtering mock laugh. "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk." "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk," Maxxy echoed. "Let me guess: Runescape?"        "Always," Jackson confirmed.        "Well, he's not going anywhere. Let's go get a Monster," suggested Max.        "Already good, bro!" returned Jackson, pulling up a half-empty Full Throttle from the floor beside him. He handed it over to Max, who threw back a swig. "But let's go get you somethin'."        Jackson slipped his unsocked feet into a pair of dirty tennis shoes, and with nothing more to collect, the two shut the door and headed off to the convenience store the next block down. The door did not fully close--but this matters little.        Once Maxxy purchased his fuel for the next couple of hours, the two sat in a small booth alongside the window within Mac's Convenience and Gas and deliberated upon which of their nearby buddies' houses they ought to gumshoe so as to wheedle out a familiar face that they might recruit into their, as of yet, ungerminated circle.        "Should we see if Lawson is awake?" Maxxy posited.        "Nah, he's never up right now. He will probably stop by the house on his bike after he does," Jackson informed him.        "Okay. Let's see what's going on at the park."        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk. I bet you twenty bucks we will see Kyndell," Jackson prophecised.        "...and Jessie??" Maxxy lit up.        "Oh, God."        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk."        The sunshine seemed to be emanating with considerably stronger muscle than it had been when they had entered Mac's ten minutes ago; the people of the town were beginning to materialize. There were scattered little clumps of adults all around: blocking off certain roads, painting and implanting signs, sweeping away sticks and glass, ripping around water hoses, erecting all the appropriate setups for the first day of the oncoming jamboree. Jackson flung off his left shoe high into the air above them and they watched it land with a thud ten feet before them as they were sauntering away from Mac's in the direction of the park that was three blocks away from them, Maxxy whooping to him with acclaiming fanfare; a bevy of humming motors, revving engines and crackling rocks forming the blood-pumping static surrounding them.        The last of the morning's dew was still clung to the bottoms of the wide and blue benches and railings of playground equipment when Max and Jackson arrived. Maxxy flung off a microscopic puddle of water from a narrow, black park swing and rest himself betwixt the chains, leaning back into it while still standing. Jackson approached him and deceived an intense hurl at his genitals with his lifted knee.        "Hey! Fuck off!" Max blushed, jerking the chains around.        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk." Jackson flung himself into the next swing to the left, looking at Maxxy and silently confirming with him their inclining states of adventure. "Welp--no one's here."        Less than a minute after Jackson observed this, he felt a hand whack him on the back of his shoulder. He turned to meet Kyndell's little brother Chandler, who had materialized between them. Chandler flung into the swing to Jackson's left, tore back the chains in the middle and pushed off into the atmosphere above them.        "Hey! Is Jessie at your house?" Maxxy hollered to Chandler, as the latter continued his pendular locomotion.        "Yeah!" Chandler exclaimed. "She stayed over all this week."        "Uh-oh," Jackson turned to Max, meeting his eyes obstreperously.        "What? Why?" Chandler grinded to a halt, forming two dark rips in the gravel below him.        "Maxxy's getting horny."        "What, and you aren't?" rejointed Max.        "Gross," Chandler flouted.        "Maxxy wants that cherry pie," Jackson provoked with glee.        "I will kill you right here, right now."        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk."        "I'm outta here." Chandler exited, pulling out an orange light-up Yo-Yo from his aerated athletic shorts.        "Wait! Is Kyndell coming to the fair later?" Jackson added.        "Probably. Jessie keeps bugging her about it." Chandler turned the corner, walking the dog.        At hearing this, Maxxy reared himself back in the swing for takeoff, with eyes beaming. As he launched, Jackson mentioned that he wished he had brought his basketball. When Maxxy yelled down to him as to whether they should go and get it, Jackson concluded that they had better not, and instead move on from the park over to the library. Max concurred, and after a couple minutes, descended his heels and grinded to a halt.        "I gotta piss. Let's go to the house first," Maxxy's Monster can left under a bench for him to possibly finish later.        When they returned, they found Jackson's mother traipsing around the small and (admittedly) unpleasant-smelling little household; the presence of the tabby could be ostensibly detected. She offered to make eggs for the boys after a warm welcome directed at Max. They declined and informed her they would rather save their appetites for the fair later in the afternoon. She accepted this, and handed them both five dollars to spend. Maxxy took his piss, inspecting his pocket for a guitar pick meanwhile. He flushed, checked himself in the mirror and soon found Jackson on the bottom-bunk in his bedroom, laying back in the shadow with one foot in the sun, playing something on a red GameBoy Advance SP. Max said nothing, and decided this would be his window to play a little guitar before they would commence their real adventure. He practiced "Heart-Shaped Box" without plugging in, and pictured what kind of tatty and heavenly singular outfit Jessie might be wearing today--and how he would feel when he would at last be lavishly gifted that prime look from out of her blue, crystalline and unearthly eyes.        After about twenty minutes of semi-silent leisure, Max set the guitar down, when he saw his friend appear from his bedroom doorway, stretching himself to the top of the door frame, and groaning overzealously. the two re-shoed themselves and headed out the front door and into the breezy light, this time leaning it open to air the house behind the janky screen door, a basketball under Jackson's arm. Not two steps down the stairway did they perceive coming down the road to their right an approaching bicycle operated by none other than Lawson Parker. Max signaled to him with an ironically dainty flit of finger-wagging, with forward-bent wrist. Lawson rushed up next to them, feigning destructive and injuring collision before steering around Max's left and harshly circling back around them to a rest.        "Hey, easy! Jesus!" Jackson yawped.        Lawson coughed loudly, and gave off a sardonic look to them, resting himself placidly on the faded purple mountain bike, faint light reflecting off his glasses and the silver handles of the bike into the couplet's eyes. Lawson attempting a swing at the basketball under Jackson's arm, successfully knocked it loose, and hopped off the bike to retrieve it, letting the bike fall on it's side in the yard beside the green oak that they were consorting beneath.        "Asshole, get back here!" yelled out Jackson playfully, chasing Lawson as he dashed off around the corner of the house and onto the back pavement where an adjustable hoop resided. Lawson pulled a layup through the netless ring, and haunched himself with daring eyes aimed at Jackson, and flew a rapid bounce pass around him to Maxxy, who was quickly following behind. Max tore off his thin, black and white Beatles jacket and began to dribble, peering into an approaching Jackson, making himself large. He saw Lawson's thin hand enticing him between Jackson's left leg and outstretched arm, and sent the ball through to him with success, after a deceptive pivot to Jackson's right. Lawson slammed the ball down through the ring with fervor, and walked away in satisfaction.        "Ah, too easy! Toooo easy!" let off Lawson, side-eyeing Jackson.        "Okay, okay. Calm down, now," he replied. "What are you doing?"        Lawson pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He shrugged his shoulders. He offered a smoke to Max, who politely declined. Lawson kept holding it out to him.        "He doesn't smoke," said Jackson between them, snatching the cigarette from his outstretched hand.        Lawson lit the smoke for Jackson.        "Let's walk; I don't need mom smelling this. She will start bitching like crazy," said Jackson. They all laughed.        "We're going to the library to cool down," decided Max.        "Yes, that's a good idea," added Jackson, who was breathing quite heavily (despite being rather lean), and he dropped the ball at their feet. "You coming?"        "Maybe," replied Lawson, who was replacing himself upon the mountain bike.        "If you don't, you'll see us around the fair pretty much all day!" Max threw in, politely inviting him along at any time.        "If I go," Lawson corrected him.        "Yes, if you go." Max turned around, pretended to cough, and rolled his eyes as much as they could go to Jackson.        Lawson looked unamused. The three began towards the library, the couplet walking with wheeling Lawson circling around them, as they went along.        The small Conrad Branch library only had a square of four computers that were persistently occupied and fought over. The three friends entered and could spot Jeffrey Zadra, adorned in big black plug-in headphones and fixated on his screen, clicking the mouse viciously. The computer beside him was unusually vacant. Max threw himself into it, stretching his legs. Jackson and Lawson stood behind the two sitting, placid and curious.        "Someone's mining for ore," said Jackson, directed at Zadra and his rapid clicking.        "Dude. I just found the fucking mithril ore goldmine!" Zadra confirmed. "Fuck off, Lawson." Lawson had wrapped his hands around Zadra's eyes, smiling devilishly. Zadra threw them off, and pulled down his headphones to his neck in a huff.        "Have you been here since this morning?" laughed Jackson.        "Uh-huh."        Max laughed, and Jackson smiled back to him. "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk."        Lawson went around the wall to the other two computers, also atypically unoccupied, and leaned over the cheap wooden partition, covering Zadra's screen with an outstretched hand, to Zadra's great annoyance.        "Ya'll going to the fair? Is it busy yet?" inquired Zadra, smacking away Lawson's hand.        "Not really. They're still setting up. And yes, we will most definitely be there," answered Maxxy.        "Most definitely," Zadra echoed, only half-listening. "I'm not. No one comes in here when that's going on. Get's me ahead on here," referring to the game. "Plus, it's quiet as fuck and nobody fucks with me!" he added wrathfully, once again knocking away Lawson's irksome hand from the screen.        "Maxxy most definitely wants to fuck Jessie," threw in Jackson, unneedingly.        Zadra and Lawson boomed with laughter. The lone librarian shooshed them. Max shook his head, smiling crookedly.        "I mean, I kinda don't blame you," said Zadra in a lowered tone, still clicking and slightly blushing from the admittance and the hard laughter.        "Yeah, yeah. So are we going or what?" Max was losing interest.        "I don't know, are we?" said Lawson wryly, giving Max a look.        "I think we are," he answered.        "If you guys see Mason, he'll be drinking vodka in his lemon shake-up. Took some from his dad's stash yesterday for it," said Zadra.        "Oh, God," Max and Jackson both said.        "Ha-ha-ha."        "That sounds like Mason," said Lawson.        It was, by this time, around 11:30, and the Conrad Fair had fully commenced. The small town affair stretched down three streets, six blocks each, with the adjacent parking lots of the local bank and chapel serving as a main hub. There consisted roughly ten food booths, an open-air stage at the far end of a lot for live music, and three mid-sized amusement rides: one flat, one gravity, and one vertical. Along the edges, individuals erected small open tents filled with the typical fair ware: handmade jewelry, bandannas, T-shirts, woven bracelets, hand-carved figurines, signs and ornaments, various mediums of artwork, wall posters, melee weapons, local paraphernalia. Lawson had split off from the trio as they exited the library for a transient return home for a reason that, upon the couplet's inquiries, he declined to specify. The friends decided to hit the rides first, to attain an efficacious rush of blood that they hoped would boost their energies. Maxxy was at the height of his excitement, as the day had brought nothing but pleasant expectations thus far; and he knew around some corner, at any possible moment, Jessie would appear to him.            The music from the stage could now be heard, and there was a healthy crowd all around. Maxxy looked around for familiar faces as Jackson was conversing with his older cousin Marcus, who was operating out of one of the merchandise tents along the sidewalk behind the chapel. He spotted Harper Fritchman, who was a grade below he and Jackson, walking with her new boyfriend, Silas. He signaled her and she immediately steered Silas over to him with a boisterous grin.        "Maxxy! Oh my gosh, it's been forever, it seems like! You know Silas, right?"        "I know! How's it going? [To Silas] How's it going, man?"        "Good, good. Silas just bought me this. [She points out a bright green snake-knot keychain]. Now, we're going to get an elephant ear," she declared, looking quite appeased. "Hi, Jackson! Hi, Marcus!"        "That's what's up. Have you seen..."        "...Jessie?" she finished, quite aware.        "No! I was gonna say...okay, yes, Jessie." (Jackson smacked his shoulder, and let off the laugh, in low tones).        "Oh my gosh, you guys and that stupid laugh," she sighed. Silas was very entertained. "No, I'm afraid not, buddy. Sorry. Do you guys want to hang with us for a while?"        "We were planning on hitting the rides first, is the sugar stand in that direction?" asked Max.         "Which sugar stand? There are a lot," Silas spoke for the first time.        "He means the elephant ears, dummy!" Harper taunted flaccidly, thudding him on the chest.        "Oh! I think it is, yeah."        "Alright, let's do it," concluded Max, gathering Jackson, who had just bought a large, customized fishing lure from his cousin.        Upon reaching the vendor, the quartet split, whereupon Max promised Harper she would see him again soon, to her delight. Jackson was urging Max to hurry up once he noticed a small line forming in front of the vertical ride. The two waited for ten minutes, then proceeded boarding. The two enjoyed a brief and conciliating whirl.        The streets bustled as the day grew ever more torrid and sparkling. Maxxy and Jackson made a brief split; the former to wait in line at the lemon shake-up stand while the latter returned to Mac's, so as to quench his yen on a budget.        Max, having obtained his mixture, was waiting nearby the mechanical bull for Jackson, as per their arrangement, when he spotted the person he considered his best friend, Niki, coming down the road aside her boyfriend Aleister and his best friend Riley Billingsley. Niki, Jackson and Maxxy are all members of the school's marching band program; herself, more specifically, in the color guard. When their eyes met, she gave off a very feminine squeal (really, more of a shriek) that jolted a nearby group of bodies; and for those types of efforts of enthusiasm that which, he distinguished, were typically winked at, he adored her. Her appearance that day was highly unexpected to Max due to her boyfriend Aleister's stringent and insulating nature in regard to Niki's conviviality; and, because of his genuine surprise at sighting her, despite the severity of that nature, Max was much too perky to restrain his amity, in great contrast to other, more regular days in whch he could skillfully downplay such a friendship. She ran up to Max while Riley and Aleister shuffled away behind the food stand tables.        "Can you believe I made it?"        "Yeah, you said it wasn't likely. I'm very glad you did! Where are they going?"        "Who cares, dude. You hangin' with Lawson?"        "No--Jackson. We were with Lawson earlier, though. We went to annoy Zadra at the library."        "Oh my God, I can't wait to see Jackson! Where is he?"        "Right here," said Jackson, who had snuck up behind Niki right at the moment of her inquiry, holding a half-empty Mountain Dew Code Red and an order of Bosco Stix.  Another squeal.        "Dude! I missed you guys so much!"        "Did you just get here?" asked Jackson, muffled through chewed up bread and cheese.        "Yes, like twenty minutes ago. Riley wanted to see Kyndell, and since she lives just right there, we figured she would be here. We haven't see her yet, though. Have you guys?"        "Not yet," answered Maxxy.        "Damn."        "But we saw Chandler. He said she would be here."        "That's her brother, right? Gotcha. Well, shit. So, what have you been up to?"        "Rode the Rocket," said Jackson, still chewing.        "We saw Harper and Silas."        "And Marcus."        "I love her," Niki claimed. "Are you both doing the parade on Sunday?"        They replied in the affirmative. Niki was elated. This year she had been assigned by the guard captain the premier position of anterior troop: one of four flag girls at the head of the parade. The couplet congratulated her as the trio began along toward the stage.        "Yeah. Only it better not fucking rain," warned Niki. "Oh my God, there's Lawson!"        Lawson was spotted by the three, leaning against a portable metal fence piece between the back of the stage and the gravity ride, spinning round on it's puck's edge. He threw his arm around five-foot-one Niki's neck and knuckled her blonde hair into oblivion. She unwrangled herself and was only slightly miffed.        "You son of a bitch, I fucking swear." She capitulated and smiled.        "Where you been?" Maxxy queried. Lawson smiled and shrugged his shoulders.        "Riveting."        "Max said you guys saw Zadra. How's he doing?"        "Same as always," Lawson spoke up.        "Runescape," Max specified.        "I don't blame him, that shit's addictive," said Niki. "Oh! Speaking of--I need to get me some funnel cake!"        "What's that?" Jackson asked.        "Elephant ears," Max clarified, shaking a laugh out.        "Precisely," she confirmed.        "We saw Harper and Silas getting..."        "We literally just said that."        "Oh, yeah."        Max was beginning to admit to himself that he was growing more and more distraught at not having come across Jessie yet. He remained largely absent-minded for the next hour as the four shifted their location from gravity ride to the funnel cake stand to the shaded spot beneath the red maples beside the chapel, Niki sneaking sips from his lemon shake-up all the while as she ate her fried dough with sugar.        Lawson was eager to move on to the outer edges of the festival, so as to smoke without worry. In a moment, they would all abide, and they headed in the direction of the park. Their surroundings had officially become bedlam; the town was at the apex of clamor and activity.        Maxxy was just about to announce his withdrawal to the library for a brief, solitary spell when Riley Billingsley and Kyndell Reed, with locked hands, coolly approached the four friends presently crossing into the mulch. Maxxy, upon seeing them, only dozily smiled at them, not making the connection at first. Then, in a flash, he turned wide-eyed to Jackson and was about to say something, when he felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder.

*

She was already hugging him tightly around the neck, and he could smell that perfectly secretive fragrance that always emanated from her hair. To Maxxy, in this moment, that fragrance was much more likely to have been birthed straight out from her soul; he was, unquestionably and indefensibly, in love with her.        He knew he loved Jessie ever since they met in the late autumn of the previous year. At that time, Kyndell Reed was not dating RIley Billingsley, but rather, his best friend, Aleister. This was a very brief pairing: only lasting from around September to mid-November. They were both in agreement that they were much better suited as friends (which they did stay, to many of their mutual friends' great surprise). The two were infamous for their unbelievably clean separation, having been spotted conversing many times quite casually no more than a week after their division.        During their stint as a couple, however, Aleister was also much closer friends with Maxxy. It was only after Aleister and Niki began to date that he would slowly stave off communication with Maxxy, as he (Max) was the only one of Niki's male friends that did not stop staying over with her on weekends out of "respect" for Aleister. Maxxy was much too attached to Niki at this point--having met her through the marching program-- and had remained close friends with her for over a year now, with Jackson as their go-to third wheel. She had never even spoken to Aleister before until Max introduced the two a little after the new year.        It was amid that far-off era of Kyndell and Aleister when Maxxy would get invited to a rendezvous that evening at the local mall by Aleister to meet with Kyndell and her new friend that attended a school elsewhere for a casual turn of time-spending. No person in Maxxy's life had ever put forth such kindness and interest for him as Jessie did that night they first met: meandering the long hall of shops, rifling through merchandise with no intent of purchase, branching off from their coupled friends so as to deter their dull romance, and unconsciously, to develop a nascent one for their own--and no person has still not, since.        At the festival, Jessie was adorned in black high-top Chuck Taylors, the ends messily splattered with paint of every other color, black skinny jeans with rips along the thighs, revealing coyly the blood-red fishnets beneath, and a ruffled white off-shoulder top under a thin, black hooded jacket, with at least ten thin, elastic bracelets in the shapes of animals on each wrist, and a fringed, dark-blue window curtain tie back serving as neckwear. Her large eyes popped out to Max from thin black rings of makeup and once again sent out to him that incomparable rescue of affection. Their surroundings all disappeared whenever they were together; for she was also in love with him as well: a fact Maxxy was acutely and reluctantly aware of.          After a few minutes of the two talking very rapidly with giant grins, forgetting about everybody else nearby, Lawson crept up beside the two and placed an open hand to the back of each of their heads, attempting to push their faces together, smirking nefariously. Jessie squeezed her eyes shut and laughed vociferously as their heads struggled in counter-force, until Maxxy unwrangled out from his friend's playful constraints, with Jackson holding a look of keen encouragement the entire time as he watched them.        "Lawson, you're so rude, oh my gosh!" laughed Kyndell, smacking his arm in concealed approval.        "Ha-ha-ha!" Jessie laughed magnanimously.        "Just fuck, already," Jackson whispered to Niki, who tried to hold back, but could not, a wet raspberry laugh.        "Niki! Oh my God!" exclaimed Jessie, upon realizing her presence, and gave her a warm and genuine hug. Niki was quite fond of Jessie, despite an unconscious inclination that she might rather not be. She hugged her back. "This is so great! Everybody is here! Jackson! Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk!" Jessie continued with glee and excitement.        "I know, right?" Kyndell agreed.        Maxxy walked over to a bench and pulled out the half-empty Monster can he had left that morning and took a large gulp of the, at this point, very warm liquid, making sure Jessie was watching all the time. Of course, she was, and laughed in delightful confusion, Aleister and RIley forming adjudicative faces at each other.        The day was beginning to dwindle; sunset was coming on and a cool wind began to rise out from beyond the trees of the little park, in the little town. Aleister and Niki were seen off to their getaway car by Riley, Kyndell and Maxxy once Aliester, clad in nothing but a thin, extra-large KoRn T-shirt, perceived it would soon be dark clouds and cold showers. Niki gave Max her patented best-friend embrace, puppeteering his figure to and fro, and gently whispering into his ear the soft, nervous entreaty: "I don't want to leave"; and the couple drove off down into the loud, gravel paths lain upon the emptied acres of endless dirt fields surrounding, and in the distance, the faint opening note of thunder could be heard.        "Have you ever gone in that chapel? I'm curious what it's like," said Max, explicitly offering out a venture that would appeal to Jessie's marveling sensibility.        "No! I haven't!" she said. "Is it still open?"        "It's a chapel, it's always open," Kyndell clarified incredulously. "I have been many times, it isn't that interesting."        "But I want to see it," Jessie affirmed.        "Do you guys mind if Riley and I hang back? I have to go get a shake-up before they close! Oh, don't forget, Jessie, we have to be home by eight, so meet us back here by 7:30. If it starts to rain, I'll just meet you back at home. Bye-bye, Max! Are you coming back tomorrow? We won't be able to until after six. Mom is taking us and Riley to the lake."        "Oh my God, I almost forgot," Jessie jumped in. "Yeah, you have to come back tomorrow night and meet us here," she insisted, quickly turning to Max, looking giddy.        "If we're not too tired," Kyndell finished, as she staggered away, laughing, with Riley tugging at her sleeve mirthfully.        Within the chapel, Max and Jessie garrisoned the borders of the nave: running their fingers and hands aloof along the pews and buttresses, seemingly abandoned, with intermittent bursts of the thunder slowly advancing without. With the structure being momentarily all to themselves, the couplet relaxed themselves and made it their oyster: Maxxy creeping the dimmed aisles in solitary until finally settling himself into the pulpit, pulling out and fingering the tab from his since-discarded drink can and looking on to the apse, where Jessie was mounted, facing him, with her arms suspended above her, and personating a belly-dancer. Three blocks away, Jeffrey Zadra was spotted by Lawson and Jackson exiting the library, yawning overzealously with outstretched limbs. The trio met in the road and discussed the highlights of their respective enterprises of the day. After Zadra, a proud and decided contrarian, and detractor of fallible human kindliness, was apprised of the town's general conglomerate fraternization by Lawson and Jackson, he was firmly cemented in his opinion of the superiority of the qualities of his time-spending, indoors, facing the electric monitor. Lawson congratulated him ironically, and quickly jolted a claw at his genitals with a counterfeit attack, causing him to flinch with rage, and Jackson to laugh heartily. Eventually, after some continuance of this ill-disposed jesting, the three would make off to their respective houses, cued by the wet drops that were beginning to fall around them.        "I can hear the rain," said Jessie, herself now in the pulpit, stretching a leg over Max directly beside her.        "It's time to get going, guys," an adult voice could be heard, calling to them from the narthex. The couplet jumped to their feet, and could see the dark clouds bearing down upon Conrad from the lancet windows, as they made their sprightly exit from the sanctuary, with omniscient thunder enveloping the little chapel.        "Bye," said Jessie, stopping suddenly under the awning and turning to Max, wriggling her fingers between his, looking straight into his eyes with deep and heartfelt meaning.        "Wait! it's only seven. Can't I walk you back to meet Kyndell?"        "No, I'm going back to her place, now."        "We're going to hang again tomorrow, right?"        "I don't know, it might be too rainy. Plus, Kyndell might not want to, and I have to stay with her."        "But why?"        "I just do," she said, looking away, closing her eyes.        "Well I'm going to wait for you at the park starting at six, no matter how rainy it is."        "Ha-ha-ha! No! Do not do that."        "Not up to you," Max said.        "FIne--get all wet, and just stand there and look pathetic!" she laughed hysterically at this image, and threw his hand out from hers, turning away. Max pulled her back before she could retreat, anxious to never leave her with a goodbye anything less than perfect.        "Stop! It's really pouring, now. I have to go!" She peered at him, impatient, but quite amused.        "Alright. Bye." He let go.        "Bye."        Max remained unmoved, under the awning, for an indeterminate length, paying no notice to the emptying streets, when he noticed suddenly the muffled jingle of his cell phone playing the Dexter theme song from within his pocket. A text from Lawson's number:        "It's Jackson. Where are you? Come to the house."        Ascending the porch steps, and throwing off his soaked Beatles jacket, Maxxy entered the house to find a shirtless Jackson in the corner, lifting a barbell without any plates, to and from his chest, alongside Lawson, sitting on the edge of the scratchy sofa, picking arpeggios out from Maxxy's guitar. Upon his entrance, Lawson looked up, and stared coolly into Max's face, sending out to him a fellow guitarist's appreciation of playing on unfamiliar axes, still plucking away the same arpeggios.        "You break a string, I break your balls," said Max, plunging himself beside him, ripping off his shoes and tossing them at the door.        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk," Jackson cooed, still training.        Lawson turned his head, and continued to eyeball Max as he played, initiating his patented, glazed stare of false mystery. Max, becoming uncomfortable, just as Lawson had hoped, broke away from this trap, and reached into the back of his amplifier, revealing a long, black cable, plugging another, shorter one into the outlet, and handed one end of the lengthier cord to Lawson.        "Not too loud," said Jackson, having set down the barbell, now opening and closing his palms, looking down at his biceps with satisfaction.        Maxxy plugged his end of the cord into the amplifier, and flipped over the switch in the corner. Lawson turned the upper, skull-shaped knob of Max's guitar as far as it would go to the right, bringing out a loud, nervous buzzing from the amplifier. Max immediately threw the amp's volume knob down to zero, now growing quite tired of Lawson at this juncture.        "Oh my God, do you ever stop?" Jackson sighed, also growing agitated, easing himself onto the loose-legged Windsor chair outside the kitchen, now chewing on a freshly-opened Rice Krispies. Lawson threw his head back in sated delight and sighed malignantly, finally revealing a built up exhaustion within that he was indeed actively trying to conceal for the last hour since returning to Jackson's house. Max re-adjusted his volume knob, looking up to Lawson entreatingly, and, upon receiving a confirming look of trust, went to grab a Rice Krispies for himself.        "Oh, shit. This is the last one. Sorry."        "Ech-!" Maxxy groaned, returning to his spot beside Lawson, now playing a very reasonable chord structure on the clean channel. "I've literally had no food today."        "You want some ramen?"        "God, yes. Please and thank you."        "Mom! Maxxy wants some ramen!"        "And Lawson!" the current guitarist added.        "And Lawson! Shit, fuck, now I want some too."        "Jackson, watch your goddamn mouth! Good Lord! Fifteen minutes, fellas."        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk."

*

The evening downpour had loomed over the outskirts of the town long enough beforehand so that it did not become a hindrance whatsoever to the continuance of virtually any ingredient of the weekend festival. The rides, vendors and merchandise stands were all safely tarped or deconstructed with time to spare; and, with a plentiful staff of volunteers, along with a respectable volume of benevolent pedestrians also assisting, all of the folding tables and chairs were successfully stored, and every electric cord and motor triumphantly cloaked for the remainder of the night. Day two of the Conrad Fair commenced with grace, bright and early, undeterred, unswamped, pulsating with life, under the balmy summer sky.        It was half-past noon when Maxxy awoke, rising out from Jackson's bottom bunk in his bedroom, a mighty dearth of conditioned air having left his entire shirt back and forehead sopping in sweat. Upon searching the upper level of the bed, he found his friend absent, and was quickly informed by his mother, sitting in front of a box fan, that Jackson had only just left for Mac's, not ten minutes ago.        Thanking her, he extracted a fresh pair of socks and a clean T-shirt out from his puffed backpack, wiped himself down with a towel from the bottom of Jackson's dirty laundry hamper, and started off in that direction, inaugurating the humid, country afternoon and all that it might bring. The moment he stepped inside Mac's, Max was swarmed with a holy deliverance of crisp, bracing, conditioned air. Jackson was sitting in the booth the two presided the previous morning, chewing on a danish, across from a woman in her early twenties that Max did not know.        "Oh, damn, did you just wake up too?" asked Jackson.        "Yeah. Fucking hot in there, it is."        "No shit. I've been telling mom every day I need a new fan, I don't know what she's waiting for. Say hi to Kasey!"        "Hi! Are you..."        "This is my adopted cousin," Jackson informed him, tapping her on her hands, amiably.        "Oh yeah? How's that work?" asked Max, seating himself.        "Ha-ha-ha. I'm seeing his cousin Marcus. It is fuckin' hot, I swear! He's out in that booth over by the chapel sellin' his gear. I was out there too, but it was way cooler this mornin'. I told him, 'Marcus, I am sorry, babe, but I am 'bout to fuckin' die! 'Bout to have a damn heat stroke, or some'n!' I said, 'I have got to go inside somewhere cool for a while.' So, he said to come here for a minute. Then I ran into little Jackson here, just a minute ago! But, anyway. You two got big plans?"        "Nope," they both said, blithely.        "Yeah, we really don't either. Just gonna hang out and try n' make some money. Well, he is--I'm just try'na stay cool now, ha-ha!"        "You oughta ride that zero-gravity thing," Jackson suggested.        "Uh, hell to the no, m'dude! That janky thing? Are you tryin' to kill me?"        The trio remained there at Mac's, jabbering for another half an hour, Maxxy getting up to buy himself a mocha-flavored coffee drink from the cooler and an order of the cheese-filled Bosco Stix, a cup of cheese included, meanwhile, when the aforementioned Marcus sauntered inside, throwing himself into the booth beside Kasey, completing the four-seater, tearing off his ball cap and pulling up his shirt to mop up his dewy forehead.        "Wha'sup, ya'll," he said, exasperated.        "Who's watchin' the booth, babe?" Kasey asked, wrapping her arms around his, resting her head on his large shoulder.        "Jeremiah, next door, with the huntin' gear. He's a good dude. He's giving me half an hour now, and then I gotta head back and keep an eye on his gear so he can go and let his dogs out."        "Awh, poor puppies. That's sweet, babe."        "Jackson. Max. What'chy'all up to?" asked Marcus, flapping his shirt with his fingers, finally getting cool.        "Not much. Probably just gonna walk around, might go to Lawson's or the park," said Jackson.        "I walked by that park earlier, and I'll tell you what, if it wasn't the busiest I ever seen it. Little kids all over everythang," Marcus commented.        "Ha-ha-ha. Well, maybe the library, then. I don't know. It's always cool in there," replied Jackson.        "But later tonight, it will definitely be the park," said Max.        "Yeah? Why's that? Some'n goin' on? Fireworks, right?" asked Jackson's cousin.        "Wait, hold up! They're gon' have fireworks?" asked Kasey, lifting her head with sudden enthusiasm.        "Yup yup," Jackson confirmed, sipping on a chocolate milk, nodding assuredly.        "Damn, I didn't even know that," said Max. "There weren't any last year, were there? Or the year before!" He thought of Jessie--wondering if she knew about the fireworks.        "So why'd you say 'Definitely the park later?'" Marcus queried.        "He's got a little fuck buddy," said Jackson, prompting Max to thud him on the chest.        "Oh, well, there ya go!" said the cousins, laughing politely.        "Who is she?"        The four continued talking for a time, covering topics such as fishing, summer school, Marcus' new pickup truck, and the eccentric girl who is always running about with Kyndell Reed.        "Oh, shit, babe, I only got ten minutes left. We best get goin.' Alright, fellas. Sorry to cut it short. Jackson--as always. Max--good luck!"        "Nice to meet you, Max! Keep little Jackson out'a trouble, now, ya' hear? Maybe we'll catch y'all tonight at them fireworks."        Marcus slapped on his cap by the bill, and gathered his large ring of keys he had thrown in the middle of the table, as Kasey took both hands to Jackson's head, disheveling his dark hair, flaring it in all directions, before exiting the human cooler back into the dog day. The buddies rose from the booth less than a minute later, both of them quite ready to return once again out into the civil pandemonium that was sprawling the streets.        It was around by the roasted corn-on-the-cob stand near the entrance to the main drag of victual vendors leading up to the stage that Jackson and Max came across David, a long-haired musician, whom Niki had introduced to Max only a couple months ago, walking by himself rather aimlessly, looking a bit anxious, with both hands in his pockets. Niki had shared a study hall period with him, and his lurching, solitary disposition, with long locks perpetually draped over half of his face, piqued her interest and brought her to introduce herself, inquiring as to whether he was a musician (he was, in fact, a bass player)--the unconscious motive being her desire to find a person that would be a good match for her best friend Maxxy, another long-haired musician, who had, in fact, once or twice, mentioned aloud to her his noticing David's curious presence seen here and there along the edges of the school's hallways. During a lunch period, not a week after, she would introduce the two and meld them into fellowship with triumph. Maxxy asked if Jackson had ever talked to him, and he affirmed that he did, as he also shared with the loner third-period geometry in Mr. Miller's class. The couplet agreed on an attempt to recruit him.        David, being only a bit more open-minded and quite friendlier than his appearance would lead one to believe, agreed to join the buddies for a time, as he was indeed alone at the fair and had no specific arrangement made with anybody, or any detailed plan of action. He simply came because it was something to do--something rather, in his mind, adventurous for him to engage in--atypical from his usual disinterest in events or gatherings of any sort; but in reality, what with the meager populace of the town demanding nothing but semi-familiar faces all around, was a rather safe and conventional outing. The trio rummaged through the merchandise booths, pointing out interesting objects and gadgets to one another, kindly greeting the individual sellers, passing by Marcus and Kasey's booth near the end of the road, and planted themselves on the curb nearby them, Jackson talking with his cousins while Max and David continued catching each other up on their respective summers.        "I invited Niki, but she said she would have to come with Aleister. I told her 'never mind.' I offered her a ride, and she said she wanted to come, so I don't know what the deal is. Oh, well. It's not that important; I was going to come either way. I figured I would see you and Jessie sometime. Is she here?"        "I was with her last night, for like an hour. We went into that chapel and then it started raining, big time. Haven't seen her today. Yeah, Aleister's got her in a fucking strangle-hold, I really regret introducing them, ha-ha. Did you know they're having fireworks tonight?"        "Nope, but I probably won't stay that late. I just came to see if anything interesting was happening, and nothing really is."        "We got the parade tomorrow; Niki will be right up front waving a flag," Max informed him.        "Yeah, I'm not going to that--seems pointless. Aleister will probably be there. She'll have fun getting that attention, ha-ha--that's for sure," said David, tossing pebbles at an oak across the road. "So you'll be in that parade, too?"        "Yep, I will be with the drum line clapping the cymbals together--pretty much the easiest gig in the whole thing; otherwise, I would skip it."        "You guys talking about the parade?" Jackson could overhear David, his baseline register being slightly louder than most. "You coming, Davey?"        "Nope, seems totally pointless. You gonna be playing your tuba, or whatever?"        "Ha-ha, it's a trombone, retard."        "Fuck you--! How should I know, you two are the band geeks here, not me." After this jovial burst from David's squeaking voice, Marcus hollered:        "This one time at band camp!..."        Everyone laughed, and Jackson offered an open hand down to Max, suggesting they move along. Max grabbed it and pulled himself up, prompting David to rise also, and the three deliberated on their next move, finally choosing the library for a corporeal cool-down.        "Stay outta trouble!" Kasey called behind them.        Within the realm of books and quietude, another sanctuary of it's own kind, the three dropped into the cubed wooden chairs encircling the first table they spotted, flapping their shirts and twisting their backs. There were only about seven or eight others currently in the building, in which there were also only about seven or eight aisles, one of which was capped with a table slightly larger than the one Maxxy currently occupied with his buddies, that happened to be inhabited by Sarah Geller, Silas Browning, and Harper Fritchman talking over some open magazines and notebooks. Max carried himself over to them, and with a welcome greeting from all, and Harper especially, Max pulled out the open chair seating himself next to Sarah, across from SIlas.        "Maxxy! Oh my gosh, this is perfect! You're smart, you might know this. We're trying to figure out what's the difference between a seal and a sea lion."        "Oh my God, Harper, we've already figured this out," said Sarah Geller, a rather fit girl, with long, blonde curls and a very distinct, lightly freckled face, with thin, pitch black eyeliner that reminded Max of Jessie. "Seals are the fat, ugly ones in the water and sea lions are the cute ones with the ears that come on land."        "That sounds right," said Maxxy, not really knowing.        "No! I don't buy it! I could swear seals are the super cute ones with the ball bouncing on their nose! I have called them seals literally my entire life!" Harper countered.        "That doesn't mean it's right," said Silas, setting down a transparent purple GameBoy Advance he had been clicking in his lap onto the table, grateful to have another male presence. "Someone told you those were seals, but I believe Sarah, they could just as easily be sea lions."        "I don't like you right now," said Harper, in a petulant huff. "My mom has a picture of us from Florida when we went as kids, and the picture frame has a beach ball in the right corner, and a little seal on the left, and she always calls it a seal!"        "Well, your mom is wrong," said Sarah dryly, making Maxxy laugh much harder than he had so far that day.        "My mom is never wrong, you take that back right now!" said Harper, happily, turning red all over.        "I am the walrus," said Max.        "I am the egg-man!" returned Silas, on a dime, nodding impressed approval at Maxxy, who nodded back while indetectably readjusting himself to get a better angle of Sarah's body.        "You had that Beatles jacket yesterday. It looks nice on you," said Harper.        "Oh, thank you. It got soaked in the rain. Jessie and I were at the chapel when it started. Had to run three blocks in it."        "Woah, hold on a second. Pretty much everyone had left by then--what were you two doing?" asked Sarah, turning fully to Max, pushing her tongue in her cheek, with very glassy blue eyes under dark, lifted eyebrows.        "Nothing! I just had never seen the inside of that chapel, and neither had she."        "Uh-huh. Those places creep me out like nothing else."        "Sarah! How the heck could a church be creepy?" asked Harper, genuinely shocked at her friend's confession.        "Just trust me. You wouldn't get it. Let's just say they do not agree with me."        "They're not for everybody," Max agreed, subtly flirting with Sarah, as he spotted David walking over to the table.        "What are you doing?" he asked Max abruptly, not looking at anyone else, hovering above them.        "Just talking about seals and shit--you know, very sophisticated stuff," said Max, trying to ignore David's ostensibly uncouth sense of sociability for the benefit of the table.        "Oh. Well, are you coming? Me and Jackson want some food. Plus, I'm starting to get bored just watching them play Runescape."        "Sure, let's hit it."        "You're leaving?" asked Harper, querulously, sticking out her lip.        "We should go, too, ya'll. I gotta be back home soon-ish," said Sarah, putting on a pair of black glasses.        "But I'm not done coloring my fishies!"        "Harper, come on, she's right. My ass is starting to hurt," said Silas, back on his GameBoy, David still staring blankly above them.        "I'll be at the fireworks. You might catch me at the park later," said Max, now standing, tightening his belt. "Plus, at the parade, I shall see all of you again."        "Oh, yeah! That's right! You shall, indeed! Sarah's gonna be leading us! She's in that anterior, whatever it's called."        "Anterior troop," Sarah clarified.        "Oh, nice, so is Niki; she's up front, too."        "I hope she can handle it! You can not be dropping flags while you're up there," said Sarah, cautiously.        "Yeah, I bet. She'll be all right," said Max, with confidence. "Alright. Peace out, ya'll." Sarah still looked skeptical.        "Alright! Bye Maxxy! Peace out, m'dude! I'll miss you!"        Max and David continued down the aisle not fifteen feet, turned a corner, and hit the computer station where Jackson had logged into his own Runescape account, gaming alongside Zadra, back at his usual monitor, seemingly to have never left. Max asked Jackson if he was coming, and he said yes, but to give him a minute; with that, Maxxy asked the librarian for the key to the bathroom, went, and returned in a flash to find David and Jackson standing under the high-powered vent within the anteroom of the library. He opened the inner doors, took in a final waft with eyes closed, and the trio exited heading in the direction of the food vendors.        Now seated under an umbrellaed folding table, Maxxy and Jackson were eating messy fries out of a boat covered in cheese and bacon, David having the same, but plain, with no toppings as to avoid the mess, peeking around their surroundings for anything at all alluring or especially different from the day previous, finding nothing of the sort. Jackson suggested they walk over to Lawson's house, and both friends having agreed, Maxxy added he would like to pass by the park first on the way over, on the off-chance Kyndell, Riley, and Jessie had returned early, it now being around 4 p.m. Maxxy knew this would be unlikely, due to the perfect lake-going weather, but did not mention this unlikelihood aloud. Setting off in the direction of Lawson's, with the planned stop-over at the park and making also a quick stop at Jackson's for him to grab his basketball, so as to have something to busy his hands with, Maxxy and Jackson were discussing the idea of meeting up with Mason once the sun began to set, whom Zadra had made plans with for that night to drink vodka-spiked lemon shake-ups while gaiting the nighttime festivities, the plan of which Zadra had mentioned to Jackson at the library, followed by a casual invitation, so long as he did not bring or tell anyone else, except for Max--David having stated he would be gone by that time.

       At the park, under the roofed common-area off to the side of the basketball court, the trio spotted Tanner Hitchens, a lanky, curly-haired weed dealer. David borrowed ten dollars from Max, and asked Tanner if he had any. He told them they would have to follow him to his house to retrieve it, and since Tanner lived in the same apartment buildings as Lawson did, they did so. Upon entering the court, consisting of two squat, brick buildings containing around six apartments each with a dead-end road between them, the quartet split apart, with David following Tanner to his doorstep as Max and Jackson continued on to Lawson's.        "What took you so long?" asked Lawson, opening the door, not specifically expecting them, but realizing their appearance to be likely. He led them through the small living room into his own room, threw himself into the dirty twin bed, and resumed watching an anime he had on DVD on his little television sitting on an end table, as he had been doing, as Maxxy surmised, all day long. There was an off-brand Warlock hanging down the wall above Lawson's own practice amp, and in the half-opened closet, a very new-looking, out-of-place pedal board was spotted by Max.        "What is that?" he asked, prompting Lawson to pull out the pedal board, hooking it up after a brief search for his connector cables.        "It's Brandon's dad's. He takes my laptop, I take this."        "What do you mean?" asked Jackson.        Lawson said nothing. He pointed out to Max, now adorned with the Warlock, sitting on the floor and searching his pocket for his pick, all of the pedal's presets--over one hundred of them, displayed on a smooth LED screen. Maxxy began whirligigging the knobs in delight, speedily changing the presets and testing out their unique tones, trying to ignore the fact of this wonderful piece of equipment having clearly been stolen.        "You mind if David comes by? He's gonna be knocking any second--bear in mind, he's coming from Tanner's," asked Maxxy, smiling at a particularly reverberated and warbly preset.        "I don't care," said Lawson, indolently, "as long as he shares."        "He just might!"        "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk."        Jackson, just about to sit himself, heard the knocking and went out to let David in. The two returned to the small room, officially crowding it, causing Max to have to lift high the guitar neck so as to let David cross by, stepping over the large pedal board and Maxxy's crossed legs. Lawson leaned up from the bed, threw up his window and patted a spot on the mattress beneath it, with an impartial smile directing David in a welcoming yet disenchanted way that only he could pull off.        "So, how are we doing this?" asked David, pulling out the fragrant bag of tea.        Lawson reached under the bed and brought out a thin, bendable rubber and metal pipe, at first, resembling a simple ink pen, out from an old sock he had wrapped it in, twisting onto it a small, metal bowl that he had Maxxy pull out from under the plastic set of drawers hiding in the closet.        "Are you guys, really?" asked Jackson, laughing, unable to control his nervous glee.        "Why not?" asked David, now holding the pipe that Lawson had quickly packed for him. "Lighter, please-and-thank-you."        "I'm good on that," said Max, nonchalantly, more interested in the guitar tones.        "What--why?" asked David, noticeably upset by this, as his social life was quite lacking in the department of mischief, and his impression of long-haired Maxxy being suddenly thrown into chaos.        "I never have before, and I have plans with Jessie. I have no idea what it would do to me. We will one day--don't you worry."        "Well, that's a bummer; I bought this specifically to smoke with you," David frowned, staring at Max with dark eyes.        "You mean Maxxy bought it," said Jackson, slightly disapproving of David's callow grumbling. "I'm good, as well. I ain't no pothead. You two enjoy that."

*

It was approaching 6 p.m., and Maxxy was growing eager--there were clouds hanging about, but none too foreboding, and still no wind; the heat unrelenting, if not imperceptibly subsiding. The trio left Lawson's after several attempts and subsequent failures to pry him away from the television and his bed, and stopped off once more at Jackson's, initially, only to return the basketball and to drink water; but, after David hinted that he planned on heading home himself for the night very soon, mostly due to a growing, insatiable craving for Taco Bell, one of which resided one street over from his house in the neighboring town, Jackson felt a sudden upsurge of sluggishness, and propounded to Maxxy that he might go to the park without him, while he stay home to take a shower, and possibly a quick nap, also. Maxxy approved, after clearly establishing that the night was far from over, and making Jackson assure him that he would soon return so that the two could search out Mason and Zadra; and inviting David along to the park with him for one final endeavor before he go, who agreed, the two went on their way, leaving Jackson to it.        It was not as crowded at the park as what Maxxy had pictured when he heard Marcus describing it earlier on, but it did appear to be at half-capacity, at least, in contrast to the typical quarter-or-less. There were only a handful of small children, the bulk belonging to younger teenagers around Chandler's age, and another handful of older teens Maxxy and David's age, two of which being Kyndell and Jessie, looking quite peppy and animated, sitting next to each other on the swings, twisting themselves in circles with their feet, winding the hanging chains tightly together, and lifting their feet up behind them, releasing the tension and sending them spinning like tops.        "Try not to vomit," said Maxxy to Kyndell, sneaking up on her side, David close behind, speaking quietly so that he might keep hidden from still-spinning Jessie, letting her announce his presence to Jessie, instead, so as to gauge whether she might have been talking about him while away at the lake.        "Blleeeghh!" Kyndell played along, throwing her head back and grinning placidly at him.        "Ha-ha--what the fuck? Oh!" Jessie halted her speedy whirling, spotting Maxxy and David after a couple seconds, orienting herself. "Yay! You made it! Well, who do we have here? it's David, right? Hi!" She looked back to Max, deep into his eyes, grinning like someone was taking a picture and shifting her head from shoulder to shoulder to entice. "What's the haps, paps?"        "It be bein' in the bein'," said Max.        "Pa-ha-ha! What was that, now?" asked Kyndell, as they both laughed loudly, initiating another round of twisting. David was also laughing, but quickly cut himself off and attempted to grab a fly that was circling him out from the air.        "Woah, we got us a ninja!" said Kyndell.        "It's not me who's a ninja; it's you guys, wearing all that black."        "We like black, indeed, indeed we do."        "Did you guys go to the lake like that? How did you not die?" asked Maxxy, now standing behind Jessie, lightly pushing her on the swing.        "Yes! Oh, we don't die--we're immortal," answered Kyndell, cryptically. Jessie stopped the swing with her feet, tilted her head far back and looked up at Max with an upside-down smile, inches away from him. At that moment, Maxxy thought he himself might like to die.        "Oh! So, what are you, vampires?" asked David (keeping up rather well, for him).        "Fairies," said Max dreamily, still having not broken eye contact with Jessie. "Blackened fairies."        "Oh, I like that," said Kyndell, poking Jessie in her belly after noticing the two staring at each other, seemingly having fallen out of time, drifting slowly away elsewhere, snapping her back into the present.        "Ow! Hey!" She stood up, and fell into Max with a hug, nestling in as if she were to try and fall asleep.        "Awh, you two; now I really am gonna vomit."        "Are you staying for the fireworks?" asked Max.        "What!" Jessie started, and grabbed him by the arms with wide eyes. "When!? Where!? What!? How!? What!? Who-!" Max covered her mouth with his hand, unable to take the joy he felt from such a perfect reaction--he did not deserve it. She licked his hand, and he pulled it away. "Please don't be lying! Who said there would be fireworks? Kyndell? Is he lying? Ooooh, oh, oh, oh, oh!"        David was beginning to fidget, looking like he did when Maxxy first saw him. After Kyndell confirmed she wasn't aware of the fireworks but suggesting Maxxy was likely not lying, her gaze started to drift disconsolately at the thought of Jessie and Maxxy lost in bliss together, under the enlarging, shimmering bursts setting off into the dimming heavens, with her beside them--alone--without Riley. She admitted to feeling enclosed and cramped at this moment, and decided for the friends that they ought to make an escape by heading over to the Subway that sat across the street from her house's back alley. This idea sparked a perfect appeal in David, who had parked his Jeep when he had first arrived in the parking lot in front of the restaurant, and informed Maxxy and the girls he we join them on the way over before making his exit. The girls gave him a sugary goodbye, Jessie giving him a forward-leaning hug, and David stuck his hand out to Maxxy for the two's recently-developed firm, parting hand shake. Max opened the door for the ladies, curtsying to him as they entered, and flashed the peace sign to David as he drove away.        Not including the two remaining employees, the restaurant was empty, it being less than an hour before closing. Max ordered a large drink cup for himself and two cookies for the girls, quickly changing it to only one as Kyndell politely declined the one offered to her. He asked the worker if she knew when the fireworks were going to start, her replying, unfortunately, in the negative. They settled into a booth along the right side under a substantial framed photograph of sandwich ingredients, with enormous tomatoes covered in exaggerating droplets of water looming above Jessie's blonde head, munching on her macadamia cookie while Kyndell held her chin in the cup of her hands, exhaling slowly and looking at Max, quite downcast.        "What is it?" he asked her.        "Awh, Kyndell! Do you miss Riley?"        "Well, I know he wants to be with Aleister before summer school starts Monday, so I'm happy he's happy. After all, he was very sweet at the lake all day--I know he was getting bored--only, if I knew there was going to be fireworks, I would have definitely told him to come back with us here to meet Aleister instead of going to his house. It's just a little depressing, is all."        "So go call him! Tell them to get their butts over here, now!" Jessie suggested.        "Oh, I don't know--they're probably in the middle of some game and won't want to."        "Doesn't hurt to ask," offered Max, warmly.        "Yeah! Go home and call him! How often do you get to watch surprise fireworks?"        "You two are perfect, I swear. Okay! I shall return. Will you guys wait here?" Kyndell gave in and hopped up from the booth, leaving behind the two, along with all of her confliction, while reflecting to herself in the most earnest gratitude on how such simple solutions are able to present themselves so easily from a mind not wholly confused, and achingly helpless.        "She's perfect. We're nasty," Jessie joked.        "Twenty minutes to closing, guys!" called the night manager.        "Anywhere we go, we immediately get kicked out," said Max, with pride.        "Ha-ha-ha! Because we're nasty!"        Maxxy's cell phone began to jingle, bringing out Jessie's index fingers to tick along like a metronome. A text from an unrecognized number:        "Come to the rocket. Hurry up."        After reading it aloud, he flipped the phone shut and stood up to stretch.        "Who was it?" asked Jessie, looking up and taking her last bite of cookie. "I don't know, it was a random number," said Max, "but I'm guessing Jackson."        "Oh! What's he doing?"        "We're meeting up with Mason and Zadra. Apparently, they have alcohol."        "What! Not fair," said Jessie, pounding a sleeve-wrapped fist on the table and sucking the last of Maxxy's Powerade, going aaahhh in quenched satisfaction.        "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but you should come any way since Mason's got the hots for you. I'm quite sure he won't mind."        "Ha-ha! Oh, Mason--of course he's drinking--what is it, vodka?"        She smacked the empty cup thrice upon the table, which was considerably rackety in the desolate little dining room, smiling proudly. Max swiped the cup and re-filled it with fruit punch Hi-C, and the couplet walked out to wait for Kyndell, who was just turning the corner of the building to their right.        "Oh! perfect timing!" said Kyndell, now looking quite placid, as she had when she first smiled at Max at the park. "Did they kick you out?"        "Ha-ha--kinda, yeah," said Jessie. "So, is he coming?" She could tell by Kyndell's improved disposition that he was.        "Yes! Him and Aleister will be here in thirty minutes, he said. I'm so hap-peee," she sang, turning round in a gypsy-like fashion, prompting a laugh from Jessie. "Shall we go back to the park to wait, my lovelies?"        "Yeah! Oh, well, wait. I don't know..." began Jessie, looking at Max for assistance.        "I got a text, I think it was from Jackson. He said to hurry up and come to the Rocket. We're meeting Mason and Zadra, I think he's probably with them already. You guys want to come along?"        "Mason has vodka," Jessie turned to Kyndell, effortfully extracting, with all of her might, a false sense of primness and constraint, as her friend was raised to be used to a much more conservative approach at leisure than Jessie had. Herself, plainly distinguishing Jessie's commendable restraint, added to her ability to appreciate the circumstances of the annual weekend seldom occurring, combined with just having been fortuitously pulled away into safety from the sights of an oncoming melancholy, Kyndell gladly agreed in joining along with Maxxy to his borderline rendezvous. Jessie was sent into a rapture most supreme, and bolted for their destination, snagging up Max's hand in stride, nearly causing him to spill fruit punch down his neck--Kyndell, noticing the avoidance of this well-nigh accident, let off a rejuvenating whoop as she stirdied herself and followed behind in excited speed. "Hurry! Hurry!" Jessie kept calling, between an unbroken line of serene humming, as Max struggled to suck down the fruity liquid to a more secure level. The trio passed the park, turning the corner onto the road of merchandise vendors, most of them now being deconstructed by their respective proprietors, down into the lane of food carts and tables preceding the vertical ride implanted into the grass that binded the left half of the community bank's parking lot. Upon spotting the trio of Mason, Zadra and Jackson, she let go of Max, to his great relief, looking back to Kyndell as he halted, holding out a friendly hand she might use for balance upon her own curtailment. She stuck out her hand a few feet away, grabbed the outstretched fingers and swung forward and around, back into Maxxy's chest, laughing and taking a large swig from his cup.        "Thank you, sir! You're very kind, and I am very sweaty." The two sauntered up and over the stout, yellow parking blocks into the grass beneath the Rocket, where Jessie was gesticulating at Jackson, who was blushing slightly, with crossed arms and a slight sway. Mason and Zadra stood beside, sharing a big cup of vodka lemonade, watching Jessie, wholly entranced, if not slightly bewildered, at her relentless energy and unyielding charm. "Thanks a lot, Jess, I'm sweating like a hog!"        Kyndell tossed her arm over his shoulder, waving herself gingerly with her free hand, prompting a mannered Max to slip his arm around her torso, picturing to himself with liberal fancy the two as looking rather genteel and sophisticated to the gang of friends before them, despite Kyndell's falling sweat bullets and shabby blackened garb alongside his own baggy, ripped jeans and fruit punch clenching hand, now having become slightly sticky. Upon his casual embrace, she feigned a deeper exhaustion for effect, making light of their already airy, albeit perspiry constitutions. The shoddy glitterati separated, establishing respective outposts within the circle, Kyndell sidling up to Jessie's right, now between her and Zadra, hanging upon her shoulder, with Maxxy throwing a reuniting hand on Jackson, placing himself between him and Zadra, laying hold of the southern-most position crosswise from Jessie's North pole, completing  the circle beneath the tarped and defeated-looking vertical ride. Jessie was now holding Mason's large plastic cup, sipping out the vodka lemonade and telling of her day at the lake, specifically noting Riley and Chandler's proficiency at wave-running, and the gripping heat during their picnic-lunch, despite settling beneath the largest and best-shaded sugar maple, Kyndell opening her mouth in wait for Jessie to angle in the straw, conceding herself to uncommon and decidedly deserved loosening. Jessie bent back her limb and the riveted straw fell into place.        "Don't you know goth girls are supposed to be allergic to sunlight?" Zadra said, making a break from the cirque's occupying discussion as the settled Max and Kyndell hearkened.        "We are not goth--we're blackened fairies. Right?" said Jessie, smiling to Maxxy.        "Exactly," he confirmed languidly.        The boys of the group, having been absent from the birth of the term, after a brief mocking, quickly remodeled their attitudes and determined the label quite fitting.        "I'm assuming David went home?" asked Jackson to Max.        "Yessir--about half an hour ago."        "M'dude got the munchies," said Mason with a savvy glance, having been told by Jackson of the trip to Lawson's, prior.        "Munchies? Was he high? Were you guys smokin' pot?" Jessie asked Max and Jackson, looking impressed at her not noticing any explicit signals of them having done so.        "We didn't have any, but yeah, David got some off Tanner earlier. He took two hits and just gave the rest to Lawson, ha-ha," answered Jackson.        "Fucking lightweight," said Mason, laughing in Zadra's direction. "You don't smoke, Max? I'm a little surprised."        "He smokes when he's alone, I guarantee you," said Zadra, looking at Max slyly. "No one with hair that long doesn't smoke the barley." Jessie kept her eyes on Max, curious herself of the truth of the matter.        "I really don't--I don't know what to tell ya," he announced. "I'm not against it, but I definitely didn't need it today." He shot a quick glance up at Jessie, hoping only she would notice, to inclusively reveal his reasoning, making her demure upon the failed attempt at being overlooked by the others.        "Keep it in your pants, Max," said Zadra, snapping the cup of vodka lemonade out from Jessie's hand,  removing the lid and jostling it's contents before a willful gulp. He passed it to Max, keeping his chin high and eyes facing straight forward to portray a smoothed apathy. Maxxy took a gulp himself, replacing the lid with a snap.        "Ah! There's that bite," said Max, wiping the corners of his mouth as he passed the drink off to Jackson, who, having had his fill for the time being, peacefully requited the mix with it's curly-haired keeper.        "So you won't do the ganja, but will do the vodka?" inquired Zadra, laughing. "That's ass-backwards, dawg! You don't deserve to wear that shirt!" He referred to Max, adorned in a white Sublime tee bearing the band's psychedelic Sun logo.        "The shirt literally says '40 Oz. to Freedom,' ha-ha-ha," Jackson pointed out.        "Okay, fair enough--but they're known better for being potheads," replied Zadra.        "This is true," added Kyndell, currently holding the community cup: she always considered Zadra, a general underdog in the department of gray matter, much quicker than he was accredited. Jessie gave a nod of agreement in Zadra's direction before looking back at Max as she began to sing, in low tones:

       Early in the mornin'        Risin' to the street

[Joining in: Kyndell, Zadra]

       Light me up a cigarette

[Joining in: Maxxy, Mason]

       And I strap shoes on my feet!

       "Uhuh-uhuh-uhyuk," cooed Jackson, being the only friend unfamiliar with the tune.        "Beautiful, guys--really." He reached a hand out to Kyndell for the cup, but was intercepted by Zadra upon her extending it to him, stating, nearly in duress:        "No! Don't you dare break rotation!"        The girls burst with a laugh, Jessie rolling her eyes at this rather disadvantageous rigidity and boomed in a low, mocking tone: "Oh, yeah! Super important!" They were laughing, when Max, eager for a chance to excite Jessie personally, and, remembering Jackson's intriguing foreknowledge of the festival's goings-on, turned to his buddy and asked if he knew what time the fireworks were to commence. "Marcus said someone told him 9 o'clock," he answered. "So, pretty soon, I'm guessing." "Yeah, it's 8:50 now," said Mason, who had had his cell phone in his hand, connected to a long black pair of wrap-around earphones that went up to only his left ear, since the trio arrived from the closing restaurant.

       "Oh, no! Kyndell, where are we supposed to meet Riley and them? The park? Should we go over there?" asked Jessie.        Kyndell, with a flash in her eyes, as if she had forgotten completely the awaiting solution to her recent bout with ennui, replied in a hesitant affirmative, insisting the sextet travel together in that direction. Zadra let off a little groan, he being quite peculiar about not engaging in too many social dalliances, this current one already pushing the limits of his taste when regarding his upholding a diligent consistency to remain within the bounds of this proud and affirmed conviction. "I don't know, I can't stand being around noisy kids. Plus, we will need a refill soon--Mason, you wanna head to your place? I don't really give a shit about fireworks."        "Nah, man--let's do the park. Riley owes me money, any way," Mason answered. (Despite this claim, Mason cared very little of this deal and it's required confrontation; rather, he would suggest they join along so that he might continue his casual glances at Jessie--as he had once called her in confidence, to Jeffrey Zadra, his "favorite piece of eye candy").        "Ah, shit. Fine! No more vodka for you two, though--girls are natural lightweights," Zadra pointed two fingers at Jessie and Kyndell, struggling to find some individuality so as to gloss over his acquiescing to his friend's suggestion.        "Wow, okay," laughed Jackson, happily absorbed in his vodka buzz.        "Excuse me! I could drink you under the table," said Jessie, smacking five-foot-five Zadra on the arm playfully, with attempted haughtiness, as the six began their collected migration.        "Excuse me, but exactly what does Riley owe you money for?" inquired Kyndell to Mason, mentally preparing an authoritative chiding for her boyfriend upon descrying him.        "I loaned him my bike, well--a bike--for a month, and he's had it for almost two, now. I told him it's a dollar a day every day he doesn't bring it back--he's at 21 bucks, now. I ought to just say nothing and let that shit stack up."        "For real! Don't mention it, dude, until the last day of summer school--or later, even; I guarantee you he will completely forget about it," said Zadra, wickedly, making another one of his usual, oft-unreliable guarantees.        "You two are bad," Jessie laughed.        "Riley is bad! He should know better than that! Well, you won't have to remind him, because I most definitely will! He's supposed to be saving up for when we go to Myrtle Beach,"  declared Kyndell, perturbed (but not really).        "Don't worry, Kyndell, I ain't gonna let Mason hustle your bae," said Jackson, placing a woozy hand to her back, drawing out from her a politic danke.        Mason stuck his dangling earphone on and turned up a bass-heavy rap track as the group continued along, with Zadra beside, high-chinned and pocket-handed, the two serving as anterior troop, followed by Kyndell and Jackson, with Max and Jessie in the rear, trading smiles, and surreptitiously locking hands. Jackson, noticing his pair of cousins not fifty feet before them, heading in the same direction, called out to them with a kindly smile and wave, the two turning their heads and returning equally kindly signals, to Jackson's great satisfaction.        Maxxy took this moment to fully appreciate, as he had not yet done that day, the complete absence of any trace of rain or cloud or storm that would have been wholly detrimental to his treasured time with Jessie that day, and, perhaps, the rest of the festival; he could see that she was also in a state of passive gratitude, or so as such, not necessarily, perhaps, for his presence personally, but for something much more expansive--much more; and as they were reaching the edge of the park, warm, behind trusting enough peers, the sun now all but fully set, he pondered upon everything that Jessie may have lacked, and had, perhaps, yearned for, through the entirety of her being, and upon what unconditionally generous and merciful ethereal force might be at play, hidden, off-screen, never evincing it's presence, had chosen upon graciously gifting to Max the knowledge that, despite all of those possible lackings and yearnings, it just might be that it was he--and he alone--at this moment, that set at perfect peace all of her delicate, prized and mysterious emotions. Aleister and Riley were spotted and Kyndell ran into her lover’s arms. At that moment, Maxxy saw Harper and Silas sitting on a bench nearby, and was exchanging smiles and waves with them when he suddenly heard from above a loud sonic boom, followed by a great light, with crackles and shimmers; and he felt the tight squeeze from Jessie's hand which rest within his, as she looked above, and gasped with excited wonder beneath the falling stars.

[kgxhyun]

houdini.

– JANUARY 2013.  

@kgjunho

first impressions are essential. the venue certainly doesn’t disappoint, an expensive site for an even more extravagant jamboree, honored by people whose names would each be worth as much as the premises. round tables draped with velvet and boasting ice sculptures encircle the hall, archaic arches cast above them; and while attendees ornamented with precious stones and finely pressed suits spin pleasantries and lies && trade secrets like needlework with the tip of their tongues, an entertainer flirts with dohyun’s attention. the mayor’s son has truly outdone himself.

...which means dohyun doesn’t belong here. half these people don’t, if you think about it, but anyone who’s anyone would know to make an appearance before the evening’s end. his – their – disguise is simple enough: two college students forced to some attend business venture of their fathers’ friend, thrown in among the guests while wishing for nothing but to leave and get on with partying. he finds personal pleasure in the irony of the situation, considering the grueling, painstaking process he’d undergone to get inside. collar loosened, jacket left intentionally unbuttoned, his gaze catches on an older woman sprinkling a certain noncommercial powder onto her tongue. another gentlemen sneaks a leather flask out of his back pocket. spotting a passing tray, dohyun picks up a glass of his own.

the boy looks behind him, then around him, one hand stuffed into his pocket and feeling the silky coating of a very special pen. he chuckles – sarcastically, if even possible – his friend is no longer beside him. just then, colliding into a stern-faced woman with her hair pulled harshly into a bun, it requires genuine effort to keep the fluid from spilling over and the suit dry. his misplaced footing nearly lands on her fallen clutch, and immediately he’s bending down to gather her things, slipping a sleek company access card into his pocket before rising back to his full stature. “aigoo, i’m so sorry, ma'am,” he says, lips spreading into an apologetic smile. “i was just so taken by your beauty i forgot to move aside.” 

an old tactic from the books – how fitting for an event celebrating the vision of the future. her eyelids drop and she’s peering at him from underneath false lashes, a bloody red mouth curling into a timid smile. not his type. “not at all, it was my my fault too, mr...” suddenly he locates him, beyond an empty table surrounded by directors and chief executives, and the corners of dohyun’s lips tilt upward. 

“kang. i’ll be seeing you around.” a moment later and he’s skirting along the walls, approaching his partner from behind. leaning against a marble pillar, dohyun brings the flute of champagne to his mouth. “didn’t think you’d abandon me so soon, junho-ah.” dohyun’s smirk is hidden in gold tinted fizz, and as he glides a tongue over his lip, two men of noticeable stature slip from the room. he nods in the direction of their rendezvous, one leg crossing over the other, lazily drawing his eyes back to choi junho. “your tie is crooked.” 

[clan-fuildarach]

the royal dinner

emiliano does something very dumb and very very brave 

(sliiight warning for horror in this one... i kept it pretty vague/not at all graphic but if u don’t like implied torture of children maybe skip this one)

~

“Hey, Emil – I think I've figured out why I keep seeing that man.”

Emiliano nodded absently, drawing a pristine polishing cloth along the length of his scabbard. Dust and dirt had been caught in the engraved details, but no blood. He hadn't seen a battle in a long time. No doubt his skills were getting rusty. Maybe he could-

Corin nudged him impatiently, practically bouncing on the spot. “Don't you want to know why?”

“Hm?”

“He's following you around,” Corin said, finally seating himself at the dining table. Emiliano stood to attention behind his chair. As a lowly bodyguard, he was not allowed to sit with the royal family. He had to eat his meals later, once Corin was asleep for the night.

“That's cool,” Emiliano said, not really listening, too busy watching the back doors with a slight frown. Rosa was nearly always late, but it was pretty rare for Atropa to delay like this. Artemio slouched against the wall behind Atropa's chair, reading through some ledger or other, smoke curling up from his lips. Emiliano coughed loudly, pointedly, but Artemio didn't seem to hear.

Emiliano scowled. Dinner with the royal family was about as interesting and engaging as dishwater. He wiped his scabbard down again, his thoughts jumping ahead to his own dinner later – he'd finally have Fallon to himself for the first time since the beginning of the jamboree. Celebrations in the Court were highly class-segregated, and Fallon had been invited to so many parties that he'd been unable to refuse without jeopardising his status. So Emiliano had been left alone most nights.

Now, though, the main religious celebrations were over and Fallon had a night off. Emiliano had a special evening planned – he'd poured his savings into the fancy bottle of wine that now lay cooling under his bed – and all he had to do now was make it through this boring royal chore first.

Artemio ground out his cigarette under his heel, his curious gaze rising from his ledger to fix on Corin for a moment.

“And,” Corin was saying, “sometimes I think he must be using magic or something because no one else can see him, and-”

The door creaked open. Atropa emerged, wiping his hands clean with a lacy handkerchief. With a gracious nod to Artemio, he took his place at the head of the table.

“Your mother won't be joining us tonight,” he said, waving for the servers waiting at the edges of the room. “We'll eat without her.”

Corin glanced over at something in the corner of the room, then back over at Atropa. His enthusiasm visibly died away, replaced by a quiet, obedient look. With a short nod, Corin spread a napkin on his lap and waited while the servers brought the food to the table.

At first, Emiliano had been dumbstruck at the differences between royal dinner and bog-standard civilian dinner. Corin was a good-natured boy, no doubt about that, but sometimes Emiliano wondered how he would fare if – gods forbid – he actually had to serve his own food some day, or clean his own bedroom without someone waiting on him hand and foot. And that was Emiliano's cousin. How could their upbringings have been so different?

“Tell me what you learned today, Corin,” Atropa said softly, taking up his cutlery. Although not technically of royal blood, he was perfectly at ease surrounded by servants. “Adreanas tells me you're making great progress with your genealogy lessons.”

Corin nodded. “Yes, father,” he said earnestly, without meeting Atropa's eyes. “I'm drawing a family tree with what I've learned. You never told me that grandfather Zaer was related to Verveine Redsand. Does that mean we're related to Queen Xandra?”

Atropa nodded, tucking his pale pink hair behind his ear. “Yes, though very distantly. It's not worth thinking about; you see, Verveine Redsand fathered a lot of children during his time as Commander Rezann's plague general, he is ancestor to half of northern Sornieth. But through his connection with the Commander and the wealth he earned, our trading company was able to get off the ground. Verveine's third daughter, Kyras, was the first to start trading under an official-”

Emiliano zoned out for a while. Atropa was a deeply boring person, all too fond of breaking into long, dull lectures about the minutiae of running a trading company. Just two more hours, Emiliano promised himself, tucking his polishing cloth into his jacket pocket.

Atropa continued to drone on.

“It's interesting, is it not, that your non-royal side boasts a far more distinguished bloodline,” he said. “We have been a fixture in Sornieth for hundreds of years, and the founder of this kingdom – may the gods rest his soul – was born a nobody from a clan that has since been destroyed.” He smiled, self-satisfied. “Not to discount the achievements of King Serraden, but his lineage is really nothing special.”

Emiliano's hands curled into fists. He bit his tongue. Two more hours...

Corin nodded, too young to really question his father's teachings. But then the boy paused, fork-in mid air, and cast a shocked glance at the empty corner of the room. He flinched a little, his gaze flashing between Atropa and the corner of the room. The torches lining the walls guttered for a few moments, under some imperceptible breeze.

Suddenly, Artemio swore. He lowered his balance sheet, beckoning to Atropa.

“We have a problem, my lord,” Artemio said. “I've triple-checked this and it seems like we are missing a hundred and twenty thousand gems from that latest transaction – I must have balanced it wrong, perhaps. Either that or we have a thief in our ranks.”

Corin frowned a little, put out. Business talk was all too common at the dinner table.

“I see,” Atropa said, casting an expert eye over the balance sheet. “Well, let me fetch my own records, we'll have to sort this one out.” He spread Artemio's sheet over the tablecloth, pushing aside his plate. “You, servant,” he said, glancing up at Emiliano. “Fetch a folder from my quarters. The red one, please, it should have last week's date on the cover.”

Emiliano felt like snapping at him that he was not a servant, but honestly this was as good an excuse as any to take a well-needed beak from the incredibly boring dinner table conversation. He ducked his head in assent and made for the door. Atropa and Artemio were deep in discussion about their latest transaction, no longer paying any attention to the room at large or poor Corin.

Emiliano strode down the corridor towards Atropa's quarters. It was, of course, as lacy and purple as everything else belonging to Atropa. Didn't the man ever get tired of such a restrictive colour scheme? Emiliano shut the door in his wake and glanced around the neat room.

There, on the desk, was a stack of folders. Emiliano sorted through them, stifling a yawn. The red folder with last week's date was on top of the pile, unfortunately. He'd been hoping that it would be hard to find, so that he could avoid having to stand through dinner conversation.

He took the folder and opened it up, but his curiosity died instantly at the sight of the rows and rows of numbers all cramped together in a hugely complicated grid. It meant nothing to him, but he did have it in himself to be thoroughly impressed by the sheer quantities of treasure and gems being dealt with her. With a sigh he snapped the folder shut and turned to go.

A faint, cold breeze stirred his hair, catching his attention. Shoving the folder under his arm for safekeeping he turned, frowning. Atropa's window was closed. But there was a draft pushing through the lifeless air, carrying with it a bitter, acrid smell that Emiliano thought he knew from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where...

Atropa's bookshelf – crammed with more folders and ledgers – was out of place. Pushed away from the wall, leaving a dim crack through which the breeze came. A secret entrance.

Emiliano couldn't help it. Even though the secret passageway no doubt led somewhere boring like the royal water closet, he had to check it out. Visions of a hidden vault stuffed with gems danced before his eyes. If the loss of hundred and twenty thousand gems wasn't worth raising the alarm about, then the loss of far less would barely be noticed...

He pulled the bookshelf further away from the wall, widening the entrance, and slipped inside. It was dark and dusty, that strange, almost acidic smell lingering in pockets along the narrow corridor. At some point, he started to hold his breath.

There was a light at the end of the winding corridor. Eyes narrowed against the sudden brightness, Emiliano emerged into perhaps the worst room he had ever seen in his life.

It had a low ceiling, like a dungeon, and the arrow-slit windows were free from glass or shutters. More bookshelves lined the walls, but these ones didn't contain any books, only a collection of large glass jars filled with murky fluid. In the centre was a couple of metal tables, some still grungy with variously-coloured blood, metal and leather restraints at each corner. Emiliano stepped back, automatically, and something crunched under his foot.

He looked down, then threw himself backwards with a yelp of horror. The floor was messy, covered with brightly coloured shards. It was as if someone had smashed a potter's workshop on the floor, but these weren't bits of ceramic. They were egg shells.

Emiliano would have fled, but a faint glow on one of the bookshelves caught his attention. Sitting innocuously between a pair of massive bell-shaped jars was a whole shadow egg, its glowing patches throbbing faintly. Some kind of metal instrument had been pushed into the shell, like a thermometer or something, and deep purple fluid had welled up around the puncture site. The pulse of light from the egg was uncomfortably irregular, like a failing heartbeat.

The egg was clearly important to someone – it was being studied – and its absence would be noticed. Emiliano turned to go, knowing well that he would never bring himself to leave without the egg.

So he held his breath, turned back around, and edged out into the room again. Fragile, discarded egg shells cracked underfoot. He tried not to notice. As he approached the shelves, he found he could make out shapes lying motionless in the fluid, a collection of things with skinny tails wrapped around their bodies and tiny, delicate hands pressed up against the glass. He almost expected them to start moving, but they were eerily still.

Bile rose into his mouth. He took a quick breath, bracing himself, trying not to see any more of the wet specimens than he already had, and reached for the egg. It was a foot across, awkward to hold, but comfortingly warm. He took the metal instrument and carefully withdrew it from the contents of the egg, spilling more purple fluid over his hands. The cracks on the egg's surface widened at the disturbance and his heart almost stopped – he could escape with an egg, but not with an infant – but the thing did not stir. The pulsing glow seemed to strengthen once the cruelly hooked end of the metal instrument was gone, but maybe that was just Emiliano's wishful thinking.

“Nothing to it,” he mumbled to himself, wiping away more embryonic fluid. Hugging it to his chest, he turned and practically ran from the room.

Back in Atropa's bedroom, he found the discarded folder on the floor by the bookshelf door. It was time for some quick thinking.

Five minutes later, he emerged back into the dining room, his jacket scrubbed clean and the requested folder in his hands.

“There you are,” Atropa said boredly, beckoning to him. “Put it there. Now, Artemio, we'll check the balance from yesterday – these are my vault details...”

Trying very hard not to be sick, Emiliano nodded and quickly relocated himself to his customary position behind Corin's chair. The dinner passed in a nightmarish haze as he struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. How long before Atropa knew exactly who had taken the egg? If Emiliano was lucky, he had until that evening. If he was unlucky...

Finally, the dinner was over. Corin was still chatting on about the invisible man, but Emiliano couldn't even pretend to be interested this time. He accompanied Corin to his bedroom, stammered out a distracted goodnight and shut the door in his wake.

Once he was certain he was unobserved, he darted away from Corin's room, back towards the corridor leading away from the dining room. He almost bumped into Rosa's own bodyguard, Myra, who was passing by. Gasping out a quick apology he continued on.

The corridor looked the same as it had earlier. He walked down it, trying to act casual, and paused by a fussy little end-table. A large ornate vase stood on it. Emiliano peered inside. The egg was still there. His heart pounding, he grabbed the vase and shoved the rim against the wall – gently – until it cracked.

“Oh dear,” he said loudly, picking up the vase. “Oh no – what a shame...”

A servant just rounding the end of the corridor frowned at him.

“It's broken,” Emiliano said, indicating the vase helplessly. “I'll take this away to be repaired.”

“Fine,” the servant said, “as long as you take credit for it I don't give a shit what you do.”

“That's the spirit,” Emiliano said weakly, wrapping his arms protectively around the vase. He carried it out of the royal suites, loudly explaining to every servant he came across that he was simply taking it away to be repaired. Nobody stopped him. Hardly daring to believe it, he picked up the pace until he was just short of breaking into a jog.

Fifteen minutes later he was knocking hard on Iriangi's front door with an elbow, unable to open it up himself. He still shared a home with his mother.

She opened the door and frowned for a moment, eyeing the vase. “Emilio, what-”

“Hi, mum!” he said brightly, breathless. “Hi, sorry – I've got to run, Fallon's expecting me-”

“Did you break that?” she said, a warning tone creeping into her voice as she stood aside to allow him entry.

“Yes, but it's fine, it's just... it's a present for Fallon. He won't mind. Excuse me...” Emiliano darted into his bedroom, setting down the vase for a moment while he flattened himself to the floor to extract his precious bottle of wine from its ice box. He jammed it under his arm, grabbed the vase again, then escaped before Iriangi could question him any further.

He had to shout at Fallon's front door, unable to knock with his arms so occupied. Fallon answered after only a moment, a tiny frown on his face.

“You said you'd be here half an hour ago,” he said, beckoning. “Did Prince Cosimo keep you waiting?”

“Um. Shut the door, Fallon.”

Fallon did so, eyebrows raised. There was a small table in the centre of his living quarters, already set for dinner. There were wine glasses and roses. Emiliano would have given anything for it to be a  normal date night.

“What's with the vase?” Fallon said.

Emiliano set it down on the ground, then extracted the bottle of wine. Turning away, he fumbled for the corkscrew on the table. Behind him, Fallon peered into the vase.

“Uh, Emiliano...”

Emiliano poured himself a brimming glass of wine and drank desperately. After a few deep, steadying breaths, he glanced around to see Fallon holding the damaged shadow egg at arm's length, his expression bewildered.

“Um, wow, Emilio,” he said, “I've never – uh, this is a lot to take in – maybe we should have discussed beforehand if we wanted to have ch-”

“No,” Emiliano gasped. “No, that's not it.” There was something in his tone of voice that made Fallon lower the egg and stare at him.

“What's wrong?” Fallon said, noticing for the first time that Emiliano was breathless and shaking.

So Emiliano told him the full story. It all came out in a rush – his misguided curiosity, his inability to leave an innocent egg behind in some filthy torture chamber, the dead things preserved in glass jars. By the time he was finished speaking, Fallon was gaping at him in horror.

“What – what'll we do?” he said quietly. “He'll know who took it, Emilio, this isn't good.”

“I know, I know – that's why I brought it here. We can keep it secret here.”

Fallon nodded silently. “Okay... but... what then? What will we do with it?”

Emiliano stared at the egg, comforted by its tiny pulsing glow. The wine had steadied his nerves somewhat, and for the first time in what felt like forever he could actually think. Atropa would be on the lookout for an egg. The best way to thwart him would be to ensure that there was no egg to be found.

“Well,” Emiliano said, “hatch it, I guess?”