#i just went OOH PRETTY MEN WITH PRETTY HAIR BLOWING IN THE WIND and thought that was good enough :)

[christiangeistdorfer]

race retirees ELIO DE ANGELIS & DIDIER PIRONI watch the cars go by

#this could be from the 1980 dutch grand prix where that picture of elio & didier walking back to the pits was also taken #but i don't know they didn't actually say where this race took place #i just went OOH PRETTY MEN WITH PRETTY HAIR BLOWING IN THE WIND and thought that was good enough :) #elio de angelis #didier pironi #classic f1 #f1 #formula 1 #1980s

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Pink Bubbles of Impending Romantic Doom

Author: Nimmy_

Year: 2008

Rating: PG

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Chav Shaman, The Hitcher

Naboo shifted uneasily in the moonlit alleyway, glancing furtively left and right. Bollo’s reassuring presence was tangible just behind him as always, though his nerves still were as taut as stretched cheesewire. This was a shady operation; if he was found out the board would revoke his powers or worse. “What time is it, Bollo?” The tiny shaman rasped in his slightly worried monotone. “Ughh. Quarter to one,” the familiar answered, glancing at an imaginary timepiece. “We’ve been here over an hour! I don’t believe this, where is he?” “Cool ya boots, Naboo – I’s ere, innit?” Naboo’s little heart almost popped right out of his chest as the shady black-market shaman appeared. “About bloody time, where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting ages!” “Aright, chill, yeah? Lost track of time, me an’ Deebo were playin’ Mario Galaxy on ‘is Wii and I was well givin’ im beatin’s!” Naboo’s dark eyes smouldered quietly. “Do you like Mario Galaxy, Naboo?” “I dunno. I haven’t got any computer games,” he paused. “Well actually, Bollo’s got a gameboy. I’m good at Pac man.” Bollo grunted his agreement. “He better than me. I no can get past ghosts.” “Pac man? Dat’s well borin’, you gotta get one of dem Wii fings, dey’re the shit, yeah?” Naboo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, have you got the stuff?” “Yeah, you got money?” the shady shaman looked left and right theatrically. Naboo held aloft a roll of notes that amounted to no less than two thousand Euros. “Now we is talkin’,” the shaman took the notes and tucked the roll down his pants. Naboo grimaced. Next, the shaman produced a blue plastic flask from inside his Adidas shamanic tunic. Naboo’s expression melted from tense anticipation to flat disbelief. “What the hell’s that, you jerkoff? I just paid you two thousand Euros for a Thermos of coffee?” “Chill, yeah! Me mum’s washing out all dem mystical-lookin’ glass bottles, dey all had crusty shit at the bottoms. This is all I ‘ad, bruv. It’ll do, yeah?” he extended the flask to the grouchy little shaman, who snatched it from his grasp, quick as a cobra. “I’ve probably got a spare phial to put it in back at the shop,” Naboo conceded with a mutter. “Yeah, sorted!” the shaman looked to the left for a second, scratching his head through his turban. “When you’ve done that den, yeah, can I ‘ave the flask back Naboo? It’s me dad’s, he does a nightshift at the factory and he’ll kick off if he finds out I’ve nicked it.” Naboo rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll bring it with me next time,” he started to walk away. “Come on, Bollo.” The shifty shaman grinned after him with his shimmering gold face. “Cheers Naboo. Laters.” * Naboo arrived home at the flat unannounced, and heard heavy, running footsteps as he ascended the stairs. “What’s going on?” he called, reaching the top of the staircase to see just a flash of little blue knickers and silver go-go boots disappear behind a hastily slammed-shut door. There were satsumas all over the floor. After an impressively short amount of time, Vince appeared from the same door, fully dressed in a superb outfit that was an inspired amalgamation of New Romantic and Beatnik. “Alright!” he grinned, exuding sunshine and fluffy pink candyfloss. Naboo ignored the breezy greeting. “You making a mess in my flat again?” “No,” Vince said, subtly kicking a satsuma under the settee. At this point Howard emerged from the doorway. “Naboo! How’s it going? Did you get your shaman squash?” Naboo frowned at the jazz maverick. “Shaman juice,” he whipped out the flask and brandished it. Vince grinned, sniggering. “Looks like a flask of Nescafe to me.” “He didn’t have a shamanic magic phial, all right? I’m gonna change it,” he snatched the flask back and marched into the kitchen area on his little legs. “So what’s this one do, Naboo?” Vince asked, following him. “Is it like the one last time, does it give you really mental powers? That last one was genius, despite the episode with the horrible fox with shitty breath.” Naboo unscrewed the flask and began to pour the glittering pink liquid into a beautiful rounded jar of red tinted glass. “Nah, it’s nothing like the last one. This one is a cure for hangovers – just one drop will take away the worst hangover. If you’re off your face on speed, one sip will bring you back down instantly.” “Wow!” Vince laughed. “Good for you shamans then, you’re always getting wasted. You’re well hardcore.” Naboo corked the jar and put it in the fridge. “Well, we’re charged with protecting the world from evil and magical menace. That’s a pretty big responsibility. It’s good for us to let our hair down now and again.” “Now and again? You’re a load of crackheads!” A warning glare from Naboo’s direction quieted Vince. “Right, me and Bollo are going in my room to work on Shaman stuff. Keep it down, will you?” “Yeah yeah.” Howard waited until Naboo’s door was shut before hissing at Vince. “You said he wouldn’t be back tonight!” “Yeah, well I could’ve sworn he said he was staying at Pete’s…” Vince shrugged, averting his gaze. Howard wasn’t placated. “The satsuma game isn’t for anyone else to see, it’s just for you and me at night, when we’re on our own!” “Cool it Howard, he didn’t see anything,” Vince brushed off the admonition, taking Naboo’s potion out of the fridge. “Wow, check this out. It’s all pink and sparkly, like a Flirtini. Genius!” “No, come on, Vince – don’t be touching Naboo’s potions. It’ll only end up in disaster-” “It’s only a glorified high-strength Resolve, Howard – what’s it gonna do, cure your headache? Ooh!” He gestured with his hands in mock-terror. “Even so, little man – you can never be too careful. Even Howard Moon, man of action, shows the proper caution when dealing with substances of unknown origin. Oh yes, there have been some close shaves with a particularly lethal magic cocktail in the past. But there was no need to fear, for Howard Moon was there to set all to rights. They call me the maveri- Vince, what are you doing?” “This stuff’s great, it goes all frothy when you shake it up a bit. You can blow bubbles with it. Genius!” Howard watched in disbelief as Vince dipped the little plastic hoop from his bubble-blower into the potion and blew a couple of large bubbles from it. “Vince! You really don’t listen to anything I say, do you?” “It makes big pink glittery bubbles! Look at ‘em, they’re sparkling like psychedelic Fairy liquid disco balls!” Vince giggled as he danced among the bubbles, revelling in the pinky glitteriness. “What were you on about, Howard?” “Nothing. Truly, nothing,” Howard grumbled and flopped onto the settee. Vince went over to the window and opened it. “Check this out. Shoreditch is gettin’ some of these glitter bubbles!” “Fascinating.” Swishing the little plastic hoop around in the shimmering pink potion, Vince took a huge deep breath and created an explosion of glittery pink bubbles from the window. The wind carried them away in all directions and filled the night sky with tinselly orbs of pink. “That’ll cheer everyone up,” Vince laughed, stepping away from the window. He bounced over to Howard and sat next to him. “Howard?” Silence. “Howard.” “…” “Howard, Howard,” Vince pressed. Howard studied his nails. “Howard, Howard? Howard. Howard. Howard! Howard! Howard? Howard. Howard, Howard!” Howard swung his head around to face Vince to give him a sharp reprimand, only to receive a mouthful (and indeed, a faceful) of pink glitter bubbles. Howard spluttered and cursed as Vince just laughed himself silly and blew more bubbles at Howard, hitting him in the hat and the moustache. “Hohohh, aw Howard. Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” Nothing. “Come on, Howard. Don’t get your y-fronts all twisted. It was just a prank to cheer you up.” Howard just grabbed the potion from Vince, looked at him, then splashed him in the face with the jar. Vince gasped in shock and horror. “Howard, you ballbag, look what you’ve done to me hair!” Howard simply found the cork, plugged the jar and put it back in the fridge before storming off to his room. Vince was fuming. He threw himself towards the nearest mirror to inspect the damage. It had completely soaked, and therefore flattened, the front of his hair. His entire fringe. He wiped the pink glittery wetness from his face with the back of his hand and licked it from his lips. It tasted remarkably like Pink. If each colour had one definitive taste, this is what Pink would taste like. It was rather nice, actually. He continued licking around his mouth and cleaned the smears off the back of his hand with his pink-stained tongue. ** Far away now, the pink bubbles rode the currents of the wind like little men riding magical horses of cheese. The winds tossed them far and wide. One of them passed directly over the house of the shady black-market Shaman. The one with the Gold Face. We don’t know his name, really. Let’s call him Francis. Francis was just mopping the last of the tomato sauce from his plate with a soggy toast soldier when a thought occurred to him. After meeting Naboo, he had just returned his potions to their freshly washed phials, to discover that he had one hangover-cure too many in his stock cupboard. Thinking this just a jammy mistake on his potion-dealer’s part, he’d continued to munch down his spaghetti hoops without concern. But now, as he chewed on the sauce-smeared soldier, he decided he should check his stock. He left his plate for his mum to find and wash, heading to his room. * He looked at each carefully labelled jar, and checked them against his hand-written stock-sheet. “Two bottles of Nympho juice, ‘free bottles of sex-reverse potion, two bottles of owl-beak cream…” There was certainly a theme ongoing in the majority of Francis’ stock, due to the majority of demands. “… one jar of Goff salve, three jars of fut’cha peanuts… shit, where’s me bottle of Lov’ Juice?” Francis searched frantically through the cupboard. It was starting to make sense. He had one extra jar of hangover-cure, and he was missing one bottle of Love Juice. And he’d just sold Naboo what was supposed to be… Francis gulped. “Friggin’ ell.” ** In the faraway reaches of London’s east end… ** “What’s for tea?” “Toad-in-the-hole.” “Toad in the fuckin’ ‘ole? What ‘ave I told ya, boy? I’m fuckin’ lactose intolerant. Cheese plays merry ‘ell wiv my stomach you onion. What ‘appened to that pie you ‘ad in the oven?” “It got burnt!” “You burnt me pie? Then go out and get anuvver one, you slag!” “Yes boss. I’m a cockney, I’m a cockney…” The Hitcher shook his head in disbelief as the door shut behind Stu. “Useless, that boy…” he muttered to himself. “I need a slash.” Stepping out into the cool night air, The Hitcher unzipped his fly and began to relieve himself right there in the garden. Toilets were for nonces. As the yellow stuff arced from him to make a shimmering frothy pool on the moonlit grass, the Hitcher tilted his head skywards with a groan of relief. “Ohhh, that’s good,” his voice quivered. His eyes closed in rapture, he didn’t see the pink bubble zooming towards his face even as he opened his mouth to make yet another exclamation of bliss. “Fuckin’ ell!” he choked, grasping at his throat. “What the fuck was that?” His eyes were streaming from the coughing fit, and he dabbed his powerful peeper with a grubby handkerchief. “Dear oh dear…” he groaned. Regaining his composure, he tucked away his little green man and zipped his trousers back up. “Fuckin’ insects flying into me gob… hmm. Tasted… pink. Extraordinary.” He went back inside, the little puddle of yellow slowly sinking down into the soil.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #naboo #naboo the enigma #bollo #howard moon #vince noir #the hitcher

[cocastyle]

Mamma Mia - Chapter 3

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x reader, Tony Stark x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

Word Count- 2,482

Warning- none

A/N- chapter three is finally up! you guys will get to meet the members of the Dynamos in this chapter! I hope you all like it! please let me know what you all think of this series and let me know who you think Y/N should end up with: Bucky, Tony or Steve? let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Intro Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“You are so clever,” Michelle whispered as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Alex glanced up at her friends through the mirror and smiled at the sight of them taking in their appearance. “We're going to Iook fabuIous tomorrow,” Liz squealed and Alex grinned widely.

“I want the perfect wedding,” Alex told them, “and I want my father to give me away.” “Better be a wide aisIe,” Michelle muttered causing Liz to whack the girl and give her a pointed look. Michelle just shrugged. “What? It’s true! She did invite three possible fathers to the wedding, Liz. What if she won’t be able to figure out who her real father is?” Michelle asked.

“I wiII know my father as soon as I see him,” Alex assured her, but the way she was biting her lip nervously told her best friends that she wasn’t quite so sure.

Michelle sighed and went to say something when the door opened up. The three turned their heads and Alex instantly smiled at the sight of her fiancé standing there. “Peter!” Michelle and Liz exclaimed before running over to their friend. Peter Parker smiled widely and hugged the two girls, his eyes flickering over to lock with Alex’s as he did so.

“Let me go! I’m getting married tomorrow,” Peter told them jokingly. The two girls chuckled and pulled away. “So,” Liz began. “What do you think?” The two girls then proceeded to pose in their outfits and Peter took a step back to look at them. “Oh, yes!” he said and as soon as the words fumbled out of his mouth he knew Alex was going to speak up.

“Oh yes?” she questioned, a teasing smile on her face. Peter turned to look at her and smiled as he walked up and wrapped his arms around her waist. “If you had it your way, it’d be a three-minute wedding in jeans and T-shirts,” she told him. “You make me sound so unromantic,” Peter said with a pout.

Alex chuckled and shook her head at the boy. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked over her face before saying, “As long as I get to marry you, I don’t really care about all of the other things.” Alex rolled her eyes at his cheesiness while her best friends let out an ‘awe’. “That was cheesy,” she told the boy to which he only smiled and shrugged. “It was romantic,” he said.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek before pulling away and walking across the room to rummage through his things. “I just can’t wait for after the wedding, when you’ll be my wife and we can finally travel the world together,” Peter admitted, his eyes flickering over to his love before he winked at her. “WeII, we're not going anywhere yet,” Alex told him as she turned back to her friends and worked on the pins in their dresses, totally missing the small frown and look of disappointment on Peter’s face.

“Anyway, you know I love you Pete, but please leave. We’re very, very busy,” Alex told him. Peter smiled and grabbed his cowboy hat before putting it on his head and turning to the three. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m just getting some props for tonight,” Peter told her.

“Ooh!” Liz and Michelle chorused. “For his bachelor party,” Liz teasingly said. Peter just smiled and walked over to Alex before giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later,” Peter told her before kissing her forehead and walking out of the room.

He was barely down the hall before he screamed, “I love you!” Alex’s face reddened slightly, but instantly yelled back at the same volume, “I love you more!” There was a moment of silence before Peter’s head poked back into the room. He gave her a cheeky grin and whispered, “Not possible.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall. Alex smiled after him before turning back to look at her best friends who were standing there with their hands on their hips. “What?��� Alex asked. “First of all, you two are so cute you make me want to puke,” Michelle began. “What she is trying to say is that you guys are so cute and she’s just jealous she doesn’t have someone,” Liz clarified.

Michelle threw a glare in Liz’s direction before looking back at Alex. “And the second thing?” Alex asked. “Why haven't you toId him you've invited your dads?” Michelle asked.

Alex stood there for a second before sighing. She had really hoped her friends wouldn’t realize that she hadn’t told Peter about the whole situation. “I know he’d support me and stuff, but he wouId say that I'd have to teII my mom,” Alex admitted.

“Y/N’s absoIuteIy gonna kiII you when she finds out,” Liz told her. “By the time she finds out, it'II be too Iate,” Alex assured them. Her eyes flickered over to the small journal sitting on her desk before looming back at her friends. “I feeI Iike there's a part of me missing,” she admitted, “and when I meet my dad. . .”

“Everything wiII faII into place.”

- - -

Y/N let out a content sigh as she drove down one of the few roads in the island, her hair blowing in the wind behind her as the sun rays hit her face. Her best friend Wanda sat in the passenger seat beside her and she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath trying to enjoy the calmness of the drive. “This is the last time we’re not going to be frantically running around, you know,” Wanda muttered. “Don’t remind me,” Y/N told her with a laugh.

Wanda chuckled slightly and opened her eyes. She immediately caught sight of a small ferry pulling into the docks that were little less than a mile away which caused her to sit up straighter in excitement. “They’re here!” Wanda said and Y/N couldn’t help but grin.

Not only did she get to have one of her best friends here for the wedding, but she got to have her other two best friends as well. Wanda lived on the island with Y/N and was practically her right hand man. She helped out around the hotel and had helped raise Alex. As for her other friends, Natasha and Pepper, it had been a while since Y/N had seen them. Natasha visited as often as she could, but Pepper hadn’t been able to get down to the island in quite some time, her work just being too much for her.

The thought of finally getting to have all of her best friends with her at once was enough to have Y/N stepping on the gas pedal just a little more. They were at the docks a few minutes later and Y/N couldn’t contain the small squeal that left her lips when she caught sight of her other two best friends standing at the end of the dock.

Y/N quickly took the key out of the ignition before jumping over the door and out of the car. “You know there’s a door, right?” Wanda asked her as she opened her door and stepped out, but Y/N just waved her off. The two girls practically ran down to the docks before coming to a stop at the end.

“Wanda, will you Iook at what the tide washed in?” Y/N said loud enough for her two friends to look up. Huge grins spread across their faces at the sight of the other half of the group and they quickly positioned themselves back to back. Wanda and Y/N did the same.

“For one night,” Natasha and Pepper yelled. “And one night only,” Wanda and Y/N yelled back. All four grinned at each other before yelling, “Y/N and the Dynamos!”

The four friends then all let out screams of joy as they ran down the docks to each other. They instantly wrapped the others into a big hug, stumbling back until they all tripped and fell onto the ground. The four friends let out loud laughs at that and Y/N quickly got up and helped the others up off the ground. “Look at you!” Y/N exclaimed as she looked at her two best friends with a huge grin on her face.

“Look at you!” Pepper retorted. “You guys all look fantastic,” Y/N told them. “You look like an old hippie!” Natasha teased as she gestured towards Y/N’s outfit which consisted of overalls and a white shirt. “She looks great,” Pepper said as she gave Natasha a playful glare. The four stared at each other for a moment before grinning widely and putting their hands together as they began to walk in a circle.

“Dynamos! Dynamite! SIeep aII day and whoop all night!”

- - -

“So, any men at this wedding?” Natasha asked from her spot in the backseat of the Jeep. Her legs were sprawled out across Wanda’s lap and she was leaning her head back as the warm wind flew through her red hair. “Gorgeous Greeks of independent means?” Natasha asked, waving her hand in the air as she put her sunglasses on with her other hand.

Y/N raised her eyebrows and looked back at Natasha before looking at the road. “I thought you were still seeing Clint?” Y/N voiced out. Natasha’s eyes widened. “I am! He’s sorry he couldn’t come by the way. Work’s had him all tied up,” Natasha said. “Then who were you asking for?” Wanda asked curiously.

“I wasn’t talking about me, that’s for sure. I was talking about Ms. I Have My Own Business And No Time For Fun,” Natasha said and the three friends immediately looked at Pepper who was busy checking her phone. Pepper didn’t even glance up as she said, “That’s not true. I’m here, aren’t I? Y/N, dear, eyes on the road. I don’t want to die yet, I’ve only just gotten here.”

Y/N chuckled softly and shook her head as she turned her attention back to the road. Pepper finished up on her phone before putting it into her bag. “As for you,” Pepper began as she pointed a finger at Natasha. “Just because your book is a bestseller and you have the whole world cooking Russian dishes doesn’t mean you know what fun is, okay? I’m pretty sure you’re idea of fun is stuffing mushrooms or something like that.”

Natasha faked a hurt look as she put a hand over her chest. “That one stung,” Natasha muttered as she pretended to cry. Pepper rolled her eyes at the girl and reached back and slapped her leg softly. Natasha just laughed and finally sat up in her seat. “Nat’s right, you know,” Wanda finally spoke up. “It’s time to find Mr. Right, Pepper!” Pepper rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Boring!” Pepper exclaimed.

Y/N chuckled and said, “Great couple of role models you lot are for Alex!” The four chuckled and Y/N glanced over at Pepper. “What’s the big deal, Pepper? You have a successful business and you’re life is practically already planned out. When are you finally going to let us help you find that special someone?” Y/N asked.

Pepper stared at the girl for a moment before looking away and at the scenery before them. “No time,” Pepper said with a small yet sad smile on her face. Her three friends looked over at her with pity and Pepper sighed before sitting up in her chair. “I’m a lone wolf,” she told them jokingly with a wink, hoping to lighten the mood. She then proceeded to let out a howl and her friends all laughed as they turned a corner.

They finally reached their destination and Y/N put the car in park before turning it off and hoping out. “So, when are the Iovebirds fIying the nest?” Natasha asked. “Oh, God! Who knows?” Y/N said with a smile. “You know, Y/N and I do not know what is going on in that chiId's head sometimes,” Wanda told the two and Y/N chuckled.

“That’s one hundred percent true. She wants a big white wedding, and she and Peter are making aII kinds of pIans for the hoteI,” Y/N explained as she went to the back of the truck. “Sometimes I think they'II never Ieave.” “Yeah, but do you reaIIy want her to?” Pepper asked causing the (h/c) haired girl to stop in her tracks. “WeII, I want what's best for her,” Y/N admitted. She then looked over at her friends and smiled before saying, “Of course not!”

Her friends all laughed out loud and Y/N smiled before noticing someone out of the corner of her eye. “Peter!” She exclaimed and said boy instantly turned to look at her. “Yes, Ms. L/N?” He said. “Come meet my backup girIs!” Y/N exclaimed and Peter smiled before walking over to the group.

“Backup girIs, my ass!” Pepper, Natasha, and Wanda all said.

Peter reached them and Y/N smiled at the boy as she put a hand on his shoulder. “This is Peter Parker. He's the Ieading man at tomorrow's shindig,” Y/N told them all. “The Iucky man,” Peter corrected her and Y/N smiled at him before patting his shoulder.

Peter walked over to the newcomers and gave them a warm smile. He held his hand out and helped Pepper get out of the car. “HeIIo,” Pepper greeted him. “You must be Pepper,” Peter told her causing the girl to smile. “I am,” Pepper said as she gave the boy a hug. “How are you?” Peter asked her. “Very weII, thank you,” Pepper said.

Peter gave her one more smile before turning and helping Natasha out of the car. “Flaming red hair. You must be Natasha. I’ve heard so much about you,” Peter said as he gave the girl a hug. “All bad, I hope,” Natasha joked. “Yes,” Peter jokingly said. “And all true!” Y/N exclaimed from the back of the Jeep where her and Wanda were struggling to get the bags out of the back.

Peter quickly rushed over and stopped the two women. “I’ve got this. You two go ahead with your friends,” Peter told them with a small smile. Y/N looked at the boy and grinned before shaking her head. “Thanks, Peter, but I’ve got it,” Y/N told him.

Peter sighed but reached forward and grabbed some of the bags. “Then at least let me help,” Peter said and Y/N hesitated before nodding. Peter smiled at the lady and grabbed a few more bags than necessary before either of the girls could protest.

They all then walked to the bottom of the steps where Natasha was currently staring at the stairs that seemed to go on for miles. “This always is the worst part of visiting here,” Natasha muttered and the group chuckled in response.

And with that, they started the long journey up to the hotel.

Tag List:

@babygirlizz

@stars-cant-be-broken

@sammmnmy

@oceanmendes

#mamma mia au #mamma mia #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel imagine

[uncannyvalley-fic]

Last One Standing, Chapter 1

Chapter One

Jo surveys the event grounds with a barely-disguised expression of disgust on her face.  She’s not a horrible person, she just hates the annual Beckett Battle of the Bands (and Pancake Breakfast).  Tourists - mostly hipster millennials - show up in Beckett, camp in the forest, take up space in Ace of Cups and the Hyperion Diner, throw garbage all over the giant field where the concerts are held, and generally make a nuisance of themselves.  Normally she requests the weekend of the event off, giving the job of security to Levi and one of the junior officers, but somehow all of them - except for Levi - managed to get their time off requests in earlier.  (Or, in the case of O’Malley, went into labor.)

For the most part, her partner in preventing crime, Levi Levenson, looks perfectly happy to be patrolling a giant open field in the middle of the forest.  He’s holding two to-go cups from Ace of Cups in his hands as he strides towards her, his fluorescent green “Security” vest looking dapper and sharp over a navy henley and a button-down flannel shirt (unlike Jo’s own vest, which looks patently ridiculous over her white dress and pale pink fleece jacket).  He hands her one of the cups; Jo notices it has her name written on it in Penelope’s delicate hand. “Morning.”

“Hi, Levi.  Thanks for the pick-me-up.” Jo takes a sip.  Her usual, made perfectly.  Heaven.

“Thought I’d better get in there before all the out-of-towners show up,” Levi responds.

Jo checks her rose-gold watch.  It’s almost nine-thirty, the time when the first bands will be arriving.  She and Levi will match faces to badges and then go over their equipment - scanning it all with the police department’s brand-new explosives-detection wands (which Levi, completely unironically, has taken to referring to as “danger sticks”) - before letting them into the event grounds.  After that, they’ll start their patrols (and listen to the bands rehearse, which Jo isn’t precisely thrilled about, since the groups that show up to the Beckett Battle of the Bands [and Pancake Breakfast] tend towards the hipster, folk, and “quirky”).  They’ll eat a quick lunch, hopefully catered from the diner rather than the Denny’s (which hasn’t been the same since the changelings found out how good the grilled cheese is), then proceed to patrol and offer support until the evening, when the night guards, hired by the city council, come on.

It could be worse, Jo reflects.  Last year it rained the entire time.

She and Levi make their way back to the main gates as the first of many trucks, RVs, buses, and campers start coming up the dirt road from town.  There are also some people on foot, which surprises Jo, until she realizes it’s the Scatter family, who own the event grounds; they’re armed with yellow ponchos and bright orange plastic rods and seem to be ready to direct traffic.  They live on a small organic farm just south of the large open space.  During the rest of the year, they rent it out for other events, including the monthly Farmers’ Market, the Shakespeare Festival in the summer, and the Winter Carnival.

Levi opens the gates and begins checking parking passes, Jo scans each vehicle, and the Scatter family directs each vehicle where to park.  It’s easy enough to get caught up in the monotony of it all, and when Jo checks the time again, she’s not surprised to see that it’s nearly noon.

She looks over at Levi, who seems to be in the middle of a heated discussion with a Jeep full of blue-haired punk rockers, and sighs.  Then she hears a voice right next to her, and nearly leaps out of her skin.

“Jo-Jo Baby, this new shopping mall is lame.”

Jo tries to calm her racing heart and turns to face GaaP, who somehow snuck up behind her without her notice. “That’s because this isn’t the new shopping mall, GaaP.  It’s the Battle of the Bands.”

And Pancake Breakfast, her mind automatically finishes.

GaaP frowns. “I thought that was last weekend.  Y’know, with all the silvery vehicles and the flashing lights and the weird chanting.”

“No… what did you see out here last weekend?”

“Uhhh…”

Before GaaP can answer, Levi strides over to them. “Ladies,” he says, giving GaaP a grin. “That was the last of the bands, so we’re free to eat lunch in the VIP tent.”

“Ooh!  I’ve never been in a VIP tent before,” GaaP says. “At least, not of my own free will.”

She takes Levi’s arm and they walk off together, leaving Jo to puzzle out what the hell that meant.

It’s a slow day at Ace of Cups, mostly because everyone in town seems to be heading out to the Battle of the Bands (and Pancake Breakfast).  Clementine’s been bored since… well, since she got here.  There were a few orders early on, but now it’s just Ethel, who’s been nursing the same cup of Sanka in the corner while she writes erotica, and Ember and Mr. Zephyr, who are being disgustingly adorable over their lattes.

That’s why Clementine’s standing at the window, trying to pretend she isn’t blatantly looking over Ethel’s shoulder as she writes.  Ethel is ninety-five if she’s a day, but she is the most incredibly raunchy author Clementine’s ever read.  And Clementine has to admit, she’s never ever going to think about androids and their potential… well, abilities… in the same way.

There’s not much happening in town.  Mostly there’s just people streaming towards the event grounds, even though the Battle of the Bands (and Pancake Breakfast) doesn’t really start until the evening.

Then Clementine sees the trees at the edge of the park move, as though there’s a strong breeze blowing through.  Nothing else seems to be caught in the wind, though, which is puzzling, but not necessarily the kind of puzzling Clementine’s really going to think about…

… mostly because the person who steps through the moving trees is more puzzling than a localized breeze.

It’s a woman - a young lady, as Ethel would no doubt say - and as she leaves the cover of the trees she suddenly looks intensely worried, as though the forest was providing some sort of safety cloaking and now she’s naked.  But she’s not naked, although if Clementine had to judge her outfit, she’d say it might be more preferable to be naked.

“Ethel,” Clementine says, as the woman looks around frantically, “what do you think of her?”

Ethel looks up from her computer, lowers her reading glasses, brings up her trifocals, and looks out to see what Clementine’s indicated. “Looks like she fell face-first into the burlap sack section of Ace’s Hardware.”

Clementine has to hand it to Ethel - she’s basically Beckett’s own Joan Rivers.

The woman’s eyes light on Ace of Cups, and though making up her mind has invigorated her, she bolts across the town square and towards the cafe.

“Ooh, boy, she’s coming this way,” Ethel says with a low whistle. “Looks like she’s going to pole vault her way in here.”

It’s true, Clementine realizes; the stranger is carrying a long staff.

“Uh, hey, not to be alarmist,” Clementine says, turning on the table where Ember and Mr. Zephyr are still casually sipping, “but I’m pretty sure -”

Whatever she was about to say is suddenly cut off by the loud opening of Ace of Cups’ front door, and the silence of the shop gets swept up into a cloud of noise as six men dressed in tweed and plaid flannel shove their way in.  One of them, a bowler hat perched on his head, seems to be talking louder than the others. “Enos, I told you I was sorry!  I didn’t mean for them to get offended and leave!”

The tallest man of the bunch, the one wearing purple suspenders, rolls his eyes.  “You told our roadies they were, and I quote” - here he lifts his phone dramatically - “like rats scurrying out of a sinking ship.”

“I just meant they were -”

Another of the men, this one short with silver hair and little round gold-rimmed spectacles, holds up a hand. “Save it, Keegan.  Our roadies are gone, our truck’s halfway down some dirt road, and there’s simply no way we’ll be able to participate in the Battle of the Bands.”

“And Pancake Breakfast,” everyone in Ace of Cups says.

For the first time it’s as though the tweed intruders realize they have an audience.

“Look, Enos, it’s not a big deal,” Bowler Hat says. “You could literally pluck anyone off the street and they could be a good roadie.”

As though desperate to prove his point, he looks around the shop, taking in Ethel, Clementine, Ember, Mr. Zephyr, and Penelope, who’s just emerged from the men’s bathroom with a mop and bucket.

“Hell, no,” Penelope says, and goes into the supply closet.

Ethel shakes her head. “Sorry, dears.  I have a date with an android.  Well, several of them.  And less like a date and more like… an orgy.”

That throws Bowler Hat, and he gives her a confused face.  Clementine can’t blame him.

“Look, look - these two!” Bowler Hat says, and darts across the cafe to Ember and Mr. Zephyr.

The tall one, the one they’d called Enos, frowns. “A fuckboy and Blazer Face?”

Ember grins.  Mr. Zephyr has the dignity to look a little put out at the comment on his apparel.

“You can drive a truck, right?” Bowler Hat says.

“I mean, I guess so,” Ember says.

“And you can lift things?”

“Well, of course,” Mr. Zephyr says, somehow sounding insulted.

“Great!  You’re in!  Look, Enos, I found us two roadies!”

Enos points at Clementine. “What about her?”

“Don’t even think about it, dude,” Clementine says, and she goes back into the small locker room behind the counter.

She’s barely made it five feet into the room when the door slams behind her.  She starts to turn around, but receives a sharp jab in her back.

“Hey!” Clementine snaps, irritated. “I said wasn’t going to be your roadie!”

There’s a pause, and then a completely unfamiliar voice - this one female, with a British accent, asks confusedly, “What’s a roadie?”

“I’m not coming out.”

“Baby, we have to be there in ten minutes.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You signed me up to be in an ABBA tribute band!  What the hell kind of white nonsense is that?”

“You sing ABBA all the time around the house.”

“And I keep it in the house for a reason!”

Mary sighs. “Fine.  I’m leaving in two minutes.  If you’re not in the car, you’re walking to the Battle of the Bands...”

“And Pancake Breakfast.”

“... by yourself.”

There’s a sigh. “Just be glad I love you, woman.”

“Every day,” Mary says, and she goes back to the kitchen to get the car keys.