Jospeh: a demon-possessed youth pastor, of course. Mary knows and begrudgingly accepts that her loving husband shares a body with a malevolent entity. You can catch him dragging his latest kill through the woods, or hosting weekend barbecues and showing you his latest grill maneuvers.
Damien: the local vampire. Not actually old enough to have been alive in the Victorian era, but he certainly appreciates the aesthetic. He enjoys moonlit walks in the cemetery and napping together in a king-size coffin. You assure him that it’s perfectly alright for a century-old cryptid to work in the technology sector.
Brian: a very loyal and friendly werewolf. Beware- if you throw a stick for Maxwell to fetch, there’s a good chance that Brian will also run after it. Loves frisbees, his beautiful daughter, and full moons. You spend the weekends camping with him and Daisy, making sure they remember to come home before the sun rises.
Mat: a siren. Never sings any more, if he can help it. He and his wife used to travel the country bewitching teens with their voices for fun (no one was ever hurt, of course) until they were found out and she was murdered. He hates large crowds, loud noises, and decaf. Sometimes, you can convince him to play for you, and it’s beautiful and haunting. If you listen closely, he hums under his breath.
Hugo: an earth-loving alien. He and his son aren’t new to the planet; they’ve lived in the cul-de-sac for quite some time, but Hugo never gets any less fascinated with human beings. He particularly has a fondness for literature and the sport of wrestling- he’ll talk your ear off with all of the oddball facts he knows about either subject.
Craig: a psychic. He can see ghosts, and they often come to him begging for help. Between keeping up with his kids, coaching a softball team, running a business, and speaking with the dead, the poor guy runs himself into the ground. He never lets it show, though. You hold him in your strong Dad Arms to ward the cold chill away, and you do your best to ignore his extra shadow.
Robert: completely and totally human. Also obsessed with cryptids. He’s convinced that they are out there, he tells Jospeh as he flips another burger, looking dramatically out across the yard to the woods as Joseph adjusts the hot coals with his bare hands.
He takes Damien hunting with him, even though his cloak keeps getting caught in the branches, because he has crazy good night vision.
He gloats to Brian about the huge canine paw prints he found the other day, as Daisy has a conversation with Maxwell over the practicality of his handkerchief.
Mat brews his coffee as Robert goes on and on about the mysterious nationwide phenomenon a few decades back, with kids going crazy after listening to some music- sirens, obviously. Mat shrugs uncomfortably and hands him his drink.
He recounts to Hugo the night he almost got abducted, and Hugo tells him to stop being ridiculous, that doesn’t even happen. Robert tells him that just because he reads some books, he doesn’t know everything.
He complains to Craig about how cold his house always is, and how he always feels like he’s being watched, probably because of his relentless pursuit of the truth. Craig eyes something behind him and promises to take care of it.
And you? Well, I don’t know about you, but I want to believe.
Mike and Amy Mills are a father-daughter team from southern Illinois.
Mike was trained as a dental technician. “I made false teeth — crowns, bridges, partials — this type of thing. It’s what I did as a trade,” he recalls. “Later on, I started barbecuing just for the fun of doing it.”
And that’s what made him famous.
Mike is 75 now. Along with a pen and glasses, he carries a meat thermometer in his shirt pocket. He doesn’t like to brag, but he has won numerous international barbecue competitions. He is even in the Barbecue Hall of Fame in Kansas City, Mo.
In short, the guy standing on my porch on a recent rainy day is a barbecue legend. With his daughter Amy, he runs a place in Murphysboro, Ill., called 17th Street Barbecue, where they spread “the gospel of barbecue,” as Amy puts it. Hence the title of their new cookbook, Praise the Lard: Recipes and Revelations from a Legendary Life in Barbecue. It has simple recipes like pimento cheese and tangy coleslaw, as well as more ambitious projects — like instructions on how to select and prepare a whole hog.
imagine ot4 barbecues at niall’s, liam showing up with that big chain of his and harry niall and louis take turns to try it while teasing liam big daddy chain and then harry puts it on and louis is like ‘that’s so beautiful baby it looks amazing on you :>>>>’ and liam is like ‘hey i thought you said it was awful as fu–’ and louis be like ‘shut UP liam’
JULIAROLEPLAYS MASTERLIST: Event Ideas for Roleplays Set in High School
It seems like a number of high school based roleplays I’ve been in have always done dances or house parties, but there are a ton of different kinds of events that you can hold. So, under the cut you will find 40 event ideas for roleplays set in high school. A few of these suggestions would probably work best as a chatzy/neatchat, but I tried to come up with things that could easily be held on the dash for a week or so in order to help accommodate as many people/time zones as possible.
Many of these events could also work for college or town roleplays as well, just adjust them as needed!
The “Dragon Lady”, 1962. South Vietnam’s Madame Nhu fires a .38 pistol during a visit to an officer training session of the women’s paramilitary force that she organized a year before. - colorized photo
Requested by Anon:
could you do an auston matthews imagine where you bring him to a family get together and he is really good with the kids and he’s really lovey?? thanks xx
Word count: 682
“Owieee!!” Your two year old niece waddled towards Auston as
you both walked out to the backyard.
Your family was hosting your bi-monthly Sunday barbecue and
everyone showed up when you announced that you were bringing your boyfriend. It’s
the first time he’ll be coming since the season started and everybody missed
him. By everyone, of course you mean the fathers and uncles who would love to
talk to him about hockey techniques and the kids who worship on his feet.
Case in point: “Ausss!!!” two other girls ran up to you and
hugged his leg.
I’m going to just start off by saying that I grew up next to the Styles family. I’ve been best friends with their youngest, Sofia Styles, since longer than I can remember. We’re four years younger than Gemma and two years younger than Harry, her brother.
Ever since I was fifteen, I had a serious crush on him. He went from a dorky schoolboy to someone I can only dream about being with. Now I’m seventeen and he’s nineteen, and my god, how he’s changed. Today, they’re having a family barbecue (with extended family) and Sofia told me that I’m basically part of the family, so I can come over (and family barbecues are hell).
I show up early, helping her set up. Harry’s in the kitchen, making some microwave macaroni and cheese when I come in the front door. His head whips around to see me. I glance over in his direction, trying to be nonchalant and nod at him. He nods back, turning back to his mac and cheese and forking it into his mouth.
“Where’s Sofia?” I ask, setting my stuff down and sitting on the couch hesitantly.
“Dunno,” he says and then coughs and walks over to me. He flops down next to me on the couch, our bodies still pretty far away, but still. He tilts his head over to me, raising his eyebrows and offering me a bite of his mac and cheese. I politely decline and he shrugs and takes another bite. “What have you been up to?” he asks.
“Uh,” I think, “I got my license last month,” I say, trying to think of the most interesting thing that’s actually happened to me recently.
“That’s exciting,” he nods, “anything else notable? Any new guys?”
Did he seriously just ask me that? I don’t want him to think he’s like my big brother. “No,” I shake my head, “Not really… things have kind of just… settled in that category.”
“You mean you and Y/EX/N broke up?” he asks.
I laugh, “Yeah… a pretty long time ago,” I say.
“He’s an idiot,” he looks over at me and then takes another bite from his mac and cheese, resting an arm on the couch and a hand on his inner thigh, making my mouth water.
“He was nice,” I smile shyly, “just not very good at the whole romantic thing,” I retaliate, sort of feeling the need to defend him.
“Sex,” I say.
Oh, of course,” he holds up a finger and shakes it at me, “picky, picky.”
I groan, “What about you, though?” I challenge, “Have your eyes on anyone lately?”
He stares at me for a second and then nods. “Yeah,” he finishes up what was in his mac and cheese cup and then gets up to throw it away. Probably a celebrity.
“Do I know them?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, walking back to the couch and sitting down again. I’m about to ask another question when the doorbell rings. Sofia runs in from the other room, giving me a big “hello” and a warm smile and rushes to the door to open it. Anne walks behind her, greeting a ton of people I don’t know. I look over at Harry, who gets up to go say hello as well. Harry’s legs are covered in black skinny jeans and his torso adorned in a dark black T-Shirt. Just looking at him makes me want to explode and I have to pry my eyes off him. Great, just another thing he needs, another girl obsessing over him, like he hasn’t already got millions. He’s home on a break from his tour. In my defense, I liked him first.
The barbecue gets started up and Sofia and I hang out in the back yard, talking to her relatives. I watch Harry out of the corner of my eye. He’s also talking with a friend while, of course, driving me absolutely mad. I decide that I don’t have much to lose, so I find a moment when he’s looking at me and I inch my skirt up and bend over to pretend to pick something up. I can feel his eyes burn into me while I do so and I turn around to find him staring at me intensely, not looking away even when I catch him. We make eye contact and I bite my bottom lip, looking him up and down.
Just looking at his hands made me uneasy. That was my favorite part of him. His tattoos decorated them perfectly and I can only dream of those long slender fingers, his hands pleasuring me in ways I can’t describe with words. Harry walks inside the house and I realize that I need to go inside to keep myself from getting too wound up. I tell Sofia and she nods. I there’s someone in the bathroom downstairs already, so I walk up the stairs. As I walk by the bathroom, I hear a moan echo from it and my eyes widen and my heartbeat picks up.
“Fuck,” I hear a utterance and my eyes shut. “Fuck, shit, oh my god, Y/N,” his voice coos and I nearly lose it. On a whim, I knock on the door. “Sorry! I’ll be out in a minute!” Harry yells and I creak the door open and walk inside. As soon as he sees me, he walks over to me quickly and presses me up against the door, shutting it. He instantly crashes his lips against mine. His pants are already zipped up, but his bulge is still incredibly obvious and a smile deviously into the kiss, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him closer to me. He circles his hands around my waist and starts to grind his crotch against me, his breath picking up as he bites my bottom lip lightly. He snakes his tongue into my mouth and our tongues battle for dominance, but I let him win because I love how turned on he is. I want him to be dominant. He drags his lips to my neck, never losing contact with my skin and he starts nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He knows as soon as he finds my sweet spot because I gasp loudly, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling his face harder against me. I know he’ll leave a mark, but I don’t even care, oddly enough. I reach my other hand down and sluggishly slide it down his pants, making contact directly with his massive hard on. He moans quietly against my neck.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he growls, “You’ve been such a tease.”
I just moan in response at the sensation of his lips against my neck and he rids me of my shirt.
“Are you going to give me what I want?” he asks, eyes full of lust.
I nod instantly.
“Good girl,” he says and reaches behind my back to unhook my bra. He quickly pulls away from me and runs to the shower, turning it on.
“Why have you done that?” I ask, confused.
“I’m loud,” he tells me, “and I know you are, too.”
My eyes widen, “Uh, how do you know that?” I frown.
He rushes back to me and picks me up so I’m straddling him, his hands kneading my ass though my skirt. He tugs my skirt all the way off and stands me in front of the shower. “I was at your house a while ago,” he starts, looking at me and biting his bottom lip hard, “To pick up Sofia, and you were in your bedroom pleasuring yourself,” he says. My cheeks turn bright red. “I swear to god, I wanted to walk right in your door and fuck you senseless, but I had places to be, and just the sound of you giving yourself pleasure was enough for me to get myself off.” My eyes nearly roll back in my head while he tells me the story.
“I guess I got you back,” I challenge, cocking an eyebrow as I rid myself of my underwear and he steps back, taking all of his clothing off in a few swift movements. His erection is so huge, I think it might hurt me, but that doesn’t make me hesitate to grab him and start to pump him vigorously. He presses me against the shower wall and slides his dick between my legs, but doesn’t enter me. He starts fucking my thighs, the friction rubbing against my clit, making us both moan against each other’s lips. The water is hot against my skin, sort of burning, but in a great way.
“Oh, fuck,” Harry mutters against my swollen lips. “Lie down,” he says. I obey and he pries my legs open, kneeling down and staring at my core with hungry eyes. He dips his head down and licks a stripe up my folds, making me gasp loudly. He presses the pad of his tongue against my clit, starting to trace figure 8’s against it. He moans just at me losing it, sending vibrations against my clit and nearly throwing me over the edge. He plunges two fingers inside of me, giving me the pleasure I’d only dreamed about before. He pumps his fingers in and out of me quickly and takes my clit in his mouth, sucking harshly. I gasp so loud I’m sure someone else could hear me.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, Harry, oh my god!” I yell. He smiles against my heat and lightly bites down on my clit as I cum all over his mouth, riding out my orgasm as my entire body shakes. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of my cunt. “Stand,” I command him and he obliges, standing as I position myself in front of him on my knees. I pump him in my hand as hard and fast as I can and he moans loudly. I lick a stripe up his shaft, looking up at him, his face desperate.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he growls and I smirk, swirling my tongue against his swollen red tip and sucking harshly to get him back. “Fuck, baby, yeah,” he edges me on, only making me wetter and I wrap my lips around his shaft, forcing my head down as far as I can go. I bob my head quickly and he tangles his hands in my hair, helping guide me. “Uhh right there,” he groans making me moan against him. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N!” He yells, “Fuck, I’m going to cum!” he warns me and I get off of him, tugging me down so he’s in between my legs and I’m lying on the tile. His dick is rock hard and it sticks out proudly from his abdomen as he positions himself at my entrance. He rubs his tip against my clit, driving me insane.
“Harry, just fuck me already!” I growl and he looks down at me and smirks and I admire his torso splattered in tattoos.
“How bad do you want me?” he asks.
“So much, Harry, I need you,” I say, “fuck me senseless.”
“Baby, you’re going to have to beg if you want me,” he teases.
“Harry please fuck me,” I beg, “I need you so fucking bad, please, you’re so—" I start to say but he cuts me off by thrusting into me without warning. He provides no time for me to adjust to his size, just starts pounding into me as fast and hard as he can. I arch my back, the steam from the shower fogging the glass. He lowers his head and circles his tongue on my nipple, making me want to scream out. “Fuck, Harry, you’re so fucking big,” I throw my head back.
As he slams into me, waves of pleasure radiate through my body and the room is filled with euphoria and the taste of his lips. He drags his lips up to mine and kisses me passionately, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. I rake my nails against the skin of his back and his mouth drops open against mine, the loudest moan escaping his mouth followed by heavy breathing. He circles his hands around my lower back and lifts me, still inside me and presses me up against the wall, sneaking his tongue into my mouth while I tangle my hands in his hair. He starts thrusting up into me again, instantly hitting my g spot and making me moan out against his lips. He smiles and chuckles as he pants, hitting places inside me that I didn’t even know existed.
“Oh my god, fuck!” He groans.
“Right there, yes!” I bury my head in his neck, scratching his lower back again and pulling him tighter against me, if that’s even possible.
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight,” he moans, “Y/N, look at me.”
I drag my eyes up to look into his and we hold an intense stare as he continues to pound into me, not slowing down. He brings a hand down to my clit and starts rubbing circles hard against it, making me whimper. I look down.
“Look at me,” he growls again.
He bites his bottom lip and I do the same, my eyes threatening to flutter shut every few seconds, but his stare forces my eyes open.
“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” I warn him and he starts thrusting even harder.
“Me too,” he says, focusing and looking down at where we’re connected. “Together?”
I nod and he looks back at me. I shut my eyes as he counts down. “Three, two,” he pauses, his thrusts getting sloppy, “One.” We both moan incredibly loudly. He spills inside of me, filling me with his hot liquid while I clench around him, releasing all over him. We sink down to the shower floor, him still inside of me. We hide our faces in each others necks and try desperately to catch our breath. After a few seconds, I hear a laugh echo from Harry’s mouth.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes.
I giggle. “Agreed.”
“Holy. Fuck.” he repeats, chuckling. He brings his head back up to mine again, pressing a kiss against my lips, placing his hands on my waist and caressing the skin gently. “You,” he says and then pecks my lips, “Were,” he pecks my lips again, “Fucking,” again, “incredible,” he finishes with another long kiss. He pulls out of me and then tugs me to my feet. It’s nearly difficult for me to walk and he helps me out of the shower. He hands me a towel and dries himself off as well. We start to put our clothes back on silently.
“Sofia doesn’t hear about this,” I say, looking at him pull his jeans up.
“Absolutely not,” he agrees, “But does that mean we won’t do it again?”
“I hope that’s not what it means,” I say, smiling and he grins back.
“I guess we’ll just have to keep it quiet then?” he asks, walking over and placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Why don’t we dry up your hair?”
I nod and he goes to the cabinet and pulls out the hair dryer, plugging it in and standing behind me with a hairbrush. He tucks my wet hair behind my neck, exposing extremely prominent hickeys. A rush of panic runs through me.
“You can cover it with makeup,” he reassures, sensing my worry.
“Can I say something?” I ask.
“Anything,” he replies, looking at me in the mirror and then brushing the ends of my hair.
“I like you,” I purse my lips and he looks up and into the reflection on the fogged up mirror, “A lot.”
He grins as my chest tightens and heart beats fast. “I like you, too,” he whispers, “A lot.”
We both blush and smile the whole time he finishes drying out my hair.
Once we’re finished drying my hair, we open the bathroom door and there’s a bald guy standing there with a beer in his hand and his jaw wide open. My cheeks turn bright red.
“Uncle Jeff,” Harry states, “Uh…”
He doesn’t say anything, just points past him to the bathroom, absolutely stunned. Harry and I get out of the way and he walks in, shutting the door behind him.
Harry and I look at each other and then start bursting out laughing, bending over. Our laughs get so big that we go silent. When we finally compose ourselves, Harry tugs me toward him and pecks my lips three more times and then nods toward the staircase.
We walk downstairs like nothing ever happened. This is probably the only family barbecue I’ve ever actually enjoyed.
OK here’s something interesting that happened today.
For so much of my life, I learned about things in my community from signs posted by strangers. I’m talking
about flyers and posters on bulletin boards and telephone poles or
just taped up to walls. Beautiful ephemera. I actually really loved to read them, like
stand in a cafe or a bar or a bookstore or a library or a grocery store
or wherever, and see what was going on in the world. What was important
enough for someone to handwrite or draw or type up a message and then
make copies of it for the world and then distribute them around town.
mean I lived in Seattle in the mid-90s, that was a bad-ass era for
signage. And even when I first moved to New York City in the late 90s, I
still used to see great band posters everywhere. But - and I know I’m
about to be super fucking predictable here but too bad - then came the
internet. And that’s how I started to learn about everything that was
going on in the city. And of course I grew too busy to stop and stare
for too long.
But then I moved to a new city recently, a smaller, quieter one, where I know
people, but not a lot of people, and I don’t know what facebook groups
to join (and really I hate joining facebook groups anyway) or what
websites to look at to find out what’s happening in the world, and also
I’ve slowed down my life considerably and have plenty of time to stare at bulletin boards now. And people still make beautiful posters
here, for all kinds of performances, and post little notes about art
shows and barbecues and different neighborhood events, and I find myself
learning all the time about the world around me just by spending a few
minutes here and there reading these signs.
Anyway a few
weeks ago I saw a poster for a 6:30 AM rooftop yoga and meditation
session. An email was given, but no location. I sent a note. A friendly
woman replied with an address. Every Wednesday morning, an eight minute
walk from my house. I will do this, I thought.
I missed the first week because I was busy, I missed
the second week because the goddamn election was the night before and
it felt like the world had exploded and I forgot about it entirely, but
then this week, today, this morning, I set the alarm, and even though it
was so, so early, I had this conversation with myself that today would
be a better day if I went, and so I did.
There were three people there,
all strangers to me, all waiting outside. I was in my pajamas, holding a cup of coffee. Everyone smiled at me. We entered a house, and climbed a ladder to the
roof, which was wet with dew. And then we did yoga for an hour and then
meditated for another hour, as the sun rose behind us. The last
meditation we did was for abundance, our hands cupped. Birds chirping everywhere, though the streets below us were quiet. I offered a donation, and the people leading the class just told me to pay it forward. Then they offered to make me pancakes, but I had a dog to walk.
Look up, is all I am saying. Look around. Pay attention. It’s all there.
5 in the afternoon, and Calum already had a cup in his hand, laughing just a little louder and frame just a little looser from the alcohol in his system. He took another drink, looking positively dashing in his award show formal wear, but almost choking because of his laughter at something that was said. Your fingers were laced under the table, and you brought his knuckles to your lips, him glancing over at you with an eyebrow raised. Standing, you motioned that you were going to the bathroom, and he scrambled after you. “Calum, I can go alone, I’m a big girl.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, “I know, I just wanted to join you is all.” “Cal…” He cut you off by ducking into an empty hallway, pulling you against his chest, quieting any protest with his kiss. You let him continue, your hands flat against his chest, his on the small of your back. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He mumbled against your mouth, tracing the fabric of your dress to the hem that rested on your thighs. You pushed him away a bit, but he whined leaning with you to reach your lips again, your skirt riding up as his fingertips searched for skin. “They’re going to notice that we’ve gone, not right now.” “But babe.” You shushed him, pressing a final kiss on his lips, “But before we go back I really do need to pee, c'mon.”
Giggles and screeches rang across the lawn as children weaved between long adult legs in a game of chase. You had faced the immediate Irwin household before, and were considered one of the family, but facing the /whole/ Irwin clan (and friends) was absolutely terrifying. Ashton dragged you to the barbecue anyway, showing you off, leaving encouraging whispers breathed at your ear after each new face. Now you two were sat at a table, content with watching everyone. “You were lovely,” he praised, a hand resting on your knee. “I’m still nervous out of my mind,” you admitted, sending him a weak smile. “Nonsense, they love you! Don’t be nervous.” “I can’t help it.” His face broke into a mischievous grin, which you glared at knowing bad news was coming. “I could help maybe?” He offered, and you shook your head. “Ashton no. Whatever you’re thinking, no.” Sliding his hand up from your knee, he cocked his head at you. “Are you sure?” His palm rested on the top of your thigh, fingertips brushing dangerously close to your underwear. It would be easy to get away with it. The family was preoccupied, no one paying attention to the two teen love birds in the corner. Your chest shifted with shaky breaths, your eyes looking anywhere but Ashton’s eyes. He scooted closer, pressing his lips to your neck, causing your head to fall. “Irwin, if we get caught, you’ll have hell to pay.”
You weaved through crowded hallways smiling and greeting party goers, an unamused Luke trailing behind you. “I promise that we’ll go home soon, I just need to say hi to a couple more people and see the hostess and then we can leave,” you begged, hoping he’d stop moping. “But baby,” he whined pouting and tugging on your hand. You frowned up at him and he huffed out a quiet agreement before dutifully siding up to you to finish your hellos. His attention span only lasted so long, with you getting caught up in chatting with a friend, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as he stood behind you. Your head tipped back with laughter, drawing his eyes to your exposed shoulders and neck. He dipped down, brushing his lips against the skin, his breath causing you to shudder. Your friends gave you a knowing smile, quickly and politely telling you how good it was to see you before leaving and hugging the next person. “Luke, you scared them away, can you not do this right now?” He grinned, kissing your shoulder gently. “But I’m bored and you look good and I’d much rather be at home than be here.” You went to scold him, but he mouthed at your neck. “Wouldn’t you much rather be at home?” Scowling, you turned to look up at him, coy smirk turning up his lips. “Let’s go find the hostess, and then we’ll leave, will that make you happy?” He nodded, leaning close to breathe against your ear, “Very.”
Michael tugged on his jacket sleeves and ruffled his hair for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes, which you chided him for. “I’m sorry!” His voice was an octave too high. “It’s just everyone keeps looking at me and I don’t think they like my hair.” You had taken him as a date to a cousin’s wedding, and your family absolutely loved him, despite the initial questioning looks. Most of the crowd was on the dance floor, and you searched for solace to his preening there. A new song started through the speakers and you tugged on his hand. “Dance with me.” The look of distaste he gave you was priceless, so you dramatically sashayed around his chair, sliding the cover off your arms, leaving your shoulders bare. “Let me rephrase that,” you leaned close to his ear. “Dance with me.” He perked up some, following you to the already dancing crowd of people, hands falling to your waist as you danced. It took a few more songs and a few more drinks for Michael to fully fall into the rhythm, but you applauded yourself for distracting him. His hands moved up and down your sides, your back against his chest, when he spun you around. He brushed the hair out of your eyes to hold your face with both hands, kissing you sweetly. You pressed closer to him as his hands slid to your shoulders, to you waist, to settle against your butt. “Keep it PG Clifford,” you mumbled. “Okay,” he smirked, squeezing your ass before placing his hands back at your waist. “We’ll just save that for later then.”
The sun rises, and the moon sets; a story as old as time. Nothing appears out of the ordinary to those early risers among the citizens in Hive City. For those who live in sector six there is something within the tree laden part of the city that has only happened once before. Signs pop up elsewhere along the other sectors, pointing a certain direction that indicate you to follow. In a large clearing of sector six a ring of mushrooms, as tall as three story buildings, waits openly for all of Hive City to come and visit. A sign holds on the entree way that reads “Welcome To All Those Who Choose to Enter.”
Inside is an array of sounds, smells, and sights for the faire goers to enjoy. Shops line the mushroom’s that make the walls of the Flower Festival were one can purchase handcrafted items and art. If one follows their nose they will find an array of different foods and wines to satisfy even the pickiest of eaters! Small crowds are littered about as they shift from scene to scene, but most of all you notice the bright colors and shapes of flowers that seem to appear on almost every surface.