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[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales //Chapter Seventeen// Poly-AU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Fanclub: @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @synthetic-wasp-570 @yournecessaryevil @dominuslunae @awkwardalex @rumoured-whispers @beaker1636 @mysticdoodlez

For the past few months, the four of us had been navigating the uncharted waters of our unconventional relationship. Noah was on a sold out European tour, he’d been gone for nearly a month, returning to us in just a couple of days. This time around he kept all of us in the loop during his time abroad. The group chat was a flurry of activity, with Noah regularly texting small, amusing anecdotes about the hijinks he and his bandmates were getting up to between shows. And even cute messages about how he missed us and couldn’t wait to be home.

Sometimes I'd look up and across the room, Chris would be bent over his phone, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he texted his boyfriend. They’d certainly fallen for each other, communicating in private almost as much as I did with either of them, sometimes I wondered what they would say to each other. While Rick had initially been open to the idea of the four of them exploring intimacy together, it took him some time to fully embrace the deep connection between Noah and Chris.

There was an undeniable, almost primal energy that crackled between the two men, as if they had unlocked a hidden part of themselves that only the other could access. Their bond went beyond mere physical attraction - it was a meeting of souls, a melding of spirits that left the rest of us feeling almost like outsiders looking in.

It was hard to spend time together, not one of us lived in the same place at the same time. With the guys touring separately, Noah living out west, Chris and Rick both owned property in Pennsylvania-one of which I now lived in, leaving the apartment to move in with Rick-Chris on a whim bought property down south, overseeing the renovations for the next two months. It was hard to know when we’d all be together again.

Even as the four of us loved each other dearly, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy watching Noah and Chris together. There was a level of intimacy there that I knew all too well, but my stubborn Virgo refused to acknowledge it.

With him, I felt complete in a way that the others could never replicate. And yet, there was always an elusive quality to him, a part of him that seemed to hold back, keeping me at arm's length no matter how tightly he embraced me. Sometimes this was maddening, leaving me aching to fully possess every inch of him. Other times, it was easy to forget, to lose myself in the all-encompassing comfort of his love. But the nagging feeling that he was hiding something, guarding a piece of himself, was always there, a persistent undercurrent that I could never quite shake.

We’d flown into Tampa for the weekend. A few days from now I'd be departing with Noah on a Caribbean cruise-our own mini vacation. But until then Rick and Chris were mine.

They had booked us the high-end suite, complete with a private sitting room, fully-equipped kitchen, and a spacious balcony offering a breathtaking ocean view. The real excitement, however, lay within the master bedroom, where the boys had me completely at their mercy.

Blindfolded and helpless, my naked body trembled with anticipation as I felt the soft fleece lining of the cuffs binding my wrists and ankles in a tight hogtie. This was Rick's favorite restraint system, one he had learned about from Chris. At first, Rick had been mesmerized, his curiosity piqued by the sensations and power dynamics. Now, he wielded that knowledge with a confident, commanding presence.

I lay there, utterly exposed and vulnerable, my body restrained and senses deprived. The sturdy stretching bar forced my knees up and apart, leaving me open and accessible. Cuffs securely fastened behind my back, rendering my arms immobile. The satin blindfold sealed off my vision, plunging me into total darkness. Without sight, my other senses strained to compensate, hyper-alert to every subtle sound and sensation. The quiet hum of the air conditioning reverberated through the room, while the gentle whirring of the distant fan created a soothing, ambient backdrop. The flickering candles on the dresser crackled and popped, their warm glow no doubt casting enticing shadows, though I could only imagine them. I waited with bated breath, heart pounding, every nerve ending electrified as I anticipated the unknown.

The door slowly creaked open, the frame softly sliding across the carpet floor. Shifting restlessly on the bed, I felt the heavy weight of the plug nestled deep inside me. The foreign sensation elicited a soft, needy whine from my lips, all I could do to quell the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body.

"I told you she looks pretty tied up like this," came a voice, laced with pride and underlying lust that made me shudder involuntarily.

Chris.

"Pretty is an understatement," purred another, Rick's voice dripping with carnal desire as it hit my ears. "She looks delicious."

At those words, large, cool fingers ghosted across my lower belly, causing me to jerk forward instinctively, arching into the tantalizing touch. Long fingers cupped my breast in a sickly, possessive manner. I mewled softly, pressing into their touch, aching for more.

Chris leaned in close, his warm breath caressing the delicate shell of my ear. “You up for a game, precious?”

The familiar wetness pooling between my thighs was enough of a ‘yes’ in my book. My mouth simultaneously went dry, then flooded with saliva, as my body betrayed the hunger stirring within. With a breathy, obedient tone, I uttered the words he longed to hear - "Yes, sir."

His touch shifted, feeling two fingers glide up and down the throbbing pulse point of my neck. "The game is this," he purred. "Rick and I are going to touch you in different ways, and you have to guess who is touching you. If you guess wrong, you get punished." My breath caught in anticipation at the prospect of punishment, but- "What if I guess right?"

"Then we keep going," Chris replied, his voice shifting as he moved around the room. My ears strained to track his movements, desperate to pinpoint his location, but the room seemed to swallow the sound of his footsteps. "Are you ready to play, little one?" he murmured, now directly in front of me, the predatory edge in his tone sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Yes. Sir.” I breathed.

Tension hung thick in the air as I waited with bated breath, every nerve ending on high alert. I had been anticipating this moment, craving the feel of their touch. My heart pounded in my ears, the rhythmic thumping drowning out all other noise as I struggled to steady my erratic breathing.

Then, without warning, a feathery caress grazed my left arm, the delicate fingertips trailing slowly up my triceps and back down again in a tantalizing, sensual glide. A shaky exhale escaped my lips as I concentrated on the electrifying sensation, willing my breath to even out.

“Rick.”

The fingers that had been caressing my skin with languid, soothing motions paused for a moment, and I was met with a low, rumbling affirmation, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive skin of my neck in a way that made me shiver.

"Very good, baby girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against me in a soft, fleeting kiss before the contact was gone leaving me bereft and aching for more.

Tugging gently at the metal cuffs encircling my wrists and ankles, I tried to ground myself, to focus on the physical sensations rather than the maelstrom of emotions raging inside me. Suddenly, a familiar hand caressed my calf with a featherlight touch, I wet my lips trying to steady my racing heart.

"Chris," I breathed, pride swelling in my voice as I recognized his tender, masterful touch.

"Very good, precious," he purred, more words of approval dripping from his lips. Someone climbed on the bed, rolling me softly to my side.

“No need to guess, baby girl,” Rick teased as I felt him fumble around hearing the click of the cuffs releasing my wrists setting my hands free. I helped roll myself onto my back, my arms stretching out searching for my boys. A pair of hands slid up my arms interlacing our fingers as they gently pinned me to the bed.

“Hands stay above your head, baby girl.” Rick’s commanding yet playful tone sent delicious shivers over my body, and I obediently kept my hands raised exactly as he had instructed, knowing full well the mischievous grin that must be gracing his handsome features.

Rick's rough yet tender fingers glided sensuously down the bare skin of my arms, igniting sparks within me. Every point of contact between our bodies felt heightened, hyper-aware, as though my nerve endings had been set alight. Fighting the urge to reach out and pull him closer.

I could feel their eyes roaming hungrily over my naked body, drinking in every curve and contour. The vulnerability of being so openly displayed before them, helpless and at their mercy, sent lightning bolts of exhilaration coursing through me.

Their breathing was nearly imperceptible, the only giveaway the faint, tantalizing whispers of air that occasionally reached my ears, hinting at their proximity. I was acutely aware of every shift in the air, every subtle vibration, my body tense and quivering with anticipation, unsure of what sensations might come next. Suddenly, I felt a weight settle on my belly, the cool touch of leather sliding teasingly across my skin, dipping into the sensitive hollow of my navel before vanishing altogether, leaving me aching for more contact. The brief caress ignited a smoldering desire within me, my skin craving their touch. The anticipation was maddening, my mind racing to keep up with the tantalizing game they were playing.

"That's not fair," I gasped, my voice breathy and strained with barely restrained need. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, betraying the desperation I felt.

Chris's deep, rumbling voice came from my left, a delicious contrast to Ricky's taunting, teasing tone sounding from my right. "That's not a guess, little one,"

"Guessing is part of the fun," Rick purred. I was surrounded, enveloped by their powerful presence, my senses heightened to the point of overwhelming sensitivity.

I swallowed hard, taking a deep, steadying breath before responding in a quivering voice, "May I have it again, please?" I could hear shuffling all around me as I lay there, my senses heightened, waiting in anticipation. The familiar touch of supple leather grazed my belly once more, sending a shiver through my body. I tried to focus, to guess who might be wielding that delicious instrument, but the sensations were so overwhelming that it was difficult to think clearly.

The flogger began caressing my stomach, slowly working its way down towards the sensitive juncture of my thighs. Instinctively, I parted my legs, aching for the sweet bliss that was sure to follow. But just as the blissful contact was about to meet my throbbing, needy core, the flogger was cruelly torn away, leaving me whimpering with want. I had to guess, and guess quickly, before the torment continued.

"Chris," I breathed, his name falling from my lips as I waited with bated breath. The slap of the flogger against my belly wasn't too harsh, but the unexpected contact still caused me to curl in on myself defensively.

A shiver ran down my spine as Rick's dark, authoritative tone filled the room, enveloping my senses and sending a flush of warmth through my body. In my mind's eye, I could vividly picture him standing before me - his dark locks framing his chiseled features, his smoldering gray eyes lit with intensity as he gripped the flogger in his strong hands. I imagined the way his pink tongue would dart out to slowly wet his full lipd, a mere preview of the wicked things that mouth was capable of.

“Wrong, baby girl,” the flogger slapped at my thighs. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to compose myself before responding to his declaration of my misstep. But before I could utter a word, another stinging slap landed on the tender flesh of my thigh, causing me to involuntarily roll to the side.

Rick's voice was low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his warm breath caressing my ear. "I'd like to up the stakes, precious," he purred. "Three more wrong guesses and I'm going to edge you till you're begging me for release. Three more right guesses, and one of us will give you the orgasm you're dying for." The tantalizing promise sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me, my body thrumming with anticipation for the delicious game of chance that lay ahead.

I could feel the bed shifting as the two men hovered over me, their presence looming large and commanding.

Rick's calloused hand began caressing the red stinging skin of my thighs, sending tingles of pleasure through my body. I rolled my hips, desperate to feel more of his touch, to be closer to the heat and hardness of him. "Please," I whimpered, my voice quivering with need. Chris's lips brushed against my cheek as he teased, "Then be good."

The game was on, and I was ready to play. A featherlight kiss was placed just below my navel, and I knew instantly it was Rick's familiar touch. "Rick," I said confidently, and was rewarded with Chris's praise. "That's one. Good girl."

The men moved around the room, the sounds of rustling and shifting sending my imagination into overdrive. When I thought I might be left untouched, a hand suddenly grasped my exposed nipple, rolling and pinching the sensitive flesh. My back arched, a gasp escaping my lips as the delicious sensation radiated through me.

“Chris.”

I could hear his wicked smile, his dark chuckle echoing off the wall as his hand slid down my torso pushing my thighs open wider. My body ached to be touched, desperate for the stimulation it craved.

My hips bucked when a warm tongue slid into my entrance, circling slowly before withdrawing, I let out a needy mewl. The sensations were exquisite, setting my nerve endings alight. I strained to focus, wanting desperately to guess correctly this time, knowing the consequences if I didn't.

"Rick," I breathed, the name tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. I braced myself, uncertain of what was to come next. But then Rick's lips closed around my swollen clit, sucking firmly, and all rational thought fled my mind. My back arched up off the bed as sparks of pleasure shot through me. Rick's skilled tongue flicked and teased, sending shockwaves through my trembling form. I panted heavily, my hips rolling in time with his mouth, the tension building steadily within me. The lines between Chris and Rick blurred as their touches melded together, overwhelming my senses. I was utterly at their mercy, my body a livewire of sensation, aching to be satisfied after so much tantalizing anticipation.

As Chris stroked my forehead tenderly, Rick’s talented tongue slid in and out of my aching, sensitive entrance in a steady, rhythmic motion. I could feel the coil of pleasure building deep within my core, a familiar tension that threatened to unravel at any moment. The tip of Rick's nose brushed against my swollen, throbbing clit with each pass, the delicate sensation sending shockwaves of ecstasy through my body. I desperately wanted to tangle my hands in his hair, to urge him on, to pull him closer, but Chris was quick to react, using one hand to stop my moving wrists pinning my arms down. "Don't ruin it, precious," he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Wouldn't want to have him stop now, would we?" I shook my head vehemently, my hips rolling and jerking in response to Rick's probing tongue. God, no, I couldn't bear the thought of him stopping, not when I was so close, the coil of pleasure tightening with each passing second.

"You gonna come for him, little one?" Chris purred, and I could only pant out a desperate "Yes, yes" as I felt myself careening towards the edge. The moment Rick's moan vibrated against my throbbing sex, I shattered, my thighs trembling as I came undone, wave after wave of ecstasy washing over me. His strong hands held me open, allowing him to ride out my climax, his tongue lapping at my sensitive flesh until the last shudder had passed.

As I slowly regained my senses, I felt Rick's weight lift from between my thighs, leaving a void that yearned to be filled once more. Tugged by my wrists, I sat up on the bed, blinking rapidly as the blindfold was pulled from my face. My eyes adjusted to the soft lighting, and there he was - Rick, gazing down at me with a mesmerizing smile that was equal parts beautiful and unsettling.

My gaze drifted downward, drinking in the sight of his naked body. I ached to reach out, to wrap my fingers around his heated flesh, to run my tongue along his length, to take him fully into my mouth and savor his musky taste. My mind was consumed with wanton thoughts, craving to experience his body in the most intimate ways.

"You ready for the real fun?" He purred, his voice low and dripping with promise. Chris reached over unclasping the bar holding my legs open, softly caressing the points where I had been restrained. Without hesitation, I nodded, my tongue darting out to wet my lips in anticipation. He closed the distance between us, pulling me into a passionate, searing kiss that reignited the fire within my core. I could taste the remnants of my own arousal on his tongue as it plundered my mouth, and with my hands now free, I eagerly reached up to caress his face, twirling the silky strands of his hair between my fingers.

As Rick pulled me slowly off the bed, breaking our passionate kiss, he spun me around, my back pressing against his firm chest, and began kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of my neck. The sensation of his lips and teeth on my flesh made me let out a soft, needy whine. Glancing across the bed, I watched as Chris, also naked, positioned his long, muscular body on the mattress. I watched, transfixed, as his hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it slowly up and down. The sight made a heat pool in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly, Rick tugged sharply on my hair, pulling my head back to rest on his shoulder. "Listen, baby girl," he murmured in a low, authoritative voice. "You did good. We're going to take you together. That's what this..." His free hand slid down my back, over the curve of my ass, and between my cheeks to tease the plug still nestled inside me. "Was for. Are you ready?"

"Yes," I breathed, my heart racing with a heady mix of anticipation and nerves. Rick kept a firm grip on my hair and upper arm as he guided me up on my knees into the bed.

"But first," Rick chuckled, his voice dripping with a dark promise, "Let's have your mouth do some work."

He urged my head down pushing me forward, my face falling into Chris’s lap. I opened my mouth wide, and he swiftly slid himself between my eager lips. Closing my mouth around his throbbing shaft, I swallowed him down to the very hilt, feeling him hit the back of my throat. Chris let out a guttural hiss and bucked his hips up into my face. I gagged slightly, unable to pull away as Rick had a firm, unyielding grip on the back of my head. Bracing myself on my hands, I dug my palms into the soft mattress beneath us, preparing myself for the onslaught to come.

Without warning, Chris began thrusting his hips rapidly, pounding his cock into my mouth at a rough, relentless pace. I felt the tears welling in my eyes, but I forced myself to relax my throat and breathe steadily through my nose.

"Such a good girl, remember to breathe," Rick cooed encouragingly. I coughed once as Chris delivered a particularly hard thrust, driving himself deep into my throat. Suddenly, Rick yanked me back by hair, his lips brushing against my ear. "Very good. Sit on his cock, baby," he growled.

When Rick released his grip, I crawled towards Chris, whose strong arms were outstretched and waiting for me. Lacing our fingers together, I straddled his lap, reaching down to grasp his rigid shaft and guide it to my entrance.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants. 

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep. 

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time. 

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream. 

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words. 

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black. 

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts. 

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional. 

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you. 

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh. 

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you. 

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something. 

He didn’t. 

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand. 

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything. 

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. 

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring. 

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day. 

The unmitigated gall this metal man had. 

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?” 

“I am Mandalorian D—“ 

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man. 

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.  

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears. 

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake. 

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing. 

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up. 

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?” 

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates. 

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?” 

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time. 

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?” 

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.” 

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Just call me Mando.” 

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.” 

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.” 

“Who are you fightin’?” 

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.” 

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby. 

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you. 

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides. 

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed. 

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair. 

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?” 

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.” 

“Will it make me drowsy?” 

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.” 

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad. 

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised. 

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!” 

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized. 

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures. 

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it. 

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.” 

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid. 

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.” 

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?” 

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied. 

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?” 

“Not really hungry at the moment.” 

“Okay.” 

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches.  As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.  

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused. 

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go. 

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard. 

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house. 

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space. 

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.” 

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard. 

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send. 

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house. 

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it. 

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster. 

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside. 

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

[cellythefloshie]

;; I Wanna Be Yours 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: You can't handle being just friends with your childhood friend, Brandon Hagel, anymore. Word Count: 1k+

Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought.

Growing up in Morinville, Alberta, where the population was less than 10,000, there was one thing for certain: you knew everyone and everyone knew you. The kids you met on the first day of Kindergarten were the same you graduated with at eighteen. Some would stay and work in Morinville, maybe even marry their high school sweetheart, while others would move to Calgary or Edmonton to go to school. But in Morinville, there was one exception, your best friend: Brandon Hagel. 

You had met him in grade school, his family having moved from Saskatoon. You had been too young to remember why or even ask, but the moment he walked into the classroom, and your teacher seated him at the desk beside you, the two of you were best friends. You swapped lunches, and played together at recess. Play dates were often scheduled by your parents, and you even played on the same Timbits hockey team until his skills surpassed your own and you were left to watch him play from the stands. 

You were his biggest fan, even as he moved through different leagues, and it became more difficult for you to attend. The WHL, AHL and finally the NHL you had been there for it all one way or another. Watching the game streams on sketchy websites, late night phone calls, traveling to watch him play when he was close enough to home. You did it all, and it didn't go unrecognized. By those who didn't know you, and didn't know your story, you were often mistaken as his girlfriend. 

It was something you just shrugged off, and assured those who were embarrassed for making such a statement that it was an honest mistake. 

What they didn't know was how desperately you wanted that to be true. 

You wanted to be his. 

But after what felt like a lifetime together, you were convinced that would never be a reality. Not even as you sat on a beach in Tampa, Florida with Brandon sitting at a table with his teammates behind you. 

You had flown down to watch their Stanley Cup Final match against the Colorado Avalanche. You had booked enough time off to be able to enjoy the parade, but it was an event that never came. The Bolts had lost, but you never passed up on the opportunity to enjoy a vacation. 

You could hear the guys laughing behind you as you sat in the warmth of the sun. Cirelli had been trying to do some sort of party trick with a Corona and had ultimately failed, sending the table into laughter. Brandon's was the most prominent among them, the sound filling your belly with warmth. You loved his laugh, and the smile that you were sure was spread so fully over his lips. Just the thought of it had you smiling too, but it quickly faded when you heard a soft feminine voice speaking to Brandon. 

It wasn't one you recognized, so you perked up in your seat and pretended to stretch as you glanced back at the table. The girl was pretty, and wasn't one of the wives or girlfriends that you had met during your trip. Your smile faded, and your stomach sank in an instant. 

You had no right to be jealous. You weren't his girlfriend, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was allowed to flirt with whoever he pleased, and you envied the woman for the courage she had to walk up to an attractive stranger at the beach. It was the courage you wished you had yourself but knew it would never come. 

Your shoulders slouched as you sunk back into your seat, a single hand reached up to pull the brim of your sun hat low in an attempt to hide the disappointed look you were sure had overtaken your features. But it was too late, someone had already noticed. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” It was the voice of Cirelli's girlfriend that drew your eyes up. She sat in the chair next to you, her body sprawled out and a book in hand. She must have looked up from the pages just long enough to see that something was wrong. 

You wished she hadn't. 

“Yeah, it's just-” you cut yourself off with an uneven breath, “I'm not feeling well I think I'm going to go back to the hotel.”

“Oh, okay-” was all you could hear leaving her lips. A disappointed sigh as you reached down for your beach bag, pulled on your cover up and left your seat on the beach. 

You wasted no time with goodbyes. Brandon wouldn't miss you. Hell, he probably wouldn't even notice you were gone. And if he did, Cirelli's girl could tell him where you went. 

Your strides were quick as you moved through the sand and up to the boardwalk where you stopped just long enough to throw your shoes down on the ground. You stepped into them and quickly fell into stride again. You moved through the busy boardwalk with your head down, tears burning at your eyes but you didn't let them spill. Each steady breath you took fought them back, but only fueled the turmoil of frustration in your mind. 

You hated that you felt this way. He was your best friend, your longest friend. You should have been happy with how things were. Yet, you wanted more. You would always want more-

There was a thunder of footsteps on the boardwalk behind you. Distant at first. So far you barely heard them but they grew louder, instructing your thoughts and clouding your mind. Your first instinct was to step to the side, out of the way of any jogger or playful child that may have been in your wake. But then you heard your name, a desperate call to get your attention, and you froze. 

You would recognize the voice anywhere. 

“Brandon?”

He stilled in front of you, his hand reaching up to slick back his shaggy hair that had fallen into his eyes. His breathing was uneven as he recovered from his sprint, and his dark eyes were fixated on you. His stare was magnetic, holding you in place without having to touch you. And you hated it. The hold he had on you, and it left tears to build in your eyes. 

And he noticed. 

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “ what's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” your croaked, your weak voice betraying you so quickly, “I just can't be here. I need to go home-”

“Go home?” Brabdon asked. 

His face contorted with confusion as he took a small step in and reached out to take hold of your arm. His hand was warm against your skin, sending a fluttering feeling through your body in an instant. 

“What are you talking about? You're supposed to be here for another week.” 

You wanted to shrug it off. To play it off as nothing, but there was too much you needed to get off your chest. There was no use in keeping secrets anymore. Not when they made you feel the way you did. 

“I want to be yours, Brandon,” your words felt like a pathetic plea as they left your lips, “and I can't keep pretending that I don't. You're my best friend, but it hurts too much to just sit back and-” 

Brandon didn't let you finish. He didn't have to. His hand  left your arm, his fingers grazing up slowly until you felt the warmth of his palm spread over your cheek. He cupped your face gently and used that hold to draw you in. And he kissed you, so deeply, so feverishly that it left you breathless. And in that moment you knew he felt the same way too. He, like you, had been too scared to ruin the friendship you both treasured so dearly.

[lovelytsunoda]

gimme! gimme! gimme! ( a man after midnight ) // marcus armstrong

summary: after graduating college and moving back home to sebring, florida to live with her parents, y/n becomes infatuated with the young man from new zealand who just moved in across the street

pairing: marcus armstrong x female! reader

warnings: money troubles, moving back in with the parents and losing the independence that comes with being a college student living on your own, parental expectations, difficult sibling relationship, implied smut,

author's note: why did it take me this long to write for marcus my beloved? i also kind of hate the ending but i wasn't sure where to end it soooooo

the sebring sun beat down against the road, heat waves visibly radiating off the pavement as y/n turned down on to the street where she grew up.

a street she swore she'd never come back to, until she realized that she couldn't afford to live anywhere else.

her manicured fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rapid succession as the bass guitar thrumming from the asking alexandria album she was listening to completely shook the chassis of her pickup truck.

well, her dad's old pickup truck.

a new car wasn't an expense that she could afford while she was away at school. but she loved that old truck like her life depended on it, right down to the squishy silicone alien bobblehead that sat on the dashboard, the stack of cd's that rested in the center console, the truck itself too old for bluetooth.

she turned on to her interlock driveway, defeatedly parking the truck behind her mother's five year old mercedes. she had just bought that car when y/n went off to school.

the y/l/n's weren't poor by any means: they still had money for family vacations, renovations on the house, to send their daughter to university. but they lived within their means, which meant budgeting out what was necessary and important and what was not.

and sometimes that meant making sacrifices. like moving back with your parents and younger sister after finishing your higher education pathway.

now she had a diploma, but no job, no house, no boyfriend and no prospects.

she cut the engine, deciding that it was better just to rip the band aid off now as she leaped from the cab of the truck, grabbed her backpack from the back seat and began the walk of shame to the front door.

"hey, mom." she said with a small, sad smile as her mother opened the front door, engulfing her in a warm, motherly embrace that made the smile on y/n's face grow a little happier.

"welcome home, sweetheart. let me go find your father and we'll help you bring your things inside."

ten minutes later, the y/l/n family, with the exception of y/n's sister shiloh, who was nowhere to be found, stood on the driveway with a foldable wagon cart from costco, unloading cardboard boxes and massive plastic tupperware containers from the flatbed of the old ford truck.

as nice as it was to be home, she felt like she was losing her independence.

she stacked a cardboard box in the cart before pressing up on her tip toes and leaning back to stretch her arms and her back, limbs still stiff from the drive in from tampa.

she paused to take a look around the neighborhood, taking in how much it had all changed. house prices had skyrocketed in the last ten years, and now the houses in the area were almost triple the price that her father had paid in the early nineties when he first bought the house.

but what really stuck out to her was the bright red high end mercedes amg sports car that sat in the driveway of the house across the street. the house that once belonged to the nice old woman that babysat y/n and shiloh when they were kids.

"who bought the noonan house?"

her father stopped moving boxes to look over at the house across the street. "oh, his name is marcus. great young man, he's about your age."

"he's my age and he can afford a house, while i have to move back in with you lot? that's absolutely fucking great." y/n groaned, looking back at the house. "and that car is at least three times the cost of mom's, and that's without the upgrade package."

her dad shrugged. "If you had taken my advice and gone into trades, that could have been you, kiddo."

"oh, fuck off."

"hey, watch your language." her mom warned, taking a tupperware container up to the front door. "he's a sweet, hardworking young man."

"what does he do for work?"

"he works in the automotive industry."

"and that's why you like him so much." she sighed, grabbing the handle of the wagon and following her mother back up to the house.

her father had always had big expectations for her. cars were the family legacy: her father's father had been the groundskeeper at sebring international speedway. her father had worked the assembly line at chevrolet before retiring and opening his own garage where he restored custom cars as a side hustle. she had been expected to also go into the automotive trade, as the son her father never had.

but that hadn't been what she wanted, as much as she loved cars. she'd been watching endurance races at sebring since before she could walk, and she learned how to use a monkey wrench before she learned what a curling iron did. her real calling was business. the four years of human resources training, and the diploma that had been mailed to her house had proven that.

she wasn't sure if her father had even hung it up anywhere.

she walked down the hallway, gingerly opening the pristine white door to her childhood bedroom. the walls were still painted the same pale purple, cluttered with canvasses that she had painted years ago, a twin bed in the middle of the room with a white down comforter and a pile of build a bears resting against the pillows.

"welcome home, y/n." she sighed to herself.

--------

three days later, the only peace that she could get was outside with the cicadas and the mosquitos. given sebring's proximity to the everglades, there was no small number of pests hovering in the muggy summer air as y/n pulled her hair back and popped open the hood of the pickup truck. there was a ratchet in her back pocket and a cropped, grease-stained white tank top.

any color darker than that and she feared she would get heat stroke.

she leaned over the engine, radio playing in the background as she began to fight with the engine's glow plugs, which she had been meaning to replace for almost a week.

"stupid fucking glow plugs. they're the easiest thing to replace, he said. it's easier to do it yourself, he said. well, why don't you fucking do it yourself, father dearest." she muttered, losing grip on the ratchet again and trying not to kick at the tyres. "motherfucker."

her head was still under the hood when the guest came strolling up her driveway.

"do you need help with that?"

"no, i don't need help, especially not from a man." she snapped, turning to look at the man standing across from her. "i can change a glow plug myself, thank you very much."

the man smirked. "well, i don't even know what a glow plug is, so you already know more than me."

withdrawing from the engine block, she twirled the ratchet in her hands as she turned to look at the man. "where's that accent from?"

"new zealand. i'm marcus, i live across the street."

she narrowed her eyes. this kiwi beanpole was the man that her father was so entranced with? this beanpole who didn't even know what a glow plug was worked in the automotive industry?

"y/n. my father speaks highly of you." she nodded in the direction of marcus' house. "you bought the noonan house? mrs. noonan was my babysitter, you know. from when i was five until i was fifteen. i loved that old woman."

"your dad did all the interior work for me. he's a craftsman, that's for sure." marcus nodded along. "back from uni for a few weeks?"

she'd deny it if you asked, but that statement cut deep. what hurt even more was that she would have to admit to him that she was moving back in with her parents. that she couldn't afford to maintain her independence, stand on her own two feet.

"actually, i just moved back home for good. i can't afford to move out." she sighed, moving to sit on the front steps of the house. "i forgot how hard my family was to live with. i've only been home for three days and i swear i've come this close to strangling shiloh. have you met shiloh yet?"

marcus laughed. "she's a firecracker. i don't think she likes me very much."

y/n grinned, inviting marcus to sit next to her. "she's sixteen. i don't think she likes anybody. ever since she dyed her hair black and got her nose pierced, she's been a different person. a person that i don't know how to relate to any more."

"i'm sure she'll come around. my sister is like, the complete opposite of me. paris thinks i'm full of shit half the time, but we love each other still. i know paris will always be there for me, and i'll always be there for paris."

y/n gestured at the car in marcus' driveway. "so how does a guy like you afford an amg and a three bedroom family home? because you sure as hell don't work in the automotive industry."

marcus raised an eyebrow, a small gesture that made her stomach do somersaults for reasons she couldn't explain. "what makes you so sure?"

"you didn't even know what a glow plug is. all diesel engines need them to run. i learned that when i was twelve years old, you would have learned in high school auto shop. so what do you really do? stripping? black market drugs?"

the kiwi laughed, throwing his head back. "i'm a podcaster, and i work in racing. telling your dad i worked in the auto industry seemed like the best way to get on his good side. he's a good contractor."

racing. something that once brought her so much joy but now left a bad taste in her stomach. she hadn't been to the speedway since she moved out.

"racing is in my blood. i was raised at the track because my grandfather was the groundskeeper. i remember watching the indycar race on his shoulders when i was seven years old, a chip ganassi hat that was three sizes too big resting on my head. i couldn't see a thing." she smiled at the memory. "my dad worked the assembly line at chevy, with some contracting on the side once he learned my mom was expecting me. after he retired he started restoring custom cars part-time, and i think he always hoped that i'd take on the family business with him."

"and you didn't?" marcus seemed surprised. obviously he expected that the girl in the skimpy top and cutoff shorts and the astrology tattoo on the inside of her wrist who cursed like a sailor when things didn't go her way would feel right at home in a garage, ratchet in her hand and wrench in her back pocket.

"i went into human resources. i couldn't stay in a garage all day, breathing in grease and lead paint day in and day out, wondering if things could have been different."

"do you regret it?"

she sighed, biting her bottom lip in a motion that sent a rush of energy through marcus' body. "i don't know yet."

as the silence became awkward, y/n got to her feet again, reaching out a hand to help marcus up. "come on, you're going to learn about glow plugs today."

----------------

"shiloh, can you keep it down?" y/n shouted, staring numbly at the resume on her computer screen. nobody told her that she'd be graduating without a single prospective job offer, and now she was scrambling to find a proper hr job, otherwise she'd end up working the counter at white castle.

she was in the basement, at the table she used to use to finish assignments in high school. the floor, once shining hardwood, was now adorned with rice mats for her sister, who was currently cycling through her second workout video, the basement filled with the younger girl's grunts and the sounds of weights knocking against the padded floor.

"i'm trying to do my workout." shiloh answered coolly. "i have a tournament in three weeks."

"i don't give a fuck, shiloh, i'm trying to find a job so that i don't have to live with mom and dad until im thirty years old."

shiloh rolled her eyes, turning back to her kettle bell weights. "they're always hiring at sonic burger."

"i'm not working in fast food for the rest of my life, jackass! i spent thousands of dollars trying to get this goddamn degree and now i can't even use it for anything!"

"should have listened to dad and gone into the trades. maybe you aren't trying hard enough."

"shut the fuck up, shiloh!"

"girls!" mrs. y/l/n called. "what is going on down here?"

shiloh pause her youtube video, getting to her feet. despite the four years between them, shiloh towered over her older sister, and was often confused for the older one. "y/n keeps interrupting my workout."

y/n gawked. "i was here first! and i'm trying to get a job, at the only damn desk in this house, and shiloh can't even give me ten minutes of peace because it's 'her routine' and i'm 'being disruptive'."

"well, your sister's workout is important. she's a high performance athlete."

"i don't give a shit, mom!"

"language, y/n! go upstairs and work at the dining room table, stop fighting with your sister. you've only been back home for a week!"

"yeah, ande it's like you don't have space for me here anymore!" y/n shouted, slamming her laptop shut and running up the basement stairs, trying not to cry.

this is the last way she expected her life after college to go: hunting for jobs in her moms basement, her sister telling her that she wasn't trying hard enough to get hired anywhere other than a fast food restaurant who would hire anybody off the streets during the busy months.

she couldn't even stand to be in that house, walking right out the front door and striding across the street to the noonan house without even looking to see if there were any cars on the road.

she walked past the mercedes, hand curled into a fist as she knocked on the front door, hoping and praying that a certain podcaster was home.

"y/n?" marcus' voice was soft and concerned after he opened the front door. "what are you doing here?"

"can i get some work done here? i'm trying to fix my resume so that i don't end up working at white castle for the rest of my life and i can't get anything done with shiloh around."

“of course,” marcus laughed “I’ll open a bottle of aperol spritz?”

"god, yes!" she breathed out, stepping into marcus' front hall and slipping out of her flip flops before she followed him into a large open concept main room, a kitchen island running down the middle. the back wall had been all replaced with sets of french doors that were more window than door, letting light into the bright, modern space.

"you're house is incredible. i don't think mrs. noonan updated this place since the sixties."

marcus chuckled, grabbing a glass wine bottle from the counter. "don't i know it. the master bathroom still had a green toilet. a green bloody toilet."

"oh god." y/n laughed, sitting at the island and opening her laptop. "can i trouble you for the wifi password?"

once marcus got her hooked up to the internet, she pulled up her cv, looking at the sad, small list of qualifications she had. she'd been lucky enough that she hardly ever had to work over the summer or in high school. everything on her resume were the community service hours she was required to get to graduate secondary school and the one paid position she did for the town of sebring three years ago.

"i'm never going to get a fucking job, am i?" she groaned quietly as marcus passed her a wine glass filled halfway with aperol spritz. "i'm going to be working a fast food counter at an all night mcdonalds."

"you could always work for me." marucs shrugged. "not to brag, but i just signed a major indycar deal with chip ganassi and i'm trying to expand my team, both with podcasting and racing."

"hang on, podcasting and racing?" y/n blinked, looking up from the screen, blue light still glowing onto her floral patterned shirt. "you're a racing driver? you could have mentioned that!"

marcus laughed as y/n reached over the counter to swat at his arm. "what? i assumed you would have googled me!"

"i have better things to do than google my neighbours!"

"i'm being serious, look me up right now."

y/n rolled her eyes before typing marcus' name into the search bar (after bothering him for his last name, which she realized she didn't already know).

"well shit. i'm staring at the newest driver of the ridgeline lube chip ganassi number 11 indycar."

"i told you." marcus grinned goofily, taking a sip of his drink. "seriously, you said you went into hr? we'll need someone like you to be on the podcast team for screaming meals."

y/n smiled softly at the boy across from her. the boy who had already lived more life than she could ever have dreamed of. "yeah, okay. maybe i'll take you up on that."

----------------

it was the first time she had been alone in the house all week, and she was ready to take advantage of that fact.

all week she had been back and forth between the childhood bedroom she was trying to redecorate and marcus armstrong's living room. many a night had been spent sleeping on his couch after a night of shitty comedy movies and cheap supermarket wine.

no, her parents and shiloh had left before six in the morning to take her to a cross country meet in daytona, and they wouldn't be back until well after ten p.m.

the silence was nice, she thought to herself as she paced the house in her soft cotton robe, the hem barely covering her ass, a warm, almost empty mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she drained the last dregs of laura secord and placed the mug on the kitchen counter.

she shut the bathroom door behind her, the heating tubes underneath the tiles warming her cold feet as she connected her bluetooth speaker, 'just like a pill' by p!nk echoing around the room as she leaned into the shower, trying to run the water warm.

the shower sputtered, weakly spitting out three drops of lukewarm water.

"oh for the love of god!" she groaned, pressing her head against the glass shower door. "the one fucking day i have the house to myself."

she sighed, lying down on the floor and opening the doors to the cabinet under the sink. there was a problem with the pipes, the one thing that she couldn't fix (and also didn't want to risk making worse, with things between her and shiloh being particularly tense). cursing under her breath, she reached for her phone.

"hey, marcus. can you come over? there's something up with the pipes in the bathroom and my shower won't start. you wouldn't happen to know how to fix that, would you?"

on the other end of the line, marcus laughed. "funnily enough, that's probably the one thing your dad taught me that he didn't also teach you. let me go and commence the wild goose chase required to find a tool box in this house, and i'll be there in ten minutes."

"you're a lifesaver, armstrong."

true to his word, ten minutes later, marcus armstrong was lying on her bathroom floor, shirt riding up to showcase his perfectly toned abs, muscles rippling under his skin as he tinkered with the pipes. it was taking every bit of self-restraint that y/n had not to cast aside her bathrobe and ride marcus on the heated floor.

she swallowed the thought, closing her eyes as she mentally chastised herself for thinking about her neighbor, and only friend within in a ten mile radius, like that. feeling her nipples hardening under her robe, she crosssd her arms over her chest (and her legs over each other, to try and deal with other issues) in an attempt to hide her arousal from the kiwi.

"i think i've got it!" marcus shouted. "try the shower now!"

grateful for the distraction, she padded over to the massive shower, reaching inside and turning the dial to warm. she let out a sigh of relief as the shower started up, warm water cascading down the rainhead and swirling down the drain.

"marcus armstrong, i could kiss you right now." she beamed, turning back to the man, who was now leaning against the doorframe. "thank you so much. there has to be something i can do in return."

marcus swallowed, realizing now how small the bathroom truly was, despite the size of the rather large shower. and with that realization, he also realized how close to y/n he was standing.

and he could also see the outlines of her nipples poking through the cotton robe, a sight that made him draw in a breath.

he wasn't supposed to think about her like this. not with the season coming up, and her about to start working for him in the screaming meals production department.

it wasn't proper.

but why did it feel so right?

neither of them said a word, marcus' hand coming up to caress the side of her face. refusing to spend any more time overthinking it, he kissed her first, cradling her bottom lip in between both of his.

what started out as a sweet, gentle kiss, quickly became hot and heavy, hands wandering under shirts and robes falling to the floor, shower still running behind them as marcus palmed y/n's ass, a small, sugar-sweet moan leaving her lips.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this." marcus breathed, voice husky as he fumbled with the belt on his jeans. "every time we've watched a movie on my couch, i've wanted to pull the blankets over both of us and take you right there. they day you came running over to my house after shiloh was giving you shit, i wanted to kiss you and tell you everything would work itself out."

"well, now's your chance, armstrong. the shower is big enough for two."

__________

"marcus, can i ask you something?"

two rounds later, they were lying in y/n's bed, the plush white duvet pulled around their bodies. it was a tight squeeze, getting them both to fit on the twin sized mattress. her build a bears had been unceremoniously shoved onto the laminate floor.

"whats on your mind, pretty girl?" marcus asked softly.

"how are we going to make this work? i live with my parents and my teenage sister, for god's sakes. i'm back under their curfew, sleeping in a twin bed in a room that hasn't been redecorated since i was seventeen."

marcus kissed her on the forehead softly, moving to lace his fingers with hers, his hair still damp and ruffled form the shower. "we try, as simple as that. we'll find you a job, and you can stay over at mine however often you want. i can't promise your parents that you'll be back by the time curfew hits, but i can promise them that you're safe with me. and who knows, if this goes really well, maybe you could even move in with me."

y/n laughed softly. "hold your horses, racer boy."

"i'll hold the horses back as long as it takes for you to realize that i'm hopelessly in love with you."

[omgthatdress]

I’m assuming Maryellen’s Vacation Playsuit is meant to go with her Airstream trailer, campfire cook set, and hiking accessories, even though it looks like it’s much more suited to playing at the beach instead of a rugged hike through the woods. Would really like to see a proper hiking ensemble for her, but the playsuit is fucking adorable so I’m just gonna love it.

And her airstream. OMFG WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. LOOK AT HOW FUCKING ENORMOUS IT IS.

Trailers, campers, RVs, and mobile homes were popularized in the 1950s as outdoorsy home-away-from-homes for the middle class. You could tow one behind your car and have a way to travel and go camping that didn’t involve actually experiencing discomfort.

People figure out pretty quick that they made for decent living spaces, and they were actually advertised as being a mortgage-free way to own a home.

Anyone who grew up in America knows that “trailer” quickly became synonymous with “trash.” To show how the mobile home went from an object of middle-class luxury to one primarily associated with poverty, I’m going to trace the history of what was once the skankiest trailer park in Seffner: the Scarab Trailer Park.

The property was bought in 1951 back before Seffner suburbanized, and it was primarily orange groves and scrubland. It had several trailers permanently parked there, as well as a couple of small office buildings. It rented trailers for the week, so families living in Tampa who wanted to get away for the weekend could come out and enjoy nature.

By all accounts, it was a really nice place, and had it been preserved, the trailers there would have been excellent relics of mid-century design. Along with vacationing families, the single-week rentals made the trailers popular abodes for the migrant farm workers who came in to work the orange groves.

Soon, Seffner went from being out in the boonies to being the suburbs. Two strip shopping centers were built on either side of the park. Families didn’t want to vacation here any more. The week-long rentals meant that the park was now primarily being occupied by the very poor and transient. In the 1970s, the property was sold to a new owner who was very uninterested in keeping the park the nice place it once was. One of the other things about living in trailers is that they weren’t built to last like a proper home is. They started falling apart, and their tenants didn’t have the money to make repairs. By the 90s, the Scarab Trailer Park was fucking gross.

In 2004, the property was once again sold, and the new owner evicted the tenants on very short notice, leaving them effectively homeless.

The trailers were torn down, and today the property is a Tractor Supply Store. Landlords are scum of the fucking earth. Capitalism must be destroyed.

[bloodandhedonism]

RAPID-FIRE QUICK OPINIONS OF CITIES I'VE BEEN TO IN RECENT HISTORY

Rochester, New York (and other upstate NY cities in general) : Feels generic, but perhaps not necessarily in a bad way in this case. A resident said it's rare to see and live a place where kids still play in the front yard these days, so take as you will. New York, New York: What you'd expect these days. Allentown, Pennsylvania: Lots of industrial traffic as you'd expect, but cute town and good people. I made multiple and different kinds of friends here, which I consider very good for this sort of thing. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Homey. Don't go too far west, though or you'll run into Pennsylvanians. Remember James Carville! Baltimore, Maryland: Cutesy, gives vibes of home. Funny to see products from businesses by people I grew up with in places there. Washington, DC: It really does try to be a commercial with everyone perfectly chosen from central casting. Bad vibes, avoid, avoid. Get out if you live there. Imperial capital though, what does one expect. Norfolk, Virginia: Military city as you'd expect, and by far the most "Southern" feeling city in this list. Interesting contrast between the attempted beachiness and the dominating military stuff. St. Augustine, Florida: The best city in Florida by far, but losing its soul over the years and I'm very worried. Flagler College students will be window dressing for the upscale middle-aged tourists coming there. Tampa, Florida: Genuinely horrible. Worst city on this list, one huge slum posing as a 'regular' city. Unfriendly people. Telling every other billboard is for a lawyer promising to get you big money. Bad sign of the future. Orlando, Florida: Better than Tampa I suppose, but leaning way too hard into being Red State America's family vacation Mecca, which will lead to issues for it in the future. This city isn't for me. Denver, Colorado: People there like me, at least one person recognized my face from before, and mountains are cool. Las Vegas, Nevada: Very middlebrow, which I don't say as a compliment. Seeing middle aged people in cosplay out in public in non-convention contexts was embarrassing. Only interesting bit was seeing where Balrog's Street Fighter II stage was IRL. Reykjavik, Iceland: Neat place. Felt like the USA but cold and barren, of course. Icelandics are a unique people, and a small part of me almost wants to classify Iceland with North America than Europe since the society just feels different from regular Europe. I always thought it was worth noting the tectonic plate cleaves through the island. London, England: Honest with itself in that it's big, very big, and touristy too, which for said honesty reasons I respect it. I liked it. British people really are the Americans of Europe. I shouldn't, but I like the UK. I will visit the midlands soon, so I hope to see a fun contrast. Brussels, Belgium: Also an honest city, in this case in that it's a transnational confederal capital for a lot of places. Mons, Belgium: Lovely. Friendly and great people. Taking the train to it and seeing the scenes of rural life reminded me of the countryside I'd see back home. Paris, France: Genuinely lovely, and my favorite city of this list. More cities should be like Paris. I didn't see or deal with any of the bad stuff I heard about it. Friendly people. I need to go back here. Frankfurt, Germany: Definitely generic. Lisbon, Portugal: Touristy because it's warm and honest with itself about it in that case, which is also fine. I like warm weather so I liked Lisbon. Warsaw, Poland: Likable. Quite a nice city, and Poles are a very welcoming people. (Be proud of your country, @aomitois.) A friendliness emanated from the city which I liked. Has an optimism which I find intriguing. Budapest, Hungary: Strangely, I was reminded most of Salisbury, Maryland with this one: there was an odd familiarity driving and walking through the city. Like with Warsaw, it's legitimately trying hard, but that makes sense for Eastern Europe in this era.

I'm sure there's more cities that can go on here, probably a lot more, but this is off the top of my head and the entry is big enough as is. COMING SOON: The Middle East and East Asia! Maybe Latin America. Africa is more likely than Australia. Watch as I wind up in Antarctica for some dumb reason.

[wrongcaitlyn]

Have you had the A03 author curse?

(something crazy happening like getting kidnapped or updating from the hospital)

surprisingly, i have not! the closest thing to that would be me updating while having pneumonia and quite a few colds but i wouldn’t call that as crazy as some stories i’ve heard

HOWEVER i have had, like, the reverse of it? idk when i hear abt the author curse i think of something rlly bad happening, but for me, i had this one crazy experience after posting the first chapter of talk your talk😭

so i was on vacation and in florida, and i think like four or so days after i posted the fic, we were planning on going back home, but when we got to the airport, there was this huge flash flood and all the flights were cancelled for the time being

we were stuck in the airport overnight and then had to schedule new flights bc our og one was cancelled, but then that second one was cancelled too - which may sound like the authors curse BUT

this was in ft. lauderdale on april 12. our flight on april 13 was cancelled, and all of the day before i had been joking to my parents abt how if we can’t get home, we might as well go to taylor’s concert in tampa (which was like 3 hours away)

i wake up the next morning to my mom telling me to watch stubhub for resale tickets and then that very day, we drive all the way to tampa in a rental car and make it just in time for the beginning of the eras concert in tampa😭😭 like could you BELIEVE. the luck. it was insane- they were seats partway behind the stage, and my family literally had none of our luggage, but we booked a flight out of tampa the next morning, i got to see the concert, and updated the second chapter of talk ur talk when finally returning home

so idk, would you consider that the ao3 author curse? i would consider it more of a blessing tbh, but that has to be my wildest story ever. one of the best days of my life for sure

edit: i was also, coincidentally, wearing my 1989 sweater to the airport. so the one thing i had to wear was taylor merch. maybe i just manifested the concert for myself tbh😭😭

[hockeychatstea]

Tea time:

There’s something so sus going on with Maddie and Provy (I don’t like him like that). Their relationship dynamic is so odd. Buckle up because I’ve been sitting on this for a while.

I started to sense trouble in paradise for them when Maddie’s birthday happened in April 2023 and she went to Miami (her mom, brother and friends all were celebrating with her there) and Provy just wasn’t there.

Last summer (June I think?), they appeared to have gotten engaged in Hawaii but at some point during the off-season, for whatever reason, Maddie went private on her personal and took down posts, including the post about her and Provy being engaged and right before the season started, she put the engagement post back up and put more photos of their trip in her highlights and even had a highlight for when she lived in Columbus. Around Christmas time, she did the same thing from before with taking the post down and going private (If I remember correctly, I think she posted that she went home to New Jersey) for Christmas but eventually put it back up. They also sold their house last year during the season. Maddie also went to see her brother in California this year and mentioned something along the lines about possibly wanting to move there.

Throughout the 2023-24 season, there were some posts of her (mostly stories) wearing the engagement ring, including to a conference down in Florida with the dog (Drake) earlier this year and Maddie also went back to Florida to see Provy play in Tampa and they also did that interview with Drake with Bally Sports (her left hand was out of sight most of the time).

She also hasn’t posted about their anniversary in about (or over) a year (I want to know if she started dating Provy when she was interning with the Flyers or after).

The kicker to me is that as of this offseason, the engagement picture is gone, the Columbus highlight is gone, some of the Hawaii photos are missing from the highlight and Maddie recently posted that she went back to Florida (for the 4th time this year, I think?) with Drake to stay for a month to see if they would like staying there for a long period of time (of course, they could possibly be getting a vacation home there and she’s tasked with that while Provy’s training away in Russia but she could also be trying to move there). Maddie did post earlier this off-season a somewhat subtle shot of Provy and her together with the dog but he was kinda hidden a bit in the story post. She’s also posted about going back and forth to NYC this off-season and still follows bridal accounts so i dont know if they’re getting married on the DL or if she’s secretly trying to move to NYC.

Another thing to note as well is that she also took down some of the hockey related stuff of Provy and Drake from Drake’s insta.

I dont know why Maddie is trying to hide her relationship with Provy and her and Drake being associated with him when she’s publicly posted things (even after the pride night fallout) about him (again, the interview and posts on both her and Drake’s accounts), like girl own up that you’re with the homophobic man and you may or may not be trying to marry him.

Chaos thought: Maddie also may or may not be dragging out her relationship with Provy (behind the scenes) to maintain her level of status (he is a big reason why Drake’s insta became famous and why she has so many followers on her personal, also her followers do fluctuate when she posted publicly about him on her personal) and if Provy doesn’t stick around in the NHL going forward (or decides to go home to the KHL), maybe she’ll leave for good.

I know it isn’t easy because they’ve been together for so long and she’s probably accustomed to a certain lifestyle (and there’s always a possibility that she could be at fault for their relationship downfall or whatever) but personally, I want her to move on from him (preferably sooner rather than later)

I dont know what’s going on over there 100% like that but there’s something is going on over there.

I personally think he's a piece of shit so i know very little about their relationship, but if they have broken up good for her, lol

[deada55]

That One Time

crossposting: ao3

synopsis: Minnie thinks she remembers life as an Explosion with two older sisters, a notoriously intense celebrity father, and one of the most stylishly self-directed mothers in the world.

for kloktober day 1, favorite character or OTP.

I was planning to unveil some fankids when AOTD came out... and then I promptly killed them! I still think about them sometimes, and I hope I don't get slammed for writing nategail in the year of our lord 2023 after AOTD did a really good job at showing us what ought to happen in situations like that, but I think their family would have been funky and sweet.

full text under the cut:

Minnie was on the edge of her seat watching her family’s faces twist and search around for one another as they waited in the dead center of a mile of three-lane standstill traffic. Driving a hellcat didn’t make anyone immune… The point of the trip was to recreate something Lyssa did years ago: When asked what she wanted for her thirteenth birthday, she threw up her hands and cried out that all she wanted was a normal family. So, they rented an AirBnb within a five minute walking distance from their paternal grandparents’ house and spent two and a half weeks eating, living, and vacationing like a family of “regular jackoffs.” 

Lyssa was back from Brown for spring break, and helplessly scrolling social media and trying not to be embarrassed that sitting behind her agitated dad (seething behind the wheel) looked better than taking GHB in Amsterdam like some of the Birkin-toting business administration girlies who called themselves her friends when they read her last name on the panhellenic “rush” interest form. The classes were tough, the readings were long, but aside from being asked for money or to give her father ziploc bags of slimy sex toys when she went home for the holidays, she enjoyed her new phase of life. For the trip, she pulled out some jeans and camisoles and some foam sandals from a couple years ago to make the best of their casual trip. Since she couldn’t do readings or answer emails in a moving car, she was scrolling through a grainy scan of an old Ayn Rand lit crit.

Kenzie looked and acted a lot more like her father, fidgeting and making comments about the people who had given up on civilization altogether and stepped out of their cars. Her snapchat and her instagram stories were being populated by views of the O MPH speedometer she took while her mom wasn’t blocking the shot. Without anything to post, she had nothing to do, and whatever she had coming through her headphones wasn’t entertaining enough. Time is money, and money all depends on content… Kenzie was convinced of her potential to make enough money to live on outside of the inheritance she could expect from their father, and it came at the cost of almost anything fun. Her grainy meal replacement smoothie had melted into a cloudy soup in the cupholder. She reapplied her lip gloss, pulled down the top of her stylish celery green athleisure co-ord and flipped through TikTok.

Mom wasn’t as sensitive as Lyssa, and had been returning emails the whole time they were en-route to the aquarium. Up at the front of the car, the parents had been in a gentle match of social ping-pong, with pokes, small talk, his firm hand resting on her leg or her moisturized fingers, shining like bronze, squeezing his shoulder. She re-tied her curly hair back with a scrunchie (Tampa water had pissed her hair right off… different water meant different products, and it’d been a long time since she had to face the “ethnic hair care” section at a Walmart) and made a face when Dad tried sucking air out of his empty coffee cup for the fourth time.

When she went into the bathroom at the gas station about an hour ago, he ducked in after her and bought three bottles of Johnny Bootlegger. When she came outside, he was finishing off the third one around the corner of the building. Minnie saw her glance over there, but all she did was pull the car around so someone else could get to the pump. 

Now, in the jam, all he did was shake. At least, for now… There were times where it lasted five minutes, half an hour, or a week or two at a time, then left quickly, or left and came back, but periodically he’d be shaking for one reason or another. Since his eyes weren’t yellow, he wasn’t slurring his speech, and he wasn’t confused, his daughters knew they could rest easy and stand by; it would pass, it always did. As unnerving it was to see someone so big in every way crumble at the drop of a hat, there was a shared understanding that nobody was enjoying it or causing the sky to fall out on purpose, especially not him. The girls understood their job to stand by and stay the course, whether it meant minding their own business or sending cards to hospital rooms when they can’t be there.

“Fucking… cocksucking-” He touched the gearshift like there would be a point in taking it out of park. Mom laid her hand over his.

“Relax, Nathan. We don’t have anywhere to be. Oh, look-”

Someone walking around leaned against Lyssa’s door, talking to someone else in the lane beside them.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Yeah, Dad, what the fuck is he doing?” Kenzie had her phone out and rolling. If her mother wouldn’t have explicitly prevented her, she would have been streaming their whole vacation live, but instead she had to take a chance and was shooting for her Instagram story. “Can you see anything?” She fixed the way her fringe laid in case she had to flip the camera around, but a couple hairs got mixed up in her eyelash extensions and had to be guided out.

“He’s just fucking… talking, I guess.” All the time, he was scrutinizing the surround and peeking into the vehicle’s blind spots (their window tint helped them avoid paparazzi and unfriendly agitators well, but one could never be too careful in a luxury car sitting in the middle of the interstate in Florida). He snatched some sunglasses from the console and pulled his hair onto the right side before punching the horn and watching the guy jump forward so suddenly that he tripped. The man caught himself from that, but his momentum sent him stumbling into someone else's rearview mirror, until he finally hit the asphalt.

Minnie laughed so hard it hurt. By the time she was slowing down, her sisters were starting up again just because she was still struggling to say anything other than “He went- Oop!” and howling. The guy’s popped-out eyes and wobbly feet were absolutely stuck in her mind like a commercial. 

Giggling, her mother turned around. “Are you ok, Minnie?” 

Kenzie was re-playing the video she took of the whole thing, which included Lyssa forgetting and dropping her phone when she heard the horn. It was all caught in the same shot for Kenzie, and she couldn’t have been happier to catch her sister like that. Lyssa was griping and feeling around for her phone in the floorboard.

“Yeah, mom!” She grinned from the third row and spat a curl out of her mouth. The whole car of green-eyed shower drain murderers (anything you eat is subject to having at least one long hair in it, curly or straight) settled into satisfaction with the jest and the renewed sense of ease it left behind… they didn’t have anywhere urgent to be, and they were a normal family, as normal as any family was, in the middle of the heat of the world.

But Minnie sat back. Her solitary reflection in the globby puddles of nickel, clinging to the earth like scabs, took the thought with it. Had it ever happened? Like a play, like a streak of light, like seeing without remembering, the memory passed like a train, so visually overwhelming and then definitively ended, disappearing into the distance and shrinking all the while.

[julietookoff]

February 2023 Tour

So some of the maintenance we did on our 11 year old RV:  replace part of a rotted slide-out floor, paint the yellowed ceiling fixtures, get front seat covers, a new driver’s side window, install a microwave over-the-stove, replace the 2 house batteries, "new" mattress and just scrub and touch-up everything.  We took it to Henkel's RV Sales August 9, knowing it was off-season for RV sales. . . it is still there!  We were hoping it would sell around the time of the big RV show in Tampa, but that's been a few weeks ago. . .  It’s still in good shape; as Shorty said, “Nobody’s got any money now.”

Closing on our house was July 22, 2022.  We found a G.E. dishwasher at an outlet store in Clearwater, a G.E. stove at an estate sale, and fridge, washer and dryer at Lowe's.   By the time we got the mattresses, shower curtains, and things you need to live, our first night in the house was July 29.  We still had to commute to Holiday to finish working on the RV at our tired senior pace.  We decided we're going to die here, because we're too old to move again. . . we were so worn out.  But dang, we're loving it here!

We continued commuting (about 35 miles each way) to see Shorty most weeks; a few times he came up to see us at the house.

The first two things I cooked in the new house were sheet pan chicken/taters/ corn on the cob and chicken parm on the sheet pan.  After 10 years with an RV oven, I had a heuge two-shelfer and two giant sheet pans I had been dying to use.  I had been collecting recipes from Julia Pacheco, my fav You-Tube home cook, for about a year.  To Corny's (and Bob's) delight, I have been cooking up a storm!  I also started a little canning.  I have wanted sodium-free beans for a long time - and the pressure canner takes them from dried, right outta the bag to squishy soft in 40 minutes.

^stuffed Manicotti

Corny watched and I re-watched Breaking Bad on one of the many TVs we've found in storage auctions.  This one came with a guest subscription to Netflix.  We watched "Better Call Saul".  He was Corny's favorite character.  I've always loved Bryan Cranston.  Then we watched all the Jurassic Park movies.

Here's a little tour.  The walls are a very light grey; flooring is grey vinyl:

^This is where I have my oatmeal with Piggie and Poco

Master bed and bath:

Life of Christ cross - all the little boxes were delivered to Shorty's house over the past year and accumulated in storage.  It was like Christmas, opening them all up and displaying them!

Bedroom 1, Den and bath 2:

Poco got a cute little 2' fence surrounding the patio.  Corny doesn't worry so much about him wandering away now.

Backyard visitors:  flock of 6 wild turkeys, pond turtle  

Fledgling woodpecker chatted with me and clung to my leg for several minutes when I went to pick up my bedside dresser.

Without gutters yet, when hurricane Ian headed our way in September, we made two trips to a county park to fill sandbags.  Some young, energetic people took pity on us old, slow-moving, moaning people and helped us haul the heavy bags to the Jeep.  Corny made a few bucks selling flashlights and lanterns he had gotten on clearance months ago, thanks to Ian.

In November I did a big 2-week Georgia county run.  I only got the Jeep stuck once, in mud covered by leaves.  A Lumpkin County Sheriff had me out within minutes.  I have about 1/3 of GA counties to visit:

On Thanksgiving Shorty brought Bob up to the house.  They arrived at 5pm; the turkey finished at 7:30pm.  I made real gravy for the first time in decades.

Corny had some kidney procedures in November, then found himself in the hospital for an infection in December.

Shorty told us on Dec. 1 he was moving "up north".  He heard rumors that Hyundai was hiring contractors to do his job so he promptly took his 3 weeks vacation.  When he went back to see if he was on the schedule, they were like "Who are you?".  He had worked there 10 1/2 years.  We were so glad they did what we couldn't - kick him in the pants so he would get a better job.  The little shit decided to move to Elkhart, Indiana to be able to afford a house of his own.  We miss him - my life has certainly changed.  I would plan all week what to bring him or ask him or tell him.  But we are very happy for him to be out on his own and experiencing real freedom for the first time.  He left for Elkhart Dec. 3 so now we just text.

We didn't have much notice, so Christmas was basically cancelled.  We went to Buffet City on Christmas Eve.   I made 4# of candied pecans to send up north and give to the neighbors and Liam - Shiloh Builders' Number Two.  They are building a house right next door which Chick, the owner of Shiloh, is going to live in part time.  They are using the garage as their office.  

I threw a tapestry over the TV for Christmas.

Corny scored a home run and got me a Kitchen Aid accessory that peels, cores and slices an apple all at the same time!  I made my first apple pie since I was 20-something years old.  I was always too impatient to peel apples.

We continue going to storage auctions.  The latest score was an entire tub of Yu-Gi-Oh and Pokemon cards.  I went through them all to check for the big buck$ cards.  There weren't any.  When I get back from BamaRama (GC9TB1Z) I will list them on Facebook Marketplace for prolly $20/box.  

Life is Godd!

We fit out.

[likesplatterpaint]

Delights today:

Target shopping with anna. Momofuku noods sold ar targ now, so dinner was easy.

Caramel ribbon crunch frappe

Buying beautiful ceramic pots at discount from Marshall’s. I shouldn’t have. But oh well. Repotted the lime tree, the broccoli, cauliflower, and Brussels all in bigger pots. Lime tree is in one I’ve had but needed to clean out.

Talked o a lovely older woman about how pretty the pots are. She likes the blue glaze. She then asks me to smell this lovely subtle candle and it was a very nice interaction

Finally broke down and restocked my curl crème. The frizz is real.

Drive new car ZOOM

Gameplan phone call with dad about dive trip. Guys. Guys he’s so excited and went off on a two minute rant about how he wants this to be a perfect vacation and experience for me, and to only worry about my plane ticket because he wants this so badly for me. The water is home for us. But also after denying me basic ish like eye care when I was a kid, I can’t help but drink it in when he goes on about wanting amazing things for me.

Thus, booked my flight to and from Tampa for end of sept. Will leave right after school on a Thursday, and return Monday. Dad will get me from the airport and we’ll drive to palm beach Friday morning, do an afternoon dive. Saturday we’ll do a morning and NIGHT DIVE 🤩 HR can fight me if I can’t use my personal days. My dad is 70, and while he is in fact Florida Man, I have no idea how long his body will keep up with him in order to dive safely.

Feeling a lot better about life today, even if I did spend a chunk of change.

Dunc wants to be near me on the bed and keeps flinging his shark against me.

Shjork says halp.

[cellythefloshie]

Is Stammer or any of the assistants going to bring up the Cirelli thing to wifie? Or what she did with Colton in tampa?

In chapter 11 Hedman implies that he knows that her little "vacation" was more than what it was.

“Your little vacation must have been exhausting,” Victor hummed as he got to the door and your stomach twisted into knots.  When Brayden had stopped by, he was under the impression that you had gone home because you were feeling unwell and were following protocol, but Victor’s words and subtle glance were knowing. He knew exactly why you were sent home. 

But beyond the leadership's knowledge of the incident, and her punishment of being sent home for the week - and not working as the wife or as her media team position with the Botls - we haven't addressed this too much as of yet. We will see how the Captain handles it all in Chapter 15.