#weeding decoration idea 2024

[wannabehockeygf]

Florida!!! - Clayton Keller

“My friends all smell like weed or little babies,

And this city reeks of driving myself crazy,

Little did you know, your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in?

So you work your life away,

Just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin.”

Summary: On a family vacation with your boyfriend, you find him stoned with his brother, and when he gets you alone, things escalate…

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Clayton Keller x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Use of drugs (marijuana), oral sex (f receiving), Clayton being an absolute munch.

Notes:

- been indulging recently (it’s perfectly legal where i live, don’t @ me…) so real life projection!

- munch Clayton is finally here for my girlies who enjoy him as much as I do!

- also I’m still not over ttpd. no skip album.

- not proof read <3

***

*EDIT 08/15/2024 @ 8:31pm PST : His brother’s name is Jake. Not Luke. Sorry if you read prior 😭 (hughes brother brainrot)

A vacation with your boyfriend’s family? Oh, this was uncharted territory. I mean, you’d survived Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ house in St. Louis—barely. But that was just one night. One turkey. One slightly-too-long hug from his mom. You’d only been together five months, after all.

But now, here you are, basking in the relentless sunshine of Destin, Florida, sharing a timeshare with them. A timeshare. This is like Thanksgiving on steroids, with no escape hatch. The place is stupidly nice, though. Like, if Pottery Barn threw up on a beach house, this would be it. Sure, Clayton probably financed half of it, but you still feel like you’re tiptoeing through a very fragile house of cards. One wrong move and you’ll topple the whole “good impression” thing you’ve got going on. So yeah, “best behavior” mode is fully engaged, like a 24/7 surveillance camera on yourself.

But then, the moment of truth. After a blissful solo beach jaunt—because let’s be honest, sometimes you just need a break from all that “family bonding”—you wander into the garage, nose twitching at some weird smell. Is that...skunk? No, no. Please don’t be a skunk. You cautiously push open the door, and what do you find? Clayton and his brother, Jake, in full bro-mode sitting in flimsy lawn chairs, laughing like they’re at some frat party, sharing hits from a brightly colored bong.

Well, that’s definitely a new one.

Really, Clayton? You’re on a family vacation, not reliving your glory days as "Chad, the King of Sigma Nu." Is this his idea of “relaxing with the fam?” Plus, isn’t smoking bad for your lungs? Especially for a hockey player. You stand there for a second, frozen like you’ve just walked in on a murder mystery party and are trying to figure out if you’re the victim or the detective. Your mind is a hurricane of thoughts: Should I laugh? Should I be offended? Is this one of those “testing the girlfriend” moments? Because honestly, who packs a bong for a trip to a family-friendly beach destination?

You catch Clayton’s eye, and for a split second, you see the gears in his head screech to a halt. Jake, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware of your presence, too busy blowing a perfect smoke ring that floats lazily toward the ceiling. Clayton gives you this wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look, which would be adorable if it weren’t so stupid. Oh, sweetheart, you are so busted.

“Heyyy,” Clayton says, dragging out the word like he’s trying to slow time. “You, uh, back already?”

You blink. “Yeah, funny thing, I actually live here too. With your family. On vacation. Remember?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his lawn chair—seriously, who uses lawn chairs indoors?—and suddenly, you’re struck by how much this scene looks like a low-budget college film. The only thing missing is a dorm fridge stocked with PBR and a poster of Bob Marley on the wall. Instead, it’s all beige walls and perfectly coordinated coastal decor that just screams, “Don’t touch anything.”

Jake finally notices you and breaks into a grin, lifting the bong like it’s a trophy. “Hey, you wanna join?”

Oh, great, you think, now I’m one of the bros.

But before you can respond, Clayton is already scrambling to fix this train wreck. “No, no, she doesn’t want to join! Right, babe?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Where did you guys even get that? I mean, isn’t smoking pot like… illegal in this state?”

Clayton, bless his clueless heart, is staring at you with wide, bloodshot eyes like a puppy that just realized it’s chewed up your favorite shoes. Meanwhile, Jake— who you’re now starting to think might actually be a golden retriever in human form—waves the bong around like he’s offering you a slice of pizza at a sleepover.

“Illegal? Pssh, not if you don’t get caught,” Jake says with a wink that’s meant to be charming but lands somewhere between “bad decision” and “future mugshot.”

Clayton clears his throat and finally sets the bong down on the cement floor, like he’s slowly disarming a bomb. “It’s just, you know, for relaxation. Family vacations can be...stressful.”

You tilt your head, considering this. Stressful? You’ve been trying to make sure his mom doesn’t hate you and his dad doesn’t think you’re a gold-digger. And he’s the one who’s stressed? You bite back a laugh, because now’s really not the time to remind him that you’ve been fake-smiling so much your cheeks are about to cramp.

“Oh, totally,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because nothing says ‘stress relief’ like hiding in the garage with your brother, getting high while the rest of your family is out there expecting you to be getting ready for dinner.”

Clayton scratches the back of his neck, his go-to move when he’s trying to avoid a conversation. It’s endearing, really. In a way that also makes you want to strangle him. “I wasn’t— I mean, we were just—” He stumbles over his words, and you can practically see the gears in his head struggling to find a logical explanation that isn’t “We’re idiots.”

You take a deep breath, rolling your eyes so hard you’re worried they might get stuck. But, honestly, are you even surprised? In the last five months, you’ve learned that Clayton’s the kind of guy who accidentally dips his fries in your ketchup while trying to impress you with some half-baked philosophical theory about life. Which, admittedly, is part of his charm—when he’s not pulling stunts like this.

“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms, “let’s get one thing straight. I’m not going to narc you out to your mom since you’re actual grown adults, but you’re coming inside with me right now, and I’m going to help you sober up before we have to go to dinner.”

Jake’s still grinning like an idiot, probably already mentally planning the next bong hit, but you’ve got your sights set on Clayton. He’s trying to look contrite, but the bloodshot eyes are sort of ruining the effect.

“Come on,” you say, reaching out to take his hand, which, by the way, is clammy. Lovely. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed you’ve gone missing yet, but let’s not push our luck.”

Clayton gives you a sheepish smile, the kind that’s got you melting just a little bit. He stands up, wobbling slightly, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. Instead, you squeeze his hand, pulling him toward the door that leads back into the house.

You’re halfway there when Jake chimes in, “You sure you don’t want a hit? It’s good stuff. I mean, if you want to see, like, colors you didn’t know existed...”

You raise an eyebrow. “Colors? Really? I thought you were more of a ‘munchies and conspiracy theories’ kind of guy.”

Jake blinks at you, clearly having to work too hard to process that sentence, and you’re actually kind of proud of yourself. Two points for you, zero for the stoner brothers.

Clayton’s trailing behind you, still holding your hand like it’s a lifeline, and you can feel him trying to gauge your mood. It’s not anger, really—more of a low simmering exasperation. You drag him through the door and into the immaculate kitchen, up the stairs, until you reach the bedroom you’d been sharing.

Clayton finally releases your hand, flopping down onto the bed like a ragdoll. “Babe, you’re the best, you know that?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes like a kid who’s been up past his bedtime. “I mean, seriously, the absolute best.”

You raise an eyebrow, perching on the edge of the bed. “Oh, I know. But that’s not going to save you from having to drink a gallon of water and eating something before we go to dinner with your parents.”

He groans, throwing an arm over his face like he’s in a bad rom-com. “Do we have to? I was kind of hoping we could just... stay here. Forever. In this bed. With no responsibilities.”

You smirk, reaching over to poke his side. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m not sure your mom would appreciate us skipping out on dinner after she called multiple travel agents to find the best restaurant.”

He peeks out from under his arm, giving you a lopsided grin. “Come here,” He urges, obviously still trying to get out of his responsibilities. His voice is teasing, but there’s something genuine in his eyes that makes your heart do a weird little flip.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster the willpower to resist the magnetic pull of that stupidly adorable grin. Clayton’s got this way of looking at you, all soft eyes and boyish charm, like he’s just discovered the best thing in the world, and it happens to be you. It’s the kind of look that could melt the Polar ice caps, and honestly, it’s not fair.

But you’re here for a mission, and that mission is to get this man sober enough to face his family without blowing your cover as the perfect girlfriend who isn’t remotely flustered by her boyfriend’s impromptu stoner session in the garage.

"Nice try," you say, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep your resolve firm, "but you’re not weaseling your way out of this one with cuddles."

“Come on,” Clayton says again, patting the bed beside him. “We’ve got, what? An hour before dinner? We could… relax for a bit.” His voice drops at the word “relax,” and you catch the hint of mischief in his tone.

You narrow your eyes at him, feigning suspicion. “Relax? Are you sure that’s all you want to do?”

He grins, and it’s that boyish, slightly cocky smile that usually precedes him getting his way. “I mean, we could do other things. Fun things. Relaxing, fun things…”

You’re already shaking your head, but you can feel the resolve weakening. It doesn’t help that he’s giving you that look—the one that’s equal parts puppy-dog eyes and shameless seduction. How he manages to pull that off when he still smells like weed with a hint of Febreze is beyond you.

“Clay…” you start, trying to maintain a firm tone, but he’s already moving closer, his hand finding its way to your thigh. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver up your spine, and suddenly, you’re a lot less focused on the whole “responsible girlfriend” thing and more on the fact that, despite his current state, he’s still ridiculously attractive.

“Mm-hmm?” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Oh no. You know where this is going, and while every logical part of you is screaming “this is a bad idea,” the rest of you is pretty much ready to throw logic out the window.

“Clayton,” you try again, but this time it’s softer, less of a protest and more of a gentle reminder that maybe—just maybe—you should both be thinking this through.

He nuzzles his way up your neck, planting kisses as he goes, and when his lips reach that spot just beneath your ear, the one that makes your breath hitch, you know you’re done for.

“Mm-hmm?” he repeats, but this time it’s muffled against your skin, and the way his voice vibrates sends a delightful thrill through your entire body.

“Dinner,” you say weakly, though even to your own ears, it sounds more like a suggestion than a requirement.

“Later,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw.

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands instinctively finding their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums again, clearly not caring in the slightest. His hands are roaming now, one sliding up your back, the other tracing patterns on your thigh. You feel him gently push you back against the pillows, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it very hard to remember why you were resisting in the first place.

For a brief moment, you consider pushing him away, reminding him of the inevitable dinner with his parents where, let’s be honest, you’re still trying to score all the points. But then his lips find yours, and all thoughts of social propriety melt away.

His hand slides up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in that gentle, affectionate way that always makes your heart skip a beat. He pulls back just a fraction, his eyes half-lidded and glassy, but there’s a warmth there—a genuine sweetness that cuts through the haze of weed and turns your resolve to mush.

“You know I’m crazy about you, right?” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough. It’s that tone that gets you every time, the one that makes it clear he’s not just messing around, even if he’s not entirely in his right mind at the moment.

Your heart does that weird flip again, and you find yourself smiling despite everything. “I know,” you whisper back, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

He grins, all boyish charm and mischief, and then his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. The kiss is slow and languid, like he’s savoring every second, and you can’t help but melt into it. His hands are warm, tracing a path down your sides, and when he pulls you closer, pressing his body against yours, you let out a soft, involuntary sigh.

“Mm, I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he mumbles against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Can’t stop thinking about you.”

You’re lying there, pinned under the warm, slightly too-heavy weight of Clayton’s body, and your mind is racing, trying to catch up with the situation. Clayton’s still high as a kite, and yet here he is, trying to seduce you with that damn lopsided grin of his. You’re supposed to be the responsible one right now, the one who keeps everything on track. The one who doesn’t let her boyfriend’s cannabis-induced haze derail a meticulously planned family dinner. But, as his lips work their way down your neck, you’re beginning to think maybe you’ve lost control of this situation altogether.

“Clayton,” you say, trying to sound firm, but it comes out more like a breathless sigh. His mouth is trailing hot, lazy kisses along your collarbone, and you can feel his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. It’s distracting, to say the least, and you’re struggling to hold on to any coherent thought that doesn’t involve how good his touch feels.

“Hm?” He hums against your skin, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil you’re experiencing. His hands slide under your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your bare stomach, sending shivers up your spine. He’s not making this easy, and you know that’s probably the point.

“Dinner,” you manage to say, though it’s a weak attempt at protest. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for dinner.”

“Mm, later,” he mumbles, his lips moving lower, kissing just above the waistband of your shorts. “This is more important.”

You can’t help the small, breathy laugh that escapes you. “Is it now?”

He lifts his head to look at you, and the sight of him—flushed, with slightly mussed hair and glassy eyes that are somehow both earnest and a little mischievous—makes your heart skip a beat. “Definitely,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, a kind of sweet, dopey sincerity, that almost makes you want to give in right then and there.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to stay focused, but it’s hard when his hands are skimming up your sides, pushing your shirt higher. “Clayton, you’re high,” you remind him gently, as if he needs the reminder. “We really should—”

“I know,” he interrupts, and there’s that lopsided grin again, the one that makes your stomach do funny little flips. “But I just... I really fucking want you. And I want to make you feel good.”

You let out a sigh, glancing at the bedroom door as if it’s the gateway to the world of “responsibility” that you’re desperately trying to cling to. But honestly, that door is looking less like an escape route and more like a blockade against the pure, unadulterated temptation that is Clayton, sprawled out on the bed, high as a kite and making it very clear what he wants.

You’re supposed to be the responsible one. The one who keeps her wits about her, who doesn’t let a family vacation turn into a complete disaster because her boyfriend decided to get high with his brother in the garage. And yet…here you are, feeling the weight of Clayton’s gaze on you, his hands warm and insistent as they trace the curve of your hips.

“Clayton,” you try again, but your voice is soft, more an invitation than a protest. You should be telling him to sober up, to get dressed for dinner, to think about the fact that his mom could come knocking on the door at any minute. But instead, you find yourself caught in the way his eyes—glassy as they are—still manage to look at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

He looks up at you with those dazed, love-struck eyes and gives you that adorable lopsided grin. “Again? Baby, you don’t understand. I’ve been dreaming about having you like this all day. I just want to make you feel good. I’m so fucking into you right now. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want.”

Oh god, his eyes are making your heart race, and every rational thought you had is slipping through your fingers. Here you are, his fingers gently tugging at your shirt, his lips grazing your collarbone in a way that makes you question every life decision you’ve ever made.

He’s literally begging to go down on you. To make you feel good, not giving a shit about himself. You’d laugh if it didn’t sound like the absolute best idea in the world right now.

But still, you hesitate. “Clayton,” you start, and even you’re surprised by how steady your voice sounds. “We really, really shouldn’t…”

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he seems to take your half-hearted protest as encouragement because he’s already kissing a path down your stomach, his fingers expertly unbuttoning your shorts like he’s done it a thousand times before. “I don’t care,” he mutters against your skin, and there’s an edge of desperation in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “I just need to taste you. Please, baby, let me.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep a level head, but Clayton’s hands are roaming, his fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with a slow, deliberate movement. You feel the cool air against your skin, and suddenly every nerve in your body is on high alert. He’s not stopping—he’s determined, and you know, deep down, that if you don’t stop him now, you’re going to lose this battle entirely.

But then he looks up at you, his eyes soft and pleading, his lips swollen from the kisses he’s trailed across your body, and you know you’re done for. He’s high, sure, but there’s something in his gaze that’s entirely genuine—a need to make you feel good, to lose himself in the act of worshiping your body.

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you nod, just once, and it’s all the permission he needs. He grins, and there’s that boyish charm again, the kind that makes your stomach flip in the most ridiculous way.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s tugging your shorts fully down your legs, tossing them aside with zero care about where they land. His hands find your thighs, spreading them apart with a gentle insistence that makes your heart pound in your chest. He’s on a mission, and that mission is apparently you.

You try to brace yourself for what’s coming, but nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for the way Clayton dives in like a man starved. His mouth is hot, wet, and insistent, and the first swipe of his tongue against you has your back arching off the bed. He’s not wasting any time, his mouth moving with a kind of single-minded focus that makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you try to ground yourself. He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your entire body, and you know you’re in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Clayton’s always been good at this—like, freakishly good—but tonight? Tonight, he’s on a whole other level. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the fact that he’s so damn into it, but whatever it is, it’s working, and you’re rapidly losing any semblance of control.

Your mind is a mess of sensations, each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck driving you closer to the edge. You’re not even sure how long he’s been at it—time has lost all meaning, and all you can focus on is the way he’s making you feel. The heat is building, a coil of pleasure tightening in your core, and you know it won’t be long now.

“Clay,” you pant, your voice shaky and breathless. “Oh god, Clayton, I—”

But he’s not stopping. In fact, he’s doubling down, his mouth working you with an intensity that has you trembling, your thighs quivering around his head as he pulls you closer to the brink. You can feel the pleasure building, a tidal wave that’s about to crash over you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it—not that you’d want to.

And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he moans against you, taking such obvious pleasure in it that the sound vibrates through your entire body, and that’s it. The coil snaps, and you’re free-falling into pure, unadulterated bliss. You cry out, your fingers tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure washing through you in a way that leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Clayton doesn’t let up, his mouth working you through your climax with a kind of reverence that makes your heart swell in your chest. He’s not just doing this because he’s high—he’s doing it because he loves it, loves you, and that thought alone is enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through you.

When you finally come down from the high, your body relaxing back into the bed, you realize with a start that Clayton’s still there, still between your legs, nuzzled up to your thigh. He’s breathing hard, his cheeks flushed as if he’s drunk on you along with being stoned, and when he looks up at you, there’s a smug, satisfied grin on his face that makes you want to smack him and kiss him all at once.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and despite everything, you can’t help but roll your eyes. The man just gave you the kind of orgasm that makes you question your life choices, and now he’s looking at you like a puppy who’s proud of himself for learning a new trick.

“Clay,” you start, but your voice is weak, more of a croak than the firm reprimand you were aiming for. You should be getting up, throwing on some clothes, and dragging him to dinner with his parents. You should be the responsible one. But you’re not moving. In fact, your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, and all you can do is lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to function as a human being.

He hums, lazily kissing your inner thigh, clearly not in any hurry to move. You would take him a lot more serious if his lips weren’t glistening, with, well, you. “Yeah, babe?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s still down there, between your legs, like it’s the most natural place in the world for him to be. And maybe it is, but right now, all you can think about is the fact that you have dinner with his parents in, what, forty-five minutes? An hour, if you’re lucky? And here you are, half-naked on the bed, with your high-as-a-kite boyfriend nuzzling your thigh like it’s the most comfortable pillow he’s ever found.

“We really need to get up,” you say, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “Wanna stay right here.”

You let out a groan, not entirely sure if it’s from frustration or the lingering pleasure still coursing through your veins. “Clayton, we have to go to dinner.”

He finally lifts his head, looking up at you with those hazy, love-drunk eyes that make your heart do a ridiculous little flip. “But I’m not done,” he says, as if that’s a perfectly valid excuse for skipping a family dinner.

You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. “Not… done?”

He grins, that boyish, slightly cocky smile that usually precedes him getting his way. “I mean, I could do this all night. I really, really like doing this for you. Makes me feel all… I dunno. Good. Happy.” He’s rambling now, his words tumbling out in a way that’s both endearing and a little infuriating. “You taste so fucking good, babe. Seriously. It’s like… fuck. I don’t even have words for it. I just wanna make you feel good. Again. And again. Until you can’t even think straight.”

Oh, you’re definitely not thinking straight. In fact, you’re pretty sure all coherent thought has flown out the window the moment he started talking about how much he likes going down on you. And the worst part? He’s completely sincere. This isn’t just the weed talking—this is Clayton being his ridiculously sweet, overly affectionate self, and it’s making it really, really hard to be the responsible one.

“Clayton,” you say again, trying to muster up some authority, but it comes out more like a plea than anything else. You should be getting up. You should be dragging him to the shower, dousing him with cold water, and forcing him into some semblance of sobriety before facing his parents. But instead, you’re lying there, letting him nuzzle your thigh, his breath warm against your skin, and all you can think about is how good it felt to have him between your legs, how good it would feel to let him do it again.

But you’re supposed to be the responsible one.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “please let me. Just one more time. I promise I’ll be good after. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. You. How you taste. How you look when you come. God, it’s like… it’s the only thing I want right now.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from moaning at the sheer desperation in his voice. He’s practically begging, and it’s doing things to you—things that are making it very, very difficult to stay focused on the whole “responsible girlfriend” thing.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “Clay,” you start, but before you can get another word out, he’s already leaning in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh in a way that makes your toes curl.

“I’m really good at it, right?” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled but still clear enough to make your heart race. “You like it when I do this?”

You want to say something—anything—to stop this before it spirals completely out of control, but all that comes out is a breathy whimper as he trails kisses higher, his tongue darting out to tease you in a way that makes you want to scream.

He grins against your skin, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah, you like it. I knew it.”

“Clayton, we can’t…” You try again, but it’s a losing battle. Your body is betraying you, every nerve ending screaming for more even as your brain tries to remind you that there’s a dinner reservation looming over your head. But then he’s licking a slow, torturous line up your thigh, and any hope of rational thought flies out the window.

“Just one more time,” he murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “Please, babe. I just… I need it. I need you. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

And that’s it. Your resolve crumbles, and you find yourself nodding, even as your brain tries to scream at you that this is a terrible idea. But right now, with Clayton looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, you can’t bring yourself to care. This man is thorough, methodical, and once he sets his mind to something, he’s like a dog with a bone—or, in this case, like a stoned hockey player with a serious oral fixation.

“Okay,” you whisper, and the word is barely out of your mouth before he’s diving back in, his mouth hot and insistent as he picks up right where he left off. You’re gasping, your hands flying to his hair as you arch into him, all thoughts of dinner, responsibilities, and anything outside of this room fading into oblivion.

And as he works you over with a kind of focused intensity that leaves you breathless, you can’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—being the responsible one is overrated. At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself as he sends you spiraling into another earth-shattering climax, your mind going blissfully blank as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

So much for being responsible. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[victorluvsalice]

Hello all, and welcome to a very special Chill Valicer Save update – the Valicer Spookfest Group Date, which I played back on 7/7/2024, aka the Valicer Anniversary! You may recall that I did a little "teaser post" on that date of the event, showcasing one of my favorite pictures taken during it – now you get to see the whole thing. :) Let's dive right in –

-->I started by heading back over to the Valicer farm to see how everyone was doing – Smiler was working on their Servo; Victor was in the upstairs white-and-blue bathroom, ready for a shower; and Alice was hanging out outside by the water collectors, having been stopped from mopping up puddles in a rainstorm. I had Victor take his shower and prompted Alice to let out a somber howl to lower her Fury (didn’t want to risk her having an “episode” during their date), then sent them both back to bed so I could speed up time for a while and get them to morning quicker. I slowed things back down around 4 AM to get Smiler to mop both a puddle that had ended up inside (I suspect one of the pets, but I have no idea which one – Shadow is pretty well potty-trained, and the cats have what I hope are plenty of litter boxes) and some mysterious symbols by the laundry, then had Victor and Alice get up around 4:30 to start their day (noting with amusement that Victor had a special “I Woohoo’d a Werewolf” flirty moodlet XD You certainly did, sir!). I had Victor clean the spoiled food out of the fridge while Alice took a feral poo, then had both of them grab a slice of blueberry pie for breakfast since that was the next thing in line to go off. They had a lovely meal, with Smiler joining them to have one of their plasma fruits, and Kelly joining them to beg for food. XD Alice ATTEMPTED to lecture the cat on not begging when she was done with her slice, but Kelly just seemed utterly confused by the concept of not asking for the people food right in front of her. XD

-->With breakfast done and dishes cleared (I think my Sims very much like their new dishwasher), it was time to take care of the chores! Victor of course was sent to take care of the greenhouse (lot of weeding to be done!), while Smiler cleaned the chicken coop and Alice cleaned the cow shed. Around this time, the official “it’s Spookfest” holiday overlay popped up, and I prepared to hop into Build/Buy to drag the decorations in the attic out –

And then noticed that Alice already had “Tradition Complete!” waiting in her action queue. It was only then that I realized that I’d never actually taken down the lights Smiler had hung up for the PREVIOUS holiday. XD Whoops! Well, I didn’t let that stop me – I got the ghost lights set up around the new entrance sign; put the pumpkin decals on the front of the house; added a new plastic jack-o-lantern, paper haunted house display, and the laser-light-show cauldron to the front porch; and changed the cards in the living room to be Spookfest and fall-related. And of course had Smiler go and change the hanging lights on the eaves to orange and yellow to fit the holiday, since the previous ones were multicolored. (Weirdly enough, we already seemed to have the right ghostly banners up on all of the fences. *shrug* Not complaining! One less thing to worry about.)

-->With the house appropriately tricked out, chores could continue – Alice scavenged the garbage she’d dropped coming out of Moory’s shed for parts, then stuck that in her inventory before cleaning, feeding, and chatting with the cow, while Smiler finished updating the decorations before going to feed and chat with the chickens. They then got the eggs (the promised orange egg from yesterday’s pumpkin treat to Leghorna and four regular eggs) and Alice the milk (usual six bottles) –

[pashterlengkap]

Men get married at… checks notes… a rat hole

A new Chicago landmark has gone viral and is not your usual tourist spot. It’s a “rat hole” (or maybe a squirrel). But Raj Sarathy and his new husband took the craze to an entirely new level when the pair got married on the sidewalk in front of it. Related: These 6 marriage proposals will warm your heart Plus, we’ve added one cheeky honorable mention… A rat (or squirrel) shaped imprint in the sidewalk has been a neighborhood amusement for 20 years, but after comedian Winslow Dumaine stumbled across it and posted a photo on social media. Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. Had to make a pilgrimage to the Chicago Rat Hole pic.twitter.com/g4P44nvJ1f— Gatorade Should Be Thicker. (@WinslowDumaine) January 6, 2024 “What I found was very much like Looney Tunes, I guess. Just a full rat splat in the wet pavement,” Dumaine told the local news. “I just busted out laughing when I saw it.” Within two days it had over five million views and dozens of visitors a day who left candles, weed, alcohol, food, stuffed animals at a shrine erected at the site. People tossed coins into the hole like a wishing well, a man proposed marriage to his fiancé, and hours later, Raj showed up with his soon-to-be husband, a wedding planner, and a balloon covered arch. “I wanted something that was very groundbreaking,” Sarathy told Book Club Chicago. “We looked at each other in the eyes and we said, ‘Why don’t we get married at the rat hole?’ That’s when I reached out to my wedding planner to make that actually become a reality.” Lica Sato-Keene, his planner, said the request was unusual, but so is Sarathy. So after a reception, the men headed to the sidewalk indent to make things official. When the entourage arrived at the rat (or maybe squirrel) hole, about 50 people were there and the crowd helped the couple to celebrate. “Everybody at the rat hole is literally the nicest person you’ve ever met,” Sato-Keene said. “As a wedding and event planner, you don’t usually move the decor. Once the decor’s there, it’s there. We had to figure out a way to break it into pieces, put it in the business van and transfer it there. There were people at the rat hole just helping us carry these [balloons] across the street. It was so funny and sweet.” Update: the Rat Hole shrine now includes a card, a piece of cheese, a lighter, and a framed memorial among other things. Two people came by and sprinkled some American spirit and a little bit of weed in the hole too. pic.twitter.com/GSG55lGhY9— Gatorade Should Be Thicker. (@WinslowDumaine) January 17, 2024 But neighbors aren’t that thrilled with the litter and noise caused by the fans. Along with coins and flowers, gawkers are also leaving tobacco, drugs, alcohol and condoms. And the food offerings can attract actual rats. “The shrines and everything are nice, but this isn’t like a historic landmark,” one neighbor said. “There’s no one designated to clean up after it, so it’s just been us and the neighbors next door that have been cleaning up.” “Rats run in packs,” she added. “So if one rat were to come and see that there’s fresh cheese here every day, more rats would come. They nest, they burrow. We just don’t want a nest of rats burrowing in the foundation of our house.” “I think the idea of treating it like a wishing well is kind of fun, and I think that might be the easiest way. If you want to toss a coin in, take a pic, I think that’s nice. The leaving of the stuff, it’s just someone has to clean it up eventually. And it’s being put on us, the community.” Sarathy and Sato-Keene cleaned up after the nuptials. Other neighbors have a different quibble with the newfound notoriety. They insist that the imprint isn’t from something as disgusting as a rat. Instead, they hold out that it’s the imprint of a different rodent. “Everyone who’s… http://dlvr.it/T1qVYS

[katherinejblackwell]

Katherine's Tea Party 3 - Reading Resolutions

Also read on my website!

Photo by Dzenina Lukac

Now that we're settling into 2024 and coming out of both the chaos and coma of the holiday season, it feels appropriate to add my own list of resolutions to the ever-present pile that exists on the internet. My resolutions in recent years have been a little more vague, usually just one or two goals that cover a broad idea I want to embody, but this year I have a more focused list of things I want to accomplish and, conveniently, many of them are book-related and perfect to share here in my little corner.

1 - Read Consistently

I was originally going to say "read more" but that's not quite what I'm going for. I think making an effort to read consistently will end up lending itself to me reading more overall, but when I think specifically "read more," I think burning through two or more novels a month (or scrambling to read a bunch of short books to hit my Goodreads goal), which isn't realistic for me. What is realistic, and what I would like to make a habit, is reading consistently. Even if it's just a page (or less) each day, I want to read that one page. I've noticed that I always feel more fulfilled, productive, clear-headed, and overall just better when I'm reading consistently. I think there are two reasons behind this. One, simply that reading is something I'm passionate about, so consistently interacting with books makes me feel happier. Two, staring at my phone for hours always makes me feel a little foggy. Sometimes it's nice, or even necessary, to just shut my brain off and scroll in bed, but when I have the energy for it, I often feel much better after an hour of reading than I do after an hour of scrolling. So, my main resolution for the year is to read more consistently. Ideally, I'd like to carve out decent blocks of time for my reading every day, but I again know that's not quite realistic, so really I'd just love to read for at least ten minutes a few times a week.

2 - Collect Better Bookmarks

My bookmark collection is outdated to say the least. The few good ones I currently own are gifts I've received recently and the rest are either older bookmarks that I've outgrown or random bits of ephemera that aren't really bookmarks but that do the job. I'd like to update my collection with some bookmarks that really spark joy and that I look forward to using. To me, it feels similar to how you want your bedroom or your workspace to be well-decorated and inviting. It makes you want to use the space and makes your use of it more enjoyable. I want to make my mental reading space even more pleasant and cozy by having a pretty bookmark to use instead of some slip of paper I've been hanging on to since the seventh grade. I think both my books and I deserve it. :P

3 - Make More Use of the Library

I've already started on this since it's easy to place holds and pick them up while I'm at work, but, until very recently, I rarely used the library to check out books. In fact, I've only had a library card for the past year or so, despite being an avid reader for many years. I've spent a lot of money on books and, while I love my personal library and owning my own books, being able to borrow books is amazing and makes accessing a wide variety of materials so much easier. From here on out, I'd especially like to make a habit of checking out books I haven't read yet from the library instead of buying them. Instead, I'll save my book money for acquiring books that I know I truly love and will get lots of use out of -- and, of course, buying about a dozen special editions of the same favorites because they're all so pretty.

4 - Weed Out My Collection

I started doing this over the summer but circumstances led me to never quite finish and now there are piles of books that I keep tripping over on my floor. I've accumulated a LOT of books over the years,  and many of them I acquired when I was younger and had much different interests than I do now. It's difficult to part with them, especially when they've been small constants in my life for so many years, but the books deserve to go somewhere they'll be read, and I deserve to not have what has essentially become clutter blocking the way for new favorites to enter my shelves. Also not tripping every time I enter my room would be pretty cool. 

5 - Collect More Picture Books

All that about using the library and thinning out my collection being said, I'd really like to grow my personal collection of picture books this year. Working at the library, I encounter all sorts of beautiful, wholesome, and simply adorable picture books. Even before, picture books always had a certain draw. I love the illustrations and some of the simple, sweet stories are enough to make me misty-eyed. There's something so special about them. I have a small handful of picture books in my collection already, all but one of which are from my childhood, but I'd really like to dedicate some of my time, thought, and energy this year to finding some picture books that bring me joy and finding a special home for them on my shelf. 

6 - Feel Less Pressure With Reading

Especially in an age where trends and aesthetics are so easy to rapidly consume, and can so easily take over one's feed, it's easy to feel like there are books I "should" read. But really, the books I (and everyone)  "should" read are the ones that make me feel the most excited and intrigued. I have tried with all my might several times to read The Secret History. I just can't do it. Not yet, at least. While I do still have plans to read it, and think that it's a wonderfully well-written story from the portion I have read, I often feel some level of pressure to not only finish the book, but also to think and feel a certain way about the text when I pick it up. I don't want to feel pressure where reading is concerned. It should be something that's 100% relaxing and enjoyable. In the new year, I want to let go of any pressure I associate with reading and pick the books I truly feel like reading and allow myself to feel the way I feel about them.

7 - Write a Novella

I'm not sure this is quite a reading goal, but it's almost a reading goal and will certainly require me to do lots of reading for research, so close enough. I was recently rereading a short novella I had written as a gift a few years ago and I think writing a new one, maybe for publication or at least sharing, would be a great goal to give myself for the new year. Recently, I've been really struggling with what to write next. I'm not writing as ravenously as I was a few years ago, churning out short stories all the time, and acting on the novel idea I've had feels incredibly daunting. However, I do feel ready to write something longer. My short stories could still use a lot of work, of course, but I want to see what I can do with a higher word count to play around with. I also feel it will be good practice to write and polish something a little shorter before I finally start in on my novel idea. Writing something shorter gives me a closer goal to hit and will (hopefully) give me a boost of confidence and a feeling of satisfaction that I can springboard into a longer writing project with. 

Book Rec and Drink of the Month

Photo by Işıl

For once, I will not be recommending a Hunger Games book, but only because I have already recommended every Hunger Games book that exists. I don't think I will stop thinking about this series for the rest of forever, though, so you certainly haven't heard the last of it.

Picking my recommendation this month was kind of hard because I haven't read much besides Hunger Games books since November, so I had to do a little delve back into my Goodreads to pick something I've read before. What I landed upon was one of my favorite series, The Magisterium. It's cowritten by Cassandra Clare and Holly Black, which should be a green flag for people who had very similar interests to me in middle and high school. I do, however, recommend this series with the caveat that the last two books somewhat ruin it for me. I read them, returned them to the library, then vowed to pretend they didn't exist. I can't remember too many specifics, but certain plot points get rather muddled and, despite it being a fantasy series, begin to feel almost outlandish. If I reread the series, I'm sure I could write an entire blog post just about the issues I have with the way the series ended (and I might in fact do that at some point because it sounds very tempting), but I do still feel like the first three books are very solid and worth the read. I found the magic system and the idea of counterweights super interesting and I loved reading about the relationships between Cal and his friends. 

As for my drink recommendation, I will be somewhat piggybacking off of last month's recommendation of peppermint hot chocolate to present you with lavender hot chocolate. I started making this in the fall by mixing about 2-3 teaspoons of lavender syrup into a regular mug of hot chocolate and as an avid lavender lover, I think this will be a perfect cozy and comforting drink as we delve deeper into the Winter months. (One day I will actually recommend a tea on the blog called Katherine's Tea Party, but today is not that day.)

To anyone who may be reading, I'd love to hear what your personal goals or resolutions for the new year are and I hope your New Year's Eve was safe and happy! Hopefully 2024 will treat us all kindly and be a year full of growth, joy, love, and books. I'll be back again in February!

[kambahpeoplesmap]

Kambah Turns 50 - planning for Sep 2024 for a community celebration

On Sat 26 Nov, a few of us met at the Diversity Hub on Laidlaw St to have a chat about how to mark Kambah's 50th.

Unfortunately, the sheep at the shops proposal was not successful with ArtsACT but that doesn't mean it's a bad idea. That was about making temporary flocks of sheep for each shops and getting the community to decorate them.

Kambah Turns 50 - a draft schedule for Sep 2024

Sat 7, Sun 8 Kambah Open

All the community/business/groups in Kambah open their doors to the community (everyone we can think - artists, gardens, clubs, shops, Youth Haven, churches)

Evening bonfire - ideal if we can do it on private land (not sure how likely that is)

Bushband, dance party (rave)

see-change e-bike tours of Kambah??

Sun 15 Well-being day

Urambi Hills weed-out/plantings, yoga, sports clubs come-and-try, cooking, gardening

Reiki day

Diversity hub

Thurs 20 Tuggeranong Arts Centre exhibition Kambah Turns 50 opens

Sat 21, Sun 22 Sep Kambah artists weekend - events by the artists

Sat Sun 28/29 Sep (noting this is Grand Final weekend)

Kambah and surrounds waterways/celebrating the river  

Oct long weekend - Sports focus? Bbq

Here are all the ideas we haven't slotted in or resolved.

Yet to work out how to:

Other groups/events we should connect to eg Uncharted Territory festival July 2024; Design Canberra; ACT Heritage Week; National Tree Day; other 'Days'

Sheep at the shops - still do it?

Long table lunch near COGS or Diversity Hub

Ian Marr stone sculpture for Urambi Hills - how to do that?

use the opportunity to do more for the environment centre/Food forest Sustainable grassland - btw diversity hub and cogs - kambah see-change

include a Barista battle - waiters race 

do more for/with music

have a kids/family day - might be Kambah Open

involve religious community

car culture

heritage - Glenn's walks? Kambah history day?

1970s design and landscape design features??

Who to include in Kambah Open weekend or a day

Cogs

Five ways 

Lions youthhaven

The Farm and music

Golf course - driving range 

Burns club

Tennis club

Diversity hub

Urambi hills group 

Mt Taylor parkcare

Coleman ridge

Kambah see-change

Other ideas to work in

Cleaning World Cup - Singapore - can we emulate that?

River health 

Family day ideas:

Collect and make - kambah rock hunt; 

Pet rock workshop and garden 

Gameify a behaviour - eg rubbish pick up