#well guess who had a toasty head the whole drive despite everything

[slotheyes]

Brought a book to work but it was too busy to read there

Looking forward to reading once I got home

Left book at work

[captainrexisboo]

Ice

-DJ Khaled voice- Another one.

What the fuck?? Four fics in just one weekend?? After two whole months of inactivity?? Aha, I am in no way as productive as you think I am. I’ve been sitting on all of these projects for almost three months now lmao- but they’re here now for your viewing pleasure, babes! This is a one shot Rex x Jedi!Reader, but they are not together. They do not get together. This is just Rex, pining for some oblivious Jedi General (you) and dealing with it by being grumpy and thinking he has the upper hand in teasing the reader. I left the gender of the reader pretty ambiguous I think? I hope?

No warnings apply, except I guess foul language if you don’t like that. And vague imaginings of semi steamy scenarios. Some angst if you squint. But really, it’s just fluffy pining, with a needy (and in denial) Rex. Comments, questions, reblogs and replies absolutely welcome and encouraged!

~

“T-take off the a-a-armor.”

The jaig eyes turned to you, the blue and white blending into the Pantoran ice and snow effortlessly. This would be the only environment suitable for their stark white armor as camouflage, and here you were demanding him stripped. Knowing you couldn’t read his bewildered expression, Rex tilted his head to you in a curious motion, “Why?”

“It’s fekkin’ f-freezin’ Cap,” you spoke through chattering teeth, pulling your robes tighter around you. He chuckled at your cursing, no other Jedi talked so blunt like you did, so casual. It was even worse when you were outside the temple, falling out of regulations and decorum the moment it was just you and your troopers. Hell, they didn’t even have to be your troopers. Force knows how often you’ve snuck around the barracks on Coruscant, going from battalion to battalion, whoever had furlough, making sure every clone gets at least a moment's worth of normalcy in their too-short life. Rex would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing, and he may have felt a slight smidgen of pride that, aside from your own men, you seemed to find yourself in the 501st bunks the most.

“So? I’m perfectly toasty in this specialized insulated armor. You’re the one that decided not to wear your cold-assault gear until we got to the surface, General L/N,” Rex teased, drawing out your name and title nice and slow, biting back a bit of laughter at the way you scrunch your nose whenever you got annoyed, “Why would you want me to de-kit? To be cold with you?”

“Don’t c-call me that, Rex,” you bit out, groaning at the formality, and the chill going down your spine, “Y-you know I’m just Y/N.”

“I’ll stop calling you proper, when you stop being a Jedi,” he chided, prodding some more at the fire in the dim cavern, the only light being the glowing embers in front of you and whatever was being illuminated off the snow right at the mouth of the cave. Your ship had crashed into the freezing moon in the midst of a brutal blizzard, luckily right next to the base of a mountain with accessible caves. Unluckily, you were also 15 klicks west of your rendezvous point, with the wind and snow causing major damage to your transmitters and interfering with the signal in your commlinks. You weren’t going anywhere, or talking to anyone, until the storm let up.

You huffed at his strict persona, you know Rex only acted so dogmatic to rile you up. You saw how nonchalantly he acted around Anakin and Ahsoka, even Obi-Wan at times. No, with you it was entertainment, a game to see how much you could take before breaking, and he loved it. Even without the Force, you could see it in the shake of his shoulders at his quiet laughter, hear the coy smirk in the dip of his drawl, watching the extra swing in his stride as he walked away triumphant every time, so sure he had succeeded in driving you crazy. This time, he had nowhere to run.

Ignoring his baiting taunt, you crawled around the fire to sit right next to him, “P-please, Captain? I’m r-r-really kriffin’ c-cold, and while the fire is so delightful, I think i-it’d be in both o-our best interests to h-have a second source of heat.”

Rex nearly dropped his stick he was using to poke at the kindles, tensing slightly before clearing his throat, “Oh? And what ‘source of heat’ did you have in mind?”

“D-don’t play dumb,” you shivered again, pouting at how you stuttered while he sat a little too well composed for your liking, “I know the K-Kaminoans t-taught you all about s-s-survival tactics. I d-do it with my boys a-all the time. Strip to your b-blacks, m-me to my t-t-tunic, then I’ll wrap my robes around the two of us. B-body heat, Rex.”

Your boys. Your affectionate term for your ever-faithful battalion, that apparently frequently slept and cuddled with you in the most innocent and familiar of ways. Still, something about it made Rex’s stomach stir, his mouth twisting from a smirk into a silent snarl under his helmet. He wasn’t against ‘cuddle puddles’ with the vode, every single brother took part in them, and it wasn’t unusual to find a stray jedi or padawan compacted in the very middle of the pile. He knew for a fact that the 212th had regular arguments as to who’s turn it was to use General Kenobi as a pillow (and that Cody never partook in those bouts- no, he was always the General’s pillow). In theory, he knows it's more than a possibility for you to be a part of them, especially with your extremely relaxed extroverted personality, but actually hearing you say it out loud had something ugly rear its head to sour the Captain’s mood. He attempted to shoo the little creature away, trying to scare it off with a forced cough to make it scurry back into hiding and leave his inner peace alone. His mind clear again, he peered into your pleading doe eyes through his visor, seeing the flames flickering reflections off your irises in a whimsical dance. His gaze went lower, following the slope of your nose, before tracing the shape of your full pout, lips trembling and reddened from the cold, nearly beginning to chap. The slight clicking of your teeth as he watched you shiver under your robes made him resign to your request, sighing as he removed the cowled helmet, “Fine. Why you didn’t just wear your own cold-assault gear is beyond me, but I’ll help you stay warm this time.��

“Oh, thank the force,” you whimpered, immediately dropping the outermost robe from your shoulders, staying on your knees as he stood up to remove his layers. Rex nearly dropped his cuirass, watching you unwrap your tan-colored linen underneath to reveal a gripping white tunic, clinging to your every curve and muscle, no part of you left to the imagination except the actual flesh itself. You even discarded your boots and breeches, leaving you in opaque black tights. Without the safety of his helmet, Rex tore his eyes from you, desperate to hold onto some semblance of rectitude, taking a deep inhale through his nose before continuing his own removal. Rex could feel the tip of his nose numbing just slightly, shaking his head at what the hell was he doing-

“You know, if we get found like this-”

“We’ll s-say I got hypothermia and you were ‘d-doing your duty t-to protect the Jedi’,” you giggled, a little forced, hands coming up to rub at your shoulders, attempting to create some friction, but wincing at the iciness of your fingers, “Rex, hurry!”

Your whine of his name had him hesitant to remove the bottom half of his armor, already starting to feel something forbidden gathering in the depths of his stomach. He tried to fend off the feeling by turning his head to the stone wall and talking- though whether that was an effective decision remained to be seen. “I’m just saying, can’t you use the Force or whatever to warm yourself up? Isn’t that something you can do? I know you can use the Force for healing purposes, this’d be like that, right?”

“If I had f-followed the path of m-m-medical practice, sure,” your breath came out in little clouds as you puffed through another tremor, wrapping your dark robe around your shoulders as you waited for Rex to finish, “But, I didn’t, I chose the kn-n-nights, and so I’m here, and n-now I’m your problem.”

“My problem,” Rex grumbled under his breath as he sat back down, tugging at the final parts of his boots, not caring that you could actually hear him, “Skywalker is my problem. Tano is my problem. Kenobi can even be considered my problem at times, but you, General? No, no, no. You’re not my problem, you’re-”

Turning back around to face you, he nearly choked on his own spit. He hadn’t realized how close you were, and without his helmet, his nose brushed against yours in an innocent bunny kiss, the brief friction making him jump back nearly a foot away. A teasing chuckle left you at his skittish reaction, cocking your head to the side as you opened your robe back up and beckoned him closer, “Wrong way, Captain. C’mere.”

His throat felt tight, closing off almost everything, even air, and despite his discarded layers he was certain the back of his neck was beginning to sweat. The way you so carefully had folded your legs, thighs pillowing together in such an enticing way, leaning on your elbow to pronounce the slope of your hips and curve of your waist...he could so easily wrap his arms around you perfectly, before settling his head to rest on your chest and memorize the beat of your heart- the pinch of his nails digging into the meat of his palm drew him out of his mind before he could fall any further down that rabbit hole. He cleared his throat, throwing his gaze to the floor as his entire being tensed, “This…i-is not regulation, General.”

“Oh my maker you’ve been hanging out with Echo too much,” you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically, “Rex, please?”

He swallowed down a hard gulp of air, inching his way over to you, without looking up from the floor. You met him halfway, dragging your thickest robe behind you, and sighed in relief at the natural waves of heat coming off of him. Every single clone ran hot, and you trapped that heat by throwing the robes over the two of you, wrapping your hands around the back of Rex’s head and pulling him into your neck as you leaned against a standing rock.

One minute his eyes were counting cracks and jagged holes scattered over the cave floor, and the next they were gifted with a gracious view of your form, so close he could smell your clean body wash, a soft mint that tickled his nose, and he had to count to ten to control his breath so he didn’t just inhale you instead of oxygen. It was a concentrated effort made extremely difficult due to the delightfully sharp pressure of your nails against his scalp. You already felt like heaven, he had to tense himself from wanting to grab for more of you- which he didn’t have to do anyways. You had pulled him into you, his nose brushing over your neck, the tip still chilled, making a breathless giggle leave you, “Oh, your nose is s-so icy!”

“Who's fault is that,” Rex grumbled into you, mumbling to try to keep his lips from mouthing over your exposed collarbone. What he couldn’t stop was the delighted shiver that ran through him as your hands started massaging the tired planes of muscle in his back, making him lose a bit of discipline and dropping flush against you. He made a horrified sound, the breath strangled in his throat as he felt a nervous sweat thickly dripping over the back of his neck, before that sweet amused sound left you once again.

“Rex, you're so tense! Here, lemme just-”

Your hands worked in smooth motions, rubbing deep into his tired tissue. He could feel his eyes roll back into his head, biting the swell of his lip to keep any lewd sounds from leaving him, focusing on syncing his breath with the flow of your touches. His form was finally slack, keeping you trapped underneath him as his arms tentatively found their way around your waist, holding you to him, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You hummed at the coverage of him over you, leaning to nuzzle against the side of his head, the prick of his blond tickling the tip of your numbed nose. You whispered to him, eyelids growing heavy as you curled into him, “Thank you, Captain.”

Your breathing evened out, deep and slow, your hands coming to a rest, stopping on the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Rex couldn’t believe it; you had fallen asleep in his arms. His eyes slowly peeked open, and he wiggled a bit, getting to a place where he faced you instead of the rock you were both leaning on. His eyes were nearly level with your jawline, he could trace the profile of your parted lips, still threatening to chap in the cold air, but your breath didn’t stutter anymore from the chill. He really was helping keep you warm.

He had dreamt about those lips, memorized the way they shaped his name, watched the direction you preferred to run your tongue over them while you were deep in thought. He licked his own lips in just that way, thinking about how maybe it’d feel if he were to do that to yours.

Maker, he was awful. Thinking about his wretched togue playing at your perfect lips, while you laid so peaceful and trusting underneath him.

Rex prided himself as a man of honor, he wasn’t so foolish as to attempt anything, but even just thinking about you in this vulnerable way as you let him hold you… he felt slimy, unworthy to be in your good graces. He let out a shuddering breath, not in the cold but in longing, exhaling your name as his arms brought you impossibly closer to him. For however long the two of you had, however long the storm lasted, he would treasure this. He would treasure you. 

He was a fool for fighting you on this. Being lulled by your breath to join you into rest as the blizzard raged on, the only thing he would change would be how late he was in agreeing to your conditions. When you both awoke, with the snow settled and communications running, when you were both with your respective teams, and yourself in proper gear, Rex would still have tonight in his memory. He would still be holding you in his arms, breathing you in, and playing the memory of your heartbeat, the soft thumping tempo so soothing, on repeat in his mind.

[alolowrites]

Cuddling Through the Seasons

Summary: Fatgum’s cuddles never go out of season

Author’s Note: This is my third story for the @bnhabookclub​’s Hero Camp Bingo event. This was also a request from @bnha-homeroom​ (sorry it took so long!) 

The prompt used was Cuddles and this is my first story for Fatgum. Hopefully I’ll do more stories for this guy because he’s deserves the best. 

Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6K+

Spring

High in the sky rests the glorious bright sun. It’s golden rays shine through the vibrant pink flowers blooming on every tree, emphasizing their natural beauty. Two birds playfully chase each other in between the branches, their lovely chirps in harmony with the soothing sounds of the gentle stream below—Mother Nature is simply a lady with many hidden talents.

Although the grass maintains a healthy green coat, it too is covered by fresh cherry blossom petals blown off the trees—it adds a beautiful pop to the land. Few people arrive and wander through the peaceful park. Some snap a couple of pictures on their phones, their bodies bent in odd angles to capture that perfect Instagram-worthy shot. Others silently take in the whole scenery with their eyes and save the mental image deep in their memory jar—that’s how you are enjoying today with Taishiro.

Both of you sit under a tree that is different from the others; it’s branches are abundant, and some hang charmingly over the water. A quick wind blows through the park, tugging the delicate petals until one slowly falls to the stream. Everything is serene, almost like an abstract landscape painting on display at an art museum.

Closing your eyes, you sink in deeper into Taishiro’s plump chest. A relaxed sigh escapes his lips as you enjoy your massive pillow. His large arms wrap around you like a snuggly safety belt—they are protective and warm. Your fingers affectionately glide up and down his sweater to the beat of the stream. You hum, “Everything is so beautiful.”

Taishiro leans back on the thick tree trunk and glances at you; he cheekily grins, “That’s ‘cause you’re here, darlin’. The cherry blossoms are a nice touch, though.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a cheesy guy, you know that?”

“Yeah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”

“That is very true,” you playfully tap his arm, smirking up at him. Another cherry blossom falls and lands on top of your head. Taishiro raises on hand to carefully pluck it off your hair and holds it high against the sunlight. The flower is so soft and just the right shade of pink. He thinks it’s perfect, just like you.

Taishiro shows the sakura petal to you, “Here’s a little present.”

Your heart swells, a tiny blush dusting your cheeks as you reach for the flower. You take a whiff of the sweet aroma and lean back against your living pillow. Squeezing the hero’s hand, you look up to flash him a faint smile, “Thank you.”

You never let go of the cherry blossom petal.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Summer

Far in the distance lies the vast calm sea. Ocean waves creep steadily toward the fine white sand, kissing the land hello before returning outward. Light puffy clouds float along the peaceful cerulean sky, morphing into different images at the hands of your wild imagination. It’s a fun way to pass the time and relax the mind.

You inhale the fresh, natural air—it smells like freedom. The city’s chaotic and bustling streets are an afterthought. The prying eyes of paparazzi and other media hounds are thousands of miles away from your paradise home. The avalanche stress tied with Taishiro’s hero lifestyle vanishes when the two of you step on the warm sand.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about, darlin’?” His voice is loud but soothing at the same time. You feel the gigantic teddy bear stand behind you. It wasn’t long until Taishiro traps you into his loving embrace, giving you a quick squeeze. Your toes wiggle into the smooth sand as a sharp wind whistles by; the waves hear it and crash against the shoreline.

“How a place like this,” you nod toward the dancing water, “somehow exists. It’s almost as if I’m dreaming—” You yelp at the slight pinch, and Taishiro roars with laughter. You crane your neck up to glare at him, “What was that for?”

“Well you’re not dreamin’, that’s for sure.” You elbow into his stomach knowing entirely well it did not phase him at all. Taishiro retaliates by hugging you harder, enjoying the delightful squeals ringing into the semi-deserted beach. Other tourists linger around, but the land is so spacious that you barely see them. It’s easy to think you two are alone with all the privacy in the world, an idea that doesn’t exist back at home—a small price to pay while being a pro hero.

In a way, Taishiro is glad this moment is not a dream. It won’t fade away once he wakes up, but will stay in his memory for a long time. Just as you calm down, a mischievous grin crosses the hero’s lips, and his grip tightens around your waist. You had a bad feeling about this and clenched his hands, “Hey…what are you doing—”

“Hold on!”

“Don’t you dare!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he effortlessly carries you in his arms and charges toward the sea that is waiting to greet you both.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Autumn

Bright yellow lanterns glow above the narrow streets, gently swaying back and forth without a care in the world. Luscious pampas grass decorate the roofs, the creamy-white feathery plumes waving hello to everyone passing through the area. A chubby hand reaches upward; the baby is determined to grab the mesmerizing fluffy grass until something else catches their eye.

An elegant pyramid of tsukimi dango neatly sits on a black plate. There are fifteen white dumplings, each perfectly round and white as the precious moon gleaming tonight. A crowd grows around the delicious display, making it nearly impossible to squeeze through the sardine bodies. Fortunately, the group departs when they see Fatgum approaching with his hearty smile, and you follow closely behind—sometimes being a hero has its perks.

Taishiro greets everyone until a middle-aged man freaks out from his stall, “It’s an honor to meet you, Fatgum! Thank you for keeping our streets safe!”

“It’s no problem really—”

“Please take these dumplings! They’re on the house!”

Taishiro gives you a side-glance, and you shrug. Who were you to deny some free food, especially if they are those moon-like dumplings? You grab the plate from the man’s trembling hands and bow. The hero safely guides you away from the crowd and spots an empty grass field. Plopping down, you dramatically groan, “That was so much walking!”

“Sorry, darlin’! Guess I got a lil carried away,” he chuckles while scratching his forehead. Taishiro takes a seat behind you.  

“I think that’s an understatement, but,” you gleefully raise the plate that barely reached his eyes, “we got free dumplings!”

“They do look good,” Taishiro hums and takes one round treat. You plop the tsukimi dango in your mouth, the rice flavor surprisingly strong, yet pleasing to your tastebuds—it’s a chewy delight. The pyramid crumbles in seconds, and you scoot back to rest your head against the gentle giant; out of instinct, he cradles you in his arms.

A chilly air blows by and makes you shiver despite wearing a cashmere sweater. Taishiro notices and shifts his posture to shield you from the cold—a small act that melts your heart every time. You gaze at the luminous moon until your eyes struggle to stay awake; it doesn’t help that Taishiro feels like all toasty like a fleece blanket.  

It definitely was all that walking, and you yawn before dozing off in his arms.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Winter

Snow showers rain down on your quiet neighborhood. The bare tree branches scoff at the fluffy cotton balls falling from the sky; they barely weighed more than a feather. An hour later, the branches are slouching under the heavyweight and weeping for mercy—but the snow never stops.  

A thin white blanket hides the dull, gray streets and vibrant decorations flourish to their heart’s content. Tiny bells chime once Jack Frost blows a chilly wind down the sidewalks. Thick garlands covered in elegant ribbons stretch for miles on some apartment balconies. And others hung colorful Christmas lights that flicker to a very jolly tune.

In a way, the snow ties everything together to bring out the pleasant holiday mood—it’s simply magical. Two pairs of footsteps, one small like a mouse and the other the size of a giant, imprint themselves on the powdery sidewalk. You waddle toward the apartment with arms bundled around yourself; you’re craving for something warm. Any minute longer outside and your legs will permanently turn into icicles.

“O-open t-the do-or, p-please,” you chatter through your teeth while bouncing nonstop. Taishiro chuckles and you glare at him, making his grin widen more. You barge in once he unlocks the door and dust off the snow on your coat. Hasty footsteps rush to the kitchen so you could warm the teapot as quickly as possible.  

Taishiro shakes his head—you quickly get cold. He relaxes on the couch, not bothering to change out of his Santa costume; if anything, the clothes are comfortable and roomy. You wander into the living room and shiver up a storm. A gloved hand beckons for you, “Come over here, darlin’.”  

Shuffling toward the mellow hero, he pulls you on top of him. Without hesitation, his arm wraps around you to keep you steady. One ear sits above his chest, and you focus on the faint sound of his heartbeat. Not even the Santa costume could mask Taishiro’s alluring honeydew scent, which drives you crazy. You contently sigh, “You made so many kids smile today, hun.”

“I’m glad,” he answers while stroking your hair, “Those kids at the hospital deserve all the happiness in the world, ya’ know?”

“Yeah…” A finger lazily draws out imaginary lines along Taishiro’s red velvet coat. An involuntary shiver runs down his spine. Only your charming touches could make him react like this, and he savors them all. You raise your head and squirm closer to the hero’s face. With loving eyes, you whisper, “You make a fantastic Santa Claus.”

“Fantastic enough to get a kiss from Mrs. Claus?”

“Sure,” you giggle and pull down his fake white beard. As you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, you decide that you no longer needed that nice hot cup of tea.

Third prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Betrayal

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 37. Tasmania

Tasmania is isolated. It’s an island off of an island, way down at the edge of the world. ...If Australia is down unda, Tassie is down unda the down unda.

All of this isolation has made Tasmania a little different from other Aussie states: from climate to culture to cloud coverage, and everything in between. For a (rare) three-day trip, Chelsay and I set out to experience these unique Tassie charms.

Our road trip itinerary would bring us all around the relatively small state, but Day 1 began near Cradle Mountain, Tassie’s iconic peak.

Before our hike though, the trip began with breakfast at Christmas Hills Raspberry Farm. Not much more needs to be said here... Breakfast. Christmas in the name. Raspberry farm. Waffles. French toast. Fresh jams and mascarpone. Just a great start.

We pigged out, but it was okay because we’d need the energy for our day at Cradle Mountain. The surrounding National Park is a haven for hikers, with a surplus of trails, wildlife, and unique vegetation. In the winter, there’s also an extreme deficit in other hikers, so Chelsay and I would have the trails all to ourselves.

With the help of a park ranger (who had just returned to Tassie after 5 weeks in Seattle... what are the odds), we mapped out a 5 hour hike that would take us 10 miles and up to 12,700 feet in elevation. The terrain reminded me so much of Scotland: crisp air, overcast weather, rugged and rough heather in green, red, brown, and yellow.

Another similarity with Scotland was the heavy fog. When Chelsay and I first arrived, we had a sliver of blue sky to take in our surroundings. Within an hour of our ascent to Marion’s Peak, the visibility quickly changed.

This isn’t rare though: 9 out of 10 days at Cradle Mountain have this kind of cloud cover. That said, it had been a long time since I’d been on a cold, damp, foggy hike. I’d been dying to go in Seattle, but because we only visit in winter, no one will go with me.

For this trip though, Chelsay and I were well prepared: layers was the name of the game, and we had backup ponchos just in case. Besides, we get blue skies everyday in Sydney, and this fog actually added to the rugged mood.

One difference between Cradle Mountain and Scotland or Seattle: the wildlife. Along our 5 hour hike, Chelsay and I came across about a dozen wombats and wallabies. #Tassie

We were physically exhausted that evening, so passed out early (after watching Mission Impossible 3 in preparation for Fallout!). The next morning, I made breakfast before heading out for the day: eggs, toast, and fresh jam from our cottage’s farm.

We’d be making the 3.5 hour cross-state drive from Cradle Mountain to Bruny Island (an island, off an island, OFF AN ISLAND!), but had all the Getting Curious podcasts we’d need to fill the trip. The foggy roads kept our attention too, as we zipped through winding alpine turns.

One other thing that kept my attention: the fuel gage. Tassie is isolated, and Cradle Mountain is the MOST isolated. There is a “major” (two-lane) highway that would’ve likely had more gas stations, but Chelsay and I opted for the scenic, more rural route. There has to be a gas station somewhere though, right?

Well, Chelsay and I made our way through the winding roads and were enjoying the foggy ride. We got about 45 minutes in, still no gas stations. Hmm. Another 45 minutes. Nothing... Anxious. 2 hours in, we finally found a station (whew!) and I raced to fill up the tank. Crisis averted.

We pulled out of the extremely rural gas station in Miena, TAS (population: 87), but only got about 1 minute before the engine started to sputter. Far ouuuut (Aussie for f***). I knew exactly what I’d done... I put diesel in instead of unleaded. I was so anxious about the low fuel light, that I didn’t even check the pump label at the station.

We were in the middle of nowhere, so the rental company had to send a tow truck from Hobart to Miena to grab me, Chelsay, and the car. All in, this cost us about 8 hours (not to mention the cost of the tow truck) on an already short trip. Chelsay says it was the most mad she’d seen me since the Christmas Eve orchestra in Vienna.

In just a few hours, I exhibited all 7 stages of grief:

Shock: “What!? I just filled the tank!”

Denial: “I swear I put in the right fuel.”

Anger: “F”

Bargaining: “Is there a fuel drain? Anyone have a siphon?”

Depression: “No drain... No siphon... And the tow truck has to come all the way from Hobart... There goes the trip.”

Testing: “Well, maybe we can still fit some things in...”

Acceptance: read on

Chelsay held it together, mostly because she was entertained by the friendly locals. The gas station seemed to be the hang out spot in Miena, so all kinds of characters passed through. The most entertaining was an older man wearing all camo.

Barb, the wonderful woman running the register: “Back from a hunt?”Older man: “Saw about 200 kangaroos.”Barb: “How many you get?”Older man, sheepishly: “Oh I don’t want to say.” (Translation: none)Older man: “Look, I lost two of my dogs... You seen em?”Barb: “What are their names?”Older man: “Uh, ones name is Miley. Can’t remember the other.”Barb: “Well gonna be tough to find based on that description.”Older man: “Got 12 so hard to keep track!”Barb: “Gimme your number and I’ll let you know if I see em. What’s your number?”Older man: “Uhh, can’t remember.” *Goes to truck to pull out his massive journal, flips through several full pages of phone numbers, and gives one to Barb*#Tassie

Only Chelsay got to experience the Miena locals, but we both enjoyed our ride back to Hobart with the tow truck driver, Young George (age: 70). Swiss, but somehow a 45 year-Tassie vet, George told us about his many interesting tows across Australia. His strangest: he picked up a wrecked car... from the Gold Coast... a 31 hour non-stop trip (including ferry) up Australia’s east coast! #Tassie

Despite the entraining locals, this was a bad day. Our worst ever while on holiday. We had two options once our tow truck finally arrived in Hobart: fail fast and minimize the damage, or lean in and push on. There was more hesitation than I’d like to admit, but we ultimately leaned in. We rented another car, and were on the ferry to Bruny Island in no time.

I said earlier that Bruny is an island off an island off an island, so needless to say, it’s sparse. There’s zero light pollution though, so Chelsay and I stared up at the clear star-filled sky. The universe has a way of taking care of things, and this was a reminder to put our problems in perspective. The universe even ended its statement with an exclanation mark: a shooting star. That’s not a joke either... I thought it was a firework. Genuinely the longest, closest shooting star I’ve ever seen. Emphatically telling us to “get over it!”

Heeding the universe’s advice, we threw on some tunes and had a pasta night at our quiet AirBnB. Occasionally, we turned down the music to hear penguins chirping on a nearby beach. #Tassie

The next morning, we woke up and quickly realized what an incredible house we were staying in. It was too dark to see anything the night before, but the morning gave us two things: (1) light to take in the house’s charming design, and (2) a reason to use the Nespresso.

Now, the troubles of yesterday were behind us. I’d gone trough the 7 stages of grief and accepted the place we were in. But wait, we were literally in the same place we’d planned to be: Monday morning, Bruny Island. Granted, we’d lost quite a bit of time, but while waiting for hours at the Miena gas station, Chelsay and I actually reconfigured the itinerary. If everything went just right, we could still fit in my original plan...

First up for the day. Bruny Island Cheese Co. Breakfast. Cheese toastie. Spicy (yet subtly sweet) chili paste. Something called an Otto: a cheesy omelette wrapped in prosciutto. Red pepper relish. Condensed strawberry. Ughh.

Next up: Bruny Island Chocolates. 10:30 sweets? Gimme ‘dat orange fudge. ‘Dat chocolate covered coffee bean. Ughhhh.

Third: Tassie World of Whisky. A whisky tasting at 11 AM? Hit me. We’re talkin’ Lark, Launceston, and what’s that? The 2014 best single malt whisky in the world? Sullivan’s Cove. Bitey, but with a smooth and silky length. Ughhhhhhh.

Now, batting cleanup. Chance for a Grand Slam before 1:00 PM: Willie Smith’s Apple Shed. Apple pie, cider, and Alt-J and Hozier playing in background. Ughhhhhhh, na-na na-na!

This trip went from a 2 to a 6 in that morning alone. Three quick hits and towering, monster, goodbye baseball grand slam to save the whole trip. It will from here-on be known as The Great Tassie Turnaround.

Also, it was only 1:00, so we still had time for the final place I wanted to visit: MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art.

MONA was founded in 2011 by eccentric billionaire David Walsh, who made his money as a “professional gambler”. Let that sink in. #Tassie

This place was a bold, artistic reflection of its founder. Or was it just weird... Only time will tell. Some of the highlights:

Two live fish, in a bowl of water, with a butcher’s knife, on a chair. That’s it

The fat car

An exhibit where visitors throw glass milk jugs against a wall. One of us was better than the other at this art

A room with nothing but a blue felt pond (?) in the middle

A robot that precisely mirrored the human digestive process (both sight AND scent)

A representation of CERN’s particle accelerator, which was Chelsay and I’s favorite

Not pictured: Event Horizon, which is the seizure-inducing strobe-light colored room that Drake filmed the video for Hotline Bling in.

So that’s it. That was our trip to Tassie... After MONA, and all of the other strange experiences over the past three days, I’m not really sure how to pull this one together.

On one hand, we had our worst travel day ever, but on the other, we hit all the places we wanted to see. It certainly wasn’t the route I planned, but we still somehow managed to get everything we’d hoped for from Tasmania.

I guess the most fitting way to wrap this up would be to say we found a unique way to experience unique landscapes, unique climate, and unique culture... Is there anything more #Tassie than that.