Trying to organize all my crafting supplies with a single rubbermaid bin and a handful of tote bags and also it all has to fit in like 4 sq feet on the floor of my closet bc I am not allowed To Take Up Space except my bedroom is already really small and my closet half sized as it is and so it's just

Getting Closer to Getting Back in the Ring Again. © 2022, Meri Aaron Walker, iPhoneArtGirl. Talent, OR. All rights reserved. 

Over the last two weeks of cooler quiet, my mind is starting to bring some of this whole big journey into something I can see. Some things in the foreground and some things in a background.

Since August last year, I’ve dropped out of any obligatory use of my time or my days. Most days now, I need to use my phone to see what day of the week it is. And three out of five times I’m wrong when I’m asked for the date.

I don’t feel one bit bad about this. In fact, I delight in it. What difference does it make when I’m off the grid, outside the trance of authoritarian capitalism? Time is what I used to sell. Now it’s become something that I give away, quite deliberately, when I give it. And when I don’t give it, I relish every moment of personal solitude.

It’s been decades since I wore a watch. I tell time by the light, through all the seasons. That ability has been one of the most precious gifts of photography as I have used it to practice observation.

It’s come clear of late, though, that Maxi is just too small to be a healthy long-term home for me. I need to move around more than I can inside of her when the weather is difficult and that’s making me want to take a rest from the road.  I need to walk more, swim more, bike more, dance more, make prints and draw again, and cook things for which I need a bigger kitchen. 

Maxi is a made-to-order, super-solid traveling vehicle and it’s time for me to pass her on to another woman who’s ready to make her pilgrimage in a pandemic. Or whatever kind of pilgrimage she needs to make and take her bedroom with her.  She’s a perfect place to drive, live and sleep in until you decide what more you want do.

Maxi is also perfectly equipped to be a temporary home - with all the necessary furnishings and appliances - for a single parent who wants to live off-grid most of the time (and travel sometimes) with a couple of small kids. 

She’s equipped to support human off-grid life most or all the time. She can capture and store days worth of sustainable solar electric power and store it in three 100-amp-hour lithium batteries. Her inverter is a power-house! She’s got a brand-new on-demand propane hot water heater to conserve water and also deliver it hot when you need it. 

Her powerful Ford 450 engine, as strong as a team of draft horses, has been well cared for by her previous owners and me while it’s just gotten broken in. The engine has been used for than 35K miles. Her Onan generator has barely 420 hours use. She stores up to 55 gallons of fresh water that you can use for drinking, cooking, bathing and dishwashing instead of flushing it down a toilet. She’s got an 8-month-old water pump. Her holding tanks both carry just gray-water that you can quickly and easily dump with no mess because instead of a gross, problematic home-style type of toilet, Maxi has a CHead eco-friendly, easy and elegant composting toilet. (My entire experience with this kind of toilet has made me a lifetime advocate of composting toilets! They’re so easy and they waste no water. I want to put them in any stationary home I occupy.)

Besides all this functional stuff, I equipped Maxi’s bedroom-in-the-back with a luxurious three-layered non-petroleum memory foam RV King mattress on which I’ve had the best nights’ sleep of my life, even parked behind a Cracker Barrel on an Interstate highway.

Maxi was made when boutique RV-manufacturers still made RVs out of real wood on strong metal frames. She’s built to last.

Her cabinets are deep and strong, with doors already equipped with shocks so you never have to worry about them flying open when you find yourself bouncing down a bad road. She has six deep overhead cabinets in the living room. In the kitchen, she’s got two deep overhead cabinets; another under the sink; three deep utensil and tool drawers; a Magic Chef 3-burner propane cooktop and oven; and a Samsung microwave.

In the bathroom she’s got a useful vertical tier of five shelves covered by a stay-put door next to the mirror and sink.  She’s even got a built-in hamper for dirty clothes - right below the large clothes closet. Beneath the sink, there’s another cabinet and two deep drawers for whatever you need to keep in the bathroom; and three more drawers for towels or clothes. Across from the sink is a 3-sided sky-lighted glass shower equipped with an Oxygenics sprayer, the best water-saving power hand-held shower hose you can buy.

In the bedroom, Max has four deep square overhead cabinets, two additional small closets and three more deep drawers for clothes.

I replaced her older-style TV with a 12-volt flatscreen TV on a pull-out arm and installed both a regular TV antenna and a cell booster in the same cabinet. (I’ll be happy to show whoever buys her how I’ve been accessing the internet and streaming films to the TV using only my cell phone service which has freed me from worrying about lame campground Wi-Fi’s.)

She has some truly elegant conical sconce lights installed in the living room - which I really love. But I immediately replaced all their old-style power-pig bulbs with energy-saving LED bulbs. My dear friend, Dan, helped me remove the old-style carpet from the bedroom and the living room and replace it with some fine-looking neutral-greys-weathered-siding style laminate flooring that beautifully sets off the upholstery and neutral grey wallpaper.

Outside, Maxi has massive storage bays, where it’s been easy for me to store and access leveling blocks, power hook ups, water hoses, extra tools, cleaners, food, and anything else I wanted to bring for comfort or safety. She has a rack mounted on the back that I have used to carry Minnie, my fabulous e-bike. I’m keeping Minnie, but you can easily get your own ebike and mount it on the back to use for excursions and for quick trips to the store or the laundromat when it’s too much trouble to take the whole rig.

She’s been a fully reliable, top-functioning tiny home on wheels for me. (Tears are running down my face as I am writing this, I am so grateful for what a great RV she is.)

I haven’t had time yet to put together all I’ve learned traveling and living in her. And I can see that I need to get off the road to do that work.

It’s work I want to do now. Before there’s no time to do it. 

So, as hard as it is to think about releasing the freedom of the road and letting her go, I know that’s what I need to do now. I need to be stationary for a bit, so I can funnel my mental energy into sharing what I’ve learned during this incredible post-wildfire pilgrimage.

What I mean saying I’m “getting close to getting back in the ring” is I can see that it’s time - in my time - to make myself a new space to live that is big enough for me to move around in more while I also concentrate on a reflection process. And I need to do this inside a set of prickly financial constraints. Okay. That’s what’s here to do.  I need to maintain some kind of a legal residence in Oregon to keep my world class insurance, too. 

I haven’t even counted how many photographs I’ve made on the road, but I know there are thousands. And hundreds and hundreds of written and voice notes in my iPhone and laptop that I haven’t shared because the daily process of living in a moving vehicle hasn’t left me enough energy to wipe the mud off the gems I’ve found.

I’m not going to stop driving Maxi tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Memorial Day and I’m still on the road. But I can see that the path ahead entails finding a sustainable way to live stationary again so I can corral and focus my energies.

The first steps in that direction will include finding a stationary home space I can enjoy and afford and then finding the right person(s) to pass Maxi on to. I don’t want to sell her to a dealer. I want to find the person(s) who need her for their pilgrimage in the second half of 2022 and beyond.

Wow! What a mouthful! God has been so good to me through the living hearts of everyone who has crossed my path after the Fire.

Will you please help me find the right person to pass Maxi on to? 

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Six

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

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

CHAPTER SIX:

It was the end of the week and despite their rocky beginning, both Nesta and Cassian had made it through without causing any physical harm to one another. Much to Nesta’s surprise, they had even fallen into a daily routine with shared breakfasts, cocktails at five on the dot, and even cooking dinner together.

She had enjoyed that part of her days the most—almost looking forward to 6pm when she’d wander into the kitchen to see what they were having for dinner. It was easy to talk to Cassian when most of his attention was elsewhere and with her own small tasks to be done, she could easily ignore him if he was being too…Cassian.

Too Cassian.

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as irritating—too full of himself and stubborn. Things came easy to Cassian: his smile, his jokes, flirting. He was at ease in every situation because he took nothing seriously whereas Nesta took everything seriously. She didn’t understand how he did it, moved through life without analyzing every minuscule detail of it. 

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as a beautiful idiot, because yes, she couldn’t deny the fact that he was good-looking. Try as she might, even alone in her bedroom with no one else to judge her. She still couldn’t say those words, that looking at Cassian sometimes made her weak in the knees.

But that had been before the quarantine. After spending almost a whole week with him, Nesta had begun to discover other parts of Cassian. That he was an attentive listener and generous with his time. That he smiled at everything, even when it wasn’t funny. That he stuck the tip of his tongue out when he was trying to be flirty, but also subconsciously, when he was concentrating on something.

And in the span of six days, she had caught herself wondering what Cassian looked like shirtless, at least twice. Once, when she saw him lounging outside on one of the deck chairs. The rising sun had painted his face with a golden glow and she had wondered what it would have looked like, spilling across his broad shoulders. And a second time, when he had off-handedly pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal that yes, he did in fact know what real pain was as marked by the whorls of black ink on his flesh.

Nesta had allowed herself a two second glance that had her stomach doing cartwheels. She had bit her lip hard enough to hurt and avoided his eyes for the rest of the dinner. 

Yes, Nesta still thought Cassian was brash and too loud. He didn’t know how to respect personal boundaries and made everything his business. And how on Earth he wasn’t able to sit still or in silence for ten minutes straight would always grate on Nesta’s nerves. But he was also all the other small things that she had began discovering as well, the things that made her reconsider how much she actually despised him. 

Which made her flustered for completely other reasons. 

Looking around for something to distract her, her eyes fell onto her phone. 

Perhaps she should finally give Feyre a call. She was beginning to feel guilty for not reaching out, especially because she hadn’t spoken to her baby sister since before their quarantining began. 

Glancing at her watch, she figured now was as good a time as any. 

Feyre picked up on the second ring.

“Nesta, hi. How are you?” Her voice was soft, happy.

“I wanted to check up on you. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, of course. I’m glad you called.”

Nesta could hear people talking in the background, but it had quieted down when Feyre spoke again. “How are things going with Cas—“ She cleared her throat. “How are you doing?”

Nesta scrunched her nose. She wasn’t sure why, but she had suddenly became annoyed. “Fine.”

Feyre was quiet, but when Nesta didn’t provide any further detail, she spoke again. “That’s good… all of my classes are online now… how’s work?”

Nesta shrugged even though she knew Feyre couldn’t see her. “Business as usual. Some people can’t do their jobs when they’re at work or at home.”

Feyre gave her a small chuckle. “Not everyone is as brilliant as you.” She paused a moment. “What about Cassian? Are you guys getting along?”

There it was again, that lick of irritation. “He’s fine. We’re fine. I can actually be civil, you know.”

“I know that! I was just asking. Making sure he wasn’t giving you a hard time or anything.” 

“No.” Nesta felt just a smidge bit guilty. “I mean, he’s not being any more of a pain in my ass than he usually is.” She didn’t know why she was compelled to add, “We’ve been… making dinner together. We’re also taking turns making breakfast.”

“You’re making breakfast?”

“I know how to scoop yogurt into a bowl!”

Feyre laughed. “Can’t argue with you there. You’re the best at it!” 

“Damn right, I am.”

“Do you fan out the bananas and dot the granola with raspberries for Cassian, too?”

“No. He has not proven himself worthy of banana-fanning yet.”

Feyre laughed again. “Good. Only Archerons get fanned bananas.” After a few seconds, she let out a soft sigh and her voice was gentle. “But you’re doing okay?” 

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek. It was always like Feyre to try and take care of them. Sweet, gentle, Elain, she understood, but sometimes Nesta hated the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Feyre.”

“Good. And Elain? Have you talked to her? I try to call but we keep missing each other.”

“I talked to her last night. She sounds bored out of her mind, but I don’t know what she expected locking herself up in an apartment with Graysen.”

“Nesta.” There was that motherly tone again.

“Tell me you disagree.”

“She loves him.”

Nesta’s only response was a derisive snort. 

When Feyre spoke again, the austerity was gone and was replaced with a hint of mischievousness that Nesta had learned to detect years ago. “I’m glad you don’t sound like you’re bored out of your mind.”

“I’ve been busy with work.”

“In a beautiful house with the best scenery?”

“It’s… tolerable.”

Feyre cackled at that. “I’ll make sure to let Rhys know that you think his house is tolerable.”

“Please, don’t. It’ll just make his head bigger. I mean come on, Feyre. Who installs a full-sized sauna in their home?”

Her sister’s giggles were starting to become contagious and Nesta smiled. “I thought that, too, but just give in to the sauna, Nesta. You won’t regret it.”

“Fine, but two Pelotons?” 

“Okay. I’ll agree with you on that one, but it’s so much nicer when we don’t have to readjust the seat every time we want to ride.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, Elain and I had to share one bike until I was ten.” 

“Yes, and I got all your hand-me-downs.” 

Nesta smirked to herself. 

“Listen, I gotta go. We’re just about to eat dinner.”

The photo of Feyre looking so happy with her new found family flashed in Nesta’s mind, making her chest feel oddly tight. “Okay. Have a good night.”

“You, too. Love ya.”

“Same.”

“Bye bye.” Feyre hung up, leaving Nesta’s room feeling even more quiet than it had before.

Wondering what to do with the rest of her day, she gave the book on her nightstand a dejected glance. 

Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the whole day reading, but she felt restless and decided that perhaps she should make use of the Peloton and sauna downstairs. It wasn’t as though she had any other plans and it would give her a chance to work out some of her sudden listlessness. 

Silently thanking Elain for making her pack gym clothes, she changed into a matching set of stormy blue high-waisted tights and sports bra and gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror as she pulled her hair into a high pony-tail. Out of habit, she swiped her lips with her favorite mint balm before leaving the room.

The house was quiet and for a brief second, Nesta wondered were Cassian was. Again, his bedroom door was ajar and the room empty and she hadn’t heard him in the kitchen either. 

She wondered if he was stretched out on the lawn as she’d seen him before, during her work days—no doubt spying on her or more likely, trying to get on her nerves and distract her from important emails and conference calls. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he had chosen to reposition the outdoor furniture to sit perfectly framed in the view from the office window. 

Nesta was debating whether or not she should call him out on it the next time she saw him when she entered the gym and stopped dead in her tracks. 

Standing in the middle of the room, toweling off his brow was Cassian. His t-shirt was loose and the V of the collar hung low, revealing the sculpted hardness of his chest. Muscles defined and taut in a deep bronze, glistened with sweat. The dark curling ends of his tattoo rippled as he moved—like ink gliding over water—and Nesta’s fingertips tingled.

Looking up, his finally saw her standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity and then he spoke, breaking the spell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He grinned, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

Nesta crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian chuckled, making it sound like she’d just told a joke instead of sending a death glare his way. 

“I’d ask if you were lost, but judging from your outfit, it doesn’t look like you’re on your way to the ball.”

Nesta watched as Cassian’s eyes dragged from her sneakers up her legs, then torso, and then… 

She turned, walking over to the stationary bikes, hoping he hadn’t caught the flush that was beginning to bloom across her chest. 

Looking at the Peloton, Nesta began to question her decision. Thinking she should switch over to the treadmill, she felt Cassian’s breath against the shell of her ear. 

“Here, let me help.”

How he had managed to sneak up behind her without her noticing was a surprise, but not as big of one as how close he had gotten. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and if she took a half-step back, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from melting into him. 

Instead, she straightened her back and at the sudden lost of heat, knew that Cassian had widened the distance between them. Chancing a glance behind her, she saw him leaning against the treadmill. His hand gently—casually—rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need special shoes for that,” he said, jutting his chin towards the pedals. “Feyre’s are in the cabinet. You wear the same size, right?”

Nesta took her time retrieving the shoes and putting them on, anything to give her a moment to even out her breathing and collect herself. It was only the surprise of running into him that had thrown her off. 

Focus, Nesta. You’ve seen a muscled man before. 

When she got back to the bikes, Cassian was already tinkering with the levers and bolts. 

“You’re taller than Feyre. We’ll have to adjust the seat.” He held out his hand. 

Nesta swallowed, but did not let her hand slip into his. Instead, she nudged him away with her elbow to give herself some space.

Cassian chuckled. He remained standing where Nesta had pushed him, but he was still close enough for her to feel the rumble of his laughter on her skin—close enough for her to smell the salt and sweat on him.

She scowled. 

Cassian moved behind her to tug at the seat, adjusting it to align with her hip before leaning over to tighten the screw, fixing it into place. She watched as his arms flexed, the tight chords of his muscles shifting easily beneath that deep copper skin. 

She realized she had never stood this close to him before, so close that she could see a bead of sweat glide down the chiseled stone column of his neck and she hated the tightness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she also couldn’t look away. 

When Cassian straightened, Nesta bristled. 

“I need you to hold your arm out so I can adjust the seat distance. Elbow at the seat front.” 

This time, Nesta did finally allow Cassian to guide her and the gentle brush of his hand at her elbow, her arm, felt oddly intimate. His palm was calloused and the scrape of it against her skin made her spine tingle. 

His hands were so big.

Nesta was reminded of where she was when Cassian told her she could get onto the bike. Eager for the distraction, she locked her shoe into the pedal and swung her leg around to the other side. Again, she felt the heat of Cassian’s body close to her skin, this time from the hand hovering just above the small of her back.

“I can handle it from here,” she said, dismissing him.

Clearing her throat, she began scrolling through the classes on the screen, not chancing a look at him.

She had already felt too vulnerable in the five minutes standing next to him and now that she was sitting on a bike, her feet locked into place, she couldn’t allow herself the possibility of toppling over, or worse, not being able to escape if he fixed her with one of his looks. 

Cassian didn’t say anything until he got to the door. Not turning back, he said, “Have fun,” before leaving.

It wasn’t until Nesta heard the door click shut that she let her shoulders sag. Expelling a deep breath, she shook out the tension in her arms, her neck. 

Scrolling through the classes, she decided a ninety minute power ride was exactly what she needed to shake the unfamiliar jitteriness that had suddenly seized her entire body. 

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

Cassian let his forehead rest against the wall as he released a shuttering breath. He had made it to the end of the hallway before having to stop to collect himself. Slinging his towel across the back of his neck, he grabbed both ends and tugged firmly. 

God.

He had barely made it out of there. Had surprised himself when he was able to say something that wasn’t a declaration of how much he wanted to kiss her, touch her. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, her showing up at the gym like that and in those clothes…

He had always thought she was gorgeous. She had taken his breath away the first time he had laid eyes on her and in their subsequent meetings, she’d only proven herself more and more beautiful. But today… with that thin material matching the exact color of her eyes and clinging to each and every one of her curves, he couldn’t help himself. He just had to be near her.

And so he moved—stalked in three long strides—close enough to touch her, but not daring to. 

He had half-expected her to turn around and snap at him. To claw at him with her nails and her words. And when she didn’t, and he saw the blush against the shell of her ear, exactly where his breath had been, he thought that maybe…

But her back had stiffened and so he backed away, tried to plaster on that cool exterior he could easily hide behind, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she had been. Of course, he was only human and when she walked off to find Feyre’s shoes, Cassian’s eyes had followed her. Followed those long legs, the curve of her backside, and the swell of her hips as they swayed. 

He had had to muster every bit of strength in his body to remain calm. And for a moment, he had considered leaving the room to escape the torture. 

But as soon as she’d come back within arm’s reach of him, he couldn’t walk away. And she had let him touch her arm. 

It had been the most chaste of touches. A past Cassian would have laughed at himself for being so modest, but it had set his hand on fire. Her skin was so soft, and for a heartbeat, he had let himself wonder if she’d let him touch her anywhere else. Her shoulder? Her neck? Those pouty lips? 

If she’d let him, he’d trace his fingertips across that delicate skin to mark her—let her know where his mouth would follow. 

Cassian groaned.

He felt foolish, like a giddy teenager touching a girl for the first time, instead of the grown man he was. One who had taken many lovers, all of whom had let him do much more than touch their elbow. 

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

They had let him—wanted him to, begged him, in fact. But Nesta… all she did was push him away and brush him off. She had glared at him and bristled at his closeness. And when he was done being useful, she had dismissed him wholly. 

Cassian had thought that she was finally beginning to thaw against him. Their interactions had become cordial, almost friendly at times. But again, she had managed to prove him wrong. 

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging hard. Then pushed himself off the wall, and headed upstairs, looking to take a very, very cold shower. 

So Many Words Part 2

Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Poe and Y/N became pen pals after their first meeting when they were younger, and since then, they continued to write letters to each other. Following the letters throughout their lives, we will see just how far these letters go, as well as their relationship.

Warnings: None

A/N: It’s been a while and I’m sorry. I REALLY want to finish this fic and I am determined to lol. 

Part 1

13 Years Old

The sound of your phone pinging multiple times causes you to set your pencil down, turning away from your homework to check the messages you received. Once you saw the name, you could only smile to yourself as you shot up from your desk.

Poe: Y/N

Poe: Ohhhh Y/N

Poe: Did you check the mail yet?

Y/N: Checking right now!

Poe: Hurry!

Racing downstairs, you head straight outside just in time to catch the mailman pull up in front of your house. The mailman greets you, handing you a pile of letters as well as a package, and you silently thank him before he drives off. 

Despite having your own phones, you and Poe still managed to write to each other all the time. Of course, all your friends couldn’t understand why you insisted on writing letters when you could just text. Something about receiving the letters, reading them, and taking the time to write back was just… different. The feeling was different compared to reading a simple text, something more... well, you couldn’t really describe it. It was like something out of a romance novel or film and… 

You shake your head. Why were you thinking of it like that? There was nothing romantic about it. All you knew was that you simply enjoyed writing to Poe, as he did you. That was it.  

Running back inside, you flip through each of the bills, ads, and coupons until you see a letter addressed to you in that familiar handwriting. Grabbing the letter, you make your way back to your room before you find your phone again.

Y/N: It came!

Poe: Well hurry up and read it! :)

~~~~~

Dear Y/N,

We’re supposed to be coming to visit the weekend after my eighth grade promotion. I’m kind of nervous to be going on to high school, but my dad says I have nothing to worry about. The only thing I’m really excited for though right now is to see you and Ben again. 

I was thinking maybe we should all go to the water park again like we did last year! It was a lot of fun, plus we can see if we can do all the water slides this time! I also told my dad not to forget my bike this time like he did last year, so we won’t have to partner up every time like we did.

Sometimes I wish we didn’t live so far away from each other, then we wouldn’t have to write letters like this and could just walk over to each other’s house whenever. Although, I am also glad that it’s you I get to write letters to.

Can’t wait to see you soon!

From, Poe

~~~~~

After finishing the letter, you grab your phone right away. 

Y/N: Just finished reading it! We definitely have to go to the water park!

Poe: Remember when Ben tried to do that obstacle course?

Y/N: Yes! Lol, he slipped down the first set of steps.

Poe: And then we were the ones to do so after him.

Y/N: Don’t remind me, lol.

Poe: Alright, are you going to write me back or not?

Y/N: Rude, now I want to make you wait!

Poe: Please don’t!

Rolling your eyes, you set your phone down, and grab the new set of stationary you had bought specifically to write to Poe with. It wasn’t too fancy, but there were some clouds on it and it reminded you of Poe since all he talked about was becoming a pilot like his mom did. He would always tell you how he imagined what it would be like to be among the clouds someday. You figured this would help him imagine it some more.

As soon as you were done with your letter, you quickly sealed it in an envelope, and headed outside. Ben was out playing fetch with his dog, Chewie. Lately, it seemed that Ben was making new friends and hadn’t talked to you or hung out with you as much. It wasn’t that you didn’t mind him making new friends, you had made a few yourself. But, the new kid didn’t seem to keen on being friends with you, but you just pushed it aside. 

Chewie’s ears perked up as he spots you walked onto the grass and begins to bark happily, causing Ben to turn towards you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey, Ben. Hi, Chewie.” You smile, walking over to pet the large dog.

“Got another letter for Poe?”

“Yep. He said that he is going to be coming down after his promotion. And that he wants to go to the water park.”

“That would be fun, although he probably could have just texted you it,” Ben teases.

“You know it’s our thing to write letters, Ben.” 

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

“Bye!” You wave before heading over to your mailbox and dropping the letter in. 

+++++

“Poe, you’ve got some mail, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad!” 

Poe is quick to grab the small pile of mail before rushing to his bedroom. He always got excited when your letters came, but not as excited as he would get when he would actually get to see you… and Ben of course. 

Flipping through the letters and magazines, he finally finds the familiar light blue envelope that had become more frequent in your letter exchanges. Poe found himself enjoying the cloud stationary, and he knew that you picked it specifically for him. Every time he saw it, he couldn’t help but feel… warm inside. 

Warm inside? Why was he thinking of it like this? The two of you were just friends. Really good friends. 

Poe sighs, erasing the thoughts from his head as he grabs his phone, shooting you a quick text. 

Poe: Your letter came today!

Y/N: Yay! Hurry up and read it!

Poe excitedly opens up the envelope and pulls your letter out, lying back on his bed as he reads it to himself.

~~~~~

Dear Poe,

I’m excited for you and your dad to come down again. It was weird when you didn’t come down for winter break, but that’s alright. I knew you had to do Christmas with your grandparents (i love the blanket that your abuela made for me, I use it all the time). Maybe sometime I can come up and visit you all for Christmas! That would be really fun.

Ben has been hanging out with some other kids a lot lately, but we still see each other after school and in class. There is this one kid that moved here, he has a really weird name (Armitage I think it’s spelled?), but he is okay. I don’t really talk to him. 

Hopefully when you come and visit it will be like old times. It would really be nice for the three of us to hang out again. I can’t wait to see you!

From, Y/N

Stone Heart Gambit

 Part 1 - Chapter 3

Soso wakes up in her bed, and for one blissful moment it’s as though all of it were only a dream brought on by too much chocolate before bed. Sunlight is shining through her window and, other than a dry mouth and a mildly upset stomach, she feels refreshed and content. Today has the makings of a perfect lazy day, she decides. She sits up, stretches, relishing the feeling of life coming back into her stiff muscles, opens her eyes, and squeaks.

The living gargoyle is staring at her from the foot of her bed. He’s eating a candy bar, pausing to pick flecks of caramel out of a rather impressive set of pointed teeth, framed on either side by a pair of tusks. Next to him on the floor is an empty bread bag, empty milk carton, two boxes of cereal- yes, empty- and a jar of peanut butter that has, as of yet, been spared from the rampage.

“You ate all my food,” Soso comments dumbly. All things considered, it shouldn’t be the biggest issue, but that milk was supposed to be communal and her housemates are going to kill her.

The beast bows his head. “I’ll replace it.” Before she can question just how he plans to do that, he hands her the peanut butter like a peace offering and— what the hell, she takes it and starts eating with her fingers. It calms her down, marginally.

“You were a statue,” she says with, if she does say so herself, remarkable evenness.

“I was. Rather, I was cursed into a prison of stone.”

“A curse, okay, sure. And now you’re… uncursed?”

He nods.

“But you still look like…” She coughs awkwardly. “I mean, you know, you don’t look human.”

“That’s because I’m not,” he explains. “I am Adamantius the unbreakable, son of man.”

“That’s a hell of a name.”

“I am the fire that burns in the west,” he says, as if that explains everything. “What may I call you?”

“I’m… Soso,” she replies. “Soso Willoughby. I don’t have any fancy titles, sorry.”

“Lady Willoughby,” he says, and his eyes sparkle. “I owe you a great debt.” He drops his head so low his horns brush the floor.

“Hey, I’m not mad about the food, don’t worry about it. You must’ve been hungry.”

“I was. I have been. For countless years I’ve been imprisoned, waiting until the fated night you would free me from my endless purgatory.”

“I did what?” she gawks. “No, you’ve got me confused with someone else. I didn’t free anyone from anything.”

He sits up and presents her with a slightly squished snickers bar. “A single selfless gift,” he says, sounding overcome. “Even when the world forgot about me, even after the stories of my triumphs were lost to time, you still came and spoke to me with such kindness. Truly I can never repay you, but I will stay by your side and serve you faithfully ‘til the end of my days in gratitude.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” she chokes. “I didn’t- I didn’t do anything! And you can’t… how am I supposed to explain you to my roommates? How am I supposed to-“ A thought occurs to her. “Oh god, how am I supposd to explain to Mr Surehouser that I stole his gargoyle? We need to get you back to the library before anyone notices you’re missing.”

The reverence falls from his face, replaced by a baring of teeth. “I will not go back there.”

Soso puts up her hands. “Okay, okay. Let’s… put a pin in that discussion. I need to think.”

“I apologize,” Adamantius rasps. “I didn’t mean to frighten you again. I swear to you, I will not cause you any harm. But I do not wish to return there, ever.”

“Well, what do you wish- want?” She leans tentatively closer, studying him. He’s less frightening in the light of day, but not by much. The color of skin still makes him appear as if made of stone, except now she can see his chest rise and fall with his breathing. A thin crack near the junction of one of his horns glows a faint red, the same flame-light that flickers behind his eyes, an inferno contained in a shell of granite.

“I want only to serve you, and to bring to account those who have wronged us.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

A flicker of something almost devious enters his expression. He gestures towards the bedroom window. Soso gets up to have a look. She pales.

Outside, the town is in chaos. Windows are smashed in, cars are tipped over, heavy claws marks carve a path down the entire street. It looks like the aftermath of a horror movie. A young man wearing a rubber mask is cowering in a tree on Summer Street as police and concerned neighbors try to coax him down.

“I thought it was just a really good costume,” another boy says, shaking like a lead as he gives his statement to a local news reporter.

Soso stands on the porch barefoot in yesterday’s clothes and tries not to panic. Adamantius comes up behind her in the doorway and she shoves him back inside. Remembering she’s not alone in the house, she keeps shoving until they’re standing in the narrow fenced-in area behind the back of the house, well out of sight.

“What did you do?” she demands.

“I thought the fates of the enemy should be left to your discretion, but I wanted to ensure they got the message.”

“Yeah, I think they got it!” She puts her head in her hands. “Dear god, you didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

“As I said, I was awaiting your orders.”

“Okay, my orders are ‘don’t kill anybody’.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Not ever?”

“Not ever! No killing, Ada- Adam- Why is your name so complicated!” she asks in frustration. “Don’t you have nickname or something I can call you?”

He lowers his head, looking pensive. After a moment he says, “There was someone once very close to me called me ‘Adami’.”

This information mellows Soso’s temper somewhat. Despite his appearance and somewhat murderous tendencies, there had been someone who cared for him, and whom it seemed he cared for in return, and now if his story was to be believed, crazy as it all sounded, they are likely long gone. Soso tries to imagine being imprisoned like he was, asleep and awake at once in a frozen form while the days, months, years went by. It sounds terrible.

“How long exactly were you… doing time?”

“I couldn’t say. After the first few decades or so time begins to lose its meaning. I didn’t so much feel the passage of time, only watched the rising and falling of the sun, the turning of the seasons. For much of that time, I wished only for vengeance, then for death, and then I wished for nothing at all. There didn’t seem a point. I had lost all hope of rescue long ago.” His gaze falls on her again. “Then you came. You spoke to me, and reminded me that I was still alive.”

Soso feels her face heat. How was she supposed to tell him that she’d only started talking to him because she thought he was an inanimate object?

“Adami,” she says gently. “We need to go back there. I need to figure out what happened, and the only other person I can think of who might know something is the librarian. I can’t- I don’t have enough room to hide you here without someone finding out, and once they do… I don’t know, they’ll probably want to put you in prison or dissect you for science or something!”

She reaches up and places her hands on his shoulders, privately marveling at the sheer size of him. She has to stand on her toes.

“I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you, but you need to trust me.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I will follow where you lead.”

Soso exhales an anxious breath and releases him. “I’ll need my bike.”

 --

 Surehouser doesn’t wake up in his bed, and rather than the morning light he is woken by a persistent thumping sound. At first, he thinks it’s simply the pounding in his own head. He’s had a bottle of dandelion wine- a gift from some cousin or other- stowed away since the equinox, saved for the express purpose of drowning out the Halloween festivities with his own.

In the time it takes him to recognize the knocking for what it is, he’s become aware of three things. One: he is wildly hung over. Two: today is the first of the month. Three: following that logic, he is well overdue to submit his annual report, which was due at the first of last month. He should get to it, he supposes, adjusting his glamour to better disguise the air of malaise he carries with him. Then again he doubts anyone is going to come breaking his door down about it. If not for the occasional paperwork and the letters and packages from his relations he’d think the whole of faerie society had long forgotten about him. It’s not as if anything happens here anyway.

He trudges to the front door of the library, wondering who could be so desperate to get his attention, and finds standing there the young lady who’s been dropping by the past couple weeks, accompanied by an eight foot abomination.

“So,” says the girl. “Don’t freak out.”

Surehouser runs to his desk and retrieves the enchanted blade he keeps below the stationary drawer. He’s not as spry as he used to be though and the monster has him pinned to the cherry wood before he can so much as unsheathe it. It gnashes its teeth and twists his arm until he’s forced to drop the weapon with a cry. Without any other option, he drops the human farce and the light it forces outward stuns the creature just long enough for him to slip from its grasp. From there, escaping would be easy, just take the form of a jackrabbit or a will o’ wisp and be gone. He almost does just that, but it seems somewhere along the years he’s picked up a conscience. Damn it.

“Soso, get back, I’ll hold it off.” He places himself between her and it, forming a barrier. Between the throbbing headache and the fear he hardly notices her grabbing onto his arm.

“Hold on a second, both of you stop it!”

Adamantius readies to charge and Soso steps between them.

“I said STOP!”

It stops. “As per your instructions,” it growls, startling Surehouser almost more than the attack itself. “I will not kill him.”

“I don’t want you to do anything to him, understand?”

The creature- he looks torn. “Not even-“

“No, whatever it is, no!” she says, flustered. She chides the rampaging goliath like one would a misbehaving dog. It’s honestly impressive. “Mr Surehouser’s a friend.”

Another snarl tears from him. “He’s a faerie.”

It takes a moment to sink in, but once she realizes he knows there’s no way to deny it. Soso steps back and for the first time really takes him in, the truth of him. Under his human disguise, the librarian is summer court through and through; his body all mist and golden light. The base human features are still there, but unlike some of his more passable fellows, one look at him without the aid of a glamour is enough to know he’s not of their world. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he veils himself with the familiar mask of the old unassuming librarian. It’s a magic specifically designed to make him easy to overlook, though the exact details of his appearance still depend largely on the viewer’s perception. It’s why he does his best to stay away from crowds. Too many conflicting accounts of the same man create a very real risk of his cover being blown.

It’s been a long time since he willingly dropped the act around another person, even among his own kind, however infrequently he sees them. Certainly he hadn’t planned to destroy his entire carefully-crafted persona when he woke up seven minutes ago. Yet here they were.

“That’s, wow,” the girl says.

He forces a chuckle. “Not the worst reaction I could’ve gotten, I suppose.”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting to a point where being shocked at every new thing is just taking up too much energy.”

Her eyes are winged and weary. Surehouser looks from her to Adamantius, an ancient warrior whom last he saw was petrified on his front lawn, a being even older than his great-grandfather, and significantly more sapient than he’d been led to believe from the wartime tales. He casts one last, longing look at his dagger laying on the floor and declares,

“It seems that we have a lot to talk about and frankly I don’t want to have this conversation standing up.”

He takes them out of the main library to a sitting area. There are two arm chairs and a small sofa loosely fitted into a circle around a low table in front of a fireplace, now dormant. Soso flops gratefully into the nearest chair. Adamantius isn’t so eager.

“I don’t like faeries,” he says. “And I don’t like your rings.”

“It’s a semi-circle if anything.” He sits. The monster stays standing, hovering at Soso’s side, tense and wary.

“So,” Surehouser begins after a moment. “You’ve, er, woken Adamantius.”

She nods slowly. “If it counts for anything, I didn’t exactly mean to.”

“It’s alright, Soso. I understand many humans in your age group go through an arcane phase, performing your little rituals and whatnot. Although how you stumbled upon something powerful enough to undo a curse like that is far beyond me.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know anything about magic or curses or whatever! It was an accident.”

He looks into her eyes; she seems earnest, though it can be hard to tell with humans.

“I gave him a snickers,” she says. “Adamantius says it was a gesture of pure kindness that broke the curse, or something.”

She looks to him for confirmation. He doesn’t take his eyes off the faerie, but nods his confirmation. She goes on to tell the full story, punctuated with various exaggerated hand motions.

“-And you don’t seem that surprised by all this,” she notes as it comes to a close. Or rather, catches up with the present. “And also, you’re a faerie? Is Surehouser even your name?”

“You could say so. It’s a name, and it’s mine.”

She makes a face. “Right. So like, what now?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Now, I need a drink.” He stands up and, obliged by the laws of hospitality, adds, “Do you want anything?”

“Oh, I don’t really drink. Also, it’s like 2:30.” When it becomes clear that that is not the deterrent she thinks it is, she turns to the creature. “What about you?”

“If you’re not having anything, neither will I.”

She purses her lips. “Actually, Mr Surehouser, if I could bug you for some water or something to eat… all I’ve really had today is, like, half a jar of peanut butter, and this guy was a rock for like a thousand years I guess so he’s always hungry.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Though food is not his indulgence of choice, he’s pretty sure he remembers where the kitchen is supposed to be. The fruit there doesn’t go rotten and the water he runs into a pitcher is cold and clean. For himself, two painkillers. As much as he’d rather not, he’s starting to think this is indeed a conversation he should be sober for.

Once he’s made up a tray he returns to the sitting room where the odd pair are exchanging muttered words and serious glances. Soso stands up to help him set everything out but as she reaches for the fruit, her monster stops her.

“For pity’s sake, Adamantius, they won’t harm her. This place is neutral territory. That’s the whole point.”

While he’s distracted she pops a handful of grapes into her mouth. “You two know each other?”

“Not personally,” says Surehouser. “Though at the same time you could say we’ve been neighbors for years.” He chuckles to himself. “For more than a century, now that I think about it. I’m a watcher. Not the first, though maybe the last.” He loses some of his good humor. The reality of the situation is setting in, unbelievable though it is. “It’s been my job to… well to prevent what is happening right now.”

“He is my jailor,” Adamantius clarifies.

“More or less. Soso, do you even know who it is you’ve been sitting so comfortably beside?”

“Does she know who you are?” he snaps in retaliation. “Have you ever taken a moment to explain the depths of your fraudulence, you oversized pixie?”

His eyes narrow. “Name calling isn’t necessary. But you have a point.” He turns to the girl. “I haven’t lied to you, but neither have I been truthful. Look around you. You see an old library, and me, its keeper. Although on the surface that is true, it’s such a small fraction of what it is. It’s only a name, only some books on some shelves.”

“Then what is the truth? The full truth.” She stares at him intently.

“Long ago,” he begins. As a start to a story, it’s as good as any. Soso’s told him her story, now he owes her one in return. “There was a terrible war between humankind and the fae people. You might know them as faeries, the hidden folk, the good neighbors. Again, that’s only the barest sliver of it. The fae consist of all magical beings, united against humanity. Once, our worlds were one, with the faerie lords, whose magic was strongest and purest, ruling over all.”

“While the humans,” Adamantius interjects. “Struggled at the bottom of the food chain. Although they were greater in numbers and more widespread than almost any other species, they were preyed on by the faefolk because of their lack of natural magic. When their science and scholarly learning grew strong enough to threaten even the faeries’ regime, war broke out. In the process, countless human lives and achievements were lost.”

“I would’ve gotten to that,” Surehouser says haughtily. “As I was saying, after years of fighting the humans finally made a breakthrough. Through study and spiritualism their brightest scholars developed a power that was enough to rival fae magic. They called it alchemy, and with it they created a killing machine powerful enough to turn the tide of the war. Adamantius, the man-made monster.

“Though it was magic, albeit humans’ version of magic, that created him, he became the ultimate soldier against the fae forces. Because of this, many came to consider his existence the ultimate insult, a betrayal of our ways.”

The monster in question lunges forward. Soso seizes his arm, nearly falling out of her chair.

“Your ways and your magic have nothing to do with me. I am the son of man.”

Surehouser takes a sip of water, smiling against the rim of his glass. All this drama for a beast who was unable to act without his human’s approval.

“Personally I’m neutral on the subject. War is a terribly ugly thing. The humans’ precious pet soldier did a lot of damage, but so did we. The only reason the humans won the war in the end was because the lords at the time feared their new alchemy. This single creation of theirs had dealt more damage in a few years, a blink of an eye to them, than all their previous efforts combined. If the humans managed to reproduce their experiment… well, the risk was too great.

“The fae forces surrendered and treaty negotiations began. One of the main conditions of the treaty was that each nation’s greatest tools of war be retired and sealed away somewhere on neutral ground, never to be used again. You see where I’m going with this?”

Soso looks offended. “Adami’s alive. A living person isn’t a weapon.”

He shrugs. “When I say tools of war I’m not speaking of just blades and bombs. Lots of things can be a weapon that you wouldn’t expect. Wealth, knowledge, even a bowl of fruit.”

Adamantius picks up an armchair.

“Kidding, kidding! No need to go throwing furniture.” He stands up, hands raised. “You are much more hair-trigger than the stories suggested. Come, I’ll show you what I mean.”

He takes them behind the front desk and pushes aside a shelf of “staff picks”, revealing a hidden doorway that opens onto the basement. Anyone who knew what to look for would be able to pick out a concealment charm easily. Sometimes it paid to do things the old-fashioned way, so to speak.

The entrance is short and narrow and Adamantius struggles to squeeze through for a minute before it becomes clear that it’s wasted effort.

“What a pity,” Surehouser chirps. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me with your human for a while.”

He growls his disapproval, but once again Soso manages to talk him down. “I’ll be fine. I promised, right? Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

The creature doesn’t look entirely at ease with the idea, but he relents. As they descend the steps, he stands stalwart at the doorway, his eyes following them down until they disappear into the darkness completely.

We got a late start this morning (when don’t we), but I’m pretty pleased with everything that got done.

Had breakfast at the Q’town diner, then popped out on a couple errands.  Made the rounds at the Farmer’s Market and picked up a few things, including a ceramic cat that looks like Rosie (just needs the the nose blacked in).  Also grabbed an apple pie for Jim’s (day late) birthday “cake”.

Went round to my folks’ and Marc assembled the recliner we bought him while he regaled me with tales of this dude in a wheelchair who climbs mountains.  He was positively over the moon about the new chair and ate two servings of pie.  I think he’s coming around about letting me buy him a transport chair, so we’ll see.  He’s not using the stationary bike so we took it away, but it’s pretty conveniently sized to fit in the cat room / exercise room -- just needs to be tidied up.  I might even try to rig a book / magazine holder for the handlebars.

Picked up some supplies and hot sandwiches at the Italian place in Coopersburg, having half for dinner and saving the rest for dinner.

After lunch I went up into the attic with some paint and painted for a few hours: all but three of the cabinet doors are done, I’m just giving them until tomorrow to cure.  Marc’s going to start drilling and mounting them tomorrow, after which we’ll be able to do any touch-ups, as we anticipate they’ll naturally get nicked a bit as they’re mounted.  If it rains tomorrow that’ll unfortunately have to wait, since the drilling needs to be done outside.

While I was upstairs Marc caulked all the little gaps in the upper cabinets, so now when you look at them they look completely pristine!  He also finished painting the shelves, spray painted the supports and mounted them all into place.  Tomorrow I can finish cutting the liners and double-sided-tape them into place.

Several months ago I went on Ali Express and bought a panel of this fake brick stuff that’s made out of adhesive backed foam.  I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it, but it was cheap and I was curious to see if it might be useful.  Conveniently, there’s this small, ugly gap between the top of the z-brick and the ceiling, and I thought the foam brick would be just the thing.

The panel I bought was silver, so I measured and rough-cut a couple strips of brick, then spray-painted it with the same gold paint we used on the drawer and cabinet pulls.

While that was drying we ran out to Home Depot and World Market.

We’ve managed to save up quite a few Home Depot gift cards via a combination of completing online surveys and a couple different reward programs we participate in.  We were going to save up for new kitchen counters, but we’re having a problem with our front door (we painted it red after we moved in, and the build-up of heat in the afternoon is causing the glue around the glass panels to ooze out alarmingly.  It’s also just old and gross looking and needs to be replaced).  Anyway, we looked at their doors and got some prices for one we really like, so after the New Year we may end up springing for a new front door.  

They sell these really sharp epoxy kits on Amazon to revive laminate counters, and they’re only $80, so we may end up doing that until we’ve got enough saved back up for new counters.

Picked up three skulls for $5 though!

At World Market I picked up a couple nice hooks for the kitchen, and we grabbed some other goodies from their grocery section. I fucking love that store.  Their ornament section is amazing, but I am giving up on the idea of buying Christmas ornaments.  We already have too many, and I think we’re probably done (or close to done) putting up a tree every year.

Hit Lowes on the way home (because apparently we haven’t had enough home improvement) and bought a set of six remote-controlled LED under-cabinet lights for $34!  Also, a fire screen.

“But Nicole,” you’re asking. “Why a fire screen? I thought you walled over your fireplace after you moved in!”

We did, astute follower.  However, in our bedroom we have a gas gel fireplace (one of my summer projects was to paint and texture it to match our totally 80s bedroom):

The fireplace is ventless, but it burns these large sterno cans hidden behind a ceramic log set, so it has both real flame and real heat.

Funny story, we also just adopted a kitten, and even with the little metal curtain across the front we don’t trust her not to set herself and everything else on fire. So.  Fire screen.

Came home, wolfed down dinner, and assembled the now-dry foam brick pieces into the gap above the window.  They cut and went up very easily, and although it’s not a perfect solution if you’re up close, when you’re just standing there looking from a normal perspective it actually looks pretty nice.  Can’t beat it for $1.50 and a little spray paint, anyway.

I popped the batteries into the LEDs and Marc put them up for me, then installed the new hooks.  We’re still a ways off, but it’s really coming together.  Tomorrow, at the very least, I think we can get the range hood up, secure the shelf liners and actually start putting things away.

Be still my heart.

Hachishakuma (Japanese Urban Legend)

Hachishakuma, also known as “eight feet tall” in Japanese, is a Japanese urban legend about a tall woman who abducts children. The story below speaks for the urban legend itself. Could this woman be a spirit or something much more evil? We will find out in today’s article.

Description:

She is 8 ft (approximately 2.43 m) tall, wears a long white dress and makes a sound like “Po...Po...Po...Po...Po...” when she is coming for you or somewhere near you. This is a famous story about a girl who barely escaped death from her.

Story:

My father's family home was just a little under two hours away by car from where we lived, a small village surrounded by farmland. I often stayed with my grandparents during my summer vacation and winter breaks from school, and they were always happy to play with me... but the last time I visited them was over ten years ago now, when I was still in my third year of high school. It was my Spring break and I had been invited to visit; and since the weather was good, I rode my bike out to their house.

After I got there I was a little cold, so I stretched out for a moment in a warm sunny spot off the road. Then I heard something strange...

"Popo, Popoppo, Po, pop ..."

It wasn't a mechanical noise; it sounded strange... but human. I looked about to see where the noise was coming from, and saw a white hat peeking over the top of the hedge. The hat moved along to a break in the hedge, when I could see that it was being worn by a woman with a white dress. She had to be tall, though; the hedge was over two meters high (six feet). Before I could really think about this much, the woman was gone, seemingly disappeared. The strange sound was gone too. At the time, I just guessed that the person's apparent height had been due either to wearing very tall platform shoes, or that it had been a man dressed up like a woman. Odd, but that was all.

A little later, while having tea with Grandma and Grandpa, I mentioned the strange person I had seen and that I thought it was a transvestite... but when, as an afterthought, I also mentioned the strange "po, po, po" noise, my grandparents panicked. My Grandpa suddenly showered me with questions: "when did you see this?!," "how much taller than the fence?!," "Did they look AT you?!". I answered as quickly as he asked, then he rushed to the phone in the hallway, shutting the sliding door so I couldn't hear the call. The room was suddenly very quiet. Grandma smiled a little, but was trembling for some reason. Grandpa came back soon, and told me I would be staying overnight with them. I had to admit that I didn't understand what the fuss was about, and asked what was so bad about the strange woman. Grandpa said "Grandma can tell you." He then looked at her and said he was going to pick up someone named "K-san" and then left.

In a clearly shaky voice, Grandma said: "It seems that Hachishakusama has become interested in you... but we shouldn't worry. Grandpa is making arrangements." Grandma then told me, a little at a time, that Hachishakusama was not a person; she was some sort of monster, named Hachishakusama because of her height... 8 shaku [Japanese foot, about 11.9 inches] tall, "hachi" [8] "shaku" [foot] "sama" [person]. Her appearance could change somewhat -- sometimes young, sometimes old but she would always be abnormally tall, and would always have a creepy laugh... "Po Po Po."

Once Hachishakusama took an interest in a person, they were hunted to death in just a few days; and the last known victim of Hachishakusama had been fifteen years previous.

I learned later that Hachishakusama was supposed to be trapped in a shrine near the village, having been sealed in by four statues of Jizo, a protective deity of children, each placed to the north, south, east, and west of the structure. The village had some sort of agreement with it's neighboring villages, wherein they were given some advantages to make up for the fact they had to watch over the monster... for example, they got first priority on water use. Since it had been over a dozen years since Hachishakusama had killed anyone, I have to wonder if the old men in those villages thought it was still a good arrangement.

At the time I couldn't quite believe what I was being told, of course; but then Grandpa returned with a very old lady. K-san, for that's who it was, handed me a small paper charm and told me to hold onto it. Then she and Grandpa went upstairs. While they were upstairs, I tried to excuse myself to use the bathroom... but my Grandma wouldn't let me go alone, and she insisted on keeping the door open and an eye on me as I was using the facilities. This is when I started to really understand just how serious my grandparents felt the situation was.

I was soon led upstairs to a bedroom. The single window in the room had been covered with newspaper, on which a charm like the one I was holding had been affixed. In each corner was a small pile of Morishio -- sacred salt -- and they had also set up a small wood box with a statue of Buddha on it. I was told I would have to stay in the room until seven the next morning, and that I couldn't leave no matter what (they provided a bucket for me to potty in!). Grandpa made it clear that neither he nor Grandma would talk to me until seven the next morning. K-san told me to keep the charm on me, and to pray to the Buddha if I got scared.

I had a bed and a TV in the room. Grandma had left me snacks. I tried to watch some TV, but couldn't pay attention. I wasn't hungry, either. So I just lay one the bed, wrapped in the sheets, and eventually fell asleep because the next thing I remember was waking up to a late night show on the TV. My watch said it was around 1AM. And I heard something tapping on the glass of the window.

I tried to ignore it. It was very persistent. I had some tea and a snack, and turned up the TV to drown out the tapping. Then I heard Grandpa call from the hall, "Are you alright? It's okay to come out if you're too scared." I started for the door automatically, but stopped myself as I remembered how insistent Grandpa had been that he wouldn't talk to me until seven. Again I heard him: "It's okay, come here." I wanted it to be my Grandpa's voice... but somehow it wasn't. I suddenly had goosebumps all over me; then I noticed the salt in the corner. It was becoming darker.

I dropped in front of the Buddha,clasping the charm in both hands, and started praying for help. "Popoppo, Po, Popo ..." The tapping on the window started again, louder than before, more insistent. Then a definite hand slapped the window... despite the fact I was on the second floor. I did the only thing I could; I kept praying to Buddha.

It was a long night. I really don't remember much other than praying until I heard the news on the TV. I looked over, and the morning clock on the news screen showed it was 7:13AM [Garth note: all Japanese TV channels show the time onscreen during morning programs]. The tapping had stopped. The voice was gone. The salt in the corners was almost black. I gingerly opened the door. Grandma and K-san, both looking worried, were there. Grandma, in tears, told me things were going to be okay.

Downstairs I found my father waiting. Grandpa came in from outside, and we needed to drive off... outside, I found there was a number of men standing around near a van. My Grandpa's car was in front of the van, and my father's was behind it. I was seated in the middle of the van with eight of the men sitting around me; one to each side, and then three in front and three in back. One more man took the driver's seat, and K-san took the passenger side of the front. I was told to keep my eyes closed, and my face pointing down. "You are the only one who can see Hachishakusama... don't look at her!"

Our convoy started off, slowly at first. I don't think we had even traveled 20 kilometers before K-san warned us things were about to get hard... then she started to chant phrases that sounded Buddhist. And then I heard the laugh again: "Poppopo, Po, pop, Popopo ..." I clutched the charm to my chest and kept my head down, but couldn't resist a quick peek at the window; that was a mistake. I could see a white dress. It appeared stationary to the car's window, even though we had to be moving very fast at that point. The figure moved as if to lower its head to the window, and I gasped... and the man next to me told me to shut my eyes, which I did, and tightly.

Though no one else could see Hachishakusama, they all heard what happened next: the tapping. I don't know how, but the tapping started on every window in the van, all at the same time. I don't know how long it lasted but, over time, it faded. K-san had stopped chanting by that time as well, and eventually said that she felt we were now safe, so the cars all pulled over. My father and Grandpa thanked all the men who had assisted; as it turned out, all of them were related to me. Grandpa and K-san had hoped to confuse Hachishakusama by surrounding me with many people of the same bloodline. I had to stay overnight while Grandpa was gathering my kinsmen, and it was deemed safer to try to escape during the day than the night.

K-san asked me to show her the charm which I had forgotten I was still holding; it had turned almost entirely black. K-san commented "it should be alright now, but just in case..."; and with that she handed me a new charm to hold until I got home. I drove home with my father. During the drive, he told me that one of his friends when he was young had been taken by Hachishakusama. Grandpa and the neighbors delivered my bike back to me later.

In talking to my Grandpa over the phone, I've confirmed that it was not his voice I heard outside the room that night (which sent shivers down my spine again). Hachishakusama targets teens and children... so if the monster speaks with a familiar relative's voice, the victim would normally come to it willingly. I'd almost forgotten this all after ten years. Grandma called to tell me that one of the Jizo statues that had sealed Hachishakusama into the shrine looked as if it had been broken by someone; the statue that was broken lined up with the road leading to our home.

Two years ago my Grandpa died; sadly, he left strict instructions in his will that I was not allowed to attend his funeral. My grandmother called me a few days ago, she told me she was diagnosed with cancer. She missed me terribly and wanted to see me one last time before she died.

“Are you sure Grandma? Is it safe?”

“Its been 10 years,” she said. “All that happened a long time ago. It’s all forgotten. You’re all grown up now. I’m sure there won’t be a problem.” 

“But... but what about the Hachishakusama?” I said.

For a moment, there was silence on the other hand of the phone. Then I heard a deep masculine voice saying:

“Po...Po...Po...PO...PO....PO...”

A game:

In September, 2014, the fifth installment in the game series Fatal Frame was released in Japan (Fatal Frame: Maiden of Black Water). As its premise Fatal Frame takes players out ghost hunting, so every game is full of spooky characters... and in this installment of the game was a strange lady only called the "tall woman" and who was simply described as an 'urban legend.'

Conclusion:

Alright so we understand her weird laughter: “Po... Po... Po... Po” and her ability to abduct children. That could only be done by a powerful demonic entity. Something like a seal may have been broken (similar to stories behind most horror shows like Annabelle or The nun). 

The reason why she always choose children as her victims is because children are dependent on their family members and are very curious in nature, making them fear easier than adults. This makes them easier to deceive as the entities are able to mimick the voice of their family members and feed on their fear.

Well, we all know demons feed on fear and the ability to take one’s life explains how strong the demon is in terms of power. When one demon feeds on the soul of someone, it makes them stronger, more confident and give them the ability to sustain in the living world, longer. 

Hopefully we are able to cover the stories of different demons and their origins soon.

We have come to the end of the article. If you like it, do remember to like and reblog it. Thank you for support, we will see you in the next article! God bless you =)

Hi ! I was wondering, what do you do on a typical day during the holidays ? Like, do you have an established routine ? Wish you a great day/night! xx

Hello!!

I have a guideline, it’s definitely not a schedule and it’s also less regular than a routine because I give myself a lot of flexibility since, you know, it’s my vacation! 😄 i don’t get mad if i don’t accomplish certain tasks, i just leave them for the next day. so this is my “routine” if obviously i’m not doing anything special that day like visiting something, traveling, eating out, etc.

🌅 in the morning

As soon as I wake up I go make my breakfast, which I enjoy having quite early in the morning, around 7.30 AM and in my bedroom, at my work desk. Everyday oatmeal and orange juice! I enjoy opening the windows and letting the fresh air in, normally it’s sunny so I can enjoy the sunbeams without the heat of midday.

While eating I’ll watch the Crash Course yt channel. I really enjoy the nice warm feeling i always get from the channel, and gives my brain healthy activity. I really love any series they have. Right now i’m watching History of Science with Hank (*cough* perhaps a lil crush of mine *cough*). each episode is around 13 minutes, i rlly recommend. There’s also something on my phone called the 10 top news of the day. I check those.

I then resume my day with some physical exercise, including a yoga video from yoga with Adriene and 30 mins on my stationary bike, not in that order particularly, depends on how i’m feeling.

this time really boosts my energy! the yoga is absolutely essential for me. the bike is the most boring part and even though most times I dread it, it’s really good for me. i normally watch vlogs or put some music and the time passes by pretty quickly. I also alternate stationary bike with walking and running in a park nearby when i’m craving more time outside.

after my shower, I still have a few hours before lunch so I do whatever I feel like doing around the house, clean up my room, wash the dishes, also check up on my social media, play a game on my phone. i may resume to my desk after all that to work a bit on my laptop - edit and also write some notes (that i’m making ahead for second year).

soon, 11.30 PM arrives!

🍜 lunch

i have my meals pretty early.

as soon as 11.30 PM hits, I head to the kitchen and choose what I’m having to eat. I prepare my meal, cook or heat leftovers. I join my plates/bowls (I like to make meals pretty complete) and head over to the sofa where I’ll be watching a tv show on my laptop.

or if it’s monday, a last week tonight ep with john oliver.

🌷 in the afternoon

after lunch, if i don’t feel like getting out of the sofa right away, i can because it’s holidays c: so i might watch one more episode if i feel like it. 

the only thing routine wise i have in the afternoon hours is reading and drawing. the rest of the time i do whatever tasks i want to do that day, it varies a lot!

The afternoon hours are the best ones for me to read. it’s good to just snuggle in a corner and read my daily pages. I like to draw something in my sketchbook before dinner (around 6:00 PM, my golden hour) with a cup of tea and something in my earphones - a yt video or some music.

when 6.30 PM comes i do the same thing as in lunch hour! 🍜

☁️ in the evening

after dinner, i either keep watching tv or am on my phone on yt. if i’m not in the mood for that, i’ll return to my desk and write some notes, edit or just listen to music. it relaxes me, but only when i’m in the mood for it, i don’t force it.

because i wake up early, my body just naturally feels sleepy and wants to sleep before 11.00 PM. and that’s the end of my day!

💭 once again, these are all things i do when i’m not going out! So if I do go out in the morning for example, i’ll do my yoga in the afternoon. It changes a lot from day to day, these are just guidelines and I don’t worry too much about it. :3 the beauty of holidays!

also i didn’t mention my family but whenever i’m relaxing or eating or lazying around, i may be doing it with them, i’m not alone all the time hhh

and one final important disclaimer:

my writing makes my days look very structured and almost disciplined, in a way they are because that’s just the way I am - my mind is always making a list of tasks to complete, but I assure you it’s definitely ok to have lazy days, weeks, months! it’s okay to just do nothing. to do whatever you want. everyone enjoys their holidays in a different way.

i enjoy being productive and active on my holidays because it’s how I feel the happiest and I’m using them as best as I possibly can. I’m really enjoying them! before i would lazy around on my holidays, never leave the couch and I didn’t enjoy my days half as much as I enjoy them now. :)

I hope this satisfied your curiosity! I wish you a great one too!! 💕💕

Apartment Tour

Living Room/Dining Room

This the room I’m often in the most compared to the other rooms of my apartment. It’s a mix between a living and dining room so it’s bigger than the rest of the spaces I have. At least I have that for things like when I have people over or need some time to relax outside of being in my bedroom. Plus, I have a little stationary bike I can use when I watch TV.

Bathroom

Nothing special about it other than I have a few posters in there, a litter box for my cat and my curtain is a shark. That cat makes quite a mess with litter sprayed everywhere when she finishes her business. I’ve got all I need in there, so I’m set for a while.

Bedroom

I try to not spend a ton of time in this room as in the past if I lay down in my bed, I’m likely to fall asleep. Those naps range from fifteen minutes up to around three to four hours, that often throws my day off track. The room is now full of My Hero Academia posters now so I’m happy about that. For the longest time my walls were pretty bare but now it’s fairly filled in. 

Kitchen

It’s not a large room by any means but it does the job it’s supposed to do. Everything is a bit smaller than your general appliances and all of the cabinets are built lower too so that shorter people can reach them too. The apartment complex is one made for special needs people and seniors. I’m needing to make meals more often than I do as it does have a difference when I bake something or use the stove vs just using the microwave to heat something up. Who doesn’t like to have a home made meal? I sure do.

My father's family home was just a little under two hours away by car from where we lived, a small village surrounded by farmland. I often stayed with my grandparents during my summer vacation and winter breaks from school, and they were always happy to play with me... but the last time I visited them was over ten years ago now, when I was still in my third year of high school. It was my Spring break and I had been invited to visit; and since the weather was good, I rode my bike out to their house. After I got there I was a little cold, so I stretched out for a moment in a warm sunny spot off the road. Then I heard something strange... "Popo, Popoppo, Po, pop ...  It wasn't a mechanical noise; it sounded strange... but human. I looked about to see where the noise was coming from, and saw a white hat peeking over the top of the hedge. The hat moved along to a break in the hedge, when I could see that it was being worn by a woman with a white dress. She had to be tall, though; the hedge was over two meters high (six feet). Before I could really think about this much, the woman was gone, seemingly disappeared. The strange sound was gone too. At the time, I just guessed that the person's apparent height had been due either to wearing very tall platform shoes, or that it had been a man dressed up like a woman. Odd, but that was all. A little later, while having tea with Grandma and Grandpa, I mentioned the strange person I had seen and that I thought it was a transvestite... but when, as an afterthought, I also mentioned the strange "po, po, po" noise, my grandparents panicked. My Grandpa suddenly showered me with questions: "when did you see this?!," "how much taller than the fence?!," "Did they look AT you?!". I answered as quickly as he asked, then he rushed to the phone in the hallway, shutting the sliding door so I couldn't hear the call. The room was suddenly very quiet. Grandma smiled a little, but was trembling for some reason. Grandpa came back soon, and told me I would be staying overnight with them. I had to admit that I didn't understand what the fuss was about, and asked what was so bad about the strange woman. Grandpa said "Grandma can tell you." He then looked at her and said he was going to pick up someone named "K-san" (Mr. or Mrs. K), and then left. In a clearly shaky voice, Grandma said: "It seems that Hachishakusama has become interested in you... but we shouldn't worry. Grandpa is making arrangements." Grandma then told me, a little at a time, that Hachishakusama was not a person; she was some sort of monster, named Hachishakusama because of her height... 8 shaku [Japanese foot, about 11.9 inches] tall, "hachi" [8] "shaku" [foot] "sama" [person]. Her appearance could change somewhat -- sometimes young, sometimes old -- but she would always be abnormally tall, and would always have a creepy laugh... "Po Po Po. "Once Hachishakusama took an interest in a person, they were hunted to death in just a few days; and the last known victim of Hachishakusama had been fifteen years previous. I learned later that Hachishakusama was supposed to be trapped in a shrine near the village, having been sealed in by four statues of Jizo, a protective deity of children, each placed to the north, south, east, and west of the structure. The village had some sort of agreement with it's neighboring villages, wherein they were given some advantages to make up for the fact they had to watch over the monster... for example, they got first priority on water use. Since it had been over a dozen years since Hachishakusama had killed anyone, I have to wonder if the old men in those villages thought it was still a good arrangement. At the time I couldn't quite believe what I was being told, of course; but then Grandpa returned with a very old lady. K-san, for that's who it was, handed me a small paper charm and told me to hold onto it. Then she and Grandpa went upstairs. While they were upstairs, I tried to excuse myself to use the bathroom... but my Grandma wouldn't let me go alone, and she insisted on keeping the door open and an eye on me as I was using the facilities. This is when I started to really understand just how serious my grandparents felt the situation was. I was soon led upstairs to a bedroom. The single window in the room had been covered with newspaper, on which a charm like the one I was holding had been affixed. In each corner was a small pile of Morishio -- sacred salt -- and they had also set up a small wood box with a statue of Buddha on it. I was told I would have to stay in the room until seven the next morning, and that I couldn't leave no matter what (they provided a bucket for me to potty in!). Grandpa made it clear that neither he nor Grandma would talk to me until seven the next morning. K-san told me to keep the charm on me, and to pray to the Buddha if I got scared. I had a bed and a TV in the room. Grandma had left me snacks. I tried to watch some TV, but couldn't pay attention. I wasn't hungry, either. So I just lay one the bed, wrapped in the sheets, and eventually fell asleep because the next thing I remember was waking up to a late night show on the TV. My watch said it was around 1AM. And I heard something tapping on the glass of the window. I tried to ignore it. It was very persistent. I had some tea and a snack, and turned up the TV to drown out the tapping. Then I heard Grandpa call from the hall, "Are you alright? It's okay to come out if you're too scared." I started for the door automatically, but stopped myself as I remembered how insistent Grandpa had been that he wouldn't talk to me until seven. Again I heard him: "It's okay, come here." I wanted it to be my Grandpa's voice... but somehow it wasn't. I suddenly had goosebumps all over me; then I noticed the salt in the corner. It was becoming darker. I dropped in front of the Buddha,clasping the charm in both hands, and started praying for help. "Popoppo, Po, Popo ..." The tapping on the window started again, louder than before, more insistent. Then a definite hand slapped the window... despite the fact I was on the second floor. I did the only thing I could; I kept praying to Buddha. It was a long night. I really don't remember much other than praying until I heard the news on the TV. I looked over, and the morning clock on the news screen showed it was 7:13AM. The tapping had stopped. The voice was gone. The salt in the corners was almost black. I gingerly opened the door. Grandma and K-san, both looking worried, were there. Grandma, in tears, told me things were going to be okay. Downstairs I found my father waiting. Grandpa came in from outside, and we needed to drive off... outside, I found there was a number of men standing around near a van. My Grandpa's car was in front of the van, and my father's was behind it. I was seated in the middle of the van with eight of the men sitting around me; one to each side, and then three in front and three in back. One more man took the driver's seat, and K-san took the passenger side of the front. I was told to keep my eyes closed, and my face pointing down. "You are the only one who can see Hachishakusama... don't look at her!" Our convoy started off, slowly at first. I don't think we had even traveled 20 kilometers before K-san warned us things were about to get hard... then she started to chant phrases that sounded Buddhist. And then I heard the laugh again: "Poppopo, Po, pop, Popopo ..." I clutched the charm to my chest and kept my head down, but couldn't resist a quick peek at the window; that was a mistake. I could see a white dress. It appeared stationary to the car's window, even though we had to be moving very fast at that point. The figure moved as if to lower its head to the window, and I gasped... and the man next to me told me to shut my eyes, which I did, and tightly. Though no one else could see Hachishakusama, they all heard what happened next: the tapping. I don't know how, but the tapping started on every window in the van, all at the same time. I don't know how long it lasted but, over time, it faded. K-san had stopped chanting by that time as well, and eventually said that she felt we were now safe, so the cars all pulled over. My father and Grandpa thanked all the men who had assisted; as it turned out, all of them were related to me. Grandpa and K-san had hoped to confuse Hachishakusama by surrounding me with many people of the same bloodline. I had to stay overnight while Grandpa was gathering my kinsmen, and it was deemed safer to try to escape during the day than the night. K-san asked me to show her the charm which I had forgotten I was still holding; it had turned almost entirely black. K-san commented "it should be alright now, but just in case..."; and with that she handed me a new charm to hold until I got home. I drove home with my father. During the drive, he told me that one of his friends when he was young had been taken by Hachishakusama. Grandpa and the neighbors delivered my bike back to me later. In talking to my Grandpa over the phone, I've confirmed that it was not his voice I heard outside the room that night (which sent shivers down my spine again). Hachishakusama targets teens and children... so if the monster speaks with a familiar relative's voice, the victim would normally come to it willingly. I'd almost forgotten this all after ten years. Grandma called to tell me that one of the Jizo statues that had sealed Hachishakusama into the shrine looked as if it had been broken by someone; the statue that was broken lined up with the road leading to our home. Two years ago my Grandpa died; sadly, I was not allowed to attend his funeral. I try to tell myself it was all superstition... but sometimes I still hear that voice call: "Popopo ..."

Don’t Let Go: Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing

Word Count 4,980

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is this?” You asked Bucky in Romanian as you held up one of the plums he was looking at for lunch. He smirked as he looked over at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a plum.” He responded in English. Your face deadpanned as you looked up at him.

“Really, James?” You snapped as he moved onto the apples… măr. You had been forced to  learn quite a few different languages when you were with HYDRA but there were still some words you didn’t know. “I know it’s a plum, jerk.” He chuckled as be grabbed a few apples.

“Prună.” You nodded as you tossed the plum up in the air.

“Why are you so mean to me?” You teased in Romanian once more as he paid for the fruit. He shrugged as he handed you an apple.

“Because I can.” He smiled smugly as he took a bite of the plum, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I’m gunna head up to the drug store. We need a few things.” He nodded as he held up a finger while he chewed.

“Can you grab me a new notebook? I’m almost finished with the last one.” You nodded as you kissed his cheek.

“See you at home.”

——

You were putting your purchases in your backpack as you headed back to your apartment when a giant shadow caught your attention. You looked up as a very familiar man with wings flew overhead.

“Shit.” You grumbled as you threw your backpack on your back and took off running to your apartment. You didn’t know how, but you knew you had been found. You dodged cars and people as you dashed through the streets of Bucharest to get back to your apartment; praying that this wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. It was.

“Go!” Bucky shouted at you as you rounded the corner of the apartment building. You spun on your heel and ran in the other direction; slowing just barely to let him get in front of you to lead the way. You leapt over the edge of a bridge after him and landed hard on the hood of a car. You rolled to your feet and chased after your husband as a man in a black body suit jumped down behind you.

“The hell is that?” You shouted as the pair of you ran as fast as you could; passing cars like they were standing stationary as they drove along the street.

“I don’t wanna know.” You nodded as you slid across the hood of a car that tried to switch lanes in front of you. “Here!” You glanced up as Bucky grabbed the handle of a motorcycle and ripped it out of the hands of the rider. You launched yourself into the air and landed on the seat behind him; slamming into his back as the wheels hit the ground.

“Good.” You shouted as you wrapped your arms around his middle. As he took off, you glanced behind you at the people chasing you. Your heart lurched in your chest to see Steve and you knew this wasn’t good.

“Lean!” He shouted as he dipped the bike to the left. You threw your body to the right to keep some semblance of balance as he dug his metal fingers into he pavement to make the sharp turn he wanted. As he got the bike upright, you heard the sound of Sam’s carbon fiber wings right above your head.

“They’re on us.” You shouted over the wind as Bucky glanced back. He quickly reached into his pocket and grabbed a grenade. He chucked it as hard as he could at an overpass and you ducked your head into his shoulder as fragments of concrete and dust rained down on your back.

You barely had time to look back up when the bike suddenly crashed. You growled as you rolled across the pavement until you slowed down enough to jump to your feet. You were almost instantly tackled to the ground by Sam as the man in the black suit lunged at Bucky. Steve sailed over your head and knocked the man off Bucky as you launched Sam away from you. The tunnel was suddenly filled with the sound of sirens as Rhodie in his War Machine suit came out of no where.

“Stand down, now.” He said as he held up his hands; his blasters whining to full power in a second. You bit your cheek as Steve and Bucky both put their arms out protectively in front of you. You glanced around at the two dozen or so guns that were pointed at you and sighed as the cops ran over. “Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal.” You were forced onto your knees, thrown into cuffs and laid down on the pavement next to Bucky. You glanced over at him as someone forced their knee into your back to keep you in place while they cuffed the other three men.

“Sorry, doll.” Bucky said softly in Romanian just before the two of you were lifted off the ground and carried away by the cops.

——

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tony snapped at you. You didn’t say a word as you sat in an interrogation room in the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre in Berlin, drumming your fingers against the arm rest of the chair you had been confined in for hours. “You were harboring a fugitive…”

“I was getting my husband back.” You snapped as you continued your stare down with the man who saw you as the enemy.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes as you continued to drum your fingers.

“Are you arresting me? If not, let me go.” He shook his head as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“I can’t do that.” You bobbed your eyebrows and nodded.

“OK.” You ripped your arms up and demolished the handcuffs that kept you in the chair. Tony leapt to his feet as you jumped up onto the chair and knocked out the air vent.

“(Y/N)!” Tony shouted as you pulled yourself into the air vent at the same moment the power went out. You froze for only a second before scrambling as fast as you could away from the room. You moved until you found a clear room; a broom closet.

“There we go.” You mumbled as you lifted the air vent out. You dropped down and peaked out the door.

“Come with me.” Steve shouted as he ran past you. Your brow furrowed as you stepped out of the room and ran after him. “Bucky’s been compromised.”

“Shit.” You followed him into the room where they had been holding Bucky and you paused as you looked at the couple guards that were laying on the ground. “Something’s wrong.” You told Sam as he came to a stop behind you. He nodded as the two of you followed Steve toward a man laying on the ground. As you approached the second doorway, you heard the all too familiar to you mechanical whirl of your husband’s arm.

“Down!” You shouted as you ducked a punch. Sam didn’t get completely out of the way fast enough, giving Bucky enough time to grab him by the jaw and whip him across the room. Steve let the man he was talking to go as Bucky punched you hard in the stomach, sending you flying into a wall. A groan escaped your lips as you sank down to the floor, watching a man who was not your James attack his childhood best friend. You scrambled to your feet, wincing as your ribs began to heal themselves and chased after Bucky.

“James!” You screamed as he pushed Steve down the elevator shaft. Bucky spun around to glare at you; chest heaving. “Don’t.” You watched his brow furrow ever so slightly before he spun on his heel and stormed off. You groaned as you chased after him.

“Freeze!” Someone shouted as a few men jumped in-between you and Bucky. You instantly flew into fight mode. Guns went flying and bodies dropped in seconds as you ripped into the men, consequences be damned. When the last body fell; dead or alive, you didn’t know, you ran in the direction Bucky had gone. You saw Steve running up the stairs and you quickly followed after him. Silent prayers were sent; begging anything to bring you back your husband in one piece.

“Hold it!” Someone shouted as they cocked a gun and held it to your head as you rounded a corner.

“Oh, come on!” You screamed as you snatched their gun and stripped it in seconds. You tossed the pieces over the rail as you kicked them through a door and continued up the stairs. You burst through the doors to the helicopter pad at the same moment Bucky grabbed Steve by the throat through the broken window of a trashed helicopter. You screamed his name as gravity took over.

In slow motion, Bucky’s dilated eyes found yours and his face softened. You sprinted toward him as the helicopter fell over the edge of the pad. Without thinking, you dove off the edge into the water below. Your stomach clenched at the harsh impact with the ice cold water and you shivered slightly. As quickly as you could, you swam toward Steve who was dragging Bucky’s unconscious body from the sinking wreckage.

“I can’t let you take him.” Steve said as the two of you surfaced with Bucky a moment later. You shook your head in disagreement.

“I can’t let them have him again. We have been in Bucharest…”

“I know.” Steve said as he looked back at the Terrorist Center. With a small shake of his head, he shoved Bucky toward you. “Go. I’ll find you.”

“Safe house, 2 hours north.” He nodded as he swam slowly toward the shore. You wrapped your arm around Bucky’s chest and swam as fast as you could toward the bridge behind you.

——

“What happened?” You turned around in the back bedroom of the safe house as you towel dried your hair.

“Who are you to me?” You asked as you jutted your chin toward Bucky. He squeezed his eyes closed as he slowly sat up on the bed.

“Your husband.” You nodded as you tossed the towel across the room.

“Lost you for a minute there. Thanks to the soldier for breaking my ribs.” He shook his head as he rubbed his eyes.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” You shook your head as you leaned against the door frame of the bedroom.

“Wasn’t you. You and I both know I am one of the soul advocates of your split personality nowadays.” He nodded as he looked over at you and you gave him a small smile. “Besides, I self heal. No skin off my back.” He sighed as he looked around the room.

“Where are we?” He asked.

“Safe house outside of Berlin waiting for Steve.” He nodded again as he got up from the bed slowly.

“Did I kill anyone?” You shook your head.

“Not that I know of.” He sighed as he walked over to you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist.

“All he had to do was say the Goddamn words.” You sighed as you wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his chest.

“So we keep moving. They can’t make you that person if they can’t find us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure about this?” You whispered in Romanian as Bucky dragged you onto the ferris wheel in London. He had remembered the promise he had made you a few days before and he was determined to follow through. Even if this wasn’t the Brooklyn fair.

“Doll… will you just enjoy the damn ride?” You looked up at him as he swept his arm in front of his body to usher you onto the ride. You smirked as you reached up and pulled his hat down a little farther on his face.

“You owe me cotton candy, too.” He smiled as you stood along the window in the far corner of the left side of the car. As the two of you waited for the rest of the car to fill up, you stood with your back to his chest looking out the window, his arms wrapped around you protectively and both of you keeping your eyes moving and your heads tucked. You were the two most wanted people in the world. You jumped the tiniest bit when the door closed, a little lost in your own world. Bucky chuckled as he kissed your temple.

“I told you I’d take you on a ferris wheel.” He whispered as the ferris wheel started to move. You smiled and pulled his arms around you more.

“Don’t let go.” You tried to let your worries go; to let yourself completely enjoy the moment but you couldn’t. You and Bucky had been on the run for two months and your faces were plastered everywhere. You did everything you could to hide yourselves; moving from country to country every couple weeks, staying out of bigger cities. This was just something neither of you wanted to pass up.

“We got company.” He said as the ride was coming to an end. You glanced to where he was pointing and saw Steve standing at the base looking up at you. You pulled your messenger bag around to the front of your thigh.

“You check in with him recently?” You asked as he wrapped his metal hand around a knife from the bag and tucked it into his jacket sleeve. He shook his head as you watched which direction Steve was walking; giving you a direction of where to meet him to talk.

“Not since Serbia.” You nodded as the doors next to you opened. You kept one hand wrapped around the gun in your bag as the other pulled your ball cap down lower on your face. Bucky put his free hand on your back and quickly lead you through the crowds of people. You both kept your faces down but your eyes never stopped moving. As you made your way through the streets, the flash of a laser pointer caught your attention.

“Here.” You said as you subtly pointed to the morse code message on the ground. Bucky hesitated for a moment, before turning you both around and leading you into a building.

“Third floor.” He said as he pointed toward the stairs. You nodded as you pulled out your gun and headed up the stairs. You moved silently, expecting nothing but always preparing for the worst as the third floor came into view. You paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to let Bucky go first.

“I’m alone.” Steve said as the two of you made your way down the hallway.

“Why are you here?” Bucky asked as he ducked the room Steve walked into. You quickly shut the door behind you and moved your back to an interior wall.

“Haven’t heard from either of you.” Bucky nodded as he peaked out the window, always the spy.

“We’ve been on the move.” He said as he moved to stand beside you on the wall.

“We got you two cleared.” Steve said as he took a seat across the room, took off his ball cap and brushed his hand through his short brown hair. “You can come home.”

“We don’t have a home.” Bucky said as he glanced over at you. You nodded in agreement as you joggled your gun in your hand.

“We haven't had a home since 1941.” Steve nodded as he leaned his arms forward on his thighs.

“Well, now you do. Stark Tow…”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” You shook your head and Bucky nodded in agreement.

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. And we’ve come up with some pretty stupid ideas, Steve.” You glanced over at Bucky who shrugged you off.

“Guys, it is the safest…”

“Oh, don’t give me that. The two of us can never be safe.” Bucky said as he gestured between you. “She is the weakness HYDRA needs to get to me. Once they do, this is useless.” He said as he flicked his skull.

“The only thing that’s safe about going to the tower is knowing we aren’t out in the world any longer. US government thinking at its…”

“That’s not it at all.” Steve interrupted. “I want you at home with me. The three of us deserve…”

“To be caged like animals?” You asked as you leaned back against the wall.

“Tony is never going to let me be free. He’s gunna lock me up and…”

“No, Buck. I promise that isn’t going to happen.” You saw the flash of something outside the window and your heart stopped.

“We don’t have a choice, do we?” You asked as you held up your gun. Steve shook his head as you took a half step to the side and shot down the little hovercraft outside the window.

“I’m sorry.”

“Move!” Bucky shouted as he shoved you toward the door. You made it two steps before a tranquilizer dart hit you in the shoulder. You stumbled on your own feet as Bucky moved to pick you up. “I got…” He said wearily as he fell into your back. You both slid down against the wall and landed in a crumpled pile on the floor; fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“James, the door is obviously not opening no matter how hard you bang on it.” You said in Portuguese as you watched your husband try to punch through the door of the bedroom the two of you had been trapped in for a week.

“Shut up.” He growled in between punches. You rolled your eyes and laid your head back down on the bed with a sigh.

“Will you please stop trying to break my door!” Tony shouted over the intercom in your plush jail cell/ bedroom in Stark Tower.

“Let us out then!” You snapped as Bucky switched back to trying to rip the door off the wall.

“I will let you out if you quit. Trying. To break. My. Shit!” Tony barked. You glanced up at Bucky and shrugged as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Keep breaking it, baby. They’re gunna trap us like zoo animals, we might as well act like them.” The TV in your room turned on and Steve’s face popped up on it.

“(Y/N)…” You glared at him and shook your head.

“This is what you wanted. Us off the map and ‘safe’.” You used air quotes as Bucky walked over and looked at the TV. He growled as he pointed at the screen.

“You wanted the threat removed. Might as well figure out how to kill a super soldier and the Winter Soldier because we are NOT willingly here and we will find a way out. And once the ‘threat’ is out, we’re coming after you for this.” He snapped at his friend.

“Buck, come on. We are just…”

“You aren’t just doing shit, Steve.” You said as you laid back down on the bed, beyond annoyed. “You and the billionaire fuck boy are just scared Bucky’s gunna get turned again. We’re no threat to you. He was doing just fine with me on his six out in the world.” You heard the TV switch to static before clicking off in general. Bucky roared and slammed his metal fist through the TV before flopping down on the bed next to you.

“The hell are we gunna do?” He growled in Portuguese, your language of choice nowadays. You shook your head as you rolled into his side.

“I have no freaking idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still need to get you a ring.” You laughed as Bucky looked at your naked left hand.

“It’s only been, what seventy years of marriage?” His brow furrowed as he scooted to the side behind you and looked at you.

“I hate to ask this but, when did we get married?” You smiled up at him.

“Tell me what you remember and I’ll fill in.” He nodded, agreeing to your game once again. You didn’t want to ever bombard him with memories, never wanting to overwhelm him all at once. So he had typically taken to bringing up a memory and letting you fill in the rest.

“Steve did it… Quite poorly.” Bucky chuckled as you settled back on his chest. You nodded as he played with your fingers some more. “And we were in… wait, Denmark?” You nodded in confirmation as he shook his head to joggle more information forward. “You were wearing an olive green shirt that was really big on you.” Your head whipped back to him and you laughed.

“How do you remember that but not the date?” You teased. He shrugged as you bopped his nose. “Yes, that was actually your shirt because Dum Dum spilled his coffee on mine. We got married April 26th, 1944.”

“Seventy-two, almost seventy-three years of marriage.”

“You know, we are gunna be winners with a date like that. It’s the….” You stumbled on the word in Portuguese and spun your hand in front of you for a second. “The Guinness book…” He nodded in understanding.

“Registro. Record.” You nodded as a click sounded by the door signaling meal time. You settled back against his lap, not quite hungry yet when instead of just the bottom portion opening; a slot no bigger than allowing two dinner trays to pass through like an actual jail cell, the whole door moved. Neither of you moved as you looked at the actual bedroom door for the first time in well over a month.

“It’s a trap.” You said in German. When you wanted to have private conversations, the two of you switched languages and tenses in whispered words, knowing full well that you were constantly being watched.

“You think?” He asked in Japanese; one of the languages he knew that you were still learning. You nodded as he sat forward so his mouth was hidden in your hair and you pulled his hands up to your lips.

“We’ve been trapped in this room for a month by the playboy.” You whispered, every other word in Italian and Romanian as you ran Bucky’s metal fingers across your lip to distort anything decipherable. “The only reason they are opening that door is to open up our jail cell to a little more square footage…”

“Is that a bad thing? This room is…” You nodded as you gently bit his finger to interrupt.

“Think about who we have to deal with if we go out there.” He tapped your side in acknowledgement as he leaned back against the headboard.

“I’m gunna get you a ring.” He said once again in Portuguese as he went back to playing with your fingers. You leaned back against him, both of your eyes on the door as you waited for what was next.

——

You realized quickly with the door opening, you were no longer getting meals delivered. Stark and Steve were purposely trying to flush you out of your room. Being used to living on the run, the two of you went two whole days without coming out of your room to get food. By day three, Steve couldn’t take it anymore.

“Guys, can I come in? I come in peace.” Steve called out. You could smell the bacon and eggs through the door and Bucky’s stomach growled next to you. You glanced over at him out of the corner of your eye, letting him make the choice.

“Fine.” He called out once Steve knocked again. He opened the door and carried a large tray into the room with a literal small white flag in a large stack of pancakes. Almost as if he knew neither of you would get up when he was in the room, he set the tray on the end of the bed and pushed it toward the both of you.

“What do you want, Steve?” Bucky asked as you reached for a grape from the small bowl of fruit, unable to control your hunger with the small buffet in front of you. Your friend took a step over to the door and leaned against the wall.

“We found a way to wipe out the brainwashing.” You both kept your eyes on the tray of food but you and Bucky both passed your hands over each other under the ruse that you were grabbing something from the far side of the tray. A subtle way of grabbing each other's hands. When neither of you said anything, Steve sigh and continued, realizing it was going to be a one sided conversation. “We have to go to Wakanda to do it. T’Challa said they have the capabilities and they are more than willing to help out.” You glanced over at Bucky out of the corner of your eye as he took a hold of your hand. You felt him write the word ‘panther’ on your palm and you tapped his hand once to tell him ‘yes.’

“No.” Bucky said as he tossed the flag onto the floor, rolled up a pancake and bit it in half.

“Buck, I promise you, he wants to help. That’s all we all want.” You glanced up at him through your lashes as you speared some scrambled eggs on a fork and took a bite. “I just want my friends back, pal. That’s all this is.”

“So friends typically lock their friends in jail cells?” You mumbled in Russian, knowing Steve wouldn’t understand. You glanced over at Bucky as you grabbed a piece of bacon. “Sounds kinky, right?” You watched the corner of his mouth twitch under his long hair as he grabbed some eggs.

“We aren’t trying to lock you in a jail cell.” Natasha said in Russian as she strolled into the room. Steve instantly put his arm out and stopped her in the doorway as you went back to eating your breakfast. “We wanted to keep you safe where you weren't having to look over your shoulder and live in fear everyday.”

“But that wasn’t your choice to make.” You said as you looked up at her; completely ignoring Steve’s look of confusion. “That’s our choice. Husband and wife. If we choose to live in trashy apartments and move around every other week, that’s our choice. It’s not yours to make for us.” She took a deep breath and glanced over at Bucky before looking back at you.

“Unfortunately, it is. You see…”

“Get out.” You said in English as you pointed toward the door. You knew exactly where she was going with her rant; you had heard it before from the two people in front of you. “He is a person, not some mindless killing machine. How am I the only person who still sees that?”

“As long as those words will trigger him, he is a threat to everyone.” Tony’s voice called out over the intercom.

“And at this point, if you don’t let us out of this Goddamn tower and let us go, I’ll be the one letting the Winter Soldier out. How about that? Now, get. Out.”

“Let us clear him and then you can go!” Steve pleaded as Natasha stormed out of the room. “Please, I am begging you. I have to do this.” You grabbed the bowl of fruit and headed into your ensuite bathroom, slamming the door behind you so hard it splintered. With a heavy sigh, you sat down on the floor by the door and listened to Bucky and Steve talking in the other room. You knew you were going to Wakanda; knew even if Bucky said no, you wouldn’t let him live in fear of when the next lapse would be. You just hated the way the Avengers went about doing this. After a few minutes you heard the bedroom door close a few seconds before the bathroom door opened.

“So when do we leave?” You asked as you held up the fruit bowl to him. He grabbed an apple slice and leaned against the door frame.

“Hour. You OK with that?” You slowly looked up at him and shook your head.

“James, I would never not tell you to fix this. If they had come to us in London with this same information and told us we could go right after, I would have signed up for that immediately. I’m pissed that they are locking you up like an animal.”

“Yea, you and me both but there isn’t much we can do about it, doll. I am an animal.” You scrambled to your feet and tossed the bowl of fruit onto the counter. You grabbed his face in your palms and shook your head.

“Don’t you dare. You are not an animal, Bucky. So, there is a little bit of misfiring up here once in a blue moon. That isn’t your fault. It’s about as much your fault to turn into the Winter Soldier as it is mine for killing those people in the castle of hell.” He sighed as you brushed your thumbs across his cheeks. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you to his chest.

“I love you, so much.” You smirked as you moved his hair back behind his ears.

“I know you do. I’m pretty freaking awesome.” He rolled his eyes as he walked you back toward the shower with a small smirk on his face.

“You know what, I think I want a divorce. You’re a pain.” You smiled as you pulled him down for a chaste kiss before the two of you got in the shower to get ready for the trip to Wakanda.

Let Lips Do What Hands Do - Ten

A/N: It’s finally an update! I hope you enjoy it and thanks for sticking around! The last half of this is pure smut so be warned. ;-) Thanks as always to @treefingers for being my beta!

previous

Taron sighs when Addie's ringtone springs from his pocket and he quickly connects the call. "Hey cariad, what's up?"

It's true he's not expecting a call from her as she should be teaching, but he's happy to hear from her.

"I am on my way to the fucking drug store to get a fucking pregnancy test."

"Addie!"

"Oh, it'll be negative, I can assure you," she sneers. "I can't fucking believe this."

"What?"

"Well, I threw up four times this morning, so I had to go visit the school nurse before I could get dismissed. She grins at me as I tell her what had happened, only having thrown up three times at this point, and she just gets this fucking smug smile across her unpleasant face. And she says, 'Are you having sex regularly with that handsome boyfriend of yours?' To which I said, 'I don't really see how that's your business.' And she cackles. She literally cackles, Taron! And she says, 'Well, Miss Lee, I think it's time you consider you might be pregnant.' I threw up again then so she signed my release, never mind a third of the school is out with a bug, so now I'm on my way to the fucking drug store to get a pee stick."

Taron's mind is finally catching up to everything she's just said — pregnancy test, throwing up, negative, pee stick. His heart hammers in his chest... Addie could be pregnant with his child. He could be a father.

"Addie, are you all right?"

She sniffles on the other end of the line and he imagines her wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know. I feel like shit, my face is all puffy and I'm going to the store to buy a pregnancy test. It's freezing outside, too."

"Are you coming home after you get it? Can I meet you somewhere? You don't have to do this alone."

Addie freezes on the sidewalk, tripping over the word 'home.' She still has her apartment and he of course still frequents his own house, but home is an entirely different idea. Home is Taron.

"Yeah, I'll come to you."

At the drugstore, Addie drops a pregnancy test and two jugs of Pedialite into her basket, taking a quick break to throw up in the rubbish bin out on the sidewalk. The man behind the counter eyes her warily and gives her a half smile, making her feel like both already know the results of the test. She groans as she flags a taxi to take her to Taron's house, ripping into the packaging to read the instructions.

They sit together on the bathroom floor, the plastic test resting on the tile beside Addie's leg.

"Please let it be negative." She mutters, dropping her head to her knees.

"Addie," Taron says softly, rubbing her back. "You keep acting like being pregnant with our child is the worst thing in the world. Is it me or—"

"Or what, Taron? It's not you, it's the situation. Now is the worst possible time for me to be pregnant. I'm supposed to move back to America in a few months and I couldn't do that with a baby bump. I couldn't take the child away from you unless you gave me reason to."

"I'm pretty sure you could if you wanted."

"I wouldn't want to," Addie says. "I was raised by a single parent most of my life and my dad did an outstanding job but it was hard for both of us. I'd have to find a school looking for a second-semester hire because no school would employ the pregnant woman who would be having her baby early in the year. I have to work, otherwise what is this all for?"

“Plans can change, Addie."

“I know that, Taron,” Addie says sharply. “I’ve worked really hard and I’ve been on the pill for what? A decade? Like, it’s not that I don’t want to be a mother, I just don’t want to be one right now. I thought I was in control of this."

"I'm sure it's negative," he says softly, resigning to let her have this moment.

His phone vibrates across the floor, the signal that the time has come. Addie picks up the test and hands it to Taron. "I can't look." She huffs out a breath and leans forward so her forehead is touching her knees.

Taron looks and the small screen, his hand shaking as he holds it, and sighs. "Not pregnant."

Addie's silent for a few moments before releasing the breath she'd been holding. "You sound disappointed."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I've been imagining what it would be like to have a baby with you in half hour since you called. What she would look like, how he would act, how we would act — it all was very lovely. I guess I got a bit excited. I totally understand where you're coming from, and contractually I wouldn’t even be here if you were to deliver in the fall. So, I get that. It just sounds nice, doesn't it? Our child. He or she would be adorable, and we could read the baby books and take the little one on adventures. I got ahead of myself."

"It does sound nice," Addie says, leaning into his shoulder. "I would like to be established with my career and, you know, not have this question of whether or not the father and I will still be together."

Addie's departure hangs over them like a dark and heavy cloud, casting shadows over every happy moment. How can Taron let the love of his life move around the world? How can he ask her to stay when he'll be absent for large chunks of time? How could he ask her to give up her dreams for him and deny that which she has worked so hard to obtain?

He's can't, so Taron pulls her against his shoulder and kisses the top of her head.

"It's just a bug then. Let's get you tucked in and I'll make you some soup."

Addie pulls the covers all the way up to her chin, realizing how cold and achy her entire body is.

"D'you need anything else?" Taron asks, running his fingers over her hair.

"No," she says. "Thank you."

"Of course," he says. He switches off the lamp by her side of the bed and walks around the room to hopefully let her sleep.

"T?"

"Yeah, cariad?"

"I would want you to father my children when I'm ready to be a mother."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That would make me really happy." He sinks onto the bed and brushes her hot face, smiling before leaning in for a kiss.

"Don't," she says, whipping away from him. "You could get this awful bug."

"I won't," he says. "I've been exposed to it already, but I also have the immune system of an elephant so I won't get sick."

"Do elephants have good immune systems?"

"No idea," Taron says, kissing her quickly, "but I won't get sick."

He is wrong, of course. Taron throws up twice by the time the sun sets, and he finds himself curled on his side next to his girlfriend, both of them aching and unmoving.

It is a weekend of soup, naps and Netflix, and Taron sighs as he stares at the ceiling. "This is it, innit?"

Addie rolls over so she's facing him, feeling much better now than she had in days. "What?"

"Love."

"What?"

"Spending all weekend in bed with each other in between throwing up and feeling awful. I mean, this is really it."

"I think so, yes. Those other times you told me you loved me — were you lying?"

"Of course not," Taron says. "I meant it then and I mean it now. It feels different, I guess. Long haul and all that."

Addie laughs which turns into a horrendous bout of coughing, her throat raw and aching from throwing up so much. "If we ever get married or make some kind of verbal commitment to each other, that is what I want your vow to be. 'Long haul and all that.' "

Taron chuckles and finds her hand somewhere in the sheets. "I love you, Adelaide Lee."

"Love you, too."

A week later, Addie's requested the morning to herself for grading papers and studying for an exam, and the clock has now ticked its way into the afternoon. Taron brought her a sandwich and soup and hour ago which now is an empty bowl and a plate of crumbs along with the crusts, and she feels like she's no closer to making it through the pile of papers.

She's vaguely aware the sounds of the stationary bike stop in Taron's gym, and the she glances at him wiping his neck with a towel. He's simply gorgeous as stretches, his white T-shirt rising revealing the dimples and the base of his spine.

"Concentrate," Addie murmurs to herself as she shifts her eyes back to a comparison of Boewulf and Iron Man. She reads and edits a few more paragraphs before there's Taron.

He saunters by her, smelling like sweat with his athletic pants low on his hips. He shouldn't be such a distraction.

She can put him out of her mind when he disappears around the corner without a word, but then he's back.

Taron's hand is warm on her arm and then his lips land right beneath her ear. She sighs when he nips that place where her neck meets her shoulder, his fingers sliding her sweatshirt down her skin.

It's such a good distraction. He’s firmly grasping her shoulder and pulling her hair, licking her skin and nibbling and her neck. Addie gasps as his hand slides to her breast, squeezing it as firmly as he had her shoulder. She's on fire, his every twist of her hair stoking the flames. His cheek is wet beneath her palm and she laughs when his lips finally move to hers. She could have an orgasm right now — still fully dressed and not even touched below the waist.

Twisting her hair between her fingers, he pulls out the elastic band and flips her ponytail in his palm. Addie can still feel the places his lips and teeth have been, and he sweeps over her one more time.

Just as quickly as he came, he leaves. Addie sinks on the bench as her eyes follow him up the stairs. The whole exchange couldn't have lasted more than three minutes but it was enough.

She shoves the lid on her pen and pops up, chasing after him. "Taron, you can't just leave me like that!"

He's in the bedroom without a shirt, sweat glistening on his chest.

"I thought you said no distractions," he answers, sliding his trousers down his legs.

"So you think getting me all hot and bothered and then leaving isn't a distraction?"

"Just wanted to kiss you, cariad," he says nonchalantly, slipping out of his pants. If he wants to play this game, Addie's gathered enough of her wits about her to play, too. She kisses the corner of his lips because she knows she'll lose her composure if she were to kiss him full on, and she moves her lips to his jaw. She can do the things he did, licking his shoulder and squeezing his bicep. Addie has the advantage though — her boyfriend is naked.

His skin is salty beneath her tongue as she runs a finger tip over one pec and her mouth over the other. She earns a grunt as she wraps her hands around his half-hard cock, pumping it gently. He drops his hands in her hair, twisting it around as she likes.

Addie almost gives in but keeps going, her tongue tracing the line between his abs. Sinking to her knees, she nibbles the cut of his left hip. It's not a competition but she's winning.

"Adelaide," he hums as she wraps her lips around his cock, maneuvering his foreskin to her advantage. She looks up at him — eyes closed, jaw open and head leaning backwards. Hell yes, she is winning.

Addie's done this enough to times have a pretty good idea of his body; she only hopes he follows his usual pattern of grunts, thrusts and muscle strain to give her warning.

He’s leaking already, but Addie's prepared for that with a swallow. Palming his testicles and sucking just at the right time do it: he's shaking on the edge of an orgasm.

Addie rolls back on her heels, lets his cock pop from her mouth and straightens up. She wipes her lips with her finger as she raises her eyebrows at the man standing before her, all red cheeked and panting.

He grins at her as he leans on the dresser behind him, a fresh bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. Addie smirks as she turns away from him, pulls her sweatshirt over her head and walks into the bathroom.

She's barely switched on the water when he's there, his lips on her neck, one hand cradling her breasts and the other down her leggings. Addie gives in and turns her neck to his so their lips and tongues can merge. Her leggings are pushed down and she kicks out of them, neither lover parting from the other.

She pulls him into the shower, hot water turning her skin pink on contact. He wraps his hands in her hair, both of them unable to stifle moans. She pumps his erection again, and he has to drop his head to her shoulder to breathe. It doesn't take long before he's grasping at her hips, and Addie finds her abdomen and thigh coated with his ejaculate which is quickly carried down the drain.

Not one to leave the beautiful woman he's in love with hanging, Taron pushes her up against the glass, gives each nipple a kiss for good measure and drops to his knees. He lifts her leg over his shoulder and looks at her.

"Have you got a good footing?" He asks, slapping the foot in question. Addie nods, rather wishing he'd get on with it. She has a mighty need for him, however he's will to provide.

He's there with fingers and tongue, his other hand wrapped around her calf to keep her from sliding. She thinks he quite possibly is spelling his and her names together with his tongue, but there's a grand possibility she's imagining it. She could be imagining anything really, like riding a rocket ship out of the galaxy or swimming amongst sea unicorns. That's exactly the kind of thought she can manage when Taron's face is between her thighs with his mouth centered on her clitoris and his fingers curling inside her.

"Taron!"

He knows his work is done but his shift isn't over, and he continues to suck, lick and curl until her body shakes. Kissing her ankle as it passes by his head, he places her foot on the ground before rising to swallow her gasps. Sloppily kissing for several long moments, Addie feels a rather persistent poking at her hip and she doesn't argue when her boyfriend turns her around. Her breasts press into the cool glass as her steaming love wraps his hand around her hip and captures her lips between his. She spreads her legs because she knows she needs to if she wants this to continue and because she can feel his hips at her ass. Her exhale echoes around them as he slides inside her, nails scraping against his scalp. His fingers play at her clit again, and she's whining within seconds. Taron admits this has gone much further than he had intended when he pulled his stunt downstairs, but this is a joyous turn of events.

Addie's nails dig into his scalp and hip as another orgasm rolls through her, and she regains her composure by anchoring herself with Taron's lips. He's coming again shortly after, and they have to very gently extricate themselves from each other.

"I need to finish my work," she says, sometime later as steam blankets them from the outside world, Taron's back a bright red from the water pounding against it. She presses her lips to his chest, both of them completely clean and sated. "I'd rather have a nap with you, though."

"I would like that," he says, reaching behind him to turn off the water. She quickly grabs a towel and pulls around them both, and Taron grabs another for her hair. "It's a great Saturday."

"The very best."

I’m not talking about the decade of the 1950s.  I am talking about the ages of 50 to 59 in life.

Since this year I will be finally moving out of the 50s, I have earned the right to share how disgusting my 50s were for me.  I will start by sharing the obvious things:

SAGGING

BAGGING

TAGGING

DRAGGING

(WARNING: Heavy laughter may follow.)

Sagging: The obvious one that everyone talks about.  You hit 50 and all of a sudden EVERYTHING starts to sag.  Now, I was endowed with a rather large front end. I should say cursed!  It has been a burden all of my life, and every time I thought I had a chance to remove part (most) of it, something else happened.  My timing was ALWAYS off, now I have issues with high blood pressure, so it’s an iffy surgery.  To those of you out there with the same affliction all, I can tell you is DON’T WAIT FOR THAT RIGHT MOMENT – GET IT DONE NOW!  The reason is obvious – sagging big-time later in life (and it is not a pretty sight at the beach).

(Droopy’s cheeks and camel humps – put that on the front of a woman and that’s a sight of wanting to go blind for!)

Bagging: Another semi-obvious occurrence that happens when one gets older.  My over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder does not support as it used to.  (Yes, I am talking about my bra.)  I still buy the same brand as it has never failed me; however, now they do not seem to hold up as long as they used to.  I am blaming bagging.  If the boulders were not so baggy (kind of goes with the saggy automatically), the holder-upper would not be so strained therefore could last longer?  Perhaps. Then there is the backside.  I have a pronounced bootie to match my saggies upfront.  This part I am blaming on having a desk job too long connected with my love of all things pastry.  Yes, it is my own fault – but did the sucker have to go so far into baggy era?  I mean a little drooping I can understand, but when you trip over yourself stepping backward it’s not a good thing!

Tagging:  This one some of you may be lucky enough to have never had to deal with – skin tags (age spots are in this category as well).  I was scratching my shoulder in the back, and my fingernail caught something.  I thought maybe I had scratched myself there without knowing and now accidentally ripped off the scar tissue.  But NOOOO – I actually ripped off a skin tag!?  That tiny sucker bleed like I had slashed open my back?  I swear that these are produced by nasty little Age Gremlins that sneak into my room at night and spit on me.  They were never on my body until after age 50, and now they are showing up in the strangest places (damn Age Gremlins!)?

Dragging:  I am not talking about the effects of sagging or even bagging (although when I bend over to pick up something, it could be construed as such.), I am talking about lack of sleep.  Our favorite over 50 phrase appears to be “my butt is dragging” which interpreted means: I need more sleep.  It becomes impossible to get more than 4-6 hours of sleep per night without some type of over-the-counter medication.  Then when I do get up, I seem to be yawning all day long.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I was proud of the fact that I was able to work two or three jobs at a time, go to classes to better myself part time, and raise my disabled daughter (including her 20 years of surgeries).  I bought a home, a vehicle and even found time to take mini-vacations with my daughter and mom.  Now I would love a vacation – but this time to someplace quiet, peaceful, and out in the middle of nowhere.  Throw in a huge snuggle chair next to an awesome fireplace for reading, and a hot tub to really relax (FYI – if you can put that in a “cabin in the woods” form and I may never leave.  Something very soothing about sitting in a hot tub while the snow is falling gently outside.  (Yes – been there, done that.)

We purchased a stationary bike after my surgeries to help my knees maintain strength.  It’s stationary alright.  It sits there laughing at me every day.  First, I kept it downstairs right outside my bedroom so I would have the incentive to get on it every morning.  That didn’t work because I MUST have my morning coffee before anything!  Then we moved it upstairs right smack in the middle of the living room.  This was last New Year day (2018), and I was really into the step counting thing for a while (per my sisters challenge to me).  Then, as always, something happened.  In this case, it was grown kids that we tried to help that shit on us, and we had to clean up the mess.  That was followed by a tornado and the death of our oldest sister (unexpected).  Last, but not least, thing was grandsons nose-bleeds-from-hell.  Ended up taking him to a specialist to get the suckers to stop (would pour out of his nose like he was some nasty red faucet? Yuck!).  Thus, bike on a back burner.

Here we are in a new year with new goals (mine, remember, is to have a boring year – no drama) and I have only sat on that monster twice – SHAME ON ME!  This morning my sister threw it in my face.  She was up at the butt-crack of midnight and:

On the bike for 30-minutes (Fricken Speed Racer-grr)

Cleaned the kitchen.

Planted more seed starts.

Made a bunch more waffles to freeze for the grandson

Made up a pot of Chicken Alfredo AND noodles this time (last was in potpie form)

Took a shower

Got dressed and ready for work

Made her lunch and oatmeal for her breakfast.

WHAT A SHOW OFF!  Dang – the guilt it too much!  Now I have to get back on the monster and hope my saggy baggy backend doesn’t slide off the seat!

You can also check me out at:  www.helbergfarmstories.com for fun stories from our farm.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

THE 50s SUCK! (Promise not to laugh too hard?) I’m not talking about the decade of the 1950s.  I am talking about the ages of 50 to 59 in life.

Home Sweet Home

For the last 4 years, I’ve been living what I like to call a “gypsy style”. The first time I left my parents house, I was 25 and I went off the whole way: I moved half way across the world. I moved to Ho Chi Ming City seeking for an opportunity to grow, betting on a love story and eagerness to eat the world. The brief was simple and clear: find the perfect location. In a city where there are more bikes than people, having the chance to sneak around and conquer the streets -and the heat- by foot felt like winning the lottery. By this I was earning independence and I was keeping my freedom, without needing to resort to any kind of transportation but my will and my feet. 

It was the first time I was making that amount of money (1500 usd/month!) and I felt rich. I didnt mind about the apartment as long as it felt cozy and it was well located. It was our first apartment together. Yes, we lived together in Montevideo before but this was finally “ours”. We didnt have an oven, a challenge we learned to overcome. I ended up fixing the bathroom cabinet with some wrapping paper I went and bought on a stationary store near by. It was a serviced apartment with the sweetest cleaning staff who came three times a week and the lovely “e-moi” doormen. Those people were part of my Vietnamese family. I didnt care about not having a couch, or having mismatching knives and forks. I didnt care we didnt have proper utensils. It was actually better: the only thing we needed to carry away with us the day we would leave were the fridge magnets. We made tv-weekend marathons, and locked ourselves indoors during rainy season, with only one window on the “living room” from where we could stare and admire the rain drops and thunderstorms. We had ants and/or termites eating our rented furniture and food. But, regardless... 44 Ngyuen Phi Khan was paradise. I loved it there. It was casita. I was extremely happy. I really didnt want to leave.

A year and 2 months later, I struggled for 2 weeks, homeless, spending free nights in Arlanda Radisson Blue Airport, a lot of money on an Airbnb in Huddinge, Greater Stockholm Area until a miracle happened thanks to Fabrizio and Sodertorn University: I found my 14 months home in Sweden: Kanslivagen 13 at Riksten. At the beginning, it was quite a struggle: a dirty kitchen, and an even dirtier toilet. No control over the heater and a cold winter approaching. I lost the only bus that passed by multiple times and mis-matched the pendeltag that took me to civilization. Until, one good day, I finally made it my home. It was my first and only student apartment but I managed to make it super cozy with just the desk, a chair, a bed, a kitchenette with a bar that were already there and a DIY table I painted myself. I couldnt resist the urge of going to Ikea and armed myself with local artifacts made in Sverige - which of course they later crossed oceans to reach my following destination. It was far away and small, so I didnt have many people over, only my friend Angelica for a couple of blog lunches and Flor the moment I first moved in and the moment I needed to move out. When my parents arrived, the air mattress occupied the whole room. It was with great joy that I slowly made it a home. A cozy place. A Swedish place, with candles, love for food, memories with neighbors - other Erasmus exchange students-  and a lot of Ikea products. When the ICA, the local supermarket opened on its corner, it changed my life completely. And when the spring sprung, that was also a game changer. Although it was wonderful waking up to a snowy window and a white forrest, seeing the flowers bloom through the snow and getting the bus slowed down due to a deer crossing the road was something I’ll never forget. I was so sad to leave when I couldnt renew my lease. 

After 3 month living in Flemingsberg, in an apartment I didnt feel like my own, sleeping on the living room where the TV was and using the bedroom to put down all my luggage, I moved back to Asia. This time, to Singapore. I bounced for a month between what it used to be my home with my person to my rented serviced apartment the company chose for me, few blocks away from my new job. Trying to find a place where to feel safe, where to grow, where to dare to be myself again while dealing with a broken heart was difficult. Choosing not moving back with him was one of the toughest yet wisest choices I’ve ever made. I first saw and loved a place in River Valley, not too close yet not too far either from his place, but the agent was not willing to negotiate. Found one right next to his friend’s place, a few blocks away, 10 to 15 minutes walk from his. And that’s when I formally decided and moved in to 524 Kampong Bahru Road. 

The apartment had a weird distribution: at first it got me excited, later on I thought of multiple ways to make it better. The kitchen was nice. It was the only time in my life that I had Smeg appliances and they were as good as they looked. I had a bomb shelter, a quiet view to a green little forrest, a pool I hardly ever used and a voodoo master and/or witch who was living right next to me with tons of cats by some temple ruins (I believe the only ruins on that central part of the island). Kampong Bahru was my shelter, my hood and also my cave and prison. I didnt get furniture, because again, I knew I was moving, I knew this was temporary. I already got all my utensils from Stockholm so I only needed some details. Only few people were able to come and I’m happy they were all meaningful people and friends I met in Singapore: Lari, Hersheys, Lizi, Sameer and stop counting. I wish I had a better place and opportunity to host all those wonderful souls I met along the way. 

And when the time to move had finally arrived, regardless of my attempts to sell my beloved stuff, I ended up donating all of them to the Church. It was a symbolic fresh start. It was a metaphorical cleansing. Donating all the things I love to people that need them would provide those items with more love from their new owners. And that was all that mattered: leaving Singapore - with all that it implies - full of love, with a smile and in peace. 

And now... after this crazy roller coaster that started years ago on the 15th of September 2014, after 1405 days, 6 countries, and endless miles in my millage account - although not as many as the tears this ex-pat life decision costed me- I can finally say I reached home. A table.. that’s the power of a table. I bought a massive furniture that connects me to my roots, to my pleasure of cooking and eating, of celebrating, of creating. It will allow me to host parties, dinners, thanks and friendsgivings. It’s creating a little anchor. It’s baptizing my home. So... this is it... I’m staying. NYC, you’re home now. 

I needed a moment to soak everything in. I looked at my living room. I saw the water tank outside my window. I winked at the Crysler building between the clouds. I laid over by the edge of my bedroom door. I took a big, deep breath and a massive glance around. I looked up, in compliance with all those people who I met along my way and helped me reached here. I thought about my parents and the Nonos. I know how proud they are of me. I’m proud of myself.

I made it. I’m living the life I dreamed of. Without knowing it, I knew I wanted to come to NYC (who doesnt want to live here once during her or his lifetime?) and I always thought it was very unlikely. But... I guess the other pitstops were just trampolines for the big jump. 

The NYC jump. The grown up jump. The jump that lead me home. 

That blind leap of faith. 

I felt it this Saturday, when after some long, stressful hours I could managed to assemble this beautiful Ikea Fanbyn Bar Table (that’s what I call “full circle”) by-myself!. I later placed the 4 beautiful stolls I found on the streets of Greenpoint, which we later hand crafted, refurnished and upholstered with my Dad, the wonderful art piece my talented friend HC gifted me in Singapore, with the 2 vases I got on my blog ventures in Sweden, only then, I could definitely say this is it. I’m home. 

Montauk’s best beach house is in a trailer park

As seen in the New York Post

By Lauren Steussy

It’s hard to imagine high-powered NYC real estate broker Louise Phillips Forbes falling for a vacation retreat in a trailer park. But Louise, her husband Christopher and their two kids — all avid surfers — are currently reveling in their fourth summer at mobile-home oasis Montauk Shores.

Here, at the easternmost edge of the Long Island enclave, the Forbes’ 1,100-square-foot prefabricated digs are nestled among 200-odd other residences, with the Atlantic Ocean just minutes away. The Forbes and their neighbors watch out for each others’ children, who roam freely through the rows of retro crash pads in between jaunts riding the waves. No one locks their doors.

“It’s a step back in time,” says Louise, 54, who works for Halstead Property.

“When we eat, people just show up. We’ll have homemade pizza and, all of a sudden, I’ll have 12 kids sitting at my table. We’ve never had a TV. We just hang out, walk on the beach, roast hot dogs and have bonfires. This is what it used to be like 40 years ago — you didn’t need much.”

Louise learned to surf recently, after Christopher, a 56-year-old tech entrepreneur, and sons Douglas, 13, and Kenneth, 11, took up the sport. Now it’s an obsession that has come to dominate not only her rigorous exercise regimen but also the décor of the family’s ipe wood-paneled haven. Think ocean-themed works collected from local artists, a sprawling couch that acts as a splayed-out beach towel and a multicolored surfboard hanging from the wall.

The foursome’s journey to their beachy hideaway started years ago. Based in Bridgehampton — and the Upper West Side the rest of the year, which is still the case — they would drive out to Ditch Plains Beach near the park to surf. They fantasized about living in the park itself, even if it meant downsizing.

“We came to realize it was a lovely community of people, all really socioeconomically diverse,” Christopher says.

But patience was required to nab a place of their own just for part of the season.

“It took us three years to penetrate getting a rental,” Louise says. “It was all word of mouth [then].” Then, in 2013, Christopher found a three-week opening at one of the park’s older trailers on Craigslist for $6,000.

While Douglas and Kenneth ran off to befriend the other kids, their parents dealt with rundown conditions and black mold, then added new appliances and clean linens.

The close quarters reminded Louise of her own childhood; one summer, her family piled into an RV and drove from her native Tennessee to California.

“We decided to embrace it,” she says. “Because this was more about just being together.”

In the summer of 2014, a coveted Montauk Shores lot went on the market. The couple seized the opportunity, buying it for about $567,000.

Because new homes basically have to be wheeled in — any stationary residences are grandfathered in — the Forbes purchased a double-wide prefab for about $200,000 from Indiana-based Hi-Tech Housing.

They could simply raise up the prefab structure as a precaution against flooding. It was also easier to customize and decorate a ready-made home than a trailer. So Louise turned to interior designer friend Cortney Novogratz for help.

Louise and Novogratz bonded over functional solutions for families. Take the beds in the boys’ shared room, which are Ikea trundles Novogratz wrapped in soft fabric to avoid accidental injuries while roughhousing.

Despite the home’s cookie-cutter origins, there are personal touches everywhere.

Groovy wallpaper with hand-drawn waves lines the hallway, which is blanketed in natural light from the open kitchen. On the walls, there are collages of surfing journal pages by Montauk-based artist Tony Caramanico. In the same vein, a Massimo Vitali aerial photograph of a beach, bright and sun-drenched, holds pride of place in the master bedroom.

A similar photograph by Debby Hymowitz greets Douglas and Kenneth when they wake up in their shared nook across the hall. There, a bookshelf houses a throwback lava lamp and a stack of antique Surfer’s Journal magazines. Mounted above their beds is a decorative surfboard, while flanking them are framed photographs of waves. “It’s what I want my boys to feel — calm, ferocious, fun,” Louise says.

She calls the spacious kitchen with vaulted ceilings “the nucleus of this house.” Lucy bar stools from Bend Goods are padded with polyurethane cushions — the same material wetsuits are made of. “I spend my days saying, ‘Get off the couch, you’re wet!’ But I don’t have to say that anymore,” Louise says. “We can just focus on having as many meals as possible together.”

Other custom touches reflect Louise’s joyful — sometimes rule-breaking — nature. She loved the porous, matte underside of a black granite countertop more than its shiny surface, so she had the slab honed and installed upside down in the kitchen.

Popping out of the black counter and white cabinets is a bright orange Big Chill stove with a $3,795 price tag, one of a few indulgences in the otherwise minimal home. Other splurges, and favorites of Christopher’s, are the two giant Flos pendant lights by Marcel Wanders that descend over the island. Imported from Italy, the $2,500-per-piece fixtures are lined with an intricate etching that looks like it could be porcelain — “quite expensive, if you ask me, for a trailer,” Louise jokes.

Outside on the deck, orange upholstery pops in front of an ocean view. On winter days when the waves are as tall as 12 feet, the family can see them break from the couches. The table nearby has extra bench seating to accommodate the many last-minute guests.

The part of the surf shack Christopher and Louise love most isn’t their own design but rather the tight-knit community at Montauk Shores. Everyone congregates by the shared pool, a few short blocks from the Forbes’ plot. There’s also free breakfast on summer weekends at a clubhouse, where neighbors also gather for potlucks and yard sales.

Their boys run with a pack — the East End’s very own “Lord of the Flies.” It’s rare freedom that the city-dwelling Forbes family can appreciate.

“All the kids here can bike to town, go surfing or swimming, basically do their own thing,” Christopher says. “Kids don’t have that in a large urban center, that independence to run around and just be kids.”

All four of them are dreading fall, which brings a return to Manhattan and less time hanging ten. “We don’t like to talk about that now,” Louise says. “This is our paradise.”

To read the full article online, click here. 

I’m not talking about the decade of the 1950s.  I am talking about the ages of 50 to 59 in life.

Since this year I will be finally moving out of the 50s, I have earned the right to share how disgusting my 50s were for me.  I will start by sharing the obvious things:

SAGGING

BAGGING

TAGGING

DRAGGING

(WARNING: Heavy laughter may follow.)

Sagging: The obvious one that everyone talks about.  You hit 50 and all of a sudden EVERYTHING starts to sag.  Now, I was endowed with a rather large front end. I should say cursed!  It has been a burden all of my life, and every time I thought I had a chance to remove part (most) of it, something else happened.  My timing was ALWAYS off, now I have issues with high blood pressure, so it’s an iffy surgery.  To those of you out there with the same affliction all, I can tell you is DON’T WAIT FOR THAT RIGHT MOMENT – GET IT DONE NOW!  The reason is obvious – sagging big-time later in life (and it is not a pretty sight at the beach).

(Droopy’s cheeks and camel humps – put that on the front of a woman and that’s a sight of wanting to go blind for!)

Bagging: Another semi-obvious occurrence that happens when one gets older.  My over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder does not support as it used to.  (Yes, I am talking about my bra.)  I still buy the same brand as it has never failed me; however, now they do not seem to hold up as long as they used to.  I am blaming bagging.  If the boulders were not so baggy (kind of goes with the saggy automatically), the holder-upper would not be so strained therefore could last longer?  Perhaps. Then there is the backside.  I have a pronounced bootie to match my saggies upfront.  This part I am blaming on having a desk job too long connected with my love of all things pastry.  Yes, it is my own fault – but did the sucker have to go so far into baggy era?  I mean a little drooping I can understand, but when you trip over yourself stepping backward it’s not a good thing!

Tagging:  This one some of you may be lucky enough to have never had to deal with – skin tags (age spots are in this category as well).  I was scratching my shoulder in the back, and my fingernail caught something.  I thought maybe I had scratched myself there without knowing and now accidentally ripped off the scar tissue.  But NOOOO – I actually ripped off a skin tag!?  That tiny sucker bleed like I had slashed open my back?  I swear that these are produced by nasty little Age Gremlins that sneak into my room at night and spit on me.  They were never on my body until after age 50, and now they are showing up in the strangest places (damn Age Gremlins!)?

Dragging:  I am not talking about the effects of sagging or even bagging (although when I bend over to pick up something, it could be construed as such.), I am talking about lack of sleep.  Our favorite over 50 phrase appears to be “my butt is dragging” which interpreted means: I need more sleep.  It becomes impossible to get more than 4-6 hours of sleep per night without some type of over-the-counter medication.  Then when I do get up, I seem to be yawning all day long.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I was proud of the fact that I was able to work two or three jobs at a time, go to classes to better myself part time, and raise my disabled daughter (including her 20 years of surgeries).  I bought a home, a vehicle and even found time to take mini-vacations with my daughter and mom.  Now I would love a vacation – but this time to someplace quiet, peaceful, and out in the middle of nowhere.  Throw in a huge snuggle chair next to an awesome fireplace for reading, and a hot tub to really relax (FYI – if you can put that in a “cabin in the woods” form and I may never leave.  Something very soothing about sitting in a hot tub while the snow is falling gently outside.  (Yes – been there, done that.)

We purchased a stationary bike after my surgeries to help my knees maintain strength.  It’s stationary alright.  It sits there laughing at me every day.  First, I kept it downstairs right outside my bedroom so I would have the incentive to get on it every morning.  That didn’t work because I MUST have my morning coffee before anything!  Then we moved it upstairs right smack in the middle of the living room.  This was last New Year day (2018), and I was really into the step counting thing for a while (per my sisters challenge to me).  Then, as always, something happened.  In this case, it was grown kids that we tried to help that shit on us, and we had to clean up the mess.  That was followed by a tornado and the death of our oldest sister (unexpected).  Last, but not least, thing was grandsons nose-bleeds-from-hell.  Ended up taking him to a specialist to get the suckers to stop (would pour out of his nose like he was some nasty red faucet? Yuck!).  Thus, bike on a back burner.

Here we are in a new year with new goals (mine, remember, is to have a boring year – no drama) and I have only sat on that monster twice – SHAME ON ME!  This morning my sister threw it in my face.  She was up at the butt-crack of midnight and:

On the bike for 30-minutes (Fricken Speed Racer-grr)

Cleaned the kitchen.

Planted more seed starts.

Made a bunch more waffles to freeze for the grandson

Made up a pot of Chicken Alfredo AND noodles this time (last was in potpie form)

  Took a shower

Got dressed and ready for work

Made her lunch and oatmeal for her breakfast.

WHAT A SHOW OFF!  Dang – the guilt it too much!  Now I have to get back on the monster and hope my saggy baggy backend doesn’t slide off the seat!

You can also check me out at:  www.helbergfarmstories.com for fun stories from our farm.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

THE 50s SUCK! (Promise not to laugh too hard?) I’m not talking about the decade of the 1950s.  I am talking about the ages of 50 to 59 in life.