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captainsimagines · 2 years

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the warmth of the future || one

Summary: It’s been two years since you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, and the holidays are just around the corner. With even more love, more friends, and more family in attendance, you and Bucky fully intend to enjoy these days with as little drama as possible. But that’s not always the case with a relationship like yours, is it?

Pairing: DBF James “Bucky” Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Based on the Song: ‘Willow’ by Taylor Swift

Warnings: strong language; age difference kink; exhibitionism; anal fingering (Bucky receiving); blowjob; unprotected sex

Word Count: 7,160+

Author’s Note: Oh, I’m so ready for the holidays this year. Can’t wait for you guys to start this mini-series! I love these characters just as much as you do, and after so many messages this year about this fanfic in particular, I just had to make a mini sequel. I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy and get into the early holiday spirit.

“I take back what I said before. You’re probably going to die by getting hit by a fucking bus.”

The sound of the horn near you is impossible to recover from. You know Bucky heard that over the phone. Still, you continue to sidestep several pedestrians and another taxi, running to the subway. A few weeks ago you two theorized the craziest possible ways you both would die. Bucky bet you’d be abducted by aliens and killed for being so annoying. You bet he would die by falling off a train in the icy Austrian Alps. “Funny, Barnes. Excuse me for being excited for Christmas break.”

Bucky scoffs gently. “So excited you can’t look both ways before you cross the street?”

You’ve navigated New York streets for years now. You know every crack, every turn, by heart. “You want me home on time, or no?”

Bucky grumbles, “Just get home in one piece.”

Home. It seemed like Bucky’s two-bedroom above his bar was more of a home than your own apartment. You spent more time in Brooklyn than you did Manhattan. Peter had practically bullied you about how much money you were wasting on rent. And you were, no doubt. It was a pain to wake up in Brooklyn and have to travel to Manhattan for work, but you did it anyway. And besides, it made sense. Bucky works nights, so him staying the night in Manhattan was illogical.

But home. That was wherever Bucky was. Warm beside him and wrapped up safely. This would be your third Christmas together, the third you’re spending together back home with your dad. It feels like a tradition now. Bucky had tried convincing his sister, Becca, to join this year but she planned an impromptu cruise with her fiancé instead.

Bucky didn’t blame her, though. It was her engagement present apparently.

This time, Bucky had rented a car and you two would be driving down today. With your assistant tagging along. Not because you were working this holiday break, but because Peter Parker had nowhere else to go in the city. His aunt died this year and this would be his first holiday season without close family to celebrate with. Peter was going to meet you at your apartment, but you were running late, and Bucky was calling to scold you for it.

I’ll put the book down after chapter fifty, I promise.

That promise is stale, Doll. I know you.

I prooooomise.

You had not, indeed, kept that promise and read all the way to chapter sixty today. But you had to. This was Loki Laufeyson’s third book in his insanely popular trilogy. It’s an impossible read to put down.

The reception becomes spotty the deeper you go into the subway station.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get home in one piece. Hey Bucky, would you love me if I was a worm?” The group of teenage girls swiping their Metrocards giggle beside you.

“We’re not doing this again. Get home.”

Rolling your eyes for no one to see, you bid him goodbye.

Another holiday with your family, another holiday with your friends, another holiday with the love of your life. How could life possibly get better than this?

Life did have ways of planting the smallest mishaps. Take the snow for example: Did Bucky know driving in the snow was such a major pain in the ass? He figured. Did he listen to your warnings about having to buy chains for the tires earlier? Nope.

One gas station, Peter’s googling of instructions, and an hour wasted putting the damn chains on later, you finally passed the town sign welcoming you home.

Your childhood town looked the same. It always looked the same. Feelings of nostalgia, scents of cinnamon, and an overall sense of calm quickly settled into your stomach as Bucky drove through town. Leaning your head out the window, you grinned widely as the car passed Wanda and Pietro’s flower shop, closed for lunch. Half of you wanted to fly out the car and bust down the door. The other half really wanted to see your dad first. A four hour drive was nothing with a good playlist and some burgers on the way down.

Once you finally pulled up to your dad’s house, you flew out of the passenger seat before Bucky had the chance to put the car in park. He followed less quickly as you, but his face showed his contained excitement. “It looks like the whole crew got here before us—”

Bucky’s voice floats away as your body slams onto the icy grass. “Oof!”

Clint squeezes tightly, his body weight compressing you into a smooshed pancake. “You’re here!”

“My…lungs…”

Bucky’s boot comes into view. “Get off my girl, Barton.”

“You get to see her every single day! Let me have this!”

Struggling, you shimmy like a worm and try your hardest not to touch anything intimate on the giant squishing you. “Clint. Remove…yourself!”

Your boyfriend’s loud sigh precedes his show of strength. Grabbing Clint by the collar of his winter jacket, Bucky yanks him upward and drops him on a high pile of snow. “Idiot.”

Clint’s laugh is interrupted by Pietro’s loud announcement of, “We’ve started decorating already!”

Sitting up, you dust snow from your elbows as best you can. “Without me?”

“We had extra hands,” Pietro reveals, grinning like a mad man. Before you can ask, a muscled body steps from the front door and onto the porch, wearing too little layers for the temperature outside.

“Steve!” Bucky exclaims, abandoning both you and Clint in the snow to run to his best friend. “You lied about visiting your mom!”

Steve runs a hand down the back of his neck, instantly turning red. He meets Bucky at the bottom of the porch and shares that clap-on-the-back slash bro-hug. “She decided to spend it with her partner’s kids and let me know a week ago.”

You huff as you stand, now dusting off your ass. “We had lunch a week ago.”

He meets your eye over Bucky’s shoulder. “And I didn’t exactly lie. Just omitted the truth.”

“Big fat liar.”

Steve ignores you, completely accustomed to your sarcasm and kindergarten insults. His attention returns to Bucky, as you turn your attention to Clint.

“Sometimes I think you want to kill me.”

Clint snorts, “I’m not that heavy. You’re just small.”

He accepts the shove to his shoulder. Clint would never admit it, but he acts this way because he’s an only child. By teasing you, Kate, and Wanda, he’s able to channel all that big brother energy somewhere. Why only you three? No one knows. Pietro is the same age and yet, receives Clint’s best friend energy. Maybe Clint Barton was destined to be a girl-brother—like a girl dad. The words sound stupid in your head as you repeat it.

He pulls your mini-suitcase from the trunk just as Peter emerges, shy as always around new people. “Clint, this is Peter Parker! He’s my assistant, but for the next week he’s just a friend! Got it?”

Clint barely acknowledges a single word you said besides the formal introduction. He shakes Peter’s hand and welcomes him to town, pointing back at the house as Peter lugs his own suitcase forward. With the snow, the pink of his cheeks, and his raggedy bag, Peter Parker fits in perfectly. As if the town gave its blessing.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like Steve?” Clint asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Uh,” you mumble, pulling Bucky’s suitcase out. “Ten. He’s been in my life since the beginning.”

Clint nods, a thin smile spreading across his face. Adjusting his hearing aid, he says, “Please let me know the new number when he tells you.”

“Huh?” But Clint’s already running back into the house, carrying your suitcase over his head. He’s lucky his dumbass didn’t slip on the driveway.

When you finally go inside, your dad and Sam are nowhere in sight. You can vaguely hear them near the back of the house, though. Steve is in the kitchen alone, chugging some water and Bucky gone.

“Why am I going to hate you?” you ask, setting your purse down on the dining room table. It’s littered with holiday decorations. Paper snowflakes, red and green candles, baking utensils.

Steve smirks, wiping his mouth. “I’m staying in your room.”

Your brows furrow. “Where the hell are Bucky and I supposed to sleep?”

“Oh, you’re staying in your room, too! Bucky gets the guest room.”

There it is.

“Wha—”

“Your dad isn’t taking any chances this time.”

Huh? What kind of joke was this? A cruel game Steve, Sam, and your dad must have come up with before you even entered the damn town, probably. “I’ve been dating the guy for two years! Of course we fuck!”

Steve purses his lips, eyes widening. “Oh, don’t worry, I know!” Sarcastic, loud, sonofabitch. “Fucking know well enough, too!”

One time. One damn time he walked in on you. “Don’t be jealous.”

He blinks. “Jealous?”

“You want to join? Just ask.”

Steve dramatically slaps his chest as he goes to grip at his heart. “I’m going to throw up in my mouth. Then I’m going to spit it on you.”

“Kinky.”

“You little—”

“Bumblebee!”

Your dad practically sprints into the kitchen, arms stretched wide. You jump up and down as you grip him tightly. “Dad!”

“The drive okay? You hungry?”

“Yes and no! How are you? How’s Monica?”

Your dad flushes at the mere mention of his girlfriend’s name. “Great. She’ll be here for the party.”

He swings you around twice, surprisingly strong for a man who works at a desk nowadays. Sam smiles brightly at the sight. “Gosh, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but that’s diminishing by the second. What’s this about you barring my boyfriend from my bedroom?”

Sam shoves Steve when he starts cracking up, scolding him. Your dad scrunches his face. “Bumblebee, the horror stories I’ve heard from your friends! From my friends! I understand young love—well, young and middle-aged love, really—but I have more guests staying here this season than just you! I’m being considerate.”

You grimace, then gag dramatically. “I don’t know what frightens me more. The fact that my own father views me as a sex-crazed monster or that I’m sharing a room with Captain Rogers.”

“I trust Steve. He’ll make sure no one goes in or out of that room.”

Steve continues to silently laugh behind Sam, who’s trying hard not to break himself. “Have I done something to you? Am I finally being rightfully punished for stealing one of your friends?”

Your dad scoffs playfully, pulling you in for a side hug. You hang limp, a bodily protest. “No, but now that you mention it, the punishment fits the crime.”

Steve pulls you from your dad, side-hugging you as well. “Don’t worry, pal. I’ll make sure she gets her full eight hours of sleep.”

“Suck my tit, Steve.”

“I’d rather not.”

Bucky chooses that moment to join the squabble, Clint and Pietro following close behind. “What’s happening?”

Shoving Steve away, his waist hitting the corner of the kitchen countertop, you disregard his yelp for Bucky’s attention. “Oh, Bucky, it’s horrible! It’s Romeo and Juliet all over again!”

“I may have missed the first time we lived that story,” Bucky says, his head tilting.

“We’re being separated! You and I are no more! The house is split!”

Steve groans, clutching at his side. His voice comes out gravely. “If it’s any consolation, I’m on your side, man.”

“It was my idea,” Sam offers, raising a hand. Looking back at him, he shoots you a cocky smirk.

“Sam…You traitor.”

“You’ll see each other all day. The nights aren’t going to kill you—”

“Shut up, Tybalt.”

Bucky gives you an unimpressed look. He’ll hype your Romeo and Juliet character reference later, but for now he needs to diffuse the situation.

He heard the conversation. He knows what you’re complaining about. Hell, he wants to complain too. But there’s this nagging voice at the back of his head telling him, Hey Bud. Remember that time one of your good friends invited you over during the holidays and you proceeded to fuck his daughter in every depraved position, every single night, while he was sleeping two doors over?

So he surrenders. “How about we continue with the decorations, yeah?”

“Why is it that you never fight by my side when my dad is involved?” you whine.

He clears his throat, smiling that white-person smile at your dad. “Either I stay on his good side and continue being with his beautiful daughter, or we duel and he wins.”

Your dad accepts this. “You earn some points with me by saying I’d win.”

Beside you, you feel Bucky relax instantly. Giving him the side-eye, you notice Peter emerging from the bathroom over his shoulder.

“Dad! This is Peter, my assistant!” Dragging Peter by the shoulders and presenting him like one would their greatest achievement, Peter holds out a timid hand.

“Ah! This is the man who dodges my calls by saying you’re in a meeting,” your dad jokes, shaking his hand.

Something flashes in Peter’s eyes. Alarm, panic, dread. Who knows. “The meetings were real, sir.”

“Well, either way. The couch is all yours! The more the merrier.”

“Thank you for having me, sir.”

“Everyone is welcome in my house! I try to be a good host.”

With those words, Peter’s eyes immediately soften. “Well, I’ve no longer got family in the city so this is a real honor.”

You notice how the words affect everyone. This tradition has run in your family since you were born—since before. It was an unspoken thing that everyone would convene at your dad’s house. Even if it wasn’t the largest, and people had to share beds, and everyone had to chip in for beer. But there was something about the fireplace in the corner, showcasing nine stockings with everyone’s names on them. The Menorah that was missing its final candle. The smell of cookies and pie every single day of December.

To share this tradition with a new edition, even if Peter might decide not to return next holiday season, filled you with honor.

Your dad, the king of making others feel a part of the club, asks Peter, “What’s your menu like? I’ll send Bumblebee to the store later today.”

Can’t forget that tradition, either. It was always your job to get everyone’s groceries for the week.

“I’ll go with you,” Pietro volunteers. “We’ll pick up Wanda along the way.”

You hum in response. “Make a list. Oh, and Steve?”

Steve lifts an eyebrow.

“I like to fall asleep to whale sounds and the sounds of gorilla’s mating.”

Bucky quickly agrees, just to fuck with Steve. The man who’ll be sharing his girl’s room, it seemed. Something silent but feral was festering in the pit of his stomach, but Bucky chose to make a joke of it instead.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You two have slept away from each other before. You don’t see each other everyday.

So Bucky won’t let it get to him.

He won’t.

Promise.

“You’re forced to share a room with another magnificent and stunning male?” Peggy laughs, clearly entertained by the news you’ve shared. Peggy follows you down the aisle with a basket in hand, waving off Pietro’s constant asks of carrying it for her. Wanda swipes the listed items off the shelves into the cart with impressive speed, only half-listening to the conversation. “I don’t see the problem!”

“I’m with Bucky.”

“So?”

“And it’s monogamous.”

Peggy huffs, “Then strike everything I would have said you do if you were me.”

“I personally don’t understand why Steve has to stay in your room anyway,” Pietro interjects. “Like, there are two couches in the living room.”

“Sam is taking one.”

“Then why not have Steve bunk with Bucky?”

Wanda twirls, a box of sugar cookies in her grip. “I can answer this one! Because even though Bucky slept with his daughter, our little Bumblebee is being scolded now. Your dad is getting revenge.”

So by having Steve bunk with you, it’s essentially torture…for you. Because you’ll have to be the one to sneak out if you dare; you’ll be the one dealing with Steve’s horrendous snoring; you’ll be the one who has to go down the stairs. It was brilliant. Evil and brilliant.

“Revenge? After two years?”

Peggy chuckles, moving her basket from Pietro’s reach again. “Fathers. Always such rascals. My father turned a blind eye and I loved him more for it.”

“My father isn’t turning a blind eye. He’s actively engaging in separating us.”

“I think it’s fucking funny,” Pietro admits, covering his mouth. “Sorry, Peggy.”

Peggy waves him off. “I think it’s fucking funny, too.”

“So, what?” Wanda scoffs, throwing a package of napkins in the cart. “So you’re separated for a week. You don’t have to fuck in the house. There are other places!”

“Wanda!”

“No, no, she’s right on that front!” Peggy admits. “Kate’s bar, the gym Clint attends, the motel!”

You groan, leaning down against the cart. Your chin rests on your folded arms and your back is at an awkward angle. “To stay at a motel like last summer? Then my father will know what we’re doing. And that makes my insides twist.”

“You’re young and you keep your man young. If fucking is the solution, then find a way to accomplish it.”

Pietro sends Peggy an incredulous look, frozen in place as the three of you pass him by. “Does she always speak like that?”

“Address me, dear. I can speak for myself.”

“Okay,” Pietro says, blinking a few times. “Do you always speak like that?”

“Only on Tuesdays.”

Pietro does the mental calendar-hopping in his head. Peggy Carter was the resident grocery store customer you formed an odd friendship with two Christmases ago. She had been outspoken then, and she’s definitely outspoken now. Just because she reigns supreme in age doesn’t mean that all she says and suggests is wise. Sometimes you wonder how she even got past her fifties with her mindset.

“Anyways, that’s my problem right now. Bucky and I will get through it and I will smother Captain Rogers in his sleep. Done!”

Wanda giggles, “He’s cute, though.”

Pietro rounds on her. “No, no! Stop talking.”

“He’s big and handsome and totally not off-limits for me.”

Pietro looks as if he’s just witnessed a mass murder. “I…He’s old enough to be our dad.” Then to you, “No offense.”

“If he had us in his teens.”

Pietro literally whines, “Wanda, I beg you. Do not fuck the Captain.”

“Are you going to let him order you, love?” Peggy asks Wanda, eyebrows high.

Wanda smiles, teeth and all. “Nope!”

Pietro whines again, watching his sister skip down the aisle. He calls after you, so you twist around slowly. “Talk her out of it.”

You shake your head. “You laughed at my predicament. Your sister can fuck who she wants.”

Pietro grumbles as you all pay for the groceries, as you say goodbye to Peggy, and on the drive home. Wanda seems to be two seconds away from cackling.

“This town is so tiny. It’s like a Hallmark movie.”

You give Peter a side-smirk while also holding the door open for him. He enters the bookstore like he’s on a mission, looking for everything and nothing at once. You figure he’s only accompanying you because he’s got nothing better to do in a strange town. And if he is planning on buying you a Christmas present—because he has literally no one else besides Bucky to buy one for—he probably wouldn’t buy it now while you’re with him.

“There’s talk about combining it with the town next over. But that never goes down well for us small town folk.”

Peter scrunches his nose, shaking his head. “Every place has a personality. Combining two doesn’t guarantee a functioning third.”

“You’ve got the right.”

Two Christmases ago you had found Bucky a perfect first-edition about rejected Christmas tales. This time, however, you’re thinking something different. Last summer you had edited a book and included one of Bucky’s major plot suggestions…which made it into the final draft. Bucky doesn’t know, and getting the book for him seemed like a proper gift with meaning attached to it.

Peter watches you drift into the fantasy section. He huffs a laugh, “Another book? What are you guys? Like, 50?”

“You followed my ass into a bookstore. What did you expect? Besides, we’re both avid readers.”

“So get the dude a bookmark.”

“I’m gonna get you a bookmark, you ungrateful son of a bitch.”

Peter laughs again. He grabs a random book and inspects the cover. “What else have you gotten him? I remember you getting him a book last Christmas, too. Actually, for the past two Christmases you’ve known each other.”

“The first Christmas doesn’t count. I had literally just met him.”

“And you got him a book. What did you get him for Hanukkah?”

Anal. But you’re not about to tell your assistant that little tid-bit.

So you answer, “An appropriate gift.”

Peter shakes his head. "A book is a gift that says ‘I love you’, sure. But you need a gift that says ‘I love you, and I want to screw you forever but as husband and wife.'"

Eyes widening, you practically sprint the short distance over to cover his mouth with your hand. “Shhh!”

“What—What?” he mumbles behind it.

“Don’t you dare mention marriage in this town. The gossip will spread, and next thing you know you’re pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s child, who may or may not be the actual father because you were plastered when you slept with three different guys that same night.”

Peter blinks, waiting a few seconds after you remove your hand from his face to speak. “That’s too specific to be made-up.”

You shrug. “Happened to a cousin of mine.”

“Did she have the kid?”

“I think so. Haven’t seen her in years—”

The sound of your name cuts off your sentence. That voice distinct—unmistakable. Turning, you’re half-convinced you imagined it. But no—there he is. Beautiful as ever, and so much older than the last time you saw him. Like Bucky, you had missed seeing him every time you visited. Two people passing through and yet, never reconnecting. The voice of the only man you dated from this town.

“Peter,” you sigh, astonished by the chance meeting.

“Yeah?” Peter answers, confused.

“No—Peter,” you say, pointing at the man walking toward you, a bright smile on his face. “Peter Quill.”

“And he is?”

Quill extends his arms out in joyful greeting, surprise written across every feature of his fine face. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve heard you’ve been visiting every Christmas since you got that fancy New York job!”

You accept his quick hug. “Ever since! How are you?”

“Same old, same old. Dad retired, so I manage the business now.”

“Oh, that’s great! You always wanted to be the boss!”

He runs a hand down the back of his neck, blushing. “It is great. But I want to hear about you! I haven’t seen you since—”

“Since high school graduation.”

He nods, looking you up and down. Not in a sleazy way, but in a way that conveys pure wonder. Like you were a flower that had withered and magically revived. “You’ve…grown.”

You snort softly, pointing at his chest. “Obviously, both of us did.”

He blushes again. “Well, hey. How about we meet up sometime this week and have dinner or something?”

“I was actually planning on going to Kate’s tomorrow night for the fundraiser. You should come!”

His face brightens as he accepts. “You know, I just might. I don’t remember the last time I just sat down and had a beer in public.”

“Contracting that much of a hard job?”

“I am the boss.”

Peter clears his throat beside you, a half-smile plastered on his face. A somewhat incredulous smile.

Knocked from your one-on-one, you instantly start introducing them. “Oh shit. Peter, this is Peter. Peter Parker, my assistant.”

Quill adopts a proud look. “Assistant? Damn, Bumblebee, you’ve been climbing that ladder.”

Quill was the first one out of your friends who began calling you Bumblebee for shits and giggles. Then Wanda and Kate followed, then Clint, then the whole universe. Guess you have Quill to thank for it, but it still made you squeal as a teenager. Now it just functions as a term of endearment.

Peter waves a bored hand through the air. “I don’t get her coffee if that’s what you’re imagining. I google shit for her.”

Quill nods reassuringly. “A very important job indeed.”

Peter purses his lips. “So, Peter—”

“Oh, I go by Quill. It’s been my nickname since…forever, really.”

“Quill…High school friends, then?”

Your eyes settle into a I know what the fuck you’re doing glance. As if daring Peter to investigate further.

But Quill gives him the answer he’s looking for. “We used to date.”

Peter bends forward, over-exaggerated amusement spilling from his literal pores as he slaps his palms against his knees. “Really!”

“Yeah, like ten years ago,” you deadpan.

“Still interesting news!”

Pursing your lips, you turn back to Quill. “Don’t mind him. He’s this close to being fired.”

Peter puffs, “Who else will close the blinds and lock your office door for you whenever Buck—”

Quickly, you pat Quill’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night, Quill. The festivities start at eight!”

He stares down at you, something raw flashing in his eyes. Something akin to eagerness. “Looking forward to it.” He takes whatever was in his hands and pays at the front counter, shooting you one final grin before exiting the store.

Peter steps in front of you, arms-crossed and expression smug. “You invited your ex-boyfriend to hang out with your friends and current boyfriend?”

“Hey, he’s Clint’s friend too! And Quill literally lives here.”

“Did Clint ever make out with him?”

You raise a hand to pinch your index and thumb together. “This close to being fired, Parker.”

He turns and skips down the aisle, ignoring your threat. “I feel like I’m in a movie! Small town, old boyfriend, current boyfriend, the holidays!”

Jogging to catch up to him, you basically abandon the thoughts of Christmas presents in order to convince the little shit he’s reading the situation wrong. “Nothing is going to happen with Quill ever again. Do you hear me?”

“Were you and I looking at the same man?”

Glaring, you promise, “Just because he bulked up doesn’t mean my panties are going to drop.”

“Ah, but you did notice he’s huge.”

You exit the store, leaving him a few feet back. “You’re fired.”

Dramatically, Peter presses, “But who will google the definitions of words that stump you when you’re editing?”

The air conditioner blasts around your hundredth sigh. And yet, it’s still not loud enough to mask the sound of Captain Steve fucking Rogers snoring on the floor at the foot of your bed.

What the fuck was your dad thinking? This was so fucking awkward for both you and Steve, obviously, but Steve was too good of a man to say anything. He was given the opportunity to play the protect our shared daughter from boys card, and he snatched that shit right up. Now you were cursed with his snoring practically in your ear, a personal assistant sleeping on the couch downstairs, and a boyfriend a whole staircase below you. A boyfriend that was probably wide awake and low key theorizing all the ways he’d kill Steve in the morning.

Because even though he trusts Steve, and Steve has obviously shared space with you before back in New York, the mere fact you’re alone with an attractive male who is not him must be eating at his self-control. Hell, it’s eating at you. It’s not fun when Steve plays the angel card. He’s much more fun when he fights back.

“Steve,” you whisper-yell, locking your muscles tight as you wait for a response. But the only verbal response you receive is another loud snore. “Steve.”

He doesn’t stir. Slowly, painstakingly slow—you slip from under the covers and tip-toe to the door. Looking back, you’re half convinced Steve will roll over and point with a loud declaration of, “Ha-ha! Got you!”

But the big lug snores and chokes, deep in whatever sedated dream he’s currently experiencing.

Rolling your eyes, you then step out into the hallway with the grace of a literal swan. Sidestepping the noisy wooden planks, avoiding breathing when you walk past your dad’s closed door, pausing between each stair on the way down. The second you touch the carpet, you silently cheer.

Now all you’ve got to do is pass Peter Parker and Sam Wilson. Which proves easy as well, considering Peter’s draped over one couch, on his stomach, with one leg out the blanket and a hand tangled in his hair. Out cold. Sam’s on his back, arm folded over his face, and snoring loudly.

Pulling your phone out of your pajama-shorts pocket, you send Bucky a text.

Open the door.

There’s no response, but there is the distinct sound of bedsheets ruffling and soft pads of feet across the floor.

Bucky opens the door, and the soft orange light shining behind him gives him such a lovely halo, such a gorgeous glow, that you’re tempered to fall to your knees and pray.

“I’m not dueling your dad,” he says, glaring and squinting at the same time.

“Then we’ll have to be quiet.”

He huffs, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. The door is only slightly cracked open, like he’s restraining himself. “Doll…”

“Please?” Because what else can you say?

“Fuck…We’ve gone a week celibate before. How is this any different?”

Biting your lip, you admit, “Everyone’s telling me that I can’t.”

Bucky smirks a little. “So, I’m forbidden fruit?”

Now you pull out the big guns. Still biting your lip, you tilt your head down—barely—and lift your right foot up—barely—so it looks like you’re faintly tempted to cross your legs. “Please.”

Bucky’s eyes slowly close, and his nostrils flare. He pulls you in, expertly shutting the door with a faint click. Immediately, you attack his lips, kissing him feverishly. Like you’ve forgotten his taste. Like you can’t get enough.

“Doll—“

“I want to fuck you.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, Bucky asks, “Yeah?”

You nod the best you’re able, your lips still pecking his. “Mm, I want to see if you can be quiet.”

Bucky detaches himself long enough to speak, his hands gripping your waist. “And here I was thinking you were a little cockslut for me today. But you actually want to make me beg for it.”

You whine softly in response.

“Torture, is what that is. Selfish, and evil.”

You didn’t even realize Bucky had been walking you toward the bed until he crashed into it, dragging your body onto his. With him splayed out underneath you, your fantasies grow supreme.

“It’s both. I want your cock inside me, but I want to see that look on your face you only get when I fuck you just right.”

Bucky’s hips hitch upward involuntarily. “God, I love you.”

With a small giggle, you lean down to nibble on his neck.

Was it dangerous to do this on the very first night? Not exactly. If you were caught, you would just be bullied to the ends of the earth because of it. You’ll be hearing this story even when you are old and in diapers. Your dad may have some choice words with you in the morning, and his gun would definitely make an appearance—aimed at Bucky, of course—but he’d get over it.

Yes, this whole exhibitionist thing you and Bucky have going on is the slightest bit rude. You’re a guest at your father’s house, not a resident. You don’t pay the mortgage. He asked this one simple thing of you for the duration of your stay: Do not share a room with your lover, one of my best friends, under my roof.

But are you respecting his wishes? No.

Does it feel naughty and so fucking nasty, though? Yes.

By the time you get to the, “Will I feel guilty in the morning?” internal bit, Bucky’s cock is deep inside your mouth, and you’ve been stripped of all of your clothes.

Bucky grips the bed sheets as hard as he can, his metal hand squeaking in the otherwise quiet room. His breathing is erratic, but not loud enough to warrant inspection.

Popping off him, you run your tongue from the base to the tip, swirling it around and sucking—one of Bucky’s favorite moves. His tip is the most sensitive part. And when you dip the tip of your tongue over his slit, Bucky nearly shouts. His flesh hand shoots down to grip your hair, half-trying to ball it into a ponytail and half-trying to move it out of the way in whatever direction he can.

“Fuck, look at those lips,” Bucky praises. His eyes meet yours when you look up at him, cock hard on your tongue, and his mouth drops from a sudden rush of tingling pleasure that hits the base of his stomach. “Fucking born to suck my cock, huh?”

With a few final long licks and deep sucks, you release his cock to stand from the bed. “Born to suck and fuck you, Barnes,” you giggle. “Did you bring the lube?”

Bucky rests his head against the pillow, chuckling softly toward the ceiling. “I brought it in case of a quickie and we wanted to skip your prep.”

Humming, you snap open the lid and walk back to the bed. You don’t miss the hungry look Bucky has as he visibly eats your figure up. Settling between his legs, you pat the outside of his right thigh. “Open up, sweetheart.”

“God,” Bucky quietly moans, and bends his knees. Spreading them farther apart, he presents himself to you. And fuck, is he a treat. Cock hard and red, dribbling against his lower abdomen. His balls locked tight, practically begging to be fondled. And his tight, puckered hole waiting for your fingers.

Spreading some lube onto your index finger, you look up at him. “Do you want to fuck me after this?”

“Sweetheart,” he mocks, sucking in one deep breath as he watches you warm the lube between your fingers. “I don’t come unless you come, too. Got that? Don’t you dare make me feel good and then leave yourself untouched.”

“I can always return to my room and take care of myself there. This is for you.”

You say the last sentence with the most teasing tone you can conjure. Bucky Barnes is wholly complete to you. Meaning, there isn’t a puzzle piece left unturned, a secret left untold, or a wish left unsaid. And even though people claim you never stop learning about a person no matter how long you’re with them, they’re wrong about that. Because even if you “learn” something new about Bucky, it’s a given. Something you may not have guessed entirely accurate, but something irrevocably him that it proves to be the most obvious thing in the world.

And as raunchy as this example was, you know Bucky would never let you leave this room without coming at least once, but you never thought he’d declare it so hot and angrily.

“Fuck yourself in front of my friends and see what happens.”

Smiling wide, you lay the pad of your index against his hole. Bucky tenses, gritting his teeth at the sudden touch. “You want to fuck me in front of Steve?”

Bucky growls, suddenly reaching forward to grip the back of your head to tug you down. With a tiny yelp, you fall forward onto his chest, your lips a centimeter away from each other.

“That’s already happened, and it was an accident.”

Slowly, you push your finger into him. Bucky swivels his hips, the movement itself an ask for you to do something else with the intrusion.

“Oh? I remember you admitting to me that it was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to you, even if Captain Rogers, one of your best friends, saw my wet cunt stretched around your cock.”

Bucky slams his lips against yours, his mouth parting when your finger starts sliding in and out, in and out. He tightens around you, and his hips swivel again. You rise up so you can get a better view.

“You like when people know how well you fuck me.” Pulling out, you massage his hole before lining up your middle finger. You slide both fingers in as you say, “Especially when I have to look those people in the eye the next day.”

Pumping into his body, you marvel at the way his face scrunches in pleasure. How his mouth parts and his bottom lip shines. How his throat bobs and his skin turns a dark pink. How his chest heaves and his nipples harden. Nipples you find yourself leaning toward and biting softly, pulling the pebbled tip between your teeth. Bucky whines, his breathing quickening.

“Sometimes I just want you to rip my jeans off in front of everyone and fuck me right there. I want you to talk them through it—what it feels like, what you want to do to me. I want a fucking audience for when your cock finally leaves me and I’m dripping your—“

“Doll, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up or else I’m exploding right here, right now.”

Bending your fingers, you rub against his prostate until he’s writhing. His cock gives a slight pulse, then another and another as you nearly rub him to completion. But you alternate between fucking him with your hand as fast and coordinated as you can, then stopping to stroke him from the inside. It’s a combination that always brings Bucky to fucked-out tears.

“Tell me when you want to switch,” you assure him. “Tell me and I’m all yours.”

“You little minx,” he grunts, hands sliding along your waist and up to your tits. He pinches a nipple with his metal hand, elated when your face slackens. “Now, sweetheart. Make yourself come now.”

With one final swipe at his prostate, you remove your fingers and wipe the excess lube off on the bed sheets. Then, in one of the most practiced moves you’ve come to achieve, swing your leg over until you’re hovering over his cock, and sink onto him.

“Fuck,” he moans, gripping your hips as he readies to bounce you. But he lets one hand travel, one hand rise and smack your mound. Quickly, you cover your mouth with your hand, clenching your eyes shut.

Pussy-slapping. Huh. Everyday you find out something new about yourself.

He does it again. And again, and again, until you get the message and begin lifting your hips. Bouncing up and down, clenching purposely just to teeter him over that sweet edge, pinching his nipples whenever he did yours.

It’s rough and wet and possibly a little too loud for your predicament, but it’s too good to stop. Every spring of your hips reminds you of that glorious fullness, how the girth of Bucky’s cock burns and shocks and blesses you all at once. Reminds you of his sculpted body beneath yours, a body that has lain there and took it, a body that has draped itself over you and encased you with loving warmth. And the whimpers he expels, the way he bites his lip, the way his fingers leave masculine imprints on your skin…it’s evident you’re the same way, that your face contorts the same way his does, that your nails are leaving light red marks on his chest.

A magnificent pair—two bodies, two people attempting to reach a new height hidden at the base of stomachs, at the edges of spines, in the melting slush behind ribs.

Fuck your exhibitionist kink. You can’t stay away from Bucky because you, simply put, can’t stay away. If you weren’t horny tonight, you’d bet millions that you still would have snuck in and simply held him goodnight.

Bucky tugs you forward until you’re chest to chest, practically hugging, and holds you there as he fucks up into you. Fast, deep, desperate.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers through a moan, his voice near your ear. “Love you with all my goddamn heart.”

“I—” He hits that spot inside of you, and continues to hit it once he realizes. “I love you.”

His arms unwrap from your waist so he can grip your ass, spreading you wider as he pumps. “C’mon, Doll. Come for me. Come all over my cock like the cockslut you are.”

Biting into his shoulder, you shatter completely. Black spots impair your vision, and your back practically bows. Bucky fucks you quicker, and with a low grunt, spills into you.

Sweaty and overheating, you lift yourself with weak elbows. His eyes are still closed as you comment, “For the record, the next time I fuck you in this house, it’ll be with a strap-on and you’ll be bent over this bed, do you hear me?”

Bucky smiles through his post-orgasm daze. “Fuck yes. Make me that promise, sweetheart. Make me your cockslut.”

You chuckle deeply. “It’s funny when you say it when you refer to yourself.”

He blinks an eye open. “Funny?”

“Cute,” you correct. “Because it’s you admitting you’re as much of a horny little bastard as I am.”

Bucky snorts softly, and helps lift you from on top of him. Reaching over the nightstand, he snatches a couple tissues. He cleans what he can, but a bathroom trip is required. “You better sneak back to your room before someone gets suspicious about my light being on.”

“Maybe Steve woke up.”

“Steve sleeps through those loud as fuck broadcasted alerts and earthquakes. I highly doubt the jerk woke up on a silent night like this one.”

“Not so silent anymore.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. You dress, plant a long kiss on Bucky’s bruised lips, and slip from the room undetected. Peter hadn’t moved from his spider position and Sam still snored loudly. Nothing in the kitchen has been disturbed.

You succeeded. You actually fucking succeeded. With a wonderful tenderness between your legs and a blush on your cheeks, you gently climb the stairs and open your bedroom door. Steve lies on his stomach now, sprawled out and practically dead.

You’ll have to sleep without Bucky’s arms around you tonight, but knowing he wanted you as badly as you wanted him? Bliss.

TAGLIST: [on masterlist]

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x female reader #holiday fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers au #warmth of winter sequel #warmth of the future #part one #captainsimagines #by Moni #dbf!bucky #dbf!buckybarnes

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1-800-bloop-12 · 1 year

Text

Algiophobia ┈┈┈┈․° 2

ˊˊ𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚..ˊˊ

🇲 🇴 🇳 🇩 🇦 🇾

ˊˊSchool sucks huh?.."

I looked up at the strange person, holding my book bag tight, weird thing to do, especially with a stranger. I don't know you..

ˊˊ Yeah.. Thankfully, we're done with exams and stuff.. Today's the last day.ˊˊ

ˊˊ Well, I'm glad you made it.ˊˊ

I looked up at them, blinking slowly while a smile spreading on my face, ˊˊ Thank you.ˊˊ I said. They only nodded, I guess it was a You're Welcome.

I looked down at my phone, seeing no notifications as usual. I huffed, looking back up a far waiting for the bus to at least some what come. ˊˊ They drive so slow..ˊˊ I groaned, looking back down at my phone, deciding to at least scroll on tiktok or Pinterest.

Maybe I should skip school today...

But that's very bad.

Very, very, very.. Bad-

ˊˊ But it'd be worth it..ˊˊ I stood up from the bench, picking up my book bag and putting it over my shoulder. I walked home, putting headphones on and turning on Beautiful Stranger, reminding me of last week. A smile formed on my face softly moving to music.

* Maybe we would have exchanged a few words.

ˊˊ A fairy tale moment could have occurredˊˊ Softly twirling the cord of the headphones, the people only do small glances before going back to what they're doing. I forgot to plan something.

What do I do today?

* But a beautiful stranger will have to remain.

My eyes glanced up at the birds on the wire, pretty normal, huh? Anyways, maybe I should go to the mall. My parents gave me money for it so I guess it would be nice.

* A stranger until I see him again.

I wanted to get a few things from hot topic, But I don't mind chilling at the food court it would make my nose pleased. I don't have a smell/food kink..

Is it weird that I had to say that? I guess so. Who would be thinking you would have that?

Taking out my house keys realizing I was near my house, opening my bottom book bag pocket, taking out my housekeys, and hearing the chains and keys make their usual noise.

I saw my cat, well.. A cat that I fed at my doorstep as if it was waiting for me, meowing as it rolled off its back and on its legs making their way to me, I crouched and petted the cat. ˊˊ Hey man..ˊˊ I coo'd feeling my heart tingle from the cuteness of the cat.

Why are cats so adorable?..

* See him again. 💞

I stood up, going back to my business, walking up the doorstep, hearing the soft paws on the ground and the cat purring. Unlocking my door, I looked down, making sure the cat didn't slip inside, but its adorable eyes looking at me made me wanna scream.

ˊˊ I'll feed you after I get dressed, okay buddy.ˊˊ

ˊˊ Meow!ˊˊ

Adorable..

The cat sat down by the door when I closed it, hearing its fading out purring through the door. Poor cat, why would its owner leave it behind? Now, it has to survive on its own. You could've given it to a neighbor.

Like me!

I place my bookbag next to the door, also taking my jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack. I walk up the stairs and straight to my bedroom, taking off my headphones, fixing my hair so it doesn't look weird.

Closing the door behind me, I look at my desk filled with papers with drawings and my scripts, taking off my shoes kicking them to the end of my bed.

Walking up to my desk and sitting on the spinny chair, looked down and realized something.

Where was my one of mini country balls?..

I remember there was a tiny Belarus here.. WHAT THE FLIP BRUV 😨

Anyways, I picked up one of my unfinished drawings, it was a reference of my dream. Sorry, it just sticked with me even though it's Been like...

2 W E E K S. . .

I groaned as I rubbed my eyes, placing the picture down, getting up from the chair so I can change into my jammies.

Uh.. After I changed, I realized I was supposed to feed the kitty Kat, walking out my room, being mad careful with having socks on and walking on wooden floors.

Walking into the kitchen, I saw my tiny Belarus on the counter, I stared at her.

Ma'am.

Who moved you-

I blinked slowly before turning away, ˊˊ Weird..ˊˊ I mumbled as I walked over to the lower cabinets, grabbing a can of tuna. Mumbling under my breath.

Grabbing an can opener, I positioned the can and start turning the handle. Watching the can opener doing its work. After that I took the loose top off and drained some of the juice out.

Walking to my front door I unlocked it, looking down to see the cat still there. Yeah, this cat loves me. It's meowing putting me back to reality as I shook my head a bit.

Placing the can down, i watched the cat go ravish on the tuna. I scratch their head before going back inside, locking the door as always.

Walking to the kitchen and looking at the counter. The lil Belarus ball was still there.. Just staring into the oblivion.

I'm still wondering who moved you missy-

Picking her up, being EXTRA GENTLE CUZ THIS IS MY BABY!!!! And placing her in my palm, it was adorable-

Walking up the stairs and to my room. I was just coo'ing and babying the little Belarus in my hand, I have an obsession with cute things especially if they're small..

Sitting down at my desk putting her down next to the tiny Poland ball she was originally with, yeah don't move like that ok girl-

I picked up my phone, looking at it with a massive bored face. I can either scroll through tiktok, go on character ai, draw or sleep.

Cuz I barely have any friends and they probably went to school so.. Yeah..

I groaned, placing the phone down. Getting up from my spinny chair and off to my bed, flopping down on it as I turned to my side. Getting all snuggly in blankets and pillows, my scrunched up face now into a calm one.

Why are beds so comfy.. They're the best creations on earth I swear.

My mind slowly started to go blank, only thinking of lil scenarios in my head. Things I could've been, imaging myself with my Comfort Character, or just my favorite fandom/show. It's infinite.

It's like your thoughts are a Void.

It never ends.

ˊˊI won't hurt you.. Just trust me ˊˊ

Fluttering my eyes open I seem too be in a flower field. I was wearing a white dress/Blouse with black pants (or shorts). I could see the shadow of a bow in my hair too, it's two ribbons flowing in the wind.

Standing up, my legs felt really weak as if it was glass on the brink of breaking. But I managed because I was strong 💪. I just looked around, it was sadly a blue hour vibe though..

The fog and the slight light as the sun was below the horizon. So it couldn't really give it's original golden orange color as it usually does. I just watched the Wheat and flowers flow in the wind.

There was a tree...

I started walking to the said tree, with the best of my ability. But I madE IT, yeah mama raised a warrior man. Sitting under the tree looking afar as I watched over the flower field. It's so peaceful.

Sadly it's just dream.. 'But who said it is.'

I know that voice- Looking beside me I saw him but his face was more clearer and less blurry than last time. It felt like I was going to cry.

'You missed me didn't you? Well I missed you too Schatz' He chuckled. I growled softly punched his arm as I felt tears stream down my face, his laugh made me feel comforted. 'You bastard! You left me like that for weeks!'

I hiccuped and sobbed, this was to much. The man I danced with and had me so motivated was Austria-Hungary?! This is so..stupid!

'I'm so sorry, but I was busy with all the meetings and my family to come back. I decided that I'll spend my few moments with you' His arms wrapped around me, softly pulling me into his chest. His warmth calming me down from the break down I had.

'Is life getting better for you Schatz?..' He asked. I shook my head slowly, fiddling with my fingers. 'Mom as been at work a lot, on her days off she goes out. My dad is living somewhere else..' I felt my eyes droop after that.

'Barely have friends either, I do but they barely talk to me..' Letting out a bumpy breath I can hear him hum at my answer to his question.

I can feel his hand petting my head in a comforting way. As if he was trying to bring my tension down. It was working either way..

'I just wonder why I can't stay here for ever.. It's not like I have a purpose..' I whispered, closing my eyes as I rested my head on his chest. He sighed. 'I know you want to, but it's hard because you want to live in your mind.'

'Somewhere you can be free, and do anything you want.' He said 'looking' at the leaves falling and the soon rising sun making the blue hour fade away.

'But you need to wait for me, Okay.. I'll help lead you.' he said. My instincts told me he was getting up so i moved. He stood up, wiping his pants as he looked down at me, who was still on their own knees.

Crouching down as he held my sad tired face. 'Ich liebe dich.' Was the last thing he said before fading away, leaving me once again. Golden hour as now arisen. Laying on the soft grass watching the leaves fall and flower field blow in the wind.

How peaceful.. 'It certainly is dear..'

ˊˊI'll protect you from all things I've seen.. ˊˊ

#countryhumans x reader #countryhumans #x reader #songfic #comfort

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elaine-abroad · 11 months

Text

Volume 5 Part 2

The most anticipated part of the week was my trip to Busan. There was a lot of switching up with the original plan which was to go for the weekend with Grace and Bianca. It ended up being that Bianca was staying the whole weekend, I was only going for a day, and Grace wasn’t going at all.

I remember being obsessed with the movie Train to Busan a couple years ago. Vivian and I even made both of our families watch it. It felt surreal to take the same exact route from Seoul Station to Busan Station.

Our already long 3 hour ride was delayed so we ended up getting there an hour after, at around 2:20 pm. I knew it was going to be a long day as my return ride was leaving shortly after 10 pm so we had to hustle. We took this mini tour bus to one of the cultural villages. The bus ride was absolutely insane and ten times worse than the worst MBus driver.

The actual village was super pretty and nice to look at. It was refreshing to see so much color in one space and on buildings after being surrounded by bland high rises in Seoul. This layout reminded me a lot of San Francisco and Capitola Beach. It was very quiet too which was nice.

Bianca told me this was where a lot of refugees went to live after the Korean War so it was a lot more traditional than the trendy cafes and buildings elsewhere. The village was painted and decorated as a part of the Village Art Project, and has become a tourist attraction since. There were a lot of houses and old people there.

My favorite part was this trinket shop near the entrance. There was this cute golden retriever dog named Honey Jar and there was a sign that said to call him Jar.

The entrance had all the fun foods and snacks as the rest of the village was mostly houses and older restaurants.

I liked how there were little stories behind parts of the village. This stairway was called Stairway to See Stars because people would feel dizzy when going up the 148 steps with heavy loads on their backs.

We couldn’t stay too long at the village and booked it to the beach. Apparently Haeundae Beach is the most famous beach in Busan, but it was a little underwhelming. I’m sure the night view is more impressive than what we saw though. It just looked like sand on the side of the road, but it was peaceful. Swimming wasn’t even permitted, but I did see people surfing at the coast.

Bianca’s kind of an old man and likes to do old people things. Busan is her type of life. She would love it to sit on the beach, hike mountains, go fishing, and watch the sunset every day of her life. She says she just walks and walks when she’s traveling alone and gets up to 20-30,000 steps. She told me she was going to climb a mountain the next day.

It wasn’t long before our beach train time slot.

We rode sideways and saw the water. It was pretty, but nowhere near as nice as our sky capsule ride.

We booked a ride from 7:30 - 8 pm and it was actually the most perfect timeslot. We got to see the entire sunset and night lights.

We got off at the Blue Line Park which was filled with lights.

We both wanted to try authentic raw marinated crabs, but all the crab restaurants closed at 8 so we couldn’t get them. We opted for this porridge place that also served seafood dishes. Again, I’m not big into seafood, but we were in Busan so we felt obligated.

I got this bean sprout hangover soup which had an abalone in it. It was my first time trying an abalone.

Anyways I was really nervous about traveling back by myself. Bianca was so nice and took a taxi with me back to the station before going to her hotel. Once I got there I found out that my train departure was being delayed by half an hour. I waited by myself and eventually boarded. It was very scary because I had booked the last train from Busan to Seoul of the night so I couldn’t afford to mess up.

Luckily I did not mess up and got to Seoul at around 1:30 am. I immediately felt a lot safer there than Busan. I don’t know why but Busan was a little scary. We passed by buildings with totally busted windows and a lot of the city looked less populated/abandoned. There were also a significantly less amount of traffic lights which was intimidating.

The subway didn’t start again until 5 am and I didn’t want to call a taxi/get in by myself so I walked about 40 minutes back to campus. It honestly wasn’t even that bad because of all the street lights. There were still shop owners out cleaning up and people walking around.

I came back and took the whole day to sleep and rest. Grace and I went to the witch restaurant again, but this time in Hongdae because there looked to be more menu options. We also wanted the blue blood bag drink this time.

I got this mummy pizza that was pretty good. One thing stood out to me and that was that all of the pizzas said that they were made with pastry dough. That was true as it was super flaky. I was able to eat more that way which was nice. It’s interesting to see how everything in Korea is made to be sweet. I know that a lot of my classmates aren’t real big fans of that.

Seeing as I leave very soon, I am trying to get one more full day of fun. I’m really disappointed that the Ewha merch shop has been closed for the rest of the month because I wasn’t able to buy anything.

It’s definitely been an experience I’ll never forget, but I do want to go home.

-Elaine

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mindfulcuppa · 10 months

Text

Traversing over sand, water, stone. A glassy ocean by terracotta kitchens and cut snakes.

₃ Lisbon >Sintra >Almageira

Lisboa

Before long, I returned to Lisboa where I rested in a hostel near Ristrello. There were bunk beds three stories high, with headroom enough to lay, but not enough to do a partial crunch.

This time I wandered around the city somewhat purposeless, finding a place to do laundry, a place to have coffee, and some castles to draw. There was a tip toe nature toward discovery, and I felt drawn into the touristic snow globe experience. To break from this, I went to the extreme of tourist density, to Sintra and the Palace of Peña.

As you would consider what it would be like to be in a gold plated children's book, the palace held a certain attention to detail that was quite unnecessary. And with the deluge of people that step through with heads in lenses, the spirit of the Palace does get lost in the noise. There was a case for aesthetics, though. The construction of Poseidon into an arch doorway was my favourite, along with the sheer beauty of balanced architecture in the hallways. Imagining what regal life would take place at the palace left a specific feeling of detest, dust, and nostalgia.

Nearby, the gardens were majestic; sweeping swans and ducks, each with their own castle-like nests. The peaceful shelter from shimmering leaves of old trees above. I enjoyed spending some moments here breathing, drawing, and sitting (all at the same time!).

It was hot, and I was now overloaded with noise. The town of Sintra had many quirks, hills, bends, and amusements that helped distract from the consuming surroundings. Along my way, I had some conversation with a local azulejo artist (painting tiles) about process, and then found a nice place to drink a beer. I had passed through the Peña gift shop and pocketed a postcard (to remedy the guilt of the 14€ entry), so I sat at the bar to write to my grandparents, who's friends had advised this trip. Just as my legs began to desire a seat, I boarded the train back to Lisbon.

Once I got back to the capital again, I had a look for some enjoyable ways to spend an evening outside of the typical. I discovered a dance history class at TBA, where I would learn some new breakdance, vogue, footwork techniques and built up a sweat. Later I realised that my friend Paul was in fact living in Lisbon, so we arranged to meet.

He taught me some slang, and we met also with his friends Basille and Ria. They were lovely. We must have looked cool because a stranger came to us for a lighter and then decided to stay a while too. It was great to talk with them, as I felt like I hadn't had a decent exchange of conversation in days. Hearing of Paul's lifestyle of surfing, ceramics, and teaching brought joy to me. As well as an essence of opportunity for something similar one day.

The next day I would visit Basille's workshop/studio on my way to the bus. His professionalism in sign writing, home made screen station, and attention to detail in the fine design of his space was inspiring. I thanked him for the gifted pin for my travels up the coast.

Almageira

Arriving into Peniche on a hot summers day was memorable for its stench of sardines. Apparently it’s the sardine capital of the world (not Sardinia), but I’m still a little sceptical… A man named Paul picked me up, he was British but as things became clear, he had a chasm of houses in the area and seemed to be building a mini empire.

I was there to help him with his project to turn a couple of acres, ‘the land’ as it was named, into a place to live and breathe for him and his partner. Featuring a yurt, a double decker bus, and a halfpipe, the land was fringed on something that I’d like to contribute towards, but ultimately, I was there to surf and swim. The water at Almegeira was so crisp and glassy, it like freshly washed windows. Baleal beach was also a nice place to paddle, and did get twice overhead one day 😳

Malcolm, JB, Luiz, and Brodan all joined in some assistance over the 2 weeks; where we shovelled concrete, built a deck, and installed a kitchen or two [we built one for outside]. They are all wonderful. I especially enjoyed hearing Luiz talk about rake, and Malcolm talk about his passion for high lining. Sharing insights is what we did lots of. As well as heading out to a couple of bars (Rickle, Boske, Washed Up), and hanging at the pipe dream pool with the dogs.

A highlight was having Emma and Alex come through on their road trip and fancy van. We had a boisterous bolder stroll and snacks that were exactly the sweet spot. We watched a perfectly orange sun set over some skim-boarders, as would be found on an advert for corona beer. I was happy to see them.

My step count began to take a high trend upwards around this time which i've grown into, but initially tired of the dripping sweats...

I write this now from London, 5 weeks after the fact. My image library backup is needing a moment to update...

#travel writing #portugal #dipped in foreign lands #visual storytelling #lisbon

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mblematic · 2 years

Note

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy and then, send to the last ten people in your notifs. you never know who might benefit from spreading positivity <3 (only if u want to!! :) )

boy DO I ! tysm for the ask :))) this is today themed

1. FALL. I have been so happy these last few days the weather is perfection

2. white wine. "but MOLLY you were all like 'ooooOOOooo fall it's so nice' why aren't you drinking CIDER and HOT CHOCOLATE and FINE BORDEAUX" no. I like white wine. I drink white wine YEAR ROUND and I will be ordering some tonight to celebrate a mini promotion

3. shit this is starting to be a basic bitch list uhhhh uhhhhh A GOOD BOOK fuck. (but really I'm re-reading Harrow the Ninth holy shit I lose my MIND on the bus home every day)

4. my babiest sibling moved near to me and it is filling my heart, tonight we are getting Indian food together and when I tell you it makes me emotional to eat naan with this person I DO NOT LIE

5. we might watch the GoT prequel ep afterwards SORRY i hate to be her but i'm a slut for drama & prestige television

#ask box #TY EVE

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lie-reviews · 2 years

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Unwinding Remotely: JUST BREATHE

After weekdays that are full of studying,more studying and even more studying.

An university student needs a much deserved break. Hence the weekend is my chill pill.

I escape to my hometown to unwind.

Its called kammavanpet,near Vellore in Tamil Nadu and it looks this;

Oh i took the pictures so credits to me he he.

i escape to this lovely paradise to relax after spending the entirety of the week in the hustle and bustle of the city. after existing among constant noise of all sorts. the quiet is serene.

You feel it the moment the bus enters the sparsely populated settlement.

Its an emotion that's akin to how you feel when you smell the scent of the earth after the rain. You just feel so peaceful.

Now i shall give ya'll tips on how to spend your weekend unwinding in this heaven:

As times have changed internet is available everywhere and here too. But I like to spend my precious mini two vacays by forgetting the existence of internet.

I download all the series i want to binge on, take all the new books i want to read along with of course food, and that's it.

You go prepared to relax and that is what you do.

You wake up along with the sun. watch it rise amidst the mountains.

Breathe in the fresh air.

go for a morning walk.

come back sit on the veranda with a cup of hot tea.

watch the birds and little animals wake up.

read a book or go exploring after all discovering is fun.

go hiking.

walk along the paddy fields.

In the evenings watch the sunset.

BBQing is something i haven't tried yet but the ambience here is perfect for it.

you can source your meats and veggies from the nearby fields and shops.

In the night you can count the numerous stars that stud the inky sky visible only here.

feel the grass crunch under your feet and breathe in the fresh air.

JUST BREATHE.

by Laina

don't plagiarize. do not repost the pictures without permission.

#travel #vacation #relaxation #chill weekend #countryside #breathe

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jodilin65 · 36 years

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SATURDAY, JANUARY 30, 1988 I am still wide awake and I probably will be for quite a while. I thought Crystal was at work and I wondered why she wasn’t home yet, so I called and was told that today was her day off. She’s probably with Mike.

Nothing much happened in court yesterday. The other party never even showed up.

Earlier tonight I finally got around to changing the bedroom around. I dusted and rearranged the walls. I also did some work in the kitchen. Tomorrow I’ll need to change the pig’s cage, vacuum and mop. Crystal can finish the rest of the dusting.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1988 I was up all last night and didn’t get to bed until around 5am, so I slept all day today.

I was pissed off over Crystal’s refusal to do any cleaning. I’ll just up her rent.

She should be home any minute. I hope. I could use the company, despite her laziness.

Mary D fucking set me up tonight (a gay girl I met through Crystal). She said she was gonna come and get me at 10:30 and she never showed up. I was told a million different excuses for that. She’s out of my book. She’s just not worth it and she does that every time she owes me something, and she’s also ugly as hell, so what’s the point?

I think I’ll go see Emily tomorrow. I spoke to her tonight. She said for me to call her first because she doesn’t know exactly what she has planned for tomorrow. Hope I can see her. I haven’t for a while.

I ran out of smokes and that’s it! I quit! I’m not spending the fortune you have to pay for cigarettes. I can’t even fucking breathe and shit if I’m gonna lose the voice I worked so hard to get to sing with.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 22, 1988 Yesterday, Tammy came in from Salem with Lisa and Rebecca. We met at Friendly’s. After Tammy and I left Friendly’s, we went to see her doctor who had to explain to her about the dental surgery she is to be having. Then after that, we returned to Friendly’s where we met Tera, Bill S’s daughter. Bill S is a lawyer that Tammy once liked. Finally, before she made the trip back home, she came to my place for a little while and met Crystal.

Lisa was so thrilled to see the pigs, as usual.

I spoke on the phone to Mary, Stuart, Fran and Kevin. When I tried to call Jenny, she said she’d call me back some other time cuz she said she was in the shittiest mood she’s ever been in. A few hours later I tried to call her, but she was asleep.

Wednesday, I walked up to the deli for a bite to eat, then took the bus downtown. There I bought a Laura Branigan 45, some musk lotion, Charlie perfume, and a checkered wool mini skirt for only $5.

Tuesday, I had a great time at the Willie Ross in my sign language class. The class was all in sign. No voices were used at all. The teacher tested us with fingerspelling, signs and numbers.

First of all, at the beginning of the class, we signed with no voice and stated our names, and our weaknesses and our strengths. I said that I could sign very well but that my receptive skills were weak.

I think I have lost 3 or 4 pounds. Tomorrow I’m going to try to avoid eating if I can. I’d like to get down to 95-100 pounds. Crystal was up to 101. Now she’s back to 97. Lucky bitch. She has no muscle, though, and is nowhere near as solid as I am. I did some exercises tonight. I’m a little sore, but I hope to lose more weight.

Crystal damn well better start helping out with chores. I told her she better vacuum tomorrow and said I’d mop.

I got a tote bag and a mug from the book clubs. I also have 14 more books coming. I’ve been getting them in exchange for signing up others into the clubs. I think I’ll definitely need to set up more shelves. The gold plastic ones. I just don’t know where. Maybe in the hall where the wooden stand and fern plant is. Or in the bedroom where the chair is. Maybe I’ll set them up side by side with the other shelves out in the hallway where the door release is.

There’s also this book service (not a book club) that sends you 6 romance novels every month for $12.50. No obligation and you can cancel at any time. It’s just that romance isn’t really my thing. I like suspense, but I may try it anyway.

Rose called from Community Care. She’s to be my new therapist. Rose also does intake. She’s fat and ugly, too. I miss Trisha. I want her back. Rose and I are to meet on Sundays at 3pm.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1988 Today I am going downtown. I am going to buy a pair of shoes, a record of Laura Branigan’s, and just basically browse around and kill time. First I think I’ll walk up to the deli and get my coffee. Then I’ll take the bus downtown.

The new doctor I saw yesterday really seems to make sense and I think he knows what he’s talking about. He agrees with me about there being no way I could be bipolar. He thinks I’m hyperactive, which is true.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 19, 1988 Kevin is here now and I just called Crystal. She wants him here when she gets home so we can both play with his head. I told Kevin she had a crush on him, but of course, she doesn’t.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 1988 I have finally found a shorthand book and have learned some, though it’s not a beginner’s book.

Tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment with Dr. Franklin, the new shrink that’s replacing Dr. Heronimo. I’m sure he’s just like the others. Maybe I can find out how long it’s going to be before I see a new therapist.

I am at the X doing my laundry. Kevin drove me here. My clothes are still in the washer and I am sitting down next to Nervioso writing in this journal. I just finished a cigarette.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 16, 1988 Yesterday was my bastard brother Larry’s birthday. Hope he eats shit and dies. Haven’t seen him for a couple of years. Not since he and the roommate (Michelle L) I had in my first apartment on Locust St. used the hell out of me. This was before Larry threatened me. I even filed charges against him in court till he sweet-talked me into dropping them before going our separate ways.

Today I got my temporary ID from welfare and they took my picture. It will be ready any day after February 5th. I got $20 in food stamps.

I went looking for a beginner’s book on shorthand but couldn’t find one. I was surprised.

I went to Shopper’s Drug and got 5mg of Navane, and guess what? According to Monte, they come even lower than 5mg!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 15, 1988 Crystal went to get her kids. She was supposed to come back here to get me but she hasn’t shown up yet.

I also cannot get a hold of Kevin. Who knows where he is or what errands he’s doing?

I want to go look for that book on shorthand, which looks like it’d be a fun thing to learn, and I also need to redeem my food stamps. Then I’m going to see if I can get a 5mg refill. I’m hesitant about taking 10mg anymore.

My niece Lisa’s birthday is on the 20th. She’ll be 5. I must get her a gift. I don’t know what.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 1988 Stuart just called to say he is on his way over for a visit.

I haven’t written since Monday. I’ve wanted to but I got lazy.

Got 6 more books today. Now my shelves are jam-packed.

Later…

Stuart left, thank God. He seemed quite aggravated about something.

MONDAY, JANUARY 11, 1988 I got up at 10am today and chatted with Crystal for a while, then Mike came over and took us out to do errands.

Crystal was going to have a tooth pulled but forgot her Medicaid card. I had her scared for a while too, telling her they ran out of Novocain and that their tools broke. I said she’d have to have it pulled with a pair of pliers and no Novocain. She fell for it for a while, the gullible geek!

I got fried shrimp at the Eastfield Mall. She got pizza. Then Mike got gas and drove us home.

The nervous bastard called all aggravated about God knows what and then I pulled my little game of crossed call-waiting.

I should’ve received more books today, but I guess not. Maybe tomorrow.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 1988 Stuart came over for a visit. He’s a gay guy I knew from Longmeadow High. We are having dinner together. I am cooking chicken wings, noodles, and peas. He says I am a good cook yet I am asking him question after question.

I am going to go over to Stuart’s for spaghetti and meatballs one of these nights.

I need someone to trim my bangs. They’re quite uneven as usual.

Ma called today from Florida. She didn’t have much to say. Just that it’s been raining since I left. True or not, I don’t know. I said hi to Dad briefly. He didn’t say much, either.

José is outside begging Nellie to open the door, but it doesn’t seem like she wants to.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 9, 1988 I tried to sleep but can’t. Earlier this evening I managed to track down Diane D, Kevin’s ex-wife, out of curiosity. According to her, Kevin used to beat the shit out of her, and he knocked 3 teeth out of his son Eddie. He was very jealous of Diane and the boys’ friends, too. He owes about $10,000 in child support. I believe everything she told me, too.

I’m tempted not to let him know where I move to, but the problem is he can always find me. Not that I’m afraid of him, but he’s smart enough to go to the post office or the registry of motor vehicles and get a forwarding address. I could kill those agencies! That’s my private business, but they say it’s a matter of public record under the Freedom of Information Act. Fuck that shit! What about freedom of privacy?

FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 1988 The weather is so bad! There’s almost a foot of snow out there and trying to drive out there is miserable. I wanted to do grocery shopping but I couldn’t because it was so bad out there and the nervous bastard was getting quite nervous.

I found out some interesting news from Cathy at the office. Apparently, Crystal had her kids over here, and she is going to pay me $15 for the broken picture frame I just discovered, too. If she doesn’t, she can get the hell out.

I tried to call Mary yesterday and she was more interested in her goddamn shows than my vacation and she never called back. So to hell with her.

The nervous bastard went home after dropping me off. I’m still playing my little game with him where I call him and then I hit the receiver quickly, so he hears a click. Then I tell him I’ve got a call on the other line, then click it again and talk to the so-called caller knowing he can hear me. Oh, the things I say!

Fran is going to drop by tomorrow to see me and also give me the books I ordered through his introductory offer from the Mystery Guild. Speaking of books, I got 8 of them from the account I set up under Toby G and 4 of my own for joining new members. I still have 16 more coming and 3 from Fran. That’s 31 books! Plus, I have more coming from other people like Crystal.

That Troll book club I joined also owes me an introductory offer.

I sure was surprised yesterday at how happy Nellie and Hank were to see me back.

I called Anna and Julia, the two elderly sisters next door, to tell them where I’d been. They were worried, but are glad I’m back and had a good time. We chatted for quite a while.

I haven’t been able to reach Jenny yet. I hope she’s been ok.

At 8 pm all my shows go on but of course, I’ll have to watch in the living room. If this TV conks out then I’ll be without a TV until my parents sell their house and give me theirs.

Nellie says she’s moving in February. Let’s hope so, although at this point it really doesn’t matter too much. Sometimes I wish she’d get the hell out and sometimes I just don’t care. But either way, I’m gonna get my money and she knows it. She says on the 13th or 14th she’ll give me $30. She better!

Right now I am watching Rags to Riches, and afterward, I shall watch Miami Vice.

Later…

Crystal is here now and she is trying on the clothes I gave her. She is so skinny. I’m so envious. I am a fucking whale compared to her.

Now she’s talking on the phone to Fran. She was pissed as all hell at him about him calling her at work, but now they’re chatting quite happily.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 1988 I’m home now and I’m so tired! I’m starving too, so I’m gonna eat, then go to bed. I plan to write a lot tomorrow and I also want to do some laundry. I’m not even about to begin to do the rest of the unpacking.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard from the bastard downstairs. He’s quite lucky I haven’t, though.

Crystal, who’s out at the moment, left the place nice and neat. She’s quite lucky, too. Just a few minor things out of place. I knew, though, that she would never dust or vacuum. Too lazy to.

Later…

Got up at noon. I am so depressed now. I hate it here! I would rather be back in Florida with my parents, despite our differences. I totally hate it here!

I called Philip but got his girlfriend, Angie. She says she’ll talk to Philip, though I don’t see what he can do.

Crystal is singing like shit, as I wait for Kevin to come and take me grocery shopping. After that, I need to do laundry. I hate to think of seeing Kevin. I’m so sick of him. I explained to Crystal how he gets all nervous. Especially when he disagrees with something you’ve said.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1988 This morning I woke up a little after 6:00 after a series of strange dreams. Then I fell back asleep and woke up to my mother’s voice at 9:00. She and Dad were sitting at the table right outside the sliding glass door. Ma came over and teased me playfully for a while, then I got up and had a cup of coffee, made my bed and packed up. Right now my clothes are in the dryer. Ma washed them all for me. She’s in a good mood. I’m sure that’s cuz I’m leaving.

Ma and I are going to have lunch together today, then at 6:00, I take off. My cousin Philip will be picking me up at Bradley.

I intend to have a chat with Nellie about my money, and I just dare the bastard downstairs to open his mouth. One minute he’s civilized, the next he’s off on some drunken tangent. At least I know I won’t be there much longer.

I really did have a nice little vacation, although I wish the weather had been nicer.

Later…

Dad just went to get turkey club sandwiches for him and Ma and a cheeseburger for me. I’ve never eaten so much or been so hungry since I’ve been here. According to the scale where I was working out at the club, I weigh 116 pounds. Getting quite chunky. Oh well. I’ll lose it this summer like I usually do.

Now the sun’s out. Of course, it is. I’m leaving. If I stayed it would storm.

Dad put gas in the car so it’s ready for Ma and me.

I had run inside for a few minutes only to find Max, their poodle, playing with my socks.

I feel like I’m getting burned, but Ma wants me out here. She said it was good for me before she gave me a pair of sunglasses that are way too big. I believe she only wants me out here cuz she doesn’t like having me around. She had me visit out of a sense of duty, but I doubt her heart was really into the idea of it.

Later…

I just went for a bike ride and now I’m bored again.

I’ll miss Mom and Dad. I won’t be seeing them again till April.

Later…

I’m on the plane again. It doesn’t seem as bad as the other flight though. Yes, it’s loud but not as loud. I am on a smaller plane. A D-C9. The last plane was a 727. I’d like to fly a 747. My ear is blocked, as usual, but not as bad as the last time.

I hope they come around soon with coffee. God knows I could use some. I’ll be on this plane for hours.

You can barely see out the window because it’s dark and cloudy.

The noise and vibration of the engine sure are a pain in the ass but up front, you can’t smoke so I have to put up with it if I want to smoke.

Wow! Now I have a nice view down below. The clouds must’ve cleared. I can’t see too much in detail, though. Only the lights of the roads and houses. I can’t make out cars moving as I could flying in the daytime. The captain just said we’re over Orlando and we’re at 33,000 feet. Says it’s cold where we’re going.

Well, I guess I’ll continue writing in the other book. I’ve just about completed this one.

Later…

In this book, I’m still on the plane. It’s Wednesday and I won’t be arriving till 10:33. In 15 minutes it will be 8:00. We were supposed to take off at 6:15, but we didn’t till 6:30. I guess we arrive in Philly at 8:30 or so.

We do not get dinner, although they said so on the ticket. All we get is a snack. Here it comes now and boy does that coffee smell good.

The pilot just said we’re at 10,000 feet right over Dover, Delaware and it’s 15º!!! Yuck! No more warm weather for me. We’ll be landing in 15 minutes.

When I tell Kevin about my trip to Florida, I’m sure he won’t be interested and will interrupt me to yack only about himself like he usually does.

Later…

We are on the ground in Philly. It is freezing! It sucks! Now I have to wait till 9:40 before we take off again. I just asked the stewardess and she says the flight to Bradley is 52 minutes. Call it an hour, she said.

I look forward to seeing Philip. He’s like a big brother and I love him dearly.

Later…

Here I am flying again, although we will not be going up so high because it is a very short flight. I hope we get there shortly after 10:30. The captain says we’re at 19,000 feet and we’ll land in half an hour. It’s 12º at Bradley. Shit! I could see the snow before as we were landing.

They are getting ready to serve coffee now.

This is not a crowded flight but the last one was from West Palm Beach.

So, in Florida, I visited Stuart, Jensen Beach, St. Lucie and other places.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 5, 1988 So far today the weather has been awful. I fly back to Springfield tomorrow. I guess I’m ready because there’s not much to do here, and I miss my pigs and my stereo. I hope everything is ok at home. I’ll have to catch up on my singing. I’ve missed it, although I sang a little today. Very softly. My mom would get pissed if I sang louder than a whisper.

We all agreed that as soon as the house in Longmeadow sells (my folks want to move down here permanently), I will be moving. That should be within 4-6 months. I sure as hell can’t wait! Mom is going to be giving both me and Tammy the furniture. I shall be moving to a better area and into something that’ll hopefully have a dishwasher and an AC. Mom is going to start looking when she returns in April.

When I get home, I’ll be looking forward to seeing Crystal, Jenny, and Mary. Emily won’t be back from her own trip until the 12th. That was originally when I was supposed to return, but it’ll be tomorrow, the 6th.

MONDAY, JANUARY 4, 1988 Today is much cooler and breezier than yesterday. It looks like it’s been wanting to rain but it hasn’t yet.

Mom and Dad are now watching TV, something they do 90% of the time. Later, I guess we’ll be going out to dinner.

At about 9:30 this morning, I went to the pool. There was a cool breeze at that time, so when I got out of the water, I was chilled.

At lunchtime, I drove us all to the clubhouse for a hamburger and some fries.

When the mail came an hour after we ate, I drove Dad up to get it and to put my postcards and their mail in the mailbox. The funniest thing happened when I was preparing to drive us there though. I stepped on the gas to release the hill brake, and without realizing it I kept my foot on it and turned it on, put it in reverse, and man did we go flying out of that driveway! Dad was pissed, but I laughed my ass off.

Sure enough, I’m starting to get quite bored. I wish I could listen to my stereo! I live for listening to music several times a day. And I wish I had my guitar or keyboard, too.

I can’t believe it hasn’t rained yet. It sure looks like it will any minute.

They’re all so engrossed now in that stupid Discovery channel where they’re showing a special on India who plays this sickening music. How can anyone watch something so boring?

I should have brought my Spanish books, but I didn’t think to. Now would’ve been a great time to study.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 1988 I’m here now and it is gorgeous! The weather is perfect. Not too hot, cool or humid. There’s one hell of a breeze here on Nettle’s Island where my parents live in a manufactured home. All the people here are around my parent’s age. I don’t think anyone here is under 55. There are no kids, either.

My mom just came out asking me to excuse her for being short cuz she’s had a really bad migraine. She has been kind of a nag, that’s for sure. You just can’t be yourself around her. Shit, I can’t even breathe around her.

My parent’s home is beautiful! Outside the back door is a canal, bringing the ocean right up to within just a few feet of the house. I’m sitting out on the dock right now, actually, as I write this.

Dad has an electric car. I drove it and it’s pretty cool. He and I went swimming today.

Later…

I am still enjoying myself, although my mother is quite a pain in the ass and very bossy.

We went to a really nice buffet with everything - fish, chicken, macaroni, all kinds of veggies, salad, and soups. They had Mexican, Italian and American foods. You can make your own sundae, too.

After dinner Dad took a little nap while Mom and I watched some TV. Then we went to a different pool in the electric car. It was so nice! There was a Jacuzzi, too. Then we all took showers, came home and watched Crocodile Dundee on the VCR. Now I am going to read before crashing for the night.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 2, 1988 I’m finally on the plane now. At first, we didn’t think I’d make it here. Eastern was canceled. I’m now flying Continental but we’re delayed by an hour. The last time I was in Florida I was just a baby, therefore, this is really like my first time. It’s hard to write neatly when the plane hits air pockets. It’s dark out there so I can’t really see too much. I have been flying since 1:30. The stewardess says we won’t arrive in West Palm Beach until 7:30. I know I will be exhausted as I’ve been up since 3:30 this morning. I’m sitting right next to the engine and it’s so damn loud that my ear will be ringing all night.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1988 Tomorrow I’m gone! I can’t wait to get the hell away. Crystal and Kevin are going to take care of the pigs and the mail. Tomorrow I just have a few last-minute things to do then I’m gone!

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