#two… I enjoyed my nighttime walk with the dogs. I think I need more fresh air and I’ll be less cranky

[whentherewerebicycles]

the moon looked bigger in real life

[johnkrrasinski]

Coffee with Cream

Chapter 2: Dream of You

full masterlist

series masterlist

Pairings: Frank Castle x reader x Mad Sweeney

Word count: 2,693

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, street fight, men being men. 

Summary: Two men, one diner and little old you. Working at a diner had never been your dream job but, fate had a funny way of bringing two contrasted men into your life.

a/n: hey guys! as you all know my obsession over frank castle and pablo schreiber had been exploding these past couple of months. and so, me and @nellblazer decided to write a good old threesome fic involving these two bulky men. hope you like it. enjoy!

You laid in your bed that night with a romance novel that you hadn't had the chance to pick up and finish in awhile due to the weariness of working double shifts. It's the same old pattern for the last few years; you'd get up early for your morning shift at the diner, rushed back home to take a little break, and possibly enjoy your catnaps before your second alarm rings for your night shift. 

And then when the night was ending, you'd take another bus to get yourself home, take a shower and eat your takeout or heat up your frozen pizza, and went to bed. For years, life was merely a repetitive cycle of humdrum. You barely had time for yourself due to your relentless endeavour to stay afloat. 

Living in Brooklyn when you come from a middle-class family means that you really had to fight tooth and nail to pay the bills and fill your fridge. You were raised to be an independent and hardworking person by your parents and that's why it wasn't much of a challenge for you to work double shifts at a diner when you could've taken one. You taught yourself to push through your boundaries in life, and you were aware that sometimes it's not always convenient but at least you were proud of your own effort. 

That also means you didn't have time to swipe right and left on Tinder and find yourself a date. It was nearly impossible to find a decent guy in Brooklyn, let alone trusting a dating app that could possibly be utilized by creeps or murderers to find their next victim. Although your co-workers had suggested it many times to you, you refused to present yourself to the angels of death just simply you were desperate to get laid. 

But tonight was different from the others. It was comical, really, how one, well, two, actually people could walk into your life, okay that was dramatic, walk into a diner and elevated the sour mood that you had grown used to in recent years, and made a difference. A good one.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a genuine smile on your face. You also couldn't remember when was the last time you felt butterflies in your stomach. And here you are, lying in bed, replaying the scenes that took place earlier. In the daylight when the bustle was in full swing and in the nighttime when the city was placid.

You barely knew anything about them and you had only met them in less than 24 hours, but, you could still remember the way Frank Castle made you feel when his brown eyes stared intensely into yours as he shook your hand. The quiet yet magnetic force that he exuded only compelled you to learn more about him. In the brief conversation that you had earlier, you knew that he was a wanderer of a man.

He'd been hoping from one place to another, but he was thinking of staying in Brooklyn for a while and you were hoping that nothing changes his mind about that. You were really hoping that you'd see him again real soon.

And then, your thoughts drifted to the second man that you encountered with earlier. His auburn hair burned the lights in the room, causing a small fire that you didn't light up. But his amorous words had left you starstruck in a way that you didn't know was possible. You weren't one to stumble on a brazenly flirtatious man but something about him was too tempting to be overlooked. And the fact that he had this eccentric thing for coins made you wonder... What else has he got up in his sleeve?

Sweeney hadn't been able to get you off his mind all night.

The grumpy server who'd taken over had definitely not been a patch on your sunny optimism or brimming curiosity. He couldn't remember the last time a girl was so interested in his stories. Usually he got brushed off as a leering drunk or just a plain old letch but you'd entertained him, asked questions and given him a form of fresh cream to boot, all for him. A form of worship as it was.

You hadn't realised it of course, nobody ever believes in gods these days unless they're the Big Three or the Norse pantheon. Little old Sweeney with his Celtic cohort was hardly going to register on anyone's radar. I mean, fuck, nobody could even say his actual name right, let alone believe he was a god.

Even so, he felt refreshed, more refreshed than he'd been in years and when he got absolutely blasted on whiskey, the feeling was not the same as it was. The crippling existentialism was gone to be replaced by joyfulness and he sang most of the way home, thoroughly amusing everyone on his way back with his rude songs. He even danced with an old lady like they used to do in the twenties which he thought had made her night as she blushed furiously and began saying it'd been a while since she'd danced with a young man in the street.

Sweeney was having the time of his life, precisely up until he got in the alleyway and his loud singing got him into trouble.

There was a group of thugs hanging around in the middle, trying to sort something out but Sweeney didn't care to venture too close to find out what precisely.

“-Well I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me, who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be!” he belts out, stumbling slightly in their direction and he sees the flash of irritation on their faces.

The next thing he knew he was getting dog piled on. Bodies seemed to leap on him from every corner and all he could think about was protecting his coin at all costs so he sent it in the Hoard, the magical hiding place for his treasure and once he'd taken a few harsh licks to the gut, he tried to pull himself together to fight back.

Drunken brawling was his speciality after all.

He wasn't expecting it when a couple of the gang members were yanked off of him. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet, delivering a haymaker to the nearest lad who's cheek splintered under his weighted punch. The kid dropped to the floor like a stone, howling about his face.

The next man behind him, he twisted and grabbed around the middle, running them backwards to the edge of a dumpster before letting go and watching his head clang noisily off the metal as they fell backwards.

Oh it had been a good long while since he'd had a fight. He missed the adrenalin, he missed the cracking of bones and the taste of blood. It spoke to his soul that was millennia old when the world was war, ale and feasting.

Sweeney finally looked up to see that another man was fighting with him, a shorter man, stockier and well built, a nose that'd been broken at least once and the buzzcut styling of an ex-military man. The newcomer shifted his position and Sweeney saw a painted skull on his chest. His first thought was that Baron Samedi was expanding his worshipper's network but it didn't make sense for the Baron to recruit a soldier when he preferred his company to be a little more love and less war.

Who the fucking hell was this guy?

“You okay?” the man asks gruffly as he sees Sweeney staring at him. “Get out. Run.”

“I ain't fuckin' runnin',” Sweeney wrinkles his face in offence. “Do I look like a pansy to you?”

“You look fuckin' drunk is what ya look,” Skull Man counters, elbowing an attacker in the mouth. “I'll handle it. Run home.”

“Callin' me a coward?” Sweeney squares up. “I don't run, boy-o.”

“Really?” Skull Man raises an eyebrow. “Ain't the time for pride, Big Red. Fight or don't fight then. I don't care. Just stay outta my way with that one.”

He points to the man who Sweeney had knocked out on the dumpster. His eyelids were fluttering as he started to regain consciousness.

“What's it worth to ya?” Sweeney shrugs.

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Skull Man storms over, coming up until he was chest to chest. “I save your ass and this is what I get?”

“Didn't ask to be saved, lad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, right back.”

Just at the point where Sweeney is curling his fingers into a fist, ready to give a good old right hook, he's hit hard in the head from behind and goes down onto his forearms, scuffing them with pebbles and dirt. He scrambles unsteadily to his feet, feeling a little trickle of blood oozing down the path of his hair and sees Skull Man beating the living shit out of the dumpster guy before finishing him off with his bare hands.

Sweeney, meanwhile, jumps back into the fist fight, taking down every other gang member who'd dared to get back up. They make a break for it, running desperately down into the other alleyways and out of sight.

“You'd better run!” Sweeney bellows after them. “You'd all be fucked if I still had my spear. I WAS A FUCKING KING ONCE, YOU CUNTS!”

“I've heard some drunk talk in my time but you...” Skull Man shakes his head. “You're crazy, huh?”

“I'm a god, mate,” Sweeney holds out his arms proudly, swaying on the spot.

“Sure ya are.”

“And what the fuck are you, murderer?”

“Nobody you need to know about. You ain't seen me. I don't exist. I'm just taking out the trash of this city.”

“Oh aye? Are ya? And what did he do?”

“Shot up a playground.”

“Oh...” Sweeney tails off, looking at the dead man on the floor. “Well....good then. Good work. Bastard deserved it.”

He holds out his hand and Skull Man shakes it warily. Sweeney got the sense the guy didn't interact with people much because the handshake was stilted, unsure.

“Got a name?” Sweeney asks. “Or are ya hellbent on being mysterious?”

“It's Frank,” the guy replies after a pause. “But I was-

“-Never here, I got that,” Sweeney snorts. “I'm Sweeney.”

“Sweeney the God. A'ight, go on home then. I got clean up to do.”

“Nice fightin', by the way,” Sweeney calls over his shoulder. “See ya around, Frank.”

“I fuckin' hope not,” comes the quiet response.

Sweeney didn't care though. He was too elated to care. Good booze, a good fight and the promise of going back to that sweet little diner where you were.

He'd have to come in earlier just to spend more time around you. He wanted to know everything about you and more than anything, he wanted to see your smile again.

A god he may be but your smile was absolutely magical.

He sang the whole rest of the way home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

[moonlightstars16]

Needy Snuggles

30 Days Connverse Challenge

Day 5 ~ Nighttime Routine

College dorm life is like entering another dimension. One student is going to class, passing by another who is crashing down the hallway. People were having a party while others studied. The stench of anxiety, desperation and alcohol looked over every inch.

Connie had a different experience. Her dorm room was off to a more secluded area of the building. The main window in her apartment like living area overlooked the entire campus. The sunshine flooded through the glass like a warm blanket. She kept her area as clean as she could. Her study area overflowing with papers, folders and a mix of caffeine with beer. Only on important test days was that beverage needed.

She was visited by her sweet boyfriend who crashed there from time to time. They practically lived together since she moved into her single dorm room. Just the two of them being together. Steven has given her a promise ring months ago and that is where it all started. After talking about the proposal from long ago and officially conversing about what they wanted to do together in the future.

It was a hard topic to think about, but they overcame it. They were already inseparable before, now they were fused without actually fusing into Stevonnie. While he was there, he helped her focus on her studies, cooked her food and made sure she was relaxed.

One evening as they finished their dinner, Connie stood up to get back to studying. Only to be caught by her loving boyfriend, hand grasping her upper arm whilst his other setting down the dishes.

“No studying. Not on your spring break.”

“But-“

“No buts.” He pulled her in his arms, entrapping her inside. So tight that Connie could barely move an inch let alone break free, even with all her training from long ago. Eyes widened before a disapproving expression appeared.

“Cheater! Using diamond powers against me?! Traitor!” Her lips pouted as he stood his ground with a smirk.

“It’s for your own good. Now you promised me that by tonight you will not go off studying and getting lost in your work. Besides you have already completed a few extra assignments for post spring break. Take it easy. Don’t you want to visit beach city with me?”

His puppy dog eyes went wild as guilt slowly crept in. Gulping as she remembered the promise to him. Heck the reason why she completed extra assignments was to spend more time with him. So he was justified in doing this. Sighing in defeat she let her head droop, bouncing it slightly up and down in agreement.

“I remember. .... I’m sorry sweetie.” Placing a kiss on her forehead he loosened his grip.

“Please don’t be sad my sweet knight. Let’s go watch a movie to kick things off for your break.”

“Whatever you want.”

An hour later they were laying beside each other on the couch. Steven laying right behind Connie as a blanket wrapped them up together. He enjoyed the scent of her freshly washed air, strawberries and cinnamon per usual of her favorite brand.

Before settling in on the couch, they had prepared for bed. Wanting to be extra cozy for cuddling and such. While she took a warm shower, Steven washed his face in the sink. Swapping after they were done. Connie rubbed lotion on her body then changed into fresh pajamas. Letting her hair air dry.

Then walking out she prepped an ice cream dessert for the movie along with popcorn. A can in whipped cream in hand as she made a mountain of it. On each of their bowls filled with delicious cold treats. Placing a strawberry, chocolate syrup and sprinkles(not in that order) on top and a spoon inside. Two glasses of water as well to wash it all down with napkins just in case.

Setting it down on the coffee table before selecting a film they both liked. Just as Steven stepped out in fresh clothes as well. Looking more like sweats than pajamas but nobody complained.

“Looks beautiful miss Knight. But there is something missing.”

“What?”

“You”

“Huh?- STEVEN!” He wrapped his arm under her legs and lifted her bridal style to the couch. Jumping backwards and slowly floating down into the cushions. The blanket pulled over both of them. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“All hail queen Steven Universe!!!” He whisper yelled as she tried(and failed) repressing a giggle. After a couple movies, teeth brushed and more cuddling, a yawn escaped the both of them. However once again he didn’t let Connie go.

“We need to sleep.” She groaned as he held his arm around her middle tighter. The other wrapped around her upper arms and shoulders.

“I agree so close your eyes and do so like me.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her close as the sounds of soft snoring came from behind. Or more like fake snoring.

“You really don’t trust me that I won’t study.”

“No...I trust you....but me taking no chances.” He mumbled burying his face in her hair. His childlike tendency’s taking hold whilst she rolled her eyes.

“Geeze, you’re more needier than lion.”

“Shhhh, sleep. By the order of your queen it shall be so!” He whispered a tad louder than before. Giggling she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I love you my queen.”

“I love you too my knight.”

Both bursted into giggles. Connie’s hands gently grasped his arms, resting as he ran a thumb over her bare skin on her shoulder. Enjoying the silence and being in each other’s arms before falling into a deep sleep. Deciding to ignore the huge pink sphere entrapping them inside together while the night passed on.

[aka-willow]

Heroes, Pt. 3

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Words: 1732

Characters: Willow Wren, Jessica Jones, Kilgrave, Trish Walker, Jeri Hogarth

Prompt/Tag: “Well, that’s tragic.” x  /

Summary: Willow reveals her past while trying to discover Kilgrave’s

Timeline: April 2015

Song: Heroes �� Peter Gabriel

A/N: Part 3/4

—————————————————————————–

“I’m sorry, so who are you?” Trish asks me later, as Jessica continues to rewind and replay the final moments of the fight on the camera. “And how old are you?”

“I’m Willow,” I say. “I’m in eighth grade.”

“Jesus, Jessica,” says Trish. “Why is she here?”

“Don’t let her fool you,” says Jessica. “You know the Manhattan Angel everyone was talking about? Yeah, that’s her.”

“Wait,” says Trish. “No.”

“Yup,” Jessica says dryly.

“So,” says Trish, lowering her voice. “She actually flies?”

“I’m right here,” I say.

“Sorry, Willow,” says Trish. “I mean, can you?”

I squirm at the question, and even my wings draw themselves tighter into the sides of my spine. “Yeah.”

I can tell that she wants to ask more questions, people always do, but she falls quiet. Jessica takes a swig from a bottle and replays the video yet again.

“He didn’t have to tell me to do a goddamn thing and he had all the control,” says Jessica.

“Got to admire his commitment,” I say, as we rewatch Kilgrave take hit after hit.

Jessica sighs. “Look at that.” She hits play again and scoffs. “Even I feel sorry for him. I just helped his case.” She takes another drink. “I’m such an idiot,” she says and clicks on Kilgrave’s childhood video again, like she’s turning on Netflix. Kilgrave’s eyes open.

“What if we just walked out of here right now?” Trish asks. “Locked the door and never came back. Just left him. Hope could take the deal. I have enough money to get anyone far away.”

Yeah, you know what? I could almost be on board with that. Wait, no. Could I?

“Trish…” Jessica starts.

“I mean it. As long as he has your attention, as long as you care, he’s in control.”

“I won’t let Hope lose twenty years of her life.”

“Why is she your responsibility?”

“That’s not you,” Jessica says. “That’s your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I ask, snapping back to the conversation at hand.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Trish says quickly. “And can you blame him? Kilgrave murdered Simpson’s buddies. He almost died.”

I need to find out who this Simpson guy is. Now things are interesting. I search for Simpsons in the city on my phone. Finally, something to do. As Trish goes on about something with a bomb, I’m scrolling through Whitepages. The video continues to play in the background, and I try to not let the experiments on the screen send my mind back to the Facility.

“Wait, okay,” Trish says again, turning to me. “Where are your parents? Do they know you’re here? Aren’t they worried?”

I pause. “It’s complicated. I don’t actually know them? My parents?”

“What, were you abandoned?” Jessica says, and I realize she’s talking to me.

“Uh… it’s a whole thing,” I say. “I’d rather…”

“Well, we’ve got time,” says Jessica. “This asshole’s not moving.” She’s slightly drunk and Trish shakes her head.

“Leave her alone, Jess, if she doesn’t want—”

“Yeah, abandoned,” I say, wondering if I should quickly make a PowerPoint on my trauma or something. I sigh and try to think of the best way to phrase everything. “My mom… okay… I don’t know who my mom was. But she was part of some secret experiment that I think involved manipulating the DNA of embryos. But instead of giving me in like she was supposed to, she was unreliable, or something. I don’t know. So, she ditched me when she saw how messed up I came out and the homeless guy who saw her leave me said she said something about not wanting to raise a demonchild. Whatever that means.”

“Eh, she got that part right.”

I glare at Jessica and continue. “So homeless guy brings me to the fire station on the same block and those guys take me in. They were going to turn me into the police until they saw the… you know.” I gesture to the wings. “Two of them were married and lived in an apartment above the station. So, I lived at the firehouse. In secret.”

“You were, like, what, a firehouse dog?” Jessica asks.

I cringe. “Basically. I couldn’t leave though. After I had been there for a few days, agents from the experiment started going door to door, looking for me. That’s why they decided to keep me there. In secret. So, yeah. I was there for six years. Didn’t leave much. Didn’t go to school. But my dads were great.”

“What happened?” Trish asks. “How did you end up…?”

“Well, they found me,” I say. “Eventually.” How do I explain this part? “There was a bad fire one night. All hands on deck and firefighters got trapped on the top floors. I left the station, flew in, saved the firefighters. But it got caught on camera.”

“I remember that on the news,” says Trish. “I thought they said it was a hoax.”

“Yeah, of course they did,” I say. “The Facility people came knocking the next day to take me away. And that was it. I went away for the next seven or so years. Until I got out almost a year ago.”

“God, I’m sorry,” says Trish, “That’s fucked up.”

“Eh, it is what it is,” I say, shrugging. “Things are fine now.”

“Are they still looking for you?” Jessica asks.

“Oh, definitely,” I say. “Invested way too much money and time into me and the others not to.” I pause to think again. “They were working on a second part to the experiments,” I say. “Obviously, the… wings… and the physical stuff, that’s all the embryo manipulation. But there was other stuff they were working on. Other powers.”

“What kind?” Jessica asks, looking wary.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “It involved exposure to this thing? It was blue? I don’t remember a lot of that.”

I think back to that phrase from the testing, again. October, shh. It’s time to play Monster.

“Helpful,” quips Jessica.

“I know,” I say. “Totally.”

“Well, that’s tragic as shit,” says Jessica. “Makes this look almost tame,” she says, nodding back at the Kilgrave video, still playing in the background.

“Nah, this almost makes me glad I didn’t know my parents,” I mumble to myself. “At least it was strangers.”

Trish shook her head, watching the video. “Who does that to their own child?”

“No one gets under a person’s skin like their parents,” Jessica says. She looked pensive. “That… could push him to the breaking point.”

“If they’re still alive,” I say.

“He thinks so,” Jessica says. “He looked for them for a long time.”

“Should’ve hired a P.I,” says Trish, and I laugh.

We start panning through the videos, pausing and analyzing. I pull over a chair and look over Jessica’s shoulder, listening, trying to hear something, anything that would indicate a location or a name. It looks more like a homegrown or school lab, not like the shiny and bright place I was raised. We spread out work into the hallways, as Kilgrave opens his food and starts each, chewing slowly and staring at us the entire time.

Trish dozes off on one of the cluttered countertops and as Jessica and I continue to work, I hear a squeaking noise on the glass, followed by a knock. I jump, and Jessica gets up to deal with Kilgrave, clearing her throat.

Exhausted, I sit down on the floor, up against the wall, and lean my head back, shutting my eyes. What time is it? How long have we been here?

“Who is Eric?” Jessica asks aloud, sitting back down. “His brother?”

I open one eye. “Could be another kid from the study?”

I hear her typing and I shut my eyes again, dozing off on the floor. I hear snippets of conversation, even while asleep, but most of it is hushed and scattered, although at one point I catch a halfhearted “She’s almost sweet when she’s asleep,” which I despise. When I wake up hours later, it’s just Trish in the room.

“Where did Jessica go?” I ask.

She tells me that Jessica has a lead on Kilgrave’s parents and went to go track someone down. I sit up and rub my eyes to see Kilgrave still staring at us through the glass.

“He’s been like that for hours now,” says Trish, turning to whisper to me.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

She searches in her bag and pulls out a granola bar. “Hungry?”

I nod, taking it and tearing it open. It’s the shitty crumbly kind, but I don’t complain. She rustles around in her bag a little longer until I hear footsteps from down the hall. Hogarth has returned.

“You’re back,” says Trish, and I see her shove something into her purse.

“Jessica said she had something urgent to show me.” She looks over at me. “She’s still here?”

“Jessica will be back soon,” says Trish.

“Why don’t you both go outside and get some fresh air?” says Hogarth. “Last thing I need is another woman losing her mind.”

Oooh. Drama.

“Yeah, I guess we could use a break,” says Trish. “Come on, Willow.”

We leave the room and take a walk to the end of the hall, where we push the doors open, clamber down the several flights of stairs and step outside for the first time in ages. I take a deep breath and suck in the fresh air. It’s nighttime, now, and the sky calls me, but I keep my feet planted to the ground.

“Sorry about… Jess making you tell us all that stuff,” says Trish suddenly. “I’m sorry that happened. To you.”

“I’m over it,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

“Would you tell someone if you weren’t okay?” Trish asks. “I mean, this stuff… it’s heavy.”

“No worse than what I’ve seen,” I say, quietly. “Trust me.” Eh, I could probably use some therapy or whatever.

She sighs. “I just wish Jessica would get back here already.” She picks up her phone to make a call.

I pace around the lot behind the warehouse, and finally start climbing the stairs of the fire escape, onto the roof, where it’s finally safe to take off my jacket and let my wings breathe as well.

I could just fly away, right now. Forget all of this. Run again.

But, no.

After a few minutes, I fold my wings back in and climb back down the escape, not even letting myself glide on down and enjoy the night. There’s more work to be done.

[whatzaoverwatch]

Forever in My Sights (PART 1)

Welcome to the third installment of the Overwatch AU saga. This one will be played fairly different than the last two from before. First of all, the character choice was selected by you guys in a previous poll. I was surprised by the result because I had no idea for this character when I made the poll. But, I have come up with a story that will be fairly interesting. How it will turn out, that is my secret. Second the reader will be gender neutral for this installment. Not like the female pronouns from before just to change things up a bit. Hope you enjoy.

Be sure to also check out the other installments of the saga:

Anything Can Happen in the Woods Here

The Demon’s Bride Here

Next

The music carried through the entire home, lingering in the nighttime atmosphere. Entering the home filled the senses with a home cooked meal and the scent of ones perfume. The type of scent was unknown, but everything about it felt pleasant. The tune seemed fairly classic, as if you walked into a classic black and white painting from the 20s. Slow and charming to ones ear as it would draw in any who needed the rest and relaxation. The home was fairly clean and proper as if someone was always keeping it in order for anyone arrival. Over by the door leading to the backyard porch, was a figure looking out to the night sky. Keeping their focus to the array of stars filling the country night sky. They seem to feel a presence behind them as they turned over. From the inside of the house, their silhouette was a mere shadow. Only a tender smile that glowed from the moonlight was seen in the darkness. The vision of the surroundings became a blur as the figure began to speak.

“I was waiting for you…”

--

A sharp pain from his head was felt. Resting his head into his palm. The ringing in his ear coming nonstop after the array of pulse ammunition lingered in the air. Rubbing his temple with a growl to soothe the noise into numbing silence. Towering over the corpses of the undead by his feet, he kept to steady breaths to ease the ache. The heat of the night summer air becoming insufferable after the mass murdering he displayed upon the victims. But this was just another night for him.

He had no memory to a life before this hunt. One day he woke up, blood red eyes and paled skin. His hair white as snow that illuminated the darkened sockets around his eyes. Scars marked his pale skin leaving him aged and rugged to another’s presence. He didn’t remember how it all began, just that he knew that he had to do this. The dead, mostly known to the living as Los Muertos, were a gang of zombies that conquered the land. He didn’t know why, but he had to stop them. He had to destroy every single last one of them. They had infested these streets for far too long. But what was one man to an entire army?

The people of the streets feared him as much as they feared Los Muertos. But he didn’t even care. He was protecting them. Protecting them from the real monsters. He didn’t feel like a vigilante like they labeled him, he felt like a soldier. A soldier sworn to protect the ones that needed it. So he was certain to keep that going until the day he fell in battle. He would roam these streets all night shooting down the undead in his sights.

Every day was like this. Days blended into weeks. Weeks into months and years and so on. In all honesty, he didn’t even know if he could stop. This was all he had ever done. Dressed in red that coated the dead. Blending into the mass murder and destruction of everything around him. Red, all he could see was red. It was all that he had ever known.

Looking down to his weapon, he rested it against his shoulder before walking into the night. Into the shadows, into the darkness leaving the actions that he had done behind. He roamed the streets for hours. Away from the public and further into hidden parts of the town. Until he had reach a certain place. A house in the dark with the lights on inside, smoke coming out of the chimney. Feeling the exhaustion starting to build, he approached the door. Many would’ve ran if he had arrived to their step, but something about this place always drew him in.

Knocking on the door, heavy and firm to announce his presence. Hearing the sound of a dog barking further down the alleyway. Counting in his mind slowly, steady to his slow heartbeat. By the time he had reached twenty, the door clicked as a crack of light peaked from the inside. Giving one look over to see a set of eyes on him. There was silence, from the small figure on the other side. Then the door shut before him, leaving him in the dark once more. Nearly missing the warmth of the inside that coaxed him. He counted again. By the time he had reached ten, he could hear chains from the other side of the wooden door. Several locks coming undone until the door was opened wider to present the one on the other side.

You stood there looking up to him. What would normally be a look of fear from others when he faced someone was only a face of concern on yours. Staring at him until you stepped to the side to let him inside. Entering inside slowly, he eased the rifle off of his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

“I didn’t expect you to come so soon.” Your voice spoke up as he entered the home. He placed his rifle onto the table of the small home and began to undo his jacket.

“They all ganged up by the east side,” he spoke in a tone rough and rugged as his appearance. Walking further into the home until he reached the living room, “Managed to take them all out before they headed to the northern district. They should ease up until tomorrow.”

You followed suit, managing to grab a medical kit from the kitchen. He rested on the sofa just before the fireplace, discarding of his jacket and the shirt beneath it. Presenting a littering array of battle scars, bruises and fresh wounds from the previous fights. He could hear you curse from his side as you sat yourself next to him. Placing the kit by the coffee table as you inspected the injuries.

“Fucking hell you smell like death.” He grunted from that comment glancing over at you while you looked over the pale muscled skin.

“Don’t I always?” Trying to lighten the moment, he only received a huff from you.

“Last thing I need is for my home to smell like the bastards that we have to lock ourselves in from.” Reaching for a cloth that you grabbed from the kitchen, you lightly dabbed the blood causing him to growl in pain. You slowed down until he relaxed against your touch.

“Only keeps them further away. It’s more protection than having those locks on the door.” He felt you stop at the truth in his words.

“I should’ve not let you in. Maybe then you will finally go to the hospital to get real treatment instead of relying on me.” He frowned at those words and shook his head.

“I told you before: no hospitals. I don’t need them calling the morgue when all I have is a few cuts and bruises.” You scoffed as you returned to tending to his injuries.

“It’s more than just a few bumps and bruises 76,” He looked away as you prepared to stitch up a few of the cuts, “you’ve come to me with broken bones, internal bleeding and even collapsing at my doorstep.”

Recalling each one of those moments, he lowered his gaze at the memories. Remembering the time the two of you had met. He was wandering aimlessly from the first few attacks, almost on the verge of passing out. Suddenly he found yourself in his home, while his wounds were tended to. Since then he had always come to you. Everytime he entered your home, he was ready to take on the world in no time. Even if you assisted on the minor injuries, his body would be good as new the next day. He was unsure what the cause of the miraculous recovery was. Not seeing you as any sort of witch or doctor. You had asked him if he was just lucky, he slowly began to agree with that. To think at one point he wouldn’t have asked for anyone’s help. But now he was here any chance he could. Leaning back against the sofa looking into the flame of the fire, he let out a sigh.

“Yet I’m still moving,” He could see the disappointment in your face as you cleaned up the last of the marks, “don’t look at me like that, you know I have to do this.”

“No you don’t, you decided to do this yourself,” You told him with a tone that made him feel like he hurt you, “You say you have to stop Los Muertos but the undead is endless.”

“Someone has to do it.”

“Well it doesn’t have to be you!” You snapped pulling away. He looked at you surprised at the sudden rise of your voice. Noticing the grip you had on the bloodied cloth, “You say you want to stop them all, but what happens when you do? What are you going to do when it ends? If it ends?”

He had never asked himself that before. What would he do once he completed his mission? Taking a second as the crackling of the fire roamed in his head, he found his answer.

“It will end, once it does, I go into the next town,” he could already feel you being upset from his response as he continued, “the war goes on, bad guys pop up everywhere and someone has to put an end t-“

“So you’re never going to stop? You’re just going to keep going until you die aren’t you?” Looking over, he watched as you looked away from him. Resting your elbow on the back of the couch, covering your mouth as he could see the night glistened the sadness in your eyes. He felt a sting in his heart, something he hadn’t really felt before. As if what he was doing was suddenly wrong. But this was all he knew what to do. He tightened his hands into a fist and tried to speak up.

“I-“He felt his tongue swell. Unable to come up with the proper response. The silence not helping the tension as you shook your head and got up.

“Foods in the microwave if you’re hungry. You know where the shower and sheet spread is. If you need me just knock as usual.” you got up and grabbed the kit to take with you. He watched as you moved away, having some odd feeling that he should reach up and keep you close. But why would he want that from someone he hardly knew?

“Wait.” He called for you as you stopped before your bedroom door. The one you kept yourself in when he needed to rest up for the day. You hesitated to look back as you opened your door. Turning to him with a gaze he had never seen from you before.

“Goodnight 76…lock up when you leave.” Your words cut through him as you closed the door behind you. Leaving him there in his new patched up bandages.

He sat there in silence for a long time. Looking into the fire with his crimson eyes. Normally he would make himself acquainted to the hospitality. But his heart wasn’t in the right place. This was to feel like home to him, but this night it felt different. It didn’t help that he could hear your faint sobs the rest of the time. Leaving him restless as he was unsure whether or not to disturb your rest. What was a soldier where there is no war to fight? What was he? More importantly…who was he?

To be continued

[rt8815]

Bedtime Stories

Inspired by this post, which was in turn inspired by “Eating for Two?” by @dontshootmespence Requested by @ultrarebelheart and @stunudo (Happy Mamma’s Day, by the way!)

WC: 1,331

It’s longer than I intended, and it covers more than just reading, because it intersects with my OC story. Enjoy!

Edit: set in Fall/Winter 2025

A peaceful silence settled over the Reid household. Spencer had just tucked in his three-year-old son, Jason. It hadn’t been easy; McKinley had always played lullabies for him on her guitar, and Spencer flawlessly tinkling them out on the keyboard clearly was not an acceptable substitute.

“Thanks, but they're not Mommy’s lu��bies, Daddy,” he’d said with a sigh. “I don’t feel the music in my heart.”

McKinley would’ve told Spencer that too. “You’re playing from your head, not your heart, String Bean.”

He’d finally drifted off though, the pride of switching to a toddler bed last month still very apparent.

Spencer had developed an appreciation for how difficult it must’ve been for his wife all those times he’d worked a case out of town. She’d essentially lived and functioned as a single parent for weeks at a time.

He found his way to the living room, where a stack of papers on the coffee table were waiting to be graded, but he couldn’t focus. The moment Spencer sat on the couch, his mind started wandering, mulling over recent changes in his life, though never doubting his choices that brought those changes. He got so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear little footsteps on the hardwood.

“Hi Daddy.” Spencer shook out of his stupor, turning his attention to his daughter. Five years old and half-grown already, she was the spitting image of her mother: button nose, high cheek bones, and eyes that changed color seemingly at will. Her hair, however, she'd inherited from Spencer.

He checked his watch. “It’s 7:45, Sophie. You need to start thinking about getting ready for bed.” She pressed a large book into his lap before hoisting herself onto the couch.

“It’s not a school night, it's Friday, so I'm allowed to stay up later,” his daughter reminded him.

“Fair enough, but have you brushed your teeth?

She blew gently in his face. “I’m minty fresh!”

“Did you finish your homework?”

She dropped her chin and raised her eyebrows. “Father, I’m offended you have to ask.”

“Hey now, watch your tone,” he scolded. Her sass came from both Mom and Dad, as well as her pouty face, which she was currently employing against him.

Spencer relented. “All right, I don't suppose a few chapters would hurt. What do we have here?” He hadn't noticed which book she'd brought. “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone? You don't need my help with this. You're reading at an eighth-grade level, Li’l Gourd.”

Sophie slid the illustrated hardback off his lap and flipped some pages.

“I know, Daddy. Tonight I'm reading to you because you're sad, and I always feel better when you read to me.”

Spencer knitted his brows. “Why do you think I'm sad, Sophie?”

She shrugged. “You’ve been extra quiet this week.”

“We're a family of introverts,” he chuckled. “Quiet is in our DNA.”

“The quieter on the outside, the louder on the inside,” Sophie noted. “I worry ‘bout you sometimes.”

A mother hen from day one, that kid.

"It's my job to worry about you, not the other way around,” Spencer told her as she called the dog up to join them.

“C’mere Boogie! C'mon!” He lithely jumped on Spencer's other side, shoving his snout under his arm.

"I'm just tired, kiddo. We ran around a lot this week, and I have papers to grade, and...”

He faltered when Sophie patted his arm comfortingly.

“It's okay, Daddy. I miss Mamma too. Don't worry, you're doing an excellent job on your own, but somebody’s gotta look after you.”

“Again, that’s my job.” Spencer tapped her nose lightly, gathered her in a hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Ready when you are, sweetheart.”

She rested the book across their laps and began reading. “Chapter One, “The Boy Who Lived.” Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

They got as far as “The Keeper of the Keys” before Sophie nodded off. Spencer moved the book to the coffee table. Not wanting to risk waking her on the walk to her room, he grabbed a throw pillow for himself and a blanket from the back of the couch. He nudged the dog with his feet, but he wouldn’t budge, electing to warm Spencer’s legs instead.

Sometime later he awoke to forehead kisses and fingers brushing back his hair. His eyes fluttered open, and after the sleep fog lifted he broke into a goofy grin that lit up his face.

“Hey!” he whispered. “I didn’t think you were coming back until Sunday!”

McKinley smiled down at him. “I know you meant for me to take Saturday for myself, to relax between the conference and coming home, but I couldn’t do it, so I caught an earlier flight.” She glanced at Sophie, barely visible under the blanket and snoring into Spencer’s neck. “Let’s put this one to bed, then we can talk,” she murmured, carefully removing their daughter’s glasses.

Once she was snuggled up with her stuffed dinosaur, they made their way to the master suite. McKinley rolled her suitcase to the foot of the bed. It could wait until morning. “So, I enjoyed Chicago,” she began, rummaging for pajamas, “but I was lonely away from you three, sleeping by myse-”

Her explanation got cut short when a pair of arms ­­­turned her around and squeezed her tightly. Ah, a legendary Spencer hug. He followed with a soft kiss on her lips – not a sexy times kiss, but a sweet, simple, ‘I love you’ one.

McKinley giggled into Spencer’s mouth. “Miss me?”

He held her face in his hands. “You have no idea,” he breathed, gazing so intensely she feared she’d melt.

“Careful. If you keep staring at me that way, we’ll end up with baby number three,” she joked.

“It’s not that, I…you’re amazing.” She blushed and lowered her eyes. Spencer tilted her head up. “I’m in awe of you. This week was exhausting. Morning and nighttime routines, breakfast and dinner and packed lunches, different pickup and drop-off times, piano and karate lessons, homework, laundry…Only one week of this, plus teaching, and I’m about to collapse. You managed two full-time jobs, alone, for nearly four years. I hope I haven’t taken you for granted.”

McKinley’s jaw dropped. “No, you haven’t,” she replied tearfully. Her eyes floated to the pictures on the vanity: family photos, baby pictures, and one of everybody – the whole team and their families – from a year ago. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said without hesitation, “never, not even for a second.”

A month before that picture was taken, flights were grounded in Spokane due to weather, and Spencer had to listen to “Home on the Range” over the phone. He apologized to Sophie later. “It’s okay Daddy,” she answered. “You caught the bad guy. That’s what matters.”

That’s what matters. No. He couldn’t have his kids growing up thinking they were anything less than first in his life. So, he called it. Spencer and McKinley fought and cried in their bathroom, shower and fan running to drown themselves out. She supported him, but knew leaving the BAU for a 9-to-5 would suffocate him.

She proposed a compromise. Now he split his time between Quantico, consulting from Penelope’s bat cave, and giving lectures at the FBI Academy and universities around DC. He came home every night.

“I’m gonna wash the airplane stink off. When I come back, I’m finishing what Sophie started: reading away your sads.”

Spencer pressed his forehead to hers. “How’d you know?”

“Who do you think she practiced with first?” she asked, sauntering towards the bathroom.

“All men are children, and of one family. The same tale sends them all to bed, and wakes them in the morning.” Henry David Thoreau

“An nì chì na big, ‘s e nì na big.” Scottish proverb

“What the little ones see, the little ones do.”

[lalka-laski]

A survey that was most definitely created for high schoolers but my 27 year old self at her full-time job has decided to complete anyways

TEN FACTS ► Name ➔ Elizabeth  ► Birth place ➔  New York  ► Hair color ➔ Blonde  ► Age ➔ ......probably too old to be on Tumblr? Lol  ► Eye Color ➔ Somewhere between green and blue, sometimes gray  ► Birthday ➔ July 13  ► Gender ➔ Cis female  ► Lefty or Righty ➔ Right  ► Single or taken? ➔  Ok, this is how I KNOW I’m too old for Tumblr. I haven’t heard or used the term “taken” in eons...  ► Happy? ➔ Honestly, YES! 

TEN THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► Are you in love ➔ Happily  ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ I believe two familiar souls can recognize on another when their physical bodies meet. But this isn’t limited to romantic love, there are all types of love and connection.  ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ He did. And I’m finally in a place where I can finally say THANK GOD FOR THAT!  ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Every time I go out in public. Hearts shattering all over the place.  ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ Not really. I rather like the safety and security of them. Having NO commitments whatsoever is scary.  ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Of course. I’m an extreme hugger.  ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ No? I don’t think so?  ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Oh for sure. I’ve had a lot of self-sabotaging habits in the past.  ► Do you usually spend Valentine’s Day alone? ➔ That’s a lame question. While I’ve spent more Valentine’s Days single (as in, not in a romantic relationship), I’ve never felt “alone” on that day. In fact, it’s a day I’ve always enjoyed celebrating with family and friends!  ► Short or long-term relationships? ➔ Whatever suits your needs at any given time in your life. 

TEN CHOICES ► Love or lust ➔ Love with lust involved  ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ Oh, tough. Those are like my two favorite drinks ► Cats or Dogs ➔ Cats all the way. I actually can’t stand dogs.  ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ A few best friends ► Television or internet ➔ Internet. I could easily live without TV, but I lose my entire mind if I don’t have Wifi for 10 seconds.  ► Pepsi or Coke ➔ Regular Coke, Diet Pepsi. (Unusual, maybe?) ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ I love both, though my nights out could hardly be described as “wild” anymore.  ► Day or night ➔ That depends what I’m doing. I guess generally I prefer nighttime because that’s my relaxation time.  ► Text or Call ➔ TEXT.  ► Make-up or au naturel? ➔ I enjoy makeup and prefer how I look with makeup on hooooowever, I’m lazy as all hell. So I only wear makeup for certain occasions now. 

TEN HAVE YOU EVER ► Been caught sneaking out? ➔ As a youth  ► Fallen down/up the stairs? ➔ Both. And often. ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ God yes  ► Prank called a store? ➔ As a youth  ► Skipped school? ➔ ^^  ► Wanted to disappear? ➔ Oh yes  ► Spent all your money? ➔ YEP ► Met a celebrity? ➔ I am one ► Been really ill? ➔ Yes? ► Gotten high? ➔ Yes 

TEN PREFERENCES ► Smile or eyes ➔ On myself, my eyes. On others, no preference.  ► Light or dark hair ➔ Again, no preference. Whatever works for a certain individual.  ► Shorter or taller ➔ I’m gonna assume this question is about a romantic partner. I prefer them to be a little bit taller than me but it doesn’t have to be by much. In fact, all my most serious relationships (current one included), have been with men on the “short” side. So it doesn’t matter much to me.  ► Intelligence or attraction ➔ Uh well... I’m attracted to intelligence. So...  ► Hook-up or relationship ➔ Whatever suits your needs!  ► Funny and poor or rich and serious ➔ What a God awful question lol  ► Mac or PC? ➔ I’ve only ever used PCs  ► Chapstick or lipstick? ➔ Por que no los dos?!  ► City or country? ➔ City  ► Driving or walking? ➔ Walking

LASTS ► Last phone call? ➔ My boss  ► Last song you listened to? ➔ Fresh Feeling by Eels  ► Last thing you ate? ➔ A microwaved tortilla with garlic & herb cheese dip slathered inside. At 1 am this morning whilst I couldn’t sleep...kk.  ► Last thing you drank? ➔  Coffee, currently. ► Last place you were? ➔ I’m at work right now and last place I was at was home.  ► Last kiss? ➔ Glenn  ► Last picture taken? ➔ A GIANT FUCKING LEAF that I found in the parking lot of my sister’s apartment. I’m laughing just thinking about it.  ► Last outfit? ➔ Presently in a black blouse, black skinny jeans/leggings and black flats. ~*Aesthetic~*  ► Last purchase? ➔ Drinks on Sunday night. Woah, I’ve really gone 3 days without spending any money. Go me!  ► Last argument/fight? ➔ I can’t remember the last time I got into an actual argument with someone.

[skerbango-blog]

¡Viva la Cuba! A Canadian Family in Cuba

¡Viva la Cuba! A Canadian Family in Cuba

So the TTT Family made the trip down south to Cuba for the Easter Break (Wednesday to Wednesday).  We don’t normally travel this time of year, and we hadn’t considered Cuba as a destination, but (I will condense this greatly) I won a radio contest for a trip for 2 to Cayo Coco. This trip for 2, while free, morphed into a trip whereby:

Mrs. TTT says the following things, “We HAVE to take the kids!!!” [me -”Really?  Do we?”]; “They’ve never been to Cuba!” [me - “So?”]; and my personal favourite, “We would be so bored without them!”

[me - ]

We have to take 4 days off each without pay,

Because we have 3 kids, the resort needs us to get a 2nd room,

Because the flight left early in the morning and returned late at night, Dug the Dog needed 2 extra nights at the “Canine Retreat” (fancy word for kennel).

Needless to say, this was the most expensive thing I’d ever won.  Maybe that anyone has won. But life being short and busy, when the day came to go it was the perfect time to go.  Now because most of you are in the great U.S of A, it is not a stretch to say that you may not ever make the trek to Castroland, so allow me to give you some of the highlights and lowlights of this trip.

LOS BUENOS PUNTOS -

First of all, the weather.  We had to scrape the snow and ice off the van the morning we left.  We had more snow in April than any other month this winter. Makes you wonder why we live where we live.  After a four hour flight we step off the plane to this:

Let's start the drinking RIGHT AWAY!

Gorgeous.  Beautiful. Every day was 32 to 34 degrees Celsius (not going to convert it for you Yanks).  It rained twice, once early in the morning before we got up and once in the middle of the day for 20 minutes.

Secondly, the people.  Super friendly.  Cayo Coco is exclusively a “resort town” so the men and women working there were very attentive and making sure we had a great time.  Tipping Hector a couple of pesos to bring the deck chairs to the beach and Javier for making the meanest mojito in the place. We felt welcome and safe the whole trip.

The drinks.  Let’s just say I got #drunj a few times and move on…

This was my last mojito...number 31 I think...

Watching movies in Spanish...when we were out of the sun in the late afternoon, I watched “Fletch” and “Rain Man” in Spanish with no subtitles.  The kids thought I was crazy, but I enjoyed it very much. The voice actor who does Chevy Chase sounds exactly like him!

Los Lakers…

Finally, and most notably, the beach.  This was by far the nicest beach I’d ever seen.  The water was various colours of green and blue, and my son said it best when he explained, “Dad, you know when you swim in the ocean at home and you are cold going in and freezing coming out?  Here it is neither,”. I thought that was well-said. From the mouths of babes.

This is just a small sample of what the beach was like:

Early evening

Daytime walk

Nighttime

LOS PUNTOS MALOS -

The “entertainment”.  Now, we didn’t think much of this, as we weren’t there for that.  The two nights we stayed up to see it, they had a “rock band” that actually wasn’t too bad but played a very weird Beatles medley (the lead guitar wore weird hats and jorts).  They were called “Dharma”, so I thought it was either a nod to the show “Lost” and the Dharma Initiative or the way more horrible “Dharma and Greg”, where Jenna Elfman was nice to look at but that was about it.  Just like this band! Maybe that is where the name was decided.

“Dharma...not coming to a town near you”

The food.  Everyone told us that we would experience the Cuban food as a bland mix of mystery meats and weird desserts.  Now, we did not go hungry, and we didn’t get the Revenge (which was a concern), so that was a victory. We did really enjoy the bread, made fresh and warm every morning.  They don’t have the same condiments as we do, so the Kraft Peanut Butter making the trip was a saviour for my boys. We even saw some families with their own Nutella. As for the desserts, they all looked great yet tasted the same.  Meh….blah…

-tastes like chicken...

And honestly...that’s it.  Mrs. TTT didn’t find the room as clean as she would have liked, but for kids and I, it was just a place to flop.  We weren’t able to change our towels every day, and you had to pay for the WiFi and use it in the lobby. Very ‘First Worldy’-type problems that were not really problems.    

So, I give the trip a 4.5 out of 5.  Would we go again? Maybe, but I would like to convince my bride to leave the kids behind this time…

EL FIN

[champagnespankzandbacon]

Sunday evening, and it seemed like a good idea…after at glass of rose’.  “I’m going on a cleanse!”…I bellowed to my husband. He has been on a ‘eating healthier and working out more’ routine. He randomly drops to the floor and does sets of 40 push ups. He has also been knocking out more reading; which is NOT my thing. And he listens to a lot of Podcasts…which I do enjoy. But one of the books/podcasts he told me about was “Fit for Life”, in which the dude eats ONLY fruit until noon every day and has for 20 years! Twenty. Twenty years. If some dude can do it for twenty years, surely I can do it for a week!? Right? So, Monday morning…off to the grocery we went (before I changed my mind) and bought ALL of the veggies and fruits we could agree on, and some we didn’t…and coconut milk, coconut water, coconut blend. Here we GO! This blog will be a daily recap & proof of me not killing anyone due to lack of intake of pasta and champagne…. #pray #alliby

See…random push up sessions. Moe is NOT impressed.

Monday 4pm. Well,  I kind of want a huge bowl of pasta and bacon right now. Really, it’s not too bad. Breakfast; I had a smoothie. Got the banana, strawberries and mango out and I was ready to go. Now, I have never cut a mango. And apparently there is a method and I didn’t do it right…so the little punk ended up butchered and in the trash. Fail #1. But I sure did enjoy my banana, strawberry and orange smoothie! Lunch was a tomato and avocado salad….if I closed my eyes, I almost fooled myself to think it was cake. #AtLeastIdidntCutMyself #damnMango #EveryoneISstillAlive

yes, I know this is a bit obsence. I have to entertain myself…

Tuesday Morning.  I’m not “I need to eat a snickers hungry”…but I sure would like some bacon. Instead, I took my frustration out on a watermelon. I was not happy finding out that it was not seedless. But I guess that means it has not been genetically modified? Hell, I don’t know. I do know that it took me twice as long to cut it up and clear all the seeds out before storing it….that was fun. I better feel like Superwoman at the end of this week.

Tuesday Lunch. I just ate enough watermelon to sustain a small vegan army….or at least to make me pee every 20 minutes for the next several hours. Sidebar; I really need to wash my hair, but I am not mentally prepared to blow dry it. #ugh

Tuesday night. I broke. A soon as the hubby got home from work…”Open the liquor cabinet”. You see, we have it locked because we have two boys, and we aren’t stupid. But, I didn’t fall tooooo far off the ‘raw wagon’. In fact, it wasn’t even off the seat of the wagon! It was a 1/2 a shot of Tito’s (Gluten, fat, carb & sugar free), sparkling water and watermelon…and I do have to say it was quite tasty. Dinner wasn’t to yummy, I am not going to lie. I can’t even type it out…the poor hubby ate it with me. #blessHim

Gluten Free, Organic 🙂 and VERY refreshing!

Wednesday Morning….we are on the road to NOLA. (business dinner) But, I mean really? I have to do this in the BEST place to eat in the country? shit. But, no worries…this OCD chick already looked at the menu online and I know exactly what I’m going to order for dinner. Lunch consisted of sashimi & mineral water with lime at Tsunami’s…I can’t complain about that!!! And I got a compliment on my outfit as SOON as I walked in the door. That will put some wind in your ‘raw’ sails! #yaaasQueen

I am realizing that it is VERY hard to come to NOLA and be at our favorite hotel, even thought this trip is for business for the hubs, and NOT drink and eat my heart out. This is the ultimate test. I mean, that is what you do…when in Rome.  At the current moment, I am trying to convince the hubs to stop working for 15 min and come downstairs with me to the Carousel Bar, sit in our favorite spot and people watch with me. #hesNotMoving #WorkWork #MayhaveToshowSomeCleveage #Kidding!

The hubs is on call after call for work… So I go downstairs to get inspired. Notice my ROAR organic drink in the corner of the pic? OMG…SO good! He is NOT moving from this spot anytime soon….he loves his job, thank goodness! #lovethatman

Now I’m sitting in a window seat…writing, watching. I LOVE people watching. And in NOLA there is a never-ending stream of entertainment. Locals, NOLA regulars, tourists, street performers, suits…and it was about 3ish and this is the time where the ‘day shift’ is heading out of the French Quarter and the ‘night shift’ is heading in. Oh…and of course, a bachelorette party. Complete with open toed high heels and headed straight for the street slime of Bourbon Street! Hep C here we come! Kidding…but for realz. Bless their little 24 yr old hearts. #NightTime #OnlyPediCab #orUberforMe #ILOVENolaButIDontlikeSlimeOnMyShoes

Thursday…I wake to the hubby typing away, getting ready for an early business breakfast. He hears me stirring and offers me a “hot tea”. HOT TEA? “I would like a coffee, please put me a k-cup to brew.” I am a coffee drinker. Even with this raw diet thing, coffee is a NON negotiable. First I drink the coffee then I do the things….and I am NOT very pleasant before coffee. The hubs looks at me with this cute grin and says “I drank both of the coffee cups…you can run one of the pods again…?.” (my eyes are about to pop out of my head).  “No” I say in disgust, disappointment, “I will order room service and it will be here in 2 hours…”  Good thing Monteleone room service has always been quick and within 20 min I had my coffee and fruit tray. Praise the coffee gods! In the hubs defense, he did offer to shower and go downstairs and get me a cup of coffee. But, in my coffee-less decision-making, I opted for room service. #ItwasAGoodChoice

Friday. Still eating fruit.

Saturday morning, I went to a local organic farmers market, Inglewood Farms, and stocked up on veggies, some chicken, eggs, even bacon! I picked up what I thought was squash & zucchini …turns out it was cucumbers. #fail #IDidntKnowThereWereYellowCucumbers? #farmersMarketGoober #IdespiseCucumbers

For lunch, we went to our usual Saturday lunch spot. Spirits food & friends in Alexandria, LA. It is a SUPER yummy restaurant and locally owned. If you are ever in Alex, stop in and eat/drink there. Really cool outdoor patio, pet friendly…if your dog is cool, LOL. Now, it is VERY hard to go here and not just chow down. But I was very good, had the Tuna Poke. Great as usual and I had only one champs cocktail, not as usual. I mean, I have been good for 6 days! My body is sooooo used to champs almost everyday. It was so good, not going to lie.

Sunday. Trip to Monroe for Fathers Day church and lunch for the hubs grandfather who is a young 94. Backing it up a few…while we are getting ready, I ask the hubs “Where are we going for lunch?” He tells me…they are just doing something easy and picking up pizza. (Well, that is just great. I am glad I asked! Men….) So, in a rush, I pack up my lunch; fruit, an avocado, etc. in my chilled bag and we get on the road.  It was a lovely day and the hubs even stopped at a grocery before church and I picked up some fresh sushi…all was forgiven. (got rid of most of the rice)

Sunday night. Chicken Cordon Blue-ish was on the menu. Now I call it ‘ish’ because I adapted the recipe…on the fly. I hammered out the pasture raised, organic chicken breasts and stuffed with fresh, organic dino kale, that had been lightly sautéed in non-salted, organic butter and garlic. Then laid down Turkey slices and a small amount of shredded mozz cheese. (the only think that was not organic on this dish was the sliced turkey, mozz cheese and bread crumbs). Rolled each up and secured with toothpics…in the oven for 50 min at 350. In the meantime, I decided to try something I had NEVER done before. Now, I am a night owl, and my nighttime routine, after everyone else gets fed and to bed is a little TV time. I DVR my shows and BRAVO, HGTV and Food Network are the majority of the recordings. I have been on a “The Next Food Network Star” kick and recently they made hollandaise sauce from scratch and topped over a perfectly poached egg. Like old school way, in the pot, with vinegar, stirring and dropping in the egg… I AM ON IT! I can DO THIS! So out comes the organic eggs I just got the day before at the farmers market…and I am ready to make some sauce and poach some eggs!

HOLY MOLY…nothing will show you how OUT of shape you are in your forearms like whisking a hollandaise sauce for 5 minutes straight, then over the water for 15 seconds…then off…then more wisking… then adding components and wisking the whole time. I felt like a beast! Now on the poaching. Im not going to bore you with the details, but lets just say I may have missed my calling! My first three poached eggs were perfection. I placed them on top of the Cordon Blue-ish….and sweet mother of organics, it was heaven on a plate! I wish I would have videoed the moment we cut into the egg. I was really proud of myself! Here is the recipie for Gordon Ramseys Eggs Benedit..it has the poach & sauce directions. I encourage you to YouTube if you have never done it before. I didn’t use tarragon, and added more lemon juice…I like my sauce tangy.

Monday….I made it. One week of eating RAW. I weighed myself and I gained a lb. WHAT the heck? But I FEEL different, I am sleeping better, my clothes fit better. My IBS isn’t toooo much better, but that is a whole different issue. I didn’t do this to loose weight, although I can see it having that effect in the long run. I did this for health, to feel better.

So what did I learn and what will I do from this point on? I learned that I CAN do what I set my mind to do, no matter how difficult it may seem at first. I thought…No Champagne for a week? RAW for a week? WHAT??  It is one day at a time, one meal at a time, one choice at a time.  I will continue with the fruit until noon, occasional splurges, I’m sure. (#brunch) I will READ labels more. We put CRAP in our bodies and in our kids bodies. Stop that shit! I will use organic more…and we used organic a lot, but I can do better for me and my family.  If only there was organic champagne…

You, me, we…WE CAN do what we set our minds and bodies to do. Are you scared to challenge yourself? To try something new? Whatever you are finding yourself up against…just try it. What is the worst that could happen? You could fail, yes. So what! Who freaking cares. You could also totally win and rock it! And friends, it is so worth trying. 

Much Love

KP

My “Raw” Week Sunday evening, and it seemed like a good idea...after at glass of rose'.  "I'm going on a cleanse!"...I bellowed to my husband.

[ishomoogoo]

For His Amusement Ch1

this comes after Before the Fall. there are mentions of murder, blood, sex, and swearing but nothing explicit or detailed. i appreciate feedback, it helps me write better and my beta reader, DamiaOfLight, doesn’t catch everything. this has been posted on fanfiction and ao3 if you want to check it out there.

Blood, that’s all I see. Blood, then Dolarhyde, the Red fucking Dragon. For all his puffed up ambitions, all he amounted to was a busted up pile of flesh and blood. Fuck, am I shaking? Whose panting breaths are those? God, that was amazing! Where is Hannibal? I’m pretty sure we were fighting together. I slowly stand on wobbly legs and turn from the man we killed.

My god, we fucking killed together! I guess Hannibal finally got what he wanted after all. Well, after the sex of course. Couldn’t even enjoy the afterglow before Francis here barges in and goes on about his “becoming” and attacking us. Well, at least he waited for us to get dressed. Still an asshole though.

Still trying to get my breath under control, I look at Hannibal, my new lover and murder accomplice. He just looks at me, covered in blood, looking radiant and just a little smug, the bastard. He’s panting as well, but not as much, since I assume he had a little more time to compose himself. I stumble over to him and he catches me, his hands cradling my face like so many times before; my hands gripping his shoulders, trying to stay upright. I close my eyes as he caresses my face then pulls me in, sharing a tired kiss. Both of us exhausted from the fight.

We soon part and then embrace fully, Hannibal rubbing soothing hands down my trembling back and sides, me just clinging to him. I feel a laugh bubbling deep inside my chest, waiting to spill out. I soon hear him murmuring into my ear as he inhales my scent.

“Sweet Will, beautiful Will. You were amazing, you have finally become what you were meant to be.”

I just hum as my body finally calms down enough to notice that we are precariously close to the edge of the cliff, the wind blowing strong as a storm threatens to roll in and sweep us away. But I can’t move, I don’t want to, I want time to stop and live in this moment with him forever. Shit, am I horny again? What the hell, maybe we could fuck on the Dragons’ corpse. I’ve already thrown all my morals out the window anyway; why not throw some kinks into the mix as well?

I pull out of his embrace, Hannibal releasing me only to arms length, hands still fastened to my elbows. We just admire each other, breath finally evening out; just when I find my voice again, Hannibal shouts, having to raise his voice over the rising wind.

“Well, now that the danger has passed, let us go back to the house and get cleaned up. I must say that we have more than earned some rest. We will need to disappear soon though, I doubt Jack will let us be for long.”

I tilt my head and smirk at him as he starts tugging us away from the cliff.

“Aw, and here I was hoping to add insult to injury and reaffirm our relationship on his still warm and bleeding corpse.”

Still walking, he turns his head towards me and lifts a mordant brow.

“The hazards of fornicating upon the deceased not withstanding, I doubt we will be very comfortable if the weather continues to worsen as it has been over the course of the fight.”

“Tight ass.”

There is just the slightest upturn to his lips as he turns back to the path before us. Just then, the sky opens up and icy cold rain starts hammering down over us. I grimace and start running towards the light of the house we left earlier. I barely hear Hannibal shout at me as our hands slip apart. I try to stay focused as the rain starts blocking the light out as well as blurring the surroundings together in a dark grey howling mess.

I figure I’m just about there when I feel the ground slip under my right foot, and a freezing hand slips over my left wrist. I think gravity won out in the brief seconds I teetered on the edge, because the next thing I know is a strong gust of wind and I’m tipping to the right completely. As I feel myself falling, I barely register being wrapped in Hannibal’s arms as I look up to see crashing waves falling down upon us.

Oh.

Shit.

I jerk and gasp as I struggle in the dark as something suffocates me. After a few moments I manage to kick free of the blankets I was apparently wrapped in. Was it a dream? I don’t hurt nearly enough for having fallen off a cliff.

My breathing calms down and I look around, well try to anyway. It appears to be nighttime, and I can’t see much apart from a lamp that is perched on the nightstand. I lean over and fumble for the knob before freezing. Either it’s way too dark or I’m going crazy, because it looks like my arm is way smaller than it should be. Shaking my head, I turn the lamp on and look around.

I then look around again; because there is no way that I am here, unless someone recreated my childhood home in Louisiana. Maybe I did go crazy. I shake my head then swing my legs over the edge of the bed, freezing again before lurching up and rushing into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. From what I can see, because my chest is level with the rim of the sink, I am exactly the same age as I was before Dad moved us to New Orleans. I shakily take in the wide blue eyes, pale sickly skin, and badly cut curls that I definitely shouldn’t be seeing again. No old faded scars or fresh wounds from a fight I’m sure I just had, just a scrawny pale child who looks absolutely terrified.

Double shit.

I’m sitting on the bed when dawn filters into the filthy trailer window. I blankly stare out at the scenery while still trying to figure out what was going on. It’s been a few days since I woke up drenched in my own sweat and, apparently, 28 years younger. The day I woke up was rather uneventful, all things considered. Dad went to work at the shop, like he usually did back then, and I pretty much piddled about the trailer trying to find clues as to what was going on and hoping that it was all a dream. The second day I had to go to school, and I stopped thinking I was just dreaming while everything I knew tilted on its axis.

Here’s what I know so far. It’s 1990 and I’m 13 again, which means I have puberty to look forward to again. Great. Things don’t stop there, oh no; I didn’t just go back in time, but it seems that I may in some weird, fucked up alternate reality. I probably wouldn’t have thought this except for some gossip I over heard from some teachers that I never found very memorable the first time around.

When my alarm chirps loudly, I sigh and close my eyes to the image of the grimy, rusted trailer that sits outside my window. I open them back up and reach over to turn it off, finally getting up and getting ready for the day. Where is the library again? There is no way I’m going to school while I have no clue what’s going on. I need to read up and see what, exactly, is different about this place. Integrating into a new world will be much harder if I don’t know things that are supposedly common sense here. The first thing I’m looking into is this alpha, beta, whatever stuff the teachers were talking about, and what presenting has to do with it.

After going through the morning motions, I pick up my small ragged backpack and make sure my notebook and pencils are in it, since I don’t want dad thinking something’s up and I want to take notes. I then grab my premade sandwich and head out the door. Pausing to get my bearings, I head out of the trailer park and to the road, turning right. I hope this is the right direction, I have to walk everywhere and I never did have the best stamina before I joined the force.

It takes a little over an hour to get to the small, barely maintained building that, from my memory, only housed old newspapers and a small collection of encyclopedias and various worn out novels. Since the Internet is still in it’s early stages and a small town like this won’t have the money for a computer of any kind, I will have to personally go through as many newspapers as possible as well as skim the encyclopedias. It will take most of the day at minimum, and I may have to come back on the weekend to look at anything I have missed. As long as I get back home at a reasonable hour, dad shouldn’t know I skipped and I can go back to school with a better idea of the goings on around here.

I slowly push open the surprisingly well-oiled door and quickly look around. Not seeing anyone, I quickly dart over to where I believe the books are and grab the first three volumes of the partially worn encyclopedias. I then go to a secluded corner I spotted earlier and sit down against the wall to begin reading, starting with the A’s. As I open the first book, I skim the pages not finding much different until I come across the word Alpha. And now the words of those women make a whole lot more sense.

From what I overheard, the class clown in trailer 3 just presented as an Alpha even though everyone expected him to be a Beta since both his parents were Betas. At the time, this conversation made no sense because no one in my knowledge are dogs and operate on pack dynamics; and they sure as hell weren’t referring to the Greek alphabet. Not only did I time travel, but I also managed to wind up in a world where people had not one, but two genders. I slam the open book against my forehead and groan. Just fuck me sideways why don’t you, not only do I have to go through puberty again, I can’t even rely on my past experience since I may have to contend with a whole new set of hormones and anatomy.

I shudder and then remove my face from the innocent book, flipping to the entry on Betas and locating the correct tome with the entry on Omegas. Might as well see what I may have to prepare for. After reading everything those books have to offer I can summarize the contents into a rather simple mental list.

One, Alphas make up around 30% of the total world population and are the most aggressive of the genders. They have a very particular scent that is secreted from special glands in the body that help them to intimidate others, soothe and comfort a mate or family members, as well as help attract a mate. The glands at the base of the throat must be bitten to form a bond with their mate, which only works if it is an Omega they are paired with. It seems this bite must be re applied regularly or the bond will fade over time. Alphas can go into something called a rut when their mate is receptive or goes into heat and have something called a knot at the base of their sexual organ to ensure conception after intercourse. They are generally bigger built and the males tend to have more body hair than their Beta counterparts. I know for sure that I am not one of these just by considering my personality alone. I don’t even want to know how an Alpha female works.

Up next are the Betas. I personally think that’s what I am since they are relatively normal by my old world’s standards. They have a very neutral scent compared to the other two genders and are mildly tempered. Not much else to say about them other than they don’t have mating glands and make up most of the population. They still have scent glands but the scent tends to be weak and generally unappealing to the other genders.

Last are the Omegas. These seem to be what many would call the “fairer” sex. Physically, they are smaller and weaker than their two counterparts, and over all very feminine, with soft features and very little body hair. This includes the males, who seem to be built for child-rearing like their female counterparts. They have a unique scent like the Alphas, and have glands just like the Alphas as well. They make up less of the population than the Alphas and are the most fertile of the sexes. The thing that struck me the most was that not only females, but the males can also give birth, though there are far more female Omegas than male. Again, I don’t really want to know how that works. Other than periodic heats and submissive behavior, there isn’t much else to mention about them.

I heave out a breath and shake my head, my curls bouncing against my skull. When was my hair last cut? Oh well, doesn’t really matter. I need to see what time it is before I decide what to read next. I huff my way up form the floor, my legs groaning and seizing from the awful position I was in, and walk over to the clock on the wall. Looks like I barely have enough time to get home just a bit later than normal. I go back and pick up the books I had piled on the floor and place them back in their places before hurrying back home.

[bubblefarts99]

It’s up to me, It’s all up to me

   When someone knocks you down, you get back up right? Right, except when it’s your mother knocking you down because she doesn't approve of a certain dream of yours. Once I graduated high school, she was more open to this dream, mainly because she can’t do anything to stop me and I’m living on my own now. Being raised in a strict environment is tough but now that I’m on my own, I’m ready for my next adventure.

   My ultimate dream is to become a Victoria Secret model or even become an Angel. Not only will it be fun, it’s going to be hell. The self-discipline involved is insane. Talk about working out twice a day and dieting hardcore. It takes a lot of commitment to be a model in general, but to be Victoria Secret model? Personally I know a girl who is a model for Model and Images. From what I’ve seen on her social media it takes a lot of discipline. Recently Victoria Secret had their yearly casting calls, where you audition for a spot on the team. They have bras in all sizes, same with undies and heels. You walk down the runway in that and do your thing, while the judges ask you personal questions. Then you have a interview and I’m sure you at lease have a robe on for that, in front of the cameras. Looking and being good on camera is a must! VS models do a lot of camera shots and being on tv as they walk the runway.

   The models ride on private jets, have some awesome fun, and crazy schedules but they all are beautiful and glamorous. I can’t say it enough, that VS models are Angels. (see what I did there) Most have husbands, boyfriends, or even kids! The ones with children get so big during pregnancy and then they lose it all pretty quickly and soon enough they are back on the runway or at least doing seasonal clothing shoots. To me it’s absolutely amazing how the human body can even stretch that far out and then be normal again.  

   Instagram or any social media keeps me up to date on Victoria Secret. I myself follow several of the main runway girls, they post a lot on social media, keeping all their followers up to date. Some of my favorite models include Romee Stride, Candice Swanepoel, Alessandra Ambrosio, Adriana Lima, and Behati Prinsloo. It’s fun to see they have lives outside of modeling for Victoria Secret, like attending art shows, music festivals, etc. The main VS account on Instagram is always posting videos of new clothing or lingerie. Sometimes there are pictures of a previous shoot somewhere in the world, or a video of some of the models talking. I’m not gonna lie, it’s a pretty expensive store. The sales are amazing though, 5 for $20 or 5 for $27?! One pair of undies is usually $9.99 or lower, and you’re getting 5 for less!! When that sale is going on you grab your bff and head to the nearest mall.

  There are several blogs out there in the world on the internet about the diet and workouts of a VS model and how crazy it is. Buzzfeed had two girls do the workout challenge for a week, (volunteerly) and they loved the results. Two workouts daily, one in the morning and one in the evening/night. Most of the models workout with a partner or buddy, lifting weights, yoga, boxing, basically anything that gets your blood pumping. There are some people who do the diet with a friend for fun, and are astonished by how their bodies feel so much more alive, and happier. One blog I read, a lady did the workouts and diets for a whole month! As well she loved her results and continued to eat on that diet after the challenge. So obviously it can’t be THAT bad. There’s a lot of protein shakes involved so don’t worry it’s not like you have to go vegan. Think of it kinda as a detox for your whole body.

   Self-discipline, dam it sucks. I can barely get myself to commit working out everyday, and I have easily plenty of time on my hands. Maybe I just need a partner/buddy to go workout with. A helpful friend always makes things much much better. Not only do you get to gossip and make memories with this person but you both get to improve mentally and physically. Who doesn’t like to succeed at something with someone else? “We started from the bottom now we here.”

   Can you just imagine late nights overlooking a New York City skyline with a glass of champagne in your hand? With a nice looking man on your side? Just make sure to watch your alcohol intake! Photo-shoots on top of the Empire State building. Ah... I can see it now, I’ve always been able to picture it in my mind. No, I’ve never been to NYC but my sister lives there so that’s close enough for now. There are thousands, millions, of pictures of NYC skyline at nighttime or daytime and every single one of them is absolutely beautiful. Even though I’m not there in the flesh to see it with my naked eye, I can definitely feel the adrenaline and city rush. Most movies or tv shows are based in or around NYC so I’ve got a pretty good taste of what it’s like. The smell of bakery shops and coffee, fast food and dine in. A nice sexy/casual outfit with a pair of heels. Cameras flashing in your direction as you step out of the taxi. That’s it, I wanna be famous. I want to be a role model for younger girls, and I want to be famous for a talent God gave me to use. I do tend to get jealous of girls who have a fit body and just workout for fun and everyday life and don’t do any modeling. Then I think to myself. “Why are you getting jealous? You have a perfect fit body too, just not AS fit.” It’s gonna take some serious work till I get that Victoria Secret body.

    Mmmmmmmm Victoria Secret (insert hear eyes emoji) What a dream come true. I know that you know that I know they are absolutely stunning humans. Most are from out of the country and most have that certain gene. But they all worked for it, and rightly so they deserve it. Sexy fit bodies, fresh look, nice smooth skin, long luscious hair, trendy clothes, heels, good positive attitude, and that great happy personality. Let’s be honest THEY ARE LIVING THE DREAM.

   Support is key. I’m sure all those models have support from their family and friends back home. They have support form their fans too. If I decided today to start working out and eating right like a model should, would I myself have support? Absolutely! I live in a house with five other girls and we are all very supportive of each other in everything we do. I feel that my family would have my back and my siblings would push me to my best, and my mother... My mother would eventually come around. That’s what I love about her, she’s stubborn, like me!

   Criticizing the models is no way to live. They are not anorexic and they are not starving themselves. All of them are unique and special in their own ways. I’m sure they don’t all eat the same way, not every body is the same. It takes a lot of hard work to be a model and I wish people gave them more credit. They’re doing something that they love and enjoy. Be happy for them, they’re happy. Stay humble, words can hurt, be kind, they have enough pressure as is. There’s always going to be haters, and they gonna hate strong. Karma’s a bitch though.

   Eighteen years young, I’ve got a ways to prove myself to the world. Maybe I’ll travel, or adopt all the senior dogs in kennels, or maybe I’ll get the opportunity to work for Victoria Secret but hopefully as a runway model. The worst anyone can ever tell you is “no”. I’m ready to show those mean girls who bullied everyone cause they were different that hell yes I’m different, look at me! 5′11 1/2 inches I think I’m qualified.... Now it’s in God’s hands, and whatever plans he has for me.    

[allabroadau]

Medieval squares all dressed in fairy lights, mulled wine and entertaining dogs… it can only mean one thing, Christmas in Europe. Ever dreamed of visiting the Christmas markets in Germany? David Bruce, our guest blogger in this week’s You’ve Been Where, did just that – squeezing in the highlights of the UK, Italy, Switzerland, Germany and France along the way! We’re just a tiny bit jealous…!

Who are you and what do you do for a living?

My name is David Bruce. I work at a national research centre for natural hazards doing the communications, media liaison, public affairs, etc.

Guest blogger David with his wife Alison.

Where is home?

Home is Melbourne, in what lazy journalists call the “leafy” suburb of Mitcham.

Where have you been? When did you go?

We spent three weeks in Europe – Italy, Switzerland, Germany and France, and three weeks in the United Kingdom – England and Scotland – which included Christmas and New Year.

Who did you travel with?

I travelled with my wife and 19-year-old son, and we met up with my 25 year-old daughter and her boyfriend for the UK leg. My kids are now at an age of being fun and helpful rather than just fun and wanting stuff.

What were the highlights of your trip?

We have been back a couple of months now and we are still debating this question. Nothing was bad, all was good. But what was best? We deliberately planned the trip around the landmarks – Colosseum, Vatican, Uffizi, Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Edinburgh Castle, Tower of London, British Museum, the Cotswolds. And they were all genuine highlights. But some of the lesser landmarks were just as memorable.  It snowed on us as we drove through Glencoe in Western Scotland. Skye was insanely beautiful with photos at every turn of the road. Traveling at Christmas time meant so many places were all dressed up. And all that Christmas cheer suddenly made sense; speaking as Aussies more familiar with the heat of summer. The roaring fires, the Christmas sweaters, the scarves, hats, the lights, the nightmarkets. Ah, the nightmarkets! In medieval squares all across the continent we drank hot mulled wine under lights in zero degrees. All these were highlights.

What did you least like about your trip?

The shorter days in a European winter are a bit of a shock. It doesn’t get light until after 9am. And darkness hits at 3.30pm! It means you must plan the driving and sightseeing pretty tightly. But the payoff is some things actually do look nicer at nighttime. And again, especially at Christmas. Even the most ordinary streets looked spectacular with Christmas lights.  Big cities, little villages, town squares, streets, highways, malls and transport hubs. They were all lit up from late afternoon, and not just from after 9pm as in Australia.

All you need is love! Carnaby St, London

The Christmas lights in Freiburg Germany.

Pretty as a picture, Portree, Skye

Do you have any funny stories from your travels?

Travelling with young children can be tough, but with older children they can become surprisingly useful at the most opportune time.

At the railway station in Freiburg Germany I attempt my phrase-book Deutsche on the ticket man and get a flat hand waved in my face. My son pushes me to the side with a “Dad, let me” and embarks on what must certainly be for the first time in his life a most productive real life conversation in fluent post-VCE German.

When Storm Barbara unleashed on the west coast of England I had been driving down the safer middle lane on the M6 in torrential rain. I hoped the horizontal wind pulsating the hire car was doing it in the exactly same beat to the lorries in lanes one and three. After four hours of this I had had enough. Time to hand the wheel over to the next generation. I sat in the back seat and enjoyed the view while daughter and boyfriend did a superb navigator/driver combo deep into the awful night.

What were the locals like?

Sometimes you felt so welcome you could almost pretend you were a local. On the advice of Trip Advisor, we walked into a tiny (four tables?) restaurant in Paris where the one-man waiter/cook/barman and his trusty brown labrador/door greeter/entertainer served up a meal personalised for each of us. Just like home. Except no one else spoke English.

What was the food like?

I think the whole trip was about sightseeing matched with food. Every day seemed structured around where to eat, what to eat, and what beverage to accompany what to eat. The Vatican tour ended with the discovery of a splendid salumeria, the Florence Mercato Centrale was a cheap choice for lunch after the Duomo, the British Museum had a great cafeteria, and if you are going to stop on the M6 don’t go past Tebay Services in Cumbria – why can’t roadside foodstops in Australia be stocked with fresh produce like breads, cakes, meats, diary and fruit from local farms?

Cafe Gourmand, France’s finest creation.

Max the lab, door greeter, entertainer, Paris.

Did you learn anything about yourself or the world on this trip?

I learnt that I needed to learn more history. I thought I knew a bit. But Europe is stacked with so many “histories” – Renaissance, Reformation, two World Wars, the Campbells vs the McDonalds, the Celts, the Druids, the Normans vs the English, the Scots vs the English, the Beatles vs the Stones, the Punks vs society, Man U vs Man City.  We went on a rock and roll walking tour of inner London that included the old Apple Records building on Savile Row where the Beatles performed on the rooftop. Around the corner was the studio where “Bohemian Rhapsody” was recorded.

Would you recommend others travel here?

Ours was mostly a well-trod path so there is no need for my recommendations on places to see but I would recommend considering the early winter season. The really bad weather is yet to strike, fares are cheap, queues are small. But check ahead on what is open. Many places close or have reduced hours at this time of year.

Do you have any tips for people thinking of travelling here?

There are two types of travellers – those that plan ahead and those that just wing it. It’s kind of fun jumping between the two – a bit of foresight here, and a bit of “let’s just see what happens” there. Our timeframe was tight, six countries in six weeks so we erred on the side of pre-booking most of our accommodation and transport and I’m glad we did. Those two essentials never gave us any hassles. And that gave us more time to choose where to eat.

No climbing ducks? Confusion in Cumbria.

Been somewhere lately? We’d love to hear about it! Leave us a note below or drop us a line at AllabroadAU(@)Gmail.com

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[instashow]

Hot mulled wine with a side order of sightseeing across the UK and Europe Medieval squares all dressed in fairy lights, mulled wine and entertaining dogs... it can only mean one thing, Christmas in Europe.